#and the violet light??? 🥺💜 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

belabellissima · 1 year ago

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Chapter 5 Let’s Go!!!!!!!

✨ Morning light filtered through one of the tall windows on the second level, casting gold over his handsome features. She could see the undertones of blue in his hair, and the flecks of silver in his irises, reflecting like mischievous stars. It was ridiculous, Feyre thought. High Lord of the Night Court, and even the sun strived to flatter him.

💭I love this line so much! He’s just so pretty and he knows it. 😌

✨ There was no sound, but Feyre watched the polished wooden table between them ripple beneath his touch, like it too was made of liquid. She blinked, and the wood was again rigid. Ordinary.

✨ He set down his cup and saucer, and only the tea rippled this time. Where had the tea even come from? There wasn’t a teapot in sight, though someone as powerful as the High Lord could likely wave his hands and conjure it himself.

💭 Ooh he’s so messing with her 😂😂😂

✨ Feyre clenched her fists, refusing the urge to tuck her arm out of sight. She would not be ashamed of what she needed to do to survive.

💭 Your honor i love her so much🥹

✨ “Let’s make another bet.”

She’d already entered into one fool’s bargain.

“No.”

He offered her a mock pout. “You haven’t even heard the terms.”

💭 Rhys pouting (real or fake) is so funny and cute 🥺🥺🥺 he’s like why are you rejecting me I am an angel 😇😈

✨ “And of those markings on your arm, how many were fixed in yours?”

All but one. All but his.

Feyre wouldn’t dare admit to it, but they were alike in that way.

💭 🥹🥹🥹

✨ There’s a golden thread connecting us together. It’s faint, but you can feel it tugging, can’t you?”

💭 Screaming!!! He’s not even subtle he’s practically begging her to realize!!!!

✨ Slowly, as if his magic truly needed to brace her entire weight, Feyre lowered to her knees, arms shooting out for balance as her body hovered just over the High Lord’s face.

💭 Rhys always has a one-track mind and I love that for Feyre she deserves it😌

✨ The liquid burned down her throat, but it was preferable to the heat of that violet gaze, staring her down like he expected at any moment she might throw the scalding tea onto him. And maybe he was right to be wary, because she was certainly considering it.

💭 First it was a beaded pillow and now it’s hot tea … that’s an upgrade in projectile lmao, he most definitely right to wary😂

✨ She’d drawn a series of panels—a sketch of Rhysand on the sofa, smirking in one panel, then frowning in the next, dripping from the teapot she’d ceremoniously dumped over his head.

💭 HA OH MY GOD 😂 she wants to see him wet and pathetic 😏 (iykyk)

This chapter was 💯 like always!!! And now there’s setup for Feyre to remake that bargain, knowing full well he won’t just practice magic the next time😏😏😏 but yeah, Nesta is going to be soo mad😂

Thank you for this beauty!!💜

Queen of Thieves - Chapter 5

Summary: A fulfillment of this kinkmeme prompt. Or; A Canon AU where half fae, con-artist Feyre makes an ill placed bet.

Dedicating this chapter to @kcladylotus 💕

Read on AO3 ・Masterlist ・Previous Chapter

Feyre watched Rhysand carefully stir his tea.

There was an unnerving precision to the way he moved, like even the dark circles rippling across the steaming surface possessed some hidden meaning she was supposed to uncover. He was staring at her, violet eyes expectant, sensuous mouth smug.

They were sat in the High Lord’s personal study—though study was such a mundane, meager word for the multi-level room complete with two sitting areas, a mammoth desk piled neatly with books and paperwork, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on nearly every wall. Feyre didn’t doubt they were meticulously organized, though the spines close enough to decipher were just a blur of symbols and letters to her.

“Did you sleep well?” He asked.

Morning light filtered through one of the tall windows on the second level, casting gold over his handsome features. She could see the undertones of blue in his hair, and the flecks of silver in his irises, reflecting like mischievous stars. It was ridiculous, Feyre thought. High Lord of the Night Court, and even the sun strived to flatter him.

“I slept fine,” she said. If he wanted her to acknowledge that she’d fallen asleep on him, if that was the reason he looked so pleased with himself as he continued stirring his tea, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Is there a reason you summoned me here?”

She’d known, of course, that the High Lord’s games with her hadn’t ended at dinner. The bargain pledged her to his service for a full day, so it was no surprise that Nuala and Cerridwen had woken her up at dawn. The High Lord clearly intended to seize every moment he’d been promised. And she supposed she should be relieved she was asked to meet here, in the decidedly unprovocative study, rather than in his bedroom. She’d half expected a request to deliver him breakfast in bed, so this… this was a relief. Even if his smile made her feel as though she’d fallen into a viper den.

“We’re going to work on your daemati abilities,” he said, setting down the spoon. There was no sound, but Feyre watched the polished wooden table between them ripple beneath his touch, like it too was made of liquid. She blinked, and the wood was again rigid. Ordinary.

It was so strange that his words took a moment to settle in. Then she looked up at the High Lord, startled to find that his eyes locked on hers with such intensity that she resisted the urge to shrink back.

Feyre asked warily, “Working on them how?”

“Two things,” he said, holding up his pointer and middle finger. “First, your mental shield is sloppy. You need to work on reinforcing it so that people like me,” he emphasized his words with a sharp caress of talons against the edge of her mind, “can’t barge in whenever they please. Second, you must learn how to protect yourself when venturing into someone else’s mind.”

“Don’t bother,” Feyre said, crossing her arms. “Don’t go into someone’s mind if they have a shield—lesson learned.”

Rhysand raised a brow and shifted back into the sapphire velvet sofa, crossing one leg over the other as he took a long sip of his tea. “You misunderstood,” he said, setting the cup back on the ornate saucer he held aloft. “These are not suggestions, Feyre.”

She tilted her chin at the shift in his voice. It wasn’t sharp. Nor threatening. But there was an edge to it, lethal as the side of a playing card.

“If that’s how you want to spend your time with me, High Lord, then fine. I anticipated I’d be spending more time on my knees.”

“With a sharp mouth like that?” He chuckled. “My fingers are the most I’d risk going near those pretty teeth. But if you want to make this more entertaining, Feyre, we certainly can.”

He set down his cup and saucer, and only the tea rippled this time. Where had the tea even come from? There wasn’t a teapot in sight, though someone as powerful as the High Lord could likely wave his hands and conjure it himself.

Feyre snorted internally. How nice of him to offer her a cup. Maybe it was all part of his game.

“More entertaining for you, maybe.”

He smirked in a way that told her she’d made this infinitely worse for herself. In the back of her mind, some residual human instinct hissed at her to just go along with whatever he wanted to make this as easy and painless as possible. Feyre knew that’s what she should be doing, and yet… and yet she couldn’t resist pushing back against him at every avenue, yanking back on her chain just to see how much give she was allowed.

“I think I could ensure that it’s plenty entertaining for the both of us,” he purred.

In a fluid movement, he rose from the sofa. She couldn’t help noticing how his powerful legs flexed beneath his close-fitting trousers, even as she tensed in preparation for whatever he was about to do.

Rhysand stepped away from their sitting area, striding on graceful feet toward the wrought-iron spiral staircase to the left of the entrance. “You like a bargain, don’t you, Feyre?”

She was grateful that his back was turned so he couldn’t see how her face heated as her gaze dropped to the ink on her arm, visible through her long, pale blue gossamer sleeve. Feyre clenched her fists, refusing the urge to tuck her arm out of sight. She would not be ashamed of what she needed to do to survive.

People like him would never understand. People who lived in houses like this, with staircases in their study that they could perch themselves on oh so smugly, stretching their irritatingly long legs to the floor. Feyre glared at him as his knees spread open in a silent, obscene invitation.

“Let’s make another bet.”

She’d already entered into one fool’s bargain.

“No.”

He offered her a mock pout. “You haven’t even heard the terms.”

“I don’t need to,” she said, gesturing to the whorls of ink on her forearm. “I’ve already learned that you don’t make wagers unless they’re already fixed in your favor.”

“And of those markings on your arm, how many were fixed in yours?”

All but one. All but his.

Feyre wouldn’t dare admit to it, but they were alike in that way. A level playing field wasn’t enough, not when the risk of losing was so high. Losing meant another day without eating, so Feyre found ways to ensure she would always win, even if that meant cheating or lying or stealing. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t fair, or honest. Or good. Not when she knew the people she was playing against would be using their every possible advantage, too.

Especially the High Lord, who was grinning at her like he’d been there to witness every game she’d ever fixed, like he knew her every trick. There was an underlying humor in the way he clicked his tongue.

“I see you don’t appreciate when the tables are turned on you for a change.” He slid his hands into his pocket. “Have it your way, then, Feyre. If you don’t want to influence the terms, then there will be no bargains. Instead, I’ll tell you precisely how this will go, and you’ll have no choice but to play along.” He cocked his head to the side. Feyre straightened as those talons scraped against her mind, and he purred, “We’re going to play a game called real or not real.”

Whatever he wanted to do to her. Those were the terms. She had to clench her teeth to stop herself from outright refusing him. Even if she refused, the bargain would force her to comply anyway. She might as well preserve her pride.

“That’s it,” he murmured, sensing the waver in her defiance as his shadowed claws caressed and stroked the outskirts of her mind. Then, faster than she knew how to defend, his magic lashed out, shattering her shield as if it were little more than glass. His talons gripped her, digging in hard enough to still her breath. “Now the rules are very simple, Feyre. I’m going to ask you a series of simple questions. Each time you answer wrong, you’re going to step closer to me.”

Feyre had never been on the receiving end of someone entering her mind. Was this what it felt like, all those times she had slipped into the minds of drunken males? They had never seemed to notice, but this… this was dominating. Every muscle, every breath, every pump of blood now yielded to Rhysand’s command. And his hands were still in his damn pockets.

She wouldn’t ask what would happen if she answered enough questions incorrectly to make it to the staircase. From the way he’d spread his legs, it seemed he was changing his mind at his refusal to see Feyre on her knees.

Look at you, he crooned. So pretty like this Feyre. You can feel your heart rushing, can’t you? I can practically see it leaping in that beautiful throat of yours. Tell me, is it really beating so thunderously, or is that something I just told you to believe?

She could feel her beating fast. Not only that, she could hear it roaring in her ears. Was that something that Rhysand was making her imagine? It couldn’t be. She pressed a hand to her chest, and her heart rose frantically to meet her touch. Feyre was inclined to believe it would always beat fast so long as Rhysand was in the room.

“Real,” she said.

He grinned. “Very good Feyre. That thunderous mortal heart is hardly my doing. It’s been beating like that since the moment I met you in the alleyway. Skittish little thing, you are.”

“Prick,” she said.

“Prick I may be. But you’ll be thanking me if you ever encounter another daemati who tries to implant this pretty mind with falsities. Now. There’s a golden thread connecting us together. It’s faint, but you can feel it tugging, can’t you?”

As if to illustrate, she felt that same amused tug that had pulled at her in the bathing room the night before. Its force was strong enough, now, to make her breath hitch.

“Real?” Rhys asked. “Or just my mind playing tricks on you?”

Golden thread, her ass. She knew that pull was from one of his talons. “It’s a trick,” she said flatly.

“Wrong.” Acting of its own accord, Feyre’s body sat up and lifted from the sofa. Her movements were stiff, unnatural. A puppet being pulled at the strings as she pivoted towards the staircase and took one large step towards a grinning Rhysand. “We’re connected now, Feyre. Through the magic of our bargain.”

“I’ve made lots of bargains before yours.”

“Yes.” His eyes slid over her tattooed arm. His smile curbed. “But all of those bargains were transactions of coin—quickly fulfilled. You’ve threaded your life to my will for an entire day. That kind of magic is powerful.”

There was an air of admonishment in his voice. As the youngest of three sisters, Feyre could guess when someone was trying to teach her a lesson. She flashed her teeth. “What’s your point?”

“My point, Feyre, is that you have been reckless. Playing with magic that you don’t fully understand. Those headaches you sometimes wake up to. Real or fake?”

The answer was so obvious that she wasn’t going to respond.

He pressed harder, as if he could pry the words into existence.

Real or fake, Feyre?

“Real,” she snarled. “And what does it matter to you?”

“You are going to destroy yourself if you don’t learn how to control it.”

Who? She wanted to scream. Who could have taught me about any of this? I have just been trying my best to survive.

“You have me to teach you. You can sense that I mean you no harm. That my offer is genuine. Real or not real?”

What did he want out of this? What did he stand to gain? Feyre couldn’t understand his games, or his motives, but she knew she wasn’t afraid of him. Not nearly as much as she should be after watching him slaughter his captain without blinking. Last night, she’d felt comfortable enough in his presence to fall asleep in his lap. But was that calm, that sense of rightness, something he’d planted in her mind, the same way she’d convinced the tavern keeper not to raise the price of their rent?

“Not real,” she said.

“Wrong answer.”

She took one long step, then another. Just a few more, and she’d be perched in front of the High Lord.

“And that thrill in your chest, Feyre,” he said, his eyes holding that same dangerous gleam they’d had at the tavern, before he trapped her in this bargain. “That excitement you feel as you contemplate exactly what I might do to you once you’re between my legs. Is that real?”

Feyre knew what he wanted her to say—to confess. But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Even if that meant taking a step closer and damning herself to whatever devious plan he had in mind.

“Not real,” she said, and he laughed.

“I’m beginning to think you’re answering incorrectly on purpose.”

She swallowed, saying nothing as her body yielded another three steps. Her toe hit the bottom stair. Rhysand lounged before her, feet planted on either side of her legs, elbows tucked casually on the step behind him.

Slowly, he pushed up, rising until his face was an inch from her stomach. Feyre tried to stumble backward, but her legs and shoulders locked, leaving her defenseless to the broad hands that curved over and around her thighs.

“And your arousal? I suppose you think that’s my doing as well.”

“It’s all fake,” she insisted. “There’s no truth wound in this magic. You can move my body regardless of what I say.”

“But that scent,” Rhysand purred. He took a deep inhale, eyes fluttering shut. “I can’t fake that, can I, darling?”

Could he? Feyre didn’t know what to believe, which of her senses were capable of betraying her while those talons hooked her mind.

Rhysand exhaled, and the air danced lightly over the section of midriff left exposed from her low-hanging trousers. It was a deceptively soft breath, for the havoc it wreaked inside her, like a tender breeze had slipped past her skin and become a typhoon in her stomach, flipping and tumbling until she wasn’t certain she would be able to stand were it not for his hold on her. Was that the work of a daemati or just the sheer force of his proximity?

His voice was a dark rumble as he mused, “I wonder which will bow to me first. Your body, or your pride.”

“Neither,” she said, flashing her teeth.

An empty threat, considering her attempt to thrash against his magic was little more than a kitten batting at his leg. He grinned like it was immensely satisfying to watch her struggle. She could hear the amusement practically dripping from his every word as he cooed, “What’s your next move then, Feyre?”

Real or not real, real or not real, real or—

It didn’t matter. If she could just break out of his hold. She wouldn’t need to answer him or play this stupid game any longer.

“Go to hell.”

“Come now,” he said with a tut. “For ten thousand marks, it’s a fairly straightforward question to answer, no? Do you think the ache building between those delectable thighs is real or something of my diabolical invention?”

If he touched her, she knew the evidence would be damning. Even so, she snarled, “Not real, you stupid prick.”

He smiled. “Wrong answer, Feyre.”

To further the taunt, he spread his legs wider, and she tried not to study the muscles straining against the fabric of his trousers. Feyre expected this was where she would be dropping to her knees, and she’d been so braced to kneel before him that she nearly yelped when her body jostled forward instead, onto the first step, then the next.

Rhysand leaned back on the stairs, face nothing short of delighted as he watched her step carefully over his body and come to a trembling halt on the same step where he rested his head. Slowly, as if his magic truly needed to brace her entire weight, Feyre lowered to her knees, arms shooting out for balance as her body hovered just over the High Lord’s face.

She could no longer see his expression, but his shameless glee still carried in his voice. “What did you say about spending more time on your knees?”

Cauldron. He was so close she could feel each of the words vibrating in his chest before he spoke them. So close that if he lifted his head a fraction higher, his mouth would brush over the seam of her cunt.

“This is a magnificent view, by the way,” he said. “I wonder, Feyre. If I pulled these garments off, would you be wet for me?”

Feyre took that to be a rhetorical question. With his head practically buried between her thighs, the scent of her dripping arousal had to be smothering. Rhysand placed a hand at the top of her leg, fingers curling inwards. She bit her inner cheek, feeling every muscle in her body tighten in response to his warm touch.

“You’re thinking about what it would be like to feel my tongue on you.”

She shut her eyes, trying not to imagine it. She knew he would take his time, slowly unraveling her sanity with the same methodical calculation he’d used to get her in this position in the first place. But would he come undone, just a little, too? Would his eyes flutter shut at the taste of her—would he moan, like he couldn’t help himself?

Feyre clawed her fingernails into the marble step. “Get out of my head,” she gasped.

You let me into it, he said, craning his neck to run his nose against her inner thigh. Practically invited me with those shields down. Did you want me to listen to all of your filthy thoughts about me? If you’re so curious about the noises I’d make eating you out, I’d be more than happy to demonstrate.

She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. “It’s not real.”

What’s not real? He nuzzled the junction between her hip and leg. The wetness between your thighs? Or maybe the stone beneath your palms?

What? She blinked, her vision blurring for a moment, where she swore the marble rippled beneath her fingertips. Rippled like the tea, and the wooden table, and the ocean far beneath the cliff face. She felt like she was tipping over that edge now, already feeling the air rise to meet her.

“Could it be the sound of my voice? Is that real, Feyre?”

No—no, no. Something was wrong here. Beyond the game, or the soft touches against her thigh. The stone at her knees didn’t ache. The sun streaming from the windows on the level above cast a strip of golden light along her tattooed arm. Its touch wasn’t warm, nor was the marble cold. The only sensation that Feyre could truly feel was the golden heat that spread through her body from Rhysand’s touch, ardent and gentle and—

Not real.

Feyre pushed against the stone, watching it ripple like she was staring at little more than a distorted reflection in a pond. She shook her head in a last, feeble attempt to dislodge the claws digging into her mind. If she pushed hard enough to unlatch one of them, another would take its place on the other side. There were too many of them—he was everywhere.

She was trapped inside her own head.

His laughter was low and soft, and didn’t come at all from the body beneath her. It shook through the walls, reverberated through the stone.

Well done, Feyre. Now how are you going to get out?

If she could move, she would throw herself over the iron railing in the hopes that the fall would jolt herself into her body. But his magic kept her pinned, straddling either side of his face.

You could give in, he suggested, voice a lover’s purr. Rest, and enjoy the remainder of the fantasy.

“It’s not my fantasy,” she snapped.

Isn’t it?

Temper boiling to the surface, Feyre slammed herself against the magic caging her. The recoil sent her teeth ringing, and stars sparked behind her eyes, but she did it again, thinking that if she just knocked against him enough times, she could force him out through brute determination. He may have been influencing the vision, but this was her mind. Her dream to control, to manipulate.

Feyre shut her eyes, thinking of the surface of the unruly ocean she’d spent a lifetime gazing across. A force of nature that could not be wielded or contained, even by a narcissistic High Lord. She imagined that she was that rising tide, building like a wave. Already, she could smell the sea spray and hear the cry of gulls, and she was certain if she opened her eyes, they would no longer be in a High Lord’s study, but on the cliffs of Velaris, where she so often dreamed of diving beneath the surface.

Good, Rhysand murmured.

Her nose curled. She didn’t care about his praise. She only wanted him out.

Feyre let the wave rise, building higher and higher until it was large enough to sweep them away. She took a gasping breath of air, opening her eyes in time to watch the peak curl into white foam, moments before it struck violently against the cliff.

A new claw seized her, this one icy and merciless. She yielded to its grip—so strong that the siege on her mind was forced to relent, his talons unable to keep her in their grasp as she was dragged down, down, down into the bleak depths of the winter sea.

When she next opened her eyes, it was to a wooden panel of a large, four-poster bed. The velvet curtains were pulled shut, keeping out any light or chance of telling the time.

Feyre rolled to her side with a small groan and yanked one of the curtains back. It was dark in the room, too. Someone had pulled the thick curtains over the large bay window, determined not to let an ounce of light disturb her slumber. Feyre shifted her legs over the edge, noting her bare skin peeking out of a nightgown she had no memory of changing into.

Work of the shadow wraiths? Or was it…

Movement caught in her peripheral, and Feyre turned, yelping as a pair of bright violet eyes met hers from the corner of the room.

Rhysand, lips curled in smug satisfaction, uncrossed the ankle he’d slung over his knee on the large armchair. “Good morning, Feyre. Sleep well?”

It could not only be morning.

“Well, we are pushing into the afternoon. But you looked like you were having such a pleasant dream. I wouldn’t dare wake you.”

Feyre turned, searching for the nearest item she could use to wipe that smirk off his face. She settled for a beaded throw pillow, hissing as she lobbed it at his head, “You’re a prick.”

“And you need to work on keeping your shields up when you sleep.” He caught the pillow easily, frowning at the purple beading. “And your aim, while we’re at it.”

It required every ounce of willpower not to flop back into the bed and scream into the leftover pillows. Or better yet, use them to practice her allegedly poor aim. She’d only just woken up, and the thought of enduring his company for the remainder of the bargain made her feel exhausted.

Ten thousand marks, she reminded herself. Her sisters would be able to go to bed in a room that they could comfortably stand up in. Nesta could buy a new book, and perhaps they could even find somewhere with a garden for Elain. For her sisters, she could do this.

“If I’d had nefarious intentions—”

“Nefarious intentions?” Her voice strained in disbelief. “You trapped me! You touched me.”

Rhysand shifted, elongating the shadows over his eyes. “Per our bargain, you’ve agreed I can do whatever I’d like to you, to start. But don’t forget, Feyre. I was in your head the entire time. I know precisely how you felt about what I was doing to you.”

Prick. Prick, prick, prick.

“Your shields are still down,” he added flatly. He lifted effortlessly from the chair, crossing the room with three brutal, elegant steps. Feyre leaned back slightly, wariness skittering across her spine as he drew close enough that she could smell the sea spray of the ocean on him. “And say what you’d like about me, Feyre. But this room is still suffocated in your arousal. That was no manipulation on my part.”

He stood to his full height, eyes still on hers. Feyre tilted her chin, refusing to look away.

At this, Rhysand released a soft, huffing laugh and shook his head. “Let the twins get you something to eat, then meet me in the study. Clearly, we have a lot to go over.”

Rhysand broke eye contact first, but there was no victory to be had in the way her eyes fixated on his back as he strode to the door. Unable to look away and equally unable to hold in her question. “Why bother to teach me anything at all?”

In a few hours, she’d take his money and set off with the resolve to never cross his path again. If he wanted a whore, she didn’t understand why he was wasting his time with… any of this. Unless the High Lord was confident they would be seeing each other again after their bargain was fulfilled.

The glance he offered her over his shoulder did nothing to stifle her growing apprehension. “Because I have plans for you, Feyre Archeron. And not all of them involve my head between your legs.”

Before the weight of that declaration could truly settle over her, Feyre blindly grabbed another pillow and hurled it towards the door. It hit the wood with a soft thud, and never had she felt such recognition in an object as when she watched the silk-encased feathers slide to the floor and slump forward, as though in defeat.

Rhys was waiting for her in his study, stirring a cup of tea with a mocking smile. Unlike in her dream, a teapot sat on the carved wooden table, steam still piping from its spout, with a spare cup and saucer already laid out for her.

His eyes gleamed as he watched Feyre turn her head, studying the chairs and bookshelves for any flaw, any indication that this, too, wasn’t real. She couldn’t quite bring herself to look towards the staircase.

“Is something familiar?” He asked with a lifted brow.

Feyre stalked to the nearest bookshelf and ran her fingers along the spines, waiting for the vision to warp and ripple. They remained firm, textured with stamped leather and metal clasps. She still couldn’t read their inscriptions, but even in the dream that hadn’t been unusual.

“Have you really read all of these,” she said, “Or do you just keep them in your study to look pretentious?”

From the lack of dust on the shelves, it was clear that the High Lord took pride in his collection. Though, to his credit, he did not rise to the jab. He merely fought a smile. “Not an avid reader, I take it.” When she said nothing, Rhysand nodded at the book beneath her fingertips. “Why don’t you grab that one. I think you’ll find the topic particularly… stimulating.”

She glared at the golden lettering on the spine, willing the indistinguishable blur of letters to jump out with any indication of the subject matter. It was something indecent if she had to guess, perhaps something within the realm of the erotic novels Nesta enjoyed, and Feyre’s face warmed at being unable to uncover the joke being made at her expense.

If he knew she couldn’t read, the mockery would only increase.

“I know you didn’t bring me here to read,” she said, dropping her hand. She pivoted on her heel, aiming for the sofa across from him, where that cup had been considerately placed for her.

Rhysand lifted the teapot, sparing her a sidelong glance for confirmation, before he poured the tea into her cup. “You’d be surprised how much studying is involved in the mastery of magic.”

“I’m not looking to master anything,” she said flippantly.

He added sugar and milk into her cup without confirming if that was her preference. Something he stole from her head, she wondered, or was he having her watched? She supposed Nuala and Cerridwen likely reported everything they observed back to him.

“Humor me,” he said, lifting the tea towards her.

Those eyes met hers, unnervingly steady. Feyre felt as though she were accepting far more than a cup of tea as she reached forward. Their fingers brushed, warm and lingering like she remembered in her dream. She fought a shiver and forced herself to sit up calmly, ignoring his surveillance as she pressed the hot rim to her lips. Swallowed.

The liquid burned down her throat, but it was preferable to the heat of that violet gaze, staring her down like he expected at any moment she might throw the scalding tea onto him. And maybe he was right to be wary, because she was certainly considering it.

Rhysand leaned back. With a flourishing wave of his hand, the book slid out of its space on the shelf, drifting towards them on a night-kissed wind.

“I didn’t always know how to control it, either. But I had people to help me, and access to resources like this.” The book flipped open, pages blurring as they rapidly turned over, before falling flat on a particular page. It landed in her lap, and she stared. Stared as if those lines of ink were supposed to be meaningful to her.

She looked up. “What do you get from all of this?”

“Just read it, Feyre.”

Her throat tightened. She glanced back down, studying those letters for all of a minute before she slammed the book shut. “I’m more of an experience-based learner myself.”

Rhysand frowned. She’d been hoping, with his tendency to rifle through her mind whenever he pleased, that physical practice would be more than appealing to him. A disconcerting silence settled over them as his eyes drifted considerately from Feyre to the book.

Her spine locked, watching his dawning realization as his pupils widened with clarity. She could not tell if it was horror, or anger, or pity hiding behind his expression, but regardless her stomach tightened into knots.

“You can’t read.”

It wasn’t a question, so Feyre didn’t answer it.

He ran a hand down his face. “I didn’t realize—”

“You think I didn’t exhaust all other options before I became a con-artist?”

Rhysand nodded like he was putting several things together, already recalculating his grand plan. “We’ll start there, then.”

“No.”

“Feyre—”

“No.”

“It’s an essential skill,” he argued.

“And with ten thousand marks, I can hire a tutor.”

Silence. They both knew it was the last thing she’d dedicate that money towards. First, a comfortable place to live. Access to food, plumbing, clean clothes. Reading was a luxury, one that sunk to the bottom of the Bharat sea with her father and the rest of their fortune. After that, it hadn’t felt like much of a priority. And it still didn’t.

She willed the steel adamant of his mental shields into the look she gave him, so that he knew this was an unflinching line in the sand. He could force her, but he would need to use the magic of their bargain to do it.

“I’m trying to help you, Feyre,” he said, softer now.

Help her, so that he could further his own agenda.

I have plans for you, Feyre Archeron.

Feyre briefly considered bartering with him. She could indulge his reading lessons if he agreed to reveal his true motive in teaching her. But if his plans required her ability to read, then maybe it was all the better to refuse, let him fix his interest on someone else. Someone more qualified for his aims.

He weathered her indignant stare for several more heartbeats, neither of them saying anything. Before he sighed.

“Fine,” he relented, shaking his head with open exasperation. “No reading lessons—for now.”

For now. She hated the underlying promise in those words.

“You want to learn through experience, Feyre? Then you’re going to practice raising and lowering your shield until it’s second nature.” He smirked. “Or rather, until you can do it in your sleep.”

Before she could summon a weapon from her arsenal of sharp words, Rhysand uncoiled to his feet and glanced towards a standing clock on the far wall.

“Four more hours of our bargain remain,” he said. “That seems an adequate amount of time to practice. I’ll be back by the end of it.”

“What?”

Rhysand was already striding toward the door, carelessly waving away her question with a simple, commanding, “Begin.”

True to his word, Rhysand left her alone for the remaining four hours. She had nothing more to do than raise and lower her shields as she watched the sky gradually darken beyond the windows on the second floor. It did give her time to explore, and she wandered his study to search every shelf, examining his trinkets like they might contain some invaluable secret about the High Lord. The papers on his desk were just that—undoubtedly containing important information, but none that was discernible to her. She opened his drawers, and the ones that weren’t locked contained nothing of startling interest. Stationary and writing utensils, the odd paperweight, a stamp with the night court insignia.

He likely wouldn’t have left her alone if there was anything truly valuable in the study. Not that she wouldn’t put it past him to be secretly observing her. With a hearty sigh, she settled at his desk, pulled out one of the pieces of blank parchment and a pot of ink, and began to draw as she passively raised and lowered her mental shields.

Feyre’s mind felt like sludge by the time he returned.

“Impressive,” he said, staring over her shoulder.

She’d drawn a series of panels—a sketch of Rhysand on the sofa, smirking in one panel, then frowning in the next, dripping from the teapot she’d ceremoniously dumped over his head.

Feyre hummed. “You got my fantasy all wrong in the dream, so I thought I’d draw you a diagram of what I truly desire.”

“And what you truly desire,” he purred, “Is me?”

“Covered in tea.”

His answering smile was undeterred. “You can have me covered in whatever you’d like, Feyre darling.”

She offered him a long-suffering look, her way of silently telling him that she’d like to indulge in that fantasy at this very moment. It would be so satisfying to wipe that stupid grin off his face with a cup of hot—

A talon scraped down her mental shield, testing its stability, and she threw all of her lingering willpower into reinforcing the black, glittering adamant keeping him out.

“Good,” he said, withdrawing his magic. “Make sure you keep them up before you go to bed tonight, or I might be tempted to crawl back inside that pretty mind and help you live through your other fantasies.”

Feyre scowled at him.

He huffed a laugh, extending his hand to her.

She regarded him carefully. “You’re… you’re taking me home?”

“Yes.”

She still didn’t take his hand. “The twenty-four hours are up?”

“Yes,” he said again, raising his brows at her scrutiny.

“And…” she still couldn’t quite believe it. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” he confirmed.

Twenty-four hours as the High Lord’s plaything, and he hadn’t really done anything to her. There was the dream and his head between her thighs, but even then, he’d only gone far enough to tease, to taunt.

She didn’t understand it. He’d paid ten thousand marks for what?

“Where’s the money?” She asked, not seeing anything on him.

“No heartfelt goodbyes?” When she narrowed her eyes at him, he shrugged. “Where do you think I’ve been the last four hours? After everyone in the tavern overheard our bargain, I didn’t trust sending you back with a bag of coins. I’ve set up an account in your name. The money’s yours now.”

There was no reason to believe he was lying. The magic would force him to pay, one way or another. Tomorrow, she and her sisters would go to the bank and start a new life. For now… for now, she just wanted to get home before the High Lord changed his mind and decided he wanted more from her after all.

She took his hand. His fingers were cool, his grip sturdy. She noticed a scrape of calluses that hadn’t been apparent in her dream, and she wondered if he’d earned them during his years in the Illyrian Mountains.

