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cinnaminsvga · 9 months ago

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Harana | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, angst, humor → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, oc has So Many Problems, so much arguing and yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: 16.1K → a/n: HOLY SHIT IM BACK (kinda) and happy new year!! yeah ok its march but im relearning how to form coherent sentences so be patient ;w; this is the first installment of my hfoh series that i teased a LONG time ago... i made it a resolution to complete this series by the end of the year before i kms (Keep Myself Safe) so here's to a brand new year :D (oh god @ universe pls be kind)

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

Two days before the incident, your shower nozzle decides to explode.

Okay, you have to admit that statement is a little misleading. Shower nozzles, in all its nonsentience, do not randomly decide to explode no matter how much you try to defend yourself to your landlord. Maybe your grip had been a little too harsh that morning, or maybe hanging 5 pounds of hair products on the handle had been a bit too much for the old sport to handle. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe was warning you about the incident.

Whatever it was, it doesn’t erase the fact that your shower would be out of commission for the next week or so (though your landlord seems adamant about prolonging your suffering as long as possible). Until then, you’re going to have to find some other ways to keep the grease and grime from building on you. Heavens know that you already have a thriving ecosystem living in the back of your couch—you don’t need another one growing under your armpits.

Lucky for you, you have friends. More importantly, you have friends who have showers. There is one problem though—all your friends live on the other side of the country.

It’s been two years since you moved to the Big City™️, but you have done little to grow your social network. Call it introversion or depression, either way, you have no more contacts on your phone than you did when you left your hometown. Well, except for one person, if you could even consider him one. Frankly, you didn’t have a choice.

“Welcome to my humble abode, stinky,” Jimin greets you as you enter his house. Your nose is instantly assaulted by the smell of Bath & Body Works® Sweet Pea, reminding you once more why you didn’t consider him a friend.

“Hey,” you reply gruffly, shucking your ratty shoes near his entrance. Your shoes look incredibly out of place amidst the sea of designer Chelsea boots and a singular pair of thigh-high heels. You take a glance at his living room, already feeling worse about yourself tenfold.

You had met Park Jimin by complete accident, much like how his mother probably felt when she first saw him too. You had never known anyone quite as… interesting as him, to put it lightly.

When you got your job as a hostess for a luxury bar and restaurant, you figured you wouldn’t make many friends with your coworkers. Everyone was so… pretty, but in the shiny, untouchable sort of way. Almost all of the servers were as gorgeous as the models you’d see in magazines. You hadn’t known that the owners only hired a certain “demographic” of people for their restaurant, and you were equal parts flattered and disgusted that you’d somehow made it (though you suppose your bullshitting skills were all to thank).

Unsurprisingly, even the bartenders were gorgeous, including one Park Jimin. He did have an aura to him that screamed “I’m a cut above the rest and I know it,” but that could just be the gold chains dripping down his neck. You almost mistook him as one of the patrons who mistakenly made his way behind the bar, and knowing the sort of clientele you’ve had to deal with so far, you wouldn’t have been surprised. It took a couple of weeks before you finally found out who he was (and what his fucking problem was).

Jimin was a part-time bartender with a full-time job as a bitch a self-made entrepreneur. Which is to say, he sold… tasteful photos of himself on the internet. You had nothing against his line of work. In fact, you would go far as to say you didn’t give a shit what he did outside of your shared workspace. But if there’s one thing Jimin is, it’s that he hates being ignored.

So when you were adamant about not oohing and aahing at everything that makes Park Jimin perfect, he made it his self-appointed mission to befriend you. Or at least that’s what he claims, but given how he treats you lesser than the shit that cakes his cheeks, you have a lot of doubts. Perhaps he’s never made an effort to make a friend, hence his inexperience with being a decent human being. Or perhaps he’s just an asshole, but who is to say? The point is: he’s the only person you knew in this godforsaken city who would likely allow you to use his shower without being awkward about it and that’s that.

The worst part about being an acquaintance with Park Jimin was that he lived in the richest area of Downtown but he wasn’t old money, that’s for sure. His entire essence screamed overconsumption, and his myriad of little trinkets littered across his apartment confirmed your previous assessment. You wouldn’t be surprised if you opened his freezer and found ten types of ice sorted assorted by color and shape like the extra bitch that he was.

He made his money through sheer force, and it would have impressed you if he wasn’t, you know. Him.

“Bathroom is over there. I placed a towel and other shower amenities that you can borrow,” he says pointing to a door with a large “FART ZONE: ENTER WITH CAUTION” sign taped to it. You don’t ask.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You wait patiently for his out-of-pocket comment.

Like clockwork, Jimin smirks. “Sure thing. I gave you the super heavy-duty stuff. Figured you’d burn a hole through my expensive towels with how stinky you are, with your yeasty cu—”

“Aaaand I’ll be done in a few minutes. Thanks again Jimin,” you interrupt, making your way to the bathroom and slamming the door with as much force as you can muster. You hear something fall as the door shuts, and you vaguely hear Jimin mutter something about his “fart zone” signage.

You begin to prepare your shower routine, humming lowly as you go about your business. You try to ignore the suffocating scent of ten million diffusers entering your nostrils, wondering for the umpteenth time if Jimin is suffering from long-term olfactory dysfunction.

“Focus, Y/N. The quicker you shower, the quicker you can get the fuck out of here,” you whisper to yourself. However, in your haste, you knock over Jimin’s towel by accident. When the towel falls, a sheet of sandpaper slips out from underneath it, and you stare bemusedly until it finally hits you.

“YOU ARE SUCH A LITTLE BITCH!”

From behind the door, you can hear Jimin’s infamous cackle. “Did you find the loofah? I got it just for you, darling!” he shouts back through his laughter, and you just grumble back in response. How on earth no one has strangled him to death, you have no idea.

“Whatever. I’m gonna shower now! Go beat off or whatever the fuck you do in your spare time,” you grouse, stripping as quickly as possible.

When the first droplets of water hit your body, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. You had both anticipated and dreaded going to Jimin’s house, but you desperately needed the shower. So you go through your routine, trying to find some semblance of relaxation throughout the process. However, it seems that Jimin was yearning for a little bit of attention as he chose to recline on the other side of the door and chat your ear off. Peace was never an option, it seems.

“Hey, Y/N! So why haven’t I seen you at work recently?” Jimin hollers from his living room. Despite the wall separating you, his voice manages to retain its volume.

You squirt a large glob of Jimin’s (expensive) conditioner onto your hands. “What do you mean? I go to work every day. You were the one who hasn’t been clocking in.”

You can hear Jimin scoff. “Um, correction! I went to work last Friday, which so happened to be your day off. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed you were avoiding me.”

And right you are, you think. But instead, you say, “Yeah, what a coincidence. I’ll be back to my regular schedule on Monday, though.”

“So that means you didn’t see the Justin Bieber wannabe stationed outside the restaurant then?” Jimin asks, voice miffed. “The guy suddenly sat down by the entrance window and a whole damn crowd started to appear! The absolute nerve of these people—don’t they know Park Jimin was just past the doors?”

This provokes Jimin to go on his long epic soliloquy, which you’ve learned to drown out over the past two years. He could go on hour-long tirades if he wanted, and any interruption from you would just bounce off his nonfunctioning ears. And so, you allow his voice to fall to the back of your mind, similar to white noise if it wasn’t so grating.

However, this was likely your greatest mistake. If you hadn’t been so exhausted, or if Park Jimin hadn’t been so damn annoying all the time, or if the stars had aligned just right… Maybe you would have been forewarned about the incident. It’s as if the universe was screaming at you to pay attention, but alas… You were standing on the proverbial highway, unbeknownst to the incoming traffic because you had your metaphorical AirPods on.

So there you are, completely showered but none the wiser to your impending doom, naively looking to the future with unsuspecting eyes. Even if you had known of what was to come, would avoiding it even be possible? In hindsight, you suppose not, but you still kick yourself for being so blind. If only you’d steeled your heart, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt like vomiting in front of a crowd of innocent bystanders the very next day.

xxx

Monday comes and your shower still isn’t fixed. Jimin makes the benevolent gesture of allowing you to use his shower in the meantime, though you’ll only partake in his offer as minimally as possible. He does mention that he’ll need at least an hour’s notice, warning you about “accidental voyeurism.” You shudder to think of what sort of horror you might find if you did visit him without warning, and you pray for the continued well-being of your retinas.

On your way to work, you’re too busy watching cute videos of animals to notice the unusual flock of people idling close to your workplace. When you get closer, however, the growing commotion is enough to rip your gaze away from your phone, and the sight of the large crowd makes you stop in your tracks.

It is 4 pm and the usual line of waiting patrons should not start piling up for another three hours, so this confuses you more than anything. You shuffle closer, squinting at the crowd until you notice that they aren’t lined up at all; instead, they have congregated into a large circle, but you are too far to see what they are surrounding.

An accident? You worry, wondering if something terrible happened. You tiptoe above the heads of people, subtly moving forward to take a better look. Curse you and your curiosity. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself to see something grotesque or astonishing, but instead…

It’s worse.

Inching closer, you can begin to hear a soft thrumming of a guitar and a gentle singing voice that causes alarm bells to ring in your ears. The warm melody digs up old memories of a time long past: of ballads sung outside your childhood bedroom window, of promises whispered under Spiderman sheets, of tender caresses tucking stray hairs behind your ears… They flood your senses, but all you can feel is dread.

It can’t be who you think it is. You accidentally elbow a guy on your way to get closer, unsteadying his grip on his phone.

“Hey, watch it! I’m filming a totally not-staged TikTok over here!” He yells, but you can hardly pay attention to him when you feel unnaturally drawn to come closer, still.

You’re nearly at the front, with just a couple of teenagers standing between you and the (not-so) mysterious street performer. But the distance is enough, and your breath catches. You can see him—

Black hair partially hidden under a bucket hat. Boots bigger than Pangaea and a pair of eyes equally as large. Dark ink snaking down his arms, peeking out from under oversized sleeves. Piercings that could rival Park Jimin on a good day. He isn’t facing you, but you can still see his big doe eyes, gentle sloping nose, and pretty lips stretched into a handsome smile.

Your heart is thundering in your chest. This can’t be happening, you panic. After two whole years of rebuilding and reshaping yourself, relearning how to be yourself and not… not just his girlfriend.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you, busking in front of your workplace of all locations. The universe could not have been any crueler to you.

You—you had been known as nothing more than Jeon Jungkook’s high school sweetheart. Buried memories of snide comments from jealous teen girls fill your mind, reminding you of the time when you were coined a simple side piece to the main attraction. Decor, as they would call you. Nothing more than a girl who happened to snag Jungkook before people realized he was going to turn… hot. A hot guy who could sing. An inevitable chic magnet, as they would call him.

And now, years later after much therapy and soul searching, your worst nightmare is standing in front of you in the flesh. This is what you will eventually dub the incident.

At that moment, however, there is little to no time to dwell on naming this ongoing core memory. All you can feel is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, as well as the nausea rising up your throat. You stumble backward, blatantly shoving onlookers away as you struggle to find some air to breathe. In hindsight, you probably should have backed away as subtly as possible, but you hope that your dyed hair might be different enough that Jungkook wouldn’t know it was you if he had glanced your way.

Even when you stagger towards your work establishment, the walls cannot perfectly muffle his soothing singing. You can’t make out the lyrics to his song too well, but his unmistakable voice is hard to ignore. Working as a hostess, your station is also coincidentally as close to the door as possible for maximum torture.

This can’t get any worse, you think as your mind races with conflicting emotions. You thought you had moved on, thought you were past the pain and the memories, but seeing Jungkook again, unexpectedly, stirs up a storm of feelings you thought were buried deep. Anger, hurt, betrayal—all rush to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you.

But there is no time to unpack all that baggage right now. Time will continue to march on, and your job is still on the line. How can you have the time to have a mental breakdown when you were still living paycheck to paycheck?

But even as you try to push Jungkook out of your mind, his voice echoes in your ears, his image burned into your memory. It's as if the universe is laughing at your misery, reminding you that despite all your supposed growth, you are still just you.

Painfully and pathetically you.

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture.

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat.

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk.

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you clarify, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence.

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and fidget uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away.

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door.

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice.

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off.

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note.

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you.

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole.

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero.

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation.

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

You make quick work of your task and when you’re ready to head out, Jimin is already waiting by the backdoor. He’s twirling his car keys with a finger and gestures for you to follow him. As you make your way to his car in the back parking lot, you catch sight of a lone figure standing next to a beat-up pickup truck. He’s leaning against it, his hands busy tuning a battered guitar.

Your breath hitches, and you immediately feel nauseous. Of course the incident has yet to end. The night is young, after all.

Jimin accidentally slams the backdoor closed, and the noise wrenches Jungkook’s attention away from his ministrations. Immediately, his eyes lock with Jimin before finally turning to you.

Your heart skips a beat as he gazes at you, your mind racing with a hurricane of emotions. You hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, especially not after the tumultuous encounter earlier in the day. What did you say earlier? That “the chances of seeing Jungkook was down to pretty much zero”?

The chances of seeing Jungkook is low, but never zero, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

There is a long period of awkward silence. Jungkook has his mouth slightly agape, his hand subconsciously lowering his guitar to rest against his truck. To your left, Jimin’s breathing quickens slightly. You, on the other hand, are trying your best not to projectile vomit in this damned parking lot.

Jungkook is the one who decides to break the delicate silence. “Is that you…?” he calls out hesitantly.

Don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my—

“Y/N,” Jimin interjects. His gaze is steel cold, uncharacteristic of the carefree boy. He slings an arm around your shoulders, gently nudging you towards his car. With your view still fixed on Jungkook, you miss the way Jimin shoots the other boy with a playful smirk. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go home.”

His words startle both you and Jungkook. “Wha—? Jimin?” you splutter, flushing at his flirtatious undertone. You want to curse him out for his strange behavior, but all the shock has left you mute.

Jimin all but shoves you into the passenger seat. But just as he’s about to slam the car door, you hear Jungkook call out your name. It’s fleeting and quiet, but you heard him crystal clear.

It breaks your spirit to hear him say your name. For a moment, you feel as though you are floating.

When was the last time he called your name? And so softly, too? If you could replay that moment over and over, would you be able to catch some signs of tenderness in his voice? When you close your eyes later that night, would your dreams show you that he had been gazing at you with yearning? Was any of it true?

As Jimin starts the car and pulls away from the curb, you steal one last glance out the window, only to find Jungkook staring at you with an arm outstretched. You continue to watch him until his figure disappears into the night.

You are quietly immersed in your own thoughts, the whirlwind of emotions intensifying your persistent migraine. Unaccustomed to silence, Jimin decides to give his unsolicited two cents, as per usual.

“Geez. Didn’t know you were into the whole starving artist type. If I’d known, then maybe I’d stop trying to brag about my fortune to you,” Jimin scoffs. “If loser buskers like him impress you, then maybe I should—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life!” You explode, whirling to face him with a glare. Jimin has the audacity to flinch, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road.

“What the fuck? Why the hell are you mad at me?”

“What the hell was that back there? ‘C’mon babe.’” You mimic his voice with a sneer. “Why on earth would you do that? Now he thinks that we…”

“Why do you care what he thinks? He’s your ex, remember?” Jimin cuts you off, but you can’t even refute him. He continues, “Figured as much. And judging by how spooked you’ve looked all day, I have to assume that he was an asshole, right? Why else would you accept my offer for a ride home if you really wanted to avoid seeing him?”

You shrink under his accurate assumptions. Damn, were you really that easy to read? “I… I mean, yeah but…” You clear your throat, still feeling wronged by him. “You didn’t have to act like a weird prick in front of him!”

Without warning, the floodgates burst forth. You begin to ramble, the thoughts that have been weighing you down pouring out of you in waves. “Jungkook was my ex, yeah. But he wasn’t an asshole. On the contrary, he was really sweet. The nicest guy in my school, at least. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, that sort of person. I dated him all throughout high school and he was a great partner.”

Jimin hums skeptically. “Then why the messy break-up?”

“It wasn’t messy!” You retort defensively.

“Could’ve fooled me!” Jimin snorts. “I also frequently act like a trembling kitten when I see my exes,” he says sarcastically.

You ignore him. “The reason we broke it off was because he wanted to pursue his dreams to become a singer after high school and I wanted to do other things. It was a mutual break-up! Honestly, I’m glad that we did. Too many girls wanted him and all the unwanted attention was getting on my nerves. I was glad to find a reason to end it all,” you explain, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. What you said was mostly true, though you left out the important bits to yourself. Mostly to save some of your dignity intact. (Truthfully, you just didn’t want to admit things you weren’t ready to face.)

“Then if you’re so glad, why do you look like you wanted to shit yourself? It ain’t adding up,” Jimin fires back.

“It’s just—” you stammer, trying to find a reason why you were so bent out of shape after seeing him. “I-I was caught off guard, I guess. I knew he was pursuing his dreams to sing and all, so I expected him to leave the country. I wasn’t expecting to see him outside where I work, of all places,” you mutter lamely. You have your head bowed, biting your lips from the nerves. Again, you weren’t totally lying.

Jimin is silent for a moment, contemplating your admission. When he looks so calm like this, it’s hard to get a read on what he’s thinking. As Jimin speeds down the highway, the street lights illuminate his face in a strange way, and for once, he looks like a stranger. His steely expression makes you nervous, for some reason.

Eventually, he asks you a question you would never have expected. “And he just let you go?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jimin huffs, irritated. “He just up and left without a fight? If I were him, I would have…” he trails off, his jaw clenching.

You don’t know where this Jimin came from. Under the moonlight, Jimin looks livid, but that can’t be right. Jimin, mad for you? Sure, you’ve seen his anger directed towards you, but this? Everything’s gotten so complicated, and you are just about ready to succumb to sleep and hope to wake from this nightmare.

The rest of the drive to your house is silent, save for the sounds coming from passing cars. Jimin pulls up to your apartment complex, his mysterious anger finally subsiding.

