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thiccpettybitch · 10 months

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🕸 Bitter Sweet - Ch. 5 Miguel O’hara x F!Reader 🕸

WARNING: SA, NonCon, Graphic description of violence, language and sexual themes.

Part 6

This chapter has a few sensitive scenes so read at your own discretion and keep yourself and your mental health safe.

OR I’LL FKN COME OVER THERE! 👁️👄👁️

When I say you have no idea believe me, you have no ideaaaaa how many times I have gone over and edited this chapter. It’s a longer one kind of a two in one. Can you tell I love writing dialogue? I am trying to really establish relationships outside of the pairing and hope ya’ll are liking your aunt and uncle ❤️

The next day, you made the decision to sleep in, not rising from bed until around noon. Once you finally did get up you threw on something casual, and headed downstairs to get some breakfast and try to reason with your aunt and uncle. Afte what had happened there was no way they were thrilled about you going out to a party, let alone staying out all night. They were reasonable people though, you were sure they would understand, right?

‘’Absolutely not!’’ Your uncle said as he flipped to the next page in the newspaper he was reading.

‘’I wouldn’t be going alone; I would be there with Gwen and two other people. We are going as a group! And afterwards i’m sleeping over at Gwens. She will literally never leave my side’’ You whined while buttering up some fresh toast.

‘’Two, boys?’’ You went quiet trying to think of a response that would work in your favor.

‘’I mean… okay-- yes, but—‘’

Your uncle briefly glanced up from the newspaper, catching sight of the adorable puppy eyes you were giving him. Unamused by your expression, he raised the newspaper, intentionally concealing your face from his view.

"No way, we don't know these boys!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with concern.

‘’They’re from school, I know them. They’re my friends’’ You protested.

As you turned around, your hopeful eyes met those of your aunt. You wordlessly mouthed the plea "please..." and locked your gaze with hers. She looked at you with a mixture of tenderness and understanding before letting out a sigh.

‘’Ben…’’ Your aunt began, ‘’She did help out around here a lot this summer. She’s been keeping good grades and hasn’t missed any homework. Maybe…’’ She trailed off, leaving the words hanging in the air.

"Oh no, you're not against me on this too, are you?" Ben's voice tinged with concern, as he turned his attention to your aunt. "Maybelle, you know why I'm saying this. I just want her to be safe!" Your aunt nodded her head in agreement and walked over to your uncle. She placed a loving hand on his shoulder.

‘’So do i Ben but she is a good kid.’’ your aunt responded, her voice filled with compassion and understanding. "She deserves to have some fun. Y/n is almost an adult, and she has proven herself to be responsible. She's a good and honest kid, and I trust that she won't wait until the last minute to ask for permission ever again, Will she?’’ Your aunt glanced up at you, her eyebrow raised in a daring question.

You shook your head feverously, glancing between the two of them with a wide innocent smile.

You watched your uncle sighed, his shoulders slumping. He folded the newspaper and placed it down on the kitchen table, looking up at you.

YES!

"You keep your phone on you at all times, and you call us when you make it back to Gwen's," your uncle declared, his gaze fixed upon you with a stern look that conveyed the gravity of his expectations. The unspoken message was clear: there would be consequences if you failed to uphold your end of the deal.

‘’I will, I will! I promise!’’ You cheered.

Your uncle sighed again as he reached for a piece of toast, only for you to quickly snatch it from him and bite in to it. He looked up at you shocked, his mouth agape before turning to your aunt. ‘’Did you see that?! She has some nerve! She gets that from your side of the family,’’ he grumbled, a faint smile on his face.

"Oh, I don't know, is that the same nerve you have? Calling me by my full name, Mister Benjamin Franklin," With her hands on her hips, your aunt stood tall, staring down at your uncle with a stern yet loving gaze. He glanced over at you, this time with pleading eyes of his own. You slowly raised your hands, a piece of toast hanging from your mouth, you began to back out of the kitchen, carefully navigating your way out of the crossfire, toast still in tow.

The remaining part of the day was dedicated to tidying up your room, ensuring that there were no pending homework assignments, and meticulously styling your hair while also picking out an outfit. You ended up calling Gwen, seeking her opinion on several dresses, before ultimately decided on a stunning ruched mini dress.

Giving yourself a quick spin in front of the mirror, you couldn't help but admit that the color of the dress complemented your skin tone perfectly. You looked really good!

As you rummaged through your jewelry box, using your finger to shuffle things around, you made a mental note to properly sort through it when you had the time. Grabbing a pair of earrings, you confidently placed one in your ear. However, as you reached to put on the other earring, you suddenly froze, your hand suspended in front of your face.

You stared at the bracelet on your hand, a small scowl forming on your face. You quickly finished putting on the other earring and made your way to the jewelry box, staring down at your hand you mumbled something to yourself in frustration before finally making up your mind.

You grabbed onto the bracelet and began pulling it off, ignoring the red mark that was forming on your wrist. Once you got it off, you dropped it in the box with a huff. Examining your now bare wrist, you noticed a small tan line, not prominent enough to feel the need to cover it up, but enough to be an unwelcome reminder. Casting one last glance at the bracelet, a surge of emotion washed over you and you slammed the jewelry box shut, sealing away both the bracelet and the memory it held.

Your aunt called out to you from downstairs reminding you that it was time to get going. You snatched a pair of sneakers from under your bed, deciding to save yourself from the pain of a twisted ankle. Making your way down the stairs, excitement written all over your face and your sleepover bag slung over your shoulder.

‘’You’re not wearing your dress?’’ she asked as she picked up a lock of your hair, admiring it with a smile.

‘’No, it’s in my bag, I’m gonna get changed at Gwens just in case’’ you chirped. Truth be told you were excited; it had been forever since you had last been to a party. The thought of socializing, dancing a bit, and perhaps indulging in a drink or two~ filled you with giddiness and excitement. Above all, you were simply looking forward to enjoying yourself to the fullest.

"Okay, well, do you have a change of clothes?" You nodded.

‘’Your phone and charger just in case?’’ you aunt asked making you roll your eyes with a small smile on your face.

‘’Aunt May…’’ You began as you made your way towards the door. Your aunt jogged after you and called out in a hushed tone.

‘’What about protection?’’

You hit the brakes so hard your head flung forward, accidentally smacking your own forehead against the doorway of the kitchen. Suppressing a laugh, your aunt swiftly brought a hand to her mouth, her eyes sparkling with amusement. With a mischievous smile, she approached you, clutching a small box in her other hand. You rubbed at your forehead as you turned to look at her.

‘’Aunt May!’’ you hissed, your eyes darting over to your uncle sitting in the living room watching the news, clearly engrossed.

‘’I know I know, but it is always better to have something and not need it, rather than need something and not have it!’’ she insisted.

Your face turned a bright red. ‘’I won’t need it! I don’t—I won’t—‘’ you stammered.

"You really shouldn't, but here, take it anyways.’’ She held the box out towards you with a mischievous smile.

You wanted to drop dead on the spot. However, you managed to gather yourself and hastily snatched the box from her, stuffing it into your backpack. Your aunt smiled affectionately and planted a gentle kiss on your forehead, just as your uncle joined you. His timing; impeccable!

‘’Alright well… I’m off!’’ You said, the embarrassment still lingering.

Your aunt took a step back and nodded as she placed a hand on your uncles arm. They stood there watching you with loving eyes and kind smiles. You paused, turned back around, and embraced them both in a heartfelt hug. They returned the hug, holding you tightly for a moment before gently releasing you.

‘’Be safe! Make sure you go straight, to and from, Gwens house. Oh! and don’t talk to any strangers on your way there!’’ Your aunt said as you headed towards the door.

‘’I won’t’’ You promised.

‘’And if you see anything bad you—‘’ Your uncle began.

‘’I will turn around and head the opposite way, i know.’’ Your uncle grumbled something under his breath but ultimately left it at that. He held on to your aunts hand as you made it through the door.

‘’Oh! And drink moderately!’’ You aunt called out.

‘’Drinking?! No one said anything about drinking! You knew about drinking?’’ Your uncle began, rambling. You darted out the door and waved to them as you jogged out of there.

‘’Will do, love you guys!’’ You heard a faint ‘’you too…’’ as you walked away from the house.

____

Leaning back slightly on the heels of your feet, you casually knocked on the door in front of you. A faint sound of shuffling reached your ears from behind the door, and moments later, Gwen's father swung it open, revealing a warm smile on his face. He looked down at you and stepped aside, inviting you inside. As he closed the door, his eyes scanned you up and down, a fond smile forming on his lips. Commenting on how tall you had gotten he held out his arms and gave you a big bear hug.

"Damn, you've grown, kiddo! Are those some gray hairs I'm seeing?" he teased, his hand poised to ruffle your hair. However, you swiftly dodged out of the way, anticipating his playful gesture. After a life time of him treating you as his own daughter, you had gotten used to it.

"Pfft! I dig the crow's feet, they really complement the graying hair and the whole 'retirement home' outfit you've got going on," you retorted with a mischievous grin. Gwens father playfully placed his hands on his hips and looked away, shaking his head while smiling.

"Little punk..." he said affectionately. "Gwen's in her room. Off you go before you have me crying into my pillow at night," he joked, prompting both of you to burst into laughter, enjoying the playful banter.

As you entered Gwen's room, you were taken aback by the unexpected messiness. Clothes everywhere, and Gwen in the midst of rummaging through her closet, tossing one garment after another onto her bed. The frustration evident on her face, she eventually let out a frustrated groan before plopping down on her bed, defeated.

‘’Woah. I’m guessing you haven’t picked what to wear yet?’’ You say with a sheepish smile. You dropped your bag on the floor, by the door as you stepped inside and sat down next to her.

She sighed and greeted you with a tired smile, ‘’What gave it away?‘’ she asked sarcastically and you scoffed loudly. ‘’Maybe we should call the whole thing off…’’ She said frowning.

‘’I did not have to endure my aunt handing me a box of emergency condoms for us to not go’’ You said with an awkward smile on your face. Gwen looked up at you shocked and you both burst out laughing. She bumped in to you, her way of saying thanks for lightening the mood.

Gwen spent the next forty minutes trying different outfits while you put your makeup on and made sure your hair still looked good. ‘’What about green?’’ She asked holding up a pair of shorts.

‘’You look fine in green but those shorts aren’t really giving me the party vibe.’’ She silently nodded and hung them back inside her closet.

‘’What about…. Red and blue?’’ she asked holding up a jumpsuit.

‘’I don’t know… I always kind of envisioned you in more white and pink colors if you were gonna wear one of those suits’’ you casually responded, wiping some mascara from under your eye.

She let out a groan and tossed the outfit on the bed narrowly avoiding your head. ‘’It’s impossible! Since when do I struggle picking out an outfit?!’’

‘’Well actually…’’ you began awkwardly getting up and joining her. ‘’I wasn’t going to say anything but since you brought it up, could it be that you’re over thinking it?’’ You asked looking at her.

‘’Over thinking?’’ She said, awkwardly folding some hair behind her ear. ‘’Over thinking about what? Why would I be overthinking?’’

‘’You are overthinking this! You never have any issues picking out clothes. Could it be because of, you know…’’ You began and Gwen turned away from you as you spoke.

‘’I know…’’

"Because of Miles.’’ You said with a mischievous smile, your voice maintaining a monotone tone. ‘’You know Miles? The guy you like? You know who I’m talking about? M-I-L-E-S" you teased.

She threw a pillow at you making you laugh. Her eyes narrowed dangerously but you could see a smile on her face. ‘’I know what you mean! You jerk!’’ She exclaimed.

Just as the both of you were about to start an all-out pillow war her dad knocked on the door and walked inside, once he got the all clear.

"No, I got her right here, Ben," Gwen's father walked in with his phone against his ear as he waved at you. You smiled and returned the wave. Suddenly, you realized you had forgotten to let your aunt and uncle know that you had made it there safely. Gwen's dad could see the panic on your face as you stared at him, and he waved a dismissive hand your way.

‘’No it’s my bad Ben, I was talking to the girls about some safety procedures, she didn’t get the chance to yet. Don’t worry I’m not sleeping till they’re back here. If anything comes up, I’m not far away and I got my cruiser parked outside. They will be fine.’’ He said with a wink and you smiled wider. Gwnes father walked out of the room, closing the door after himself and you let out a deep breath.

Phew! That could have been bad. Gott remember to make it up to you them tomorrow.

Gwen's excitement peaked as she finally found something to wear. Could it be because you both had a heartfelt conversation and made a promise to never leave her alone, just her and Miles? Maybe so, maybe so.

Either way, she decided to go with a short white dress, a long black cardigan, a pink choker and some silver chains and finally a pair of black low heels.

She looked really cute and you complimented her which caused her to just awkwardly shrug and slip the sleeves down over her hands. Speaking of hands, Gwen suddenly grabbed yours, holding it up and inspecting your wrist. Cursing under your breath you pulled your wrist back and turned away from her, holding your wrist against your chest with a bitter look on your face.

‘’This mean you’re officially over him or-- ?’’

"That is NOT why I wore it!" you hissed , your tone coming out harsher than you intended.

‘’Okay… Sensitive.’’ She said holding her hands up. You sighed and turned back to her.

‘’I’m sorry i- I didn’t mean to--’’ Gwen pulled you in for a hug and you relaxed in to it with a smile.

‘’Thanks. For—well, you know.’’ You said and she nodded.

The rest of the hour was spent adding finishing touches, running over the plan with Gwens father, again, and finally you were on your way to the party. It was only about a fifteen-minute walk.

‘’So, is your dad really going to sit up and wait for us? Do we need to be home by a certain time?’’ You asked skeptically.

Gwen shook her head while playing with the sleeves on her cardigan ‘’No, he’ll fall asleep on the couch after watching a few movies. It’s more of a trust system, as long as we don’t stay out all night he doesn’t mind’’ she said.

‘’Ugh I wish I had a trust system…’’ you mumbled.

‘’I mean you were recently in a life-or-death situation. I don’t really blame your aunt and uncle for being extra protective.’’ Gwen said casually.

‘’Yeah I guess…’’

After walking for about ten minutes, Gwen pulled out her phone and navigated the two of you to the designated meeting spot. As you rounded a corner, you spotted the guys waiting there. Miles was dressed in baggy dark shorts, a basketball jersey, and a hoodie layered with a jacket. Hobie, on the other hand, sported tight black ripped jeans, a black T-shirt paired with a leather vest, and accessorized with a spiked collar around his neck and a spiked bracelet on one hand. Both of them looked stylish, but it was clear who had captured Gwen's attention.

‘’Hey guys—Gwen, you look… good. Great! You look great!’’ Miles said as the two of you walked up to him. He stared at her with wide eyes, and Gwen nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Ahem!" Hobie cleared his throat, nudging Miles and snapping him out of his trance. Miles turned his gaze towards you and flashed an awkward smile.

‘’Oh, and you too y/n! You look good too!’’ Miles said scratching the back of his head.

You rolled your eyes and smiled brightly. You all began walking towards the party as a group, Miles and Gwen ended up walking ahead, while you and Hobie walked next to each other. He offered you his arm, ‘’M’lady?’’ he asked with a grin on his face.

"Why, thank you, good sir!" you exclaimed, putting on a posh and snobby voice as you slid your arm under his.

The two of you ended up walking together talking and joking, a few of the jokes being about the two people in front of you. Occasionally, Miles would cast a hesitant glance back, only to be met with a reassuring smile from Hobie, who silently encouraged him to be confident. With the sun having set, the city revealed its enchanting beauty under the night sky.

Finally, you all made it to the party, it was being held in a house in a more suburban area of the city. Once you all made it inside you ended up splitting up. You and Miles went to get some drinks while Gwen and Hobie found a place to sit; a comfortable distance from the music, allowing you to have a conversation without it blaring in your ears, yet still able to hear the rhythmic beats.

You made your way towards the kitchen, greeting a few people you knew from school along the way. Once you entered the kitchen, you effortlessly grabbed two ciders, while Miles swiftly retrieved two red cups.

‘’You know—‘’ Miles began awkwardly, ‘’You always see these red cups in movies where there are parties happening. I don’t even know what they are called haha. But they’re always… always there.’’ His voice gradually becoming more quiet.

‘’They’re disposable beer pong cups, Miles.’’ You said with a smile, faint amusement on your face.

‘’Right— right! Cuz... that’s what you do with cups. Besides drinking of course. Uhm—‘’ He began again and you chuckled.

‘’Miles relax, just take a deep breath’’ You said putting a supportive hand on his shoulder.

Miles nodded a few times taking a few deep breaths. ‘’I’m good, I’m cool. Thank you y/n. I’m just nervous man… don’t tell Gwen—‘’ You held your hands up running one of them over your lips in a ‘’my lips are sealed’’ motion.

"You want my advice? Just relax and have a great time. Tonight is all about being with her, surrounded by good music, drinks, and friends. Just be true to yourself," you said, pouring two drinks in to the cups.

‘’Everyone keeps saying that, You, Hobie my Mom! Just be yourself. What does that even mean?’’ Miles says with a bitter voice.

‘’It means; be the nice and funny guy we all know and love. Be Miles, be yourself.’’ You said with the same reassuring smile.

Miles looked at you surprised before smiling, he nodded his head and poured the drinks motioning for you to follow him. ‘’Thanks y/n. Oh and… don’t tell anyone about the whole mom thing?’’

‘’My lips are sealed, Morales.’’ You said with a wink and he just chuckled shaking his head at you.

The rest of the hour was fun, and you found yourself playing the role of the beer maid, fetching drinks for everyone. You didn't mind, though. As you returned with drinks in your hands, you noticed that Miles and Gwen had stepped to the side to hang out. You walked over to them, handing them their new drinks, shooting a playful wink at Gwen before leaving them to talk.

As you walked away you glanced around the room in search of Hobie, your eyes eventually landed on him leaning against a doorway. You were about to walk over to him when you noticed that he was talking to another guy you didn’t recognize. You watched as Hobie leaned over towards the guy and whispered something in his ear, most likely as the music was loud. The guy looked a bit flustered and Hobie ran his hand over the guys hand, causing the guy to blush and smile up at him. You realized that they were flirting and awkwardly darted away making sure you didn’t third wheel.

You made it over to a bay window, sitting down and leaning back against the window frame, enjoying the music and sipping on your drink. Glancing around the room you saw a few people you knew and smiled their way. In one corner you saw Reilly leaned against a wall flexing his muscles. You internally facepalmed as you watched the group of girls surrounding him fawn over him, or more specifically his physique. He flexed his arms and slapped his biceps inviting anyone to touch them if they dared. You shook your head, that guy was such a dork.

You suddenly froze, your eyes going wide as you realized who was standing, leaned up against a wall a few feet away from Reilley. The thought of Miguel being here hadn’t even crossed your mind, you had been so busy dealing with your aunt and uncle and Gwen and Miles that you forgot to even ask him.

What should you do? Should you even do anything? Are you leaning weird? You scooted further up the windowsill making sure to pull down your dress as you did. Your chest bounced up and you awkwardly caught a guy checking you out, it wasn’t really wanted so, ew. You shot him a nasty look and he seemed to catch on.

‘’Hey’’

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Hobie joined you, but quickly scooted over to create some space for him. He sat down beside you, settling in comfortably.

‘’Hey! having a good time?’’ You asked with a smile.

‘’Yeah, music’s garbage though’’ he said with a hint of a smirk.

‘’Oh yeah? Didn’t look like you were paying much attention to the music’’ you said with a grin.

‘’Oh! Was you watching me? Perv~’’ You lightly bumped into him, making him chuckle.

‘’I never knew you swung both ways,’’ you said while vibing to the music. You liked Post Malone, you thought as you sipped on your drink.

‘’Ah. Guy, Gall. It’s all calm, innit?’’ He said dismissively, you looked at him a bit confused and he shrugged.

‘’Don’t really matter what’s on the outside, you feel me? It’s what’s on the inside that matters.’’ He said while leaning back and inhaling through a single nostril before shrugging nonchalantly.

You flashed a smile and nodded in agreement. "I like the way you put it," you said, and he responded with a smile of his own.

After chatting for a while, Hobie gave you a friendly pat on the shoulder and went back to the guy he had been talking to. They found a spot on the couch and picked up where they left off. Meanwhile, you pulled out your phone to check for any missed calls or messages. As you scrolled through your inbox, you came across Peter's name and frowned.

You glanced up and spotted Miguel still leaned up against a wall, talking to some friends. Your heart fluttered as you watched him laugh at a joke, his smile causing your cheeks to heat up a bit. Maybe the drinks you had been sipping on so far helped a bit but you were pretty sure it was mostly him.

Talk to him.

Biting down on you bottom lip you could feel the nervousness ripple through your entire body. Should you go over there? What would you say? He’s clearly over there with friends, but… you were also his friend. Why else would he give you, his number?

More like he took yours but, tomato potato.

That’s not how that goes… you’re tipsy.

You observed with a sinking feeling as a woman approached from behind and leaned against Miguel's arm. Her gaze met his, and they exchanged smiles while he took another sip from his drink. The once warm fluttering sensation within you swiftly transformed into an icy grip, a sense of disappointment and unease settling in.

Was he here with someone…?

Well, duh, he is a hot guy. Why wouldn't he be here with someone? You thought bitterly to yourself. In fact, you hadn't even considered the possibility that he might not be single. For all you know, he could have a partner, maybe even several. The cold feeling spread to through your chest, and it made you feel nauseous. The girl leaned against him asking him something with a devilish smirk on her face. Miguel shook his head and leaned down to whisper something in to her ear. For a moment it looked as if he might have seen you, if he had however, he didn’t seem to care.

Ouch.

Glancing back down at your phone, you noticed the visible tan line on your wrist and frowned. You grabbed your drink and finished it, feeling a bit uneasy. Sliding your phone back into your purse, you headed back towards the kitchen, the same frown still on your face. You decided to stay away from that side of the house. As you approached the kitchen, someone bumped into you with enough force to send you on your knees.

‘’Oops- my bad!’’ It was Reilly and as he apologized, he grabbed you by the arms and lifted you up without much effort. Holy crap he was strong!

‘’I don’t realize how strong I am, sometimes it’s really more of a curse than a gift.’’ He laughed as he let go of you.

You let out an awkward laugh dusting off your knees and pulling your dress down a bit.

‘’Do I know you from somewhere?’’ he asked inspecting your face with a hand on his chin.

‘’Oh uhm, we have some classes together, mainly Spanish’’ You answered awkwardly.

‘’Oh! Right! Ehl-span-hjol!’’ he said with a grin and you had to fight the urge not to visibly cringe. ‘’I thought I recognized you from across the room’’ he continued while leaning against the kitchen counter.

You grabbed another drink and turned to him surprised, ‘’you were watching me?’’

He shook his head opening a beer and taking a big sip of it, ‘’Nah nothing creepy like that, I just noticed you because, you know, you’re pretty and stuff’’ He said flashing you a million dollar smile.

Before you had a chance to respond, another guy swung by with a tray of something. He placed the tray down next to the two of you and shouted something about putting down a vase, and that if it broke his parents were gonna kill him. Must have been the host you thought to yourself.

‘’You gotta try these, they are A- MAZING!’’ Reilly exclaimed, holding up a tray filled with small glasses of Jello-O. As you inspected them closer, you couldn't help but be intrigued.

Shrugging you grabbed one and threw it back, it was super fruity with a hint of something bitter. ‘’They’re nice’’ you said with a faint smile.

‘’Try a green one, they are the best! Or was it orange…?’’ Reilly said inspecting them.

In the end you ended up having at least one of each, maybe eight or nine of them in total. You let out a mix of a burp and a hiccup. Reilly made a joke that made you laugh. You found this guy to be so darn funny!