Without another word, they were swallowed into darkness, and it was instinct to grab him as the world vanished beneath their feet. He pulled her closer, his arms becoming a warm, comforting weight across her back as they tumbled through the fabric of the world.

Then, their feet were again atop solid ground—wet from the nearby docks and the fishermen who’d spent the day carting nets of fresh fish to the restaurants on the other side of the Sidra. Rhysand didn’t move away, and nor did Feyre, gripping to him as she waited for the world to right itself.

He took the opportunity to murmur to her, “If you ever need extra coin, I’d be happy to buy another twenty-four hours with you, any time. Just say the word.”

She snorted. “Still ten thousand marks?”

The winnowing had torn some of her hair from the pins Nuala and Cerridwen had carefully placed. Rhysand reached up to tuck a strand behind her ear as if he couldn’t resist. “Only with the promise that I can do whatever I’d like to you.”

“And will that always exclude sex? Or were you just…” She waved inelegantly to his crotch. “Not in the mood?”

Rhysand chuckled. “I didn’t have sex with you, Feyre, because you entered that bargain convinced you would win. It may come as a surprise, but I enjoy my lovers as willing participants.” He leaned closer, lips brushing the same ear that his fingers had just caressed. His breath sent a shiver down her spine. “Make no mistake, Feyre. The next time you let me take you home, I’ll assume you’re consenting to more than practicing your magic.”

And with that, he smoothly released his grip and stepped back.

“See you soon, Feyre darling,” he said.

Before she could say anything more, he vanished. Feyre glared at the space he departed, sighing as she inwardly conceded that she was far, far over her head with the High Lord. And she had the creeping sense she was already entangled beyond ten thousand marks and a twenty-four-hour bargain.

Nesta was going to kill her.

56 notes · View notes

starshapedkookie · 3 years ago

Text

Live Through This | 2

→ why do i run back to you like i don't mind if you fuck up my life?

PLEASE read part 1, none of this will make sense without it!

pairing: jungkook x female reader

genre: ex-lovers to frenemies to lovers (?), band au, punk au, angst, smut, fluffiness

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol and drug use, mentions of death, smut😳 (protected sex, hate sex 🔥 turned into 😩🥺 sex, choking, biting, oral sex female receiving, orgasm denial(?), mentions of therapy but yay! oc & jk getting their sh-t together! this is kind of lazily edited so sorry

premise: A record deal. The one thing Violet needed to become the next big rockstars. As the front-woman to the band, life couldn’t have been any easier for you. That is until a devastating life event changes everything for you, leaving you heartbroken and in a downward spiral you can’t get out of. With your biggest competitor, Whailen 52 on your heels, your bandmates worried about the future, and your ex Jeon Jungkook being your only solace; you weren’t sure if you were going to live through this to see your dreams come to fruition.

word count: 24,000 (roughly)

spotify playlist - https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6U3lm7y9hCgpw1bzc6r5qu?si=65cc5fd78a224189

happy new year! & welcome back to my semi-annual fic posting lmao. i hope you all enjoy the end to this story that i love so much. come chat to me about anything once you're finished reading💜

_____

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” The words seethe from your mouth and into the phone.

“Possibly,” Yoongi responds calmly. You could see him right now—laid back in his bed or a chair, looking at his nails aimlessly, maybe even lighting a cigarette up. Acting as if what he was asking was an everyday question with no repercussions.

“Min Yoongi I c-can—not believe the goddamn audacity of you right now,” you stutter some of your words, disbelief flowing through your veins. You’re trying to keep as quiet as possible since Jimin, Hobi, and Lisa all reside in your designated practice room down the hall. Not only was Yoongi interrupting practice for you on your time, he was doing it to ask you this?!

“Y/N I know it sounds—“

“Crazy?” You answer for him, “Yes it’s fucking insane… Asking me to fill in lead guitar for your band?! Excuse me?!”

“Technically Jungkook’s and Tae’s band,” he says nonchalantly.

“Because that makes it any better?” You fight back.

“Y/N, listen to me,” Yoongi sounds much more determined, his voice stern and heavy, “I know how much Violet means to you—how much you cherish it. I know you want a record deal more than anyone I know, including myself, but how would you feel if everything you’ve built up with your band came crashing down over a stupid drunken mistake, huh? I know you would be just as desperate to find someone to fill in and you know that I would do the same—hell, Jungkook would absolutely do the same for you if it came down to it and you fucking know it.”

You frown, huffing into the phone, “It’s not my fault Namjoon did what he did.”

“Jesus fuck Y/N you’re missing the point,” he says now seemingly frustrated at your responses that are clearly not what he wants to hear.

“How do you think my band would feel then Yoongi?… Huh? Filling in for my ex that cheated on me’s band?”

“Please Y/N, everyone knows you and Jungkook are still fucking in love,” he says, “And it’s not my fault you went and cheated on Jungkook with Jimin making this decision hard for you.”

Your mouth falls agape, “Fuck you Yoongi—we’ve moved past that!”

“Clearly,” sarcasm evident, “If you won’t do this for Jungkook, at least do it for me. Pretend he’s not even there.”

You furrow your brows, chewing on your lips, “Because that’s easy?” you say obviously.

“Y/N will you at least sleep on it,” he sighs heavily, “We’re desperate and I think you owe Jungkook one.”

“I don’t owe him anything?” you retort.

“Mm,” he mumbles.

“You’re actually ridiculous Yoongi,” you sigh heavily, and you know you might regret your next words later on but Yoongi was right. You owed Jungkook for being a pain in the ass. And he would absolutely fill in for Jimin if you asked him. Shit.

“Fine,” you huff, “I’ll sleep on it.”

You can hear the sigh of relief Yoongi gets out, a small smile definitely spreading across his lips, “You’re the fucking best Y/N.”

“I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll call you back tomorrow all right?”

Before you can answer, there’s a small knocking at the door you’re sat behind. Jimin walks in promptly, his eyes finding yours instantly, noticing you’re still on the phone.

“Okay, sounds good.”

You hang up before he can respond, turning your attention fully to Jimin.

“Everything okay?” He asks, “You’ve been gone awhile… wanted to check in—“

“Yeah yeah everything’s fine, thanks Chim,” you give him a small smile to which he returns. You knew if you ended up helping Whailen, Jimin would take it the hardest. You’re not even sure he would speak to you again. Hooking up with him had to be the worst decision you ever made. Not only had it made things uncomfortable for you two for so long—just recently going back to your “normal”—Jimin loathed Jungkook. He had never been a huge fan of him even when you two started dating, always seeing him as too immature for yourself. If anything, Jimin always wanted the best for you and your ambitions. He didn’t think Jungkook fit into that mold and that’s where you two differed the most. Jungkook was in your life at least for the near future and he couldn’t stand that. You could only hope that he wouldn’t be mad at you but knowing how sensitive and protective Jimin was over you—it was an inevitable downfall you would have to prepare for.

_____

“Jesus Christ,” Namjoon’s eyes look you up and down as he walks into their practice studio, Jungkook and Taehyung in tow close behind him.

“She said yes?” Taehyung’s mouth drops open as he notices your frame, sitting against the very couch you sat with Jungkook on a couple weeks back. Yoongi sat to your right and Jungkook had yet to look at you. He keeps his gaze busy unsure what to say. Jin soon walks in after the three of them, his eyes wide when he spots you.

“Holy fuck,” he exasperates, “She actually showed up?”

“No guys it’s a clone,” you finally speak up, annoyance clear across your tone, “I’m right here you know, a hello or something would be nice for this huge favor.”

“Please don’t act like this isn’t a privilege sweetheart,” Namjoon mocks as he sits down on a couch opposite of you and Yoongi.

You give him a small smile, “I’m glad you recognize it is a privilege for you guys to have me here,” you throw his words back at him. You don’t know what you did to get attitude from Kim Namjoon of all people, but you hoped he would kindly shut the fuck up.

“Come on hyung cool it,” Jungkook finally speaks up from where he stands near the equipment, setting up a few parts to the drum kit.

“Whatever,” Namjoon mutters, looking down at his phone diverting his attention elsewhere.

“Y/N we really couldn’t thank you enough for this,” Taehyung kindly speaks to you. His light brown hair is hidden under a cap, but he’s as handsome as ever.

“I’m here with conditions you know,” you say to him to which is eyes then turn to Yoongi, seeming confused. You glower over at Yoongi, “You didn’t tell them did you?”

He shrugs, “I was waiting for the right moment.”

“Conditions like what?” Jin says sat near his bass.

You fix you your posture, noticing Jungkook peeking your way every so often. You hadn’t spoken to him since your talk and love profession two weeks ago, so you were out of the loop of what he had been up to since then.

“I get to choose one song for you guys,” you say confidently.

“What the fuck—“

“Absolutely not—“

Namjoon and Jin groan in unison. Taehyung looks a little annoyed from this demand. Jungkook’s face is straight and unreadable. Yoongi is smirking beside you. He loved you coming in here demanding things—it added some spice and the boys definitely weren’t expecting it.

Taehyung takes a moment to himself, thinking about it before saying, “Fine. If I can sing it, fine. Anything else?”

“My name goes on your roster as lead, Jungkook’s name goes on drums,” It was only fair in your eyes.

“You’re fucking kidding,” Namjoon’s dark eyes look towards you, “You’re Krist Vedder’s daughter, do you really need anymore fucking attention? I’m the drummer of the band, my name deserves to be there—”

“Hyung do you ever shut up?” Jungkook’s voice raises from where he sits behind the drums now, his eyes finding yours across the room. “This is your fault we’re in this position, be fucking grateful Y/N is a damn good guitar player and willing to help us.”

“Defending your ex fucking girlfriend over me dude? That’s low,” he seethes.

You weren’t expecting Jungkook to defend you in that manner but you it makes your heart flutter, hands a little less shaky. You send him a small smile in return before Taehyung turns to Namjoon frustratingly.

“Hyung how about you sit this practice out?” Taehyung says to him.

Namjoon raises his eyebrows, “Fine,” he stands up, “Have fun everyone.”

You watch as he leaves the practice room, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Someone’s cheerful,” Yoongi remarks, standing up beside you.

“He’s been such an asshole lately,” Taehyung groans, “Y/N ready to practice some?” He turns to you changing the subject quickly.

You nod, feeling somewhat nervous. This wasn’t your band therefore you were not in your element. You and Jungkook had played guitar together many of times, but this was completely uncharted territory. Mind that you still had yet to tell your band you were doing this. All you knew is that by the end of this, your hands you were going to be tired and rough from calluses working double overtime on your beloved Fender. You only hoped that this wasn’t a decision you weren’t going to regret this time next week. After all, your dad told you to make the right choices—weren’t you?

“If you put a capo on it would sound better,” you point out. Your eyes follow the way down the neck of Jungkook’s acoustic guitar, up his chest, his neck, and finally his eyes.

He scowls, ignoring your suggestion as he continues to strum the chords to Muse’s Time is Running Out. He knows it would sound better adding a capo, but he hated proving you right. He hums the words, making you feel drowsier as the minutes pass.

You two are sat on the small outdoor couch Jungkook and Taehyung had on their small porch of the apartment. It overlooked the bustling city of Seoul. It was your favorite view. You were saddened that they decided against renewing their lease, instead moving to separate apartments in a few months. You supposed being glued to the hip since their early teens, Jungkook and Taehyung were realizing they needed to spend time away from each other. It would be better for their band and personal relationship in the long run.

You nudge Jungkook’s side with your foot and he jerks against it, a small smile peaking through his lips. You do it again and again, trying to get a reaction from him.

“Quit,” he grabs your ankle with a laugh, looking down and over at you. You’re laid on your back in one of his flannels lazily buttoned, legs straight and feet propped on his knees. You’re his favorite view and perhaps it’s why the heavy weight in his chest brings him down further into hell.

“Pay attention to me,” you pout as you try to squirm your ankle out of his grip.

“Was the last two hours not enough?” He muses cheekily. His face turn a slight pink as you shake your head. He can’t tell if you’re causing him to turn color or if it is the warmth of summer coming.

“C’mhere,” he pulls on your ankle and you smile as you push yourself up, crawling over to his side. You remove his guitar from his lap, setting it down carefully as he eyes you intensely. If anything happened to any of his guitars, you’re sure he would set you aflame. And you would do the same.

“Hi,” you smile up at his beautiful face as you cuddle up beside him, throwing your legs over his lap fully. He opens his arms for you wide, pulling you as close as possible to his body. He’s always so warm and comforting.

“Hi,” his voice is deep as he nuzzles his nose into your hair. Jungkook had been acting a little distant lately. You didn’t know if it was the decision of him dropping out of school to fully pursue music, stress from his parents about that said decision, or maybe the horrible fight you two had a couple weeks back. Any chance you got though, you made sure to hold him as close as possible, desperate for him to come back down to you. You had just celebrated your three year anniversary together and even with Jungkook being more reserved, you were sure it wouldn’t be the last.

“What’s up baby?” You nudge him as his gaze looks off into the distant. It’s probably just past midnight, but the city is still alive and well. He looks back over to you, hand rubbing circles on your exposed thigh.

“Just thinking,” he mumbles with straight lips, a deep sigh emitting from his nose. You bring a hand up, squeezing his right cheek playfully. He lets you play with him like a doll. He doesn’t care as long as you keep touching him because he knows all too soon—that’ll be a thing of the past.

“About what?” You ponder curiously as he leans into your touch.

“I love you,” he completely disregards your question, leaning into some so you can meet him halfway. The kiss is gentle and soft. Unlike a few hours ago where they were rough and calloused, bruising each other’s flesh in the worst ways possible. You want more from him desperately but onset soreness between your thighs tells you to hold off.

“I love you too. Keep playing,” you whisper against his mouth as he pulls away. He nods tenderly and you scoot away from him some so he can pick his guitar back up. He would do anything for you. Maybe that would make you want to stay. You choose to stay in your curled up position, no matter how difficult is might be for him to play. He rests the bottom of the instrument between the crack of your parted legs, the neck going the opposite direction.

He clears his throat before beginning to strum chords that you don’t immediately recognize, but it soon settles in.

“Why the doom and gloom babe?” You sulk which causes him to stop playing. He laughs, shaking his head some.

“You said play me a song, I am playing you a song,” he raises his eyebrows at you obviously. You giggle in return, before huffing a fine, settling back some in the couch cushions.

He starts the chords over again, the heaviness of the song filling the air around you two. You don’t know why Jungkook has chosen to play you despairing songs the past hour, but you leave him be. He’s much more sensitive than he likes to show on to people. He tries his best to show his emotions, despite how bad he can be at communicating at times. He promised he would work on it and maybe that was your first mistake.

“Don’t wanna think about it, don’t wanna talk about, I’m just so sick about it,” he sings low under the moonlight and stars. “Just so confused about it, feelin’ the blues about it, I just can’t do without ya—“

Perhaps your second mistake was downplaying Jungkook’s distance and undermining the meanings of the songs he was playing. And Jungkook would soon learn himself, what goes around does indeed come back around.

______

“Thanks for driving me home again,” you look over to your doe eyed companion. He shifts his car into park, settling near your apartment.

“No problem,” he says looking over to you. It was late on a Tuesday night—practicing with Whailen just wrapped. You had practiced with Violet earlier in the afternoon and to say you were exhausted was an understatement. There were 4 days left until the competition and you only hoped you wouldn’t be burnt out by then.

“You doing okay?” Jungkook asks as you let out a yawn, covering your mouth quickly.

“Yeah, just really tired,” you say honestly. Truthfully—you had been doing pretty well the past week or so. Settling things with your mother had eased your tension greatly and the letter from your dad seemed to come at just the right time.

“I can’t thank you enough for doing this Y/N,” he says genuinely. You had heard that phrase from everyone in Whailen—minus Namjoon—at least once a day since you first came to rehearsal last week.

“Don’t worry about it,” you shake your head some, “I know you’d do the same for me if I asked.”

He gives you a small smile, his eyes softening, “Yeah… yeah I would,” his voice trails off leaving a heavy silence in the car. Ever since yours and Jungkook’s talk, the two of you honestly had not spoken many words to each other. He would give you a hello when you walked into the practice studio as did you, only exchanging words with each other when absolutely necessary. It wasn’t awkward by any means, but there had been a shift in your relationship with each other. Good or bad—you didn’t know.

“Yeah well, I’d better head up,” you unbuckle yourself, ripping your gaze away from his.

“Do they know?” He asks, “Your band?”

The question catches you off guard, your heart stopping for a moment, “No. Not yet”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything else as you gather your bag from your feet, opening the car door swiftly, “Thanks again.”

You’re about to shut the door when his voice rings through your ears once again.

“Wait, Y/N—“

You stop your motions, furrowing your brows, “Yeah?”

His dark eyes catch yours in the street lamps that are illuminate the parking lot. His mouth opens but he quickly shuts back, his lips tightening into a line. His expression is unreadable, his eyes wide and starry-like.

“Have a good night,” is all he says. Knowing him all too well, you know that was not what he intended on saying. However, not wanting to stir anything up, you leave it at that. You wish him well too watching as he drives away, leaving you alone to your thoughts.

The moment you cross the threshold into your apartment, you nearly jump out of your shoes when Lisa’s voice rains down on you.

“Were you just with Jungkook?” Her words hit you like a baseball bat and you are the 95 MPH fastball.

“Huh?” You return dumbly, hanging up your key next to hers.

“I saw you two,” she says, “From my window.”

“Never took you as a peeping Tom,” you walk past her frame and back towards your room, wanting nothing more to shower and head into a deep sleep. Her footsteps follow yours closely and you know she isn’t going to let up.

“It’s almost midnight, we finished practice at seven,” she says, “I thought you and him stopped hooking up—“

“We did,” you interrupt, kicking off your sneakers and laying down on your bed promptly, hoping she would get the hint to leave you be.

“Well, then that doesn’t explain why you were with him.”

You are tempted to keep tight lipped but with the competition just days away—they were going to find out no matter what. It was too late to back out on either of your commitments so would simply have to deal with it.

“I’m doing him a favor,” you say, sitting up and sitting criss-crossed. Her eyes narrow as she steps towards your frame, pulling out your desk chair to sit.

“And what favor could you possibly owe him?”

You feel your heart racing, palms sweaty, a lump in your throat before pushing it down, “I’m filling in lead for them,” you pause, “For the competition on Saturday.”

Lisa’s face falls, eyes wide, losing all color at once. “E-excuse me? Y/N what?”

You don’t say anything else, giving her time to process the information.

She starts shaking her head, waving her hands around in confusion, “B-but you said that Namjoon was o-out and we had the leg up now? Y/N please tell me you’re joking oh my god—“

“I’m not,” you mumble, looking down at your hands.

“You have to be fucking kidding, Y/N they’re our competition—our biggest competition at that and you’re out here helping them?!”

“Lisa please—“

“No, don’t Lisa please me—this is ridiculous! Let them suffer for their own problems!”

You sigh, rolling your eyes, “Lisa look at me,” you say sternly, “How do you think I would feel if you, or Jimin, or Hobi got hurt right before our biggest fucking gig—a goddamn record deal on the line—I-I would still want us to play! But there is no way in hell I would ask some random bassist or drummer to fill in for one of you guys! You know if I asked Jungkook, or Taehyung, they would do the same for us.”

“Would they though?” She presses, her fingers turning white from gripping the back of your desk chair.

“Yes,” you say, “I know Jungkook would. Please I know it’s not ideal for any one of us but it’s one gig but I promise you that we will be fine.”

“I can’t fucking believe you sometimes,” she exasperates, standing up promptly from the chair. “I’m assuming you haven’t told Hobi yet? Or Jimin?” You bite your lip hesitantly and it’s all the answer she needs before she is rolling her eyes, huffing at your stature.

“You better not be sabotaging us,” she pauses, “You’re own band.”

Lisa leaves your room, slamming the door behind her. Your face falls, her words coming down on you like a rain shower. Violet was your band—the thing you perhaps cherished the most of anything else in the world. You had worked so hard, practiced so many hours, wrote so many songs—all to leading to a moment coming this weekend. If you secured a record deal then your life would change in so many ways. Your dreams would come true—the dreams your dad had instilled on you as a little girl would come true. Were you sabotaging yourself by helping Whailen 52? You certainly didn’t think so until Lisa said that. It was obviously too late to back on your promise to Yoongi, knowing your dad would have wanted you to do the right thing.

“Fuck,” you fall back against your bed again, body bouncing slightly. You were tired, hungry, and your head was killing you. You really hoped you had made the right decision.

____

Vision was a little hazy, the music a little too loud, and maybe you had already had a little too much to drink for the evening, but you were having fun. A luxury that you hadn’t truly experienced in weeks. The venue was huge—an upscale bar on the opposite side of the city—complete with a rooftop, dance floors, and multiple levels each equipped with their own stage set ups.

Geffen Records kicked off competition weekend with a party, bringing out all the stops for tomorrow evening. There were 11 bands that were playing in total tomorrow evening—press release posters lining the walls of the bar with each band name on it. On the third line sat Violet, a little down to the seventh line sat Whailen 52. The whole night had been surreal so far and perhaps that’s why you had downed a little too much alcohol to ease your nerves.

You found yourself at the bar with Jimin and Lisa ordering another drink, trying your best to ease all the pent up nerves you have. You were exhausted and your fingers were calloused more than they had ever been. You were excited to show your hard off work, both in Violet and Whailen. If anything, you would hope that playing with Whailen would put more spotlight on you and your band. The only front woman in the competition, playing guitar for two bands—that had to look impressive to whoever was going to be judging.

“Babe maybe make this your last one,” Lisa remarks as you down your shot. It was only your second one and you shake your head in response. She was being dramatic.

“I’m fine,” you protest, leaning against the bar to people watch. You wanted to keep an eye out for any familiar faces—doe eyes in particular.

“Do you really want to be hungover tomorrow of all days?” She adds. You glance at her from the corner of your eyes. Maybe she wasn’t being dramatic. You turn back around, ordering a water promptly.

“Where’s Hobi?” You look around, realizing you hadn’t seen your drummer in over an hour. Actually, no one had seen him over an hour.

“Probably chatting up that one bassist in that band Moody,” Jimin explains, “He’s always eyeing her up and down when we’ve been to their gigs.”

You and Lisa laugh in unison, “Good for him,” you smile. Hobi was a charmer that’s one thing for sure.

“How are you feeling about tomorrow?” Jimin turns to you, leaning on his side as he drinks a vodka water. Lisa eyes you up and down, turning her attention away from you two. Neither of you have told Jimin or Hoseok about your double crossing tomorrow—making Lisa swear not to say anything. If she had kept your word, Jimin was still oblivious and if she hadn’t—he was a really good actor.

“Nervous,” is all you say, afraid you might say too much.

“Don’t be nervous,” he reassures, “You’re the best damn guitar player in this whole bar.”

You smile at his compliment, “Give yourself more credit than that.” It was true—Jimin was an amazing guitar player. You considered yourself lucky as hell when Jimin wanted to audition for your band. He had left his old band for yours, putting all his trust in you. Which is why you were so terrified of seeing his reaction tomorrow when you would finally tell him your secret.

“I am,” he nudges your foot that’s clad in a strappy black heel. Definitely not your normal get up, but you wanted to make an impression on whoever would be here tonight.

“Is that miss Y/N, leader of the sensational band Violet?” You don’t recognize the voice at first, you and Jimin simultaneously looking in the direction it came from. Your eyes land on a tall man, whose voice you can now put a name and face too.

Kim Mingyu. Leader of the band Mayday, one of Jungkook’s best friends, and certified asshole. Mayday was an impressive band to say the least. Punk rock based like many of the ones competing, but they probably had the longest list of accomplishments already behind them. They recently opened for All Time Low at a gig in America. They were also already signed to a small record label but were clearly trying to move on up to the mainstream. As showy as their accomplishments were, in terms of their music, they were simply average. It’s why you didn’t consider them competition. Your band was a lot better, on many different levels, and you were about to prove that tomorrow.

“Mingyu,” you greet him, “Long time no see.”

His eyes look between you and Jimin, a small smirk rising upon his face, “I see your efforts paid off.”

“Excuse me?” You’re shocked by his words. They’re vague to anyone else, but you know exactly what he means. He doesn’t elaborate as he steps forward, keeping his eyes on you. He motions for you to scoot to right a tad, so he can squeeze between you and Jimin. Lisa has noticed who has made their way here and she tenses up beside you.

Mingyu orders a beer, leaning on his elbows against the mahogany and gold encrusted bar.

“So how have you been?” He turns to you, completely ignoring Jimin. Your guitarist gives you a worried look but you brush it promptly.

“Fine,” your answer is simple. You don’t owe him any explanation of your feelings. He was always so mean to you when you and Jungkook dated. It got to the point where you refused to hang out with Jungkook if Mingyu was going to be there. This was set within the first 6 months of your 3 year relationship.

“Ah thanks,” he nods to the bartender, taking a gulp of his dark beer, “That’s good, considering everything…”

Your body tenses up, heart rate intensifying too, breathing becoming a little shaky. You stay silent, feeling your brain become less cloudy and more aware of your surroundings. You were tempted to grab Jimin and Lisa, run off and find Hobi, but Mingyu keeps speaking, preventing you from doing so.

“I mean heroin, that’s one hell of a drug,” he tsks, “Wasn’t really my thing you know? Didn’t enjoy the nodding off, takes the fun out of things—“

“Fuck off dude, just leave us alone,” Jimin snips. You feel bile rising in the back of your throat, head spinning as his words sink in. He knew precisely what he was doing and his motive to approaching you.

“Last time someone left you two alone, you ended up fucking him behind Jungkook’s back right?” He turns to you with, clad with a proud smirk. Lisa wraps her small hand around your wrist, worried you might launch at him. Little did she know, you couldn’t do that. He was breaking you down piece by piece and you had nothing in you to fight him.

“I’m serious Mingyu,” Jimin takes action, grabbing him by the arm to tug him away from you and the bar. It draws attention from everyone who is near you, gasps and other whisperings rising afraid of what might happen. Mingyu backs up with his hands up to show a sign of submission.

“Whoa,” he says, “Just some friendly banter is all… I mean everyone is all good friends now though right?” He eggs on, “Isn’t that why you’re playing lead for Whailen tomorrow?”

Your face completely falls—your heart dropping into the pit of your stomach. You feel Jimin tense up beside you, his gaze heavy on your face but you can’t possibly look at him. You briefly glance at Lisa who is looking away, fidgeting uncomfortably in her own heels.

“I-I,” you pause, at a loss for words, “Who told you that?”

He smirks before walking backwards some, downing the rest of his beer, “Who do you think?”

He walks away from the scene, leaving you stunned, embarrassed, and panicked.

Jimin turns to you quickly, though he stays silent. You’re unable to catch your breath or look at him.

Your emotions are running astray—anger, confusion, betrayal, pain. It was overwhelming as you gripped the side of the bar trying to maintain your balance. Not only did Mingyu throw out your secret in front of anyone who was around to here it—he also threw your father’s passing up in your face. You wanted to cry, you really did, but something in you told you to save your tears for later. While you were angry with Mingyu, the hurt and betrayal you felt knowing Jungkook told him everything was manifesting itself into anger at your ex lover.

“Whoa whoa, hey guys what happened?” Hobi appears by Lisa’s side, seemingly out of nowhere, panic striking his features, “Someone said you almost got into a fight?” He references towards Jimin.

“Where’s Jungkook? Have you seen him?” You ask your drummer quickly, your jaw clenching the more you think about those doe eyes that have now betrayed you more than once.

“Y/N let’s not—“

“Have you seen them?” You ask again interrupting Lisa, pushing yourself off the bar stool. Jimin has stayed silent, his eyes full of confusion and distrust as he looks your way.

“I-I think they might be downstairs?” Hoseok finally answers, looking between his three bandmates curiously. He should have expected he was walking into a shitshow when he heard Park Jimin of all people almost started a bar fight.

Without another word, you leave your bandmates rushing to find the nearest set of stairs down to the second floor. Your heels are making you slower than usual, almost slipping once or twice but you passively ignore it. Your blood was boiling and you weren’t leaving until you spoke to him. You’re looking around frantically at the packed bar; people everywhere, drinks flying, music loud, smoke clouds blazing. You make your way through the crowd towards the open area with tables and you nearly scream when a hand grabs your arm in the midst of it all.

“Y/N—woah, what’s the rush babe, come have a drink!”

“Yoongi! You scared the shit out of me,” you hold your chest over your heart, “Have you seen Jungkook? Or Taehyung? Or any of your fucking band—“

“Whoa whoa, what’s up?” He looks at you up and down, noticing your frantic state of mind.

“Have you?” You persist.

“We all were down at the first level, they might still be there,” he replies, tone lacing with concern. He’s about to ask what in the hell is going on but you turn away from him quick enough to escape. Yoongi watches your frame from behind as you walk away, an unsettling feeling washing over him and he can’t help but to follow you, sensing something was about to blow up.

You find locks of freshly dyed purple ends catching in the bar lighting right near the steps you just got off of. Your heart rate was surely going a million miles per hour. The new violet color of his hair perhaps sends you into overdrive. You stop fresh in your tracks when you get a better angle of the scene. It makes more bile rise in your throat and you feel like you could actually get sick.

Whailen is sat around a few nice couches and chairs, all laughing and drinking absentmindedly. All looks relatively normal until you see a girl propped up on Jungkook’s lap, her looking at him like he’s the brightest star of all the constellations. He’s laughing and clearly drunk, his hands a little too high on her thighs for your preference. There are other women around them too, but Jungkook was already in hot water with you—you weren’t letting him off the hook.

“Y/N?” Jungkook’s eyes immediately lock eyes with yours as you get closer to them. All of his bandmates and groupies look over at you, all smiling with welcoming ‘hello’s’ and ‘sit down’s’. Jungkook shifts awkwardly in his seat, removing his hands from the girl. She looks at you with furrowed brows, clearly unhappy that his attention is currently on you.

“Fuck you,” you spit at Jungkook, the entire area going silent.

“Woah what the fuck,” Yoongi says from behind you, grabbing your arm in the process of his words. You realized that he followed you and it only makes you more pissed off, jerking out of his light grip. Jungkook looks more than confused, pushing the girl off of him; perhaps that was the reason you were mad?

He stands up only a couple feet away from you now—“Y/N what’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

“What’s wrong?!” You step forward, not caring how much attention the two of you are drawing your way. “What’s wrong?!” You repeat, “First you can’t keep your fucking dick in your pants and now you can’t shut your fucking mouth?!”

“Y/N, let’s not do this here,” Yoongi chimes in again, trying to pull you away from the situation but you once again ignore him.

“What are you talking about? Y/N I really don’t—“

“Fuck you,” you say again, “I fucking hate you.” Once again—you don’t mean it but you felt the need to cut deep. Blame it on the booze—you couldn’t care less.

Jungkook steps forward grabbing your forearms, “Baby please I don’t know what you’re talking about, what’s wrong? We can go talk?” Jungkook was rambling at this point. Everything had been fine between the two of you—the best it’s been since your breakup—why were you so mad?

“I’m so fucking done with you after tomorrow,” you look at the band who sits there in disbelief about what has just transpired.

You walk away from their group, all eyes on you, anger spilling out of you unable to stop it. Jungkook calls after you but after your frame disappears, he’s never felt more confused and heartbroken in his entire life.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow towards Jungkook before pinching the bridge of his nose, speaking for the first time, “Well that was cheerful.”

_____

Jungkook woke up the next morning not feeling great—slightly hungover, his head heavy from the booze and heavy on you. After the outburst you had last night in front of the band, he found himself heavily drinking to drown out his uncertainty about what happened. For once in his life, he cannot for the life of him figure out what he did. Normally he could step back and tell himself, ‘okay, you did X, Y, Z which is why Y/N is upset’. This time—he had no clue.

To make it all worse—today was the day. The band competition was in less than 12 hours and Jungkook was unsure if you would actually show up for them today. You obviously were pissed beyond belief at him, which in turn jeopardizes Whailen 52’s show tonight. You were carrying a lot of weight for his band tonight and if you didn’t show out—it was going to be his fault.

