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deadpcnned · 1 day ago

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Sealed by the Storm (jj.m)

chapter six

pairing: jj maybank x reader; marriage of convenience

content warning(s): references to abuse (luke)

author's note: i don't really love how this chapter came out, but it was needed to keep the story progressing :/ on a happier note, i've been getting more fun asks about sealed and i got one that i loved smmmm. i basically made an unofficial playlist for this series, if you wanna read that post

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To you, the lapping of waves against the hull of the boat is like the rock of a cradle for a nursing child. You had spent a large chunk of your formative years on ships where nautical turbulence was the norm. You can still remember those first few months when you’d joined Terrance’s crew, thinking there would never come a time you would accept it, let alone find comfort in it.

It comforts you now, too. The surrounding water has much less impact, considering you’re floating over a lake, not an ocean– waves replaced by ripples– but you can still feel that subtle shift in movement when you focus on it. You’re focusing on it now, trying to pass the time while you're cooped up in the cabin bedroom.

One ground rule you and JJ set was that during the day, you’d either stay on the boat or off until sunset to avoid getting caught. It has been a week since the night he brought you here, and your recent status of being unemployed has made your lack of a schedule painfully obvious. You spend most of your hours texting Cleo, but her responses come slow since she’s been taking shifts at Heyward’s shop.

You’ve been awake for over an hour but haven’t left the bedroom in fear of running into JJ. After the two of you had unpacked your backpacks that first night, the air between you had changed. The awkward energy between you was palpable as you tried to learn how to exist in each other’s space. With the limited square footage and your fractured relationship, you worry that any misstep could end with you stepping on his toes. You know it’s no way to live– hiding in the bedroom and wasting your morning– but it’s comfortable.

You sigh as you get up, accepting your fate and preparing to face it. After you’ve made your bed and brushed your teeth in the detached restroom, you take a few more steps and enter the lounge area. JJ’s there, lying face-down on the leather couch, and while you can’t believe he’s knocked out at half past noon, you also feel an immense amount of pity wash over you. He’s curled into himself– trying to make himself smaller to fit on the narrow cushion that curves around a table– but his legs are still too long to fit. His arm is bent under his head as a makeshift pillow. You don’t need to imagine how wildly uncomfortable he must be.

Trying to be quiet, you reach for an apple and a knife, which Sarah had kindly dropped off along with a few other essentials. You can tell the knife is from the set Rafe keeps in the apartment, but you appreciate it the same. Cringing at the taps of the knife against the counter, you try your best to complete the task more quietly. You slow your actions, but it’s to no avail because you hear a groaning sound behind you after a moment.

“Mmm,” Placing the knife on the black granite, you turn to see JJ stretching, his face set in a displeased expression. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you reply, returning your attention to the apple. “You sleep alright?”

“Uh,” You can tell from the sound of shuffling and his voice he’s coming closer. “Yeah, slept good.” You know he’s lying. There’s no way a man of his height and build could sleep comfortably on what is essentially a glorified rock. You let him lie.

JJ clears his throat, indicating that you should make space before he reaches his arm out in front of you to grab one of the two glasses in the corner. The limited counter space makes his hip rub against yours as he moves, the warmth of his touch bleeding into you. He flicks the sink faucet, filling his cup with water– downing it in two gulps. He goes to fill the glass again, and you’re about to snap at him to let you finish cutting your apple when he extends the glass out towards you.

“Drink up,” He instructs, his tone casual. You pause, looking up at him to see what he’s getting at, but his expression is so neutral you can’t make heads or tails of it. You take the glass from his hands while he remains silent. Without any gloating or taunting, he heads to the restroom.

You drop the knife on the counter too harshly, your fingers curling tightly around the glass. It’s irrational how deep those simple words bury themselves under your skin. You can’t be mad at him for being in your shared space. You can’t be mad at him for using the cups you share. Yet, you are.

“Drink up,” you mimic in a much higher pitch than JJ had spoken. You down the water in quick gulps, not registering the sound of the restroom door opening and closing.

“That supposed to be me?” The only reason you don’t jump at JJ’s voice is years of practice hiding your surprise. You remain silent, turning back to face your half-cut apples. You feel him then, inching closer. The minimal space highlights how close he really is with each step he takes. When his fingers pull at your forearm, you don’t respond, making him apply just a little more pressure to get you to face him.

He towers over you, his face mere inches from yours and an ever-growing smirk coloring his lips. “You know,” he starts, and his drawled words crawl further under your skin. “For someone who hates being told what to do,” his eyes shift to the blue glass for only a second before returning to yours. “You sure took that water without a fight.”

You’re holding your breath as he reaches past you to grab a slice of the apple, chewing on it slowly as he studies you. His bites twist around a smirk as his blue eyes study something intently.

“Interesting,” He hums, reaching for another slice and stepping back. That does it. That single, seemingly innocent word infuriates you because what could he possibly be putting together that you aren’t?

JJ sits on the lounge couch, resting his arms against the table as he swipes through his phone. An empty table. Because there’s no money to put food on it. Just like that, you find your jackpot.

“You need to get a job,” You all but bark at him. JJ looks up from his device, his brows furrowing. You walk closer to him, abandoning your breakfast, and cross your arms across your chest. “Waking up in the afternoon and sitting on your phone isn’t going to keep us out of any more trouble.”

JJ just watches you quietly as if he’s deciding how serious you are. His expression shifts, and then a despondent sigh escapes between his lips. You watch as he shakes his head, casting his eyes down at the table, making you both more angry and want to hide.

“Did you hear me?” You ask.

“I heard you just fine,” JJ’s voice is as sharp as yours, but he doesn’t raise it. “What job have you got, again?”

“I’ve been looking for one,” You tell him. You have. You’ve been calling numbers on listings in the paper– like this is the 1900s– for jobs you may be a good fit for, but the paper you’ve been using is a little outdated, and every job you’ve called for has been filled. “You’re not even trying.”

“Who said I’m not trying?” There’s an unreadable look in JJ’s eyes. He gets up, walks through the cabin door, and leaves you alone. You’re fuming at his audacity to leave you in the middle of what you’d consider a conversation when he returns, his fist tightly wound around a paper. He drops it on the table and leaves again. This time, you wait a few minutes, and when he doesn’t return, you lean over the table to look at what he’s left there.

JJ closes his eyes and lets himself slip back in time. He’s sixteen again. The HMS Pogue is rocking gently, the air thick with salt and laughter. He sees Kie sitting at the boat's bow, teasing Pope about his meager alcohol intake in the name of a history test. Pope reminds her – as he always does – that he plans to make it out of this town. John B is sitting behind JJ at the wheel. His mind’s only half on the task at hand, a palm resting lazily against the wheel, too focused on finding the perfect opportunity to add his own quips to Kie and Pope’s argument. The argument has branched into a tangent about whether college is necessary, and Kie calls Pope classist while Pope argues he can’t be because he’s the working class.

JJ’s lying smack dab in the middle of it all, his head propped against the edge of the boat, rolling a blunt between his fingers. The sun’s harsh against his skin, and he doesn’t have sunscreen on, but he likes to think his skin has grown accustomed to the UV rays the island offers at this time of year. He can hear birds in the background, their choice of music today since Pope forgot the speaker he got for Christmas four years ago.

JJ isn’t thinking about the problems waiting for him on land. The chaos of home and the weight of never having enough are forgotten on this sacred vessel. He knows his life outside the HMS Pogue is waiting patiently for him to return and deal with reality, but he’s not worried about that. His biggest concern is whether Kie will agree to bake them some special brownies since her parents have a fancy ass oven (‘the bigger the oven, the bigger the batch, Kie!’).

In his mind’s eye, nothing happens next. They become frozen like this – sixteen, careless, clueless, even after everything they’ve already seen. They don’t move forward. They don’t break.

JJ didn’t used to think he was happy. He was always searching for the key to that emotion, thinking it was locked away with a shitload of money. He’d been so eager to find the gold and leave that life behind, but he guesses what they say is true– hindsight really is 20/20. Because he’d already been the closest to happiness he was ever going to get and hadn’t even realized it.

Sarah and Cleo aren’t in his mental image. He doesn’t mean for it to be that way. The sentimental part of him he usually tucks away around the others likes to think that you’d all have found your way to each other somehow.

You aren’t there either. You’re here. Behind the door that he’s slumped against to remain hidden from wandering eyes. When he opens his blue eyes, it’s dizzying that the surroundings all look the same as the fond memory, but the people aren’t there.

Those times of never going a day without seeing each other are gone. Somehow, he’s gotten lucky and stretched that lifestyle a few years longer than most childhood friends. College didn’t tear them apart like he used to hold his breath for. Neither did getting his ass thrown in jail.

Nothing was keeping you guys apart. It’s a choice. Sarah and John B are choosing to prioritize the start of their family. Pope is prioritizing polishing his now muddied resume for a chance at college admissions. Cleo is prioritizing learning the ropes of running a business from Heyward. Kie is (suddenly) prioritizing her relationship with her parents.

You’re the only one who doesn’t have something that takes precedence over JJ. The remaining piece of the puzzle that’s been undone. The problem is, you can’t stand to be around him. He hasn’t missed how you run off to the bedroom each time you’re in the lounge together or how you hold your breath when he passes by you closely, an inevitable byproduct of the size of your “home.”

He thought you were making progress, starting to get along after the months-long drought your friendship endured. You were laughing at his jokes again, trusting him with secrets. Trusting him with the boat. The boat was huge. It was the first time JJ felt you’d put aside his mistakes and were willing to move forward. Now, it all felt like a trick of the light, and with one step to the left, the illusion vanished. He should be used to it; people not wanting to stick around.

His entire life has been about people not wanting to stick around. Luke, Groff. God, he really should be the poster child for Daddy Issues.

He figures he should be grateful Groff didn’t stick around this time either, but his absence does nothing to put his worries to rest. JJ hadn’t seen Groff around, and he’d heard through Sarah that Groff had apparently been a part of some pyramid scheme Rafe fell victim to and skipped town. If that intel is correct, Groff must be furthering his search for the crown, which means he’d be distracted from returning for JJ. JJ doesn’t know if Groff will come back after finding the crown, but Groff has to know the police found the body, so maybe that means he’ll never come back to the Outer Banks. JJ — maybe for the first time in his life — really hopes Groff will be one of the people who doesn’t come back. The further away Groff stays from the island, the further away the stench of Lightner's body will be from you. And him.

Throughout his life, JJ has tended to compare himself to Luke. He was so entranced by the concept of nature vs. nurture. He’d thought Luke was his blood, half his DNA. At the end of every internal debate, he’d come to the conclusion that it didn’t matter whether nature outweighed nurture in making a person who they were or not because all he’d ever known was Luke. If Luke’s blood was in his veins and Luke’s hand was the one that raised him, he had no choice but to turn into his father eventually.

That all is changing now. Luke’s genetics hadn’t played any part in creating him, but he had raised him — raised maybe wasn’t how most would describe it, but it was Luke all the same. So, now, what won? Nature or Nurture? Was he Groff, or was he Luke? Was he both?

Was his future going to be him constantly jumping between being a drunk and a con artist? Maybe he and Groff aren’t all that different. He’d known he was lying that day on the back road. JJ noticed how Groff talked faster when he told JJ he had locked JJ in to protect his son. He’d helped Groff anyway. Did that make him just as bad?

JJ, at sixteen, had been willing to go to any length to get any treasure they could. He’d been at the forefront of it all, leading the Pogues into this nightmare. He’d convinced Pope to abandon his academic dreams, which JJ knew were his only chance at stability. He’d let Kiara’s already contentious relationship with her parents worsen instead of letting them figure out their way over the bump of teenagehood. He’d let John B lose his father again. That rapacity seemed just as strong in Groff.

Could JJ ever kill for money? He hadn’t thought he could. He’d tried being that man. The one who totes around guns and threatens dangerous men. In the end, he couldn’t follow through. But maybe there’d been a teenage version of Groff who hadn’t been able to follow through either. Then, somewhere along the way, maybe Groff had placed his finger against the trigger and finally pulled it. That could be JJ one day.

Would life on The Cut, always in trouble and always full of want, turn him into a murderer. Could JJ kill his wife for money? JJ had pieced it together by now. The fact that Larissa Genrette’s death wasn’t the tragic but faultless result of a bad storm. His mother had been murdered. By his father. JJ used to wonder what his mom was like – the girlfriend Luke claimed skipped town when it got too much to take care of him. Now, the truth was settling into his bones, weighing him down more than ever. She hadn’t gotten tired of caring for him. She hadn’t looked at his face one last time and decided she’d had enough.

She was taken from him by the man who was supposed to love him and love her but loved money more. JJ felt sick every time he thought of it, every time he imagined his mother’s decaying body in that tomb. Had she been in love with Groff? JJ has never been in love but wonders if he will someday be. Would he hurt that woman like Groff hurt his mother?

A shiver runs up his spine as he realizes that you are his wife despite the unusual circumstances that have brought him to this point. It’s a borrowed title, not his to keep for you, but his for now. He doesn’t think he could put money above you. He’d promised you he was done with the treasure. After three years of being led by his thirst for more, he finally put down the glass, and it was in your name. In part, it’s because the reality of how dangerous this was was catching up to him, even if it was a few years too late. But mostly, it’s because that day, after he’d burned the knife, he’d been moved by the look on your face. Never in the past two years had he seen you so… rattled, helpless. Destroying the weapon Groff used had brought something out or maybe suppressed something in you, and you’d been turning to him for comfort. He can’t explain what it is that’s put a deep-seated desire to grant you that comfort, but he finds himself letting it take over. He let that need to protect you take him to the metaphorical altar, and he let it cause a rift between him and his best friend since kindergarten.

