#angsssttt

[undermine-the-instinct]

This is technically spoilers in case you wanna get the first bad ending

PT |

I'm really liking how urgent he's getting. Guess this was a bad idea, huh?

[littlecrow4]

They make me emotional

[janeelyakiri]

How did the other horror skellies get their injuries?

HorrorFell Boys- Deal gone bad. When food started going scarce, they went into the 'meat' trading business, but refused to do business with Undyne and the Capital. Pissed about this, they set up a trap. Splitting the brothers so only Condor showed. Anubis realized and got to the warehouse to find his brother was alive again and everyone else was dusted. Anubis later gets his wound from Undyne herself.

they are the most sane of the Horror groups.

HorrorSwap Boys- When famine started setting in, Scientist Undyne suggested Maned knew stuff. But Maned (as Fox) is a shut in, anxieties far too high specially now with everyone hungry. Cuckoo was part of the Royal Guard and despite what Queen Alphys wanted, he sort of... ignored the problem. Wouldn't bring Maned in, but wasn't stopping anyone. Royal Guards went to their home and dragged Maned in, bashing his skull open and taking his eye. Cuckoo saw their home was wrecked, rushed to the palace in time to see Undyne holding the eye.

Cuckoo snapped and dusted all but Queen Alphys. Taking Undyne's eye and giving it to Maned. He fiercely defends Maned now, and Maned is... not himself. He doesn't feel anymore.

HorrorSwapFell- Queen Alphys killed Toriel without knowing she would need keywords to control Hound, so he left to protect his brother. Both hid even as Famine rolled into the Underground. Hound (Now Grim) knew both would be in danger from the Royal Guard and new Queen. While Grim was out hunting, Raven was found and dragged to the Castle. they needed Grim's eye for the Core, but decided to test one of Raven's. Didn't work, so to entice Grim to get his ass there faster, Raven... suffered. A lot. When Grim got through the guards he found his brother smiling, having cracked under the pain.

Grim gave up his eye willingly, and of course instead of releasing the brothers, Queen Alphys demanded their deaths. Raven managed to gift Grim his last eye, and Grimm slaughtered the guards and Alphys.

Grim now wears his brother's old scarf to blind himself. Without it, both can see through the eye and suffer pains while doing so. Raven can't speak above a whisper and is much like Maned now, but he can only feel happy. Empty, cold joy that could feed Shattered for ages. He can't see unless Grim is using their eye.

EDIT- NO I DIDN'T FORGET RINGO'S A HORROR....

HorrorFellSwap- The DT in Robin and Dingo's souls won't let them die. So they became an amalgamate... Robin screamed for *days* after getting stuck to his brother, leaving him mostly voiceless. He's slowly become more like Dingo, having been forced to feel real care for others.

They still will eat any soul and have fits of anger.

[kogglyuffs]

la solitude

[starwrittenfates]

@dcmoniism continued from X

She was rendered speechless by this, her heart hammering away in her chest with a mix of emotions from the fact Severus was misunderstanding the situation, but mostly from the declaration he had just given. Green eyes blink, trying to process if she heard it correctly and it wasn't just a figment of her imagination-- Severus liked her?! Well, of course he liked her, they were best friends---but this went beyond their friendship. That much was obvious now.

Lily hadn't thought much on the subject before. Although, recently, that had started to change as she began to entertain the thought of seeing him in a different light, finding herself start to be drawn to every little thing about him. She wasn't sure how to bring it up. Wasn't sure if she should. And she for one didn't think he would ever think of her as anything more than a friend.

"You're wrong. It's not what it seems, Sev." Merlin's beard, how could she explain this? "I don't like Potter at all. He's not even my type. I'm only doing this to see if it will finally get him to leave me alone!" Lily paused, taking in a deep and shaky breath. "I don't want to go on this bloody date with him because there is already someone I like-- and it's not him. You probably won't believe me anyway. You've clearly made up your mind about that."

[skloomdumpster]

For my Holiday Exchange buddy @amchara

I had a blast writing this (still finishing it, shhh) and I hope you enjoy it too! Happy HEX!

.

A Merry Fucking Life

Summary: Three months were only ninety days. Thirteen weeks. A couple thousand hours. People grieved for three months, people waited for three months. They did not, however, wait for three years. --- The immediate continuation after the s2 finale.

Read here

[badasshybridqueen]

“ it’s alright… it’s okay… i’m here now. i’ve got you. ” - klaus

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 : Accepting

The sound of his voice fills her ears and for a moment Hayley thinks she's imagining it - that it's yet another trick. But then she feels the vervain and wolfsbane laced ropes loosen on her arms, pain tearing through her body as the thorn filled rope pulls from her skin. The hybrid pries her eyes open, blood and bruises covering her face and body. Her throat is dry and scratchy when she swallows.

"Klaus?" her voice is raspy - not surprising since all she's done for days is scream. She's lightheaded, weak, can't remember the last time she fed. Everything hurts and honestly Hayley isn't sure how many days have past since she's been there...wherever there was. Relief washed through her as she held his gaze, moisture pooling in her eyes. The hybrid couldn't quite help the sob that fell from her lips - it was a natural reaction considering she never thought she'd make it out of this.

[jaemmphilia]

☾ painful truth ☽

☾ synopsis: after being wonbin's friend-with-benefits, you crave something more than just being a toy for him. ☾ featuring: wonbin x gn!reader (no pronouns used, but written with a male reader in mind) ☾ prompt: "what am i to you?" ☾ warnings: angsssttt again, wonbin is mean and just brushes off reader ☾ disclaimer: this is simply a work of fiction and does not represent wonbin as a person. ☾ triplejaracha, 2024. please do not copy, translate, or upload to other platforms.

read hjenthusiasts' version here! <33

wonbin had texted you that awful "u up?" message, and you found yourself back in his bed. you told yourself that you wouldn't give in to him, the urge to block his number and move on with your life strong. although not as strong as the urge to fall into his arms for just a few moments of pleasure, he dropped you back to square one of being friends.

your roommates and fellow friends tell you that you need to get over him and that you'll never be more to him than just a friend that he can also stick his dick in. you call them harsh, your brows furrowed as your fingers type away on your phone. you sleep with him, he wakes you up with breakfast and a kiss on the forehead.

