Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Kinoko Kingdom”

Quackity first heard those two damned words exit George Not Found’s mouth over a normal conversation, or, as normal as the conversations could be in front of a massive prison keeping a psychopath locked up.

He thought- he had hoped that Karl and Sapnap were just busy with life, or that they were on vacation. He prayed that they were fine every time he couldn’t reach them. He begged, in his own mind, a God he doesn’t believe in, to keep them safe, he- he was fucking stupid.

To even believe that somebody he met was capable of being loyal. Or, at very fucking least, capable of not completely shattering his already useless heart into pieces.

He chuckles in his own stupidity as he watches the only thing in his life that can’t betray or hurt him, his life’s best work, a creation he made to finally be able to keep those he loves safe, optimistic idiot he is- Las Nevadas standing in its glory before him.

He dragged his feet against the hard floor, he dragged himself into the casino he intended for Karl.

They made a kingdom without him.

Something in the back of his head had to remind him of that stupid fact. Of course they made a kingdom without him, just like Schlatt excluded him from Manburg- nobody wanted to trust Quackity. Nobody.

He was really foolish enough to trust that- to belive- to even think that Karl and Sapnap were the ones. He even went to as far as to get all of them expensive, custom rings, that represent each of them and their lo-.

He let out a cry in from of laughter as he tossed both of the rings against a window. They clattered on the ground, echoing through the whole, quiet building, leaving the painful sound in his mind.

But it didn’t sound like rings clattering anymore. The echo in his mind spoke, loud and clear; I love you Quackity, why would you even doubt that?

Empty promises. Even that was empty.

This building was empty.

His mind was empty.

His heart was empty.

That is all that can be left from a man that has never been given anything to fill the emptiness inside him.

He felt a shiver down his spine drag him to the floor, his face touching softly the cold tiles, now getting warmer by moment from his tears that spread in front of his eyes as a small pool, if only he could drown in it.

As the world got quieter and his anxious, painful thoughts got louder, he was forced to re-listen to voices he begged to forget and as his blurry vision cleared, but in the viewing of his memories, he was forced to see the pictures that painted his nightmares.

But this wasn’t a nightmare. This was real life. There was no waking up from it.

He put it all out on a line for a man, and he lost the deal. His cards were showing hearts, while theirs were a bluff. And he fell for it again. How could he ever hope to run a casino if he is this bad at seeing peoples tells.

He was trembling on the cold floor of the quiet casino room, but his head was in an office, listening to the breaking glass.

‘You are useless.’

‘Nobody is ever going to care about you.’

Words of a dead man hurt even more. And they hurt the most because they are true. Nobody is ever going to care about Quackity.

If two of the nicest people he knew simply ditched him, what kind of a monster would it be needed to find, that can love him?

“Quackity? Quackity!”

He was shook from the horrible paralysis and he jumped to his feet, his back turned to the person speaking to him, wiping away the tears, but even he was aware that only the dumbest of the dumb would miss the puffy eyes from hours of crying he had just done.

Either way, he refuses to show weakness to this person as he straightens his back and puts on his goofy smile.

He turns around to see Tommy standing in the doorway, his head tilted to the side like a puppy as he examines Quackity’s face.

“Wassup Tommy my man, how are you?” His voice a little strained and raspy, but he manages to cover it up with being loud enough and spreading out his arms to pull in Tommy and start ruffling his mess of a nest on his head he calls hair.

“What were you doing on the floor?” Tommy asks, unfazed, as he moves out of Quackity’s grip. 

Quackity laughs, throwing his head back so that Tommy couldn’t see his facial expression. “You noticed that, huh?” He wrapped on arm around Tommy and was about to lead him in when Tommy stopped.

Quackity eye rolled, obviously buying time to come up with a believable lie. “You couldn’t even believe how easy it is to fall asleep anywhere when you have as much to do as I have, now c’mon buddy.”

He tried to pull him once again, towards the seating area, offer him a drink, see what Tommy needs, but Tommy didn’t budge again.

“Actually, Quackity, there is someone with me who wanted to see you.” Tommy looked back to the open doors.

Quackity stood still for a moment, holding his breath in, not even wanting to admit that he was hoping that it could possibly be Sapnap ad Karl coming to visit him.

But, he had to inhale sharply when his eyes met with the pair he thought he’d never see again.

“Wilbur?”

He was shaking. This wasn’t- this isn’t happening. No, no, no, there is no fucking way this is not fucking happening. No.

“Heyy there, old friend.” Wilbur had his stupid smug grin on, like he always does, hell everything about him was just as Quackity remembered, except the grey hair strand he had on front of his head.

He grit his teeth, not even remotely being able to deal with the swarm of emotion up his lungs, not wishing to even think about the pain Wilbur gave him, when he too, left him. Both that morning and then when he finally got back L’manburg.

“Leave.”

Both Tommy and Wilbur flinched a bit at Quackity’s hostile behavior, but Wilbur returned to his usual self barely moments later, while Tommy stayed there dumbfounded, staring at them.

“Wow, what a way to greet an old friend. C’mon, let’s have a drink in this mansion of yours.” Wilbur started approaching him, lifting his hand to put it on Quackity’s shoulder.

Quackity took a large step backwards, opening his eyes that he wasn’t even aware he had previously closed, and giving Wilbur a death glare. “It is a casino, and there is no space for you.”

Wilbur seemed to be mildly amused by Quackity’s anger, and he seemed to be fully focusing on his puffed up eyes instead of literally anything else in the room.

“I see plenty of space.” He was still smirking as he approached Quackity closer and closer, and as Quackity tried to take unnoticeable steps backwards, until he hit his back on the bar table and Wilbur caught up to him, placing his hands on the both sides of Quackity, looking directly in his eyes. “Show us around, let’s catch up, and we will be on our way.” Wilbur exclaimed, hostility now noticeable in his voice as well, but it was getting drowned by another emotion Quackity wanted to ignore.

“I will call Sam to escort you out if you don’t do it yourself.” Quackity straightened his back, looking him deadly in the eyes. He is not going to stand down from this fight. He might’ve lost all his dignity and made himself a complete fool, but he is not letting his pride down.

Wilbur backed away a little, chuckling, putting his arms up in the air. “Last time I checked, he was guarding Dream. I feel like he is too busy to play your personal bodyguard.”

Wilbur started striding around the room, avoiding the chairs and poker tables.

He then bent down to lift something up and all the blood in Quackity’s body froze when he remembered what.

Wilbur was smirking even more as he glared at Quackity, making his way back, leaning into his face. “You are engaged, right?” His smile wider and wider with more anger Quackity’s eyes got.

He gently took Quackity’s hand, turned it around and placed the two rings in there, then flipped the hand Quackity now made into a fist and kissed his forehand.

“Can we get that drink now?”

Tommy was dumbfoundedly staring at them as they started a quiet battle with only looks.

Shortly, Wilbur had won.

Long story, Wilbur stared so deeply into Quackity’s eyes that he managed to yet again provoke unwanted memories from his brain that Quackity had to give in. He obviously isn’t scaring Wilbur away. The sooner he does what Wilbur wants, the sooner he’ll leave. At least that plan is foolproof. He just hopes Wilbur doesn’t want too much. Or at least, that he doesn’t want something that Quackity can’t give to him.

“I’ll have coca cola.” Tommy made himself comfortable on the bar stool as he spun around in circles acting like a child he is.

“Tommy, you’ll get dizzy.” Wilbur warned him, in a weirdly brotherly manner, and then got in the booth were Quackity had made his way to pour them the drinks they want and then send them off to hell.

“What do you want?” Quackity exhaled sharply, not really asking Wilbur what is his choice of drink, but more to simply fuck off.

Wilbur defensively raised both of his hands in the air. “Just wanna help you out.” He smirked again, playing this prolonged, overly twisted game of chess where he is always the winner. Quackity despised him for it since the day one.

“Well I don’t need your help, fuck off.” Quackity was now more referring to what he knew Wilbur was referring to as well. He isn’t dumb. At least not that much.

Tommy was still too busy spinning in the chair, even after Wilbur had warned him about the dizziness, and Wilbur, being the opportunistic jackass he is, took that chance to stand right behind Quackity, safely hidden behind the booth, and slide both of his arms around Quackity’s waist.

Quackity pushed him off gently, to not get Tommy’s attention. They both seemed to have silently agree to not let Tommy in on the secret that has been well hidden for years. Secret that Quackity hoped Wilbur brought to his grave.

“Don’t be so stiff.” Wilbur leaned in next to Quackity’s ear, breathing down his neck. “I am sure your fiancées won’t mind, just a bit of harmless fun.” He said casually, with that arrogant undertone of his, dragging the word fiancée in degrading manner all across Quackity’s tender skin.

The shiver he felt from that was worse than any possible form of cheating. But he wasn’t even cheating on anybody, even if it dearly pains him to admit it, the back of his mind is fully aware that he is single now. It wasn’t directly said in his face, they didn’t obviously break up with him but they betrayed him and then cut all the contact they previously had. To Quackity, direct breakup seams vaguer than this. They don’t want him.

Maybe it’s the polyamorous relationship that they don’t want. Maybe it’s just Quackity. Maybe they have already replaced-

Gasp.

Quackity was never brought so efficiently to reality than when Wilbur casually slid his hips across Quackity’s back, pressing him against the counter and holding onto his hips.

“Fucking hell.” Quackity tried his best to pull out of Wilbur’s grip. “Get the fuck off of me you awful fuck.” He hissed through his teeth, pushing away the memories Wilbur burnt in his brain all those years ago.

Wilbur took a step back, smirking, like he had just won a war, and he seated himself on the table where Quackity was meant to make drinks, leaning back, exposing his neck.

“Didn’t think you were that sensitive.”

He poked, stinging Quackity in his weak spot.

He has never really done anything with Sapnap and Karl. They never got down what to do with so many limbs in one bed. And they always thought that doing it separately would be weird. Not that they don’t probably do it on their own now, without Quackity.

“Fucking hell I am not sensitive you stupid fuck, I just don’t want those dead hand of yours touching me, you motherfucker.” Quackity tends to swear quite a bit when he is under heavy emotion, and was he having a cocktail of those at the moment. He felt like an overly hormonal teenager and not a full grown up he is.

Wilbur seemed to be aware of Quackity’s current state, even if there wasn’t really anything suggesting as to what Quackity was feeling, Wilbur was always the master of emotion reading. That was one of the things that helped him control L’manburg.

“Make me a sex on the beach, will ya?” He was one hundred percent joking, but Quackity decided to pretend he doesn’t know that and just make him his damned drink. The more he interacts, the deeper he falls for Wilbur’s mind games.

Quackity poured Tommy coca cola on some ice and he ran out to chase a cow, mumbling something about somebody named Henry.

It was just him and Wilbur, inside a huge, empty casino. Yep, everything about that sounds like a good idea to Quackity. No red flags there. None.

“I mean, we already have a beach outside, we only seem to be missing some sex, no?” Wilbur was laughing, definitely in his own world, but it felt like he was pulling Quackity in too.

“I can fuck you up real good, if that’s what you want.” Quackity pulled out his axe and slammed it into the wood from the bar table, earning a disapproving look.

Wilbur approached the other wall, with a row of pictures hanging there. He seemed to be interested in a particular one Quackity couldn’t see due to the white light reflecting from the glass it was concealed in as to not lose its essence.

Then he giggled a bit and Quackity took it as a horrible sign. “Remind me, who exactly are your fiancées? I apologize, they just aren’t that… memorable, you know what I’m saying?” His light eyebrow raise was enough for Quackity to wish to slam an axe directly in that pretty face of his.

Quackity ignored him, continuing his stupid cocktail.

“How much vodka do you want in here?” Quackity asked as he started chopping up a lemon to add onto a side. He was treating Wilbur too nicely, especially with how annoying he has been since he has arrived.

“Avoiding my question, neat.” Wilbur flashes a small smile and just shakes his head, “as much as you find fitting, Quackity.”

Quackity had to still his knife at the sound of his own name coming out of this devil’s spawn mouth.

“Karl and Sapnap, they are to the left of me, in that order.” Quackity mumbled, knowing the photo that could’ve caught Wilbur’s attention.

It was their engagement ceremony party, in El Rapids, with everybody there, in fancy outfits. He took a photo with them, Dream, George, Bad, Ant, Skeppy, and much more people, it used to be one of Quackity’s favorite photographs, he could tell you exactly where they stand and what pose did each person have in that photo. He just wasn’t aware that the builders put it there as well. He hadn’t been in this casino, since it was meant for Karl, and he wanted to get surprised with him with the interior look of this place. But that idea went down the fucking drain, didn’t it.

“You can differentiate them?” Wilbur rubs a salt in the wound. “They all look same to me.”

“Very funny.” Quackity retorted with a monotone tone.

“It wasn’t meant to be funny.” Wilbur stated seriously. He then waltzed back to the bar stool directly in front of Quackity and then proceeded to stare deeply into his face as he made the cocktail.

Quackity wasn’t going to drink anything, even if he could most definitely use a fucking drink, because both of them tipsy wouldn’t be a sight to see. They would either fuck or kill each other, and Quackity wants neither of those things. Well, no- no, neither of those things.

