𝕄ℂ𝕐𝕋 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕆𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕤

ℝ𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕓𝕦𝕣 ~ 𝕊𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕦𝕚𝕟𝕖 ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟚

Inspired by the positive feedback on the last oneshot, take this extra physical romance writing practice :)

MCYT: Revivebur 😍

SMP or AU: Dream SMP

Type: Flirty angst

Pronouns: They/Them

Notes: Y/N=Your Name

Premise: Tommy comes to warn you of Wilbur's return, only to see he's found you first. Also I don't really have a direction for this, it's more of just an aftermath to the last part :)

Trigger warnings: Swearing, usage of cigarettes

Y/N's POV

I was awoken to the strong aroma of smoke wafting over from the far side of the room. I spread my fingers along the otherside of the bed, yielding Wilbur was no longer there. I raised my head, blinking tiredly to see him upon the window seat, cigarette between his forefinger and middle finger. His face was turned away from me, now only in a white button and trousers, yellow jumper discarded somewhere along the way judging by the mustard heap next to my bed.

"What did I tell you about smoking in my house?" I cleared my throat, catching his attention.

"Habits aren't so easy to overcome, love." His voice was dripping with sardony as he had another hit, breathing in the fumes with a sigh. He must have caught the disapproving expression on my face, however, because he rolled his eyes, extinguishing the cigarette with a flourish. Wilbur stood up, raking a hand through his hair before lying down to rejoin me.

I leaned back down, allowing an arm to reach under and around my chin to wrap strands of hair tight around one finger. For a while, we didn't talk, the silence plenty company. What was there to say? It was clear some sort of neutrality had come between us given the nature of our reunion, but my lingering mistrust was obvious too. There was no evidence to suggest Wilbur had a change of heart, in fact only the opposite. His fanatic obsession with villainy pertained. I should be gone, running from the very thought or memory of such a man, yet he lay in my bed, hand tangled in my hair like a permanent lover. But this moment was overwhelming fulfillment, a gasping relief from the void prior to his revival. Was it wrong to crave such a return to normality in the face of obstacles saying it simply could not be?

"I'm not asking you to trust me again." As if reading my mind, Wilbur breached the quiet with the sentence.

"What do you ask of me then?" I inquired, curious as to what purpose he would have with me.

"I ask that we stand equal, and leave any opinions of morality or good and evil at the door. That our bond exists in a vacuum away from the conflicts that do not concern it." I saw his lips quirk upwards. "We don't let whatever side we may be on, similar or opposing, ruin this."

"That sounds like something I could agree to." I would bare no obligation or loyalty to Wilbur besides what I self-imposed. The composite of his ideas ensured whatever this was could be stable in a world mad as such we lived in.

Wilbur shifted to face me instead of the ceiling, placing a hand on either side of my face and pressing his lips to mine. There was a shift in the intensity at which our contact was regulated from the night before, it was almost tender without the manic hunger fueled by the thought we might not have much time.

For the second time in twenty-four hours, my thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. My shoulders drooped with disappointment, breaking the kiss and pushing myself up. Before I could move much further, Wilbur grabbed my wrist, holding me in place.