‘’Anyways that’s how I beat a horse in arm wrestling, well more like leg wrestling but that’s not the point’’ he said with a smirk.

‘’A horse kicked you in the chest?!’’ You asked both confused and surprised.

‘’What can I say, he was a sore loser’’ He shrugged and flexed his right arm.

You laughed loudly, slapping his arm a few times in the process. You could not believe how funny this guy was! Was- was he always this funny?

‘’These Jell-O candies are really good, but I think I’ve had enough.’’ You awkwardly laughed.

‘’Shots’’ He corrected while looking down at his own biceps.

‘’Sorry?’’ You asked confused.

‘’They’re Jell-O shots, you know—the drink but Jell-O?’’

‘’There’s booze in these?’’ You asked with a frown.

‘’Ya, not much though so you should be fine. Unless you’ve been drinking a lot before this.’’ He said shrugging his shoulders. ‘’Oh! There’s Stacy, I will see you—‘’ he said winking and clicking his tongue, clearly checking you out ‘’--later!’’ Before chasing down another girl.

You quickly descended from the counter, but as your feet hit the ground, you cursed as the room seemed to spin around you. You had to catch yourself on the counter to steady your balance, feeling a bit disoriented.

You knew there was a reason you found that idiot funny!

You took a moment to steady yourself and made your way towards the living room, your head and vision was spinning a bit and it felt as the more time passed the worse it was getting. You glanced around the room for any signs of Hobie.

You check the couch but instead of Hobie, the girls that were surrounding Reilly earlier were sitting on it. They saw you and eyed you before whispering among themselves and giggling. You frowned feeling very self-conscious as you made your way back to the window.

You couldn’t see Hobie anywhere nor could you see Gwen or Miles, last you had seen them they were heading upstairs, and there was no way you trusted yourself to walk upstairs at the moment.

Getting back on your feet, you decided it was best to head towards the door for some fresh air, even if you were feeling a bit unsteady.

Leaning against the wall for support, you slowly made your way, contemplating whether leaving the party in your current state was a good idea. Perhaps it would be better to stay inside and find a place to rest?

As you weighed your options, fate intervened, and suddenly, you tripped over something and stumbled forward, bracing yourself for the impact. However, to your surprise, pain never came.

Opening your eyes, you found yourself in the arms of a tall, slim guy with glasses. He had come to your rescue and helped you back up on your feet. As you steadied yourself, you couldn't help but notice the shared state of drunkenness between the two of you.

‘’m’sorry’’ you mumbled straightening up.

You leaned against a nearby wall, letting out a huff as the guy stumbled and fell against you. He mumbled something about being embarrassed and how much he liked you; Olivia. Last time you checked however your name was not Olivia. You tried to move him off you but he wouldn’t budge. He shifted his head closer to your ear, continuing to mumble about his feelings for you and how you made him feel. It reminded you of the moments when Miguel used to whisper things in your ear during Spanish class, but this situation felt entirely different; this was making you feel nauseous.

As you desperately attempted to free yourself, you realized he was forcefully pressing against you, effectively trapping you between his body and the wall. An overwhelming sense of sickness and panic surged through you, leaving you trembling with fear and unease. You felt his hand come up against your thigh gripping you painfully, his thumb slid against the inside of your thigh and under the hem of your dress.

‘’Please get off me…’’ You let out a trembling whimper as a wave of fear washed over you, causing tears to well up behind your eyes.

The guy grinded up against you and you almost gagged, you turned your head away from him as he tried to go in for a kiss. His weight pressed down on you, made it difficult to breathe, let alone call for help. The room spun around you, but amidst the blurry figures and distant voices, you realized that no one seemed to notice the distress you were in. It was as if you were invisible, trapped in a nightmare with no one to save you.

You watched in horror as the guy continued to grind against your hip, his advances becoming more forceful. You couldn't bear the unwanted touch any longer, and a quiet cry for help escaped your lips. Desperation filled your mind as you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for what would come next. And then, suddenly the weight on top of you vanished, along with the unwelcome hands. The fear that had gripped you was replaced with shock and confusion.

You opened your eyes, and to your relief, you saw the guy being forcefully pushed up against the opposite wall. A large hand held him in place, keeping his head pinned against the surface. The sight before you brought a mix of emotions—gratitude, confusion, and a glimmer of hope.

"Don't know how to keep your hands to yourself, eh cabrón?" Miguel spat, his voice filled with anger and disdain as he stared down the guy who had assaulted you. The intensity in Miguel's eyes was so fierce that it almost made his eyes appear red. It was a gaze filled with anger and protectiveness.

Miguel tightened his grip on the guy's skull, his fingers digging into the man's scalp like sharp talons. Gritting his teeth, Miguel applied more pressure, causing the guy to whimper in pain. The sound was drowned out by the thumping music in the background.

Suddenly, you felt a pair of gentle hands on your shoulders, causing you to flinch involuntarily. The arms wrapped around you, providing support and comfort. As you looked up, you met a pair of kind brown eyes that exuded warmth and compassion. The woman in front of you flashed a gentle smile, concern etched across her face. You realized that it was the woman from before, the one that seemed close to Miguel.

"You okay, sweetheart?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine care. The tears welled up in your eyes once again as you glanced at the guy who had just assaulted you and then back at her. The weight of the situation bore heavily on you, and you nodded, unable to find your voice in that moment.

Miguel leaned closer to the guys head, ‘’Podría aplastarte la cabeza aquí mismo, contra esta maldita pared.’’ He snarled.

‘’Miguel!’’ The woman called out.

Miguel turned around, keeping his hand pinned against the guy’s head. He glanced at the woman who gestured towards you, and as his gaze met your tear-streaked face, his expression shifted from a snarl to a deep frown. With a sigh, he slowly released his grip on the guy's face. Instead, he grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and forcefully tossed him towards the door, watching as he flailed and crashed into it. Miguel then walked over and positioned himself between you and the guy, his back turned to the drunken assailant.

"Get the hell out of here, before I break every bone in that hand," he warned, looking down at you, his gaze fixed on your teary eyes. Slowly, he extended his hand towards your face.

"Oh yeah? Nnn'hat if I don't?" the guy slurred, his words barely coherent.

You watched as Miguel's entire demeanor shifted.

"Not a good idea, kid..." the woman warned, her voice filled with caution as she pulled you protectively towards herself.

Miguel whipped around to face the guy, the muscles in his shoulders and back tensing, his tall frame towering over the guy. His intense glare made it seem as if he was about to rip the guy's head off. "Do you want to find out?’’ he uttered, the words dripping with a menacing threat rather than a genuine question.

"Miguel," the woman called out again, her voice filled with concern. But Miguel remained motionless, his focus entirely on the guy in front of him.

The drunk guy, on the other hand, shook his head, stumbled towards the door, and hastily made his way out. The commotion had caught the attention of the surrounding partygoers, and now their eyes were on you and the aftermath of the incident. Feeling a mixture of embarrassment and relief, you looked around awkwardly until your gaze landed on the woman who had been holding you. With a comforting smile, she offered you a sympathetic look.

Finally, Miguel turned around taking a deep breath, running a hand through his hair to slick it back into place. He faced you, and you cautiously looked up at him, uncertain of what to expect. As he gazed down at you, his face had returned to its usual state - a deep frown and furrowed brows.

The woman released her grip on you, and you tentatively approached Miguel, intending to apologize. However, your steps faltered, causing you to stumble slightly. In a swift motion, Miguel reached out and grasped your arm, steadying you. Without a word, he guided you towards the door, and you walked alongside him, feeling a mix of gratitude and awkwardness. As the door closed behind you, shutting off the noise from the party, the woman went over to the speakers and turned up the volume. It was as if a collective amnesia had taken hold, and everyone seemed to have forgotten the previous events.

Miguel abruptly spun you around to face him, and before you could utter an apology, he pulled you firmly against his chest. You froze in place, your arms hovering uncertainly as he enveloped you in his embrace. His protective arm rested on the small of your back, providing a sense of comfort and safety. With a touch of tenderness, his right hand gently stroked your hair, though his movements were slightly awkward. You felt a mix of emotions, unsure of how to react to this unexpected display of gentleness.

"It's okay, I've got you.’’ Miguel reassured you, his voice filled with warmth and reassurance. Your shoulders began to shake, overwhelmed with emotion.

"You're safe with me. No one is going to lay a hand on you," he continued, his soothing tone soothing your frazzled nerves. Unable to contain your tears any longer, you began to cry against his chest, finding solace in his protective embrace.

The door slammed open, and a concerned Miles and Hobie rushed out, followed closely by a panicked Gwen.

"Oi bruv, what are you doing?!" Hobie questioned, stepping towards the two of you, seemingly ready to intervene. In response, Miguel raised his eyes with an almost bored and unfazed expression, although his muscular back remained tense, as if he was still prepared for anything.

"Woah, it's alright, man. It's Miguel. What happened?" Miles interjected, attempting to diffuse the tension. As Miguel saw Miles, he visibly relaxed.

"Y/n, oh my god!" Gwen cried out, running towards you with open arms. Miguel moved to the side, allowing Gwen to envelop you in a tight embrace. Meanwhile, Hobie glared at Miguel, clearly still harboring some animosity. Miles intervened, placing a calming hand on Hobie's shoulder and urging him to relax.

"Y/n, I'm so, so sorry! What happened? Are you okay? People were saying you were in a fight?!" Gwen's voice trembled with concern as she anxiously assessed your well-being.

"It’s been dealt with.’’ Miguel responded quietly, his gaze fixed on you.

"I didn't ask you," Gwen hissed at Miguel, her frustration palpable. Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head in exasperation while muttering something in Spanish.

As you mumbled something about Miguel saving you from the drunk guy, your body shivered in disgust, the memories still fresh in your mind.

Gwen expressed her gratitude and offered an apology to Miguel, who simply waved his hand in a dismissive manner, while shaking his head.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea washed over you, and you bent over, vomiting into a nearby bush. Interestingly enough Jell-O shots taste the same coming up as they do going down.

Next thing you knew, Miguel had scooped you up in his arms, carrying you through the streets of the city on his back. As you looked down, you realized you were wearing an oversized shirt, and the bare skin against you felt warm and comforting.

‘’W- what’s going on?’’ You questioned confused and drunk.

‘’You are being taken back to your friend house.’’ Miguel said, his hands folded under your ass as he carried you on his back.

‘’Why are you naked?’’

‘’I’m not— I am not naked, tonto! I am just shirtless, thanks to you.’’ He answered bitterly.

‘’I got you naked?’’ You drunkenly slurred, a smile on your face.

‘’Ay, por dios… You threw up all over your dress! I am not carrying you with vomit all over yourself.’’ He said with a tired sigh.

‘’m’sorry Miggy~’’ You whimpered.

‘’Don’t call me—‘’ he sighed, ‘’don’t worry about it, dummy.’’ You let out a small giggle and he scoffed in response, shaking his head. You had your arms resting on top of his shoulders and as your wrist came in to his vision he stopped for a moment.

‘’No more bracelet?’’ he asked as he continued walking behind the rest of the group.

‘’Why’s everyone noticing it all of a sudden?’’ you asked frowning.

‘’That mean you finally over that kid?’’ He asked nonchalantly.

‘’s’not why I wore it….’’ You sulked.

He hummed as he listened to you speak. ‘’You’ll have to get a replacement then.’’

‘’I don’t want a replacement’’ you mumbled, sulking.

‘’What do you want then?’’ he asked curiously.

Thinking for a moment your mumbled:

‘’Would you get me one? From you?’’

Miguel went silent for a moment as he walked, you rested your head against his shoulder nuzzling in to the crook of his neck sighing contently.

‘’Is that what you want?’’ he questioned, had you been more sober you might have noticed how serious his tone was, but alas.

‘’Yeah, I want one from Miguel.’’ You said with a smile as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

‘’Lo tienes, cariño’’ He mumbled as he carried you back to Gwens place.

___________________________________________________________

· Podría aplastarte la cabeza aquí mismo, contra esta maldita pared - I could smash your head right here against this fucking wall.

· ‘’Lo tienes, cariño’’ – You got it, sweetheart.

#miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #miguel x y/n #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara fanfiction #y/n #spider-man: across the spider-verse #spider-man 2099 #spider-man 2099 x reader #hobie brown #gwen stacy #miles morales #atsv #Bitter Sweet

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gwydion-aacblog · 8 months

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Hope this is okay to ask you about, please only answer if you feel able. I'm starting a new job that involves working with some kids that are nonverbal, I'm autistic but only sometimes struggle with verbal so I want to learn more and find other ways to communicate. I was wondering if you had any advice from personal experience?

Thanks so much, hope you have a great day!

well , hard really give just one good answer because that will depend on each person .

when nonverbal , often have problems with language in general , but even that is different for each .

some might not have any problems understand same words that abled peers can understand ... but then might have problems express , which can make really hard sometimes to know how much understand .

or , might have problem with understand pronouns , like how " you " is not always same person , and everyone is " i " until not . that could mean get confuse if learn about people in history for example , can not follow enough to remember who is who and who did what .

and while these not " part of " nonverbal inherently , often nonverbal alongside ( or because ) things like autism that can come with audio , visual , or in general sensory process problems , or intellectual disability that make just everything harder follow .

so not really , one answer to how can communicate , each will probably need something little different .

but in general ?

keep language at same age level , or little bit lower , and sentences not too long . do not shy from explain again in lower level , if anyone struggle . sometimes character stories also help for this .

give pauses when possible , especially new information or instruction .

try make sure no one feel shame if have questions , need hear again , or need have text or picture guide rather than just say . most important have same information and instruction , even if different form .

language problems can make hard say what mean , even if have words map out nice on tablet , cards , or in big book . might want look at and learn about different AAC strategies , and PODD especially . PODD can give framework for questions to ask if not sure . not something that expect fully learn and bust out for every single kid , every single time , but learn how parents use PODD , and be observant to know where questions should start .

if not all kids nonverbal , try wait for anyone nonverbal to finish AAC message before listen and talk to anyone else , unless have that person's permission take someone else while write , or ( hopefully not happen ) is emergency situation that need immediate attention . ( know sometimes , kids not all make so easy . but still , try do best , so nonverbal kids not feel like will ignore to favour those who speak . )

hope is able help 💚 wish luck and good times !

#nonverbal

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lola-andheruniverse · 7 months

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okay, I have a ~theory~ about all the clear shipbaiting on TWD:DD S1

I think NR/GN/Zabel are trying to make Isabelle a 2.0 version of Leah, with hints of Connie and I don't like it one bit because I don't think it's necessary but it's good for canon caryl.

Hear me out: AK original plans for Leah was for her to be a foe for Carol. Everything that Leah was and wasn't screamed Carol. All those parallels on 'Find me'? AK would have been more subtle if she had pointed a neon arrow at both women's head. She would be the final catalyst to canon caryl because, apparently, Daryl and Carol couldn't just solve their feelings for each other without a another angsty plot no one asked for. Anyways, nothing AK originally planned happened because Gimple interfered, and with Lauren negotiating Maggie's return as the leading female of S11A, Melissa was shoved aside and everything about Leah became even more WTF than it already was because Maggie x Pope x Leah made no sense whatsoever. She died with zero emotional impact. Fast forward to the series finale: Daryl confesses his love. Carol clearly doesn't get the depth of what he's saying. Why would she? They never had the resolution they were supposed too within Leah's arc. Daryl interprets Carol's light 'I love you too' as 'she doesn't love me on the same way I love her'. Oblivious idiots in love 101.

Okay, cut to TWD:DD and Isabelle. Isabelle has similar character traits to Carol, although they are not as obvious as it was with Leah. Isabelle's part of a religious group as Leah was. Both groups are a little bit suspicious. Remember Laurent reading to the priest-turned-walker? He said they were waiting for his second coming or something like that. Both Laurent and Isabelle are incredibly reticent on killing walkers. The kid has an excuse: he's just a kid. What is Isabelle's excuse? Leah was a very manipulative person and tried to guilt-trip Daryl on staying with her. Daryl only decided to 'belong' with Leah after Carol told him that she couldn't visit him anymore because of Henry and Ezekiel. He angrily asked her "you asking my permission?"...to move on from him with her life. Daryl was lost at that moment, grieving Rick, and Carol was married to someone else he saw as better than him and deserving of her. Leah was right there offering him something closer to a home and to love. Why wouldn't he accept her offering? Lucky us, she's already gone by the time he came back. Carol got him out of the woods eventually and he got back to his real family.

Let's go back to Isabelle now. She's trying to do the same thing Leah did. But she's not going to succeed because Daryl's not on the same emotional place he was when he met Leah. Even if he loses hope to come back home at some point, he'll never feel like he truly belongs anywhere else than his truly home - Carol. The teaser trailer for 'The Book of Carol' clearly show us that. He knows where he belongs. BUT, when Carol arrives, she'll see him adjusted, with a younger woman giving him heart eyes and a kid following him everywhere. The woman is supposedly a nun, a woman of faith. Carol was once a religious woman, so she'll probably admire Isabelle. She may think Isabelle's better than her, untouched by all the horrors of the ZA. Isabelle's definitely not a murderer like she is, Carol's low self esteem will whisper to her. Isabelle's better for Daryl than Carol is, the same way Connie was better for him. Daryl's probably in love with her, he just loves Carol as a best friend. And it's her duty as his best friend to point him in the direction of the good woman over there, who can have his babies, while Carol sadly smiles and gives him her blessing. *snort*

There's it, the supposed angsty plot no one asked for that Daryl and Carol need to cross the line to romantic canon because, again, saying 'I love you' and crossing an entire fucking ocean apparently isn't enough, we've got to insert a third part to shake things up. *snort again* That was the intention with Leah but TPTB changed their plans last minute. I don't think Isabelle will become a villain like Leah, unless they kill Laurent off. But if TWD:DD is really about Daryl getting his happy ending, he doesn't need another dead child to grief, does he? Does this make sense to anyone other than me and my caryl brain? No, only me? That's okay.

#caryl #caryl speculation #caryl positivity #caryl is endgame #twd: daryl dixon #book of carol

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iron-strange12 · 7 months

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“you barely remember your dad, Morgan, you can't use him as an influential male figure in your life for Father's Day.”

That was said to her about a week ago by one of the pretentious girls in her private school and she hasn't stopped thinking about it. Of course, she retaliated, not in violence since her mother taught her better. No, she used words, and those cut deeper than any slap across the cheek.

Still, her feelings were hurt because the girl had been right.

So, here she was. A coffee right in front of her and some of her dad's old blueprints. She remembered bits and pieces of his time together with her, but it was all becoming a blur now that she was getting older. His memory is plastered all over the world and videos of him are online but the important ones, the intimate ones of him without his emotional armor. Those were her favorites and they were all in the home videos FRIDAY had made where no one could see them but her.

“ Fri?” The seventeen-year-old called out, her eyes not leaving the paper with different calculations, “Can you please bring up anything about Dad?”

“Anything in particular?”

“All of his blueprints, I want everything on display,” Morgan has seen every single video and read everything regarding her dad. This was her first time sitting down and fully trying to understand the way his mind worked. She was classified as a genius as well, but despite what people say, she doesn’t see herself as better than her dad. She wishes to be at the same level as him, never more.

She set the paper down when she saw the holograms be brought up and read over each blueprint carefully, marking her favorites and laughing at the small comments he left himself like, “Don't forget to rub it in hammers face” and “Peppers birthday is next week…I think?”

It wasn’t until she got to a particular year of blueprints that caught her attention. 2016 to be exact. She enhanced the blueprint and her confusion grew along with it. “Spiderman..?” She muttered to herself. She marked that one red for important and then moved on to the others and she quickly realized that there were many more blueprints for him. And suddenly, those little funny comments her dad left were filled with other comments as well.

“Don’t forget the dishes, Pete.”

“Already done Mr. Stark”

“I know what you did kid, you’re grounded.”

“You dared me to?!”

“Mr. Stark don’t forget to sign my permission slip, please!”

“On top of my list of things kid, don’t worry.”

Each one had a comment and a response, she felt like she was watching someone’s YouTube channel or Instagram post. It made her feel left out because this “Pete” had her father's attention more than she ever had despite him being her father.

Morgan let a breath out, not liking this envious emotion she was feeling in the pit of her stomach. Instead, she continued her search, ignoring the comments until she reached 2018. Two particular blueprints caught her eye. One was filled with similar comments to the others and the next seemed empty compared to the previous ones. Only a week apart difference.

“I have your stuff in my attic kid along with your aunts, nothing was lost.”

“Wherever you are kid, I hope you’re having fun with your friends.”

“I’m sorry kid.”

“I miss you”

There were more depressing ones that she couldn’t bear to look at the strong man she knows her father as to be lost like this in these little comments. He must have blipped she thought to herself, remembering the stories she heard of the big battle of 2018 and the war of 2023.

She marked the blueprint.

There were others, not informative but she continued with her markings until she got to the last one.

“Time travel,” she gasped softly, her eyes reading quickly every calculation she could set her eyes on. Her dad was the one who invented time travel! Why? How do people now know about this?

She marked it red but when she did her eyes set on the only comment on the blueprint.

“I’m getting you back kid, whatever it takes…”

This comment is what made her body go cold as she connected the dots. This singular comment is what let the envious feeling that had festered in the pit of her stomach get out. He’s the reason I don’t have my dad with me?!

“Miss Morgan,” Friday began, “you seem to be in distress, shall I call for your mother?”

Morgan took a deep breath and shook her head. Her mom had been working nonstop, the last thing she needed was for her to be woken up at three in the morning to calm her jealous daughter.

“It’s fine Friday,” she said, with a sigh before continuing, “What do you know about a guy named Pete?”

Not even a minute later the A.I replied, “There’s nothing in my databases about him.” Morgan pursed her lips in disappointment before getting another idea. “Friday, what do you know about Spider-Man?”

Again, the A.I replied with efficiency, “He is considered a vigilante and the hero of Queens, he’s been known to help the underdog and solve smaller crimes.” Morgan nodded before coming with a decision, “pull up everything on him, I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

Morgan left the A.I with her task as she walked towards the door that led to the attic. She doesn’t know why they had an attic, especially as a family of technology but she doesn’t judge, maybe this is where he hid some things.

She looked around for a bit, laughing at some old photos and old costumes of her childhood. After moving around some more boxes, she found one with the label P. Parker on the side. Lifting the lid, she saw various things that someone her age might call vintage but are really not.

There was a yellow letterman jacket that looked too small to be a jock. Hold up, she thought to herself I can’t judge him just yet. It was confirmed a second later when she pulled out first place ribbons from decathlon competitions that the jacket was in fact not a jock.

She looked through more stuff inside the box, pulling out various Star Wars Lego figurines and other merchandise. A t-shirt with a bad pun and a yearbook. Finally, she can put a face to the strange person that had hogged the memories of her dad.

However, as she flipped through the pages, she couldn’t find anyone named Pete Parker but she assumed it was the kid that kept getting blocked in the most awkward way ever.

She let out an annoyed huff and put everything back in its box aside from the letterman jacket and the yearbook. Walking back down into her forgotten workspace, she saw the new information about a certain Spider-Themed hero, a victorious smile on her face despite not finding any answers in the attic. Once again, technology proves itself to be better, she thought to herself before thinking that her dad would absolutely agree with her thought.

She pulled her phone out and sent a quick message, knowing that they were awake as well. Looking at all the information in front of her she quickly refilled her mug with some new coffee.

It’s going to be a long night she thought to herself as settled in to her seat, her feet that wore fuzzy socks tucked in underneath her and Friday began to read.