“Here. Dink this, then leave. The last time you stayed in a country for more than a few minutes it turned into a chunk error, and I quite like my country.” Quackity sounded much calmer than before. That was probably because he didn’t feel like the whole world was pouring its pain onto his shoulders.

He wouldn’t admit it even if his life was at stake, but having somebody around you who has a chance of understanding you feels comforting. Karl and Sapnap were always there for him, but they couldn’t understand him. At least not in a way that only Wilbur can. And he hated Wilbur for it. It could’ve been anybody else with horrible trauma and devious planning, but no, it had to be Wilbur. Even if it were Technoblade it would be easier then Wilbur.

Since, that makes Quackity want to, no- no, no, no. He cannot let his mind wonder in those dangerous waters.

“So petty, so tense. I like it.” Wilbur smiled, covering it with a sip from his drink.

“What do you want, Wilbur?” Quackity rolled his name over his tongue with such ease, like he has been doing so forever.

Wilbur turned around his yellowish red drink, using his thumb to go along the edges of the glass. The silence was so loud in that very moment, that Quackity couldn’t bare it. He put his finger on the small button beneath the bar table, pressing it, not sure what he was going to get out of it. Then, slow smooth jazz started playing, and it somehow managed to make the air between them more tense.

“What do you want, Quackity?” Wilbur looked up from his drink, the red of it reflecting from his eye, staring deeply into Quackity’s soul, giving him the shivers Quackity know were intended. Fuck him and fuck this. Fucking fuck this horrible fucking situation.

His brain had to go there. He had to just be his usual, overly horny self and let his brain loose in that direction. He wanted to cross the small gap between them and pull Wilbur into a heated, hatred filled kiss. He wanted it so bad and yet the only thing he wanted more than that is to rip his own brain out for even thinking that way about the person who has made his life so much worse in so many ways. He hates him, but he wants to fuck him so bad he doesn’t know which side of him is more emotionally charged. It felt like he was going to rip in two halves, and that both of them are going to grow another Quackity with how much emotion he had in himself at that very moment.

“I want you to leave.” He had to say through gritted teeth, making sure that his throat doesn’t let out any other noises or words.

Wilbur chuckled, looking down at his drink, his soft, chocolate brown hair falling across his facial expression. When he isn’t being a dickhead, Wilbur is one of the most attractive men Quackity has ever seen. But Wilbur is always a dickhead, because that is just who he is, it is ingrained into his personality and Quackity hates him for it. He does. He truly does.

Wilbur lifted up his drink and drank it all in the one go, sill managing to look classy while doing so, and then he got up. Quackity couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Alright then, I’ll leave.” He turned around and Quackity knew it was too good to be true, “But could you show me a bathroom first? I think I have had a bit too much water since I got back here.”

Quackity’s shoulders tensed. The jazz was still quietly playing in the background and even though Wilbur hasn’t mentioned it outright, Quackity knows he has noticed it. If the bathroom was all it took for Wilbur to leave him alone, even just for this evening, to leave him back to his mourning and crying, then so be it.

“This way.” Was the only thing he said as he started walking in between poker tables, ignoring the stab in his chest at the thought of Karl sitting at one of those tables, with his stupidly pretty smile, as he drops down a single pair of twos onto the table. The memories they could’ve made…

“Why did you choose gold?” Wilbur had obviously noticed that Quackity has been deep into his thoughts, since he asked about the higher wall color, that Quackity didn’t even chose. It was just there, probably to look like gold.

So he only shrugged, not really wanting to have any further conversation with him. If he ignores him, he’ll leave sooner. Or so he hopes.

He led him into a smaller corridor that lead to three doors, the women’s, men’s and them’s bathroom.

“Here you go.” Quackity showed him the doors like a butler and then stepped aside. He, too, had to go, but the last thing he wanted is to stand next to Wilbur while they both use those ugly ass urinals.

Wilbur opened the door, and they stayed opened, as he held them, obviously waiting for Quackity to come in.

“Go on.” Quackity nod his head towards him, verbally nudging him to leave him the fuck alone.

“After you.” Wilbur stated, as he bowed down a little, like he was pretending to talk to royalty.

Quackity rolled his eyes. “I am pretty certain you aren’t a child, Wilbur. You can pee on you fucking own.”

Wilbur got another amused glimpse in his eye and put on his stupid smile, “You’ve been holding those legs painfully tight together since Tommy and I entered. But if you feel like peeing yourself, be my guest.”

Quackity felt his cheeks go red as he stomped across the hallway into the bathroom and walked to one of those urinals, the furthest away from the doors where Wilbur was standing, holding in laughter.

He turned his face towards the wall, with shiny and new white tiles, with that new smell that things tend to have when you go to furniture shops. The last thing he wanted is to see Wilbur pee. Like, the last, last thing he wanted.

He heard Wilbur’s footsteps against the cold tiles as he made his way to the urinal. He could also hear them approaching incredibly close to him and he glanced to the side to notice that Wilbur has stood directly next to him. Well that’s great, that’s just, awesome. Exactly what he wanted in his life.

He felt Wilbur’s arm brush against his own and he took an unnoticeable step to the side, hitting his hand against the wall in the process. Everything about this was so incredibly weird and uncomfortable. And the need to lean over and kiss that stupid fucker made the entirety of this experience even more fucking awkward for Quackity.

He then heard Wilbur turn on a tap. He refused to move or use the urinal until Wilbur kindly exited the bathroom. It just wasn’t happening. Not in this universe.

He then heard the hand dryer turn on. He was patient. He will wait as much as possibly needed to go. Even if he does pee himself. It really didn’t matter.

He didn’t hear Wilbur’s footsteps due to the loud ass hand dryer, which is why he was even more startled then he would’ve normally been when he felt Wilbur’s hands grab onto his hips from behind.

“What. The. fuck.” He exhaled sharply, but this time he didn’t wiggle out Wilbur’s grip. He remained there, deciding to let himself be an idiot for just a moment. How much could it cost him?

Wilbur’s hands slid down to grab onto Quackity’s, softly touching his fingers, which were clasped against the hem of his shirt. Quackity inhaled fast, sucking his stomach in, wanting to move away from his clasp as well as lean into it.

Wilbur’s fingers then travelled up his arms, just barely touching his skin, sending multiple shivers down his spine. Every rational thought in his brain was sending alarm signals, red flags and warning signs, but Quackity wasn’t thinking with his rational brain today. He probably wasn’t even thinking with his brain.

They stopped at his elbows, grasping onto them and then sliding across Quackity’s upper stomach, almost like a back hug. Quackity ignored every thought telling him to stop, and leaned back into it, breathing deeply. If Wilbur had any sort of weapon on him at that moment, Quackity would be as good as dead, which is why he is both thankful and resentful towards the fact that Wilbur’s sharpest weapon is his tongue.

They stood there, for a good moment, listening to quiet jazz music in the background, feeling each other’s chest rise and fall, both of them breathing too fast for the calm environment they were in.

Quackity wanted to turn his face just slightly, to see Wilbur’s face close up, in the bright LED lights from the mirrors behind them. He wanted so bad to refresh his memory of Wilbur’s face lines.

And so he did.

He was already doomed by allowing this to happen, why stop there?

He turned his face just slightly, expecting to see those dark, sharp eyes staring back at him, but he saw something that threw him off even more. He saw Wilbur with his eyes closed, his face perfectly calm, not smirking or grinning, just relaxed. He looked so vulnerable at that moment that Quackity wanted to close the gap between his and Wilbur’s soft lips.

Wilbur sighted loudly into Quackity’s ear, suddenly changing their calm state by turning Quackity to face him and pressing him against the wall, leaning over him. Only then did he open his eyes, staring directly into Quackity’s soul, like only he knows how.

“For somebody who is so desperately trying to make me leave, you seem to be enjoying my touch a little too much.” Wilbur whispered, closing the physical gap between them by taking another step closer and completely touching their chests, hips, legs.

Quackity could feel every ounce of that touch burn deeply into his skin, almost scarring every inch of it he touched. He knew that Wilbur wasn’t physically burning to the point that he could actually leave burns across Quackity’s skin, but Quackity certainly felt like he was left with the third degree burns from those simple touches.

“Shut up.” Quackity gritted his teeth, doing what he hoped he wouldn’t do- leaning up on his toes and pulling Wilbur in for the kiss.

It wasn’t one of those, high school sweetheart kisses, or a French kiss or even a lustful one. It was painful, their teeth crushing into each other, it was raw, so painfully raw, they were both gasping for air, like they were trying to steal it from the other person’s lungs, refusing to separate. Because, at this moment, it isn’t real, this kiss isn’t real and it has no consequences, however, the moment they separate it becomes painfully real and Quackity has to actually think about it.

He wasn’t thinking right now. He was just drowning his pain with another man’s saliva. He was just biting Wilbur’s lower lip and pulling him closer by his coat, he was just grinding his hips against Wilbur’s that gladly met him half way, he was just wrapping his leg against Wilbur’s hips, as he was grabbing it with all his might, probably leaving a bruise for later. He was just desperately slipping his tongue against the roof of Wilbur’s mouth, wanting to feel him whole before he has to let go and get a grip. He really didn’t want to get a grip.

If he could stop time in any moment of his life, he would stop it right now. Just to simply exist in this state of want, in this state of need that was taking over him. To never stop kissing the lips that tasted of peach schnapps and vodka, the lips he was getting drunk on, but not because of the liquor, but because of the roughness and softness of them. The kiss they were sharing was a painful oxymoron wrapped up in the sweet tie of despair and lust.

Quackity begged for it to never stop.

There wasn’t a Karl or a Sapnap on his mind, there weren’t any dumb memories from the past haunting him, there wasn’t any worry about his enemies, any regret about his previous actions.

There was only this man made out of flesh and blood, the lust hanging in the air and jazz. That was all.

He felt Wilbur’s hands slide down from his arms to his belt, unbuckling it, but then another sound interrupted them.

The doors behind them swung open, and they only stopped when they heard Tommy’s gushed scream fill the white walls.

“I was never here.” Tommy slapped his palm across his eyes and loudly closed the door, completely killing the atmosphere and leaving the two of them to deal with it.

Quackity felt his cheeks heat up. Was he really about to have stupid rebound sex with Wilbur of all people.

He wasn’t even upset about that. He was upset by the fact that even now, when he was ‘rationally thinking’ he still wanted to jump Wilbur and do things he hadn’t imagined before on the cold, hard bathroom floor.

“We’ll continue this some other time.” Wilbur leaned in for another kiss, much quicker than before and then probably went after Tommy, leaving Quackity blue balled against the bathroom wall.

But he didn’t pity himself, or felt pathetic like all those years ago.

No. He has changed.

At least Wilbur was willing to go that far with him, unlike… unlike those two.

He shook his head, pushing all of those thoughts away. He is going to go and sleep, and he’ll be mad at his own stupidity later.

But when he got out of the bathroom, after some dealing with his own state, and got Wilbur’s glass to clean it, he found something scribbled on Wilbur’s napkin:

‘I have always treated you better than all of them.’

Just that, without signature, or a punchline, nothing.

Quackity had to sit down as to stop himself from falling. He hated him. He hated him so much. And on top of all that, he hated the fact that Wilbur was fucking right.

That is probably why he wrote that, to simply gloat. As if he were to say ‘You see, I give zero flying fucks about your existence and yet I am the one that somehow treats you the best. How sad and pathetic your life must be.’

And the saddest part is that he is fully factually correct.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He dropped the napkin to the ground and then burned it, before going to open a new bottle of whiskey and drowning it in just few goes.

He punched the button that played jazz music and it stopped.

He was yet again left in silence, with nothing but his tears.

Why didn’t that stupid fuck just stay? At least around him he is pissed off or horny, or probably both but not sad.

All other thoughts soon lost sense in Quackity’s mind as he got so wasted as to pass out on the wooden floor of casino that is meant to belong to one of the people who betrayed him and left him to rot.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

It’s been two weeks.

Two stupid weeks since Quackity, in the moment of utter despair, did what he did.

And not a single second of those two weeks has gone without him thinking about Wilbur.

And even more, none of those has gone without him remembering Wilbur’s touch. Both those two weeks ago and all those years ago.

He just refuses to see Wilbur, like a damned kid. He has multiple staff on the lookout, if they see Wilbur they inform him immediately, and he runs into his basement. Like an idiot.

Everything about that cat and mouse play made Quackity feel like an idiot, but he will not allow himself to make such a stupid, uncalculated decision ever in his life again. And he knows that if he was left alone with Wilbur again, the same thing would happen again. Two out of two times they have been left fully alone, they had done the same thing. Quackity may not trust people, but he trusts patterns. And this pattern tells him that he is fucking screwed if he sees that guy again.

So right now, he was sitting in his basement, waiting for Wilbur to give up for the second time that day. He partially wonders what exactly Wilbur could want so bad to visit him that often, because he knows that Wilbur isn’t a man driven by his emotions or needs, which one would first think he wants from Quackity. What else could it be? Las Nevadas?

Because if that stupid fuck has the balls to even think about trying to take Las Nevadas from Quackity, he will send him back to the hell he crawled out of. Whatever it takes. Quackity has not been planning this for so long for that stupid fuck to just waltz in and take it all from him. No fucking way in hell.

