ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ-wilbur x reader

leave me alone

Walking into Tesco, you looked around for some plasters-Wilbur had apparently wanted some after he gave himself a papercut and texted you in a panic, saying that he needed them desperately. You held back a laugh at the memory, remembering the way he had only texted in capital letters to show you how scared he was.

Just as you picked up a pack, someone tapped you on the shoulder, before violently spinning you around so you were staring into their face. "You're Y/N, right?"

"Yes?" you took a step back, frowning.

The girl in front of you was backed up by a friend, both of them glaring at you. You spotted one of them was wearing Wilbur's merch and it clicked in your mind-they were Wilbur fans that had an issue with you.

"You and Wilbur." The one closest to you leant forward, and you backed away even more, your back brushing up against the shelf. "Are you two dating or something?"

"No..." you answered, searching around for an escape route, not wanting to cause a scene. These girls were both younger than you, you couldn't exactly punch them or something. Gulping, you slowly started to edge away, wanting to cry when she moved with you, blocking your way out.

"Stop acting like a weirdo, jesus christ."

"Why did Wilbur even hire you anyway?" the girl at the back spoke this time, rolling her eyes when you looked at her. "I bet you're desperate for his attention."

"Look, we're not dating, ok? I'm doing my job."

"Piss off with that. I bet you beg for his attention. He's not going to date you, so stop being all close with him." She leant in even closer, and you clenched your fists, before pushing her away, not even caring about causing a scene at this point, frustration starting to bubble under your skin. They shared a look, smiling hatefully at each other.

"He's not going to date you either, so stop acting like you own him," you spat out, starting to walk away, grimacing when they started to follow you. Did they not have anything better do to with their life?

"Someone's defensive," one called out to you, their voice high and teasing.

You didn't even answer, storming past other people to the checkout, the girls' footsteps following close behind. Hands shaking, you scanned the plasters, scrambling to pay while you could hear them both snickering at you, muttering insults under their breath, their voices still audible even though they were a few metres away. You didn't give them another look before practically running out, bumping into someone and muttering a quick apology, sighing when their voices finally disappeared, hands sweaty from nerves.

Wilbur's fans were crazy.

~~~

Opening the door, you jumped when Wilbur was standing right in front of it, a smile on his face. It immediately fell when he saw you, a concerned frown replacing it. You handed over the plasters hastily, walking past him and placing your bag on the table, avoiding eye contact, your hands struggling to take stuff out of your bag, some stuff falling down onto the table.

Hands were gently placed on top of yours, stopping you from struggling even more, and you looked up, gulping nervously.

"Not like you to be late. Did something happen?" He sounded so concerned that you started to feel bad, but you wrenched your hands out of his grasp, turning your attention back to your bag, brows furrowed.

"Nothing. Don't worry about it."

"You're a shit liar."

Sitting down, you put your head in your hands, trying not to freak out. "I said it's nothing. Take your plasters and I'll do my work."

"You're not doing anything until you tell me what's wrong." He sat down next to you, his hard gaze softening when you looked up, the plasters still in his hands. "Don't worry me like this, Y/N, please."

"Fans." You turned to the side, staring at the table, fidgeting anxiously. "Some of-some of your fans were being weird."

"In what way?" he sounded so serious that you were taken by surprise, and you turned to look at him, eyes widening when you saw how angry he was, his jaw clenched and eyes glinting dangerously, whole body tensed up.

"Just-asking about us. And saying that I'm desperate. And...making fun of me, I guess."

"I'm sorry," he said, smiling sadly at you. "You know that's not true."

"Yeah, but-"

He shook his head, cutting you off, tapping the table. "Some fans they are. Come on, you're more important to me than they are-you're literally my personal assistant. Where would I be without you here?"

The warmth of his words flowed through your body, and you sighed, letting the stress and nerves start to leave, nodding. "Yeah. Thank you."

"Don't let them affect you, okay?" he reminded you, giving you a quick pat on the shoulder, before opening the plasters. "And thanks for these, I thought I was gonna die yesterday."

Managing to laugh weakly, you took a deep breath, trying to forget the events of the morning. Those "fans" weren't important.

@WilburSoot

Just a reminder, Y/N is my personal assistant, and anyone who insults or goes after them in any way is not considered a fan of mine. Be respectful or don't watch me at all.

@DSMPbrainrot

We love you Y/N <3

@wil_beee

Y/N get behind me, I'll defend you :D

@dsmppp

I guess I'm not a fan then :D bit weird how Y/N is so close to Wilbur

       ---@WilburSoot

             Stfu

              ---@DSMPbrainrot

                     WILBUR POPPED OFF