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twirlywhirlywriting · 2 months

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Consequences of Being a Brat

Eddie Munson Fic Incoming!

NSFW 18+, Minors DNI! Okay so this one is… whoo. A lot more intense than my previous fics. I know I said my next fic would be with Clarke Griffin from The 100 but I got smacked in the face with inspiration for this so, here you go. This fic is purely self indulgent and I pretty much made it just for my own desire BUT I am sure all you dom!Eddie lovers out there will enjoy it too. I honestly have no clue if The Magic Wand existed in the 80’s but for the sake of this fic, it absolutely did. The ending is super fluffy so please stick around for it too! Please like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed this, it would mean the whole entire world to me!

Word Count: 9,016

Warnings:NSFW 18+, Angst (very slight), Smut, Fluff, AFAB Reader, Aftercare, BratTamer!Eddie, Brat!Reader, Breath Play (one time near the end), Bondage, Biting, Potential CNC? (honestly I’m not sure if it is or not. Reader doesn’t want to accept punishment but it’s all a part of their brat/tamer dynamic and consensual, but as always, read at your own risk), Choking, Crying During Aftercare, Dom!Eddie, Degradation, Dacryphilia, Eventual Submission, Extreme Sensitivity, Face Slapping (Only a couple of times and it is not extreme), Forced Orgasms, Fingering, Humiliation, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Oral Sex (f and m receiving), Orgasm Control and Denial, Punishment, P-in-V (unprotected, wrap it up irl folks), Rough Sex, Sub!Reader, Spanking, Swearing, Squirting, Subspace (mentions of, it’s not super deep), Vibrators

Idk I feel like I overdo it with warnings sometimes but I want you to be able to read at your own risk and avoid your own triggers, I do not want my writing to cause harm! Only horniness and happy feelings! Anywho, here is my newest fic and I really hope you all love it!

Consequences of Being a Brat

The stage lights focused, the crowd hushed, and the electric hum of anticipation filled the air. Eddie Munson, with his shaggy brown hair cascading over his shoulders, stood center stage. His fingers started strumming his electric guitar as Corroded Coffin launched into their first song. In the sea of people, Eddie scanned the crowd, looking for one face in particular–yours. You never missed a single concert, and tonight shouldn’t have been any different. But tonight, no matter how hard he searched, you were nowhere to be found.

Where the hell is she? He thought to himself. As the concert reached its crescendo, Eddie’s mind wandered, his performance slightly faltering. Once the last note echoed through the quarry, Eddie rushed offstage. His heart pounded with a mix of post-performance adrenaline and concern for where you could be.

Back at home, I was absolutely fine. My coworker at the bakery asked me to pick up their shift, so I was working overtime and honestly forgot about the concert tonight. I was laying on the couch, lounging in Eddie’s Hellfire club shirt and black cotton panties while watching some cheesy horror flick. I was just about to get up from the couch to call in for a pizza delivery, when Eddie crashed through the door.

He looks absolutely frantic, making me feel instantly guilty. I totally forgot to tell him that I wouldn’t be able to make the concert tonight. Fuck. “Eddie, I’m so sorry! I had to cover Emily’s shift tonight and I completely forgot to let you know I wasn’t going to make it. I feel terrible.” I stand up to give him a hug, he looks like he needs it.

Eddie’s frustration softens, but is still very present. “You just forgot to tell me? I was worried sick, baby. I thought you were hurt.” He hugs me back tightly, before sighing and letting me go.

“I know, I know, Eddie. I’m sorry,” I say, stepping back as he runs a hand through his hair in exasperation. One of the rings on his fingers gets stuck in his hair and as he is figuring out how to get it un-stuck, I can’t help but giggle.

His head immediately snaps to look at me, questioning, “What’s so funny?”

I try not to, but I can’t hold back another giggle. “I can’t help it, you looked so worried.. It was kind of cute.” I know this conversation will get me nowhere but trouble, but my heart feels so inflated with how much he cares about me, I don’t even care right now.

His eyes close for a moment as he processes what just came out of my mouth, his tongue jutting into the side of his cheek. When he opens his eyes again, they seem much darker than they were before and I knew that my words had started something. His tone itself could cut through ice. “Excuse me? Would you like to repeat that? I’m just not sure that’s what you were really trying to say, sweetheart.”

His words shoot a shiver through my body and directly down to my core. He doesn’t call me that unless I’m really starting to push my limits. It’s a fucked up nickname because it’s way too gentle for whatever he’s planning to do to me.

For some stupid reason, the desire to provoke him becomes unbearable. “That is actually exactly what I was trying to say. You were so worried about me that you ran home and almost tore the front door off its hinges. It was absolutely adorable.” I put extra emphasis on the last word, a smirk playing on my lips.

His eyebrow raises at me as his arms cross over his chest, his fingers tapping his arm in an attempt to control his desire to put me over his knee right that second. “Oh yeah? Wanna make that hole you’re in a little deeper?” He takes a step closer to me until it feels like he’s towering over me, his face only inches from mine, and whispers, “Go on, say something else. I dare you.”

Those fucking words. Maybe on any other day, I would have just apologized and took a spanking or two. But daring me? Oh boy, today was not the day. I just got done with two fucking shifts at work in a row and okay, yeah, I can see why you’d be worried about me and now you’re mad that I’m mouthing off, but seriously? Fuck you, Eddie! I thought to myself.

Surprise registers on his face as his mouth opens slightly, eyes widening. Oh god. Did I just say that out loud? I look up at him and laugh nervously. “Is it too late already to say I’m sorry?” My voice is much more quiet than I mean it to be, but it’s too difficult to speak up when his eyes are on fire and it’s directed right at me.

He just stares at me, his eyes going from that teddy-bear brown to straight up black. He starts unbuckling his belt, pulling it from the loops slowly. My mouth dries out and for a moment, I’m frozen in place before the realization of what he’s about to do hits and I fucking bolt towards the bathroom so I can lock myself in there for a while until he calms down.

His hand quickly reaches out and grabs me by the wrist before flipping me around to face him. He grabs my chin and forces me to look up at him while his other hand continues pulling his belt from the loops at an agonizing pace. “And just where do you think you’re going? You really think you get to say that shit to me and then run off to avoid my belt? Really?” He can’t help but laugh at my escape attempt, but his laugh sounds empty.

I try to pull my face away from his grip, but it’s impossible. My nerves turn into anger and I suddenly swat his hand away from my face, my voice raising to a yell. “You can’t get me in trouble for this! I was just messing around, Eddie, can’t you take a fucking joke?”

The growl that escapes his lips is feral. He grabs me by the back of the neck and pushes me forward, forcing me down the hallway towards the bedroom as he bites back, “Eddie? I don’t know who the fuck you think you’re talking to, sweetheart, but that is incorrect.”

I’m practically stumbling over my own feet, he’s pushing me so hard and walking too fast for me to find a good rhythm in my steps. I get shoved down onto the mattress face first, but quickly flip myself around and sit up, scrambling backwards to the opposite side of the bed. “Stop it! Eddie I said I was sorry, I was joking! Don’t do this, seriously.” My voice is definitely mixed with panic and anger… arousal is in there somewhere too, judging by the wet spot I know is coming through my panties right now.

He grabs me by my ankles and drags me back towards him, before flipping me over, scolding me as he yanks off my panties and giving my ass a few hard spanks with his hand to warm me up. “Let me get this straight. You are acting like a fucking brat, and now you refuse to take your punishment for it? Not only that, you know how you’re supposed to address me right now, yet you keep acting like you’re just my sweet little girlfriend and calling me by my name. But you’re not my sweet little girlfriend right now, are you?”

He doesn’t even give me a chance to respond to his questions, he just grabs his belt and uses every harsh spank with it to emphasize his next words. “You. Are. My. Bratty. Fucking. Slut.” I wince and whine at every smack, and then my hands fly back to cover my now-bright red ass for protection. He has no patience with me anymore, I can tell. He grabs my hands to pin them behind my back, which makes me groan out in frustration and panic, and without even thinking about it, I’ve kicked my feet at him and hit him right in the thigh. Thankfully it wasn’t a direct kick to the balls, but it was close. And now I’m fucked.

I look back at him as best as I can, and the look on his face sends another round of chills down my spine. I can feel myself getting wetter by the second though, fuck my life. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it!” I scream at him, squirming as hard as I could to try to get away, “I wouldn’t have done that if you had just let me go!”

He tuts at me from behind, sighing in disappointment. “You really need a lesson in obedience today, don’t you? I tried to just give you a few spankings with the belt. Just a few, and you just can’t stop making things worse for yourself.” He grabs me by the hair and yanks me up to sit, making me yelp. My shirt is torn off of me before a quick, double-handed shove sends me crashing back down. It’s not gentle, and I let out an “oof” when I hit the bed. He grabs me by my hips and flips me over again before getting onto the bed and straddling me so I can’t squirm away.

He leans over and grabs a piece of rope in the bedside table drawer before grabbing my wrists harshly. As he is tying my wrists together, he talks to me rather calmly, as if he’s explaining how two plus two equals four. “If you had just taken your punishment like a good girl, I wouldn’t be having to do this, sweetheart. But you just couldn’t shut your mouth, could you? And then you kick me? You actually kick me? Well, when this all gets too intense for you, just remember that you brought this on yourself. I tried to let you off easy, I really did. But now it’s time to face the consequences, sweetheart.” He sighs as he pulls my arms up to tie the other end of the rope against the headboard, acting like my squirming is literally nothing to him. The entire time he’s talking I’ve been doing my best to squirm, to look at him with pleading eyes, to whimper at him submissively like I know he likes, but none of it was doing a single thing to change his mind.

I suddenly notice just how naked I am, and just how clothed he is. It makes my thighs squeeze together as I try to hide just how fucking turned on I am by all of this. Am I terrified? Yes. Have I ever gotten in this much trouble before? No. Am I wetter than I’ve ever been before in my life? God, yes. When he is done with the ties, he looks down at me with his arms crossed against his chest again and his eyebrow raised, waiting for… something?

I look up at him for a few seconds, getting a little bit irritated by the way he’s sitting there and staring at me expectantly but not doing or saying anything. “What?” Oops. That came out harsher than I meant it to.

“Well? Are you going to apologize?” He demands. Why the fuck is my only urge when he looks like that to make him even more agitated? I know punishment is coming. I know he’s at his limit with my disobedience and attitude. And yet it’s just too entertaining to witness all of his reactions when I refuse to give up.

“No. You don’t own me, you can’t make me do shit.” I glare at him, shutting my eyes and pulling at the restraints slightly as I prepare for a slap. It doesn’t come.

I slowly peek one eye open and he leans forward, grabbing my chin in his hand so hard it hurts until I fully look at him, and then whispers, “Oh, but I do. And you’re going to learn that the hard way.” I can’t help but swallow hard, and my mouth dries out again. I have no clever response to that.

He crawls off of me and grabs the underside of my knees, yanking them open despite me trying to keep them closed. I knew I was a mess down there and I didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of knowing that too. When he sees how wet I am, he lets out a whistle. “Damn, baby. You are such a dirty girl.” His fingers go right to my core, spreading my lips apart with two fingers, causing me to whimper and turn my face away from him because the way he’s looking at my pussy right now has my stomach doing flips.

He slides two his two fingers up and down my slit to wet them before shoving them both inside me, giving me absolutely no time to adjust before he starts pumping them in and out at a much faster pace than he normally warms me up with. I moan out as his fingers are sliding in and out easily. I can already hear how wet I am on his fingers, and it makes my cheeks flush at the sound. I can’t even help it at this point and I squirm at the sensation, my legs closing around his hand. Which, obviously doesn’t do fucking anything to stop him or even slow him down. He curls his fingers up once he feels my g-spot start to swell from stimulation, not only making a “come here” motion but also still bringing his fingers in and out of me at a vicious pace. I squeeze my legs tighter and my moans straight up sound like I’m in a porno movie or something.

“You are so fucking wet. I don’t even need to warm you up like this, do I? No, I don’t think I do.” He rips his hands away and leaves me whining at the empty feeling, but it is quickly replaced by the tip of his cock teasing my entrance. I don’t even remember seeing him take off his pants. He slides it along my slit and barely touches my clit with it, which makes me flinch. He slowly pushes himself inside of me as he grabs my hips so hard, I swear they’ll bruise. He leans his head back and groans at the feeling, but just a moment later he is pounding into me at an unforgiving pace. I look at him as my mouth hangs open, keeping eye contact as I’m unable to hold back my moans yet again. The speed of his thrusts mixed with just how turned on I am causes me to get closer to an orgasm much faster than I’d like to.

I absentmindedly try to wrap my arms around him for something to hold on to but the ropes promptly remind me that I can’t. As he feels my pussy starting to twitch and throb the closer I get to an orgasm, he grabs onto the back of my thighs and pushes my legs up and to the side of me, giving him a much better angle to hit my g-spot with every thrust. When he hears the sweet sounds I’m making at this angle, he starts pushing himself deeper and thrusting his hips even harder, practically slamming into my cervix every few thrusts. If it weren’t for how ruthlessly he was fucking me, I would be extremely distracted by the heavenly groans that were freely flowing from his lips right now.

I’m heading towards an orgasm so quickly, I barely have time to say “I’m gonna” before he pulls his cock out of me faster than I can realize what was happening. Right as I’m about to open my mouth to argue or whine at him for rudely stopping my impending orgasm, he brings his hand down to slap my pussy. The wet sound it makes mixed with the sting on my sensitive lips makes me arch my back and groan. He chuckles darkly and slaps my pussy again just to hear me make that sound again.

Then he gets right in my face, and his voice sounds like it’s practically an entire octave lower than usual. “Do you want me to make you cum? Hm? Is that what you want?” I know where this is heading, and it is not in my favor. I nod my head quickly at him, making my voice sound as submissive as I can manage right now, hoping it will work.

“Yes! Yes please, please make me cum! Please Ed-Sir! Please make me cum Sir!” When I almost called him Eddie, he looked like he was about to fucking lose it, so I corrected myself. There have been times before when he’s edged me for days without letting me cum, and I absolutely cannot take that kind of punishment right now.

He places his hand around my throat, squeezing tight enough so that I can’t easily speak and then slams himself inside of me again without warning. No sound comes out when I try to cry out from the sudden force. He speeds up and slows down in a repeating pattern until I’m quivering under him and he can feel just how close I am. He loosens his grip on my throat and has a devilish smirk while he says, “Say it again. Beg me. Say ‘Please Sir, please make me cum like the little slut I am.”

I balk at his words; my voice is caught in my throat and I even stop moaning for a second. I’m so fucking close to cumming though, my legs are shaking uncontrollably. He slaps both of my tits, hard, to jump-start my brain into saying something. “Fuck! Don’t make me say that, God, please just let me cum!”

A chuckle escapes his lips and he tuts his tongue at me in disappointment. He slaps me in the face suddenly. “God isn’t here, sweetheart. It’s just me. You just don’t want to listen, do you?” He says this casually, as if he didn’t just hit me. He pulls his cock out of me again, and I whine as my impending orgasm fizzles out again. He leans over and grabs more rope, silently tying my calf to my thigh and then tying the other side of the rope to the headboard. He does the same thing to my other leg, so that both of my legs are tied up and out of his way. I give the ropes a test squirm and become increasingly nervous as I realize just how little wiggle room I have. I can barely even move my hips an inch. Not good.

I want so badly to complain, to whine, to beg, to argue my way out of this. But as soon as my mouth opens, no words come out. Which is good, because the way he’s looking at me is telling me that now my punishment is going to really begin, and I am too nervous to make it any worse than it’s about to be. He reaches his hand out towards me and grips my cheeks in between his thumb and fingers, digging in. “You have been such a brat today, you don’t deserve an ounce of mercy, sweetheart.”

He lets my cheeks go with a bit of force, before aligning himself up against my entrance and slamming inside me again. I’m hitting the edge so fast, I can’t even help myself from begging, despite what he literally just told me about not deserving mercy. “Please! Please just let me cum. Don’t edge me again, please! Two times is enough, Sir. Please, two times is enough!” My voice sounds whorish, even I can hear it. The force that he’s slamming into me makes every other syllable sound strained through my moans.

