AUTHOR’S NOTE: hanahaki is def my favorite trope thats out there i think. i changed the title from i wish i could live without you to wonder because i found the latter to be more fitting. tbh this is a mess im so sorry
WILBUR ;
wilbur had lost his mind some time ago. he never bothered to hide his slowly crumbling mental health, but it came across in his shattered mind as if no one else cared except you. (never-mind how tommy pleaded and cried and begged for him to come back to who he used to be, giving up his youth for this because he wanted it. never-mind how fundy was ashamed of who he was becoming — out of his head, out of his life. never-mind how niki gave him everything she had, her trust and faith in him as her friend broken. wilbur would secretly find the whole ordeal quite aesthetically pleasing if he were removed from it.)
wilbur found peace out of the pieces (bridges breaking, drifting further, lost hope, lost courage, he faded to gold — worse, to shadow). even if just for a few minutes. being around you made him feel sane again. your smile became his most precious treasure and a thing he silently vowed to protect. you made his life a beautiful array of tenderness and memories.
it takes him some time to realize that he’s in love (what even is love, he wonders). when he does, he buries his feelings deep in the back of his subconscious. he has a mission to fill, destiny to follow — his unfinished symphony.
no matter how much he wants to be with you, he can’t.
wilbur essentially brings the hanahaki disease upon himself (“i’m addicted to hurting,” he swore up and down to himself in his lonesome, drowning in liquor and apathy, cigarette smoke filling his lungs — soon to be replaced by the elegance of petals and love, such bittersweet, cruel, unforgiving love. love will be the death of him). it wasn’t long before he sputtered a fist-full of pink flowers, their beauty tainted with spit and crimson blood. over and over, he threw up the bright flowers from deep within his chest. (oleander, his brain numbly supplied through the lack of oxygen.) he wasn’t an expert on botany, but a few perusing in the library told him that not only did the oleander flower represent destiny and understanding, but everlasting love is attached to the meeting. such a funny thing, fate is — what a lovely, toxic-upon-consumption, flower that crowded his burning lungs with its spreading stems, taking up space he needed to breathe. wilbur nearly laughed. fate found pleasure in seeing him suffer.
“you have it, too?” you said after stumbling upon wilbur, his hands clutching at the rim of a toilet, pink, blood-soaked petals clinging to his lips (go away, go away, go away, go away —) “hanahaki?”
his heart tore for various reasons that day. after learning that you were indeed coughing up flowers, too (he interrogated you enough to learn that you were coughing up marigold flowers), the pair suffered together in silence. you refused to tell him who your unrequited love was for, and vice-versa.
“how would it feel like?” wilbur mumbled by your side one day. your brows furrowed together as he met your vague stare, squinting as if trying to decipher what havoc was churning in his mind. he cleared his throat, voice seemingly aloof as he clarified: “to fall in love.”
you scoffed. guiding a finger to the center of his chest, nose wrinkled up as the corners of your lips jerked downward, you uttered, “you’re already in love. if you’ve forgotten, please be my guest to try to breathe properly.” protesting, he inhaled deeply before the tightness in his chest strangled his lungs, twisting around the base of his neck and squeezing. the frantic urge to cough itched in the back of his throat. he struggled to hold it down, clearing his throat, only for the familiar irritation of what sprouted in his lungs to prompt his body to fall forward, erupting into violent, dry heaving. “catch your breath.” chummy, placid, ribs at wilbur. (how can he catch his breath when all he’s breathing for is you?)
“am i in love?” he quietly hummed (i don’t deserve to say i’m in love, i don’t know what love is), dread sinking into his stomach, unwilling to dissolve as he wiped away the pink petals that lingered on his lips, “or am i trying to fill my gaps with heartbeats?”
wilbur found love to be a rather fickle thing. he wondered how it would feel like, looking to everyone for answers as he chased around and down in circles in search of something he couldn’t comprehend. missing pieces (sally, my darling, please return what you took with you when you left) stopped him — from trying to learn somehow, from living life like he feels he could’ve, or should’ve, when he was young, and time and hope was all they had. even after losing someone he believed he had loved and even after his lungs suffered from the result of unrequited love, he still doesn’t know how to feel about it. but he felt as if he was learning, with all that you’ve shown him despite all his attempts to keep holding it down. he wondered how love would feel like, but ever since you’ve been around he finally thinks he has it figured out — what he missed then, he sees now. he knows now, against all his wishes. wilbur knows.
“you’re going to die for love. i’m sure it’s real,” said you, burying your face in your hands with a dreadful groan. yes. it is, wilbur is sure of it now (he is going to die for a love that will never be returned).
living with this flower blooming inside his chest was painful, burning like a kindling ember, but the knowledge that the person he loved would never return his feelings (feelings that no matter how he tried to let go remained in his fragmented heart) was excruciating. the sensation of having to cough flared up in the back of his throat once more. (escape is what he needs — bring him and drown him out, lay him down. end the aching of his fragile heart. unfinished symphony.)
(a long, drawn out pause filled the air as philza curled his hands — calloused from centuries worth of wars and fighting — around the outstretched handle of a sword. his features were pressed into the same distant expression wilbur was so used to him wearing. “do it,” wilbur whispered firmly. the flowers inside of his chest throbbed painfully. he would rather die by his father’s hands than by a concept he had only just begun to fully understand.)
no matter how much he wants to be with you, you weren’t in love with him.
(in another life, maybe things could have been different. after all — marigolds represent passion and creativity. if only he had pressed you harder about it.)
note: read the warnings (USE OF TRIGGERING CONTENT IS MORE PREVALENT IN THIS CHAPTER)
Dream opened y/n’s door with a confidence only he could possess. Maybe this would finally make them regret living on the outskirts of the small society, a break in. As he entered he heard the quick opening of a door down the hallway. Y/n quickly followed the sound as they dashed out with wild eyes that only slightly softened as they locked eyes with Dream, panic meeting the unnerving calm stored in the green orbs that were darkened by his mask.
“Hi, sweetheart.” he watched as they shivered, as their shoulders slumped, their body leaning into the man as their mind came up to resist it.
“Dream, I thought you would be gone for longer?” They slowly walked to the kitchen as they began to fill a glass of water. Their body language made them seem defeated, resigned to this repetitive routine of water spilling out of the faucet. Giving and giving and giving.
“Now, now, no need to seem so excited, princess.” Dream laughed to himself as he walked over to the dining table. It was scattered with empty glasses just like the one y/n then placed in front of him with a muffled clink. The mess made Dream feel warm.
“Sorry, just a bit tired.” they seemed to melt into the seat beside them, body positioned to be as far from the imposing man as possible. Their head even leaned to one side, their neck straining to maintain the clearly uncomfortable position. “How is Tommy?” Their voice wavered with the name, trailing off shakily. Dream studied Y/n’s face, part of him searching for feelings to crush or to cherish, he didn’t know.
“He’s fine, still missing his friends I suppose, but that’s why I’m there, darling.” They forced a smile that didn’t reach past their lips. “It couldn’t hurt to loosen up y’know.” Dream said getting to his feet and stepping closer to y/n. “It’s just me.”
