Type: Reader x SMP Members (non-romantic with everyone but Dream :) *FINISHED VERSION*)

Time: Days after Wilbur has blown up L'Manburg, after the shock had worn away.

Place: Church of Prime

Warnings: Death, possibly sad memories.

Requested by: Elpis_Persona27

Words: 3598

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The day's weather matched the mood almost perfectly. 

Through the purple-stained glass of the elegant church, Tommy watched as droplets of rain raced down the windows, the green grass soaking up the liquid nutrients that fell from the sky.

Gathered together under the shelter of the church were enemies and allies alike, all there to mourn the deaths of two beloved members of their country.

Tubbo stood at the pulpit, in between the two polished coffins. He felt, as the new president, that it was his duty to speak at the funeral.

Niki sat next to Tommy, one hand gripping the fabric of her black dress, the other covering her mouth as she tried to muffle her tears. Fundy sat next to her, a grim expression on his face. One of his arms was wrapped around her shoulder in an effort to console her.

Also seated in the pews were Quackity, Karl, Eret, Philza, Dream, George, Sapnap, Purpled, Ponk, and Sam. Everyone was dressed nicely, wearing dark colors.

Techno stood in the back of the room, having decided to pause his arc of anarchy for the day.

You deserved that much from him, he thought.

"We are here today," Tubbo began, doing his best to keep his voice from shaking, "To celebrate the lives of Wilbur and (Y/N)." His hands gripped the edge of the pulpit in an effort to keep them from shaking.

"Wilbur was a good man. Yes, in the end, he may have spiraled into madness. Yes, he may have lost himself in an effort to win back our lands. But he was a good man," Tubbo insisted, his deep blue eyes, heavy with sorrow, trailed down to gaze at the coffin Wilbur was laying in. Part of him wished Wilbur would pop out of the coffin, laughing, and insisting that he had been pranking their group.

But Tubbo knew that was wishful thinking.

"Wilbur Soot was one of the bravest men I knew," Tubbo continued, "He single-handedly began a war with one of the most terrifying men in the land. And, leading only four men and one woman into battle, Wilbur defeated him."

Immediately, Tubbo's mind was flooded with images and memories of when Tommy had returned to L'Manburg, insisting that he'd secured their independence.

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"YOOOOOO!" Wilbur shouted, "Suck it, green boooy!"

Laughter exploded around the table, the group of renegades reveling in their newly-found independence.

"Tubbo," Wilbur turned to the young boy after assigning Tommy to be his right-hand man. 

A strong arm wrapped around the boy's shoulders, pulling him into Wilbur's side, "What do you think about becoming my secretary of state?" Wilbur asked warmly.

Tubbo's eyes widened, brightening with excitement, "Yes! Yes, of course, Wilbur!" He paused, frowning, then whispered, "What's that mean?"

The group laughed once more, then (Y/N) said, "I'm not sure that's a great idea Will."

She was only joking.

"No," Wilbur's voice was serious, and he turned Tubbo to face him, crouching down to his level, "You can do it, Tubbo. I believe in you."

And Tubbo agreed. With Wilbur by his side, anything was possible.

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Tubbo blinked, returning back to reality. Only a moment had passed, but that one moment felt like an eternity.

He took a shaky breath, continuing his pained speech.

"And (Y/N)...what a brave and beautiful soul, wasn't she?" Tubbo laughed softly, reaching up with one hand to wipe tears from his eye.

Murmurs of agreement rose up throughout the room, a few sniffles and hiccups following shortly after.

Tommy worked his jaw, staring silently at the bleak skies outside of the church.

He blamed himself for this. Of course he did. If only he could have kept Wilbur a little more sane.

If only he could have taken your place.

It wasn't fair.

It should have been him inside of that cold brown box.

Why did you have to go and step in front of that damned sword?

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"You want to be a hero, Tommy?" Technoblade's chilling voice cut through the air like a knife, "Then die like one."

Chaos erupted then. Techno had spawned two Withers, and was shooting fireworks into the crowd in front of him.

Wilbur was nowhere to be found.

He wasn't missed, though. Most people were focused on saving as much as L'Manburg as they could from the destruction of the Withers.

They did not know it would be in vain.

"Techno," Tommy pleaded, focusing most of his attention on saving himself from the exploding attacks raining down from above them, "We can work something out! You don't have to do this!"