when he kissed you on the forehead the very first time, you teased him about being so domestic but never told him to stop. so now it's part of your routine with him.

lately, you're noticing that wonbin is being more affectionate than before.

like last week, you went out with him and your roommates to a bar near the apartment complex you all live in. you decided as a group that you would walk the short distance, you get to save gas and get some exercise in, the only downside being the insanely chilly night-time weather. you could see your breath whenever you would laugh at something your roommate, eunseok, would say, or when wonbin's friend sohee would trip over the sidewalk.

you rubbed your hands together to create some warmth but before you could even get a good amount of warmth going, your hands were being encased in wonbin's. his hands were loads warmer than yours so you didn't complain. but your poor heart began to pound in your chest.

as the night went on, wonbin only got more touchy with you. you knew he wasn't totally wasted so he was still conscious of his actions, so why was being so affectionate toward you?

after that night, you had an epiphany. you had a crush on your friend-with-benefits. you did everything to try to rid yourself of those feelings. you slept with other people, went on blind dates that never seemed to end well, and you find yourself imagining what it would be like to be wonbin's partner.

the day you asked wonbin that one question that should be forbidden in a friends-with-benefits relationship was heartbreaking for you.

wonbin brought you breakfast that morning, like he always does and he left a soft kiss on the crown of your head. your face got warm and you bit your lip. before you could even stop your mouth from moving, the question just spilled out of your mouth like word vomit.

"what am i to you?"

you watched wonbin pause in his steps and he turned around to face you. he ran his hand through his mop of messy hair, his shoulders jumping up in a shrug, "you're my friend, obviously."

you shook your head at him and sat up more in the bed. "friends don't do what we do, bin."

"we're just special friends, y/n, that's all," he said to you, his shoulders shrugging at you again.

"i know, i know. but special friends don't hold hands and kiss each other on the forehead and stuff," you said to him, your voice raising in tone, indicating your disappointment.

"i kiss all my friends on the head, you aren't that special," wonbin tutted at you, his eyes looking away from your form on the bed.

your heart shattered at that moment. you weren't special to him, he said so himself. you were nothing but a toy for him, a object for him to use and toss away when he was done.

you fought the tears wanting to spill from your eyes, you gathered your things and you left him. you ignored his calls of your name, his exclamations telling you to wait.

you went back to your apartment and sobbed in eunseok's arms all night long. he was your rock in that very moment and you were very grateful for him.

you really should listen to your friends more often.

[elsa-fogen]

Oh, I imagen that it's hard to have any concept of time in heaven, so it's full one possible that Alastor's mom just thought he died now, "Cause he's always such a good boy"

So she may ask what took so long, and he can't help but regret not giving up his powers sooner

Like, he honestly can't answer her and just tells he's sorry

Honestly Alastor died not that long ago and he really COULD live THAT long to die just now

Other question then would be - why he looks so young

Anyway yessssss angsssttt

[taegularities]

ANGSSSTTT I NEED TO HURT

welp, that's a plot twist

[tbh-entp]

i knew it'd been like... a series of years that i've seen your infj posts. whyyyyy didn't yoou just lock him up when you were dating this year!? the angsssttt. rooting for you tho xx k byee

yeahh it's also totally at least 50% my fault we're not together.

The good news is that since 2018 we became very good friends, and if it doesn't work, at least I've had some really good years of friendship. Plus, we put effort into being friends despite the things that have happened between us, so I feel like unless he hits my pet cat with a car, we'll always be friends.

And I didn't lock him down because I knew he was moving to Thailand. Even though he wanted to. (am i insane)

But yeah, I'm a woman approaching 30. I want someone who wants to be where I am. Or is at least very sure about me (he might have been, idk) but I currently have a great job, I would've followed him otherwise. Plus his job is only a 1 year-long post, whereas I'm a bit more stably employed. And I think I was just hurt he was moving so far? I want kids also, and in my family it famously gets harder to give birth past 30.. I just thought he couldn't feel as strongly about me if he was moving to Thailand (even though he asked to be together multiple times, god am I an idiot?), and my time is ticking since I really love and want kids.

[rmwb-fanfics]

you not only read but LIKED a drinny fic...? WHO ARE YOU!? *flips table*

let me guess draco was a completely different person than he is in canon? or ginny was like pansy... MY GIRL WOULD NEVER LOOK IN HIS DIRECTION!

that's like donald trump hooking up with michele obama. ya thats right, I just compared draco to donald trump cause that's the equivalency in the wizarding world and the little shit would probably have a combover like him too.

HAHAHAAHAHHAHA IM SORRY.

Draco was actually an absolute prick and it was a Voldemort won + repopulation marriage contracts situation so basically Stockholm syndrome but like the angsssttt.

Draco’s arc was believable and like everyone else in the fic was really great and I DONT KNOW MAN IT WAS PRETTY GREAT.

Your Trump comparison is on point though LMAOOO that ridiculous fucking comb over 🤢.

But Michelle could never.

And like, I don’t think Ginny would ever either but likeeeeeee in the context of the ficccccc

I’m going insane.

IT WAS GOOD.

[automaticpersonabatpaper]

SHUT UP I LOVE THID I LOVE THEM THE ANGSSSTTT OMGGGG

for richer, for poorer

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: gift giving has always been something you've agonised over. for chan, just having you in his life is enough.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: insecurities (especially related to finances), feeling anxious, hurt/comfort

a/n: i know it’s still a long time until october, but i didn't write it in time to fit as like a holiday related fic.

bonus: minho's reaction to his gift (included as a reblog of this post)

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

Gift giving has always been something that you agonised over. You wanted so desperately to get something meaningful and special that nothing you ended up getting seemed special enough.

So when Felix had proposed throwing both Chan and Minho a party for their birthdays, you were more than happy to help plan. You could see that Chan had hesitated when Felix had told them about it, but he had ultimately agreed when he saw the way Minho had seemed to perk up at the idea.

It wouldn’t be anything too big, Felix promised, just inviting some close friends to have dinner and hang out. It slowly balloons into more than a simple dinner, but the opportunities for the members to have their friends gather are so rare that you swallow your concerns.

