#and it turns out most people have an uneasy and slightly disgusted tolerance of us or think we're chill

[quiet-admirer]

Ok I think non-feedists can stop trying to go to bat for us now. I don't want to see thousands of non-feedists debate and have ~discourse~ about what they think feedism is. I don't even care that there are a lot of people arguing in our favor either - and a lot more than there used to be, too. They're not feedists, they have no bearing on my sexual life. It's rude to debate whether other people you have nothing to do with have a right to keep doing their shit in their bedrooms and kitchens that has nothing to do with you!

Go away, just keep ignoring us. I do not care for your approval and we are, have always been, and always will be over here just existing regardless of your opinions. All I want to hear from non-feedists in response to anti-kink sentiments is "it's none of our business tho."

Am I supposed to be grateful that more normies don't think I'm actually-for-real evil? What does their stamp of approval have to do with me? Sorry, but nobody's getting a gold star from me for white knighting for us. Did not ask your opinion, did not need you to defend us.

[weird-addiction]

Hai! It's me again. I read one and the same and I was FLOORED!! Could you do a part two when they're both grown up and it's the dinner scene (you know the one). I love to see what you put together ❤️

~snake anon 🐍

One in the Same Part 2

Pairing: Platonic!Aemond Targaryen x Male!Twin!Targaryen!Reader

Genre: Neutral

Warnings: The dinner scene from Ep 8, calling others bastards, mentions of missing eyes, some book canon, typical violence

A/N: sorry it has been so long ಥ_ಥ I wrote this a while back but forgot to post. Here it is now. Happy Season 2!

It has been 16 years since the days that the single-eyed princes had claimed their dragons and had made it known to the people of Westeros now that they were the greatest threat to the realm, using that fear to make sure that no one else crossed them ever again. 

Now, the rightful queen had come back to defend her son’s claim to Driftmark. Aemond and Y/n were out in the training yard when they arrived. Aemond was busy sparring with Ser Criston, Y/n was the one that spotted them both. And from the looks of it, they saw him as well, however, there was almost immediate fear in their eyes. 

No one in Westeros could deny that it was uneasy to look at the two single-eyed princes, especially the younger of the two. As the younger, he would lash out more easily as he took the pleasure of seeing other cower in fear in front of him. Even their own elder brother Aegon could say the same about him. As Y/n was normally the one to slap him awake when he got blackout drunk.

Within the throne room of the Red Keep, both sides of the family stood on opposite sides of the room, the separation was obvious to anyone who had sense. Everyone but the king that was. 

Vaemond and Viserys were having a stand off at the moment as they argued over who should get the claim to Driftmark. Vaemond eventually had enough as he turned to Rhaenyra and her family, he yelled loudly as he spoke of his disgust that her sons were not his nephews.

“Her children…are BASTARDS!” He yelled, his body language telling that this was all genuine and none of it was fake. 

“And she is…a whore.” He was smiling at the end of his sentence, like he knew he had nothing left to lose. 

“I mean…we don’t really know, do we? Princess Rhaenys has black hair soo…” Y/n whispers to his twin, Aemond leaned over smiling as he responded. 

“But it is still a possibility isn’t it?” Aemond ruled out, to which his twin nodded. 

They turned back to the drama at hand, and as of the same second, Daemon had cut off the top half of Vaemond’s head; just above where his tongue was. 

Aemond had gone into a defensive stance as almost to shield his twin, Y/n was holding Helaena in his arms as she had her hands over her ears. He rubbed her back slowly, offering what comfort he could in that moment. 

The trial was soon over and nightfall came fast, and by the king’s request, both sides of the family were to have supper together. Aemond and Y/n were both quite hesitant to attend, as they were known to start conflicts even if slightly offended or pissed off. Before their father had arrived, the three sons stood off to the side as they had a random conversation. More or so it was Aegon telling them both to drink more.

“You both do not drink enough.” Aegon says. 

“You drink more than a Braavosi seahorse.” Aemond retorts. His twin let out a laugh.

“I drink just the right amount.” Aegon responds, one could even hear the eye roll on his voice.

“Right. Tell me that next time when I have to dump cold water on your head to wake you up.” Y/n says, amused by the eldest. 

“You just have a high tolerance. The most you have downed is three cups.” 

“Don’t compare me to you, brother. At least tonight, you have a reason to get drunk. It seems we all do.” Y/n looked back to the long dinner table, their mother and half-sister were not talking. Tensions were already rising and the dinner had not even started. 

“The noose is tied and they expect us to break bread.” Aemond says, to which, Y/n had to hold onto his arm to calm him down a bit.

“You can fight later. At least, when they offend you. Have a reason at least.” Y/n spoke, clearly also having thoughts of needing to let off some steam.

The dinner soon started and for the first while, everything was fine at the beginning as the music made it so the atmosphere was less tense. Everyone was at ease and talking with a smile on their face. 

Aemond sat at one end of the table, Y/n was to his right, sitting just next to Helaena. They were exchanging words every once in a while as the younger twin was speaking with his sister, Jace would also occasionally jump in the conversation. In which, Y/n was happy that he did…in his way. 

Y/n actually had food on his plate that he was eating, his twin however, was just sitting there. Plus, Aemond was sitting sideways and only looking at his younger twin only, and he sat incredibly still; like a statue he was. Y/n ignored it as he continued to eat, and talking with his sister of course. This was only a matter of moments before the dinner went wrong.  

A cooked pig was placed down right in front of Aemond, Y/n gave him a side glance that basically told him “I know what you are thinking” from his eye. Aemond tipped his head downwards for a second as to almost not acknowledge it, but then he looked to the person across the table from him. 

Lucerys had a smile on his face, and in this case, well, it was almost enough to set Aemond off; he was just hiding it quite well. Aemond knew, he turned his head just enough to see Luke from across the table, and the moment he turned his nephew let out a laugh. 

Which, Aemond took immediate offense to. 

Slamming his fist down onto the table, loud enough that the entire room quieted down and looked at him. He reached for his goblet and stood up, his figure now probably towering over his nephews at this rate. The look in his remaining eye was dilated to some degree to make it show that he was wanting to go after his nephews for a while now. 

“A final tribute. To the health of my nephews. Jace. Luke. And Joffery.” He took a breath. 

Aegon and Y/n both saw this and raised their cups as well, Aegon just looked like he wanted something interesting to happen. Y/n was just wanting to have some fun, in the “beating someone for no reason” kind of way. 

“Each of them, handsome, wise…” Y/n looked to his twin, giving him the nod of approval. Aemond smirked slightly as he said the final word. 

“Strong.”

“Aemond.” Alicent said in a hurry, almost wanting him to stop. 

“Let us drain our cups, to these three strong boys.” Aemond turned to Jace, still holding his cup. Y/n also stood up, following in his twin’s steps.

“I dare you say that again.” Jace challenged.

“Why. Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?” Aemond challenged back.

This is when things got heated. Aemond and Jace approached each other, Jace, when he was close enough to his uncle, punched him right in the face with his closed fist. But Aemond barely had a reaction to this. Luke on the other hand was pinned to the table by Aegon, Y/n watched from behind his twin as he was just amused from all of this. 

When Aemond recovered from his hit, he pushed Jace down to the ground with ease. Y/n then walked over and stood in front of his twin, as he saw their uncle Daemon moving closer to them. Y/n knew his twin had a weird fascination with their uncle, often in their youth he would find Aemond ranting to him on how he wanted to be just like him. But now, Y/n knew he could not underestimate Daemon as he was known as “The Rogue Prince” for a reason. 

Alicent pulled Aemond aside as she began to lecture him. Though, he pulled his arm away as he walked back to where he was.

“I was merely expressing how proud I was of my family, mother. Hmm. But it seems our nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs.” Aemond stood next to Y/n, urging him to add in on it. And indeed he did. 

“It seems our nephews have much to learn. Being proud of their heritage may be a good start.” Y/n added, he just wanted to see what would happen.

Jace was about to pounce like an animal onto his uncles, but Daemon stepped in and that was enough to get him to back off. Daemon then turned to look at his two nephews who held his gaze with competition. Aemond spared his twin a glance before the two agreed indirectly and left the dining hall.

As they walked off, the younger of the two let out a laugh. In which, Aemond, of course heard clearly. “What is so funny.”

“You are becoming worse than me. One day, your temper and actions will get us in big trouble.” Y/n remarked.

“Then we shall see what the future may bring us when that happens, won’t we.”

“Aemond. By the hells, please don’t actually do something you’ll regret. I do not want to pick up the pieces.”

[thyshadowwriter]

Lost & Found. Chapter 3.

Ivar Ragnarsson x oc.

Summary: being rescued by Helga in one of the raids and reluctantly tolerated by Floki, a young girl finds herself amidst a strange place with strange people, but if adapting to the cultural shock wasn't hard enough, catching the attention of the volatile and beloved son of the Queen would soon prove to be the ultimate proving. That is if she realizes just how much being around prince Ivar is walking on thin ice.

Author's note: family dynamics and fluff.

Tagging: @youbloodymadgenius

Understandment is hard when you can't speak to each other, but gestures may reach further than words.

--------

A few weeks after they returned, Floki's home had fallen into a strangely peaceful routine.

Floki would do his work, busy with Bjorn's request, while Helga would teach Revna their language for hours a day, every day, their voices being background noise for him.

Helga was radiant with joy. She loved taking care of Revna, spending a lot of time combing the long hair and doing beautiful and intricate braids while talking to her, to which Revna would sometimes reply and even if they couldn't understand each other an odd sort of dialogue would emerge.

While this arrangement made Floki uneasy, he could be thankful for his wife's happiness, she hasn't been happy in a long time. Even if happiness was a passing moment, it hurt him that Helga carried so much sorrow, most of which, if not all, he knew to be his fault.

Now, Revna was sitting on the chair shaking her leg and looking down, Floki occasionally looked at her and he didn't need to understand her words to understand her lately. She wasn't allowed outside yet and that was getting to her.

Helga came with a bowl of stew for Revna and tried to hand it to her.

"Here, I brought you food." Helga said to Revna.

She looked at the food then turned her head away to the floor and continued shaking her leg.

"You need to eat to get better, please." Helga tried to reason with her.

Revna answered with a small grunt, resting her head on her hand.

"What is it, my dear? You were doing so well." Helga said to her stroking her hair.

The girl didn’t answer, but Floki did it for her:

"She's bored, Helga. I think she wants to go out."

The realization dawned on Helga, making her smile kindly to the girl, carefully caressing her head. Poor thing, she had every right to be bored, but Helga wanted her to get stronger before facing the city.

Helga sat behind Revna and cupped her face, making the girl look at her. She spoke softly, trying to make her understand:

"I know you're bored, but you need to get strong before I show you Kattegat" she gestured to the door "I'll show you everywhere, but please, keep eating well and get better."

The girl studied her face for a while, then gave her a pout but accepted the food. She ate slowly and in small portions, an empty stare in her eyes.

That was good, Helga thought, that was great. She begged the gods for another child and they gave her one, a beautiful girl that she had already fallen in love with and would do everything in her power to protect.

Not long after, the door swung open and Ivar came into their room, dragging himself until he was inside and on his usual spot like that was his second home, which has been since the day his mother brought him there.

"Hello, Floki. Hello Helga." Ivar greeted them.

"Ivar." Floki greeted him back, spotting right away the faux innocent smile the young prince had whenever he was up to be a pain in someone’s ass.

Ivar turned his attention to the girl, who was eating and either uncaring or ignoring his presence.