Even now, when he’s having one of those rare moments where his anger is justified, he wants to go back in and keep the job search going. He wants to put your mind at ease. Be the kind of man who protects, provides, and does all the other domestic bullshit he knows he’s not cut out for. It terrifies him how easily he could slip into this part – the part of a doting husband – if he let himself.

Realistically, he knows you both need jobs. He’s been trying to land something, but his reputation on the island’s never been too good, and the past few years have only made that worse. Every call he makes is met with the line being cut before he can say his last name or hesitant apologies – the latter are few and far between. He hasn’t even been able to lock down lawn-mowing gigs. Embarrassingly, he’d called the one listing searching for a dog walker and had also been rejected for that. It didn’t look like he could find a job, and he didn’t know how to tell you.

Sighing, JJ takes out his phone from its spot in his back pocket to check the time. He’d been out here for an hour and a half without realizing it. He decides it’s time to bite the bullet and stands — careful not to stand to his full height in case anyone passes by the dock. When he enters through the door, he doesn’t expect you to still be sitting in the lounge area. But there you are — sitting on the rounded couch, your finger trailing down the page of the paper he’d left for you to find. You’re holding your phone in your right hand — an old iPhone 7 Kiara had lying around and had given you to use when you’d moved here.

When he closes the door behind him, you flick your head up. Your eyes greet him with a flood of questions and something softer that he can’t place.

JJ lifts his hands. “I was just outside the door. No one saw.”

He watches your face fall a bit and wants to make his tone a little less irritated, but he’s always had a hard time not wearing his heart on his sleeve. Whatever he feels, always makes itself known.

“Okay,” you reply quietly. You avert your gaze from JJ and return to the list in front of you. You don't say anything else, and JJ decides he should go wash up — anything to avoid being in this cage of awkward tension with you.

Just as he’s turning, he hears you speak again, “JJ?”

JJ waits wordlessly for you to continue.

“Do you want to go through these listings with me?” It’s not an apology. It’s not even an acknowledgment. It’s your emotionally suppressed version of an olive branch, though, and he wants to take it. If you’re stuck in this living arrangement for the unforeseeable future, you’ll have to be able to get along, or it’s going to be hell.

JJ sits across from you, the table between you feeling like a safety net for potential fallout. You push the paper between you as you say, “I called the first five, and they’ve already been filled. Isn’t it weird that people actually respond to these listings?”

JJ shrugs, knitting his brows together. “Not really. Pogues kinda survive off these things.”

“Oh,” you mumble. “Well, that explains why I’ve had no luck.”

You and JJ start splitting up the listings, alternating between who takes each one unless you find one that seems like a perfect fit for the other. The process leaves you both in silence longer, only the occasional sound of the paper being pushed between you. But you break the stillness when you find an opening for a private surf instructor.

You scoot around the couch, closing the space between JJ and you until your arm presses into his. You speak with your hands moving in a flurry, excitement seeping into your voice.

“This is perfect for you,” You say, nudging your knee against his and tapping a spot on the paper. Your voice holds a note of confidence in him that almost makes him believe it, too. Almost.

JJ hasn’t mentioned that he’s gone through almost the entire list and got turned away from this position the second they heard his name.

JJ doesn’t want to burst your bubble and watch your expression change if he tells you now. He’s worried it’ll only prove to you that JJ is poisonous and his reputation has not been left unscathed. Before he can explain why that position may not be the best fit, you’re already dialing the number and putting the phone on speaker. When the voice rings through the opposite end of the line, you look at him expectantly, waiting for him to introduce himself. You jostle his shoulder when he doesn’t say anything before giving him a funny look and speaking on his behalf.

“Hi! My name is Y/N, and I was calling for your ad in the paper. The one for the private surfing instructor? Is it still open?”

He watches as you wait with bated breath like this one might be the one that sticks. Your anticipation makes his chest feel tight. He’d told you once, in passing, that he used to win free surfing competitions the OBX hosted when he was a kid. It was the only thing the Kooks who knew him ever gave him credit for. It never made them care about the boy behind the borrowed and battered board, but the brief applause he’d received made him feel like he was on top of the world. It’s why he still loved to surf as often as he could. It was one of the few things he knew he was good at. He was a great surfer, if not the greatest on the island. That just wasn’t enough right now.

“Ah, yes. Yes, it is. Are you interested?” The voice on the other end of the line belongs to a woman JJ’s never met but apparently knows him far too well. “My son Eric's in a bit of a phase but refuses to attend group lessons. If you’re willing, we can arrange a meeting and discuss everything.”

“I am interested!” You remark and then correct, “Well, not for me. I have a friend who would be perfect for the job. You may have heard of him. JJ May—”

“Absolutely not.”

You pull the phone back from you, looking up at him with a confused pout that he tries not to pay too much attention to amid this chaos. “JJ Maybank? He’s a really great surfer. Won multiple competitions—”

“I already told your friend I will not give him this position. If he tries to reach me again, I will call the police.” With that, the line cuts, and you look up at him, your eyes full of confusion and a hint of something like remorse. JJ can’t look at you, so he turns back to the paper and clears his throat. He’s dialing another number, not sure exactly what it’s for, when your hand rests against his, pushing the phone out of the way.

“How many of these people have you already called?” You ask. JJ considers lying and claiming the woman has no idea what she’s talking about, but he knows he’s lost any footing to make it believable.

“Um,” JJ clears his throat again, shrugging. “All of them except the last three.”

You’re quiet, then. He keeps his eyes trained on the table, still too ashamed to meet your eye. He wonders if you’ll be pissed he made you waste all this time.

“Gross, why would you willingly talk to those assholes again?” JJ’s head snaps up, and your face is morphed into a comical expression of disgust.

“Need a job,” JJ shrugs, not ready to test the waters of humor you seem to be threading, just in case he says the wrong thing.

You nod then, “Not with people like that.”

JJ’s never heard that before. As Pogues, there’s no being picky. There’s no sticking up for yourself. He’s always been taught to keep his head down and do as he’s told. He’s horrible at it, but that’s the advice he’s always been given. You’re the last person he’d expect to go against that type of thinking. Not only because you’re a Pogue like him but because you place survival above everything else. It’s like the mode you're permanently set to. There’s no place for pride and principles when a person’s just trying to get to the next day.

“What choice do we have?” JJ lets his head fall back against the stiff leather of the couch, getting reminders of how uncomfortably he’s slept the past couple of nights. You mirror his actions, resting your head against the unforgiving surface only to pull your head back up with a wince. That makes JJ smile.

“What’d you wanna be when you were younger?” You catch JJ off guard with your question. His fingers, which had been idly tapping against the table, still as he raises a brow at you. You’re waiting for an answer, your attention entirely on him, and he takes a moment to consider his reply.

“Not really sure, if I’m honest. Never really had the chance to dream like that,” JJ tells you.

“Oh, come on,” You push, not buying his answer. You tilt your head as if that’ll do something to make him reconsider. “Every kid has dreams.”

There’s an earnestness in your eyes that reaches out towards JJ and squeezes his heart. He’s never admitted this to anyone, not flat out, but he finds himself wanting to tell you. “The shop, I guess. Since I was twelve. I used to sketch out pictures of how it would look in my textbooks and everything.”

Your eyes gloss over, a film of sorrow that he knows matches his own, replacing the playful glint in your eyes. It still doesn’t feel real that you’ve lost the land. He watches as you reach out, and he squeezes it when you take hold of his hand. Despite any animosity, this pain is yours to share.

“It was one hell of a dream.”

“Yeah,” JJ nods, shooting you a sad smile. “It was.”

A moment passes with the two of you sitting just like that, gazing at each other. Then, JJ asks, “What about you? What’s your dream?”

You look down, your lips bashfully turning up at the sides as if embarrassed by your answer. “I wanted to be a CEO.”

JJ lets out a laugh before he can stop himself, and your smile mirrors his, though you add an unimpressed roll of your eyes. “I’m being serious!”

“Oh, I’m sure. Making money off bossing people around? Checks out,” You scoff, but don’t deny it, and JJ knows you couldn’t even if you tried. “What kind of company would you run? I can’t see you in, like, fashion.”

You scoff again, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you say, “Cause that’s the only thing girls can be in charge of?”

“I don’t know. What else do little girls dream of?”

“Oil and gas.” JJ stills at that, his mouth falling agape slightly.

“What? Oil and gas? That’s some Kook shit if I’ve ever heard it. How’d you land on that?” JJ’s too caught up in how unlikely your answer is to catch when your expression shifts back to serious, but he sees the moment you try to pretend it didn’t happen. You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Family business,” You say. JJ stills then, not exactly understanding what to make of your words. Family business, as in your family’s business? The one JJ knew nothing about. If your family was in an industry like that, that would make you… not the kind of Pogue he’d thought.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whisper, breaking the silence he’s letting stretch over you two.

JJ shakes his head, “Like what?”

“Like, I’m not who you thought I was.” Your voice is more melancholic than JJ has ever heard, more than he ever thought it could be. You’ve never opened up about your past with JJ, not anything before you met Cleo. Your stories revolved strictly around that time, and he hadn’t even considered what came before that. It’s hard not to let it catch him off guard, but he doesn’t want to lose this moment to learn more about you. To learn you.

“I, uh, it's just surprising, is all,” JJ clarifies. Then, in an effort to keep you talking, he asks, “Your parents were in oil and gas?”

“Y-yeah,” You hesitate, your fingers fussing with the edge of your shirt, a nervous habit JJ’s picked up on. “My dad’s side. It was a generational thing. My great grandfather, I think.” You chuckle, though it’s entirely humorless. “I used to say I’d be the first girl to take over the company.”

“How…” JJ wants to ask you how someone goes from that to this. How’d you end up with Terrance? Why didn’t you take over the company? But you're begging with your eyes for him not to finish that question, and he doesn’t want to see that forlorn look any longer. Instead, he settles on, “I can’t believe you’re a Kook.”

You give a half-hearted laugh. JJ searches his mind for anything else he can say, but he’s drawing a blank. The best he can come up with is, “So, like, were you the country club kind of Kook?”

You sigh and bite your lip. “Worse. So much worse.”

JJ shifts towards you, leaning in and genuinely interested in what you have to say. “Give it to me. I can handle it.”

“I…” You give him a side eye that makes him want to laugh in this moment of faux seriousness. “I was in training to be the next season’s most sought-after debutant.”

JJ blinks slowly, then lets out a disbelieving laugh, and you shove your shoulder against his. “No way. You?” Without thinking, he throws his arm out and rests it against the cushioned seat behind you. He’s still laughing at your displeasure as he says, “I’m sorry. I just can’t imagine it. I mean, I’ve seen you punch grown men. I can’t line that up with dresses and tiaras.”

Your laugh is soft, but JJ catches the way your eyes flicker like you’re shuffling through those memories. He’s watching you, trying to find the puzzle pieces he’s been missing. He always thought that if he had a life like that – full of money and stability – he’d never know what worrying meant. But you had that, and now you’re sitting here, sharing this cramped space with him. Something had to have gone horribly wrong for you to give up a life like that and end up here.

“So, tell me, what were you like then? Did you actually enjoy that stuff?” JJ asks.

“Mmm, some of it. I liked wearing the dresses. Thought they made me look like a princess.” Your nose crinkles, like you feel silly admitting it. JJ had never seen you in a dress until the day of the wedding. Your style isn’t exactly edgy – mostly just plain, cropped shirts and well-fitted jeans – but it also didn’t scream hyper-feminine in a way JJ associated dresses with. “The other stuff… It's complicated.”

“How so?” JJ ventures to ask. He’s not sure you’ll answer with how evasive you’re being, but he still tries.

“I guess,” You stop for a moment, and he can see you analyzing every possible choice of words before you speak them. Then you shake your head and say, “The dresses could get itchy sometimes.”

You’re deflecting, using humor to throw him off the scent of what you want to say. You’re not as okay as you’re trying to present yourself to be in this moment, but he won’t push. He won’t make you relive something you’ve clearly tried so hard to forget. For now, he’ll give you a little piece of him that he’s scared to let go of. A piece of honesty that he’s trying to bury.

“You know, uh,” JJ starts, his fingers tapping against the cushion. “I’ve been thinking about it recently. What my life would’ve been like if I'd grown up a Genrette. Or, Groff, I guess.”

You tilt your head as you say, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” JJ nods. “Like, would I have met John B? I can’t imagine my life not being defined by him. It’s always kind of been like before him and after him.”

“Wow,” you say, breathlessly. “That’s like really fucking beautiful, JJ.”

JJ gives you a lopsided grin because he knows it sounds dramatic, but it’s also what he truly feels. Before John B, JJ was a seven-year-old left to his own devices too often for them to be considered safe. After John B, safety still wasn’t a facet of his life, but at least he wasn’t wandering alone.

“I kind of feel that way about Cleo,” you offer. “I know what was before her, but after that, everything’s defined by her. I would’ve never followed Sarah and John B if she hadn’t decided it was best for us.”