But, some stupid, innocent and childish part of Quackity that he just can’t seem to shake off, keeps jumping in his internal monologue and proposing the idea that maybe Wilbur just simply wants Quackity. And Quackity has been yelling at that voice every time it tried to stupidly act up. Wilbur is too smart to be in love. Unlike him. Quackity is sure that his emotions will be his biggest downfall.

Which is why he tries his best to keep them in check. He even managed to let go of Karl and Sapnap, he managed to detach from their relationship. But this, this dumb idiot is just out there, pushing his buttons in all the wrong and all the right ways.

He has to fight the irrational urge to just walk out from his shiny, well-hidden basement and see Wilbur face to face, but it would probably just end with him helplessly running with his tail in between his legs.

Wilbur will give up eventually, he does so every day.

From what Quackity has heard from his staff members and what he has seen from the security cameras, Wilbur just simply sits there. Nothing more, nothing less.

First, he stares at the Las Nevadas sign for a good couple of minutes, then he slowly makes his way down the street, looks up at the needle, makes a full circle around the fountains and then enters the casino from the doors he had first entered, through the back doors facing the woods.

He then walks up to the bar stool he sat on the first time, staff try put all effort into servicing him properly, by Quackity’s orders. He then orders a Sex on the beach and simply stares off into the distance, sipping his cocktail for quite some time.

Then he asks the staff member available for Quackity’s location, when he fails to get one, he leaves, in the same manner.

And so on and so forth every day for the past two weeks.

Today is the first time he came for the second time to visit.

Quackity knows he is getting impatient and that the sooner he deals with the situation, the better it will be for him. But he also knows that he doesn’t have his head straight around Wilbur and that he can’t handle that situation as well as he likes to think he can.

Quackity likes to believe that he would be able to walk up there, in his button up shirt, looking like a business man he is, welcome Wilbur like a casino guest, apologize for his stupidity, both times, and then escort Wilbur out and never see him again except awkwardly on the Prime path sometimes.

But there is the very non prideful and non-egoistical part of him that knows very damn well that it wouldn’t go nearly as smooth as that. He knows that he would crawl back into Wilbur’s lap the very second they were left alone and that he simply wouldn’t leave. He knows that he is so simply and painfully desperate for somebody to care about him, even fakely, that he will do whatever it takes. It’s just that Sapnap and Karl are far enough away that he manages to delude himself that he has his emotion for them under control and that he just doesn’t care anymore. But he is so eager to believe that Wilbur’s often visits and the purposeful reaching out for him have this simple meaning behind them- he misses Quackity. He hates admitting how much he hopes that that is true every night he falls asleep.

But then in the morning he wakes up to the nightmares of the horrors Wilbur had done, he wakes up and the fresh breeze of the morning is there to blow away the illusion of Wilbur he creates in his mind at night. He then, every morning, remembers Wilbur’s twisted face when he planned L’manburg’s downfall, Wilbur’s dark, hateful eyes when he attacked Tommy over nothing but the simple need to control him, his manipulative nature that lead Technoblade into the mess that caused him to summon those Withers in the first place. The more he thinks about it, the more situations he finds that Wilbur is the villain in.

And yet, why does he desire him more by day?

Ugh.

He shook his head and placed it in his helpless hands. Why, oh why, couldn’t it be anybody else Quackity got feelings for.

Literally, anybody else would be better than this.

Even crawling back to Karl and Sapnap would be better than this.

Even that.

Quackity took in a deep, prolonged breath. He isn’t planning what he thinks he is planning right now, is he?

Yeah, no, he was definitely planning it.

And he only realized so when he caught himself buttoning up his shirt and taking all of the essentials with him. He really is going to go and find Karl and Sapnap.

At least, with them, he wasn’t thinking so much. At least, with them, he knew pain was inevitable. With Wilbur, he could hope for happiness, his brain actually saw happiness as a possible opportunity, stupidly enough, but with those two he was already sure that they had stomped on his heart. It simply can’t get worse than that, whatever one may think.

Before he got to think it through, and stop himself as he should, he already found himself sneaking out of Las Nevadas off to find Kinoko Kingdom.

The same place he had consistently swore at and hated in his brain couple of weeks ago, he is now actively searching for. Another thing he could pin to the Wilbur’s villain list.

He was half way running down the prime path, ignoring the burning sensation in him telling him to stop and turn around, reminding him that he promised to himself to be calculated about all of his decisions after he woke up with a horrible headache from whiskey that morning after Wilbur visited for the first time.

He had promised himself to treat himself better and not to humiliate himself, but he obviously has the need to be in consistent pain from the people he romantically feels for, so better Karl and Sapnap then Wilbur. At least they aren’t villains, at least they have only hurt Quackity in the past. At least.

And before he knew it, before he actually truly thought about it, he found himself face first into Kinoko Kingdom.

He wasn’t sure how he was sure that that is it, but he had a very, very strong feeling something as natural and as impressive and beautiful as the place he doomed before him had to be it.

And his instinct was proven right when he saw them again. For the first time in months.

That drove him back to his senses, snapping him back into the reality, as he ran for cover so that they couldn’t see him.

And both luckily and unluckily for him, they didn’t.

Luckily because on the rational, thought through level he is aware that this is wrong, that they probably don’t want him in their life anymore, otherwise they would’ve reached out to him, they would search for him as much as he searched for them and they would find him because he wasn’t hiding.

Unluckily because on the emotional level he wanted them to notice him, he wanted to see their faces and see if they lit up the way they used to all those months ago. He wanted to see if they miss him even though deep down he already knew the answer. If Wilbur who came back from the dead managed to find him, nobody else has an actual excuse. If they wanted him around, they would’ve done something about it. But maybe, just maybe, he hoped that they did want him and that they did try reaching out for him but somehow missed him, he hoped.

He felt his chest rise and fall, hiding behind a pile of rocks, feeling his hands bleed from the strong hang they had on the rocks, but their bleeding wasn’t nearly as strong as Quackity’s tears. Healthy people, his people, were just behind these rocks, living their life without him, absolutely fine.

He finally mustered the courage and looked around the pile of rocks, after splashing himself with an invisibility potion, just in case. He wanted to take a few more steps towards them to hear them and see them better, as they were right now just two small dots in this large country they built from scratch.

He was jealous. Las Nevadas missed something that Kinoko Kingdom had- love.

And his observation was confirmed when he approached them close enough to hear and see their pretty faces. They were laughing, on top of their lungs. Karl was bent forwards, with his hands curled around his stomach, his pretty high voice echoing against the buildings like bells and Sapnap was almost doing a backbend, his eyes fully closed, also laughing like a maniac, the reminding of his deep voice left vibrations in Quackity’s heart.

His tears got heavier, like he had to carry their weight on top of him. He didn’t know what were they laughing about, but he still wanted to laugh with them. His place was there, by their side.

And yet, he was here, like a creep, staring at them hidden behind the vail of invisibility, wishing he could just get a break.

But, that wasn’t even the worst part.

They started kissing afterwards.

Quackity felt his blood boil. He wanted to jump in, to scream at them, to cause a scene, to cry like a child, to rip his shirt open.

But he stood still.

Completely still. Completely silent. Only feeling the droplets of his own tears hit his hands.

He wanted to leave, to never come back, to cry himself to sleep and never wake up again, to go and hide in depths of hell. But he was still.

His legs were buried in the ground and he was left with nothing but the pain of having to see and having to hear what was before him. To watch his biggest nightmare unroll and be able to do absolutely nothing about it.

And when he thought the knife in his heart has been buried deep enough and twisted enough, they started talking.

“Thank you.” Sapnap whispered lovingly, staring into Karl’s eyes.

Karl looked confused for a second.

“For what exactly?” But he too was smiling.

“For this.” Sapnap looked around him, using his hand to gesture at absolutely everything and then finishing off on Karl’s chest. “For you.”

Karl blushed, looking off to the side, “This place does look like it’s from a fairytale.”

“But better.” Sapnap said proudly. “Because it has you in it. And because, unlike fairytales, this place is perfect just like this.”

Karl nod. “There is nothing left to add.”

Quackity had had it enough. Of that conversation, of this perfect, beautiful and natural utopian city, of their healthy and loving relationship, especially now without him.

He turned around, feeling small droplets of rain hit his face as he ran in despair, before his invisibility potion could wear off, before they could see him, before he could ruin their ‘perfect without needing anything to add’ place.

He was slapped in the face with a cold hand of reality and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it but fucking deal with it. And he hated that idea more and more by second. He didn’t want to deal with it, he didn’t want to think about his undesirability, he just did not want to suffer anymore.

So he ran, with his tail in between his legs, like a weakling he always was. Like nothing but a pretty ass as Schlatt would put it. He wasn’t wrong, at all. He was abusive and an alcoholic, but he spoke raw, unpleasant truth Quackity tried to prove wrong so many times.

He simply couldn’t now.

It stood directly before him.

He is a useless, unwanted failure.

Schlatt got it spot on. No mistake, not even in the slightest. So Quackity decided to stop resisting it. It made no sense to, anymore.

Before he was there he wasn’t even aware that his legs weren’t dragging him towards Las Nevadas, but towards something he has been trying to run away from for so long. Years.  He was running and he wasn’t intending to stop. Schlatt may be right, but Quackity can still pull some useful things from his fate. He can at least try. With the only person willing to give him a chance.

Which is how he explained it all to himself when he felt the snowflakes hit his soft cheeks, melting at the instant of their touch.

The smoke was slowly lifting up in the air, with no hurry, no path, just moving around like small clouds. The two connected houses, the second Quackity hadn’t seen before, had the same type of structural building. They looked like pretty hotel houses very rich people can afford. It was all quiet, but the sound of Technoblade’s howling wolves and the sound of Quackity’s boots crushing the wet snow. The idyllic sight of it almost made Quackity want to sit in snow from afar and simply watch the smoke rise.

But he knew he was there for a different thing. And also, his hands were slowly freezing, since he is used to his desert temperatures and light wear he usually has. He wasn’t really rationally planning to find himself so far north. But there he was.

He was so full of his own mistake that he walked with his chest expanded, trying his best to hide his tears yet again, this time actually succeeding in it.

As he entered the territory marked by the fences as Technoblade’s and Phil’s house, he did get a little bit worried. Maybe because the scar on his eye itched him just a bit from the memory of Technoblade or maybe simply because he was somewhat aware how stupid and unthought through his plan was.

As he placed his foot on the first stair, the front doors opened, revealing Technoblade in his usual armor with a sword in his hand pointed at Quackity.

Quackity looked at him unfazed as he continued moving up the stairs. Last thing he wanted is to show fear.

“What are you doing here?” Technoblade lowered his voice, looking him dead in the eyes.

Quackity shrugged it off and pushed Technoblade’s sword gently to the side, “Not the whole world revolves around you, piggy boy, you know that?”

He, completely unbothered, made his way to Phil’s doors, the only place he presumed Wilbur could live, since he destroyed his only known house. He somehow feared death less then he feared facing Wilbur again which is why he didn’t give much thought to the cold stare he felt pierce his back.

He politely knocked on Phil’s door, waiting like there wasn’t a fully armored man staring him down in the thoughts of murdering him.

Phil opened the doors almost immediately, with a low creak from the weight of the wooden doors on the hinges, making his waiting much less awkward.

“Quackity? What are you doing here?” He asked the same question as Technoblade did, just with much less hostility and much more general curiosity that it almost seemed like a completely different question.

Quackity looked past Phil, trying to see if maybe Wilbur wasn’t hiding in the back like a child does when their parents open the unexpected knocks on the doors.

But he was nowhere to be seen and Quackity wonders if Phil even knows that his son is alive. It doesn’t seem like a new thing for Wilbur to hide big things from people he pretends are important to him.

“Is Wilbur here?” Quackity disregards Phil’s question as well, not here to settle past quarrels but more to settle present uncomfortabilities.

Phil made a face that immediately told Quackity two simple things: Phil knew damn well that Wilbur was alive and he was trying to right away hide that fact from Quackity by trying to play dumb.

“You mean Ghost-“Phil started but Quackity cut him off.

“No, I mean Wilbur.” He narrowed his eyes, “I know that he is back so let’s just cut the crap. Is he here?” Quackity raised his eyebrows.

Then, not really to any surprise, Phil pulled out the sword as well, which Technoblade took as a sign to raise his. So at that moment Quackity was sandwiched between two blades sitting against his neck a bit too close for comfort.

“You will not hurt my son. No one will ever hurt him again.” Phil’s eyes darkened and Quackity wanted to laugh at the beautiful irony of that sentence coming from his mouth.

“Quackity?” A confused voice from a bit further called his name and he spanned his head to the side like an idiot, even if they could possibly cut his neck open with a single wrong move.

Wilbur smirked, and Quackity already regretted absolutely everything he had done in his life that got him to this exact moment in time. Churches really just need a Wilbur and all the religious people would feel remorse for their wrongdoings when they are forced to talk to him or watch him gloat.