“Oh, you think two times is enough?” He scoffs at me before pulling all the way out until just the tip is at my entrance, before slamming into me all the way and growling, “You think two times is all you deserve? You’re pathetic, baby. You don’t even realize how much you need me to break you, to put you in your place.”

He pulls out and slams into me again, his hands reaching up and pinching my nipples hard enough to make me yelp. He continues at this pace, keeping me right on the edge with his incredibly slow, forceful thrusts. “Now beg me for it. Tell me you want me to make you cum. Say ‘Please Sir, please make me cum like the little slut I am.’” He spits out the word “slut” with venom, his eyes don’t leave mine for a second. I’m so close, so needy, so fucking close that I don’t dare look away from him either.

I cry out in frustration, a “no!” escaping my lips before I can even stop it. I look at him desperately, about to apologize for defying him yet again and beg him to just let me cum, but he smacks my tits again and uses both of his hands to grip my throat. He squeezes just enough that I can still breathe, if I really focus, but there’s no way I can talk.

“No?” he repeats, an evil grin spreading across his face as he pulls out of me all the way again, and I think for a second he’s going to stop completely. “Well then, I guess we’re just going to have to keep going, aren’t we?” He leans in and bites the inside of my tit right next to my nipple so hard that I pull against the restraints and my eyes squeeze shut. He pushes himself back into me again, his pace so fast the bed sounds like it’s going to fucking break. I’m so close, so so close, and he knows it. He can feel it. “Don’t you dare fucking cum, babygirl.”

As tears start to spring to my eyes, he lets my throat go and places his hands on each side of my head instead. The second I can, I’m begging as best as I can, “Please! Please pleasepleaseplease let me cum, Sir I can’t take it, please!” My words are barely even words, they’re all mushed together and tangled in between moans. My entire body is shaking from being so close as I try my best to hold it back.

The grin on his face is sinister. “That’s more like it! Keep fucking begging, sweetheart. Say those magic words for me and I’ll let you cum.” His pace is unrelenting, giving me no option other than to hold back my orgasm, which he knows I can’t do for long.. Bastard, he isn’t giving me a choice anymore.

My breathing becomes ragged as I fight desperately not to cum, but I can’t do it anymore. My eyes fly open wide and just as I’m about to lose control, he pulls out of me all the way. I never thought I’d be so relieved to feel the sensation of my orgasm fading away. I immediately pout at him, my voice barely above a whisper, “I can’t say it, Sir.. It’s too embarrassing. Please, please just let me cum.”

“Oh, is it embarrassing for you?” He asks, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He wraps a hand in my hair, pulling my head up just a bit and putting his face very close to mine. “You think it’s embarrassing to beg for my cock? To admit that you’re mine and you’ll do anything for me to let you cum?” He slides his fingers inside of me, curling his fingers up towards my g-spot and fingering me violently, putting his entire arm into it, causing my hips to jiggle with the pure force of his movements. “Well, you’re gonna have to get over that embarrassment and beg me the right way, because I’m not stopping until you do, slut.”

Tears form in my eyes at his words and the fact that he’s yet again working me so quickly towards an orgasm. It’s making my brain start to go fuzzy from all of the edges, slaps, and harsh words. My mouth opens and I can tell that the moans and gasps coming from me are just entertainment for Eddie at this point, because he mockingly moans right back at me, then growls. “Yeah? That feel good baby?”

I can’t handle it anymore, all of my nerves feel like they’re being set on fire with how much I need to cum right now. I let out a single whimper in defeat, and my eyes drift away from him despite the fact that he’s holding my head up and forcing his face in mine. “Please Sir! Please make me cum…” the second half of my sentence is barely above a whisper, but I know he can hear it. “Like the l-little sl-slut I am.” My cheeks are on fire and I’m sure I am the color of a tomato after I finally say it.

He sighs with satisfaction, his smirk turning into a huge grin and he finally lets my hair go. Just as I think he’s finally about to let me cum, he pulls his hand out of me yet again. I squirm against the ropes and a single tear falls onto my cheek with pure frustration, looking at him with horror as if he just committed a crime.

“You’re not getting off that easy. Say it like you mean it, baby. Say it like you’re proud to be my slut.” He slides his cock back into me, both of us emitting a low, guttural groan at the same time. He barely gives me a second to hesitate before slapping me on my cheek again, his voice as sharp as a knife. “Fucking. Say. It.”

I gasp as he slaps my cheek again before letting out a mix between a moan and a whine in frustration from how torturously slow he’s going. His goal right now is just to keep me teetering on the knife’s edge of an orgasm. I finally give up and cry out, “Please! Please Sir, make me cum like the little slut I am, please! I can’t take it anymore!”

The smirk that crept back on his face was pure evil. “Good fucking girl!” he groans as he finally picks up the pace, pumping into me deep and hard and fast, slamming into my g-spot with every thrust. As my orgasm finally crashes into me, I practically scream. My back arches as much as it is allowed and I can still hear the sloppy wet sounds of him slamming into me over and over, despite how loud I am. My breath is stolen away from me with how intense it all is, all of those edges making this one orgasm almost unbearable. My limbs keep shaking and fighting against the rope even as my orgasm slows down because my pussy immediately feels overstimulated. My eyes look glossy as tears are filling them again and I can’t stop squirming. “Please stop, please stop, it’s too much! I came, I’m done cumming! Sir I came, now please give me a break!”

He chuckles at my predicament, leaning down and brushing his lips against my ear as he whispers, “You are mine to use however I want. I’m not going to stop until you’re a sobbing, blubbering mess.” The sound I make at this is in between a cry and a moan, since he is fucking me so hard and fast that I’m immediately being dragged toward another orgasm. The sound I make causes him to groan and add, “And even then, I might not stop. Not until I’m good and ready to stop watching you cum. You have been such a naughty fucking girl today, and I am going to teach you a fucking lesson.”

I cry out at his words in protest, hopelessly squirming against the restraints as he fucks me closer and closer to my next orgasm. The closer I get, the more uneven my breathing becomes. I look up at him, pleading with him desperately. “Sir, please don’t do this to me! I’ve learned my lesson, I promise!” I can’t help but squeeze my eyes shut, fighting hard to hold back my next orgasm threatening to hit me like a brick wall.

“I don’t believe you,” Eddie growls, thrusting harder as he feels me tensing up beneath him. He looks down at me heartlessly. “You’re going to cum for me. Right now.”

As soon as he tells me, no, fucking commands me to cum, I’m seeing stars. I can feel his eyes locked on my face, committing the look of pleasured agony on my face to memory. My moans are stuck in my throat with the intensity and my entire body is shaking and twitching and squirming. The sounds coming from his cock slamming into my pussy is fucking filthy. As my orgasm slows down, my limbs go limp and I am panting hard, trying like hell to catch my breath.

He finally pulls out of me, leaving me twitching and whimpering from how hard I just came. My eyes flutter open at him, thanking him wordlessly for finally giving me a break. As I lay there with my chest heaving, believing he’s going to actually have some mercy on me, he lets his eyes trail down my body and fall onto my pussy. More specifically, my swollen and twitching clit.

The sight makes him look at me like he was just given a new favorite toy. “Oh look, your poor little clit is just begging for my attention. I’ve been so mean to neglect it!” He slowly glides his fingers down my thigh, looking into my eyes and chuckling, “I hope you didn’t think I was done with you, sweetheart.” He quickly removes his own shirt before ever so gently sliding his fingers up and down my folds, before landing on my clit and gently circling it, but not quite touching yet. He leans down and kisses my chest, working his lips all the way down to my pussy, ignoring every one of my whimpers. He places a single, very gentle kiss directly on my clit as a warning for what’s to come, making me jerk and squeal.

“Please Sir, my I’m way too sensitive for this!” I beg, a full pout on my lips. “I’m too sensitive..”

Eddie laughs in amusement at my protest. His tongue darts out to flick at my clit, making me gasp and jerk my hips again. “Oh baby,” he breathes, “You’re always too sensitive for me.” He smirks and flattens his tongue, slowly licking from the very bottom of my entrance to the top of my clit, making me squirm and whine, unable to peel my eyes off of him. He suddenly pulls back, bringing his hand down to slap me 5 sharp times on my pussy, which makes me throw my head back with a long groan and flinch with every hit. “I don’t remember asking for your fucking opinion, though, slut.” He leans back down, placing his lips directly over my clit and sucking just barely, before rolling his tongue slowly. He only gives me about 2 seconds of soft touches before starting his assault. He violently lashes his tongue against my clit, then starts sucking hard, rolling his tongue with force.

I squeak and jerk, before ungodly sounds start falling from my mouth. My arms and legs pull against their restraints and I do my very best to buck my hips away from his ministrations. I’m babbling nonsense and moaning lewdly, already fully overstimulated and he’s barely even started eating me out.

He groans at the sight of me squirming, sending vibrations through my clit. He’s unable to stop himself from groaning out some more as he hears every one of my incoherent babbles for mercy. He keeps going at a steady pace, pushing me close to another orgasm. He could spend days down there, the sound and sight of me right now just too sweet for him to not enjoy every single second of it.

I’m internally panicking as I near the edge of another orgasm. My breathing is fast and shallow and I can barely get a single word of my begging to actually sound like a real word. “Please, please no this is too intense! I can’t!” I pant out, praying he can understand me between my moaning and panting and how much I’m stuttering through my words.

Eddie chuckles darkly at my pleas, happy that he’s got me exactly where he wants me. He pulls back just enough to lick a long strip up my entire pussy again and looks up at me with a smirk. When I look back at him, I gasp slightly. His eyes are fucking black, his pupils are so huge that all the pretty brown in his eyes have disappeared. There wasn’t a single ounce of leniency in his features. “You can’t handle it, huh?” he taunts, laughing. “It’s too intense, baby?” He pouts at me mockingly, using his fingertips to gently rub my clit, keeping me from getting a real break, but I’m grateful to be able to catch my breath at least.

I whimper at him pathetically and nod, looking at him with tears threatening to spill out of my eyes. “Yes! Please, please no more Sir, it is too intense, it is! I won’t be able to handle cumming like this!” My words are flying out of my mouth as fast as I can say them, hoping beyond all hope that he listens to me this time.

He watches me intently as I beg and the tears threatening to spill down my face are obvious, but his eyes don’t soften one bit. If anything, they seem to somehow darken even more. He shakes his head slowly, his lips curling into another sinister smile as he whispers, “Oh, it’s so cute when you beg me like that. I think you’re finally starting to learn your lesson in respect.” And with that, he returns his tongue to my clit, thrashing it cruelly against me and wrapping his lips around, sucking and rolling his tongue to elicit more sweet, desperate cries from my mouth.

I let out a strangled moan as soon as he continues, and my orgasm hits me almost immediately. I struggle and thrash against the restraints, this orgasm feeling 100 times more intense than the others. Tears fall onto my cheeks as the pleasure turns into pure torture, words lost in my throat yet again as all I can do is scream and moan and take it.

His tongue works up a frenzy, not giving me a moment's rest as he forces my orgasm to be drawn out as long as he can. When I finally come down from my high, he looks up at me to see my ruined face. Pink cheeks, tear stains, red and swollen lips from how much I’ve been chewing on them. His hand moves to gently rub my pussy lips, licking his lips at the sight of me. “That’s it, my little slut. You belong to me. I can do whatever I want with you. Right?”

His question is a test, and I am desperate to pass with flying colors. “Yes! Yes Sir, I belong to you! You own me, please!” I look at him with pleading eyes, a few tears leaking down my cheeks again as my legs tremble uncontrollably.

To my utter relief, his eyes finally soften towards me and he smiles up at me. He pulls himself up to kiss my lips gently, slowly sliding two fingers inside of me, thrusting them deep and hard, but slow. “That’s it, good girl. I’m so glad to see you’ve finally learned your manners, baby.” He pulls back to watch me, enjoying the sight of me being so submissive as he slowly slides his fingers in and out of me with force. After a minute or so, he talks gently to me. “I’m going to leave you tied up, sweetheart. I know you’re being good now, but you understand that I have to finish your punishment, right? I can’t let you off the hook just because you’re finally being my good girl.”

I’m so grateful that he’s finally being gentle with me that it takes me a good few seconds to process what he says. My eyes are glossed over and my brain is so fuzzy; I can feel myself drifting into subspace with every passing moment. He can see it in me too, he knows me so well. I sniffle when I finally realize what he’s said and he’s expecting a response, slowly nodding my head. My voice is hoarse from all the sounds I’ve been making. “Yes Sir. I’m sorry Sir.”

He hums, visibly pleased with my response. “That’s better baby, I know you are.” He pulls his fingers out of me before standing up, turning towards the night stand again. He opens up a drawer and pulls out my arch nemesis: The Magic Wand. I can never handle that without begging and sobbing for mercy, even without it being a part of a punishment. Even when he tries to be nice, it’s always too much.

He turns back towards me, searching my face for any sign of resistance, just to make sure that I really have learned my lesson and I plan on being a good girl. The second I see the wand my cunt clenches and I let out the tiniest whimper, gulping nervously. A single tear falls down my cheek again and he brings his hand up to wipe it away. “I know baby, I know.” He says softly before turning around and plugging it into the wall.

The moment he turns back around and switches it on, he presses it against my clit, watching every single expression on my face. I jerk against the restraints and feel like the wind has been knocked out of my lungs. He bites his lip for a second before groaning out, “Ohh, that’s it baby. Feel that?” I can only whine at him in response, struggling to keep my eyes on his but somehow I manage, although tears are threatening to spill out any second from the overstimulation. “You’re going to cum so hard for me, aren’t you baby?” He presses it into my clit more, making tiny circles, causing me to cry out and arch my back, my entire body pulling against the restraints whether I want them to or not.

“Yes!” I cry out in response to him, although it barely sounds like a word. My entire body feels like it’s being electrocuted, and I can’t help but shake violently as I’m being thrust into an orgasm within seconds of him asking. A scream rips itself out of my throat and I feel like I’m going to explode. Eddie’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he hears me, groaning out, “That’s right, fucking scream for me.”

I feel like this orgasm is never going to end. My vision is going black, or maybe my eyes are just squeezed shut, I can’t even tell anymore. The way I scream is absolutely primal, tears rolling down my face and my crying turns to sobbing. My entire body is full of electricity and suddenly, I feel it. My body is fucking convulsing (as much as it can against the rope, anyway) as fluid starts squirting from my pussy. I feel it pool up underneath me and I hear a gasp and a groan from Eddie. “Thaaaat’s it baby, look at you fucking go!” he sounds like he could cum just from the sight of me. As soon as it ends, he finally turns the vibrator off and pulls it away. I feel like I can finally fill my lungs with oxygen again.

When my eyes open, Eddie and I stare at each other with the exact same look of utter shock on our faces. That’s the first time I have ever done that. His look of surprise is short-lived though because when he sees the mess I’ve made on his hand, he drops the vibrator to inspect his hand in the light. He licks off every finger with a smack of his lips and a wicked fucking grin on his face. My face is frozen still, especially after seeing him do that. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he breathes, staring down at me with a mixture of awe and something wild in his eyes.

I close my eyes and a few more tears fall out onto my cheeks as my breathing is still a bit ragged. I feel his hands gently wipe away my tears and he whispers, “Baby, look at me.” My eyes flutter open halfway, nibbling my bottom lip. “Color?” He asks, his eyes look so warm and caring at this moment. I lean into his hand on my cheek with a tiny smile and a sniffle.

“Green.. I promise I’m okay. That was just… I don’t know if I can do that again.” I shake my head at him to emphasize my words, but I feel much more grounded after the check-in.

He smiles gently at me, nodding back as his expression softens. “I know baby, I know that was a lot. But you’re doing so well.” He puts two fingers under my chin, making sure my eyes stay trained on his so that I really hear every word. “You can do this, sweetheart. I know you can.” He leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead before lifting back up, a stern expression on his face again. “Now. I want you to repeat after me. Say ‘Please Sir, I want you to make me cum like that again.’” He watches me closely, licking his lips as he waits for my response.