“How can you find it in yourself to trust her so much?”

You lean the side of your head against the cushion, but JJ hasn’t moved his arm, so you’re resting against him. You don’t move your head away, and JJ doesn’t move his arm away. JJ’s feet are firm against the boat floor, but his torso is twisted towards you. Sometime in the midst of this conversation, you’ve brought your legs up and tucked them beneath you, making your knees brush against his upper thighs. The two of you are so close to each other, wholly invested in what the other has to say, as the baton of vulnerability passes from one to the other.

“Easy. I realized one day that her choices never ended badly for us. I trust her because she doesn’t give me the chance not to.”

JJ swallows thickly, his hand, which was resting against the cushion, now brushing against the top of your hair. He’s unsure where he gets the audacity, but he doesn’t take away his touch.

“That’s kind of a high bar,” he says, trying to keep his vulnerability at bay and away from his voice. “Only trusting someone who gets it right every time.”

“It’s the best I can do. I can’t afford to make mistakes.”

There’s a thread of hope that JJ didn’t realize he had left that frays at that moment. Any chance of you ever learning to trust him seems to go out the small rectangular window above the lounge table. As long as JJ is precisely who he’s always been, you’ll never be able to trust him.

Even with this reminder, he doesn’t find it in himself to want to pull back and put some distance between you. Instead, he stays right there, his fingers still deftly playing with the hair at the crown of your head.

You shake your head, making your hair tickle JJ’s palm. “It’s not about getting it right every time.”

“No?” JJ asks.

You shake your head again. “It’s about knowing that the mistakes won't ruin everything. That we’ll still be here after. Together.”

Your voice breaks at the last word, and JJ feels the crack extend into his heart. He doesn’t know if you’re doing it on purpose or if you’re so caught up in being honest that you don’t realize, but you explain exactly why you haven’t been able to tolerate JJ. Until the property hearing, all of this felt like his fault. Bidding all that money at the auction and then betting the rest at the enduro? It was exactly what had proven to you that he didn’t deserve your trust.

But you’re still together. Even if it’s just you two on this boat, it’s still a part of your family that hasn’t been taken away from you yet. He might be the last one you want. Maybe you don’t want him at all. But he could be the one to bring the rest of the pieces together. He doesn’t know what he can do, but he decides at this moment that he’ll figure it out and do whatever it takes.

“Look, I—” JJ’s attempt at making you a promise he thinks you need to hear is cut short by the melodic ring of your phone. Your heads snap to the phone that lies forgotten on the table. You're getting a FaceTime call, Cleo’s name written in bold text across the top.

As you pick up your phone, JJ expects you to get up and take the call in your room like you have every other day this week. Instead, you shift your body to face the table and pick up the call, but don’t move from your spot next to him. You swipe the answer button to the right, pushing the phone back so you’re both in the frame, and Cleo pops up on the screen.

Cleo is lying her head against a red shirt he recognizes as Pope’s, and when she registers that JJ's there, too, she pulls back the screen so Pope is visible.

“Woah-ho-ho,” Cleo sings. “Rudeboy, what’s up, man?”

Despite the tense moment that JJ is still coming off of, he smiles at the nickname Cleo gave him. He’ll admit he kind of loves it.

“Nothin’ much,” JJ replies. “What’s up with y’all?”

“Just chillin’,” Pope adds, resting his head atop Cleo’s. “Didn’t think we’d catch you both in the same room.”

You scoff next to him. “We live together. Why would we not be in the same room?”

Pope just hums and says, “Y’all look cozy.”

A warm flush of embarrassment creeps up JJ’s neck as he registers Pope’s words and your position. JJ badly wants to reach through the screen and slap the smirk off Pope's face. He considers moving his arm from behind you but then decides against it. Instead, he relaxes further into the seat, relishing how you press further into his touch just the slightest bit. It’s not enough for Pope and Cleo to notice through the camera, but he notices how your skin pushes further into his palm.

“We were looking through job listings,” You tell them.

“Hm, sounds boring,” Cleo says.

“But necessary.”

“And necessary.”

You and Pope laugh at your synchronized speech. JJ’s head falls back with a dramatic sigh.

“Great,” He groans. “Now, I’m stuck with two Popes.”

“How's the boat been?” Pope asks, his tone a little more serious.

“It’s been… manageable,” You say, looking up at JJ. “I’m glad we found it.”

JJ easily understands the real meaning of your words. It’s your way of saying thank you. He gives you a gentle smile, and you return it with a subtler one.

“Ooo, Kiara is pissed, by the way,” Cleo’s quip catches JJ’s attention pulling it away from you. He gathers she’s said something she isn’t supposed to by the way Pope quietly whispers ‘babe’ through the side of his mouth. “What, it’s true!”

JJ doesn’t have to ask what she’s referring to because he already knows. You, on the other hand, likely have no clue why Kie’s upset.

“At me? Why? What happened?” You ask, and JJ feels at fault yet again for something going wrong in your life.

“Oh…” Cleo trails off. “Cause JJ said he didn’t want to stay on the boat? When she suggested it for the two of them?” Cleo has always been a bit too blunt, but right now it’s really bothering JJ.

“Huh?” You ask, but your attention is trained on JJ. “She wanted to come with us?”

“Uh, not exactly,” JJ mumbles, side-eyeing Pope and Cleo on the video call. “ That’s not what happened.”

“Alright, well, I’m exhausted.” Pope is clearly finding an excuse to leave because it’s only five in the evening, but JJ lets it go, bidding the couple goodbye. Once the line clicks, JJ gets up from the couch, suddenly wanting to move his legs.

“JJ?”

“Hm,” He hums.

“Why’s Kiara mad?”

JJ sighs because he genuinely does not want to hash this out with you or anyone for that matter. Kiara’s anger – whether justified or not – has been something he’s been trying to ignore for the past week. He pushed it to the further corner of his mind, and it was easy until now. Everyone was so busy settling into their new places that he hadn’t seen her since the day she’d walked away from him. She’d suggested something he couldn’t bring himself to do, and his inability to follow through had severed something between them. Whatever existed between them, he felt it snap and morph into something much uglier at that moment outside their old house.

“She…” JJ huffs out a breath of annoyance. At what he’s not sure. Himself, maybe. “She suggested that we come to this boat. Like, just me and her. Before we found out about Sarah.”

Your brows furrow as you consider this. “Like, instead of you going to Sarah’s?”

“Yeah.” JJ stops his pacing – the three-step shuffle he's been doing because the walls of this boat are so damn close. “She said it’d be… simpler.”

“Ah.”

“But I said no because… I don't know,” JJ lies.

He told Kie that day, in the shadow of their old house, that he didn’t want to come back to this boat. The boat wasn’t just a way he made a quick buck when he was younger, but it’s where he’d seek refuge when things got especially bad with Luke. When the drunken insults were too much to swallow or the beatings seemed endless, he’d run away and seek shelter here. It was where he’d hide when the Chateau wasn’t an option—when Big John and John B were out of town or when the damage was so bad he couldn’t let anyone see him. Kie knew about it because sometimes, her or John B would find him here after he went AWOL for a couple days.

But when he’d found out Sarah was pregnant, this was the first place he thought of. He thought he’d put the days of hiding out in this boat behind him, but for you he didn’t think twice about returning to this haunted cabin.

“Ah,” You murmur again. You stand up but lean against the table, maintaining the distance he’s put between you two. “She can still come.”

JJ just looks at you in disbelief at your impossible suggestion. The boat is hard to manage between the two of you; adding a third person would be unmanageable.

“I can take the couch–”

“Y/N.”

“And you guys can–”

“There’s no–”

“Take the room. Then, when we start working–”

After you've thrown enough nonsense out, JJ crosses the space between you in one swift step, takes hold of your hands, and pulls you towards him. The sudden motion throws you off balance, and your eyes widen in surprise.

“Would you shut up?” Your look of shock from his abruptness changes to an indignant expression.

“Excuse me–”

“Kie’s not coming to stay with us,” JJ says firmly, unwilling to go down this line of thinking with you.

“I don’t want to come between you both,” You say, your eyes shifting away from him awkwardly. It’s a conversation you both haven’t had yet. One he's been actively avoiding like he usually does with most challenging stuff. JJ’s not sure what he’d say if you did. He doesn’t exactly know where he stands with Kie or where he wants to stand with her, so he wouldn’t know where to begin explaining the situation to you. “She’s my friend.”

“She’s my friend, too, " he concurs. "But our space isn’t big enough, and right now, I need to keep my focus on you.”

The second the words leave his mouth, JJ wants to take them back. This isn't the first time he's expressed that he has your back in all of this, but this time it feels different. Heavier and bigger in a way than he's ready for. He can't describe the tug in his chest when he's looking at you like this - eyes tilted up at him in wait. It's different from the panicked knot he gets when spiraling, which usually makes him unravel. This tug feels like a call to action. And it's telling him to not let anything bad happen to you anymore.

JJ knows he should say something to make his words seem like they mean less, but his brain short-circuits. For some reason, he doesn't feel as afraid as he should about wanting to be the one who keeps you safe.

"Okay," you say, sparing him from finding the right words.

"Okay." He repeats. He's not sure exactly what you're agreeing on. That Kie can't come? Or the fact that he needs you in his line of sight? But he knows he'll have to have that dreadful conversation with Kie soon. After that he'll have to figure out why when you step away from him, taking your touch with you, it feels wrong.

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#jj maybank x reader #obx x reader #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank angst #outer banks x reader #jj maybank #sealed 𓂁 ☼♒︎

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tosomeonessomeone · 13 hours ago

Text

irony in harmony.

words・ 7.9k /pairings・ Seungmin x reader / genres・fluff / warnings・ little bit spicy?

The studio was buzzing with energy, a rare kind of electricity that only came when creative minds collided. Y/N adjusted her headphones, her fingers flying over the soundboard as she fine-tuned the latest track. Her two best friends, Mia and Jisoo, were deep in discussion with the Stray Kids members, their voices a low hum in the background. The room was a chaotic blend of laughter, technical jargon, and the occasional burst of music.

Y/N was the visual director of their trio, the one who brought their musical visions to life with stunning visuals and concepts. She was known for her sharp wit and even sharper tongue, a trait that had earned her both admirers and adversaries in the industry. But today, she was all business, her focus entirely on the task at hand.

Seungmin leaned against the wall, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. He had heard about Y/N and her friends, the trio that had taken the music world by storm with their innovative productions. But seeing her in action was something else entirely. There was an intensity about her, a fierce dedication that was both intimidating and captivating.

He caught her eye as she glanced up from the soundboard, and for a moment, they just stared at each other. Then, with a smirk that could only be described as wicked, she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Enjoying the show?" she quipped, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Seungmin chuckled, pushing off the wall and walking over to her. "Just admiring the view," he shot back, his tone equally ironic.

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "Cute. But flattery won't get you anywhere with me."

"Noted," Seungmin replied, his grin widening. "But just so you know, I'm not easily intimidated."

"Good," Y/N said, turning back to the soundboard. "Because neither am I."

And just like that, a spark was lit. Two sarcastic, sharp-witted individuals, each recognizing a kindred spirit in the other. It was the beginning of a friendship that would soon blossom into something much deeper.

The days turned into weeks, and the collaboration between Stray Kids and Y/N's trio was in full swing. The studio became their second home, a place where creativity flowed freely and ideas were born and refined. Y/N and Seungmin found themselves working closely together, their banter becoming a staple of the studio atmosphere.

One afternoon, as they were reviewing the latest edits for the music video, Seungmin leaned back in his chair and glanced at Y/N. "You know, for someone who's supposed to be the visual director, you spend an awful lot of time in the sound booth."

Y/N didn't look up from her laptop. "And for someone who's supposed to be a singer, you spend an awful lot of time critiquing my work."

"Touché," Seungmin said with a laugh. "But seriously, you're good at this. Like, really good."

Y/N finally looked up, a hint of surprise in her eyes. "Thanks. Coming from you, that actually means something."

Seungmin shrugged. "Just calling it like I see it. You've got a knack for bringing out the best in people."

Y/N studied him for a moment, then smiled. "You're not so bad yourself, Seungmin."

He feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart. "Ouch. That one hurt."

"Good," Y/N said, her smile turning into a grin. "You needed to be taken down a peg or two."

The collaboration was a whirlwind of creativity and energy. Mia, the choreographer director, was a force to be reckoned with. Her sharp eye for detail and relentless drive for perfection had the dance line of Stray Kids—Hyunjin, Lee Know, and Felix—completely floored. They spent hours in the dance studio, pushing their limits and learning new routines that Mia choreographed with precision and flair.

"Again," Mia commanded, her voice firm but encouraging. "You need to hit that move with more power, Hyunjin. Imagine you're breaking through a wall."

Hyunjin nodded, sweat dripping from his brow as he repeated the move. Lee Know and Felix followed suit, their movements synchronized and sharp. Mia watched them with a critical eye, nodding in approval as they nailed the routine.

"You're getting there," she said with a small smile. "But don't get complacent. We have a lot more to cover."

Meanwhile, Jisoo, the musical producer, was in her element with 3Racha—Bang Chan, Changbin, and Han—and the vocal line—Seungmin and I.N. They were in the sound booth, fine-tuning the tracks for the new album. Jisoo's expertise and innovative approach to music production had the boys in awe.