“I know,” they mumbled as he pushed their hair behind their ear. “Just you”
“And it’s always just gonna be me,” voice laced with the same tone he used with Tommy, it was all so mechanical now, the manipulation. Words heavy like lead, flowed like viscous blood. “Wilbur is dead, and who else ever comes this far out to visit you, sometimes I don’t even want to, darling, so loosen up while I'm here.” Dream said it all with a wicked grin, same old routine to develop dependency, same old horrible words that fell so gracely from his accursed mouth. “It’s the least you could do.”
“Just you,” they mumbled again looking over at him, shivering at the expressionless mask as it tore through all those layers of skin that said they didn’t need him. These white lies he told, did they really hurt? Were they lies at all?
————————- ————————- ————————-
The door opened again, this time his intentions were less clear, not cut so sharp he need not think. His face was muddled like dirty water when he dared look at his grim expression. Contorting as he resisted the urge to shatter whatever poor mirror dared reflect him. The door creaked as he entered the silent house, but he was not fooled by the quiet that blanketed the cosy home.
“So naive, to stay back, to slip away from that flock, my sheep.” he grinned. “You think you can fix this, help those fucking idiots cowering in the prison, come out, princess.” a shift, a sound, a creak that most would want to wave off as the house settling, but there they were. A wolf in the doorway, a bunny in the hall, predator and prey and how did he love the chase.
“Dream, I don’t want to fight.” two versions of y/n stood there, and both felt the urge to grab a glass from the cabinet, yet only one could resist. “I want you to leave, I demand you to”
————————- ————————- ————————-
The prison was foreboding, a structure that towered over you that had no light wrapped into its walls. Obsidian and blackstone stained with blood unknown to most that stared upon its imposing stature. Sam stood outside with a nervous expression, brows knit together as he scanned for movement. We met eyes and he took a breath of relief as he granted me a small smile, forced maybe but welcomed all the same.
“You are the last, Bear. I already got everyone waiting inside, and as much as I’ve hated to give away prison secrets I guess it’s worth it for you, for everyone.” he threw a small joke that didn’t quite land as Wilbur stood silent behind me. I quietly giggled as we quickly made our way inside, Sam’s arm a comforting weight slung around my shoulders. Tension seemed to draw out between Sam and Wilbur as they exchanged a small nod of acknowledgment. As soon as I left the portal Tommy jumped on me, crushing me with a hug.
“What the fuck, woman? Where have you been?” I wrapped my arms around the taller boy comforted by the familiar loud exclamation. I breathed out, giving myself just a moment.
“Long story, Tommy, I’ll tell you later okay? Promise.” He rolled his eyes yet quickly took a step back when he noticed Wilbur, the man that was currently following behind me like a shadow. I turned to face the taller man and noticed the way his eyes darted to the ground, his head hung low. He took the form of a kicked puppy as I finally felt the feeling of eyes burning holes into the pair of us.
“That’s everyone, right?” Sam asked, taking the attention. A chorus of agreement went through the pristine room that was never meant to hold this many people.
“Why is he here?” silence grew as I watched Wilbur blink in surprise, his eyes still glued to the floor. I recognized the voice as Jack’s. “It’s his fault isn’t it.”
“Jack,” Sam attempted to resolve the situation, his voice stern, that of the Warden’s not of the man that did everything to keep me afloat.
“What? Am I fucking wrong?” His voice was drawn thin as he yelled.
“Jack,” I spoke now, drawing the attention like blood in shark infested waters, surrounded by hungry predators. “We are not dismissing Wilbur’s actions, but for now there are more important things at stake than retribution. Please can we be civil.” I swallowed as I watched Jack sink into the back of the crowd. “Thank you.” I sighed as the attention shifted back to Sam as he huffed to make himself known.
“Dream should be coming soon. Punz, Sapnap, and myself are going to wait outside the prison for him to arrive. I’ve set up an emergency alarm that sounds like this.” a siren began to screech and the room began flashing red. “If that goes off we need help, understand?” Everyone either nodded or grunted in agreement as Punz and Sapnap strayed to the front to stand behind Sam. Sapnap seemed nervous, he fidgeted absently with the ends of his sleeves pulling them down searching for anything that wasn’t the present. ”The goal is to get him back in the prison, yet I am not beyond killing him if necessary.” I walked up to Sam as everyone returned to their separate conversations, the room buzzing with voices.
“Sam, you can’t face him alone.” he turned to look at me, nervousness bleeding through as soon as he wasn’t addressing the group.
“I won’t be, Bear, I’ve got the best fighters we have at our disposal right next to me.” I shook my head, Sam taking my hands in his own. “Everyone is ready to keep this under control, it will be okay.”
“Okay, okay.” I attempted to keep my composure as my words came out breathy “I’m gonna go sit down, please tell me before you go out, please.” I felt Wilbur walk up behind me, having been giving me space to talk with Sam.
“Will do.” he said, letting my hands fall to my sides as he let them go. I careened my head to look at Wilbur, a grimace swallowing his face.
“I’m gonna talk to Sam, Are you gonna sit down, my love?” his hand was warm on my shoulder as he whispered to me. I hummed while taking in a deep breath.
————————- ————————- ————————-
“Sam.” Wilbur’s voice was gruff, unused or maybe mistreated between the hours the two had spent apart. Sam quickly walked to the corner of the room the taller following behind.
“Did they tell you?” Sam was less poised than he had been in front of the crowd but part of him felt somehow more reserved. The man’s eyes seemed to look at everything but Wilbur’s own.
“Y/n-” Wilbur felt wrong saying the name “They couldn’t-” Sam looked over at Y/n as they sat at the back of the room. Their arms loosely wrapped around their legs that were pressed against their chest, they seemed deep in thought. “They wanted me to ask you about it. I’m worried, Sam, more than worried, I’m terrified for them. They just kept saying it was their fault.” Wilbur’s voice drifted off with the statement as he felt more unsure while Sam stilled at it, taking in a rigid breath.
“It’s that bad all over again.” He looked at Wilbur with a sad expression. “I’m gonna keep this short, we are running on borrowed time right now, but” Sam furrowed his eyebrows, his head turning again to survey the group. “Y/n and Dream were in a type of relationship, I don’t know how it happened or why, but he got in their head, convinced them they were nothing without him, that he was the only one they had, and it worked, it worked so fucking well that they wouldn’t leave their house.” Wilbur felt sick to his stomach as he listened to the words leave Sam’s mouth. What the fuck had he done? “After everyone heard from Tommy again, I helped them get away from Dream. For months it was just trying to get them to be themselves again and when Dream finally got locked up it was this breakthrough.”
“Fuck-” Wilbur’s voice was somehow even more hoarse as he unsteadily kept on his feet. The knowledge ran circles in his head as he began to feel dizzy. Sam nodded his head towards y/n as he began a conversation with Punz and Sapnap about their plans.
He found his voice once he sat down.
“Y/n, I’m sorry.” the numbness in his chest didn’t take away the feeling of being watched.