The night of, you can’t help feeling a bit nervous. You recognise almost everyone, but that's the part that scares you - you've only seen most of these people through your phone screen before. You know Chan and Minho have a lot of idol friends, but you didn't realise there would be so many at the party. You had discussed the guest list with Felix briefly, but your concern had been about the number of guests and not who they actually were. Now you’re starting to regret it, you aren’t mentally prepared to be face to face with so many celebrities.

The time passes surprisingly quickly with people trickling in as the night goes on. Dinner is casual, you’ve helped to cook a number of dishes and takeout was ordered to fill the rest of the counter. There isn’t enough proper seating so everyone is spread throughout the kitchen and living room.

You spend most of the time just wandering through and making sure that there’s no shortage of drinks, appetizers, and that the empty dishes or cups are cleared away. Of course, you greet everybody as they arrive and thank them for coming, but it’s hard not to be intimidated by all the famous faces.

Eventually Changbin drags the birthday boys to the living room, standing them in front of the TV to open gifts. Everyone else either crams themselves onto the couches, sits on the floor, or loiters closer to the doors.

Chan insists that he open presents at the same time as Minho instead of one at a time like Jisung suggests. Someone pushes a couple of matching boxes into their hands and steps away.

It's almost comical how different they open them. Chan takes his time, carefully pulling apart the ribbon that's wrapped around the box, sliding the lid off and putting it to the side, then slowly peeling aside the tissue paper. Minho on the other hand, manages to pull the ribbon off the box without untying it and flips the box to shake off the lid and reveal the contents.

They're complementary hoodies in the casual and oversized fit that the boys usually go for. You recognize the brand, have seen the members wear it on more than one occasion, and know that they most likely cost the same as your monthly salary.

The next gifts seem fairly innocuous, a beanie for Chan and a baseball cap for Minho, but you know their pieces often go for over a million won, more than you’ve ever spent on a single clothing item.

It continues on like this, the boys receiving items like music equipment, alcohol, and sunglasses. It makes you swallow hard when you think of your own, mostly handmade gift.

Maybe the worst part is that nobody else at the party even blinks an eye at it. You can’t blame them, it’s the nature of their occupation that has gotten them desensitised to being surrounded by luxury and it’s not like they can’t afford to indulge in getting more expensive things.

When you look down, wanting to stop staring at the pile of opened gifts, you see that you've partially crushed the packaging of your own gift. It already looked shabby enough, it was obvious you had wrapped it yourself and the paper you used was from the supermarket, but now it was even worse.

When you try to smooth out the crinkles, your shaky fingers somehow make it ruin it more. You bite your lip, hard, then stop, self conscious about your appearance around all these idols.

It suddenly feels cramped and too warm, sweat starting to gather on your forehead and back. The room starts to spin slightly and you become overly aware of your heart beating in your chest.

A burst of laughter from the crowd spooks you, pulling you out of your head. You use the opportunity to get to your feet and excuse yourself. You slip away as quietly as you can and breathe a sigh of relief when you make it into Chan's room without anyone following you.

You don’t bother to turn on the lights, not wanting anyone to check up on you, and sit on the ground with your back against Chan’s bed. With the door closed, the noise from the party is muffled and it’s significantly colder in this area of the dorm. You press your hands to your face and take a few deep breaths to try and calm your heart rate.

You don’t know what’s wrong with you because you know you shouldn’t feel like his. You had been looking forward to watching Chan and Minho open their gifts, you had spent a lot of time preparing them and you had felt confident that they would enjoy them.

Well, until you saw everything else that they received.

Now your ideas just seemed silly. You feel humiliated at the thought of everybody seeing the obviously cheap gifts and even worse when you consider how ashamed Chan might be for others to know that you were his partner.

Although you were working full-time at the moment, you had only graduated from university last year and your student debt was an ever present weight on your shoulders that you tried your best to hide. Everything you had went to paying it back and checking in bi-weekly to see the number get smaller and smaller was the only thing that made you feel better.

Chan knew that you often worried about money. You had been mortified the first time that he had walked in on you trying to organise your finances for the next few months. He had glanced over your shoulder before you had even realised he was in the room and all the red cells showing where you were in a deficit were hard to miss.

It had been early on in your relationship and the dates that the two of you had been on as well as a couple unforeseen events had meant that you had been spending way more than what you had anticipated. Of course, Chan had treated you on a number of occasions, but you refused sometimes because you felt guilty every time he offered to pay, especially since it had been only a couple years after his debut.

He had been more than understanding, but you had been so embarrassed and caught off guard that you couldn't stop the tears from streaking down your face. Since then, Chan and the members had never done anything to make you feel like they pitied you or thought any less of you for your financial situation, in fact they did the opposite.

When you had first started visiting the dorms, opening the food delivery apps was like a reflex for all of the boys once it was dinnertime. You were always hesitant to choose anything and felt even worse by the nonchalant way that they covered the costs each time. Even though you knew they didn’t think anything of it, you couldn’t help but feel like you were taking advantage of their hospitality.

Somehow they caught on to your reluctance to buy food and now it's tradition that you cook for them when you come over, enough so that they keep the kitchen stocked with more than ramen, chicken breasts, and protein powder.

In particular, Minho absolutely loved your cooking and had needled you many times on sharing how you made it. You had always denied him though, saying that you didn't use exact measurements and came up with things on the fly. That’s why for his gift, you had taken the time to create a recipe book, complete with pictures for each step and modifications that he could make based on the ingredients he had.

You had spent a few months thinking about what to give Chan. He was harder to shop for since you knew he wasn't overly fond of celebrating his birthday and didn’t want you to spend money on him, but was always touched when you got him something. Usually, you tried to do something he was more likely to accept.

Last year, you had organised with the company to give Chan a day off and had taken him out to a movie. It was a pretty standard date, but the two of you rarely had the opportunity to go out together and you knew Chan had resigned himself to watching the movie when it was released online instead of going to the theatres like he had hoped to. Having to spend a few days trying to sort out all the logistics of secretly rearranging Chan’s schedule had been more than worth it with the way that his face had lit up when you had told him about what you had planned.

You don't know how long you sit alone, but every time that you tell yourself to get up and rejoin the party, it feels impossible to move.