"Let's try that bridge again," Jisoo suggested, her fingers flying over the soundboard. "I want to add a layer of harmonies here to give it more depth."

Bang Chan nodded, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "That sounds amazing. Let's do it."

Changbin and Han exchanged glances, their respect for Jisoo evident. "She's a genius," Changbin whispered to Han, who nodded in agreement.

I.N, ever the eager learner, was soaking up every bit of knowledge he could from Jisoo. "Can you show me how you did that effect on the vocals?" he asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.

Jisoo smiled, patting him on the shoulder. "Of course, I.N. Let's break it down."

While the rest of the group was immersed in their respective tasks, Seungmin found his attention constantly drifting to Y/N. She was in her element, moving between the sound booth and the editing suite with ease. Her sharp wit and quick comebacks kept everyone on their toes, but there was a softness to her that Seungmin couldn't ignore.

One evening, as they were wrapping up for the day, Seungmin found himself alone with Y/N in the editing suite. She was reviewing the latest cuts for the music video, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Need any help?" Seungmin asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Y/N glanced up, a small smile playing on her lips. "Depends. Are you any good at editing?"

Seungmin chuckled. "Not really. But I'm great at moral support."

Y/N laughed, the sound music to his ears. "Well, I could use some of that. This scene is giving me a headache."

Seungmin walked over, standing behind her chair as he looked at the screen. "What's the issue?"

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair. "The transitions are off. It's not flowing the way I want it to."

Seungmin studied the screen, his eyes narrowing in concentration. "What if you tried cutting it here?" he suggested, pointing to a specific frame. "It might create a smoother transition."

Y/N considered his suggestion, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she made the adjustment. She played the sequence again, and this time, the transition was seamless.

"Wow," Y/N said, turning to look at him with a surprised smile. "That actually worked. Thanks, Seungmin."

Seungmin grinned, his heart swelling with pride. "Anytime. I told you I'm good at moral support."

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "Don't let it go to your head."

Their laughter filled the room, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. But then reality came crashing back as Mia called out from the hallway, "Y/N, we need you in the dance studio!"

Y/N sighed, closing her laptop. "Duty calls."

The week was winding down, and late Friday evening, the usual hustle and bustle of the studio had quieted. Most of the team had dispersed, either heading home or grabbing a late dinner. Seungmin, however, found himself lingering. Something felt off. Y/N, who was usually in the thick of things, was nowhere to be seen. He hadn’t spotted her in the music studio, the dance studio, or even the editing suite. It was unusual, and it bothered him more than he cared to admit.

He found Jisoo in the sound booth, tweaking the final mix of a track. “Hey,” Seungmin said, leaning against the doorframe. “Have you seen Y/N? She’s not in her usual spots.”

Jisoo glanced up, her expression a mix of amusement and mild exasperation. “Oh, she’s in her art studio. Has been since she got here. She’s probably deep in her creative zone. Trust me, it’s best not to disturb her when she’s like this.”

Seungmin frowned. “But it’s been hours. Shouldn’t someone check on her?”

Jisoo smirked, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she could see right through him. “Why? Worried about her, Seungmin?”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just… curious. She’s usually around, that’s all.”

Jisoo chuckled, shaking her head. “Well, if you’re that curious, go ahead. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Y/N can be… intense when she’s working.”

Seungmin nodded, already turning to leave. “Thanks, Jisoo.”

As he made his way down the hallway toward Y/N’s art studio, he could hear faint music drifting through the door. It wasn’t the usual track they’d been working on—it was something softer, more melodic. He paused outside the door, his hand hovering over the knob. The music grew louder, and then he heard it—Y/N’s voice.

She was singing.

Seungmin froze, his breath catching in his throat. Her voice was rich and soulful, filled with emotion he hadn’t expected. She wasn’t just singing; she was pouring her heart out, her voice rising and falling with the melody. It was raw, beautiful, and completely captivating.

He stood there, transfixed, as she sang the final notes, her voice fading into silence. For a moment, he couldn’t move. He had no idea she could sing like that. Why had she never mentioned it? Why had she hidden this part of herself?

Before he could overthink it, he knocked on the door.

“Jisoo, Mia, unless the building is on fire, leave me alone,” Y/N called out, her voice tinged with annoyance.

Seungmin hesitated, then cleared his throat. “It’s me… Seungmin.”

There was a long pause, and then the sound of footsteps approaching the door. It opened slowly, revealing Y/N with a slightly embarrassed smile. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, and there were smudges of paint on her hands and cheeks. She looked… stunning.

“Hey,” she said, her voice softer now. “What are you doing here?”

Seungmin scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling awkward. “I, uh, was looking for you. Jisoo said you were here, and I just… wanted to check on you.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a small smirk. “Check on me? That’s sweet. But I’m fine, really. Just working on some stuff.”

Seungmin glanced past her into the studio. The room was a chaotic blend of canvases, sketches, and half-finished projects. There was a record player in the corner, the source of the music he’d heard earlier. “You’ve been in here all day?”

Y/N shrugged. “Time flies when you’re in the zone. What about you? Shouldn’t you be with the others?”

“I was,” Seungmin said, his eyes locking onto hers. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about where you were.”

Y/N’s smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by something softer. “Well, now you know. I’m here, painting, listening to music, and… singing, apparently.”

Seungmin’s face lit up. “Yeah, about that. Why didn’t you tell me you could sing like that? You’re amazing.”

Y/N looked away, her cheeks flushing. “It’s not a big deal. I just… sing for myself. It helps me think.”

“Not a big deal?” Seungmin repeated, stepping closer. “Y/N, you have an incredible voice. You should be sharing it with the world.”

She shook her head, her expression turning serious. “It’s not that simple. Singing is… personal for me. It’s not something I do for other people.”

Seungmin studied her, his heart aching at the vulnerability in her eyes. “I get that. But just so you know, I’m really glad I got to hear it. Even if it was by accident.”

Y/N looked back at him, her smile returning. “Thanks, Seungmin. That means a lot.”

They stood there for a moment, the air between them charged with something unspoken. Then Y/N stepped back, gesturing for him to come in. “Since you’re here, want to see what I’ve been working on?”

Seungmin grinned, following her into the studio. “I’d love to.”

As the weeks went by, Seungmin and Y/N’s bond deepened in ways neither of them could have anticipated. Seungmin, ever the diligent member of Stray Kids, would fulfill his responsibilities with the group—recording vocals, practicing choreography, and participating in meetings—but his mind often wandered to Y/N. The moment his duties were done, he’d slip away, making his way to her art studio like it was his second home.

Y/N’s studio had become their sanctuary. The walls were adorned with sketches, mood boards, and half-finished concepts for Stray Kids’ upcoming album. The air was always filled with the soft music a mix of nostalgic classics and modern indie tracks. Seungmin would sit quietly in the corner, sometimes journaling, sometimes just watching her work. He loved the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the way she bit her lip when she was deep in thought, and the way her eyes lit up when a concept finally came together.

“You’re staring again,” Y/N said one evening, not looking up from her sketchpad. Her voice was teasing, but there was a warmth to it that made Seungmin’s heart skip a beat.

“Am I?” he replied, feigning innocence. “Maybe I’m just admiring your artistic process.”

Y/N smirked, finally glancing up at him. “Admiring, huh? You sure you’re not just avoiding practice?”

Seungmin laughed, shaking his head. “Trust me, if I wanted to avoid practice, I’d find a better excuse than watching you draw.”

“Good to know,” Y/N said, her tone playful. “But seriously, don’t you have better things to do than hang out in my studio all day?”

Seungmin leaned back in his chair, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Nope. This is exactly where I want to be.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly looked back down at her sketchpad, pretending to focus on her work. But Seungmin didn’t miss the way her hands trembled slightly, or the way her breath hitched for just a moment. He didn’t say anything, though. Instead, he let the comfortable silence settle between them, the music filling the space as they worked side by side.

Outside the studio, the rest of the group had started to notice the growing connection between the two. Mia and Jisoo exchanged knowing glances whenever Seungmin disappeared after practice, and the Stray Kids members weren’t much better.

“Where’s Seungmin?” Hyunjin asked one afternoon, glancing around the dance studio. “He said he’d help me with this part of the choreography.”

Mia smirked, not looking up from her notes. “Where do you think? He’s probably in Y/N’s studio, ‘admiring her artistic process.’”

The group erupted into laughter, and even Bang Chan couldn’t hide his grin. “Leave him alone,” he said, though his tone was light. “If he’s happy, let him be.”

The studio was alive with its usual energy, but there was an undercurrent of amusement that day. Everyone had noticed the growing connection between Y/N and Seungmin—everyone except the two of them. Mia and Jisoo, in particular, had taken to exchanging knowing glances whenever the pair was in the same room. Even the Stray Kids members, who were usually too wrapped up in their own chaos to pay attention, had started placing bets on how long it would take for the two to figure things out.

One afternoon, during a rare break, Mia leaned over to Jisoo, her voice low. "Do you think they'll ever figure it out?"

Jisoo smirked, her eyes flickering toward Y/N and Seungmin, who were sitting side by side on the couch, reviewing the latest edits for the music video. "Not if we don't give them a little push."

Mia raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eye. "What did you have in mind?"

Jisoo shrugged, her smile widening. "Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a little nudge here and there. They’re both too stubborn to make the first move."

Mia chuckled, shaking her head. "They’re hopeless. But you’re right. Someone’s gotta do something before they drive the rest of us crazy."

Meanwhile, Seungmin was doing his best to focus on the edits, but it was nearly impossible with Y/N sitting so close to him. Their shoulders brushed every time one of them moved, and the warmth of her body next to his was driving him crazy. He could smell the faint scent of her perfume—something floral and sweet—and it was distracting in the best way.

"You know," he said, trying to sound casual, "we make a pretty good team."

Y/N glanced at him, a small smile playing on her lips. "We do, don’t we?"

Seungmin’s heart raced, but he forced himself to stay calm. "Yeah. I mean, we balance each other out. You’re all sharp edges, and I’m... well, I’m the charming one."

Y/N laughed, the sound music to his ears. "Keep telling yourself that."

Seungmin grinned, but inside, he was a mess. He wanted to tell her how he felt, to confess that he’d been falling for her for weeks now. But he was terrified of ruining what they had. And from the way Y/N was acting—her teasing smiles, the way her eyes lingered on him just a little too long—it seemed like she might feel the same way. But he couldn’t be sure.

Across the room, the rest of the team was watching them with amused expressions. Hyunjin elbowed Felix, nodding toward the oblivious pair. "How long do you think it’ll take them to figure it out?"

Felix shrugged, grinning. "At this rate? Forever. They’re both too stubborn."

Bang Chan, who had been quietly observing the scene, chimed in. "Maybe they just need a little push. You know, like in those dramas where the friends set them up on a fake date or something."

Jisoo, who had overheard, smirked. "Oh, trust me, we’re already on it."

Later that evening, as the group was packing up to leave, Mia and Jisoo cornered Y/N in the hallway. "Hey," Mia said, her tone casual but her eyes gleaming with mischief. "We’re all going out for dinner tonight. You should come."

Y/N hesitated, glancing back toward the studio where Seungmin was still packing up his things. "I don’t know... I was planning to finish up some work—"

"Nope," Jisoo interrupted, linking her arm through Y/N’s. "You’ve been working too hard. You need a break. And besides, Seungmin’s coming too."

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, and she quickly looked away, hoping they didn’t notice the way her cheeks flushed. "Oh. Well, I guess I could come for a little while."

Mia and Jisoo exchanged a triumphant look. "Great," Mia said, her smile widening. "We’ll see you there."

As the group gathered at the restaurant, Seungmin found himself seated next to Y/N, their knees brushing under the table. The conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and teasing, but Seungmin couldn’t help but notice the way Y/N’s eyes sparkled when she laughed, or the way her hand occasionally brushed against his when she reached for her drink.

At one point, Y/N leaned over to him, her voice low. "Thanks for coming tonight. I know you’re not big on group outings."

Seungmin smiled, his heart skipping a beat at the way she was looking at him. "I wouldn’t miss it. Besides, it’s nice to see you outside the studio for once."

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly looked away. "Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. I’m still a workaholic at heart."

Seungmin chuckled, his gaze softening. "I know. But even workaholics need a break sometimes."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded away. The noise of the restaurant, the laughter of their friends—it all disappeared, leaving just the two of them. Seungmin’s heart was pounding, and he could see the same uncertainty in Y/N’s eyes. He wanted to say something, to tell her how he felt, but before he could, the moment was broken by Mia’s voice.

"Alright, everyone! Group photo time!"

The night had been full of laughter and camaraderie, but as the evening wound down, the group’s plan was set into motion. Mia and Jisoo, along with the rest of the Stray Kids members, had conspired to make sure Seungmin was the one to walk Y/N home. They all knew it was only a matter of time before the two of them figured out what everyone else already saw—that they were perfect for each other.

As Seungmin and Y/N walked through the quiet streets, the city lights casting a soft glow around them, the conversation flowed effortlessly. They talked about everything and nothing—music, their favorite movies, the chaos of the studio, and even their childhood dreams. Y/N, who was usually guarded, found herself opening up in ways she hadn’t expected.