“We can talk more after all this okay, I’ll be okay.” Wilbur found the strength to look at them, their lips in a small comforting smile. Why couldn’t he just be present. “I need to get something from the house, I’ll be back.” Y/n left him no time to think, no time to stop them, and no time to recognize the worrying cause of his dizziness.
————————- ————————- ————————-
I think everyday I get stupider, more willing to put myself at risk, but yet I am no hero. I slipped past everyone that was too preoccupied with other things rather that be staring at the heap of a person Wilbur had become in the corner or discussing plans that I so desperately wanted to avoid having to use. Maybe they heard the cries of the portal or maybe they didn’t, but no one followed me. The path to my house felt vacant, no sounds reverberating through the land painted with memories.
It was a stupid plan, not even a plan really. Once I reached my home I knew I had little time. The thumping of my heart, the beat of a timer, and when I finally got half the heart to reconsider the door opened and it was him all over again.
“So naive, to stay back, to slip away from that flock, my sheep.” his voice spewed confidence and I felt my hands begin to shake “You think you can fix this, help those fucking idiots cowering in the prison.” What was I thinking?
“come out, princess.” So I did.
“Dream, I don’t want to fight.” I wasn’t gonna relapse to that routine, be swept under the wave “I want you to leave, I demand you to”
“Sure, Bunny.” he paused then “Maybe I am willing to make a deal.” I felt myself stutter at that, that gleaming bit of hope that I could end this without the blood shed. He sauntered towards the kitchen and I felt myself follow as if pulled by an invisible string. A puppet made to dance for the puppet master in front of me, yet he couldn’t quite get the strings tied tight enough. I didn’t let myself fill that glass. “They all love you, Y/n. Do you think you are a worthy thing to take away?” I felt my stomach turn at the words, nothing without pain with Dream.
“Dream, what are you saying?”
“I was never gonna kill my princess, never could hurt my perfect experiment, so if you willingly come with me, bunny, maybe I don’t need to kill all your little friends.”
Morning came as an unwelcome bright light in my eyes. At least for once I recounted the events of the night before, but I wasn’t proud of how many tears I had shed. Not able to keep it together, not able to get the words out to Sam, at least Wilbur seemed okay. I gently ran my hand through his hair, pushing it out of the way of his eyes. The white streak now swallowed by auburn pushed back against his head. His face twitched slightly but went back to a calm expression as time passed between us accompanied by the quiet singing of birds outside. I let myself enjoy the moment of peace.
I’m glad that he could sleep undisturbed, even if just for a little while, his face as still as a resting lake. I gathered my strength to get out of bed, my mission to find Sam going into action as soon as my feet met the cold floor. We needed to plan for the coming attack from Dream. He needed to know everything I could remember, and if that meant pushing myself, so be it. Pulling myself together I left, the last sight my grim face reflected in a mirror on the wall.
My house was empty, the only sound that echoed through the familiar halls was my feet padding into the main room. Somehow the cold floor had become a reassuring discomfort the more I walked, the cool wood punctuating the air that entered my lungs. I found Sam, collapsed on my couch, face one of disquiet. His position was rigid, not one of rest or calm. He was only covered by a blanket far too small for his large form, the sight made me feel guilty. If I had been able to keep myself together I would have at least been able to afford him the simple convenience of a bigger blanket. I made my way over, gently shaking his shoulder. He always looked different without his intimidating mask. His mouth visible, sharp teeth peaking into his smile whenever he granted such pleasure.
“Sam?” I whispered, trying to bring him out of his sleep as gently as possible. I jumped as his green eyes snapped open, softening as they recognized me. He quickly pulled me into a hug with him on the couch. My cheek pressed against his chest as it steadily rose and fell. “Good morning, Sam.” I giggled as he hugged me tighter. I think in that moment we agreed to forget for a while, one second of amity,, only our shared breathing.
“I was so worried, y/n” I let myself melt as he began to play with my hair. “Wilbur being back, dream getting out, and you went missing. I was just so fucking glad to see you okay yesterday, bear.” I nodded my head into his chest, releasing a breathy sigh. I can’t allow myself to cry again.
“Wouldn’t want to ever leave you, Sammy.” I said with a quavering voice. He hummed, the sound vibrating through him. He motioned for me to move as he sat up on the worn couch. I weakly smiled as I studied his face. An unconscious way to make sure he was okay. My eyes fell into the habit of tracing the familiar scar that ran across his nose. A jagged reminder of a story he never would tell me. “Guess we gotta get into what’s important, huh” I steeled myself, running my hand down my thighs. “Dream wants revenge, Sam.”
“I guess I figured that.” I watched as he pushed his hair back, the former styling having become messy through the night of turbulent sleep.
“I’m scared, he had this map of everything with all these arrows. He was being so meticulous, Sammy.” his brows furrowed as he looked at me, my arms now wrapped around myself. Dream could be right behind me right now and I don’t think I’d be able to fight back with any great strength. I let that sink in, I was helpless against the monster, I even struggled to speak of him.
“I won’t let him near you, bear.” I gave him a weak smile. “I’m gonna get him back in Pandora's box, I promise.”
“I believe you, I do, but we need to be more careful. I don’t think I could stand losing anyone.” Sam nodded with a serious expression “No one can be a weak point, Sam. I saw his plan, and I think he intends to pick us off one by one.” I shiver as I look away from Sam, not able to bare the intense eye contact. His green eyes reminded me of the last person I wished to think of being psychically in a room with. Dream’s hands lingering on me, burning points on my arms.
“I understand, y/n. I’m going to go tell everyone, okay? Can you and Wilbur meet me at the prison in a few hours? I think the safest bet we have right now is to gather there.” I absently nodded my head, standing up and leading him to the door. He looked at me, my eyes meeting his own, a tension building between us. “I will keep you safe, bear.” I fell into him.
“Please be okay, Sammy.” I mumbled into his chest as I let him wrap his arms around me once again, leaning into the warmth. He left with a determined look and a quick pace headed straight for the prime path. I just hoped we could get everyone in time. I sighed, my shoulders falling as I turned to see Wilbur in the entrance to the hallway. “wil,” I whimpered, rushing over to him, finally letting myself cry. Hot tears ran down my face as he held me.
“hello, my love” he mumbled into my hair. I breathed in as he gently swayed us back and forth. “I think we have a lot to talk about.” I winced at the words. “What did Dream do, darling?” Sam had to have said something. He had been my confidant as my life had taken a turn for the worse after Wilbur died. Him right by my side as I sobbed, him right there as I let myself get hurt in the worst possible way. Now it’s like I stood in front of all I lost, having to explain who I had become without him.
“Did Sam tell you something?” I inquired.
“not in any great detail.” I pursed my lips, not wanting to give away unneeded information. Any expression feeling like a hint I needed to desperately cover.
“wil,” How could I tell him? I didn’t want him to feel guilty for what was surely my own fault.
“y/n, I just want to help.” His scarlet eyes burned into me, and his cold hands on my arms suddenly didn’t feel comforting. I gently slid away from him, wandering to the kitchen with a far away feeling.