“Hey,” Chan's voice is cautious, but you startle anyway, scrambling to stand up. Stuck in your thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed him entering the room. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine. Just needed some air, it was getting kind of stuffy in there,” you explain. “I didn't think you'd notice.”

“Of course I noticed. You were there one second and gone the next, I didn't know what happened.”

“It’s nothing.” You avoid Chan’s gaze, not wanting to see the concern that shines in his eyes.

Chan steps closer, then reaches out and tangles your fingers together, using your connection to pull the two of you to sit on the bed.

“Y/n, baby,” he says softly. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in here.” He leans forward until the side of his head bumps into yours.

“It’s-”

“Don’t say it’s not important,” he warns. “It’s important to you and that makes it important to me, okay?”

“Uhm,” you pause for a moment, unsure of how you want to word your thoughts. You trust Chan, but it still feels scary being vulnerable. “I guess, I was just feeling… Insecure.”

“Insecure?” Chan tilts his head slightly. “About what?”

“Everyone-” you laugh slightly, embarrassed. “Everyone gave you guys such nice gifts, I feel like mine don’t even compare.”

“Y/n, you know I don’t care about that kind of thing. If I had the choice, nobody would be giving me gifts at all. Just having you in my life is enough.” Chan’s voice is painfully sincere.

“I know you don't mind. It just- It feels bad that I can't give you something nice like they can. It's dumb, I know, but I can't help it.”

“I can open it here, away from everyone else if you want,” Chan offers. “Or you don't even have to give it to me today, you can save it until you feel better. Or don't give it to me at all, it's all okay.”

“No no, I want you to have it,” you say immediately. Before you can think better of it, you reach down and retrieve the gift from where you left it on the floor.

“Whatever makes you feel comfortable,” Chan reassures you.

“This is fine,” you decide. “Just the two of us."

“Okay.”

“It’s not designer,” you say suddenly, fiddling with the ribbon that keeps the two packages together. Both of you ignore the fact that you’re just stalling at this point.

“I don’t need any more clothes, I barely wear everything I own now,” Chan jokes.

“Really, you might not like it,” you warn.

“Baby, when have I ever disliked anything that you’ve gotten for me?” Chan drops the teasing tone. You think for a moment.

“When you asked me to order noodles for you and I accidentally got you the spicy version and it made you cry?”

“Did I say that I didn’t like them?”

“No, you ate it all even though I warned you that it would make your stomach hurt for the next couple of days,” you say, smiling faintly at the memory.

You had gotten yourself the same dish and had found it to be bearable, while Chan’s face had turned bright red after the first bite. You had offered a few times to get him a non-spicy version so that he could enjoy himself, but he had been determined to finish, soaking his shirt and beanie with how much he had sweated. He hadn’t even been able to continue carrying a conversation with you, too busy trying to suck in air to cool his mouth.

It had been even funnier for you the next day, receiving multiple texts from Chan about his stomach hurting and having to continually pause dance practice to go to the bathroom.

“The pain was worth it,” Chan insists. “I'm actually convinced that I'll like anything you give me. Now come on, let me open my gifts!”

You hand over the gift and watch as he pulls away the ribbon to separate the boxes and peels away the tape on the first package. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he tries not to rip the wrapping paper.

This gift was more neutral, a set that contained a wallet and cardholder, both in black. Although Chan hadn’t complained at all, the wallet he had been using was from years ago and the synthetic material was starting to crack and flake away at the edges.

He looks delighted, examining it briefly before pulling out his old wallet and transferring all his cards and cash into this new one. Although it’s not a name brand, you had purchased it at a small shop specialising in handcrafted genuine leather goods at a surprisingly affordable price. It was good quality and suited the simplicity that Chan preferred.

“It's just what I needed,” he says, sounding pleased. “You pay so much attention.”

“I'm glad you like it,” you say, feeling relieved even though you had been pretty sure that he would be happy with it.

The unease comes back when he turns his attention to the second gift. Once again, he puts in effort to gently unwrap it, revealing an old chocolate box that you had repurposed from one of your dates.

You’ve always been on the more sentimental side and had saved it, wanting to remember the evening that Chan had taken you out and the two of you had spent 20 minutes in the shop, meticulously picking out the flavours that you wanted to try. The box is made of a surprisingly durable material and is the perfect size for this gift. You’ve painted over it too, concealing the original design.

Chan turns it around in his hands curiously, before sliding the lid up. You turn away to stare at your hands, overwhelmed by nervousness.

You already know what’s inside. It’s a deck of cards that you’ve transformed, with 52 things I love about you inscribed on one of the jokers. On the flip side, you’ve painted a picture of you and Chan smiling widely with your cheeks pressed together. It’s his favourite, one he always tells you would be permanently on his lock screen if he wasn’t an idol.

The rest of the cards are decorated similarly, a small drawing or painting on one side with the things, people, and places that Chan loves on one side, and something that you love about Chan on the other. The last joker is the only one that's different, you've treated it as a card and have a small message written on.

You had been so excited when you had thought of the idea, even though it was almost embarrassingly cheesy. Chan was often hard on himself, overly critical, and sometimes insecure. You tried your best to reassure him that he was doing well, both in his career and personal life, but you weren’t always able to be with him to do it in person.

As time goes by, your dread just continues to build, but you don't dare look up, not wanting to see Chan's reaction. Based on the silence, he’s clearly not thrilled with the silly idea that you had gone with. You can almost imagine his expression, jaw clenched and lips pressed together as he tries to think of what he can say to let you down easy.

Finally, you can't take it any longer and you lean forward, reaching out to grab at the cards that he's still reading though.

“I'm sorry, it's stupid, I know,” you say quickly. “You can tell me that you hate it, it's okay. I don't know what I was thinking, but just- give me more time, I'll get you something else, something nicer-”

It catches Chan off guard, and instead of successfully taking the cards away, you grapple with them for a second before they slip between both of your hands, scattering across the floor like confetti.

You instantly drop to your knees, scrabbling to scoop them up like the most awful game of 52 pick up that you've ever played in your life. To your horror, the task gets even more difficult as tears start to well up in your eyes.

“Y/n-” Chan says gently, reaching out and taking your wrists in his hands to stop your frantic movements. “Come here.”