Just as you’re about to reach for the car door handle, Jimin places a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, Y/N. I’ll talk to management tomorrow morning. I know the manager well enough that I can probably convince him to do something about that ex of yours. He’s busking on private property, so it should be easy to get rid of him,” Jimin says, tone serious. He swallows, and for a moment you think he looks a little nervous. “If that’s what you want, I guess.”

His kindness scares you. You want to tease him, ask him where Mr. Bitchy and his $2000 Chelsea boots had gone. Anything to make this air of severe sincerity to abate. This new Jimin feels suffocating. But instead, you nod your head stiffly.

Jimin makes a pained expression for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual playful smirk. He slaps you upside the head, laughing heartily at your stunned face.

“Get some rest, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he chuckles, reaching over to open the door for you. You scramble out into the cold city air, taking one last look back at him through his window.

He rolls it down, leaning forward to flash a toothy grin at you. “Hey, stop with all the angst, pookie. Wouldn’t want my favorite toy to get sick from overthinking. Who else would I bother at work if not you?”

You snort, both endeared and irritated in equal measure. He’s right. Everything was going back to normal tomorrow, you’re sure of it. You flip him off with a cheeky grin before making your way to your apartment.

Everything is going to be okay. Jimin says he’ll do something about it, and for whatever reason, you feel like you can trust him on this. Surely good fortune was soon to be upon you.

xxx

Jimin had texted you while you were still sleeping:

Spoke to Manager Jeong about your little problem. He said he’ll deal with him.

You breathe a sigh of relief, your body feeling significantly lighter. Your sleep last night had been tumultuous and restless. You feel more tired than you did when you went to bed, but all your weariness fades once you read Jimin’s text.

Once you make it to work, you find that management has gotten rid of Jungkook somehow. Added with the fact that your landlord has promised to look into repairing your shower (no guarantees, but you want to stay optimistic), today has been significantly better compared to yesterday. You even catch yourself humming as you set up your workstation, a small smile gracing your lips.

Jimin has a later shift this evening, and you find that you are somewhat disappointed for once. Your overwhelming gratitude is surely the only reason, otherwise you would never admit to wanting to see him at any given time.

You are in the midst of texting Jimin about all the good news when your manager passes by your desk. You are quick to pocket your phone away from his prying eyes, ready to defend that you aren’t slacking off… but his demeanor does not reveal any ire. In fact, he looks rather pleased for once.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeong. What’s up?” you ask, suspicious. You instinctively fold your hands behind your back; it is a subconscious effort on your part to keep your distance from him. Something about your manager always gives you a bad feeling when he looks a little too happy.

He grins widely. “Everything is going splendidly, Ms. Y/N. In fact, I think today might just be our lucky day!”

Never during your time working here has his and your luck ever coincided. “Our lucky day?” you echo.

“Why, yes! I spoke with your lovely friend and coworker Jimin this morning,” he starts, and immediately your alarm bells ring. You don’t even bother correcting him about the ‘friend’ part like you normally would. He continues, “He gave me a brilliant idea about the busker who had been performing in front of the restaurant the past two days.”

You nod slowly, not quite understanding. “Yes… The busker has been quite… the spectacle,” you say carefully. Somehow, you know calling Jungkook a ‘nuisance’ would have been the wrong choice in this instance.

Manager Jeong beams. “Exactly! You must have noticed the amount of people we served yesterday despite being a Monday. Additionally, almost all of those new customers requested outdoor seating no less!”

You feel the world tilt on its axis. What is he on abou—?

“What are you talking about?” you exhale.

“Don’t you think it would be even better for business if we got that busker to perform inside the restaurant? Why, it’s a brilliant idea and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first! Our live band has always been missing something special, and perhaps a vocal accompaniment is the exact answer to our problem! Think about it, the atmosphere would be…”

Manager Jeong continues to prattle animatedly about his plans to your unhearing ears. There must be static or cotton plugging your head because you cannot possibly understand anything he is saying. Jungkook? Inside? Performing at your restaurant? But Jimin said he had spoken to the manager about getting Jungkook away from you! None of this makes sense.

“That makes no sense,” you verbalize, unknowingly cutting Manager Jeong from his monologue. He halts in surprise, as if now just realizing you were standing there (much less capable of interrupting or disagreeing with him). When he snaps out of it, you sense that familiarly sinister aura emerging from him in waves. You belatedly realize he must have mistaken your outburst as antagonistic.

“Well, Ms. Y/N. Whether it makes sense or not, we have hired Mr. Jeon to perform live at the bar stage for the next four weeknights. If, for some unknowable reason, I am incorrect,” he pauses to emphasize his words, “then his services will be promptly terminated. However, judging by his popularity from simply standing out in the cold and singing silly love songs, I am sure that worry is unwarranted.”

Behind you, the telltale sound of the main door swinging open catches you even more off guard. You do not even have the chance to turn to face the newcomer, only managing to register the gust of cold wind that accompanies their entry.

And so, you hear him before you see him.

“Hello?” Jeon Jungkook greets quietly.

Even without turning, you can imagine how he looks, how he stands, how he feels, how he tastes—

Manager Jeong claps his hands gleefully. “Splendid timing! Speak of the devil…” The older man nearly skips towards Jungkook like a youthful school girl, accompanied by his uncharacteristic squeals of excitement.

You can feel his gaze on you, almost tangibly. With nothing but your shreds of dignity left intact, you force yourself to face him.

He’s still so tall, is all your mind can helpfully supply as you stand feet away from your high school sweetheart for the first time in two years. He’s still wearing the same bucket hat from the night before, semi-shielding him from view. Despite that, you catch a small flash of white graze his bottom lip as he chews the soft flesh nervously.

“Hi, Y/N.” He addresses you directly, completely overlooking your manager without a single glance. Despite his hat, he still has his eyes lasered on you, as if not quite believing you were there. You hate how his attention makes you shiver all the same.

Even though he ignored your manager (which would have been a major dispute had you done the same), Jungkook still receives a friendly handshake in return. “Mr. Jeon! I’m surprised you know Ms. Y/N, though I’m sure you must have spoken with her when she was escorting guests to the outdoor seating the other day.”

You had actually gotten your co-hostess to seat all the outdoor seatings yesterday, but you weren’t going to mention that.

Manager Jeong claps him on the back, inadvertently causing Jungkook to stumble forward closer to you. He looks up at you then, eyes bugging out of their sockets like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. You stagger backwards in turn, barely concealing the anxiety on your face. Oh fucking hell.

Your manager is none the wiser, of course. “Well, this makes my job much easier! Since you’re both acquainted, I’ll let Y/N show you the ropes. The band doesn’t start their set until later in the evening, but you’re free to take a look at the stage and other parts of our facility in the meantime,” he says, chuffed. Meanwhile, Jungkook looks like he’s been shot by a freeze ray.

Then, your manager points a sharper gaze at you. “Ms. Y/N, treat our super star well. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Fucking superstar… You can only nod in defeat. “Y-Yes, sir…” you whisper, clenching your uniform with your fists. It is the only way to keep them from shaking like a leaf. You watch as his figure disappears behind his office door, leaving you to fend for yourself. Powerless, you train your gaze to the floor, unwilling to meet Jungkook’s eyes.

But the nerves are taking control of your body, screaming at you to eject, eject, eject!

“Sorry, I have to go to the toilet,” you splutter quickly, almost tripping over yourself on the way to the restroom. You dimly wonder if Jungkook is going to think you’re leaving to throw up, but you can’t find any self-respect left to care. All you need is air and space to breathe—preferably away from him.

You slam open the stall, hardly checking to see if anyone else is around before locking the door shut. You sit on the toilet, plant your face between your knees, and scream.

Should you go home and use sickness as an excuse? But even if you did, you still had shifts every weeknight. You would have to see him eventually. You can pray all you want that Jungkook will be fired by the end of the week, but even your delusional mind can never fathom the idea that anyone would willingly want to send Jeon Jungkook away. Plus, you remember that the regular band that plays at the restaurant has been wanting to get a singer to accompany them for ages, and you know just how damn affable he can be. They are going to love him, and you hate him for that.

It is clear to you that there is no other option:

You pull out your phone to quickly open up Indeed on your browser, frantically hunting for any openings that might fit your measly qualifications. However, you have to pause in your search to deliberate. Wouldn’t it be better to move out of the country? You had been so naive to think that moving cities was enough distance between you and Jungkook—going across the ocean is the obvious answer. Should you start up your Duolingo lessons again and hope that you can somehow survive in a different continent with only a few dollars to your name?

You shut your phone in despair. Whether or not your plans of escape are feasible or not, in the short term, you are stuck with having to suck it up and just learn to ignore your ex-boyfriend’s presence. Surely you can force out a fake smile or two, especially with how much practice you’ve gotten after working with unbearably entitled customers.

Taking a step outside of the restroom stall, you head to the sink to splash some cold on your face. You stare at the mirror, confronted by a girl who looks two seconds away from having a Netflix Original-esque meltdown. You rake your fingers through your hair, doing your best to look like you aren’t about to rush into incoming traffic. To no one's surprise, it doesn't work.

“Okay, I got this. Just pretend like he’s just some guy, because at the end of the day, he is just some guy,” you mutter to your reflection. She looks back at you unconvinced. “He may have broken my heart into little bite size pieces, but who cares! HE’S JUST A GUY!” You repeat the phrase over and over again like a lunatic, in a desperate attempt to cognitively alter your brain chemistry.

At that moment, one of the other stalls in the restroom creaks open, and a girl you recognize who works as one of the dishwashers walks out. You both have a silent eye conversation as she quietly studies your crazed expression and crumpled work uniform.

Eventually, she awkwardly clears her throat, pointing to the only sink in the restroom. “Uh, sorry to hear about your, uh, guy problem. Could I use the sink please?”

You hastily back away, allowing her to take your spot. You don’t even have the energy to apologize for your spectacle, just bowing sheepishly to her before making your way back to the main hall. If she rats you out to the rest of your coworkers, then that gives you another reason to move out of the country. Maybe you should consider a name change while you’re at it.

When you exit the restroom, you half expect Jungkook to be waiting for you by the door, but find that he isn’t anywhere nearby. He isn’t by your hostess station either, and you thank your lucky stars for once. Even if your manager had asked you to show him around, you’re sure that Jungkook can find his way around just fine. Plus, the stage is at the corner of the restaurant and is sufficiently far enough that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him if you were careful.

You don’t know which greater entity has been messing with your sanity these past few days, but you hope that they can show you mercy just once—a brief reprieve, if anything.

You clasp your hands in prayer. I’ll eat more vegetables, I’ll remember to floss, I’ll call my parents from time to time… Just please let me survive tonight.

“Remember, Y/N… He’s just some guy,” you reiterate through gritted teeth. If a passing coworker happens to overhear your demented chanting, then you pay them no mind.

You walk towards the entrance, flipping the sign to open. You feel like a video game character when you glance at the clock, which signals the start of your shift. You can imagine the red bold text hovering above your head: 8 more hours until freedom.

This is just like playing Five Nights at Freddy’s, except you’ve only watched the movie and you suspect your life is probably worse than whatever Josh Hutcherson had to survive through.

You take a couple heaving breaths to brace yourself for what will be the longest eight hours of your life. You’ll show Jungkook just how well-adjusted and mature you’ve become. You are a professional, and not even a boy with angelic vocals will make you crumble. After all, what’s the worst he can do?

xxx

He could, in fact, do a lot worse than you thought.

“I have many regrets being born at all,” you mutter bleakly, three hours into your shift.

Jungkook had started singing only an hour ago, so you had been filled with false confidence at first when the restaurant was filled with nothing but ambient chatter and soothing jazz music. You felt more and more confident as the minutes ticked by and your anxiety slowly melted away. You even forgot that he was somewhere in the back, likely warming up or whatever it is that singers did before a performance.

However, your brief moment of courage shatters almost immediately when Jungkook finally takes the stage.

At first, you did your best to tune out his voice, but it’s especially hard when whoever was in charge of the sound system decided to crank his volume to an excruciating level. You wanted desperately to grab some napkins and shove them in your ears, but you suspected that your customers (and manager) would be unappreciative of that gesture. And so there you lay, forced to wallow in Jungkook’s melodious singing like a criminal strapped to an electric chair.

But how much more pleasant an electric chair would be! Why on earth was Jungkook so adamant to sing sad love songs the entire time? Why couldn’t he be like his other singing contemporaries, who loved to write songs about getting bitches and making money? At the very least, even if he wasn’t quite a platinum selling artist just yet, surely he was constantly sharing beds with anyone he pleases? Couldn’t he sing about that?!

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it would be less painful to learn that Jungkook has slept with multiple people… Because then, it would mean that he had moved on while you stood alone on your island, stranded and yearning.)

You didn’t want to think too deeply about his lyrics. However, you're only human. So when your mind barrier failed and you caught snippets of his singing, you noticed a pattern. There was always a girl in his songs. She was omnipresent, and Jungkook was always pleading for her. Begging and aching and wanting. But most all… he was always repenting. In every song, he always whispered a pious apology.

You feared what would happen if you turned around in those moments of weakness. You were terrified of admitting something, of letting words spill that had been trapped in your throat for the better part of two years.

Lucky for you, salvation comes in the form of one Park Jimin. Though, can you even count him as your savior when he had also inadvertently caused your demise?

Jimin doesn’t even have a shift today, so you’re more than surprised when his bright blonde head stumbles through the restaurant doors. His expensive coat is askew and his signature designer shades are nowhere to be found. He is panic incarnate—an expression you have never seen on his face before.

“Holy fuck,” he greets, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His profanity startles the elderly couple waiting to be seated, their glares menacingly sharp. To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even seem phased.

In lieu of an answer, you gesture vaguely behind you. You can imagine how dejected you must look. “Holy fuck indeed,” you sigh.

It takes a moment for Jimin to regain his bearings. He straightens up and pats down his coat, but his hair is still tousled by the wind. If not for the fact that he has a car, you might have thought he had run all the way here.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen,” he starts, genuinely remorseful. “I texted Manager Jeong this morning and he said he’d get your ex to leave, but I didn’t think he’d offer the damn bastard a job!”

“Mind your language, Park. I’m still at work,” you scold. You try your best to ignore the scrutinizing gaze of the elderly couple. You lower your voice. “And don’t apologize. I know you’re an asshole, but I doubt you’d actually prey on my downfall like this. I know you’re not into public humiliation.”

Jimin brightens slightly at your joke, but he still looks like a guilty puppy who'd been caught shitting on the carpet. “Yeah, well. I happen to enjoy tormenting you and I won’t let some upstart Charlie Puth wannabe ruin your life. That’s my job.”

You smile wryly at him. “Well, that’s too bad. Jungkook’s been singing for a few hours now and I’m pretty sure Manager Jeong is going to keep him long-term. He might have broken my heart, but damn does he have vocals. I'm sure you'll have plenty competition when it comes to 'who can make Y/N's life feel like hell.'”

Jimin doesn't smile back, but instead studies your face for a moment. Then:

“Do you think if I offer to suck Manager Jeong off, he’ll fire him?”

“What the fuck?” You nearly yell out in surprise, your jaw dropping to the floor. Judging by his serious scowl, you know he's actually considering it. By now, the elderly couple waiting to be seated have left the premises.

Jimin continues, unperturbed. “I know he secretly wants me, based on how his wife seems to have a personal vendetta against me. He definitely wants a taste of my bus—.”

“Stop, I get it!” You wave your hands to make him shut up, heat rising up your cheeks. “Never say that string of words to me ever again. You have just inflicted ten years of suffering onto my poor brain.”

“Hey, I’m just offering solutions here!” Jimin pouts.

You stare at him, unimpressed. “Save it. You tried solving my problems already, so let’s just accept the fact that there’s nothing else for me to do but to suck it up. It’s time for me to put on my big girl pants for a change.”

“I mean, I could do all the sucking instead, but you’re being a little bitch about it,” Jimin mumbles. He’s lucky you didn’t hear him this time, lest you give him something to really whine about.

“Anyway, I guess this is my life now. Nothing to do except hope that he never tries to interact with me or I can find another job,” you shrug.

Over your shoulder, Jimin fixes Jungkook with an icy glare that is cold enough to give you the shivers. For the first time that entire night, you hazard a glance back at the stage, finding that Jungkook is already looking back at you.

You whip your head back forward, perspiration forming down your back. For fuck’s sake, this guy.

“Well, let me know if he tries anything. I’ll beat that little freak into the floor if he tries so much as breathing the same air as you.” Jimin huffs, puffing up his chest with false bravado. You can’t help but laugh at his empty threat, knowing that Jungkook could probably bench press Jimin without breaking a sweat. Jimin's muscles are only for aesthetics, after all.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t actually spoken to me actually. He can keep singing his sad little love songs, I really don’t mind,” you say, like a liar. Jimin snorts, wholly unconvinced.

“Well, if you need me, I’m heading to the bar to grab a drink so I can stare at your ex uncomfortably until he leaves. See you!” Jimin bids you farewell with a cheery grin as he skips a little too happily inside the restaurant.

Why'd you have to befriend the largest lunatic in the city? You massage your forehead with a groan, willing away your growing headache.

The rest of the night trickles away like molasses. Jungkook continues to sing his heart out, save for an hour intermission where he presumably takes a short break. In his absence, you hear Jimin guffaw loudly, his laughter too sharp to be considered happy. You faintly hear Jungkook shy stutters in response, and you momentarily consider running in to interrupt.

Why? Did you want to save Jungkook from Jimin’s unnecessary harassment? It’s not like Jimin is doing it out nowhere, he was just trying to be… a good friend?

You pause to ponder. As much as you hate to admit it, you know why you want to help Jungkook. But Jimin on the other hand? Why did he want to help you? Questions begin flowing through your head like a whirlwind, and your nausea increases. God, when was your next therapy appointment again?

You save those questions for another day. As you look at your watch, there are only thirty minutes left until two in the morning. You tap your foot impatiently, smiling curtly at departing customers as the restaurant slowly emptied. As they left, you overhear some of your regulars giggling amongst themselves, whispering about the cute new singer and his charming demeanor.