"Revna." He said her name with a slight pitch to his voice and squinting at her. He had her name memorized from the odd fit it made for her, but mainly it was for the fact she slapped his hand. No one in their right mind would dare to do it, and no one that ever as much as said something wrong to Ivar got to live much longer, let alone someone stupid enough to try their luck against him, those he took delight in dealing with. Though to Revna, he probably was just a harmless cripple. Ignorance is bliss, he thought.

Revna, apparently taken back from her thoughts, looked at him. Her dark eyes gazing upon him with a spark of curiosity and interest. She had memorized his face after his first visit, how could she not? The complete stranger with very blue eyes, pale skin and a fingertips rough and calloused like the ones found on peasants, slaves or warriors. This complete stranger that touched her like it was normal or acceptable, the nerve! 

The voice in her mind screamed: ‘Was it normal to him?’, “Is this normal these strange people I’m living with?’, ‘Was that how he acted around outsiders?’, ‘What am I even doing here?’, ‘What will they do to me?’  Questions, questions, they came and went in circles for all these days.

But she put a stop to them for now, like it or not, for good or ill, he was the only other sight she had other than the couple, she could indulge in a quick distraction from the walls of the home she was living in that were starting to feel smaller by each day.

"Ivar." She said, looking straight at him, trying to pronounce what she inferred to be his name as best as she could. Adding a pitch to her pronunciation, just like he did, just because she could.

His eyes widened and he tilted his head to the side, stare fixed on her and her every minimal movement. He was sincerely surprised that she actually spoke directly at him.

His name on her lips was carried by a foreign accent, it sounded different, almost like it belonged to someone else, but her gaze on him, with expectancy in her eyes and a hint of pride on the corners of her lips turned slightly upward left no doubt she indeed meant him.

Ivar heard her before, annoyed and agitated at his first visit, so he hoped to have the same effect, but now that she spoke camly, trying to pronounce his name correctly and seemingly proud of herself for it, she threw him off balance. He had expected the annoyance she had from before, he expected her disgust at him as she wasn't pleased with his touch, why would she want the hands of a cripple on her? He even expected fear from her, but he didn't expect to hear his name slow and soft on her lips, he didn’t expect to hear her trying to reach out for him and how his own name would sound so foreign coming from her lips.

He wanted her to say it again, wanted to hear the strange way his name sounded from her, but he didn’t know how to demand it, so he nodded at her, not really knowing what to say, not that it would matter. She probably wouldn’t understand him anyway.

Revna smiled proudly to herself, a beautiful smile, if he had to say anything, he mimicked her smile shyly, though he quickly felt self conscious under her gaze and looked away, trying to find somewhere other than her eyes to look at, but nothing seemed to quite hold his attention.

Ivar felt as Revna looked away from him and continued to eat, he glanced a few times at her, the shy smile he held gone as she paid him no further attention. He noticed, however, how her legs began shaking in a slow, lazy rhythm. A stream of thoughts began in his mind: ‘Is she playing with me?’, ‘Is she bothered by my presence?’, ‘Does she pity me?’, a frown forming on his face with each thought.

He turned his attention to Helga, who was distracted with the girl's hair:

"I haven't seen her around yet. Why? When are you going to show her off?” he made a pause before adding the last part venomously “Unless she is to be a house slave."

"She's no slave, Ivar. We're adopting her." Helga corrected him, a tad annoyed at the slave mention.

"Then why haven't I seen her outside, hm? If she's to live here as a free woman, then she needs to know her way around."

"It's too soon yet. She doesn't speak our language."

"It’s not too soon, it’s been weeks! And if all the problem is that she doesn’t speak our language, then it’s another reason to do it. She'll learn much faster by experience."

"I'll take her out when she's ready." Helga answered a bit tense. She didn't want to go into detail of why she was so careful but she also didn’t want to lie to Ivar, who by the frown seemed to be growing angry.

"She seems ready enough." He said pointing to her legs.

Revna stopped shaking her legs, staring at Ivar wide eyed and lips slightly parted as she just took the spoon from her mouth. She arched an eyebrow looking lost as a puppy in the forest. Good, Ivar thought. Revna then looked confused from him to Helga, who caressed her face reassuringly.

"So, why don't you take her outside?" Ivar insisted.

Helga couldn't find an answer to stop Ivar's questioning and looked to her husband for help. Floki seemed entertained, holding a smile of his own, but as soon as he felt his wife’s eyes on him and her silent plea he intervened.

"Since when do you care about things that don't involve you?" Asked Floki.

"What?" Ivar countered astonished, "What do you mean by it? Of course it involves me. I was in this home before her, I have a say in whether she can stay or not."

"Is that so?” Floki said amused, “In this case what your mighty self has to say?"

Without missing a beat and with a self assured tone that didn’t transpired his shyness just a moment ago, he answered:

"I say this girl better adapt to our ways else she brings the wrath of the gods down on us..."

"The gods love her, Ivar. They gave her to me." Helga interrupted him. She realized the mistake as soon as the words left her mouth.

"How can you be so sure?" He inquired, renewed curiosity in his eyes.

"I just know it."

"If you say..." he eyed her suspiciously, before continuing to Floki, "...I say she better learn manners. No one should dare to hit a prince and go off unscathed."

Floki chuckled from his spot then said:

"You deserved that one. You could have used some other way of introducing yourself rather than touching someone you’ve never seen before and is not here as a slave. However, I thank the gods for letting me witness your face that day."

"You old fool..."

"Ivar. Be patient with her." Helga said to Ivar softly. She was very aware of how badly he took insults, even when none existed.

"I am patient,” he countered, “but the girl needs manners."

"Ivar..." Called Floki.

Ivar sighed before continuing:

"However, I am willing to forgive her for you,” he said looking at Helga “and an apology from the girl, once she learns how to speak our language, of course."

"Ivar, she's just a child, give her some time, I'm sure she'll adapt." Said Helga, looking at Ivar while she tied the end of one of the braids on Revna's hair.

Ivar lived with them long enough to see she truly wanted that girl to be part of their lives. He had seen the glimpses of sadness throughout his upbringing, the lost gaze Helga had when she thought no one was looking, the unsettling feeling that lurked under the surface when she saw mothers with their newborn babies. Perhaps the surprise wasn't that she took a girl to raise, but that she took that long to do it.

But he loathed the idea that in Floki’s home would live someone that would regard him in the same way the rest of Kattegat did, an outsider to add insult to injury.

"If you say, I'll try to tolerate her. If at least she can pretend to not be annoyed whenever I’m here.” Ivar said as he pointed to Revna.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what about her shaking her legs was irritating him. If it was the repetitive pattern, the slow rhythm, the proximity of her feet to him, or what was to him, a clear display of her displeasure with his presence. Though why would she have smiled at him with that beautiful smile if she was annoyed by him?

‘She’s playing you’, His own mind answered the question.

Both Helga and Floki looked to each other confused as to what he meant, Floki being the one that asked:

"What do you mean by that? She doesn’t even know who you are to be annoyed at you."

He pointed to Revna’s legs, this time the girl didn’t even bother to look at him and continued eating as if there wasn’t an annoyed young man pointing at her for no reason at all. Which bothered Ivar even more.

Floki couldn’t help but laugh. It was like he was a naughty child again that got all pouty and angry until he got things his way. At least he didn’t scream anymore. Not as frequently at least. His boy was maturing.

"She's bored, Ivar. Been like that for a few days, it has nothing to do with you." Floki made a point to emphasize the last part.

Ivar stared at Floki speechless. His eyes open wide, darting from Floki to the surroundings as his lips parted, which pretty much told the boatbuilder that the young prince hadn’t considered a possibility that didn’t involve him. He then rolled his head before asking:

"Then what have you been doing with her all this time?"

"We’ve been taking care of her, Ivar. Teaching and getting her used to us before she faces the others." Answered Helga.

Ivar pondered her words for a while, then agreed with her.

"What does she do in her spare time?"

Floki was quick to answer that one:

"Snoops around the house, messes up my tools… Oh, she also has a fondness for magic tricks, they make her happy like a child."

"Really?”

“Yes. I’ve done a few for her and it never fails to get her attention.”

“That’s childish.”

“She is a child, Ivar. It’s no surprise at all.”

Ivar looked like he just realized what Floki said to him. Turning his attention back to Revna as she looked around the house with that same little pout on her lips. He had of course noticed she was young when he first saw her and when he touched her face. Younger than him, in fact. Skin too soft and face still with some roundess to it, but he didn’t stop to consider what that would mean. Of course she would be like that being so young and housebound, he knew the feeling all too well from the days and days and more days he had to be inside his home because he was too sick to go out without serious risk of breaking his bones.

Looking to Helga, who hadn’t got her hands away from Revna, he knew that was her doing. ‘Why won’t she let the girl out? She’s not crippled.’ was what he thought. He knew it was her because she had the same look his mother had when she would smother him with her love as if he was still a baby and not let him do anything food himself, which only got worse when his eyes would turn blue. He loved his mother more than anyone and anything else, but he hated feeling useless.

Maybe that was what Revna felt. He was strangely relieved to not be the reason for her annoyance. At least not this time.

Then a silly idea crossed his mind. He reached for a pouch of leather he carried and took a coin from it, he then got a bit closer to Revna and touched her foot. The girl gasped startled but relaxed when she looked down at Ivar, who expectantly tried to measure her reactions to him. She tilted her head and arched her eyebrow inquisitively at him, which coupled with the cute pout on her lips made for an adorable sight. He beckoned her to come closer to him.

“Go on, my dear.” Said Helga to Revna as she looked to Helga for permission.

Revna got off of the chair and sat on the floor close to Ivar, close enough to be within arm’s reach, but not close enough to accidentally brush her legs against his, she then rested her hands on her lap and looked at him with curiosity. He studied her expression carefully, searching for the all too familiar signs of pity and disgust but found none of those. Even though he noticed she kept a distance, he was pleased she sat near him.

He then showed her the coin, playing with it between his fingers deftly, she giggled, trying to follow the coin with her eyes and relaxing a bit from her position. He then halted his movements, holding the coin between his index and middle finger, Revna froze in her position as soon as he stopped and looked from the coin to his very blue eyes. There it was, that beautiful smile together with an innocent shine in her eyes.

He then put the coin flat against the palm of his hand, closing both of them into fists and bringing them close to his lips, he didn’t take his eyes off her, enjoying her full attention as she looked from his fists to his eyes. He blew air against his fists and slowly opened them, showing her the palms of his hands, the coin nowhere she could see.

Revna looked at him, giggling happily with a wide smile, a smile Ivar found to be quite beautiful and contagious, making him smile himself, although more reservedly. When she calmed down and silence fell between them, they were looking at each other’s eyes, hers filled with joy and his with pride for being the reason for it.

He soon felt self conscious again and looked away.

[adorerdraco]

Good Enough ✧ Draco x Hufflepuff!Reader

Request: hiii i love your writing!! can you write about a sweet hufflepuff and how everyone thinks they aren’t a good pair together so one day Pansy bullies the reader into breaking it off with Draco because she feels like she’s not good enough for him then draco finds out and he’s really mad at Pansy?

Another seventh year AU where Voldermort never existed !

Warnings: bullying, slight angst, crying, cursing (barely), sad!draco, angry!draco, implied smut towards the end (also extra mean slytherins for the purpose of this imagine but i have nothing against them i <3 them as much as any other house)

Words: 4.5K

A/N: hiii thank youuuu 🥺💗 !!!!!! but ahhhh omg im a hufflepuff so i hope i delivered good hufflepuff energy in this oneee :’))) i think this might be my new favorite thing ive written omg but i do not own gif 

There was truly no explanation how you, a kind Hufflepuff, managed to become friends, let alone a couple, with the proud and arrogant Slytherin Prince, Draco Malfoy. 

