YOOOOOO WHAT'S GOING ON GUYS, IT'S YOUR FLYING FALCON WITH A SALT GUN, BACK WITH A WHOLE NEW ONESHOT JUST FOR YOU!!!
I'm sorry for not having updated - thank you for being patient with me. There's really no other excuse except the fact that I'm not feeling all that well at the moment, so, yeah.
Before this chapter, I would like to give a special mention to -CAILAHYN for drawing this picture down below right here:
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The drawing is absolutely amazing, and seeing it really made my day, even if it is a sad drawing. Thank you for drawing it to me, you're really talented!
FYI, if you want to make drawings of me or anything in that sorts, you go ahead and do that, because seeing them really makes my day, and you are all crazy talented! You can give me a link on Wattpad to where I can find your drawing if you've made one and want me to see it, and I'll definitely mention you in my upcoming chapters, because you all are crazy good at drawing :)
Thank you all for your endless support <3
Anyways, this one was requested by quite a lot of people, and that was just a Wilbur oneshot, however, someone also suggested that I do a Wilbur singing the reader to sleep, I don't remember who suggested that, but whoever did, YOU'RE AWESOME!!!
Hope you like this nice, fluffy chapter!
ENJOY!!!!!!!!!!!!
(not proofread)
The rain was pelting down the windows outside, uneven trails of drops rushing down the fogged-up glass, as if they were racing to get to the bottom first, while also gradually growing bigger - the remains that was left from the water that never made it to the worn-out window sill was soaked up by the bigger raindrops, the ones having a chance to race all the way down to the bottom, where their remains was left dangling on the egde of the sill, with a long way down to where the asphalt was left soaked and slippery from the water not landing on the windows or the many buildings around you.
You were having a hard time sleeping - the normally soft bed, the one that melted perfectly around your body, molding into just the right shape beneath you whenever you laid down, was suddenly too rocky and hard, and it felt as if it was made out of the hardest of stone, cold and ruthless against your tired and exhausted body; your eyelids, they felt too heavy to be kept open, however, each time you let the temptation take over and let your eyes slip shut, they seemed to not let themselves rest easily, and rapidly flickered around in the dark, empty space beneath your closed lids, which eventually got annoying, and ended with you fluttering your mattered eyes open again.
Beside you, the imprint of Wilbur had long ago faded into nothing, and the rock-hard matress beneath you, the one that you swore would lead to your death sooner or later, if you weren't to fall asleep, was smooth, like the curly brown-haired man had never even touched a finger on the bed - it was like every trace of him was gone, even if you, despite all, knew he was gonna come home soon.