“Man, I just don’t know what I did,” Jungkook inhales from the joint deeply, holding in the smoke as long as he could before exhaling. He passes it over to Yoongi, who eyes him suspiciously. A hangover wasn’t anything Jungkook couldn’t solve with a morning bake. He ended up crashing on Yoongi’s couch last night, too drunk to make it home by himself or with that girl he was with. What was her name again?

“I want to believe you Kook,” Yoongi inhales, “But given your track record…” he laughs while blowing the smoke away from the two of them.

“Hyung I’m not fucking lying,” the younger snaps, “I just don’t know why she always feel the need throw things up in my face without actually talking to me about it first,” he shakes his head, looking out over the small balcony of Yoongi’s apartment. It was a chilly day, the sun barely out—a great representation of Jungkook’s mood.

“Maybe because that’s what your relationship was?” Yoongi inhales once more before passing the joint back over. Jungkook stares at Yoongi with a heightened gaze, bringing the paper up to his lips. “I’m just saying,” he pauses, “You guys were younger and stupid, you would do something, she would do something and you two would instantly jump to conclusions without communicating.”

Jungkook hangs his head low, slightly nodding his head into agreement. Miscommunication was the root of many of yours and Jungkook’s problems in the relationship. Perhaps that’s bleeding over to whatever you are now.

“How can I fix it,” Jungkook mumbles, running a hand through his hair.

Yoongi watches his younger peer with a stoic expression. You and Jungkook were probably the two most stubborn people he knew—whatever was going to get you both straight—he didn’t have the answer.

“Do you want to be with her? Still?” He raises an eyebrow at Jungkook, who only gives Yoongi a glance from the side of his large eyes. It’s all the answer Yoongi needs. “Give her some time Kook, I don’t know how much… I mean give yourself some time too man. She’s been really unfair to you the past few months.”

“Because I fucking cheated on her—“

“Jungkook you can’t keep punishing yourself about that,” Yoongi interrupts, “If you truly want to be with her again, you have to forgive yourself and she has to forgive herself for the things she did to you.”

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans. He needed to talk to you before the show tonight. With so many wrongs, he wasn’t sure if he could make things right, but he had to try.

____

Your phone had not stopped buzzing from the moment you woke up this morning. Texts from friends and some family wishing you and your band good luck later tonight. You had a few texts from your band in the group chat, a few from Jimin (you were actively ignoring him at the moment), a few from Min Yoongi, and unsurprisingly, Jeon Jungkook (who you were also actively ignoring). With the amount of nerves bubbling in your veins today, you did not have the energy to deal with the people pinging you this morning.

Thankfully there was no sign of a hangover as you started to go about your morning. Lisa didn’t come home last night, opting to go sleep with one of her fuck buddies instead. She had yet to show face this morning and if she isn’t here by noon, that’s when maybe you would consider calling the police.

In the height of all your thoughts, stress cleaning your kitchen, a sudden knock on your door knocks you from your reverie. Guess you wouldn’t be calling the police after all. But why would Lisa just not come in? Did she forget her key?

You swing open the door, your eyes quickly scanning up a chest that is simply too big to be female. When you make eye contact, your jaw clenches and like instinct, you begin to slam to door back shut.

“Y/N, wait!—“ his hand slams down on the door, stopping you from closing it on his face. He’s too strong for you so you stop fighting, deciding to kick him out in a nicer fashion.

“What do you want Jungkook?” You stand in the threshold, crossing your arms over your chest to block him from coming in. “Are you high?” You push, noticing the whites of eyes a little too pink to be normal.

“Coming down,” he mutters. You roll your eyes about to shut the door again until he starts to speak, “Y/N we need to talk. I-I don’t know what I did and I don’t want you mad at me—I feel like we were finally getting somewhere,” he pauses running a panicked hand through his hair, “I wanna fix this—us—I get that we’re not perfect but I want this shit behind us, so please just let me come in.”

The straight look on your face doesn’t help him in anyway, but when you step aside to let him come in, he breathes a sigh of relief.

“Five minutes,” you warn as you shut the door behind you two.

“Y/N I just wanna say whatever you’re upset about—I’m sorry,” he doesn’t waste anytime, “I just don’t know what I did—I thought everything was good? And then you came up last night and I just genuinely didn’t know what you were talking about… and I didn’t want you to think I was belittling you by not knowing I just—“

“Jungkook stop,” you interrupt him letting out a deep breath. His desperation tells you that he seems to be telling the truth, though it still doesn’t ease your frustration against him. “You know who came up to me last night?”

He shakes his head, desperate for answers.

“Fucking Mingyu,” you spit angrily. Suddenly his expression falls, a pit opening up in his chest.

“Y/N—“

“No Jungkook—no,” you pause; you weren’t going to cry but you felt like you could if you let your walls down, “Not only did he spill to everyone that I was helping you guys out, he threw up my own father’s death in my fucking face.”

Jungkook’s mouth parts, his jaw clenching slightly. Truthfully, him and Mingyu had grown apart in the last few months, only catching up if they saw each other out. The last time they spoke, Jungkook did mention you were helping Whailen out which Mingyu scoffed at but he figured he couldn’t care less. Mingyu’s band was already bigger than Violet or Whalien—why would he care? Hearing that he said something to you about your dad doesn’t sit well with him. No matter how famous your father was in the music industry, it’s no ones place to bring it up.

“Holy shit, Y/N I’m so sorry I didn’t—“

“Jungkook you know that I’m doing this as a favor for Yoongi,” it somewhat cuts Jungkook through the chest to hear that he had no apparent weight in your decision, “But only Lisa knew and he brought it up in front of Jimin and I just—“ you stop, a lump forming in your throat. You had yet to explain yourself to him and you weren’t sure how you were going to.

“Y/N I’m sorry,” he pauses, unsure of what to say, “Honestly Mingyu and I aren’t that close anymore—I talk to him maybe a couple times a month now… when we were together I didn’t pay attention or care enough to pay attention to how shitty he was to you. And then after we broke up he would say the most horrible things about you and I just wasn’t having it—I’m so sorry I feel like he was probably doing in it spite of me because I told him to fuck off when it came to you, fuck no wonder you’re mad I—“

He stops to catch his breath, his eyes wandering away from yours. You feel the tense bite of your jaw loosening, your shoulders slacking, your defense mechanisms falling. You were smart enough to acknowledge your strengths—being self aware one of your prides—but you could also admit your flaws—and jumping to conclusions was something you were still working on fixing. Had you really gotten this so wrong? You suddenly felt stupid, like a child throwing a temper tantrum because someone said something that you didn’t like.

“Is that true?” You ask, though already knowing the answer. Jungkook notices the small look in your eyes, looking unsure and insecure about the situation.

“Yes, god,” he steps forward, his hands wrapping around your arms, squeezing you reassuringly, “Y/N I shouldn’t have said anything and I’m sorry for that,” he pauses, “Everyone was going to find out eventually but it wasn’t my place to say anything. I really am so sorry.”

You end up cracking a small smile, laughing to yourself for a moment. Jungkook looks at you confused, muttering a what.

“Stop apologizing,” you say looking up at his full stature. His head was a few inches from yours and you could faintly smell remnants of his cologne. “I should apologize to you—and the guys—fuck I’m such a bitch—“

“No, no you’re not,” he says, “Short tempered? That’s another thing,” his lips form into a small smile and you can’t help but roll your eyes, pushing his chest away from you slightly.

“Are they mad at me?” You ask referring to his band. You wouldn’t blame them if they were considering you pretty much told them all to fuck off last night.

He shakes his head some, “No I think they were just confused like me,” he laughs again and you throw your head back, letting out a groan. You really couldn’t catch a fucking break. And yourself was to blame for part of that. You make a mental note to bring it up to your therapist next session.

“I’m sorry Jungkook,” you finally say, stepping away from his frame some. He was so… large these days. It was intimidating. He doesn’t say anything, only watching as you somber over and throw yourself on your couch, stretching your legs out on the sectional with a groan.

He follows you a few moments after, sitting down on the opposite side of the couch, a silence falling over you two. You turn on your side, your eyes immediately meeting his again. His gaze isn’t heavy, but he’s a look on his face you can’t read. Then again, you weren’t necessarily good at reading him anyway.

“Have you talked to them yet?” He suddenly asks. It takes you a second to understand what he’s asking about.

“No,” you mutter, “I didn’t want them to be angry.”

He visibly swallows, “Don’t you think they’d get more mad if you don’t talk to them?”

You don’t answer him immediately, knowing he’s right.

“I care about him too much,” with your mention of a him, Jungkook knows exactly who you are talking about. Jimin.

“I know,” he mumbles, unsure of how he should feel. On one hand, he despises Jimin—hates that he was the person you ran to betray him all those months ago. On the other, Jimin is in your band and has known you longer than Jungkook has… as long as Jungkook wanted you in his life—Park Jimin was going to be there too.

“You should fucking hate me,” you mumble curling into yourself further into the couch.

“And you should fucking hate me,” he responds with wit. You’re not looking at him anymore, but you can sense his raised eyebrows, lips tight in a straight line.

“I don’t,” you say honestly. It was the exact opposite. He knew that. You knew that—you weren’t even trying to lie to yourself anymore.

You look back over to Jungkook, who is looking down at your coffee table aimlessly. Pursing your lips, your push yourself up, crawling over to his frame. He watches you curiously as you throw a leg over his lap to straddle him. You now have the power as he stares up at you, studying your face intensely. You bring a hand up to his throat catching him off guard, raising a single eyebrow at you.

“I don’t hate you,” you say, “I hate how you’re good at everything. I hate how you always know what to say. I hate that you cheated on me. I hate how you make feel sometimes.”

Your fingers dig into his throat some but he doesn’t seem to mind as he takes your grilling. His stares at your neck, trying to keep his composure beneath you. His heart rate had picked up the second you flopped yourself on his lap. He wasn’t sure what your motive was, but he would give in to anything you wanted.

“And I hate how much I fucking love you,” you whisper this time, dropping your gaze along with your hand, noticing the redness against his skin. Before your hand reaches your lap—he grabs your wrist tightly, making your eyes flick back up to his. His chocolate eyes have darkened to a near black. He’s chewing on his bottom lip slowly before his other hand comes up, wrapping itself around your throat this time. You freeze on top of him with your breathing picking up heavily.

He brings your head to his, his forehead against yours, his nose brushing against your own. His fingers press into your throat, a small whine for air coming through your lips. You shift against him, trying to create some space between you two but he’s strong—and he’s not letting you go anywhere.

“Is it my turn now?” He breathes heavily against your mouth and you try your best to swallow easily, but with his grip it has become more difficult. You look at him confused, a small “hm?” emerging from your chest. “To tell you all about my hatred for you?” His voice is low, barely above a whisper at this moment.

He quirks an eyebrow at you. You’re surprised you’ve held on for this long, not giving into his motions. Chest to chest, breath to breath, you manage a hand on his chest, bundling some of his sweatshirt together. With all your strength, you push him back into the couch, his hand leaving your throat, your actions slightly startling him.

One hand pinning him against his chest, one by his head, “Be my fucking guest.”

It’s all he needs to do what you’ve been wanting him to do for weeks now. His grip tightens around your waist and ass, pulling you down to close the gap between the two of you. Of all the people you’ve kissed in your lifetime, his lips were your favorite by far. His lips—oh his soft lips that haven’t changed from when you first met him at 18. Sometimes they tend to be more chapped than others, but they’ve always molded against yours so heavenly.

Both of you are equally tugging and pulling against each other, holding each other close, mouths entangled with one another. His tongue melts into your mouth, his hands squeezing your ass to push you further into his own pelvis. A whine escapes from your mouth when you pull away to catch your breath. He doesn’t let you rest long, his hand coming back up to your throat to bring your mouths together once again. You two hadn’t kissed in weeks—the last being in his studio which wasn’t planned and didn’t end how you expected it. Ending your mutual toxic occasional fucking was needed, but ending your relationship with Jungkook was hard and right now—you’re not sure why you had made that decision.

A deep groan emits from his lips, “Here,” he pauses, holding your face steady in one hand, “Or your room?”

Knowing Lisa could walk in any minute, you decide on the latter. Once in your room, Jungkook takes no time in discarding your clothes piece by piece. He sucks and nips at all angles of your neck and collarbones as he shoves you against your door. He’s being rough, but you weren’t opposed to it. In fact, it just made your panties all the more damp between your legs.

His actions turn slightly smoother when his lips reach yours again. His kissing sweet and gentle, the built up pining for each other spewing out in passionate bursts of energy. Feeling handsy, you push his sweatshirt up with him finishing slipping it off himself. His eyes are dark as you both take a few moments to just stare at one another.

He licks his lips, pressing his forehead against yours. Again, he grabs you by the throat, forcing your eyes to met his. Desperate to feel them again, but he holds his lips back mere inches from yours.

“I hate how you always jump to conclusions,” he whispers deeply and you can’t help but fight the urge to smile some.

“Is that it?” You raise your brow in response, cheekily enough to where it clearly irks him on the surface. He kisses you again, this time a little more rough and you gladly swallow all of him. Feeling bold and knowing it’s nothing you haven’t done before, you reach down to his pants, caressing the outside of his clothed cock. It’s already plump and swelled when you feel it, but you only get a few strokes in before Jungkook’s hand is swatting you away.

In a sudden motion, he turns you around, pushing your chest up against your door. You turn your cheek against the cold surface as he presses his body close to yours. With you trapped against the door and between his strong body, a small pathetic whine comes from you when you feel his hardened cock pressing into your ass.

“I hate how you slept with Jimin behind my back,” he nips at the section of your neck that’s exposed to him, his voice sharp and punctual with his words. You try your best to push off the door, but he’s too strong.

He rolls his hips into your ass, “Jungkook,” you whimper as he continues to kiss at your sensitive skin all the way from your neck, down to your exposed collarbone, and slowly across your upper back. Your nipples are hard against the cold surface and it only makes you more restless. To get back at him some, after he presses himself into you once more, you push your ass back which earns you a small groan from him.

“Ah fuck,” he breathes heavily, “I missed you so much.”

He speaks honestly and you can’t help the quick and desperate nodding you give him.

“Me too.”

He’s quick to let up some pressure on your frame to which you take the opportunity to turn back around, your hands gripping at the sides of his face to bring him in for a deep kiss. It was so hard not to give yourself to this man. He had broken your heart more than once, but he was always there to piece it back together. He was your catharsis and you weren’t sure if anyone else could fill the void that desperately needed to be filled.

“I hate how I can’t keep myself from you,” he breaks the kiss, taking you by your forearms, pulling you along until you are perched on his lap on the edge of your bed. Your room is chilly but with your naked chests pressed up against each other, his body was warm and comfortable. He was like your own personal strain of heroin—addicting and warm, getting you so high that you didn’t need anything else.

“Anything else?” You quirk your lips looking down at his beautiful face and hair that you’ve tousled in the process of making out.

He licks his lips slowly, his eyes weak and hazy. He’s obviously tired, coming down from the high hitting hard, but with you keeping himself hard, it was something he could push past.

“Baby I have a whole list,” he smirks, his hands rubbing calming circles on your skin. You push yourself harder onto his lap, wretchedly trying to feel his length. He moves slightly, pressing himself up into you sending chill bumps down your spine. You roll again, which sends him tilting his head back.

“Shit, stop that Y/N.”

You act like you don’t hear his remark, rolling your hips against him again. A shutter escapes your mouth when his hard cock brushes against your clothed clitoris. You needed more—you hated the space between you two. You needed his hands, his mouth, his pink tip—whatever to just to be close to your opening. He tries to hold you in place so you can’t move anymore, but he’s falling weak as you continue to grind down on him.

You are too occupied to notice how tight his grip has gotten on you, his heavy breathing dark and languid. You squeal when you are suddenly flipped over, Jungkook’s thick body pinning you down to your mattress.

“I said fucking stop,” he groans into your neck as he begins his journey to pull down your silky sleep shorts. To his surprise, you’re not wearing any underwear and the sight makes him lick his lips, biting the flesh every so slightly.

“I hate how you don’t fucking listen,” he pushes into the meat of your thighs, his large hands spreading you apart. Your back involuntarily arches the closer he gets to your dripping center. He hasn’t even touched you yet you could take him so well. All it takes is one lick, two kitten licks of his tongue before a sigh comes out of you.

Jungkook loves the way you taste. Anytime he eats you out, he treats it like it’s his last—afraid that his personal skittle, so sweet and delicate in the middle would recede far away. His mouth opens and closes in different motions, some slow and wide, other fast and close together. You grip his hair harshly, pushing his face down into your hole deeper, his nose brushing against your sensitive bud every once in a while.

You’re squirming at this point, your chest rising unevenly and Jungkook can tell your close. Your small whines make it hard for him to stay quiet, he himself mulling into your wet pussy. His hips buck into your mattress trying to find some pressure relief for himself.

“Fuck Jungkook,” your voice is louder than you were expecting, his tongue taking your breath away, “I’m gonna c-come,” you warn.

His eyes are dark as they look up at you, his tongue focusing on your sensitive bud to send you over the edge. Your hips begin to rise, your mouth falling open and eyes closing shut as he almost sends you off the cliff. With a few more licks to go to send you to a high you need to go, all of his movements stop. Your eyes fly open, down to the spot in between your legs, dumbfounded at his actions.

“What the f—“

“Baby’s been so mean,” he crawls back up to you, his sweatpants now hanging lower than ever, his happy trail out leading to your happy place. “I don’t think she deserves to come yet,” the way he slightly degrades you in 3rd person sends you in a spiral.

“Yes, yes, yes she does Kook, please,” you hold his face gently as you chase a kiss. He obliges, letting you taste yourself from him. He manages to shimmy out of the rest of his pants, revealing he’s not wearing any underwear either, his tip grazing across your entrance just waiting to be sucked in.

He smirks against you as he pulls away, allowing you to look at his sculpted body in all its glory. His chest is broad, his abdominals carved to perfection, his v line going right where you need him most. He cock is such a good size, just the right length and girth. His thick thighs are halfway straddling you as he reaches over into your nightstand to pull out a condom. You watch him skillfully rip open the package and put it on in less than 15 seconds, beyond ready to have your pussy stretched out.

He rubs your entrance with his tip, holding himself up with one arm by your head. Neither of you are looking at each other, too enthralled with the way he puts his juicy pink tip in, only to pull it out after some shallow thrusts.

You’re about to push your hips to hurry the process but before you can, you’re suddenly flipped over, ass in the air and your back pushed down into your mattress.

“Oh fuck!—“ your breath is taken away as Jungkook quickly finds his way into your tight walls, a deep groan emitting from him.

“Oh god—shit,” he breathes, shoving himself as deep as he can go, one hand keeping your back down against the sheets. You feel tears stinging your eyes as he stretches you full, your hands fisting the sheets beneath you.

“Jungkook please move—”

“Fuck baby you’re so tight though… always so fucking tight just for me right?”

You mewl, head nodding in your sheets, “Yes yes, only for you baby—please move Jungkook,” you’re begging with tears, your pussy throbbing against his length.

Jungkook shifts slightly to a more comfortable position, one hand gripping your waist to hold you against him tightly, the other falling against your neck to keep your torso down. Hesitantly, he pulls out some, jerking his hips right back into the deepest parts of your insides. You swear you feel him pressing into your gut and it leaves you breathless.

“I hate,” he pulls out again a little more, “How fucking,” he slams his hips back, “Needy you always were,” he groans as he begins a steady pace in and out of you. Your moans are becoming louder and louder as he snap of his hips are harder than the last. His words go completely over your head, too intoxicated by his thick cock moving against your walls.

“Oh fuck,” you are face down into your pillows at this point, headboard clanking against the wall. He watches your small frame keeping heavy tempo, watching his dick move in and out of your slick center. It’s obscene, sending his head backwards as he tries to catch his breath.

“Shit baby,” he breathes out heavily, “Look at me,” he commands.

You do your best, turning your head on your cheek, your eyes meeting his swiftly. It’s hard to hold his gaze in this position with your head buried in your pillow, but you manage. Jungkook leans forward on one hand, his chest grazing your back, his lips hovering above your right ear.

“Jungkook,” you say, hardly able to breath under his weight as he keeps his hips snapping deep within your walls. He stops momentarily, slowing down to watch your face contort as he hits the spot in you that you desperately needed relief to.

“Pretty girl,” he kisses the exposed skin on your shoulder with an open mouth, “My pretty girl… does she wanna come?”

You nod quickly into the sheets, unable to hold his gaze as he reaches under you to circle your clit. You jerk in his hold, still sensitive from moments ago, even more so when he suddenly bites down on your skin harshly.

“Ah!” Your half-scream is muffled as he continues his contradicting motions of fast hips yet steady pace of his thumb on your clitoris. He’s always been your best and it never takes long when he’s fucking you. You turn your head once again for some air, pushing yourself up on your elbows as best as you can, knowing your glorious orgasm is fast approaching.

“Jungkook—fuck I’m gonna, come,” your breathy moans makes Jungkook’s cock impossibly harder inside you. There was no way he was going to last long at this point. He wanted to make you feel good and fall apart over him—he fucking lived for it.

You fall apart in his grip, your body losing tension as you fall back into your pillows. You’re clenching around his dick in random spurts, Jungkook’s own moans becoming deep and short, as if he’s trying to hold them in. He only continues to pound into you from behind a few more strokes as he lets you ride out your orgasm. You’re squirming underneath him as its becoming all too sensitive, but you know it could easily turn into another one soon if you pushed through.

Abruptly, he pulls completely out of you. You push yourself back up, looking over your shoulder—“Jungkook?—“

You’re cut off when he grabs you, hands around your waist and tummy, flipping you around so you’re now completely on your back. He loved throwing you around like a rag dog and you obviously let him. In public, you were always the one wearing the pants in your relationship—in the bedroom though, it was completely opposite. You figured that out all those years ago when you first got with him.

The two of you make eye contact at the same time, making your nipples pebble from a chill. The atmosphere shifts in your small room. The tension is dense and you’re unsure of his next move. He runs his tongue inside his mouth, before biting his lip in contemplation. You’ve now fully recovered from your orgasm, your legs already spread for him to come back, but he keeps his gaze locked on yours.

“Scoot back,” he commands softly. You do exactly as you are told, scooting on your elbows, your head falling back on the plush pillow. His face his blushed a soft pink as he quickly follows, positioning himself between your legs comfortably.

He grabs his still harden cock with his tattooed hand, lining it back up with you. You push your hips up and out to ease him in slowly. A gasp escapes both your lips as he slides in inch my inch, his forehead descending against your own.

“Fuck,” he closes his eyes tightly, sucking his bottom lip in as he starts to move in painfully slow thrusts. Nonetheless, he’s still hitting you hard and deep enough for you to keen into him, profanities and moans tumbling out every few seconds.

Your insides are hot and slick and Jungkook feels himself edging closer and closer to his own orgasm. Between the sounds coming from both pairs of your lips, he cannot help himself become overwhelmed in your presence. He knows it’s you—it’s always been you. No one would ever compare to how you make him feel. He doesn’t know why he fucked another girl when he had you waiting at home—arguing or not. He shuts his eyes tightly as a particularly loud moan emits from your mouth, trying to shut out his thoughts too in the process.

He maneuvers your left leg up around his waist so he can feel the deepest parts of your insides.

You’ve now built up a sweat, Jungkook too as both of you focus on pleasuring each other for as long as possible. Above you, Jungkook looks like an angel as he drops to his elbows, nuzzling his head into the crook of your shoulder. Instinctively, you wrap your arms around him to pull him closer as he pace against you picks back up. He’s close—his heavy, uneven breathing in your ear being the indicator. You weren’t sure if you were going to come again, but honestly you didn’t mind. All you cared about was helping Jungkook get there, wanting him to come deep inside of you, pushing his come in and out of you as he rides out his high. The thought makes you even wetter, your pussy pulsing around him as his breaths continue to shorten.

Your train of thought is broken when you suddenly feel a wetness appear—dropping—onto the bare skin of your shoulder. You hear a muffled whine coming from Jungkook and you nudge him slightly, one of your hands flying down to his hip to stop his motions.

“Jungkook?” You whisper… was he crying? He fights against your palm as he tries to continue his pace, his face still buried beside yours. “Guk—baby—“

“Fucking stop—“ he groans almost angrily as he pushes himself up to look down at you. You were right—his eyes were stained with tears, pink and slightly swollen around the edges.

“Jungkook,” you push yourself up on your elbows, his hard cock still inside you as he stills his motions, “What’s wrong? Baby, what’s wrong?” You grab onto his face gently, bringing him back down with you.

He doesn’t look at you, keeping his gaze down at your chest. He shakes his head slightly, a tear dropping down on your skin.

“Fuck,” he breathes as he starts to thrust in and out of you again. Your hands relax against his face as pleasure again seeps through your veins. “Fuck—Y/N—“ he pauses, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry—“

His forehead falls against yours, finally looking you in the eyes. He’s fighting a battle in his head and you’re confused at his words until he speaks again.

“I’m so sorry,” he manages as his orgasm is just right there on the horizon, “For ever—everything,” he says, his voice trailing off and breathy.

“Jungkook come inside—please,” you beg, holding him close, your lips grazing his as he thrusts upward each time, “Come on baby, please come for me, it’s okay—“

“Ah—ah!” he stutters as he finally finds his sweet release, shoving his hips as far up as you’ll let him. You push your hips out to help him ride out his high, the sounds from his mouth sending you squirming beneath him looking for another release.

“Fuck,” Jungkook breathes out as he sits up, about to pull out but you grab his wrist before he can.

“Keep it in me, please,” you beg from the tip of your tongue and he nods eagerly. Both of you watch as his penis pushes back inside you. His tip catches over your clit and you jerk beneath him. He does it against experimentally and when a moan falls from your lips. It only takes a minute or two before you come again from his rubbing and despite Jungkook’s oversensitivity—he does it for you. He wants to please you and only you.

Exhausted, Jungkook falls halfway against your frame; one leg and an arm thrown around you, the other half of his body lay flat beside you, his face down in your pillow. You too are now tired, the mattress beneath you calling you in for a nap but with Jungkook right here, you disobey.

“Jungkook,” you nails scratch against his dark purple hair. He keens into your touch, but doesn’t say anything. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head again but this time open his eyes to meet yours. You can only imagine how you look from this angle having to scrunch your neck to properly look down at him. He doesn’t care though, only seeing you for what you are; beautiful and like no one else he’s ever met.

You think he’s about to tear up again as his bottom lip quivers ever so slightly. Jungkook’s about to push himself away from you too embarrassed to look at you, but when you pull him impossibly closer to settle between your legs again, he feels himself calm down some. It still doesn’t change the heavy heart in his chest as he looks down at you. You lean up, indicating what you what and he obliges, kissing you gently.

Your mouths move slowly and synchronously. His weight falls back on you as your head pushes down in your plush pillow, one of his hands caressing your face gently as he fights to pull away.

“I’m sorry for everything,” he barely whispers breaking your kiss to speak. He kisses you again and you hold onto the wrist of that hand that’s caressing your face.

“Jungkook—“

“We had it so good,” his voice breaks off, “And I had to fucking ruin it.”

You furrow your eyebrows, a heavy feeling replacing the lightheartedness that was remnant from your orgasms.

“Jungkook, no,” you shake your head slightly. You were somewhat lying to make him feel better—but you also ruined it too. You could tell he was fighting himself internally about the situation. For months both of you had been fighting yourselves for different things but your relationship was a common denominator.

“I loved you so much,” he sighs out heavily, “I still love you—I don’t know why I did what I did,” he shakes his head angrily at himself, “I wanted everything with you—our dreams, a family—“ he stops himself abruptly.

While he’s not outwardly saying exactly what he did—you know exactly what he is referring to. The painful memories dig a hole in your chest, the shovel piercing your lungs with each blow. The two of you talked for so long about making it big together—eloping off whenever the time was right down the line—having babies—it was what you longed for. You feel your own tears begin to prick in the corners of you eyes, your lip quivering as you inhale a deep breath.

Jungkook is quick to notice, holding onto the left side of your face gently as you bring your two hands up to hold his face close to yours.

“Fuck,” you finally let out some of your anguish, tears rolling down the side of your cheek and on the pillow.

“There isn’t a day that goes go by where I regret everything,” he speaks again, wiping tears with his thumb. “I think about you every second, of every day, and I blame myself for how much I hurt you—“

“Guk stop,” you interrupt him, meeting his intense gaze. His weight was heavy on top of you but nothing was heavier than your heart was feeling. “Please stop blaming yourself—“

“How can I not Y/N?” His tone changes to a slightly defensive one, rolling off your body in the process leaving you a lot colder than before. He lays on his back beside you, staring up at the ceiling as he lets out a deep sigh to control anymore tears from flowing, “If I hadn’t of cheated on you—we wouldn’t be here doing this. Fighting and fucking, pretending to be just friends—“

“Jungkook stop,” you reinforce this time, setting yourself up on an elbow to gaze down at him, “Please stop this, I fucked up just as bad as you and I regret it every fucking day,” you pause again as a sob escapes your lips. Jungkook gaze softens when he sees how broken you are, pulling your body over to his, head resting on his chest.

He lets you quietly cry into his bare chest, his own pit growing deeper than ever in his chest. He’s not sure now is the right time to say what he wants to say, but at this point, he doesn’t care.

“I’m sick of this Y/N,” he says in a whisper, caressing the hair behind your head as you nuzzle into him, your whole body freezing from his words. What’s he going to say? You let out a noise that his representative of a hm before he continues.

“Baby I love you so much,” he forces you to look at him, holding your head in place. Thankfully you had stopped crying, only looking a little tired now. “I will never stop loving you despite everything,” he pauses, “I mean this from my fucking soul Y/N—please, please, can we just stop this and do it for real…”

Your breath halts in the back of your throat as you let out a small gasp. Your mouth goes dry, hands clammy against his bare chest as you push yourself up slowly. A look of panic strikes across his features as he thinks you’re getting up to leave—to run away from him—all over again. His face relaxes when you stay perched on his torso, legs straddling either side of his muscular body, the smallest smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Jungkook…” you finally speak after a couple moments of silence, his thumbs rubbing at the skin where your hip folds in your position. “I don’t—“ you pause, unsure of what to say. You don’t what?

“You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it Y/N,” his tone is patient, as if he’s walking on eggshells to test the waters in your response.

You let out a deep breath, your eyes wandering around your room aimlessly. Subconsciously your nails are grazing his chest as you ponder. He’s right once a-fucking-gain; you had thought about it. Nearly everyday since you two broke up. You thought about it when you were sucking another guys cock. You thought about it when another guy was balls deep inside of you. You dreamed about it on a nightly basis. Being with Jungkook was the happiest times of your life thus far. You betrayed each other though—in the worst ways possible—and you were afraid that guilt would never go away and the trust would never come back. It’s why you have had to keep him at an arms length, only using him when you liked—because he had proved you wrong in every scenario since. You wanted your thoughts about Jungkook to be negative—to keep you in that place so you wouldn’t seem like the girl who crawled back to her cheating ex. However, as each day passes on without Jungkook in your life in the way you know he’s supposed to be—you couldn’t care less if you looked that to way to other people.

“Baby say something,” he interrupts your thoughts, snapping you back down to reality. Your eyes meet his chocolate ones; so big and full of life. Jungkook pushes himself up, maneuvering to fully sit up as he continues to hold onto you closely. Your noses brush against each other as he grabs the side of your neck tenderly. You needed Jungkook in more ways than one—but first and foremost, you needed time.

“I love you too Jungkook,” you nod, your words true to your heart, “But—“ Jungkook tenses up beneath you, “I need to think about it… with everything going on, I just need to figure my shit out.”

It’s not the answer Jungkook was hoping for. He stares at you, somewhat lifeless, his heart crushing in his chest. Of course he understands where you’re coming from—after all he was the one to originally pull away those weeks ago in his practice studio. He’s always been a little selfish—a lot fucking selfish—too greedy for his own fucking good. His greed is what lead him to make idiotic choices that turned into lifetime regrets, but this time—he wasn’t going to let greed get the best of him.