You resist for a moment, but he pulls you into his arms, cradling your head so your face is resting on his shoulder. The tears leaking from your eyes soak into the fabric and you sniffle softly.

“I'm sorry,” you say, voice partially muffled. “I'm a mess.”

In response, Chan pulls back slightly and when you don't turn towards him, he taps a finger against your cheek until you face him. Your eyes widen when you notice that he also has tear tracks streaking down his face.

“What-”

“It's okay, I'm a mess too. I should have said it sooner,” he says, voice low and gravelly. Still in his embrace, you can feel the rumble of it in his chest. “I love it. I was overwhelmed, I wanted to say something but you left me speechless.”

“Don't just say it-”

“I've never had a gift so thoughtful, Y/n,” Chan says earnestly. “How could you think this was stupid? You must have spent hours and hours on it and I really appreciate it. It’s just- is this really what you think of me?”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Do you really love that-” Chan picks up the closest card to him and flips it so that he can read the message. “That I snore? Y/n, why do you even have this in the list?”

“Yes, snoring was one thing and it's because with everything, there’s always a reason to love it. It's not that I love that you snore, but with your insomnia, hearing you snore is a relief because it means you're sleeping, that you're resting. Even with your insomnia, I know you're busy thinking of every little way you can make things just right for you and the members. It's because you care so much, how could I not love these parts of you?”

“You- you really love all these little things?”

“Of course I do,” you say in a hushed voice. “Of course. When I was making these, I couldn't fit it all. I love everything about you, Chan.”

This time, it's Chan that breaks eye contact, shaking his head as if in disbelief.

“I don't know what I did to deserve you.”

“It's not about deserving. You didn't have to do anything, that's the whole point. I love you just as you are.”

“You know that's how I feel about you, right?”

“Chan-”

“Even if you never got me anything ever again, I wouldn't love you any less. You being in my life, by my side, that's the greatest gift you could ever give.”

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

[shintorikhazumi]

I Hate You.

A/N: I guess this is thanks for the warm welcome to your server? Akko-centric angst? @blee-bleep I saw one of your posts, haha.

Wait… doesn’t Akko get bullied in canon?

Also, to everyone else in the server who sees this, I don’t quite know your preferences for a fic, but hmu some time haha

Sorry for feeding you some subpar writing owo

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

 [I hate you.]

You mentally say to the girl in the mirror. Her hair is tussled, deep brown stained with the same bitter red on her fresh white shirt.

[I hate you.]

You tell the short teen, bags under her eyes, maybe from the lack of sleep. She looks pale, ugly. So ugly.

[I hate you.]

She looks like she hasn’t eaten in days, even though she binged full tubs of ice-cream, and stuffed a few cakes in barely three hours ago. All of them had gone to waste anyway. Trash bins, toilets, sometimes the woods. Perfect for throwing away stuff you don’t need. Or well… throwing up stuff you don’t need. In your body.

[I hate you.]

Through the reflective material allows her glimpses of stacks of papers marred red with E’s and F’s, and some barely passing grades, and that single A from language class.

At least professor Pisces seemed to appreciate her, that girl. Someone had to. Because you hated the girl in the mirror.

What a fool, what an idiot. How stupid, how dumb.

[I hate you.]

Her and her slow mind, incapable of comprehending the simplest things, disabled from casting the most basic magic-

Oh, but that isn’t her fault, now is it?

It was hers. Chariot du nord. The person she so idolizes, the witch who gave her her dream- and subsequently crushed it to dust.

The mentor she admires.

The mother she needed within the academy.

The one who betrayed her the most.

[I hate you.]

Hate the one who trusts blindly, the one who trusts in all the wrong things.

Hands reach up to a slim neck, almost hesitant to touch it. They wrap themselves around it. It’s cold, but there’s a pulse. It’s cold, yet she feels drenched in sweat. It’s cold… like her gaze.

She just needs to squeeze-

“Akko? We’re back and- what… happened to your arm?”

Lotte. You love her. You love her a lot. She’s sweet, smells like butterscotch and honey-lemon tea. She’s holding a plastic bag, school supplies? Yes. Looks like it.

“I was cutting open a package from home. The cutter slipped.” Lotte looks like she wants to believe you. But she doesn’t.

“Right, of course.”

“I’m telling the truth, Lotte. Look.” You point to the half-opened box on the floor that’s surprisingly actually there. Maybe you weren’t lying after all.

“I see, okay. I believe you Akko.”

You hate the fact that she may think you’re a liar. You love her, but you hate that.

Sucy walks into the room right after Lotte does. She says nothing other than the usual dull greeting, handing you a random mushroom.

Strange.

But that’s normal. Strange is normal for Sucy.

And you love that about her.

She doesn’t pry, she doesn’t act out of line, she only does what she’s supposed to… alongside other things.

But she never pushes it with you.

And you love that. You love the freedom and the space she gives you. The lack of interrogation.

Lotte bandages you up soon after, the antiseptic is supposed to sting, but… it doesn’t. Maybe it’s the many times you’ve been through this. You’ve grown numb. Immune to little stings. They’re nothing but ant bites.

They’re nothing compared to…

Lotte’s hand on your cheek pulls you out of your thoughts. She’s smiling kindly, no questions, no interrogations- well maybe one question.

“Are you hungry? Let’s grab some dinner.”

You nod. You tell her you’ll just get changed, and she and Sucy reluctantly leave you to your devices.

You say reluctantly because Lotte won’t stop throwing glances at you on her way out.

Sheesh. You’ll be fine.

You say that as you change out of your bloodied clothes.

You head to the wardrobe, you open it and find the mess that you call your… well, clothes. You need to do a bit of digging to find the perfect wear. Something thick, something dark, something long.

A long black hoody sounds perfect.

You wear it over matching joggers and face the mirror once more. You feel bile climb up your throat at the site of her. You hate her.

[I hate you.]

Her and her messy ass.

Her and her disgruntled look, and unkempt hair.

[I hate you.]

Red eyes. Bloody. So bloody. Bloodshot? Her eyes look like they would murder someone. That’s not very nice. You hate that. You hate her.

She’s not very nice.

There’s a breeze that wafts into your room. It’s chilly. It tells you that the window is open.

Ah.

The curtain is fluttering, it’s outstretching its hand, inviting you in.