On the outside, your relationship to everyone seemed uncanny and plain wrong. Even your friends and housemates had looked down on it for a while but eventually came around and just let you be. You couldn’t say the same for the Slytherin’s, however, because if there was one house they disliked more than Gryffindor; it was Hufflepuff.

They berated you and Draco for weeks after they found out he had started a relationship with you. They scowled at you when you would walk by them sometimes calling you names depending on whether or not Draco was by your side. He always defended you and you did your best to ignore them, but they were relentless. You had only been dating for about a month now and the tantalizing comments from Slytherin’s and anyone else who wanted tear the two of you down were right now seeming endless.

“Why can’t people leave us alone,” you said sadly to him one night. You were lying with him in a patch of grass outside the castle, head against his chest as his hand lazily traced patterns onto your bicep.

“They’re only jealous,” he sneered quietly. “People get mad at what they can’t have or what they can't understand.”

Draco’s patience with people was worsening each and every day. His housemates, regularly, would corner him in the common room and interrogate him with questions that made him want to rip his hair out.

“Is this some sort of prank you haven’t told us about, Malfoy?”

“A Hufflepuff? Have you gone mad?”

“Is she blackmailing you with something, mate?”

“Haven’t you thought about how that makes us Slytherin’s look?”

“She’s a blood-traitor!”

The questioning would always lead to him yelling and threatening everyone aggressively before he locked himself in his Prefect dorm or would leave the common room altogether in a fury. Those were the days he would find you after he calmed down and would hug you tightly, pressing kisses all over your face as he praised you with everything he adored about you to how happy you made him and how perfect you were for him. 

You, on the other hand, were dealing with much worse. You never told Draco some of the awful things people would say to you when he wasn’t around. You would stand up for yourself very rarely, confrontation not really being your first approach to handling things but when the insults were bad enough, you were forced to.

You would always hear a variation of the same things said either directly to you or from obvious whispering, majority of them being from Slytherin and the occasional judgmental comment from others.

“Filthy Hufflepuff!”

“Can’t believe one of them is dating one of ours.”

“What does Malfoy even see in her?”

“You’d think someone who’s supposed to be kind wouldn’t want anything to do with such an arse.”

More than ever, Draco found himself giving you an excessive amount of compliments and reassurances that he thought would balance out the insults and criticisms you would tell him about or he would witness. Everything he would tell you was true, of course, but you always felt like he said them out of pity or like he had to.

“I appreciate you trying to make it better, but you don’t have to keep complimenting me, Dray.” You’ve said to him countless times.

And he would often respond with, “but I need you to know how I feel about you.”

Despite the constant uphill battle, your relationship with the platinum blond was everything you hoped for and more. Considering your friendship had started on rocky beginnings a year ago, you would have never thought you’d be with him now.  You couldn’t thank the stars more for when your aged and nearly blind owl had flown straight into the back of his head, pecking at him while he tried to swat it away which then led to him giving you a piece of his mind and trying to hex your owl - causing you to try to hex him just as McGonagall happened to be passing by the fiasco that landed both of you in a months-long detention for reckless magic usage. It was in detention when the two of you were forced to spend time together and realized that the other wasn’t as bad as they thought.

Draco, much like everyone else, always believed Hufflepuffs to be weak and cowardly, too kind for their own good - but he quickly learned how common of a misconception that was the longer he knew you. You always fought for what was morally right, defended those you love and are loyal to courageously, and were sweet and friendly with everyone you talked to whether you knew them or not.

He gravitated towards your kindness and empathetic approach to everything. He loved to see the smiles you put on people’s faces or the way animals would randomly come up to you and immediately trust you enough to give them gentle pets that they always leaned into. He even loved the way you talked to everyone as your equals, something he rarely saw in his environment. Everything you did was a vast difference to what he saw on the daily from his cold and aloof peers, but it was a difference he enjoyed. He wished so deeply that everyone could see and understand how amazing you were to him and he was determined to make it happen.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked shyly as he held your hand tightly in his, walking you slowly over to his large group of his closest Slytherin friends that were all gathered around a bench under a tree in the courtyard.

The Prince of Slytherin believed that if he could get his friends to at least tolerate you, then everyone else would follow in suit. He only associated himself with the best and most influential of his house so if there was anyone that could improve his current situation; it would be them. You were a little uneasy about his plan, but later agreed when he had convinced you that his idea couldn’t and wouldn’t fail.

“Of course it is!” He exclaimed encouragingly. “Plus, I’m Draco Malfoy, they’ll like anything I tell them to like.”

“Okay,” you sighed, rolling your eyes slightly at his boast.

The closer you got to them, the more you felt your hands begin to sweat and the heat crawling up your face. They all began to turn towards the two of you, their eyes focusing on you and you only with a pointed gaze. You started to realize how greatly you underestimated how intimidating they looked. Especially the one girl who made it her mission to bother you every chance she could get - always from afar while she pointed at you and whispered something into her friend’s ears while they laughed or when she would pass by you and say something rude under her breath.

“Look what Malfoy’s dragged in!” Pansy Parkinson called out with a malicious smirk on her face as she eyed you.

“Give it a rest, Pansy,” Blaise sighed, “If Malfoy wants us to meet his little friend then so be it.”

“Not my little friend, my girlfriend,” Draco corrected angrily as the two of you finally reached the group. “This is Y/N and I wanted you all to meet her since I plan on having her around for a long while, so you might as well get used to it.”

“Long while? Poor thing can’t even introduce herself,” Pansy laughed tauntingly.

“I think Draco introduced me just fine right now but if you want, I’ll do it again to make you feel better,” you smiled a big fake toothy grin at her. “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

Everyone snickered at your response, watching for the girl’s reaction as her nostrils flared in irritation. Draco smiled to himself and gave your hand a quick squeeze, feeling proud that you found a way to talk back to her in the nicest way possible.

“Right, well, I’m sure you know this is; Goyle, Crabbe, Zabini, Pike, Flint, Nott, and...” Draco pointed to everyone, trailing off when he reached the only girl in the group, “I don’t think that one needs an introduction, she rather do it herself, right Parkinson?”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, giving the blond a false squinty-eyed grin with attitude.

“So, you want us to be the nice to the Hufflepuff then?” Zabini questions, pointing a finger towards you.

“Yes, I want you to be nice to, Y/N,” Draco corrected again, his hand getting tighter in your grasp as he spoke. “That goes for all of you and everyone else in this bloody house. I don’t want to hear anything bad about her or us coming from anyone ever again or you’ll have me to answer to. I don’t care how friendly we are.”

“So he has to defend you too now?” Pansy spoke again, “Merlin, it’s a wonder how you Hufflepuff sort even survive in this world.”

Before anyone could say anything, you mustered up all the courage you had and stepped forward towards the irked girl in front of you.

“Listen, I don’t want any more trouble with you or anyone,” you rushed out. “I just want to go about my day without having to hear how disgusting and weak I am.”

She opened her mouth to retaliate but Blaise put a hand in front of her and pushed her back before she got any closer to you.

“Alright, we’ll try,” he answered for the group quickly in an annoyed tone, “but I can’t promise that for the rest of Slytherin. They really don’t like you guys together, thinks it makes them look bad. Eventually, they’ll get tired of it and move on to the next.”

“That’s as good as its gonna get,” Goyle guffawed, Crabbe and Pike snickering alongside him.

You sighed, looking up at Draco and slightly tugging at his hand while you silently begged him to take you out of there but he didn’t catch the hint and instead did the complete opposite when he had turned towards the only boy in the group who seemed to have brains.

“Zabini, can I talk to you really quick?” He asked gruffly. Blaise deeply sighed and nodded, the two boys breaking away from the group and stopping a few feet away before talking in angry hushed voices to each other.

You - all of a sudden felt very small and sick, your eyes frantically bouncing around the group as they watched you squirm. Pansy took this as her chance to step closer towards you, stopping a few inches away from you while a smirk made its way onto her face.

“Since you obviously don’t see the bigger picture, I’ll paint it for you,” she began contemptuously, “you and Draco really don’t belong together, at all. Sure, you might think everything’s fine right now, but what’ll happen when he gets tired of defending you and proving you to everyone. You think Hogwarts is your problem? Just wait until you meet the Malfoy’s. Do you really think his father would like or even tolerate a filthy blood traitor like you?”

You gaped at her, taking a few shaky steps away from her as her words hit you like a truck.

“Think about it, Y/L/N,” she gets in your face again, her hand reaching up to grip your shoulder tightly to hold you in place. “He needs to be with someone of his status, a pure-blooded Slytherin who comes from a good wealthy family who holds all the same beliefs as the Malfoy’s. If I were you, I’d end it before you ruin his life any more than you already have and end up leaving him without a family or his inheritance.”

“Are you trying to say that ‘someone’ should be you?” You question through gritted teeth, shrugging your shoulder hard out of her clawed grasp.

“I never said that,” she smiles, “but who am I to say it shouldn’t be?” 

Pansy tauntingly walked away from you, a smug look on her face as she noticed just how obviously she had hurt you. You wanted to run away and cry, but you held it together for the sake of your last remaining dignity and so that you wouldn’t please your assailant even more than you already have.

Draco turned to stroll back towards the group with Blaise, his eyes landing on your shuddering figure and the broken look in your eyes as they met his. He looked around at the rest of the group who were talking amongst themselves, unknowing to them that Parkinson had just ripped a new one on you. She stood around them, looking at her nails with an uninterested look in her eyes and when she felt Draco’s eyes on her, she looked up and smiled at him innocently. 

‘Bitch,’ you thought.

He slowly walked towards you, taking your hand and deeply frowning when you immediately slipped it out of his.

“What’s wrong?” His voice dripped with concern, his sad gray’s searching your face for any answer as to why you were suddenly acting so cold.

“I need to talk to you,” you breathed out. “Alone.”

He nodded, instinctively reaching out for your hand only for you to reject it again. He felt queasy at the response, his heart falling to his stomach as you turned around and began walking away. His legs were moving hastily behind you, a dooming tension had fallen between the two of you and he couldn’t for the life of him find a reason why.

Pansy’s words were like a game of pinball on a constant loop in your mind. Your thoughts were bumping and flying haphazardly as you tried to make sense of them and what you were about to do. And as much as you hated to admit it - the wench was right. You would never be able to offer Draco and his family anything that would ever be close to enough. You were just a sweet, regular Hufflepuff, someone far from who his family expected to date. And what if you did end up staying with him? You figured you would end up breaking up years later when he would be forced to marry someone else. Or in the slight chance, he fought against that, there was no way you’d forgive yourself if he lost his family and his future because of your own selfish needs.

You stopped at an empty corridor, sitting at one of the windowsills you regularly sat at with the platinum blond when the two of you snuck out at night to meet each other. Your head fell into your hands, your thoughts raging louder in your head and now through your body as you began to unwillingly shake. The held back tears had finally broken out in a waterfall of sadness, frustration, and grief.

Draco only watched, his heartbreaking at the sight as he kneeled in front of you, his hands resting on your knees while he tried to figure out what to say.

“Darling, please tell me what’s gotten you like this,” he pleads sadly. “If it’s about what Blaise said, I made a deal with him so he would try and help.”

“No, it’s not that,” you answered, choking back the lump in a feeble attempt to try and get yourself calmed down enough to talk to him.