“Okay.”

You were expecting him to fight you, but his answer makes you so content you almost regret not jumping all over him again—making him yours again. You restrain though, knowing that he’s respecting your decision to which you are thankful for. If this was going to be on your time, you knew what you needed to do. You were scared that he wouldn’t wait for you forever, but the way he holds you close despite everything—tells you otherwise.

Neither one of you say anything else—unsure of what to say or how to say anything else at this point. It was clear—the two of you wanted to work it out and get back together and you weren’t going to take advantage of him anymore.

It wasn’t long after when you found yourself showering the mess you made off of each other. The innocence didn’t last long when he ends up making you come one more time around his cock, convulsing until he does the same. He makes sure to dry you off gently, skin still sensitive from his touches. He nuzzles into your neck, wrapping his strong arms around your towel covered front.

“Goddamit, Jungkook.”

“What?” He asks, eyes wide and scared he’s done something wrong.

“Your hair,” you can’t help but laugh as you watch the purple hair dye droplets fall onto your collarbone and down to the white fluffy towel wrapped around you.

He chuckles with you, muttering a sorry before grabbing another towel himself to dry his hair. You roll your eyes at his actions, knowing that you were definitely going to have to bleach the fabric a couple times to remove the purple haze. You watch him with domestic eyes, his muscles contracting and relaxing as he moves around your tiny bathroom. This was too real to keep putting up a wall. You couldn’t crack right now though—tonight was the most important night of your life.

The two of you make it back to your room and Jungkook quickly gets dressed in the clothes he came here in. You follow suit, slipping into another pair of shorts and a sweatshirt for the time being. Unable to control yourself, you saunter over to him, wrapping your arms around his torso. He returns your hug quickly, resting his head on your own.

“I’m sorry Jungkook,” you mutter into his chest, “I’ve been so horrible to you—“

“Don’t say that,” he replies and he feel him shaking his head, “I forgive you Y/N… I’m ready to move forward whenever you are.”

You smile into his chest, butterflies piling up into your stomach. You’re about to respond but your moments of warmth and bliss are interrupted when you hear the front of your apartment door open. You know immediately that it’s Lisa but your stomach drops when you hear two other voices behind her. Jimin and Hoseok.

“I should go,” Jungkook murmurs as he pulls away from you. You only give him a nod, preparing yourself for the worst as soon as you two walk out of your room.

Your three bandmates are chattering aimlessly around the small dining room table until you appear with Jungkook trailing right behind you.

“Oh Jesus,” Lisa mutters when she sees the sight. Given yours and Jungkook’s wet hair, the three of them have to know exactly what just went down between you him. Fuck.

“H-hey,” you greet your band with a grimace, turning over your shoulder to look up at Jungkook’s pretty face, “I’ll see you later.”

He’s not looking at you as he nods, his gaze focused on the three sets of eyes at stare at you and him. He finds his way out of your apartment, leaving you standing alone a few feet away from your band. You hang your head low, shuffling your feet against the floor to sit down with them at your 4-person table.

“Hey,” Hobi is the first one to speak after the painful silence, “We picked up Lisa this morning and wanted to check in on you after last night.”

“I think she’s doing just fine,” Lisa remarks snarlingly, crossing her arms over her chest as she sits back further into the seat.

“Lisa,” Jimin speaks this time as you roll your eyes.

“What?! You want to make a fucking a scene last night only to turn around and fuck the very guy you were mad at?”

“Fuck you Lisa,” you spit angrily knowing she doesn’t even know the full story. You understand where Jungkook’s temperament came from about you jumping to conclusions.

“Stop it—both of you,” Hobi chimes back in with annoyance lacing his tone, “We shouldn’t be fighting on days like today.”

“Well when the leader of our fucking band doesn’t act like a leader anymore, it’s fucking exhausting,” she glances your way and you shift in your seat uncomfortably. Your leg bounces up and down uncontrollably.

“Jesus fuck did you—“

“No—Lisa’s right guys,” you sigh deeply, “I haven’t been myself the past couple months and I realized that I’ve taken out my anger on the people I care about the most.”

“Y/N,” Jimin says softly; gentle and kind, “But you with your dad and—“

“I can’t keep using that an excuse to hurt everyone around me, I’m even hurting myself by not taking any steps forward,” you finally have the courage to look up from your picked cuticles. You really should paint your nails before tonight. “I’m sorry I haven’t completely been here and I’m sorry for keeping secrets from you guys about helping Jungkook and his band.”

Jimin hangs his head low, a hand running through his hair as he contemplates what to say.

“I didn’t want you guys to be upset with me—“

“Lisa already told us Y/N,” Hobi says and you quickly give her a glare that resembles a ‘really?’.

“There was no point in trying to hide it,” she shrugs her shoulders aimlessly. You breathe in deeply, knowing she’s right. Who were you kidding? There was no point in hiding it. Jungkook was right, Lisa was right—everyone would find out eventually.

“I know,” you mutter, “I just—I didn’t want you guys to be upset with me. I’ve already been absent enough, I didn’t want it to seem like I was abandoning you.”

“I think I—we,” Jimin corrects himself, though you know he actually is referring to himself, “We were just more upset that you didn’t tell us. Yeah it sucks we gotta share you but it’s fine… really Y/N,” he continues and you can’t help but send him a small smile.

“You guys always come first, you know that right?” You reassure. Your dad always instilled in you—once you start something, you finish it. And Violet had a long way to go—quitting wasn’t an option for you.

“Hell yeah,” Hobi smiles, bumping your knee from under the table, “We wouldn’t be here without you babe.”

“Exactly,” Jimin smiles and he grabs your hand, squeezing it momentarily, “Hobi and I are gonna head out but we’ll see you guys later? We’re meeting around five, right?”

The four of you stand up and Hobi comes over to you, sweeping you up in a big hug. All the worries in the pit of your stomach suddenly go away as the room feels 10 times lighter than before. You don’t know why you were always so anxious about everything. You suppose you get it from your dad—always worried about what’s next or what’s going to happen or what will people think of me? At the end of the day, with these people around you who care about you so deeply—you have realized everything will be all right.

“We’re gonna kick Whailen ass tonight,” Jimin says to you, giving you a hug too before he leaves with Hoseok, “Mess up a couple chords if you’re feeling ballsy,” he gives you a wink and you can’t help but laugh at his statement. The thought had crossed your mind during practices with them—but you know in your heart you couldn’t do that to Jungkook, especially Yoongi—he would have you by the throat.

After your drummer and lead guitarist leave, the lighter atmosphere seems to have dissipated when you realize one thing. Lisa had barely spoken to you since she walked in. The way she walks past you and back into her room across the apartment says she’s clearly still upset with you.

“Lisa wait,” you call out, following her footsteps closely. She doesn’t answer you as she roams around her room, gathering what seems to be clothes and underwear to change into. “Are you really still mad at me?”

She drops what she is doing, crossing her arms with a huff, “I’m not mad at you Y/N, I’m just—“ she pauses running a hand through her dark hair, “You know you’re my best fucking friend. I don’t want you and Jungkook to keep crawling back to each other the way you are. It’s toxic and it’s hurting both of you.”

Your posture falls as you mimic her actions, your arms folding across your boobs, “I know,” you nod, “We talked about it this morning—“

“I think you two did more than talk,” she interjects.

You hide a smile, “Regardless—we agreed to work on our communication and move past whatever this is,” you wave your hand aimlessly, “He said he wants to try again.”

She tilts her head, “As in… like get back together?” She asks, a nod coming from your shortly after, “Well what did you say?”

“I said I needed time to think about it,” you shrug.

“Do you actually?”

Her question is somewhat loaded. The look in her big eyes tells you everything she’s thinking. She’s the one person you know—aside from family—who can read you like an open book.

“I don’t know,” you whine, “I just wanna get through tonight and then think about my fucked up love life okay?”

“I won’t argue with you on that,” she tsks,” Whatever is going to make you happy, I’m going to be happy for you. If that’s Jungkook then fine—it’s not my business… just learn from the past okay?”

You nod stepping forward some with your arms outreached. She returns your hug forcefully but lovingly. She’s been there for you since the beginning—it was time you trusted her fully.

“Alright, I gotta shower,” she breaks the hug.

“So you’re not mad at me?” You ask her with big eyes as she gathers her things up.

“No,” she smiles, taking a piece of your now damp-almost dried hair in her fingers, “You showered with Jungkook didn’t you?”

You feel heat rising to your cheeks, a short laugh emitting from you. You swat her hand away, “So what if I did?”

She narrows her eyes at you, slapping your thigh with the underwear in her other hand, “Because I would like to know if I might be stepping on Jungkook’s kids or not.”

You let out a cackle, making sure to flip her off on your way back to your room.

____

You were more nervous than usual. You had barely eaten anything all day, using coffee to suppress your appetite this in turn making you more jittery than normal. Your hands were clammy and your stomach was in knots. There was a lump in your throat and a weight in your chest as heavy as stone. You had probably changed outfits six times. You settled on something different from your usual affair with slips and converse opting for straight legged leather pants that laced up your hips and a cropped tank. Your lips were still painted your signature red, hair a little messy from anxiously running your hands over it so many times.

Violet was scheduled to be the 5th band to go on once the competition started. Whalien 52 was going to be the 8th, giving you a bit of a break before you had to step back out on stage. Each band was given 3 songs to present so you had exactly 6 to perform. Keeping the songs separate in your mind was easy, but actually going out to play the different chords was going to be more difficult. You realized that’s where most of your nerves was coming from—not from your band, but Whailen. You wanted to win, knowing Violet was the best band here, but you also couldn’t fuck up while playing with Whailen. They deserved their chance as much as you.

“Y/N?” Jimin asks, nudging your from your thoughts. In your heels you don’t have to look up at him, looking him directly in the eyes, “You okay?” He knew you were off the moment him and Hobi met up with you and Lisa.

“Just nervous is all,” you dismiss, “A little nauseous but it’ll fade.”

He nods once, throwing an arm around you to pull you closer to him. Currently you and him had wandered off away from your “dressing room” so to speak to check out the venue one last time before the show was to begin.

“I am too,” he says with a short laugh. You only give him a glance knowing that’s a shocker. Jimin was the one in your band who always held it together the best. Looking out at the masses of people gathering at the venue though, it was understandable. The competition was being held at an outside pavilion despite the chilliness being that it was the middle of fall now. You didn’t ask specifically how many people would be here, personally not wanting to know for your own sake, but you had heard close to 4,000. It would be the biggest show you’ve played in your career thus far.

Backstage was hectic with many sound technicians, electrical engineers, other people from bands checking out the audience filing in, and people from Geffen Records sauntering around frantically making sure everything was ready to go. You and Jimin decide on going back to your dressing room, not wanting to be in the way of everyone trying to do their job.

You walk back into the dressing room to find Lisa tweezing Hobi’s eyebrows which you take no surprise to. The sight amuses you, briefly making your forget about the task at hand.

“Lisa I swear to God if—“

“I’m not fucking up your pretty face Hobi I promise,” she remarks as he lets out a yelp of pain.

“When do we go on again?” He asks to no one in particular.

“Fifth,” you answer monotonously going over to your guitar case. You open it up, relaxing once you see the lavender Fender. You briefly considered choosing to play one of your dad’s guitars, but you knew that he would have wanted you to play the one you were most comfortable with.

“Do you guys wanna go—ouch!” Hobi jerks away from Lisa as she giggles, finally leaving his poor face alone, “Watch the others before we go on?” He finishes.

“Sure—“

“No—“

You and Jimin answer simultaneously, yours being the latter. You look over at Lisa who only shrugs, muttering she didn’t care or not.

“How about Hobi and I go watch the first couple and then we’ll come back and get you two? Maybe you should eat something Y/N… warm up your voice and stuff?” Jimin offers graciously.

“Okay, that’s fine,” you give them a small smile as they leave the dressing room, leaving you alone with Lisa. While Jimin’s words were kind, you definitely weren’t going to stomach any food right now that was for sure.

“Have you talked to Jungkook since earlier?”

“No,” you sink down into the small couch, slipping off your shoes for the time being. You meant your words—you had tunnel vision on the competition. Jungkook could wait. You feel around for your phone under your thighs when you feel it buzzing.

“Listen Y/N if it’s going to be too much to play with them, you know you don’t have to,” she offers as she sits down beside you, tucking her legs underneath her.

You give her a short glare, “It’s fine Lisa… I wouldn’t back out on them now.”

You open your phone after you have messages from a few people and a couple missed calls. The calls would have to wait to be returned. But the messages that catch your eye the most are from Jungkook and your mother.

You only faintly read Jungkook’s noticing a red heart at the end of his, focusing on the one from your mother.

[Mom 5:37 PM] Good luck tonight sweetie. Your dad would be so proud of you. I’m sorry I can’t be there, but we both will be in spirit.

You heart leaps. Your mom was not one to approve of your music endeavors as much as your father, so while the message isn’t much; it’s something.

“We got this Y/N,” Lisa grabs your knee, giving you a reassuring squeeze. You grab her hand tightly, knowing she’s been on this journey with you the longest. You know she’s just as nervous as you are the way her hand slightly shakes in yours. We got this.

Down the hall in another dressing room, sits Whailen 52 gathered together in silence. Taehyung was sat on his phone trying to distract himself with a game. Yoongi was relaxed on the couch, stretched out nonchalantly—probably the least nervous of everyone here. Jin was plucking his bass at random, making sure it was in perfect tune. Namjoon was there too; sat at a stool drumming with one stick in hand. Jungkook was sat on the opposite end of Yoongi, foot tapping up and down nervously. He was going between biting his nails and picking at the callouses on his hands. He felt sick. If he ever thought he was nervous before this show—those previous were nothing.

He glances at his phone. 5:57 PM. The first band is about to start after short introductions. Everyone could hear the crowd all the way back down these hallways. He hadn’t dared to wander around to see how many people were actually here. He refused to sike himself out before he even sat down behind the drum kit. Fuck, he thinks, he really wishes he was playing guitar tonight. He would feel a lot more confident than he does right now.

“Y/N and her band are going fifth,” Yoongi says aloud breaking the silence, “We should support her and go watch them…”

Jungkook looks around the room, big eyes waiting for someone else to respond. Namjoon speaks first; “Why?” He remarks.

“Did you seriously just ask that?” Yoongi mutters pinching in between his eyebrows, “He never fucking learns…” he says in a half whisper but Jungkook hears him clearly. “She texted me, she said she’d like us there.”

This—gets Jungkook’s attention. You were texting Yoongi? But not texting him? He pulls out his phone, immediately going straight to his messages with you. Did he overstep with you? Did he finally scare you away?

[Jungkook 4:13 PM] thank you for this morning. good luck tonight. i’ll see you later. ❤️

He shakes his head trying to not let him get to tied up in his intrusive thoughts. It was fine. If he was nervous, he couldn’t imagine how you were feeling. He would see you soon anyway. It was fine.

___

You were standing in the wings of the amphitheater, nerves coursing through your body like heroin convulsing through your veins. It was loud—too loud. The crowd was deafening. The fourth band finished their set to great applause and cheers. Perhaps you had underestimated just how good everyone here was. Lisa, Jimin, and Hobi were all feeling the same. Hobi stood behind you, drum sticks in hand jumping in place to ease some of his energy. Lisa was to your left, Jimin to your right looking out over the crowd.

“Fuck,” Jimin marvels, turning towards you, “You guys good?”

Hobi approaches the three of you, all of them looking to you to say something.

You let out a deep breath, “Yeah,” you pause, “We’re good at what we do, we can do this. My dad always told me if you can dream it, you can do it.”

The four of you give each other one last tight hug before the host says;

“And the next band of the night comes right here out of the city, female-led and impressive as hell—Violet!”

The next few moments are a blur. You are strapping up your guitar and plugging it into the amp cord, walking out onto the biggest stage you’ve ever set foot on, stage lights blinding you for a moment you almost miss how many people are here. Your vision then focuses and your stomach drops once again. The pavilion is huge and in the time you first scoped it out—the crowd had doubled. Everyone is already cheering for you which makes you smile a bit.

You look over to your right, Lisa marveling at the crowd. To your left, Jimin isn’t looking at the crowd, but giving you a reassuring smile. You glance back over your shoulder, Hobi beaming a bright smile to the crowd as he tweaks with the drum set for his liking. Back in the wings, a sound technician gives you a thumbs up whenever for whenever you’re ready.

You turn to your microphone, letting out a deep breath to steady your heart rate. You bite your lip nervously and before you even realize it, you’re speaking and addressing the biggest crowd you’ve step in front of.

“Good evening,” you break a smile, “We’re Violet… I want to dedicate our set to my dad who I know is looking over me right now,” this returns even more applause. The majority of the people must know who you are, or at least who your father is as some in the crowd send you waves of “rock on” hand signs. It calms you a bit and you hope your dad can feel the love.

“Ready guys?” You turn back to your band and they all nod, just waiting on your cue. Hobi counts the four of you in and you begin to strum your guitar. It’s such a simple melody and it’s slower than what the crowd had been used to—but symbolic for you in more ways than one.

“Every time that I sell myself to you… I feel a little bit cheaper than I need to,” you pause for a breath, “I will tear petals off of you, rose red I will make you tell the truth.”

As you sing, you realize that your nervousness is finally subsiding, turning into bubbling adrenaline.

“Was she asking for it? Was she asking nice? Was she asking for it? Did she ask you twice?”

While the crowd isn’t moshing or necessarily jumping up and down with excitement—it’s exactly why you chose this as the opener. You knew it would be different and would make you stand out. It was a risk for sure, but you hoped that it would pay off.

“And if you live through this with me I swear that I will die for you, and if you live through this with me I swear that I will die for you—“

The song picks up and so does your voice—

“Was she asking for it? Was she asking nice? Yeah she was asking for it… did she ask you twi-ice—“

The song finishes after a few more moments of strings and Violet is met with huge applause by the crowd. You give out a smile, looking over to Jimin who gives you a wink. Fuck, this felt good. You could get used to this.

With two more songs to go—you suddenly felt on top of the world. A Violet rendition of Umbrella by Rihanna is what you play next. The crowd appreciates some more upbeat music coming their way and your fingers strum your chords naturally. One thing is for sure—you were made to do this. With your final song starting, you were sad that you couldn’t stay on longer to showcase everything Violet had to offer.

The final song was an important one that took your band a few days to figure out what you wanted to play. You had debated playing an original, but you knew that it would showcase was Violet could bring as band.

You had started writing the song a couple months after yours and Jungkook's breakup but only finishing it recently with your life turn of events. The melody and chords were simple despite the heavy lyrics you came up with at 4 AM one night.

"Why do all of the monsters come out at night? Why do we sleep where want to hide? Why do I run back to you like I don't mind if you fuck up my life."

The crowd seems to instantly enjoy it. The song brings you back to those nights with Jungkook that always ended painfully. You feel as if the two of you had come so far since then which made it a little easier to sing now.

"Tell me pretty lies, look me in my face, tell me that you love me even if it's fake..."

"Dead, thinking about you you're in my head; even without you I still feel dead. Why do I run back to you like I don't mind if you fuck up my life?"

"Like I don't mind if you fuck up my life?"

The songs ends with Hobi clashing against the drums and you feel a weight leave your shoulders. You open your eyes, blinded by the lights again before a smile spreads across your face.

Loud cheers and applause errupts, sending chills down your spine. Your whole band thanks everyone before you exit, the four of you holding hands to bow before you leave the stage. You were sweaty, shaking, and high on excitement. When the four of you exit the stage, you have barely gotten your guitar off when Jimin is scooping you up from behind, Lisa jumping into Hobi’s arms. All of you guys are squealing, out of breath, excited, uneasy—every emotion in the book. You think you might cry when you give thought to your dad being here with you. He would have loved to see you do this.

“That was fucking crazy!” Hobi yells with ecstasy, “Fuck Y/N they loved you holy shit, I haven’t drummed like that in years! Jesus Christ!” He’s talking out of his ass at the moment but you don’t blame him. You on the other hand are mute, unable to process what just happened. Everything went to plan—you sounded so smooth and tight. It was fucking perfect.

Once you get back to your dressing room, you immediately take off your heels to aid your throbbing feet, throwing yourself down on the couch. You weren’t too sweaty, the chill of the evening keeping you at bay, but you still felt hot, sticky, and a bit shaky. Your three other members were continuing to chatter in their excitement but you really had nothing else to say. You knew you did as best as you could hitting every note and chord timely. There was nothing you couldn’t change and you refused to dwell on it, especially when it dawns that you have to go back out and play again soon.

You feel around again for your phone that you had left in room, finding it on the floor charging next to you. You pick it up quickly, realizing you have a new slew of text messages from friends and peers who must be out in the crowd somewhere congratulating you and your band. You make a mental note to answer them later when your mind wasn’t on other things. A new text from Jungkook also catches your eye. You hadn’t texted him back from earlier yet so you tap on his section, reading over it promptly.

[Jungkook 4:13 PM] thank you for this morning. good luck tonight. i’ll see you later. ❤️

[Jungkook 8:18 PM] you were incredible. i’ll come get you before we get ready to go on

You decide to respond by giving him your dressing room number and a quick thank you. The same bundle of nerves begins to stir in your tummy thinking about the new set of chords you need to produce. Jimin and Lisa are packing up their instruments which makes you a little jealous. You wished you could just go out with them and not have to worry about anything else up until they announced the winner of the evening.

“You good Y/N? You haven’t said much?” Jimin comments looking over to you as you curl up on the couch comfortably, scrolling through your phone aimlessly.

“Yeah,” you give him a glance, “Just nervous about the rest of the night.”

He nods promptly, drifting on over to sit beside you. Naturally, you stretch your legs out across his lap, his hands massaging your calves softly. You close your eyes for a moment, trying to block out the sound of the next band playing. You were trying to go through the lists if bands that had yet to go…. Whailen… Femme & Melancholy…. Lithium…. Mayday.

Truthfully the only one you were threatened by was Whailen and Mayday—the latter only being that they were already signed. The irony of feeling threatened by Jungkook and Taehyung’s band when you were about to step foot on stage with them. Knowing both of them for years now, it was the last thing you would have ever thought you would have done.

About an half an hour goes by of sitting with your band reflecting on the past few years together and how much tonight could change all of your lives. You and Lisa are laughing about your first meeting ten years ago and how much you two actually hated each other at first when there is a sudden knock on your door. Everyone gives you a glance and you mutter a quick hold on before you get up, swinging the door open to be met with a soft gaze from a familiar set of eyes.

“Hi,” you greet Jungkook and he gives you a small smile in return. Your hear rate instantly picks up when you make eye contact. He’s stunning as ever.

“Hey,” he says, his eyes glancing back into the room behind you, “You ready?”

Jungkook awkwardly stands at the door as you quickly put your shoes back on in silence. Jimin watches Jungkook carefully from the couch, noticing that Jungkook has yet to take his eyes off you. Jimin never intended to get in the middle of yours and Jungkook’s relationship. What happened between you and him was a one-off occurrence that was a stupid drunken decision. While he was never the biggest fan of Jungkook to begin with—him cheating on you and the pain he caused he—he thought he was helping you overcome him. Now here they are, six months later and you and Jungkook are still as dopey in love as ever; whether you two had admitted it to each other, it wasn’t his business. Jimin truly never has liked you in a romantic way; he admires your talent, your drive, your passions—he just hopes that Jungkook can give you everything you deserve. Frankly Jimin knew you weren’t ever going to let anyone else break down your walls, so he might as well wish you the best.

Jungkook offers to carry your guitar case which you happily let him. Your hands are becoming shaky again thinking about going out to play with a band whom you’ve never been with. Whailen had been together years before Violet could have even been thought about being formed. They were tight and their sound reflected that—you didn’t want it to seem like you were an obvious temporary replacement.

“Do you want us to come watch?” Hobi speaks for the first time since Jungkook came in.

“Please?” You sound like you’re begging at this point but seeing a familiar face out in the crowd wasn’t a want, it was a need right now. Your band wishes you and Jungkook good luck as you leave to begin your trek back down to the main stage.

“Are you nervous?” Jungkook asks as you walk close beside him.

“Mhm,” you mumble, unable to come up with any words. With Jungkook’s free hand, he grabs yours and intertwines your fingers together. He immediately notices how shaky and clammy you are, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

“Are you nervous?” You retort his question, finally finding your voice. His touch was comforting and you found yourself leaning into him more when the view of the side stage finally comes into view. You spot Taehyung, Jin, and Yoongi all standing by, watching as the current band closes out their final song.

“Shitting bricks as we speak,” he says with a laugh. You give him a nudge of your own reassurance before you join him in a laugh.

“There’s our woman of the hour,” Jin greets you first with a smile. Him and Yoongi look relaxed, but that wasn’t a surprise to anyone.

“You guys did great Y/N,” Yoongi compliments and you thank him quickly, your mind elsewhere. The band on stage, Lithium, wraps up their rendition of Fall Out Boy’s Sugar We’re Going Down to loud screams and praise. Lithium was from another city which is why you personally had no heard much about them. They were pretty damn good from the snippet you heard and the leader singer was quite cute.

Lithium quickly exits the stage to where all of you are standing. They’re all sweaty and panting as they pass you by. Speaking of the leader singer, his eyes find yours and he sends you a quick wink and smirk. He yells an explicit to his band in excitement and it takes you a moment to realize Jungkook’s hand is still squeezing yours, his eyes following the lead singer until he’s out of sight.

“Dick,” he mutters and it makes you smile. As territorial as ever.

Not long after they clear the stage, the announcer is introducing Whalien 52 to the crowd.

“And please welcome another band from the heart of this city—Whailen 52!”

Finally Jungkook drops your hand as he prepares himself grabbing his drum sticks. You situate your guitar across you, a sound technician plugging your guitar in for you this time. Once Whailen is situation, you begin to walk across the stage following Taehyung’s lead. Jungkook separates from your side going to the drum kit and you walk to stage left of Taehyung.

The crowd is just as jarring as the first time you walked across the stage. It’s loud, hot, humid with sweat—nearly suffocating. You look out into the crowd briefly, noticing people closer to the front giving you confused looks. You choose to ignore them, glancing back towards Jungkook who has sat at the drums with an unreadable expression. His eyes meet yours briefly before he turns to look at Taehyung; relishing in the cheers from the crowd with a sly smirk across his lips. You feel as if your heart may beat out of your chest, fingers may drop your guitar pick from the shakiness in your fingertips, your throat going dry in all the same breath. You look across the stage to meet Yoongi’s gaze—it’s soft and comforting. As if he can read your emotions, he nods a couple times, giving you some needed reassurance.

“Thank you, thank you,” Taehyung begins to speak, sending a wink over to someone in the crowd, “We’re Whalien 52 and uh, we hope you enjoy our set.”

Jungkook’s drum sticks counts in three, two one—the first song, a cover of Silverchair’s “Ana’s Song.” Similar to Violet’s set, Whalien agreed on a starting off a little slower, wanting to pick up their vibe as the short set continued. Taehyung’s voice complimented Daniel John’s well as he opens the song with a deep emotion you never knew he had until you began practicing with them last week.

Luckily for you, the chords for the song were easy for you, strumming the chords lightly until it required you and Taehyung to strum heavier together as the chorus picked up. As usual, your nerves have greatly decreased as you feel more content in your element. You find that playing lead with no vocals was definitely less nerve wracking than your normal gig. Sure it was weird not playing in your own band, but this was still fun for you. It will always be fun for you—you couldn’t thank your father for introducing you to your passion enough. The thought of him makes you smile and as the song closes, you let out a heavy sigh of relief. Nerves were nearly zero and you felt confident—a dangerous combination.

Taehyung speaks to the crowd for a moment as everyone continues to yell and cheer for the band. You had to admit, this crowd was one of the best you’ve ever played for. They’re enthusiastic about each band, appreciating everyone for what they bring, and silence hadn’t been an option for them. As you glance over the crowd one more time, your eyes land on Jimin, Lisa, and Hobi. They’re standing to your right, far enough where they couldn’t hear you if you tried to speak but close enough where you could make out their faces. Lisa blows you a giant kiss while Jimin and Hobi gives you reassuring smiles. It brings butterflies to your stomach knowing that they are not mad at you. If anything, they seem more than proud and you couldn’t ask to be a leader for anyone else.

The next song, an original song written by Namjoon and Yoongi—Fake Love—begins to play as you strum your guitar to the beautiful chords. As much of an ass Kim Namjoon could be, he was a damn good song and melody writer. Jungkook soon comes in heavy with the drums and the song is shaping to how it’s supposed to sound. Between the lyrics, the way it slows and picks up, it truly is great. Jungkook even brings in some backing vocals which rounds out everything nicely. As you continue to strum, you glance back at him hitting the drums rhythmically and smooth like butter. You knew playing guitar was one talent—playing the drums was completely different. You had to have groove, stamina, strength, a musicality that wasn’t even on your level. While guitar was definitely yours and Jungkook’s niche, he looked just as comfortable behind the drum kit.

Fake Love is over before you realize it and you end up giving Taehyung a smile which he seems to appreciate. As the lead of a band, compliments and reassurance were never enough. The pressure of it all could be crushing. Your father, while not the lead of the band, experienced pressure all too well and you’re sure it’s one of the reasons he did was he did. You weren’t excusing him for leaving you and your mom alone, but you knew maybe if someone had just told him one more time he was great—he would still be here. You’d be damned if anything like that happened again in your lifetime. You knew exactly was Kim Taehyung was feeling right now and despite this not being your own band—you wanted him to feel what you would want to feel—confident and damn good in his abilities.

The last song—which was the song of your choosing—“Do I Wanna Know” by the Arctic Monkey’s, starts with the iconic heavy drum beat, the crowd clapping along as you come in with the guitar chords soon after.

It had been a personal favorite of yours for years and you knew how well Alex Turner’s voice would fit Taehyung’s deep vocal abilities. Whailen was excited about the song choice when you were first practicing and with the crowd response—it was a good choice.

“Crawlin’ back to you, ever thought of callin’ when you’ve had a few… cause I always do,” Taehyung sings the words but the crowd as nearly overtaken him in decibel strength. “Maybe I’m too, busy being yours to fall for somebody new—“

For whatever hell-stricken reason, with these lyrics, you glance back at Jungkook who surprisingly is already looking your way. His gaze catches your breath and you nearly mess up a chord, nearly playing an Am where it should have been an Em. You don’t feel nerves looking at him, but you feel something. A fire deep within your gut, tingles down your spine, lips dry from your mouth being slightly parted. When you had chosen this song for Whailen, you and Jungkook hadn’t fucked and discussed getting back together. You can’t help but feel the irony as Taehyung sings the song with as much burning fire that’s in your and Jungkook’s relationship. You have to look away before you truly fuck up the song.

“Do I wanna know? If this feeling flows both ways… was sorta hopin’ that you’d stay, the nights were made for saying things you can’t say tomorrow day…too busy being yours, ever thought of callin’ darlin’… crawling back to you…”

The song ends to loud and eruptive cheers, each member of Whalien letting out a visible sigh—shoulders falling in relaxation. Yoongi and Jin give each other a big hug from the opposite side of you where you stand. The five of you gather in the middle of the stage to give a final bow to the crowd. You feel like you can finally relax, knowing your night of playing music is finally over.

“Thank you all again! And thank you to Violet’s wonderful lead, Y/N for helping us out with this set!” Taehyung’s last words in the microphone surprise you, but you’re grateful for them.

As all of you exit the stage, you hand your guitar to a sound technician and before you can register anything, you are lifted from the ground, strong arms gripping you tightly. You squeal slightly but the tattooed arm around your front eases you. Jungkook sets you down and you turn around, to give him a proper hug. Both of you are sweaty but you couldn’t care less considering what you two got into this morning.