"You know," she said, her voice light but tinged with vulnerability, "I have this weird hobby. I collect vinyl records. It’s kind of a passion of mine."

Seungmin’s eyes lit up with interest. "Really? That’s so cool. I’ve always loved the sound of vinyl. There’s something so... authentic about it."

Y/N smiled, a hint of pride in her expression. "Exactly. It’s like you can feel the music, you know? It’s not just something you listen to—it’s something you experience."

Seungmin nodded, his curiosity piqued. "Can I see your collection sometime?"

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "Sure. Why not? You’re already walking me home. Might as well come in."

When they arrived at her apartment, Y/N led Seungmin inside, her heart racing slightly. She wasn’t used to having people in her space, especially not someone like Seungmin. But as she showed him her collection of vinyl records, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. The records were neatly organized on shelves, their covers a mix of classic albums and obscure finds.

Seungmin picked up one of the records, his fingers gently tracing the cover. "This is amazing," he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "I didn’t know you were into this kind of music."

Y/N shrugged, trying to play it cool. "There’s a lot you don’t know about me."

Seungmin looked at her, his expression serious. "I’d like to."

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. There was something in his eyes, something that made her heart race. She wanted to tell him everything, to let him in. But she was scared. Scared of being vulnerable, scared of getting hurt.

Seungmin seemed to sense her hesitation. He reached out, gently taking her hand in his. "You don’t have to be afraid, Y/N. Not with me."

Y/N looked down at their joined hands, her mind racing. She wanted to believe him, to trust him. But it was so hard. "Seungmin, I..."

He waited, giving her the space to find the words. And finally, she took a deep breath and said, "I’m not easy."

Seungmin’s heart stopped for a moment, but he kept his expression calm. "I don’t care."

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away. "You don’t understand. I’m... complicated. I push people away. I don’t let anyone in. And I don’t want to hurt you."

Seungmin took a step closer, his voice soft but firm. "Y/N, I know you’re used to keeping people at arm’s length. But you don’t have to do that with me. I care about you. More than you know."

Y/N’s heart was pounding, and she could feel the walls she had built around herself starting to crumble. "Seungmin, I... I care about you too. But I’m scared. Scared of messing this up, scared of losing you."

Seungmin smiled, his thumb gently brushing over her hand. "You’re not going to lose me. Not unless you want to."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes searching his. And in that moment, she knew. She knew that he meant every word, that he wasn’t going anywhere. And for the first time in a long time, she let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, she could let someone in.

"Seungmin," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I... I think I’m falling for you."

Seungmin’s heart soared, and he couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. "Y/N, I’ve been falling for you since the moment I met you."

And then, without another word, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle at first, a whisper of a touch, as if he was giving her the chance to pull away if she wanted to. But Y/N didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into him, her hands finding their way to his shoulders as the kiss deepened.

The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them and the music that played softly in the background. Seungmin’s hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss became more passionate, more urgent. Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, her heart racing as she lost herself in the moment.

The air in Y/N’s apartment was thick with emotion, the kind that made every breath feel heavier, every touch more electric. Their kiss had started softly, a tentative exploration of feelings they had both been holding back for so long. But as the seconds turned into minutes, the intensity grew, their lips moving together in a rhythm that felt both natural and exhilarating.

Seungmin’s hands trembled slightly as they rested on Y/N’s waist, his touch gentle but firm, as if he was afraid she might disappear if he held on too tightly. Y/N, on the other hand, clung to him, her fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as if she could erase the space between them entirely.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to steady their racing hearts. Seungmin’s eyes searched hers, his voice soft but filled with concern. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “We don’t have to rush anything.”

Y/N smiled, her hands moving to cup his face. “I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside her. “This… you… it feels right.”

Seungmin’s breath hitched at her words, and for a moment, he just looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe and affection. Then, slowly, he leaned in again, capturing her lips in another kiss, this one deeper, more deliberate. It was as if her reassurance had unlocked something in him, a floodgate of emotions he had been holding back for far too long.

Their movements became more urgent, their hands exploring each other with a newfound sense of freedom. Y/N’s fingers found the hem of Seungmin’s shirt, tugging it upward until he pulled away just long enough to discard it. His hands followed suit, gently removing her sweater and letting it fall to the floor. The cool air of the room brushed against their skin, but neither of them noticed—they were too consumed by the heat of the moment.

Seungmin’s lips trailed down her neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses that made Y/N shiver. She tilted her head back, her hands gripping his shoulders as she whispered his name, the sound sending a jolt of electricity through him. He paused, looking up at her with a mixture of desire and reverence. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she reached for him, pulling him back into a kiss that was filled with all the words they hadn’t said yet. It was a kiss that spoke of trust, of vulnerability, of a connection that went beyond the physical.

As they moved toward the bed, their movements were slow and deliberate, each touch filled with intention. Seungmin’s hands roamed over her skin, mapping every curve as if he was committing her to memory. Y/N’s breath hitched as his fingers traced the line of her spine, her own hands exploring the planes of his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm.

When they finally lay down together, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of them, their bodies pressed close, their breaths mingling as they lost themselves in each other. Seungmin’s lips found hers again, his kiss tender but insistent, as if he was trying to convey everything he felt but couldn’t put into words.

Y/N’s hands moved to the waistband of his pants, her fingers trembling slightly as she hesitated. Seungmin noticed and pulled back, his eyes searching hers. “We can stop,” he said softly, his voice filled with concern. “Whenever you want, we can stop.”

Y/N shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. “I don’t want to stop,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside her. “I want this. I want you.”

Seungmin’s breath caught at her words, and for a moment, he just looked at her, his heart swelling with affection. Then, slowly, he nodded, his hands moving to help her as they shed the last barriers between them.

As the night wore on, their passion ebbed and flowed, each moment filled with a sense of discovery. Seungmin’s hands were gentle but firm, his touch sending shivers down Y/N’s spine as he explored every inch of her. Y/N, in turn, clung to him, her nails digging into his back as she whispered his name, the sound sending a jolt of electricity through him.

When they finally reached their peak, it was with a sense of completeness, as if they had finally found the missing piece of themselves in each other. They lay together afterward, their bodies tangled, their breaths slowly returning to normal. Seungmin’s arms were wrapped around her, his chin resting on top of her head as he pressed a soft kiss to her hair.

The soft glow of morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. Y/N stirred awake, her body still humming with the lingering sensations of the night before. For a moment, she lay still, her mind replaying the memories of their intimate connection, the way Seungmin had held her, touched her, whispered her name like it was the most precious sound in the world.

She turned her head slightly, her breath catching as she saw him lying beside her. Seungmin was still asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, one arm draped loosely over her waist. His face was relaxed, the usual sharp edges of his features softened in sleep. Y/N couldn’t help but smile, her heart swelling with a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Careful not to wake him, she shifted slightly, propping herself up on one elbow to get a better look at him. Her fingers hovered over his face, tracing the lines of his jaw and the curve of his lips without actually touching him. She marveled at how peaceful he looked, how vulnerable. It was a side of him she hadn’t seen before, and it made her fall for him even more.

As if sensing her gaze, Seungmin’s eyes fluttered open, his sleepy gaze meeting hers. For a moment, he just stared at her, his expression soft and unguarded. Then, a slow smile spread across his face, and he reached up to brush a strand of hair away from her face.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

“Morning,” Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks as the memories of the previous night came flooding back. “Did you sleep okay?”

Seungmin chuckled, his hand moving to rest on her hip. “Better than okay,” he said, his tone teasing. “Though I think you might’ve had something to do with that.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” Seungmin said, his grin widening. He pulled her closer, his lips brushing against her forehead in a soft kiss. “But seriously, are you okay? Last night was… a lot.”

Y/N nodded, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. “I’m more than okay,” she said, her voice filled with sincerity. “It was perfect, Seungmin. You were perfect.”

They lay there for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside their little bubble feeling distant and unimportant. But eventually, the reality of the day began to creep in, and Y/N sighed, reluctantly pulling away.

“We should probably get up,” she said, though she made no move to actually leave the bed. “The others are going to wonder where we are.”

Seungmin groaned, pulling her back into his arms. “Let them wonder,” he said, his voice muffled against her hair. “I’m not ready to share you yet.”

Y/N laughed, the sound warm and melodic. “You’re such a sap.”

“Only for you,” Seungmin replied, his tone light but his words filled with meaning. He finally let her go, sitting up and stretching as he glanced around the room. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

Y/N shrugged, sitting up as well and pulling the blanket around her shoulders. “I don’t know. I was thinking we could grab breakfast and then head to the studio. We still have a lot of work to do on the album.”

Seungmin nodded, though his expression turned thoughtful. “About that… do you think we should tell the others? About us, I mean.”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers twisting the edge of the blanket. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I mean, it’s not like we’ve been subtle. They’ve probably already figured it out.”

Seungmin chuckled, reaching over to take her hand. “Yeah, you’re probably right. But still, it feels like something we should do. You know, make it official.”

Y/N smiled, her heart fluttering at his words. “Okay,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Let’s tell them. But maybe after breakfast. I’m starving.”

Seungmin laughed, leaning in to press a quick kiss to her lips. “Deal. But first, shower. You’re not going anywhere smelling like that.”

Y/N gasped, playfully swatting his arm. “Excuse me? You’re one to talk!”

Seungmin grinned, dodging her next swipe as he climbed out of bed. “Come on, I’ll race you to the bathroom.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head as she watched him go. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this light, this happy.

The morning sunlight streamed through the windows of Y/N’s apartment, casting a warm glow over the room. Seungmin and Y/N were in the middle of getting ready for the day, the easy rhythm of their movements a testament to the newfound comfort they had found in each other. Seungmin stood behind Y/N, his arms wrapped around her waist as she leaned slightly forward, tying her hair into a messy bun. His chin rested on her shoulder, his lips occasionally brushing against her neck in a way that made her shiver.

“Minnie,” Y/N said softly, her voice a mix of amusement and exasperation. “You’re going to make me mess up my hair.”

Seungmin chuckled, his arms tightening around her. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he teased, his voice low and warm against her ear.

Before Y/N could retort, the sound of Seungmin’s phone ringing cut through the quiet morning. He groaned, reluctantly letting go of her to fish his phone out of his pocket. When he saw Bang Chan’s name on the screen, he sighed and answered, putting it on speaker without thinking.

“Seungmin, where are you?” Bang Chan’s voice boomed through the phone, loud enough that Y/N could hear it clearly. “We’ve been waiting for you at the studio for over an hour. Are you still asleep?”

Seungmin winced, glancing at Y/N, who was trying—and failing—to stifle her laughter. “Uh, no, I’m not asleep,” he said, his voice slightly sheepish. “I’m just… running a little late.”

“A little late?” Bang Chan’s tone was incredulous, and in the background, the sound of the other Stray Kids members chiming in could be heard. “Seungmin, we have a schedule. You can’t just—”

Before Bang Chan could finish, Mia’s voice cut through the chaos. “Wait, is Y/N there too? Seungmin, are you with Y/N?”

Seungmin froze, his eyes widening as he realized the call was on speaker and everyone in the studio could hear. Y/N’s face flushed, and she quickly turned to him, mouthing, *“Hang up!”*

But it was too late. The boys erupted into a chorus of teasing, their voices overlapping as they tried to get more information.

“Seungmin and Y/N? Together? Since when?” Felix’s voice was filled with excitement.

“Oh, I *knew* it!” Hyunjin exclaimed, his tone triumphant. “I called it weeks ago!”

“Seungmin, you dog!” Changbin added, his laughter echoing through the phone.

Bang Chan, ever the leader, tried to regain control of the conversation. “Alright, alright, calm down. Seungmin, are you seriously late because you’re with Y/N? Do you know how unprofessional—”

Y/N had heard enough. She reached over and snatched the phone from Seungmin’s hand, her voice calm but firm as she interrupted Bang Chan. “Chan, we’ll be there in 40 minutes. Stop yelling at him. And tell the others to mind their own business.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, followed by a burst of laughter from the group. “Y/N, is that you?” Jisoo’s voice came through, tinged with amusement. “Wow, you’re already defending him. Cute.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, her cheeks burning. “We’ll see you soon,” she said, ignoring Jisoo’s comment. “Bye.”

She ended the call before anyone else could say anything, tossing the phone back to Seungmin, who was grinning from ear to ear. “Bossy,” he said, his tone teasing as he stepped closer to her. “I like it.”

Y/N shot him a look, though there was no real heat behind it. “You’re lucky I ended that call. They were about to roast you alive.”

Seungmin shrugged, his arms sliding around her waist again. “Let them. I don’t care what they say. As long as I have you, I’m good.”

Y/N’s expression softened, and she reached up to gently cup his face. “You’re such a sap,” she said, her voice filled with affection.

Seungmin leaned down, his lips brushing against hers in a soft kiss. “Only for you,” he murmured.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of Y/N’s phone buzzing. She sighed, pulling away to check the message. “Mia says if we’re not at the studio in 15 minutes, she’s sending a search party.”

Seungmin groaned, resting his forehead against hers. “Do we *have* to go?”

Y/N laughed, giving him a gentle push. “Yes, we have to go. Come on, Minnie. Let’s get this over with.”

As they finished getting ready and headed out the door, Seungmin couldn’t help but smile. Despite the teasing they were bound to face, he felt a sense of contentment he hadn’t known before. With Y/N by his side, he felt like he could handle anything—even the chaos of their friends.