Come now.

It’s alluring, white as snow.

The sun is gone, it’s left you like everyone else. You’re not likeable enough to have someone stay by your side.

You look back to the mirror. You see her, she looks lifeless, emotionless.

But wait- there’s… there’s fear in her eyes.

She’s afraid. You hate that. You hate her. She doesn’t deserve to feel fear, to have it reflected in her soul.

Ah.

You punched her. You didn’t mean to, but you did. But she fights back, it seems. Your hands… they’re… bleeding hands. There are cracked fragments of glass at your feet, and shards in your knuckles.

She’s evil.

She’s very much evil and you hate her.

She hurts you.

She hurts you all the time and you hate her because she hurts you so.

But she’s gone now.

You’ve punched her.

You no longer see her.

Her ugly face.

Her pale demeanor.

Her dying pallor.

Her idiotic expressions.

Nothing.

That makes you happy.

You can go to dinner now, yes.

Which… which way was it?

Oh, the curtain tells you it’s this way.

Here. Come here.

It’s cool, it’s fresh… it’s…

That’s deep.

The ground is far. Quite far.

It’s perfect.

You stand on the ledge.

It’s hard, stable.

Great.

You think of her one last time.

You hated her, but she deserves some parting words.

Maybe then her spirit wouldn’t be bound should she be dead as of now.

“I hate you.” You whisper once to the wind.

The wind carries it back.

That’s right.

“I hate you.”

The moon smiles.

You smile back.

I hate you.            

I hate you just like everyone else does. The girls who threw away your drinking water after PE, the ones who put tacks in your shoes. The ones who hid your books and got you in trouble with Finneran.

Yes. Just like them all…

You thought it would get better for her.

But you were wrong.

You believed.

And you were stabbed, face-front, in the heart.

So stupid.

It never gets better.

Not for her. Not for you.

“I hate you. You idiot… You utterly, completely, MORONIC idiot.”

…

“I hate you... you and your stupid. STUPID. Believing heart.”

And you finally take that first step-

The door bursts wide open, slamming against the very wall it is attached to.

Ahhh… look at that beauty.

Fair-snow skin, gorgeous curled locks. Even through puffs of cold, cold air, you see cherry pink lips. They look so warm. Warm like her eyes, their feelings a stark contrast to that blue hue. Justice is there, kindness is there. Loyalty, bravery, beauty, talent… she has everything.

She has everything you love.

She is everything you love.

Ah that thought… you love that.

You love her.

So much.

So damn much.

“Diana…” You finally croak out.

“I hate me.”

She cries. You hate her tears. You hate yourself even more. You want to take your other foot and step out the next step, but…

“And yet, I Love You… Akko.”

A/N: Was that okay? I mean, no. Akko is not okay. Not okay. Hahaha. Yet.

Reactions are welcome.

~Shintori Khazumi

[ottogatto]

Snapetober Day 14 — Abandoned

(This is part of a snarry story I’ve been imagining for a while. I don’t know which chapter it is, I don’t know the exact context, so just take the scene. It features Harry in Marauder era after SWM I reckon. @snapetober)

"There."

It was a square wooden table with two chairs only, hidden between two walls of books and next to a big window over the grounds of Hogwarts. Severus took a chair, and so did Harry, after which their books were laid between them and they began to work in silence.

It was winter, and the days were ending soon. At 6 pm, the outskirts of the castle were plunged in the dark, even though the library was still opened. It was calm except for the students’ hushed muttering, the rustle of pages, the sounds of books being opened or closed or taken or accidently dropped, the click-click-click of Ms Pince’s boot heels along the corridors, and the soothing scratching sound of Severus’ quill on the parchment. The torches were sending a beautiful orange hue that spoke secret and mystery of the big and ancient castle library, drawing shadows, and warming his heart. It was in those convivial nights in the calm of the dim light that he felt most at home.

When Harry looked at the window, he first saw his own reflection staring back, and he had to approach it to see the grounds plunged in dark blue night. The moon was gibbeon, not powerful enough this night to enlight Hogwarts with its thick forest not so far away. If he turned his head though, and cleaned the fog of his breath upon the glass with his sweater’s sleeve, he could see it appearing on the glimmering ripples of the Lake. He tried to press his nose more, flattening his brow and cheek against the cool, humid glass, but he could not see any farther.

"Your brain is not there I fear."

"I told you to stop with the condescending."

Severus flushed.

"Wh... What are you looking for?"

"An ass. Luckily I’ve got the biggest one in front of me, I’d be blind not to see it. Especially when this ass visibly requires all my attention."

Silence ensued. Harry felt the irresistible pull of curiosity urging him to look at Russ. When his eyes fell on him, he snorted loudly.

"I wasn’t serious!" Harry said between his chuckles. He finished a round in his hand, and started another when he looked again. Severus’ face was frozen in mild shock, blanched, eyes popping out and mouth slightly open, sending him a bewildered stare. He looked so innocent at that moment, Harry couldn’t help himself. After a while, Severus closed his mouth and regained his composure. Harry fought to do so.

Whether he was conscious of it or not, Russ was cocking his head to the side slightly, a soft and unsure expression on his sallow features. As he looked down where he had joined his hands on the table, the hardness of Snape’s ice flickered on his face, and for a moment Harry was worried. Severus hated to be laughed at. It was perhaps too soon for Harry to do so without scaring him like this.

It wasn’t something he was used to—but after all, he’d had learned a lot these last months, and as such he was willing to make the effort to adapt.

"That wasn’t against you, Severus," he whispered confidently, looking straight into his eyes. "I laughed but not at you, not in that way. I’m not ill-intentioned."

His friend seemed to be having a hard time believing so. He had spent years being laughed at by Lily before she set him aside for the bigger prize, why shouldn’t he expect the same from her son?

"I’m sorry," he added.

At that Russ reacted. Of course. Whenever Severus had been vexed to be laughed at, and expressed how he’d prefer not to be, had Lily ever apologized? Or had she told him to grow up and stop being a crybaby just because she laughed at how ridiculous he was?

(And of course the opposite wasn’t allowed.)

Harry had seen it all.

Severus didn’t let him develop though.