“Thank you thank you thank you,” Jungkook rambles into your ear as he picks you up again for a moment. When sets you down, your hands hold the sides of his face gently and you give him a smile, “Your dad would be so proud of you.”

In words make your heart swell. His words from this morning play over and over in your head. “Let’s just stop this and do it for real.”

Both of you stare for what feels like an eternity, the noise of everything around you drowning out, making it seem as if it’s just the two of you. You know exactly what your answer is and you’re about to give him that by leaning in, touching his nose to yours. Unfortunately, he breaks away first, giving you a small smile before he turns to Taehyung, giving him the biggest brotherly hug you’ve ever seen. You look down in disappointment but you also understand now isn’t the time or place.

You end up hugging Yoongi, with him uttering a million thanks into your ear as well.

“You’re seriously the best Y/N—a fucking rockstar,” he beams his gummy smile at you, “Goddamn I can’t believe we did that.”

“Y/N—“

Your name falls out of Namjoon’s mouth, who has appeared from wherever he watched the set. You give him a small smile, the wall that you build around yourself every time he walks in your vicinity naturally coming up.

“Hey,” you greet him.

“I just wanna say I can’t thank you enough for doing this,” he pauses scratching the back of his beanie covered head, “I know I’ve been a dick to you and I honestly just didn’t want to admit how bad I fucked up and I didn’t want to admit how talented you actually are.”

“Oh,” you’re shocked by his words, the wall coming down slowly.

“I thought you were just handed everything but I hadn’t stepped back and thought about what you’ve actually been going through and I know I’m rambling, but fuck just thank you so much.. Even if we don’t win, we couldn’t have done this without you.”

A feeling of warmth radiates through your veins and you being you, you pull Kim Namjoon of all people in for a hug. Though it’s short, he gladly returns it with a squeeze around your frame. Jungkook was right. No matter what happens—your dad would be proud of you and you knew you had made the right decision.

After about twenty minutes back in the waiting rooms backstage, you follow Whalien out into the crowd to find your bandmates. Lisa is the first to greet you with a big hug. Violet and Whailen stand together in harmony; Taehyung talking to Hobi, Lisa chatting with Yoongi, even Jimin and Jungkook exchanging nice words with each other. You realize that you and Jungkook had barely talked since the set ended and you can’t help but notice the hardened look on his face as he watches the last band performing—Mayday, close out their set. Mingyu and his band are damn good and you can only hope that their former accolades aren’t enough to overshadow Violet, or Whailen for that matter.

You make your way over to Jungkook through the tight squeeze of the crowd, nudging him slightly when you approach his right side. He glances down at your frame before pulling you close by throwing an arm around your shoulder. Again, it’s like the world stops and just you two as you look up at him. You had changed into some white sneakers when you had went backstage, returning to your normal height against his frame.

Before his eyes turn back to the stage, he presses his lips against your temple.

“How’re you feeling?” You ask him close to his ear so he can hear properly.

He shrugs, “Nervous,” is all he says. It’s enough for you to nod in understanding. When Jungkook went quiet, it wasn’t personal and it was just something you had to deal with. You felt nervous too, knowing that your entire future could change within the next 20 minutes.

The two of you hold onto each other’s side as Mayday leaves the stage once they're finally finished. The lights change on the stage, the crowd gets even louder, and you can sense your chest tensing up. It’s not until when the host of the competition, along with a few executives from Geffen Records step out onto the stage. A younger man holds an envelope, whilst an older man grabs the microphone from the host after some introductions.

“Thank you all for coming,” the older man, a senior international executive at the record company speaks with confidence. “We have been spoiled tonight with so many amazing performances from some amazing bands. With a record deal, one band will change forever after tonight but if there’s anything I’ve learned in my career of 30 years in the music industry—don’t give up on your dreams. If you want it to happen—make your shit happen.”

Someone—Lisa intertwines her hand with your right hand, Jungkook holding onto your left hand. Jimin and Hobi are tense; Taehyung is looking at the ground with his eyes closed; Namjoon and Jin look antsy; Yoongi looks stoic as he stares at the stage with slightly parted lips, squinting to focus his vision.

You try to force a smile to calm yourself, to tell yourself everything is fine—you got this. Violet was damn good. It had to work out—there was no other options. Your chest swells and your hands are clammy, but you know you deserve this more than anyone else here. You had built your whole life around this moment, the chance to make music until the day you die, the chance to become the next star, to carry on your father’s legacy—it would have to work out.

As the younger executive hands over the envelope and the whole crowd yells in anticipation.

“And the winner is—!”

It seems as if the world stops. Your chest falls, smile fading into the background of all the noise. You feel a lump form in your throat, nausea rushing to your stomach. Your knees nearly cave in, weak from the reality that’s hit you.

“—Mayday!”

_____

Back in the dressing room it’s silent. The band is packing everything up in defeat. You parted from Jungkook and Whailen for them to do the same. You no longer felt sick to your stomach. Only sadness and a little bit of anger. You kept thinking about what you could have done differently—played this song instead of that one, worn your usual dresses and sneakers, done this, done that. It was no use. Violet had lost. Whailen had lost. And you were back to square one.

Noticing your demeanor, Jimin wraps his arms around you protectively. You return his hug, feeling exhausted and weak. The only thing you wanted to do was go home and cry yourself to sleep. No tears had sprung yet, but you knew once you were alone, they would be ever flowing until the morning.

“I’m sorry guys,” you finally speak into Jimin’s chest. He looks down at you with concern.

“For what?” He asks; Hobi and Lisa turning to the two of you.

“I failed you guys,” you shake your head, pushing away from him to stay at an arms length.

“Oh my god, absolutely not,” Lisa consoles, swatting her hands aimlessly. She pulls you into a tight hug, Hobi and Jimin following suit where the four of you were holding on only to each other.

“Y/N you’re the best fucking leader we could ask for,” Hobi says, “Just because we didn’t win this stupid competition doesn’t mean our lives are over.”

“Yes it does,” you whine and you can only make out Jimin’s giggling.

“No it doesn’t,” he says, “Because we’re going to make shit happen.”

This ends up breaking you into a smile, glancing between your members. They’re not even bandmates at this point—they’re your family.

“Fuck, I love you guys,” you say. The four of you continue your group embrace and perhaps Jimin is right. You’re Violet—you’re Krist Vedder’s daughter—and most importantly, you’re you. You make shit happen.

It’s a little after midnight when you and your bandmates leave the venue. You’ve changed into a comfortable sweatsuit and large jacket to accommodate for the chilly weather. You didn’t realize how cold it actually was being on stage with the adrenaline and lights.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go with us?” Hobi was begging you to join them for a drink but with the depressive state your mind is in, you know that would end terribly for you.

“I’m good guys, I promise. I honestly just want to go home and sleep,” you say again. “When are you going to be home?” You ask Lisa.

Her hair pulled into a high ponytail, she smirks, “I’m meeting up with Baekhyun, so I might not be back until tomorrow.”

“You’ve been staying with him a lot,” Jimin says warningly with a raised brow. Lisa’s face scrunches up, turning slightly pink.

“Oh shit, my Uber’s here! I’ll see y’all later!” She runs off down the street to an SUV pulling up to the curb. The three of you wave her off ensuring she gets into the car safely.

“How are you getting home?”

“I may just walk,” you say with a shrug to your shoulders. Was it cold and a little too late for you to be walking by yourself? Yes. But your mind was racing at a million thoughts. You needed to calm yourself before the wave of emotions finally hit you.

“Y/N,” Jimin furrows his eyebrows.

“What? I just need some time to think,” you tell him honestly. “You know my place isn’t far from here anyways.”

“We know, it’s just—“

“Y/N?”

A third male voice says your name from behind the three of you. You immediately know who it is before you even turn around. Jimin and Hobi’s eyes meet Jungkook’s before yours do. As you turn around, Jungkook approaches the three of you, hands shoved into his black jacket, his hair shoved underneath a black cap.

“Hi,” you greet him with a small smile, an inner warmth radiating at the sight of him. Suddenly, all your worrisome thoughts seemed to wane, now only focusing on the man in front of you.

“Hey guys,” he nods to your two bandmates, his soft gaze then falling to you. He looks much more relaxed and poised than the last time you spoke. Neither one of you said anything to each other when Mayday was announced at the winner, parting backstage in silence.

“What are you still doing here?” You ask noticing that he’s all by himself.

“I was uh, waiting for you,” he clears his throat awkwardly and your heart lurches at the thought, but stiffens thinking about him waiting out in the cold for so long just for you.

You glance at your bandmates, who are looking between you and Jungkook curiously. Hobi and Jimin aren’t stupid—they can sense an unspoken tension between you two and they decide it’s best to leave you two be.

“Get her home safe man,” Jimin nudges Jungkook’s arm with his elbow, before giving you a small smile, “See ya later Y/N.”

You wave them off and it’s soon just you and Jungkook outside the venue pretty much all alone. You turn back to him, looking up at his frame.

“You okay?” You ask him, wrapping your arms around your frame as a chill goes down your body. A soft smile spreads across his face before he’s grabbing your hand, pulling you in the opposite direction of your apartment.

_____

Jungkook drags you to a convenience store where the two of you currently sit on a sidewalk, sharing a cup of piping hot ramen and cuddled up to each others side to keep warm. He slurps the noodles quietly and you can tell there’s something he’s not saying. You don’t know whether to push him or leave it be. At the moment, you decide on the latter.

“We used to do this all the time,” you say, bringing up memories of the first few months of yours and Jungkook’s relationship. The two of you managed to find yourself at convenience stores, eating junk or buying alcohol after long nights of band practice or gigs. 18 seemed so long ago and you two seem like such different people now. Honestly though—it’s a good thing. Growing up can be hell, but you and Jungkook are proof that you have to grow the fuck up to get to a healthy place.

Jungkook smiles with a chuckle, “I know, I think I used to eat my body weight in ramen as a teenager,” he pauses looking at the last bit of noodles and broth. He looks at you with those big brown puppy dog eyes that you love so much and you nod with a small laugh. He grins before eating the last of the food. He sets down the cup before letting out a deep sigh of relief.

You lean into his left side, one of his hands resting on your leg to pull you closer to him. It’s comfortable and it feels like home.

“You’ve been so quiet since the competition,” you mumble, opting to push him a little.

He sighs deeply, gaze still forward, “I guess I’m still processing everything,” he says with disappointment in his tone. You nod into his shoulder. You understand completely. You felt like you had built a glass house that had been shattered by a giant rock.

“I’m sorry,” is what you offer, looking up to his side profile. He glances over at you, his eyebrow piercing catching the street light for a moment.

“I’m sorry too,” he says, dropping his head slightly, “Though there wasn’t much we could do about it.”

His tone implies something—you don’t know what—but something. Almost accusatory. Furrowing your brows, you ask what he means.

He lets out a sarcastic laugh in response, “The competition was fucking rigged.”

You grip loosens on his arm some, your face draining any color left, mouth going dry. You nearly push back and say that’s ridiculous, but you stop yourself. As you had been working on with your therapist, you hold your tongue instead of jumping to conclusions. Why would Jungkook lie about that? What does he have to gain by saying that without any reason to back it up?

“Where did you hear that from?”

He rolls his tongue across his teeth; a habit he’s had for as long as you’ve known him. “Mingyu himself,” he laughs in disbelief, “Told me after I went to congratulate him.”

“That… sucks,” you don’t even know what to say. You felt numb; unsure of how exactly to feel. More sadness? Anger? Disappointment? Resentment?

“Apparently Geffen had eyes on Mayday for the past few months, but their small label wouldn’t sell Geffen any of their original masters unless they agreed to ensure Mayday won the battle of the bands,” Jungkook continues with details that you didn’t ask for, but you were appreciative for the information. It makes logical sense. Your dad had always educated you about expenses within the music industry and owning an artists masters was the most sought after position to have. Michael Jackson didn’t even own his own music.

“Well fuck,” you mutter, now able to pinpoint the one emotion rising in your body. “Is it weird that I feel somewhat relieved?”

Jungkook looks at you with a confused expression, “Uh—yes?”

“Think about it Guk,” you sit up a little bit to face him, “Would you want to be signed to label who can be bought off that easily? Over a battle of the bands competition with underground punk bands?”

Jungkook licks his lips with a small smile, “Well when you put it like that,” he can’t help but laugh at you some. His heart swells when he finally looks into your eyes—really looks into your eyes—since you’ve made the journey to the damn convenience store.

You find yourself unable to look away from him. He was your everything for so long and you’ve figured out with some time and space he still is your everything. No one will ever replace him. No one will ever make you feel the way he does. And you needed him to know that. You lean in, his lips meeting yours halfway. It’s as if you’re transported to the first night you met—sparks buzzing inside you as you move your lips against his. He cups the left side of your face gently and you hold the back of his head, scratching the base of his neck the way he likes.

“Jungkook,” you pull away, leaving little to no room between him and you, “I’ve thought about what you said this morning and you’re right,” you pause glancing down at your lap briefly to catch your breath. You’ve never felt this vulnerable with him but he had perhaps been the most open he’s ever been with you this morning. It’s your turn.

“I’ve thought about you everyday for nearly four goddamn years and I—I don’t want to stop. You were my best friend for so long and you still are my best friend. I want you in my life no matter what but I do want to be with you—I want to try again with you. Learn from our stupid, immature mistakes and find the best path for us,” you think he’s about to interrupt you but you shake your head quickly, “I started going to therapy and uh, it’s really helped me figure out why I’ve been acting the way I am and why I treated you so poorly. I’m still navigating through everything but I love you so much Jeon Jungkook and I don’t want it any other way.”

Jungkook stares at you blankly for a few moments, processing each word you’ve said. Without saying anything he embraces you in a tight hug, feeling a happiness he hasn’t felt in a long time. Not only does he feel happy; he feels calm; he feels excited, dopey, and in love. He couldn’t give a shit about the band competition. He has you. That’s what he needs.

“I love you so much Y/N,” he says into your hair, “I’ve been going to therapy too,” he pauses and you smile into his warm embrace. “I’ve made stupid, horrible mistakes, and I’ve hurt you so much and I’m working my shit out too but I hope that you’re willing to grow and grow old with me.”

He gets all the answer he needs when you kiss him silly again. “You’re not asking you to marry you, are you?” You pull away with a pointed look.

He laughs pecking your lips again, pulling you to sit on top of his lap, “Not yet babe, we gotta make it big first so I can buy you the big ass rock you deserve.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes, “You could propose with a ring pop and I would love it.”

Jungkook raises his pierced brow at you before an idea pops into his head. He kisses your forehead before he mumbles to stay put. He runs back into the (thankfully) 24/7 convenience store and you can’t help but grin, already knowing what he’s going to come back with.

As Jungkook opens up the candy wrapper, slipping the clunky piece of candy on your left ring finger, you feel yourself beginning to cry. This is what almost brings tears to your eyes—not losing the band competition—this—because this is what really matters.

“This is very punk,” Jungkook smiles, admiring the blue ring of candy before kissing your lips chastely. You manage to get rid of the tears springing in your eyes by batting your lashes quickly.

“Very Kurt and Courtney,” you add with a small smile. Both of you exchange one more I love you before he leans in again and you find yourself having the best kiss you’ve ever had with your one and only, on the frigid sidewalk in front of a nasty convenience store.

With one last smile against your lips, he says, “Baby they have nothin’ on us.”

Record deals come and go. Real love doesn’t come and go. Once you find it you have to be careful with it; you may never find it again.

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spacedlexi · 2 years ago

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Do you have any Violentine headcanons? I have one incase you’re curious(you’re probably not);Violet and Clementine light their room with (dark) blue/purple lanterns because it reminds them of space.

aaw thats cute. i loved the purple lanterns so itd be nice to see those get used more. i also think vi has glow stars in her room (their room). there was concept art of the dorm with glow stars so i gave them to her cuz it looked really nice and also the stars are their Thing

someone asked me a while ago if i had any headcanons and i wrote a pretty detailed response here (i'll also put it under a read more here incase the link is weird). i dont think i have many more violentine specific headcanons cuz mostly i just think about how the school as a whole operates post s4

- love that thing mary kenny said about how violet likes to be the big spoon unless shes had a nightmare or has trouble sleeping. i bet clem being the little spoon makes her feel safe when she sleeps in a way she hasnt felt in nearly a decade of sleeping out on the road where she could die at any moment. i wonder if there was ever an incident tho where clem could feel vi against her back in her sleep and woke up ready to fight someone, cuz in the early days of living at the school im sure she’d still be getting over her immediate fight or flight reaction to everything

- related to the last one i think once aj gets old enough clem would move into violets room (and tenn would move into ajs room. every night is a sleepover (yes tenn is alive in my hcs 😔 and no one is maimed))

- i know clem is technically The Leader now, but vi was doing a good job before clem took over, and since her relationship with clem helped her get over herself a bit and now she outright cares for the school group (instead of caring but pretending she doesnt to avoid getting hurt from loss again 🥺), i think theyd definitely lead together. clem is still #1 but violet is like her right hand/second in command. if the group splits up for whatever reason (hunting/scouting/investigating passing groups) then they each take leadership of each group (unless they feel like going fishing together 🥺). they definitely makes plans together. up in the office. sometimes they share the chair (its a huge chair have you looked at that thing)

- again since tenn is alive in my hcs i love the idea of clem+aj/vi+tenn one little family within one big family. if tenn and aj are like playing or drawing vi and clem are watching like a couple of doting parents 🥺💕

- they stole that horse from the raiders so sometimes they go on little rides together around the school, checking defenses. but also just to get some time together alone

- vi gets help from the others to help jury-rig a pully system on the bell tower so clem can get up there again. they make so many intricate home alone style traps i think they could do it. i think clem would cry shdfks. and it would mean that much more to her that everyone helped make it

- violet became very confident in her relationship with clem throughout the last 2 eps so i think they wouldnt shy away from being cute in front of everyone lmao especially as the years go by

- after a number of years together i think theyd like to make things more “permanent”. the only signifier of their relationship is the pin vi gives to clem (which is so cute on its own god i love that pin (“so you never forget that night” “i never will” SHUT UP THEYRE SO CUTE)). i thought maybe violet would whittle like a pair of wooden rings but thinking about it more i think they would just make new pins for each other. the pins are kind of their thing. clem would still keep wearing the og star pin, but she’d also get a violet flower pin, and violet would get a clementine pin 🍊💜

- related to the last one, louis would catch violet making her pin for clem and turn it into a whole big thing. because its boring living in the apocalypse and he wants to make this fun. clem would be on board with it and violet would agree if thats what clem wants. so theyd have a little “wedding” with the school kids attending. tenn and aj collect flowers and you know omar would make some big, extra fancy meal.

- idk if this counts but do you ever think about how during the last ep violet gets forcibly split from clem+aj and has to go back to the school by herself, and hours go by and clem and aj havent made it back yet… and how violet probably went back out there to desperately look for them, thinking they were dead and blaming herself for just leaving them there… she mustve been so devastated and scared and angry. i bet she was the first to see aj pushing that wheelbarrow back to the school and just started crying and sobbing if she wasnt already. SORRY TO END THIS ON A SAD ONE but i think about this 😭 ………………..

- related to the last one i bet violet spent so much time next to clems bed just hoping and praying that she would wake up. her and aj were probably there as much as they could be. and maybe would even take turns watching over her before she finally woke up. i bet all the other kids would come in to check on her too. they all love clem so much 🥺 you love to see it. its what she deserves. i bet rosie would be under her bed too like she was when aj was putting up the collectibles at the end

#twdg #violentine #sorry i took a bit to respond to this one my arm can only handle so much typing in a day rn #ive been wanting to make a sketch page of some of the post s4 stuff ive been thinking about but my arm.........#hoping to do that once im healed #replies with lexi #incognito

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purfectprincessgirl · 2 years ago

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*Catches the latest RH doll news on IG*

*suddenly feels like ranking them all ‘cause h y p e*:

(Spoiler images below)

Sooooo uh w o w, looks like I’m gonna need a second wallet for how much these girls are gonna steal my soul gjgjgk 😍💕First impression-wise here’s my own rankings so far:

~(Royal Three trio)~

1) Minnie/Pink girl (Idk what it is exactly but she just looks so soft and cuuute~ ☺️💕I'd love to own her first! ^w^)

2) Tiara Song/Purple girl (I'll have to see her up-close/other outfits to know for sure but glad to finally see her doll version, she's lovely~💜)

3) Tessa Park/Pastel Blue(?) girl (Again like Tiara I'll prob have to see her more upclose to judge her for sure, but I like her clothing style & color choice its also pretty cute~)

~(Costume Ball, Shadow High)~

1) Eliza McFee/Fairy (*yall know me and my fairy bias will never go away lol* -But omggg she is stunning~ that icy bluish color scheme with the makeup and the shiny wings and hair aaaaa I gotta have her now TwT 💙✨)

2) Lola Wilde/Werecat (Wasn't sure what to think when I first saw her box art leaks, but her doll form's looking pretty cute actually now that I see her! :3 I love the mix of light pink, black and magenta its all so lovely~ 🥰)

3) Demi Batista/Vampire (Hmmmm, I feel like I should love her more 'cause I've always adored vampires/goth aesthetics in-general... but hmm, idk how to feel yet? .3. I like the mix of purples and the rainbow iridescent look under her cape though, maybe some more in-person pics will help me decide for sure! 👍)

~(Costume Ball, Rainbow High)~

1) Witch Bella (More. Bella. Yes. Please~ 💖💕😩And omg her witch aesthetic here I did *not* see coming but she's pulling it off SO beautifully~ Bless you MGA for listening to us to give Bella more doll love! 🥺 )

2) Spider Robin (Oooohh, interesting idea they decided to play into Robin's brief spider makeup from last season to this design! :3 Was lowkey expecting more of a goth-y spider vibe though but I do get what they're going for nonetheless ^^ The more Robin the better~)

3) Superhero/Catwoman Violet (Hmmmmm... I do get the vibe they're trying to capture here (*esp with the lowkey callback to Tim Burton's Catwoman?*)... b u t eh, she's kinda not giving me the same "flair" like the others to get more into her rn? .w.; Idk maybe that's just me-)

#rainbow high #shadow high #purfy dolls #purfy chat #doll collecting #(Yeeee I'm SO hype for these girls' release yet at the same time I know my wallet wont ever forgive me lol TwT)

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x0401x · 3 years ago

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Finalmente terminei de ler Violet Evergarden e (dentre meu estado de choro por esta obra de arte ter acabado), me senti na obrigação de vir te agradecer por todo seu esforço por ter traduzido essa obra incrível e tão tocante. Se não fosse por você ter traduzido Violet, nunca teria tido a oportunidade de ler uma história que se tornou um conforto e uma referência tão marcante pra mim. Acompanhei as suas traduções desde o volume 2, cheguei até a ajudar um pouco uma scan que tinha tentado traduzir pra pt e, de novo, queria agradecer por você ter feito uma tradução tão linda e digna da nossa Violet nesses anos todos 🥺💜

Por sua causa fui capaz de ter contanto com uma obra que se tornou minha obra favorita e que também me ensinou muitas como pessoa, é impossível não se comover e refletir junto da jornada da Violet de wild beast a humana. Obrigada de verdade por ter traduzido Violet até o final 🥺💜

aaaaaaaaa muito obrigada ;v;

Fico muito feliz de ler isso tudo! VE foi muito game changer pra mim no que diz respeito a light novels, então fico sempre muito honrada quando alguém lê esse trabalho lindo e se envolve tão profundamente com ele.

Obrigada por essa mensagem linda! Significa bastante pra mim. :')

(E ainda não é o final, tecnicamente! Temos o Last Letter vindo aí!)

#violet evergarden

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mel0-dy · 3 years ago

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Your theme is so pretty <333

Light violet and white combination is just *chef's kiss*

Also this is keo/lyn

omg hi bestie aaaa thank youu 🥺💜

#oums pansin ko rin may changes sa acc mo ToT #ang angas din yung sa new theme mo <33 #BESTIE NAMISS KITA SJSKSJSJ 😭

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starshapedkookie · 3 years ago

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Live Through This | 1

↳ if you live through this with me, I swear that I will die for you

pairing: jungkook x female reader

genre: ex-lovers to frenemies to lovers(?), band au, punk au, angst!!!!, smut

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol and drug use, mentions of heroin overdose, jungkook & oc are toxic! by britney spears (#freebritney) but really do lurve each other, minor smut in this part (fem. oral receiving + fingering), ANGST, jungkook got tats, piercings, & is lead guitar because... duh, also oc slaps jk one time but honestly it’s deserved lol

summary: A record deal. The one thing Violet needed to become the next big rockstars. As the front-woman to the band, life couldn’t have been any easier for you. That is until a devastating life event changes everything for you, leaving you heartbroken and in a downward spiral you can’t get out of. With your biggest competitor, Whailen 52 on your heels, your bandmates worried about the future, and your ex Jeon Jungkook being your only solace; you weren’t sure if you were going to live through this to see your dreams come to fruition.

word count: 22.5k

spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6U3lm7y9hCgpw1bzc6r5qu?si=201adb3f43364141

➪ welcome to part 1 of this beast i’ve been tackling for 2 months. part 2 will be out soon. please like & reblog, i’m nervous to post (it’s been a year!!! 🥺🥰) come chat with me after you’ve read! enjoy💜💟♍️

The first time you picked up a guitar singlehandedly changed your life. You were eight years old—a gift from your father on Christmas morning. You’re unsure what prompted your father to gift you the instrument at such a young age. He always told you he had begun playing around the same time when he was a child so perhaps that’s why. It came at much annoyance and protest from your mother. You were a loud, borderline unbearable child to begin with—throwing an instrument into the mix was a sure disaster. Your mother should have expected it though. With two musically gifted parents, it was bound to happen at some point. She would later tell you she would have just wanted you to make the decision for yourself. You roll your eyes at her now—oh how naive she was.

It was a Yamaha—your first guitar. Your father didn’t think you needed anything too fancy at such a young age. Looking back you realize how ridiculous that was, always cracking a laugh when you think about it. An 8 year old—with a Yamaha? It’s comical but it was perfect. Without that first Yamaha, you wouldn’t be standing here, right now, doing what you loved. Doing what your body craved.

“Tough crowd, huh?” Your bassist, Lisa remarks only to where you and your band could hear her. You shoot her a smirk before tending back to your guitar, ensuring that it’s in tune for the gig. You are currently strumming along your Fender aimlessly, waiting for your cue from the club owner towards the back.

It was lavender—a hue of the purple family that may have been too on the head for your band, but you didn’t care. It was the most recent gift from your father—your birthday a few months back. You would play this guitar until the strings broke. This was your first gig in nearly a month. You felt pressured—your absence was seen throughout the underground. For more reasons than one, you were perhaps the most talked about darling in your scene—you had people to impress. You couldn’t embarrass yourself like that. You wouldn’t embarrass your band like that—you wouldn’t embarrass him like that.

Lisa wasn’t wrong—the crowd which had already seen one band before you—didn’t seem too interested in what they had to play. Granted, they were playing weird renditions of 2000’s pop music which may not have been the best choice on their part. You by no means were a music snob, but growing up around your father being who he was, you considered your taste… elevated.

From the back of the club through the bright stage lights, you are given a thumbs up by the sound guys in the back. You glance back at your band; Lisa—the bassist, Hoseok—the drummer, and your lead guitarist—Park Jimin. They all give you a nod that they’re ready and you let out a heavy breath of nerves. You loved performing, you truly did, but the anxiety of it all never fully went away.

“Hey everyone,” you give a small smile into the microphone as some people whistle and catcall as you speak. “We’re Violet and we hope you enjoy the show… this first song is about shitty men doing shitty things to women.”

Some of the audience laughs, others continue to whistle and on a count of three by Hoseok’s kick drum, you begin strumming your first chords, Jimin helping you out in the back. It’s an easier song to play on guitar, but nonetheless one of the song’s that inspired your band in your early inception.

“And the sky was made of amethyst… and all the stars look just like little fish,” you breath in, focusing on your strumming, “You should learn when to go… you should learn how to say no!”

The rest of your band comes in, kicking off the fast pace which grabs the crowd instantly. You continue to sing the song loud but in control, making sure not to speed up your rhythmic sections—a bad habit you’ve only broken in the past couple years thanks to your father’s scoldings. The club begins to come alive at this point.

“And the sky was all violet… I want again but violent… more violent,” you inhale to catch your breath.

“Yeah I’m the one with no soul… one above and one below!” you bellow into the microphone, opening your eyes to look at the crowd briefly—

“Go on take everything, take everything, I want you to—“ you momentarily stop singing, listening to the crowed sing along, making you smile in return.

“And I told you from the start, just how this would end… when I get what I want and I never want it again—“

“Go on take everything, go on take everything, take everything, take everything!”

It’s moments like this when you realize how full circle you’ve come—listening to all the classic albums in your bedroom to now performing them on the cusp of a record deal. The last note and word to come out of your mouth somewhat drags on and out of breath, you step away from the microphone admiring as the club cheers and yells for your band. You give them all a smile muttering a brief thank you. The lights are bright and you step back to give your retinas a break.

You start your next song after a few moments, keeping the momentum of the club high. You and your whole band are starting to break sweat, but you wouldn’t change it for anything else. You hoped he was proud of you. All he ever wanted was for you to be happy and see you doing what you loved. In that moment, you promise to yourself that you wouldn’t miss another show. Not just for your band, but for him too.

Your band plays around 5 more songs—going from L7 to a rendition of one of your favorite Panic! At the Disco song. All your nerves had seemingly gone away by the end of the show, your body just running on a pure adrenaline high now.

“Thank you guys so much, we hope you enjoyed it,” you breathe out giving a one last wave to the crowd. The high you felt after a show was unmatched—and trust, you had plenty of experience to compare it too. The four of you quickly bow as one last thanks before heading off the stage to the small green room for the club.

“Killed it as always guys,” Jimin gives you a quick hug and you squirm underneath him, his back a little too sweaty for your taste.

“Ew, get off!” You push him away as you set your guitar back into the case, closing it shut promptly.

“You’re really gonna deny Park Jimin a hug over some sweat?” He retorts and you roll your eyes with a laugh before responding with a flat yes. Jimin ruffles your hair to which you give him a glare for.

“Lisa, Hobi—you grabbing drinks?” Jimin asks the two of them as everyone packs their things away.

“Yeah yeah, you comin’?” Hobi responds with a wide smile. He always had so much energy before, during, and after a show, you had no idea how he did it. You nicknamed him your ray of sunshine many moons ago. Hobi didn’t have to ask twice as Jimin trails behind them.

“Y/N, you coming?!” Jimin asks over the loud music that had resumed playing. As the last band to play, the club results back to playing normal bar music.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom, but I’ll be right there!” You reassure your band mates and that’s exactly where you head. You don’t see Lisa’s concerned gaze as you turn away. Her eyes are sad and worried for you, unsure of where your head actually was.

You didn’t need to relieve yourself in anyway, you just wanted to freshen up from the show. Sweating and moving around the last 45 minutes on stage did not make you feel clean in any way. You powder your face some and reapply your lipstick—the red color being a signature for you—and straighten out your dress. As the only girl in the bathroom, you take it upon yourself to take in your appearance in one of the mirrors.

You clean up the edges of your lips, noticing how you merely don’t recognize the girl in the mirror. Unfortunately, your post-show high was coming down much quicker than you wanted, bringing you back to a much harsher reality than you wanted to face. Your eyes were somewhat dead, no longer possessing the usual confident gaze. You couldn’t remember the last time you got a full nights rest, staying up in the early hours in the morning, only sleeping whenever you physically couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore. Your dreams were too painful. It was a weird method of keeping things under your control. The less you slept—the less you had to see his face in your slumber.

Once you take a few deep breaths and feel like you look much more presentable than just mere moments ago, you leave the restroom, squeezing through the crowd of people to the bar. You’re able to hear the ensemble of drunken compliments as you make your way there. You can’t help but smile at the praise—if there was one thing you knew you were good at, it was this.