He slowly, like it was nothing new or weird happening, made his way up the stairs and lowered both Technoblade’s and Phil’s sword with a finger and then wrapped his arm around Quackity’s shoulders, like some greasy old man, and went past Phil into the house.

“What are you doing? What is happening?” Phil sounded more concerned than Quackity has ever heard him, which is quite a bit concerned, since he does remember finding the compass that lead to Technoblade that day.

Wilbur just chuckled a bit and then winked at his old man with just a simple “We’ll use protection, dad, don’t worry.”

Quackity felt his cheeks flare up, even though they shouldn’t, but it was an uncomfortable conversation all around since both Technoblade and Phil made the ‘oh’ face, and then let out the same sound as they exhaled, looking at Quackity with completely different eyes.

It seems like quite a way to come out, but it somehow fit Wilbur completely.

“Would you like some tea?” Wilbur asked, like he was just going to ignore the previous situation and Quackity decided to agree.

He nod, still barely being able to move his fingers.

“Go up the ladders to my room, I’ll turn on the fire after I put down water to boil.” He sounded so… domestic? saying that and Quackity couldn’t help his naïve heart but to feel the childish warmth spread through him. He really isn’t the brightest tool in the shed.

He climbed up the ladders without actually saying a word to Wilbur. He didn’t seem to mind tough, he looked extremely happy, in the likes of which Quackity hasn’t seen before. It left a bad aftertaste in his mouth.

It felt like Quackity was a fly and Wilbur was a hungry spider who finally got him in his web after hunting for him for so long that he is now gloating internally by circling around it and feeding it until he has enough to feed his pride from such victory.

But what made Quackity feel dumber is the fact that he didn’t care at all if he was a fly caught in a web. He wanted to be there, he wanted to be eaten out alive while all the light fades away from him. If Wilbur was going to be his doom, then so be it. He has no strength to fight against the fact that Wilbur is the only person who has a slightest chance of actually wanting to stand his ass. As stupid as that felt, he knew it was true.

He found himself awkwardly standing in the middle of a small attic arranged to look like a room. There was a fluffy bed in the corner, with bunch of photos hanging above it and there was a fire place that seemed just a bit too big for the small, cozy space there was around. The spruce made floors give off those warm vibes you get when you hug your favorite people and the layers of the snow piled up on the high, angled windows looked like a blanket nature left for them.

It felt more like a home in couple of seconds than anything managed to in the rest of his life.

He just hopes Wilbur has little to do with that fact.

Speaking of the devil, he poked his head up from the floor where there was a small hole that lead down to the ladders which lead to the lower room. He turned around and placed two large, steaming mugs on the floor and then made his way up much easier.

He adjusted his hair that was too long for his face and smiled at Quackity with a soft smile. Something was definitely fishy there. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“We only had chamomile tea, I am sorry.” He placed both cups on the chest next to his bed and then went on to turn the fire on, “Sit down, I don’t bite. Well, usually.”

Quackity felt so much more uncomfortable in this room that just seconds ago felt so cozy and warm. There was something unsettling about Wilbur acting this nice and Quackity hated it.

“I prefer to stand.” He managed to sound overly hostile in just four words, good on him.

Wilbur cackled as he pushed up his glasses after turning on the fire and then sitting down and patting calmly the seat next to him, “It is very weird if you just stand there in the middle of the room.”

Quackity turned around, trying to collect himself and all of the stupid emotions that made him feel this stupid things. “No, I don’t even know what I am doing here. I should leave.” He put his hands in his pockets and started heading downstairs.

He heard Wilbur sigh behind him, “Quackity, it’s almost night, you have a long road ahead of you, unless you decide to travel through the nether, which is even more dangerous, just stay,” He could hear a smile in Wilbur’s voice, “until you finish you tea, at least.”

Quackity knew he had a point and gave in much faster than he should have. He closed the gap between them as he sat next to him on the small, one person bed, that Phil obviously made never believing that somebody is actually going to sleep in it.

He crossed his arms and focused on the crackling fire, watching as the heat ate up the wood like a bacteria rots an apple. It was both upsetting and comforting to see something end so simply and so fast like a log did when thrown in rising flames.

Quackity sometimes felt like a log tossed into the rising flames that were all his traumas, left to burn to death, to simply vanish of off the earth, leaving nothing but ash and sad memories behind him.

But then, he smiles looking at the fire, as he feels proud that he isn’t like that log. Because he didn’t burn, he had risen up above the pain that tried to pull him into the abyss, he rose up above all of those that tried to hurt him, and even if Schlatt’s drunk words about him were correct, he never spoke about the side of Quackity that made it possible for him to survive all that he had survived so far.

“Deep into thought, I see.” Wilbur pulled out a cigarettes, put it in his mouth and then opened the box further to offer it to Quackity.

Quackity casually pulled it out of the box and mimicked Wilbur’s way of holding it, “I was warming up.” He partially lied.

Wilbur’s chest rose up and down as if he was laughing, but no sound came out of his mouth.

He lit up his cigarette, puffing out a cloud of smoke that swarmed around his curls and brushed against his pale cheeks before making their way upwards and sticking against the ceiling like a baby’s balloon. Quackity watched in amazement, not because of the smoke, but because of how beautiful this man’s face looked close up. He doomed the fate for creating something so majestic and yet so poisonous and venomous and all the other dangerous things creatures can be.

Before he could ask for the lighter, Wilbur slowly leaned in, with the cigarette in his mouth loosely swinging around and brought it to the one in Quackity’s mouth, softly connecting them. Quackity inhaled deeply, lighting the cigarette, and deeply inhaling the nicotine inside his lungs, allowing it to circle his blood. He then slowly exhaled, making a veil between the two for the second, but when it got away, Wilbur’s face somehow seemed closer.

Quackity was the first to pull away, turning his head to the side and looking through the window at the white, glowing flakes meeting with the soft blanket of snow.

They sat there in complete silence for a moment, as they both enjoyed their cigarettes, not wanting to ruin the moment.

Well, at least not Quackity.

“We just need jazz now.” Wilbur teased, his voice raspy from the smoke inside his lungs.

“You also need to be tipsy.” Quackity added, with a bit more resentment than the other.

Wilbur shrugged, “We can arrange that.”

Quackity thought about their kiss in the bathroom and had to look down from Wilbur’s lips, his eyes unfortunately meeting with a bulge a size bit too big for it to just be there. Quackity gulped, feeling like he isn’t getting out of this one as easily, unless Tommy somehow jumps in through the hole in the floor.

Quackity then darted his eyes far from Wilbur’s body in general, looking into the painting on the wall representing the Wither. Probably from Technoblade, Quackity thought.

“You know, I have been visiting you little paradise a lot recently.” Wilbur casually mentioned, lighting up another cigarette.

Quackity had been preparing his lies for long enough to play this conversation easily. “So I have been told.”

“Yet, I somehow never crossed paths with you. And I came at all the different times.” He made a pause, imitated furrowing his eyebrows and then added, “Quite a coincidence, huh?”

Quackity knew that he was just poking the terrain. They were both very well aware of the fact that Quackity has been purposefully avoiding Wilbur for these past two weeks and neither of them were about to outright say so.

“Well, I am a busy man Wilbur.” Quackity lied. He really has nothing to do until the entirety of the building and interior design is finished except walk around and watch over the builders.

Wilbur gave a little hum, “I am sure you are.” He moved a little from the bed, making a creaking sound which Quackity’s dirty mined brain had to write off as a problem immediately, reaching for his tea, “Your little hiding spot probably has a sofa that needs to be warmed as you stare at me through the camera.”

Quackity dropped his cigarette, burning his hand in the process, but he kicked it off to the side, “You are a bastard, has anybody told you that before?”

“Quite a few times actually,” he made a confused face, “I sometimes wonder why.”

He took a sip from his tea, hiding his smirk as Quackity tried to cool off his future scar from the cigarette burn.

Wilbur then put the tea down and gently took ahold of Quackity’s hurt hand and leaned over it, hoovering his lips over it before he lifted his eyes to look Quackity directly in his as he closed the gap between Quackity’s hand and his lips by licking his wound in a seductive manner.

Quackity let out a little surprised gasp, but he bit down his lip hard to stop any sounds for coming out.

It still didn’t manage to fly past Wilbur. “Are you that touch deprived? Poor baby.” He let out puppy sounds trying to imitate the baby before he continued licking the wound, making the pain go away faster than Quackity would.

Quackity should not have felt himself get hard at such simple gesture, but he did, and as soon as Wilbur closed his eyes he crossed his legs, hopefully hiding it, even if the other party didn’t seem to mind at all.

“What, ahem,” he gulped “what were you even doing at Las Nevadas?” Quackity tried to ask casually but it came out as anything but casual.

Wilbur stopped what he was doing for a moment to speak. “I was searching for you, of course.”

Quackity scoffed at the stupid but still flattering lie as he adjusted his seating position even further by taking off his boots and half way laying down against the pillows. He might as well just say ‘Hey Wilbur, let’s fuck’ with how unbelievably obvious he is being.

“Why would you be looking for me?” He asked with distrust and Wilbur rolled his eyes at him.

“A gentlemen never tells.” He whispered against Quackity’s skin, making him completely shiver.

Wilbur was also shifting his position on top of Quackity from a seated position, to his one knee in between Quackity’s thighs and the other holding him steady on the ground. He let Quackity’s hand go, placing both of his hands on either side of the pillow behind Quackity.

Quackity also shifted his hips, so that their lower bodies were completely touching. He could feel the friction from Wilbur’s pants and the only sound around them was the quiet ruffling of the sheets and a slight screeching of the bed with their heavy breaths hitting the other directly in the face.

The movement was so steady and yet so slow and gentle, it felt like they were lovers exchanging soft touches and not two grown men that months ago would’ve killed each other if they were in the same room and Wilbur was alive. But even if he wasn’t Quackity would find a way to kill him again.

Quackity instinctively grabbed the sheets beneath him and Wilbur noticed, letting out the first noise that wasn’t a heavy breath- but more an airy chuckle through his nose as he softly nuzzled his nose into the crook of Quackity’s neck.

All the lust, all the hatred from two weeks ago was somehow vanished and forgotten. It’s not like it didn’t exist, they didn’t become a dotting and loving heathy couple over not talking, but it seemed like both of them were trying to just, be close to another being, in a way they knew that they can’t be closer to others.

The energy in the air will be gone by the morning at best, but neither of them seemed to want to think about that.

After being in comfortable silence for quite a while, Wilbur slowly started grinding his hips against Quackity’s, both of them unfucked, both of them overly hard from the simple to none existent foreplay they had.

Quackity soon started meeting him half way. He spread out his hips even more, allowing Wilbur to lift his second leg and settle in between Quackity’s hips, never stopping the slow, painfully slow movement.

Wilbur then rose on his elbows, his hair strands tickling Quackity’s cheeks and his nose touching Quackity’s. He let out a breathy laugh.

“Your face during this is worth the two week wait.” He whispered, almost to himself, barely audible, as he slowly sped up the pace.

Quackity chuckled, allowing himself to believe Wilbur’s lies just for tonight. He’ll think clear in the morning and he will laugh and Wilbur’s face as he leaves, not buying the manipulation that will follow after. Since even in this state Quackity was aware that there was more to all this than just sex, that there was a hidden plan or a long con Wilbur was playing.

Or so he lied to himself.

As soon as Wilbur noticed that Quackity has been getting lost in thought again, he leaned in, grasping his jaw with both of his fingers and forcing down a kiss.

This one was even worse than the last one. This one was outright nasty, and Quackity loved every second of it. There was saliva everywhere and possibly some blood from Quackity’s lip since Wilbur bit him down like a hungry dog. It was also so much sloppier with their lips managing to not stop touching at all and at the same time barely touch.

Wilbur started leaving wet kisses down Quackity’s neck, his hand going down his stomach into his pants. Both of them panting like a pack of starving wolves, so close just from the grinding, like they never did this before, lusting over each other’s touch, forgetting all that should stop this from happening in any and every universe, just simply being greedy for the other ones touch.

Quackity threw his head back, the bed shaking and creaking rapidly, loudly, their loud breaths filling the room out entirely, as well as the heat their body’s produced from this unskillful touching.

And Quackity was so close he could feel his stomach clenching, Wilbur stopped.

“What are you…?” Quackity barely mustered to say through shaky breath, when Wilbur put a finger wet with his own precum against Quackity’s lips to shush him.

And then he heard it.

Knocking at the door and then the door opening with sound of footsteps against the hard wood.

Quackity could pinpoint the exact second his soul left his body.

 He could pinpoint the moment Wilbur made a weirded out eye contact with him.

He could exactly tell you the second the time stopped when he heard the voices of his two ex-fiancées right below the bed Wilbur was leaving his trace all over Quackity’s skin.

Chapter Text

And time stopped.

For a while, time simply stopped.

There wasn’t anything else in the world but Quackity and his own shaky breath and an uneven beating of his heart.

The world wasn’t spinning, birds weren’t chirping, life wasn’t calmly revolving around him, such thing in Quackity’s world wasn’t a thing.

His mind was separated into two trains of thought- the first, and sadly enough more dominant one, how much his body wanted a release, how much he just wanted for Wilbur to continue touching him, how much he simply wanted to feel himself coming all over Wilbur’s fingers and how much he wanted to watch Wilbur’s reaction to his eyes rolling back.