He sat back on his heels, his hand running down his face in distress as he racked through his brain for anything else that might have gotten you like this. He let you cry for a bit, feeling useless as he watched you go through an internal battle he had no clue about.

“Then what is it? Tell me and I’ll fix it,” he says softly when he saw your tears had finally been reduced to stray droplets on your face.

“You can’t,” you sniffle. Your hand weakly brushed over his paled slender fingers that were holding your knee gently. He turned his palm upwards for you and you placed your shaking hand in his while you basked in the final moments of his warmth. You regrettably slipped out of his grip before you spoke the words you couldn’t take back. “We can’t be together anymore.”

Draco blinked, his stomach dropping as soon as the words left your mouth. “What?”

You stood up, backing away from him as you shook your head. “Everyone was right - I’ll never be good enough for you, for your friends, for your family. You deserve to be with someone who makes your life easier, not harder.”

“Where did all this come from?” He asks incredulously, standing up from his spot on the floor as he painfully watched your slowly retreating figure. “It’s all rubbish is what it is. You’ve never made my life harder.”

“Draco, look around you!” You exasperated, your arms flailing around you. “You had to make a deal with your own friends for them to even be nice to me. Your house can’t stand me and they take it out on the both of us! And what about your parents? You know for a fact they would hate me, don’t even try and deny it.”

Pale hands ran through his hair, his fingers pulling at the platinum strands in frustration.

“I thought you didn’t care about all that,” he said woefully. “I thought you’d know by now none of it matters.”

“Well, I care now,” you answer back gloomily. “And you should too.”

There was a spinning and nauseating feeling in the pit of the Slytherin’s stomach, his heart violently jumping around in his chest as he let you storm away from him. 

He let his back fall against a pillar, a deep and burning exhale falling from his trembling lips while he stared at a live painting across from him. It was of three women, the chalices in their hands supposed to be joined in a toast above them while they smiled gleefully in celebration, 3 of Chalices, it read in the caption below the frame. Instead of being in their usual position, they stared at him with pity in their softly painted eyes as they slowly raised their cups towards him in a way of showing their condolences.

He nodded curtly at them before he kicked himself off the wall and dragged himself towards the Great Hall where they were serving dinner and where he would undoubtedly find his so-called friends. He prepared himself to break the news to them, knowing they would be over the moon about it and as much as he wanted to join them in their delight, he couldn’t push away the large ache that had settled itself in his chest.

“We’re done,” he muttered dreadfully to himself, “it’s over.”

He was testing out different ways he could tell everyone the long-awaited news but they all left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“I think you’ll all be delighted to know, Y/N-” he tried again but he lost his train of thought when he spoke your name. It was like taking an invisible kick to his heart as if Peeves the Poltergeist had somehow crawled into his body and was wreaking his usual havoc on his insides. 

The second he stepped into the Great Hall and saw his group sitting there, eating and laughing amongst everyone else, he felt sick all over again. There was no way he could stomach the triumph they were about to unleash, but he sucked it up and drudged towards them anyway.

“You look ghastly,” Pansy snickers, already having a feeling as to why he looked so rough. He stopped at the bench, hesitating to sit down because he knew he’d want to dash the second everyone started to relentlessly bash you.

“Deal’s off, Zabini,” the blond spoke lowly. “I’m not with Y/L/N anymore so it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re better off without her, Malfoy,” Blaise said delightedly. “Can’t believe you nearly had us associating with a blood traitor. It’s better that she’s gone.”

“Yeah, we ought to thank Pansy for that,” Crabbe laughed loudly through a mouthful of food. Pansy kicked his shin under the table, and he recoiled too fast, the food in his mouth getting shot in the wrong direction as he started choking.

“Pansy?” Draco repeated, his eyes falling towards the shying girl. “What did Pansy do?”

“What?” Crabbe coughed roughly, “did no one else see her talking to the ickle Hufflepuff?”

Pansy kicked him again and he wailed out a “stop kicking me, you donkey!”

Any ounce of sadness Draco had in his body was immediately washed out in rage. He wanted to flip over the table and scream at everyone in his path, but he only turned towards Pansy again and asked her calmly.

“What did you say to her?”

“I only told her the truth!” She said coyly, holding her hands up in defense.

“What” his fist had slammed onto the table making everyone sitting near the contact jump in surprise, “did you say to her!”

“The truth! Or are you too blind to see it too?” She sneered at him. “Do you honestly think the two of you would last? Look at who you are, Draco!”

“Talk to me ever again and I swear I’ll hex you,” he spat, turning hot on his heel as he stormed out of the Great Hall, his friends staring at his retreating figure in shock at the outburst.

Draco found himself rushing through stairs and corridors, his heart racing as he searched for the place he just knew you’d be. Now that he knew the full story, he needed to talk to you. Even if you didn’t change your mind, he wanted to at least try to fix what had been broken. The tall and bronzed doors were ajar, a small light filtering through the dark corridor he was nearly running down. 

A mop of bright silver hair had peaked through the crack in the doors of the Hogwarts kitchen, worried gray eyes following in suit as they searched the room for its target. He found you hunched over a small dessert plate, a half-eaten cake being drenched in your tears that never seemed to stop. There was a house-elf next to you, looking up at you from the floor in concern while they patted your leg. 

“Mister!” a scraggly voice croaked out from below him. He looked down to find a rugged looking house-elf staring up at him with furrowed eyebrows and hands on its hips. “Students are prohibited in the kitchen.”

“There’s a student right there,” he pointed towards you.

“She’s an exception!” the elf exclaimed wildly.

Draco shook his head before walking past the small creature, power walking straight towards you while it ran behind him.

“Wait till Gonpy tells the Headmaster about this!” The elf calls, “Gonby asks your name, sir!””

“Vincent Crabbe,” Draco answers mindlessly as he continued walking towards the far end of the room that very closely resembled the Great Hall and its vastness.

The familiar accent rang through your ears, your glassy eyes shooting up in surprise when you see the reason for your tears hurrying towards you.

“Before you say anything, you need to listen to me,” he starts desperately once he reaches you. “I know it was Pansy who put those thoughts into your head. I know you think you’re not enough for me. And I know you think I was always complimenting you out of pity, but you couldn’t be more wrong about any of that. I say all those things to you because I mean it. You are everything to me. You are more than enough for me just by being you. You make me the happiest I’ve ever been and sometimes I wonder if I’m even good enough for you. But you need to understand how much I love you.”

“Draco,” you breathe, heart leaping in your chest at his rambling speech, “I love you too. But what about everyone else, how are we even supposed to be with each other in peace?”

“To hell with everyone else,” he responds quickly, walking around the edge of the table so that he was now only mere centimeters away from you. “Do you want to be with me?”

“Yes, of course,” you blink at him, “but do you really think your parents would let this happen?”

“We’ll deal with them when the time comes,” he mumbles, his hand finding its way to your puffy cheek where he let it rest. “Besides, my mother likes anything that makes me happy, so I know for a fact at least she will end up loving you just as much as I do.”

You nodded happily, a new hope bubbling in your stomach as you lurched towards him and hugged the stressed boy against you tightly. The both of you let out a breath of relief at the same time from the contact, finally feeling back in balance after the short-lived sorrow. 

He pulled away from you and leaned down into you, his lips capturing yours in a tender and passionate kiss. That was when the elves you had forgotten about had quickly stopped eavesdropping, scurrying themselves away from the table as they went to start cleaning up the kitchen. 

It was minutes before you had finally pulled away, looking dreamily into the happy gray’s that gazed back at you. You admired him for a couple seconds, feeling very content before you reached up towards him again, tangling your hands in his hair and pressing another kiss onto his now swollen lips. He moved needily against you, pushing your body flush the table as he held you tightly against him.

“Ahem,” a small voice uncomfortably called out from below. It was the same elf who had chased Draco down the kitchen when he walked in, a frown on his face as he stared at the two of you. “Gonpy and the house-elves make food here!”

“I’m sorry, Gonpy,” you hurriedly apologize, ripping yourself away from a ragged breathing Draco as you bent down to shake hands with the elf. “Thank you for making me cake and letting me cry here, you’re a Hogwarts hero.”

“Gonpy thanks you, Miss Y/L/N! The truest, kindest Hufflepuff!” 

Draco bit back a smile at the interaction. You stood up and reached your hand behind you for the Slytherin to take and as the two of you walked away, he yelled out a quick, “Thanks Gonpy!”

And once the two of you were near the exit, he wrapped his arms around you from behind and pressed his body against your back, lowering his mouth towards your ear and kissing the skin right below it before whispering, “do you want to go back to my dorm?”

You nodded eagerly, giggling loudly as the two of you stumbled out of the door underneath his hold and into the dimly lit corridor before pulling apart and racing towards the direction of the dungeons with his hand interlocked in yours.

[dadsbongos]

contemporary

Insert Coin - Chapter 1 / Series Masterlist

Byakuya pointed to the ‘guest list’ in front of (Y/n), “You can take the girls, I’m sure it’ll make them more comfortable than if I were to pat them down for weapons.”

“Right,” the girl nodded, tapping a pen against the dining room table a few times, “I can’t wait, I think this is exactly what everyone needs to de-stress!”

Nodding, Byakuya sat on a chair beside his peer, a fist pressed to his lips with his brows creased in deep thought. He reached into his white coat to pull out a manila envelope and lay it flat on the table, his eyes peeked around the room before sliding the envelope closer to her, “I received this today. It was in my mailbox.”

Quirking a brow, (Y/n) hesitantly took the envelope with shaking hands before opening it to remove the letter, eyes widening at the hastily written message and clutching it to her chest as if to hide it. She pursed her lips, “Who sent it?”

Shaking his head, Byakuya sighed quietly, “I’m not entirely sure.”

“Troubling, to say the least,” she shook her head before slowly pressing the paper back inside the manila folder, “Well, I- I’m sure we’ll be fine. We can handle this, besides, we’re taking all possible weapons - there’s no chance anybody will die tonight.”

Pressing the envelope back inside his coat, Byakuya forced himself to nod, leaning back to the party-planning paper in front of (Y/n), “We’ll have to keep an eye on Teruteru, specifically. He’ll likely have knives in the kitchen.”

“Right,” she nodded in understanding, glad to come to an understanding with the Ultimate Affluent Progeny.

“BE CAREFUL! The first kill will happen tonight. Someone will definitely kill someone.”

“Enjoy the party!” (Y/n) called after Hiyoko and Mahiru as they went into the old building, Kazuichi and Hajime already approaching the pair, “Hajime, I can get you over here, if you’re comfortable with it.”

Hajime left Kazuichi with Byakuya, hands coming up and cheeks filling with soft red as (Y/n) pat him down for weapons.

“Hey!” Kazuichi’s whine broke the pair’s concentration.

Looking over, (Y/n) watched as Byakuya unlocked his duralumin case and tossed in a wrench he must’ve found in Kazuichi’s jumpsuit. Giving Hajime a thumbs up, the girl waved him inside, “You’re all good, enjoy the party!”

“Yeah, okay…”

“Man,” Kazuichi whined even louder, “that was my comfort wrench!”

“Oh, poor guy,” (Y/n) mumbled, frowning slightly.

“He’ll be fine,” Byakuya shook off the girl’s concern, “He can have it back after the party.”

“I suppose,” (Y/n) sighed, leaning out into the hall to listen for the laughter of her classmates, “I think everyone but Fuyuhiko is in, but he was pretty out-there about not showing up, huh?”

“Should we head inside, then?”

“Yeah,” the girl immediately nodded, trying to hide how excited she was at the prospect of joining the party.