Despite it all, before you are able to reach your bandmates, someone shoves you into a stranger, nearly tripping you and eating the ground of the dance floor.

“Oh fuck—I’m sorry!” you spill out quickly, realizing whoever you bumped into had caught you wiith strong arms. “Kai?” You pant out, feeling somewhat relieved that you fell into someone that you just so happened to know.

“Y/N, hey!” he gives you a small smile as he lets go of your frame once you’ve steadied yourself.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, glancing around your surroundings, seeing he seems to be by himself.

“A few of us heard you guys were playing tonight and wanted to come check it out,” he explains with his ever so charming smile. You had to admit, it was one your favorite feature of his. Without warning, another person bumps into you to which you send them a strong glare.

“C’mon over here?” Kai suggests and you nod quickly—you hadn’t seen him in a few weeks and you didn’t mind to leave your band at the bar for a few more minutes to catch up.

“Enjoy the show?” You ask him once the two of you are settled in an area of the small club where there wasn’t any risk of someone bumping into you anymore. It was still loud but more manageable for conversation.

“Always,” he says licking his lips briefly, “You guys gonna be playing in the band competition in a few weeks?”

“Of course,” you say confidently.

“Good,” he compliments with another smile. It’s this moment where you really take him in. He’s wearing simple blue jeans and a distressed tee, but he looks good enough to take right here and now. You and Kai knew each other in more ways than one—him being one of your most loyal suitors. With everything that has gone on in the past few weeks… you had not had time to focus on yourself much. However, talking to him now has all the sexual tension you’ve repressed brewing to the surface.

“What are the rest of your plans tonight?” He subsequently asks, noticing the way your eyes rake up and down his body quickly. He does the same to you.

You shrug, “I was just gonna hang out here with the rest of the band.”

He gives you a look you can’t exactly read before speaking again, “Some of the guys were gonna head to Yoongi’s apartment in a bit if you want to join?”

The mention of Min Yoongi has you hesitant to fully agree, but nonetheless, you’re always down for a good time. You’re also sure if you go, Kai will end up in your bed at the end of the night which is just what you wanted.

“Sure, sounds fun.”

____

Jungkook has a hard time with names. He’s pretty good with faces but when it comes to labeling those faces, he goes blank until he’s met them at least three times. With alcohol running through his blood, he couldn’t care less about the girl’s name who is straddling his lap, lacing his tongue’s with hers. She’s hot and has a great figure, his fingers clenching at the girl’s waist, pulling her center impossibly closer to his growing bulge in his tight jeans.

“Christ Jeon, can’t you get a fucking room?” Jungkook pulls away from the girl when Namjoon’s voice interrupts his business. A smirk spreads across Jungkook’s face before he stares up at the girl, her lips swollen and cheeks tinged with a pinky haze.

“Do you want another drink?” She nods excitedly at his question, standing up from his lap. He takes her hand that’s outstretched for him and he leads her towards the makeshift bar of Yoongi’s apartment. He greets some people who have just showed face but then his world suddenly stops when he sees an all too familiar frame walk into the main living room, hand in hand with Kai—some fucker of a friend of Yoongi’s.

You’re wearing a short black slip dress that’s most likely a lingerie set of yours, white converse highs, and a flannel over your shoulders, red lipstick painting your lips. You must have just come from a show. He knew your schtick all too well. You looked damn good and he hated to admit that with another girl trailing close behind him. He has to tear his eyes away from you, focusing on getting himself and this girl a drink.

“Jungkook!” Taehyung yells loudly from behind the “bar”—Taehyung likes to role play when he’s drunk, and tonight, he’s ‘bartender’. Jungkook laughs at his oldest friend before telling him to stir up some concoction of whatever liquor and mixer available.

“Gukkie,” the girl whispers into his ear, her breath sweeping against his exposed neck.

“Hm,” he mumbles, turning his head to her, their noses brushing ever so slightly.

“Let’s go back to yours,” she pouts with a set of irresistible puppy dog eyes.

“Soon, I promise,” he says. He’s yearning to get into her panties as much as she is, but he knows he should stay a bit longer. It might piss off some of his friends to dip another party so quickly again to fuck a girl.

“Here you go Jungkookie,” Taehyung hands Jungkook two drinks, Jungkook passing the second one to the girl. Fuck, he thinks, he really wishes he could remember her name. “Oh Y/N!”

The playful smile on Jungkook’s face soon disappears when Taehyung’s voice booms over the music. Jungkook turns his attention away from the random girl when he turns around to meet your frame. Your eyes immediately meet his, your heart dropping in your stomach. Eye contact is such a simple thing, but looking in Jeon Jungkook’s eyes was like looking into a whole new galaxy. His eyes sparkled and held so many secrets. You had yet to figure them all out.

“Hey guys,” you smile, breaking eye contact with Jungkook, looking over at Taehyung. You could tell Taehyung was drunk the way he was being loud and playful—usually he’s much more reserved.

“Hey,” Jungkook nods to you courteously. Taehyung hands you a random seltzer before you give Jungkook a nod in return.

You take notice of a girl hanging off Jungkook’s arm, paying close attention to the scene in front of her. You grimace, the girl barely even acknowledging you. Does she know who you are? Does she know your history with the man to her left?

“Jungkook, who’s this?” So many questions.

His face goes completely blank, licking his lips awkwardly, “Uh, this is… uh,” he coughs trying to diffuse the tension. The girl looks completely taken aback, an offended look crossing her features.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She spits bitterly, stepping away from him. “Fuck you. I’m Joy by the way,” she turns to you before she stomps away angrily.

You can’t help but laugh to yourself before shaking your head, getting ready to go back to Kai until Jungkook says something.

“Haven’t changed much I see?” He chuckles to himself, on the surface looking somewhat pissed or annoyed—maybe both, you couldn’t tell. It’s been a few weeks since Jungkook has seen or spoken to you. He did send condolences which you were thankful for. He did have a heart of gold; most of the time. He definitely wasn’t going to bring up anything personal right now—opting to keep the conversation cordial and lighthearted.

Your eyes narrow at him, “I could say the same to you. Fucking a random girl whose names you don’t even know,” you say obviously to which Taehyung snorts from behind the bar. You had almost forgotten he was there.

“You always know where to cut deep, don’t you?” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. He’s gotten it trimmed and dyed since the last time you’ve seen him. It had been a faded grey, terrible roots showing from all sides and much longer than it is now. He’s now got the ends of his hair dyed a dark blue and his roots back to his usual black, his eyebrow piercing hiding behind his fringe.

“Part of my charm I suppose,” you shrug, taking a sip from your drink.

“Indeed,” he says, mimicking your motion of taking a drink. “You had a gig tonight?” He asks, completely switching gears on the conversation.

You furrow your eyebrows, “Are you stalking my band now?”

He shakes his head while pursing his lips, “Your lipstick gives it away,” he chuckles slightly. You don’t say anything for a moment, crossing your arms over your chest. Sometimes you forget just how much you and Jungkook truly know about each other.

“Always observant Jeon,” you mutter.

“Are you guys playing in the competition in a few weeks?” He asks genuinely, tone laced with curiosity.

You lick your lips, glancing back to Taehyung who has completely forgotten about you and Jungkook. He’s speaking to some guy you’ve never seen before, waving his arms around exuberantly as he tells a story.

“If we were do you think I’d tell you?” You retort.

Jungkook laughs taking one more glance down your body, shifting on his feet, “Does it really matter if we’re both gonna be there?”

“Keep to yourself Jeon,” you breathe out, pushing a finger to his chest to push his proximity away from you, “Maybe you should go find Joy, you might be able to still get in her pants if you apologize enough,” you give him a wink before walking away from him.

Frenemies—that’s how you would describe Jeon Jungkook. The two of you had a long history that was complicated—fun—hateful—loving—toxic. Maybe it was the physical chemistry—his musicality—the fact he was also a guitar player? You couldn’t pinpoint it. It wasn’t long after that when you found yourself in a relationship with him. A 3 year endeavor that ended so painfully and so riddled with toxicity. You wanted to hate Jungkook for what he did to you and he wanted to hate you for what you did to him—but you simply couldn’t. Not only was your inner circle pretty much in the same scene forcing you to be pleasant in each other’s presence, but Jeon Jungkook was your twin flame no doubt. A twin flame that burned so bright and blew out unexpectedly. Here you were, almost 6 months after your breakup, finding yourself around each other more often than ever. Were you enemies? No. Were you friends? No. Nothing was black and white with your former lover and you weren’t sure you wanted it to be.

You steady your breath as you leave your heavy thoughts, trying to find Kai through the masses of people—Yoongi’s apartment wasn’t that small, but the masses of people here tonight was overwhelming. Even though the “underground” was the “underground”—it’s becoming more and more mainstream as bands like yours and Jungkook’s get more recognition.

You can feel Jungkook’s eyes following you until you’re sure he’s out of your sight, finally finding Kai talking to a girl you briefly recognize, but you can’t place a name on her.

“Y/N!” Kai smiles throwing an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to his chest. “This is Nessa, you’ve probably seen her around?”

“Ah, yes I remember you were at a show a few weeks ago,” you smile to her.

“Yeah, you guys are amazing, you’re amazing,” she studies your frame and you give her a curious look. She then eyes Kai before biting her lip slightly.

“Thank you,” you smile flatly at her, “Kai do you wanna get a drink?” you ask him, trying to divert his attention away from her. He only gives you a glance shaking his head slightly. You inwardly roll your eyes, afraid that you may have lost your fuck for the night. So much for loyalty—and you even spoke so highly of him too! You excuse yourself with some shitty lie, unsure of where to go or who to talk to now.

Instead of going back to the bar, you wander aimlessly around the apartment, smiling and making small talk for those who come up to you. Years ago when you formed Violet, you couldn’t have imagined the recognition you’re getting now. Obviously you are no celebrity by any means—just a struggling college student with a somewhat successful band. It was still fair to say it was weird having people know who you and you were band. With the battle of the bands coming up, it only made things worse for you. As a child, you never understood fully what your father could have dealt with. Now, in your early 20’s, you were starting to learn.

“Hey Y/N,” Min Yoongi makes his first appearance to you tonight. The two of you exchange a short hug. He’s got silver hair that would be striking under the sun, but the dark atmosphere dims it to a faint grey. He’s never been one more tattoos, only carrying piercings on his lobes. You quickly ask him how he is, catching up briefly. You met Yoongi through Jungkook years ago and you two have always had a good friendship. Despite the bumps in the road, Yoongi was a good friend. Unfortunately he was subject to a lot of your drama with Jungkook, which you still apologize for to this day.

“Good good,” he nods curtly. “We’re about to smoke, wanna join?”

You’re about to protest but then you think about it, and honestly, you could use a nice high right now—numbing your pain had been your go to these past few weeks anyway.

“Sure,” you shrug, following your friend down a narrow hallway into a small bedroom. You’re sure this bedroom belongs to Kim Namjoon—the drum set in the corner giving that away.

“Look who it is,” you look to your right to find Namjoon seated in a chair, holding a fat blunt between his fingers. You wave to him taking in your surroundings promptly. Including you, there’s Namjoon, Yoongi, Jin and his girlfriend Sana, one of Yoongi’s other roommates, and Jungkook sitting around in a circle. You purposely avoid Jungkook’s eye contact, feeling it radiating from his direction. So much for trying to purge from him tonight.

Everyone passes the blunt around, taking one to two hits to get the high they desire. You’re sat between Yoongi and Sana, small talk amongst the group. You find yourself not saying much, sitting back to observe the scene—too much going through your mind to expend any extra energy. Jungkook does the same, keeping his lips sealed unless he is called upon.

Yoongi passes you the quickly fading stick and you quickly flick the lighter on to relight the green substance. You inhale deeply, only holding it in for a brief moment before you’re coughing the smoke out. You pass it Sana, trying to control your cough. Seokjin makes a snarky comment to you about it and you flip him off with a small laugh. You look around the room once again, your eyes meeting Jungkook. He’s chatting with Yoongi’s roommate and you chew on your bottom lip, your heart racing as you stare at his jawline.

Fucking hell, you curse to yourself, why did he have to look so good—all the time? Maybe it’s the high? Shut the fuck you you idiot, you scold yourself. Jungkook glances away for a moment before doing a double take, taking notice of your stare. You rip your eyes away from him, demeaned that he caught you in the act.

“Thanks Yoongi, I’m gonna get some air,” you whisper to him before standing up to leave the room. Everyone wishes you well before you find yourself wandering down the hallway, holding on to the wall for support. You are definitely high and you need a moment to yourself. Your heart rate has picked up and you lean against the wall, closing your eyes to steady yourself. You keep yourself in the shadows, hoping the loud music and other anomalies is enough to not draw attention to you.

You look at your phone to check the time; 12:56 PM. You should probably get home soon. Tomorrow is Sunday but you have lunch with your mom in approximately 12 hours. You’re pulling up your Uber app before you hear footsteps coming up to your left. You take a glance and see Jungkook coming down the hallway from Yoongi’s room. He instantly takes notice of you but he doesn’t say anything as he moves past you. Before you register what you’re doing—you reach out and grab his tattooed arm. He whips his head around as you pull him back to you, stumbling slightly.

“Hey,” he chuckles looking down at you. Jungkook is high too, but he eyes you closely to make sure you’re okay.

You let go of his arm, “Hi,” is all you can manage. If you couldn’t have Kai tonight, you always had a backup plan.

“Can I help you?” He mutters, his tone dark.

“Mhm,” you breathe out, looping one of your fingers through his belt loops. He steps forward without a protest, caging you in against the wall. “You going home?”

He nods slowly, his eyes studying your face intently, “You wanna ride with me?” He whispers so that only you can hear.

You glance around his frame, ensuring no one was eavesdropping on the two of you.

“I know something I can ride,” you’re bold with your words but it’s something Jungkook has always liked about you. You’re strong, determined, and you don’t sugar coat shit. It’s amazing how little the two of you have to speak to each other to fall into each other’s arms once again. A small chuckle escapes his lips before he speaks.

“Mmm, I’d like that,” is the last thing he says before he closes the small gap between you two. His lips fit so well against yours and they feel so new yet nostalgic at the same time. And maybe that’s why you keep him at an arms distance even after all this time. No matter how much he’s broken your heart—and how much you’ve broken his—you can’t say no to a twin flame.

_____

It’s 5:36 in the morning when you wake up from your slumber. It takes you a moment to realize you’re not in your bed but by the scent of the sheets, you know exactly where you are at. It’s still dark outside, making the room nearly pitch black. You can faintly make out faint sounds of some cars outside, the subway and buses running in the distance.

There is a stir of the sheets beside you and you know you need to get the fuck out of there. You glance over your shoulder to see Jungkook sleeping peacefully on his back, his hair pushed back off his forehead. Carefully, you lift the sheet up from your body as you sit up as quiet as you can. You manage to find all your articles of clothing, slipping them on quickly. You keep your eyes fixated on Jungkook the entire time, ready to sprint if he were to wake up. Shoes, panties, phone—you complete your mental checklist as you leave his room, shutting the door quietly behind you.

You leave Jungkook’s apartment deciding on taking the subway back to your place as that will be the fastest way home rather than walking. Your apartment honestly wasn’t too far, but the faster you got home and away from him—the better. As you settle into a subway seat, keeping your face low despite no one else inhabiting the car—all your emotions begin to spill out along with a set of fresh tears.

“Fuck,” you wiped your eyes ferociously. You really wished you would stop crying.

___ Jungkook remembers the first time he met you vividly—and he thinks about it far too often for his own good. It was his first year of college—yours too. A shitty old bar down the road from his shared apartment with his bandmates. A couple friends, Mark and Yugyeom, invited him and his accompanying band to the show. He had briefly heard of the new female-led band Violet growing in the area. There were plenty of bands up and coming, including the one he was in—he wasn’t sure what could be so special about this one. That wasn’t until he heard who the front-woman’s dad was.

“Her father is Krist Vedder?” Taehyung, the frontman of their band mouth dropped at this revelation. Jungkook was equally as shocked—the Krist Vedder? The famous Krist Vedder who has produced music from the Foo Fighters to Linkin Park. He wasn’t an actual celebrity by no means but if you were well versed with music, people knew who he was. Now Jungkook was more curious than ever to see this band—surely it had to be a little good if the front woman grew up in that household.

Once you stepped up on the stage with a white Squier Bullet Stratocaster, he almost let out a laugh, him and Taehyung somewhat skeptical considering your frame, but the crowd hyped you and the band before you even strummed one chord.

“Good evening, we’re Violet,” your voice was strong and confident. Jungkook watched you intently as your drummer gave the cue and then you were off. The first chord that came from your guitar was strong but melodic and he immediately picked up on the classic—Sex on Fire

Your voice was clear and commanding, confident with every lyric you sang. The bar immediately lights up as you get into the chorus. Jungkook finds himself singing along, mesmerized by your strumming and smile. That smile—all he could think was wow. Your drummer hit hard, the bassist—another female, had great melodies, and the lead guitar strum fast and clear despite his smaller frame.

A little good was an understatement—you guys fucking rocked. The set was already on the shorter side, but it ended all too quickly for Jungkook. The entire bar, even though it was small and crammed, cheered as you all walked off, clearly loving what they had just heard.

“Holy shit,” Taehyung says, bringing everyone back down to reality.

“Told you guys,” Mark raises his eyebrows, “They're great. Can you believe Y/N is only eighteen?” He comments.

“The front girl?” Jungkook inquires, realizing you’re the same age as him.

Yugyeom nods, “Yeah I met her in class last semester, she’s sick.”

“I mean her dad is Krist fucking Vedder,” Taehyung mentions once again seemingly in disbelief.

“Yeah yeah, don’t mention it too much—she doesn’t like it,” Yugyeom narrows his eyes at Taehyung. Jungkook takes a mental note.

A few minutes later after they all get some drinks and settle in for the next band to play, Yugyeom and Mark are greeting an unfamiliar group of people. It’s you and your band.

“Guys this is Hoseok, Jimin, Lisa, and Y/N,” Marl smiles widely as he introduces everyone.

“Taehyung,” he smiles shaking hands and giving a slight bow to everyone, “Kick ass show guys,” he comments.

“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees, his eyes locking directly with yours, “Jungkook,” he nods. The two of you find it hard to break eye contact until he does, glancing at the rest of the band.

“Wait, you guys are in Whailen 52 right?” Lisa, the bassist, pipes up a question.

Taehyung nods with a smile, “Yeah, in the flesh, although the other three couldn’t make it tonight.”

“Oh shit no way! I went to a couple of shows of you guys last semester,” your finally pop in, your red lips hard for Jungkook not to look at.

Whalien 52—Jungkook and Taehyung’s baby. Formed by them when they were only 12 and 14—abet the name Whalien 52 didn’t come until much later. Not only had they been a band for years, they were quickly becoming the most popular band in the scene.

The small group ended up to continuing chatting whilst the next band was still setting up their equipment to play. Jungkook sipped on his beer, letting the rest of the crew talk amongst themselves. He was there for the music. Although he couldn’t seem to stop glancing your direction every so often when he noticed that you too, seemed to not care much for small talk, ready to take in more music yourself.

You hair was thrown up messily in a ponytail, your gold hoops on display for everyone to see. You were wearing a black dress that was pretty fitted all over, exposing some cleavage tastefully, black tights that clearly had been worn too many times to count, and Doc Martens. Jungkook rips his eyes away from you when you glance his way, catching him in the act. He’s thankful it’s somewhat dark in the bar to hide the redness growing on his face.

“See something you like?” You raise an eyebrow at him, a playful smile growing on your face.

Jungkook, not expecting you to be so up front, gives you a chuckle before meeting your eyes again.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, ignoring your first comment. Unable to resist the dark haired cutie in front of you, you managed a nod and the two of you walked over to the bar together, Jungkook following closely behind you.

“Jungkook, you said?” You questioned as you quickly thanked him for the drink of your choice.

He nods, “And Y/N?”

You nod in response with a smile.

“You guys were great tonight,” he compliments and it brings a smile to your face, “You're a great guitar player.”

“Thanks, though I don’t do as much as Jimin,” you smile, looking down at the floor almost as if you were embarrassed of your talent.

He shrugs, “Every band needs both though, rhythm and lead.”

“You’re not too bad yourself from what I’ve seen,” you say. You had seen Jungkook’s band a few times and they were also damn good. Punk-rock was some of your favorite and they knew how to do it right.

He smiles, “We’re alright,” he shrugs, knowing that’s a lie. He’s only trying to humble himself to impress you. He knows they are fucking good. “How long have you guys been together?”

You ponder for a second, “Um, like end of high school, so just about a year. But Lisa and I have been playing together longer than that.”

Only a year?! Jungkook couldn’t believe that you guys already sounded so tight with such little time. I guess being Krist Vedder’s daughter comes with those perks of just instantly having your shit together.

“What about you?” You ask curiously. The more you spoke to Jungkook, the more handsome he appeared to be. Yes, he was cute—like a boyish cute with a boyish charm—but the way he looks at you says something different. Maybe it’s the piercing gaze he holds or the rings covering his fingers, something tells you he’s not as boyish as he wants to let on.

“Hyung and I formed it when we were like 12, 13? Something like that? But we didn’t properly fill out until early high school.”

Your eyes go wide,“Shit,” you laugh,“And you aren’t sick of playing with each other yet?”

Jungkook laughs with a shrug, “Somedays we want to kill each other, but we always work through it.”

You continue to sip on your drink, eager to see to see the next band. You didn’t just love playing music, you loved listening to it as well. If anything, that gave you the most inspiration for you and your band.

“Why’re you called Violet?” Jungkook asks, trying his best not to look down your dress.

“It’s my favorite color… duh,” you lick your lips, watching Jungkook’s eyes intensely. He stares down at you with a tension you could only describe as sexual. You had known him for approximately an hour, yet you felt like it had been years with how comfortable you felt with him. Jungkook was sure you felt it too, an electricity pulling you guys closer together. He’s had one drink, so it’s definitely not the alcohol making his head spin.

He rolls his eyes at your sarcasm before you open your mouth again, “I’m kidding… you know Hole?”

Jungkook tilts his head for a moment, before nodding slowly, “Of course.”

“Mmm,” you purse your lips, “My dad showed me Live Through This when I was like 11 and it fucking changed my life. That’s the day I knew I was gonna have my own band and name it Violet.”

With the mention of your dad, Jungkook sticks to what he heard earlier and decides not to elaborate on that aspect.

“That’s a great album for sure,” he nods, understanding you some now. So your father was Krist Vedder and you liked 90’s grunge. Was he dreaming?

“But isn’t Courtney like a terrible person?”

You narrow your eyes slightly, a small laugh emitting from your lips, “I separate the art from the artist… my dad always told me that was only fair.”

“Mhm,” Jungkook eyes you up and down once more before taking a sip of his beer.

You narrow your eyes at him before stepping towards him slightly, “But you know, Kurt also called Courtney the greatest fuck in the world on national television,” you raise an eyebrow at him as he meets your eyes, an obscene playfulness to your tone.

“Are you implying something?” He smirks, licking his lips with a laugh.

You bat your eyelashes at him for a moment and he swears he goes hard right then and there in his pants.

“Take that how you want,” you bite your lip as you cautiously rest your hand on his forearm. He takes this as his opportunity to step closer to you, his other hand pulling you in by your waist.

“Wanna tour of my apartment?” Jungkook gets out quickly and you let out a laugh, glancing over your shoulder unable to see the rest of your friends and bandmates.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” you breathe out and before you can even finish your drink, Jungkook is dragging you out of the bar by your hand, the two of you desperate to get a taste of one another leaving any other worries behind.

“Earth to Jungkook,” Namjoon beats on his drum set to snap him out of his long reverie.

“What?” Jungkook snaps looking up from his guitar.

“Don’t worry he’s probably just thinking about whatever girl is going to get his dick wet later,” Jin, the band’s vibrant bassist snakily comments.

Jungkook flips him off, not even bothering to respond. Between juggling school, the gym, and band practice—Jungkook wasn’t there. Dozing off every ten minutes or so, bored with his tasks at hand. Maybe Min Yoongi was rubbing off on him too much these days?

“Thinking about Y/N more like it,” Namjoon comments and Jungkook shoots him daggers from where he’s seated with his guitar. “What? You really don’t think we’re stupid do you?”

Jungkook hunches over in his seat, ignoring their piercing stares.

“You’re still fucking her?” Jin raises an eyebrow at his youngest peer.

“Hyung!” Taehying shoots. Jungkook and Taehyung know each other the most and he knows exactly what will set Jungkook off—your name being one of them. Jungkook woke up this morning alone is his bed. He wasn’t surprised but he’s come to realize that he shouldn’t get his hopes up when it comes to you. He supposes that he’s lucky you’ll still let him fuck you so he’s taking whatever he can get.

“We all know it’s true,” Namjoon shrugs, twirling his drumsticks aimlessly around his fingers.

Once again, Jungkook ignores Namjoon’s comment, focusing on strumming a few opens chords on his acoustic guitar.

“Pussy whipped,” Jin sing songs, plucking some strings on his bass. Everyone seems to laugh but Jungkook and Yoongi.

“Fuck off guys,” Jungkook mutters leaning back into his chair, “Can we change the subject?” He pouts like a child. He hated when the guys poked into his life—whether you were the topic of conversation or a random girl he fucked after a gig—it wasn’t any of their business.

“Agreed,” Yoongi speaks up, eyeing Jungkook carefully. Jungkook knows how close you and Yoongi are which can make for some awkward moments. After all, he is the keyboardist for the band.

“What are we thinking for the competition? We still going to with setlist we have?” Jin asks.

“Actually Kook and I were thinking about changing some things,” Taehyung says, setting down his guitar beside him.

Namjoon furrows his eyebrows, “Changing what?” Namjoon is the type of guy who likes a plan, so when the plan is changed without him knowing about it, it makes the inner Virgo within him vexed.

“Well, we have a gig this weekend, we could test some things there,” Yoongi suggests and Taehyung nods agreeing with him. Once again, Jungkook has dazed off thinking about your body pressed against his. You were an enigma—always had been the entire time he had known you. Taehyung notices Jungkook out of it again before he curses at his friend. Goddamnit, he needed to get his shit together.

Band practice goes by relatively quickly. Everyone’s mood seems to shift upward once the band jams and practices some new songs and riffs. There was such an exciting feeling each time Jungkook strummed new chords on his guitar. Jungkook actually didn’t start his band career as a guitarist. The first instrument he ever played was the drums—getting his first toy set as a child which then turned into a real set at aged 10—obviously still small in scale to fit his small body. He started playing guitar about a year later and he realized that was his calling for music. He had the reputation of being good at everything he did but with guitar—it was so different. Perhaps it's why he was so attracted to you in the first place. Your love of the instrument coincided with his. It was a match made in heaven—perhaps hell now he looks back on it retrospectively.

After concluding a successful practice, Taehyung and Jungkook are the only ones left in their practice studio. The whole band pitched in to rent the small studio monthly since everyone lived in separate apartments these days—it was the only feasible way to get practice in.

Jungkook has packed all his things up, getting ready to head out the door before Taehyung’s deep voice stops him.

“Kook,” he says. Jungkook turns on his heel and meets eyes with Taehyung.

“What’s up?”

Taehyung scratches the back of his neck awkwardly before speaking, “What are you doing man?” Taehyung hated confrontation, especially with Jungkook, as they were practically brothers without the blood part. Knowing each other for so long—both of them could sense things about each other that no one else could.

Jungkook’s brows furrow, “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you leaving with her last night,” Taehyung sighs heavily, “With Y/N.”

Jungkook’s blood runs ice cold, unable to come up with any response immediately.

“Why are you doing that to yourself Kook?” he asks with genuine concern.

A scoff comes from Jungkook’s mouth, “I don’t know what you’re on about,” he shakes his head lightly.

“C’mon you know exactly what I’m talking about,” Taehyung retorts, feeling some anger bubbling beneath his skin. If there was anyone who cared more for Jungkook than even his parents—it was Tae. And he could see how the thought of you was slowly eating away at Jungkook alive.

“She breaks up with you months ago and then suddenly wants to start fucking you again but refuses to get back together? Do you not see how fucked up—“

“Hyung, what’s between me and Y/N is only between us,” the younger interrupts.

“Man, you’re my fucking best friend,” Taehyung steps forward, unable to hide any of his deep rooted anger now, “You know I’ve always liked Y/N, you dating her or not, but what she’s doing is fucking dirty Jungkook and you know it.”

Taehyung’s words cut through Jungkook’s chest like a knife because he knows it’s true. The first night the two of you had hooked up after the messy breakup—seemed to be a happy accident. Jungkook had stumbled upon you at a bar for a mutual friend’s gig and before he knew it—he was fucking you from behind in the bathroom, making you come around his cock in 5 minutes. Ever since that night—you had seemingly always ended up where Jungkook was and you would go back to his place, Jungkook waking up alone each and every time. He knew that you had to be grieving and if someway somehow, he could help you—he wanted to do that—even if it broke his heart all over again every time he woke by himself.

“I just want you to be happy,” Taehyung says, “We’ve got too much good going for us right now, I don’t want someone taking advantage of you like that—“

“Don’t you think I took advantage of her enough? What’s a little on her part,” Jungkook somewhat laughs, his eyes dropping to his picked cuticles. Taehyung’s face softens. He knows practically every detail of yours and Jungkook’s relationship—a passionate affair riddled with jealously, miscommunications, and hurt on both sides.

“Kook,” Taehyung says with a deep sigh, “You can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened between you two. She’s also in the wrong and not perfect—“

“But I still love her Tae,” Jungkook looks up angrily, “And that’s the fucking problem.”

Jungkook’s not lying—he’s still madly in love with you and all your flaws. And he didn’t know how to stop.

____

You’re only 12 minutes late meeting your mother for coffee and lunch. Once you got back to your place, you managed to sleep until nearly 11:30 AM, trying your best to shake off last night. You walk into the cafe spotting your mother sitting towards the back of the small restaurant. She’s got a coffee on the table, a mimosa in one hand as she scrolls through her phone with the other.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” you apologize as you pull out the chair across from her. She looks up at you waving your lateness off but knowing her, deep down your tardiness has actually agitated her.

“No worries,” she says taking in your somewhat disheveled appearance, “Late night?” She quirks an eyebrow at you.

“We had a show last night,” you explain, a yawn protruding from your mouth shortly after. She nods once before licking her lips after she sips on her mimosa. Her hair is fixed nicely, her nails always perfect, her silver jewelry always on point. She’s dressed in a what seems to be a navy pantsuit, a simple white top underneath the lapels and her favorite watch from your dad on her left wrist. She was such a contrast to your father—she was always put together wearing the nicest things money could buy. While your dad on the other hand was punk through and through, only dressing up for occasions that he absolutely had to dress up for.

“You wanted to meet?” You say after the waiter comes over and gets your order in. You stick with a simple latte, not feeling too hungry this morning.

“Yes,” she breathes watching her coffee as she stirs it without a care, the spoon clinking against the glass occasionally.

“Your father didn’t have a will. And now it’s our job to clean his mess up.”

You’re slightly taken aback by her statement. You refrain from saying anything you’ll regret.

“Well, that’s not surprising,” you say with a slight shake to your head.

“I always told him he needed to have one,” she speaks lowly, thinking out loud—a bad habit if hers. “Since you’re over eighteen, the courts have put you and I in charge of disbursing his assets.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “What? Why—“

“If we hand everything over to the courts, we’ll lose millions of your father’s estate. I’ve hired the best lawyers and they’re advising me to keep everything within personal parameters for now.”

The way she was talking over your father had you uneasy and on the edge of your seat. Talking about him like he wasn’t an actual person himself—her husband and your father. A disposable asset himself.

“I don’t know what you want me to do about it right now,” you tell her honestly. She narrows her eyes at you before she bends over to her left, pulling out a thick manila envelope. She slides it over to you and you stare at it blankly.

“You need to read all of this.”

“What?” You grab the envelope, noting how heavy it was just to be paper.