On the other hand there was another, much simpler, much less thought through thought- Oh fuck.

That was it- oh fuck.

There wasn’t much more elaborate thought in there, but that made sense, since all of that happened in a span of a few seconds, even if it seemed to Quackity that entire century passed from the moment he heard the doors open and he heard those two voices to the moment something actually happened.

He wanted to listen to their conversation, to see why they would be visiting Philza, but Wilbur’s hand started moving again, Quackity realizing that it never left his body.

It was much slower from its previous pace, much, much slower, so slower that it was practically painful. Quackity knew that he was barely a few strokes away from coming yet Wilbur wanted this game of Russian roulette to be prolonged as much as physically possible.

Will they hear Quackity getting off to another man’s hand or not? And if they do, what would they do?

Quackity couldn’t dwell on that thought for very long since Wilbur decided to lean down, painfully close to his engorges zone, neck, and start leaving hot breaths before his raspy tongue, hot from tea, started licking. It was like lava met with ice as his tongue traced his skin, before he bit down so hard that Quackity had to bite his lower lip with so much strength he felt blood pooling inside his mouth. He swallowed, hard, trying at the same time not to focus and to focus on the sensation Wilbur left on his skin.

Wilbur wasn’t biting him like a lover would, it felt much more like it was an animal ripping out his intestines. He bit down the crock of his neck, slowly liking it while using the entirety of his bite force to the point where Quackity knew he was bleeding just a little. Wilbur was trying to leave a permanent scar as a reminder of this night and Quackity wasn’t doing a single damned thing to stop him. He might’ve wanted to be reminded later on that somebody actually wanted him, even if just for his body.

Wilbur would occasionally slip his thumb over the head he would previously expose, sending a painful explosion of pain and satisfaction up Quackity’s back. He was so, so close, he was about to beg Wilbur or just slip his own hand down and finish it, but Wilbur noticed the impatience in Quackity’s eyes, which was partly from the fact that he had never jerked off for so long in his life, and he immediately stopped, his eyes teasing Quackity, asking him, what will you do about this?

He watched Quackity squirm and shift his weight around, move his hips, trying to get Wilbur’s touch to get him to the high he was desiring so much. His mind was blinded by desire, his lungs filled with the smell of smoke and sweat the two had created in the small room.

It was straight out of one of Quackity’s weird sexual fantasies, but this time, all of it was real. And unlike in the fantasizes where he likes his orgasm being postponed and his legs painfully shaking in the simplest pleas for a release, this time he just wanted to cum. He just wanted to feel Wilbur’s finger’s again on his sensitive skin, he just wanted to watch Wilbur’s face as he released onto his sloppy fingers. He just simply wanted.

But he wasn’t getting it.

“Wilbur” he mustered under his breath, just hoping that simple whisper would be enough to get Wilbur to continue, but of course it wasn’t. He was a fly in a web that still hasn’t been fattened up enough to be eaten out alive.

Or so he though.

Wilbur’s eyes were dark with lust, so unbelievably dark that Quackity thought that maybe he needed a release more than Quackity did, but then Wilbur’s eyes met directly with his and the glimpse behind them changed from need to amusement.

“Yes, Quackity?” He tried to ask with a smirk, but even Wilbur seemed to be losing his composure even a tiny bit, so tiny that Quackity wouldn’t notice the shaking in his voice if it wasn’t the absolutely only thing his clouded, horny mind was focused on at this very moment. And it made Quackity so very pleased that he wasn’t the only one who was needing this touch, needing this connection. And it fed into that small voice in Quackity’s head that hoped Wilbur truly only wanted him.

Wilbur cut him out of his thought as he slipped his hand out of Quackity’s underwear and placed it on the other side of Quackity’s head, leaning down to make deep eye contact with him, his dark eyes so sharp and at the same time so clouded, he looked like a madman. “What do you want me to do? Speak up.”

Quackity inhaled sharply, not knowing even how to form thoughts in his head, let alone words out of his shaky mouth. He was completely trembling underneath Wilbur, almost like a sick person, his hands instinctively going down to reach himself and get a strong grip again before his close high disappears.

But Wilbur’s hands were steady and much faster than Quackity’s, grabbing swiftly onto two shaky hands reaching down, like he was trying to touch himself for the first time, and then bringing them up and pinning them above Quackity’s head.

“Quackity, be good and just tell me what you want, I will give you anything.” The undertone of those words was not obvious, but it was there and Quackity felt it. He would’ve even processed the hidden meaning behind one of many Wilbur’s double edged statements, but he couldn’t process where his limbs were at that point in time.

He was excessively vulnerable and Wilbur could very easily get him to promise absolutely anything this point in time. But Wilbur didn’t look like he even intended to do anything similar to such thing, which made Quackity mentally relax, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

As he was taking too long to answer, Wilbur grabbed him again, only to give him a squeeze and let go as fast as humanly possible.

“Please.”

Quackity even got to begging.

“Please what?” Wilbur teased even further, even if he himself was in no such position.

“L-let me com-me.” He finally got more than one word out of his mouth, and it seemed like enough for eager Wilbur, who simply continued what he could’ve before.

His strokes where fast paced, tight and when Quackity started coming, he didn’t even flinch, his eyes at all times focused on Quackity’s face and his reactions.

Wilbur didn’t stop until Quackity completely got off his high and started getting sensitive, and he then leaned in to give another lick to the wound he made after he watched Quackity come, overly pleased with himself.

He then drew out his hand, his eyes darkening, as he lifted his fingers up to lick off the heavy release Quackity left behind. He almost started blushing from embarrassment, but didn’t, feeling how hard Wilbur was against his thigh.

Wilbur then lowered his head down to Quackity’s exposed stomach from all the wiggling around, and he slowly licked off any remains of their deed of off Quackity’s body, sending another wave of shivers down his back, getting him half-hard again.

Then, in the silence, when his breathing calmed down and his heart stopped racing, he remembered those three down stairs, even more, he heard their conversation.

“Of course, I will be there,” Phil said, “You maybe want me to call down Q-“

Quackity’s breathing sped up again as he and Wilbur exchanged a worried glance. Quackity wasn’t sure what made Wilbur worried, since Wilbur only wanted what he was already getting, this wasn’t stopping his plan at all, but he still did look worried.

And, more than that, he jumped up, and whipped his hand off of his yellow shirt as he ran for the ladders, interrupting Phil in his sentence.

“Hi.” Wilbur sounded awkward as he probably jumped in their conversation, Quackity imagined.

But he didn’t want to imagine, he wanted to look. He wanted to see what was going on down there.

On his toes he approached a little opening in the ground and made sure he can’t be seen.

He looked down and saw a sight he never wanted to see- Wilbur, Karl and Sapnap in the same room.

That was his worst nightmare coming true. And even more than that- it wasn’t a nightmare it was realty. But somehow, unlike all of his nightmares in the past two weeks, Wilbur seemed to be on his side.

“What’s up gentlemen.” Wilbur offered his left hand, probably because his right one was sticky, and he shook the hands with the confused Karl and Sapnap, who were holding something in their hands- it looked like colorful pieces of paper, Quackity presumed that they were invitations for something, he just couldn’t guess what, but his mind already came up with the worst case scenario possible- their wedding.

Quackity took a deep breath in, focusing on their conversation.

“Wilbur! I didn’t know you were back. I wondered why I wasn’t seeing Ghostbur around.” Karl put on his smile that Quackity knows he uses when he is trying to sound polite towards superiors- he just wondered why would Karl find Wilbur a superior in any way, shape or form.

Wilbur chuckled and Quackity could guess what kind of look was he giving his ex-fiancés while his father was still sitting there confused, not sure why was Wilbur hiding Quackity.

“Ghostbur replaced me where I came from. I am now here to stay. But, what brings you two in these cold areas?” Wilbur shifted his weight so that Quackity could barely see anybody but him, which was probably an intentional way to hide him, but Quackity is as much of a stubborn brat as Wilbur was.

Karl smiled again, his eyes glistening with a warm look. “We are having an opening party for Kinoko kingdom tomorrow at seven. We didn’t know that you are alive, otherwise we would’ve invited you too, but you can get in with your father if you wish.”

Karl sounded professional, too professional for Quackity’s liking. But apart from that, just those two words were enough to open a huge scar in Quackity’s heart reminding him of how much pain has previously been caused to him.

“Of course I’ll be there.” Wilbur sounded faker by the moment and Quackity almost chuckled at his manipulative voice. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Everything, everything was wrong with him and he knew that. But he still couldn’t stop his imaginative brain wishing for Wilbur to just be back up with him, to continue where they left off, to simply forget everything and anything else but this small attic that smelled like sex and cigarettes and a pair of dark chocolate eyes staring through him into his soul.

But as he thought about it, he remembered that Wilbur was still hard. And his bulge was pretty noticeable, or so Quackity would guess, according to everything he saw and felt so far. Even the thought of that made him shiver in both embarrassment and excitement.

His cheeks got redder by the second as he noticed Sapnap’s eyes, since him and Karl where unknowingly facing Quackity, move down to Wilbur’s crotch area and then back up fast and to the side, his cheeks turning red as well.

Wilbur immediately noticed and Quackity could nearly feel the gloating energy exuding from his body. He could feel the pride in Wilbur as he watched his ex-fiancé look so weirder out by the size of his bulge.

He couldn’t give that to Karl and that idea did bring out a slightly evil smile onto Quackity’s face. At least in one front, he was getting more of something. He might not have anybody who truly loves him, dignity or self-respect, but he did get an amazing orgasm moments ago and that’s all that counts anyways.

The silence was getting uncomfortably loud, so Wilbur spoke up, as he does, “Can I bring a plus one, or do I count as Philza’s plus one?”

Quackity was well aware that he was asking that because he is somehow going to try and manipulate Quackity into going with him, probably to piss of the two in front of him, even though Quackity didn’t know why he would want to piss the two off.

 “No, you can bring a plus one, whoever you want, but we invited almost everyone on the server.” Sapnap tried to sound calm, but he still seemed to be panicking, which was hilarious, no matter how hurt deep down Quackity was.

“Alright, just wanted to check.” Quackity could hear the cheeky smile through which Wilbur spoke, and he felt a weird wave of pride washing over him too. “Thank you for the invite, I’ll be seeing you guys tomorrow. Now, if you’d excuse me.”

Wilbur spoke eloquently, like he always does, before turning around and giving Phil a meaningful stare, one that Quackity failed to understand why was it needed, before he waltzed on his tiptoes to the ladder and started going up it.

Wilbur’s large, glistening eyes pop out from the floor as he slowly climbs up, Quackity already making his way back into the warm and comfortable position he was in a few moments ago on Wilbur’s bed. Wilbur lights another cigarette, but only for a single smoke, before throwing it into the cackling fire place and making his way to lean on the other wall, staring at Quackity, or more likely, his soul, as his eyes were still dark from the lust.

 “Your fiancées are simply lovely.” Wilbur had his amused look on, as he adjusted his pants, getting Quackity’s eyes down there, reminding him how hard Wilbur was. Quackity’s lips went dry and his eyes got watery from lust.

Quackity chuckled dryly, not entirely caring as to what Wilbur had to say about them. They were neither a part of Quackity’s life, nor his problem anymore, so he wasn’t about to throw a childish fit. They were the ones who left him.

Wilbur made his way across the room, heavy breathing, his eyes locked on Quackity as he plopped next to him, leaning on his elbow, looking Quackity in the eyes, stopping his breath and quickening the beating of his heart.

“Why’d you fall for them?”

He drops out of nowhere. No hand book prepared Quackity for such an honest question from such dishonest mouth.

He felt the air between them thickening. Why would Wilbur want to know such thing? “W-why do you care?” He tried to gain his composure, but his stuttering was quite noticeable. Quackity had to mentally slap the part of his brain that was now being fed with this question as a hope that Wilbur might like him, romantically.

Wilbur put his leg between Quackity’s thighs, stroking Quackity with his thigh, never breaking the heavy eye contact. “It’s not very polite to answer to a question with another, big Q,” he smirked, placing a thumb of his right hand on Quackity’s chin, lifting his face up “And here I thought you were a gentlemen.”

Quackity felt a shiver run his spine. He could manipulate everyone, at any time, but this slippery bastard seemed to always be slipping through his fingers, he hated it. He took a deep breath, regaining his composure. He failed to understand how Wilbur was so collected, even though he was rock hard against his thigh. “And a gentlemen doesn’t share private matters without good reason.”

Quackity felt proud that even through his clouded, somehow horny again, mind he could muster comebacks to Wilbur, who has praying on him like a hungry wolf. “For science.” Wilbur grinned, his eyes getting a glow Quackity failed to recognize.

Quackity thought about it. Even if he wanted to tell Wilbur why did he fall for those two (which, he didn’t), he, himself, wasn’t quite sure. When, how, why, none of that really mattered for him. He loved them with all his might when they were together and he didn’t ask any further questions.

Wilbur seemed to be growing impatient, which was out of character for him. “I am sure it wasn’t their unique personality,” He stopped for a second, as if he was measuring whether to say what he wanted to say next, “and probably not their sizes.”

