One shots: Dream SMP

Power Principal: Quackbur (f&a)

Tw: sewerslide, mentions of death, heartwarming fluff, and mentions of abuse.

Category: fluff/ angst, hurt comfort.

Sorry if you wanted platonic. I can write it separately as plat if someone wants.

Creds- @s_a_d_i_x

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"I won't make the same mistakes twice?" Wilbur read, concern for his old rival showing.

He knew power could ruin. It could destroy a person until they're a shell of what they once were. It ridicules you, taunts you with all the decisions you need to make.

Even worse, it was enough to ruin Quackity, and Wilbur knew it. After the abuse Schlatt put him through, he wouldn't make it. How was he still-

Wilbur ignored his thoughts and ran around, looking for anything that could possibly tie to the small boy's whereabouts.

Then he saw it. An edge he and Quackity fought on years ago. (Well... to him it was years.)

He was sitting far too close to the cliff for the Brit's liking, so he asked, "Surely this won't be what kills you?"

Q looked up, tears spilling haphazardly across his face as he hurriedly tried to wipe them away with a shaking hand. "Wil-?" He cut himself off, worried to show any weakness anymore.

He'd been through so much. Schlatt's abuse, a nation getting blown up, Tommy's death, Sam, The Egg- which he intended to off himself with— and now his fiancés left as well. Really, he had no reason to keep on.

Wilbur hesitated as he reached out for Q's hand, "Would you mind? You're making me worry."

Worry? Why would Wilbur be worried for him? He thought—.

Well... it didn't matter what he thought. Wilbur was here and he cared. Even if he wasn't genuine, it was enough to keep Quackity second guessing. He carefully reached for Wilbur, flinching slightly when he finally grabbed his hand.

The Brit was patient. He'd been through much of the same things. "Don't go shaking too much, you'll fall off." He whispered, joking slightly.

Q scoffed, sniffling a bit. Here he was, a broken leader, an enemy to far too many and friend to what felt like nobody.

Wilbur kneeled down, despite his better judgment, slowly grabbing Quackity's waist, pulling him away so that his legs no longer dangled.

When he'd decided the other was far enough from the edge, he snaked an arm around his chest as well as his waist. Not even the world could stop him from keeping Quackity away from the ledge. He hugged him as tight as he could without hurting the tan boy.

The smaller flinched, despite Wilbur's attempt to keep him from doing so, "Wilbur—?"

"Trust me, I won't hurt you. I'm trying to be better."

Quackity was extremely taken aback, confused as to why Wilbur hadn't pulled out a sword and stabbed him. Or maybe he was waiting to throw him off the cliff? He was dead. Why hadn't that crossed his mind? He was just hugged by a dead rival, "This can't be real." He whispered putting a hand on Wilbur's, confused when he felt real as could be.

He wanted to see the best in people, he truly did. But the world was too cruel, unforgiving. And he was soft. So he had to toughen up, and just as Wilbur had. He had to stop thinking of himself as a person and think of himself as a politician. At least that's what Wilbur had said.

He was a shit politician, anyone could see it. So, there was no use for him anymore. He was— he was doing the right thing, right?

He was so deep in thought, Wilbur was sure he wouldn't notice when he moved his hand, rubbing the other's arm in a calming manor.

But he did. Comfort was so foreign to him. He'd been through too much to the point it was almost alarming to have someone care about him.

So much so, that Quackity tried to slip out of his grip, "Why won't you let me die?!" He asked, voice cracking as he weakly hit Wilbur's arms.

"It's not fair." Wilbur whispered.

Quackity turned his head around, looking up at his counterpart, "What...?"

"The world. It's not fair. We just did what we thought was best. And what we thought was best happened to require quite a bit of TNT from both of us." Quackity let out a weak exhale, amused slightly.

"I chose to die before I could see that it doesn't have to be that way." He spoke, voice wavering slightly at the mention of his last moments. "Trust me, Q. If you die, there's nothing. It's empty. You're alone with your thoughts. And that's enough to drive us mad. We were manipulated. You were abused. But any time he lashed out, you kept on. And for that, you're amazing." He rested his chin on Quackity's head.

"For that, you are strong." He turned Q around,   pulling him into an actual hug. "And working through emotions is the bravest course of action you can take right now."

Shit. He was crying before, but rest assured he was sobbing now. Wilbur ran a hand up and down his back, taking Q's hand in his other. He moved his thumb over the smaller's knuckles.

"It's okay to cry. It's okay to be scared. It's okay to be hurt by someone. And it took me years to figure out," He pulled away, keeping his hands on Quackity's shoulders to make sure he didn't do anything rash. "It's okay to admit you care for someone. And I care about you. So very much."

Quackity felt himself get pulled in. When Wilbur spoke, everything just felt better. Not to say anything disappeared completely, but it certainly dulled the pain.

So when he found himself connecting his lips with Wilbur's, he felt content.

When they pulled away, he seemed to understand a bit more. It will hurt. Like hell. But with Wilbur to back him up, he could try to find the bliss he felt when they kiss.

"You're perfect." Wilbur whispered, kissing his hand. Quackity giggled, trying to ignore his voice crack that reminded him of the situation he was in.

"You're worthy of every good thing you receive," The Brit kissed up his arm.

Quackity's face began to flush slightly, confused at the affection, but thrilled at the same time.

"And you deserve the world." He placed a kiss on his nose, resting their foreheads together, "I mean those words with everything in me. Care is not conditional. I'll care about you always."

Quackity let out a choked noise of surprise, hands flying up to his mouth.

"Come with me. We can sort this out. You had the power to endure such terrible things, and you have the power to heal yourself from them." He whispered, their breaths clashing.

"You'll be with me?"

"Through it all."

(Aha well that got real. Sorry if anything is incorrect or whatever I watched Q's stream literally right before this and I'm sick. Wilby's right though, you have the power. You can do it. Stay.

*side note: sorry if anyone wanted platonic fluff, I wasn't sure. This is also in no way meant to glorify sewerslide. If the thought even crosses your mind, please see someone. I promise there's somebody out there that cares for you.)