#I keep switching past and present tense ughhh i hate this

[listenheresweaty]

Revivebur x Reader Part 4

Hhh i hate how this turned out, but here it is. parts 1-3 can be found in my masterlist (pinned post)

taglist: @witheredroseanon

there's 1/2 of my debt to the doggo. siren fic will be coming out soon.

He doesn’t stop bothering you, but your drawers do stay locked after that incident in the forest— or maybe it’s just the new locks you’ve installed. Wilbur seems to have changed tactics, deciding to annoy you with his constant presence instead of directly interfering with your life by stealing or breaking things. Occasionally, you do go a little mad while looking for a certain tool in your cabinets, but as soon as you turn around you meet Wilbur’s eyes. He holds up the item as if asking, “you looking for this?”

You don’t have to say anything. He silently holds out whatever he’s stolen towards you, his smirk never fading even as you snatch it back. 

Soon, this barely fazes you anymore. When your wrench goes missing, you don’t even look up from the table— you just hold out your hand to the side and he places it in your palm, snickering quietly. 

And if Wilbur notices you lean closer to the table to hide your smile, he doesn’t mention it. 

 It’s easier to tolerate him as time goes on, even if he’s squatting on your land and laughs in your face at any suggestions of making him pay rent. 

One day, Tommy runs out to find Wilbur waiting in the lawn. He greets his little brother, reluctantly roped into conversation— but it’s immediately clear that his mind is elsewhere. Even while giving distracted, half-finished responses to Tommy’s queries, Wilbur’s tilting on his feet, subtly leaning over from side to side as he cranes his neck in an attempt to see through the bushes and into the house. But there’s nothing— and no one— there. 

“What are you looking for?” Tommy asks, confused. 

“Nothing.” Wilbur sighs, almost seeming disappointed. “C’mon, Toms. Let’s go to, um… where did you say you wanted to go again?”

The two set off to spy on Tommy’s old hotel  (Tommy wanted to see how it was faring under the Manifold regime) and hold one of their first real, honest conversations in months. 

During one of Wilbur’s rants, Tommy begins to notice some marked differences in Wilbur’s conversation topics. He no longer goes on and on about why you’re a bad influence and Tommy should stay away— he slanders you regularly, yes, but never mentions Tommy’s possible departure from your house like he used to before the fight. 

“—And they have all these maps and papers cluttered all over their study, fanning out across every room like some sort of cursed web of documents, and god FORBID someone touches those papers or moves them in the slightest way because they will just flip the fuck out— I swear to god they’re insane Tommy, they drive me insane, with their stupid notes and crazy plans and constant nagging voice and that absolutely arrogant, unbothered attitude as they just chill in this stupid cabin on this ridiculously tall mountain, and don’t bat an eye at anything that I— at anything that anyone does— they make no sense and they—----- they just drive me nuts, Tommy, absolutely nuts. I don’t know how you deal with them.” 

Wilbur was rambling on and on to Tommy about how infuriatingly maddening you are, excitedly waving his hands as he tried to make his point. Tommy listened in bewilderment. 

“They’re not arrogant.” Tommy protested. “You’re just a nuisance.” 

“Tommy, you can’t see that behavior and think it’s normal.”

“What behavior? Writing plans on paper? Liking things organized?”

“No, no. The—- the—” Wilbur waves his hands emphatically, staring at Tommy as if trying to get Tommy to understand his point without outright saying it. 

Tommy does not get it. 

“Nah, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with them. They—” Tommy says, before being cut off. 

“I’m just saying–” Wilbur attempts. 

“No. You aren’t—” 

“Not that they’re dangerous–”

“We aren’t doing this—” 

“They could never be dangerous, I’m just saying—”

“Oi, prick! They’ve given both of us a roof to sleep under and meals to eat. Actually, there’s mushroom stew tonight and I’d fucking appreciate it if you’d refrain from being an arsehole at dinner.” 

“Wh— me?” Wilbur stops in the middle of saying something else and looks at Tommy. “Me? At dinner?” 

“Yeah, they’ve invited you too. Can’t see why..” Tommy grumbles, hiding behind some tree to squint at the hotel in the distance. “Look, Manifold’s coming out! …What the hell is he wearing? Is that supposed to be a uniform? He looks like dollar store versions of the Queen’s guards.. Wilbur! Are you listening?”

“...Hm? Oh, yeah. Manifold. What’s he doing?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Now, when he moves away, we need to….”

Tommy kept talking, but very little of what he said seemed to have registered in Wilbur’s mind. Although Manifold had just gone back into the hotel to sleep, thus rendering their plans useless, Tommy had definitely noticed how Wilbur’s mind had been somewhere else during the conversation. During the entire day, actually. 