"It's already done, Tommy," Techno responded, spreading his arms wide as his creations wreaked havoc upon the land, "You should have thought of this before you replaced the exact thing we were attempting to get rid of."

Tommy turned to face his old ally, gripping his sword tightly in his fist.

"L'Manburg is our home. We would never give it up," Tommy snarled, storming in Technoblade's direction.

A scowl settled itself upon Techno's lips, "Do you really wanna do this, Tommy? You really wanna finish what we started down in the pit?"

Tommy swung his blade down onto Techno, attempting to land a hit. The sound of metal upon metal screeched through the air as Techno blocked his attempt.

"I think I do."

While the boys fought, you and the rest of the group were attempting to fight the Withers.

Then the explosion went off.

Shouts and screams rang through the air. You were sent flying, just barely missing the edge of a small pond to break your fall.

The blast had left your chestplate in tatters.

You had been pushed away from most of the fighting, but you could see everything from your landing place. You were closer to Tommy and Techno, who had paused their duel for the moment.

An enormous hole had been ripped right through the middle of L'Manburg. Wilbur had set off the TNT.

Tommy and Technoblade had paused their duel to watch the destruction of their home.

"No!" Tommy screamed, rushing to the edge of the crater.

Techno watched the chaos with a smirk, leaning lazily on the hilt of his sword, "I told you, Tommy. I told you history would repeat itself."

Tommy was in shock. He stared down into the remains of his home in disbelief.

A crater in the hill above them caught his eye, "Phil?" He asked softly, distracted. What was Phil doing there?

Time slowed down as Tommy watched Phil's sword tear through his brother's chest.

"Wilbur!" Tommy cried, sinking to his knees.

You were moving before you could think about a game plan. You just had to get to Tommy.

Techno had the same idea. Silently, a grim expression settled on his face, he raised his sword, positioning it for the final blow.

"I truly am sorry, Tommy," He monotoned.

"It was just never meant to be."

"No!" You shouted, pushing your legs as fast as they could go. You threw yourself in front of the blade's pathway just as Technoblade brought it down, pain ripping through your chest immediately.

You fell to the ground, clutching your chest and gasping in pain.

Tommy whirled around, his broken eyes widening.

"(Y/N)?" He asked, his voice pained. He couldn't lose two friends in one day...he just couldn't.

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A warm hand resting on top of Tommy's startled him from his painful memory.

He turned, disoriented. Niki was staring back at him, a sympathetic smile on her tearstained face.

She reached out, rubbing the pad of her thumb across his cheek.

Tommy didn't realize that he'd been crying until she pulled away her thumb, wet with his tears.

Hurridley, he wiped at his eyes, refusing to show any more weakness.

Towards the back of the room sat three more of your friends.

Clay, George, and Nick.

Nick sat hunched over with his head in his hands and his elbows propped up on his knees, one knee bouncing up and down rapidly.

It was all happening so fast.

You were gone.

How were you gone?

The two of you had just been trading playful banter back and forth as you sparred together, preparing for the final battle.

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"Thanks again for agreeing to train with me," You said again, wiping the sweat from your brow with a spare cloth, "I know it's kinda frowned upon; working with the enemy."

Nick scoffed, flipping the hilt of his sword in the air and catching it as it came back down. A dangerous game, but it was fun.

And it impressed you...so...

"Psh. The enemy? Don't be silly, (Y/N)," Nick teased, "I'm not teaming with anyone. Clay can win this battle without me."

You slumped against the wall of Eret's castle, the two of you had been training behind it's walls, and allowed yourself to slide down into a seated position. Nick followed your lead.

"You're not going to abandon him like that," You say. Not a question, rather, a statement. There was no way Sapnap was just going to give up on Dream like that.

"Yeah, okay, mom," Nick shot back, one leg laying straight and the other propped up in front of him.

You smacked his shoulder light-heartedly, "I'm serious!" You laugh, a bright sound that died down slowly, "He's your best friend...you really can't abandon him in his time of need."

Nick shakes his head, turning to look down at you, "But you're my friend, too."

You smile, interlacing your fingers with his, "But I don't need you like he does."

You weren't lying. And you meant no offense by it. But the both of you knew that Clay was fueled by the fires of his friends.

If there was no one to light that fire, he would slowly burn out.

Nick sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand and trying his best to fight off the color rising to his cheeks.

"Yeah, yeah. I guess you're right," He huffed, letting go of your hand to sling his arm over your shoulders and tug you into his side.