——————-

Sneak peek of a new fic I'm writing that I can relate to and I hope you all like it. ❤️

#tony stark #marvel #peter parker #robert downey jr #tom holland #avengers endgame #morgan stark #this might make people cry #please let me know if you like it #grief #avengers #fic writing

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neverinadream · 2 years

Text

They Don't Love Me, They Just Want To See Me Naked - Part II

Previous Part | Next Part

Summary: Billy broke her heart, corrupted her reputation with lies and left her unable to trust anyone else. Eddie just wants to love her for who she was. And Y/N doesn't know what to do.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Song Inspo: Tattoos - Reneé Rapp

Warnings: post season three/pre season four, slow burn, aspects of angst, strangers to friends and then eventually lovers in later parts, soft!eddie, talk of money problems

Notes: feedback is always welcome and greatly appreciated

With each pay cheque she collected, Y/N stashed some of the money in an old shoebox, kept hidden in the back of hers and Delilah's shared closet. Originally, the words COLLEGE FUND had been written in big, black block letters, but she had no hope of going to college; especially not after her mother 'helped herself' to half of what had already been saved. She argued that she had every right to help herself to a few dollars because Y/N lived under her roof free of charge and happily eat the food that she bought. Y/N could've argued that the food in the fridge had actually been bought with half of her week's wages, but she knew Delilah would've had her ear pressed to their bedroom door, listening in on their argument.

Now the words had been crossed out with a single line through the middle, the words NEW LIFE replacing them. If college was no longer an option, then maybe she could provide Delilah with a new life. A better life. A life where they didn't have to check down sofa cushions for spare change or worry about the electricity being cut off because someone had forgotten to pay the bill.

"Are we poor?" Delilah had asked one day, holding onto Y/N's hand as they walked back from summer camp. It wasn't a real summer camp, just a club held in the library, mainly attended by kids whose parents couldn't afford to take time off work to watch them over the summer. "Daniel Bishop says I have to go to this camp because we can't afford for me to go to a real one."

"Well, that is not why you don't get to go to a real summer camp," she answered, telling her a white lie. She could've told her the truth but she didn't want Delilah to grow up worrying about money the same way she did.

"He says that's why I only have one pair of sneakers and why we live in a trailer." She looks up at Y/N, with big eyes that matched her own. "He said we were trailer trash."

Y/N could handle people calling her trailer trash, she had heard the two words her whole life, but it broke her heart knowing her seven-year-old sister was being called the same thing. "First off, you love those sneakers," she pulls Delilah to a stop, kneeling down in front of her, pieces of gravel and dirt digging into her knee, "and this Daniel Bishop guy, he sounds like trash." She frames her face with her hand, brushing away some gold glitter that was on her cheek. "Look, money doesn't make you who you are. Okay?" Delilah nodded her head. "You're either a kind person or you're not, and Daniel Bishop sounds like he is the smelliest piece of trash."

That was the day that Y/N had promised that she would always provide Delilah with a better life, a life lived like any other regular kid in Hawkins.

"Come on, De!" Y/N shouted for her sister, forging their mother's signature on Delilah's permission slip. It was for some field trip to a museum in the next town over. She stuffed the letter and the money into an envelope, counting that the correct amount was there, before sealing it and scribbling her sister's name on the front. "Eddie's going to leave without us!" She shouts when there was still no sign of her sister.

Fast footsteps approached from behind, a soft thudding against the dull brown-ish coloured carpet. "He wouldn't do that," Delilah says, appearing behind her. She turns her back to Y/N, allowing her to unzip her backpack and slide the envelope inside.

"He might."

"He wouldn't," Delilah shakes her head, "he likes you too much to do that."

She places her hands on Delilah's shoulders, spinning her around to face her. "What have I said about telling lies?"

Delilah frowns, a giant pout appearing for her sister to see. "I'm not lying."

"Come on," she grabs her bag and her keys off the kitchen counter, "time to go."

Eddie stood outside his uncle's trailer, his fingers playing with the bracelet on his right wrist, as he waited patiently for Y/N and Delilah. A smile breaks out when he sees the two of them approaching, the younger of the two breaking away from her older sister, running in front of her to get to Eddie first. In the few weeks since Eddie had stumbled upon Delilah's older sister, the two of them had formed an unlikely friendship, with Y/N often feeling like she was third-wheeling their friendship.

"Hey, little monster," he greets Delilah, opening his hand out in the air for her to high five. She has to jump to reach his hand, gravel and dirt kicking up as she lands. Eddie waves his hand in the air, faking his reaction just to make her giggle. "What are you feeding her?" He asks, looking at Y/N as she finally met up with them. "I swear she hits my hand harder every day."

"Oh, you know, just a concoction of things: the eye of a newt, the toe of a frog," she lists off for him, giving Delilah's shoulder's a gentle shake, "you know, just all the good things to keep her fit and healthy." Delilah tilts her head back at her, scrunching her face up in disgust. "She loves the stuff," she tells him, making him laugh, "drinks it by the gallon."

"Let me guess, there's wool of bat and tongue of dog in there too?" He slips his hand into his back pocket, fishing out the keys to his van. "Yeah, I think I've heard of that recipe before," he mumbles, joining in on her joke, "in Mrs P's class."

Y/N smiled, her lips parting to show her teeth. This was a real smile and not something many people were a witness to. "I see your memory is getting better then," she compliments him, glancing down at Delilah as her sister pulls at her sleeve, "what's the matter, De?"

"I forgot my books."

"What books?"

"The ones Miss Gomez leant to me," Delilah replies, the sadness showing in her eyes, "if I don't take them back today, I won't be able to get some new ones." Miss Gomez was her teacher, who kindly lent books to Delilah for her to read. She did the same with Y/N when she was her teacher too. She didn't do it just to be nice, she did it because she saw a bright academic spark in both of them, a spark she didn't want to be extinguished just because the two of them weren't as privileged as some of the other kids in their classes. "Please, can you go get them?" Delilah pleads, pulling at her sleeve again. "Please!"

Y/N sighs, rolling her head back. "Okay, fine," she glances over at Eddie, "do you mind just watching her? I'll only be gone two minutes."

"Go," Eddie insists, a fuzzy warm feeling unlike no other spreading in the pit of his stomach when she shows her thanks in the form of a smile.

Delilah doesn't watch her sister run back to their trailer, she keeps her attention on Eddie. Her little eyes look up at him, squinting them as she tilts her head to the side. "You're not scary," Delilah states, having already heard tales of the scary Hellfire Club's leader. He didn't look like a monster. He didn't have grotesque skin, with spikes or scales. His eyes were a normal colour and there were no fangs to be seen when he talked. He was normal.

"Excuse me?"

"People say you're scary," she explains, with her arms still swinging stops her sides, "but you look normal to me."

"Normal?" Delilah giggles as he gasps, one hand hand clutching his chest and collapsing to his knees in front of her. "You think I look normal?" Delilah nods her head, her giggles growing louder as he throws his head back. "Well, that definitely has to change," Eddie decides, shaking his head in a disapproving manner, "I can't be looking normal." He covers his mouth, acting like he was going to be sick; Delilah squeals, shaking her head. "What will make me look less normal and more scary?"

"Maybe..." She drags it out as she reaches out to touch the sides of Eddie's forehead. "...some horns."

Eddie looks up at her hands. "Just some horns?"

"And fangs like a vampire." She adds, pointing to his mouth. "And green skin."

"Okay," he counts them off on his fingers, "I just need some horns, some vampire teeth and green skin-"

"-red eyes!" Delilah eagerly cuts him off. "All scary villains have red eyes."

"What about red eyes?" Y/N asks, returning with Delilah's books tucked under her arm. She spots Eddie on the ground, unable to stop herself from laughing. "What are you doing on the ground?"

Eddie gazes up at her, hearing the zipper of Delilah's backpack as she tucks the books in with her permission slip and homework. "Your sister thinks that I look normal," he explains to her, Delilah giggling again as he pokes her arm. "This little monster called me normal."

"Ouch," she pulls on the zip, "I hope she gave you some tips on how to improve that."

He pushes off the ground, groaning as he stands back up. "She did," he nods, "I just need some horns, some vampire teeth, green skin and red eyes. You know, just all the things one has lying around." He spins his keys around his index finger, signalling an end to their conversation. "Right, little monster, time to get you to school."

Between dropping Delilah off and driving to the high school, Y/N had stayed quiet, which wasn't out of the ordinary for her to do. Most of the time, she'd just sit back and let Eddie and Delilah do all the talking; this mostly consisted of Eddie educating her sister on the rules of Dungeons and Dragons, or him listening to Delilah describing the dream she had the night before.

Billy had been kind to Delilah for his own selfish gain, offering to take her for ice cream if he knew it would get him a step closer to sleeping with Y/N, but Eddie's kindness was genuine. He wanted to listen to everything she had to say, always apologising if he spoke over her and promising that she could finish telling about her dream at a later point if they arrived at school before she had a chance to finish.

Kindness like that was refreshing and almost a rare occurrence for people like Y/N and Delilah in a town like Hawkins.

"They're staring again," Y/N mumbles, catching Gareth quickly turning his attention to one of the other Hellfire Club members, the small group, excluding the two freshmen that had joined that year, standing in front of the parked van.

"You know, I think you'd actually like them," Eddie tells her, taking off his seat belt, "all you'd have to do is come and sit with us to find out." He attempts to persuade her with his big, brown eyes, a little pout forming on his lips as she shakes her head again. Each day he'd ask for her to sit with him and the rest of the Hellfire Club and each day she would reject him. "Is your chemistry textbook really that more entertaining than me?"

"Hey," she playfully slaps his shoulder, "leave my chemistry textbook out of this; she's a sensitive soul."

"She?" He raises his eyebrows. "You refer to your textbook as a she?"

"Says the guy who refers to his guitar as his sweetheart," she bites back, half-smiling as Eddie holds his hands up in the air, backing down from the subject.

Y/N would be lying if she said she didn't admire Eddie for his determination. For nearly a year, she had been excluded from her friends, the two friends that she did have believed Billy's lies over her truth. Very quickly, she took to sitting at the lonely table, a place where people sat because they just didn't fit in with the rest of society. Eddie would've argued that the Hellfire Club was just that, a place for the misfits and the lonely, and he had after she had told him she preferred to be alone. But there was a form of comfort in knowing how hard he was trying.

"Contrary to popular belief, I'm not asking you to sell your soul to me," Eddie begins again, "I'm just asking for one day."

"One day?"

"One day," Eddie repeats.

She rolls her head back, exhaling a sigh. "Okay."

His head whips back to look at her. "Okay?" He wasn't sure if his ears were deceiving him or not.

"Don't make me regret it."

Taglist: @alcottsangel @addisonnie @calpurniatypes @ilovedilfs32 @jay-u-so-gay @kneelforloki @marrigold-2002 @pillowjj @teenwolflover28 @thisisntmyrightera

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic

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theharrowing · 2 years

Text

With You Always

When Taehyung dies tragically and winds up stuck on earth, he decides to watch over Jimin—his best friend, and the person he loves more than anyone in the world. Concern for his grieving best friend turns to jealousy as Jimin begins to move on and meet new people, and Taehyung's once passive presence becomes more and more dangerous.

💔 Taehyung x Jimin

💔 word count: 13k 💔 dead dove, major character death (ghost taehyung), noncon, hurt/comfort, horror, slash, explicit smut, nsfw, 18+ 💔 warnings: 🕊 dead dove, grief & mourning, masturbation, recreational drug use, jealousy, voyeurism, mutual masturbation, jimin in a crop top with pink hair, ouija board use, haunting, poltergeist, fear, taking advantage of a drunk person, ghost sex, non-consensual somnophelia, oral sex, mental breakdown

💔 written for the Ardour: Dead Dove Fest!

💔 thanks to @neoneunnajimin for beta reading! moodboard created by the mods at the Ardour: Dead Dove Fest (text added by me with permission.) 💔 posted oct. 2022

💔 notes: i cannot stress how dark this story is. please read the warnings and don’t interact with this story if you are sensitive to any of those topics!!! i do not condone the actions in this fic; it is a work of horror fiction.

나는 날 잃은 걸까 아니 널 얻은 걸까

Taehyung's death affected everyone pretty hard, but no one more than Jimin.

Since they were kids, Taehyung and Jimin were inseparable. They did everything together, often hand-in-hand, taking on the world with wide, curious eyes and open hearts.

As teenagers, they were even closer, dealing with the awkwardness of puberty together and making various life pacts, including a pact to wait until college for their first kiss, a pact to wait until college to have sex, and a pact to go to the same college and live together.

For as long as he could remember, Taehyung harbored feelings for Jimin, and he thought from a somewhat young age that Jimin felt the same. But aside from Jimin coming up with those kiss and virginity pacts and other small but possibly innocuous tells, the topic never came up between them.

Taehyung always had the inkling that Jimin wanted them to put those events off to share them with each other, and he hoped it would be something they could explore—if they really were, in fact, on the same page—in college, as planned, when the two of them were away from home and didn't have to worry too much about the pressures of being caught by their parents.

But then Taehyung died a month after high school graduation, and so did his chance to tell Jimin of his true feelings.

The accident was pretty bad.

It was a gorgeous summer day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Taehyung drummed his fingers against his steering wheel to the beat of an old jazz tune as another car somehow wound up skidding sideways into his lane, flipping him several times off the road and into a deep ditch. There were no survivors at the scene, and by the time emergency personnel arrived, both mangled cars had caught fire.

Even from the moment of impact, Taehyung didn't remember the accident. One minute he was alive, driving in the countryside on his way back to the city and the next, he was floating above the scene, watching as police attempted to barricade the area and keep others away from the wreckage.

It was surreal, and Taehyung spent a considerable amount of time thinking he was dreaming and that at any moment, he might wake up. But then, as time went on and his body was taken away before the site of the accident was gradually getting cleaned, Taehyung realized it wasn't a dream.

At first, Taehyung couldn't figure out why he stayed on earth rather than continue on to some kind of afterlife. Sure, he didn't spend his life necessarily believing in any specific type of afterlife, but he always assumed there would be something. Or even nothing.

But that—floating with an aimless feeling while wearing the same beige oversized button-up short-sleeve tucked loosely into the front of wide-leg brown slacks—that just felt strange. Taehyung ran a hand through his long, wavy dark brown hair and felt as the strands pushed back from his forehead and fell into place. He couldn't quite figure out the extent to which he existed and didn't, feeling both weightless and solid, responsive to his own physical touch.

Taehyung wondered if his new existence really was like the movies, where ghosts would hang back on earth to try to solve any unfinished business they had, but ultimately that notion seemed pretty stupid to Taehyung. Life, and by extension, afterlife wasn't some drama. And anyway, how would he be able to finish anything? The only thing he left unresolved was his feelings for Jimin, and it didn't seem as if Taehyung could be seen by humans as they drove straight through him on that dark country road.

But that didn't stop Taehyung from trying. Slowly, he made his way into the city the way he would have gone if he had driven. He walked down busy streets and through residential neighborhoods, allowing the night to fall around him. And when he made it to Jimin's apartment as the sun began to break over the horizon, Taehyung went straight through a familiar building, through a familiar front door and found himself standing in a familiar living room.

Taehyung hadn't been in a rush that night because he wasn't sure Jimin would be home. Perhaps, he thought, Jimin would have been at a hospital or a police station desperately searching for answers about his dead best friend the night before. Perhaps Jimin would have been asleep as Taehyung arrived, exhausted from the anguish of losing a best friend. But a sniffle coming from Jimin's bedroom confirmed that he was home and that he was not asleep.

"Jimin?" Taehyung called out, but his voice was wispy in the air, hanging around him in a manner that didn't seem to echo out to reach the ears of the living.

Taehyung approached Jimin's room to find him curled on his bed, crying. He was still wearing a black long-sleeve henley shirt tucked into blue jeans that Taehyung assumed he had worn the day before. Clutched in Jimin's arms was a stuffed bear that Taehyung had kept since he was a child. A stuffed bear that Jimin could only have gotten if he had visited Taehyung's family after the accident or if someone had brought it to him.

The sight of Jimin's body wrapped tightly around the stuffed bear sent a chill through Taehyung, and all he could do was stand and watch as his best friend—as the boy who he loved more than anyone in the world—cried and cried and cried.

"Jimin," Taehyung tried once more, but the sound didn't reach him.

Taehyung suspected it might be useless to attempt to touch Jimin, so he stood still. No other humans were alerted to his presence as he walked that night, so he assumed Jimin also wouldn’t be. Finally, when Jimin had cried himself to sleep, Taehyung curled up atop Jimin's bed and watched him through the morning.

Over the course of the few days following his death, Taehyung discovered that he could somewhat interact with objects in the living world, using his energy to move a curtain or a door just a bit, as if there was a strong breeze. He had considered trying to get Jimin's attention, but with how distraught his best friend was, he felt it was better off to not do anything to shake his fragile mental state.

Jimin wasn't getting out of bed much. He wasn't feeding himself more than once a day, and he didn't shower until the morning of the funeral. And although attending his own funeral felt surreal, Taehyung stayed by Jimin's side.

On the bus to the train to the bus to the hospital, Taehyung followed along, eyes on Jimin, who wore a black suit and tie with a white undershirt and had his short dark hair brushed but unstyled. Taehyung told Jimin over and over that he was there and that Jimin was not alone, that Jimin would never be alone again, but Jimin fell to his knees in front of photos surrounded by flowers and candles, appearing as if he felt more alone than ever, and he cried until his eyes were dry. Taehyung couldn't have said with any certainty who else attended his funeral because he never took his eyes off his beautiful, heartbroken friend.

"I'm here, Jiminah," Taehyung muttered softly. "I won't ever leave you."

Sometimes Jimin would wake up in the middle of the night screaming and sobbing. He would grab onto the stuffed bear that belonged to Taehyung and hold it close, begging for answers, begging to know why Taehyung was gone. Taehyung would sit beside Jimin and reach a hand out, almost touching but always pulling back at the last second, never risking knowing whether or not they could touch—never wanting to face the ache that would accompany fingers passing through fingers like a whisper in the wind.

It hurt Taehyung to see his best friend so upset. And as weeks went by where Jimin didn't seem to improve, Taehyung began to worry about his physical health. Someone needed to be helping him, but Jimin didn't reach out to anyone, and he continued to mourn heavily.

When school started a few months following the accident, Jimin decided that he needed to push forward and attempt to have a normal life. It filled Taehyung with affection and pride, knowing Jimin was getting out of bed and trying to grieve in a more healthy manner.

"You should be here with me, Tae," Jimin would say to himself in the mirror as he fixed his hair—which was becoming overgrown—and stared into his sunken eyes. "You should be starting college with me too."

"I'm here, Jiminah," Taehyung would always whisper back. "Even if you can't see me...even if you can't feel me...I'll never leave you."

It wasn't easy at first. Jimin would have outbursts in public, moments where the distractions of school and socializing would lull, and Jimin's mind would seem to allow itself to wander back to Taehyung. In these moments, Taehyung always wished he could hold Jimin and tell him it would be okay. Taehyung knew that, ultimately, Jimin would be fine and that he just needed time to heal, and with each new day he hoped that the healing would come soon.

"I'm feeling a little better today, Taehyungah," Jimin says into the mirror with a smile. It isn't a smile that reaches his eyes, but it is inching closer these days. Jimin speaks aloud to Taehyung often on the off chance he is listening, reasoning that Taehyung always spoke to his angel, so maybe now Taehyung has taken up ranks as Jimin's angel.

And, of course, Taehyung is listening; Taehyung hasn't left Jimin's side. Everywhere Jimin goes, Taehyung follows. To school, to the market, he's always there.

"It's been about six months since that day, and I'm...I'm still in shock, and I don't know how to go on without my best friend, but I'm doing my best, and I think you'd really be proud of me."

"I'm so proud of you, Jiminah," Taehyung responds with a kind smile, standing behind Jimin and watching him through the mirror.

Jimin's gaze turns down, and he fidgets with his fingers, rubbing them together anxiously. "I miss you so much," he whispers.

"I miss you too."

It's not entirely true that Taehyung stays by Jimin's side everywhere. Over the last six months, Taehyung has done his best to give Jimin privacy when he's in the bathroom, when he's changing, and more recently, when he jerks off.

The first time, it takes Taehyung by surprise, and he nearly falls out of the bed. Jimin runs his hands over his chest, stopping to dance his fingers over his nipples through his thin nightshirt. He lets out a soft exhale, and Taehyung lets out a loud gasp and stares wide-eyed at his best friend before he realizes he should very much not be watching this.

One of Jimin's hands trails down with his fingers dancing over his crotch, and Taehyung's vision falls to discover a sizable tent in his pants, pushing another gasp from him as he backs out of the bed quickly, arm catching on the bedside lamp and knocking into it. Jimin's hands halt, and he looks up, eyes landing directly where Taehyung stands. But, of course, Jimin can't see anyone there.

"Fuck," Taehyung spits under his breath. He's been so careful not to alert Jimin to his presence, worried he might get scared, and now here he is, carelessly bumping into shit.

But it doesn't deter Jimin, whose eyes move to the window that is opened a sliver and seems to write it off as wind being the culprit. Jimin's fingers continue to tease himself over his clothes, and Taehyung spins on his heels and leaves the room, running partially through the wall when he can't reach the doorway fast enough.

If Taehyung could sweat, it would have coated his neck and forehead in a thin sheen, giving a chill to his once warm form. He breathes deeply and runs his hands over his face and down his neck, and walks over to the small brown sofa, sitting with such a force he nearly sinks through it. As Jimin's gasps turned to whimpers, Taehyung curls up on the cushions and puts his hands over his ears.

The longer Taehyung continues to exist in this form, the more he's able to interact with things, honing the energy he exerts to control various objects. Before, it was enough to rest atop Jimin's bed rather than sink into it, but now he can switch off the bedside lamp and pull Jimin’s blanket over him when he stumbles into bed from a night out with his new friends and falls against his mattress in a slump. Still, he’s careful to never try and touch Jimin.

Taehyung's...body...? Or whatever his form is...is also beginning to respond. As soon as Jimin's fingers begin to explore his body, Taehyung feels a shift in his energy and a tingle in his cock. He fights the urge to touch himself from the sofa whenever he takes refuge, locking his hands tightly over his ears. He will not jerk off to his best friend jerking off, even if he’s in love with that best friend. That crosses a line...right?

Taehyung does not like Jimin's new friends. They're all older than him, they drink way too much, and one boy in particular—the one with a crooked smile and sharp feline eyes—he likes to get a little too close to Jimin, especially with alcohol in their systems.

Taehyung also does not like how Jimin has changed his appearance to hang out with these new friends. Although the tight tee shirts, even tighter skinny jeans and black leather boots flatter his figure, Taehyung thinks he just looks like he's trying too hard to fit in. His hair is short again and parted neatly over his forehead, and he's begun wearing rings and earrings. The Jimin who Taehyung knew never cared so much about fitting in or looking this good, and he certainly never wore all black, from head to toe.

It's a Thursday night—a school night—and Jimin is at some shitty nightclub with four guys, all older than him by two or three years, and he's throwing back shots. The sadness in his eye that Taehyung had gotten so used to—that he wished for months and months would fade—has all but been replaced with mirth, albeit glazed over and somewhat absent.

Jimin had fussed extra hard with his hair before meeting them here, and he immediately gravitates to the one who touches him so much while Taehyung stands with his arms crossed over his chest and glares. Sure, this Min Yoongi boy is pretty, but what does he have that's so god damn special?

Taehyung watches as the night progresses, and Yoongi's hand caresses the small of Jimin's back. He watches as Jimin leans in a little too close to talk to Yoongi over the loud music, and he watches as they sneak away from the group and out into the alley for a smoke.

Jimin doesn't smoke, but of course, he accepts the joint because Yoongi offers it to him. Handsome, charming fucking Yoongi with his combat boots and his bleach blond hair. Yoongi, with his dangling silver earrings and his black eyeliner, who leans in close—too close—as he lights the joint that sits between Jimin's perfect lips. Too close as his mouth tugs into a smirk while Jimin coughs through his first inhale of smoke.