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‘one, two, three’ seconds to count, moments to lose, lives to take. Dream found himself inpatient as he waited. He knew he couldn’t give them much time to prepare, but he also knew he couldn’t rush in. If he fucked this up he’d find himself right back where he began, miserable. Days spent counting the seconds between each purple drip from the crying obsidian in his cell. Scribbling in fucking books just to burn the pages and watch how the paper shriveled and turned black, engulfed by flame. Return to writing memories just to see them burn. He could feel the ghosts of heat licking at his face from the lava that bubbled as a makeshift wall when he stared down at the large map.
“one, two, three” he mumbled as he counted the lives everyone had left. Tommy, Tubbo, and Wilbur only had one. Sam had three. Quackity had two. Y/n had two. He knew their overall survival depended on how they acted in the moment, he didn’t want to kill everyone, not really. A select few, yes, we’re destined to die by his hand, but not every measly person deserved such a fate. Though he dreamed of blood on his hands, Quackity’s face when he realized he was just as helpless as he had been when he got that godforsaken scar on his face. That his obsession with power and money had gotten him nowhere.
“y/n,” he ran the name on his mouth, a sweet taste, an interesting predicament. He couldn’t decide what to do with them. The past that drew out between the two leaving a red string tying them together. If they would get in the way, if Wilbur would in turn, they would become more of an issue than they were worth. He would finally be willing to cut that tie. He’d hoped they had already given up on their pitiful attempt at fighting back. Pushed so far that they had finally snapped. A shattered mirror, unrecognizable, just as they had been after Wilbur’s untimely end.
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“y/n, please,” I forced myself to turn around, looking at Wilbur’s worried expression. I didn’t know if I wanted to tell him, I didn’t know if I could. Those words were stuck in my mouth, burning my tongue. Something wouldn’t let me let them go. I was cursed with this weight and I couldn’t shake it off. I spun around again, beginning to make us breakfast. Grabbing a dull knife and fresh fruit that had somehow found its way into my fridge. I poured myself into this meaningless task so I didn’t have to be me. I didn’t want to face the reality of what had happened, I wanted to go back to being nothing at all.
“How do you want your eggs?” I asked him as I cut the fruit and placed it into a small bowl. I tensed at the sound of him groaning, a sound of frustration, a sound that meant I had done something wrong.
“Please?” I can’t do this right now. I felt my hand tense around the blade as he pushed for an answer.
“Please? please what Wilbur?” a sharp pain erupted from my hand “I can’t tell you, I just can’t. I feel like you just keep pushing me into corners, demanding so much- god I can’t just keep giving to you.” I sighed as I turned to look at his shocked expression. His shoulders now slumped and his once pleading face now adorned with a straight mouth. I felt myself tense as he moved to speak, guilt flooding into me. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled out, allowing my own posture to fall.
“I just want to be better for you.” he mumbled with his head bowed, eyes falling to the tile floor. The confession woven into our shared silence made the air feel tangible. “and- and I just keep fucking it up, I know I do, I made you come with me and Dream, and I didn’t even fucking consider that he could have done something to you, I didn’t listen, and then I just let him hurt you again.” I watched with bated breath as he stepped away from me. “y/n I can’t forgive myself. I deserve how Sam treated me because I’m not fucking good for you. I’m not good for anyone for fucks sake.” He took a shuddering breath as he pushed his hands through his unruly hair “and I’m so selfish cause I don’t think I could bear to let you go.” I stood shocked as his eyes remained glued to the floor.
“Dream-” I paused to look down at my hands, stunned by the way I was bleeding from a cut. Wilbur, confused by my silence, looked up to where my widened eyes were watching an open wound.
“Shit, are you alright?” he asked, reaching out to take my injured hand. I looked up to
see his expression, not comforted by what I found. His pupils were now blown wide as I watched him visibly fight back some crawling instinct that had beseeched him at the sight of my pooling blood.
“I’m fine.” I shuttered, pulling my hand out of his gentle grasp. He looked up at me with a new found clarity in his maroon eyes, shaking his head.
“Sorry, fuck,” he muttered, quickly walking over to the sink to wash the blood that had gotten on his hands. He was once again tense.
“Maybe we’re both bad for each other.” I whispered as I watched him scrub at his hands.
“please don’t say that” his voice wavering with the request.
“Look at us, Wilbur! You can’t say this is healthy?” I felt tears well up in my eyes as he stood there. I didn’t want to believe it either.
“please,”
“Wilbur, I want to tell you, I want to tell you everything that happened but, I’m pathetic, I can’t find the words, it's like I'm choking on nothing.” Wilbur reached to turn off the facet, yet he didn’t turn to face me. “I can’t- I can’t” He placed his hands on either side of the sink as he took calculated breaths seemingly trying to calm his own nerves.
————————-
‘Just breathe,’ He shook the water from his hands and into the sink, still not daring to turn and face y/n. Not wanting to risk seeing their injury, their blood, to fall right into that version of himself. The version that had come back a monster, a parasite made to use those around him.
“Wilbur- what if the stuff with Dream was my fault.” Y/n’s voice wavered as they seemed to slip into blaming themselves. The words made his emotions build. The situation seemingly impossible to solve due to y/n’s own feelings of their involvement in a situation he couldn’t even begin to guess.
“What did he do, love?” He begged, his hands finding their way to the edge of the basin again, his tight grip making his knuckles bloom white. Y/n stood stunned as they studied the way blood began to drip from their hand now. They made no move to bandage the injury. A deafening silence drew out between the two. Filled then with the sound of y/n’s panicked breathing. Wilbur pivoted to see their eyes still locked on their hand as tears slipped down their face.
“fuck, we really need to get that wrapped” Wilbur stared at the blood that was now dripping on to the white tiles, splattering across the pristine floor. Red contrasting against the pale flooring, the sight making his head spin. He found himself whimpering as he tried to get y/n to the sink to clean their hand.
“I’m sorry,” they cried as they pushed their hand under the water turning the water in the sink a light pink as it splashed against the metal.
“Please don’t be sorry anymore, you’ve done nothing wrong, okay? I’ll be right back, you stay right here.” Wilbur made his way to the first aid kit, rushing back to bandage the wound. He made quick work of the injury using his tactile hands. Applying the wrapping felt like second nature due to his own hand wraps he had been using since he got back. “none of this is your fault, especially if it has to do with Dream.” y/n weakly nodded as they leaned into Wilbur.
“Sam needs us to meet at the prison, he’s gathering everyone. I want you to ask him about it, I just-“ They pushed as they took a deep breath.
“That's okay, my love.” Wilbur gently ran his hands through their hair, brushing down the strands that had become unruly.
warnings: manipulation, violence, fighting, panic attacks, trauma, mentions of character death
masterlist of blood letting
note: read the warnings
His sword is a comfortable weight in his scarred hand, the hilt wrapped in leather, his grip tight. The metal weapon felt like a return to himself, its shimmering a sinister promise to hurt those who had wronged him. His mouth watered as he stared at the light blue sword, imagining it as a dark purple. He missed Nightmare but for now this must suffice. Dream quickly went back to sharpening the blade, meticulously making sure it would be perfect to slice through his enemies just as it had been crafted to, to right what had been wronged.