I close my eyes as he kisses my forehead, nodding through his encouragement. But my eyes fly right back open with his last demand and my voice gets caught in my throat again. Even as fucked out and obedient as I am now, my heart rate spikes at the thought of having to do… that again. Still, I swallow hard before somehow forcing the words out. “Please, Sir… I want you to make me cum like that again.” My lower lip is quivering as I whimper the words out.

He groans as I say this, his cock twitching noticeably. His lips suddenly crash into mine, kissing me roughly. As he pulls back, he’s got that wild look in his eyes again as they trace over every inch of my body. “That’s my good girl. I’m going to make you cum one more time while I use that throat of yours.” He climbs onto the bed again, facing away from the headboard and putting each of his legs on either side of my head. I open my mouth and stick my tongue out, the heavenly sound of his own moan flooding my ears as he slowly lowers himself into my mouth, making sure to glide himself all along my tongue on the way in. He pumps his cock in and out of my mouth at a steady pace, slowly working its way towards my throat. After a couple minutes of this, he feels himself getting close to his own release. He leans over and grabs the wand again, turning it on and growling, “Get ready, slut. Knock on the headboard if you really need to breathe.”

He shoves his cock deep into my throat and I can’t help but gag, struggling to breathe through my nose and relax the muscles in my throat. “Fuck!” he groans out, before he pulls the hood of my clit back, something he knows is the most cruel thing he could do, and presses the wand firmly into my clit. Every single muscle in my body cries out in agony, begging to be allowed to squirm away from the sensation. I try to scream out but it makes me gag, and I lose my ability to breathe at all as my lungs refuse to work anymore from all of the stimulation. Too much stimulation. My brain feels like it’s short circuiting. Just as my lungs are starting to burn from lack of oxygen, I cum somehow even harder than I did the last time. I feel like I’m on fire and being shot up into icy space at the same time. I can’t move, I can’t scream, I can only cum. Once again, I feel myself start to squirt, and it all becomes too much. I start gagging on him again, and I hear him fucking whimper before groaning. His cum shoots down my throat and I have no choice but to swallow it.

He turns the vibrator off and throws it to the side, pulling his cock out quickly as I gasp for breath, taking in huge gulps of air as he makes quick work of my restraints. He slowly guides my arms down and gently rubs my shoulders, then helps me close my legs and gently rubs my hips. He whispers, “I know baby, I know,” as I wince from the pain of finally being able to move my limbs and them being so sore.

The second he looks me in the eyes and is about to ask how I feel, my vision goes blurry and I’m confused for a second before I actually realize I’m crying again. I can’t stop it though, my body is so exhausted and my brain is so fuzzy and every part of me is buzzing and sore. He instantly wraps me up in his arms, cradling my head against my chest and kissing my head. “Good girl,” he whispers to me, and his voice back to the normal, sweet and kind Eddie I hear every day. “You are such a good girl, I am so fucking proud of you, baby.”

This was easily the most intense punishment I have ever been through, and he knows it. I’ve never squirted before in my life. I can barely even hear him whispering reassuring words to me over my own ragged breathing and sniffles, but I do notice that I am clinging onto him for dear life. He holds me close, rocking me gently back and forth. He kisses me on the top of my head again, and his voice starts to soothe every ounce of unrest in my body.

“Shh, shh.. It’s okay baby, I know it was rough, that was a really hard lesson. But you did so good.. I’m so so proud of you, baby.” He slowly takes his hand off of my head, leaning back enough so that he can wipe away the tears on my cheeks with his thumbs. Then he cups my cheeks in his hands and kisses all over my face. He starts at my forehead, then my nose, then both of my cheeks, and over my eyes. He is so gentle with every kiss, and about halfway through my tears stop falling and a little tiny giggle escapes my lips.

I open my eyes to look up at him and his heart breaks when he sees my eyes red from so many tears and my cheeks absolutely covered in tear stains and blotchy pink skin. “Was that too much for you?” he whispers, talking so softly, as if his tone itself could blow me away if it was too loud or firm.

I smile softly and shake my head, still sniffling but just barely. His eyes look so pretty, I could get lost in them and never want to find my way out. His eyebrows are furrowed with concern and I can see his eyes scanning my every feature to make sure I really am okay. My heart swells about a thousand times its normal size. “No, it wasn’t too much, Eddie. It was so, so good. It was easily the most intense thing I’ve ever felt in my life, but it wasn’t too much. I promise. I just need lots of love now, okay?” I smile at him again with a little scrunch of my nose, trying to make extra sure he knows I really am okay.

Eddie lets out a shaky breath but I can see the relief on his face as he brings my head into his chest again, holding his hand there to cradle it as he tickles gentle circles across my back with his other hand. “I’m right here, baby. I’m right here. I’ve got you. I love you so much.”

I close my eyes again because the sensation on my back feels like heaven. I mumble into his skin, “I love you too. So much, Eddie.” I start trying to regulate my breathing, every deep inhale brings his delicious scent of woodsy musk and cigarettes. Once I feel like I’m returning back into a normal headspace, I pull back a little and show him my wrists and point to my legs. They’re still red and indented from the rope. “Can you help these feel better please?”

He smiles softly down at me, his eyes and fingers running over every single mark on my skin, before nodding. “Of course, baby. Let’s go into the bathroom and I’ll take care of you.” He gets off the bed before picking me up and helping me wrap my legs around him. I press my face into his neck and wrap my arms around him and can’t help but smile. I could honestly live like this, in his embrace. Smelling his skin. His hair tickling my face. Feeling his chest against mine. It’s all perfection.

Once we get to the bathroom, he slowly puts me down and spins me gently to face the mirror. He looks into it at me, smiling and petting my hair to smooth it down. “There’s my pretty girl,” he murmurs, “You are so perfect.” My face turns a bright ride and I hide my face in my hands, unable to help myself.

“Eddie!” I giggle out. He always knows how to make me smile and completely fluster me at the same time. I gently peek at him in the mirror through my fingers, his smile is so sweet as he watches me. He chuckles at my reaction, gently placing his hands on my hips and spinning me around to look at him. I lower my hands and stare into his eyes, practically entranced.

“You’re so cute, baby.” He smiles and kisses my forehead again, bringing each of my hands into his and up to his lips, kissing each one so gently. He guides me over to sit down on the toilet seat, before turning to the tub and turning on the water. “Let’s get you all cleaned up, yeah?”

As I sit down and watch the tub start to fill, I nod and lean forward to rest my head against his side, wanting to never stop touching him. “Yeah…yes please, I’d love a bath.”

We wait in silence for a few minutes before he checks the temperature. Deeming it perfect, he grabs my hands again to help guide me towards the tub. As I sit down and relax into the water, he smiles at me and says, “Ahhhhh, that’s better, isn’t it? Feel good baby?”

I nod and smile up at him and watch as he grabs the shower head to bring it down. He sits down next to the tub, turning on the shower head and he is so careful about wetting my hair without letting water drip onto my face.

He takes his time, massaging my scalp slowly and with the perfect pressure as he shampoos it. After another few minutes of silence, I hear him starting to hum one of the songs from that Black Sabbath album, Master of Reality. I can’t tell which song it is, though. My eyes start to droop and I giggle a little at the end of the song as he’s slowly rinsing the soap out of my hair.

“You’re going to make me fall asleep if you keep this up, you know. Warm water, massages, and music? You’re spoiling me, Eddie.” I say, my eyes closed still to make sure no soap or water gets into my eyes as he rinses my hair off.

He chuckles softly at me, pressing a kiss to my now-clean hair. “I could do this for hours, baby. Plus, you deserve to be spoiled. Trust me.” I sigh in content and lean into his kiss, feeling utter bliss in the calm of the moment.

Once he is done making every inch of me nice and clean, continuing the whole time to give me praise and making sure he is absolutely as gentle as he can be, he drains the tub for me and helps me stand up. He wraps me in a towel and gives me a great big hug, and it takes him a few seconds to let go. He picks me up again, bridal style this time, and brings me back to the bedroom despite my giggling at him that I am able to use my feet again.

“I know you can, but I’ve got you baby, don’t you even worry about it.” He presses another kiss into the side of my head, which is probably the thousandth kiss of the evening. Not that I’m complaining for a second. He helps me get dressed into my comfiest pajamas and then dresses himself in boxers and a random t-shirt. He turns to me when he’s finished, cocking his head at me with a smile.

“So…I call for pizza, you pick the movie?” he asks, already reaching for the phone. Yeah… I’m so spoiled.

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ode-to-fury · 5 months

Text

One Small Freckle

Pairing: Gale/Tav

Words: no clue

Summary: Whoo boy I woke up this morning and this lil drabble basically wrote itself and I like it so much I thought I’d post it. Self indulgent to the max which is my favourite type of fic to write. Gale has some morning after thoughts. This is based on my Tav but idk I think it’s fairly vague.

Gale lay awake, surrounded by Shadow Weave which terrfied and tempted him in equal measure, thinking.

Gods.

He’d meant it as a farewell. He’d meant it as- as a last night, a last wonderful night with the woman he had come to love. He’d meant to show her one more facet of his beloved Weave before the inevitable happened, perhaps to give her something to explore in future. In truth, it had been a selfish, shameful thing, and he’d known it would hurt her more than anything else.

I’m in love with you, too.

He’d made his peace with the fact that his life would pay for his follies. It had all made perfect sense to him. Too much sense. He’d endangered the Weave with his ambition, and Mystra had spurned him, and now, to protect that thing which he loved the most and earn his godess’ forgiveness he simply had to destroy himself.

It had made perfect sense, in his heart, in his mind. No doubt Mystra had known it would, clever, clever thing that she was.

And what would it hurt for the world to have one less grasping wizard in it to sully its wonders? Who would miss him?

His mother, perhaps. And Tara. But the two of them would be safe from the destruction he would cause, far away in Waterdeep. And even more safe, when the threat of the Absolute was gone. They would mourn, but heal. In time.

I’m in love with you, too.

Her hands had callouses on them that scraped against his skin when her fingers danced across it. Those callouses scraped against his own, from the years working with his staff, from writing. Such mundane tasks that he yearned for now. She had one small freckle on the palm of her right hand, just below her thumb, that he could have spent hours admiring. Had she always had it? Or was it from days spent in sunlight adventuring through Faerûn, seeing all those places in the flesh he had only ever seen on paper?

Had he ever loved anything so much as he loved her hands? He remembers the first time they’d touched, trapped in that rock. Warmth eminating from her fingers, even then. If he’d known how the touch would damn him, would he have taken that hand?

Yes. In a thousand different realities. In every lifetime he could concieve of, the answer was yes.

I’m in love with you, too.

He’d attempted to match the colours of his nighttime illusion to her eyes, though he thought he’d come up woefully short. In some light, they seemed grey, like thunderclouds, or green, or blue. Then she would grin, or laugh, and starlight would burst forth from them. Days upon days he could have sat finding the perfect words for that light, for the brown specks that floated in it like leaves on the surface of a pool of starlight. He’d tried to count them, but he hadn’t had the time.

Time. Once he’d thought he’d had enough. He’d thought he would have lifetimes, like Elminster. Thousands of years to unravel the universe, it’s secrets, it’s functions. Now… now when all he wanted was to watch as the corner of her mouth quirked upward, and a dimple appeared on her cheek, now he would run out of that which he had taken for granted for so long.

I’m in love with you, too.

And then. Then he’d made the largest error of them all, and forgotten that she was not a goddess, despite his feelings on the matter, and she would not know to guard her thoughts in the astral plane, when they connected.

Pleasure had ripped through him, as Mystra had shown him, in the way he loved, but knowledge also.

He’d seen her thoughts, the hurt he was causing her, but the love also. A love large enough to match his own, at the least. He’d seen her fears, and her dreams, and her loves. Forests she’d walked through and rivers she’d crossed. Her yearning for greatness and reknown and acceptance. Glimpses of firelight and laughter, of tears and loneliness. Such loneliness it had made him gasp with the pain of it.

They’d mingled and loved like the gods do, but the clumsy fumbling of their mortality had interfered, and Gale had lost himself in the essence of her and had had no desire to find his way back to himself. Not ever.

I’m in love with you, too.

He lay awake in the darkness of his tent. She had fallen asleep after, which he understood. The darkness, the fear of the past days, the battles at Moonrise to rescue their allies, and now this. Now he had added to those burdens.

He’d been walking toward a precipice. Toward the abyss of nothing. Away from the pain of his heartbreak. Away from the physical pain of the orb and his arcane hunger. He’d stared into that darkness that had been beckoning since the day the orb had stolen his powers, his goddess, his life. Mystra had given him a chance to find solace in that darkness. To redeem himself in it, and save the Weave as he did. It was right. It had to be right, or she would not have commanded it, no matter her anger toward him.

I’m in love with you, too.

Away from the darkness there was pain. Strife, death, and pain. But there was life. There was Karlach, with her easy smiles and childlike hope and vulgar humour. There was Astarion, with his snide remarks and his hunger for power that matched Gale’s in a way he did not quite like, but who was by his side when he needed it. There was Shadowheart, who was closed off and sullen but who healed his scrapes and bruises with a wink and always shared her wine. There was Wyll, with his bravery and goodness and who would help Gale think of a word to rhyme with “pool” if he asked. Lae’zel, who could barely hide her smile when he asked her about her home amongst the stars and who was stronger than the rest of them combined. Weave save him, it gave him strength too.

And there was Tav.

I’m in love with you, too.

Before Elminster’s appearance he hadn’t thought about Mystra in days. The realisation had terrified and elated him in equal measure. If she had asked this of him two months ago, before the tadpole, he would not have hesitated, not for a moment.

Tav’s lips had brushed over the mark of the orb on his chest, kissing that which he had been cast out and condemned for. Her lips were soft, despite their time exposed to the elements. He wanted to ask her how she managed it. He wanted to ask her so many things that he did not have time for now.

I’m in love with you, too.

And in the darkness of his tent, surrounded by the Shadow Weave which tempted and terrified him in equal measure he finally realised that something in his heart and mind had changed.

He did not want to die.

The thought terrified him worse than anything else he’d experienced in the past weeks, and there had been some truly bloodcurdling sights.

Somewhere along their journey, perhaps next to the fire when Wyll was telling stories, or fighting with Tav at his back, knowing what she would do even before she did it, or walking along sharing thoughts with Astarion and Lae’zel, somewhere along their journey he had started living again.

Despite the orb, despite the tadpole, despite their dire, almost inevitable odds of catastrophic failure, he had started living again.

And gods, was he enjoying it.

I’m in love with you, too.

The night before he had bonded with her in a way he had not bonded with anyone in his life, not even Mystra, for she had always kept herself apart from him. Tav had had no such boundaries, and he had kept none from her.

Perhaps they would all die before this was over even without him detonating the orb. Perhaps they would transform into illithids and lose their souls. Perhaps this Absolute would crush them without so much as a second thought.

Or perhaps they would triumph, slim as their chances might be.

I’m in love with you, too.

But he would face it at her side. If they found this Heart of the Absolute and they decided it was best he go forth with his plan, then gladly he would. But until then, if she asked him to live he would live. If she asked him to defy Mystra, he would. If there was even the smallest chance that he would one day have the time to write poetry about that small freckle beneath her thumb, he would defy Ao himself to have it. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to live. He wanted to live with her, with their friends beside them.

And in the darkness of his tent, surrounded by the Shadow Weave which tempted and terrified him in equal measure, he grinned, and decided he would attempt to get some sleep before what would surely be a grueling day. Perhaps his last. Perhaps.

But certainty was ever an elusive creature when it came to adventures such as theirs. Hadn’t he been telling Tav so ever since Elminster had appeared?

He closed his eyes.

I’m in love with you, too.

#poor boy just wanted sex and instead did a speedrun through a three page long sad backstory lol #bg3 #gale of waterdeep #gale/tav #gale dekarios #gale x tav #gale fic #gale of waterdeep fic #wildweave #my writing

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dystopicjumpsuit · 6 months

Note

Whoo hooooo! I think you would create magic as always with this prompt: the first initial kiss being a simple peck, then they immediately go back in for a stronger, more passionate one.