The smirk that grew on Wilbur’s face and the blood that filled Quackity’s as he remembered the length pressed against him was almost instantaneous. So Wilbur saw it too, huh. Quackity had to have a change in power here, or he might end up saying something he could regret later, since he still wasn’t sure why Wilbur wanted to know what he asked.

The best idea that came up in Quackity’s mind was to grab the collar of Wilbur’s shirt and bring him closer to his face, to the point where their noses would touching. He himself was also losing control with such closeness, but he had to continue as planned for this to even have a chance of working.

His stare got sharper, heavier, as he licked his lower lip, smiling, “Why, you want to see if you have a chance?”

Wilbur seemed to lose his composure for a long moment. Quackity felt proud, but it faded away as soon as Wilbur started matching the new energy “And what if I do?”

Quackity had him exactly where he wanted him. For the first time since he entered this bed he felt like he was about to dominate Wilbur, at least in a certain form.

He had to be fast, and he was, swiftly straddling the taller man, pulling him up by his collar and pressing him against the wall where bed was positioned, placing one of his hands on the wall behind him, while the other remained with a very tight grip on his collar. He moved closer, so that their groins, chest and noses were barely touching. “That would be a problem Wilbur, since you would have to be able to offer enough to replace two amazing men.” Even after what they’d done to him, he still talked highly of them.

Wilbur didn’t seem to like that very much. But he did seem to like Quackity’s new confidence quite a bit. Which is probably why he seemed pleased and displeased at the same time. “Oh, but I can.” He whispered, turning his head around to lick Quackity’s lower lip, thrusting his hips up just a little, making Quackity see stars.

It was enough for Quackity to mentally drop the entirety of their conversation, ripping Wilbur’s shirt of off him, placing one of his hands on Wilbur’s neck and the other on his stomach, staring at his body. He wasn’t a chiseled half-god, but there was quite a bit of muscle on someone who was dead for quite a while. His pecks were nicely shaped and Quackity wanted to lean down and lick his nipples, but he restrained himself, staring at Wilbur’s flat stomach rising and falling fast from the sharp breaths he seemed to be taking. Despite the composure he tried to put on his face, the rest of his body was reacting violently to Quackity’s presence.

“It’s not fair for me to be the only one without a shirt, don’t you think?” Wilbur nearly chuckled, but his air got stuck in his mouth as Quackity began to slowly unbutton his shirt.

Quackity smirked, his confidence going up as he managed to shut up the always talking Wilbur. He accidentally moved around as he was unbuttoning himself and Wilbur’s hands flew to his hips to steady him. Wilbur’s walls were starting to crumble as well as his composure.

It was excessively obvious when Quackity slowly looked up, with the most seductive, yet sad, look in his eyes, like he was asking Wilbur ‘why did you stop me’. And as he felt a twitch underneath him he had to bite his lower lip to stop himself from smirking.

As he finished unbuttoning the last button, and action he purposefully prolonged, he leaned in, placed the top of his head against the wall and turned his face to look at Wilbur whose eyes were yet to move from Quackity’s body. “Are you about to come undone, Wilbur?” He whispered against Wilbur’s exposed neck, nearly moaning Wilbur’s name, and that was the last straw.

Wilbur’s eyes went absolutely black and his movements became animalistic as he completely ripped Quackity’s shirt off of him, tossing the ripped pieces off to the side, grabbing Quackity’s neck and pulling him into a wet and wild kiss.

Their lips crashed against each other, Wilbur furiously biting Quackity’s lower lip, sucking on the small wound Quackity had made previously, before pushing his tongue inside Quackity’s mouth, tasting tea and cigarettes as he felt the entirety of Quackity’s mouth, pulling away for a while to stare at Quackity’s wet lips and a string of saliva connecting two open mouths.

He didn’t seem to have calmed down from just that, as he leaned in again, this time somehow more intensely, moving his hand from Quackity’s neck down his body to his hips, moving them in the same rhythm he was thrusting upwards to.

Quackity soon picked up the pace, secretly loving the uncomposed Wilbur who simply needed him. He needed Quackity. He wanted Quackity. He was lusting for Quackity.  He would never say it aloud, but he could absolutely get used to this kind of life.

But Quackity didn’t have time to think, since Wilbur moved his hands now that Quackity was matching the desired, very fast paced rhythm that was shaking the bed violently, making very loud noises, maybe even louder than noises the two were making. Wilbur had now moved his hands onto Quackity’s chest, pinching his nipples, causing a moan to escape Quackity’s lips to match the low grunts Wilbur was making since they started making out.

Quackity’s hands were keeping him steady, one on Wilbur’s neck and other on his waist, allowing him to keep the rhythm Wilbur had imposed on him. Which is when Quackity got a wicked idea. He moved his lips from Wilbur’s, slowing down the pace at which he was grinding against Wilbur’s bulge.

Wilbur immediately hissed at the lack of heat against him and the lack of friction, his nails digging deep into Quackity’s chest, moving to his back to leave wounds from round starching. “Come back here.”

His eyes still black, he flipped Quackity onto his back, settling into a position above him, where he was now controlling the pace of their grinding.

“For that, I am going to fuck the brains out of you.” Wilbur said against Quackity’s Addams apple. Quackity now felt himself twitch at those words. This wasn’t Wilbur speaking. This wasn’t the calm and collected manipulator that almost took control over everything speaking. No, this man wasn’t the Wilbur world has seen. This was an uncollected mess of an animal in rut, painfully heavily grinding his hips into his prey, biting heavy on his neck, leaving another mark on his skin, like he was claiming his body as his own property.

And Quackity was loving it. His mind was clouded with the need to be filled by Wilbur. The need to be fully taken, to fully feel Wilbur in him. To be completely consumed, damn the consequences.

Quackity’s hands went down to grab onto Wilbur’s belt, and he started fumbling his fingers, trying to take it off. He had no right to say absolutely anything about Wilbur, since him, too, was acting like a wild animal in a rut.

Wilbur seemed to notice that Quackity’s shaky hands were struggling, and he moved his hand from Quackity’s waist, removed his belt and harshly threw it in the corner of the room, making a very loud noise. What was Phil thinking downstairs? And… his ex-fiancés if they were somehow still downstairs?

But Quackity gave zero fucks at the given moment. His hands unbuttoned Wilbur’s pants pulling them down as far as his hands reached and then using his feet to move his pants to his ankles, which earned him an amused chuckle from Wilbur.

“It seems like fucking your brains out is a reward, more than a punishment.” His dark eyes looked up to Quackity, as his lips made their way down Quackity’s clenching stomach. He was leaving a wet trail of kisses and hickeys down his body as he reached the hem of Quackity’s black pants.

His hands unbuttoned Quackity’s pants and removed them completely, also throwing them in the corner. Wilbur really seemed to mind the amount of clothes standing between them. He then proceeded to nibble on Quackity’s inner thighs, which was when Quackity completely lost his control.

He grabbed Wilbur’s messy hair, entangling his fingers into it and guiding him towards the area he actually needed taking care of.

Wilbur’s hot breath on Quackity’s underwear got his precum leaking and making a very large wet spot on his underwear. He felt like a horny teenager and he took a pillow to cover his face from embarrassment.

Wilbur noticed that, since he spoke while removing Quackity’s underwear “Let me watch your face.”

Quackity’s hips thrusted up and Wilbur noticed exactly how much effect his words had on Quackity’s body. It was very obvious before that they had effect, but now it was so clear that Wilbur made Quackity squirm in all different ways.

Wilbur left another hot breath on Quackity’s thigh before he used one of his hands to adjust Quackity’s hips, and the other to spread Quackity’s thick cheeks. He then moved his other hand down there, leaving more wet heat against Quackity’s twitching entrance.

“Just do it already, damn it.” Quackity breathed out, his head tossed back, his back arching upwards.

“So impatient.” Wilbur said as he complied to others orders.

Quackity felt Wilbur’s raspy tongue enter him with ease, and exit him with same ease. The movement continued, Wilbur speeding up by second, Quackity pulling his hair, pushing his head deeper. It wasn’t enough. He needed to be completely filled, this tongue fucking was just prolonged teasing from Wilbur.

As if Wilbur had, yet again, felt Quackity’s impatience, He added in both of his thumbs to Quackity’s entrance and spreading him even further, reaching the highest possible speed probably. It was driving Quackity insane. It was so close to being the good thing, yet so far. He couldn’t possibly take any more of this without self-combusting.

Wilbur then lifted his hips, his tongue leaving his hole, before Quackity felt something hot and wet entering him.

Did- did Wilbur just spit inside of him?

The realization got Quackity’s hand flying to cover his reddening face. He felt hot all over, he felt so needy and hot and… He felt. Just. He couldn’t.

Wilbur got up to his knees, removing his underwear for a pale cock to spring up against his stomach. Quackity could not do anything else but stare. He presumed it was long, due to the bulge he had felt before, and all those years ago, since they never went the whole way, but he didn’t presume it would be that long, or that thick.

He swallowed. He had no idea if he could take so much. His toys were long, but…

His thoughts trailed off as Wilbur started chuckling. “And then you wonder if I could replace two men.”

When Quackity gained a bit of his composure, he felt Wilbur slowly entering him. Wilbur was leaning over Quackity, leaving small kisses on his cheek. It was a very intimate moment. It wasn’t lustful like all the moments they had shared that day, or, simply, ever, but it was like they were two lover’s doing it for the first time.

Wilbur was very gentle with him, and Quackity had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop the whine from the spread his ass was feeling at the moment. Maybe Wilbur should’ve made the tongue fucking a bit longer.

Wilbur saw the fear in Quackity’s eyes and he shifted his hips a little and looked Quackity in the eyes, as if he was asking for consent on whether to continue or not. Quackity nodded a little and Wilbur lifted his hand up to caress Quackity’s cheek.

Quackity wasn’t sure why was Wilbur being nice to him, but as he started moving, in the new position, it hurt way less and Quackity’s features relaxed, which Wilbur took as a sign to go just  bit faster.

Quackity had no idea how long were they staring in each other’s eyes as Wilbur was entering him. But when he finally did, the heat in the room had risen again.

Quackity shifted his hips up and started thrusting himself a little on Wilbur’s cock, which is when Wilbur burring his teeth into his neck as he exited him just a little, to push himself harder.

With each thrust, he was exiting more and entering faster. They had gotten into a pretty steady and quick rhythm and Quackity was letting out small grunts from the nice feel of that wide spread.

Wilbur’s lips left from Quackity’s neck as they found his lips again, heating up the atmosphere filled only with wet sounds of Wilbur’s balls hitting Quackity’s ass and their lips exchanging saliva in the most disgustingly hot way possible.

The smell of sex was unescapable as Quackity’s nails dug into Wilbur’s back, feeling the softness of the pale skin. He never wanted this very moment to end.

But it did, as Wilbur shifted their positions, his eyes almost completely lost in pleasure. He was close, Quackity could feel by the speeding of his thrusts.

Quackity was pretty close too, but just this couldn’t get him off. At least, that’s what he thought until Wilbur shifted his position and trusted in again.

Quackity nearly saw white as the other hit a bundle of sensitive nerves perfectly inside of him.

Wilbur stopped for a second, probably because of the way Quackity’s face had twisted.

“D-don’t, don’t stop.” He demanded, even if his voice was completely shaking. Wilbur realized what he just did and he smirked, almost completely exiting Quackity and then entering him again with harshness, while his other hand had stroked Quackity’s cock with speed he didn’t even think was possible.

And then it all did go white.

For a good few moments, there was nothing in else in the world but Wilbur riding them through their highs, Wilbur kissing his lips, Wilbur stroking him, Wilbur entering him completely, … Wilbur.

For a good few moments there was nothing else in Quackity’s world but Wilbur.

And when the high finished, he realized how fucked he actually was- he was in love with Wilbur Soot.

Quackity was completely and utterly in love with Wilbur Soot.

Chapter Text

Quackity was dumbstruck. Quackity was dumb, the other part really wasn’t needed. He was in love? What kind of an idiot falls in love with somebody so vile, so dangerous, so evil.

But it was hard for him to consider Wilbur evil when he had a soft glow to his warm eyes that were now checking on Quackity’s features, maybe to see if he enjoyed, maybe to see if he could bully him for it later, who knew. Either way, the heavy weight of a warm body and the smell of sex and cigarettes in filling his lungs were clouding his brain. He wasn’t in love, he was in need, and Wilbur satisfied that need. Quackity was sure that he would hate him as soon as he was out of that intoxicated bed, he was sure that he had no positive emotions for this man, he was sure… wasn’t he?

Wilbur’s weight completely leaned over Quackity’s body, as they both breathed heavily, their chests rising and falling in sync. Quackity could feel two hearts beating incredibly fast, and he found some comfort in the fact that he wasn’t the only one completely wilding next to the other.

Wilbur removed himself from Quackity to lay next to him, and Quackity missed the weight of the other as soon as he was gone, he was so incredibly pathetic dear lord.