The last nail on your coffin has been hammered. Yeah, Jungkook isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

With the restaurant closing soon, it sounds like Jungkook is ready to end his set as well.

Throughout the night, Jungkook rarely made a point to speak. The only time he didn’t sing was when he quietly introduced the title of his next song and the band swiftly began the first opening notes. For his last song, however, Jungkook decided to give a little more backstory for his final song.

“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for listening to me for the night,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, his tone awfully shy despite his powerful belting throughout the evening. The few customers left give him a warm round of applause, and you hear the familiar sound of his timid giggles spill from the restaurant speakers.

“This will be my final song for the night. Most of the songs I sang today were covers, but this one is an original. I…” He hesitates for a moment, and something pulls you to turn despite the alarm bells ringing in your ears. You face him, and just like earlier in the evening, he is already looking back at you.

This time, you don’t look away; he does. His eyes flit to the ceiling, and he licks his lips from nerves. “I… I wrote this song a long while ago. I’ve never sang it in public before and I never thought it would ever see the light of day. Until, well…”

He stops again. This time, he gestures to the guitarist in the band, silently asking to borrow it. With a guitar in hand, he smiles a little more confidently at the small crowd of people. He begins strumming the first few notes, and your heart stops. “I hope everyone had a pleasant evening. Get home safe and have a great rest of your week. My name is Jungkook, and this last song is called…”

Before he can sing the first line of his song, you make a break for it.

You slam the restaurant doors open, and the stinging cold air immediately pierces their fangs into your skin. Your coat is still inside, but you can’t bring yourself to reenter. You take a long breath, the chill barely registering in your mind with how loudly your heart is pounding in your ears.

Hearing the opening to that song was enough to bring you back in time, three years ago:

You are in his childhood bedroom, his walls littered with concert posters and his floor a mess with unfolded laundry and guitar picks. The afternoon sun is streaming through his windows, bathing him in gold. You have an exam the next day and he has cram school to go to, but you’ve both chucked your books somewhere on his desk, left forgotten.

He has his eyes closed, concentrated. You’re both on his small twin bed, squished together side by side and thighs touching. You have your head on his shoulder and he has his hands on his guitar. He strums a few chords experimentally and sings a melody that only the two of you know.

(Not anymore.)

“Are you writing a new song?” you ask, voice a little scratchy. Neither of you had spoken for the past few hours, just basking in the setting sun and Jungkook’s indistinct strumming. But now, his chords sound more sure, more certain of something.

“Yeah, I just thought of it,” he hums. He opens his eyes a smidge, a smitten smile on his lips. You mirror him.

“What’s it about this time?”

His brows furrow. “I’ve been trying to write about other stuff, you know? Namjoon-hyung tells me it’s important that songs have meaning and impact.” He pauses in his strumming, looking a little conflicted. “And I get what he means. Art is all about saying something, but… I can’t help that there’s only one thing I ever want to talk about. Is that so wrong?”

You chuckle, understanding what he means. You nudge your head against his cheek, grinning from ear to ear. The fluttering in your chest has become routine to you at this point, but he somehow always knows how to increase it tenfold. “God, you’re such a sweet talker. Really, Koo. There’s no need to serenade with love songs—I’m already yours.”

He looks back at you, brimming with tender affection. “I know,” he responds. Then, he takes a pen from his bedside table, and begins writing.

During those years of dating him, you always thought that If he was a waterfall, then you were a teaspoon. You desperately tried to be enough for him, but you’re barely able to fathom the depth of his devotion. Everything about him was excessive, and you could seldom understand how he managed to contain himself. He was born to share himself, to tear bits of his soul so that the world may understand him, love him. His songs were a testament that he was trying to do that, and you always felt so lucky to be able to receive him, wholly and fully.

How cruel was it that Jungkook uses that same song to rip open the barely healed scab on your heart, leaving you bare and stinging and raw all over again.

You have no idea how long you've stood there in the cold. It must have been barely a few minutes when Jimin finds his way to you. He wordlessly shrugs his coat off and places it on your shoulders, but you make no move to acknowledge him.

You hope your silence is enough for Jimin to infer that you are not in a conversational mood, but he’s nothing if not impatient. He forcibly pulls you to face him, his hands warm even through your clothing.

“Hey, you good? Did something happen?” He asks with barely concealed irritation, but it’s not directed at you. Still, you flinch at his scathing tone, shrinking in on yourself. In your daze, you vaguely notice his resemblance to an angry baby chick.

“It’s nothing. Go back inside, I’ll be right there,” you mumble lamely, weakly pushing him back towards the restaurant. Jimin does not budge, instead leveling you with a hard stare. This time, you’re sure his irritation is for you.

“You idiot, you literally ran out like someone was out to get you. Of course it’s not nothing,” he grouses.

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head at him. “We can talk later. It’s almost closing time and I just want to go home and sleep.”

Before Jimin can argue further, the door to the restaurant opens once more, but it isn’t a leaving customer.

“What the fuck? What are you doing out here?” Jimin all but shouts at Jungkook. He holds up an accusatory finger at him and uses his other hand to nudge you behind him as if to shield you.

Jungkook winces, instinctively stepping back. Despite being a few inches taller than Jimin, Jungkook’s timidness makes him look smaller. “I… I was just worried about her—”

“Don’t you have a song to finish in there? Talk about professional,” Jimin spits out. Jimin maneuvers you so that Jungkook can’t see you, but you manage to catch sight of how his gaze follows you unfailingly.

“I finished up my set. It’s closing time.” Jungkook responds coolly. He’s still a little quiet, but you can sense some of his natural composure rising to the surface. When he needs to be, Jungkook has been known to stand his ground—usually when it comes to matters involving you.

At this time of the night and after hours of mental torture, the last thing you need is to watch your two worst nightmares duke it out in front of your work establishment. You are beyond exhausted, and you hardly have the fortitude to withstand another minute of their voices ringing in your ears.

Your eyes well up with tears of frustration, causing the two boys to freeze up in panic. You don’t give them the chance to fuss over you; instead, you haphazardly wipe your cheeks before roughly pushing them back towards the restaurant.

“Get back to work, you idiots.” Your voice sounds warbled even to your own ears, but you push past your overwhelming emotions in favor of getting back inside to close up. Hell, you might even call in sick tomorrow, just so you can cry pathetically into your bowl of cereal in solitude.

“I’m not even on the clock today!” Jimin complains faintly, but you only push him harder.

When you all reenter, you walk back to your desk and pointedly ignore the two of them until they awkwardly float away from your orbit. Despite the distance they give you, their gazes are still fixed plainly on you and they feel like knives digging into your back.

Eventually, all the final customers of the day take their leave, and your remaining coworkers start dimming the lights and bidding their goodbyes. From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook bowing respectfully to the band, who were giving him friendly pats on the back for a job well done. Jimin walks toward you, his car keys dangling from his left pinky.

“No thanks. I’ll take the bus home today,” you declare before he can offer a ride. Jimin opens his mouth like a goldfish, flapping his lips dumbly as he stares at you in shock. You have no idea why he’s so surprised, given how you’ve been making it obvious that you need some space.

He looks like he wants to argue again, but thinks better of it. A singular moment of restraint from Park Jimin, which is an act you once thought impossible. Maybe he does care about you more than you thought.

He stiffly nods at you, shoving his hands and keys into his pockets. He still has a frown on his face when he tells you to text him when you get home. You flip him off with a shaky smirk in response, a feeble attempt to bring some levity back to your now tense relationship. It works a little, and Jimin brightens up significantly. How simple-minded of him.

With a flippant wave, you leave work and head towards your bus stop. At this hour of the night, the streets are mostly dim, save for some street lamps and bars that stay open longer than your restaurant. There are always some people milling about, enough that you never feel too on edge about how late it is. Still, your bus stop is often empty, leaving you to mull over your thoughts in peace.

You are in the midst of jamming your earbuds into your ear when a presence makes itself known beside you.

Is it possible to go through the five stages of grief in under a second? You suppose not, but it’s hard to tell what sort of emotions swim through you when you come face to face with Jeon Jungkook again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath. You pause the song playing on your phone to glare at him with as much venom as you can muster.

Jungkook holds up his hands in surrender, doe eyes wide like prey. “I-I’m heading home too! I’m not following you, I swear!”

You groan internally. Figures that you and Jungkook take the same bus home. But hold on— “Don’t you have a car? I remember you were parked near the restaurant the other night,” you note, squinting at him.

Jungkook looks sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. That car was my hyung’s. He lets me borrow it sometimes, but he needed it tonight.”

“Sure…” You level him with a skeptical frown. You remember his hyung, but don’t recall him ever owning a car. You aren’t even sure that his Namjoon-hyung is allowed by the country to drive a car, much less own one.

He could be lying, but you don’t want to give him an excuse to continue any conversation. So, you busy yourself with your phone and keep your head bowed away from him.

When the bus arrives, Jungkook makes it a point to sit a few rows behind you. Thankfully, he has a better understanding of social cues than a certain Park that you know. He leaves you alone, but your entire body still feels like a rope pulled taut. You have to convince yourself not to look behind you, your morbid curiosity scratching your insides raw.

You are in the home stretch now, and it’ll only be a few more minutes before you get to your stop and make your way to your safe haven. Hell resumes the next day and the next, but at the very least you’ll have your home to yourself. No one could take that away from you.

Again, this is where you learn that tempting fate is never a good idea.

When you exit the bus at your stop, you can hear his footsteps following you. It’s hard not to notice, especially when his large and distracting boots make such a distinct racket that makes him so Jungkook.

You hasten your pace towards your apartment complex, your shoulders hunched and hands shoved into your coat pockets in an attempt to hinder the bile rising from your stomach. He had promised that he wasn’t following you, but that proclamation seems to be standing on feeble legs with how long he’s been on your tail now.

Your street is filled with rows of low-rise apartment buildings, so you hope that if anything happens, you can yell as loud as you can and alert some compassionate neighbor to come to your aid. (Not that you think he would ever physically harm you, but… You can’t say the same about your mental state.)

Your home is just two buildings away from where you are, but Jungkook still seems determined to follow you to the end. You all but skip the remaining feet to your apartment entrance, your breath coming out in puffs as you finally muster up the courage to face your supposed stalker and give him a piece of your mind.

“If this is some convoluted way for you to find out where I live, then you aren’t being very subtle about it,” you say, your chin held up high despite the growing urge to vomit pathetically in front of your ex-boyfriend. You have your hand rested on the doorknob, just a moment’s notice away from bolting into your house if the need for a quick getaway arises.

To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t following you as closely as you expected. He had stopped trailing you about two buildings down, his own hand poised on the door with a look of genuine shock.

You both stand there, staring at each other as mutual understanding dawns on the two of you.

Everyday, the universe learns of more creative ways to be cruel.

“Oh…” Jungkook’s voice falters. He looks simultaneously frightened and amazed, as if he too finds this entire situation unbelievably harsh. He swallows thickly, looking at you and back to his door in quick succession. “Well… This is a strange coincidence,” he murmurs.

You want to believe that this was his entire fault, that Jungkook had somehow managed to track you down to haunt you for the rest of your days. You want to believe that he’s a crazed stalker who is willing to find where you work and live so that every hour of your wretched life is filled with nothing but reminders of what-could-have-beens. You just want someone to blame instead of just the cosmos—you want someone tangible to hate so that your suffering can be given some sort of identity. You want to give your mourning and hurt a name so that you can learn how to heal.

You want to believe all of that, but it’s hard to do so when Jungkook looks so incredibly uncomfortable, as if he’d rather melt into the shadows and never be seen again.

In all your memories, you have never seen Jungkook look so small.

You heave a big sigh, your fingers grasping the door knob so tightly that you half-expect it to be dented from the force. You linger for a moment, your mouth opening but nothing spills out.

What is there to say? What do you say to an ex-boyfriend that you haven’t seen in two years, who is suddenly so deeply entwined in your life once more? Do you tell him goodnight? Tell him to stay away? Tell him to come home with you?

Jungkook looks equally as conflicted. His lips are pursed tight with words left unsaid. You aren’t sure whether you want to punch the confession out of his mouth or seal them up forever. It feels like eons before he finally breaks the silence with a mirthless laugh.

“I… I just wanted to say—back at the restaurant. When I sang that last song,” Jungkook begins, and his voice feels loud because of how empty the streets are. For a moment, you are reminded of a cathedral you once visited during a vacation, how sacred silence can be. The world holds its breath, waiting for him to speak.

“I meant it all. Every word. Every lyric. I never stopped…”

He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. He stares at you helplessly, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to listen any more, but your feet are planted to the ground. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, forced to brace against him as he crashes into you.

He continues, “And when we broke up back then… I never wanted that to happen. You broke it off before we could even try something—and I hated how I didn’t fight for you harder. I let you misunderstand me because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to stick around if I didn’t succeed. I convinced myself that I was holding you down, but I never gave you—us—a chance. I never stopped regretting it since.”

“Me? Break up with you?” You echo incredulously. That statement is enough to break you from your trance, the telltale signs of indignation rising up your chest. “How dare you suggest—Me? You were the one who broke up with me, asshole! You were the one who broke my heart and decided to up and leave to god knows where! Only to miraculously respawn right next to me, groveling at my feet with sad love songs as if that’s enough for me to forgive and forget? Fucking entitled bastard,” you seethe.

Somehow, Jungkook manages to shrink more, like a bunny with his tail tucked between his legs. “Yes, you’re right that I broke your heart but… When I told you I was moving away to try and become a singer, it was always with the intention of staying together. I know it would have been difficult, but I wanted you to be with me through thick and thin. But when you misunderstood and took it as a break up, I let you go because, well… I was scared that it would happen eventually. Who wants to date a broke busking fool anyway?”

He laughs, but it sounds watery. He sniffles, and you hope it's only because of the cold. “I tried looking for you, but you blocked me everywhere and no one from back home seemed to know where you went. So I just accepted that we’d never see each other again… Until a few days ago, that is.”

A misunderstanding? Is that what everything boils down to? Years of trying to build yourself back up again, relearning what it means to be happy—all the fallen domino pieces in your life trailing back to a single moment in time? All because Jungkook was scared that you didn't love him enough?

You’ve never felt angrier in your life. You fear what you might say if you continue to stand outside there, face to face with the singular person strong enough to whittle you down to the bone. Jeon Jungkook is all soft smiles and sweet songs, but how come he’s always able to knock you off your axis? Few people on this earth can stitch you up and break you down in equal measure, but somehow, Jungkook manages to do all that and more.

Then, comes the guilt. Had it been all your fault? That you hadn't returned his love in equal measure? Had you secretly given up on the hope of being on his level? Always looking down on yourself: unable to move past your insecurities. Were you terrified of being his side piece, his girlfriend, forever?

Who are you, even? And where do you stand?

(Beside him, is what you want to answer. You don't know if that's the right choice.)

You can’t bear to look at him, least of all answer him. Without another word, you shove your house key into the door before slamming it shut despite the late hour. If you awaken any neighbors, you’ll apologize later. For now, all you require is sleep and hope that this has been all a terrible nightmare.

xxx

Reality is a bitter pill to swallow.

Jeon Jungkook continues to sing at the restaurant, and after only two days of repeat stellar performances, your manager decides to promote him as the official vocalist for the band. It hurts to admit that you're not the least bit surprised; you might have a hard time looking at him, but you can never deny his talent.

His song list has added a larger variety of genres ever since his first performance. That is to say, he isn’t always singing about lost loves and tragic couples every night. Perhaps it is due to some requests from customers or his other bandmates, but it doesn’t stop him from sprinkling one or two love songs into the mix.

He doesn’t sing any original songs ever again. That, at least, is a small mercy. He doesn’t make any moves to speak with you either, despite the daily awkward trips back home after the end of your shifts. Whether that’s because he’s given up on you (again), or he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you don’t know. Frankly, you don’t think you have the energy (nor courage) to do anything about it.

It’s a few weeks after Jungkook’s first performance at the restaurant, and closing time is approaching. You appreciate Friday nights the most because it means you’ll have two consecutive days to relax and avoid your problems. It’s also the busiest night of the week, when white-collar workers decide to drink and eat for as long as the night allows them. Busier nights mean more distractions, and you’re willing to deal with twenty Karens over one Jungkook.

During nights like these, your manager occasionally asks you to fulfill some waitress duties when there aren’t enough hands on deck. Normally you’d hate it, but earning the extra tips is enough to keep your grumbling to a minimum To this day, your landlord has yet to do anything about your broken shower, and you’ve finally conceded to the fact that you’ll have to be the one to do something about it.

As you inform the customers in your area that the last call for orders is approaching, you sneak a glance at the bar to see Jimin dutifully performing his job. That is to say, he’s flirting up a storm, getting women and men alike to blush from head to toe as he serves their drinks with a salacious smirk.

What a swindler, you think to yourself, snorting when he makes eye contact with you. He gives you a cheeky salute, mouthing something as he gestures to the back door.

Despite the semi-fight the two of you had all those weeks ago, Jimin was never one to argue about the same topic two days in a row. When you saw him the next day after your confrontation with Jungkook, Jimin was back to all smiles. You still catch him sending death glares towards Jungkook on most nights, but he doesn’t bring up the matter with you anymore. For that reason, you’ve gratefully settled back into your weird, banterful friendship with him. Even if there’s still a lingering tension between the two of you that you refuse to acknowledge.

You nod thankfully back at him, excited to go to his house and take a much needed shower. At this point, going to his house has become second nature to you, and it gives you an excuse to not see Jungkook at your regular bus stop every day. You have half a mind to never fix your shower for that reason, but of course there is still the problem of having to deal with Jimin every time you need to bathe. You hardly consider yourself an impatient person, but Jimin likes to toe the line far more often than necessary.

You’re down to your last two tables before you can close up shop when your manager suddenly barrels right into your path. You nearly drop your tray of dirty dishes to the floor, holding in a loud yelp as your suspiciously stern-faced manager halts you in place.

