Ａｎｇｅｌｉｓｍ (MCYT x Reader oneshot book)

💎Hanahaki and Jealousy (Wilbur Soot)💎

if im suffering, youre suffering with me.

jealous wilb angst pog

requested by HonkMarz

HANAHAKI DISEASE AU POGGERS (the hanahaki wasnt apart of the request i just want you guys to suffer, the request was just jealous wilbur hehe)

He wasn't sure why this was happening to him.

He knew why it was happening, but why him?

He was used to being rejected. He'd been rejected about 27 times before, so why hadn't he gotten the disease any of those times?? It didn't make sense.

Why now, of all times?

He had everything going for him— people loved him. People cared about him.

Why now??

His head was spinning as he sat in the call with you, Niki, and Fundy. You were playing jackbox together off stream and just chilling honestly— his throat and stomach felt like they were burning as you and Fundy blatantly flirted with each of your answers for each game.

"I simply CANNOT find a hot gf!" Fundy calls out, reading the problem for his pitch. He clears his throat, before continuing by showing the drawing next-- it was a poorly done drawing of you. "The solution is simple!!"

"Oh my goodness..." Niki quietly mutters, giggling as he shows the name next.

"Get a (y/n)!" He shouts, and Niki continues to giggle as you stay completely silent.

Wil is trying to stay as quiet as he can, trying not to break down into sobs from the agonizing pain in his throat-- he'd be forced to puke up the wretched flowers. He silently scratched at his throat with anguish, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he quietly suffered. He takes a deep breath in preparation, before coughing-- interrupting Fundy's tagline.

"Guys, I gotta go get a glass of water or something, I'll be right back." He quickly almost whispers into the mic, before muting himself and leaving.

"Oh-- If you need to take a break, we can Wil!" You call out with a smile, before frowning at the lack of a response. "...Wil?"

He rests his body over the toilet as he chokes out a sob, sitting on the floor and staring at the bloodied half-flowers that float in the water. He stares at the elegant yet disgusting flowers with such hate, knowing that these same beautiful and delicate plants will soon be his demise. He clutches his hands into fists on the ground as he sobs, blood still dribbling from his chin-- a flower petal or two stuck to his face with the blood. His nails begin to dig into his skin and tear it open, his palms beginning to bleed, simply adding to the drops of blood on the ground.

After about 20 minutes of simply sitting there, he finally regains the strength to stand up and flush the toilet, watching the blood and flowers spin down and away. He weekly shuffles over to the sink and begins washing himself off.

He sighs and coughs slightly, adjusting his new jumper after the one he had been wearing prior had been covered in blood. As he walks back into his room and steps over to his PC-- he notices that the jackbox game had ended at some point and that he is no longer on the call with you. He sighs, sitting down and checking his notifications on his phone-- realizing he had two missed calls from you. He quickly panics and calls you back, realizing you must be worried. As he listens to the phone ring, and ring, and ring, he coughs and tries to ignore the burning in his throat rising again.