Could I request it with your choice of Tup… or post-stasis Kix… or Hunter? 🫦🥹💙

A/N: Thank you for the ask @freesia-writes! I’ve been wanting to write a fic with a meteor shower for ages, and this was the perfect opportunity. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Hunter x Reader (GN)

Rating: T, but minors DNI as always

Wordcount: 740

Warnings and tags: fluff; sensuality; pop culture in my SW fanfic (it's more likely than you think)

Summary: You and Hunter watch a meteor shower on Pabu.

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

“I’m gonna turn in,” Wrecker said. “I’ll take the kid back to the house if you two want to stay and watch the show.”

“I told her she needed to take a nap if she wanted to stay awake long enough to see the meteor shower,” Hunter laughed quietly, passing Omega’s sleeping form to his brother.

You grinned. “In her defense, if my dad had told me to take a nap when I was twelve, I definitely would have stayed awake just to spite him.”

Wrecker let out a booming laugh. “Didn’t realize you were such a rebel!”

“Ssshhhh!” you and Hunter shushed Wrecker in unison.

“Oh, right,” he whispered. “I’m headin’ out. See ya later.”

You waved goodbye at Wrecker and then flopped back down onto the blanket you’d spread on the sandy beach of Pabu, staring up at the glorious night sky. Hunter soon joined you, not quite touching you, but lying close to your side so you’d both fit on the blanket.

“You’re lucky Omega’s such a great kid,” you murmured. “I was a holy terror at her age. I couldn’t even stand myself; I don’t know how my parents survived.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he chuckled. “The proper schoolteacher of Pabu?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you replied. “I was a teenage dirtbag.”

“Is that why all the kids love you?”

“They sense a kindred spirit under my respectable facade,” you said with a giggle.

Hunter huffed a quiet laugh, and the two of you lapsed into silence as you watched the sky. It was a dark, moonless night, and for once, the sky was entirely free of clouds—a perfect night for stargazing. You could see the entire galaxy stretched out above you, the stars shining brightly enough that they reflected as pinpricks of light on the tranquil ocean.

“Look there,” he said, pointing to a section of the sky close to the horizon. “It’s gonna be a good one.”

Sure enough, a brilliant streak of light soon shot low across the darkness, its flash bright enough to illuminate the beach faintly. As it burned out, you turned your head to stare at Hunter.

“How do you do that?” you asked softly.

“I can hear them,” he replied.

He lay on his back, his eyes fixed on the sky, and you took a moment to watch his face in the starlight. “That’s amazing.”

It was difficult to tell in the darkness, but you thought he smiled. “There’ll be another over there.”

He pointed across your body to a section of sky far to your left. He propped himself up on one elbow so he could see over you, and you turned to the sector he pointed out just in time to catch the vivid burst of light. The meteor split in two as it hit the atmosphere, putting on a dazzling show, and you could hear the distant sizzling as it burnt itself out.

“Even I could hear that one!” you exclaimed, turning to Hunter in excitement.

He was much closer to you than he had been when he was lying on his back, and you caught your breath when you realized that your faces were almost touching. Your pulse began to race, and you silently willed yourself to calm down, knowing that Hunter would be able to hear your body’s reaction to him.

Another meteor shot directly overhead, its bright light illuminating his face, and you realized he was staring at your lips. On impulse, you reached up and kissed him. It was quick and light—barely a peck—and by the time it was over, the beach had plunged back into darkness, leaving you uncertain about his response.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “Was that—”

He cut off your question abruptly, his lips crashing into yours in a passionate, urgent kiss. His hand dropped to your waist, rolling your body against his as his tongue grazed your lips softly, sliding into your mouth. The moment he tasted you, he let out a short, desperate sound, almost a growl, as his hand slid possessively up your back. Overhead, a spectacular meteor burst into the atmosphere, its flash so intense that you could see the illumination even though your eyes were closed. You opened them just in time to see the light trail die out.

As your lips parted from Hunter’s, you whispered, “We missed that one.”

He kissed you again, softly. “I prefer the view down here.”

#sergeant hunter #hunter tbb #sergeant hunter x reader #gn reader #sw tbb fanfic #the bad batch #bad batch #star wars #sw bad batch #hunter x reader

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my-adhd-gremlin-blog · 9 months

Text

I wrote this fic based on a post I made about pirate!Scar being the same person as s8!Scar. This SMP has me in a chokehold, but Scar's character especially has me hooked. Hope you enjoy!

The tavern was alive with the sound of raucous laughter as the Kestrels threw back their ales and shared their stories.

" - and then I said, that's not my wife, that's a crab!" Martyn bellowed, swigging more ale.

"Oh, very funny, Marty," Oli grumbled, hiding his embarrassment behind his own tankard. "My wife is not a crab! She's a very beautiful, very real lady!"

The crew continued to guffaw, ruddy faced and cheery from the sheer amounts of alcohol they'd consumed.

"Oli's wife is cra-ab, Oli's wife is a cra-ab," Sausage chanted gleefully, spilling most of his drink on the floor in the process.

Disturbed by the commotion, Captain Jellie curiously wandered over from the bar, leaping into Scar's lap for a fuss. Scar smiled, scratching Jellie behind the ears. The feline began to purr.

"What about you, Scar? Did you have a special someone at home?" Martyn asked, also reaching a hand out towards the cat.

Scar met Martyn's gaze with unfocused eyes. He thought perhaps he might be trying to make fun of him, too, but Martyn's interest seemed sincere. Scar's smile grew wider, even more playful.

"Me? No! There's a whole lotta Scar to go around, it just wouldn't be fair to the world if I settled down with just one person," he replied slyly.

Martyn chuckled. "Alright, charmer. Maybe you can share some of that charisma with the rest of us, hey?"

He leaned forward, swaying slightly in his chair, surveying Scar with hungry eyes. Martyn was flirting with him, that much he knew. But a face had appeared in Scar's mind, his special someone, and his heart was twisting with guilt. Not wanting to be rude, he threw Martyn a wink and chugged the rest of his ale, hoping that would be the end of it.

"Whoo, look at me go! Martyn, Scar, look! Check out my monocle!"

Oli, who had seemingly gotten over the crab comment, was now entertaining Sausage and Kyle by balancing his monocle on the end of his nose, like a seal with a rubber ball. Inevitably, it slipped and fell to the table, cracking down the middle.

"Oh my gosh, Scar! Look at my monocle!" Grian cried, examining himself in the mirror with delight. "How do I look?"

He gave a little twirl, and Scar whistled his approval. Grian was giving him the biggest grin; he didn't think his heart could handle it.

"Perfect! I told you the hat was a good idea. Now you look like a real train conductor."

Grian laughed, flicking the tiny top hat on Scar's head. "And you still look like the world's worse salesman."

Scar gripped the edge of the table, hard. A memory he thought he had lost long ago suddenly hit him like a gale force wind, and it felt like all the air had been knocked out of him.

"Scar, you okay, buddy?" Oli asked.

Scar waved him off. "Oh, fine. Absolutely fine." He tried to stand, and immediately stumbled. "Actually, I'm a little drunk. I'd say it's time for us, Jellie and me, to hit the hay."

○

The next morning, the Kestrels, all nursing severe hangovers, set out on their first mission in hopes of earning some coin. The rough sea churned their stomachs, but they pressed on, motivated by their greed for gold.

An island grew larger on the horizon, until the ship finally rolled gently onto the soft sand. Sausage dropped the anchor and the crew disembarked, glad for once to be on dry land.

"Are we sure this is the place? It sure doesn't look like a cursed island," Kyle said, taking in the scenery.

"Of course this is the right place. Are you questioning my navigation skills?" Sausage balked.

"I wouldn't dream of it, my dear," Kyle responded with a wink.

"Oh, are we flirting? I want in on that!" Martyn threw an arm around both of their shoulders, planting a kiss on each of their cheeks.

"Sorry to interrupt this little smooch-fest, guys, but Oli is looking a little green around the gills," said Scar, pointing over his shoulder to Oli, who was curled up in the sand holding his stomach.

"No, I'm fine! I'm fine, I -" Oli rolled over, and up came his breakfast. "I'm going to have to stay with the ship," he conceded.

"Lightweight, Oli!" Sausage teased jovially.

With Martyn and Scar's help, Oli managed to pull himself up into a sitting position. He looked much more worse for wear than the rest of the crew.

"If it makes you feel any better, Oli, you look as bad as I feel," Martyn said.

Oli glared at him. "Why would that make me feel better?"

"Well, if Oli is fine to stay here feeding the fishes," said Kyle, eyeing the throw up that was slowly getting washed away by the surf, "then I see no reason why the rest of us can't go and explore the island. There may be treasure to be had. Perhaps, if you're feeling better by nightfall, Oli, you could join us for some monster-hunting?"

He threw Kyle a weak thumbs up. "You got it, boss man."

"That settles it, then," Sausage declared. "Onward, Kestrels! To adventure!"

"To adventure!" Martyn and Kyle chorused.

Scar, however, was looking into the distance wistfully. "You guys go ahead, I'll catch up later."

The ground beneath their feet rumbled. Earthquakes had become pretty much a daily occurrence at this point, and most of the Hermits couldn't remember a time when gravity wasn't a little unstable. Grian tugged on Scar's arm, pulling him inside the observatory to shelter from wayward floating dirt.

At the top, they both sunk to their knees, exhausted from the climb. Nobody in Boatem had slept for days, and the fatigue was making them delirious. The bright, looming figure of the moon shone threateningly through the observatory skylight. It was bigger tonight. It was constantly getting bigger.

"It's not getting bigger," Grian announced quietly. "It's getting closer."

Scar's heart thudded violently in his chest, but all he had the energy to do was let out a meek sob.

"This is the end, isn't it? This world is coming to an end."

Grian didn't say anything. There was no point denying it. Instead, he reached out to Scar, and despite being smaller, pulled him to his chest. Scar didn't resist.

"We'll build a new world, it'll be better than this one," Grian said, stroking Scar's hair.

"But we barely got any time in this one. This place was just starting to feel like home. I'm not ready to move on yet."

Grian chuckled lightly. "I don't think we have much of a choice, if the moon has other plans," he said. "Home isn't just a place, Scar. It's in the people you surround yourself with, too. As long as you and me are together, we'll always be home. And I for one sure do not plan on leaving you."

Scar's eyes drooped. He was tired, he was scared. But now, he was also beginning to realise that he was loved, too.

"You promise?" He muttered, fighting hard not to fall asleep in Grian's arms.

Grian held him tighter. "I promise."

A promise, sealed with a kiss.

Martyn frowned, concerned and slightly puzzled. "Are you alright, pal? Not gonna blow chunks like Oli, are you?"

"I swear to God, Marty, if I had the strength, I'd like to throw some very choice words at you," Oli groaned, half-heartedly flipping him off.

Once again, Scar was dismissive of his friends' concern. "Stop worrying about me. I'm OK, really. It's just been so long since I've had a crew, I got used to being a one man show. I'd appreciate a little bit of 'me' time. It's nothing personal."

Scar had almost said 'I promise' , but the words got stuck in his throat. The last time a promise was made with him, it got broken. Still, the other Kestrels seemed happy enough with his answer.

"OK, then. We'll see you later, Scar!"

Scar waved them off with a big smile. "Bye, now!"

Oli groaned again. "And now you're going to leave me, too, aren't you? Go, Scar, leave me here to die."

Scar rolled his eyes fondly. "Don't be so dramatic, you're not gonna die. Here." Scar handed him a flask full of fresh water. "Drink that. You'll be fine. Take care of yourself, I'll be back in a little while."

The island was beautiful. White sand, lush grass, palm trees reaching for the clouds. Everywhere you looked there was some interesting flora and fauna. Scar trekked up and over a hill, finding the remains of a sunken ship on the other side. It once must have been very impressive, judging by the sheer size of the wreckage. Now all that was left of it was splintered wood, torn up sails and barnacles in every nook and cranny.

Still, there may be something to salvage.

It took Scar a good part of the day to explore the entire shipwreck, encountering issues with a particularly curious duck that just did not want to leave him alone. When the sun reached its peak, Scar took a break, nibbling on a slightly mushy banana to dull his biting hunger. He stowed away the peel once he was finished with it; another potential customer to scam.

A brief run-in with a Kite confirmed for him that whatever had been left behind had already been ransacked by one of their own (Scar swore he would sink that Tubbo's ship one day). Writing that particular mission off a as a dud, Scar began his ascent again. He would go check on Oli, maybe meet up with the others, and slay a few monsters.

At the crest, Scar took a moment to take in the view. He could imagine how the night sky must look from here. How close the stars would seem to be. His eyes were starting to mist over when he caught a flash of red in his peripheral vision.

A scarlet macaw had come in to land beside him, as if completely unaware of his presence. Scar figured the animals here must see so little of humanity that they'd never learned to be afraid of him. He crouched, lifting an arm and holding it out. With a sharp whistle, Scar called the bird, and with very little hesitation, it soared up to him and perched on his forearm.

There were seeds in his bag, Scar was sure of it. With a little rummaging, he managed to grab a handful. The bird ate right from the palm of his hand.

Scar huffed a laugh. "Does this mean we're friends now?"

Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, the parrot took off again, flying off in the direction of the setting sun.

The void jump wasn't planned. Scar had failed his Boatem family. His rocketship never left the ground. Still, he had hope. They were together, at least. They'd make it to the next world.

Time passed. Scar wasn't sure how long. It was Pearl who began to deteriorate first. Her body became skeletal, her lips turned blue, and not long after, they were setting her body free.

Mumbo went next. His cold, stiff corpse remained with them for days, before finally, Impulse convinced Grian to let him go.

Scar's hope dwindled as fast as his grief mounted. He was supposed to save them, but instead he was clinging to dear life and praying his last two friends were doing the same.

Impulse went quietly. He'd never liked to make a fuss. Not a word was said when his body went numb from cold. Not a word about how agonising his hunger had become. No complaints, just peace.

It was just Scar and Grian left, floating in the void, holding onto each other desperately. Grian had always been a stubborn one. Even when faced with death, he refused to die. Scar believed they'd make it. They'd live for for the ones they'd lost.

But then...

"Scar, I'm so cold," Grian murmured weakly.

"Cuddle in closer. I'll keep you warm."

"I'm so hungry, Scar," whined Grian.

"We'll eat when we get to the new world. There's bound to be a rift around here somewhere. Soon, you'll see."

Grian started to go limp in Scar's arms. Scar held him tighter.

"Scar... I love you."

And then he went still. Grian did make it to the new world, but he never got to see it. He broke his promise.

"You left me," Scar whispered into the wind.

He watched the bright plumage of the colourful bird blur on the horizon as it flew further away. A tear rolled gently down his cheek.

"I never should have trusted a pesky bird."

This got a little morbid towards the end, sorry. I was up late last night fighting stomach cramps (on a work night 😫) so I guess I just chose violence. I was gonna add a scene in which Scott and Cleo found Scar washed up, and they decide to take him in (and bury Grian's body), but it didn't seem necessary in the end. Just know that the "new world" is the Faction Isles, not season 9.

(P.s. it was Scar's comment about "not trusting pesky birds" that essentially fueled this entire fic).

#mcyt #mcytblr #pirates smp #hermitcraft season 8 #mcyt fanfiction #goodtimeswithscar #martyn inthelittlewood #oli orionsound #mythicalsausage #kyleeff #desert duo #scarian #long post

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delta-pavonis · 3 months

Note

Dream Journal Rescue for the wip game, please

WHOO! Thank you for asking about this one, Nonny.

For the 2022 Dreamling Secret Santa I took a risk and wrote something that can be very divisive in fanfic and in fiction in general: first person narrative. I wrote the first half of i had a dream (i got everything i wanted) as a dream journal that Hob used to record his dreams after they came back when Dream got out of the fishbowl in 2021. It draws both from the early comics and from the TV show in terms of events/timeline. This fic got significantly less attention than the others I had written at the time, but it was also the one I was most proud of that year (and that's with Eros in Pragma and Hypnopompia turtur in there!). I am still extremely proud of it because it is, for me, I think very poetic writing. However, the first version of i had a dream wasn't post-fishbowl, but actually started before the fishbowl. Hob still kept a dream journal, and it still started in first person, but the idea originally was that Hob would figure out that something had happened to his Stranger because of his dreams stopping. Which meant that they needed to have enough of a relationship/rapport by the 1910s that Hob would trust that Dream would not miss a dream "date" of theirs without very good reason. Hence, "dream journal rescue" as the name. I only have pieces of the fic, but I keep them because I still viscerally love what I did with i had a dream SO FUCKING MUCH that I want to return to that style at some point. If you have read i had a dream you will see the bits I took from this and transferred to that.