The studio was unusually quiet when Seungmin and Y/N walked in, each holding a coffee in hand. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, all eyes turned in their direction. The silence was deafening, the kind of quiet that made it clear everyone had been waiting for this moment.

Y/N, ever the picture of calm confidence, didn’t miss a beat. She turned to Seungmin, her lips curving into a soft smile, and leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek, just shy of the corner of his mouth. “See you later, Minnie,” she said, her voice light and casual, as if she hadn’t just sent the entire room into shock.

Seungmin, for his part, stood frozen for a moment, his cheeks tinged with pink as he watched her walk away toward her art studio. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face, even as he felt the weight of everyone’s stares.

The silence lasted all of three seconds before the room erupted.

“WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!” Hyunjin shouted, his voice echoing off the walls.

“Did she just—? Did he just—? WHAT?!” Felix stammered, his eyes wide as saucers.

Bang Chan, ever the leader, was the first to recover. He crossed his arms, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked at Seungmin. “So. You two, huh?”

Seungmin shrugged, trying to play it cool, though the grin on his face gave him away. “Yeah. We’re… together. Officially.”

The room exploded into cheers and laughter, the boys clapping Seungmin on the back and teasing him mercilessly. Meanwhile, Mia and Jisoo exchanged a triumphant look before bolting out of the room, their footsteps echoing as they chased after Y/N.

In the art studio, Y/N was already seated at her desk, her sketchpad open and her coffee steaming beside her. She looked up as the door flew open, revealing Mia and Jisoo, both out of breath but grinning from ear to ear.

“You did it!” Mia exclaimed, slamming the door shut behind her. “You finally made it official!”

Jisoo clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “This is amazing! Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for this? We had a whole *plan* to get you two together!”

Y/N blinked, her pen pausing mid-sketch. “A plan? What are you talking about?”

Mia plopped down on the couch, her grin widening. “Oh, you know. The late-night studio sessions. The ‘accidental’ alone time. The walking-home-together thing. All of it. We’ve been scheming for weeks.”

Y/N stared at them, her mouth opening and closing as she processed this information. “You… you *planned* this?”

Jisoo nodded, looking far too proud of herself. “Every single detail. And it worked, didn’t it?”

Y/N shook her head, a laugh bubbling up in her chest. “You two are unbelievable.”

Back in the main studio, Seungmin was still being bombarded with questions and teasing from the boys.

“So, how long has this been going on?” Changbin asked, his tone full of mischief.

Just then, Mia and Jisoo burst back into the room, their faces glowing with excitement. “Guess what?” Mia announced, her voice carrying over the noise. “Y/N just found out about our plan!”

Seungmin’s eyes widened. “Wait, what plan?”

Jisoo grinned, crossing her arms. “The plan to get you two together. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Seungmin stared at them, his mouth hanging open. “You… you *planned* this?”

Mia nodded, looking far too pleased with herself. “Every. Single. Detail.”

Seungmin groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I knew we could’ve stayed in bed.”

The room erupted into laughter, the boys doubling over as Seungmin buried his face in his hands.

“Seungmin!” Felix gasped between laughs. “You’re killing me!”

“Stay in bed?!” Hyunjin repeated, clutching his stomach. “Oh, this is too good.”

Epilogue

The studio was alive with its usual energy, the hum of creativity filling the air as the group worked on finalizing the album. Seungmin, however, found his attention drifting. His eyes kept wandering toward the door of Y/N’s art studio, his mind replaying the events of the morning. The way she’d kissed him in front of everyone, the way she’d confidently walked away, leaving him to deal with the chaos—it all made his heart race in the best way.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He excused himself from the vocal booth, ignoring the knowing smirks from the other members, and made his way to her studio. When he reached the door, he leaned casually against the frame, his arms crossed as he watched her work.

Y/N was seated at her desk, her sketchpad open and her headphones on. She was completely absorbed in her work, her brow furrowed in concentration as she added intricate details to the album cover design. Seungmin couldn’t help but smile at the sight. She was so focused, so passionate, and it was one of the many things he loved about her.

After a moment, he cleared his throat, catching her attention. Y/N looked up, her eyes widening slightly in surprise before a soft smile spread across her face. She pulled off her headphones and set them aside. “Hey,” she said, her voice warm. “What’s up?”

Seungmin pushed off the doorframe and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Just wanted to check on you,” he said, his tone casual but his eyes filled with affection. “You’ve been in here all day.”

Y/N shrugged, leaning back in her chair. “Just trying to get this design finished. You know how it is.”

There was a moment of comfortable silence as Seungmin stepped closer, his hands resting on the back of her chair. “So,” he said, his voice dropping to a softer tone, “I was thinking… tonight. Mine or yours?”

Y/N looked up at him, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What?”

Seungmin smirked, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You know. Where are we sleeping tonight? Mine or yours?”

Y/N’s eyes widened, and she let out a surprised laugh. “Seungmin!” she exclaimed, swatting his arm. “You can’t just say things like that!”

Seungmin chuckled, leaning down so his face was level with hers. “Why not? It’s a valid question.”

Y/N shook her head, though she couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “You’re impossible.”

His grin widening. “But seriously, what do you think? Your place is closer, but mine has better snacks.”

Y/N laughed, her cheeks flushing as she looked up at him. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”

Seungmin shook his head, his expression softening. “Nope. Not until you give me an answer.”

Y/N sighed, though there was no real annoyance in it. “Fine,” she said, her voice teasing. “Yours. But only because I’m curious about these so-called ‘better snacks.’”

Seungmin’s face lit up, and he straightened, looking far too pleased with himself. “Deal. But just so you know, I’m not sharing the good stuff.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though her smile betrayed her amusement. “You’re such a dork.”

Seungmin leaned down again, his lips brushing against hers in a soft kiss. “Your dork,” he murmured.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she reached up to gently cup his face. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Mine.”

The moment was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat loudly outside the door. They pulled apart just as the door swung open, revealing Mia and Jisoo, both wearing identical smirks.

“Are you two done being adorable yet?” Mia asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “We’ve got work to do, you know.”

Jisoo nodded, crossing her arms. “Yeah, save the lovey-dovey stuff for after hours.”

Seungmin groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You two are the worst.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head as she stood up.

#skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios #seungmin x reader #seungmin #kim seungmin imagines #seungmin skz #stray kids seungmin #seungmin fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #kim seungmin x reader #Spotify

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lightlycareless · 6 hours ago

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https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP88TBRUw/

I can see this being Naoya with his kids. He seems like the kind of dad that’s not gonna dumb it down/babyify it to explain it to you(unless he’s trying to be an asshole) even his own child

OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG I love anything that further develops Naoya as a father thank you so much for sharing this 😭😭😭😭💖💖💖

He doesn't know how to get along the same way other people do (like the baby voice and such) but that doesn't mean he's not trying or that he doesn't care; 🥹 that's just his type of parenting/love. That's all.

Now, onto the good stuff

warnings: none. fluff. you have a baby with naoya and are very happy about it!!!! also creative liberties.

Happy reading!!

This is so darn adorable, for sure Naoya is the type of dad that loves explaining things to his kids. Why? Because it always gets him these reactions:

“Papa, you’re so smart!”

“You’re the best!”

“I love my papa because he knows everything!”

And that just does something to his ego, you know?

Naoya loves to show off, however, what he loves the most is when his kids brag about him to other kids at school, putting his name up high and let everyone know that there is no one better than him. No matter how much they try to convince Naomi out of it, that is the irrefutable truth.

Wouldn’t stop them from trying, though.

“The other day my dad got me a new toy, it’s the newest, biggest one you can find at the store!” One dared make Naomi feel less about her things, plant the idea that she wasn’t good enough to hang out with him. Not as rich as the rest of the kids there—what you feared would happen when enrolling her in a highly prestigious private school.

But fortunately, she had parents that always reassured her otherwise, the complete opposite: Naomi was ultimately too good to be with them (this was Naoya’s words, not yours. You’re not that… conceited) thus, she was well prepared to respond.

“I already have that one.” She responds nonchalantly, without even glancing up from her coloring book. “But I don’t like it that much because it’s ugly.”

“Wh—what?! But it just came out…”

And Naomi wasn’t lying for the sake of it either, Naoya genuinely had connections to just about anything for the sole purpose of making his family happy. Thus, getting an unreleased toy from an upcoming collection was simply a matter of asking for it.

What exceeded the limit, however, was her willingness to disclose Naoya’s type of work when her obnoxious classmate, Daiki, began to step on her toes, her firm attempt to get him to quiet up and leave her alone once and for all.

“Well, your dad isn’t as cool as mine, then! My dad is an engineer that builds airplanes, your dad can’t do that, can he?? He’s probably super lame!”

“No, he’s not!” Naomi cries. “My papa is cooler than anyone and I love him very much!”

“Yeah, right. He’s probably some kind of salary man who can barely afford to buy stuff! You’ll probably be taken out of school next month!!” He jeers, and Naomi, red-faced and having enough of his audacity, finally snaps.

“My papa is a sorcerer that defeats curses! Things you can’t see because you’re not talented as me!”

Even if the teacher didn’t think much of this altercation and decided to focus on the fact the two argued rather than what was disclosed, you and Naoya still stepped in. What escaped Naomi’s lips is not something that should be freely revealed if you wished her to conserve the content life she had right now… or avoid the intervention of something graver.

“You can’t do that, mochi. We’ve told you how important it is to keep papa’s job a secret.” You begin on the ride back home, looking back to where she was seated while Naoya drove. “Because only then will he be able to do it properly.”

“Why me telling them won’t let papa do his job?” Naomi curiously asks. She’s never been one to stray away from her parent’s orders, surprisingly obedient at that… still, she is a child and is bound to grow interested one way or the other.

You look at Naoya.

“If I get compromised, I won’t be able to continue.” He answers.

“Compro—compromised?” Naomi repeats. “What is that?”

“When you’re vulnerable; like when I tickle your tummy and you’re unable to do anything else—that’s being compromised.” He explains.

“No, papa, I’m being tickled!” she giggles, you chuckle.

“Well, that’s another way to see things.” Naoya smirks. “Still, you mustn’t tell anyone, or I could lose my job and you wouldn’t want papa to be sad, would you?”

“…But it’s the truth, why can’t I tell them?”

You press your lips together, believing to have bumped into a wall when it came to Naomi’s understanding, perhaps she was too young to know the intricacies of the community she was bound to join in due time.

However, where you hesitated, Naoya was never one to simplify things. He wouldn’t be extravagantly crude with his adored baby, but he’ll still say whatever’s necessary to get the point across.

“Because civilians don’t see the world as we do; they’re easy to scare, too ignorant for their own good. If they see or hear anything they don’t understand they’ll just make a fuzz out of it and make our job even harder by creating curses” He continues. “You remember how curses are made, right?”

“Yes, papa. By feeding off from emotions!” she says. “Does that mean Daiki is ignorant?”

“Don’t use that word at school, dumpling.” You quickly interject. “It’s rude.”

“Why not? Papa uses it all the time…”

“Because some might get offended. Doesn’t lessen the truth, but that’s just how the world is.” Naoya shrugs. “Besides, you’re too young and to use it. Just ignore them whenever they say something you don’t like and you’ll be fine.”

You twist your lips; you never liked Naoya’s bold approach when it came to these matters, for he’d always end up pushing her dangerously close to doing something you knew would get her in trouble before backing up.

And it certainly didn’t help that Naomi was in the age where her innocent mind knew no decorum, which alongside Naoya’s inherited stubbornness, just made things harder for you when clearing up misunderstandings.

But you couldn’t be too disappointed in his teaching, after all, it eventually showed her to be secure, confident, and most of all, an objective young woman no one would be able to bring down; an expectation you always wanted for her—for her well-being, in this awful, rough world.

“But I can still call him an idiot, right??” Naomi concludes, you turn pale.

“Naoya!”

“No, sweetie, let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves.” Naoya responds with a chuckle. “As long as you’re remain adorable, perfect daughter, that is more than enough.”

Ok so maybe I diverted a bit from the initial prompt but he ends up explaining things in the end so it kind of went with it??? hahaha idk it's just something that came to me when reading this ask 🙈🙈 I still hope you enjoyed it!!

I don't really have anything else to say except that thank you for sending in this ask :> for feeding my domestic needs hehe

Take care and hope to see you soon!!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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cherry-romper · 16 hours ago

Note

Hello!! I just love your writing😊💗 could I request the mk boys with a fem s/o who's not afraid to show affection in public? She wouldn't mind things like flirting, hugging, kissing their hands... (or their lips haha)

PDA HEADCANONS

+ Lui Kang, Kung Lao, Raiden, Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, Tomas Vrbada, Johnny Cage, Kenshi Takahashi, Syzoth, Shang Tsung

Warnings; None

Contains; GN!reader, Fluff

Liu Kang;

Does not care what others think, he’s lived too long and lost too much to worry about being judged.

Enjoys PDA, as long as it’s kept tame, he wouldn’t be doing anything risqué but is fine with hugs and kisses, he just keeps them short and sweet.

He doesn’t mind flirting, but the same thing goes, he keeps it tame.

He loves when things are kept just between the two of you. While he adores you, he also likes to keep certain things away from prying eyes.