You laid your head on his shoulder, the two of you sitting in comfortable silence.

"Nick?" You ask after a few more moments.

"Yeah, (Y/N)?"

"No matter what happens, we'll still be friends, right?"

"Win or lose, (Y/N). I will always be your friend."

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Tubbo had finished speaking, and was inviting any of the guests to approach and speak; share any memories they may have had with you or Wilbur.

Eret went first. He spoke of the times that the two of you strolled about the kingdom, talking about anything and everything under the sun. He had always felt so open towards you; you were someone he could trust with his life.

He then apologized to Wilbur, "I hope he found it in himself to forgive me before his time. I truly hope I redeemed myself in his eyes."

Anyone could see that the king still felt truly guilty for his betrayal all those months ago.

Niki stepped up to the podium next, along with Fundy. The two traded memories back and forth; Fundy speaking about some of the good memories he'd had with his father, and Niki speaking about the bakery the two of you had opened.

George had zoned out. He was sitting straight, stoically staring ahead. Emotionless.

He...he wasn't sure what he was feeling, exactly.

Obviously he was in pain that you were gone. He was heartbroken, devastated.

But he couldn't show it.

It wasn't because he didn't want to cry in front of all these people. No. It was because he couldn't.

George wasn't the best at showing his emotions. The dam behind his eyes wasn't breaking.

He didn't know why.

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"George!" You call, hurrying down the hall to meet your friend, "George, come on! We're going to be late!"

You were pulling your hair back as you walked, your black dress trailing along the ground behind you.

Neither of you wanted to be here. Neither of you wanted to be doing this.

George emerged from his room, messing with the cuffs on his suit. He couldn't seem to fix them properly.

You finished putting up your hair and stepped forward, your sure hands fixing the cuff for him.

Both of you were silent as you worked.

"I know you don't want to do this," You mumbled, glancing up at your friend.

George worked his jaw, avoiding your gaze.

"The death of a loved one, especially a parent, is extremely hard," You continued, finishing your handiwork but not letting go of his wrist.

George tsked and turned his head, determined to keep the dam behind his eyes from breaking.

"George," Your voice was firm, yet caring, drawing his attention back to you, "It's okay to be sad."

George took a shaky breath, quiet for a moment or two. Then, he stepped forward, tugging you into a tight embrace.

You wrapped your arms around George's midsection, letting him hold onto you for as long as he needed.

"I will not let go. Not until you do," You promised.

You could feel your friend's body shaking, racked with silent sobs.

You tucked your face into George's shoulder, letting him release the emotions he'd been holding inside. Letting him be vulnerable.

A few minutes passed, and George was starting to feel a bit better. He sniffled and pulled way, one of his hands holding yours; the other wiping at his eyes.

"Thank you, (Y/N)," He mumbled, his brown eyes full of gratitude and emotion.

You smiled, nodding. You didn't even care that the back of your dress was damp with tears, or that your makeup was running slightly from tears of your own.

You were here for the long haul. You were going to stick by George through thick and thin.

Through the ups and downs of life, you'd be there.

"Of course, George. I'll always be here for you."

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A single, hot, wet tear slipped down George's cheek. He sniffed, reached up and wiped it away, then pulled down his glasses to avoid any unwanted attention.

It was okay to be sad.

Right now...right now he was just broken.

One by one, almost every guest made their way up to the podium to share stories.

Sam. Ponk. Purpled. Phil. Quackity. Karl. Bad. Skeppy. Ant.

Techno, Dream, Sapnap, and George stayed seated.

Clay was biting down on the inside of his cheek, his thumbs pressed violently into the porcelain texture of his mask in his lap.

He figured it to be respectful; removing his mask at the ceremony.

It was taking all that he had not to destroy absolutely everything.

Nick and George had had to talk him down from murdering Technoblade when Clay had gotten the news. They insisted that it was an accident; that Techno was really aiming for Tommy.

They couldn't have any more wars. Killing Technoblade would start just that.

Clay needed to break something. He needed to kick something, punch someone. He needed to scream.

How was it that you were dead?

It felt like just yesterday, the two of you were sneaking about like the thickest of thieves.

Clay refused to believe it. He refused to believe that the girl he'd traded the deepest of secrets with, the girl he'd created mischief with, and the girl he'd stolen kisses from...was dead. Was gone.