If Taehyung had a heart, it would surely be pounding. He grips onto his hair and tugs at the strand as he watches Yoongi gently touch Jimin's cheek and mumble, "Inhale slowly and hold the smoke in."

If Taehyung had a stomach, bile would surely rise into his throat as Yoongi leans in, one knee dipping between Jimin's legs as he mutters, "Now blow," and connects their lips, taking the smoke from Jimin's mouth into his.

Taehyung watches in horror as Jimin giggles and he grabs onto Yoongi's red flannel shirt gently with his fingers to pull him closer, slotting their lips together for a real kiss. Jimin's first real kiss. Taehyung turns away and shakes his head, trying to focus on anything but Jimin's lips and his sounds and his body, pressed against some boy in a fucking alleyway of all places.

And, for the first time in six months, Taehyung leaves Jimin's side.

It takes five and a half months for Jimin and Yoongi to get into a relationship and ultimately break up, and in those five and a half months, Taehyung is in pure agony. He can’t help his outbursts of anger and jealousy as he leaves the room to give the two of them space. Eventually, his outbursts lead to him leaving the building, sometimes going as far as to walk his anger off by leaving the city altogether.

Jimin waits a whopping two weeks after the joint in the alleyway incident to lose his virginity, and Taehyung can’t stop thinking about how it should have been him. The first kiss, the first time making love, the first time falling in love, all of that should have been him.

And now, five and a half months after that stupid first kiss Jimin cries into his old teddy bear and wishes Yoongi would stay. Taehyung hates the bleach blond even more because Taehyung knows that if he had been all of Jimin's firsts, he wouldn't be in this position. If Taehyung had been all of Jimin's firsts, he would also be his last.

Wanting to be close to Jimin and comfort him, Taehyung sits down where he always does, on the side of the bed Jimin never sleeps, and this time, the mattress dips. Jimin's eyes flutter open, and he stares at the bed beside him, eyebrows knit as if he noticed, but then he sighs and closes his eyes again, shaking his head.

"Jimin," Taehyung tries again, for the first time in almost a year, but his voice doesn't carry, and Jimin still doesn't hear him.

There are times when Jimin still talks aloud as if he knows Taehyung is with him, telling him things. He'll stand in the mirror, coifing his hair and tell Taehyung that he got an A in his anatomy and physiology course despite how difficult it was, and that he's proud of himself for already feeling better about the breakup.

Taehyung wonders if, should he make his presence known to Jimin, it would actually be something Jimin would invite, or if he would be too afraid and stop talking to him. So Taehyung does his best to keep still and quiet, and he whispers softly to Jimin that he's proud of him and that he loves him so much.

Sometimes Taehyung wonders if he could reach out to touch Jimin, whether he actually would? He's never tried to touch another human, but what if he tries to hone the energy and touch him, the same way he puts his energy into gently inching Jimin's glass away from the edge of the table when he's not looking because Taehyung worries it'll knock it over. What if he tries to find new ways to comfort his friend?

During the summer, Jimin works at a nearby cafe. He seems to really enjoy the job and gets along nicely with his coworkers, and Taehyung finds himself standing back a little further, watching Jimin from afar as he interacts with strangers while never hovering too close.

Taehyung loves watching the way Jimin's smile reaches his eyes, genuine and sweet, as he talks to others. And although Taehyung knows it will eat at him, he hopes that Jimin really does find someone nice and sweet to love. Someone who always makes Jimin smile like that—the way Taehyung would make him smile if he could.

As customers filter through day after day, some becoming regulars who chat with Jimin a little more and get to know him a little better, Taehyung watches soft blush paint Jimin's pretty round cheeks, and he wonders if any of those people might become regular facets in Jimin's life.

But none of them ever do, and for the time being, Taehyung decides he doesn't mind keeping Jimin all to himself for a little while longer.

On the first anniversary of Taehyung's death, Taehyung's family throws a gathering for friends and family to come say some words and have a meal together. Taehyung—admittedly—hasn't visited his family much since his death. And although he'll accompany Jimin to their house if he decides to go, he feels weird about it.

Over the course of the year, Jimin has really bounced back from his grief and has seemed less and less affected by Taehyung's death. But today, he can hardly get out of bed. When Jimin finally does roll off of his mattress, he sits in the shower and cries.

Taehyung enters the bathroom slowly, finding Jimin curled in a ball with his forehead against his knees. He squats beside the edge of the tub and bites his lip, wanting to console his best friend. Taehyung hates seeing him like this, even if there is a small part of him that feels grateful to not be forgotten.

For the first time in a year, Taehyung reaches out to touch Jimin. And for the first time in a year, he makes direct contact with him.

Taehyung's fingertips brush over Jimin's shoulder, and Jimin jumps, gasping as his eyes fly open and he stares straight through Taehyung. There's even a moment—a split, fleeting moment—where Taehyung thinks Jimin might actually see him. But Jimin looks around the room, searching high and low for any source of the caress while Taehyung sits, hand retracted but still suspended as he watches Jimin with wide eyes.

When Jimin starts his second semester of college, Taehyung begins to hang back and stay at Jimin's apartment some days. He's not a huge fan of the courses Jimin studies, and he would rather stay in his bed, surrounded by his sweet floral and citrus scent, with a lingering hint of musk.

There's a part of Taehyung that worries that Jimin will meet someone in college to bring home, and Taehyung will have a repeat of dealing with his relationship he had with Yoongi, with months and months of them fucking and giggling while Taehyung has to leave and fight to get that image out of his mind.

But it's not as if Taehyung can stop Jimin from doing whatever he wants to, so he hangs back and gives Jimin his space. Despite everything, Jimin is the one person in the world who Taehyung loves more than anything, and he wants him to be happy.

Some nights when Jimin sleeps, Taehyung reaches out and moves the hair away from Jimin's forehead. Sometimes Taehyung traces the edges of his fingers down the soft slope of Jimin's cheek, reveling in how soft and warm Jimin is.

"I love you, Jiminah," Taehyung mutters softly. "I'll always love you so much. Please never forget me."

Taehyung stops giving Jimin privacy every time he showers. He can't help but gaze longingly at the silhouette of Jimin's taut body through the faintly transparent shower curtains.

Jimin cares for his appearance more than ever, taking dance classes and watching what he eats, and Taehyung can't help but stare at the round slope of his ass that curves deliciously into lean yet muscular thighs. The visual has Taehyung's cock desperate for attention.

Taehyung can't exactly cum; as a ghost, he has no need for body fluids. He couldn't explain why his cock gets hard, nor why, if he strokes it just as he would as a human, he feels sensation and satisfaction, ultimately reaching a crescendo that feels as close to an orgasm as he can remember. As far as he can tell, it feels the same as before; he just doesn't ejaculate.

It's in the doorway of Jimin's bathroom, one hand gripping onto the wooden frame as Taehyung fists his cock, stroking fast and squeezing tight as he reaches his high and his legs tremble beneath him.

Before him, the silhouette of Jimin shows one foot lifted on the edge of the tub, and he's fingering his ass while jerking off. With his head tipped back, the column of Jimin's neck can be made out, and as he gasps and whines, bringing himself close to orgasm, Taehyung can't hold his in any longer.

How Taehyung would love to be the one to make Jimin cum. Slowly unravel him with his fingers while sucking Jimin's cock into his throat. He bets Jimin's cum is just as sweet as the sounds that fall from his lips.

Taehyung hasn't had an outburst in nearly a year. Ever since Yoongi broke it off with Jimin, he hasn't had a reason to storm through the walls and walk off his jealous anger. Taehyung prides himself on being a good friend and staying close. He tells himself it's what Jimin would want.

And with his newfound love of watching Jimin while he showers and enjoying their little mutual masturbating sessions, Taehyung feels even closer to his best friend than ever before.

Just as Taehyung has settled comfortably in the routine of Jimin going to school and coming right back home to study and be alone over several months, Jimin decides to switch things up, throwing Taehyung's entire strange existence off balance.

Since the breakup, he hasn't been spending time with anyone in that old friend group, to Taehyung's great relief, and although he sees Jimin acting friendly with others at school on the days when he does follow him to class, he's noticed—with great contentment—that Jimin doesn't seem eager to make too many friends.

Jimin, ever the perfectionist, has always been one to pour himself into his studies. Perhaps that's why he and Taehyung always remained such a tight unit with little outside interference; they never really had room for another person.

But tonight, Jimin doesn't come home. And Taehyung begins to worry.

It's not as if Taehyung can go off looking for him. If Jimin isn't on campus, he could be infinite other places, as far as Taehyung is concerned. Even if Jimin is on campus, it's not as if he'd be so easily located.

Taehyung paces the apartment and tries to calm himself down. He tells himself that Jimin is safe, that Jimin is unharmed, that Jimin will return, and he takes his place on the couch to wait. He just has to wait a little while longer, he tells himself, and Jimin will return.

And eventually, Jimin does return. Several hours after he usually comes home, Jimin walks through his door smiling into his phone, so distracted by whatever is on the screen that he takes longer than usual to toe out of his shoes at the entrance. So distracted that he pads over to the couch without looking up and lets his shins hitting the edge of it be his cue to twist and flop his body down.

Taehyung sits beside Jimin in disbelief and looks over his shoulder to find out what he's smiling so much at, and he can't help but feel a tinge of discomfort where his guts would be as someone named Jeongguk confirms he's open to hanging out at 8PM tomorrow night.

Taehyung hasn't had an outburst in nearly a year and a half, and tonight, he's reluctant to follow Jimin to his date. He doesn't want this Jeongguk character flaunted in his face, especially if this guy is anything like the last one. Taehyung questions the nature of this hangout in hopes of justifying Jimin's actions and wonders if maybe it's not a date at all, but Jimin is going out to meet a whole group of friends.

As he follows Jimin down the street, hanging back by about half of a block, he watches as he enters a bar. Taehyung hovers against a street light, clinging to it like a buoy at sea, trying to decide whether it would hurt more to find out or to turn back and wonder.

When the anxiety of curiosity becomes too much, Taehyung pushes himself through the pole he had clung to and makes his way to the bar. Slowly, nervously, he shuffles along the sidewalk while people walk straight through him as if he isn't there at all.

Of course, Taehyung doesn't need oxygen, but he inhales deeply, holds it, and turns to the window. It's hard to see much, but Jimin's perfectly coifed dark hair that curls lightly at the ends can be seen from where he stands, and among him is a table of what appear to be others his age. Taehyung walks straight through the window and makes his way to where Jimin is sitting, and there, amongst four men who Taehyung has never seen before, Jimin laughs and smiles and makes small talk.

And although he's happy for Jimin, Taehyung can't help but feel jealous that his best friend is so good at getting close to others. Especially the boy with wavy dark hair hanging over one eye, looking at Jimin as if he's just hung the moon in the sky.

Taehyung decides he doesn't want to stay and watch Jimin for the night. And on his way out, he uses one finger to knock over the beer belonging to the boy who looks at Jimin so fondly, causing it to smash loudly against the wooden floor.

Jimin starts going to nightclubs again. At least this group of friends has the decency to wait to go out on the weekend, but Taehyung can't help but worry about Jimin getting drunk in the tight, pretty outfits he wears. He can't help but wonder if his friends would be the type to keep Jimin safe. He worries one of those friends may even prey on Jimin's beauty in an inebriated state.

Tonight Jimin wears a bright pink crop top, a gold chain around his waist, and tight black jeans. Jimin holds dangling gold earrings up to his ears to decide on a pair to wear as Taehyung leans against the dresser with his arms crossed over his chest. He chews on the inside of his mouth while Jimin chooses a pair with pretty gold stars and smiles at himself in the mirror.

Taehyung has never seen Jimin in a crop top. The sight is more than pleasant—firm abdominals with a hint of definition peeking between his clothing, highlighted by shimmery jewelry. Under other circumstances, Taehyung would love to see Jimin dressed this way, but not like this when Jimin plans to flaunt himself before others. Not while Taehyung is dead.

Jimin applies a dusting of pink eyeshadow to his lids and accentuates his eyelashes with some mascara, and Taehyung gawks at his friend. He can't believe how different Jimin has become since before the accident. He wonders if this Jimin even remembers him at all.

Jimin's second semester comes to an end, and rather than work at the cafe again, he begins instructing children at a local dance studio. Jimin seems to really love his job, and Taehyung enjoys tagging along and watching Jimin interact with the students. There's a glimmer in Jimin's eye that brightens the whole room. Taehyung wishes he could bottle it.

He loves watching Jimin dance. Loves watching as his lithe, toned body stretches and twists gracefully, deliberately. Taut muscle, traces of supple skin and feline-like moves—Taehyung is certain that there is nobody in this world more captivating.

Taehyung also loves that, while moving his body to music and feeling it flow through him, Jimin truly seems happy. There's a lightness to him that's not always present otherwise.

On the second anniversary of Taehyung's death, Jimin gets up and goes to work as usual. He has less of a pep in his step, but he doesn't cry the moment he wakes up like he did a year ago.

Taehyung is happy that Jimin seems to be grieving in healthier ways, but there's a part of him that can't help but feel bitter. It's not that he wants his best friend to be in shambles, but would it hurt him to seem a little more remorseful?

Maybe he has to keep a brave face in front of his students, Taehyung reasons. Maybe inside, Jimin is fighting a battle that he doesn't want anyone to see.

But as Jimin dances—precise movements with his lips curved into a sweet, tender expression—Taehyung can't help but think his best friend really has moved on entirely. Jimin smiles at the students, and the students smile back, and suddenly, the brightness feels blinding. Taehyung doesn't stick around for the end of the class.

On the night of the second anniversary of Taehyung's death, Jimin comes barging through the apartment door, clearly drunk, with a box in his hands. Behind him, Jeongguk comes stumbling in, and Taehyung huffs and rolls his eyes as he leans against the door frame of Jimin's bedroom.

This guy again, Taehyung thinks. Just great.

Jimin sets the box—an unassuming tan rectangle the size and shape of something you'd keep a board game in—on the table in front of his couch and motions for Jeongguk to have a seat while he pads over to the kitchen. Taehyung can't help but keep his eyes on his best friend—graceful despite the slight wobble in his step, with his loose black tee tucked into tight blue jeans. He can't help but wonder how Jimin went from teaching his students to bringing home the doe-eyed boy, drunk, in just a matter of hours.

"Want something to drink?" Jimin asks, looking over his shoulder from his open refrigerator. His voice startles Taehyung, who glances between the two of them. "I have water, soju..." Jimin giggles, a sweet, delicate sound that makes Taehyung ache, and he continues, "...that's about it."

"Uh, s-sure," Jeongguk responds in a voice that's much meeker than Taehyung expected.

"I gave you two choices, Ggukie," Jimin smirks as he raises an eyebrow.

Jeongguk blushes—fucking blushes—and he says, "I m-meant both are fine," and Taehyung thanks the universe he can't vomit because this—the nickname, the shy stuttering, the tension hanging in the air—all of this is absolutely fucking disgusting.

With another devastating giggle, Jimin fills a glass of water, grabs a bottle of soju and two small cups, and brings everything to the couch. Jeongguk scoots close to one side, giving Jimin space beside him, and Jimin sets the items on the table and plops himself down. Taehyung moves across the living room and stands leaning against the front door, curious suddenly about the dynamic between these two.

While Jimin sits with straight, confident posture, Jeongguk—the taller, broader, more muscular of the two—slouches a bit and appears uncertain. Jimin cracks open the bottle of soju and pours two cups, then hands one to his guest, who smiles shyly when their fingers happen to brush, and Taehyung rolls his eyes.

The two of them drink quietly, and Jimin pulls his knees onto the couch so his body can twist and face Jeongguk. Taehyung considers releasing his energy and floating backward through the apartment door to get the fuck out of there when Jeongguk speaks up.

"Wanna tell me what's on your mind now?" Jeongguk asks, and all the mirth drains from Jimin's eyes.

Jimin clears his throat and glances around the room, eyes landing on the rectangular box on his table. "Today is the two-year anniversary of..." Jimin begins, but his lips falter. He reaches for the glass of water, leans forward as he takes a sip, then he sets the glass down and relaxes, turning back to Jeongguk.

"My best friend died," Jimin mutters. "T-two years ago."

Jeongguk's mouth falls open, his eyes well with tears, and there's a twitch in his hand as if he wants to reach out to comfort Jimin, but he keeps it to himself. "Oh, Jiminie, I'm—"

"It's fine," Jimin says as he shakes his head. "I mean...it's not, but...it is. I still miss him every day, and sometimes I feel like a large part of my heart is just...gone. But sometimes, it also feels like he's still here. I don't know, can't explain it."

Jimin's hands shake over his knees, and this time Jeongguk does reach out, lifting his hands and hovering them over Jimin's, but keeping distance as if searching for a sign. Jimin nods softly, and Jeongguk drops his hands, engulfing Jimin's completely.

"What was he like?" Jeongguk asks, holding a concerned gaze on Jimin's face.

If Taehyung had a heart, it would surely be pounding. Jimin seems to be looking down at their hands, and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "He was...amazing," Jimin mutters with an audible shake in his voice, and Taehyung lets in a soft gasp, suddenly feeling remorseful for being silent for the last two years—suddenly feeling guilty for thinking Jimin had forgotten about him.

"He was the only person who ever really saw me," Jimin continues. "I always envisioned him by my side, forever. We knew each other for so long that I could never picture a life without him. He was my rock...my safe place...my best friend in the whole world. And then, one day, he was just...gone."

Jimin's voice breaks on the last word, and he lifts a hand to wipe tears from his cheeks. Jeongguk shifts forward as if to comfort Jimin even more, but Jimin shakes his head and the soft smile returns. Slowly, Taehyung moves from the door, feeling a flurry of emotion for Jimin, and he sits with his legs crossed in front of the table, across from them.

"I'm okay," Jimin mutters. "It was easily the worst thing that has ever happened to me, and some days it feels hard to get out of bed, but I do my best. I know he would want me to do my best."

"Always," Taehyung responds quietly, wishing he could reach over the table and touch Jimin. "I always want you to do your best."

Silence falls between them, and for the first time, Taehyung really takes in Jeongguk. Wavy dark brown hair falls just past his cheekbones, tucked behind an ear on one side. He has rounded features that make him appear soft and gentle, with a sharp cupid's peak and nicely squared jaw. And although he wears a baggy tee shirt over black joggers, and his frame swims in his clothing, Taehyung can tell by his forearms and by the way the fabric hangs over Jeongguk's shoulders that he must work out.

There's a kindness in Jeongguk's gaze that makes Taehyung wonder if perhaps he was too quick to judge the guy's intentions, and he eases up a bit, relaxing where he sits. But the Jeongguk speaks again, and everything in the room shifts.

"Do you think he would have liked me?"

Jimin's eyes find Jeongguk's, and his lips curl into a smirk. He reaches up and gently pushes the other side of Jeongguk's hair behind his ear.

"Of course, he would, Ggukie. Who wouldn't like you?"

There's a tone in Jimin's voice, playful and deep—a tone that speaks volumes where his words say so little. The sound of it makes Taehyung tense up once more, and he balls his fists in his lap.

Taehyung does not like Jeongguk.

Once again, Jeongguk blushes, but the shyness is outshined by something else—something more akin to hunger. He licks his bottom lip and smiles back at Jimin, but then his gaze moves to the box on the table, and his energy seems to shift back to something more neutral.

"Is that why you wanted the ouija board?" Jeongguk asks.

Taehyung's mouth falls open, and he stares at the plain, unassuming package before him, unsure how to feel. While he's flattered that Jimin has decided to make some, albeit childish, attempt to contact him, he can't help but feel scorn that it's taken so long. He also can't help but feel bitter that Jeongguk got invited.

Jimin plays with his bottom lip between his teeth and flashes a playful puppy dog smile that Taehyung hasn't seen in years. "Will you try it with me?"

Instinctively, Taehyung scoots away from the table. He doesn't want to play ouija with Jimin and his fucking friend. He doesn't want anything to do with this flirtatious little exchange of theirs.

Jeongguk leans forward and fills his and Jimin's cups of soju, then sets the empty bottle down and hands Jimin his cup. Jimin smiles sweetly as he accepts, and they tap the cups together before shooting the liquid down. When Jeongguk turns his head to take his shot, he looks directly at Taehyung, and Taehyung can't help but feel frozen in his seat. There's a warmth in Jeongguk's eye that wasn't there moments ago, and Taehyung doesn't fucking like it.

Jimin sets his empty cup on the table and gets up to walk into the kitchen, and Jeongguk leans forward, sets his cup down, and reaches for the box. As Jeongguk lifts the lid, Jimin opens his fridge, and while Jeongguk takes out the ouija board and sets everything up in swift, delicate movements, Jimin returns with another bottle of soju.

“Have you done this before?” Jimin asks as he cracks open the bottle. He turns his head to face Jeongguk, who tugs his lower lip between his teeth.

“No,” Jeongguk responds with a lilt of playfulness in his tone. “This is my first time. You?”

Jimin seems to study Jeongguk for a brief moment, then turns back to the task of filling their small cups. He hums and says, “Guess we’ll discover how it works together.”

The groan that leaves Taehyung’s chest is one of deep annoyance, and he sits back with his palms against the wooden floor, readying himself to disappear through it at a moment’s notice. Jimin pushes a soju cup over the Jeongguk, and they both sit up straight with their butts at the edge of the couch.

The board looks like a standard dime store ouija board, with a fake wood design in the background and black ink print. The word Yes is in the top left corner and No is in the top right, the alphabet takes up most of the board, with Goodbye on the bottom. Only, this is a bootleg version that Jimin bought from a novelty shop that has everything printed in Korean.

“I think we’re supposed to put this,” Jimin begins, lifting the cream-colored planchette and setting it in the top center of the board, “here, and then we lightly place our fingers on this, and the spirit moves it around with us.”

Jimin places two fingers on the edge of the planchette, near the bulbous top end, and Jeongguk scoots in close and places two fingers near the center of it. They both stare at their hands as if deciding what to do next.

“How do we know the other person isn’t moving it, though?” Jeongguk asks.

Jimin turns to look at Jeongguk and, judging by his expression, seems surprised to find them sitting so close to one another. Taehyung watches as Jimin’s eyes scan Jeongguk’s face at the new distance before he blushes and looks away.

“Are you accusing me of being a cheater, Jeon Jeongguk?” Jimin asks playfully.

Jeongguk hums and smirks. “I don’t know, Park Jimin; are you?”

Jimin turns back to face Jeongguk, and the look on his face practically makes Taehyung spiral. Although this is a look he has grown accustomed to seeing on Jimin’s face, it’s one he only witnesses in times of passion, moments before Jimin jerks off, when he is teasing his skin and warming himself up.

If they fucking kiss on Taehyung’s deathiversary while in the throes of attempting to contact him using a cheaply made board game, Taehyung will surely evaporate into thin air.

But they don’t kiss. Jimin blinks out of the stare and scoffs, then rolls his eyes. With a tsk, he says, “I’m wounded, Ggukie. I thought you knew me better than that.”

Taehyung watches Jeongguk’s lips flounder around like a fucking fish before he closes them tight and doesn’t respond, and Taehyung sighs with relief. Whatever the fuck those pretty lips would have said next would have surely been infuriating.

“So, I guess we just…talk?” Jimin says, looking between their hands on the planchette and Jeongguk’s face.

Jeongguk shrugs. “Maybe let’s move this thing around a bit? To like…I don’t know, warm the board up?”

Jimin chuckles and nods his head, and they begin to move the planchette around the board in circles and waves, in a euphony of plastic scraping against lacquered cardboard. There’s a look of delight and curiosity in Jimin’s eye, and Taehyung can’t help but stare. He almost wants to interact with them to make Jimin happy. Almost.