“Ms. Y/N, may I have a word with you for a moment? It’s regarding your paycheck for the month,” he barks, lips downturned. He appears disgruntled about something, and it sends a worried shiver down your spine. And here you thought Fridays are meant to be fun. He doesn’t wait for you to reply before he stalks back to his office, an unspoken command for you to follow.

You unload your dishes in the kitchen before making your way to his office. The small, dark room is cramped with overflowing file folders and coupons from multiple take-out places. You accidentally step on a stack of papers, and upon further inspection, seem to be a pile of applications for new hires. You distinctly remember complaining to him months prior about being understaffed and him replying that no inquiries were coming in.

As you approach, your manager shuffles through your coworkers pay stubs, and you notice yours and Jungkook’s on top of the piles.

Manager Jeong clears his throat. “Well, Y/N. It seems to be your lucky day. As you know, we split the tips based on your hours and what sort of duties you fulfill. With the new hire we have as our in-house singer, we’ve had to split it one way more to accommodate his arrival. However, he has recently requested to me that his portion be reallocated… to you, Ms. Y/N.”

Your jaw drops immediately. “I-I don’t understand, Manager Jeong,” you sputter.

Manager Jeong snorts, bemused by your reaction. “Don’t understand? Well, I suppose you’ll have to ask Mr. Jeon if you want his reasoning. Regardless, since we normally deposit your salary straight to your bank account, would it be alright if I hand you his tips in cash for now? He only informed me about his request an hour ago, and the accountant has already clocked out for the week.”

All you can do is nod dumbly back at him. With a huff, your manager presses a white envelope into your hands before promptly ushering you out of his office. “Well, that's settled. Out you go! Have a good weekend, Ms. Y/N. Don’t forget to lock the register before you leave!” He calls out before slamming his door in your face.

It takes you a moment to reanimate back to life. You stare at the white envelope for a long while, unable to fathom the scribbled out name of Jeon Jungkook replaced with your own name. Then, you crumple it into your fist before stomping over to where Jungkook and the rest of the band are in the middle of packing it up for the night.

Jungkook looks up from his guitar case when he senses you fast approaching. For a fleeting second, a smile graces his handsome face before it’s smacked away by your crumpled envelope.

“Keep your fucking cash, Jungkook. What the hell is your problem?” You fume, cheeks heating from agitation. Jungkook splutters for a moment, prying the envelope away from his face and looking at it in bewilderment. When he sees it clearly, recognition dawns on his face, followed by guilt.

“It’s just… my way of saying sorry, I guess.” He answers you meekly, neck flushing red in embarrassment. Behind him, the rest of the band grow silent at the scene before them, and you debate on telling them to mind their own business when they quicken their pace to leave.

“Well, keep your apology to yourself. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you correct him with a frown. To offer an apology is to offer accountability. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to hear him say that.

“No, it’s a sorry for… using you, I suppose.”

“Using me?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “For what?”

Jungkook smiles wryly back at you. “For inspiration?” he clarifies. For being the reason I can sing? He leaves that part unsaid, but you can almost imagine him saying it.

You feel heat rising to your cheeks again, but this time you aren’t quite sure if it’s from embarrassment, anger… or something else.

Unable to conjure up a response to his simple confession, you stomp away from him with a pounding heart and shaking hands. You continue the rest of your closing shift routine instinctually, your body moving on autopilot as Jungkook’s words continue to ring inside your head. When all is said and done, Jimin makes his way to your station with a questioning stare, but you wave him off in favor of stomping ahead of him to the parking lot.

In his car, Jimin rattles off about his latest exploits and purchases, his grating voice a comfort for once. You hum noncommittally during his stories when appropriate, but you suppose your usual indifference feels different, even to Jimin's untrained ears.

At his house, you drift to his bathroom immediately. You already have a shirt button undone by the time you get a handle on the door when Jimin’s hand stops you in place. You can feel his warmth emanating against your back as he slowly pulls the bathroom door close. With a tired sigh, you reluctantly turn to face him and find him standing closer than you expected.

He has an arm resting above your head, effectively caging you. You feel your shoulders sag. Damn, here comes another confrontation. Why can’t everyone just leave you alone?!

“Talk to me,” he says. No, he demands.

You push him away weakly, but he hardly budges. “Nothing to talk about,” you lie. Had you no filter, you’d be word vomiting all over the place ages ago.

Jimin groans, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Enough with the emotional constipation. I’m here to listen, alright? No teasing or anything, I’m all ears and maybe a shoulder to cry on. Just don’t stain my Chanel top too bad,” he jokes.

You puff out a short breath—a sorry excuse for a laugh. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to talk about it, and that’s that.”

“It’ll make you feel a lot better, though,” he offers.

You scoff. “What makes you think that? What if I just want to ignore all my problems forever and never grow from it? Is that so bad?”

Jimin pushes himself away from you, raising his hands in mock defeat. “You’re so fucking annoying. Can you stop running away from your problems and talk to me? Hell, talk to Jungkook for all I care! Just stop being a doormat and speak your mind for once in your damn life!”

“What are you, my therapist?” You brush past him, shower all but forgotten. You begin toeing your shoes back on, ready to head home tired and smelly. At the very least, you won’t have to deal with this stupid annoying asshole any longer.

Jimin strides back towards you, but for once he doesn’t do anything to forcibly stop you. Jimin has always been gruff with you, not afraid to push and pull you in any which direction. It’s part of the reason why you can’t take him seriously, even though you’ve recently realized why he was always being such a prick towards you—

“Yeah, I’m not your therapist. But for better or for worse, I’m your friend and I—I fucking care about you, alright? And it sucks seeing that good-for-nothing stick his nose in your business and act like he can do anything without any repercussions.”

Is Jimin being for real right now? “With how often you look at yourself in the mirror, you’d think you’d be better at introspection,” is all you say to that. You shove your feet into your shoes, not caring that you’ve probably put them on wrong. Maybe it’s because it’s Friday and the fatigue from the week has finally settled deep in your bones, but you can’t help but leave one last scathing remark to drive the final nail in the coffin.

“You know, if you were a little nicer to me, maybe I would talk to you. Hell, maybe I’d like you back. But no, just keep being your domineering, asshole self and I’ll keep being the same fucking doormat bitch you know and love,” you spit, turning towards the door and away from his face. You’re not even curious to see how he reacts. “I don’t need protection, alright? When I tell you to stay out of my business, you stay out of it. So don’t try and pretend to be my knight in shining armor.”

There’s an ocean of silence, enough to hear a pin drop. The urge to apologize surges to the surface, but you stamp it down. He’s petty all the time, so now it’s your turn.

Okay, maybe that’s a little too mean on your part, but you’re exhausted. Perhaps it is true when they say you should never act on your anger when it’s past midnight. But can anyone blame you? You’re only a girl, and girls need to snap too.

When he responds, his voice sounds weak. Park Jimin, weak? It's almost unthinkable. "Why don't you trust me?"

Isn't it obvious? you want to say. But some mercy remains within you. You'll pick up the pieces another time. Instead, you rasp out, “Good night, Park. I’ll see you on Monday.”

The walk of shame back to your house is long and arduous. Your phone dings thrice, likely signaling texts from Jimin, but you turn it off without checking for sure. For once, the weight on your shoulders is slightly lighter. You huff out a dry laugh, realizing belatedly that maybe Jimin is right—maybe speaking your mind has its benefits.

There’s a small park in your neighborhood that you always pass by. You don’t remember the last time you spared it a second glance, but this time you notice a lone figure swinging back and forth, arching dangerously higher than what you would consider safe. From a distance, all you can make out are the person’s comically bright boots, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is without seeing their face.

Cosmos, or whoever it is that controls my life, why must you braid our strings of fate so tightly? You ask, but as always, it refuses to reply.

Against your better judgment, your feet bring you closer towards him. He has his back towards you, his feet pumping him higher and higher and you half expect him to swing in a perfect arc like a gymnast on parallel bars. You have to keep your distance a bit, lest you get the wind knocked out of you by his signature stompers.

You clear your throat, and the boy stops mid-swing and nearly catapults himself into the spongey, playground floor. Hunched over and wheezing, Jungkook directs his shocked eyes at you with a comical stare.

You raise a hand in greeting. A peace offering, maybe. “Hello—”

“I swear I’m not stalking you!” Jungkook interrupts as he scrambles to his feet. He bows deeply in remorse, the action so endearingly him. “S-sorry, I’ll make my way home now…”

“I don’t own the park, Jungkook. I was just saying hello…” You snort, wringing your hands uncomfortably. You grind your shoes into the ground, the sound of crunching leaves breaking the still air. “A-and… to say sorry, for earlier.”

“Sorry?” Jungkook repeats, confused. When he realizes what you mean, he waves his hands frantically. “No, no! Don’t be sorry! It was my fault for being so inconsiderate. I understand how you might misconstrue my actions, and I made things more awkward. I’ll consider your feelings more in the future…”

In the future… You cough, unwilling to meet his bright and honest gaze. If you stare too long, you fear you might go blind.

“I come here to the park often, when I feel too cramped inside my apartment,” Jungkook explains, frantic energy radiating off him in waves. He’s gesticulating too much, a clear sign that he’s trying to hide his nerves. You remember how he would do the same thing in high school, whenever he had to present his projects in front of the class.

You hold a hand up, a weak attempt to get him to calm down. “I’m not here to interrogate you. I just wanted to…” What is it that you wanted to do?

The two of you just stand awkwardly like that, similar to a few weeks ago when you discovered you were neighbors. You’re grasping at straws in your head, both conflicted for wanting to tell him something and running away. Even if you were to talk to him, what would you say? There’s a reason you told Jimin you didn’t want to talk—frankly, it’s mostly because you have no idea what to say or feel.

But you do know, the universe responds.

I ask you questions all the time, and this is how you respond?

Either that, or you’re going insane, the universe remarks.

Jungkook pulls out his phone, his fingers fumbling as he unlocks it. He takes a furtive step towards you, but thinks better of it. There’s a few feet of distance between you, but it feels like worlds apart. Close and yet so far. You recall how you’d easily pull him towards you in the past, how being together felt as natural as breathing.

“I know you absolutely hated it the last time I played my original song at the restaurant, so I refrained from performing any ever since that night. But that didn’t stop me from writing them. I was fine with keeping them locked in a vault forever, but…” He hesitates, searching you for any signs of discomfort. When he sees the carefully blank look on your face, he continues with trepidation.

“Can I try a song for you? You don’t have to say yes, and you’re free to tell me to fuck off and I’ll never even look at you ever again. Just…” He flails one last time, a choked sob making its escape from his throat.

Are you hopeless for wanting to say yes? Or were you reverting back to your old self who relied on him and believed in him so heavily? If you wanted him out of your life for good, you would have quit your job at the first sight of him. Maybe you were masochistic. Or maybe were you hopeful for a new start, a chance to rekindle a relationship that you’ve secretly always wanted to repair.

You have so much life ahead of you. Many more mistakes will be made and maybe they’ll haunt you when you’re older. But would it really be such a terrible gamble to take one more chance?

You nod, and seal your fate.

He presses play, and the soft strumming of a guitar fills the empty playground air.

Not for the first time, you wonder how it can be so easy for Jungkook to be so… honest. He spills his heart in every song that he writes, and you know he’s never been a great liar. He can’t help it, being genuine is in his DNA. This crashing waterfall, this boy with overflowing emotions—he sings what he thinks but feels terrified because of it. You might not understand his honesty, but you know that fear. You know it all too well.

He beholds himself to you—raw and unfiltered. A little battered and bruised, but still Jungkook. Behind everything, still the boy you’ve been yearning for.

Maybe this song is what will give you enough confidence to admit everything to him, too. As you stand there, listening to his mellow voice sing confessions to no one but you and the stars, you think you grow a little more courageous that day.

Maybe you won’t be able to tell him tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, nor next week either. But as you gaze back at his hopeful eyes, you know deep in your heart that you’ll find the words you’ve been looking for.

“I’ll keep waiting for you, if you let me.” Jungkook’s voice floats gently to you, and settles in your open palms. This time, you don’t let go

xxx

Months later, Jungkook stops working at the restaurant when an offer from a major record company arrives in his mail. Apparently, a big shot from the local radio station had pitched him to an employee at that company and they were all pleasantly surprised to find a hidden gem at a random bar and restaurant.

In your apartment, you stare outside your window and to where his home is—well, where it was. You wonder if he finished packing his things, ready to make the big move tomorrow. You stand up with a stretch, sparing a glance at your still broken shower. It would be nice to have one more shower at his place… And after that? Maybe you should start looking for a nicer apartment; somewhere far away might be nice.

Your phone rings, and you see his contact photo light up your screen. With a smile, you answer.

“Come over, if you want. I won’t make you,” Jungkook assures you.

You laugh lightly, already halfway out the door.

#bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bangtan #bts #bts fanfic

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moneypowerglorymiddleofmiami · 10 months ago

Text

— trickentine જ⁀➴♡ pt.2

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader

summary: after lord eros' silly little trick, you're now forced to deal with the consequences— more specifically, in the form of a lovestruck luke castellan.

warnings: tons of corny pick-up lines

genre: still very much a romcom

part 1

note: thank you, thank you! all your support for pt.1 means the world to me! really, i couldn't be more grateful 𖹭 i hope you think this brings justice to the first half 𖹭

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

“What do you mean you can’t do anything?” You suppressed the urge to shriek, settling for gritted emphasis instead. You crossed your arms across your chest, your foot tapping impatiently against the wooden floorboards of the Big House.

“Exactly what it means.” Chiron responded, looking at Luke with more amusement rather than concern.

“But he's under a spell,” You reasoned in disbelief. You might have spilled over your words while you explained the rundown to Chiron, but they were coherent enough to at least get that point across.

“It’ll wear off eventually, kid.” Mr. D downed an entire can of diet soda in one go before procuring another one in his outstretched hand. He snickered at the intent puppy eyes Luke was giving you. “That type of love magic won’t last long. Best to let it run its course than tamper with it.”

“But–” You wanted to argue before Mr. D stopped you. He pushed his feet up on his desk.

“Look, at least this proves that your boyfriend actually loves you.” He gave you a pointed look. What does that even mean? “Now, leave.”

You huffed indignantly, but decided against speaking further. You begrudgingly turned around and pulled Luke up by his arm, guiding him towards the narrow hallway that led to the foyer.

“When did I become your boyfriend?” Luke huddled closer to you, whispering as you made your way to the front door.

“You didn’t.” You told him plainly. You shook your head. “You aren’t.”

“Yet.” He responded, his tone a bit mischievous but his gaze sure and determined.

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

You leaned your elbows against the table of the crowded Arts and Crafts Center, your chin resting against the pad of your thumbs. You studied Luke with a contemplating gaze.

“I hit you with one of Eros’ arrows.” You told him. This was hardly the proper place to have this conversation, but the rest of the Aphrodite cabin practically hauled you to the building to begin Valentinkering? Valenmaking? (whatever in Tartarus they decided to call it this year).

“Well, I guess you could say I’ve been lovestruck by you.” He said, giving you a stupid little wink as he mirrored your posture.

“Gods, Luke. That was corny as hell.” You flushed almost as crimson as the container of beads in front of you. “Also, I’m serious.”

“And who said I wasn’t?” He challenged. He smirked against his fist, wiggling his eyebrows.

You snorted. “The fact that you’re under some valentine voodoo makes all your intentions questionable.”

“You wound me.” He feigned offense, pouting as he clutched at the fabric of his shirt above his chest. “To be fair, my train of thought has always been questionable when it comes to you.”

“Again: unimpressed.” You buried your face into your hands, the second hand embarrassment of his poor attempt at flirting was overwhelmingly potent. Besides, it was difficult not to react when he looked at you so intently, like he was trying to memorize every minute detail of you.

“On a more serious note, I do remember the whole arrow thing.” He told you, his lips pursed. “I don’t blame you; it was a complete accident. It just feels… odd.”

Your ears perked up, worried. “You feel odd?”

“No,” He shook his head. His expression was perplexed, maybe a bit incredulous too. “That’s the thing. I feel completely normal.”

“That is weird.” You agree. You wrap the string in between your fingers around his wrist, measuring it to his size. "Maybe it was just a prank?"

“No. If anything, it’s more like I can’t hold my tongue.” He shrugs. “I can’t help but say what I think.”

“Would that explain the flirting?” You tease. All cheeky, but with a hint of curiosity hidden beneath the humor.

He leaned in, smirking. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You stare at him, tilting your head. He returns your gaze just as intensely, brown eyes fixed onto yours. He raises an eyebrow as if to question your silence. There was something magnetic between the two of you, pulsing and pulling you closer— maybe not physically, but definitely in other ways unbeknownst to you.

“Woah!” Percy exclaimed with an accusatory edge to his tone, his eyebrows furrowed in disbelief and his palms raised as if to distance himself from you. “Respect for the children, maybe? Consider shielding my young impressionable eyes from this trauma?”

“Percy!” You squeaked rather uncharacteristically. Annabeth trailed behind closely, pushing a leg over the bench to sit beside you. You smiled at her, tugging her closer by placing your arm around her shoulders.

“Annabeth,” Luke called. “Trade places with me.”

Annabeth furrowed her eyebrows in confusion before narrowing her eyes in suspicion. “No.”

“Come on.” He persisted. He leaned in, almost conspiratorial. “You know, the Stoll brothers have an extensive archive, and I think I may have heard word of them having that Rem Kolhaas book you've been raving about."

Annabeth stopped to consider the offer before ultimately conceding. She stood up from her seat. “That’s a big bribe for a small favor.”

“Know what prices to pay to win your battles.” Luke muttered as he sidled up next to you, grinning triumphantly. His fingers played with the hem of your weathered camp shirt. “Sacrifices aren’t much in the face of victory.”

“Did you just use a bad battle strategy as a flirting tactic?” Annabeth scrunched her nose in distaste. “Gross.”

"Done." You finish tying up the ends, letting the red bracelet dangle in Luke's line of vision.