"No. It’s... nothing, I’m fine, what do you think? I’m not weak. I don’t care if you laugh at me. It’s nothing. It’s not worth my time. If you want to—"

"Severus, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—"

Harry didn’t know what to say.

"I shouldn’t have laughed like that. It was silly, it was stupid. I’ll try to do better."

Harry couldn’t say more. He hoped it was enough. There was a very long silence stretched between them. Finally, it was Severus who murmured, less to Harry than to himself.

"I don’t understand."

He crossed the arms on his scrawny chest, angular shoulders painfully jutting out. His eyes bore into Harry’s, something intense vibrating there. The more they waited, the more they seemed to settle in some sort of determination. Suddenly it was Harry who felt unsure.

"Tell me Potter," he began, voice heavy with defiance. "I’ve been wondering for quite a while... I hadn’t expected to be talking about this today, while working, but it must be the time...

"Since the day you saw me—that you saw what they were doing, you decided to hang out with me rather than following your dear family... In fact, you did—all this—where many others wouldn’t... And so I wondered if finally I had found a true friend. But perhaps I am mistaken..."

It was not fun. It was not fun at all, for Harry, to hear this. He knew too well what would come. Professor Snape hadn’t flourished out of nowhere, he reckoned. He loved Severus—as a friend of course—and the line between what was Snape and what was Severus was blurring over time. He enjoyed the cutting sarcasm, as it was mostly meant to be funny, he enjoyed Severus’ witty cracks at people, though they were scarcely used to bully (for the moment). He’d understood it as Russ’ twisted side of humour, and as such he didn’t mind it when it was turned against him. More often that not it was teasing and offered opportunities to return the favor.

He knew now what were the true signs of Severus’ stress limit being reached—like how he’d tighten the pans of his cloak around him like an awkward big bat feeling unsafe. He knew when the argument was coming.

Despite of it all, no matter how he knew Severus couldn’t help the anxiety, he wished he could just slap some sense into him.

What followed only reinforced this sentiment.

"Why would you stay friends with me if not for something, ey, Harry? Why would you do this?"

He was lost for words. Severus’ glare hardened, merciless.

"Is your self-worth so minimal you’d be willing to stay friends with the joke of—th—the—with a Death Eater, rather than—"

"You’re not a Death Eater."

"A Death Eater," Severus repeated louder, "because you’ve nobody else to clutch yourself upon? Or are you that desperate to save someone you’re willing to screw up your entire life?"

He bent on the table, laid his hands on the surface softly, and there was only a slit to his eyes now.

"Does it make you feel important, Potter? Does it make you feel superior—special, to be friends with the poor and the pathetic?"

These words were hateful, and effectively triggered Harry’s anger. His fingers were curling on the sides of his chair, and his face began to close down. Severus smiled horribly, baring his crooked teeth for a more lasting impression.

"Does it feel good to be a Gryffindor hero, like you thought your dear father was?"

"What’s your point Snape?"

"Mainly," he replied while sitting straight back, "what’s your goal? What are you expecting out of this friendship? So I can put an end to this sooner and... free you of your obligations."

Oh, Harry understood. He understood everything that was happening right now. And he hated it.

"You’re a fucking jerk sometimes, you know that?"

"Yes I am."

"What do you think? That I’m spying on you or something? Staying friends with you just so I could laugh at you? That I’m—what? What do you want me to do?"

"Quit the pretending."

"I’m not fucking pretending Snape!" Harry shouted.

The library rang with silence, and then there was the inevitable sound of heels walking fast on them. He almost expected the other students in the library to come and thrust their heads between the bookshleves to have a good look on their show. Ms Pince’s figure appeared but Harry didn’t let her speak.

"I’m sorry Madam, I didn’t mean to shout, I won’t do it again, but please do not scream louder than a banshee. If you want us to leave, just tell us calmly and we’ll go."

It angered her—not as much as Harry was angered however, and she seemed to understand that.

"If there’s a problem boys, deal with it outside."

They nodded. She departed. Harry threw a Muffliato after her—and a Notice-Me-Not while he was at it—before jerking back to glare at Snape.

"You think I have time for that bullshit? That I’m just pretending?! Oh, why not just call me a hypocrite?!"

"Alright then, you’re a hypo—"

"I’m not pretending you idiot!" Harry said, noticing how Severus was clutching his black robes tighter around his form, and the imperceptible way he shrunk on himself was not lost on him. "You think I’m going to give up on you, is that it?"

Severus stayed silent.

"Am I right?!"

"You will."

"Ah!" Harry scoffed.

"You will, I assure you! I’m not like your Granger or your Weasel friends (Harry fliched at the name) that you had before—I’m not them, and I won’t ever be. You’ll see soon enough how much different we are. Or have you noticed already?"

"I have, don’t worry about it."

"So then—you should just stop. We should stop—"

"Yeah, so that in a few hours you will be kicking yourself for having sent me away when you could just enjoy hanging out with me. I know you that much."

"I—"

"You’ve been calling me pathetic, Snape, but aren’t you pathetic for trying to shut me out just because your best friend has? Are you afraid? Are you a coward, by any chance, willing to cut down all your friendships because you lost one and—oh, let me guess—you don’t think yourself worthy of love anymore?"

Oh, he had struck well. He saw it on Snape’s tightening lips and flushing cheeks. Harry scoffed under his nose.

"I don’t need your pity, Potter," Snape snarled icily.

"I thought you were clever, Snape. I thought you knew the difference between pity and genuine liking."

Harry’s anger was probbing him to add, 'but I realize your friends regarded you with pity for so long you can’t tell the difference anymore', however he shook the thought out of his mind. It was not the time to get mean unecessarily.

"Just to be clear then, as it hasn’t been for you—this is not pity Snape, this is genuine, let that be etched in your brain for the future."

The jittery teen in front of him was tensed, like a Longbottom before entering the Potions classroom, and he could just distinguish the fine tremors running down his back. He was looking away, out where the other students were working peacefully, as though pondering whether he should make a retreat. He refused to meet Harry’s eyes back. After a minute or two of this odd scene, Harry sighed and put his quill down.