“Okay,” Jimin says. He closes his eyes and clears his throat. “Dear ouija board, my name is Park Jimin and I am trying to find my best friend Kim Taehyung.” Beside him, Jeongguk’s face breaks out into an affectionate smile.

Taehyung sits still, unmoved. After two years of wanting nothing more than to be present in Jimin’s life, all of this feels so strange and insincere. He almost thinks hiring some shitty psychic in a back alley shop would have been less insulting.

When Taehyung doesn’t respond, Jimin sighs and opens his eyes. He looks out into the living room, toward the far window at Taehyung’s left, allowing himself to get lost in thought before he finally speaks.

“Taehyung,” Jimin mutters softly. “I don’t know if you can hear this, but…I’m sorry I haven’t tried to do this sooner, I just…I guess I don’t even know if things like this work. And I got scared. I thought about opening myself up to something like this and getting no response and the idea of it broke my heart. But I think it’s better to at least try, so here I am…trying. Anyway, If you’re out there, I hope you let me know, sometime.”

If Taehyung had a heart, Jimin’s little speech would have surely tugged at it. He sits on the floor staring at his best friend, watching as all of the playfulness slowly sinks away and is replaced by an earnest sadness. He wants to reach out and touch Jimin—wants to move the planchette to tell Jimin he’s there, that he’s always been there—but he doesn’t move.

“I had a dream the other night that you were lying beside me in bed,” Jimin continues. “We weren’t doing anything remarkable, you were just there. You still had the same shaggy long hair that you had when I last saw you, and you brushed your thumb over my cheek the same way you would whenever I was being a crybaby. Even though I wasn’t crying. Maybe you could sense my sadness.” Jimin smiles to himself and looks down at his fingers.

“For the rest of the day I felt this lightness, like I was sure you were there. It carried me through the day and made me feel stronger. Just knowing you might still be here makes me feel like I can conquer anything.”

One single teardrop falls from Jimin’s eye, and Taehyung sits forward, shifting his legs around until he’s on his knees. He looks at Jimin, studies him from below, and then reaches out with one hand, thumb gravitating to the apple of Jimin’s cheek before he stops himself.

Jeongguk’s weight shifts and Taehyung sees his hand snake around Jimin’s waist, gently pulling him into a half hug. Jimin sniffles and smiles, wiping his tears with his free hand.

“Maybe this was a mistake,” Jimin mutters.

“It’s okay,” Jeongguk responds softly, tightening his grip on Jimin’s side. “At least we tried.”

Jimin nods his head shallowly and removes his fingers from the planchette. As his hand grabs onto his small cup of soju, the hand between his and Jeongguk’s bodies moves to rest on Jeongguk’s knee. Jeongguk’s gaze falls first to Jimin’s hand, then, with a smile, he grabs his cup. Tears continue to fall slowly over Jimin’s cheeks despite his smile, and Jeongguk moves his arm from around Jimin’s waist to reach up and wipe away Jimin’s tears with the pad of his thumb.

All at once, Taehyung stands, towering over them. His mind races with ways to separate them and get Jeongguk the fuck out of this apartment, but he settles on using a single finger to push the cup of soju out of Jeongguk’s weak grasp, dropping it to the table.

The boys startle, and Jeongguk jumps a few inches away from Jimin, then looks around the apartment with wide eyes. Jeongguk looks nervous while Jimin looks amused.

“This wasn’t free, you brat!” Jimin squawks while pointing to the ouija board, but Jeongguk shakes his head.

“I didn’t do that, I swear!”

An amused smile tugs at Jimin’s lips. “Uh-huh, sure!”

“I swear!” Jeongguk responds, looking as if he had actually seen the ghost that made him drop his cup.

“Fine, I’ll humor you,” Jimin says with a chuckle. "Taehyung, darling, was that you?

Taehyung isn't sure why he's so infuriated with Jimin's new, playful tone. Maybe it's the addition of Jeongguk there. Maybe it's the fact that suddenly, all of this seems like nothing more than a fucking joke or some weird rouse to get Jeongguk alone in Jimin's flat.

Nobody's fingers remain on the planchette, and Taehyung reaches down and pushes it over the word No. Both Jeongguk and Jimin gasp and jump back against the couch, and Taehyung swipes the whole board away, sending it crashing to the floor with a wet streak of soju following in its wake. Taehyung leans forward with his palms on the table, eye level with Jimin as he watches them.

Jeongguk looks terrified, and he scoots away from Jimin to the side of the couch where he had been sitting before, almost cowering away. Jimin, on the other hand, has his eyes fixed on the table before him, staring at the mess of soju left behind. In his fingers, his cup still dangles, and Jimin pulls himself out of his reverie enough to shoot the soju back.

"I, uh...I think I should go," Jeongguk says. Jimin doesn't argue.

The shift in the energy is palpable, and it makes Taehyung uneasy, but he doesn't move. He watches as the wheels seem to turn in Jimin's mind and notices anger in his gaze. Taehyung wonders if Jimin knows it was him who made that mess, after all.

Without another word, Jeongguk gets up, moves across the room and slides his feet back into his sneakers. He doesn't look back as he leaves the apartment, and Jimin doesn't lift his eyes to watch him leave.

Taehyung reaches out and, with the pad of his thumb, rubs over the swell of Jimin's cheek, making himself known to him for the first time since his death. He isn't sure what he expects would happen, but he imagines something along the lines of Jimin gasping and realizing his best friend is really there, crying tears of joy that they're finally reunited.

What Taehyung doesn't expect is for Jimin's eyes to snap right to Taehyung's as if he can see him before saying, "Don't fucking touch me. Whoever you are, you're not welcome in this apartment."

Taehyung hoped the ouija board incident would be the last he would see of Jeongguk, but instead, Jimin just goes to spend time with him outside of his apartment. It started with small coffee dates between classes and grabbing a beer at night with their group of friends and progressed to them doing those things but as just the two of them.

Tonight, Jimin stands before his mirror, putting on makeup and gazing at his figure, while Taehyung leans against the dresser as always, with his arms crossed over his chest.

Jimin had gone out earlier to get his hair lightened and colored cotton candy pink, unlocking a level of devastating beauty that Taehyung didn't know was possible. From Jimin's ears dangle silver hoops, and he applies a light dusting of pink eyeshadow around his eyes and a matching pink, shimmery gloss to his plush, perfect lips.

The outfit Jimin wears is surprisingly understated. A plain white tee is half-tucked into tight blue jeans with holes at the knees. His many silver rings and bracelets draw attention to his dainty hands and wrists, and Taehyung imagines he'll pair his favorite slim black boots with the black leather belt around his waist. Tangerine and lilac hang in the air as Jimin twirls around a cloud of perfume and smiles at his own reflection.

There's a swish to Jimin's hips as he leaves his apartment in the very boots Taehyung knew he would slip his feet into, and Taehyung can't help but satiate his curiosity as he follows close behind, eager to know just where the hell Jimin is going on a Saturday night, all done up and smelling like a cheap whore.

Taehyung is surprised to discover Jimin's destination is some house party full of drunk college students listening to overproduced pop music and drinking out of red plastic cups. It doesn't take an idiot to see that this whole scene is below Jimin, and he scoffs as he takes in the chaos of the party, wondering what kind of person would be responsible for bringing a beauty like Jimin here, of all places.

Of course, it's Jeon fucking Jeongguk who greets Jimin in the kitchen with a tight hug. He hands Jimin a cup of something and roves his eyes over Jimin's body before reaching up to gently touch his pink hair. Jimin bites his lower lip, clearly pleased with the attention.

"Wow, Jiminah," Jeongguk mutters, "you look...so pretty."

A blush plays over Jimin's cheeks that matches the tones in his hair, and he checks Jeongguk out in return, smirking as he takes in Jeongguk's muscular frame in a black tee shirt that actually fits him for once and skinny dark blue jeans that accentuate his long legs and slim waist.

"Likewise, Ggukie," Jimin responds as he lifts his drink to his lips, holding tense eye contact with Jeongguk.

Taehyung considers knocking yet another drink from Jeongguk's hand just to break the tension and maybe put a little more fear into the guy, but they're interrupted by some friends and, for the time being, go back to acting shy and platonic with one another.

Taehyung's next outburst comes not with a bang but with the whisper of sweet words and the light blush on Jimin's cheeks when his lips brush against Jeongguk's neck, just below his ear.

The party has since died down, and Jeongguk is leaning against the kitchen counter, which is covered haphazardly in bottles of alcohol and mixers and abandoned plastic cups. Jimin suggests they get out of there, go somewhere just the two of them, and as his lips meet Jeongguk’s skin, Jeongguk’s breath hitches, and he lifts his hands to gently take Jimin by the waist.

“Want to come back to mine?” Jeongguk suggests, tilting his face to look down at Jimin.

Jimin stands on his toes and slowly, delicately rubs the tips of their noses together. With a nod, he says, “Let’s go.”

Taehyung doesn’t stick around to see the rest. He doesn’t follow them to Jeongguk’s place, and he doesn’t return to Jimin’s apartment. Instead, he walks through the front door, out into the cool autumn night, in no particular direction.

When Taehyung’s anger reaches its breaking point, he steps into the road and materializes into something an oncoming driver must be able to see, causing them to veer quickly and crash into a pole.

Taehyung doesn’t keep track of how long he wanders before he returns to Jimin’s apartment. Days, perhaps? Maybe a week. He roams the city, taking pleasure in fucking with unsuspecting strangers and searching for other ghosts to spend his time with.

Although some of the paths he crosses prove interesting, he misses Jimin. Nobody else feels like home quite like his best friend.

It’s late when Taehyung materializes through Jimin’s front door, sometime after bar time but well before dawn. Jimin lays spread out across his bed wearing a white tee shirt and tight black briefs. Smudges of black mascara are visible beneath Jimin’s eyes, and his breath smells like stale liquor.

Taehyung sits on the bed beside Jimin with enough force to make the mattress dip, and when Jimin grumbles and shifts slightly in the direction of the movement, Taehyung tenses. With the pad of his thumb, Taehyung gently brushes over the curve of Jimin’s cheek. A soft smile tugs at the edges of Jimin’s lips, and Taehyung leans down and softly presses a kiss to that smile, breathing in Jimin’s scent—floral, fruity and musky with a hint of vodka.

Jimin groans and smiles wider. The light kiss seems to have brought him back to consciousness, and he slowly blinks his eyes open. Then, as Jimin looks around the room, he realizes that—as far as he can tell—he’s all alone.

Taehyung can’t quite pinpoint the look in Jimin’s eyes, but there’s sadness swirling in the depths along with confusion. Jimin swallows hard and adjusts on his bed, pulling his blanket out from beneath him and covering himself with it, all the way to his mouth.

Jimin injures himself one winter morning on the way to school. It's not too serious, just a light sprain to one of his ankles, but his doctor prescribes him a rather strong pain medication.

Taehyung enjoys the few cozy days that he gets to spend with a weak, drowsy Jimin, but as soon as he feels more mobile, he begins to spend less and less time at home again, and Taehyung goes back to feeling bitter about the absence of his friend.

Taehyung begins spending more time away from Jimin’s apartment than he spends in it. No longer does he sit and wait for Jimin to come home. No longer does he watch as his pretty best friend gets ready to go to shitty house parties and loud nightclubs with his pretty little boy toy.

Instead, Taehyung continues to stroll aimlessly through the city, pulling pranks on humans and finding other spirits to distract him. The longer Taehyung spends away from Jimin, the more bitter he becomes. At times he’s certain he hates Jimin, and he curses the universe for ruining their perfect friendship and everything they worked for over the years.

Flashes of Yoongi and Jeongguk touching and kissing Jimin creep through his mind, and Taehyung feels furious over the fact that it should have been him. He should be the one touching and kissing and fucking Jimin, not those idiots. He is the one who stuck by Jimin’s side for all of those years. He is the one who deserves to be with Jimin.

When Taehyung does return to Jimin’s apartment, it’s to watch him sleep and to move things around, to give him a little scare. It starts small, switching the shampoo, conditioner and body wash bottles to different spots. But then he starts to pull bigger, more obvious pranks like moving Jimin’s dishes into his dry storage cabinet and placing his bedside lamp on the other side of the room.

Taehyung gets a rise out of watching Jimin wake up and gasp at the sight of his things moved around. It shouldn't amuse him so much to watch his best friend approach his own kitchen with a fearful look in his eye, but it does. As Jimin's hands shake and he looks around his apartment for any signs of someone breaking in, Taehyung shouldn't feel so amused, but he can't help it.

And anyway, Jimin looks so pretty when he pouts.

This time, Taehyung doesn't have an outburst and leave. This time, when Jeongguk slithers over Jimin's half-naked body, slurring drunk compliments at the pretty boy below him, Taehyung has an outburst and makes him leave.

Taehyung storms through the wall and swats a glass of water that sits on the bedside table, sending it flying across the room and smashing into the far wall. Both Jimin and Jeongguk squeal like scared little pigs, and Jeongguk sits up on his knees before scurrying backward away from the table where the glass was until he's tripping over himself to get out of the bed.

Jimin pleads with Jeongguk not to go, but he's clearly too drunk and too sleepy to chase after him. As Jeongguk runs out of Jimin's bedroom and leaves with his boots in his hands, Jimin pulls his covers over his head and curls into the fetal position, letting his drunkenness and anxiety pull him quickly to sleep.

Taehyung waits for Jimin to roll onto his back and start snoring lightly—something he does when he’s drunk and sleeping nice and heavy—and then he approaches the bed. Gently, Taehyung rubs his thumb over Jimin’s cheek, and when he doesn’t get a response, he grabs onto Jimin’s blanket and tugs it down.

The tee Jimin wears is bunched up around his waist, and Taehyung reaches out to push the fabric further and expose his nipples. Gently, Taehyung brushes his thumb over the dusky skin, watching with delight as it reacts and stiffens.

A soft huff of air leaves Jimin’s lips, and Taehyung leans further and flicks his dry tongue out to tease the nipple. Jimin’s soft, pebbled skin sparks something in Taehyung, and he laps at it once more, drawing a deeper moan from Jimin’s lips.

Jimin’s hand motions to push his shirt down, and Taehyung catches it, holding it still as he continues to tease his best friend. Although the touch seems to be causing Jimin to stir, it’s not waking him up, and Taehyung sits up and directs his attention lower.

Beneath Jimin’s tight shorts is a soft bulge that Taehyung very delicately traces his fingers over. Jimin’s thighs twitch, and Taehyung nibbles on his bottom lip as his fingers dance across the ridge of Jimin’s cock head and down his shaft, to his balls.

With a groan, Jimin reaches down and squeezes his own cock. A glance at his face shows Jimin to still be at least partially asleep, and Taehyung places his hand over Jimin’s and uses it to rub himself until he’s hard.

If Taehyung had saliva, his mouth would surely be watering. Jimin’s hand falls away as a deeper state of sleep claims him once more, and Taehyung replaces it with his own hand, using the tips of his fingers to trace the curves of Jimin's now fully erect cock.

“Fuck,” Taehyung mutters as his gentle touches turn firm. He envelopes Jimin’s shaft in his hand and slowly strokes up his length and down again, watching Jimin’s face for any trace of waking.

Jimin’s mouth opens slightly, and he mutters barely audible gibberish. Taehyung’s finger rubs over a wet spot in Jimin’s briefs and presses against it, feeling more precum soak through the thin fabric. Although Taehyung has no sense of taste, he feels the need to lick it.

Gently, Taehyung removes his hand from Jimin's erection and grabs onto the hem of his briefs. He tugs on the fabric slowly, watching for any signs of alertness. Then, as the tip of Jimin’s cock comes into view, he swipes his dry tongue over his lips.

Taehyung leans down and gently rubs his lips over the soft skin below the head of Jimin’s cock, then sticks his tongue out to taste him. He laps up to the tip and collects the dribble precum, imagining what it might taste like, and he can’t help the pleased groan that escapes him.

Jimin’s hips twitch, and he makes a sound as his hand returns to his cock. Taehyung moves his face just in time and watches in wonderment as Jimin grabs himself and strokes up his shaft as he stirs in his sleep once more.

“Need to make sure you get drunker next time,” Taehyung mutters as he sits up and grabs onto his own erection.

As Taehyung’s eyes rove over Jimin’s body, up to his lips, and back down to the leaking cock in his fist, he jerks himself off. “This will do for now.”

Taehyung doesn’t see a trace of Jeongguk for a while. He thinks that perhaps he’s finally scared the boy away from Jimin’s apartment for good. In fact, he's surprised he hasn't scared Jimin away. As far as he can tell, Jimin hasn't considered moving out. Perhaps he's come to peace with the idea that some bitter ghost who hates his male friend lives amongst him.

It helps that Taehyung has stopped haunting him. It's been too long since they've shared a masturbation session, and Taehyung longs to see Jimin at his most relaxed and vulnerable.

As the semester comes to a head and Jimin buries himself in studying for exams and working part-time at the dance studio, Taehyung begins to come around to the apartment more often again.

It’s not quite like it was before, but Taehyung enjoys sitting in his best friend’s company. But where there once was longing and admiration when Taehyung would watch Jimin go through the daily motions of his life, now Taehyung just feels lust. Lust and impatience.

Taehyung waits for the moment when Jimin sighs and sets his books aside, roving his hands over his body in search of some stress relief. Luckily, with Jimin becoming increasingly swamped with schoolwork, he spends enough time at home that he has to release his pent up energy on his own, and his sessions become more creative than simply jerking off.

Taehyung can’t help but gasp at the sight of Jimin working a lubed-up glass dildo into his ass, and that day he reaches his dry but intense orgasm in record time.

Jimin stumbles into his apartment shitfaced. To celebrate the end of the semester, he went out to the nightclub, probably with Jeongguk. Taehyung almost didn’t stay at the apartment, assuming that Jimin would want to go back to the doe-eyed boy’s place to get railed after so many weeks of fucking himself with toys, so he’s surprised when Jimin makes an abrupt, clumsy entrance.

Taehyung can't help but wonder how Jimin managed to get home in his current state, but he thanks his lucky stars that he made it in one piece and that he came in alone. He just needs to get Jimin naked, ideally before he passes out.

Jimin stumbles into the kitchen and grabs a clean glass from the drying rack beside the sink. In his drunken stupor, Jimin knocks his knee into the cabinet while stepping to the sink for water and leans into the counter as he winces and groans.

Taehyung stands with his arms crossed over his chest and smiles to himself as Jimin reaches above the sink and grabs a pill packet down. Of course he's too intoxicated to notice Taehyung put the stronger painkillers leftover from Jimin's sprain in the place where his over the counter pain medicines are kept.

Jimin rips the wrong package open, swallows the wrong pill down with a gulp of tap water, then he makes his way to his room, eyes drooping low as he fumbles over to his bedside table and sets down his glass with a loud thunk. Then he strips down to his briefs and tee and goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Taehyung moves the glass of water close to the edge of the table, and as soon as Jimin returns, his hip bumps into it. Delight spreads across Taehyung's face as Jimin ends up spilling water all over his hip and thigh, narrowly stopping the glass from falling to the floor.

"God, it's just too fucking easy," Taehyung mutters with a grin as Jimin strips out of his briefs.

Jimin stands, swaying as if he's out at sea, and for a moment, it looks like he's considering grabbing a dry garment. But, ultimately, he topples onto his bed in only a shirt, with his face down on a pillow. He's asleep in a matter of minutes.

"Shouldn't mix those painkillers with alcohol," Taehyung mutters teasingly as he changes his ghostly form from one that's dressed to one that's nude. "They'll make you really drowsy."

Taehyung gets onto the bed and straddles Jimin's ass, feeling the soft, supple skin between his thighs. With one hand, Taehyung roughly grabs Jimin by his pretty pink hair and tugs his head up. Jimin mutters softly but is out like a light and already drooling, and Taehyung scoffs, dropping his cheek against the pillow as he mutters, "Way too fucking easy."

Jimin lightly snores as Taehyung reaches for the bottle of lube on the bedside table, and he smiles to himself when he squirts some between Jimin's cheeks, and the sensation doesn't make him stir. With two fingers, Taehyung rubs between Jimin's cheeks until the pad of his middle finger dances over Jimin's puckered rim.

A deep, needy groan leaves Taehyung's chest, and he places his free hand on Jimin's ass and spreads him wide to get a better look at him. "So pretty," Taehyung moans as he rubs his finger over Jimin's hole, then pushes it inside.

Jimin is soft, wet and warm, and Taehyung forces his entire finger in, stretching his walls unceremoniously around him. Despite being unprepped, Jimin's ass seems to swallow him eagerly.

"Fuck," Taehyung mutters, feeling his cock ache for attention.

It takes no time at all for Taehyung to stretch Jimin around two and then three of his fingers. He explores Jimin's ass and revels in the soft twitches and noises that he makes. Although it's not the same as getting to watch pleasure tug at Jimin's face, this is the only way Taehyung can have him, and he has come to terms with this being good enough.

Slowly, Taehyung pulls his fingers from Jimin's ass and rubs them over his rim, up and down between his cheeks, making a nice big fucking mess. Then he pops the lube bottle open, squirts more liquid straight into Jimin's hole, and tosses the bottle onto the bed.

Taehyung gathers some of the lube from between Jimin's cheeks and slathers his cock, groaning from the slick sensation. Then he shimmies down between Jimin's legs, spreads his soft yet muscular thighs and lines his cock up with Jimin's perfectly messy hole.

If Taehyung had a heart, it would surely be pounding. Unlike Jimin, he has managed to uphold his half of their virginity pact, and now he's getting his reward. After all these years, he's finally getting what he thinks he deserves.

Taehyung's fingers couldn't have prepared Jimin's tight little ass for his girth. What a shame, Taehyung thinks as he slowly sinks his tip in, stretching Jimin further around him. He thinks Jimin would have loved Taehyung's cock.

As Taehyung is swallowed by the warmth of Jimin's perfect body, he imagines Jimin on his back, pretty pink lips parted as he whines and gasps from pleasure. As he disappears into Jimin's ass, Taehyung imagines sitting against the headboard while Jimin moans and whimpers, riding him while his own leaking cock slaps against his tummy. Taehyung thinks Jimin would look absolutely heavenly on top of him.

The squeeze of Jimin's ass is thrilling, a sensation that would surely knock the air from Taehyung's chest or make him dizzy if it could. Taehyung imagines Jimin crosseyed and begging for a chance to catch his breath before begging to be fucked.

As Taehyung lifts his hips and presses his cock back into his sleeping best friend, he imagines Jimin might mewl and whimper, digging his tiny fingernails into the soft flesh of Taehyung's hips. If only Taehyung had soft flesh.

"So good, Jiminah," Taehyung whines as he thrusts in a languid, deep pace. "You feel so fucking good."

Soft sounds leave Jimin's mouth, and he twitches from time to time, but his body makes no strong movements, nor does he show any signs of waking. Taehyung picks up his pace, watching with delight as Jimin's perky round ass cheeks ripple from each thrust.

Taehyung's pleasure builds and builds, and there's a part of him that wishes he could fill Jimin's ass with cum. He wishes he could see his release drip from Jimin's perfectly puffy hole, making an even bigger mess of himself. The thought of it sends Taehyung plummeting, and he squeezes Jimin's waist with both hands as he plunges his cock in deeper, trembling through the intense bliss.

"Fuck, baby, that's it," Taehyung whines as he sees stars and his pleasure crescendos. Perhaps this is the heaven Taehyung desired upon death. Perhaps this is the bliss he thought he would find in the afterlife.

Taehyung pulls out and falls back against his knees, and he watches Jimin's tight pucker slowly close around nothing, glistening from the lube that still coats it. It's risky, but Taehyung stands up off the bed and rolls Jimin onto his back.