He had been waiting for Wilbur to return without y/n, but something in him knew Wilbur wasn’t coming back. He knew from the start. Men like Wilbur could be so fickle with someone like y/n whispering in their ear. Y/n could be so persuasive, so persistent, he didn’t know if he could bring himself to fault the man for folding. He knew it would end like this though, them on opposing sides. He wasn’t connected to Wilbur anymore, ties severed after he walked out of that prison, no matter what Wilbur had convinced himself of he could care less about the man.
He was almost done preparing his gear, not bothering to even start Wilbur’s even when he was still here. He only had to go to the nether to collect netherite before he could begin his onslaught. The future tasted sweet, a sick promise of blood to finally be in the air again. Dream laid down the sword on the cracking anvil with a smirk. He turned to look at the marked map behind him, x’s on houses, arrows pointing to weaknesses and targets. A mosaic of to-be pain all in one place.
He had been weighing whether he would kill y/n or not. A big question mark scribbled over where their house sat. He wondered if they could change, be fixed if you will. I guess the decision could be made later, when they weren’t in the place to deny such mercy from Dream. When his sword was slowly drawing blood from their neck. Guess he would be just like Wilbur in that regard.
——————
“I’ll come with you, I will, please just-“ I focused on the panicked voice that trailed from behind me as I slowly came to. I was sitting on a hard surface, my back against someone whose chest was hastily rising and falling. Their breaths were forced and ragged. “Sam, please they need help-“ The voice called out and was cut off as I slowly cracked my eyes open to be met with the night sky and the looming prison. The building first insisting fear then a strange sense of home. I was back in the dsmp, no longer imprisoned in a gloomy mansion, yet I was still with Wilbur. Why did that make me so scared?
“Wilbur, I should kill you right now. Do you not understand what you did? What mercy I’m even giving you right now by letting you fucking speak?” I shook my head, sitting up straight against the person behind me. I desperately wanted to defuse the argument but didn’t feel like I had the words or the strength. My brain a mess of feelings and fog. Sam quickly turned to look at me with wide eyes once he noticed my subtle movements. His gaze felt like sunlight for a brief moment, an escape from all that has gone horribly wrong. He granted me a soft smile that I only knew existed by the crinkle of his eyes that weren’t covered by his intimidating mask.
“hey, y/n” he spoke with a lighter tone more indicative of Sam not the Warden he was being towards Wilbur. I reached for him with an open hand merely wanting to hug my close friend. To give up for just a second. He quickly came up to my side helping me slide off the large horse I had been seated on. I caught a glimpse of Wilbur’s nervous smile, but quickly pressed myself into Sam’s body. Wilbur could wait, he could wait for just a bit.
I needed a separation from everything. Wilbur’s face feeling as damning as seeing Dream himself sat behind me. A chill ran over my body, Dream’s hands pushing me to the floor all over again. My arm hitting the ground. Sam didn’t hesitate to wrap himself around me once I was within reach, warmth engulfing my sleep-riddled body. I winced at the pain he caused by pressing on my injured arm but could care less. “Hi, bear.” he mumbled into my hair, a familiar nickname that made me feel even more relaxed. Warmth bloomed in my heart, a brief moment of peace.
“Sam,” I sighed out, allowing myself to fully melt into him knowing he would support my weight, knowing he wouldn’t let me go as he never had before. I wanted to disappear, to implode, my life felt on fire. A burning house with no exits left. I tried to steady myself against him. The feeling was also a wash of familiarity, smelled just like gunpowder, felt just like when the man behind me had died.
“Do you wanna go home?” he asked me, slightly pulling back from our embrace so he could study my expression. It was such a simple question, but yet I felt my eyes water. He seemed to falter the more he looked at me, his own eyes jumping across my face. I probably looked like shit.
“mmmhm,” I whimpered, stuffing my face back into his chest as hot tears began to run down my cheeks. Everything was wrong and it felt like it was my fault. I could feel Wilbur’s eyes burning into my back and it only made me feel worse. I was not only responsible for my own safety, I was responsible for everyone’s. I was now heaving, sobbing into Sam’s chest as he pet my hair and let me crumble.
“Just breathe, bear. It’s okay, it’s all gonna be okay.” he whispered into my hair. I quickly shook my head against him, my anxiety a vice. “I know, I know, let’s get you home okay.” He took the liberty of picking me up, cradling me in his arms “Wilbur, you follow behind or god fucking help you.” Wilbur didn’t respond but I heard the clicking of hooves follow behind us.
————————-
Dread built in his stomach as he followed closely behind Sam and y/n. He selfishly couldn’t bring himself to focus his full attention on the exhausted body being cradled by Sam. Anxiety pooled on his skin as he slowly trailed behind the pair to y/n’s home. The path was familiar, he need not put too much effort into following as his worries consumed him.
“Wilbur, come hold the door open.” He was quick to tie up the horse and pry open the door. The clear closeness between Y/n and Sam shocked him. The nickname ran through his head, bear, a staple of the months he had missed. Sam hadn’t even been a name he had known, not in any great clarity at least when he had passed. The relationship added context to the fact that y/n had thought they would be able to ebb the consequence of his mistakes with the Warden himself. He hadn’t believed this, leaving y/n to fight with Dream alone on a matter he knew they wouldn’t be able to change. To be left a bruised mess on the floor. To be told by Dream to use them further, y/n a mere puppet to the man, and now a new consequence of his own actions arose, he must talk to Sam alone.
“Wilbur.” Sam’s voice was gruff and lower than the one he had used with y/n.
“Sam, are they-“ he was promptly cut off. Wilbur studied Sam’s hard expression, their eyes locked.
“They are asleep in their bedroom” The tension between the two was palpable, but the reason seemed to have strayed off. Countless things went through Wilbur’s head as he stared the Warden down. “Do you understand what you did, Wilbur? I should have already killed you, but y/n-“ he paused, his hand falling from its place on the hilt of his sword to be run through his hair. Sam shut his eyes tight, trusting that Wilbur wouldn’t foolishly run.
“You mean too much to them.” A breath got caught in Wilbur’s throat “I probably understand that more than you. After you died, Wilbur, they were in bad shape, really fucking bad shape.” Wilbur sharply inhaled, his lungs full of needles. He didn’t need to hear this or maybe he just didn’t want to. “They wouldn’t leave this fucking house, Wilbur, and you came back and, fuck, I think you made them worse all over again.” Sam looked up at Wilbur.
“You were an impossibility to them, they were finally fucking moving on.” Sam got to his feet “You and fucking Dream just hurt them over and over.” His gaze was burning right through him, he immediately relented, stepping back. Wilbur’s shoulders hunched as he let himself fall back against the now shut door. “and they still love you.”
“Sam,” he quickly held up his hand. Wilbur taking the hint that he wasn’t done. He watched as Sam took a deep breath before averting his eyes to the kitchen.
“So much happened that y/n isn’t telling you things that Dream did to everyone in your absence. Wilbur, he beat Tommy to death and he-“ Sam looked back at Wilbur’s crumpled form. Wilbur needed to understand. “You let out a monster, Wilbur. A monster that hurt the person in that room more than you can imagine.” A silence drew out between them, a silence that was not filled by voices but their own shared labored breathing. Both men drawn tight, two strings about to snap. “Stay here with them. Don’t you fucking think about leaving.” Wilbur gave Sam a nod. He wasn’t going to leave them, he wouldn’t think twice about that even if Sam wasn’t threatening his life.