"It looks so pretty, baby." He compliments you, holding out his wrist. You proudly put it on for him. "Not as pretty as you though."

You scoff. Both Annabeth and Percy imitate gagging noises.

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

The only time you ever truly left each other’s side were the few moments of reprieve before dinner where you’d returned to your cabins. The older campers insisted on making the meal a whole affair, complete with a romantic candlelit set-up and a string quartet to serenade everyone. Chiron decided to indulge the request and sent everyone back to freshen up.

“Have fun with your boyfriend?”

“Christ!” You jumped in your spot, turning around to see Eros laying on one of the bunks. His arms were tucked underneath his head, his smile suggestive and knowing.

“Lord Eros,” You bowed.

“That is not your shade.” He tutted, pointing to the tinted gloss in your hand. “Too summery for your complexion this time of year. Go for the pink one. He’ll go berserk.”

“Thanks.” You muttered, facing your vanity once more. You dabbed the product against your lips. You sighed as you inspected your make-up. Once more, he was right.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He shifted to his side, looking at you expectantly.

“Yeah, I guess.” You grumbled. You looked down, pretending to look for something in your drawer so he wouldn’t notice the blush creeping up your cheeks. Luke refused to leave your side the entire day— his fingers hooked around the belt hoops of your skirt in one way or another. He made a whole spectacle of it too: his big brown eyes tender, his wistful sighs, his shy grins, his playful winks.

“Good.” He clapped his hands. “Gods, the boy has had a crush on you for forever, you know. It was torture watching him pine over you. I can only take so much longing.”

You froze, staring at him through the mirror. He stared back at you.

“What?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know,” He sounded shocked; he was shocked. “You’re a daughter of Aphrodite, how could you not know?! That's like our thing!”

“Well, he hasn’t been obvious, has he?” You rebutted, flicking your wrist.

“Sis, I don’t know what reality you’re living in,” He sat up on the bed, “But that boy wouldn’t know subtle even if it hit him in the face.”

“But surely it’s just because of the arrows.” You rationalized.

“Nuh uh.” He wiggles a finger in the air to deny the accusation. “The arrows you used just accentuate pre-existing feelings. Not make new ones.”

A knock interrupts your conversation. You hurry to fix your hair, brushing it out of the way. Your hands begin to shake with giddy excitement. You feel your heart thrum strongly against your chest, almost wanting to burst out from the confines of your body and find its other half in Luke. Your smile eventually becomes hard to contain.

Eros beams at you, his pupils dilating into hearts again like it did this morning. He opens the door for you and pushes you out. “Have fun with lover boy. Mother sends her regards.”

Luke spins around at the sound of the squeaky hinges. He can't help but pull a hand out of his pocket, his palm lightly grazing his chest. He whistles. “Call me favored by the gods because I think I’ve just entered Elysium.”

“You’ve been with me the whole day.” You responded pointedly, breathless and in love.

“And yet you still manage to take my breath away.” He gasps when you rush into him, wrapping your arms around his nape.

“This is new.” He looks down at you, your noses touching. His hands fall naturally to your hips, his thumbs rubbing against the fabric of your dress. “But definitely welcome.”

You gaze into his eyes before pressing your lips against his. They felt pleasant and pliant against your own. You tugged Luke closer, your fingers twirling through his curls. His hands squeezed your skin. The kiss burned sweetly, almost as if it’s been waiting in anticipation to happen.

When you both separate for air, Luke gently grabs your hands from behind him. He wraps his fists around yours, placing soft kisses on your knuckles. “I’ve been waiting so long for that.”

“So I’ve been told.” You hum. “I figured I might take the first step.”

“Don’t worry.” He presses another kiss against your lips, short and sweet. “I promise to match your pace the rest of the way.”

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺

taglist: @ace-spades-1 @patitotodd @fandomthings-blog @bugcuti3 @liv1104 @mindflay3r

#luke castellan #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo tv series #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy series

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 10 months ago

Text

Little Girl Gone

Been a While Since My Head Was This Polluted (3)

Mob Boss!Natasha x Mob Boss!Fem!Reader, Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x Mob Boss!Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!, Starts with smut, some angst, and a lot of fluff. There are depictions of abuse (physical and s*xual) please read at your own caution, knife play, Dark!Daddy!Natasha, Nat has a dick, use of a whip, breeding, Nat doesn't give aftercare, Wanda does help with aftercare.

Word count: 3.3K

A/N: I normally don't write Nat like this, and it was actual hard given my own past, but in this story, Nat is the bad guy, unfortunately for her.

Your knees ached as a harsh slap came across your face, a wet pop as her cock fell out of your mouth leaving you gaping and drooling. You stared up at her, eyes hazy and glossy. You’d allowed yourself to fall into subspace just so you didn’t have to think about it anymore.

“I know you can do better than that slut.” Natasha growls, gripping your cheeks and pulling you back onto her cock. She holds the back of your head still while she pounds against your face, gagging and choking on her member as she hits the back of your throat. Drool falling onto your tits and lap. A different wetness pooling between your legs.

You hated Natasha and how she treated you, you truly did, but still your body reacted like this because she had trained it to do so. As much as you tried to stop it she still held this power over you. You could tell she was getting close and as your braced yourself to take her load down your throat she pulled out. Looking up at her once again she looked down at you with anger as she gripped your hair, not giving you a chance as she started to pull you by your hair to the bed.

The sensation burned against your scalp as you stumbled and struggled to keep up with Natasha as she threw you against the bed. You heard the familiar sound of her knife making your eyes widen.

“N-Nat-“ Her knife against your throat in an instant. Eyes wide and cold looking insane as she stared at you.

“That’s not my name.” She pushed the knife further against your throat; terrifying you.

“Daddy! Daddy! I’m sorry!” The knife was pulled back slightly as she smiled down at you.

“Good slut.” She let the knife scrap against your skin, not enough to cut just enough to leave raised red lines across your skin. It’s not like she had never actually cut into you, because she had and you still look at the scars everyday.

“D-Daddy...c-can we not use the k-knife?” your voice wavers and she stops a moment before letting the knife dig in ever so slightly making you yelp in pain.

“You aren’t supposed to be thinking big thoughts right now.” She pulls away, letting the knife fall while she goes off to grab something. When you looked you noticed exactly what she had pulled out; a whip. Fumbling back slightly at the memories of her using that on you. “Stomach. Now.” When you hesitate she flip's you herself sending down a harsh impact which would definitely leave its mark as will all subsequent hits as she grabs your hips, pulling you towards the edge of the bed so she can plow into you.

As her hips move at a painful force, stretching you out painfully as she continued the assault on your back you cried out, tears streaming down your face.

“S-sorry Daddy...m’sorry....please Dadddy!” You mumble out the only coherent thing you can manage as she continues until she’s grunting and moaning over you. The whipping has stopped only to be replaced with her much cooler body against your hot back feeling a bit of relief until her mouth starts biting into your skin, leaving their own marks as you scream out.

“Mmmm love hearing your screams baby girl and those tears of yours are more beautiful than ever. Fuck you’re gonna make Daddy cum. You’re gonna take all of it like a good girl right? Daddy’s gonna fill you up and breed that pretty pussy till it’s all full.” She growled in your ear, biting along your neck.

“Yes Daddy! Daddy!”Was all you could manage in hopes that once this was over it would be over as you felt her fill you up and groaning. It had been so long since you had felt that as Natasha pulled your face to kiss you roughly as she continued to cum inside of you, biting her bottom lip roughly, tugging as you tasted her blood in your mouth. Smirking as you pulled away from her. Her blood in your mouth and dribbling down your chin. She was pissed off until she saw that look on your face and it turned into one of her seeming almost impressed.

“Ready for round 2?” She smirked and your face paled. You should have known Natasha was never satisfied with one round.

============================

You managed to stumble into your room, not even really noticing Wanda until she was at your side. Her words didn’t register at first since aftercare wasn’t something Natasha didn’t care for you were still trying to pull yourself together. Wanda gently pulled your face to meet hers as she took in all the marks she could see and you took her in.

“Y/N did Natasha do this to you? Did she hurt you?” Wanda’s words finally becoming clear to you. Words were hard right now as you took Wanda gently by just her pointer finger, tugging gently back to the bed. Moving the book she had been reading out of the way as you got onto the bed and so did she.

You looked at Wanda for a moment looking into her eyes and she cupped your swollen cheek. “Did she hurt you because of me?” You shook your head. Pushing lightly on her shoulder until she laid back and you gently and carefully cuddled up against her side. You let out a shaky sigh of relief as you breathed in Wanda’s scent of vanilla. As careful as Wanda tried to be with holding you recognizing that you needed it in this moment though every touch hurt it did still bring you comfort as you closed your eyes.

Wanda starts singing softly, a lullaby, you assume at least since she’s singing in Russian which you’d recognize anywhere now. You’d only ever been yelled at in Russian, but Wanda made the harsh words that had normally been thrown at you so soft, you could almost fall asleep like this.

Eventually as you slowly come out of subspace thanks to Wanda you tighten your grip on her, looking up at her and she gives you a soft smile,

“Hi...welcome back dorogoya.” You give a small smile back.

“I’m sorry about that...”Wanda shakes her head.

“No don’t none of that. Whatever it is that you did you did an amazing job Dorogoya. You needed to rest a bit and that is perfectly okay. I’m here for you. You saved me and my boys so the least I can do is be your pillow while you come back to reality.” Wanda cups your cheek so gently, in a way that you aren’t used to and you’re half expecting a slap to come, but it doesn’t all Wanda does is gently rub circles with her thumb.

“Thank you then. I appreciate it.”

“We still need to clean your wounds. I didn’t want to bother you before you were ready, but your shirt is sticking to you by blood. We need to wash your face too. Come on lets go to the bathroom. I saw the big first aid kit you have in there.” Wanda helps you up. “Come on Dorogoya. I’ve got you.” You almost forgot what it’s like to be doted on by a mom.

She gets you to sit on the lip of the tub which is 1. Huge, and 2. Surrounded by its own ceramic tiling so sitting there wasn’t so dangerous.

She helped get you out of your shirt and tank top which hurt immensely as the half dried blood stuck to the shirt, making the wounds all reopen.

“Fuck.” You hissed as Wanda coos and soothes you back down. Getting a warm, damp towel for your back. You grip your hands into fists and cruse Natasha for this and then yourself for allowing it to happen.

“What did she do?” Wanda asks trying to distract you.

“She agreed to leave you alone if I slept with her one last time.” You admit to the red head.

“And you said no that’s why you’re so beat up, right?” You don’t answer and you don’t dare look at her. You know you’ll break if you do. “Right, Y/N?” You shake your head. “What do you mean no?” She gently pulls your chin to look at her. “She did this to you while...” Wanda’s voice trails off when she sees the the tears welling up in your eyes.

“I did this so it doesn’t happen to you. I won’t let her touch you. Ever.” Your hand finds her thigh and grips. “I promise. Even when you and the boys leave. I won’t let her. If she ever did....I’d kill her.” A heat rises in your chest, anger. You’d never been angry at anything Natasha did to you, but the thought of her doing those same things to Wanda? To the boys? Your blood boiled at the thought.

“Y/N....dorogoya...” She cupped both your cheeks letting your foreheads rest against each others. “I don’t ever want to see you like this again because of her or anyone else for that matter. Seeing you walk in like that scared me. I was so worried especially seeing all that blood on you. I was so worried. I know you don’t want to see me like this, but I also don’t want to see you like this now that I have and I know how it makes me feel.” Wanda’s voice was breathy and full of emotion. Tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as her thumbs rubbed against your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful. I promise.” You lean into one of her hands, closing your eyes as you move against it.

“Thank you. Now let’s finish getting you all cleaned up.” Wanda smiles blinking away the tears as she starts working again.

You couldn’t properly put into words how appreciative you were of Wanda taking care of you, giving you the after care you needed desperately in that moment.

As she bandaged you all up she helped you put on some loose and comfy pajamas already saying, ‘work is done for today. Carol can handle it.’ Which made you laugh as the two of you headed to the kitchen.

=============================

“Oh I am so going to kick your ass!” You call out as you clicked a button letting the blue shell go hitting Tommy in game as you passed him and took first place. Jumping up and doing a little victory dance.

“Y/N could you go easy on them? They’re children.” Wanda calls over her shoulder from the other side of the room where she was reading a comic.

“Sorry Wands Mario Kart is a cruel game and you must learn at a young age patawan.” You smirked at Tommy grabbing him in a hold and giving him a noogie as he tried to squirm away.

“I’m gonna win next time!” Tommy called out.

“You’re on little man.” You look over at Billy. “You want in on this round mister man?” Billy shook his head. He tended to not like competitive games and that was fine with you.

You play a few more rounds with Tommy until he wins one and that’s enough for him before he’s whining over the couch, “Mom what’s for dinner?” He asks and Wanda looks up and at you.

“Why are you looking at me?”

“Don’t you have cooks and maids? Shouldn’t you know what they’re making?” She asks and you shrug.

“They cook what I ask them to. I don’t eat much so they always wait until I go and ask. They give me a few options and I either pick from them or I tell them what I want.” You look at the boys who have mischievous looks on their faces. “No you are not allowed to ask for desserts for dinner. Proper dinner boys!” You call after them as they rush out the door and you hear them both go “Awww man...” You and Wanda share a laugh as she sets the comic down on the table and gets up.

“Let’s go make sure they don’t bribe the cooks.” Wanda says as she walks past you.

It’s been a week now since she’s been here. Natasha has left you both alone for the time being. Wanda hadn’t mentioned anything about wanting to leave, but after that night with Natasha she always hugged you before you left saying, ‘Be safe. We’re here waiting for you to come home safe.’ It warmed your heart to know Wanda was thinking of your house as home.

As the two of you walk down the long hallway to the kitchen your hands brush against each other. You notice Wanda pull back slightly with a blush on her face and you bite your lip before reaching out to hold her hand. Letting your fingers lace together. You look over at her and smile, she gives you a smile back.

“Is this okay?” You ask.

“Yeah...this is okay...more than okay...” She reassures you, not letting go until you two are just at the kitchen’s threshold, the twins trying to convince the cooks to cook them some sweet treat filled dish that Wanda sighs and goes to put an end to it as you lean against the big kitchen island, watching the domestic moment, wanting to join in on it, but holding yourself back.

“How about tendies and fries!?” You finally call out when the boys continue to try various ideas.

“Heck yeah!” Tommy calls out fist bumping the air.

“Yes! Can we do nuggets too?” Billy asks and you smile, walking over and ruffling his hair lovingly.

“Of course mister man.” You smile at the boys and look at the cooks. “Tendies, nuggets, and fries tonight.”

“Ma’am which kind of fries?” The head cook asks and you look at the boys.

“Curly.” Tommy says.

“Steak!” Billy overlaps with his brother.

“Shoestring.” You add after the boys and smile at the cooks before looking at Wanda. “Would you like anything sweetie or are you okay with the choices made?” Wanda smiles at you before requesting if she could cook her own dinner. “Of course you can sweetie. If that’s what you want to do. I’d love to try some of your cooking.” Wanda gives you a sweet smile before heading off with the cooks to see what was laying around as you watch her work while the boys run off to some fun corner of the house knowing they’d be called by one of the workers around the house once dinner was ready.

Wanda pulled her hair back into a half up do with a bun and pulled her sleeves up while she pulled out different ingredients while she did so you felt the presence of someone behind you.

When you looked you found Maya. The almost permeant scowl on her face was gone momentarily as you signed, “What’s got you smiling?”

“Made a good deal. We can talk after dinner. Just wanted to let you know I was back safe.” She signed back putting a hand on your shoulder, but Maya knew you better as you stood and hugged her. With your back turned to Wanda you didn’t notice the look she gave the, to you, seemingly small act of affection you tended to hand out amongst your found family.

=============================

The two of you are on opposite sides of the bed, the overhead lights have long since been shut off, but your bedside lamps created a soft glow across the room and the only noises to be heard were your clicking of keys against your laptop, going over some documents that had been sent your way for review. Every so often the turning of a page from Wanda’s side.

You pushed your blue light glasses up, rubbing your eyes and let out a yawn. You’d been at this for hours and felt like you barely made a dent since you had neglected them all weekend.

“Y/N?” You hear Wanda’s voice carry through the quiet room, turning your head to look at the woman you some how found yourself sharing a bed with. She took you looking at her as enough to continue. “That woman who came home just before dinner, is she like your girlfriend or something?” She asks with such a confidence and even a hint of jealousy that it makes you reel back a bit before you can even respond to the older woman.

“No. That’s Maya, she runs things with me. We were both in similar situations where we were used by someone else and in wanting to prove ourselves now find ourselves in charge of our own families now.” You take the laptop, setting it aside as you move closer to Wanda. “Maya and I found each other at probably our lowest points and if it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t be where I am now. I owe her a great deal and vice versa, but there’s nothing between us. I’m just...I tend to remind everyone that it’s okay to still have emotions because Natasha tried to take that from me. She tried to take everything from me Wanda and I won’t let that happen to anyone I know. Everyone who follows me is allowed to feel whatever feelings they have. Anger, sadness, happiness, love...”

You find your eyes flicking between Wanda’s eyes and her lips. How could you even begin to think of anyone besides her? Sure the two of you weren’t together, but you found yourself sharing a bed. She’d see you off in the mornings, she’d give you hugs and chaste kisses on the cheek upon your arrival home, she’d help clean your wounds.

Wanda had wormed her way into your life in such a short time and she had you thinking about her constantly, you loved coming home where as you slipped off your shoes and suit jacket she’d round the corner to embrace you. Her warmth enveloping your whole being as her now familiar scent of vanilla bringing comfort to every fiber of your being.

“Y/N?” Wanda’s voice brought you back, making you take notice of how close you had brought yourself. A red flush covering Wanda’s cheeks. Instinctively you reach out to cup her cheek.