He would never see you again.

The thought ripped his heart to pieces for the millionth time in the past few days. It felt like his chest was tightening.

Clay couldn't breathe.

Abruptly, he stood and stormed out of the church, ignoring the worried looks he got from his friends.

On the way out, Clay sent Techno a warning glare, receiving one of his own.

As soon as Clay was out of the confinements of the building, he began to run. He knew exactly where he was going; he'd been there millions of times.

He ran straight for the forest, following landmarks he'd committed to memory to find what he was looking for.

High up in the jungle trees sat a tree house. It was a small thing, made of oak wood. Big enough for about four people to sit comfortably in.

Clay dropped his backpack and mask by the ladder and began to climb; a rush of nostalgia attacked him as soon as he entered the threshold.

It wasn't much; there was a (F/C) rug in the middle of the floor, beanbag chairs spread here and there, books thrown about, and a jukebox in the corner. Pictures of all of your friends hung on the walls, reminding Clay of the people you were leaving behind.

Slowly, he lowered himself into one of the larger beanbags, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

Remembering you.

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"The skylight was a good touch, don't you think?" You asked, your head resting against Clay's chest as the two of you stared up into the night sky.

Clay hummed in response, playing with your hair. He wasn't looking up at the stars, but staring back down at your figure.

The two of you were curled up together in a large beanbag, you sitting in his lap.

You'd insisted the ceiling of the treehouse was to be made out of glass in order to see the sky at night; the stars had always amazed you.

Clay leaned down to place a soft peck on the top of your head, his hands massaging your scalp.

You sighed and closed your eyes, savoring this moment.

There was silence for a minute or two.

Then, "Your friends are really getting on my nerves, you know that?" Clay murmured.

You rolled your eyes playfully, tilting your head back to meet his green gaze.

"Why? Because they've built a little drug van?"

"Because they're messing with the order of things. If they become independent, then what will happen? Other factions will want independence, and my hands are full of wars," Clay huffed.

You shook your head, turning your attention back to the stars. You hated getting into these conversations; the two of you always ended up fighting.

"So you won't give them independence? To keep power?"

"To keep peace," Dream explained. "I swore to keep this kingdom peaceful when I became the ruler of it, and I don't break promises."

You hummed in response, reaching back and intertwining one of your hands with his.

Silence.

"I'm not going to stop them from fighting for their rights," You say softly, "If this is something they want, something that's important to them, I won't shoot it down."

"So you'll fight with them?"

"I don't know."

You hesitated, reluctant to ruin this beautiful night with talk of politics.

"Please, Clay. Let's drop the subject for tonight, shall we?"

Clay hummed, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to the underside of your lips, "I suppose I can make that arrangement, Miss (Y/N)."

You laughed, twisting in your seat to be able to face him properly.

The two of you studied the other for a few moments, just grateful to be sitting there together, in the midst of a cool summer night.

"Clay?"

"Yes, (Y/N)?"

"Whatever happens..." You began, "No matter what...you'll still love me, won't you? Even if we meet on opposite sides of the battlefield?"

Clay leaned forward and kissed you in response. The kiss wasn't heated, it wasn't rough.

It was passionate, yet loving. It was soft and caring. It spoke volumes without having to say a single word. You could feel the sentiment Clay held towards you emanating from his body, and you were sure that he could feel the same passion coming from you.

After a few more blissful, romantic moments, Clay pulled away.

"There is nothing in this world that can tear you from me, (Y/N). There is nothing that could sway the immense love I have for you. So, yes," He continued,

"No matter what sides of the battlefield we meet upon, I will always love you."

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Clay awoke with a start. He stared up at the starry night above his head; the moon was resting in the middle of the sky.

He must have fallen asleep.

It was the middle of the night, the reception would be over by now. His friends were probably wondering where he was; they probably understood that he needed space.

Clay ran his hands through the mess of brown hair atop his head and down his freckled cheeks.

He was still devastated, which was to be expected.

As he leaned back in the beanbag chair, content to spend the rest of the night here, Clay studied the sky above.

The stars were bright. Just as bright as he remembered them.

But something caught his eye.

There, just to the right of the full moon, sat a star that was brighter than all the rest. It shone down upon the earth with a radiance almost as bright as the moon.

It made Clay smile.

Because he knew that, no matter where he was, you would always shine down on him. You would always be with him.

Until the day he could join you in the starry sky above.