She nods once, “After you read it, we can make real plans about what to do with everything.”

“Mom—“ you pause, setting the envelope to the side, “When am I supposed to have time to do this? I’ve got school and the band—“

“Oh forget about that,” she says distastefully, “This is the priority right now and it needs to be done. I’m sick of looking at his shit.”

Your mother has always been opinionated—supposing that’s where you get it from yourself. But like your dad, you were the exact opposite of her. You were empathetic, understanding, musical, a free-spirit—a good listener. All the things she wasn’t. And you guess it’s moments like this where you realize how much you miss him.

“What’s with the attitude?” You ask after a few moments of silence.

“Oh please,” she rolls her eyes, “You can’t tell me you’re not angry at him for doing this to us.”

You shake your head, “I wouldn’t say angry,” you defend, however you were getting somewhat angry at her the longer you sat here.

She laughs sarcastically, “You two are just alike,” she pauses, “Selfish, greedy—“

“Excuse me?” You fight back. You and your mom had your disagreements but this was another level of disrespectful. Not only to you—but to your father too. “I didn’t meet up with you to argue,” you shake your head, trying to level your head a bit.

“I’m not arguing Y/N. This has to be done, without or without you. And I like to know what’s best for you so please, don’t put this off.”

“I think I know what’s best for myself,” you fight back.

She chuckles again before she begins to gather her things around her, downing the last bit of her Sunday mimosa.

“Your father always said the same thing and look where that got him,” she pauses pushing herself out of the chair, “Dead, leaving us in goddamn turmoil. Read the papers and get back to me as soon as you can.”

She gives you one last glance before she slips on her sunglasses, leaving you alone in the cafe; stunned, confused, and in a worse mood than when you first walked in. What the actual fuck? Sure everyone deals with grief differently but seeing your own mother act in that way—completely invalidates your own feelings. Ever since the news broke, you feel like you’ve been drowning, unable to keep your head afloat, air slowly leaving your lungs.

Your father was everything to you—he made you into the woman you are today. He was your best friend and he was fucking gone. Everything you did was to make him happy and now he’s not even here to see you flourish into the person you’ve always wanted to be.

You stare down at your untouched coffee, feeling sick to your stomach thinking about the past few weeks. You look over at the manila envelope, unable to process that you are going to have to go through all of his stuff. You think you’re getting one step ahead but then there is always something that sends you two steps back.

The more you think about it, your mom was right—this was going to be a mess that could have huge legal repercussions. Of course your father didn’t have a will though—no one in their middle forties is expecting to die—at least you had always assumed.

You didn’t even believe the news when you first saw it. And to make matters worse—the news came to you from an article on your phone in the middle of you eating lunch with your fellow bandmates. You laughed, brushing it off as a silly rumor. You had just spoken to your father last night—he was fine! You ended up texting him, laughing about how idiotic and insensitive it was to make up an article like that. After a few minutes of him not responding, you waited another 5, 10, 15 minutes, waiting to hear back from him. To see that he read your message, holding down the picture to laugh in his reaction. Once that never came, you ended up all calling him—no answer. Your heart was now heavy, an unsettling feeling dropping down into your stomach. It was soon after when you received a call from your mother—panicked and shaken, that your life would never be the same ever again.

Apparently the housemaid back home had found your father slumped against the side of one of the guest bed frames. At first, she didn’t think anything of it until she tapped him on the shoulder, his body then completely falling over—a scream let out by her once she saw a needle and syringe sticking out from his arm, a bottle of dark liquor split everywhere.

Never once had you suspected your father to have a serious drug problem. The idea of him sitting there alone, injecting himself with a foreign substance—shattered you. It made you sick to your stomach. He was so perfect in your eyes and always being such a daddy’s girl, you never thought he would have crossed into such territory. He taught you everything you know about music, he made laugh until you cried, he was the shoulder you leaned on after your breakup with Jungkook—all that was now gone.

Your mother swears up and down that she had no idea. Maybe this is where your newfound resentment towards her is coming from. She was the one who knew him the most. She was the one who slept in the same bed with him when he wasn’t gone for business. She was the one who should have suspected something. Your mother may be mad at your father but if anything, you’re more infuriated with her.

You decide to drink your latte, not wanting it to go to waste. You tapped your foot nervously on the floor, an unsettling realization coming to you. You were lucky in many ways—talented, pretty, smart, passionate, had so many people around you at all times that said they loved you. Despite all that, these past few weeks have solidified how alone you undoubtedly were.

_____

Jungkook never really got nervous. He was confident in his abilities and his band. If anything, he got a little too cocky when it came to performance. Every girl ogles over him in their audiences and he relishes in it like a kid in a candy store. It also came with the availability of handpicking one out to take home later to fuck if he wanted.

Tonight he feels a little different. His hands are sweaty, his mind floating elsewhere. He stares down his tattoo sleeve, his eyes landing on one tattoo in particular. A violet. It makes his stomach churn. It’s a painful memory for him to think back to.

“Babe look!” You marvel excitedly. He comes over and stands behind you in the mirror, his eyes roaming your body and new tattoo. It had taken some convincing on Jungkook’s part for you to finally bite the bullet in getting your first tattoo. He smiles radiately, excited that you’ve done it.

“You like it?” His eyes are full of stars as he looks at your new ink. He can’t wait to get you alone, desperate to see your tattoo fully exposed in private.

“I loooove it,” you breathe out, “I can’t believe it didn’t hurt that bad.”

“I told you,” he places a kiss on your temple quickly before turning his attention back to the tattooer, “You should trust me more babe.”

“You next?” The tattooer looks at Jungkook and he nods excitedly before sitting down in the chair himself after he gets it sanitized. “What are we thinking today?” He asks as Jungkook shrugs off his flannel, exposing his tatted arm. Jungkook had started his sleeve only a couple months back but it was filling up quite quickly. You loved Jungkook’s tattoos not just for the aesthetic, but he truly seemed to become more confident with each addition, not caring what others thought.

“I’m thinking a flower, do you have any violets in your portfolio?” Jungkook says and your head quickly whips over to him. That sure wasn’t expected.

“Jungkook what are you doing?” You ask him in disbelief.

“What babe?” He turns his head to you, an amused grin on his lips, “Something wrong?”

“It’s just… I don’t know a violet, don’t you think that’s a little too…” you trail off unable to find the words. He gives you a sweet smile, eyes looking at you with complete adoration. He quickly leans in and gives you a small kiss which you gladly return but pull away quickly, not too keen on PDA in the tattoo shop.

“That’s the point,” he leans back in the chair watching the tattooer flip through his book of artwork before he lands on his flower section.

“We’re on in five minutes,” Taehyung walks into the small backstage room informing the band of their cue time. Namjoon whistles with excitement.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more excited for a show,” he comments, drumming his sticks on a random wall trying to expend some of his excessive energy.

“Guk, how you feeling?” Yoongi inquires nudging his leg a little bit.

“Nervous honestly…” he pauses, picking at his thumb cuticle, “I think once we get out there, I’ll be settled.”

Yoongi nods, agreeing with the younger. He can tell Jungkook is going through something. Yoongi is a smart guy and he has a gut feeling that you have something to do with it. As much as Yoongi and you were friends, your behavior as of late as been very unpleasant to him. People in the scene talk and you were a fucking mess. Granted, given your situation, he understands that people grapple with death differently. At the most, Yoongi is just concerned that you are spiraling out of control and bringing Jungkook down with you unknowingly or not. And Jungkook being Jungkook—would fucking let you. Everyone can see how in love Jungkook still is with you—he’s blinded and isn’t making rational decisions himself.

Unbeknownst to Jungkook, you were with Lisa and Jimin in the crowd tonight. Hobi wanted to go see another friend’s band which was totally fine. Yes, you were the leader of Violet, but you didn’t consider yourself to be a control freak over your members. It was also good to scope out as many bands as possible for the competition in a few weeks.

“Shouldn’t we be watching a band who we haven’t seen?” Jimin says, a snarky attitude laced concealed in his tone. You loved Jimin, you really did, but he really disliked Whalien—Jungkook being the dominant reason. He didn’t see why you felt the need to stay friends with him and his bandmates. It irritated the fuck out of him but you being the leader of Violet, Jimin had to bite his tongue on certain issues.

“Jimin you know they’re gonna be our biggest competition,” Lisa nudges him. She was right. At this point, you were only concerned about Whalien 52 taking your precious record deal away. Not only was Jungkook a kick-ass guitar player, Taehyung had great vocals, Namjoon could hit the drums as hard as Dave Grohl, Jin was great on bass, and they had a keyboardist—Min Yoongi—an element that made them stand out heavily. There was always an unspoken rivalry between Violet and Whalien, even when you and Jungkook were dating. In an odd way, both bands started feeding off one another, seeing who could strum guitars faster and hit the drums harder, write more songs. Overall, just be a better band. This didn’t change after you and Jungkook decided to part ways, if anything, it made it worse. After all, your band was now the most talked about band in the underground, something that pissed Kim Namjoon off more than anyone else—whether he showed it or not.

Whalien 52 takes the stage to loud cheers and excited screams. As Jungkook expected, once he put his guitar over his shoulder, all his nerves seemed to disappear. Maybe it was the lights, the crowd, Taehyung sending him a reassuring gaze, or the pretty girl with a nice smile in the front—he was in his element. The club was one of the bigger venues they had played which sent an electricity through each member.

“Welcome, welcome,” he smiles, “We’re Whalien 52, thanks everyone for coming out tonight… we gotta great set for you all, right guys?” He turns around looking amusingly at his bandmates. Your eyes can’t help but watch Jungkook as he smiles out to the crowd, holding his black guitar firmly in his hands, strumming a few low open chords. He’s wearing light blue jeans for a change, still donning a black t-shirt, and a short sleeve button up thrown over his frame, exposing the astonishing number of tattoos that now cover his arm.

“Jungkook, you ready?” Taehyung muses to his friend to his right. Jungkook smirks before giving a quick nod and as a guitarist yourself, you can see him counting down in his head to start.

As soon as the first note comes from Jungkook’s guitar, the club erupts in a loud cheer. An all too familiar guitar riff fills the club and soon Namjoon comes in hitting the drums hard and fast, almost sounding like lightening cracking in the club. Then as if they weren’t just shaking the whole club, everything slows down as Taehyung begins to sing.

“One baby to another says I’m lucky to have met you,” Taehyung begins singing and you shake your head in disbelief.

“I don’t care what you think unless it is about me…it is now my duty to completely drain you—“

“Chew your meat for you, pass it back and forth, in a passionate kiss, from my mouth to yours… I …like… you!” Taehyung sings with charm, letting the crowd sing along with him. Jungkook sings backup vocals, his voice blending well with his hyung. Fucking hell. They had huge balls not to just play Nirvana but sound damn good doing it too.

The whole band smiles, Jungkook throwing his head back into a laugh. Jungkook plays his Fender with precision, Jin’s bass carrying the whole song through with power. Namjoon looks calm and collected behind his drum set, Yoongi chilling behind his keyboard, adding a new element to the song.

“With eyes so dilated I’ve become your pupil,” Taehyung bites his lip as he lets his rhythm guitar take over. “You taught me everything without a poison apple—“

God you loved this song. But right now right, you fucking hated it. One; because they were perfectly killing it and two; it happened to be one of your favorite Nirvana songs that you and Jungkook would listen to together—even having sex to it more than once. Fuck.

The chorus breaks again and the guitar solo comes in, Jungkook stepping up a little bit on stage, Taehyung’s rhythm guitar and Jin’s bass complimenting him. Jungkook looks sleek as hell as he plays the iconic chords, biting his lip in the process—everyone, particularly girls screaming as he sends a wink to someone in the audience. The smile on your face drops. It stings more than it should.

Jungkook’s guitar solo ends, Taehyung yelling into the microphone just like Kurt would, breaking back out into the chorus. Taehyung’s voice complimented Cobain’s voice so well. Both deep and raspy, kind of slurring the words all together—you can tell why they decided to play this song tonight.

“Chew your meat for you, pass it back and forth, in a passionate kiss, from my mouth to yours, sloppy lips to lips… you’re my vitamins, I… like… you…”

They end the song with Jungkook dragging out his last power chord, his forehead already breaking a sweat from the stage lights. You hated to admit how good he looked but the blue in his hair really complimented him. Fucking hell, you roll your eyes, you need another drink.

“Shit,” Jimin yells out, pushing his hair back from his forehead.

“They’re good,” Lisa remarks.

“They always have been,” you reply obviously, all of a sudden feeling too hot and too congested in the club. No one has stopped cheering and it’s deafening. They’ve always been good since you first crossed paths with them years ago, but their improvement was evident. You were suddenly worried about the competition and your capability as a musician. Jimin notices your change in demeanor, elbows you as Whalien takes a break to chat a few words to the crowd.

“Y/N?” he turns to you. You rip your eyes away from the stage to look at him, your gaze giving everything away, “You’re worried aren’t you? About the competition?”

Briefly, you hear Jungkook’s familiar laugh through a microphone and it weighs heavy on your chest as you find your words.

“Jimin—they’re good, really fucking good, I-I don’t—“

“Hey, stop that,” Jimin pulls you into his chest. “Listen, we’re amazing okay? You’re amazing, we wouldn’t even be in this position right now if it weren’t for you.”

You grimace into his chest. You had been friends with him for so long he always knew what to say to make you feel better. You were thankful for him but you could only push away your insecurities for so long. You didn’t want to disappoint your dad and right now, it felt like you were doing just that.

“Alright alright,” Taehyung says throwing down his water bottle, “We’re gonna switch up the pace a little bit, you guys good with that?” He turns to his bandmates. Kim Taehyung was naturally suave and as the front woman to your band, you understood where the attitude comes from. When people marvel at you like you’re a god, always telling you how talented you are—it brings you to another level.

Jungkook was finally in his groove after one song. He was mainly nervous to play the opening song because well… it’s Nirvana. With Nirvana lyrics tattooed down his arm, he always feels pressure when the band decides on playing their classics. Luckily, the chords aren’t that complicated and he felt on top of the world after getting through the guitar solo cleanly. He looks out into the audience, squinting to be able to see with the bright lights.

The smile on his face falls instantly when he locks eyes with you, settled towards the right-middle of the crowd. Park Jimin has an arm wrapped around you and he feels his jaw clench involuntarily. If there’s any one guy who he hates seeing you with—it’s him. For good reasons too. Ironic consider he’s your lead guitar, but he absolutely despises him.

“The world is a vampire,” Taehyung’s deep voice rings through the microphone—quite the contrast to the Billy Corgan himself, forcing Jungkook to look away from you to focus on the song at hand. The crowd instantly begins to sing the Smashing Pumpkin’s classic, interrupting any head thoughts for him.

You shift on your feet awkwardly, stepping away from Jimin some. Whalien’s show continues and it’s no less than stellar. You find yourself singing along to every song, dancing along with Lisa and Jimin, trying to let go of any inhibitions you were carrying at the moment. Jungkook doesn’t look your way the rest of the show. You couldn’t pin point why it was so painful to rip yourself away from him. Did you still love him? Was it just lust? You two had gone your separate ways as lovers months ago. Yet every time you saw him—which was definitely too much for your own good—you couldn’t say no. You had known him for years and had yet to rip yourself away from him.

They play a few more songs before ending with a rendition of a blink-182 song, the crowd clearly wanting more but club and bar owners are sticklers when it comes to time. Once you’re done, you have to get off as soon as possible if you want an invite back.

“Ah-ha,” Taehyung chuckles, “Sorry guys but we’re getting kicked out, hope to see you all again soon! Thank y’all so much!” The entire band gives one last wave and bow before they exit the stage. You, Lisa, and Jimin decide to head to the bar to get a drink before the next band comes on.

You’re sipping a drink when you feel your phone buzz in your other hand. You furrow your eyebrows when you see who the text is from.

[Jungkook 10:31 PM] What are you doing tonight

Jimin and Lisa are caught up in conversation with another mutual friend so you turn away from them to respond. Jungkook knows you’re here right now… so what does he want? The two of you barely text each other nowadays, only doing so when it’s convenient.

[You 10:32 PM] I’m having a drink right now

[You 10:32 PM] Why

It only takes him a few seconds to respond.

[Jungkook 10:32 PM] I wanna see you

You bite your lip in contemplation. Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea—you were responding before you could second guess yourself.

[You 10:33 PM] Me too

[Jungkook 10:35 PM] Wanna come home with me? The guys are going to stay out but I’m not in the mood

You text a quick ‘sure’, turning your attention back to Lisa and Jimin.

“Guys I think I’m gonna call it an evening,” you breathe out. Jimin eyes you suspiciously but you ignore him, focusing on Lisa instead.

“Babe,” Lisa gives you a weird look, “I thought you wanted to see the next band?”

You shake your head, “I want to but I just remembered these papers my mom needs me to look over… about my dad’s stuff, it might take awhile—“

“Oh my god no, that’s fine, go,” Lisa nods, pulling you in for a departure hug.

“You okay?” Jimin asks once again as you give him a quick side hug, noticing the concern lacing his tone. If they knew the true reason you were departing—you were sure you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

“Yeah, yeah promise,” you give him a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

You make your way towards the exit, going to where Jungkook told you wait on him. A deep rooted guilt begins to settle in your stomach. You felt your emotions brewing to the surface, trying to wipe your sweaty hands along your skirt. You felt yourself slowly spiraling and wish nothing more than to be able to talk with your dad. You text Jungkook you’re outside to which he responds promptly that he’s coming. You knew he could make your pain go away, at least temporarily—or so you hoped.

___

Jungkook had you pressed up against a wall in his apartment, one hand dug deep in your scalp, the other holding one of your legs up close to his side as you pushed yourself closer to him. You kiss each other forcefully. It’s an affair of zealousness that you could only have with him. Everything about him was addicting. He smelt of clean and amber, his lips plump and pink, his hands large and calloused, his thighs that you fit so well on. Your fingers pull against the roots of his hair eliciting a deep groan from him.

He tugs back, moving your neck to the side as he begins to trail his lips down the flesh, nipping in all your sensitive places. He knew your body more than any other man and for that you were thankful. He trails his free hand from your hair down the side of your figure, rounding your ass with it before he boldly moves it to your scantily clad center. You were quite exposed wearing a skirt and a thong but if anything it excited Jungkook even further, giving him easy access as he begins to rub your clothed center.

“Mm, Jungkook,” you whisper breaking your kiss, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Wanna fuck you in this skirt,” He says rubbing his nose against yours, he moves your underwear over, slipping one finger inside you at once, halting your breath as your wetness allows him to do so with ease. “That feel good?”

You whine at his words, “Mhm,” your breathing picking up quickly, “Want you, right now.”

He smirks before placing a chaste kiss against your mouth, “But I don’t wanna come right now baby.”

You groan as he inserts another finger in you, curling them inside you as he begins to move in and out. The only sounds in his apartment are your lips moving against his, his fingers moving in and out of out at random, picking up and slowing down on his own time. Wanting to return some of his efforts, you begin to palm him through the front of his jeans, earning a small hiss from him. Jungkook’s lips leave yours as he begins to trail them down your neck and to your collarbone. He pulls out his fingers and your face scrunches up in disappointment until he gets down on his knees, pushing up the material of your skirt with his large hands.

He manages to pull down your underwear and you step out of the garment quickly, not caring where the flimsy fabric ended up. He begins to eat you out hungrily skipping any teasing around your thighs or pelvis, his lips and tongue working you just like how you like. You fist his hair, pushing his tongue deeper into you. His big nose rubbing your clit as he buries himself deep in you, a lewd moan leaving your lips.

“F-fuck,” you moan out as he begins to lick lightly at your clit, sending a chill down your body that you’re sure he felt.

“Feel good baby?” He mutters against your wet cunt, lapping at your opening and teasing your clit. “Am I the best you’ve ever had?”

His question is laced with amusement and genuine curiosity. You half laugh, throwing your head back against the wall as you feel a familiar bubbling sensation of an orgasm approaching.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you answer him after a moment, trying to steady and catch your breath all at once.

“Better than Jimin?” His question cuts the air like ice and any chances of an orgasm all goes away. You look down, bewildered him as he has stopped his actions. He’s looking up at you with dark eyes and you’re positive he’s not joking around in amusement. Your shoulders relax against the wall as he slowly stands up, keeping a few inches from your frame. You suddenly feel smaller than ever looking up at his frame, a newfound vulnerability in your stature.

“Where’d that come from?” You ask defensively, furrowing your eyebrows, tension growing in the small space exponentially.

He shrugs, “Just curious babe,” he steps away from you, turning his back to you walking away deeper into his apartment towards his small kitchen.

Your mouth falls open, unable to comprehend what the actual fuck is going on with him. Maybe it’s the small about of alcohol in your system or all your other emotions that you’ve put on the back burner, but something inside you feels like it’s going to implode.

“No,” you mutter, pushing yourself off against the wall, “No, no Jungkook you don’t get to do that,” you follow after him. He turns around, a wicked smirk crossing his features, an almost sinister laugh coming from deep within his chest.

“Because I cheated on you? That’s it huh?” he raises his voice some, stopping you in your place.

You bite your lip, unsure of what to say. He’s right—he cheated on you—a pain so strong when you found out, you thought someone had stolen all the air from your lungs. You couldn’t breathe as you laid in your bed for days sobbing into your pillow. Your heart was shattered into a million pieces. Jungkook had broken you. You thought there would have been no greater pain in your life. It wasn’t until your father passing away showed you something even worse.

“You’re seriously gonna bring this up, now?!” You fight back. “Jungkook, what the fuck?”

“Because I think I have a right to know why you keep fucking me and then leaving me out to dry,” he steps towards you and you feel a lump forming in your throat. Jungkook hated to admit—but Taehyung’s talk with him last week had been edging him all week with greed. Taehyung was fucking right—you were milking Jungkook for all it was worth and while Jungkook loved you—it wasn’t fair to him.

“I-,” you stop before you say something stupid, a response far from your reach, “That’s not fair,” is what you muster. It’s pathetic and you don’t even believe it.

He laughs, his eyes breaking from yours, “And this is fair to me? To you? You’re smart Y/N, I think you know exactly what you’re doing,” he spits angrily.

“Excuse me?” You hurl back flabbergasted, your anger spewing to the surface. “You literally don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jungkook tugs at the roots of hair, running his tongue through his cheek, “Using me when it’s convenient, fucking me when you want to get off, coming to my shows—all while knowing I’m still fucking in love with you—”

“Jungkook stop—“

“Just shut up for a second Y/N,” he interrupts you, stepping forward, “All this time has passed and I still can’t get over you—I don’t want to get over you—but this has to stop, it’s killing me when I see you self destructing this way—“

“I am not!” You push back. You and Jungkook had your fair share of fights over the years, but this is the first one in a while where you feel tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. Because you know. You know everything he is saying is true. He’s reading you and your emotions like an open book.

“Everyone can see it Y/N but you,” he shakes his head, stepping forward, grabbing your wrists in the process, “I fucking love you Y/N and I want the best for you, but acting like this—isn’t it.”

You shake your head, looking down at his large hands wrapped around your wrists before you jerk them out of his grip, tears brimming to the surface. You blink rapidly, trying to hurtle them away.

“Well you fucking ruined that a long time ago,” your words cut through Jungkook’s heart like a razor sharp knife.

“I ruined it?” He retorts, “Yes, Y/N, I cheated on you and it’s the worst fucking mistake I’ve ever made in my life. I apologized on my fucking knees and we were working on our relationship,” he pauses, his voice somewhat breaking, “And then you had to go and fuck your bandmate behind my back— So don’t put all that blame on me Y/N, don’t you fucking do that. Imagine what your dad would say, seeing you like this! Just because he overdosed doesn’t give you and excuse to treat people like shit!”

As soon as Jungkook’s last sentence came out, he wished he could take them back in an instant. He watches your face fall and he knows he has said something he shouldn’t have. Jungkook’s words cut you deep into your tissue, your heart doing that weird aching thing it does when you are hurt beyond repair. The mention of your father fully sends you emotions into a deep spiral and it’s in that moment where the tears you had been holding back for so long start to fall from the ducts.

You can’t help your next actions as your hand comes in contact with his face, slapping him hard, his face whipping to the left. Your mouth parts, the repercussions of your actions settling in.

“Fuck! Oh my god Jungkook I’m sorry—“ Your hands fly to your face, trying to stop tears from coming out but you can’t help it.

“No, Y/N, please don’t,” Jungkook steps forward, wrapping his arms around you, completely forgoing your previous actions, “I’m s-sorry I shouldn’t—“

“Get the fuck off me,” you shove him away weakly but it does nothing for his strong grip. You fight against him but to no avail; he’s too strong and you’re simply too weak. You sob into his chest, your body falling limp into his arms.

“I hate you,” you say into his chest, regretting it instantly. That was easily the biggest lie you’ve ever told. You knew you loved him and always will. You hated how he made you feel sometimes. That’s it.

“Shut up,” he says, his own tears threatening to spill over into your hair. Jungkook knew your heart well. He knows how much of amazing person you were and how you deserved the world. You’ve always deserved the world and he couldn’t give that to you. It lead him to the worst decision he’s ever made. He lies at wake at night, unable to shake his regret. The hold you have on him is crippling and he would do anything to take it back.

However, he knows himself that he could only give and take so much from you. He knows you feel the same about him. It wasn’t until this point that he realized how much of a mess you two had made.

You don’t know how long the two of you stayed like this but exhaustion starts to set in your body and you want nothing more than to go to bed.

“Can I stay here tonight?” You ask into his chest. Again, an outsider looking in would nothing to say but what the actual fuck. And you find yourself saying the exact same thing. But you didn’t have to explain anything to anyone.

“Of course,” he says, looking down at your frame as you step away from him, your tears all dried up for now.

“I’m just gonna sleep on the couch,” you say, your mind clearly elsewhere as Jungkook stares into your eyes. It’s hard to keep his gaze, but you manage. You figure that sleeping in his bed with him wasn’t the best idea and at this point, we weren’t sure if he wanted you there anyway.

He nods without another word, gathering you some blankets and a pillow. You don’t protest when he gives you a t-shirt to sleep in, not wanting to sleep in your normal clothes. You and Jungkook stare at each other, your arms crossed in front of your chest, waiting for him to go to bed himself.

He steps towards you, his shoulder brushing yours, “I’m sorry Y/N. Goodnight.”

His voice was barely above a whisper but you heard him loud and clear. You mumble a goodnight yourself though you are positive he couldn’t hear because when you glance over your shoulder, he’s made his way back to his room. You slump your shoulders, getting in position to lay on his couch. Thankfully Jungkook lived alone so you didn’t have to worry about drunk roommates coming in to find you sleeping on his couch.

Your head falls against the pillow, looking out the window which was a nice view of the city. There was still plenty of ruckus going on outside but you had no energy to focus on anything else but trying to relax.

You were a goddamn mess. Your personal life was a wreck. Your life back home was a wreck. Your relationship with Jungkook was a wreck. You had dug yourself into a deep hole that you were afraid you weren’t going to get out of. You missed your dad so much. You wondered if he was watching over you but at the same time you hoped he wasn’t knowing how disappointed he would be with you right now. Maybe Jungkook was right—were you using his death an excuse to be an asshole? Or was it just normal grief?

You had no idea as you continued to get lost in your thoughts. You shift your body on the couch trying to find the most comfortable position on the couch but to no avail as your mind is refusing to let you rest. You look back over at the hallway that leads to Jungkook’s room. You close your eyes, debating the action for a moment. It doesn’t take you long to make up your mind. You push the blankets off your body, standing up and quietly walking over to Jungkook’s room. His door is cracked and you push it open as silent as you can.

You noticed Jungkook is still awake, resting on his back, the blue light from his phone lighting up his face slightly. He notices you come in, flicking his eyes to meet yours.

“Can I sleep in here?” You ask him in a whisper. Jungkook clicks off his phone, placing it on his nightstand. He doesn’t say anything as he moves the sheets over for you, signaling that he doesn’t mind. You climb into the familiar bed to Jungkook’s left, laying down comfortably.

“Thanks,” you tell him and he gives you a small smile. You fully lay down on your side, your back facing away from him.

It only takes a couple minutes before you feel Jungkook’s arm move around to your front, pulling you back to his chest. He entangles a leg through yours and you finally feel yourself to relax, your head emptying itself from all your worrying thoughts. You place your hand over Jungkook’s, lacing your fingers on top of his knuckles.

Fuck, you think dozing off to sleep.

Fuck, Jungkook thinks.

_____ “Jungkook—there’s bad news.”

Taehyung is dismayed over the phone—panicked and unruly as he speaks. Jungkook hasn’t been awake ten minutes. The last thing he expected was for Taehyung to be calling him this early, let alone upset.

“Hyung, what’s wrong?” Jungkook paces in his small kitchen, an unsettling feeling bubbling in his stomach.

“I think you should come to the studio as soon as you can,” he says and Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“Jesus Taehyung it’s not even ten,” he groans, trying to keep his voice as low as possible.

“Just get your ass here as soon as possible, I really don’t need your attitude today.”

Taehyung hangs up the phone, leaving Jungkook speechless. He stares at the device for a moment feeling no less than confused. Not only does he have an apparent crisis with Taehyung, he’s been thinking about his crisis with you all morning. For once, you hadn’t woken up at the crack of dawn and left him alone in his bed.

He was shocked when he woke up, your face nuzzled in his chest as he kept you warm. He thinks back to last night’s fight with you, knowing it was something you two would have to confront eventually. Both of you couldn’t keep hurting and loving each other all at once. He was hoping that could have been this morning but whatever emergency Taehyung is dealing with, settling the tension between him and you had to wait.

He enters his room quietly, walking slowly over to his bed bending at his knees to be face level with you. He hates to wake you up seeing how well you seem to be sleeping. His heart strings pulled for you and it hurt every time you had to leave.

He brings a hand up to your hair, pushing some of it off your forehead.

“Hm,” you suddenly say, startling him some.

“You awake?” He asks, watching your head nodding slowly. He felt a little better now knowing that you had apparently woken up on your own.

“Mhm,” you slowly open your eyes coming face to face with Jungkook. His features are soft but he looks exhausted. You’re sure you look the same to him.

“I hate to kick you out but Taehyung needs me, an emergency or something,” he shrugs, removing his hand from you.

“Is he okay?” You ask pushing yourself up on your hands, eyes watching Jungkook as he stands tall.

“I think, probably just being dramatic,” he laughs lightly, “I’ll take you home if you want?”

You stretch your back before nodding slowly, “If you wouldn’t care that’d be great.”

Jungkook leaves you to get dressed quickly. You fold his shirt up, placing it on the end of his bed, grabbing your phone in the same process. Your mind strays back to last night—your fight with Jungkook rushing back in every detail. You hated being this way with him. Getting along one minute, screaming at each other the next. It was an up and down battle with him but the last thing you wanted to do was lose him. Despite all the bullshit between you two, he was not only a staple part of your peers and scene you were surrounded by—but your life too. He was your first love and nothing was going to change that. You knew that fixing your relationship with Jungkook had to be a priority at some point. You couldn’t keep doing this yourself.

Jungkook drives you home in silence, neither one of you speaking to each other. It’s not awkward, but it’s not exactly comfortable either. He taps his steering wheel to the beat of the song coming through his speakers softly. You can’t remember the last time you had been in Jungkook’s car. Probably when you were still dating. You had always managed to wake up and sneak out taking the subway or lifts back home after nights with him. You suppose you had been too fatigued and slept well past your normal escapades.

He pulls up to your apartment complex, swinging in a parking spot close to your building.

“Listen Y/N,” he speaks breaking the silence, “About last night, I’m so sorry—“

“Jungkook don’t apologize,” you interrupt him. His eyes are soft and you can tell he’s overthinking everything about last night. You are too. “I’m sorry for slapping you, I d-don’t know what—“

“Forget that Y/N,” he shakes his head, “I think we should talk, I-I wanted to this morning but then hyung called and,” he pauses his short rambling, “Can I call you soon?” He finally settles.