Wilbur trailed to y/n’s bedroom, somewhere they had once shared. The room had changed drastically since then, new sheets and new furniture. He knew it was because of him, he couldn’t imagine living in that room if their roles had been switched, a ghost around every corner. Sheets once green were now a ruby red. Y/n was sleeping now, their face a reflection of calm water not the panic it had been earlier. The more he studied their face the more Wilbur paled. He noticed scars he hadn’t before, how the bruise had only gotten worse. Time apart and together alike leaving them with more wounds. He fell into a restless sleep beside them.
taking requests on this account for the first time so for darker mcyt x reader things. If you dislike that just block if you don’t send a request! no rules rn if I don’t write it I don’t write it!
“fuck.” he muttered. Y/n always right there for him, and what the fuck was he, a parasite stuck to their neck? He suddenly jumped to his feet, realizing what the conversation had meant. Words not worth feeling pity over for y/n was going to talk to Dream.
———-
I stormed through the halls, listening for sounds of rustling, of life. The sound of my blood rushing seemed to be far too present in my ears. I made my way to where I had last seen Dream last night, and I heard the sound of unfolding paper from a nearby room. A blood red carpet leading me to the slaughter. I quickly walked to the sound, posture held high, I needed to know my purpose if this was going to go well, if this was going to go at all.
“What a nice surprise.” Dream purred out looking up from the map he was studying on the large meeting table. His posture is always that of a predator’s, always waiting for you to slip up. The paper extended over almost the entire table, my eyes torn to look at the large crater that was almost dead in the center. “that’s l’manberg, you know. Just a crater, a fucking sad hole is all your revolution added up to.” I squinted my eyes at him, furrowing my brow. The words a new scar torn open to bleed the sickly blood of regret. He lowly chuckled in response, leaning over to create more red marks over the map, a mess of arrows and lines that meant nothing to me but somehow still seemed at least a bit unsettling.
“Always the charmer, Dream.” I said walking further into the room. I took a deep breath, settling my nerves that seemed to endlessly build in my chest. “Anyway, I need to talk to you,” he quickly snapped his head up to bare into me “Wilbur, he- he won’t speak up, but-“ he tilted his head. I felt myself pause, consider.
“but you will?” he said with a honeyed voice. The taste was too sweet on my tongue. Dream trailed around the table closer to me “you? will?” he questioned with arrogance in his voice, pointing a finger at my chest. The mask left his expression unreadable, his imposing posture making the hairs on my arms raise. was being belittled, pushed aside.
“y-yes.” I stuttered, he leaned forward as I clumsily stumbled back, losing ground in an already fruitless fight. “yes, I will, Dream.” I took a breath, shaking the anxieties from my head “You can’t hurt those people, I don’t care about your stupid fucking revenge. You’re out of the prison, Dream, get the fuck away from them and just fucking leave.” He stood taller now, his mask slightly chipped and looming over me. He seemed like a man who could blow out the sun's light. “Go fucking terrorize other people, leave them alone. Please,” I wanted to plead, to beg “you already got what you want.” Then suddenly he burst out into laughter, loud and disruptive.
“What a joke, you and your bold ideas, darling.” he once again leaned closer to me. His hand covered with a fingerless glove, he caressed my cheek. The touch a burning heat. “So pretty to be so fucking stupid” he spat with clear disdain. “and to think when I let Wilbur bring you, I thought you’d just be dead weight, a pain, but god you’re fucking worse.” He circled around me now, like an animal finally finding their prey. “I’m going to fucking slaughter them, y/n. If you are lucky, you won’t get caught up in it.”
—————-
Wilbur bounded up the red carpeted stairs, his heart beating in his throat. He muttered to himself, a silent prayer that y/n would be okay, a prayer that they would forgive him for his hesitance, a prayer that this waking nightmare would end. He didn’t want to be a coward, he didn’t want to be anything less than what y/n needed. He searched every room with wild eyes and shaky hands. A crazed man looking for the fix.
“Why the fuck is this fucking building so big?” he said running through each room. He pushed back his hair with an exasperated sigh. The white streak splitting the muddy brown like a strike of lighting “where are you?”
A loud thud resonated from the ground above him, opening a pit in his stomach.
——————-
“you won’t- you can’t-“ he shook his head, dismissing me. I scoured for what to do, shifting the weight on my feet. Ideas falling through like water through cupped hands. “If you don’t get the fuck away from the dream SMP,, Wilbur and I, we- we-“
“You’ll what, princess? Get your precious lover boy locked up. You don’t want that AND dead friends do you?” he sing songed, everything a taunt to make this game all the more fun for him. I was a mouse merely caught in his trap.
“Dream,” I mumbled, my voice wavering, I knew I wouldn’t be able to trust my voice but still I tried. Tried to speak, to say something. I came up here with the idea to lose a life, but maybe I hadn’t weighed that heavily enough. Weighed what it meant to its full capacity, a knife through the heart.
“y/n,” he purred back once again. Dream then slowly lifted his hastily made mask revealing his marred face and pushing back his matted hair in the process. I stared at him with wide eyes as he smirked down at me. His face one crafted of cracked marble. “You’ve always been so enticing, y/n, but always so fucking idiotic.” he sneered at me leaning even closer. His hot breath fanning across my face. “Part of the insistent thorn in my side, with your silly revolution, your stupid dotting over Wilbur.” My breaths began to be ragged “You got these puppy dog eyes, princess, these big puppy eyes.” He reached up to rub his thumb under my eye, I violently flinched back with a yelp. He quickly pulled me back towards him.
“Dream, please, I just-“ I couldn’t force the words out. I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. I just wanted my friends to be safe from the insidious man.
“Please what, puppy” he tilted my head up with a finger under my chin.
“I just want them to be okay-“ he swiftly slapped the cheek he had formerly been caressing, I cried out, bringing my hand to my face. I whimpered as he pushed me to the ground. My arm landing hard against the dark floorboards. Pain bloomed like clarity.
“useless,” he tched walking back over to the map to continue his work. I crawled over to press myself against the wall. The cool wood taking my back. My head began to spin again, a comfortable feeling really. The world becoming a wash of color, not misplaced feelings. I wanted to let go, give into the waves of pain that resonated from my arm. I lowly whined. A plea left unanswered as the wolf spoke with a low timber. “you stay right there, princess.” I let myself fall away.
—————-
“-princess” the nickname made Wilbur feel sick, the tone pushing the feeling further. He heard lightning crack, an angry blow. He walked into the wide open room to see Dream hunched over a table, fervently writing on a large map. The world laid out before him staring expectantly.
“Dream, where is y/n?” Wilbur pressed, Dream simply chuckled to himself, the mask once again placed over his face.