Kung Lao;

Flirts with you any chance he gets, he doesn’t not care who is listening.

He��s also a fan of other forms of PDA, like hand-holding, hugging, and winking.

Sometimes is taken aback by how open you are with flirting in front of people, it impresses him.

Then it becomes a competition on who can do the most, it becomes back and forth flirty insults, like a battle of wits.

Raiden;

Shocked at how open you were at first, honestly the compliments made him blush, but over time he got used to it.

Loves holding your hand, but definitely likes his own space.

Prefers things like kissing to be kept private, but doesn’t mind a quick peck if you’re saying goodbye or hello, is also partial to kissing your hands.

Doesn’t really initiate the PDA, but he’s usually okay with whatever you do.

Bi-han;

Shoulder touches, forehead touches, the odd compliment and that is IT.

Everything is kept behind closed doors.

He doesn’t mind if you initiate other things in public, to an extent. Certain things like kissing and playing with his hair are off the table in public but he’s fine with them in private.

Has spoken to you about toning it down, he needs people to see he can keep it together or they’ll think him weak.

Kuai Liang;

He’s okay with a lot.

Hand holding, kissing your hands, hugging, complimenting you, and flirting are okay.

He’s not big on you sitting in his lap or whispering in his ear.

Will bring it up to you in private how somethings you just can’t be doing because you need to remain professional in public, still, he can’t help but like it just a little bit.

Tomas Vrbada;

Into it. Is fine with literally everything.

He’s not one to make it cringe though, he knows when not to and what is acceptable.

Is also fine if you’re not in the mood for that kind of thing and backs off immediately.

He’s honestly happier when he’s just doing things with you, he doesn’t have to be touching you.

Johnny Cage;

Absolutely loves PDA, he doesn’t not care.

He loves having eyes on him, so he doesn’t care how loud he compliments you or if he kisses you, he wants others to know what he’s doing.

Even so, he’s completely capable of toning it down if necessary, however it’s not without protest.

He loves having you hold his hand or his arm if you’re walking around in public.

Kenshi Takahashi;

More reserved.

He doesn’t mind certain things like arm linking or hand holding, and he’s okay with a quick peck or a hug if you’re saying hello or goodbye.

He is not a fan of big forms of PDA. Cannot stand if you’re hanging off his arm like a child 24/7. Absolutely has a limit to how much he can handle when it comes to that.

Behind close doors he’s a lot more affectionate, not that he’s cold to you in public, he just doesn’t like prying eyes.

Syzoth;

Not big on it, but not opposed to it.

Is very wary of PDA, given that he needs the public, especially Zaterran’s, to like him.

However, he does love to hold your hand when he can and enjoys hugging you a lot.

He’s also okay with compliments and flirting, as long as it’s kept tame, and it depends on who it’s in front of.

Shang Tsung;

He’s not normally in public spaces often so it doesn’t really matter.

However on occasion, when he is around other people, he isn’t one for physical PDA.

He’s more of a compliments and flirting kinda guy than holding your hand or playing with your hair.

He find it all a bit gross and doesn’t see the point to it.

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s4svnn · 2 days ago

Text

Out of bounds . JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; his love subjected you to the true extent of deception, a merciless lie wrapped in the illusion of paradise, until the truth tore it apart - he was always out of bounds.

↳ Jungkook x reader

↳ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter Thirty Four

The morning sunlight filtered softly through the blinds, casting delicate ribbons of gold across my sheets. The warmth of it brushed against my skin, yet it did little to shake the lingering weight pressing down on my body. My eyes fluttered open, slow and reluctant, and for a long moment, I simply lay there, staring at the ceiling as my mind waded through the haze of exhaustion. Every muscle in my body felt heavy, as if I were still caught in the grasp of a restless sleep, but I refused to let it hold me down.

I took a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs before exhaling slowly, deliberately. With that breath, I pushed away the remnants of doubt, of hesitation. The past few days had drained me—mentally, emotionally—but I refused to let them dictate my present. Today, I wouldn’t allow Jungkook to linger in my thoughts like a shadow I couldn’t shake.

I had wasted enough time on him. On the weight of his words. On the way he had the audacity to insert himself back into my life without warning, without invitation. Whatever game he thought he was playing, whatever satisfaction he found in testing the limits of my patience, I wouldn’t give him the reaction he was looking for. I had a life that didn’t revolve around him. A job. A routine. And today, I was going to remind myself of that.

With newfound determination, I threw off the blankets, the cool air rushing to meet my skin in a sharp contrast to the warmth I had cocooned myself in. It was refreshing, waking me up in a way my thoughts couldn’t. Sitting up, I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling once more as if shedding the last remnants of my fatigue.

Today, I moved forward. With or without him in the background.

Monday

The rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and buttery pastries filled the air, wrapping around me like a familiar embrace. The comforting scent mixed with the low hum of conversation, the occasional clatter of mugs meeting saucers, and the whirring of the espresso machine—sounds that had long become second nature to me.

Mondays were always chaotic. The café buzzed with life as people poured in, some still half-asleep, others already wired from the rush of the morning. There was an unspoken understanding between all of us—that this was the first battle of the day. For them, it was making it to work in one piece. For me, it was keeping up with the endless stream of orders.

"Triple shot espresso. No sugar," a clipped voice ordered from across the counter.

I barely had to glance up to recognize the type. He was dressed in a charcoal-gray suit, the kind that probably cost more than my entire paycheck, his fingers flying over his phone screen as he typed furiously, completely detached from the present moment. His jaw was set in concentration, his expression unreadable, like whatever business he was handling was far more important than acknowledging the person taking his order.

I punched it in without hesitation. "Regular or large?"

"Large," he muttered distractedly.

Figures.

I moved on quickly. A young woman rushed up next, her oversized glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose as she dug through her tote bag, muttering under her breath.

"Hi—um, could I get a matcha latte, please? With almond milk?"

I offered a reassuring smile. She looked like she was one wrong step away from completely unraveling.

"Of course. Sweetened or unsweetened?"

She froze, clearly unprepared for the question. "Oh! Uh… sweetened, please." She finally pulled out her wallet, already fumbling for change. "Sorry, I’m a mess. I’m late for a meeting, and—"

"Don’t worry," I said smoothly, noting down her order with practiced ease. "Mondays are chaotic for everyone."

She let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. "You have no idea."

Next in line was a mother wrangling two restless kids, both of whom were eyeing the pastry display like it held the meaning of life. She sighed, tired but indulgent.

"Large caramel macchiato for me. And…" she hesitated, already knowing what was coming.

"Chocolate chip muffins!" one of the kids shouted, practically bouncing on their heels.

The other quickly followed. "Please!"

Their mother groaned but couldn’t hold back her smile. "Alright, fine. Two muffins."

The kids cheered as I rang up the order, their excitement a stark contrast to the sluggishness of the adults around them.

The steady rhythm of work, the back-and-forth with customers, the ease of falling into routine—it was comforting. The world outside didn’t matter in here. For the first time in days, I felt good. Like I was in control again, like I had shaken off the weight that had been dragging me down.

Then, just as I turned to take the next order, a voice cut through the noise—low, smooth, and laced with something infuriatingly familiar.

"One black coffee. No sugar, no milk."

The words themselves were simple, but the voice? It coiled around me, threading through my spine, tugging at something in my chest that I wanted to ignore.

My fingers curled instinctively around the register, the momentary jolt of irritation catching me off guard before I forced myself to relax. I lifted my gaze, slowly, already knowing exactly what I’d find.

And there he was.

Jungkook stood on the other side of the counter, leaning against it like he owned the place, all lazy confidence and knowing smirks. His dark eyes gleamed with amusement, as if he had been waiting for this exact moment, as if he had planned this.

I exhaled sharply through my nose, tilting my head. "What are you doing here?"

His lips twitched, his smirk deepening. "Getting a drink. Thought that was obvious."

I scoffed, reaching for a cup. "Oh yeah? Like there aren’t a thousand other cafés you could go to?"

He shrugged, his gaze never wavering. "Maybe I like this one."

My hands moved on autopilot, pouring his coffee while keeping my expression carefully neutral. "The atmosphere must be really inviting, then."

Jungkook hummed, resting his forearm on the counter, watching me with an almost amused fascination. "Something like that."

I slid his coffee toward him with a little more force than necessary, the cup landing with a soft but pointed thud. "Enjoy."

But he didn’t leave. He took a slow, deliberate sip instead, his eyes locked onto mine the entire time, like he was testing me, waiting to see how long I’d last before snapping.

I refused to give him the satisfaction.

Just when I thought he might finally walk away, he leaned in slightly, voice lower than before, almost teasing.

"See you tomorrow."

My stomach twisted. My jaw clenched.

Before I could respond, he turned on his heel and strolled out, the scent of his cologne lingering in his wake.

I stared at the space he left behind, frustration curling in my chest like a slow-burning fire.

Tomorrow?

Absolutely not.

Tuesday

I told myself it was a one-time thing.

That he had just been trying to get under my skin, that it was nothing more than a passing whim. He’d had his fun, gotten the reaction he wanted, and moved on.

But of course, I had underestimated just how insufferable Jungkook could be.

The café was alive with the usual morning chaos—voices overlapping, coffee machines whirring, the scent of espresso and freshly baked pastries thick in the air. Customers streamed in, some barely functioning as they murmured their orders, others already in the thick of their morning routines, phones pressed to ears, fingers typing at lightning speed. I was midway through handing off an oat milk cappuccino when that voice cut through the noise again.

"One black coffee. No sugar, no milk."

For a brief second, my fingers curled into fists beneath the counter, my nails digging into my palm. I knew that voice too well. It had a way of threading through my nerves, coiling tight, making my pulse stutter in a way I wished it didn’t.

Slowly, I exhaled through my nose, willing the irritation out of my system before reaching for a cup with measured ease.

"Didn’t get enough yesterday?" I asked, keeping my tone dry as I started his order.

Jungkook leaned against the counter, completely at ease, as if this was just another morning for him—like he belonged here. He tilted his head slightly, a smirk already tugging at his lips.

"Told you," he said smoothly. "I like this place."

I raised an eyebrow, giving him a look of pure skepticism. "Right. And that has nothing to do with me being here?"

His smirk widened, dark eyes glinting with something unreadable. "Didn’t say that."

I rolled my eyes, not even bothering to dignify that with a response as I slid his coffee across the counter. His hand was already waiting, fingers brushing mine in a fleeting, barely-there touch. It was the smallest contact, nothing at all, really.

And yet, I still pulled away a second too late.

Jungkook, of course, noticed.

He always noticed.

"You always this eager to get rid of your customers?" he mused, lifting the cup to his lips.

"Just the ones who overstay their welcome," I shot back without missing a beat.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, shaking his head slightly. "See you tomorrow."

My hands clenched under the counter as I watched him walk out, the weight of his words settling heavily in my chest.

Tomorrow.

Of course.

Wednesday

"One black coffee—"

"No sugar, no milk. Yeah, I got it," I cut him off before he could finish, already reaching for a cup. My movements were brisk, efficient, leaving no room for conversation.

Jungkook chuckled, the sound low and undeniably amused. "You remember my order. I’m touched."

I didn’t look up, focusing instead on pouring the steaming liquid into his cup. "It’s hard not to when it’s been the same for three days in a row."

His smirk was almost audible in his voice. "So you’ve been keeping track?"

I finally met his gaze, unimpressed. "That’s usually what happens when someone shows up at the same place, at the same time, ordering the same thing over and over again."

Jungkook hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head as if considering my words. But then, instead of another teasing remark, his expression shifted—just slightly. The sharp edges of amusement softened into something else. Something quieter.

Something unreadable.

"You always this grumpy in the morning?" he asked, his tone more curious than taunting.

"Only when certain people walk in," I shot back, sliding his cup across the counter with a little more force than necessary.

His grin widened, eyes glinting with something undeniably entertained. He took a slow sip, his gaze never leaving mine as if committing my reaction to memory.

"Good to know I have that effect on you," he murmured, stepping back. "Tomorrow, same time."

And then he was gone, leaving behind the faint scent of cologne and the frustrating certainty that this wasn’t over.

I exhaled sharply, pressing my fingers against my temples.

How much longer was this going to last?

Thursday

By now, I could sense him before he even reached the counter. It was like my body had developed an instinct specifically for detecting Jungkook’s presence—an unfortunate survival mechanism that I hadn’t asked for.

I didn’t bother looking up as I grabbed a cup. "You really have nothing better to do with your time, do you?"

"Not when the company is this good," Jungkook said smoothly, stepping up to the counter with that ever-present smirk tugging at his lips. His dark eyes gleamed with something unreadable, like he was enjoying a joke that only he understood.

I huffed, pouring his coffee with more force than necessary. "Flattery won’t get you free coffee."

"Who said I was trying to get it for free?" He leaned against the counter, watching me with the kind of lazy amusement that made my skin prickle. "Maybe I just like seeing you first thing in the morning."

I stilled for a fraction of a second before shoving his cup toward him. "You need a new hobby."

He took the coffee, but as always, he didn’t leave right away. Instead, he lingered, his fingers grazing mine ever so slightly as he grabbed the cup. A shiver trailed up my arm, but I forced myself to ignore it.

Jungkook grinned, tilting his head slightly. "You’re cute when you’re annoyed, you know that?"

I scowled. "And you’re annoying all the time, you know that?"