Jimin grumbles as his limbs move like those of a ragdoll against the mattress, and Taehyung rubs his hands over Jimin's thighs, hips and tummy. It's risky, but Taehyung squirts lube onto Jimin's cock, slathers it up and shoves it down his throat.

Taehyung slurps and sucks at his best friend's cock while sweet moans and whimpers leave his lips. It's risky, but Taehyung reaches between Jimin's legs and sticks two fingers into him, slowly fucking them in and out of his used hole while he slurps his cock down, eager to make him cum.

Jimin moans loudly, and Taehyung's gaze flies to his face. Although Jimin appears to still be asleep, his brows are knit, and his pretty lips are parted, letting soft sounds slip between them. Taehyung continues to suck until Jimin's hips shake and tremble, then he pulls out and jerks Jimin off with his hand.

It only takes a few pumps for Jimin to orgasm. Thick, white ropes of cum shoot from his cock, landing on his hips and tummy, and suddenly he seems somewhat alert as he whimpers and moans. At least, alert enough. Taehyung removes his fingers from Jimin's ass but continues to squeeze at his head until he's milked Jimin's pretty rosy-tipped cock of every drop.

Jimin shivers and turns onto his side, reaching for his comforter, which is below him. When no warmth can be found, he grabs the side of the blanket and folds it over himself like a taco, all while staying more or less asleep.

The sight of Jimin's cum spraying all over himself made Taehyung hard again, and as Jimin struggles to find comfort, Taehyung stands against the wall and jerks himself off.

It's been a while since Taehyung's watched Jimin wake up in tears, and he hates to admit how proud he feels to be affecting his best friend, just like old times. The reason may be different, but the anguish as Jimin curls into a ball in the shower looks the same.

Try as he might, Jimin has no memory of last night. He calls Jeongguk crying, begging for an explanation as to how he got home, but Jeongguk insists Jimin took a cab and that, after that, he has no idea.

But something has to have happened because Jimin woke up in just a shirt, covered in cum with a sore ass sticky with lube.

Taehyung doesn't have another outburst again. His haunting and drunk fucking escalates to the point of Jimin attempting to move out of that apartment and, in the process, alienating himself from his friends. The psychological horror of whatever is happening to him is so great that he begins therapy and medications.

Jimin questions whether any of it is real or if he's experiencing hallucinations, and never seems to think it could be Taehyung haunting him and fucking with him. Taehyung finds it all incredibly amusing.

On the third anniversary of Taehyung's death, Jimin wakes up in a cold sweat moaning as he cums on his tummy. Taehyung has figured out how to rile him up and get him off all without waking him up—all without needing to get him drunk.

When Jimin finally rolls out of bed, he finds all of the furniture in his apartment is in the wrong place. He screams bloody murder and runs back to bed, pulling his cover over his head and muttering frantically to himself. Taehyung runs his hands up and down Jimin’s thighs gently over the blanket and smiles to himself as Jimin squeals and pulls away.

As a gift to mark the occasion, Taehyung takes out the old ouija board that Jimin had packed away a year earlier. The board is warped from soju and doesn't sit flat, but that's not important. All he needs is for the planchette to rest nicely over the word Yes. He wonders if Jimin will understand what he's saying yes to—that he's finally answering Jimin’s question of whether or not it was him.

Taehyung cannot wait to see Jimin's reaction.

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hxney-lemcn · 2 years

Text

No One Like You — Hunter x gn! reader

Summery: Reader finds out the truth about the Golden Guard and they don't know how to feel.

tw: Spoilers for season 2 episode 6. Mentions of abuse.

wc: 4.3k

Chapter Seven

Master List | Chapter One

Hunter still hasn’t visited me. The worry I held before growing way more. After all, now I have more material for my anxious ridden mind to use. After all, everything points for Hunter and the Golden Guard to be the same person. Okay well not everything. But what if he was? The voice was awfully similar, not to mention when he seemed so kind towards me. It felt like Hunter was talking to me…if it weren’t about me being restrained.

And if Hunter was the Golden Guard. He mentioned the Emperor and…the dark undertones it left me with were not pleasing. Does that mean the Emperor Belos is the witch that took him in…and the person who abuses him? That leaves this entire situation more complicated than ever. Much less, what can I even do? Nothing really. I guess, try to convince him to leave. But how could I do that if he doesn’t visit me anymore? It’s not like I can break into the palace, and I don’t know what room he’s in anyways. Besides, I’m just a sixteen year old student at Hexside, taking the beast keeping track. He’s…well he’s possibly the Emperor’s right hand man. It would also explain all the instances where he didn’t want to break the law that Belos set down. Or even contemplate wild witches not being dangerous.

“Luz didn’t get a palismen,” Viney said to me. I looked over at her and frowned. “I kinda feel bad, she seemed down about it but tried to hide it.”

I remember when I first got my palismen. My moms knew about palistrom wood being over harvested early on, so they managed to sneak me some. They taught me how to carve my own, and I decided on carving a phoenix. Cinder. Representation of hope, of being reborn, rising from the ashes. Other kids in my year weren’t so lucky, the school couldn’t get any palistrom wood so they ended up just canceling it. I’m glad that the Bat Queen was generous enough to bring lost palismen to the school for future generations to have one.

I saw Luz exit the school so I waved bye to Viney and made my way towards her, “Hey Luz!”

Turning around in shock, she smiled at me, but it seemed forced, “O-oh hey (y/n)...”

“I…I heard that you didn’t get a palismen,” I said shly, just ripping the bandaid off. “So I was wondering if you wanted to have a sleepover or something. Try to get your mind off of it.”

Looking off to the side, she thought for a bit before nodding, “Sure, that sounds good.”

We walked to my house so I could ask for permission and get some clean clothes and pajamas. Momma handed us each a few cookies before we took off on my staff. We changed into our pajamas and ate dinner before staying in her room. I couldn’t stop myself from admiring her echo mouse that she must’ve got recently, as she started to pace.

“What’s wrong Luz?” I asked out, turning to face her. “You can vent to me, I don’t mind.”

Letting out a sigh she replied back softly, “I don’t want to burden you with my problems.”

“Luz you’re my friend,” I said, walking over to her and putting a hand on her shoulder. “You’re not being a burden, especially when I’m asking you to share your problems.”

She nodded and began to pace again, so I sat on the ground, “I stayed here because I wanted to learn magic. I want to be a witch like Eda and Azura! But what does that even mean? And I’ve read stories like this. The main character always has to return home. And what? Did I expect to be a witch in the human realm?”

I frowned as she unraveled her feelings about well…being a human in a different dimension. I wasn’t exactly sure how to handle this, but I did put myself in this situation. Sue me, I want to help a friend.

Luz let out a sigh before I could reply and laid down, “I wouldn’t want to be my palismen either.”

“Luz,” I said softly. “Those aren’t all the palismen in the world. I’m sure there’s one out there that’s just waiting for you. And even if you don’t find one, that doesn’t make you any less of a witch.”

Suddenly a cardinal palismen left Luz’s bag at like…the perfect timing, “It’s you! Did you come here for me?”

The bird chirped lightly while hopping around the room, “No, of course not.”

“We should take it back to its nest,” I said as the bird hopped into my hands. “Maybe you can try to connect with one of the palismen again.”

“Yeah!” Luz exclaimed, seeming to get some of her spirit back.

The trip back to the school field was quick. It was dark out, but the moon shone down lighting the way. Yet when we got there, I noticed that the nest for the palismen had a forcefield around it.

“How are we supposed to get through this?” Luz asked, touching the forcefield. Suddenly the cardinal pushed its head against the yellow forcefield and it broke. “Woah, palismen powers. Neat!”

I kneeled down and opened the door for the cardinal to enter. Luz kneeled down next to me and looked around at all the palismen. Then she crawled in, waving for me to follow. It was a cramp space for both of us to be in, but it wasn’t terribly bad either. I could still move my limbs. The palismen chattered when we entered but calmed down once Luz started questioning what she wanted to do in her future. It was getting really late and I felt my eyes close involuntarily.

Feeling the ground jolt, I didn’t even remember falling asleep. I looked around in panic as Luz opened the door to shout at whatever was making the ruckus. I looked over her shoulder to see why she looked startled and I felt my own eyes widened as we were high up in the air. Looking up, there was a blimp carrying the nest.

“I think we’re being kidnapped,” Luz said looking back at the palismen. They coward in fear Luz continued, “Don’t worry, I’ll…we’ll figure this out.”

We nodded at each other in determination as Luz made a plant glyph so we could climb a vine up. I went after her in case I needed to catch her if she fell…though I’m kinda more worried for myself. We finally reached the side of the blimp and looked in. There he stood, the Golden Guard in all his glory whistling a tune to himself. Once again I felt my heart clench, this had to be Hunter. There’s no way in Titan it isn’t.

“Ugh, him again,” Luz groaned. Jumping over the side, Luz smacked the leaf she wrote a glyph on, onto the Golden Guards back and he looked back at her in confusion.

“Luz wait!” I shouted jumping after her, but it was too late as the Golden Guard was rocketed off.

“He’ll be fine,” Luz said looking towards me, a sheepish smile adorning her face. “Now how do I land this thing?”

Before I could reply, arms wrapped around me, one around my waist and the other covering my mouth. I let out a muffled shout as I looked back, seeing the Golden Guard being the one holding me. He let out a whispered ‘Shh’.

“You just pull that cord above your head,” He said nonchalantly. Like he wasn’t currently holding me hostage.

“Oh, thanks (y-” Luz started, beginning to pull the cord before turning around in shock.

“Hiiiii,” Golden Guard said in a mocking tone before sending Luz to the back of the ship and wrapping her up with rope. I struggled in his grip, trying to get him to let go. I heard him let out a quiet sigh as he used his magic to more gently sit me by Luz and tie me up as well.

“What do you want with the palismen, Golden Guard?” Luz shouted out in an accusatory tone.

“Frankly…” He started, teleporting into Luz’s face. “You should be more concerned about yourself. For the crime of rocketing me off my own ship, you’ll be locked in the dingiest cell in the Conformatorium. For the rest of your sad little life.”

“Whatever,” Luz scoffed. “I already broke out of there, like, twice.”

“I don’t think you should say that,” I muttered, wincing slightly.

“Then we’ll just zap you to dust and throw you into the sea,” The Golden Guard replied, turning away in frustration. “That better?” Luz groaned and he just replied with a simple ‘good’.

Luz tried to struggle free and I came up with a way to get the ropes off. Just…well…my hands were sticking out the bottom. So I could try to untie Luz and then vice versa, presto. But instead Luz stopped and started to draw a glyph, talking to the Golden Guard as a distraction.

“Say, how did you get back to the ship so fast?” She asked.

“Staff,” He replied like it was a dumb question, and honestly…I would’ve facepalmed if I could.

Activating the glyph, she aimed it towards his staff…and it was gone.

No!” He shouted, reaching out towards it. Chuckling, he turned towards us, “Human, it’ll take more than just that to thwart my mission.”

Suddenly a giant dragon looking creature flew by, “Like this?” I couldn’t help the sarcasm that flew out of me. Then the hand dragon thing split the top of the blimp open, causing the ship to crash.

“/n)! (Y/n) wake up!” Someone exclaimed while shaking me lightly. Opening my eyes I looked around. We were in a yellow forest, Luz hovered over me with the cardinal bird perched on her shoulder. “C’mon we gotta go.”

Sitting up, I watched Luz crawl towards the Golden Guards staff. Looking past that, I saw the Golden Guards body and he seemed to be waking up from the way he was groaning in pain.

“Kikimora, maam,” I heard a scout behind me say. “We’ve found the palismen. They seem rattled but unharmed.”

Luz and I looked over to see Emperor coven scouts and what seems to be a higher up talking. And…she was holding the Golden Guards mask…will I finally find out his identity? No that's not what’s important right now.

“Very good captain,” The small leader spoke up. “Return to the city and prepare them for travel.”

“Is it true maam?” The captain spoke out. “Is the Golden Guard really…”

“This is all that remains,” Kikimora responds dramatically. “Such a horrible accident. Probably caused by the incompotent pilot."

When the scouts left, she called the hand dragon (that’s what I’m calling it now). I felt sick, his own coven members were plotting his downfall.

“Now find the rest of him and have yourself a nice little snack,” Kikimora said sweetly and had her dragon pet sniff his mask.

Luz and I looked at each other, coming to a silent agreement, then looked back at the Golden Guards body. Nodding at each other, we made our way to where he laid. Little rascal perching on my head. When we got to a position where we could see him I froze. I was right. The Golden Guard…he’s my Hunter. I…I didn’t know what to do. So many thoughts rushing through my head and feelings that I didn’t even know.

“This is the Golden Guard?” Luz asked, surprised. “It looks like he could be a student at Hexside.”

I stumbled my way over to them and crouched next to Hunter. Luz leaned in closer to him, but I noticed her raise her arm and I stopped her before she could hit him.

Instead I raised one of my shaky hands and carded my fingers through his hair, leaning down to his ear I whispered, “Hunter it’s time to wake up.”

Hunter slowly opened his eyes and turned his head towards me. I raised my face so we were eye to eye and I noticed a small smile come over his face, “(Y…y/n)?”

I backed up and looked off to the side. I…don’t know how to handle these weird feelings inside of me. On one hand I want to forgive him for not telling me everything and be understanding. But a more selfish part of me wanted him to hurt like I have these months I haven’t seen him. So I chose a more neutral route, bringing my walls that I normally let down around him up once more.

Hunter looked over towards Luz and sat up quickly, looking around in panic. The situation seemed to finally dawn on him, “What?”

“Listen,” Luz said, not mentioning anything about what just happened thankfully. “You are a bad person and I do not like you.” I flinched slightly at those words. I wanted to vouch for him, say he must be misunderstood…but do I even know him? “But Kikimora is trying to kill you, and unfortunately we’re too nice to let that happen!”

“Are you licking my hand?” Luz exclaimed grossed out, quickly wiping his own spit on his face. “I’m trying to help you!”

“Why should I believe you?” Hunter replied back, and…are they seriously fighting like siblings right now?

Taking a deep breath to control my emotions a bit, I quickly turned stern, “You two stop fighting right this instant.” Both stopped pushing at each other and turned to face me. “Stop acting like children, this is a serious situation and-”

I heard the hand dragon sound from behind me and I stopped speaking to look back. Hunter quickly discarded his cloak and grabbed my wrist as we all ran off. Hiding some glowing orbs, we watched as the Hand dragon tore up the cloak that Hunter left. And we used this distraction to sneakily get to Latissa.

Once we got into the city, Hunter looked angry as Luz started talking, “Wheh, man, Kikimora must hate you.”

I nudged Luz lightly, “Luz I don’t think now is a good time to bring that up…once again.”

Luz and I watched as the citizens of Latissa seemed much more…bruanier? It was different, but it was neat to see somewhere new.

“I haven’t been outside of Bonesborough that much,” Luz said, spinning around. “Latissa is so cool!”

“I haven’t either,” I agreed, noticing Hunter take a sharp turn. I called out a ‘wait’ as I grabbed Luz’s hand to follow him. Hunter actually paused for a second before walking again.

“Where are you going?” Luz said in a frustrated tone, holding his staff tighter. “Hey man, we just saved your life. The least you could do is tell us your name.” I resisted the urge to correct her and say that I already knew his name, but Hunter grunted at her, looking back at us, his eyes falling to our intertwined hand before stomping off faster.

Hunter walked up to two scouts and said in a commanding voice, “Scouts! Direct me to your communications room. I need to contact the castle immediately.” Then he showed them something one his wrist, I’m guessing it's his coven sigil.

“Cute,” One of the scouts said in a mocking tone. “I didn’t know kids your age were still into temporary tattoos.”

“Yeah,” The other scout said. “Show us your badge number.”

“I am your superior and I can prove it,” Hunter said. Luz dragged me closer towards where they stood and I felt nervous, so I held onto her arm to try and feel better. Turning towards us, Hunter held out his hand, “Staff.”

Luz hid it behind us and I honestly felt bad at the defeated look that crossed Hunter’s face. He looked even more hurt when he noticed how I clung to Luz, but I chose to ignore it. It probably looked pretty funny to see a 16 year old clinging to a 14 year old.

“Isn’t it a little late for you kids to be outside?” The scout asked with their hands on their hips.

“We were just on our way home actually,” I said with a nervous chuckle, tugging Luz towards where we came from.

The scouts then walked away and Hunter turned towards us, his cheeks and ears colored red and started chasing after us. Luz quickly ran, me stumbling behind her. Running past people, jumping down to stairs, and running into a dead end, Luz quickly let go of my hand and drew an ice glyph and launched us onto the top of the building.

Turning back around, Luz leaned over the railing and taunted, “C’mon Golden Guard. Don’t you know any, like, levitation spells?” Hunter looked away and I felt my heart drop. Could he…not do magic or something? Luz seemed to have come to the same conclusion as she pointed to his staff, “Are you powerless without this?”

Hunter glared up at us before walking away. But I knew better than to think he was giving up. And I was right when he parkoured up the building, and honestly? I was impressed. But that was quickly shattered when Luz used Hunter’s staff to send shocks at him, which he dodged.

“Back up! Or…or else!” Luz threatened.

“Or else what?” Hunter said, walking closer. “You gonna blast me to bits?” Chuckling he continued, “Nah, you’re too nice for that. Fly away? Nuh-uh, you know you can’t do that either. ‘Cause then you’ll be leaving behind your precious palismen. You don’t tend to think things through, do you, human?”

“Back off,” I said, standing in between them, holding up my own staff towards Hunter. “We’re not gonna get anywhere if we keep squabbling like griffins.”

Suddenly the hand dragon flew over us, and we walked over to see what was going on. “So Kikimora was after my catch,” Hunter said, resting his hand on his chin.

“Seems like neither of us want her to win right now,” Luz said, pointing his staff at him once more. “Sooooo, let’s work together to take back those palismen.”

“Then what?” Hunter asked frustratingly. “You think I’ll just let you walk away with them?”

“Maybe you won’t have a choice,” Luz said smugly. “It is two against one.” Luz twirled the staff around only to hit her own head and nearly drop the staff. We all reached for it as a reflex, but Luz quickly caught it and laughed awkwardly.

“I doubt that,” Hunter said, crossing his arms. “But…fine. Truce till then.”

“Truce,” Luz and I said together. Holding out her hand, Luz waits for Hunter to take the bait. Sighing, Hunter uncrossed his arms and went to shake her hand. Only for Luz to slick back her hair and say “Too slow” while chuckling. I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me as Luz ran away and Hunter glared at her. Turning towards me, Hunter seemed like he wanted to say something. And I wanted him to. I also wanted to say something but I didn’t know what.

“Let’s get this over with,” He muttered and followed Luz. I…felt even more hurt at that, but I realized my colder attitude with him probably hurt him too. Ugh why can’t things ever be easy.

Hunter went to get some sleeping nettle as I helped Luz write the glyphs in chalk. After all, they were similar to the ones in that book I bought about wild magic.

“I’ve never seen magic like this before,” Hunter spoke out, aw underlying in his voice. “What will it do?”

“Well,” Luz said, starting to explain. “We don’t want to spook Kikimora’s steed because it would drop the nest and hurt the palismen.” “So using fire and ice spells, we’re commanding the glyphs to produce a strong mist,” I continued for her.

“And the sleeping nettles?” Hunter asked, handing them to me.

“They’re essential!” Luz exclaimed.

“Combined with the mist it’ll create-” I said, being cut off.

“A sleep induced smoke, forcing Kikimora to land,” Hunter continued for me, awe laced in his voice. And once again it felt like I was back at home, lying in bed with Hunter by my side as we rambled about magic. Hunter smiled at me brightly and I couldn’t help the shy smile I sent back.

Luz looked at him in confusion and Hunter stammered to explain himself, “Oh-uh…I-I read a similar spell in the book From Bones to Earth-”

Luz cut him off, “A Study of Wild Magic! Eda once pickpocketed the guy who wrote it!”

“I’ve never seen glyphs before,” Hunter said, staring at the wall, “But it seems very similar to the elemental magic practiced in the savage ages.” And there's my dork.

“Really?” Luz said intrigued.

“Actually, not many people know this aside from (y/n) and I, but,” Hunter said excitedly. “No. No, no, no, no. This stuff is restricted for a reason. You should forget about it before you’re hurt.”

Luz glanced at me in confusion before saying, “Other than Lilith, I’ve never spoken to someone inside the Emperor’s coven. What made you want to join?” My memories went back to when Hunter told me about how he was taken in by his only family member. And I stared at him waiting for an answer…hoping to high Titan that it wasn’t Emperor Belos.

“You were right before,” Hunter sighed, sitting down, resting his arms on his knees. “I’m a powerless witch. A lot of my ancestors were. I never thought I’d have a future in a world like this. But then Belos found me and gave me a staff with artificial magic. Said the Titan had big plans for me.” At this point he was fidgeting with his fingers.

Luz deflated slightly and looked away, “At least you have your future figured out now.”

“At least you can figure out your own,” Hunter replied, glancing at me before looking away. Suddenly the cardinal palismen landed on Hunter’s arm and he jumped back in shock, “Hey!” The bird twittered at him and I felt a giant grin form on my face, “Stop! Get away from me.”

“He’s just being friendly,” Luz said with a slight giggle.

“I don’t care!” Hunter exclaimed, tense with fear. “These things are made from wild magic. It’s dangerous.”

“Does he look dangerous to you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow, leaning over to pet its head.

We all jumped up once we heard the sounds of the hand dragon. We saw it start to fly and Luz looked at Hunter and I, “Masks on.” We all put on our masks as Luz continued, “Once they’re surrounded by the smoke, we’ll need to stay close to see where they land.” Hunter and I nodded. And Luz held Hunter’s staff out towards him.

He looked back at her with wide eyes, “Are you sure? (Y/n) has her own staff-”

I fake whistled as Cinder hid behind my back. I tried to hide my smile behind my hand as Hunter looked surprised, but also slightly amused.

“Just take it,” Luz said, shoving it towards him.

Seeing the hand dragon take off with the palismen, Luz activated the glyphs. The mist poured out as Hunter and I already sat on his staff, waiting for Luz to join. Which when she did we quickly took off.

“I think it’s working,” I said, seeing the dragon slow down slightly.

Luz then casted a light glyph and we led the dragon to the ground. I heard Kikimora let out a pitiful ‘stop’, before fully crashing.

“The palismen!” Luz exclaimed, running over to check on them. But I turned towards Hunter, standing in front of Luz as she comforted them.

Hunter lit his staff, so I called Cinder, who quickly came to me. I heard Luz chuckle awkwardly behind me muttering a meek ‘right’.

“Are you really going to do this?” I asked, frown tugging on my lips.

“You’re going to bring all those innocent creatures to Belos?” Luz agreed. “I know what he does with them. I thought you might’ve been a good guy. But I guess that was just wishful thinking. You’re not my friend. You’re just the Golden Guard.” My heart tugged at her words, and so did Hunter’s it seems as he looked from Luz to me. His glare softened.

Tugging his mask down and lowering his staff slightly he said, “My name is Hunter.”

I felt my features soften. I wanted to lower my staff and hug him, but he got hit in the head with a bolt of purple fire. Looking to my left I noticed a semi-conscious Kikimora. She was mumbling to herself and at that moment I wanted to wack her with my staff for hurting Hunter. I mean after all the craziness that happened tonight, I forgive him. I just want him to explain everything to me first.