This is totally G-rated and starts before 1889, as Hob is anticipating that next meeting, and then keeps going into 1914. Here's what I have in that WIP file:

21 October 1885

I think I need to write these down. Olive suggested I start writing these down. She is usually right about such things.

Maybe it will bring some clarity to this… mess.

I’m in the White Horse Inn. (It is always the White Horse.)

The year is not obvious from the decor, which is a riotous mix of 1389 and 1489 and 1789. Delicate teacups and straw-covered floor and fireplaces with chimneys. Of course chimneys. But I know, in the way of dreams, that it is the day of our annual appointment, the next one, in 1889.

I shake my coat and hat free of the London morning rain. I am many hours before the time of our appointment. This my usual - I always arrive early. To ready the table and, more importantly, myself for our meeting.

But in this dream I enter the White Horse to find the Stranger already there. He looks exactly as he did in 1789. Which must say something about my imagination since he has always been in impeccable fashion specific to the era of our meeting.

Or perhaps it is because he looks at me with the same burning intensity that made our last appointment so spectacular. His eyes devour me, just as they did when we parted last, and I am absolutely helpless to resist.

I am sitting then, across from him, cups of tea and venison pasties between us. His beautiful pale fingers trace around the gilded edge of the teacup. I am speaking, words tumbling forth, I can hear the droning vibrations in my ears and throat, but it is not where my attention lies.

My attention is riding the wave in his coalblack hair. My attention is wafting the bob of his throat above his high collar. My attention is tracing the sweet pout of his pink lips. My attention is flying through storm-sky eyes.

He reaches across and

Fuck. I can’t write this.

[There are several attempts at starting entries after the previous one. None manage more than a sentence.]

[No attempts at entries are made after 1889.]

1 November 1898

I woke up still drunk and still in very rural Wales (note: never ever always maybe return for Nos Calan Gaeaf in the future) and found this old journal in the bottom of my trunk, so I suppose I shall once again make a valiant attempt to take dear Olive’s advice to sort out the dreams of my Stranger that ever plague me.

(I have heard tell of work by a man named Freud who claims dreams can be used to better understand someone’s psychology and potentially even relieve psychosis. He'd have a field day with me. May I never come within 400 miles of him.)

My drunk mind lacks creativity for scenery and so when I sleep this night I find myself in the same village square I was in only hours prior… however, I am back in time about 400 years? Long before the industrialization of the region, before the extermination of these old traditions by the expansion of “civilization.”

I have just won the silly harvest mare from the clutches of the other young men bringing the last of the harvest in, a horse-shaped horror made from the final stalks of grain reaped. I am now expected to try to sneak this rustling beast into the home where the bulk of the feast is being prepared by the womenfolk without one of them dousing me with washwater. If I succeed in getting into the kitchen unscathed I will win their finest beer and an honored seat at the feast-table. I am always up for new games.

(This is all Iwan’s fault for convincing me to accompany him home for the holiday yesterday and for me getting drunk while they all told me stories of the Old Days. Let it never be said that I abandon a friend in their time of need.)

I easily weave through the crowds of women and children, in their dresses and aprons and smocks, clothing I haven’t seen in centuries but are still as real as yesterday, and cross the kitchen threshold only to find the room empty. An empty kitchen except for the crackle of the hearthfire and my Stranger sat on a barrel in front of it.

The large fire paints him in oranges and golds and he looks warm and inviting in a way that I have never experienced outside of my mind. It is the moment I know for certain that this is a dream.

When he looks up to me he appears confused, brows drawn, lips parted.

I am the first to speak, although words do not come easily to me. “What…?” After our parting in 1889 I can scarce understand why I am seeing him before me now. Although nightmares of the night plagued me in the months afterwards, I had been blessedly free of any night-time visits from my Stranger for almost a decade now. It has been an unexpected boon after so many years of dreaming of him more carnally. I know these facts within the dream. “Why are you here?”

He doesn’t stand, cranes his neck back to look up at me, and I realize he has a low collar this night, lower than it had been even in 1489. I can see flame-gold arcing around the shadowed hollow of his throat.

“It is a Ysbrydnos.” He explains in perfect Welsh, as if I am some child. I do not question why I can so easily understand him despite my mediocre grasp of the language. It is a dream, after all. “Many call on me such nights.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yes, ‘tis a Spirit Night and you a spirit.”

He tilts his head to the side, bird-like and distinctly not human. “Not as such. But I will attend the dreams of many who call me here this night.” The Stranger’s voice is just as rich and decadent as it is in person. This detail my memory - traitorous bastard it is - does not neglect.

“Of course. Even the version of you I make for my dreams gives non-answers and evasions.” I can feel my whole body hunch in defeat. I wrap my arms around myself, look to the floor. “Just why…” Even my dream cannot steady my voice. “Why does my mind show you to me now? Why this torment?”

“Ah.” Now his voice is choked and staccato. “You did not call me here yourself this night.” Perhaps he is surprised, or ashamed, I cannot tell.

Still, I want to scream. “After last time…” I grit my teeth and continue to stare at the floor.

I see the toes of his black shoes enter my field of view. His chest is perhaps a handspan from mine. “Do you truly wish to never dream of me?” This inquiry is a mocking echo of his usual question, but there is no mockery in his tone. “Given…" He shakes his head, unable to say the words. Say the words he should say: Given what I did to you… Instead he restarts the sentence, "It would be well within your right to request it.”

I sigh. He almost sounds remorseful. What a fantasy this is. How contrived. “No.” And if I ever doubted before that this was a dream the tiny bits of relief I see wash over my Stranger confirms it. His eyes soften minutely. His shoulders relax a hair's breadth. “This might be the only chance I have to ever see you again. And I would take the machinations of my mind, I would take delusions of your regard, over nothing.”

He hums, looking back to the fire as he takes a step away from me. I feel cold and bereft. “This dream is over.”

And then I woke up.

1 Nov 1898 I have not dreamed of him in six months. one year. three years. seven ten fifteen

25 May 1914

After almost 17 years I found myself dreaming of the White Horse last night and when I focused upon it in my mind’s eye I almost burst into tears.

Wait, Olive always said that this was more effective if I narrated as if I was reliving the dream. That I would get more details back that way.

I begin the dream standing outside the White Horse Inn and knowing that I am dreaming. It is the first time I have begun a dream this aware and therefore it is noteworthy.

When I enter I feel his presence before I see it. Through the doors in the back, to the private room that had been set aside for us in 1789. He is once again in front of a fireplace, standing this time, hands clasped at the small of his back as he looks down into the flames.

(Note: Ponder this pattern more later, that I associate him in dreams with fire.)

The door to the room automatically closes behind me and he turns. Despite the venue, he is dressed, as always, in the pinnacle of fashion. All black - of course - but a suit with long jacket and waistcoat and tie nonetheless. The ever-present ruby sits heavy and dark just below his throat.

“I did not intend the delay, Hob.” And doesn’t that throw me for a loop. I did not know prior to that moment that one could get dizzy in their own dreams. “I sometimes forget that time flows… differently… for you humans. But I did think on our last conversation.”

Thirty questions stampede through my mind at once. Everything from ‘Did he just directly admit that he is not human?’ to ‘Which last time?’ I throw all of these aside and instead opt for a cautiously lilted “And?”

A magnanimous wave of his hand and we are sitting, the same tea and sweets that were present in 1789 grace the table between us. I hold my breath. “Perhaps we can pick up, as much as we can, where we were in 1789 before the Lady Constantine interrupted us.” I am so taken aback by the turn this dream has taken that I cannot for the life of me think of what to say next. Luckily, my mind does not require me to as he continues. “I believe you asked my name.”

I almost fall over myself to give him leave to avoid it. “Only if you wish it.” Just don't leave again.

He smiles, something brighter than usual, and it feels like looking into the Sun. “I have a list of titles, which we can get to later, but the simplest name is Dream.”

I clamp down on the anguish that’s in my throat, but it still comes out as a high-pitched wheeze from between my teeth. “Dream?! DREAM?!?” I let myself slump boneless into the chair, impropriety be damned, and splay my legs out in front of me, hands over my face. “Oh fuck my mind and these GAMES. Why can it not send me sweet dreams of you? Of COURSE you are named Dream… you are a dream! Has my subconscious no creativity? Christ in heaven…”

“Hob!” He shouts. He has never shouted at me before. I look to him through my fingers, meet twilight-blue eyes. “My name is Dream of the Endless and I am the King of Dreams and Nightmares.”

Shock, bright white and violent, runs through me and I quite literally fall out of my chair.

And then I wake up.

26 May 1914

I do not think I have ever been more wrong about something in my long long life.

Fuck.

My Stranger is Dream. He lords over dreams and nightmares. They are his Domain, his Kingdom.

F U C K

I knew that he was something Other. But this. This.

We met again last night, in my dreams. I don’t need to work at this anymore (thanks for trying, Olive) because he asked me last night if I wanted to remember this, remember meeting him. Apparently he has some manner of control over such things.

I told him yes. Of course I said yes. But I think I want to continue to keep track of what has happened, what will happen, in my dreams, here in this journal. If only so that I have something to refer to later when I have absolutely zero confidence that this is real. Some proof that I haven’t gone completely barmy.

Last night we talked. Just talked. It was in a liminal space, barely distinct as containing a floor and walls and chairs. All monotone, in blacks and greys and faint whites. It still reminded me of the back room from 1789.

He - Dream - told me so much. More than he had ever said to me in one go ever before. He told me some of his other names: Lord Morpheus (or just Morpheus), Prince of Stories, Oneiros, Shaper of Forms. He has a kingdom, home to dreams and nightmares alike. They are not only his citizens, but he creates them. Creates!

I have so so many questions.

But I must parcel them out carefully. Each answer is a treasure I will hoard.

I returned his generosity with words of my own.

#Dreamling #Pavonis writes #another dream journal fic

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anonnie-in-wonderland · 10 months

Text

Call Me Crazy...

Rating: T

Word Count:11.8k

Warning(s): anxiety/anxious thoughts, near panic attacks, injury, but also beware the fluff for it is potent

Summary: When Y/N gets her hands on the newest Samsung phone, she thinks at most she’ll get a little clout with her friends and fewer dropped calls. A direct portal to BTS? Not so much.

Tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | poly| FM!POC!reader

Ch.3: Don’t Hold Your Breath for a Break

A/N: Hiiii, sorry I’ve been away for so long. 🥺 Life has been pretty stressful. But, I’m back now, new chapter, whoo! I have had this on my mind for a while now, and finally got the chance to incorporate it into this chapter~ I really do hope you enjoy the arrival of the next BTS member to show up, whose dynamics with Y/N are already among my favorites. Also, always feel free to chat with me about this fic if you’d like, I don’t bite and thrive on the engagement! 🤗 I wanna know if anyone wants to guess what is going on or has figured it out yet. This chapter is especially dedicated to the blog who had a super easy tutorial on how to keep your formatting from google docs to tumblr!! Saved me a lot of time. Hehe *PLEASE do not ask about the taglist in this story’s comments*

In the days that followed, Y/N completely fell down a rabbit hole. It felt prudent to look more into BTS, or more specifically, Park Jimin. From a strictly legal perspective and nothing more.

After all, she was sure his attorneys would be sending a court summons any day now just as soon as they managed to find out her identity and track her down. It was something she lived in fear of.

Binna was none-the-wiser that the reason she suddenly seemed so attentive about the band’s recent lives was because she wanted to know if they’d mentioned anything. Any clues that would tell Y/N when her days as a free person were coming to an end.

Honestly, she hadn’t found much. Nothing that would be helpful in allowing her to participate in her own legal defense. Speaking of that, could she even afford an attorney that would be able to stand up against Park Jimin’s? She was sure a global superstar would have the best in the country.

Y/N listlessly scrolled through yet more photos of Jimin—looking for hidden meanings in the recent videos the group had posted was starting to make her feel like she was overreacting at best and paranoid at worst.

There were pictures of him with a variety of hair colors and outfits, taken over time, and he was flawless in all of them. Even ones she came across where he wasn’t glammed out in full makeup made it obvious he was just one of the lucky ones, naturally born attractive.

“How many wardrobe malfunctions can one person have throughout their career?” Y/N found herself muttering, spying yet another photo where Jimin’s fancy jacket was sliding down his arm. “Is he allergic to keeping his shirt on his shoulders?”

Though, given how many fan compilations existed that compiled every single moment where Jimin’s shirt or jacket hadn’t quite managed to stay all the way on, it didn’t seem like there were many complaints. Army was swooning and swooning hard if anything.

But really, being sued within an inch of her life wasn’t even the worst part about it all. If someone saw the “notes” section of her phone, they’d have her committed first, and ask questions later. She’d have her committed, under normal circumstances.

Because what she had experienced not once, but twice? It went against everything she stood for. Logical, grounded, a firm believer in science and fact. Facts didn’t support phenomena like getting sucked through a mirror and ending up in an idol’s dance studio.

Facts didn’t support seeing the face of another idol—because she now knew the reason the man in the mirror looked vaguely familiar was because he was another BTS member, Seokjin—instead of her own reflection when she went to brush her teeth. It just…didn’t make sense.

Science couldn’t support it. It was nuts. Yet it happened to her. And that was the only reason she believed it. Too bad no one else would. Or worse, if and when Jimin announced he’d be pressing charges for assault, and she had confessed beforehand to someone…it would probably be taken as evidence the attack was premeditated.

Sure, they’d have to prove how she got in. But…but still! She couldn’t risk it. Wouldn’t. Which meant her phone was her only safe secret-keeper. They were co-conspirators in it all.

Speaking of the damned cursed thing… trying to outright return it hadn’t worked, even though she had the receipt and everything! She still remembered the bizarre events that day.

Y/N was almost out of breath by the time she entered the phone store, embarrassingly worked up in front of the few strangers milling around inside. She got a few curious, side-long glances, and then they went back to perusing the inventory.

“Welcome!” Called an employee already speaking to other customers. “Someone will assist you shortly.”

Y/N gave a short, affirmative nod, trying not to come off anxious as she glanced around. Everything looked…the same as the night she had bought the phone. Shiny new models on display, the monitor above their heads playing a loop of advertisements for different Samsung products, and everything neatly put away and organized. Absently, she began to think over the store’s layout, and the fact that it could have a strong subconscious effect on the consumer. Organization of inventory could actually play a role in whether or not someone wanted to buy something.

But, putting that aside, the store didn’t look like the kind of place that would sell someone a phone that would ruin their life. Looks could be deceiving, though. Who knew what was actually afoot?

“Oh, can I help you, miss?” A middle-aged woman wearing the store’s polo top came over with a tag that said her name was Hayoung asked in an attentive tone.

Y/N was quick to nod. “I’m here to make a return, actually. I bought a phone from your store not long ago.”

“Was the item not to your liking?” Hayoung asked, guiding her over to an available station.

The university student glanced down at the phone in question, which she’d placed back in the original purchase box. “You could…say that.” She mumbled. “I’ve thought about it, and I really don’t need anything even half this fancy.” Telling the woman she thought the phone might have it in for her was out of the question. “So I’d like to exchange it for something simpler.”

Hayoung dutifully accepted the box, scanning the barcode and then lifting up the lid. Y/N had anticipated a smooth return in which she’d flash her receipt, maybe some ID, and have the exchange completed in no time. But when Hayoung’s brow furrowed, she knew she wouldn’t like whatever the saleswoman was going to say.

“Is…is something wrong?”

“Well,” she paused, “Are you sure you purchased your phone here? From this store? I know we’ve had models similar to this in stock before, but this one’s just not ringing up.”

“Really?” Y/N shook her head, rummaging around in her purse. “I don’t see how that could be. I have the receipt if that helps…”

She then proceeded to go through her small purse, searching the exact spot she knew she had folded and placed the receipt. “Um, hold on a minute please,” Hayoung waited expectantly as Y/N kept looking, growing increasingly more frustrated as she turned the contents of her purse inside out hunting for the receipt.

