𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓇 - tommyinnit x reader

𝓰𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓹𝓸𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓼

The warm rays of the afternoon sun filtered through the leaves of the trees, casting dappled patterns on the ground where Tommy and I sat, engrossed in a game of cards. The peaceful ambiance was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching, and we looked up to see Wilbur striding towards us with a determined expression.

Tommy and I were engrossed in a game of cards, the rhythmic shuffling of cards punctuating the calm air as we enjoyed a moment of respite.

"Hey, what's up, Wilbur?" Tommy greeted him, his attention momentarily diverted from our game.

Wilbur settled into a seat beside us, a sly grin playing on his lips. "I've got an idea," he announced, leaning in as if sharing a secret.

I arched an eyebrow, intrigued by Wilbur's sudden air of importance. "What kind of idea?" I inquired, my curiosity piqued.

Wilbur glanced around before lowering his voice, adding a touch of mystery to his words. "I'm thinking of another election for president of L'Manberg," he revealed, his eyes gleaming with ambition.

Tommy's eyes widened in excitement. "Another election?" he exclaimed, his confusion showing.

However, I couldn't help but feel a wave of skepticism wash over me. "But Wilbur, you're already the president. Why another election?" I questioned, my practicality surfacing.

Wilbur's grin widened into a knowing smirk. "Ah, but Y/n, this election will be different. This is to get the people to not think I'm a dictator. We'll rig it so that I'm the only option on the ballot and make the people believe I'm consolidating power," he explained, his tone laced with confidence.

Tommy's excitement surged at the prospect. "Rigging the election? That's fucking genius!" he exclaimed, already envisioning their victory.

Despite their enthusiasm, I couldn't shake off the uneasy feeling gnawing at me. "But rigging an election... Isn't that... morally questionable?" I voiced my concerns, my sense of ethics guiding my words.

Wilbur's smirk softened into a reassuring smile. "It's all part of the game, Y/n. Sometimes you have to take bold steps and ensure stability," he reasoned, attempting to alleviate my doubts.

As the discussion unfolded and plans for the rigged election took shape, I found myself torn between loyalty to my friends and my moral compass. The thrill of political maneuvering clashed with my reservations, leaving me in a state of conflicted anticipation for the turbulent road ahead.

As the days passed and the excitement of the rigged election plan settled into a tangible reality, I noticed a subtle shift in Wilbur's demeanor. His initial enthusiasm for electing himself as the sole candidate began to wane, replaced by moments of contemplation and introspection.

One evening, as we sat around a campfire, the crackling flames casting flickering shadows on our faces, Wilbur's usual joviality seemed tinged with a hint of doubt. "You know, maybe rigging the election wasn't the best idea," he mused aloud, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames.

Tommy, caught off guard by Wilbur's sudden change in tone, furrowed his brow. "What do you mean, Wilbur? We have a plan, don't we?" he asked, a note of uncertainty creeping into his voice.

Wilbur sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I just... I don't know if this is the right way to go about things. What if people find out? What if they don't trust me anymore?" he voiced his concerns, the weight of his decision evident in his words.

I nodded in understanding, empathizing with Wilbur's internal struggle. "It's natural to have doubts, Wilbur. Rigging an election is a risky move, and the consequences could be significant," I offered, trying to provide some reassurance.

Tommy, ever the optimist, chimed in. "But Wilbur, we can't back down now. We've come too far to turn back," he urged, his determination unwavering.

Wilbur glanced between us, his expression a mix of determination and uncertainty. "You're right, Tommy. We'll see this through to the end," he declared, a hint of resolve creeping back into his voice.

Despite his attempts to reaffirm his commitment to the plan, I couldn't shake off the feeling that Wilbur harbored a sense of regret beneath his facade of determination. As the election day drew nearer, the weight of our choices hung heavy in the air, leaving us all questioning the path we had chosen.

Wilbur threw himself into the role of a persuasive politician, weaving promises and visions of a better L'Manberg to sway potential voters. His charisma and eloquence began to garner attention, and whispers of support circulated among the citizens.

One crucial moment came when Wilbur sought to secure Quackity's endorsement, believing it would solidify his chances of victory. However, what was meant to be a strategic move turned into an unexpected twist of fate.

Meeting with Quackity outside the Camarvan, Wilbur launched into his pitch, emphasizing his plans for L'Manberg's future. "Quackity, I'm offering a new era for L'Manberg, one of prosperity and progress. With your support, we can make it happen," he urged, his voice earnest and persuasive.

Quackity listened attentively, his expression unreadable. After a moment of silence, he leaned back in his chair and fixed Wilbur with a piercing gaze. "Wilbur, I appreciate your passion, but I've decided that I want to run for president myself," he announced, his tone firm and resolute.

Wilbur's initial shock quickly turned to panic as he realized the implications of Quackity's declaration. "But Quackity, the election ballot... We already closed it for new candidates," he protested, scrambling to salvage his carefully laid plans.

Quackity's smirk hinted at amusement. "Ah, Wilbur, it seems you forgot to actually close the ballot. Looks like there's still room for new contenders. SWAG 2020 will be on that ballot!," he remarked, his words a subtle challenge.

Wilbur's face fell, a mixture of frustration and resignation clouding his features. "I... I must have overlooked that detail," he admitted, his shoulders slumping with defeat.

Standing there with Wilbur and Tommy, everything suddenly felt like it was spinning out of control. Quackity throwing himself into the presidential race was like a bombshell dropping right in the middle of our plans. I couldn't help but wonder, "Why is he doing this now? What's going on?"

Wilbur's usual confidence wavered for a moment, and that was enough to send a ripple of unease through me. "Is this a setback we can handle?" I asked, trying to sound more assured than I felt.

Tommy's concern mirrored mine, and his words hit home. "Forgetting to close the ballot...How could we be so fucking stupid?!?," he pointed out, his expression reflecting a mix of frustration and worry.

As we talked, my mind was a whirlwind of doubts and questions. This wasn't how I imagined our journey to the presidency would unfold. Quackity's sudden move had thrown us off course, and Wilbur's mistake only added to the chaos.

The uncertainty of it all weighed heavy on my shoulders. What would this mean for L'Manberg? What would it mean for us? The future suddenly seemed so uncertain, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping in.

But amidst the chaos, one thing was clear—we needed to stick together and face these challenges head-on. The road ahead might be bumpy, but we were in this together, navigating the twists and turns of politics as a team.