“You first,” Byakuya gestured further down the hall, picking up her duralumin case, “I’ll see if someone can guard the other case, no offense but you don’t appear very combat-centric.”

“None taken,” (Y/n) giggled softly, “You’re right. I’ve never been great in fights.”

Of course, it’d be natural to assume. Since when would an Ultimate Peacekeeper be a warhead?

“Are you sure you don’t need any more help? I feel like I should be doing more,” (Y/n) muttered.

Byakuya shook his head, “I’m entrusting you to keep the others calm and happy during the party. Allow me to handle things from behind the scenes.”

“If you’re sure,” the girl pulled open the door to the party and held it open, “I’ll check on everyone in the hall if you want to check with Teruteru.”

Giving silent affirmation, Byakuya walked in, heading straight towards Hajime oddly enough.

(Y/n) went over to a shaking Mikan, giving the girl a gentle smile, “How’re you feeling? Need something to drink?”

“N-no!” Mikan nervously smiled, “I- I’m fine! Don’t w-w-worry about me!”

“Alright, if you need anything, anything at all, let me know,” (Y/n) gave the nurse a small wave as she began walking away, “Even if it’s just to talk.”

“Ah, (Y/n)!” Nagito cheered, catching the girl’s attention, “Glad to see I’m not the last one here,” he gestured to his own body, “I had to wash up after cleaning.”

Glancing around the room, (Y/n) finally took in how much cleaner the building was post-Nagito, “Wow, you really didn’t mess around with this place, huh? Great job, Nagito, I knew you’d crush it!”

The boy’s eyes widened, hands coming up in front of his chest, as if in need of defending himself, “You really think so? It honestly wasn’t much.”

“You’re kidding,” (Y/n) shook her head, “This place was disgusting before you came in, don’t be shy to take some pride in your work.”

A soft puff of laughter fell from Nagito’s lips, a warm, oddly calming smile rising to his pale lips, “To have an Ultimate like you praise me. I could die happy now.”

“You’re an Ultimate too, you know?”

“There it is,” Nagito closed his eyes, as if having come to nirvana itself - a peace known to few, and taken in completely by fewer - with his sweet grin still in place, “Such hope. I admire it, truly,” before she could respond, Nagito nodded solidly to himself, “As much as I wish to admire the hope inside you more, there’s something I have to do.”

“Oh?” (Y/n) scratched at her head in confusion as Nagito stalked off across the room, “Have fun and take care?” she called after the boy.

“That looked fun,” Hajime murmured, suddenly beside the peacekeeper.

Jumping at the sudden voice, (Y/n) gave the brunette a timid wave, “I didn’t notice you there, Hajime. How’s the party for you so far?”

Glancing around the hall, Hajime’s eyes landed on laughing groups and even those silently partaking in the food prepared by Teruteru. The most fragile smile crept over his lips, breakable in an instant if someone said the wrong thing. He nodded, “Yeah. I didn’t think this would be fun but it’s not as miserable as I was expecting.”

“Well,” (Y/n) tilted her head, heart swelling at the fact that Hajime was smiling, “that’s all Byakuya and I could ask for.”

“You more than him, I’m assuming.”

“Oh, he’s not all bad.”

Byakuya’s brows furrowed as the lights flickered, his gaze immediately falling onto a cord across the room and the pale hands connected to it. He pushed himself up from the wall, turning towards his ‘second-in-command’ at team-leading, “(Y/n)!”

“Huh?”

The lights went out. Darkness coddling the bodies inside it like a newborn babe wrapped in cloth. Welcoming. Frightful. It was hard to tell the difference. Her mind, in its uneasy race, went back to the note she’d been shown the day prior.

“BE CAREFUL! The first kill will happen tonight. Someone will definitely kill someone.”

The feeling of a hand latching onto her arm caused a small scream to bubble at the girl’s lips, just before she could release it a voice popped out from the inky black mere inches in front of her face, “It’s just me. Sorry, I should’ve said something.”

Hajime. It was only Hajime.

Nodding to herself, (Y/n) grabbed Hajime’s hand and gave him a reassuring squeeze before speaking to the crowd in a calm, nurturing voice, “Okay, everybody, everything will be fine, please don’t panic. We should stay calm so nobody gets hurt in the dark, I’m certain the power will come back on before we even know it.”

Her heartbeat betrayed her own tone. But in times like these, at any time where her talent was useful - it was best to shove your emotions to the back burner and pick up the pieces of panicked people around you. The mumbles and squeaks stopped and mere seconds later, the lights were illuminating the hall once again.

Golden light piercing the fears and unrest inside (Y/n)’s heart until finally, she was able to see her classmates properly. Excluding the blackout, the scene was rather peaceful. Everyone seemed to be getting along fine, even Hiyoko was mildly tolerating Mikan during the party.

Akane, however, didn’t seem to take notice of the sweet atmosphere at all. She was loudly sniffing at one of the tables, brows furrowed before turning to (Y/n), “Where’s Byakuya?”

Looking around, she just now was noticing how absent her senior was, “Probably in the kitchen or hall, why?”

“Because,” the brunette girl looked around once again, “I smell blood.”

[olivinesea]

A Mixed Blessing

Chapter List

chapter six: are we fixed or free?

a/n: Sorry for the extended wait, that road trip really did me in. Here’s the next bit. Getting deeper into Aaron & Cole’s dynamic. Again, I’m so sorry? Warning for substances & abuse, as ever. ~4.5k

The summer arrived quickly for Aaron who now had a new secret he didn’t understand. He was uncertain what to make of the events of that afternoon. There was no blueprint for him to follow here. The only intimacy he’d observed with was in the context of his parents’ relationship and that didn’t seem like the best example. The only mentions he’d ever heard of two men being together were lessons about eternal damnation. It made sense that he would belong to such a path. He was already lost in so many ways, he doubted this, or anything, could make it worse. But it still puzzled him, unsure what his feelings were, what they should be.

He reviewed his memories of that afternoon repeatedly, examining the dimensions of the place where his life had taken this unexpected turn. He’d had no way to anticipate any of it but still he tried to gather clues, combing the moments surrounding that first kiss for signs of what would come next. He remembered the way their desperate collision had only broken apart when Cole pressed too hard on his ribs and he had involuntarily cried out in pain. The way Cole had scrambled back, standing up and watching Aaron from a safe distance while the color drained from their flushed cheeks, a mindless passion replaced by apprehension. The way Cole had run his hands through his hair repeatedly, the nervous habit making the blond strands stand on end. Aaron couldn’t remember another time he’d looked so uneasy, before or since.

Aaron had considered him through his dazed high, the drugs mixing with the unexpected surge of hormones to overtake any coherent thought. He had been confused but it was a warm sort of confusion, still feeling the echo of Cole’s hands, his lips, racing across his skin. He’d tried to understand the emotion he was seeing on Cole’s face. He was always trying to understand the minute changes there, searching for a hint at the other boy’s motivations that he kept locked away.

“You’re not stupid are you?”

Aaron frowned, not able to follow this thought. He’d become distracted by the pain in his side, his ribs reminding him of the insult they had endured. He’d lifted his shirt to poke at them gingerly, as if this would make any difference at all.

“Hey!” Cole was impatient.

Aaron’s attention snapped back, wary of the irritation but not sure how to fix it. He wanted to ask what was wrong but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate, his thoughts barely a trickle. He was only live nerve endings and a creeping nausea as the painkillers left his system.

Cole stared at him hard, trying to make him understand without spelling it out. When he didn’t see any sign of recognition he sighed in disgust. “This,” he waved his hand. “All of this. You’re not going to say anything, right?”

Surprised, Aaron shook his head slightly. He didn’t have anyone to tell even if he was foolish enough to want to. He used the tree trunk to help pull himself up so he was standing, doing his best to meet Cole’s gaze. “I—“ he began but his thoughts wouldn’t move in a straight line. It had felt so much like a dream. He could hardly believe it was real if it wasn’t for the blood and grit in his mouth.

Cole watched him, not offering to help as he swayed, finding his balance. He kept one hand on the tree, its solidness soothing. This point of connection to the world was the only thing keeping him in place. Overwhelmed by the whiplash of attentions, anger and affection and desire melting into an unrecognizable mess, he felt like one wrong move could send his cells spiraling out, forming new constellations he’d never return from.

“I won’t tell,” he managed.

Cole nodded, satisfied for now. “You should go home, you look like shit.”

Aaron was having a hard time keeping up. “Home?”

“Damn, are you really that high?”

Aaron wanted to laugh but his throat was too dry. He coughed instead. He still felt Cole’s fingers wrapped behind his neck, was still captivated by the smell his skin, smoke and something sweet, like decay.

“I’ll walk with you but you’ve gotta stand on your own. It’s way too early for me to be carrying you around.”

Aaron followed, a few steps behind, annoyed at the suggestion he’d ever needed to be carried. He watched Cole’s back, following the pattern of his footsteps, retracing their way to his backyard.

Cole looked at him doubtfully. “You better take a shower and clean up. Your parents are going to know something’s up.”

Aaron shrugged pulling a twig from his hair. “I doubt it.” What he meant was that he doubted they would care enough to notice.

“It’s your life I guess.”

They stood awkwardly for a moment, stiff and deliberately distant. Aaron opened his mouth to say something he would want to take back later.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Cole cut him off, turning away before he’d finished speaking. Aaron started up the back steps, his hand reaching the doorknob before he remembered something. He turned and called, “Hey Cole!”

The other boy paused, looking back with a blank expression, closed off and wary.

“Where’d my…”he stumbled on the words, embarrassed to have to ask. “Do you have my medication?”

Cole smiled, patronizing. “Oh I’ve got that, don’t worry. I don’t think it’s smart for you to have that around, do you? We don’t want you doing anything you’ll regret.”

Aaron blushed, mumbling a response about how it was his, how it was none of his business what he did with them but Cole was already walking away.

*

He had never consciously considered his affections before that day. Passing moments had caught his attention but he’d never stopped to think about who or how that would play out in the real world. He couldn’t help feeling like he had committed some offense. If the sermons or the sentiment of the town were to be believed he was making a terrible mistake, an evil choice. And yet it didn’t feel wrong. It felt like the most logical thing in the world.

He battled with himself about it. Telling himself to stop thinking about how good it had felt to be close to someone. That it would be better to forget and move on, pretend the moment hadn’t happened. It was only weakness, he argued against his softer self. A weakness to need validation that he was a creature worthy of that kind of attention. He knew plenty about weakness, knew better than to let it show.

So, despite his excitement, despite the fire that raced through his veins at the memory of that afternoon, he didn’t push for anything more to happen. He simply waited, hoping that time would resolve his uncertainties.

The next time he saw Cole, the older boy ignored him at first. Aaron hung back, watching, trying to get an idea of what he was expected to do. He sat on a tree stump, off to the side of the group, playing with the fraying cuffs of his shirt. It was getting too warm for the long sleeved shirts that he wore most of the year. He shifted uncomfortably as a bead of sweat slipped down between his shoulder blades. He wasn’t sure yet what he was going to do about that problem. He’d always been on his own in the summers, no one to notice the changing landscape of his skin, the dark blue-greys that faded into algae green, traveling up and down his arms, his legs, as the stars moved across the night sky, dependent upon the balance of forces beyond his control. Yet here he was, surrounded by people. They might not notice him, not pay attention to the quietly angry boy who had been absorbed into their group over the past year but he wasn’t sure he could stay so invisible with those kinds of secrets on display.