“right there,” he pointed to them, not lifting his head from the map “not that you should care.” he drew quiet, Wilbur looked down at y/n’s collapsed form, one of their cheeks a bright angry red. His feet were glued to the ground, “They don’t respect you, Wilbur, maybe you should treat them just the same, you know treat others how you wish to be treated.” Wilbur craned his head to look at Dream, his mask now unturned to look back. “they made their choice, coming up here to fucking complain.” Dream’s voice was laced with venom, each word a painful bite.
“and what do you suggest I do then,” Wilbur inquired, eyes still glued to them. A body that seemed to be everything in the moment. He watched as they shallowly breathed, a light bruise beginning to form under their right eye. Purple that stained like wine.
“get them out of here, then come back and we can do what we need to,” he chuckled, “without,” he paused, “distraction.” Wilbur leaned down, gently scooping y/n up in his arms. They lowly groaned, their face contorting to one of pain. He winced right back. “You do still need blood though hmm,” Wilbur turned to see Dream looking up at him. The mention of the substance making him feel woozy. “Maybe take some, I’m sure they’ll understand.” he seemed to coo the words, each one more unsettling. The implication making y/n’s weight heavier in his arms.
Wilbur gave a curt nod, focusing on not revealing his thoughts on the matter. He kept his body relaxed, his face expressionless. He let himself hide the growing storm, y/n deserves an umbrella from the pouring rain. He proceeded to leave the room without a word. Finding his way to the horses still tied up in the front, he took off.
“thank god you didn’t die.” he whispered to y/n “I’m gonna fix this, I promise.” he didn’t receive a reply. Only silence that barred into him solidifying guilt.
I woke up to an empty room, the curtains gently blowing from a breeze through the a jar window. I wanted things to feel okay so bad, but I felt weak again, and I knew Wilbur didn’t want to address Dream. I saw right through his lies of talking in the morning, and now he was nowhere to be seen. He simply left an imprint in the throw off blankets beside me. I crawled across the bed and padded towards the open window. The wind felt cool on my face, biting at my red cheeks. I jumped as an argument began outside.
“We need to figure this out, Dream, we can’t be here forever.” it was Wilbur’s voice that first became loud enough I could hear it from my place on the window sill.
“We can though, Wilbur. Besides, we are just waiting for me to get materials again.” I walked closer to the door that would get me out of Wilbur’s room. The closer I got the clearer their words became.
“and how long will that take?” Dream scoffed at Wilbur.
“Impatient much? we are safe here, isn’t that enough?”
“No, I want to put all of this shit behind me.” I heard a shuffling of feet. “Dream, I’m sick of this situation.”
“Well, We both know that is not happening anytime soon. Why don’t you just fucking enjoy your time with y/n while I do the heavy lifting hm?” Wilbur made a displeased noise.
“Leave y/n out of this” Wilbur’s voice was lower now. “What the fuck are we even waiting on you for.”
“We are gonna make them all pay, Wilbur, I promise, but please, just stay out of it right now.” A shiver ran down my spine, the hairs on my arms becoming raised. I listened intently as footsteps trailed away from outside the room. Wilbur seemed to still be outside of the door. I took a deep breath before opening it slowly. Wilbur looked at me with an apologetic smile.
“Did we wake you?” he asked, sliding into the room, and firmly shutting the door behind him.
“you did, but it’s okay.” I wandered back over to the open window, resting on the window sill.
“Thank you for last night, I wasn’t feeling like myself.” I absently nodded tracing shapes on the back of my hand. Wilbur sat by me for a while.
“Can we go outside?” I opened the window more, leaning outside.
“it’s a bit cold, I don’t know if I packed you a jacket.” Wilbur seemed to be talking absently to himself. He kissed my forehead before quickly digging through a dresser finding a coat of his own, a long charcoal over coat. He handed it to me with a warm smile. “Let’s go, my love.”
He led me with his hand in my own. His hand was coarse, his fingertips having calluses from his time playing the guitar. Fingers flexible, meant to be placed on the neck of a guitar. His hands made him human, a testament to his life. I found myself in a small rose garden. Tall walls of green and speckled red.
“Can we have our talk now, Wilbur?” I asked him as we both sat down on an ornate stone bench that was out of the shade to avoid it being colder than we already were.
“Yes, that’s actually why I came up to get you in the first place.” I looked over at his pensive face, his brows were furrowed as he mulled over what could come.
“Wilbur, I-” I took a shuddering breath. “I want to leave here, I want to be away from Dream, I want to be home again.” I ran my eyes over his face watching as his expression softened.
“You know we can’t.” He remained unmovable on the position. “Besides we’re safe here, can’t you make that enough for right now?”
“No, I can’t. I want to be with the people I love Wilbur! We- We can make them understand, I promise, I will make them understand if we just go home, please.” Wilbur stiffly shook his head, running a wavering hand through his curly hair. The white streak pushed back like a white dead branch on a flowering tree.
“Stop, please. I hate hearing you like this, seeing you like this, but It’s not going to happen, y/n. You are stuck living in this made-up reality in your head where people could ever forgive me for freeing Dream.” I felt myself become frustrated. A build-up to what I inevitably knew I had to say. “You know they won’t.”
“Wilbur,” I huffed “I heard the whole conversation with you and Dream.” he quickly looked at me with wide eyes “Do you really want to hurt them? I mean our old friends don’t deserve that right? Who have you even become to consider such a thing?” I felt the need to curl in on myself as I broached the conversation. Why would Wilbur want to hurt the people he used to love?
“No, y/n, I don’t. I don’t WANT to hurt them.” he rubbed his hands on his thighs “but Dream is so set on his sick plans, I just have to go with it. I don’t have a choice”
“You do if you were just to speak up about it. We both know he’s in the wrong.” I pleaded with him.
“It’s not that simple.”
“How is it not that simple? What is he gonna do kill you again?” his face hardened.
“Precisely.” I chewed the inside of my mouth, pursing my lips. A long silence drew out between us, the worst thing about this argument is I knew Wilbur though he wanted what was best for me.
“Then I’ll talk to him.” another silence blew over us, Wilbur of the opinion I was bluffing with my bold confession.
“y/n-”
“I have two lives left and I don’t mind losing one to stand up for the people I know would do the same for me, even now.” His eyes were dark, his forehead crinkled as he stared at me.
“Don’t you dare, y/n” he warned. I quickly got to my feet. Turning to look down at his still sitting form.
“Shut up!” He was taken back by my loud outburst “you know, you are supposed to be the leader. At least fucking act like it, that’s the least you did in Pogtopia, but you can’t do the same now, can you.” I took a deep breath. “Don’t tell me 13 years made you a fucking coward, Wilbur.” I stormed away from him, my heart hammering away in my chest. I had one thing to do, to find Dream. I needed to fix this, if I fixed it Wilbur would understand, and we can all be okay again.
note: shorter chapter, but getting to where I wanted to with this dialogue was hard
Mirror, why am I always looking in the mirror? And god why do I always look back?
My eyes are beaty, almost completely black. I reach up to pull at my face with numb fingers. Push back the skin like I’m looking for something. I lift my lip up revealing sharp canines, the teeth of a predator. My brain is stopped at the sight. It can’t be real? Did I die? I pull down at my eyelids, search my arms for a sign, anything to explain, and once I look back up I see it. My eyes trailing over my neck; The expanse of skin covered in bite marks. Scabs, scars, and fresh and grotesque bruises litter my skin. My neck a sign of being used and owned, I feel sick. I’m always fucking sick.