“How could I even think of wanting someone else when the most beautiful woman sleeps beside me every night?” You raise an eyebrow at her, your voice filled with confidence. You don’t think about it much before you let your lips connect. She’s so soft against your own as you feel her arms wrap around you, pulling you on top of her as she leans back. Your lips move against each other and you hear a soft moan from her.

You pull back, making her chase your lips momentarily before she gives up with a whine. You smirked down at her, leaning back in to kiss her forehead.

“If you want more you can have all the kisses you want.” You whisper against her forehead, she nuzzles against your cheek a smile playing on her lips. “If you want me that is...”

“Of course I want you Y/N...why would you doubt that?” Her voice waivers a bit as you pull back to look her in the eyes.

“Wanda, I’m the head of a mafia family. My whole life screams nothing, but danger. You have two ten year old boys to take care of-“ You’re cut off by Wanda kissing you once more, your train of thought completely derailed.

“You said it yourself Y/N there is no safer place than with you.” Wanda reminded you of your words. You look into her green eyes finding nothing, but love in them, feeling her fingertips run over the scars on your back.

She knows what’s she’s getting into. You know she does, and yet you are all she wants. There is no hesitation in her actions or words. So you have no choice but to let yourself fall into her.

#ley writes #ley speaks #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanov #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #natasha x you

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gigisdoll · 8 months ago

Text

CW: nonconᯓ★dubcon, bullying, g!p, degradation,dacryphillia, manipulation, pretty unhealthy relationships... , barely any dayeon </3, somnophillia, fingering.

PAIRINGS: harin x reader, dayeon x reader

WC: 2743

NOTES; wsg gang!! lil drabble for that anon!!

During the whole time you've been in class 5, you never went above grade D. Resulting in you getting, well, bullied. Grade F's are ridiculed, and you and Jaeun just so happen to be in grade F. You tried protecting Jaeun, begging all Dayeon, Wooyi, Harin and etcetera to leave her alone and deal all the punches towards you. But of course most wouldn't listen, you'd find yourself often tending to the bruises or mental marks Dayeon or Harin would leave on poor ole' Jaeun. You go along with Jaeun in not participating in the pyramid game, you deleted the app long ago so you wouldn't even have access to the voting system.

you were Dayeon's main target to bully, you were much less cooperative than Jaeun, making the 'chase' fun. she doesn't like when Seol ah is there to kick your ass as well, she thinks you and her have much better 'chemistry' than you and seol ah. And that whenever Dayeon and you were alone was much more special than when Wooyi is annoyingly laugh at your miserable state, or Seol ah continuously beat you down. Dayeon's whistle rang through your ear behind you "Y/n-ah, don't you think you've been abit neglectful? " Dayeon pouted after kicking the back of your legs causing you to fall hard to the ground "Hope that didn't bruise... " Dayeon smiled once again, you've been ignoring her tries to either annoy or bully you for days now. Her anger building up for days now, you were unable to ignore this. You hissed as the pain finally settled in, bringing your knees up to sooth the pain inflicted towards them. "Aww, did i hurt you? " Dayeon said sarcastically, rubbing the back of your knee, and suddenly gripping your thigh causing you to whimper and your eyes to blur with small tears, that started to drip down on ur cheeks, ur cheeks flushing as well, making them slightly red "Y/n-ah, you look so cute like this you know? "

Dayeon's hands are slipping up ur skirt and inching towards ur cunt " I missed this so much, i bet you missed this more than me" she smirked as her index and middle finger slid up and down "I bet you're wet, fucking painslut." her finger hooked the top of your panties, taking them off swiftly making you squeal. 'Course you wanted her to stop, it was barely 15 minutes before the bell rang, but you can't stop a grade A, you're a mere grade F. If you did stop her, worse would happen, so you allow her fingers in, you allow her inside of your cunt. "Fuck you're always so tight, you're loving this aren't you?" your slick covered her tip, allowing it to squeeze in easily along with the rest of her length. She laid you on the ground of the locked classroom, thrusting all of herself inside of you, resulting in you gasping in both pain and pleasure; more on pain. Nonetheless you tightened around her cock, causing her to moan as she pounded inside of you "Gosh- y/n-ah, how....are you always so-so tight? " you felt lightheaded, your mind was fuzzy, and your vision was clouded. All you could kind of coherently feel or hear was Dayeon's cock, and words, her words encouraging your tears as her cock slammed in and out of you. "Cant you speak? fucking whore. Too fucked out now aren't you? " all you could do was nod, the only words coming out of your mouth were small thank you's and cries for more "You wan' more? huh? beg harder and maybe i will" she smirked once more as her cock throbbed and throbbed inside of you as your cunt tightened again. "Please- please! i wan- i want more! dayeon please.. " you whined loudly as she started pounding faster and harder.

Her desperate thrusting was met with your hips which at this point had a mind of its own, as they tried to meet her thrusts. Her groans and gasps increased as her speed quickened as well. Your hands grasped Dayeon's hands, as her hips stopped and dug her cock deeper inside of you as her cum spurted out inside of You. You were left breathless and overstimulated as Dayeon cleaned herself up and left the locked classroom. You sat yourself up and put ur panties back on shamefully, grabbing your backpack and walking out in a disheveled state. You walked straight to the bathroom, hoping it wouldn't be hard to make your hair look decent enough to not look funky. After fixing yourself up, you walked out of the bathroom and went to your classroom, putting faith in the fact that the bell didn't ring during... Your uhm 'talk' with Dayeon.

"Y/n! " Jaehyung said, walking up to you "You look... worse than usual... not saying you look bad normally at all! It's just you look a bit unkempt... was it Dayeon? " you nod, not wanting her to ask why. She just nodded and gave a thumbs up before grabbing you and pulling you to the rest of the friend group. "Let's go to the convenience store after school, i need to discuss some things with you guys, okay? " Suji told the 3 of you, texting Yelim the information. Your homeroom teacher came in as the chatter and laughter of the students quiet down "Students, please sit and settle down there is some news to share" he waited for all of you to go sit on your respective chairs, and hush down " Thank you, I will inform all of you again that there will be a class field trip tomorrow, please if you haven't already ask your parents for consent. " the class erupted in gasps, and conversations. "Again please settle down since your first class will start shortly, oh and also y/n? you're being called to the principal's office... please be there" he left after saying that as your classmates start gossiping about why you were called.

you walked to the office steadily, but anxiously as well. what reason does the principal need you for? you fidget with your fingers, hoping it wasn't anything about your scholarship. "y/n! " harin smiled, but there was something wrong, something underneath that smile that'll tear you up to bits "harin... where's the principal? " harin slightly widened her smile "i called you silly! what? did you think it was something about your scholarship? " she slowly walked towards you menacingly, her finger lifting slowly "why do you think i called you here? " "if-if this is something about jaeun i wont answer. " "it's nothing about jaeun, it's about you y/n-ah" she looked psychotic, her eyes looking into yours "y/n-ah, have you... been messing with kim dayeon? " your eyes widened, how did she find out? why would... she want to? "look y/n. don't lie to me, dayeon brags about you, all, the fucking time. that you feel so tight. or that you never, say no. " harin grips your hand harshly causing you to hiss and try to pull it back.

"don't you dare try to escape this y/n, don't you think i deserve to try you a little? out of all people? " she tilted her head slightly. your eyes glisten hoping you won't need to do this again " y/n, do you want me to tell the chairwoman you got fucked by dayeon on school premises... with no shame? " "no! no! harin please! i promise i'll do anything! just.. don't do that! " you couldn't afford to lose this scholarship. harin knew that, and she loved the superiority she felt blackmailing you. "don't you want me to be happy? or do you want me to suffer? " your heart breaks when even thinking about harin being sad, because of you nonetheless. "no! i don't, i didn't mean it harin! whatever you want to make you happy... even if it's, this... " harin smirked at your submission, your weakness was always one she used. your caring nature backfires severely when it comes to harin "i knew you wanted this. " smiling, her hands dropped down to your skirt, "i've been... waiting for so long y/n-ah, you care for me so much, your willing to give up your dignity just so i'm happy? " her smile this time was genuine, the way you submitted so easily into her turned her on. the fact you'd give up your integrity showed you definitely wanted this.

"y/n-ah... suck my cock, will you? " the request shocked you, her hands pushing you down onto the floor as she looked at you with a playful smile, as if she was just gonna play with you... well she was, just in a different way! "didn't you hear me? suck my dick y/n. dont make me fucking wait. " she said, authority lacing her already harsh tone. she lifted her skirt, her cock protruding through her panties "go on. don't be shy, i know you've done this before" her degrading words making you blush as you took off her panties, her cock slapping your face with pre-cum. she shoved her cock down your throat when u opened your mouth to gasp about the length. her hands were around your head, and her teeth bit her bottom lip as your head was forcefully bobbed up and down. her stomach twitched up and down as her head leaned back up, her mouth slowly opening. "fuck- y/n- did dayeon teach you well? huh? " her stomach flexed as her dick throbbed in your mouth "hah- fuck" a slew of her cum came straight down your throat, your eyes watered as you tried gasping for air. "swallow all i give you y/n." she said sternly, making sure not even a drop comes out of your mouth. "get up, lay down on the couch. "you looked almost dumbfounded, she wasn't done with you? " did you think i'm done with you? i'm not like dayeon, i don't last just a round y/n."

your panties were wet and slick, harin smirked "did sucking my cock make you wet? fucking cockwhore. " your panties were ripped away from you. harin's cock head met your entrance, bullying its way through your tight walls "fuck- dayeon wasn't lying when she said- fuck... you were tight" you start crying, the pain from the stretch of her girth was immensely painful but it felt good, you felt woozy when her cock started thrusting, "so pretty when u cry, y/n-ah. i love making u cry, so- so pretty for me" you try grabbing her shoulder, trying to ground yourself as the pleasure truly takes over your mind. "can't you answer me? did u turn dumb on my cock? huh? " you couldn't say coherent words in sequence, all the words you could say were slurred and incoherent. harin felt superior, you going silly on her cock was such an ego boost. the tip of her cock slammed hit spots u didn't even know existed. "am i bigger than dayeon? " she was, but were you gonna tell her that? no. "answer me, or u just can't talk? can dayeon fuck you this good? huh?" she took both your hands on her own, restricting your movement even more. pushing your legs up on her shoulders, her head tilting forward on your neck. her groans in your ear were inconsistent and loud, your back arched as your eyes rolled back from the pounding harin was giving you, your cunt squeezed around her cock tightly.

her stomach tensed as the knot snapped inside of you, a heap of her cum spurted out inside of you. her hips plowed themselves deeper inside of you, and you felt so warm and full, you almost cried from the pleasure of the overstimulation. "shit- fuck... don't tell anyone about this... see you on the field trip y/n..." she said as she pulled out her flaccid cock out of you

it's the day of the field trip, you were really hoping you wouldn't be chosen to be in harin's group but rather in suji's but considering both dayeon and harin were in the same group you were sure it'd be almost impossible you wouldn't be in their group. "y/n! let's go now! wouldn't wanna be left right? " jaehyung said, grabbing your arm and leading you to the bus "sit next to me! " you both ran up the stairs of the bus and sat straight at the back, while waiting for the others you decided to take a nap on jaehyung's shoulder to pass the time until you were at your destination. "jaehyung! hey can i sit next to y/n instead? " "oh... harin? uhm sure... " jaehyung was hesitant to let her sit next to you, she knows your history with her. "thank you jaehyun, now please, move. " jaehyung got up, but not before she woke you up to warn the person switch. "hi harin... " you were scared, you didn't really like sitting next to harin, it would almost be impossible for you not to be. harin wasn't a person to be vulnerable with, you especially shouldn't. "hi y/n..., you should sleep in my room, yeah? " you wanted to say no, but you couldn't, it'll be a death sentence to say no. "yes, i will.. "

you leaned on the window instead, the bus giving you almost no comfort, but you'd rather not sleep on the hard rocky floor than on harin. the road was bumpy and rough, resulting in you not being able to even take a nap. you had nothing to do, you had no data, signal or wifi! gosh... what could you do?

harin eyed you with the same emotionless eyes she gave everyone. she observed your restlessness, the way you kept trying to sleep, the way your head was almost falling from your sleepiness. "y/n...you know, you can also sleep on my shoulder... right? " you would prefer if you didn't, but the drowsiness you felt was overpowering your logical senses and a stable place to lie your head looked like heaven. you could only obediently nod and recline on her shoulder. your eyes almost immediately shut as the sleepiness took over your body leaving you vulnerable.

vulnerable was one of the only states of being harin actually liked you being in. where you wouldn't feel a hand slipping into your panties, where you wouldn't feel a finger or two sliding up and then down on your folds, collecting your slick, where you would barely feel the tip of harin's finger, where harin wouldn't care if you woke up after she plunged two fingers inside of your wet cunt. you gasp awake, you felt full as you felt two slender fingers slither into you. "ha-harin... " "dont say a word or else the chairwoman will know how much of a fucking slut you are." you clung to harin's arm tightly, your velvety walls squeezed around her fingers as you tried to hold in all of your whines. your forehead dripped in sweat as the anxiety of getting caught settled in, your mouth gaped open while her digits worked on your sweet wet cunt. "you feel so warm y/n...don't you wish it was my cock instead of my fingers? " all you could mutter out were small whimpers "answer me." harin said, curling her fingers up so it reaches even deeper than before "y-yes...harin... i- i wish it was your cock instead... " you said breathlessly, you clasped harin's arm just as the pleasure took over, dumbing you down. "i love making you a brainless slut infront of me, fucking you mindless infront of all of our classmates and they don't even know, whore" all of harin's mean words encouraged your orgasm. her fingers hit your g-spot a multitude of times, your eyes blur cause they were on the verge of tears from both the pleasure and pain of harin's fingers.

harin felt your orgasm long before you did, the tightening of your gummy walls indicated your climax "cum, in front of all your friends y/n...do it" you bit your lip hard hoping it deafens your long and drawn out moan. you came on harin's fingers, the white hot pleasure went straight to your brain, you felt overstimulated from all of the pleasure you felt. you black out from all of it, your mouth was open, drool came down from your mouth "i'll use that gaping mouth when you wake up from your little nap, night y/n..."

#𐙚.asks #𐙚.ramblings #୨୧.harin #୨୧.dayeon #୨୧.pyramid game #dayeon x reader #pyramid game x reader #harin x reader #pyramid game smut #harin smut #dayeon smut

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purple-obsidian · 7 months ago

Note

Heyyyyy pookieeee-i saw your Jason todd fic and wanted to ask,what do you think he will be like teaching his gf how to drive?

(Because nobody in my freaking life taught me how to drive yet so I have to sit like a duck and wait for someone to pick me up when I wanna go somewhere pleaseeee let me drivee-)

be brave (jason todd x fem reader) wc 800

⭓ fluff isn't my normal cup of tea. but for you, pookie, i can make an exception ;) sorry this took a while to answer, hope you don't mind i made this specific to driving a motorcycle. that's just what felt right when i was meditating on this prompt so i went with it. enjoy.

"Jason, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"You second guessing me, princess?"

"Yeah, maybe I am. I could kill us!"

Jason scoffs and shakes his head in disbelief. "You think I would let that happen? Ever?" With cocky grin, Jason walks over and stares down at you, noting the apprehension on your face. "Remember the day we met? You told me you had a bucket list. Things you wanted to do before you died."

"Yeah, I only told you that because I thought I was going to die. You rescued me. I got plenty of time now, I don't have to learn how to drive tonight. Its already dark." You reach your hand up reflexively to rest against his chest as he gets closer. Its a habit of yours. You always find yourself drawn to the steady beating of his heart. Its grounding, and you need some of that right now.

"The road is well lit. We're miles from the outskirts of Gotham, no traffic out here. Just you and me, baby. Why not now?" His large hand rests over yours, pressing it more firmly against his chest. His heart is beating slow and steady, and his piercing green eyes are filled with admiration. "You and I both know that every day we have together is precious. Why wait to do the things you wanna do? Besides, I'd feel better knowing my girl can drive my bike if she needs to."

Jason knows you too well, calling you his girl like that makes you feel weak in the knees. Your own heart beats faster as you break your gaze away from your boyfriend smiling down at you, looking over at the motorcycle he brought you here on. For some reason, it looks more intimidating than it did a few minutes ago. You swallow the lump in your throat before looking back at him. "I'm nervous."

"I know." He states matter-of-factly. Of course he knows, he can read you like a book.

"I've literally never driven anything before. Like ever. I haven't even-"

"Shhh." Jason's hand leaves yours and cups your face gently. His other hand is on your waist, keeping you close. "You don't have to be good at it right away. I don't expect you to be. But you're smart. And you're perceptive. And I know after a little practice, you'll get more confident. I won't let us crash, baby, promise."

Jason really does know you too well. He can see the rebuttal forming on your lips before he finishes speaking. So he leans down to kiss it away before you can verbally express your doubts. The tinge of frustration you feel at being cut off isn't enough to keep you mind from turning to mush from the kiss. His lips are so warm, his breath tastes like spearmint, and his touch gives you butterflies.

But the kiss ends all too quickly. You know he cut it short it on purpose, not wanting your brain to turn off completely before you try and drive for the first time. "Sorry, babygirl, can't give you too much. How could you drive if you're all drunk from my kisses? Hm?"

He runs his fingers through your hair, taking in how cute you look when you're speechless. A moment later, Jason releases his hold on you and turns towards his bike, walking to it with a bit of pep in his step and smugness in his grin, leaving you stammering for a second as you try and string together a coherent thought.

"F-fuck you, Jason." You say after a moment. He always knows how to shut me up.

"I love you too." He grabs his helmet and puts it on before tossing you yours. It's an easy catch, but you're still giving him a dirty look.

"Why did we have to do driving first?" You grumble, accepting your defeat. "Pretty sure seeing the pyramids was also on my bucket list. Along with an abundance of other fun things, like riding in a helicopter, or swimming with dolphins. Or what about joining the mile high club? I'd think that one would be your first priority."