While he was lost in his thoughts, Cole appeared beside him, offering him a cigarette. He accepted, catching the flame of the lighter, gratefully pulling the smoke into his lungs. He let the sensation distract him from his nerves prickling at the nearness of the other boy. He darted his eyes to Cole, to see if he could read instructions in his expression. Cole’s eyes were fixed on the side of his face, the deep purple bruises he’d left there. No one had asked about these new bruises on his face, but when had anyone ever asked about such things before?

Aaron became uncomfortable with the attention, his knee bouncing rapidly. Cole reached over, touching the swelling on his jaw. Aaron did his best not to flinch, keeping his eyes steady on Cole’s face. He stayed still even as Cole pressed his fingertips harder against the darkened skin, his touch quickly becoming painful. He held his breath, willing himself not to react. The expression in Cole’s eyes was distant, seeing something other than Aaron’s fearful acceptance. The pain became too much and Aaron shifted away slightly, unable to tolerate it any longer. Cole dropped his hand, seeming to snap out of the trance he’d fallen into. Aaron avoided his eyes, looking away and taking a drag on his cigarette.

They didn’t discuss it.

Nothing seemed to change after that, neither of them daring to vocalize their thoughts, so the moment passed and faded. Instead, they fell back into their routine. Somehow Aaron’s pills had become “their” pills and they disappeared quickly. He found that he didn’t care, he was too focused on understanding his newly complicated feelings. He hovered close to Cole, hoping that the nearness might act as a magnet, drawing them back together again. He was afraid to ask for it, afraid of what it meant to want something like that. But maybe if he could just manufacture the right conditions, he thought, maybe then. He still wasn’t sure if he really wanted Cole or if he just wanted to be touched but he was certain the only way to find out would be to try it again.

A couple weeks later they were drunk, stumbling home, laughing at something neither one would remember. As the entered the garage, Cole decided abruptly that he was making too much noise. He pressed his hand over Aaron’s mouth, hissing at him, half playful, half tense. They listened for the sound of footsteps, any indication that they had disturbed his grandmother. Aaron had only seen her once and she seemed nice enough but he could understand the instinct to stay hidden, to move through the world unnoticed. He fell silent and focused on the heat of Cole’s hand, the slight nicotine scent of his fingers held firmly against his lips.

Satisfied no one was coming, he released his grip. When he looked at Aaron, saw the mix of anticipation and desire in his eyes, he stepped back. He wiped his hand roughly against his thigh, as if there were some particularly unpleasant residue imparted. As Aaron struggled to mask his disappointment, Cole’s expression darkened.

“Go home Aaron,” he said roughly.

“What? Why?” He was flustered, scrambling to understand what he had done wrong.

“Get out.” Cole turned away, stalking to his desk where he sat with his back to Aaron.

Aaron stared, wide-eyed, too tipsy to grasp what was going on. “But I thought—“

The words were out of his mouth before he thought better of it. He knew by now not to argue with Cole, knew that pushing against that finality in his voice never got him anywhere. Still, he had let himself hope and he wasn’t ready to let the moment pass.

In an instant Cole was back, standing right in front of him, so close that Aaron lost all his words.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he growled. Something clicked and Aaron placed the emotion he’d been seeing bursts of, slipping into Cole’s words, his actions. He was afraid. Aaron smiled at the realization, just the corner of his mouth twitching up.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Cole tried to push him away, both hands against his chest, but Aaron grabbed him, almost laughing now. Fear was simple, he knew fear. Fear could be overcome if they just kept moving. He couldn’t count all the times he’d been afraid but here he was, still breathing, still wanting something from the world. He pulled Cole closer until their foreheads touched.

“Don’t be stupid,” Cole breathed.

“Too late,” Aaron answered, alcohol obliterating any lingering reservations. Nothing else mattered here. His only thought was that he needed this, to see if it would feel the same as before. That feeling he was forever chasing, where every thought disappeared from his mind and he became only impulse and reaction.

He found what he was looking for.

*

It continued haltingly, never sober, never around other people. Half the time it was followed by icy silences, Cole avoiding Aaron for several days while he sorted out his emotions, searching for a way to rationalize their connection. It hurt his feelings but he could understand this reaction. What they were doing went against everything he’d ever been taught. Cole was caught up in a cycling belief that this behavior was a defect, at best a sign of mental illness, at worst an irrefutable testament to his inferiority. Aaron couldn’t blame him for these thoughts, it was what everyone else believed as well.

It was different for Aaron. His sexuality was not as much of an issue to him. He had thought about it obsessively, trying to decide what it meant that he could want the touch of another man, that he could so easily disregard the taboo placed on such an act. His conclusion was that it didn’t matter, it couldn’t matter when there was so little that was good in his life. The idea that anyone would want to be close to him, would see him as anything other than worthless was too intoxicating to let go.

But he wasn’t completely ready to accept what they were doing either. Sometimes he even hated himself for it, but for different reasons. The thing that gave Aaron pause were the other parts of their relationship, the moments where Cole’s mood shifted, his anger flashed. Sometimes, if circumstances lined up against Aaron— if someone had made a comment to Cole that he didn’t like and he repeated to himself over and over, picking apart the ways they were not only wrong but intentionally stupid, to the point where Aaron rolled his eyes and told him to get over it already, they’d only been high after all; if they had run out of dope and the dealer wasn’t answering; if the wind was too cold or the sun was too bright, sometimes for no reason Aaron could see at all—Cole would snap and strike out at the nearest target. That target was more and more frequently Aaron.

That first time he’d been so shocked, so betrayed he thought it would be the end of him. But that hadn’t happened. Had instead lead to the breakdown of the barrier between them, a positive development in Aaron’s book. The second time he was just as surprised, although looking back maybe he shouldn’t have been. The apology was quick and profuse, Aaron accepted it through a stunned haze. After that, it became nothing more remarkable than any other pattern in his life. It made sense to him that care and pain would be so tied up. In fact, the idea that he could have the first without the second was unimaginable. But in the moments when it happened, the split second before the impact, when he knew it was coming and there was nowhere to run, the expression he saw on Cole’s face was too similar to the one he’d grown up fearing. In those moments he felt sick to his stomach, that he would put himself in this position, that he would seek out the company of a man just like his father. Shouldn’t he be smarter than that? He’d find himself knocked to the ground, his ears ringing as he curled himself into that familiar defensive shape, waiting out the storm so that he could have another chance at feeling the warmth of affection.

At the end of the day, what was one more bruise, really? At least these bruises were accompanied by concern. An awareness of his existence, the kind he’d never gotten at home. Cole noticed when he wasn’t around, noticed when he was slipping too far into his own head. He felt it could almost be considered a fair trade. The good moments at least balanced the bad, if not outweighing them outright. Plus, there were always the drugs to smooth over the rough patches if all else failed. He couldn’t feel a thing as he floated away on the high. Whatever mistakes he’d made over the week, however many times he’d been wrong or in the way, it all disappeared as he accepted the straw handed to him, kneeling over the smoke, as reverent as any penitent seeking absolution.

* In the summer they found themselves with unlimited time to spend together. No classes, no family to interrupt their search for the perfect high. There was no reason to be sober, so he never was, accepting anything that came his way without a second thought. It all melded together in a sleepy numbness, losing track of the days. Time only mattered if he was waiting on his next high, its irritating existence forgotten as soon as he sank back under. When he’d found himself locked out of his home, again (his mother’s new way of expressing her disapproval) he didn’t bother trying to beg her to let him in. He just walked away. He had other places to be now. Places where he could convince himself he was wanted.

Cole took the opportunity of the unstructured days to try something different. At first Aaron was confused when he saw him unwrap the new materials, light reflecting off solid metal rather than the now familiar bits and pieces they had been using to smoke. However, he quickly understood as Cole began to roll up his sleeves.

“You’re not serious.” As lost as he was, Aaron wasn’t sure this was a line he wanted to cross.

Cole barely lifted a shoulder to acknowledge he’d heard anything, too focused on examining his arm for a vein.

“Cole,” his voice tightened, eyes locked on the other boy’s movements. “I don’t know…”

“It’s going to work better,” Cole snapped, irritated that Aaron would question him. He’d thought it out, they were wasting money, his money, and worse, wasting their potential high. This was the obvious next step. “Here,” he tossed a belt at Aaron, “that should help you find one.”

Aaron didn’t move, frozen by conflicting impulses. He was having trouble understanding how he’d gotten here, still disbelieving he could sink so low despite the very real evidence in front of him. But beneath all the anxiety, there was a part of him whispering that Cole was right, that he absolutely wanted this. The prospect of a better high was enticing.

“Hurry up, or I’m doing this without you.”

Aaron chewed on his lip, watching the flame. Cole’s hands were steady, no trace of the tremor Aaron felt in his own. The soft hiss as the dark matter melted was all that he needed to push him to action. He was afraid but that had never mattered, he wasn’t going to miss this.

*

Occasionally, Aaron would surface from his fog, would wonder what Sean was doing, wonder if his mom was okay. He had no idea when he’d last seen them. As much as he resented her for how little she’d done to protect him, he couldn’t be completely unsympathetic when he knew too well what she was up against. If he ever had a passing thought about his father it was only to curse him and wish for his demise to come sooner than later.

Any semblance of a schedule had long since gone out the window. Every day that they could score was a good day to get high. Any day that they couldn’t was a bad day for Aaron. Cole had been right, the high was better with a direct application, but it also meant the lows were meaner. What before had been intermittent bouts of anger, flares of possessiveness when Aaron was out of sight for too long, became all consuming.

His world got smaller.

Aaron stopped going to the places where the rest of the group would hang out. He found it wasn’t worth it to find out what new infraction Cole would imagine, what the consequences might be for accepting a drink or a smoke from the wrong person. It was easier to just stay in the garage, or, if Cole’s mood was too volatile, too many days since their last score, he would wander by himself, back to his old hiding places. When he could think clearly enough he wondered if time was just a circle and he would always find himself back here, hiding from the hands of someone who was supposed to care for him.

Most of the time he didn’t think of anything at all.

* Cole’s birthday arrived in the height of summer, when the days were so long it was hard to believe night would ever fall and the heat so heavy that movement felt like treason. They’d had a stretch of good days, which Aaron tried not to think about too much. He believed that maybe if he didn��t acknowledge it, didn’t look directly at it, they might continue in this peace. He wasn’t aware that it was Cole’s birthday, only that whatever good mood had settled over them was thankfully continuing.

As they made their slow way back from the liquor store, hauling their supplies of beer and cigarettes and a bag of chips that no one would touch, Cole muttered something under his breath. Aaron, fumbling with a cigarette, finding it annoyingly difficult to coordinate the movements of walking and lighting the end, stopped to manage that and missed the exact words.

“Hmm?” he hummed, unconcerned. He’d woken up to gentle fingers combing his hair that morning and managed to avoid saying the wrong thing. On days like this he could almost imagine he led a normal life.

“It’s my birthday,” he sounded sullen, like he regretted bringing it up in the first place.

Aaron stopped trying to light his cigarette and looked at Cole, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around him. That would not go over well in the middle of the sidewalk. Instead he smiled, unreasonably pleased with this information.

“I guess we have to celebrate then,” he said, starting to walk again, just barely brushing his shoulder against the other boy. It was a little reckless—he could never be sure what kind of reaction he would get when initiating contact. It was usually smarter to let Cole come to him, like a dog with an uncertain temper. Cole drew back a little, but relaxed when Aaron didn’t linger. Instead he stepped to the side and scrupulously put a respectable distance between them.

“What do you want to do?” Aaron asked once he was sure he hadn’t crossed any of the wrong lines.

Cole shrugged, “What do we ever do?”

