𝕄ℂ𝕐𝕋 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕆𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕤

𝔾𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕥𝕓𝕦𝕣 ~ 𝕍𝕖𝕚𝕝

Request: Nahhhh, next oneshot will be a request, promise

MCYT: !Ghost! Wilbur Soot

Minecraft or Irl: In Minecraft

Type: Angst

Pronouns: She/Her

Notes: Y/N = Your name

Premise: L'manberg AU. L'manberg has been rebuilt after Wilbur triggered the TNT that destroyed it all. Every Sunday night you visit his grave to talk to him, unaware that he's there and listening. Pretend the explosion killed him, not Phil. (Also in this I use the song L'manberg Lullaby by Bakoolza on YouTube. I had to change a few lyrics to make it work tho. Check it out.)

Trigger warnings: Mentions of death. Also this is really, really sad I legit cried writing it

Third Person POV

The girl seemed out of place, walking through the shrouded meadows. A beam of light in the darkness. She came here often, every week, to be exact. Sometimes she came with flowers, sometimes a guitar, sometimes tears. But no matter what accompanied her, she always came.

That's what Wilbur had gotten used to. Seeing her every Sunday night, leaning against the smooth stone that marked his resting place. He'd listen as she talked, unaware he could hear everything she was saying. Even as he slammed his hand onto the button to end it all... The thing he thought about was her. And his death hadn't changed that.

Y/N approached the well kept grave. It took her a lot of time to convince the others of L'manberg to give Wilbur a final resting place, he was a traitor after all, but with help from Tubbo, they finally agreed. A loose bunch of chrysanthemums in one hand, her late lover's acoustic guitar in the other, she stopped. Her eyes had read the engraving on the stone every week for two months. The words still made her weep.

Wilbur Soot

~ 1996 - 2020 ~

"L'manberg's greatest unfinished symphony."

She'd wrote those words herself. There was no doubt in her mind as to what she should have etched into his headstone. With Wilbur, it was always about music. The music they shared together. The music they made together. The music that kept them going in the darkest of times. L'manberg was his unfinished symphony. And he was L'manberg's.

She lay the delicate, pink flowers on the grass that had began to sprout over the previously dug up ground. Wilbur stepped around slowly, admiring them. Y/N was almost as in love with nature as she was Wilbur. And in the days before Schlatt banished him from their home, he would wake up early and, with help from Tubbo, as he didn't know much about these things, he would head into the garden. Every morning she would be greeted in the morning with a freshly picked bunch of wild flowers in the vase on her bedside table and a beautifully scripted note of Wilbur reminding her of his love.

Oh how the dead man longed to caress the flowers, feel them in his palm, to thank her, see the smile light up on her face. All he wanted was to hold her again, to dry her tears and ensure her safety. If only he'd thought those things when he was alive. Maybe things would be different.

Y/N sat down gently, leaning against the headstone.

"Hey Wil..." Her voice was gentle and melodic. The dead man smiled as she said his name. The air seemed sweeter whenever she spoke, every moment shared like the tender kiss of sunrise. Those days were long gone.