Kikimora started firing bolts out randomly and I stood in front of Luz and the palismen. If Hunter was the Golden Guard I knew he could take care of himself. I went to block a blot that was going to hit me, but Hunter blocked it for me. He continued to deflect bolts and got closer to Kikimora. He hit her, and she landed by us, her weird finger whistle landing at Luz’s feet. Kikimora went to cast a spell at Luz but Hunter blocked her at the last moment, continuing to protect us.

Luz tugged my hand and led me towards the hand dragon. I hesitated, turning to look back at Hunter as he defended Luz and I. I felt terrible, but I knew Luz was right, we needed to keep the palismen safe. Hunter will be fine on his own. We sat on the dragon as Luz tried to sound soothing. Using the whistle, the dragon came to and started to fly off. I looked back towards Hunter, who stared at us after finally knocking out Kikimora.

I’m sorry Hunter.

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#toh #the owl house #toh hunter #hunter toh #the golden guard #golden guard #x reader #the golden guard x reader #golden guard x reader #toh hunter x reader #hunter toh x reader

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riahlynn101 · 1 year

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"I Love You to the Moon and Back" (3).

Chapter 3

“Izuku Midoriya,” a man starts, “what do we know about him?” He sits at the head of a conference table. Twelve people stare back at him, six on each side.

A woman with mousy brown hair and heart shaped pupils, speaks first. “We know he’s a student at U.A high school.”

He sighs, annoyed at his subordinates. “Aoki, the commission is already aware of who he is. What we want to know is two things: what is his exact relation to All for One-”

“Nakaya, with all due respect, the paternity results were conclusive on the fact that All for One is Izuku Midoriya’s biological father. And I-” Masa, a man with a weak hair-growing quirk, shuts his mouth upon seeing his boss’ glare.

“As I was saying, we need to find out his exact relation to All for One. This doesn’t mean finding out through another paternity test. We, as Masa so kindly pointed out, already know their biological relation.” He leans forward in his seat, hands clasped on the table in front of him. “We want to know how present he was in Midoriya’s life. How much did he influence the boy growing up? Did the boy have anything to do with his villainous empire? Does he know anything about the villain that we don’t? These are the questions we want to know.”

“What about his wife…uh….” one of his subordinates looks over his notes. “Inko Midoriya?”

“She was among those that perished when U.A exploded. The boy is the only way we’ll get any answers,” Aoki explains.

“Correct. Now, moving on, the second reason we need Midoriya is that the boy is faced with the unique position of being rewound to a very young age. He seems to still have One for All - something that the commission would do well to keep under wraps until the boy’s old enough to fight for us.”

“What are you proposing, Nakaya?” Another one of his subordinates asks.

He smiles widely. “We do what we’ve always done. Take someone else’s trash and make them our treasure.”

-x-x-x-

From one instant to the other, Izuku’s hackles are raised. He yells out his nemesis’ name. From his peripheral vision he can make out All Might reaching a protective arm out.

Shigaraki, even as a kid, poses a significant risk. One that should not, under any circumstances, be ignored. Izuku still wants to save him-and he will -but in his current state, he would rather not go toe-to-toe with him.

“Zuzu-Chan!” He shouts back, either unaware of or completely ignoring the tension in the room. “I wanted to talk to you.”

The nurse urges him closer to them. “I found him in the hallway. Hope you two don’t mind, I can come collect him before naptime.”

Izuku looks to his mentor for help, but the man has frozen in place.

The nurse, taking their silence for permission, walks Shigaraki over to his bedside. She hoists him up, so he’s sitting right next to Izuku. Izuku becomes as frozen as All Might, shrinking back from the other boy’s presence. He looks down at his half-empty bowl of soup.

“Here we are,” the nurse says, setting a lunch tray in front of Shigaraki, “I’ll be back in a little bit.” She leaves.

“So….” Shigaraki begins.

“What do you want, Shigaraki?” Izuku snaps.

He shrinks back. “Please don’t call me that.”

Izuku quirks a brow. “Why?”

“I…I just don’t want to be called that. Call me Tenko.”

He watches Shiga- Tenko eat. Up close, he seems normal. Maybe the rewind affected the part of him that hates anyone and anything with a burning passion?

“Okay,” he says after a moment of simply watching the other boy, “Tenko.”

Tenko smiles at him. And not in the same way he did back at the mall all those months back. It’s the type of smile his mom gives him when she sees him during the holidays. The kind that means she’s missed his company - bright and so, so genuine.

He sees All Might watching the exchange with bated breath. Waiting for the slightest indication that Tenko hasn’t changed.

A knock at the door startles them.

“Yagi-San?” A nurse asks, popping her head into the room. “Detective Tsukauchi would like a word with you.”

“Thank you, but-”

“It’s okay, All Might,” Izuku tells his mentor, “Tenko and I have a lot to catch up on.” When All Might remains in his chair, he adds, “I’ll be fine. No one is going to fight to the death while you’re gone.”

“At least not until after naptime,” Tenko says, dryly.

All Might’s eyes widened.

“Joking!” Tenko laughs, scratching at the back of his neck.

Izuku pulls Tenko’s hand away from his neck. “We’ll be fine. I promise.”

The nurse pops her head back into the room. “Yagi-San?”

All Might eventually gets up. “Coming,” he tells the nurse. To which she leaves to tell the detective that All Might will be along shortly. “Yell if you need anything.”

“He’s really worried about you,” Tenko says once All Might has left the room.

Because he doesn’t trust you, Izuku thinks. Though, that isn’t entirely fair, so he keeps it to himself. “Yeah,” Izuku agrees with a shrug of his shoulders. “He does that a lot.”

They sit side-by-side while they finish their lunch.

“Why are you being nice to me?” Izuku asks in a small voice.

“Why….why wouldn’t I be?” Tenko frowns. He shifts onto his knees, pushing his lunch tray up the bed.

Izuku thinks of all the death and destruction the other boy, then a man, has caused. He recalls all the vivid nightmares he’s had of being reduced to dust, of watching his classmates and teachers being mutilated or killed. He thinks of standing on a pile of rubble, begging and pleading for an end to the chaos. Only to be laughed at and mocked.

But…..that was Shigaraki Tomura. A tool All for One used to twist and morph society to how he wanted it. Someone that was corrupted from an early age, filled with trauma no adult (let alone a five-year-old) should have had to go through.

The boy kneeling on the bed next to him, worrying his bottom lip, isn’t that.

Shimura Tenko and Shigaraki Tomura are the same only on a technicality.

“I…I don’t know. I guess, I assumed that you hated me.”

“Oh, I did. I mean…. I think I did. My feelings from before we were both rewound are hazy at best.”

“Ah,” Izuku says, scooting his lunch tray away. “That-” he’s interrupted by the need to cough.

“I-Izuku, are you okay?” Tenko reaches out a hand.

Dust. Destruction. Death!

Izuku pulls back. He takes a deep breath, trying to settle himself, but he can’t. His lungs feel like they’re on fire! He takes another deep breath, pushing his body to cooperate.

He exhales in a wheeze.

Izuku, through his own growing panic, can see Tenko scrambling off the bed.

Come back! He thinks, tears streaming down his face. I don’t want to be alone! I’m scared!

His tiny hands grab at his throat. He tries again and again to take a breath. But each time he tries it just becomes harder.

His vision blurs slightly.

“H-lp,” he begs in between loud wheezes.

He can make out the voices of the vestiges. They’re trying to get his attention, but Izuku can’t bring himself to focus on anything besides the fiery feeling in his lungs with each inhale.

“Tenko’s going to get help,” Nana tells him, kissing his temple. Her presence and reassurance calms him down, if only slightly. “Just hold on for a few minutes longer.”

-x-x-x-

Toshinori Yagi hates the commission. He played their games for literal decades, and has seen presidents come and go. Each one making up different policies and knocking down previous ones. But one thing remains the same with each and every one, and that is, the sheer audacity they all possess.

The newest president, Nakaya, sits across from him at the conference table. A small pile of files in front of him.

“Yagi,” he says, smiling, “how are-”

“Stop, why are you here?”

Nakaya’s smile falls. “Izuku Midoriya,” he says, sliding a file across the table, “he’s your student, right?”

“Yes, what about it?” He opens the file, skimming through it. A picture of Young Midoriya is pinned to the corner, his posture tense and smile awkward. It’s almost enough to bring a smile to his face, but the president clears his throat, reminding Toshinori that he isn’t alone.

“If you’ll read page three, line six: confirmed biological relations.”

He stares at the president, squinting his eyes. “I do apologize, but I really need to get back to my boy.”

“Just read the file.”

In an effort to get this whole meeting over and done with, Toshinori reads page three from top to-

No! This has to be wrong!

“What….is this?” He asks, eyes glued to the words: confirmed biological relations - parents. Mom: Inko Midoriya (age. 41); Dad: All for One (age. unknown) (note: unknown if Hisashi Midoriya-the name on Izuku Midoriya’s birth certificate and the man married to Inko Midoriya-is in fact real, or an alias the S-rank villain goes by. Further investigation needed).

“The commission ran All for One’s blood through the system. We were curious if he had any potential living relatives. And we ended up-”

“Finding out that Young Midoriya is related to All for One,” Toshinori finishes. His heart breaks for his boy. Because there’s no way he knows.

“We need to speak with the boy, and once he’s released, the commission will take him into custody. For his protection, of course.”

Toshinori glares daggers at the other man. “I’m sure, but Young Midoriya needs to rest without the commission hounding him.”

The president huffs out an amused laugh. “Yes, we all heard about his current state. I’ve heard young children need to sleep more. Well, it’d be a shame to waste a trip. I don’t suppose you would mind asking the fiend some questions?”

-x-x-x-

All for One grits his teeth. The call of hundreds, if not thousands, of wonderful quirks wears him down. His quirk’s hunger for more is starting to affect his decision making.

He pushes it down, choosing instead to look out a nearby window. A kingfisher has made a nest in the crook of the roof. Its eggs have yet to hatch, but he still watches it agonize over the potential lives.

It reminds him of himself when Inko was pregnant.

The knowledge that a potential life was sprouting, growing inside her, had both been a blessing and a curse.

Aside from the normal things associated with pregnancy: morning sickness, mood swings, and odd cravings (all of which All for One can proudly proclaim he took in stride), there were other things that no book ever talked about. Things personal to him that he could never bring himself to tell anyone, least of all his wife and future mother of their child.

Late at night, watching his wife sleep-a hand over her stomach as if to protect their unborn child while she slept-these thoughts came out in force. Thoughts that brought him back to his brother and his untimely demise.

What if his son ends up hating him, just like Yoichi did?

Or, the more likely scenario, what happens when his past and current deeds catch up to him?

More than likely, Inko would be taken in for questioning, and then possibly Tartus if her answers aren’t deemed satisfactory. Which would leave their child at the mercy of an unforgiving system.

He’d be no better than Nana Shimura, leaving her son at the feet of a cruel society.

(Except, he reasoned to himself, he’d have no choice.)

And then, Izuku had been born.

He came out six weeks early and was such a tiny, frail, little thing.

His son’s lungs hadn’t fully developed by the time he made his grand entrance into the real world, and it showed in the way he would have to catch his breath after the smallest cry. To this day, he can still hear the wheezing sounds Izuku would make after a feeding, like he had trouble learning how to breathe and eat at the same time.

The pattern, All for One realizes with distaste, of his son reminding him of Yoichi started earlier than Izuku receiving One for All and ran deeper than their love for heroics and a self-sacrificial need to save those they care about.

Thankfully, though, unlike his foolish little brother, Izuku only had to suffer with his ailment for three-and-a-half-years. It took more resources than he liked to admit, but with his reach and connections it was only a matter of time until he found a quirk that matched up perfectly to what his son needed.

An immune-booster quirk that works via touch. The original user, a pediatrician, used it on his patients to make them healthier. It does come with the downside that, if used for large amounts of time or on someone too young, it could potentially have the opposite effect - allergies, chronic illnesses, and even death.

Still, All for One refused to allow his little boy to suffer more than necessary. A parent could only listen to their baby struggle to breathe so many times before they’re obligated to do something. Especially when there’s something to be done.

It’s not like the doctor needed it anyway.

He sighs, remembering the first time his son had enough energy to run around their apartment. Izuku, in his little All Might Onesie, dashing across the living room while yelling out that he is here!

As much as he hates All Might-and the blond oaf has placed himself even lower on All for One’s shitlist the moment he chose Izuku as a successor-he is (secretly) grateful for the man’s presence in his son’s life. Anyone that can make his son smile with such pure, uncorrupted joy, and encourage him to be a better person, is someone that he can respect (in secret).

Someone knocks at the door. He ignores it, as he knows it’s simply a courtesy knock and they’ll come in anyways.

Proven right for the millionth time in his very long life, his door is opened.

He turns his head away from the window. The birds aren’t moving right now anyway.

All for One huffs upon seeing his newest visitor. “All Might, what a pleasure.”

“Cut the crap. I’m here to ask you a few questions about Young Midoriya.” He plops down in the chair nearest to his bedside.

All for One breathes through his nose. If just one of his hands were free, All Might would be a puddle-

Izuku loves him, he reminds himself. He would never forgive you!

Not that he exactly cares if his son forgives him or not, but he reasons it’s better to have a peace offering handy when his plan for escape comes to fruition. And what’s better than his son realizing, through his entire time at U.A, his super villain father never directly hurt his teachers and classmates (without instigation on their parts)?

He forces himself to relax for whatever questioning the blond oaf has in mind. “Do go on.”

All Might stares at him, eyes roving over his rewound face. It must be a shock to see your enemy in such a state. To see them at a younger, more vulnerable age.

All for One wouldn’t know, his enemy only seems to get older and uglier every time he sees him.

“I’ve been informed of your relation to Young Midoriya,” he says, eyes looking down at his lap. “Not that it matters to me. I love him no matter what, but I need to know. How present were you in their lives?”

All for One hums. “Not nearly enough.”

All Might leans closer, hands clasped together. “What does that mean?”

A familiar excited feeling wells up in him. It’s been too long since he’s gotten to play verbal tag with his nemesis. “What do you think it means?” He counters with more indifference than he actually feels.

“If the reports are correct, it seems like you were just present enough to keep an eye on your experiment.”

All for One’s usual cocky smile falls off his face. “They…. he was never an experiment,” he answers cooly.

“Then explain why you were never around? Explain why your son grew up without a father?” All Might glares at him, nails digging into his chair.

A burning rage builds up in his chest. Usually, he’s better at keeping himself in check, but with this new body comes less experience with emotional regulation.

All for One shakes his head. “No more questions,” he says, turning his head to resume watching the birds.

He hears All Might grumble and get up.

“Izuku,” All for One starts, and listens to his son’s mentor pause at the name, “he’s doing okay, right?”

He turns to face his enemy again, just for the smallest confirmation that his son is fine. The doctors, nurses, and police officers have only offered vague statements about his son. Dancing around the subject like he doesn’t already know that Izuku is his son.

Not that he can blame them. He was playing dumb for a solid two hours-and getting away with it too-before Detective Tsukauchi questioned him. The looks he received from people who thought they finally got the upper hand on him were priceless. Well worth the hours they spent telling him about a life he himself helped create.

All Might nods, a sad smile on his face. “Yeah, he’s going to be just fine. I actually just came from his room. He was sound asleep.”

“Good,” All for One answers in a subdued voice. “He certainly needs-”

All for One is interrupted by his protege. Tomura bursts through the door. Tears are streaming down his face and he’s trembling. He catches on that the boy is actively refusing to look in his general direction.

Kids nowadays.

“Tenko, what’s wrong?” All Might asks, tone bordering between gentle and accusatory. “Is Young Midoriya hurt?” Did you hurt him? Goes unsaid.

All for One pulls on the quirk-suppressing handcuffs keeping him tethered to the bed. “You imbecile left my son with him?” His heart skips a few beats at the very notion that hospital staff and All Might allowed his son (who is now effectively quirkless, minus the peanut gallery) to be in the same vicinity as someone who wanted to kill him.

Tenko's eyes go wide, finally looking at him, but then he breaks out into sobs, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He shakes his head. “N-no, I…we were talking and then he started coughing. And he couldn’t stop, and I tried the call button, but no one came to check on us.”

All for One’s heart stops.

“Coughing fit?” He asks, only to be pointedly ignored.

All Might sends him a death glare, pulling the Shimura brat into a hug. “It’s okay. You did a good thing getting help. I’m all finished here, so I can walk you back.”

All for One watches them head for the door. He feels lightheaded.

“Wait!” He calls to them. “I can help.”

All Might opens the door, ushering Tenko into the hallway. “No one wants your help, All for One.”

The door is slammed shut behind the former number one hero.

Inside the room, All for One forces back tears. He grits his teeth, trying to dislocate his thumb without the help of his other hand.

He manages to do so after a steady five minutes of intense concentration and slips one of the handcuffs off.

Soon, he thinks, using the bed railing to pop his thumb back into place. Daddy will be there soon, Izuku!

#mha au #mha fanfiction #mha dfo #dfo au #dad for one #protective all for one #cross posted on ao3 #young izuku #mha all might #shimura tenko

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thebestworstidea · 1 year

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I posted 2,477 times in 2022

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I tagged 2,448 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

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My Top Posts in 2022:

Prompt #1 “Classic”

Read the fic: “Uh... Married?”

64 notes - Posted October 2, 2022

I’m hearing people complaining about the latest video saying that it’s ‘just an ad’ and my feeling is very much that it’s an ad the same way all those cartoons I used to watch as a kid were ads.

Jem and the Holograms had no reason to exist except to promote the dolls. But it still managed decent 80s style music and interesting stories. The early My Little Ponies were very much the kind of stuff adults imagine kids do with dolls. Heck, even the Barbie Movies, many of which are quite strong enough to stand on their own are generally accompanied by a toy line. The Transformers Movies. GI Joe. I mean seriously, almost anyone who’s my age knows what follows ‘And knowing is half the battle’.

Was it an ad? yes. But it also was very much the Sanders Sides. We knew it was advertising the plushies, and at the end they were plugged, but for the purposes of the short itself, they were just a plot device.

It gave us the Sides talking to Thomas in a different room; still arrayed in similar but different ways (Logan in front of the diploma, Patton in front of a different door, Virgil on the desk the way he sprawled on the landing in his first appearance) and a return to the idea that each of the sides has their own version of Thomas’ apartment that’s decorated to match them!

Anyhow I may have been thinking about this too much. See you later, I’m going to go label a jam jar and start saving my allowance.

66 notes - Posted August 30, 2022

So I was just thinking about Danni, and the general oblivious level of the Fenton parents. And it occurred to me if you wanted her adopted into the family, they could tell the frickin truth.

“When did we get another daughter?”

“Yeah, so Vlad cloned me, but Danni wanted to live with us instead.”

“Oh that Vlad.”

“I hope he got your permission first, sweetie.”

“Welcome to the family! Jazz, get the Fenton-living space increaser, so we can start on making her her own room.”

“Please start with blueprints, not sledgehammers, Dad.”

“No? I’ll have to talk to him about that. Honey, do you think we should invite Vlad over for dinner?”

70 notes - Posted May 7, 2022

was thinking yesterday about the difference between compliments and admiration.

Because you can be admired, even a lot and still not get complimented.

So, the way I see it, compliment are like reblogs and admiration is like likes. both are good, but one doesn’t have the punch of the other.

then I went on a side thought about being appreciated vs either of those things.

Appreciation is: I’m so glad you did that! Thank you. Admiration is: Wow, you’re so cool! and compliments are more: You’re so good at that! you did great!

so they’re all really similar, and all good, but they just hit differently.

80 notes - Posted July 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Ardeth Bay: You have released the mummy and given him uncounted power. it is a disaster.

Rick O’Connell: My brother in battle, your people are the ones that came up with that curse.

214 notes - Posted June 11, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #long post #I'm bizzarely proud of my tagging habits

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pass-without-trace · 2 years

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Lifetimes

The first time I see you, you are wearing your grandmother’s gorgeous red dress. I desperately hope that you won’t notice the stain I have tried to scrub out of my one good blouse, peeking out of the hem of my skirt. You only notice it three years later, putting the blouse on yourself for a job interview. We are married in June, your grandmother having gotten over herself enough to attend. Her gift is the pair of earrings that had originally come with the dress, sold long ago out of desperation but tracked down in a second-hand jeweler’s shop. The gift is addressed to me. Permission to share, to join in your family’s love language of beautiful hand-me-downs.

The idea of soulmates is superstitious nonsense, for the most part. So are most ideas of the afterlife. It’s really more of a between-lives. It’s about as close to the concept of a waiting room as we can get when the waiting exists outside of time and the room exists outside of space. But it’s a nice enough non-place to pass the non-time together.

The first time I see you, I am giving you the slip, jewels in hand. You gaze up at me in disbelief and admiration, too late to prevent my daring escape. Your heavy boots crinkle the shattered glass below my rooftop egress. In the heat of the moment, I give you a wink. It’s a veritable game of cat and mouse after that. You busting open the door of my hideout only to find the extinguished candles still smoking. Me casing your poorly secured office, in disguise as a cleaner, basking in all the red string you’ve devoted to me. It’s the most fun I’ve had in years. I start leaving red string as my calling card. You quit the force over some moral compunction or another. I lay low for a few years, cover my tracks. I’m not a greedy woman, and without the chase it’s no fun anymore. I introduce myself at some benefit dinner. You don’t recognize me until I wink. I ask the lady at the sex shop whether their nylon rope comes in red.

We all recognize each other here, who each of us was to one another in previous cycles. There’s a strong desire to discuss it all, to debrief, reconnect, ask those lingering questions. But we can’t really communicate without mouths, or even share meaningful glances without eyes. So there are a lot of meaningful silences. Meaningful presences.

The first time I see you it is raining. You wordlessly extend your umbrella, inviting me to share its protection. I tip my hat, unsure what to say. I don’t trust my mouth around men as handsome as you. We silently make our way from the subway station to the banking district. I turn left, you turn right. We work at rivalling firms. The clacking of typewriters, the chatter of office clerks, the thick cigarette smoke, it all fades into the background as I daydream about you. About us. I go home to my wife. Seven years pass. We meet again at the party celebrating both our firms being bought out by the same conglomerate. You introduce yourself with a strong handshake and a stronger cologne. I never pick up the key for my hotel room. There are other men, in the years after, but when my wife dies it is you I call. You have just gotten a divorce. We discretely move in together. We hear about AIDS, and thank our lucky stars we went steady when we did. We get to enjoy retirement together. You die of pancreatic cancer the winter before we could have gotten married.

Some human cultures get the general shape of it right. A certain lineage of elephants once got closest, actually. Their two mistakes are thinking themselves the center of it all, and thinking that getting it right would make a difference. There’s no transcending the mortal form and remembering past lives. There’s no karmic reward to strive toward. There is only the moment, the lifetime, the fleeting connections made, and remade, and remade again.

The first time I see you it is the first day of kindergarten and you have scraped your knee. I help you the only way I know that works, gently kissing the injury. An older kid screams at me, something about your skin being dirty. I keep kissing it anyway. As we grow up, teachers give us scowls and other girls call us increasingly awful things. The boys go for hoots and whistles instead of words. I get in their faces. I learn to protect you. I’m not afraid to fight back. You move away for college and I stay home to help my parents. We aren’t the same people the next time we meet. I’m not the girl you want me to be. You don’t like how I use my mouth except when it’s kissing you. I keep kissing you since it’s all I’m good at. We go on like that for too long. I resent you for how long it takes for me to enjoy kissing again. I figure out that I’m not a girl at all anymore. Years later, I hear that you have died in a car crash. I regret the lack of closure, but I don’t attend the funeral.

There are not, as humans might think, individual and discrete souls that exist and are passed from one lifetime to another. It’s all so much more fluid. We intermingle. Exchange little bits of essences. The gists of each other. No pure distilled soul recycled endlessly, more like droplets of a mixture coming and going. In the absence of direct communication, we can still leave a trace.