This unenthusiastic response put a slight damper on Aaron’s good mood but no matter. He knew they still had some of their stash leftover, they wouldn’t have to spend the day chasing a dealer. And he would never be disappointed by the prospect of getting high. “Whatever you’d like,” he said simply.

They spent the afternoon lazily drinking beers and smoking in a couple of ancient lawn chairs. Cole’s grandmother had taken a bus to Atlantic City for several days of gambling and inhaling stale cigarette smoke. Aaron liked things best when she went out of town. It almost felt like he and Cole were living together, like adults in their own house. He let his mind run with the fantasy as they sat sweating in the shade. He’d never considered what he might be like as an adult, never thought he’d make it that far. But this, this could be nice. A quiet companionship. Someone to pass him another drink when his ran out. Sure, there were negatives—a persistent risk that he’d say or do the wrong thing and find himself on the shadowed side of a fist but, as far as Aaron could tell, that was just part of life. It couldn’t always be good, but if he could have moments like this, it would be worth it.

Finally, endlessly, the sun set, making only the slightest difference in the temperature. They didn’t move as the color drained from the world around them. Tiny sparks lit up the air, first in ones and twos, until they were surrounded by flashes of life. Aaron tried to spot them all, making wishes like they were shooting stars. Every time it was the same wish: please, let this last.

“I guess it’s time for me to light my candle,” Cole said softly, equally mesmerized by the way the newly visible stars seemed to extend down to them, flickering around their heads. Aaron didn’t reply, just nodded, afraid he might somehow break the spell with his voice. Cole stood and offered him a hand up. He didn’t let go as they walked inside.

An expert now, Cole made short work of setting up their hits. The needle slid seamlessly into a vein, the rush of relief, of tension he hadn’t even realized he was holding melted away. They lay back on the bed side by side, just like the first time, motionless as the world spun away from them. Unlike the first time there was no confusion, no concern for what came next, only a feeling that his heart was so full it hurt. He twitched his fingers, trying to find Cole’s hand beside him. He managed to hook his fingers through Cole’s, his skin cool and dry. Eyes closed, Aaron tried to catch his breath, to catch the words that were vibrating through his bones with every pulse of his heart.

“I love you.”

His voice was so thin and he was so high he wasn’t entirely sure he’d said it out loud. Cole didn’t move, didn’t react at all, already deeply lost to the drug. Aaron knew it was better that way. The words felt strange, so foreign. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d said them, wasn’t sure he ever had. His consciousness filtered away, trailing the words behind him. He wouldn’t remember saying them in the morning.

chapter seven

[prorevenge]

Let's see how he looks at you now.

A few background information before I get into the story.

I am a bastard child, child born out of wedlock, but I am not the only one. I have a fraternal twin brother, we'll call him Dill. When my mother and father, who were both 25 at the time, found out they were having twins, my father left my mother in the hospital the day after we were born. Growing up, he was never in our lives and my mother didn't have any ill intent towards him. We resented the mention of a father who we never seen or met in our lives and was generally happy with my single mother. Even there was days my mother would share old Polaroids of them together, saying things like how we look like our father and how those we great days, but how nothing could compare to the day we were born.

Fast forward to 18 years old, Dill and I were at our graduation from high school. My entire moms side of the family was there to celebrate, take pictures and then have an after party at my aunts home. Before that could happen, my mother said she had a surprise for us as between the crowd, a man was emerging. Dill and I soon felt a terrible distaste as we could tell this man was the man who seemed to walk out on my mother all those years ago. We felt hatred towards this man even if my mother smiled whenever she would talk about him.

Our father cried, in turn making my mother cry as they soon told us how he was involved in our lives even if it wasn't in person or physical.

My parents told us that when we were born, they agreed that they couldn't take care of twins with the income they had. With a worded agreement, my parents agreed that my father would have to walk out for most of our lives to support us and sent money off from a job miles away from our birth town. So the years of birthdays, cars, Christmas presents, Halloween costumes and thanksgiving dinner wasn't only paid by my mother, but our father as well. They handed us envelopes that they said was for our college tuition. Our father even took us by the hands and got on his knees while crying. As if on an instant, it was like our resentment towards this man fluttered away. I cried and Dill was helping him up. Without a second thought, we embraced our parents and my father wouldn't stop apologizing.

Our relationship with our father 9 years later couldn't be stronger, we bond any way children and their father could have.

With their help we graduated from college, me in business and fashion while my brother in computer sciences. We are both 27 now, doing things we both love.

Now, you are probably wondering: "Maybe they got pro revenge on their father who abandoned them for 18 years."

I'm here to tell you, No, it isn't. My pro revenge story is about the woman our father brought to our high school graduation.

Our step-mother, her name being Heather for this story as for privacy reason.

Heather was and still is married to our father. At first glance, she was a very nice looking woman and we were happy that our father was in love with someone. Our mother had no qualms about the marriage as she was partially the instigator for my fathers proposal.

Heather was about 5 years younger than my father who is 53 years old now, and has 3 other boys (6, 8 and 19 then. 15, 16 and 28 now) with another husband. We also get very well along with them, my brother and I loving the fact we have friendly, kind and sweet step-brothers who would step in if anything was wrong.

But, what we first thought was not at all what we seemed.

The story:

Within the first 6 years we got to know our father and Heather, we noticed that Heather was extremely babied and spoiled by our father. She and our step-brothers wore clothing brands and had expensive devices. My father told us that he would shower us the same way if we pleased, but we passed on the offer as just reconnecting our father and the times he spoiled our behinds off when we were children while we resented him was enough to spoil us rotten.

The days we would spent at our fathers house, I would wake up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom or drink water to hear Heather shouting at my father, who would attempt to quickly calm her down in a nonthreatening fashion. I didn't understand why he was being yelled at but it slowly pricked at me whenever I experienced it.

It wasn't until I realized my father would often visit us with scratch marks, cuts and bruises on his face and sometimes his arms. That was always unsettling to my brother and I when our father would joke that a cat would dig in their trash or some random excuse that was a obvious lie. We figured we couldn't do anything until our father would stop bottling up his truth.

Our step-brother, the eldest who we will call Matt came with us to go drinking and dancing on our 25th birthday. My brothers got wasted, I had a bad experience with an ex-boyfriend and drinking so I stayed away from drinking. Therefore, I was the designated driver for that day. With the help of a few, less drunk, friends, I managed to get my brothers in the car. Matt in the front and Dill in back, his face pressing against the leather cushion while bumbling something silly.

As we drove home, Matt was slowly getting sober but I could tell he couldn't fully comprehend what he was saying. He smiled at me with his silly drunk face and slur some stuff about how lucky we were to have such a caring father and how much his younger brothers loved us. That made me happy until he would blurt out something that made me uneasy. What came out of his mouth would make me seethe with rage.

"Our mom always talks bad about him and your mother to us. Mom hits him too." He said with a laugh before he leaned against the door, said he was tired and went to sleep.

How dare she.. I would think as I got to my mothers house and got my brothers up enough to help them stumble into the house. I would tell my brother and my mother what Matt had said when he was drunk.

My Dill was pissed when he found out and my mother was just in shock as she thought she was good friends with Heather. Dill confronted Matt 2 weeks later about what Heather would do to our father and why?

Matt said that he knew Heather was extremely manipulative and spoiled, so much so that Matt's father was angry with Heather and divorced her after she had cheated with his slightly more wealthy friend. He told us Heather would scratch, throw stuff, threaten and belittle my father whenever she didn't get what her or any of her children wanted immediately. My father, being the kind man he is, would tolerate it and give her anything she pleased with a smile. Matt would be forced to stop her before anything worst could happen. There would be days where she took her kids and stayed at her parents house if my father would attempt to refuse or tell her that funds were low. It was terrible when she had found out our father was tucking aside money for our college funds.

She would talk terribly, in text and in person to her children, about my father being a filthy, broke Cambodian immigrant and not loving her, my mother being a gold digging woman "white bitch" trying to coax my father into help pay for our lives on the side.

We were disgusted and pissed at Heather. She would hurt our father and talk horribly of my parents without looking at her entitled self. This was a moment where we would need to put her where she belonged, we wanted to ruin her but we settled on changing the way our father would look at her, which would be damaging her in a special way.

Dill, Matt and I came up with a plan. Dill and I were our father's pride and joy after all, so why not put one of ourselves as bait. With the three of us, we scrounged up money we saved up together from jobs, birthday money, gigs and side tutoring from the several years we grew up together. Dill and I were saving money to buy my mother and her boyfriend a new place to live as their place was being littered with pests ranging from rats to termites each summer. So the money we pulled together came up to around $2800. After a argument with Dill, it was decided that I would be the one to enact the pro revenge.

The revenge:

After the 3 months of gathering and careful planning, I had taken the money and told my father and Heather that we wanted to buy mother and her boyfriend a home to live in. My father asked my budget and I pull out the money, making an effort to count it in front of them to push the bait. When Heather saw the money, I could see her eyes widen in surprise. My father told me that we were good kids, that he was proud of us that we grew up to be kind people. I felt kind of guilty, I was going to contort my father's feelings towards this woman. I was hesitant but looked at Heather's face, I was determined.

We spent the next hour finding a good home for mother, settling on one as we would visit the real estate place the next morning. I took the money and went to my room, I hid the cash under my bed mattress, the most obvious place a person would hide it, right?

During the whole house finding, my brothers were setting up something in my room, something that wasn't in my room before. One of those large Valentines teddy bears that Dill had got me when my ex-boyfriend dumped me on Valentines day.

Matt, Dill and I would leave the house, going to our mothers house under the guise of saying we were going to tell her the surprise. Fast forward to 5 hours later, we go back to my fathers house, he was at work, doing the night shift as a security guard. When we walked into my room, I will visibly surprised as all my drawers of my dressers were pulled out, my closet was ravaged through and my bed mattress was flipped, we didn't expect a hurricane to go through my room needlessly. The teddy bear was also disturbed though, thrown on the ground with it's face to the ground. We were slightly panicked as Dill had picked up the teddy and rip out threads of its back and pulled out something.

I went call to my father, a little panicked and said my room was rummaged through and the money was gone. Honestly, I was actually scared because it was most of the money Dill and I saved to actually get my mother a place, thinking it would have been spent soon enough. My father was panicked, saying he'd be home as fast as he can.

As soon as my father got home, I was joined in my room with Matt, Dill and our father. Dill and I expressed our disappointment and anger to my father about Heather. Next to my laptop was camera that Matt had received from his dad. It was plugged into the computer as Dill asked my father to sit down and watch the video.

The video played.

It had showed an empty room before Heather had walked in, not at all sneakily as she pulled out my drawers, pulled my clothes out and threw it to the ground before repeating it with my closet. She even walked over straight to the bear and picked it off before frustratingly throwing it to the ground. It was facing most of the ground for the time as there was no sound either.

As the video ended, Dill and I could see the gears clicking in our father's head. Our father was kind, not dense, after all. In our 9 years of knowing this man, we have never seen him angry until that night alone. Dad had called Heather, telling her to come home immediately. She got home 4 hours later with three bags of brand name clothing. I felt my heart break as I already knew she had probably spent all of that money. I started to choke back my sobs as Dill would try to calm me down, being angry himself. Matt just staring at his mother with a face of disappointment.