Wilbur turned around to face Quackity, lying on his hip, lifting up a blanket from the bottom of the bed and lazily covering two naked, sweaty bodies. He lifted up his hand, putting a sweaty strand of Quackity’s hair under the beanie, before he put that hand on the small of Quackity’s back, pulling him closer and nuzzling his head on top of Quackity’s.

That should give Quackity a few moments to collect himself. But it didn’t. Since now all he could do is smell Wilbur’s intoxicating odor. Wilbur was, in some ways, like a mermaid. He was manipulative and hypnotizing, with everything about him being astonishingly alluring. He smelled, strangely enough, like sweet caramel and sea salt. Maybe he was right about Wilbur being a mermaid.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Wilbur spoke through his thick accent, sending shivers down Quackity’s spine. His voice was low and raspy and Quackity wanted to listen to it for the rest of the entirety.

He mentally slapped himself, get a fucking grip Quackity. “I don’t accept pennies, only poker chips.” Quackity tried to tease, but his voice came out angrier than he intended to. He was wondering exactly why did Wilbur care about that, why didn’t he just kick Quackity out of the room as soon as he finished fucking him?

Which is when he was reminded that Wilbur was still half way inside of Quackity. He cringed at the thought of the pain he was going to feel as Wilbur exits him, he had always had that problem with his toys and they were far less thick compared to what was currently inside him.

“I could get some of those.” Wilbur sounded like he was considering it, and Quackity recognized the British sarcasm coming through. He eye rolled to himself, since Wilbur couldn’t see his face at the moment.

He tried shifting his hips, to start the process of disconnecting physically from the Satan’s spawn himself. As he did so, he felt a strong jolt between his legs confirming his previous theory of the uncontrollable pain that he was going to feel.

Wilbur moved his hands down in a millisecond, steadying Quackity’s hips. He moved his head to look Quackity in the eyes with a very unreadable look on his dark eyes. He seemed- worried maybe? He surely wasn’t which is why his look was unreadable.

“Slow down there, tiger.” He whispered and Quackity stilled almost instantly, like on command. He hated himself. There were no more thoughts in Quackity’s head than how much he hated himself. One would think after two horrible experiences one would learn not to repeat the same mistake, but not Quackity. Oh no, it looked like this fucker needed to hit his head against the wall until he got a severe brain concussion to learn absolutely anything.

“Get out of me.” Quackity nearly hissed and Wilbur was thrown back a little, physically jolting backwards a bit. Quackity, yet again, didn’t want to sound so harsh, but he couldn’t really apologize for his tone now, could he?

Wilbur collected himself in just a millisecond, attacking again by leaning far into Quackity’s face, almost connecting their lips “Don’t be shy, big Q,” He smirked as he felt Quackity’s dick twitch without his consent. “I know you like being my little cockwarming slut, there is no shame in that.”

Quackity’s entire face went crimson red as soon as those words hit him. He felt the smell of chocolate from Wilbur’s breath and he wondered where did it come from, but it wasn’t helping with keeping Quackity’s mind straight.

“Little tsundere.” Wilbur kissed the area under Quackity’s eye and Quackity felt weirdly reassured from such simple action and words. It seemed like Wilbur wasn’t going anywhere yet, no matter how hard Quackity tried to push him off.

And on one hand, it was raising millions of butterflies in Quackity’s stomach, but on the other, it was pulling out a simple question; why? It wasn’t like there was anything that special about Quackity for Wilbur to be so invested in him- maybe Las Nevadas, but that for sure was never happening, no matter how much feelings Quackity had, and Wilbur was a smart man, he knew that for sure. So why, oh why was he acting like this?

Because he has feelings for you, dummie, a part of Quackity’s brain that he liked to keep in the shadow came out, making Quackity mentally cringe at the dumb thought. This was Wilbur Soot. Revived. He spent how long wherever thinking about what he would do differently. And he has now gotten a second chance- his goal surely wasn’t a happy relationship and settlement.

But what if he has changed? A small voice erupted again even though Quackity was almost certain he shut it down moments ago. A snake might change its skin, but it will never stop being poisonous. No matter how hotter and gentler Wilbur looked now, no matter how much he wanted to believe the appearance he was seeing, there was no way that any good change has occurred in this man during his death.

Quackity had questions, and he was going to get the answers, no matter what it took. If he was already being an idiot, he might as well get some information out of him.

“Why were you looking for me, for the past two weeks?” Quackity openly asked, tilting his head to the side, sharpening his look. Honestly was a weird tool Wilbur wasn’t entirely sure how to conquer, since he was so used to metaphors and games, honest and blunt people are a very good counterparts to him.

And Quackity was right. Wilbur’s heart started beating differently under Quackity’s ear, and his breathing changed slightly.

Wilbur looked down into Quackity’s eyes and remained a strong eye contact, as his hand moved down to touch the tip of Quackity’s cock, sending vibrations down his back.

“I wonder.” Wilbur whispered, chuckling a little.

Another, this time unwanted, question escaped Quackity’s lips “Aren’t you disgusted?”

He didn’t have to further explain his question and Wilbur already knew what was Quackity trying to ask: Aren’t you repulsed by touching me?

And that question made complete sense in Quackity’s head. He was never touched like that before. Sure, both Karl and Sapnap had gotten him off by their hands, but it was never as eager, as lustful or with such excitement as Wilbur did it. He was used to sucking off Schlatt when he wanted it, satisfying his fiancés when they wanted it, but he had never gotten the excitement and effort in return. And he noticed how Karl and Sapnap looked at each other, and how they took care of one another in the bed. Quackity has simply grown into the belief that he was disgusting and that idea of touching him was repulsing. But here Wilbur was, licking off his cum in excitement, kissing his lips with need, looking completely compelled by Quackity’s looks and body. How? And why?

Wilbur seemed to dislike the view Quackity had of himself. Every time Quackity would, even in just the undertone of his words, mention something hateful about himself, Wilbur would get a really puzzled look on his face that looked anything but pleased. It was almost as if Wilbur was angry at the image Quackity had. Almost, but he was Wilbur, and he cared about nobody but himself and that too was probably a manipulation tactic to mess with Quackity’s poor head.

Wilbur softly pushed Quackity on his back, exiting him with such care that almost every atom in Quackity screamed that that couldn’t just be manipulation, but he knew better. He knew Wilbur. Wilbur was a man who cared about every detail, he was at least thirty moves in front of Quackity, at very fucking least.

As he exited Quackity, mind you, there was no pain, which Quackity didn’t think was possible, his dick was still half hard, his tip dripping with cum, Wilbur made an eye contact, by using his hand to lift Quackity’s chin to look him in the eyes.

Quackity stared as Wilbur went down on him. His eyes completely focused on Quackity’s, he took him in his mouth like he was starving, and completely taking him in, making him see stars.

He then left Quackity’s dick to slam across his stomach in cold and made his way up to Quackity, looking him in the eyes with absolute seriousness, “There is nothing about your body, nothing it could do, as well as there was nothing about you and things you could do, that could ever disgust me.” He was now holding Quackity’s face with both of his hands, and Quackity had to use all his might, and a huge repetition of he is manipulating you phrase to stop himself from closing the gap between their lips and weeping like a small child.

Even if it was all a lie and he would die because of it, for a moment, just for a moment, Quackity wanted to trust in those words. To thrust that somebody, somehow, could possibly not be disgusted by the monstrosity he was. He just wanted to believe he was loveable, even if it may not be the truth.

As if Wilbur could somehow sense his thoughts, he moved his thumb to caress the scar on Quackity’s eye, looking at it like it made Quackity the most beautiful man alive. Quackity felt himself blushing at such intimacy. He wanted to  let his guard down and enjoy himself, he wanted to soak in the ‘love’ he was receiving at this moment and believe that it has any chances of being real, he wanted to allow himself to be happy for just a split of a second before going back to his life filled with nothing but misery. But he couldn’t, because the damage of being used again was probably worse than the damage of not being loved again. At least one of those he had an opportunity to prevent.

But no matter how much he tried to contain himself, Wilbur seemed to have no such mental blockages, which is why he didn’t let go of Quackity when he plopped on the side again, pulling the entirety of Quackity’s weight against him, completely caging his body and not giving him any opportunity to move.

“So clingy.” Quackity whispered between two shaky breaths as he was trying to regain his composure and move away from the intoxicating odor that Wilbur had. It didn’t seem to be working very well for him.

Wilbur chuckled as he watched Quackity struggle to move his arms out of Wilbur’s grip. “For some one that so deeply and profusely despises me, you seem to blush a little too much from my touch.” Wilbur watched Quackity’s flushed chest and cheeks and plated a large grin on his plum lips.

“Just let me fucking leave, bastard.” They were absolutely back to the square one, having nearly same conversation as they did two weeks ago when he saw Wilbur again for the second first time.

Wilbur tilted his head backwards, laughing like a maniac. He removed his hands and his eyes were dangerously narrow as he looked Quackity back in the eyes. Like he knew something Quackity didn’t. “C’mon, leave.” His lip twitched upward, his eyes glistening with utter amusement.

Quackity was weirded out by his reaction, but he took the bull by the horns, sizing his opportunity to go and collect himself again, deal with this absolutely unneeded emotions.

He sat upright and he immediately understood why Wilbur was laughing at him.

He arched his back, feeling unbearable sharp pain in his backside, almost immediately falling back into the sheets, but holding himself upwards against the pain, simply refusing to prove Wilbur right.

He looked at the side and realized that his shirt has been thorn into pieces some time ago. It didn’t matter, he would run out in just his pants. He may freeze to death and may have to do a walk of shame in front of his enemies, but avoiding Wilbur is what he needed to do above all else. Until he made a new plan how to deal with this situation, he thinks, as if he has ever had a plan when it came to this man.

He got onto his wobbly legs, trying to make it to the other corner of the room where Wilbur has tossed all of their clothes. He felt Wilbur’s eyes burning a hole in his back, and he could almost hear the gloating coming from the look he was ignoring at the moment.

Darn him and his huge dick.

As Quackity got up, he hoped that the pain was going to be weaker when his entire weight isn’t on his ass, but oh was he wrong. The pain tripled, at very least, and Quackity felt an involuntary tear escape his eye as he tried to wobble across the room.

He made exactly two steps before his wobbly leg gave up on him and he started falling down. Before his knees managed to hit the floor, he was in the air.

Wilbur was holding him in his arms like a bride, offering him his cocky grin, that practically screamed ‘I told you so’ as he carried Quackity to the bed, placing him next to the wall and lying next to him, now completely trapping him.

Well, Quackity had no fucking way of escaping now.

This must’ve been a part of Wilbur’s master plan. He somehow managed to weaponize his dick size and if he wasn’t on the other side of the attack, he might’ve even been a little bit impressed by that.

Wilbur placed his hands against Quackity’s hips, leaving burning marks into his skin, and he closed his eyes softly, “Sleep.”

Quackity wanted to punch him and ask him how, since he was stroking Quackity’s engorges zone softly. But Wilbur wasn’t aware of that yet and Quackity preferred it that way. If they did it one more time Quackity might completely lose his ability to walk. And who knows what realization he would reach if he came one more time.

But Wilbur’s unaware movements got him rock hard again. He needed to find a fucking way to exit this stupid ass situation.

He stared around the room, thought about things he had on himself when he came here and he realized that he was the idiot. Not that he wasn’t pretty aware of that before, but now it was confirmed once again. He had zero escape plan. He didn’t plan out anything when he came here. He had no weapons, ender pearls, his trident, his elytra, nothing. He was completely naked, in more way than one.

There was the one option he was already doing- staying at Wilbur’s until his ass heals enough for him to leave. And that might take a while. Sun was low in the sky at this point. Quackity didn’t even realize that it had stopped snowing.

If he slept here for a while, he would wake up during the night and he had nothing on him to fight off mobs on the way home. He had to leave now or tomorrow morning. And first option was impossible, second was unacceptable.

He didn’t even notice that Wilbur’s chocolate eyes were looking at him curiously through his locks, under the eyebrows. He had the best kind of bedroom eyes Quackity’s seen. He looked like a demigod when he smiled and the setting sun started hitting his pale, shiny face. Fuck.

“I have to leave now.” Anyhow, Quackity added in his mind. Wilbur didn’t seem to be budging from his word.

He moved closer to Quackity, just simply pressing both of his arms again the wall behind Quackity, caging him. “Where are you hurrying off to? It’s not like you have someone to go to.” There was an unspoken, but me, and Quackity felt his heart sank in his chest.

Wilbur was right, but it didn’t hurt any less just because he was aware of it. In fact, it probably managed to hurt even more. Quackity had nowhere to go, no one to see, nobody waiting for him. Wilbur was the only person he had to see, to go to, only one waiting for him. He had been the only one around for Quackity for a while now and Quackity wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

He sighted. “Yes, but if I don’t leave now, I have to stay until the morning.” Quackity hated how couple-y they sounded at the moment. It sucked. He hated it.

Wilbur didn’t move an inch. “Then stay.”

“Why?” It came out of Quackity before he could control his own thoughts turning into words.

Wilbur closed his eyes again, still sun kissed, “Why not?”

Because I will fall in love with you more, the little voice in his head spoke and he imagined himself shooing it away like a thought bubble above his head with text inside it.

“A gentlemen doesn’t answer a question with another.” Quackity retorted, feeling like a little child, using Wilbur’s words against him.