Jason is beaming, watching you put your helmet on and get ready to ride. Even as you scowl at him and mutter complaints, his heart melts at how easily you folded. All it took was a kiss. He always gets his way. He knows you can't say no to him. Jason Todd has you wrapped around his finger, and the vigilante couldn't be any happier about it. He looks you up and down to admire your body before replying, "Stick with me, princess, and I'll make all your dreams come true." He promises. "One at a time. I'll show you the pyramids. I'll fuck you in a plane. But first…"

He grabs you by your waist with both hands and effortlessly lifts you up off the ground to set you down on the seat of his bike. You yelp in surprise, quickly grabbing his hands to steady yourself. "First, you gotta be brave and learn how to ride your boyfriend's bike."

⭓ masterlist ⭓

#[purple-obsidian]#dc comics #jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #for lola #[sids moots]#[sid answers]#thanks for the ask!#angst #only a little though #mostly fluff

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mrs-gauche · 7 months ago

Text

Let's talk about the Red Lyrium Idol

(…Because it's not like this thing has been discussed to death over the past ten years, right? 😂 *drops my two cents in the Scrooge McDuck money bin*)

Ah yes… The red lyrium idol. The one thing that's given me a headache since 2018, as I'm still trying to figure out how this damn thing could possibly fit into my bazillion tinfoil theories.

Whether it's the first official DA4 teaser in 2018, the Blue Wraith comic series or the entirety of the last chapter of Tevinter Nights, a lot of the supplementary media and promotional stuff setting up the course for DA4 seems to be centered around the idol. Quite literally, in some cases, like this mural from the first 2018 teaser:

It certainly led us to think that the idol won't just be another McGuffin (or so I hope lol), but other than that, it's still heavely shrouded in mystery…

Which is why I will now make an attempt to unravel this and gather every single bit of information we have on it (so far) and maybe that'll get us closer to some sort of answer in the end (actually, it won't, because this got SO long that I had to split this post in two parts lol No one's going to read all of this anyway 💀)!

Look, I just needed to get this behemoth of a post out before we might get an actual substantial trailer tomorrow and none of this will probably matter anymore. 😂💀

(Note: This whole thing was initially intended to be solely for myself to keep track of any information we've gotten about the idol since DA2. But since it's gotten SO long over the years, I figured why not just rewrite it into a somewhat coherent text and post it on here? :D ......Seriously, it's really, REALLY effing long.)

The Idol's Journey so far

To me, the idol always seemed to be something like "The One Ring" in LOTR. A forged ancient artifact with creepy unknown powers that is said to feel "alive", almost as if it possesses a will of its own, seeing as it has somehow found its way from countless random people, back to (presumably) its former owner. It also appears to be somewhat cursed, given that almost everyone who held it at one point seems to have died or gone mad by now (Yeah, I'm very worried about Varric and Hawke 👀).

Let us start with a quick summary of the journey the idol has made in the span of about 12-13 years (not counting the unknown timespan in which the last chapter of Tevinter Nights takes place):

First discovered by Hawke and Varric in an ancient Thaig in the Deep Roads.

Stolen by Bartrand, who then made a quick trip to Rivain.

Sold to Meredith, who turned it into a sword.

Taken out of Meredith's petrified corpse by Carta dwarves.

Sold again to a Tevinter mage, who brought it to House Qintara in Ventus.

Handed to a secret agent of Fen'Harel named Gaius (who was impersonating Magister Qintara).

Traded away to Tractus Danarius.

Handed to Magister Nenealeus at Castellum Tenebris to be used as part of a ritual.

Picked up by Cedric Marquette after the fortress fell, while trying to escape.

Handed back to Tractus Danarius, who then probably (not confirmed) went to Nevarra to perform another blood magic ritual.

Picked up by a Mortalitasi who (maybe) took it to Tevinter.

(Supposedly!) ended up in a vault under an auction house in Llomerryn in Rivain, where it was (supposedly!) retrieved by Solas.

That's quite the journey… that you wouldn't even know half about if you didn't read the comics or Tevinter Nights. But whereas the book and comics were all published after the first teaser trailer in 2018, after which the idol became the center of the fandom's attention and speculation, it should be noted that a connection to the idol was in fact already made way back in 2014, when people noticed that the image of Solas holding Flemeth's lifeless body at the end of Inquisition was very reminiscent of something else.

...Which brings us to the point of what the idol is even depicting to begin with.

Description

Before I'll start to give my own description based on the models in-game, the teaser and concept art, I'd like to quote the people who've actually seen it in person.

In the last chapter of Tevinter Nights, we are being told three tales by three different people, who all describe the same idol differently.

The Carta Assassin: "A couple hugging, too thin to be dwarves - but it's sitting there, glowing softly like a ruby lit by the grace of the Maker himself. […] It's heavier than you'd think - lyrium's heavier than you'd think, too, but this was heavy even for that. When I hefted it in my hand, it was like it wanted to keep moving, like it was liquid inside."

The Mortalitasi: "An idol crafted from red lyrium, which seemed to show two lovers, or a god mourning her sacrifice. It whispered in our minds when we saw it […]."

The Orlesian Bard/Solas: "He whispered something as he picked it up, tracing his gloved fingers gently along the crowned figure who comforted the other."

The one thing that all of these seem to have in common though is two figures who embrace each other in some way.

Which is interesting, because in all the depictions of the idol we've seen so far, it clearly shows three people instead of two. Granted, the third figure is a bit cramped up in the back of the crowned figure, but what's strange is that not even Solas himself mentions this third figure.

Most notable though is the crowned female looking figure in the center, which is holding onto the two other figures on each side of the ring shaped object (or it's the two figures holding onto the female?). The figures themselves look rather goulish, deadly or skeletal, with their bone structure clearly visible and all their expressions captured in a mix of horror or torment. The small carved-in lines coming from the middle figure's eye sockets also resemble black tears, much like we've seen on "The Mother" in Awakening.

There's also no sign of clothing, which is all the more apparent on the concept art of the idol, in which the breast of the middle figure is.. much more prominent. lol (We don't make fun of saggy boobs in this house, it's just nature and gravity after all, but for the sake of observation, I will note that they do remind me of Broodmother boobs, too 😂), aside from a hint of what could be a veil on the middle figure's head.

At the bottom of the idol, the lower bodies of the figures seem to fully submerge within its name-giving red lyrium and this "claw" type thing, which is coming off in the shape of crystalline red lyrium spikes at the tail end, though in the concept art and the DA2 model, these spikes were clearly more like red lyrium roots. But either way, the bottom makes it kinda look like it's been broken/ripped off?

We can also see tentacle like features, that remind me of the figures we've seen in the mural in the 2020 teaser and the depiction in the 25th anniversary book that revealed to us what the Archdemons were initially supposed to look like. 👀

I'd also like to point out that in the original concept art of the idol, the ears of the crowned figure look much more pointy to me than in later versions. 👀

There's also this "ring", that I've seen many people connect to how the Veil is often portrayed in Solas' murals.

But if this ring is supposed to depict the Veil, then what could it mean for the crowned figure reaching across to hold that ominous third figure on the "other side"?

And yes, I recognize that this ominous third figure also seems to be missing a left arm, just like another certain main character. 👀

The one thing that stands out the most though, is probably the crown itself. Most people might first associate it with Andraste, when the same shape can be traced as far back as ancient statues of Mythal.

Yeah, there's definitely a pattern here. 😂

That being said…

Connection to Mythal & Solas

Okay, we all know about the theory that Andraste might have been Mythal's previous host, right? We all know about the parallels between Mythal's story, Andraste, Flemeth, etc. And after comparing the idol to Flemeth and Meredith in their moment of death, considering all of the above/following and how old this thing potentially is, I will now make a wild guess here and argue that the idol is in fact depicting Mythal's death.

"He whispered something as he picked it up, tracing his gloved fingers gently along the crowned figure who comforted the other. But I could not make out the words, for I fear they were elven."

Not only does Solas seem to hold sentimental value for whoever the crowned figure is supposed to be, while also talking to it in elven, but the way he describes to "caress" the idol in Tevinter Nights does also seem to mirror how Flemythal was comforting him at the end of DAI.

However, I always thought it was a bit odd how Solas describes the idol as "a figure comforting another", when… tbh, "comforting" would probably be last thing that comes to my mind when I look at this...

"Agony" would be more fitting here, maybe? lol Kinda begs the question of how Mythal was murdered, too, with this being her expression in her moment of death? 👀

Without getting too much into it here, if there's one thing we can take from everything we've learned so far about their past, Solas' relationship with Mythal must've been a rather complicated one, to say the least.

"He did not want a body, but she asked him to come. He left a scar when he burned her off his face."

Solas calls Mythal "the best of the elven gods", calling her "the mother, protective and fierce", and Solas is even described in the designer's notes as "Mythal's oldest friend" who is all about free will, yet if the spirit origin theory is true and Cole's cryptic comments in Trespasser are in fact about them, it was Mythal who gave Solas a body against his will, potentially bound/enslaved him with her vallaslin, and maybe even forced him to act against his original purpose?

"You should have seen me when I was younger. Hot-blooded and cocky, always ready to fight."

Cole: "You didn't do it to be right. You did it to save them." Inquisitor: "Solas, what is Cole talking about?" Solas: "A mistake. One of many made by a much younger elf who was certain he knew everything."

How much of what happened was Solas acting out Mythal's will, or rather, acting out of vengeance and pain in reaction to Mythal's death? How much of it was him acting downright impulsive?

Solas: “Cole is a spirit. The death of the real Cole wounded him, perverted him from his purpose. To regain that part of himself, he must forgive.” Varric: “You don’t just forgive someone killing you.” Solas: “You don’t. A spirit can.”

Or was it Mythal's death itself that "wounded him and perverted him from his purpose", just like he described what happened to Cole?

And what does that say about Mythal then, when she clearly hasn't forgiven her murderers and still strives for vengeance after all this time? What if Solas' own perception of Mythal and all the circumstances surrounding her murder is warped because he was once bound to her? 👀

Anyway. To get back to topic.

So if we assume that the idol is in fact depicting Mythal's death, then that brings us to the next question of why the idol is even made of red lyrium? Or rather, what is Mythal's connection to red lyrium?

We know that red lyrium is tainted blood of a Titan. Mythal was the first to kill a Titan and mine their blood for things we won't get into in this post. So, how did the idol end up in the Deep Roads, anyway? How long had it been there? One thing that's kinda strange to me, is how the DA wiki page about the idol says that it was forged by the dwarves, solely based on the fact that it was initially found in the Deep Roads, when we have no actual evidence for that. We've seen statues of both Mythal and the Dread Wolf in the Deep Road section in Trespasser where the mining of lyrium was undergone, but we don't know if the dwarves even had any part in building them as well.

Would the dwarves forge an idol of the elven deity who conquered them and killed their Titan, if they were somehow forced to do so? We also have to remember that dwarves were and still are the only ones able to actually mine raw lyrium safely, but even the Carta dwarves in Tevinter Nights had to take several precautions in order to recover the red lyrium idol from Meredith's corpse. And even then, many of them still fell shaking or went mad in its presence like Bartrand.

So if it only takes that little exposure to have that much of an effect on someone's sanity, how were the ancient dwarves or anyone even able to create it in the first place? What if the idol was initially made of blue lyrium but was then somehow corrupted?

And if we take one moment to really think about what an idol actually is.

"An object representing extreme devotion and religious worship to a god."

While Solas doesn't think of any of the Evanuris as actual gods, he still seems to hold Mythal at such a high regard that he wouldn't even speak of her at a sacred place like the Temple of Mythal (whether or not that was because he just wanted to withhold any secret ancient knowledge). He's able to fully recite the invocation to Mythal if you bring him with you to her altar. He also looks exactly like the sentinels in Mythal's temple.

I could go on, but generally speaking, there are so many little hints pointing to Solas being a former slave/servant of Mythal that, again, we won't get into here, but it's important to mention when trying to figure out why the idol (presumably) even belongs to Solas.

"The idol's journey is now complete, and it has found its master."

In Tevinter Nights, the Dread Wolf claims that the red lyrium idol belongs to him. He also made sure to punish those who tried to misuse it, going so far as to march in with an entire army of spirits and snapping a guy's neck with his jaw. (Yup, you're better off not to touch the Dread Wolf's stuff for dirty blood rituals, kids.)

"You use my idol carelessly, and in doing so, you threaten all creation."

Additionally, in the last chapter of Tevinter Nights, Charter and other spies conclude that Solas must need the idol for whatever ritual he's planning, while Solas in Bard disguise claims that he's already in possession of the idol now and therefore, I quote, "cannot be stopped". (Though I personally still don't actually buy a single thing about his vivid tale at that auction house, but we'll get back to this later. lol)

And if the idol belongs to Solas, was he the one who created it, or did he order the dwarves or someone else to make it for him? But why would he intentionally make an idol out of red lyrium, anyway? He is fully aware of the dangers and corruption that comes with being exposed to red lyrium and its use. Especially considering that red lyrium is blighted and how he repeatedly expresses great concern over the Blights and gets furious over the Grey Wardens' attempts to preempt them by killing the Archdemons (because he obviously knows more than us).

So, does he know a way to use it without getting corrupted like everyone else? The Seekers of Truth are so far the only ones we've seen to be immune to red lyrium thanks to having their minds touched by a spirit of Faith during their vigil. Could Solas' connection to spirits/his hypothetical spirit origin allow him to use the idol without it effecting him?

But if any of this is true, then l'm again asking myself what even was the purpose of the idol to begin with? Why or when was it created? How does it differ from any other red lyrium, and what could Solas have used it for in the ancient past?

Powers & Effects

So, let's talk about what this thing can actually do (as far as we know).

(Btw, this is the part where I will shamelessly copy a lot straight from the DA wiki, because truth be told, I'm just a German struggling with limited vocabulary and I figured there's simply no way to summarize this any better than the wiki already has. 💀)

Just like any other red lyrium, we know that being exposed to the idol for too long will make you mad/paranoid/possessive/violent, while also grant you special powers, until overuse causes your body to be completely overtaken by red lyrium. It seems to thin the Veil wherever it is currently kept, allowing spirits or demons to interact with the physical world.

It also emanates a song that is slowly turning people who hear it insane.

The Song

"It sings… sick music." "It eats you inside until you're nothing." "It creeps into your thoughts, humming." "They hear a different song. The song behind the door old whispers want opened. They are dead and dark and done." "Songs screaming far away. It wants to wake up but can't remember how."

(- Cole's comments about red lyrium/red templars)

After Bartrand took the idol and left Varric and Hawke to die in the primeval Thaig, he started hearing voices, claiming the idol was "singing" to him. Even after selling it, Bartrand could still hear the idol and was eventually driven mad by its red lyrium.

Three years later, it is discovered that Bartrand had chipped a piece of the idol off and left it in his estate, which causes the house to behave like it was haunted and the Veil was torn.

Then during the "Haunted" quest, Varric himself remarks several times to hear music while walking through the estate, much like the Carta assassin in Tevinter Nights recalled to have heard "music in the wind, like some old song I heard as a kid but can't quite remember" when obtaining the idol from Meredith's corpse.

Important to mention here is that Varric seems to also be the only one in the party able to hear this song.

Varric: "Hey… is that music? Where is that coming from?" Hawke: "In don't hear anything." Varric: "Where is that singing coming from? You hear it, right, Hawke?" Varric: "Where is that voice coming from?" Hawke: "What voice?" Varric: "I can barely hear it… I wish I could make out the words."

Varric also told us that, after Bartrand went mad, he tortured his non-dwarven servants by cutting pieces off them to help them "hear the song".

(And remember, the idol was found in an ancient primeval Thaig in the Deep Roads, sitting on something like an altar, indicating that it was being worshiped by the ancient dwarves as well. Presumably because they too were being influenced by the idol's/red lyrium's song?)

Haunted

During the "Haunted" quest, we learn that the mere presence of a shard of the idol in the estate causes:

"Voices whispering in the walls"

Random objects moving on their own

Apparitions/screaming spirits appear running across the floors

When Varric picks up the piece of the idol, he starts to exhibit the same symptoms of madness Bartrand showed, at which point Hawke can either let Varric keep the piece, or can take it from him with the intent of having Sandal destroy it.

If Hawke asks Anders to diagnose Bartrand in Act 2, he suspects a demon at work, however Bartrand is a dwarf. Instead, he determines that "his mind has been poisoned by something powerful".

In Tevinter Nights, the Carta assassin recalls that, in the attempt to retrieve the idol from Meredith's corpse, most of his colleagues fell shaking and whispering the closer they got to it.

Meredith

After Bartrand sold the idol to Meredith, she reshapes it into her sword Certainty, which does eventually drive her insane as well. It also gives her unnatural powers, such as the ability to animate the statues in the Gallows, and even limited flight capabilities.

(My question is though, were the things happening in that final fight directly caused by the idol or was this just the result of the Veil being already weakened that much by the many terrible things that happened at that place/Kirkwall in general?)

Anyhow, during the final battle at the Gallows, Meredith overuses the lyrium sword, causing it to burst into dust and petrify her into a statue.

Though as we all know now, some part of Meredith seems to have survived somehow, as her… mind(?) or something was shown to now still "live" within the red lyrium somewhere in Kirkwall at the end of Absolution. She (or "it") also seems to have somewhat control over the red templars now, too.

So, how is this possible? What exactly is she now, if it even is herself and not just a manifestation/echo of her memories or something? Could it have something to do with the idol? No one really knows (and we might never find out, if Netflix won't give us a second season, anyway lol), but I do think it's curious how the idol is likely depicting Mythal's death, who didn't actually die either and lived on through the ages as a type of lingering "wisp" clinging to various hosts. 👀

I also want to point out how Solas did suspiciously include Meredith's petrified corpse in his mural in the 2020 teaser as well, placing her right under that ominous upside down figure with the tentacles.

Furthermore, just like Meredith, the idol also seems to be somewhat indestructable. lol After Meredith's sword burst into dust, it regrew inside her petrified corpse (which Solas was apparently also aware of). What's interesting is that it regenerated in Meredith's chest of all places. You know, like, where the heart is supposed to be? 👀

Then there's also this curious line from Anders, when talking about Varric acting strange after obtaining a shard of the idol:

"This thing's magic seems only more potent when broken."