"Just calm down Russ. I’m not here to play a prank on you. I wasn’t—sent by them to steal information and blackmail you with it, or humiliate you, or rejoice in your pain, or any of that crap. You know they’re not that smart," he said with a smile as he pointed a finger to his temple, "and anyway, no offense, but they’ve been doing a pretty good job of beating the shit out of you thus far, why would they want to change tactic if there’s no need?"

Severus frowned, focusing.

"Nevermind, forget what I said..." Harry had forgotten for a moment that anything he told Snape could be worked out like crazy in that brain of his, and right now he was probably searching for clues Harry was bluffing, and to what extent. He rubbed his face, tired despite the early hour.

"Just know that..." He tightened his lips. "That I’m not that kind of person, and that if I was lying, you’d be the first to know. I’m not good at putting all an act. I told you. I’m not a... real Slytherin. Okay? Now let’s get back to work."

'And for once I’m the one saying it,’ Harry’s mind added bitterly. 'I’m not done for this shit.'

Severus seemed to accept this after a few moments of stillness, and he nodded curtly. He disentangled his frail arms from the armpits, turned to look at the essay before him. He hesitated before his posture hardened—as it always tried to lately—before taking the quill between his fingers and bending back over the parchement, hair slowly falling back to shield his face from the world, one oily lock after the other.

They proceeded with the habitual scratching of quills over paper and Harry’s struggle to remain concentrated and motivated more than five seconds after reading a title—of a chapter, a book or a question, it did not matter—and it was late into the night before Snape closed his last book and joined Harry to leave the long-emptied library. The corridors were dark, silent, if you did not count their hurried walk, as it was soon going to be curfew. Before they entered their dormitory though, Harry had a question that had been pressing on his mind.

"Severus, how hard is it to imagine that I just—like to be friends with you?"

He didn’t respond, as Harry had expected. He shrugged the silence away.

"I’m going to be honest with you, Russ. I’m wiling to stay friends, but you’re not making it easy. So quit putting my honesty in question like this," he said with a side-glance, "and next time you feel like throwing a brick at me like that, just—just—I don’t know—ask for tea time with Hagrid and talk with him, whatever. He knows us enough."

They were in front of the entrance to their common room now. He waited for a reaction on Russ’ part.

"Okay?"

Nothing came. Severus was staring stubbornly at the wall, in other words, ignoring Harry purposefully. So he threw his arms in the air in utter exasperation, and let them flop noisely on his sides.

"You good now?"

"Yes," was Russ’ cold reply.

"No urge to throw me out of your life?"

"No."

"Good. Now let’s get back inside."

They soon plopped on their beds, tunned down the lights, and tried to fight the daily insomnia.

It was a good two hours before guilt definitely wove its way into Harry’s heart. In front of Severus’ obvious (yet silent) hurt, he felt the need to apologize for his angry outburst. He pushed it away, because they both had been angry, they both had been hurt, they both said horrible things, and they both suffered from the same thing.

Fear.

Fear of the other, written into Severus’ every cell.

Fear that’d lead him to more, a perfect ingredient for the vicious circle of loneliness.

Russ was like an animal who’d been beaten once too many times—or more like, a hundred too many times, considering. He was a dog who had long chosen to bite back, a cat burned with hot water and now fearing the gentle rain—he was locked in the irrational wish to be left alone because they’d all taught him that being seen meant being hurt.

Severus was right. He wasn’t Ron nor Hermione.

They hadn’t lived what he’d lived.

It was just like a disabled person, really. For now, their friendship had the level of a difficult commitment. Harry didn’t have to do that. Harry didn’t have to spend his time with such a complicated friend.

But if not for him, who would stay alongside the Prince before he fell?

He knew whom.

Nobody.

Nobody who cared about him.

Death Eaters weren’t friends, let alone with the flithy blooded. Lily was out of the question. As for the professors... he wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t the only time adults had betrayed Harry, it was only natural they’d do the same as for the unpopular Slytherin.

The staff ignored the daily torment in favour of their own pleasure.

He wondered how McGonagall and Dumbledore had lived with that on their conscience.

He tightened his grip on the innocent blankets of his bed.

Oh, how foreign it felt to be ignored by the mighty Albus Dumbledore.

__________

Harry hadn’t expected Severus to take him seriously on his last advice. He was proven very wrong.

And who knew Hagrid could be such an attentive counselor?

Hagrid had the sense of mind, one afternoon, to throw the Cloak over Harry when a knock was heard from the door, signing him to stay quiet, and stomping—despite himself—to open the entrance to the hut. A dark figure entered, to whom Hagrid indicated the side of his enormous bed. The giant closed the door then walked to pinch the black hood and gently pull it down. It was only then that Harry recognized Severus. Hagrid thrust a bucket of scalding tea between the teen’s hands (cups couldn’t resist the giant’s natural strength), sat on a chair looking slightly away, started knitting. Minutes passed as Severus warmed up with the drink, seemingly pondering whether it was a good idea to talk or not.

"So, what happened Sev’rus?," Hagrid said. "Som’thing ‘bout the boys ov’r there?"

"No..."

The Slytherin was bending so far it hurt to look at. Harry, who’d sat in the corner of the room, straigthened his back in empathy. Severus rolled the huge mug between his spidery fingers, his eyes half closed with the purple of the hexes and insomnia. And finally, he spoke.

Harry felt guilty to spy on his friend’s confessions. But he had to admit... it was precious information to understand Severus. Soon enough came the event in the library.

It wasn’t everyday... that Severus confessed such vulnerability.

Because there was no other name to it.

"It‘s torture to be friends with him... I’m always... expecting him to abandon me at any moment. I know it’s shameful and stupid, to think that, but... It‘s hard to wonder everyday, every time I talk to him, what mistake I’ll do that will put an end to all this.

"I wished for a real best friend so hard, I just cannot believe it will last.

"So isn’t it for the best to put an end to this, whilst I can still be the one who decides?"

[p3rishable]

“Somethings don’t stay long.”

———————————————————————

This is a little background practice I did. It sucks lol. This is one ending in Shadows Awakens where Amber dies, and well that little star outside on the window is a small reminder of him.

It’s dealing with loss. I have lost both of my grandparents on both sides of my family...everyone deals with loss in there life. Thank goodness I still have my Dad and Mom with me, I don’t think I could really live with out them....

Plus my Mom’s Birthday is coming so I have a gift for her already!