The first time I see you, you are a mewling newborn. My first grandchild. My daughter-in-law does not make it through the birth. My son will find out when he returns for the winter with the meager wages he has earned to support you. For the first three months of your life, it’s only the two of us and the goat I use to feed you. I keep you warm and rock you, singing every ancient song I know. By the time you are eleven, and I am ill, you are cleverer than any of us, save perhaps the goat. I know you will be able to fend for yourself until your father returns.

Even so, even without individuality, there is relationality. We have an undeniable affinity for each other, the two of us that have just got to stop meeting like this.

The first time I see you, you dramatically drop a heavy cloth to the floor and strike a pose. I draw your figure. I study every curve of you. I think I am in love with you. The logical part of me points out that if asking out a barista is inappropriate, asking out a nude model is exponentially worse. I masturbate to you once and then stop attending the class in shame, convincing myself you’d be able to tell. I pay for the remaining four weeks and don’t answer calls from the studio that runs the class. Six months later I see you on the bus and you give me a small smile of recognition. We don’t meet again.

It's not like we’re destined to be together across all of our lifetimes. The fairy-tail endings are few and far between. We simply tend to matter to one another.

I am an athlete and you are my coach. You know my body better than any lover could. You know exactly which muscle I need to push at any given moment to give me the edge. You know exactly where my limit is and you push one millimeter further each time we hit it. You only do so on days before you’ve scheduled me a deep tissue massage. We make it to nationals. We make it to worlds. You suffer a stroke during my final event and refuse to get in the ambulance until you’ve seen me cross the finish line.

We are waiting right beside each other this time, which tends to happen when we die together. It’s not something we can plan for, and it often involves less than pleasant circumstances. But it’s nice, to just wait in silence, knowing, remembering, until it’s time to start again.

The first time I see you, you hand me a gun. You ask if I know how to use it. I lie. You nod and tell me I shouldn’t have to, if we’re lucky. Then we are at the march. We are flooding the streets. We cannot possibly be ignored. I keep you in my line of sight, which keeps me near the front of the crowd. I am more scared of losing sight of you than of the police line we’re approaching. The chants are deafening. I don’t know the words, so I try to read your lips and copy what you say. You notice my stare and make eye contact a moment before the shots ring out and the chants turn to screams. Instead of panic I watch your eyes fill with focus, as you mouth for me to run, and then everything is gone.

It’s selection bias, of course. Another experience humans think themselves unique for. Most lifetimes we have nothing to do with each other. Most lifetimes are short. Five days as a mayfly, five minutes as a sea turtle. Sometimes we pass each other by, or meet for only a moment.

I am an apple tree and you are several generations of honeybees. Every spring I feel your tender kisses on my budding blossoms.

I am a farm dog and you are a barn cat. We have an uneasy peace which mostly involves keeping to our separate spheres, except during thunderstorms when you seek out the safety of my shaggy underbelly and I am calmed by your tiny heartbeat so close against me.

I am an amoeba and you are a very unlucky swimmer. Our torrid love affair lasts just a week, but I learn every intimate fold of your brain, consuming you utterly.

Over enough lifetimes, though, that selection bias becomes something more tangible. As tangible as anything here can be. Enough encounters, enough gists of each other exchanged, it shapes us. More alike than we used to be. Resonating at the same frequency.

I am a small white bird and you are a crocodile. I worship at the altar of your open mouth, basking in the scraps of your victories, keeping you happy and healthy, knowing your jaws could snap shut at any moment. They never do.

You are a mammoth and I am a hunter. I honour your memory in ochre and charcoal. The painting seems to dance under flickering torchlight, proof that I have preserved your spirit for eternity.

We are not individuals, but we are two sides of a relation—a relation that is reinforced through continuous occurrence. And it is not just a romance, it is different every time. But the ones where we’re on opposing sides of a conflict, the ones with the terrible breakups, the ones where we can’t be together, the ones where we’re lifelong friends. Those matter just as much as any limited human concept of romance ever could. They leave us with so much more to wish we could to talk about.

I am a soldier fighting for king and country. You are a soldier fighting for the wrong king and the wrong country. But you are bare-faced and beautiful and you meet my eyes as your bayonet pierces me between the ribs. We stand there, unblinking statues, as the life drains from me and the innocence from you. The other combatants give us a wide berth, seemingly out of respect for the moment we share.

We kissed once, when we were young and drunk on dandelion wine, but it didn’t feel right. No amount of wanting you will make you a lesbian. I patted your cheek and put you to bed. That was thirty years ago. Your husband is my second-favourite person and seeing the happiness you bring each other warms my heart. I tease him about stealing you away every chance I get.

We went on three dates. I was the first person who saw the new apartment you were so proud of. We slept in the same bed for one night, just cuddling, and then things fell apart because that’s what things do. I still blush when I picture your smile.

A soulmate isn’t fate. A soulmate is a choice, made again and again. Made in an infinite variety of ways. Made without remembering its meaning. The relation isn’t about two fixed souls, but about the music played on the string in the space between them.

Grooves dug into your favourite record. The sunset through my bedroom curtains. The dance of a dime rolling across the floor for far longer than it has any right to. Lifetimes spent on opposite sides of the world, only ever sharing a single glance in a crowded airport. A lover’s fingers tracing the scars on your chest. My mother teaching me how to sew, her hands on mine echoing yours in some other time.

Lifetimes with no overlap at all. A painting of you in a museum, hundreds of years old, catching my eye and taking my breath away. The clay tablet I wrote a joke on the side of, translated thousands of years later by you. Burning the coal of my primordial trunk for warmth in your coldest winter. Filling the atmosphere with oxygen to give each other the opportunity to breathe later on. Taking shelter inside of your membrane, providing you with the energy to live and thrive and propagate.

The accumulation of joy, the chance to bring it to each other. Our contribution to that mixture of all lived experience, a little bit of it diluted into every droplet that passes through. Something we could not do alone. Something that can only exist because of our choice to do it together. Again and again.

The last time I see you, you make me a promise. You whisper it in my ear and I can barely hear the words, I am so focused on the closeness. The tickle of your peach fuzz on my earlobe. The warmth of your breath. You pull away and I nod in an attempt to be reassuring. Whatever you said, I believe you.

#hello i am putting this here until i have a proper space for it

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adsenorin · 1 month

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I took a vacation leave today because it is a holiday for the next two days, though I am still working remotely. And since my younger sister is at work and our youngest is in Ilocos Norte, I am the person in charge of our dog, Thirdy. So, early this morning, I cleaned our dog's potty tray. While cleaning it outside our house, a bunch of kids approached me asking for permission to get the kite from a tree. I checked it and saw that the kite was too high to get so I declined the request. But then, my Mom saw them and asked if he could get it and if he could, then proceed.

Moving forward, the tallest young man from the group was able to get the kite safe and sound. I asked Mom why she allowed the kid to get the kite given that it was too high and he might have fallen from the tree and he was inside our premises. She said that she knew he could because that is what she did way back when she was the same age as those kids. She used to climb trees, treasure the kite they made, and use it until it lasted. But I asked her, "Why not make a new one? I even told them to just make another one so he does not have to climb in the tree." But she said she knows how hard it is to make a kite and find a plastic that is suitable to create one.

And I realized something. It is easy for some to throw away things that are easy for them, something that they think they can have in a snap. So easy to have a replacement and ignore it. But for some, it is a treasure, a very valuable thing that is hard to replace, hard to ignore, hard to let go. Doesn't mean that it is easy for you, it will be easy for others as well.

I hope that this moment will serve as a reminder for me to stay humble and be thankful for all the things that I have in life. That it should not matter for me to have much, but to share with others what I can offer and what I have.

My mom cried reminiscing about her childhood experience after seeing those kids. I'm very blessed to not experience what my mother experienced and what those kids are experiencing today. Like my mom, I know that the situation those kids have right now is only a phase in their lives that they should pass but I hope that the people around them will help to survive the world they are in now.

#agentleremindertomyself

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mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune · 10 months

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And This...Is Why I’m Neo-Spiritual (And So What If I Believe In Magic.)

[Note: Reading This Post Is Optional. Also Don’t Reblog This Without Permission. also even if this post might not be super mature, I still will place the mature audience only and not for kids tags for this. also this will at some point talk a bit about Abel and Cain...also it is okay no one reads this, reading this post is optional. ya can wait for some fan theory posts. ]

so some of you might know that I don’t really like when some humans are Toxic-Religious, and what happen a few years ago with some Toxic-Religious jerk who kept misusing the words “may god have mercy on you.” or “may the lord have mercy on you.” at me non-stop didn’t help any, and might of been what done it.

that person made me REALLY not like Toxic-Religious actions, and yeah like I pointed out before, no matter how many times I tried to tell them to stop that and it was hurting my feelings and making me cry, they kept doing it...

and so I had to block them, I can just hope not to run into them on here or the other places I go to.

and of course I end up finding a place that talks about “Magic” but not in the best of ways, I mean yes the stuff that was wrote says that magic is real...

but then it says that Christians and unbelievers should run from witchcraft...

also I need to say this, even if it might not be possible for everyone to use the same level of magic, but at least some can try not to use it too much and try to make sure it doesn’t get to a dangerous level....

I use my gem bracelets for a good reason, not just to protect myself from outside energies but also have them act as sealing charms and limiters so I don’t start to move anything either it be a pen or bottle of pop with my mind when I hold it with just my fingers, and yeah it was freaky when that started to happen and I had to use both food salt and praying to both the Heavenly Father & Earthly Mother for that help, which is I guess a type of magic...

though to some, it could be considered “bad magic”...

also not all magic comes from Satan, and there might be some magic that can’t truly be explained that might not match with the fictional versions in some shows, movies, video games and books that some of us love.

even if some might not fully get or understand my new beliefs, and yeah it was part of the reason that toxic-religious jerk kept using those misused words at me, and even if I did try to get them to stop, because they were hurting my feelings and making me cry, they didn’t listen and maybe because they were on some kind of self-righteous mode and thought they were “saving” and “healing” me but really they were probably only do it for the wrong reasons and they should of listen when I told them to stop it because it was hurting my feelings...

also like I pointed out before, Satan isn’t the freaking boss of me...

and even if he was Archangel Samael who had possibly fathered Cain (which once again I’m a descendant of Cain.....but also Seth as well.)

but like that person says “nothing good can come from him right...?”

so I guess I am just a accident, and “no good”....sorry, but I guess it just peeves me off a bit, and I ended up crying just a little just now....

lucky there are some tissues so I can clean them off my face...

(and yeah, I understand I had been a bit triggered by it, and maybe to take my mind off those thoughts and well I can try not to let it get to me, and maybe try to think about the Heavenly Father & Earthly Mother love me just the way I am....even if the info about Satan/Samael and Cain is true...but it be nice if it wasn’t but there is still that possibility...)

even if I can make some mistakes, like how some of my words can be misinterpreted at times, or at times I don’t think I’m not listen to, you know like when I try to say something but sometimes it feels like.....you know my words aren’t understood well enough at times, but I want to try to do better in trying to get some of my words to be understood without it getting misunderstood all the time, even if small harmless misunderstandings can be okay, but some not so much.

and yeah, I guess I let what some person wrote, really get to me just a little to the point even talking about it in that way, ended up making me cry just a little.

I’m okay now, but even if the whole thing about Satan and Cain were true, some of us didn’t really ask to be “made” but we can try not to be like most of our ancestors and we can at least try to do better and evolve, and my using gems the way I have been, is a type of evolved magic of the modern era I guess.

and yeah I may still have some trust issues when it involves Male-Angels, as I have started to not fully trust some of them, and I don’t just mean the Fallen Ones....

even if there might be a few Male-Angels I might can trust, who aren’t insensitive and think fighting and certain level of violence solves everything.

and yeah if it were possible, I would take two pieces of bread and place it on each side of Lucifer’s face and ask him what he is....

he really picked a bad time to start that rebellion, he should of at least waited until the Toxic-Masculine Energy was fixed, but because of his little “rebellion” it only ended up getting more worse, and sure we got the Toxic-Feminine Energy now but it isn’t as high as the Toxic-Masculine Energy at the moment...

I know that not everyone who is religious is toxic-religious, plus I don’t think that everyone will know everything, even about magic and how at times it can be misused and scapegoat by those who wield it.

plus if someone does magic they shouldn’t, it’s because they were messing with the type of magic they REALLY shouldn’t of messed with in the first place, and they should take on the responsibility and realize that they are just as much at fault than the magic they messed with that they shouldn’t of in the first place.

but they shouldn’t scapegoat it, even if it is true that it is the type of magic they shouldn’t been using in the first place.

I’m still making sure to not use my pendulum a lot and only use it once in a while, and my making sure not to use it too much is my way of not over doing it with that type of magic.

also in theory if some magic is dangerous to some humans, it might be because of the level of magic in their bodies and souls, and for all we know it could also have to do with their blood type, if you don’t have a certain blood type for the right level of magic, it will possibly put you in danger.

but it could be possible that those who have a small or higher level magic in their bodies and souls, know not to foolishly mess with magic they shouldn’t, because for all we know, it could be a unspoken rule to NEVER mess with a certain type of magic.

even if there is dark and light magic, and it could be possible it can be misused at times, but there could be something that is in between, like twilight magic.

I can’t tell my family that I no longer go by Christian and I go by Neo-Spiritual now, it is one of the closets I have to be in.

well that, and the Nonbinary-Girl Closet, as well as the Aroaceflux Closet.

well I am Fictoromantic as well, and yeah that is possible...

I know I had bad luck with online boyfriends before, I don’t really plan to even try to get one again any time soon, and I know the guys I had some crushes before in real life, didn’t work out too well either, so that pretty much sucked as well.....so why even bother with high dimensional 3D ones, where I can just be happy with fictional ones, who I can get small crushes on and still ship with other characters either it be OCs or canon characters from the same universe or a different universe and series, making it a Crossover ship.

and I don’t want to be told “oh, you just need a real boyfriend.”

yeah, even if I do decide to do that, the said boyfriend will need to understand that at times I do NOT want to be touched, and if he tries to hug me from behind I will possibly have the moments where I will get scared easy and not like it.

not to mention that I need my space, my place of sanctuary to just be alone to relax and maybe listen to some music or play video games or reading or watch a movie or show I like.

of course I think I like that more, since the whole terrible house guest situation that happen a few years ago, I couldn’t get the proper space and it was possibly half the reason for that depression that hit me....at some point I couldn’t take it and having to move to the place we live at now, had been I guess the final straw.

also even if it is true that some dumb humans back in ancient times misused magic and had tricked people into thinking it was the will of the Heavenly Father.

like the info about the Frogs and Egypt...

it could be possible, that their misuse of the magic would have it’s own karma, and they could of not been able to use that higher level of magic anymore, because they misused it.

also my faith was starting to go even more in a fragile place before, but if some info I had read before, and I’m not talking about the site that has to do with the whole magic thing....

then I guess it does give me some hope that things are slowly getting better.

and I think maybe if I don’t sleep when I should or eat something, I guess I can become weak to some pretty negative feelings.

also if some Magicians as the info says, did try to summon gnats but couldn’t, it is possibly because they were being punished for misusing the magic in such a way.

plus I don’t know what level of magic I have in me, but I know that I might not be able to handle it if it ends up being a certain type, I don’t want to end up like Carrie White from the Carrie Movie Series or Alessa Gillespie from Silent Hill Video Game Series and Silent Hill Movies.

I don’t mind if it is just my necklaces that I hold that end up moving like my pendulum, but I don’t want to get too strong where it goes past just holding something physically with my fingers and it start to move a bit with just a thought when I hold it with just my fingers...

I wear my gem bracelets for a good reason, so it doesn’t evolve past to what is now....I know I wouldn’t be able to handle it or even fully control it.

the other reasons being to protect myself from harmful energies...

and I’m still going to wear them when I go to sleep, to protect me when I sleep.

in a way, it is like protection magic, and yeah even if some might not fully understand or agree with it, it is what it is for me...

I’m still not 100% sure it will work for everyone, but at least it has helped some.

I know I wasn’t really planing on crying a bit when thinking and talking about that whole Satan thing....but not all magic comes from him, I believe that is possible and yeah I guess my feelings were hurt just a little.

of course that toxic-religious person from a few years ago, had did far worse in hurting my feelings than that....

of course I have went through a breaking point where I ended up in a second depression that didn’t feel great, even if I still had stuff and people to make me feel a little happy, that bad feeling was still there.....and it took a lot of time to heal fully.

and yeah, I now believe that Cain wasn’t born a monster but became that way because of how he was raised and him falling into a very dangerous spiritual and emotional depression.

bad parenting did happen in the ancient past as well, and while Abel may still had good in him, he still had some dark problems that has to do with his ego and not seeing that his brother was in spiritual and emotional pain and it was reaching a dangerous breaking point.

and if we think logically, Cain is possibly not the first human to take a life.

I mean what about Abel, and how he had did those offerings...?

even if it is normal for some animals to be used as livestock, but you can’t just do it in the wrong way, I mean it’s one thing to play video games where you can hunt for some animals and even have to fight the bad guys...

but I think Abel was just much as in the wrong as Cain was.

if Abel was the first life that Cain had taken, then what about the flock who lives that Abel has taken, those that he had taken the lives of just to be used in a offering, not in the way where it is to feed the bellies of his family or to keep them warm during when it gets cold....at least feeding his family and helping them keep warm when it gets cold, that is one of the good things.

if humans share in the food they eat, like fruits, vegetables and meat, and maybe even some fish....they can be thankful and maybe like spiritually share it without it ending up like how Abel did it...

plus for all we know, it could be possible that Abel had crossed a line he shouldn’t of, and it had ended up pushing Cain even more into the darkness he was falling into....which ended up with Cain giving Abel a “game over”...

I know it might not be possible that many will even read this, and well I’m fine with that, I did have this say that reading this post is optional.

I might not know everything and I might not be a 100% genius.

but I can still think about some stuff and figure out maybe small stuff....

like figuring out the whole thing with Abel and Cain, has more to it and how Cain had became the way he did, was because some pretty bad spiritual and emotional depression, and he wasn’t getting the help he needed from Adam or Eve possibly....

and I don’t think humans should go scapegoating magic, if they misuse it or mess with some certain magic they should of messed with in the first place, than they should take on some responsibility and know they are just as much at fault as the magic they had messed with that they shouldn’t in the first place and had misused.

and even the magic that could still be okay to use, so long as you take breaks from using it so not to use it too much, can be misused.

prayer magic, in the right way can be used but to not just help yourself but to help others....in theory, praying to God, could be a type of magic communication.

and yeah, some might not agree with my whole believing in both God and Goddess now, but I ain’t gonna do that force converting thing...

there is still some things that can’t be fully explained by humans, even the whole Aliens from Space.

even if some people in this world don’t believe Aliens are real, but it is possible that they are, and humans can’t really explain fully on why we are here, why did we evolve the way we have, and where do we really go when we reach the afterlife.

plus the afterlife could be bigger than what we know it is, and the afterlife is much bigger than what we think it is, and our minds just can’t fully comprehend it unless we open our minds more to the possibility.

like every different type of afterlife versions that is talked about on Earth, could turn out to be all true, and it could only touch half of what is in the afterlife...

also is it possible if you don’t eat something when you need it right now or if your a little tired, you can kind of give into some negative feelings, even if that might not always be the case...

but I know I can still get some negative thoughts and some feelings about myself....but I can at least try not to.

and yeah if I choose to believe that some magic is real and some might not be, and know that there is some magic you do NOT mess with, because there is just some that shouldn’t be touched, because it is not meant for humans and mortals.

even if you do discover you can use magic and some of it ends up being unlocked, it is best not to use it too much, ya can still use the prayer type which could be seen as a type of Holy Magic...but some other magic will not have to be used too much all the time I think.

that freaky thing that started to happen with the radio could be seen as a type of magic, but it only happens once in a while and in different ways...

just call me the “Radio Earth Angel” which thankfully isn’t as close to being like Alastor The Radio Demon from Hazbin Hotel, and I’m fine with that.

there could be some magic that is just too dangerous for humans to use, and they should know better to use it, because by choosing to use it, they will end up misusing it and possibly placing the full blame on it and scapegoating it, instead of taking the proper responsibility and admit it is their fault for using it in the first place and even misusing it when they shouldn’t of.

I guess it is thanks to watching some cartoons, like My Little Pony Friendship Is Magic and even Star Vs The Forces Of Evil, has taught me a bit that magic can be misused and even scapegoated when the user of the magic ends up misusing it....like sucking up all the magic from Equestria and placing it into three crystals and forcing ponies to get along even during small disagreements, just destroying magic when it was Moon Butterfly who had crossed a line when she had misused the magic...

I still like those two shows, but I can’t fully agree with the choices some of the characters made, and if anyone has to fix Princess Twilight’s mess, it is Sunny, Izzy, Zipp, Pipp, Hitch and Misty.

and if the magic has to be fixed the right way where it doesn’t glitch and force ponies to get along, then maybe releasing the magic by destroying those unity crystals might be the only way to fix what Princess Twilight had broken.

it will still let Earth Ponies keep their new magic, but it will also help stop the forcing everypony into “friendship” when their magic doesn’t work right.

also, if Celestia and Luna are the reason why Opaline became the way she is, then it doesn’t seem all that surprising given the whole Sunset Shimmer situation....Celestia and Luna might of still been lying about why Flurry Heart was born a Alicorn.

but anyway, even if I know that not everyone is toxic-religious and I know there are some people who are Christian, who wont be like well....some who will just assume that some stuff involves Satan, cause once again he ain’t the boss of me...

and it is possible for those who are religious or not religious at all, to end up with toxic-religious trauma because of how a toxic-religious person or a toxic-religious group had treated them.

and it could possibly cause them to become a bit sensitive and get a bit triggered when it comes to toxic-religious people and the lines they cross.

anyway I can believe that some magic is real, but also that some magic can be misused by some people and they will even misuse magic they shouldn’t of been messing with in the first place, but could still find ways to scapegoat the magic that they had misused and shouldn’t of been using in the first place.

I think I like being Neo-Spiritual better, and not everyone has to agree with it, but I’m still gonna stay in the closet about it when it comes with my family.

besides it might be fine that I don’t go by Christian anymore, plus not all my Ancestors were Christians, and some were Jewish.

anyway if by chance some do end up reading all of this, and hopefully there was no misunderstandings....I hope some can understand about my talk about the whole magic thing and how there are just some magic that people shouldn’t mess with and remember to not misuse magic, even the type that you shouldn’t be using in the first place....which once again, should NOT use the magic that shouldn’t be used by a mortal because there is a chance a mortal can misuse it and it could end up being too much for them to handle.

also no matter if it is true or not, about the whole Satan and Cain thing, but if Adam isn’t Cain’s Bio-Dad, he is still technically Cain’s true father, because sometimes your true parent, isn’t always the one who gave you life, but the one who has loved you and who had raised you, even if at times they don’t do 100% a perfect job and make some mistakes....and could end up in the gray-parenting zone.

so yeah, even if it is true that Satan was possibly Cain’s Bio-Dad, that doesn’t make him his true father, some might understand the logic of what I’m trying to explain about this, and I hope some get what I mean.

so yeah, Adam is Cain’s True Father, even if he isn’t his Biological Father.

and maybe Adam does regret not doing better in raising both Cain and Abel...

Adam wasn’t very great during his much younger days, if the info about Lilith turns out to be 100% true, and I believe it is...

anyway if I have anymore thoughts or theories about magic, I can talk about it again in a future post...

#toxic religion #neo-spiritual #magic #light magic #dark magic #talking about feelings #my thoughts #Cain and Abel #implied murder #mature audiences only #not for kids #scapegoating #july 2023 #do not reblog without permission

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