My father began to ruthlessly shout at Heather. He reprimanded her for spending all the hard earned money of their children. She scoffed, handing over the envelope with only three-fourths of the original money and some change. This only made father more angry as he would shout at her to get out of his house, threatening to divorce her and throw her onto the streets without the items. Her eyes got wide and her face contorted into a face of 'oh no.' She began to plead and beg as my father forcefully turned her around and pushed her out of the house, still yelling at how horrible she was. Matt was forced to follow because even if she was a horrible person, she was still his mother. For only 10 minutes, Heather banged and begged to be let back in before she was forced to leave my father's property.

My father apologized profusely that night as I did nothing but stare at the leftover money and cry in my room.

My father is still married to that woman, but he refused to look at her, most of the time or sleep in the same bed. He still loves her in a way as a husband would a wife, but now it is different for him as his wife was the filthy thief of his blood and flesh. We had given Matt his portion of the bait money and was given back a little of the money when Heather returned a few of the items back to the stores.

Fortunately, 2 years later, we finally bought my mother a three bedroom, 2 bathroom house in a non-infested neighborhood. She was unbelievably grateful.

Maybe now its time to help save up divorce money.

If you read this far, I'm so glad you had wanted to stick around to the end. That is all.

Thank you for reading.

(source) story by (/u/Heart_Garden)

[01010010-posts]

— falling from the doves to the dark of the crow.

1. january – 2037 new year’s eve was just few days ago. you spent a nice evening with some close friends, ate, laughed, drank. but it turned out to be a temporary placebo, as the dread of living has its clutches around your heart again. it’s cold outside and the only thing you’d like to do is sleep forever in the warm cocoon of your white soft duvet. even scrolling endlessly on your phone is useless, everyone is with their relatives and they really don’t have time to think about you. you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. it has come to this then, huh. you roll over the other side of the bed. you’ve decided. you could die and nothing would change.

2. february – 2037 you’ve been promoted at work. your colleagues organized a small party during the lunch break. you still felt nothing. rather, you got the urge to throw up. someone else could use that money. someone else with a family, with hopes, dreams, desires. not someone like you for sure. you feel guilty for taking up space, in this economy, in this world. you should enjoy your life and yet. yet there’s something at the back of your mind, gnawing, chewing your brain with steely fangs, unceasing, unrelenting. when you get home you toss your grey bag onto the couch and let yourself fall on the mattress. you silently cry for an hour or so. after your red eyes decide to take a rest you lift your phone and check for messages. none. except an e-mail. weird advertisement about purchasing a house. you guess that since everything is connected lots of estate agencies already know about your new salary. you have enough to buy a modest place in the outskirts of detroit. or enough to buy an android, which is as pricey as that. an android? you stop mid-thinking. where did that come from? you have strange ideas for a person that barely wants to live.

3. march – 2037 “would you like to give it a name?” “no” you nervously blurt out, a bit uncomfortable. give it a name? you’re not its parent, it’s not your duty to give it a name. and were you to give it a name, would it become your responsibility then? you sign some papers about a division into instalments. there they go, your savings. you shrug it off, after all long-term plans were never your thing. you always had the sensation that you weren’t going to live past your twenty but here you are. here you are. outside of a shop, wind howling, leaves moving along the sidewalk, you and between your arms a brown bag of groceries with red apples sticking out on top, your android beside with its fingers clasped behind its back. a sepia-toned polaroid of utter confusion and a simply-led life. you didn’t have a clue about how or why everything was going this way.

4. april – 2037 a caretaker model. you’ve found that it is rather handy. it follows your orders but it is also independent enough to cook you a meal without specifying exactly what you would like to eat. which is nice, you guess. choosing every day was starting to be very miserable. it does the shopping too, as it has a huge amount of free time when you’re away. (it cleans during the night). it’s to make sure you have a healthy diet, it says. fair enough. you don’t actually mind it taking control of your daily menial tasks. it’s easier both for you and for it. usually when you get back from your job you’re already too tired to read or watch some television. and if you had the energy, you think you wouldn’t want to anyway. books are full of ads nowadays and reading one is a hassle. the tv always has bad news and you’re not going to demoralize yourself more. also would it ‘scold’ you? reminding you that staring so much at a monitor will reduce your eyesight? you bet it would say these kinds of things for your own benefit. but still, being a ‘good’ person is hard. a warm hearty dinner. you’re glad. you generally don’t feel like eating after such a long day but gulping down the whole thing it’s rather easy. it seems.... ‘satisfied’ while watching you. probably its mimicking program. perhaps looking at its smile, even if fake, might make you at ease.

5. may – 2037 the third month living with it. you only hear its voice when it needs directions to abide by. any other dialogue would be unnecessary. of course you’re gonna grow crazy if this keeps up. one thing is living alone, but another is living with someone and not talking to him– him? what? don’t tell me you’re considering it as a person? freak. you spent two or three nights with the sheets hiding your body, the blue light of your phone illuminating your little breathing space, searching on blogs about androids and humans relationships. maybe it’ll help you make small talk. the lone comments you find, though, are about that kind of bond. should it disgust you? mhh. you close your lids and try to imagine how something like this would play out. it wouldn’t. there’s a reason why you’re single. but not desperate.

6. june – 2037 you’re fed up. you don’t care about what others will think at this point. you need to talk with– with– him. you’ve thought this. he’s definitely a machine. but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be gentle to him. so screw it. you’re going to have conversations. whether he likes it or not. “hey– um, you don’t have a name, don’t you?” “correct.” “would you– would you like one?” “i see no need to it. but if you want i could search for the most popular names of the past year. in the u.s the first then results are–” “no no– it’s– okay, really. it’s fine like this.” what did you expect? for him to act like a human all of a sudden? to give himself a name in his own volition? to care for you because he wants to and not because he’s programmed to? what? where did this thought come from? you don’t need pity from an android.

7. july – 2037 it’s scorching. it’s the heat of the summer. work is hardly bearable. you have to admit, speaking to him it’s a lot less difficult. you’ve been together for five months now. he’s an okay guy. yeah, he won’t say much unless you directly ask him but he’s okay. he also started to take more liberties with you. like reprimanding you if you’re not sleeping by 10AM. or inciting you about going out with people. is he being friendly? you doubt it. but you let him do his things. it’s nice. it’s nice like this. it’s nice to pretend to have someone to care for you. it’s fine, you keep saying that to yourself. it’s fine to dream once in a while. it’s fine. “aren’t you bothered by how hot it is? like, you don’t overheat or something?” “my model was built with better tolerance to higher and lower temperatures than humans.” “mhh. right.” you ponder for some seconds “new clothes!” the perplexed look on his face makes you laugh. which is.... which is....? what it is? is it odd? is it odd for you to feel.... happy? is it odd for you to feel at all? when was the last time you smiled? the trip to the nearest shopping mall is quiet but you’re giddy with excitement. you need something new to wear, he does too. you’re sick of seeing him in the same old outfit. it’s stiff and ugly. he’s a lot more handsome with a white button-down shirt and black trousers. not that he isn’t normally gorgeous but– normally? you’re lost in these thoughts as you’re swiping your card in the meantime. he is beautiful. was he always so beautiful? you’re being childish.

8. august – 2037 you sigh. how many years have passed since you had a day off? you lost count. you’d like to see the ocean. you’d like to see the countryside. you’d like to be up in the mountains with your friends and a white cup of hot chocolate in your palms. summer is ending. you don’t even have time to feel heavy-hearted about it. in the weekend you ask him to buy you a bottle of beer. he curls his mouth in disapproval but does as told. you close the french door that overlooks the fuming city above your tiny balcony. drinking in the complete quiet of your little world. is this the same as a vacation? around midnight he brings you a blanket and places it around your shoulders. you turn and look up to his tall figure. tired eyes with dark circles beneath, a cirrusly smile. “it’s very late.” “yeah.” “it would be ideal to go to bed as soon as possible.” “.... yeah.” silence. “is something on your mind, [name]?” “i guess.” “would you like to share it with me?” you frown. it’s not as if you have something to lose, right? “sit down.” “i can stand, androids don’t–” “sit down, i said.” he’s almost comical, so rigid in an unadorned wooden chair. he seems uneasy, a student taking an exam he didn’t study for. “do you know the meaning of the expression ‘being a zero’?” he nods “it is a metaphor to imply that someone’s value is nothing.” “exactly.” silence again. “is it how you feel, [name]?” your chest heave with exasperation “i don’t see how i can be something else.” he presses his lips, thinking. you shake your head. you’re about to go and bury yourself in your room “in the binary code....” he starts, hesitant “there are zeros and ones. but they’re both essential. together they can convey anything. were the former or the latter cease to exists the message would be lost. ” you pause, knuckles lingering on the frame of the window. your vision cast on the floor and your feet but you’re slightly smiling “then you’re my one?”

9. september – 2037 seven. seven months. seven months since you said goodbye to your finances. “blah blah blah, robot here robot there, you’re always mentioning it!” “come on, that’s not true.” you give hint of a half laugh. “but it is! what, someone’s got a little crush on their babysitter?” “he’s not my babysitter–” “he?” seven months since you said ‘hello’ to a big, sturdy android. seven months and you still don’t regret that. “do you need anything?” “no, thank you. i’m good.” yawning you stretch your arms. gosh, you’re really tired. you close your eyes, ready to rest. you don’t hear him lowering over your forehead and laying a soft kiss. “goodnight, then, [name].” you freeze until he turns out the light and closes your door. did he– did he just–? sleeping will be a problem if you don’t stop blushing. seven. seven months into this messy cohabitation.

10. october – 2037 you feel like you’re getting the hang of living, proper living. it’s not a chore anymore to get out of bed, to shower, to watch the red sunset while working through the last hours of your shift. even going to the supermarket it’s pleasant. you like to pick what to eat. yes, you don’t need to, he says, he’s perfectly capable of memorizing a list, if you were so compliant in doing one in the first place. you’re not going to tell him that it’s a lot more fun this way. ‘happy’ would be the best term to describe you these days. he noticed too. you never addressed what happened last month. but there was no need to. instead, you both started to hold hands without a spoken word. while you’re watching your favourites sitcoms. while you’re reading a paper book. while strolling in the park nearby. you might ask him to teach you how to cook. it will certainly be a disaster but you two would have a good laugh about it.

11. november – 2037 you close the car’s door with enough force to cause a dull thud. so loud it actually disturbs your already awful mood and makes you close your eyes in distress “breathe, [name]” you shift in your seat but do as you’re told nevertheless. you’re trembling, rage seeping through your clenched fists resting on your knees “[name], your stress levels—” crisp air escapes from your lungs in a big white puff, it’s the end of november after all “i know” you shut him up but suddenly regret it “i’m sorry– i didn’t mean to– i–” you inhale once more and bite your lower lip. no no no please no “fuck–” you manage to grit before placing your head on your legs, covering your face with weary hands. you’re crying again. it’s starting to become a habit: him adamant on getting you from work, you crying for a solid ten or fifteen minutes, him hugging you because ‘although crying is a valid form of venting when confronting stress, contact may help you relax, [name]’ and then going home. not driving is your favourite bit, though, as it would give you anxiety. weren’t you just getting better? where did you progress go? you beg him to sleep with you. he and his tender smile don’t complain. he holds you tightly the whole night.

12. december – 2037 it’s snowing. the loneliness and the wish to kill yourself of last year are nothing but a long gone bitter taste in your mouth. now you’re two in this cosy and warm apartment. he’s helping you decorating for the holidays. “i’m not going to be like them.” you say out of the blue. “them?” “my family.” you firmly state, it’s a promise. he can’t help but halt and hug you from behind “it’s okay, love. it’s okay.” you share a sweet kiss while the fireplace softly crackle. apparently, recovery is not linear.

23. november 12th – 2038

he is alive.