No, no way was she ever that careless. She had made sure she put it into her purse before leaving the apartment, and she didn’t exactly care that much in it to begin with! It was all zipped up tight, so how could it have fallen out?!

It took several more long, awkward moments of searching futilely in vein for her to realize it was true. The receipt was no where to be found. Trying to fight down the flush of defeat crossing her cheeks, Y/N cleared her throat, speaking diplomatically, “I’m sorry, I don’t seem to have my receipt on hand after all. I guess I’ll just…try to search it out and return when I do.”

“Oh, there’s no need. Our system can search for and find the purchase if you happen to have the card on hand.”

Y/N wanted to slump over in defeat, “Actually my friend bought it…”

“Oh,” Hayoung tilted her head, “Do you happen to know the account number used?”

Y/N mentally wondered if Binna was free. She shouldn’t be in class right now, right? So it would be okay to quickly give her a call and get this sorted out. She had to leave the store without this phone. That was a must!

“H-Hold on please!” It was a little embarrassing, snatching the phone she had been trying to return from its box and powering it on. In anticipation of making the return, Y/N had thought to wipe it and remove the SIM card chip, but then recalled hearing it was best to do that at the store when the transaction was complete, in case there was something forgotten on the phone that still needed to be retrieved.

Hastily scrolling down the admittedly short contacts’ list, Y/N located Binna’s number and pressed the button to dial. The phone rang three times, and she anxiously tapped her foot as she waited to see if her friend would pick up. ‘Please, Bin. Come on. Please.’

Of course, as it always was when she needed something to work out, it didn’t quite go smoothly. Binna hadn’t picked up, and she had ended up ending the call right before it switched to voice mail. Typing out a text message asking for the information she needed, Y/N had glared spitefully down at the phone.

“Do you recall the name of the clerk who sold you the phone?” Hayoung asked gently.

Y/N thought it over, the sales associate’s face floating to mind. “Yes, his name was Suk-kyu.”

“Hmm, that name doesn’t sound familiar.” Hayoung shook her head. “I’ve been employed here three years and never heard anyone go by that name,”

It was unlike her, but Y/N felt she was entitled to a bit of out of character behavior when her jaw actually dropped. “You’re kidding…”

But, Hayoung assured her, she was not. She didn’t think they had ever carried the exclusive Army Edition of the phone. She didn’t know who Suk-kyu was, and Y/N couldn’t find her receipt, the only bit of evidence that might have been able to successfully lift the burden of the phone from her person. She had left the store, apologizing for wasting the patient woman’s time, and feeling like she was at least partially going crazy.

Needless to say, Y/N had been…anxious about the phone since then. A bit scared, even. A fear she had no choice but to shoulder in silence for the time being. There wasn’t much she could do but continue searching high and low for the receipt and hope it turned up soon.

In the meantime, she didn’t let on that anything was wrong, using the phone like before, though limiting that to when it was really necessary. No more playing around with it or downloading apps. Nope, she didn’t want to risk getting too attached to the thing.

The only thing she did besides make calls was research. Things she never would have thought about looking up before. Like, unexplained phenomena with electronics, most of which led to completely wild conspiracy theories or dead ends.

Y/N had been so engrossed in breaking her brain over what to do, she jumped when the apartment door swung open, turning around on the coach to see Binna march in, a few grocery bags in her hands. Keys in her mouth, she gently kicked the door closed, humming to herself until she happened to look up and spot Y/N.

“Oh!” Binna hustled into the small kitchen to set her bags down, then her keys. “Y/N, didn’t expect to see you here right now. You’ve got class today, right?”

“It was canceled…” she sighed, sliding down the couch cushions and placing her phone on the coffee table. “The professor’s out sick with the flu.”

Binna winced in sympathy. “Yikes, poor guy…”

“Yeah,” Y/N took great care not to get sick, so she hadn’t so much as had a cold in years, but she still remembered times when she was a child in bed with chills, body aches and a fever. Once she had even had pneumonia, her mother forced to call out from work and nurse her back to health. “He just wanted us to go over the assignment we’ve been working on since the start of the semester. You know, take this as independent study time basically. But…”

“Buuut, knowing you,” Binna smiled, “You’ve already taken the initiative and gotten a head start a long time ago, so you’re ahead of everyone else.”

“Done, actually,” Y/N confirmed, not afraid to admit to her efficiency.

Her roommate made a noise of encouragement as she began to put the groceries away. It didn’t look like much. A loaf of bread, some bottles of sauce they’d been running low on, some eggs and a carton of milk.

“That’s great, since it actually kind of works out. Chin-Mae and Min Su invited me to check out this new steak house that just opened up. I heard reservations are booked out for weeks already, but thanks to Min Su’s connections, we can go this evening. What do you say?” Binna wiggled her eyebrows, trying to entice Y/N.

“Alright, I’m in,” she agreed.

“Because I’m sure they won’t mind adding just one more to our party, especially if that person is you…” Binna continued to ramble.

“Bin, did you hear me?” Y/N clucked, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I said I’m in.”

Eyes round as the eggs she had put away, Binna blinked, nodded, and finally broke out into an ear to ear grin. “Oh, wow, that’s new. I m-mean not that it isn’t great you wanna join us, but…”

“What?” Y/N felt a little defensiveness creeping up on her, and she probably didn’t do the best job completely hiding it from her tone. “You made the invite, and you said Min Su and Chin-Mae would be fine with it. Did you not…really want me to come along?”

They thought she would kill the mood, the nasty little whisper entered her head unbidden. They thought she was so stuffy and boring.

“What, Y/N, no!” Binna immediately denied, “I’m really glad you can make it,” she shot over to the couch, wrapping her arms around her friend’s neck from behind as she bent over for the hug. “It’s true you normally put up a little more resistance when we ask you to come somewhere. You stay so busy, so I was a little surprised is all. But I’m glad you’re agreeing.”

Y/N’s tense shoulders relaxed, and she mentally sighed to herself, feeling silly. Of course, of course her friends wanted her there. And this was Binna, who struggled to have a bad thought about anybody. Secretly resentful definitely wasn’t her style.

But with the stress she had been under, and the dread she’d done her best not to give into, Y/N could admit her nerves had been on edge. “Yeah, sorry about that…” she laughed weakly, reaching up and patting one of the arms looped around her neck. “I don’t know where that came from, but I’m happy to eat a little steak if Min Su’s recommending it.” The man had the best luck finding good places to eat, or stores that sold exactly what you were looking for but probably overlooked.

“Good girl,” Binna uncoiled her arms and leaned back against the couch itself. “That’s the spirit. And hey, I heard from some of the girls in the campus’ BTS fan club that one of the guys on campus might be related to one of the waiters who might have catered the food on the set of a music video for Taehyung!”

She said it in a breathy squeal, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile indulgently. She was almost sure she knew which one Taehyung was, but she still wouldn’t put money on it. It might just as soon be someone else. Maybe Namjoon?

She’d gotten more familiar with their names but as most of her time perusing videos and photos had been spent investigating Jimin, she wasn’t entirely sure on the others’ faces. Well, besides Jin and J-Hope.

“Nice,” she said, letting Binna get all her gushing out as she texted Chin-Mae just to make sure it really was okay if she tagged along. Stupid to be anxious about feeling unsure if everyone really wanted her to come, but better to be safe than sorry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was impressed the minute they walked through the door. Min Su stopped trying to sneak an arm around Chin-Mae’s waist and immediately went over to talk to the maître d. The two men spoke cordially, the head waiter confirmed their reservation, and then they were led to their table with a flourish.

Binna was practically bouncing on her heels, squealing under her breath. “Can you believe this place?” she whispered excitedly, “I feel like a movie star, coming here.”

The restaurant was definitely lavish, so she understood where her friend was coming from. The tables were polished stained oak, and lit by a candle to provide ambiance, and the floors were a gorgeous brown tile that Y/N suspected to be marble.

The restaurant was done in a mixture of black, gold with high beam wood ceilings and low atmospheric lighting. They walked past a bar, long and oval, with shimmering glasses the team of bartender would pull down as they did impressive tricks to wow the gathered guests.

“It’s one of the hottest spots in Gangnam right now,” Chin-Mae commented as they sat down. The table comfortably fit the four of them, and everyone got settled as a young woman hurried over, handing them menus and introducing herself.

“This is so cool,” Binna exclaimed, still wiggling in place. She shook Y/N’s arm. She was all done up with some icy blue eye shadow that matched her aqua dress, and a more subtle plum shade of lipstick.

Her hair was secured in a complicated twist by a pin she recognized from the last time they had gone shopping together. Y/N adjusted the shawl draped over her shoulders, pulling down her own strapless dress. Binna had helped her pick accessories, which were mostly shades of amber or gold, and apply some light makeup.

Y/N chuckled, nodding as she scanned the menu, trying her best to ignore the listed prices. She had come fully prepared to pay her own way, but Min Su insisted the meal was going to be on him. It must have been nice.

The perks of being from an affluent family, she supposed. The guy was already well on his way to being a successful lawyer, following the family tradition. He had moved all the way from his hometown in China to come and work on his master’s degree at one of the top universities in Korea, just for a change of pace. “Thanks again for letting us crash your date night, guys.” Binna beamed.

“Please,” Chin-Mae scoffed lightly, not looking up from his menu. “What was I supposed to do all evening? Talk to him?”

Min Su pouted, but it didn’t diminish the fond glow in his eyes as he leaned over his boyfriend’s shoulder and whispered something in his ear that gave Chin-Mae pause.

Their friend cut a sharp look at his partner, smacking his thigh and then proceeding to ignore the man who was happily leaning into him and commenting on the menu. Yeah, nothing new there. Min Su was totally gone on Chin-Mae, as always.

There was nothing about Chin-Mae’s bluntness or dismissive attitude in public that ever put him off. If anything, the mean behavior only served to make Min Su try harder. Though, she and Binna both knew Chin-Mae wouldn’t be with someone this long if he wasn’t just as serious about them.

He was just a straight shooter, raised in a family that wasn’t completely accepting of who he was, and unfortunately awkward and out of his depth about how to handle someone as affectionate and doting as the man he happened to fall in love with.

They were well suited in that regard. Min Su was patient and persistent enough to shower Chin-Mae in all the attention he needed to overcome the lingering doubts about being worthy of such deep love and devotion.

Y/N was perfectly fine, pursuing the path she was. Career goals first, everything else second. But sometimes, watching them, a little envy did ignite.

It must have been nice to find something like that, and she was truly happy for them. It didn’t seem likely she’d have time in the near future to go out and chase it for herself, of course. And she wasn’t really worried about it.

“So, what’ll it be for you guys?” Y/N cleared her throat, interrupting the warm and cozy silence they’d all been existing in.

“Ohh, I think I’m gonna have the smoked chicken and spinach salad, and a side of the fried mushrooms,” Binna announced, tongue poking out in concentration as her finger followed where the items she wanted were on the menu.

“You’re going so easy on him.” Chin-Mae remarked. “I’m getting the iron skillet trout,” he squinted, leaning further into the menu. Min Su only smiled, plucking the reading glasses from Chin Mae’s breast pocket that he had forgotten to put on and placing them on his face for him.

The absent-minded pat he got on the hand for it made the law student’s whole face light up. “And the chicken fried steak. That okay, babe?” He might not have looked it, exactly, but Chin-Mae had a healthy appetite. And if they were coming to such an exclusive restaurant for the first time, it wasn’t surprising he wouldn’t be keen to hold back.

Min Su was nodding encouragingly before Chin-Mae had even fully gotten the question out of his mouth. “And what about you, Y/N?”

She clammed up slightly, having been looking at the menu, mentally ruling out what seemed too expensive, or wasn’t quite her taste. “Uh, the pot roast sounds like a filling entree.”

“And?” Chin-Mae prodded, interlocking his hands together and leaning on them.

“And nothing,” Y/N shook her head. “It comes with two sides, that’s more than enough.”

“Boo,” Her friend hissed dramatically. “Fine. If neither one of you is going to take advantage of this, then I guess it’s up to me.”

Their waitress returned with a tray of drinks at precisely that moment, and as she set them down in front of the correct person, everyone began telling her their orders, which she jotted down without missing a beat.

Only Min Su had actually ordered any steak, but, given the price of a 24 oz there was just no way she felt comfortable doing that to the poor guy, even if he was a good sport about it and more than capable of handling a large bill.

As they sat, sipping their champagne and waiting on the food, something Y/N had been putting off thinking about started floating through her mind. Ever since the whole Jimin fiasco, despite her deep diving and frantic searching, nothing had turned up that indicated anyone was coming after her.

But she just wasn’t willing to believe she’d gotten away that easily. She almost killed a celebrity. And, due to that, she’d really wanted to seek legal advice from Min Su, under the guise of some far-fetched hypothetical, of course. Her friends weren’t onto her, and she couldn’t give them a reason to be.

She just had to find a way to casually broach the topic…

“Oh,” Binna gasped from her side, drawing the whole table’s attention to herself. She was carefully scrolling her phone with a freshly manicured nail, scowling slightly. It was so rare that Binna displayed any actual disdain, it had Y/N a bit curious.

“What’s wrong, Bin?”

“It’s nothing,” she replied immediately, then paused. “Well it’s not nothing but, it’s just…I really wished we lived in a world that respected idols as people, you know? Some people call themselves fans and act like famous people aren’t allowed to have any boundaries.” She then went on to describe how there’d been another sasaeng incident reported on a news site she followed to keep up with celebrity gossip.

Apparently, it was a pretty serious one, and crazed ‘fans’ had attacked an actress a well-known idol was reported to be dating. Her bodyguard had fended them off, but the actress still went to the hospital with some injuries.

Y/N perked up slightly, but Min Su and Chin-Mae were thankfully too engrossed in listening to Binna rant to notice. It would be much easier to bring up her question using the information Binna had just provided them as a pretext.

It was about time she had a stroke of good luck. Stopping to think it over, Y/N cringed. Not that she wasn’t sympathetic to the poor woman who had been harmed because of someone’s delusions. But it just…presented an opportunity she had to take, and….

‘Oh, why am I trying to rationalize it to myself?! I should just ask the question before the subject changes.’

That decided, she opened her mouth and spoke, doing her best to make it seem as casual as possible. “So Min Su, you’re practically a lawyer. What kind of charges could that person face? Attacking a celebrity and inflicting bodily harm isn’t the same as harassing them for a photo.”

Y/N silently patted herself on the back, sitting from her glass with an expression carefully schooled to look only mildly interested. Inside was another matter. She was rocking back in forth, heart hammering and eyes wide, waiting for an answer with baited breath.

“Hmm, well, I’ve mostly studied corporate law.” He admitted, playing with a ring on his index finger, “But I do know that given the severity, it’s likely both the actress and the company she’s represented under will press charges. Things are also moving faster these days, prosecuting people who do things like that.”

Y/N swallowed, eyes fixated on Min Su’s thoughtful expression. “There were also witnesses, so it’s very likely to result in a conviction.” Yes, there had been a witness in her case too. Well, J-Hope had only seen her fleetingly. Maybe. Hopefully not. But if she was on any camera then…it was most definitely over for her.

“The court could go light on them if it was a first offense…they might be sentenced to a large fine and community service…” Okay, Y/N thought. It would probably drain her savings, but it was still possible to bounce back and have a future, right? She could still put it in the past and become a CEO one day, right?! “Then again, it was a premeditated attack. Jail time is also a strong possibility.”

Her heart sank back down to her feet. Jail. What successful CEO in Korea had been to jail before graduating, and for assaulting an idol no less.

‘I. Am. Done.’

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” Binna giggled, “You look like you smelled a rotten egg. But I guess hearing about how far some crazy people will go is pretty disgusting, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ll have much sympathy for them, whatever happens.”

“…Yeah…” Y/N said once her words came unstuck. That was another thing. Her sweet friend was going to think she was a criminal. She had known Binna since high school, having shared a homeroom class with her. They were vague acquaintances then, friendly enough to speak from time to time but by no means close enough to hang out between classes or after school.

In fact, admittedly, Y/N used to wonder if Binna’s perky personality was just an act. It had to be, in her cynical rationalizing, because who was really that upbeat, in high school?