Your stomach twists at the idea of confronting your demons with Jungkook, but you know it has to be done.

“Yeah, of course,” you nod, “We have a gig tonight but I’m free the rest of the week.”

He gives you a small smile, “Okay, sounds good. Good luck tonight.”

The two of you say your goodbyes and once you get into your apartment, you slump against your door knowing one thing—you have to get your shit together.

____

“Jungkook—where the fuck are you?” Taehyung spits as soon as he answers the phone.

“Hyung I’m pulling up right now, fuck off.” Jungkook hangs up on his friend as he parks his car quickly, heading up to their studio as fast as possible. Taehyung had been calling him non-stop every two minutes after he dropped you off at yours, annoying Jungkook to his upper limit.

Before Jungkook could even open the door to the studio, he heard loud bickering behind the door, causing him to stop in his tracks. He furrows his eyebrows, leaning in against it to see if he can make out any of the commotion. It all sounded like gibberish considering most of the room was as soundproof as possible. He swings open the door quickly, all eyes diverting over to him, everyone going silent.

“For fuck sakes,” Yoongi mutters under his breath.

“What’s going on?” Jungkook asks stepping closer to the boys. He looks around the room intently and it seems to get his answer once his eyes land on Namjoon. “Hyung, what the fuck?”

Namjoon sits on one of the couches, his head slightly down, his left wrist wrapped tightly in a white bandage, a sling across his chest too, his right hand wrapped around his palm, bruises scattered along his face.

“What happened?” Jungkook asks again, looking around at his bandmates who shake their head in shame? Annoyance? Anger? Whatever it was, it was creeping up Jungkook’s spine sending his jaw into a locked position.

“Namjoon got into a bar fight after you left last night,” Jin breaks the silence, unable to look at Namjoon.

“He jumped me dude!” Namjoon defends himself, wincing in pain as he reels his hands back in from flailing around too much. “What was I supposed to do? Let him kick my ass?!”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have gotten so fucking drunk and egged him on,” Jin retorts back.

“Fuck you hyung,” Namjoon spits.

“I just don’t understand how you managed to strain your wrist and break the fucking bones in your hand,” Yoongi pinches in between his eyes, clearly fed up with the whole debacle. The band had been at each other’s throats all morning when they realized how bad Namjoon’s condition was—Jungkook completely oblivious to it all until now.

“Well how long are you gonna be out?” Jungkook interrupts the bickering, his face recognizing the slight panic that’s looming over their heads.

“Four to six weeks,” Namjoon mutters, leaning back against the couch, shaking his head to himself. Fuck.

“So… that means,” Jungkook looks over to Taehyung who has kept quiet since Jungkook walked in.

“We’re out of a goddamn drummer,” he says rubbing his temples.

“Jesus fuck,” Jungkook mutters, falling back into another couch in the room. He covers his eyes with his forearm, the light suddenly becoming too much for his sensitive eyes. So Namjoon got into a bar fight—injured himself to the point he can’t even wrap his hands around a set of drumsticks—right on the cusp of the most important gig to them as a band—leaving them with no drummer. A punk rock band with no drummer. Give me a fucking break, this couldn’t be happening, Jungkook says to himself.

“Fuck the record deal I guess,” Jungkook mutters talking aimlessly to himself.

“No, no, no,” Namjoon pipes up, “You guys are still fucking playing, I don’t care. We can’t let this stop—“

“This?! This is all your fucking fault!” Jungkook spits towards him. His whole youth all he ever wanted was an opportunity like this and here it was, being ripped out from underneath him like a blanket.

“Namjoon’s right though,” Yoongi interjects, “We still have to play—we’re three weeks out, we’re not going to let that record deal slip away to a band who doesn’t deserve it.”

Taehyung looks towards his oldest friend, Jungkook’s blue tips fading in last few weeks from many hair washings. Taehyung then looks at the others, wanting a nod of approval before opening his mouth.

“Jungkook we were thinking… you could… um, sit in at drums for the time being?” he lets the proposition into the air and Jungkook looks up at the rest of his bandmates. It hangs over Jungkook’s head heavily. Jungkook himself had actually thought about the idea but he couldn’t remember the last time he sat behind a drum set and took it seriously. Only 3 week left until the biggest moment of his musical career and he wasn’t even going to be able to show his talent in his true form behind his beloved Fender? But—what choice did he actually have?

Jungkook glances at his guitar propped up near his normal spot at their studio before he rips his eyes away, nodding his head slowly.

“Fine,” he says, “I can guess I can try.”

And try was all Whailen needed—or maybe something short of a miracle.

____

“Where do you want this?” Lisa’s voice rings through your shared apartment.

“What is it?” You yell back from the kitchen, scrubbing the countertop as best as you could. The two of you were in the process of deep cleaning your humble abode—a task you two did a couple times a month. Lisa was deranged when it came to keeping things clean and organized.

“It’s like a black shoe box,” she responds, shaking it around in her hands. Without any hesitation, you drop the sponge out of your palm, rushing over to where she stands. Lisa stands near the threshold of your room, curiously looking at the object.

“Give that to me,” you rip the object from her hands and she puts her hands up in defense.

“Whoa, sorry,” she apologizes, picking up on the way you look at the box fondly. Your heart dulling aches staring at the minuscule object. To anyone, it looks like an old beat up shoe box, but to you it had so many memories tucked away inside of it. There was no way in hell you could be rid of it.

“I-it’s fine,” you shake your head, “It’s just some stuff… from my dad.”

Lisa’s face falls slightly, subconsciously shrinking up in your presence. Anytime your dad was involved in any type of conversation these days, no one knew what version of you they were going to get. Some days it was like nothing had ever happened. Other days were emotional rollercoaster’s.

She notices the way your demeanor has altered, your face blank and your shoulders slumped. Being your best friend, she feels it’s okay to ask her next question.

“Y/N,” she pauses as you give her a glance, “You okay?” She realizes that she hasn’t asked you in a while nor have you really talked much about your dad. Granted, she didn’t expect you to but she wanted to make sure everything was fine for you.

You hold the shoe box close to you, your heart heavy as you think about your answer. You already know and simply put—you weren’t okay.

“Yeah,” you give her a grimace, “I’m fine.”

Lisa gives you a look you can’t entirely read. You’re positive she doesn’t believe you but she doesn’t press you any further. She does however bring up an unexpected topic as you enter your room, setting the box down on your desk.

“How’s Jungkook?”

You freeze up before easing off, not wanting to give away any vulnerabilities in your stance. You had not exactly told to her that you and Jungkook had been sleeping together on and off the past couple months. However Lisa wasn’t stupid—she’s seen you leave with him on multiple occasions—whether it be at a gig or house party.

“He’s fine,” you shrug, your eyes meeting hers trying to decipher if she has a motive bringing him up, or if she’s just genuinely curious.

“So are you two… like together again?” She leans against your doorframe, her arms crossing over her small frame.

You let out a quiet chuckle, “What does it matter to you?”

She furrows her eyebrows at you, clearly picking up on the vibe that you do not want to discuss any of this, but with your behavior the past few weeks—she wasn’t letting you off that easy.

“Y/N you’re one of my best friends,” she states, “It matters because I wanna know what the fuck you’re doing to yourself—he’s an asshole who cheated on you—“ “Yeah and I fucking cheated on him too,” you interrupt, letting out another snicker, “I think we’re even on the asshole spectrum.”

“Y/N,” she says again, as if she’s trying to drill it into your brain, “I understand you two ended with the intentions of still being somewhat friends, but do you really think sleeping with him is healthy?”

Lisa, like Jimin, never understood why you and Jungkook were so adamant on staying friends after such a hateful breakup—sure, your whole friend groups coincided in many ways—but if anything, being frenemy-fuck buddies has to be doing more harm than good.

“It’s not that simple Lisa,” you breathe out, staring down at your feet, feeling somewhat flustered. You weren’t one to be super open about your relationships—even when you and Jungkook were dating.

“No shit,” she says the obvious, “Why are you digging yourself in a hole you know you can’t get out of?”

You still refuse to look at her, but she notices the way you clench your jaw tightly, “What if I don’t want to get out of the hole,” you say it more of a statement than a question. You finally look up at Lisa, your expression blank and unreadable.

She slightly shakes her head, wanting so badly to hold her next words back, but your nonchalant attitude is more than pissing her off.

“Look Y/N,” she says, “If you want to keep fucking Jungkook—fucking get back together again—but.”

“But what?” You press.

“I don’t know what it’s like to lose a parent Y/N, but I don’t think you’re coping in a healthy way at all—I think you’ve run back to Jungkook because he’s familiar and you loved him at one point—“

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you interrupt her again. You felt yourself growing more irritated by the second—because you knew she was fucking right.

“I’m not saying I do!” She fights back, “But it’s not fair to you or Jungkook. You broke up with him for a reason, shouldn’t you just fucking move on?”

You narrow your eyes at her, not believing the words she’s saying to you. Who was she to tell you how to feel?

“Like I said,” you pause, “It’s not that goddamn simple Lisa.”

She rolls her eyes with a sarcastic laugh, “You’re so difficult sometimes. You’re a fucking mess and everyone knows it but you. I’m going for a walk,” she pushes herself away from you, leaving you alone in the apartment once you hear the door slam shut behind her.

“Fuck,” you wince, tossing yourself down on your bed. You feel more tears pricking behind your eyes and you try your best to push them away. Lisa had basically said the same thing as Jungkook the other night.

You felt attacked—defeated—unsure of your true feelings. Why were you so angry at everybody? Why you were so angry at yourself? Were you really acting that different?

When you notice the double picture frame on your nightstand—one side a picture of you and your dad, the other picture of you and Jungkook. You hadn’t had any will power to get rid of the second side. Two of the most important men that you had in your life—one of them now gone—the other left to clean up your messes.

You check the time on your phone and before you can stop yourself—you go to his contact, pressing the call button.

____

Jungkook was sat with one of his acoustic guitars when he receives a text about your arrival. It wasn’t late, but the sun had been gone for a while now. He had spent the majority of the last few days strictly practicing on the drums. He had good rhythm which was half the battle when drumming, but he forgot about physically exhausting it is compared to being on guitar. He needed a break and strumming his beloved instrument, it was giving him the catharsis he needed.

His gaze looks up when he watches you let yourself in, the door loud against the night. Jungkook had a small speaker playing some low music to fill the defining void of silence. He didn’t mind being here by himself, but he hated how quiet the soundproof studio got.

“Hey,” you walk towards Jungkook, curiously looking around the studio. You had never been here in particular. Whalien had practiced somewhere different when you and Jungkook were still dating. You assumed the ole lease ran up. The studio was quite big for a 5-piece, a couple couches lining around where their instruments sit. Speakers surrounding each corner, a nice carpet lining underneath everything. Jungkook had lit a few candles but they didn’t smell too strong—he was always sensitive to smells.

“Hey,” he greets, setting down his guitar beside him. He wasn’t expecting you to text him at all, especially at this time of the evening. You were dressed down, a large sweater and leggings covering your frame, hair thrown up messily with no makeup on. He thought you looked beautiful—you always looked beautiful to him. Unfortunately, that beauty was missing from where it mattered the most in your eyes.

“I um, got this for you,” you hold out a small cup of coffee, breaking the silence in the room.

He quirks an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at his lips, “It’s a little late for coffee don’t you think?”

“Just take it,” you push narrowing your gaze. He obliges, thanking you. “I’d figured if you were practicing this late, it would help,” you shrug explaining your kind gesture. “Where is everyone else?”

He takes a sip from the coffee, the warmness causing him to release a small sigh, “Just me here tonight, they all left a couple hours ago.”

“Oh,” you say simply, taking another look around the practice space again. You feel a little awkward standing, so you decide to sit down beside him on the couch, keeping a good distance between you.

“Thanks for letting me come,” you feel quite shy under his heavy gaze. His eyes were always your favorite feature of his but sometimes, he held them in an angle that was too harsh to hold.

“No problem, I’ve been meaning to reach out anyway,” he says, “You okay?” He asks, noticing the way your shoulders slump and your usual confidence nowhere to be seen.

You close your eyes for a second, letting out a shaky breath.

“No,” you manage to say. The heavy weight on your chest lifts some, though not fully. For the first time since your dad’s passing—you’ve admitted your true feelings. You weren’t okay and you needed help.

“Y/N..” He says with a low tone, setting down his coffee to scoot a little closer to you, worry crossing his delicate features. He’s dressed in sweats and a large sweatshirt, an outfit that was a big change to his usual aesthetic.

“I’ve just been thinking a lot,” you start, “About everything you said last weekend and—“

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow deeply before he shakes his head, “Y/N please don’t—I was being an asshole—“ “No Jungkook stop,” you take back the conversation, “I’ve been such a bitch to you, for no fucking reason and you’ve done nothing to me. Yes, you’ve done shitty things to me in the past but that doesn’t give me an excuse to do shitty things to you—“

“Y/N—“

“Jungkook please let me speak,” you interject him again and he nods once, allowing you to continue, “I-I’m just sorry okay? You were my best friend at one point and I,” you pause again, “I’m just sorry okay?”

Jungkook’s face softens, chewing on his soft lips as if he’s contemplating something.

“I don’t want you to apologize Y/N,” he says after a few moments of nothing. “I shouldn’t have brought up your dad, fuck I shouldn’t have said a lot of things—“

“Jungkook it’s okay—“

“But it’s not fucking okay,” he presses, shaking his head, “I can’t even imagine what you’re going through and having to sit by and watch you clearly not okay, pretending you are, it fucking sucks. It fucking sucks because it’s not my place anymore but you know I’ll always want the best for you.”

His words hit deep and you find yourself having to look away, tears threatening to spill over. You had been a mess ever since yours and Lisa’s argument earlier. You start to sob quietly, refusing to look at Jungkook as he suddenly shifts over to pull you close to him. His arms are vast around you as you cry into the thickness of his sweatshirt.

“I miss him,” your voice breaks off, “So much Jungkook.”

He holds you close, rubbing your back comfortingly, burying his face into the crook of the left side of your neck. You’re not in hysterics by any means, holding coherent sentences but clearly you’re upset.

“It feels like I’m in a crowded room screaming and no one fucking hears me,” you say into his chest, pulling yourself away from Jungkook some. His eyes look at you heavily, honestly unsure of what to say. Jungkook was one of the few people in your life who had actually known your dad from being with you. Another reason why it was so easy to fall into him when you felt lonely.

“Y/N,” he says and you look back up, holding his gaze which has softened significantly since you first walked in, “You know you can talk to me about anything. You have so many people who care about you, you don’t have to put on this persona that everything is okay when it’s clearly not.”

Your heart lurches at the thought. You knew Jungkook still loved you—and you weren’t sure if you had fully moved on either—but frankly, you hadn’t put too much thought into it the past couple months. When you are around him, he can make me you feel all kind of emotions on the spectrum—angry to lust to confusion to genuine happiness—all back to anger again. Right now, he was making you feel calm and controlled.

His body was warm around you so you take it to lean back some, heat rising on your chest. Jungkook rests his head on a hand supported by his elbow, looking at you intensely.

“How do you always know what to say,” your sentence comes out like a statement, a laugh almost behind your words.

Jungkook returns a small chuckle, “I don’t,” he answers, “I just know you better than I know myself.”

You glance down at the minimal space between yow two feeling somewhat shy at his statement. It’s amusing because you would say the same about him. His free hand rests near yours, and without thinking you grab it, noting something different about it.

“This is new?” He lets you inspect his right hand, turning his wrists with your smaller hands, noticing a new tattoo. Tiny lettering down the side of his inner wrist.

“Mhm,” he says as you try your best to read the writing. In the sun I feel as one, is what it reads. You immediately know where that stems from and you give him a small smile.

“Pretty,” you say while he aimlessly intertwines your fingers together. You let him without protest. The silence is loud between you two—the speaker Jungkook was listening from the only form of vibration in the room. You think it’s Cage the Elephant but you weren’t exactly sure, unable to make out any lyrics.

The longer you stare at Jungkook, the harder it is for you to sit still. He had yet to give up the grip on your hand, tension rising in the middle of you two. You bite your lip softly, thinking tentatively about your next move. You unlink your fingers, keeping eye contact with him as you maneuver yourself to straddle his lap, looking down at his frame from this angle. You weren’t wrong—yes, his tattoos were pretty but he was prettier.

Neither of you say anything, unsure of who closes the gap first. His lips are slightly chapped, probably from lack of sleep, but it doesn’t bother you in any way. You sigh heavily into the kiss as you move against his mouth. His tongue slips into your mouth, sending a shiver down your spine. Each time you kissed him, you knew he was your one and only which is why you hated what happened to you two. It wasn’t fair—he loved you and you loved him—why did you two have to go and do stupid things, fucking everything up?

“Jungkook,” you whisper as he kisses the side of your neck delicately, being careful to not leave any marks on your skin. His hands hold you in place by your waist firmly as he leans against your forehead.

“This is a bad idea,” he says breathily as you move your hips along his pelvis, feeling his cock hardening through his sweatpants.

“When have we ever had a good idea,” you laugh as he continues his gentle and small kisses, tongue poking out occasionally. You continue to grind along his hips, your breath hitching when his member catches across your clit.

“Fuck Y/N,” Jungkook pulls away from you quickly, “W-we shouldn’t do this.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, slumping against his frame, your hands resting on his shoulders. He adjusts you some so your forehead falls against his own, your breath uneven and shaky.

“You don’t want to?” You frown, never experiencing this type of rejection from him before.

“No, no, baby I want to—trust me I want to but,” he cuts himself off, “You’ve been upset and I don’t wanna seem like I’m taking advantage of you being vulnerable with me.”

“Jungkook it’s okay—“

He cuts you off with another short lived kiss, shaking his head again, “It’s too painful for me right now,” his tone not even a close to whisper, his voice breaking off at the end.

You look away from him, ashamed that you’re the one who has put him in this situation. He loved you like no one else ever has and you’re not sure you will ever find someone to match that love ever again. And you’ve come to the terrifying realization that you haven’t gotten over him—you haven’t moved on—and you’re still in love with him too. But clearly that wasn’t enough right now.

“I’m sorry Jungkook,” you shake your head, disappointed in yourself, “I’m so sorry.”

“Baby don’t apologize,” he says, squeezing your sides encouragingly, “I’m not mad at you or anything I just think we need to figure things out by ourselves for awhile…”

“Please don’t call me that,” you whisper as you push yourself off him to give you and him more space.

“Y/N,” he says stopping you from getting up from the couch by grabbing your hand, “Please don’t get mad. You know how much I love you all right? That’s not gonna change I promise you, I just want you to get through what you’re going through and then we can figure this out.”

He was right. He was always the more level headed of the two of you. You slowly nod, letting him know that you understand. Looking at the bigger picture, yours and Jungkook’s problems were clouding what you really should be focusing on—your band and the competition and then everything going on with your mother and father’s estate. You supposed once all that worked out, perhaps you and Jungkook could start at square one.

“I should head back soon, Lisa is probably wondering where I’m at,” you speak after a few more moments of quiet. Jungkook looks up and down your frame quickly before nodding.

“I can walk you out if you want?” He stands up following your move as you grab your bag from the floor.

“You’re still gonna stay? It’s getting pretty late,” you ask him just purely out of curiosity.

“Yeah I gotta keep practicing on the drums,” he runs a hand through his hair and you furrow your eyebrows at him.

“Drums?” You muse. Of course you knew Jungkook was multi-talented and could play the drums well. Why would he be practicing that over guitar with the competition so close though?

He had begun to walk you out of the studio and down the stairs to your car, the building was dark and quiet. You were thankful Jungkook offered to walk you, unsure if you would have felt comfortable to do so by yourself at this time of the night.

“Remember when hyung said he had an emergency last week?” He says and you nod quickly in response, “Well Namjoon hyung got into a drunken bar fight and long story short, he can’t drum now.”

Your face falls, taken aback by his words. “Wait—what?” You ask in disbelief, “What do you mean he can’t drum?”

His eyes find yours again, a yawn emitting from his lips, “Fucked up his hand and wrist—I love him but shit he’s a pain in the ass sometimes.”

“Oh fuck,” you pause, “Are you still playing in the competition then?” He nods in response, another short yawn coming out. You eye him carefully and suddenly a realization hits you— “So… you’re drumming right now?”

“Yup,” he sighs heavily, “Can you tell?” He holds out his hands flat, rough calluses and a couple blisters lining the insides of his palms. A laugh emits from him as your mouth gapes open at the damage.

“Jesus Jungkook,” you marvel, your fingers running over his palms gently.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he shrugs aimlessly as you finally make it to your car, leaning against it for a moment.

“Damn.. I’m sorry, that’s genuinely awful timing.”

You are unsure what you would do if someone in Violet did something that stupid, leaving you down one instrument. It would cripple you. And as much as you feel bad for Jungkook, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit selfish, knowing that this would easily give Violet a leg up at the band competition.

“We’ll be fine,” he says. With battle of the bands less than 3 weeks away, you’re not sure he believes that himself. Namjoon out on drums—Jungkook filling in, leaving Whalien 52 without their full sound. Jungkook was good on drums you knew that—but you also knew that like you, guitar was where he excelled. You assume Taehyung was taking the lead guitar position leaving no rhythm guitar. As lead singer—that was going to be rough on Taehyung.

“Thanks for letting me come talk again,” you say opening the driver side door, throwing your bag across the middle console. “I feel a little better to be honest,” you cross your arms over your chest as you look up at him.

“Good,” he gives you a small smile, “Drive safe okay?”

You give him a small smile and before you can change your mind, your press yourself on your toes, kissing him once again. Nothing too passionate but needed to get your next point across—

“I love you Jungkook,” you whisper against his mouth as you pull away but your lips are smothered again as he pushes you against your car fully. The kiss is feverish, both of you desperate to hold onto each other a little longer.

He finally pulls away, almost ripping himself away from you with one final glance—“Goodnight Y/N.”

____

Your mother was angry with you. Angry to the point where she had yet to make eye contact with you as she waltz into your apartment—lawyer in tow. It wasn’t even noon and you were in the middle of finishing a paper for a class when you heard an unsettling pounding at your door. Lisa was quick to run to your room with a puzzled look on her face.

“My mom,” you muttered to her as you sauntered your way to the front door.

“Good to know you saw my text we were coming,” she says, looking around your apartment, observing every little detail for her to potentially nitpick. “This is Son Yejin,” she introduces the lawyer, who is strikingly beautiful though she looks intense and not up for bullshit.

“Nice to meet you miss Y/N,” she nods and you take notice of the thick briefcase at her side. You don’t say anything as they walk past you towards the small dining table sat in the corner of your kitchen. You really hoped Lisa took your word when you begged her to lock herself in her room and put in noise cancelling headphones. You had a bad feeling about this but your mother gave you no choice when she texted saying she was coming in 10 minutes.

“So I take it you haven’t looked over the papers I gave you a couple weeks back?” Your mother finally looks up at you, eyes puffy and wearing less makeup than usual. Still, she is dressed chic like herself, but her face says a much different story.

“I haven’t had time,” you lie smoothly, knowing full and well you shoved that damn manila envelope into a drawer in your desk, haven’t looking at it since. You understood it was important to sort out your father’s assets but at the same time, you felt sick at the thought of going through all his stuff. You couldn’t care less about his money or his valuables—none of that could replace losing your best friend.

“Cut the bullshit Y/N,” your mom’s lips are tight pressed into a line, “Sit down.” She motions towards the chair beside her. You drag your feet causing your sweatpants to drag against the floor. You sit at the chair across from her, the lawyer sat to your right, placing her in the middle. It felt almost symbolic as this random woman separates you two—an invisible wall has been placed between you since your dad passed and now that very wall has come to fruition.

You don’t say anything else as the lawyer and your mother begin to spread out papers on the table in front of you. She also opens up her laptop and begins explaining this process and why it was so important for you to cooperate. It all felt so redundant as your mother had been harping on you about it for weeks. Did she really think bringing in her lawyer would make you understand it more?

“You were your father’s primary beneficiary,” she begins, “That means you are entitled to whatever he left you and you are entitled to the right to do whatever you want with those assets.”

Your mother’s face remains relaxed though you can sense she’s studying your every move as your eyes lazily move across the legal documents that you barely understand or care about.

“Your mother is the contingent beneficiary, so whatever you don’t want—she gets.”

“I really don’t care about what he left me,” your voice is trembling, “Dad didn’t care about materialistic things, he wouldn’t like us doing this—“

“Well, he didn’t give us much of a choice did he?” Your mom says, narrowing her eyes at you.

A discomfort tunnels through your chest but it’s not as strong as the frustration boiling your blood. She spoke about your dad—her husband—like he was expendable. It was repulsive. You stay silent once again as the lawyer starts talking again. Hearing the tapping sound of your mother’s nails against the table sends a shiver down your spine. It’s not until your mother speaks again that catches your full attention back.

“Y/N listen to me,” she says slowly, “I know you don’t want to do this, I don’t want to do this, but I can’t sit at home by myself with all this stuff and expect to be sane,” her own voice breaks off, signaling a distress you haven’t seen from her in weeks.

You hadn’t really thought of it like that. While at least you were here at your college apartment, your mother was alone in your childhood home that was destroyed of all its innocence when they found your deceased father. Perhaps you had been too selfish and resentful towards her to realize how much she was suffering too.

“I just,” you pause, looking down at your picked at nail polish, “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do—I don’t know anything about his assets, how am I—“

“Y/N that’s why Yejin is here,” she reassures, with Yejin nodding in agreement.

“The courts aren’t expecting you to know what to do, but it’s important you are cooperative as possible. It’ll be smoother not just on your mother, but you as well.”

You begin to nod slowly, recognizing that this was something you couldn’t run from anymore. Yes, it was painful to remember every small detail about your father, but you and your mom was all you two had left. You shouldn’t spend the rest of your life resenting her for a problem that she had no knowledge about.

“I also found this a couple days ago… wanted to bring it to you in person,” she slides a thin envelope over to you, gaze soft and relaxed.

You grab the paper slowly, only breaking eye contact when you take the piece of paper from the inside that’s been folded into 3 parts. You open it slowly, your eyes quickly scanning the page and your heart immediately drops to the pit of your stomach. It’s a letter—written from your dad to you.

“W-where did you get this?” You ask shakily, your fingertips sweaty against the paper.

“It was in a safe in his closet when I was cleaning some stuff out. I only had the code myself in case of emergency situations,” she explains. She glances at the lawyer before speaking again, “We will be going now. I think you know what’s expected of you now.”

The two women stand up and you follow slowly, your hands still not letting go of the letter. Your mother comes closer to you and you can smell her perfume faintly.

“I know your dad wouldn’t like us doing this Y/N,” she pauses, fiddling with her sunglasses in her hands, “But he also wouldn’t like us fighting over it. You know that.”

She was right.

“I know how hard this has been on you sweetheart… he loved you more than anyone else in the world,” she lets out a breath that’s a bit shaky for her usual assertive self, “If you’re struggling you know he would want you to get the help you need, I want that for you, okay?

You had almost forgotten about the lawyer standing by your front door awkwardly until you glanced her way. You felt unstable in front of your mother, feeling unsure of how to respond. She hadn’t shown you this much empathy since he had passed. If anything, her empathy was just what you needed. It was comforting—despite everything—it was comforting.

You nod slowly, combating moisture in your eyes by blinking rapidly. Without a warning, your mother pulls you into an unexpected hug. Instinctually, you wrap your arms around her frame, your chin sitting on her shoulder comfortably.

“I haven’t said it enough,” she says in a whisper, “But I do love you. You’re just so much like him—it’s so hard for me because it’s like he’s here but he’s not.”

You feel a stray tear drop down your cheek, breath heavy and shaky, “I love you too mom.”

She pulls you into another tight hug as if to reassure her words. Your mother could be difficult to crack. She was a person who was very grey—not much was black or white with her. On most days, she reminded you of Jungkook. You had hoped from this point onward the indignation you had built towards her would fade. She was a grieving widow and you were a grieving daughter. She of course had a life with your dad long before you were even in it. She was trying her best to hold it together—much better than you had the past few weeks—she was trying.

You make it back into your room after they leave, letter heavy in hand. You shut the door to your room, back against the wood as you unfold the paper carefully. Your hands waver and you’re almost afraid you’ll rip it.

Sweet pea,

Know that I will always be here if you need me… even if I’m not here one day. I don’t have the answers to everything but if there’s one thing I want you to know; I am so proud of you and who you are becoming. Never stop playing and always do the right thing.

I love you more… and that’s for sure. Dad.

____

Whalien 52 was no less than t-totally fucked. Their first gig back with Jungkook on drums and Taehyung attempting to be lead guitar and sing had not gone as planned. In practice, they really had thought they were sounding pretty good and getting into the new rhythm. Being on a stage was a lot different from the usual practice studio They opted on playing some easier songs for Jungkook and Taehyung’s sake, but that came at the sacrifice of not practicing the songs they wanted to play for battle of the bands. The crowd—probably too drunk or high to actually notice any difference—still seemed to enjoy the show. That didn’t matter to any of the members though. It’s why when the member’s go backstage, it was inevitable for them to take their frustrations out on each other.

“I just don’t understand why you bailed halfway through the fucking solo,” Jungkook spit angrily as he threw himself on a small couch, chucking his drum sticks across the floor, barely missing Yoongi’s legs.

“Hey now,” Yoongi remarks giving the younger a harsh glare.

“It’s fucking hard Jungkook, that’s why,” Taehyung spits, “I’ve never had to play lead ever—“

“Other people have done it,” Jungkook mutters, his gaze falling on Namjoon as he waltz in the back room, a beer in his somewhat okay right hand—his other wrist in a brace now. The sight sends more anger through the members because they know if he hadn’t acted stupid they wouldn’t be in this position.

“Yeah well if you haven’t noticed Jungkook I’m not Jimi Hendrix or Kurt fucking Cobain am I?”

“Can we not fight here?” Yoongi mutters though he wasn’t sure if anyone heard him as the tension grows thicker between the band.

“Jungkook you completely messed up a couple sections though,” Jin points and Namjoon throws in an agreement.

“Fuck you guys,” the youngest swears.

“Don’t criticize Taehyung then if you can’t handle it yourself,” Namjoon says tipping back his beer.

“Fuck you the most hyung,” Jungkook says to Namjoon as he gets up angrily, looking over at Taehyung not bothering to say another word to anyone else, afraid he might continue to spill words that will only cause more issues.

“Both of you made mistakes tonight but that was going to happen,” Yoongi pauses, catching everyone’s attention from his corner of the room, “But I’m sorry guys, we don’t have a fucking chance if we can’t get a lead and let Taehyung have a break.” If no one was going to take Yoongi’s advice about not fighting here, then he was going to put in his two cents too.

“Yoongi’s right,” Jin says matter of factly.

The band was stumped. Everyone knew Taehyung needed some help on guitar but obviously Jungkook couldn’t leave the drums—what was a band without fucking drums? Every one of the guys drop the conversation, sitting there in silence battling their own mental frustrations. Jungkook sits forward, rubbing his face up into his hair trying to calm himself down. He was doing everything he could but he didn’t know what a solution could be for Whailen.

Faintly, another band begins to play in the background disturbing the uncomfortable silence. Yoongi observes the band intently before crossing his legs, opening his mouth.

“I mean, I have one idea,” he suddenly says, all eyes turning to him. “You are aren’t gonna like it though,” he laughs backhandedly, his eyes landing directly on Jungkook.

Creasing his eyebrows together, “What are you on about hyung?”

“I highly doubt she’ll agree,” Yoongi murmurs to himself, “Worth a shot right?”

Each Whailen member glances around at each other, wondering exactly what Min Yoongi is proposing. Min Yoongi was one of two things; he was either quite reckless with his decisions or he was quite the genius, coming up with the best of ideas. The band hoped the latter, but when the words come from his mouth—everyone straight away assumes he’s lost his goddamn mind.

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