I feel hands wrap around my waist from behind. I quickly lookup in the mirror to see Wilbur. His eyes scarlet, pupils blown wide. He roughly pulls me against him.
“Mine, all mine” He stares into me through the mirror, his voice all wrong. It’s scratchy, hard to even distinguish as words.
“No, no, no” he buries his head into my neck, and it feels all too familiar.
“It’s okay, you won’t last long.” I feel his fangs press into my skin, a burning in my veins.
I wake up in a jolt, my body rushing up in the strangely comfortable bed. My hands immediately holding my neck to find it unmarred, merely two marks to stand up to the thousands I’d seen in my nightmare.
“Wilbur, wouldn’t do that” I mutter to myself, rubbing my arms in comfort. I steadied my breathing looking around the unfamiliar room. Last time I checked I was on a horse? A window casts long shadows across the room, the moon illuminating a rectangle on the floorboards. The walls are dark oak, red curtains line the massive window, vermillion carpet adorning the floor, and a mass of books loomed over me from the farthest wall, it looked to be a taken-over woodland mansion from what I could tell. I remembered going to one with Ranboo, he insisted we needed totems, but I told him no one would need to fight anymore since Dream was imprisoned. I knew I was lying then as much as I do now. Everyone knew Dream would get out, it had just been a matter of time.
I got to my feet, swinging them over the massive bed. Wandering out into the hallway, I padded down the scarlet carpet, it muffling my footsteps. I needed to find Wilbur.
“Tsk, tsk. Miss sleeping beauty is finally awake, huh?” I spun around to be met by a crude insidious mask hovering above me. The smile seemed more deep set than his last one, the white paint not covering the wood due to a lack of sanding. “You like it, sweetheart?” I recoiled at the affectionate nickname, backing away from him.
“Where’s Wilbur?” I asked, steeling myself enough to be able talk to him.
“It’s always Wilbur this Wilbur that ever since I’ve gotten out. Can’t we have some time together?”
“No, we can’t, Dream.” I push malice into my voice as he lifted his head, a motion that hinted to the fact he had rolled his eyes under the mask.
“Fine, fine, maybe later then. He’s in his room, by the way,” he pointed behind me “it’s at the end of the hall.” I nodded and began to walk away “See you later, princess.” he called and I shook away his pet names, increasing my pace to the door that would get me to Wilbur, to safety. I didn’t waste time, quickly pressing open the door with a sigh of relief as I relaxed at the familiar smell of campfires and smoke.
Wilbur was sat on the ledge of the window, it swung open slightly. He held a cigarette between his lips, his head resting against the wall. Moonlight made his hair shine, the white streak seeming to glow. Long shadows were cast across his face, emphasizing how his eye bags had gotten increasingly worse since we were at my house.
“Wilbur?” I tentatively asked, pushing the door closed behind me. He slowly opened his eyes with a lazy smile, he seemed far away,
“y/n.” he said plainly taking the cigarette out of his mouth, blowing smoke out the window. I walked over to him and the closer I got the worse he looked. His hands were trembling; His lips were chapped and dry.
“Wilbur, are you okay?” he looked away from me, averting his gaze to the trees out the window.
“No, I guess not.” he stretched up his arms, pausing to reorient himself after “Dream, said-” he stopped again, pursing his lips and lifting his shaky hand to take another drag of his cigarette.
“He said what?” I prodded him, sitting down on the other side of the window ledge.
“The blood thing, y/n.” he crinkled his nose. “it’s why I’m so-“ he gestured to his head.
“Oh,” I studied his face. He slowly blinked seeming seconds away from passing out from exhaustion. “I-” he lowly whined, throwing the cigarette out the window. Wilbur weakly got to his feet, immediately tripping over nothing. I rushed up to catch him, him collapsing into me, his face pressed into my neck.
“Please,” he whined as I pulled him up.
“Hey, you’re okay, you’re okay.” I moved him over to the bed, pressing the back of my hand against his forehead as he sat. He pulled my hand down, nuzzling into my wrist.
“y/n?” he seemed to be asking for permission, and I felt obliged to help seeing him so vulnerable. I nodded my head slowly. He roughly pulled me into his lap, me straddling his legs. Wilbur wrapped his arms around my waist, burying his face into my neck. I tilted my head to allow him better access as my nerves built up. Flashes of my dream plaguing my mind. The hundreds of bite marks bleeding me dry.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I cried. I saw him in my mind, eyes a bright red instead of the rich wine I had come accustomed to since he had returned. I felt myself digging my fingers into his hair with a shuttered breath as my heart rate quickened.
“I would never even think about it, darling.” he pulled away from me, his eyes full of affection “are you sure? I don’t want you to think I’m just using you.”
“Mhm.” I took a deep breath. Studying his worn-out face. He leaned into me, pressing a chaste kiss against my lips. He tilted my head by placing a hand on the back of my neck. Suddenly it was a stinging pain, a burn that passed through my veins just ike it had in my dream. It bloomed into a numb warmth as Wilbur continued. His mouth hot against my skin. He gasped for air, licking the part of my neck he had bitten.
“So good for me, so good.” he trailed kisses up my jaw eventually kissing me on the lips. His mouth tasting of iron, blood, and cigarette smoke. “thank you, thank you.” he breathed out, cupping my face. I ran my eyes over his features, his face was now flushed pink, his eyes dark. He smiled at me, his teeth coated in red, his fangs more prominent.
“Wilbur,” I felt the stress of the situation run back into me “we need to talk, now that you’re better.” he nodded his head absently. He seemed to deliberately be pulling in breaths of air, each one making him seem that much brighter. “Dream.”
“Dream.” he repeated, still staring at me with a hunger in his eyes “I know you don’t get it, I promise I do.” I huffed at him, knowing he was gonna dismiss Dream’s actions “but I owe him everything.”
“No, you don’t. Especially not now, aren’t you guys even? You broke him out already, Wilbur.” reasoning with him on the matter felt impossible.
“Yes, but look where we are right now. For all, we know if Dream wasn’t here I’d be in prison.”
“That’s not true, if he wasn’t fucking here we’d be at home, and we’d be with our friends Wilbur,” I said incredulous about what he had stated.
“If he wasn’t here, I’d still be dead, and they are your friends, not mine” he remarked.
“what do you mean?” I looked at him, hurt clear on his face.
“they fucking hate me, y/n.” he looked away “because of what I did, they hate me, and I’m fucking sick of walking on eggshells and apologizing.”
“Wilbur,” I cupped his cheek, rubbing my thumb under his eye. He pulled my hand down, holding it in his own.
“We should talk about this tomorrow.” my hopes of change fell “It’s late, my dear. I promise I am not trying to push this away, but I think the morning will bring better clarity to the situation. We can’t argue in this state.”
“Fine.” I looked at him in the eyes “but I need you to listen to me, at least consider what I’m saying Wilbur”
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