Later on, she would realize she was just projecting, and once she stopped doing that was when she truly came to appreciate Binna for all that she was, steadfast and supportive. Although they didn’t become close, didn’t become friends, until meeting at orientation when arriving at Korea University.

“They knew the consequences before they did it.” Chin-Mae joined in, swishing the last of his champagne around before drinking it down. “It’s stupid to think your life won’t be impacted when you run wild like that.”

Except, Y/N wanted to wail. She hadn’t known. She wasn’t a sasaeng, and she knew she had assaulted someone but at the same time she hadn’t really done anything wrong. Except maybe buy a cursed magical phone, that somehow was behind all this.

…Yeah, she’d just keep that thought to herself.

“Well,” Y/N smiled, “Thanks for giving your input.” She told Min Su, who nodded, humming with a cheerful ‘no problem’.

A cartoony chime went off, and Binna groaned as she stared down at her phone, “Nooo,” she sighed, sounding truly remorseful. “Right now?”

“What’s happening?” Chin-Mae raised a brow.

“Jimin is going live!” She whined, “And normally I’d watch but I’m having such a great time with all of you, and I don’t want to be rude…”

“It’s fine, go ahead.” Y/N said, forcing a smile. “We know how addicted to that stuff you are.” Really, she wanted the floor to swallow her into the abyss. She knew the minute she heard that sound what was going on. If her phone had been turned on, they would have heard the same noise coming from her purse too.

She had made an account on several apps BTS often broadcasted their lives to, and set an alert for just that occasion. There were a couple of false alarms she hadn’t tuned into once she saw they weren’t from the person she was basically stalking at this point. But this was it. The big moment.

He hadn’t done a solo live since the accident…but Binna said his members had mentioned that he had a small accident while practicing and was recovering well.

All of Army was behind him, sending him tons of well wishes from all over the world. It was sweet, but she wondered how fast they would turn if they knew she was behind their beloved idol’s injuries.

“Yeah, what Y/N said,” Chin-Mae rolled his eyes. “Check on your man,” he joked.

Binna giggled, flashing them a cute heart. “He’s not my man,” she replied playfully, “I’d have to get in line for that. Plus, I’m really more of an OT7, you know? It’s really hard to stick with one bias.”

Nonetheless, when she began to watch, since Y/N couldn’t exactly whip out her phone and do the same without raising suspicion, she subtly leaned closer to at least listen.

Of course, Binna was always more astute than she let on. “Oh, did you wanna see too?” She angled the screen so they could both see before Y/N even had the chance to protest.

And the live was just starting, the exact same idol she had seen what felt like a lifetime ago was sitting in a room by himself. It looked like he was on a couch, legs crossed, looking small in his soft oversized sweater and giving the camera a cute wave. “Hi, everyone,” his sweet voice said. “Thank you for waiting on me!”

Gushing comments poured in, cheering him and welcoming him back, asking him what he’d been up to, and telling him he looked good. Jimin tilted his head, a coy, secretive smile appearing on his shiny lips. Y/N couldn’t tell if he was wearing gloss or if they always looked like that.

She had been a bit too preoccupied the one and only time she had the opportunity to see them in person. He had dyed his hair a different color, though. It was now a shade of strawberry blonde that complimented his angelic features well.

“Well, I haven’t been up to much. Just resting, really.” he explained. “Even on days when I felt better and tried to join practices, the members just shooed me away.” He laughed. “Oh, but look at this!” He reached down, his head dipping out of screen for a minute, popping up seconds later holding a little pot. “Taehyung got me this ‘get well’ plant!” He showed them a cute little sapling.

Binna cooed, Y/N glancing at her then refocusing on his words. Who knew when a hidden meaning would pop up.

“I don’t know how well I’ll be able to take care of it; I’m not sure if I have a green thumb. But I’ll try my best!”

Comments came pouring in again, people saying he was going to enter his plant dad era, because collecting succulents could be addicting.

Other people gushed at the sweetness of the VMin friendship, whatever that was, and yet more people reminded Jimin that he looked really good. Yet one comment in particular seemed to catch his eye, and he squinted, seemingly intrigued.

“Hmm? You wish you were a plant so I could take care of you?” He repeated. “You don’t have to be a plant for me to want to take care of you.” The statement was very matter-of-fact, “You’re Army. I’ll always watch over Army.”

Binna sounded like she released a tiny sniffle. “Is he not just the sweetest?” She asked, nudging Y/N a bit. “Since you’re new to BTS, have you chosen a bias yet?”

Y/N wished she could tell her the real reason behind her sudden interest, but that was kind of out of the question. “No, not yet…”

“Y/N’s a BTS fan now?” Chin-Mae asked, “Since when?”

“Pretty recent.” Binna replied.

Y/N was only half listening to her friends, mostly focusing on Jimin’s chatter. Someone was still insisting they wanted to be his plant, and he looked nothing short of amused.

“Okay, if you insist. Should I start a garden then?” He asked his fans. Y/N watched, stunned, as his bright eyes narrowed into a practiced and very effective smolder. She had seen it in pictures before, but in real time it was really something else, “It’ll be full of so many pretty flowers, and you’ll all bloom just for me, right?” The heady purr of his words sent a shocked shiver right down her spine.

Binna swooned, while Y/N felt her breath hitch. ‘What… the…hell…was that?!’ A flirty throwaway line like that had never had that effect on her before.

But then, thinking back, he had flirted with her in the dance studio too. She’d just been too worried to pay attention. Clearly, the man was an old hand at the art of duality, going from wholesome to heathen in five seconds flat. That was…dangerous.

Binna seemed to already know how she felt, leaning into her with a sigh. “That, Y/N, is what happens when Jimin turns from angel to demon.” Her friend explained. “I’d say you’ll get used to it, but odds are you probably won’t.”

Jimin then went back to amicably speaking to everyone, as if he hadn’t just teased fans within an inch of their lives. The conversation moved on, and he was speaking about upcoming projects he was excited about or a funny habit that he had noticed in his band member. All normal, non-threatening stuff. Y/N was almost thinking she could relax. Almost.

“What? You want to tell me a secret?” Jimin was reading another comment. “Okay, I’m listening…”

Y/N quirked a brow at the comment. “Sometimes I dream about you.” it read.

The idol grinned, replying casually. “Sometimes I miss Army so much I end up thinking about all of you in the middle of the day.” Y/N’s blood ran cold as he looked intensely at the screen. “It’s almost like you’re there…”

That was it. The sign she was waiting for! He was talking to her.

“I…” Y/N stumbled to her feet, startling Binna. “Need the bathroom, I’ll be back.”

“Oh, okay.” Her friend said slowly, setting down her phone. “Is anything wrong? You don’t…look so good suddenly.”

‘You wouldn’t either in my shoes,’ she thought miserably. ‘Park Jimin is going to sue me within an inch of my life.’

“It’s alright,” she held a hand to her stomach, selling the illusion of sudden nausea. “Just…lady problems.” She said lamely.

Poor Binna didn’t even question it; she nodded, eyes full of sympathy. “Well text if you need anything.” She squeezed Y/N’s hand. “I’ve got a few extra tampons in my purse.” she whispered discreetly. Really, Binna was too good of a friend for her.

Y/N rounded the corner in a hurry, blindly guessing where the bathrooms might be located. She passed their waitress, rolling out a cart that she was pretty sure contained their meals. Everything looked delicious, and of course she couldn’t even enjoy the great evening Min Su had generously provided. All because she was screwed.

She hustled into a bathroom as fancy as the rest of the steak house, and so spacious there would probably be an echo. She hustled over to the sink, activating the handless system by shoving her trembling fingers under it. As she splashed her face with warm water, the dread twisting up her stomach gave way to deja vu.

‘This is just like…the event at the internship.’ The wild day that would be the beginning of the end of her life. Removing her hands from the water, she gently pressed the pad of her thumb up to her eye, tapping it a few times.

Her makeup was well done, but it still felt like she could see bags. ‘At least it can’t get worse.’ She assumed. After all, what was worse than this? The dumb phone was put away in her clutch, turned off, and back at the table.

The very least she could do was fake a smile so she didn’t ruin everyone’s meal, and enjoy what might be her last chance to experience this. They probably didn’t serve many steakhouse dinners where she was going.

That thought firmly in mind, Y/N squared her shoulders and prepared to march back out, tightly gripping her clutch at her side. Wait, her clutch?!

Binna must have handed it over to her, assuming she might need it. She had said to text if she needed anything, and Y/N couldn’t exactly do that without a phone. Well, at least it was off. Y/N wasn’t totally sure what kind of phenomenon had disrupted her life, but it all started with that phone.

No sooner had she backed away from the mirror than a wave of dizziness overtook her, sending her keeling forward. Instinctively, she clutched the sink to maintain her balance, almost screaming out when she looked up as the dizzy feeling passed.

The mirror in front of her was the same as always, a reflection of her wide, mortified eyes. But the long glossy mirror that made up the entire wall of the bathroom at the entrance of the restroom?

A reflection of another room, just like before. “No…” she whispered, not ready to admit that it was happening again. What was worse? All of it being real, or her losing her mind? “Not again…!”

She clenched her eyes shut, then attempted to get her feet moving. She would keep her head down and hurry right on past, to the exit. That was the plan at least. And she was making good progress to move without falling over in her modest heels, but the minute she actually got closer to the mirrors, a strange feeling overwhelmed her.

Almost like a compulsion to stop. Y/N felt like she was watching a scene in a movie, watching a victim wander down the hall of a haunted house, towards the homicidal attacker lying in wait.

Her feet were making her move on her own! Her fingertips reached out, and yet she had no control. She had to touch the mirror, see if that room on the other side was real. But deep down, she knew the answer before her fingers made contact.

It was a strange emotion somewhere between surprise resignation when she wobbled onto a floor that was not marble and found her eyes darting around a room that was not the steak house.

Pressing against the mirror desperately, she confirmed what a large part of her had assumed. There was no give to the mirror, apparently no way back from the time being. Was she even still in Gangnam?

Her senses were feeding her all kinds of information, and frankly, it was starting to overwhelm her. The raw scents of sweat, male musk, and ammonia could only mean one thing, and it was further proven when she peered around the blind corner of a painted brick wall, only to see two people exercising.

Well, one was doing stretches, and with the way he hopped up, he had just finished. An older man in a tank top and sweats had pads strapped to his hands, and Y/N watched closely, not even daring to breathe, as the younger man sat down and laced boxing gloves onto his taped hands.

He stood up, and who she assumed was his trainer got into a defensive stance while the younger man hopped around nimbly. Y/N watched, wide-eyed as they began to train, the guy in the black hoodie practicing blocking, jabbing and dodging.

It was clear he had put a lot of dedication into this. Y/N was never much of a sports person, but she knew the result of hard-work when she saw it. His moves were fluid, and instead of slowing down, they got quicker the more he went at it.

Somehow, it never felt like a good time to draw their attention to herself, go wobbling over in her dinner attire, and ask for directions back to the High Tower SteakHouse. She had a few other options, of course, like calling Binna. Or maybe Chin-Mae…but how did she explain it?

She had gone to the restroom for a few minutes and wound up in a completely different location without leaving the restaurant?! Then again, it meant they would really have no choice but to believe her.

It was impossible for her to have gone anywhere far when they all saw her leave for the bathroom. Maybe she could sneak out while they were distracted and then call when she was outside the gym, not standing around all conspicuous.

Y/N was weighing the merits of her plan when she heard an excited yell, whipping her head around and watching the trainer give his client a few congratulatory pats on the back, apparently satisfied with the work he’d put in for the day.

They began speaking lowly to themselves, and Y/N paled when she noticed the only door out of the room she could spot was behind them…. The corner she was standing behind seemed to be where the water fountains and locker rooms were located.

Hiding out in there was another option, but it didn’t exactly appeal when she would have to keep checking to see when the gym was empty. Right now it was just the two of them, but what if more people came in?

They’d have questions about someone being dressed like she was, right? Then again she could also be found out just staying put where she was. Ugh…it was beyond frustrating.

Her luck was completely shot, huh?

A little hope returned when the trainer waved at the young man and then began heading for the exit. She assumed they were done for the day, and the second guy would be done soon too. But not so, because then she’d actually be lucky.

As soon as his trainer had cleared the room, he gave a loud sigh, beginning to shimmy out of his hoodie. Y/N didn’t think she was close enough to make the door in the small moment he had his vision obstructed, but she was close enough to get an eyeful.

If his training earlier hadn’t tipped her off that he was dedicated, his physique would have. He was all hard lines, though the minuscule glimpse of a thin waist when his shirt rode up with his hoodie was impressive too.

She could see a full sleeve of tattoos decorating one arm, and coupled with his longish two-toned hair, a deep brown that gave way to a raging red, he was kind of…hard to look at. Distracting in a way she didn’t anticipate. She didn’t get distracted, not usually.

He, on the other hand, got straight to business. Oblivious of her presence, he walked right over to the large, hanging punching bag and began to hit it. But he wasn’t just hitting it. Again, Y/N was no boxing aficionado, but she knew he knew what he was doing.

His strikes were always controlled, his breathing never ragged the way she could guess hers would be. He pivoted on his back foot, and she knew that the small movement put more power into his strikes.

He was hitting the bag like it owed him money, grunting occasionally, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing in his t-shirt. At some point, Y/N figured he would stop. He would either head out the door, or into the locker room, and that was when she would flee.

Hopefully, wherever the cruel cosmic entity that thought her life was a joke had dumped her, it wasn’t very far from the restaurant. Then again, shouldn’t she have gotten a worried text by now?

She’d been gone for a while. Or, maybe Binna had actually come to check on her and seen that she had disappeared entirely. Y/N could imagine the freak out as Binna flailed her way back to the table and informed Min Su and Chin-Mae that somehow, someway, she’d been kidnapped.

What was her life lately, she thought miserably. With nothing to really do but scroll her phone or continue to watch the mystery man go at it, she turned to checking what news was trending for the day. Normally, she at least kept up with news involving the business world, if nothing else.

The celebrity gossip blogs she left to Binna, BTS investment notwithstanding. Stocks were up at several companies she had an interest in working at after graduation—assuming she made it with her life in chaos lately—so that was good.

A CEO had resigned from his post at a company she had almost interned at but decided not to at the last minute off a strange feeling. Some scandal involving embezzlement. So she dodged a bullet there.

And, lastly, BTS’ Jungkook had endorsed some new sports brand, and now merchandise was selling out faster than it could be restocked. The article included a picture of Jungkook, posing in shorts and a t-shirt next to a mountain of different athletic gear for various sports.

Wait. Y/N could have swallowed her tongue. Wait. That man, the man in the picture and the one boxing…were the same person?!

Feeling like she may just be sick, Y/N did a quick check, and really took in the boxer. That was undoubtedly the idol pictured in the article.

Not only was she going to jail for assaulting one BTS member (albeit on accident) a fact that she had managed to forget up until that moment, she got pulled back into the same thing that got her in trouble before, and ended up crossing paths with another one?!

Once it came out what happened between her and Park Jimin, there was no possible way people would believe she wasn’t a sasaeng. The circumstantial evidence just kept getting more and more damning.

Jungkook. Jungkook. What did she know about Jungkook? Admittedly not much, considering all her focus had really been on Jimin for obvious reasons. She knew…that Binna said he was the youngest in the boy group. He was multitalented, and here her friend swore she wasn’t exaggerating or anything.

According to her, he was like some kind of Barbie of idols, he could do it all. Those weren’t her exact words, but it was the gist. Jungkook also had a habit of being a little shy around members of the opposite sex, or so it was claimed.

Y/N personally had always thought all idols had to be manufacturing some parts of their personalities for public consumption. Who knew which parts? None of the scraps of information she had been fed told her anything about whether he was liable to press charges for stalking him or not.

Then again, he was an idol, and knowing that, Y/N had to assume he had gone out of his way to book private gym time, hence why the spacious work out room was empty save for him. Which meant him catching her was going to lead to a world of trouble.

