ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ-wilbur x reader

early mornings

A pigeon cooed outside of your window, and you yawned, forcing yourself to sit up in bed, eyes half-closed, the sun shining brightly in your face. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you swung your legs out of bed, looking at the clock on your bedside table, groaning when you saw the time.

Seven am, on the dot.

"Is this bird an alarm clock?" you mumbled, forcing yourself to stand up, stumbling towards the wardrobe. Thinking ahead, you had already hung up an outfit the night before, something comfortable but still a little professional-just so you actually looked like a personal assistant and not some random person he picked up on the street. You slipped out of your pyjamas, rolling your eyes when the pigeon cooed again, almost falling onto the floor when trying to put on your socks, knowing that if you ever managed to get a hold of that thing...well, it wouldn't end nicely.

You checked your phone, reading through your text messages to make sure you had the right details.

You can come wake me up at 8-ish, if that's fine?

Yeah, that's fine with me

Oh yeah, I like my coffee with 1 sugar, no milk. Use the coffee machine in my house.

1 sugar, no milk, got it

I'm not a barista btw

Just don't make it taste like shit lmao

Oh and you can smack me across the head if I don't wake up

Will do :D

The journey to his house was around ten minutes, so you had plenty of time to chill and check your bag over and over, panicking about forgetting stuff, keeping the keys tight in your hand.

Ok, maybe you weren't chill.

Making yourself some toast, you tried to ignore the fact your hands were shaking, spreading butter as neatly as you could while you literally felt like you had Parkinson's. It honestly tasted like cardboard, your mind too consumed with nerves to even focus on something as trivial as breakfast, your stomach completely and utterly twisted up into knots, making it difficult to swallow.

Your job interview was five minutes long, for god's sake, you weren't even sure if you were good at being an assistant.

Still, he had definitely been convinced of your ability somehow, and you clasped your own hands together, remembering how he had grabbed them with that smile on his face, eyes shining while he talked about how you were the best fit for the job. His videos really hadn't done his smile justice, the camera not capturing the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, the small breathless laugh he had let out, the glint in his eyes-

You needed to get to work.

~~~

Opening the door with your key, you closed it quietly behind you, slipping off your shoes while gazing around you, scanning the area. It was pretty neat, some shoes chucked in a pile in the corner, the walls completely bare, a small dent close to the ground, a black stain next to it.

You didn't even want to know why that was there.

Walking in, you placed your bag on a table, seeing the coffee machine Wilbur had mentioned, a small post-it stuck onto it, reminding you to include one sugar and no milk. Like you'd forget. You started to make his stupid coffee, opening a cupboard to see a vast array of mugs stacked haphazardly on top of each other, way too close to falling out for comfort, and you carefully took one out, praying that you wouldn't smash everything on your first day.

The mug you brought out was a custom made one by the looks of it, a picture of an anteater on it, with a message printed across the bottom.

"I hate anteaters," you read out, laughing a little before placing it under the coffee machine, hoping that he wouldn't hate you for starting off his morning with the one animal he hated. It took a few attempts before you found the cupboard with the sugar in, a close call with the tupperware making you a little afraid to open the rest (seriously, did this man ever put anything away neatly), but you managed to get it out, carefully spooning in exactly one teaspoon of sugar, just the way he liked it.

Checking the time, you saw that it was one minute to eight, so you held the mug in your hands, making your way to his bedroom. Your hand hovered over the handle for a second, questioning if this was a little weird. I mean, you barely knew the guy and you were just entering his bedroom to wake him up for the morning.

"You're getting paid for this, Y/N."

Bursting through the door, your eyes fell on the lump under the covers, Wilbur presumably asleep underneath, and you crept in, placing the mug of coffee on the bedside table, taking a deep breath. "Wilbur?" you asked, voice way too quiet. Coughing, you raised it, clenching your fists. "Wilbur? Wake up! It's the morning!"

He shifted under the covers, mumbling something under his breath, ignoring you and not waking up at all.

Well, he did say it was okay to smack him.

Grabbing a corner of the duvet, you yanked it, raising an eyebrow when he just curled in on himself, breathing deeply. "WAKE UP!" you yelled, intent on hitting him, but your hand pulled back just as it was about to make contact, instead tapping him very lightly on the arm, practically doing nothing. Just as you were trying to muster up the courage to actually hit him, a hand tugged at your wrist, pulling you down violently onto the bed, and you yelped in surprise, crashing down onto Wilbur. Your face was millimetres away from him, and you could see the moment his eyes fluttered open, confusion on his face when he realised the position you were in, his hand still wrapped around your wrist.

"Uh, good morning?" you said, laughing awkwardly.

"This is not how I wanna be woken up..." he grumbled sleepily, and you rolled your eyes, pulling your wrist out of his grasp, standing up and folding your arms, glaring at his sleepy self.

"And I didn't ask to be yanked by you when I was doing my job. Now, get up." He didn't move, staring at you with wide eyes, so you leant forward. "I said, get up. Your coffees on the table."

"And you put-"

"YES!"

"Alright, alright." He sat up, and you sighed, feeling a little bad that you yelled at him like that-but that was what he wanted, right? The small grin on his face proved your point, and you walked out, leaving him to enjoy his coffee, intent on looking through your bag so you could plan out what he wanted to do for the day. If you had written down everything correctly, he wanted to stream today and also wanted to sort out a few sponsorships, which you would need to look through and verify. You didn't want to have him advertise a scam, after all.

Sitting down at the table, you took out your laptop, tapping on the table while it booted up, waiting for Wilbur to stumble out of his room. That man clearly didn't like mornings.

"Hey, Y/N?" He poked his head out from out the door, an indiscernible expression on his face. "Wanna go on a morning walk? To wake me up?"

"We've got stuff to sort out," you answered calmly, opening up your email. Quick footsteps approached you, before a hand grabbed your arm, pulling you up to your feet before you could protest, Wilbur leading you towards the door. "Wilbur-"

"We can work later, let's go on a walk!"