ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ-wilbur x reader

i'm not sick, i swear

Hearing the pigeon coo outside of your window, you groaned, half-asleep, pulling the covers over your head to try and stop your head from pounding, eyes squeezed tightly shut. It didn't work, so you tried to ignore it as best as you could, gritting your teeth from the pain.

Forcing the covers away, you sat up, ignoring the black spots dancing in your vision and standing up, stumbling over so you could get ready for work. You stood in front of your bathroom mirror, frowning at how you looked. Your face was slightly flushed, yet the rest of it seemed completely drained of life, and bags sat under your eyes, heavy. Shivering, you splashed some water into your face, coughing weakly, your throat feeling like someone had forced you to swallow needles, all scratchy and harsh whenever you swallowed.

Swaying on your feet, you moved in a daze, barely registering what was happening, somehow managing to get dressed-albeit messily, your socks were mismatched and you managed to miss some buttons on your shirt, but it was fine.

You made toast, but one look at it made you want to cry, the idea of forcing something down sickening, so you slid it into the bin, your stomach doing flip flops, nausea starting to settle in your body.

Taking a look at your phone, you considered calling in sick; Wilbur could survive without you for one day, right?

But today was a big day, there was that huge charity stream he had planned, and you had promised to be there for moral support! It was only a small cold, you thought to yourself while struggling to put your shoes on, the world spinning. You could power through it.

~~~

"Uh, Y/N, why are you writing your emails into google?"

You blinked at the screen, seeing through a hazy blur and realising that he was right; you were, for some reason, typing your emails into the google search bar, making copious spelling mistakes along the way. Spamming the backspace button, you sighed, rubbing your temples to try and ease the pain.

"Are you okay?" Wilbur leant in close, squinting a little at you. "Do you need to go home?"

"No, I'm fine," you answered, immediately going into a coughing fit, weakly holding a hand against your mouth and turning away from him.

"Okay then, look at me." He held a hand up against your forehead, comparing it to his own with a frown on his face. "You have a fever." Shaking his head when you opened your mouth to protest, he closed your laptop with a sigh, pushing it away so you would stop working. "Come on."

Gesturing for you to follow him, he started to walk towards his room, and you jumped up to your feet, swaying a little in your haste, regretting it immediately when the whole room spun around. "I'm literally fine, it's just a cold."

"Like I'm believing that." Taking your hand, he pulled you along with him, and you were too dizzy to be able to fight against him, so you followed along, wincing as your head pounded again. He sat you down on the bed, reaching into his wardrobe, before throwing a pair of pyjamas at you, frowning when you held it up against yourself, the size a bit too big for you. "Sorry, that's all I have." Stepping back outside the door, he shut it quietly behind him, and you stared at the pyjamas.

You could still be there for moral support for the stream, even in his pyjamas.

Slipping them on, you rolled up the sleeves and trousers several times, yawning and rubbing your eyes, wanting nothing more than to just flop back onto the bed and sleep. The pyjamas were much comfier than your normal clothes, soft and comforting, so you held the sleeves up to your face, closing your eyes and relishing in the feeling of the fabric. Wilbur had good taste in pyjamas, if nothing else.

You stood up, walking over to the door and opening it, blinking when you saw Wilbur looking sternly down at you.

"No. Go back to bed. You have to rest."

"But the-"

"No buts." Pushing you back into the room, you had no choice but to fall back onto the bed, letting him tuck you in, messing with the blankets so they were comfortable enough for you. You managed to smile at that, not sure why he was spending so much time on that. Once the blankets had reached his level of satisfaction, he nodded proudly, giving you a gentle pat on the head. "I'll be back. Rest, ok?"

Nodding, you nuzzled into the covers, letting your eyes flutter closed.

The door burst open, and you sleepily sat up, forcing your eyes open and squinting at Wilbur, who was holding a tray precariously in his hands, an apologetic look on his face. "Sorry I woke you up like that."

You were honestly too distracted by the fact you had fallen asleep at all to care. You were sure that you'd only closed your eyes for a second.

Setting the tray down onto the bedside table, he sat down on a chair, looking proud of himself. "I made lunch." On the tray was a small bowl of tomato soup, looking surprisingly edible for something Wilbur made, and you nodded appreciatively, having to stop when it gave you a headache. Wilbur laughed, adjusting the pillows behind you to make it more comfortable. "Well, I didn't make it. Its canned soup-I'd rather not poison you."

Reaching out for the spoon, you frowned when he swatted your hand away, taking the bowl and spoon into his own hands. He scooped up a spoonful, blowing gently on it before holding it close to your mouth, keeping it steady for you.

Ah, he wanted to do the cliché thing.

You opened your mouth, letting him feed you, swallowing the soup with some difficulty, but it was warming, and stopped your shivering for a few seconds, so you nodded slowly when he gave you a questioning look, asking for more.

He fed you for a while, taking care to always blow on it before letting you take another spoonful, rubbing away any soup that managed to spill, being the most patient you had ever seen him. Eventually, you shook your head at a spoonful, and he smiled, letting the spoon clatter in the bowl, gently pushing your shoulders down. "Now rest again."

Sighing, you knew at that point it was useless to try and be there for his charity stream, so you lay back down, settling into the blankets. To your surprise, he didn't leave the room, but instead moved his chair closer to you, stroking your hair soothingly, humming a soft song under his breath. Smiling to yourself, you let your eyes close, focusing on the feeling of his hands running through your hair, the song he was humming becoming all you could hear, a soft lullaby floating through your ears.

You were on the verge of falling asleep when soft lips pressed against your cheek, and that was the last thing you felt before dozing off.

Wilbur was sweet sometimes.

(A/N-almost forgot to update today lmao)