Wilbur chuckled, his cheeks lifting his pretty, bushy eyebrows gaining a soft smile from Quackity he tried to hide in the pillow.

“Because I want you here Quackity.” He said with utter seriousness, his lips and facial expression calm and soft.

Quackity’s cheeks started burning and he was happy that Wilbur was keeping his eyes closed.

Quackity remained silent for a while, listening to Wilbur’s even and calm breaths, not being able to be asleep himself, since he was still hard as a rock.

“Can I ask you something?” Quackity sounded too serious for his usual liking, but he was nearly certain that Wilbur was asleep and that he was speaking for himself only.

But Wilbur hummed and nodded, slowly opening his eyes to look into Quackity’s. “Yes.”

“How did it… what was…” Quackity tried but trailed of both times, unsure how to ask.

“Being dead?” Wilbur raised his eyebrow, tilting his head to the side.

Quackity nod. “Yeah, what’d it look like?”

Curiousness got the best of him, but Wilbur seemed to like the question or the fact that Quackity asked, he wasn’t quite sure which one.

Wilbur then went on to describe the railway in a whole bunch of nothingness and Quackity somehow understood. Wilbur was all alone, for thirteen and half years in limbo. Quackity had no idea how he would survive that time, and what would he do if he had a chance to come back from it. He would surely try to be a better person. So why couldn’t Wilbur.

Because Wilbur is Wilbur. Quite simple. He is never going to change.

He felt a bit close to Wilbur when he finished explaining his experience. No matter how much Dream sucked, at least something good came from him- that stupid book. Now he wanted it even more than before. But he needed to talk about their side effect with the person himself.

Seemed like prison was his next destination.

After that conversation, they somehow ended up cuddling in a very weird and uncomfortable position, where Wilbur’s hands were around him, but they weren’t really hugging, it was like a hug, but if there was an imaginary person in between them and if they were doing it on a very uneven surface. But Quackity fell asleep calmly for the first time in a very long while and he had woken up refreshed in the first time in ever.

Sun was hitting his face from the other window and the light made him toss and turn around, forgetting where he was for a moment.

But when he felt his toes freezing and his body exposed, he jolted upwards, hoping it was all a bad dream. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t

He was still in Wilbur’s small attic room, with a burning fire place, that seemed to just be turned on, and an extremely good smell coming from downstairs, which caused Quackity’s stomach to grumble.

He then noticed that Wilbur wasn’t lying next to him, which made his heart ache just a little.

As if on que, Wilbur plopped from the floor, first placing two plates with omelette on them, which was what Quackity probably smelled before, and then climbing up, carrying a bag in his mouth. He let it down, and Quackity smelled apples from them.

It was a weird feeling to have a half-naked beautiful, a bit deadly, man bringing him breakfast to the bed. But it wasn’t bad, even if there was still a part of Quackity’s body feeling an ick from the entirety of this situation.

Wilbur placed the plate onto the sheet covering Quackity’s lap and sat next to him, placing the bag in front of them.

“I presumed you didn’t want to have the breakfast with Techno and Phil.” Wilbur smiled a little and he looked nothing like the man Quackity knew.

He could get used to this Wilbur, even if it was just a mask.

Quackity put a bite in his mouth and was so happy that it was good, since he was starving. He finished the meal so fast that he earned a chuckle from Wilbur.

“What?” He asked with his mouth half full, but he then chuckled alongside Wilbur. It felt nice, whatever was happening in this weird parallel universe he accidentally woke up in.

Wilbur lifted up his hand, brining it closer to Quackity’s face, at which Quackity flinched. He was used to Schlatt slowly lifting his arm to push Quackity’s head against wooden surface with strength.

Wilbur noticed, frowning a little, since he probably guessed why Quackity was flinching.

But then he brushed his fingers against Quackity’s cheek, cleaning it from omelette, with sweet tenderness, that Quackity relaxed into the touch unaware he was doing it, almost like a cat nuzzling against human’s leg.

Wilbur then got out two large slices of apple pie and Quackity drowned his without thinking.

What if it was poisoned and Wilbur wanted to kill him? What if that’s why Wilbur was barely eating his? He could’ve poisoned the omelette, since he chose which plate he gave to Quackity. Quackity felt like he was hyperventilating just think about what a major idiot he would be to die like that.

Wilbur eye rolled when he saw Quackity’s eyes going wide at the idea, despite his efforts to hide it. “The food is poisoned if you didn’t know.” Quackity snapped his head to look at him, with an angry look that he would joke about something like that. Quackity usually wasn’t this emotionally expressive around Wilbur, but he stupidly felt safe at the moment. “Mhm, I put aphrodisiac in that.”

Wilbur laughed with all his heart when Quackity’s eyes had gone completely wide, since that was a possibility for Wilbur to do something so stupid.

Wilbur started to lift his hand, but he let it fall next to his side and instead leaned to bump their foreheads together, before jumping up with plates and an empty bag.

 “See, this is probably how this situation is going to go- I’ll now go downstairs to clean the dishes from breakfast and you will probably try to use that time to run way without me seeing you leave, which will result in you finding you clothes, and my shirt, since yours is ruined, on the bed. You’ll get dressed and see how the only possible escape plan is through this window which conveniently is right above the spot where Phil throws the snow he clears from the front. And seeing as you are short, it’ll probably end up with you freezing on this very low temperatures, and you dying on our land isn’t really the best thing ever now, is it? Plus, I still need a plus one for the Kinko kingdom or whatever its name is opening, and you can’t really go if you are dead. So, how about you do us both a favor and just simply leave out from the front door like a normal, civil person. We aren’t teenagers anymore.”

It was the most Quackity had heard Wilbur talk in a while and he wondered if he was that fucking obvious and easy to read. Wilbur seemed to be smiling and Quackity took that as a good thing, for some reason.

“Whatever.” He retorted, eye rolling. He loved and hated being completely seen by this man. If he was anyone else, Quackity would probably just love it, but Wilbur is danger and he could be using that for all the wrong reasons.

When Wilbur went down, Quackity got up to get dressed. He noticed that Wilbur had indeed packed his clothes neatly in the corner of the bed with a shirt he didn’t recognize, probably since his was ripped in multiple parts. Wilbur’s shirt was dark red and Quackity had never seen Wilbur wearing it in his life. It was a simple button up, but it was quite a few sizes too big for Quackity’s small frame. At least compared to the giant that is Wilbur.

He got dressed quickly, feeling how clothes were warm. Maybe Wilbur warmed them up for him? It was ridiculous to even think about it.

After he looked himself in Wilbur’s window and straightened a shirt a bit more, noticing how good it fit him, despite not being his, he walked down, with the most stoic face he could muster.

He gave a bright good morning to Technoblade and Phil who were sitting at the prepared table, staring at him like he had just murdered a person. But knowing those two, he is probably getting stared at more now than he would if he had actually murdered someone.

They retorted, confused, staring at Quackity’s neck, which is when Quackity remembered the large mark Wilbur left on him. He needed to hurry up to see Dream at the prison and then get ready for tonight, because even though they hadn’t formally discussed it, Wilbur was probably picking Quackity up at certain hour no matter how the latter felt about that. And the least he could do is look unfucked when that happened.

He looked at Wilbur’s back, which were flexing and unflexing as Wilbur moved his arm to wash the dishes they had dirtied previously. If the two weren’t there, he would’ve probably stared at it for much longer, but he didn’t need to look any more suspicious than he had been looking so far.

“I’ll be going now.” Quackity formally informed the man he had just spent the night with.

Wilbur put the dishes onto a piece of cloth to dry and used a towel to dry his hands, turning around, leaning on the counter. Quackity wanted to press him against it, but he pushed his thoughts aside, at least for a while.

“I’ll walk you to the portal.”

Wilbur didn’t leave no space for negotiation and Quackity just nodded. He wasn’t about to fight him in front of his very deadly father and even deadlier friend. Nope, not happening.

So they took off.

Quackity could feel the two burning pairs of eyes staring holes in the back of his head as Wilbur grabbed his coat. “You came with nothing?” Wilbur asked, realizing his visit wasn’t very thought through, which made his lips twitch upwards.

Before Quackity could answer, Wilbur took off the coat he was putting on and placed it around Quackity, pulling his hair from under it with the most soothing look Quackity has ever seen Wilbur have.

And judging by the change of atmosphere behind him, the two hadn’t seen this side of Wilbur either.

“I don’t need it-“ Quackity started, but Wilbur cut him off with a very uninterested look.

Wilbur put on another, almost identical coat and the two of them headed off.

Quackity exhaled deeply as they left the house, he was glad to not be watched anymore.

Wilbur seemed to be looking at him profusely, but Quackity ignored him, staring at the beauty of the untouched snow stretching for as far as his eyes could see.

They walked in silence for the little while that there was between Techno and Phil’s house and their nether portal.

When they had finally reached it, Quackity turned around to give Wilbur his coat back, definitely not needing it, neither in nether nor were he was heading to. Wilbur quietly accepted the coat, never removing his eyes from Quackity’s face. He wondered if there was something on his face to receive such staring, but Wilbur was probably just being very weird.

Quackity took a step backwards, one leg already though the portal, “Bye.” He waved awkwardly, not really knowing what to say to his … What was Wilbur to him? An enemy? Not really, at least not anymore. A friend? That he wasn’t for sure, but neither was he a lover. Saying that he was acquaintance would be a blatant lie. Hmm…

Before he completely went through the portal, Wilbur leaned in, giving him an open mouthed kiss, with a tiny lick to his lower lip. “I’m picking you up at six, be ready.”

And like that, Quackity was though the portal.

He was staring blankly, but his legs were leading him fast, before he knew it, he was running towards the prison. That revival book must have side effects, and if it did, Quackity will find out how they affected Wilbur’s behavior towards him.

He was in front of the prison, sweat dropping from his chin. He put on his villain face and walked in proudly.

He greeted Sam with a nod, before going to his ender chest, snatching out all that he needed, rushing through the prison towards the infamous cell. He was going to get information he needed or Dream was going to die, there wasn’t a in between to that situation.

Dream was sitting in a corner, his head tilted upwards, he seemed to be napping. Well it’s gonna be a good morning for him.

“Wake up.” Quackity spoke loudly, hitting his axe against the crying obsidian walls. Dream jolted awake, his eyes filling with fear.

“Quackity, wh-what are you doing here?” Dream knew it wasn’t Quackity’s usual day for visiting, but Quackity needed to play this off well in order to get the truth out of this manipulative fucker.

He hit the axe against the wall close to Dreams ear and he flinched, moving backwards, his eyes widening. This was very aggressive, even for Quackity.

“I’m done being patient with you, give me the revival book.” He didn’t care about it today, but he needed to keep up a front, because if Dream even saw a hint of his emotions towards Wilbur, it would end horribly.

Dream kept quiet, which is the response Quackity was used to, it was the response he was hoping for. His eyes went mad and he pulled out the sword, pressing it against Dream’s throat, taking a step closer, “You know that I keep all you love close, right?”

It was the first time Quackity saw genuine emotion in Dream’s eyes. He hit close to the home.

“Yeah, which is why you wouldn’t never hurt them. You care about them more than I do!” Dream yelled, his face trying to hide emotion by loud laughter.

“I never mentioned that it was a person.” Quackity smirked and Dream flinched even though nothing moved, his face making a grimace. “But now you’ve made my job simpler.”

“Even if I tell you about it, you are just going to kill me. I don’t win either way.” Dream pointed out and Quackity smirked, he had him in the corner.

“Who knows, I might let you out if you tell me about it.” Quackity teased and Dream scoffed.

Quackity took a step back, drawing his sword in. “How about this- You answer some questions about it and I get you some better food, huh? That sounds like a good deal, no?”

Dream seemed to be considering it for a moment. Quackity saw this as hitting one bird with two stones. He will have the information he needs and he might even gain a bit of Dream’s trust, since he knows how starving he is at the moment, it was visible on his slim, fragile body.

“Sure, but I want steak.” He exclaimed, taking a step to the side, to put more space between the two.

“Whatever you want.”

“So, what do you want to know?” Dream asked cautiously.

Quackity tilted his head to the side, “How many times can you bring a person back? And if you do, how many lives do they have?”

He gave jack shit about that at this moment, but he needed to start somewhere and it seemed like the most logical questions to ask first.

Dream took a breath in, “From what I know, you can bring a person back as many times as you wish, but they only have one life left. And the more you bring them back, the worse they become.”

Quackity froze for a second, which is the information he needed. “What do you mean by worse?”

“Reviving messes with the persons brain, quite a bit.” Dream simply stated.

“Elaborate.”

“Simply put: people are still themselves, but reviving can only revive a certain part of them as a whole, it is never a 100%, it is usually 98, 97%, and the more they get revived the more they lose themselves.”

Quackity stared at him, which Dream took as a sign to continue, “If someone is, per say, evil;” Dream began, probably aiming at Wilbur, “that trait will fade away the more they get revived, while some other, weaker trait, I don’t know, maybe their care for something, may grow, since their most prominent trait is weakening- or in practical words, people change from what they chose to who they subconsciously are.”

And it all clicked.