I've mentioned it before, but with the spikes (or roots in DA2) at the bottom part of the idol making it look like it was ripped or broken off of something, you have to wonder if its current state is somewhat broken, even after regenerating.

"Hot-Blooded"

During the Haunted quest, Fenris will remark this:

"Whatever is here is angry."

In DAI, Cole repeatedly comments on how red lyrium feels "very angry" and how it is "less angry when it's cold". We know for a fact that red lyrium emanates a noticeable heat. A corrupted Bartrand is especially weak to cold/ice magic.

While anger is generally associated with heat, I find this aspect particularly interesting, given that red lyrium is tainted blood of a Titan.

And building on that, while still searching for further connections between red lyrium, the idol and Mythal… Remember how the ancient sarcophagus in the Blue Wraith and Dark Fortress comic was used in a ritual, in which lyrium combined with fire of a Great dragon carved lyrium infused markings into Fenris' and Shirallas' skin, granting them special powers.

Not only was this ancient sarcophagus specifically built only for elves, and its design resembling that of Mythal's statues…

…but here we have a case in which lyrium is purposefully "set on fire" by a Great dragon to create "elven super soldiers". Mythal is always depicted as a dragon. And she mined lyrium in humongous amounts.

Again, red lyrium emanates heat. If this was common practice in ancient times, then I feel like it's not surprising that a Titan would eventually be pretty damn angry in reaction to its blood being continuously burned for centuries [insert boiling blood joke here].

So, aside from the red lyrium being blighted, could there be a connection in Mythal burning the Titans' blood? As far as we know, it did take a couple of aeons in which Mythal (presumably) continued to mine (and burn?) the Titans' blood, before the ancient elves sealed the Deep Roads for good, because they discovered something… bad. As Solas himself declares in the vision described at the mural depicting a Titan's death:

"Let this place be forgotten. Let no one wake its anger." "The vision grows dark. An aeon seems to pass. Then the runes crackle, as if filled with an angry energy. A new vision appears: elves collapsing caverns, sealing the Deep Roads with stone and magic." "Terror, heart-pounding, ice-cold, as the last of the spells is cast."

And there it is again. That anger we're talking about. What's so interesting to me, is how this does sort of come full circle with Mythal and the idol after all, since the motivation behind Mythal's actions, even after thousands of years, remains her unwavering desire for vengeance upon the people who betrayed and murdered her, which, in a way, does mirror the same anger/heat that the Titan is emanating from its tainted blood.

And speaking of blood……

A Ritual Blade

In Tevinter Nights, we learned that the idol is able to produce a blade, which is then used as part of a blood magic ritual.

"The Tevinter mage was killing his slaves. […] He had cut the throat of one of them, and then another, catching the blood of his victims on the idol as he made his way around the circle. […] The Tevinter mage raised the idol before him, and I saw a spike of lyrium spring from the base of the idol, so that all at once, it was not merely an idol, but a ritual blade. He slashed his own hand, and a wave of power pulsed through the cavern. It was as though we were the blood, and the cavern was the body through which it flowed, and we fell, all of us, to the ground, our minds pulled into the raw chaos of the Fade by the power of his ritual."

In the end of the Dark Fortress comic, the idol produced another red lyrium sword, that could be fully detached and was then placed onto the before-mentioned sarcophagus, turning Shirallas into a raving beserker that was pretty much invincible as long as he was in possession of that same sword.

While the blue lyrium infused sword that was used in Fenris' ritual simply dissolved in the process, the sword produced by the idol could "regenerate" and was especially resistant to Great dragon fire.

"Unlike the lyrium-infused swords of the so-called Arcane warriors, this sword should survive the ritual."

In the final fight against him, Marquette comments on how Shirallas "feeds energy to the sword from the red lyrium in his veins" and how in turn "the sword heals his wounds".

So in both the comic and Tevinter Nights, the idol/the weapon produced from the idol seems to draw power specifically from the blood of its wielder. It makes me wonder if it was initially intended to be used this way, since we have to remember that it still presumably belongs to Solas, who claims to not practice blood magic, because it seems to make it more difficult to enter the Fade.

Which is ironic, given what the mage in Tevinter Nights did to disrupt the Fade, but also how the Magisters Sidereal used a massive blood ritual to enter the Fade physically.

And oddly enough, in your first conversation with Solas about blood magic, he makes this curious analogy with daggers as an example…

Inquisitor: Every time I've seen blood magic used, it has been for some evil purpose. Solas: I once saw a woman being stabbed in the stomach with a dagger. She died slowly, in angony. It was repulsive. If the Chantry outlawed daggers, would that stop the people from using it? Of course not. […]" Inquisitor: "You don't need to sacrifice a slave's life to make a dagger." Solas: "I suppose it depends upon the dagger."

So… Could Solas be referencing Mythal's death here? Or what if the dagger here is referring to the idol in its blade form? What the heck does he mean by "I suppose it depends upon the dagger"? Was a slave's life sacrificed to create the idol maybe?

But if blood magic wasn't the sole purpose for why it was made, then what else could the idol as a ritual blade be used for?

Which brings us to…

Dalish mythology

According to Dalish legends, Fen'Harel told the Creators and the Forgotten Ones that the Avvar had forged a "terrible weapon", a blade that would end the war between both clans of gods. He told the Creators that it was forged in the heavens, while the Forgotten Ones were told that it was hidden in the Abyss. And when the gods went seeking it, Fen'Harel sealed them both in their realms forever.

Okay. So, let's just assume for a second that the blade in this legend was actually the idol in its blade form. Because hell, what are the odds of having two "super powerful ancient blades that belong to Solas"? lol

If they are in fact the same weapon and the part about Solas tricking the gods is true, why were the Evanuris and the Forgotten Ones so eager to get this thing, to the point that they would fell into a trap?

And with this, I'd also like to point out the level design in the scene in which Flemeth takes Kieran's Old God soul in the Fade. I can't help but feel like the statue of Dirthamen being stabbed in the back with a sword, crying a stream of blood, resulting in a huge pool of blood, as well as a bloody ouroboros symbol on the ground, is a very deliberate design choice. Especially considering the context of this scene with the revelation about Flemeth and Mythal, I'd argue this is all in reference to how Mythal was betrayed and murdered.

Again, the idol could depict Mythal in her moment of death. In the final fresco in the rotunda, the one Solas never finished before leaving the Inquisition, we see a wolf looming over a dragon slain by a blade.

In the last visual of the 2022 cinematic that, going by Varric's narration, could potentially depict the destruction of the Veil, Solas appears to hold something that resembles a blade with a very destinct handle. Additionally, we've since discovered an icon hidden on the Steam page of DA4, that shows a dagger with an identical shape and the same glowy purple as the Dreadwolf title.

So we have the idol in its blade form, the blade Mythal was potentially slain with, the blade Solas is holding in the 2022 cinematic, Solas mentioning a dagger in relation to blood magic and Fen'Harel's blade in Dalish legends.

That's a lot of blades... and a lot of blood. lol

The Hunt of the Fell Wolf

"The Hunt of the Fell Wolf" is the title of a poem that can be found in the Jaws of Hakkon DLC. It tells a story of former Inquisitor Ameridan, his friend Haron and their fight against a demon wolf.

Along with numerous odd things in this tale that could be interpreted as some kind of metaphor (or just the devs messing with us, if you want to know more, please check out this post), it also mentions an "idol of fade-touched stone" in connection to the demon wolf.

The wounded knight in darkness Found within the cavern’s gloom An idol of fade-touched stone, Which could prove the monster’s doom.

In the poem, after a grim fight, the wolf takes Ameridan's friend Haron to its lair, a "labyrinth of winding cave" (which many believe is referring to the Deep Roads, just like the ancient Thaig in DA2 where Hawke and Varric found the red lyrium idol originally) where Haron, oddly enough, also happens to find an idol. What's intruiging though, is that this idol seems to be connected to the wolf in such a way that he can only be defeated if both him and the idol are destroyed and struck down at the same time.

With burning blade, Ameridan And monster met again Whilst elsewhere did Haron valiantly With demon-wards contend.

As demon-stone was shattered, Ameridan struck true: Beast and spirit—both felled at once, Though neither hunter knew.

"Beast and spirit—both felled at once"

Two entities that are connected across two different places… as in the physical body and the spirit maybe?

As in the waking world and the Fade?

So, let's reiterate.

The red lyrium idol belongs to the Dread Wolf. Cole remarks how he can feel that Solas is "in both places". The word "Dread Wolf" itself is an anagram for "World" and "Fade". We've talked about the popular spirit origin theory before, Solas taking a physical form against his will because of Mythal. The whole matter of Solas' "true name" before he called himself Pride. Solas' entire personal quest, which may or may not mirror his own past, a spirit of Wisdom being denied its original purpose, turning into a pride demon ("He wants to give wisdom not orders"). His strange remarks at the end of Cole's personal quest ("We cannot change our nature by wishing"). The fact that Solas makes Cole forget about his true identity, just like spirit!Cole does. The visual portrayal of Solas "consuming" Flemeth's powers at the end of DAI. The way in which Solas doesn't recognize anyone in the waking world as "people", but will vehemently debate you on why spirits should be considered people.

"But the People… They need me." (- Solas to Flemeth at the end of DAI) "Never again." (- Solas after burning the mages who were responsible for Wisdom's corruption) "From this moment, should you ever bind a spirit, your life is mine." (- the Dread Wolf's final warning to the mages in Tevinter Nights)

All of this considered, what could the poem in JOH imply for the connection between Solas and the Dread Wolf/the Dread Wolf and the idol?

"They made bodies from the Earth, and the Earth was afraid. It fought back, but they made it forget."

One theory assumes that the creation of the Veil lead to the separation of the ancient elves' bodies and their souls/spirits, assuming that before the creation of the Veil, the Evanuris somehow made bodies from the Titans/lyrium for spirits to manifest and then enslaved/bound them to their will by marking those bodies with their vallaslin.

But if that's true, then what happened to Solas when he created the Veil?

"He broke the dreams to stop the old dreams from waking. The wolf chews its leg off to escape the trap."

In all the murals, tarot cards and illustrations, the Dread Wolf and Solas are always depicted separately.

What really IS the Dread Wolf? And what is he to Solas?

"It was a beast unlike any I had ever seen. Lupine in appearance, but the size of a high dragon, with shaggy spiked hide and six burning eyes like a pride demon, and it came to us on wings of fire that resolved themselves into a horde of lesser demons."

From what little we know of the Dread Wolf himself, he only seems to exist within the Fade (that is to say, before the Veil, Solas was already depicted as a wolf, presumably even before his rebellion and before the Evanuris "bestowed" him with the title "Fen'Harel"). In the Mortalitasi's tale in Tevinter Nights, his army of spirits follows the mages back to the waking world, yet the Dread Wolf himself remains in the Fade. In one of the frescoes in the rotunda, Solas portrays the Black City surrounded by the six burning red eyes that resemble those of the Dread Wolf, almost like he's keeping watch over the eternal prison of those he banished. In the Tower tarot card, the Dread Wolf is ominously looming over Solas, almost like it's about to consume him, while in one of the Trespasser murals, it looks more like the Dread Wolf follows his lead. And then there's the DA4 2018 teaser mural, in which they're opposing each other, only seperated by the red lyrium idol in the center of the Veil.

If the red lyrium idol is connected to Solas like the idol in the poem is connected to the wolf, could this be part of the reason Solas is so desperate to find it? Does it possess some kind of spirit? Can the Dread Wolf only be defeated if the idol is destroyed at the same time, just like in the poem?

Where is it now?

So where's the damn thing now?

Well, in my opinion, there are two options.

Option 1) The bard's tale in Tevinter Nights was complete bullshit. lol

Despite Solas trying to convince us that he already obtained the idol in a vault some time ago under an auction house in Llomerryn, it's possible that, much like his whole charade in that chapter, this tale was also entirely fabricated. lol

To make it short, here is a list of arguments for why the "bard's tale" could've been a complete lie:

Solas attended this spy meeting specifically for information on the idol's whereabouts (because he doesn't actually know where it is currently?).

Everything until the last two pages was an act.

Both the Mortalitasi and the Carta Assassin point out several contradictions within his tale.

Upon hearing the other spies assuming that he needs the idol, it would just make sense that he would want them/Charter to believe that he’s now in possession of the idol and “cannot be stopped”, so that they would drop all effort to find it before him.

On the very last page of the book, there's a lists of bullet points of information when Charter is about to write down her report, and it does not explicitly say “He has the idol” but rather just what it looks like, which suggests that Charter didn’t buy his story either.

So if this was all lies, the last known location of the idol would therefore be the unknown person who took it when escaping from the Dread Wolf's spirit army in the Grand Necropolis in the tale of the Mortalitasi.

Meaning that Solas would therefore still be searching for it now. (Which would actually be kind of hilarious, considering how there's likely gonna be a ten year timeskip since DAI, so he would've been searching for the flippin thing for the better part of a decade now. 😂 We know from the end of the Blue Wraith comics that he had followed the idol's path via eluvian, but maybe he just lost track of it at some point? In fact, the last we heard from him, Solas was apparently busy pursuing some Venatori people to get another ancient artifact called the Crucious Stone in the The Missing comic, much like he prevented the Tevinter mage in Nevarra from using his idol. Solas after ten years of searching for the idol was probably like "Oh fuck it, I give up, on to McGuffin Nr 2 then". lmao)

In an interview with the comic writers Nunzio DeFilippis and Christina Weir, they talked about how in their initial draft of Dark Fortress, Solas actually *got* the idol(!!) from two of his agents by using the eluvian located at Nenealeus' place before BioWare stepped in and requested a change. 👀 That version would've explained how Solas was able to track the idol through the eluvian we see at the end. Their own interpretation was that Solas can only overlook a certain radius within the area of where another eluvian is located. Which would actually support the assumption that Solas might've lost track of the idol at some point after Nenealeus left the place… but that's just their interpretation and not official BioWare canon (yet), sooo…. Hm.

Option 2) Solas has the idol now.

So let's assume that the part about him obtaining the idol in Tevinter Nights was actually true and it's now in his possession.

Aside from this, the only thing that could speak for Solas already having the idol in the beginning of DA4, is once again the final visual in the 2022 cinematic.

If this cinematic is in fact playing at the beginning of the game as a general re-introduction to the lore and the last visual is depicting Solas in the middle of destroying the Veil using the idol, then.. well yeah, there it is, in his hand…. at least, for now. Making Solas succeed in the first 10 minutes, I guess? lol

……Unless!

See, a few years ago, I speculated about how the idol might actually be the perfect plot device/motivation for our new protagonist to get involved in the whole Solas deal without even knowing who he is.

Let's say the last visual in the 2022 cinematic is actually showing us a hypothetical scenario, and not something that has already happened/is currently happening. Like, Varric gives this expository narration explaining who Solas is and what might happen if we don't succeed in getting the idol. (Notice how Varric says "And we're the only ones who can stop him" at the end… Like there's still a chance to stop him before this actually happens.) We know from Tevinter Nights that Charter knows that Solas needs the idol for whatever ritual he's planning. And Charter obviously informed the Inquisition/Varric about this as well. So the next logical step for the Inquisition now would be to obtain the idol (whether or not the bard's tale in TN was true) to prevent this ritual at any cost, right?

The comic The Missing re-emphasized that Varric is now in charge of getting people that Solas doesn't know. And this might be where the new protagonist gets recruited by Varric (who is still a spymaster after all) and gets assigned the alias "Rook" for a heist mission to obtain the idol. (And after a very thorough observation of the DA4 reddit leaks from 2023… it looks like Rook might've actually succeeded in this potential quest?)

While we don't know when the stuff in the leaks actually takes place within DA4's storyline, I think it's safe to say that Rook will obtain the idol at some point in the story and that it will play a pivotal role, if the blurb on the Steam page for DA4 is to be believed. lol

As well as what could likely end up being the game's icon, found on the Steam page.

And again, remember how in the Hunt of the Fell Wolf poem, it seemed like Ameridan struck the wolf’s body in the waking world, while his friend Haron killed the spirit (inside the idol?) in the Fade. What could this imply for DA4 then, if we are applying the role of Ameridan, Haron and the wolf in this tale to the Inquisitor, Rook and Solas?? 👀 Is this how we can stop him? The Inquisitor confronts Solas in the waking world, while Rook has to destroy the idol/fight the Dread Wolf in the Fade?

Or could it just be a metaphor for the Inquisitor in DA4 keeping Solas occupied to distract him from Rook, while they can figure out another secret way to deal with him/how to get/destroy the idol?

See, the thing is, we have to remember that this is after all, a video game. lol Meaning that, if our protagonist gets to carry around a powerful ancient artifact/weapon, I would assume that this has to be somehow implemented in the gameplay as well. What we can take from the short footage of the 2023 reddit leak, is that Rook might carry the idol (if it really IS the same thing) while still fighting with their own main weapon in combat. So, what if the idol serves as more of a special power tool outside of combat, for example, like the anchor did in DAI, where it can only be used for special occasions? Let's say, the idol in its blade form can't be used in battle but is able to "split" the Veil or reality, like the anchor was able to open and close rifts? Or, if we assume that the idol is something like an ancient phylactery (which btw is my favorite theory and I will talk about in my second post), maybe it can be used as some kind of "tracking device"? Actually, I'm super curious to learn how Rook is even able to carry it like this in the first place, since we know what kind of effect it usually has on people. lol

~~~~~

Anyway, I'll make a hard cut here now and save the rest of this behemoth of a post for a second separate post (because I also just realized that tumblr doesn't let me add any more images 😂💀), so if any of you actually made it this far... thank you for being just as crazy as me about this and I will post the second part shortly after. lol ❤

#tinfoil time #da4 #red lyrium idol #solas #dragon age 4 #mythal #good god that got long 💀💀💀💀

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