How good were her odds if she just booked it for the exit the minute he went back to the locker room? Or if he left, she’d wait a little bit to be sure he had cleared the building, then she’d leave too. Waiting…yep…that’s all she could do. If she wasn’t in a dress, and didn’t find the idea so dirty, she would slump over on the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook caught the punching bag as it swung back from his last strike, finally feeling satisfied with his boxing for the time being. His limbs had that good burn that he liked, and his heart rate was up, despite his controlled breathing. But he wasn’t ready to leave just yet, so he decided to switch from boxing to something new. After a break.

Unlacing his boxing gloves, he found his gym bag and rummaged inside for his water bottle. Sitting down on a mat, he took a few sips, trying not to gulp it down too fast. His bottle was empty in no time, despite his attempts at moderation, and refilling before he resumed working out didn’t seem like a bad idea.

His footsteps echoing in the big empty gym was probably his imagination, but the weird sight when he rounded the corner? That he was pretty sure was real. Leaning against the wall, a woman…no, a girl, dressed up like she had somewhere important to be was nodding off. He froze, staring, all kinds of thoughts flying through his head.

Who was she? How’d she get in? When did she get in? Was she dangerous? Did he need to call for back up? Jungkook had purposely began training at this gym because it was exclusive. As his fame had grown, unfortunately he had to stop using more easy to find public gyms.

The one at HYBE was an option, but sometimes he wanted something…quieter. Trainees who came in meant well, and they tried to be respectful besides giving him friendly greetings, but they couldn’t help but gawk, and that made it awkward when he was trying to get in the zone. Here, he had thought, was perfect.

But maybe he was rushing to conclusions. He didn’t know anything about the situation besides a girl in a nice dress was falling asleep by the water fountains while standing up. Her head slumped forward, then snapped up quickly as she jolted awake, eyes wide and alert.

That was when they locked gazes, and his loose, sore muscles tensed right up. She, on the other hand, curled away like she was facing a thug in an alley. It was bemusing; yeah he’d bulked up a lot in the last several years after he got serious about training. Jungkook never considered himself all that intimidating, though.

“Are you… staff?” he asked, since it didn’t seem like she was going to speak up first. Not with the way she kept looking like the guillotine was coming down on her head any moment.

It took a reasonably long time for her to compose herself and answer, which was another pretty big tip off that something was not right. He was ready to whip out his phone and call security. Or at least he would be, if he hadn’t put it on do not disturb and left it in his bag.

“This is all a misunderstanding, really,” she warbled, her hands slapped the wall behind her like she was trying to steady herself. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean to be here.”

“What?” Jungkook was definitely growing suspicious. No one who wasn’t up to something just answered like that.

“I was just going to wait until you left and I guess I started to nod off…” she ran a shaky hand through her hair, disturbing it a little. “But really, please, if you’ll pretend you never saw me, I promise, I’ll be on my way.”

He backed away quickly as she lurched forward, but before he could tell her not to do anything funny, she bowed very formally, and the idol watched, perplexed. When he didn’t respond in any way, she resumed her upright position, then tried to brush by him with her head down.

Though, when he noticed the phone clenched tight in her fist, he acted without thinking. Something his hyungs had told him to be careful of doing in the past. At least they weren’t around to scold him.

“Hey,” he seized her wrist, and she stopped in her tracks, though he wasn’t expecting her reaction at all. Her eyes took in the hand on her like she could just flay it off with the intensity of her stare alone, and then she met his eyes head-on, hers surprisingly stony. “Your phone…”

“What about it?” she tried tugging her hand away, but he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. Not until he got some answers. He liked this gym. He wanted to keep using this gym, and at the thought that his privacy was being invaded yet again, and he would have to find somewhere else, yet again, he was getting a little worked up.

“That’s an Army phone, a Galaxy Z Flip 4: Army Edition.”

Her eyes widened, and then she scoffed, shaking her head. “Yeah, I guess you would know. But to tell you the truth, though I can admire your band’s marketability, this phone itself has been nothing but problems. This is just the latest one. Now, please, let go.” There was some bite in her tone now, her voice surprisingly stern.

When she tugged again, he acquiesced, something she probably didn’t expect, since she stumbled before catching herself. And when she felt her cellphone tugged right out of her hand? She rounded on him, scowling. “That belongs to me.” She held her hand out, clearly expecting it back.

“Why are you here? This is a private gym, and you don’t sound like you’re staff.”

She snatched for the phone, but he held it away, using his speed to his advantage. “Are you Army?”

“What? No,” she sounded offended by the notion, which in turn offended him. Then again, a true Army wouldn’t do this to him. Wouldn’t invade his space. “And what does that matter?”

“You’re not Army but you’ve got a phone that’s a rare exclusive. Only Army would want to own something like this. And if you’d go this far, you might be a sasaeng.”

Here, she did pause in trying to retrieve her phone, a bit red in the face under her makeup. “Please, between my class schedule and internship, who would even have the time? The people who think stalking and harassing idols is worth jeopardizing their future for really need…” Surprisingly, the girl tried to jump for the phone like she wasn’t in heels, but he held it above his head, which meant it was way above hers, “…a hobby!”

“So I won’t find pictures you secretly took on this?” Jungkook squinted, not convinced.

“No!” She hissed, jumping again, “Now who’s invading whose privacy, you…you muscle-headed, bunny-eyed brute!”

He was so taken aback, he faltered, and with one last pounce, the mystery girl had snatched the phone, though not without a cost.

Before she could even yell out in triumph, her heel wobbled and her foot rolled. Jungkook watched in slow motion, wincing in automatic sympathy as she went down.

Time sped up as she cried out, on the ground and clutching her ankle in a dress too nice to be touching the bare gym floor. He stood over her, carefully watching her face at first. He could tell she was in pain, but attempting not to show the extent.

Something about that alone…took him back to his early days. A wave of nostalgia he didn’t want to feel washed over him. He would hide his exhaustion, sometimes even hide injuries sustained while on stage until the end of a performance, until he couldn’t hide it anymore, just to avoid worrying his hyungs.

And when they caught him, like they inevitably always did, he’d cry, apologize, worry they would resent him. It didn’t make sense to everyone, probably only to those who had experience firsthand with the feeling. Not wanting to let others down, wanting to live up to everyone’s expectations, struggling with the fact that they were still human.

The girl gingerly tried to shift her injured ankle, and that alone seemed to send a fresh wave of pain throbbing through it. With the way she bit her lip and clenched her eyes to stifle the cry he could just tell.

And even though Jungkook had been concerned about a million things regarding her appearance, including that she might be another delusional ‘fan’, no one could fake pain that expertly. Plus, she’d have to be some actress to make her ankle swell on command.

It was probably stupid of him to drop his guard, even for a second, but he found himself dropping to his knees, almost reaching out, and then hesitating. She stared up at him through her lashes, her own eyes as guarded as his had been, but wavering as she focused on ignoring her obvious injury. “I need…I need to call my friend.”

Making up his mind, Jungkook loosely grasped her foot by the heel, ignoring her half-hearted attempts to swat his hand away. He extended her leg, careful not to hurt her as he manipulated her foot to get a better idea of how bad it was. “You rolled it pretty hard.” He finally concluded.

“Yeah, no kidding.” Jungkook briefly met eyes with her again, but she stubbornly looked away. “I wonder how that happened.”

Guilt hit him pretty fast. Yeah. Even if he thought she was an intruder, he should have just called security and let them handle it. They were never far, and there was no way she could have stopped him. Not by physically overpowering at least.

“Hang on,” he told her, setting her foot down and getting back on his feet. “I can help.”

“That’s a nice gesture,” she ground out, failing to hide a wince, “But really, I have my phone, so I can just call my fri—” she grabbed it and opened it, only for her face to fall. “Really? Now?” He heard her grumble irritably.

Noticing his quizzical face, turned a blank screen to him. “It’s dead.” She deadpanned.

“Okay, then let me help.”

Jungkook didn’t know this stranger by any stretch of the imagination, but he had anticipated what her response would be. It probably sounded something like “no”, since she seemed disinclined to take his help.

Was she always like this, so stubborn? Was it some kind of pride thing? He had been there, too; his hyungs really had their hands full with him over the years, didn’t they?

Retrieving the first aid kit Jimin had gifted him some time back, he made a brisk return to find the girl in much the same position he had left her, staring sulkily at her injured ankle. She looked up when he approached, but didn’t say a word.

“You might have to take off your shoe.” he informed her.

He waited to get a response, the big plastic kit held by his side. Jungkook wondered if she just planned to ignore him, and if he should take her silence as consent and proceed, but that didn’t feel right. Finally, she mumbled, “…This is really happening…isn’t it?”

Nodding slowly, he popped the kit open and examined its contents, locating the roll of compression wrap. While he did that, he noticed her leaning forward, trying to unstrap her heel without moving in a way that would hurt her foot even more.

Jungkook had never worn heels, but he always thought anyone who did without falling over must have some hidden talent. Hers weren’t as tall as some, but she was still plucking at the strap with building frustration.

Guessing she wanted it over and done with just as bad as he did, the idol seized the heel of her foot again, bringing her leg out and reaching for the buckle himself.

If he expected a beaming smile and a grateful attitude, he’d be sorely mistaken. She gave him the stink eye. “I can do at least this much.”

“Maybe, but I can do it faster.” He shrugged, already loosening the heel and sliding it off while holding her foot steady. From so close, and without the shoe in the way, he could really see just how fast the ankle had discolored and swollen. Again, he wrestled with the guilt, absently reaching for the wrap. “So,” he began by holding her ankle at a ninety-degree angle, “Who are you? Because this doesn’t mean I forgot…”

“Believe me, I’m someone who doesn’t want to be here anymore than you want me to be here. I didn’t have a choice, not that you’d ever believe me…” she huffed. “But, because legal repercussions are probably unavoidable, I’ll start by being cooperative. Maybe when they review all this, that’ll work in my favor.” It sounded like she was talking to herself, not him, but then she cleared her throat and extended her hand. “My name is L/N Y/N.”

Jungkook didn’t expect such a strange introduction, and the attempt at a handshake reminded him of Namjoon-hyung. He grasped her palm very briefly, barely holding on to it long enough for their hands to go up and down, but she didn’t seem inclined to want to hold onto him either.

“Y/N…” he repeated.

“As for what I’m doing here…well, again, it’s not something any sane person would believe.” She switched her focus to watching him meticulously wrap her ankle. It was pretty careful care for someone that could have been stalking him, but he had already started, and if he was going to do it, his sense of perfectionism said he had to do it right.

“Are you…insane?”

“Excuse me?” She didn’t look very amused, but he guessed it wasn’t exactly a polite question.

“You said a sane person wouldn’t believe you…” he explained.

“I am not insane,” Y/N rubbed a hand to her forehead. “I just feel like I am lately,” she whispered. “I was dining out with some friends, in the restaurant bathroom and then…”

Jungkook waited while he secured the wrap with some bandage clips and closed his first aid kit. “And then?”

“It’s going to sound insane,” she finished matter-of-factly, “You’re going to call me a liar and accuse me of stalking you, then we’ll be right back where we started.”

Jungkook was torn between still wanting to contact security, but also experiencing some curiosity he couldn’t quite tamp down. “Do you have proof?” It didn’t sound like she did.

“Proof?” Y/N repeated, arching a brow as if he had just said something strange.

“You’re not even going to try to make me believe you?” he goaded.

“Sure, help me up and I’ll hobble right over to the mirror. You’ll see exactly how I got here and this whole think’ll be cleared up just like that.” Her tone was so sugary the sarcasm was evident.

Jungkook figured he had indulged this for this long…why not go all the way. Offering her a hand, he warned her to brace herself, and then pulled her up with ease. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She said warily, trying not to show him how much she was utilizing the wall for support.

“Okay,” Jungkook nodded, “Show me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Idols were weird. Y/N wasn’t sure if it was just the fact that they lived in a completely ‘different world’ from normal people or what, but she hadn’t expected her first extended run-in with some world-famous celebrity to go like this.

Park Jimin was one thing; he’d been concussed, so that was enough to make him loopy. She hadn’t expected anything out of his mouth to make sense. But this guy, Jean Jungkook?

Totally different. He wasn’t suffering a head injury, for one. And he had seemed angry at first, but still handled her appearance in much the same way a mean boy on the playground would in elementary school. Playing keep away with her phone, really?

He’d even treated her with decency when she tripped and sprained her ankle. God, that was yet another thing she was going to have to deal with. Sprained her ankle! Sprained! How was she supposed to get around campus quickly? It was huge. Though she supposed that wasn’t a concern at present.

The idol’s strange demand was at the forefront of her mind, seeing as he was right behind her while she hobbled slowly to the mirror, her heel in one hand and her phone in the other.

She must have looked like a suffering pigeon, doing a funny little hop. But she refused to let him touch her after she got her bearings. It was humiliating enough to have someone see her make a fool of herself and get injured to boot, idol or no idol. Well actually, his status made it even worse.

And he was watching her oh so closely as she made it to the mirror, taking a deep breath and turned around to look at him with some difficulty. “Here it is.” She said flatly. “How I got in, and how I probably would be able to get out, if life felt like cutting me a break.”

He stepped around her, staring at her incredulously like she knew he would. She would look at herself that way in his position. Jungkook pressed against the mirror with the flat of his hand, one good time, as if to confirm it was solid. “You used the mirror? What, like magic? Like a drama?”

“You’re the one who said you wanted proof; I never said it would satisfy you.” she retorted. “I barely understand it myself, but what I’m saying is the only truth I have to cling to.” Her chin dipped, “No matter how implausible it is…”

She knew she would get the same result he had when she pushed on the mirror, but as if to confirm her fate was truly sealed, Y/N tried anyway. When her hand went right through, the cool glass giving way to cool nothingness, she yelled, pitching forward.

Jungkook made a noise, something startled, and she glanced at him to confirm he was seeing what was happening. His bulging eyes made it evident that he was. Yes! Y/N jerked her arm away too fast, and in doing so almost fell back on her ass, if not for the lightning reflexes of the idol who moved to extend an arm around her waist.

Y/N got her bearings, smoothed a hand over her shirt and her racing heart, and tried to hold back her tears. He could see. He could really see. The weeks of going crazy in silence, holding it all in, and someone else…could see.

“Your arm went through the glass,” he breathed.

“More than my arm’s gone through.” Y/N spoke with more confidence, now that there was no way he could deny it. “That’s…how I got here.”

The idol once again moved forward, pressing both hands against the mirror. Nothing. “How?” He wondered.

“I don’t know.” Y/N replied, “It’s been happening since…since I got this phone. So that’s my only theory, that the events are connected.” She held up the dead device and wiggled it around. “Not that that’s a story anyone would believe if I got caught breaking and entering.”

The idol appeared to be thinking, worrying his lip piercing with his tongue, “Unless they saw it.”

Y/N squared her shoulders, eyeing him up and down. He fidgeted, looking small somehow, despite being fairly tall with a healthy amount of muscle. From close up it was even easier to see than watching him from behind the wall.

“It might come as a surprise for you to know, not everyone would be as cavalier as you about all this. In fact, I’d go as far as saying your reaction was a bit…strange. Has anyone told you that you’re odd?”

‘Nice going, Y/N.’ She thought bitterly, ‘That was over the top blunt. You’re not trying to make an enemy out of the very first person to be witnessing the crazy with you.’

Luckily, the idol didn’t look overly offended. Jungkook pursed his lips, big eyes sheepish as he rubbed his head. “Uh-huh, my hyung.” he said thoughtfully.

“Well…” Y/N gestured vaguely. “Now that you’ve seen what I’ve seen, you know about as much as I do. Would it be too much trouble to ask if I could…go?” Pointing a thumb toward the mirror like she was about to miss her cab would seem dumb if he didn’t know.

“Oh, right,” Jungkook’s tapped the mirror again. “You’re going back to where you came from.”

“Ideally,” Y/N frowned, “I’ve been gone a long time. There’s no way my friends aren’t concerned about that. And when they can’t find me who knows what they’ll think.”

Somewhat afraid the give they had both witnessed was a one-off, Y/N pressed her hand to the mirror once again, happy when it rippled and went right through. It might have been too late to salvage the evening with her friends, but at least she could salvage her reputation.

#call me crazy #ot7xreader #btsxreader #jungkook x reader #jiminxreader #taehyungxreader #yoongixreader #jin x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader

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