And when they return later that evening to find you having already cooked the mushroom stew (not in order to avoid Tommy in the kitchen, not at all), Tommy is paying very close attention. As the (very big) man of the house, he has to stay vigilant, you know?

As Wilbur drapes himself over the couch after dinner, Tommy takes note of how his older brother’s eyes follow your movements around the house with a faint smirk— almost a smile. 

What?

It takes Tommy a few seconds to realize you’re talking to him. He tunes in to your voice and manages to catch the tail end of the conversation;

“... the creeper unfortunately got stuck in the brewing room, so now I’ve lost half of everything in there. It shouldn’t be too hard to replenish the supply though, since Wilbur’s agreed to help and he’s quite good at potions.” 

At that, Wilbur glances down and fiddles with an old tear in his sweater, lips twitching into a smile. 

What?

The threads in Wilbur’s sweater  accidentally start to come loose and his brow furrows, tangling his fingers in the strings as he tries to tug them free– but that only worsens the tear.

“...But it will still cause a delay, so we’ll have to postpone that visit to the Beloved_ household. I’ve already asked Philza to send a crow—Wilbur, what are you doing?”

Wilbur freezes, looking up from the growing mess he’s making of his sweater collar. He coughs and averts his eyes, trying to come up with an explanation but falls silent when you make your way over to him and gently pry his hands from the tear. Wilbur lets his hands fall to his side, not moving from his reclining position on the couch as he lets you do your thing.

“I’m only tying and tucking in the threads here, so I’ll need to bring it to the village to be fixed.” You say as you fix the tear in his sweater, looking up when you’re finished. 

“Thanks.” Wilbur says quietly, smiling. 

Surprisingly, you return the smile— then promptly let go of his sweater and resume tidying up your office space on the other side of the room.

What. 

As soon as you move back into the kitchen to rummage around for some plates, Tommy leans in to hiss in Wilbur’s ear. “Okay, what the fuck is going on? What was that?”

“Hm?” Wilbur lifts his head to look at Tommy. “What was what?”

“That.” Tommy gestures to Wilbur’s sweater, then at you.  

Wilbur blinks, looking for a moment like a deer in headlights. He regained his composure, lips slowly spreading into a smirk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Tommy opens his mouth to argue further, but the sounds of plates being set on the table snapping him out of it. “Fine.” He mutters reluctantly to Wilbur as he goes to help you set the table. “But you are helping me wash the dishes after this.”

Wilbur snorts. “Fat chance.”

The tension continues throughout dinner, submerging the three in silence as the sounds of cutlery against plates echoed through the room. You eyed the two boys across from you. 

“Is everything alright?” You ask warily. 

Tommy hesitated, scowling, but Wilbur cut him off. 

“All good!” He says lightly, stirring his stew. Tommy’s eyes narrow further— and so do yours, although for different reasons. 

“Right.” You say suspiciously. “Anyway, I’ll be going out to find a crow and send that letter after dinner.”

“I can—“

“I’ll go with you.” Tommy cuts Wilbur off, sending him a dirty glare. 

“Neither of you will be coming with me. It’s dark out, and two people will only attract more attention from the monsters. Besides, someone has to make sure Wilbur doesn’t steal my stuff.” You give each of them a pointed look.  

“What a low opinion you have of me, darling.” Wilbur grins, but he concedes and takes another sip of the soup. 

As soon as the soup is finished, you get up and begin gathering the plates. Tommy stands with you, helping you bring them over to the sink. 

“Wilbur, can you help Tommy wash the dishes tonight?” You call over your shoulder as you grab your coat from the closet. 

“Of course.” Wilbur agrees, leaning against the wall. 

“Great.” You button up the coat and ruffle Tommy’s hair. “See you later, then.” 

Just before leaving, you gave Wilbur a swift peck to the cheek. “Goodbye to you, too.” 

You leave the house, leaving your two stunned guests in the living room. 

Tommy was yammering and protesting about something next to his ear, but Wilbur couldn’t bring himself to care. He stared at the door you had just left through, a stupid smile on his face. 

Sighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Yes there will be a part 5. 

It will be headcanons though, not a full fic

credit for the divider goes to @firefly-graphics

#sweaty “writes” #c: wlbr #dsmp wilbur #revived wilbur #c wilbur #revivebur #revivedbur x reader #c!wilbur x reader #dsmp x platonic reader #tommy x reader #p!tommy #tried to recreate the crimeboys dialogue by having them constantly cut each other off #hope it worked #I keep switching past and present tense ughhh i hate this