His laughter was low and warm, entirely unbothered. "I like this little routine of ours."

"This isn’t a routine," I shot back, exasperated.

He lifted his cup in a mock toast. "If you say so. See you tomorrow Aylah."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he was already walking away, leaving me standing there, fuming and—much to my own irritation—already bracing myself for whatever the hell tomorrow would bring.

Friday

The soft chime of the door rang through the café, and I didn’t even need to look up. My hands were already tightening around the counter, bracing myself.

"One black coffee—"

I groaned, already reaching for a cup. "You’re actually insane."

Jungkook’s smirk appeared instantly, effortless and teasing, like he had been waiting for that exact reaction. He strolled up to the counter with the same easy confidence he always carried, dark eyes glinting as he drummed his fingers lazily against the wood.

"You should’ve seen this coming," he said, voice smooth.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, lowering my voice slightly.

Jungkook raised a brow, feigning innocence. "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean." I met his stare, my grip on the cup tightening slightly. "What do you get out of this?"

For a brief moment, something flickered in his gaze—something unreadable, something that didn’t quite match the smirk playing on his lips. But just as quickly, it was gone.

"Maybe I just like seeing you flustered," he murmured, his voice almost challenging.

I scoffed, shoving his coffee toward him. "Try harder."

Normally, this would be the part where he took his drink and left, leaving behind nothing but a smirk and the promise of returning tomorrow.

But this time, he didn’t.

Instead, Jungkook casually turned away from the counter and made his way toward the seating area, sliding into one of the corner booths. He pulled his cap lower over his face, adjusting his sunglasses, but even with the half-assed disguise, people still recognized him.

It started with whispers—hushed, excited murmurs traveling through the café like wildfire. Then, one by one, customers started approaching him, clutching their phones, their voices hushed but eager.

"Excuse me, Jungkook? Can I get an autograph?"

"Oh my god, is it really you?"

"Just one picture, please!"

It was like watching a storm slowly build, a quiet hum of excitement growing into something louder, something almost chaotic. The café, which had already been busy, was suddenly packed, customers pouring in with barely disguised curiosity, their eyes flickering toward the corner booth.

Behind me, my coworkers were watching the scene unfold, their expressions varying from amused to downright starry-eyed.

"Damn," Leah muttered, crossing her arms. "He really is popular."

Cyrus whistled lowly. "You think I could get his autograph?"

Serena, balancing a tray of pastries, shook her head in disbelief. "I don’t think we’ve ever had this many customers."

I exhaled, rubbing my temple. "One of you needs to get rid of him."

Cyrus looked at me like I had grown three heads. "What? No. The guy is a money magnet." He gestured around the café, where customers were buying drinks just for an excuse to linger. "Yeah, rush hour sucks, but think of the pay raise we might get because of this."

Leah and Serena exchanged glances before their eyes glazed over slightly, as if they were already imagining the shopping sprees they could go on with the extra cash.

I snapped my fingers in front of their faces. "Focus. He’s an inconvenience. He needs to leave."

Cyrus smirked. "Come on, AJ. The guy definitely likes you if he’s willing to come in and annoy you every single day."

I rolled my eyes. "He doesn’t like me."

Leah snorted. "Yeah, and Serena is the best drinker in the world."

"Hey!" Serena shot back, looking genuinely offended.

Cyrus shook his head, grinning. "Denial isn’t a good look on you, AJ."

I scowled. "I’m not in denial. I just know exactly what kind of person Jungkook is."

Leah arched a brow. "And what kind of person is that?"

I exhaled sharply, leveling her with a look. "The kind who plays games. The kind who enjoys getting under people’s skin just because he can."

Leah hummed, tapping a finger against her chin. "Or… the kind who keeps showing up at a café every single morning just to see one particular barista."

Cyrus smirked. "Exactly."

I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could, another voice cut through the conversation.

"AJ," Serena hissed, subtly jerking her chin toward the counter. "Incoming."

I turned just in time to see Jungkook approaching again, coffee in hand, his expression unreadable. His sunglasses were hooked onto the collar of his hoodie now, exposing dark, knowing eyes that locked onto mine without hesitation.

"Problem?" he asked, amusement laced in his tone.

I crossed my arms. "Yeah. You."

Jungkook tsked, shaking his head like he was disappointed in me. "And here I was, thinking we were getting along."

I gave him a blank stare. "You’re causing a scene."

He gestured around as if to say, So?

I clenched my jaw. "Look, I get it. This is fun for you. Showing up every day, annoying me, making my coworkers think there’s something going on between us."

He smirked. "There’s not?"

I nearly growled. "No."

Cyrus, who was definitely eavesdropping, coughed loudly, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like bullshit. I ignored him.

Jungkook leaned forward slightly, resting an elbow on the counter. "So, you want me to leave?"

"Yes."

"Say please."

I glared. "Get out."

He laughed, low and amused, but didn’t move. Instead, he took another slow sip of his coffee, dragging out the moment just to get on my nerves. It worked.

"You’re impossible," I muttered under my breath.

Jungkook’s lips quirked. "And yet, you still make my coffee every morning."

Before I could fire back, Leah suddenly grabbed my arm, dragging me a few steps back. She smiled sweetly at Jungkook. "AJ will be right back!"

Then, she spun me around, lowering her voice. "Okay, real talk. You need to do something about this."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I am doing something. I’m telling him to leave, and he’s ignoring me."

Leah sighed. "Then ignore him back. Either he’ll get bored and stop coming, or—"

"Or?" I prompted, narrowing my eyes.

"Or you’ll realize you like the attention and stop fighting it."

I scoffed. "Not happening."

Serena suddenly poked her head into our little huddle, eyes alight with mischief. "So, if Jungkook were to ask you out, what would you do?"

"Say no," I said immediately.

Cyrus chuckled. "That was fast. Almost too fast."

I groaned, pushing past them and returning to the counter, where Jungkook was still standing, watching the whole thing with an amused tilt of his head.

"You done gossiping?" he asked.

I let out a sigh. "Are you done ruining my morning?"

Jungkook grinned, the kind of grin that told me he had no intention of stopping anytime soon. "Not even close."

And with that, he turned, heading back toward his table like he had all the time in the world.

I watched him go, jaw tightening as more customers swarmed toward him, whispering, giggling, slipping him napkins with their numbers scrawled across them.

Cyrus leaned against the counter beside me, shaking his head with a smirk. "Like I said, denial doesn’t look good on you, AJ."

An hour had passed, and yet he remained comfortably seated in the corner booth, sipping his now-empty coffee like he had all the time in the world. His disguise did nothing to deter the flood of customers sneaking glances, whispering excitedly, or outright approaching him for selfies and autographs.

It was driving me insane.

My coworkers weren’t helping either. If anything, they were thriving in the chaos.

“Okay, but seriously, AJ," Leah muttered as she slid past me with a tray of drinks. "Have you looked at him? If he stared at me the way he stares at you, I think I’d actually combust.”

I shot her a glare. "He does not stare at me."

Cyrus leaned over from behind the espresso machine, looking far too entertained. "Oh, he so does."

Serena popped up beside him. "I counted. He’s looked over here at least twelve times in the past five minutes."

I rubbed my temples. "Are you all seriously keeping track?"

"Absolutely," Leah said without hesitation.

I groaned, turning my attention back to the line of customers, actual paying customers who weren’t just here to breathe the same air as Jungkook. I focused on taking orders, doing my best to ignore the way he lingered in my periphery.

But of course, he had no intention of letting me.

I was handing a latte to a woman when he strolled back up to the counter, casual as ever.

"Another black coffee?" I asked dryly, already reaching for a cup.

Jungkook tilted his head. "Nah. Thought I’d try something different today."

That caught me off guard. My hand hesitated over the register. "Different?"

"Mhm." His lips twitched, eyes glinting with amusement. "Surprise me."

I blinked. "You want me to pick your drink?"

Jungkook shrugged. "You are the expert, aren’t you?"

Cyrus let out a low whistle from the espresso machine, and I resisted the urge to throw something at him.

I pursed my lips, considering. If he wanted to play games, fine. I could play too.

Without another word, I grabbed a cup and started preparing a drink. Jungkook watched me closely, but I ignored him, moving through the motions with precise, practiced ease.

When I was done, I slid the cup toward him. "Try that."

Jungkook lifted a brow before taking a slow sip. The moment the taste hit his tongue, his expression flickered—just for a second.

I smirked. "Too sweet for you?"

His jaw tightened slightly. "What is this?"

"A caramel macchiato with extra vanilla," I said innocently. "Figured I'd balance out all that bitterness."

Leah, Cyrus, and Serena snorted in unison.

Jungkook exhaled through his nose, placing the cup back on the counter. "Cute."

I crossed my arms. "Glad you think so."

He studied me for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind his gaze. And then, to my absolute shock, he picked the cup back up and took another sip.

I blinked. "You’re actually drinking it?"

He shrugged. "Told you. You’re the expert."

Cyrus leaned in, eyes wide with mock surprise. "Wow. He actually listens to you. Maybe you really do have him wrapped around your finger."

Jungkook smirked at that, but I could tell by the way he was watching me—like he was waiting for a reaction—that he was more interested in my response than whatever Cyrus was implying.

I rolled my eyes. "If I did, he wouldn’t be here."

Jungkook laughed, a low, amused sound. "Keep telling yourself that."

And with that, he turned and walked back to his booth, caramel macchiato in hand.

I stared after him, frustration curling in my chest.

He was enjoying this too much.

Then after what felt like an eternity of dealing with an overpacked café, endless drink orders, and Jungkook’s insufferable presence, it was finally time for me to clock out.

The rush had died down, the café now quiet except for the low hum of the overhead lights and the distant sound of traffic outside. My coworkers had left a while ago—Leah practically skipping out the door while Serena and Cyrus bickered about who made the most tips. Even Adam had some business to attend to, leaving me alone to lock up for the night.

Well… not entirely alone.

Because, of course, right by my side—leaning against the counter like he had all the time in the world—was Jungkook.

I shot him an unimpressed look as I wiped down the espresso machine. "You do realize the café is closed, right?"

He smirked, arms crossed over his chest. "And yet, here I am."

"Unfortunately."

Jungkook let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying how much this annoyed me. "You always this grumpy after work?"

I sighed, tossing the rag onto the counter. "I wouldn't know. Usually, I leave after work. But for some reason, I'm stuck here with you."

He shrugged. "Could be worse."

I scoffed, grabbing the keys. "Doubt it."

With a final glance around the café, I moved to switch off the lights. But before I could, Jungkook spoke again, his voice carrying that same teasing lilt.

"You really hate me that much?"

I paused, my fingers hovering over the switch.

Hate? No. That wasn’t the right word.

Annoyed? Definitely. Frustrated? Without a doubt. But hate?

I turned to face him, arms crossed. "You’re just unbearable."

Jungkook tilted his head, considering my words. Then, with an easy smirk, he pushed off the counter and took a slow step closer.

"That’s funny," he murmured. "Because you’re the only person who talks to me like this."

I blinked, caught off guard. "Like what?"

"Like you don’t care who I am." His gaze flickered across my face, searching for something. "Like I’m just some guy who annoys the hell out of you every morning."

I frowned. "Because you are just some guy who annoys the hell out of me every morning."

Jungkook huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head. "You really don’t make this easy, do you?"

"Make what easy?"

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze lingered on me for a second longer, something unreadable in his expression. Then, as if deciding against whatever he was going to say, he sighed and took a step back.

"Never mind," he muttered. "Come on, let’s lock up."

I narrowed my eyes. "We aren’t locking up—I am. You are leaving."

Jungkook smirked. "Tomato, tomahto."

I groaned. "Get out."

With a chuckle, he strolled toward the door, hands in his pockets, looking far too pleased with himself. But just before stepping outside, he turned his head slightly, flashing me one last glance.

"Want to grab something to eat?"

I blinked. "No."

Jungkook rolled his eyes. "Come on. You can hate me after we eat."

I gave him a flat, sarcastic smile. "I want to hate you before, during, and after."

He let out a low laugh. "Ha-ha. Very funny. But seriously, your stomach’s growling."

I opened my mouth to protest—only to stop when I realized he was right. The betrayal of my own body was loud enough for him to hear, and he was clearly enjoying it.

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around the keys as I considered my options.

"If I eat with you," I said slowly, "will you stop coming to the café?" I looked up at him, forcing some hope into my expression.

Jungkook held my gaze for a second before bursting into laughter. A full, amused laugh that had his head tilting back slightly. Then, as his laughter died down, he grinned and said—

"No."

I groaned. "Oh, come on. Go back to Canada. Why are you wasting your time here?"

Jungkook tilted his head, watching me with a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. Then he shrugged. "Maybe I like pissing you off."

"Maybe I hate that you’re pissing me off."

"Maybe I don’t believe you."

I let out a frustrated sigh. "Maybe I don’t care what you believe."

Jungkook just smirked, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he stepped outside, waiting for me to lock up. The night air was crisp, a welcome change from the warmth of the café. I locked the door with a sigh, turning back to find him still watching me.

"Come on," he said, nodding toward the street. "Let’s go eat."

I hesitated before sighing, dragging a hand down my face. "This is going to be hell, isn’t it?"

Jungkook grinned. "Probably."

Jungkook led me down a few blocks before we stopped in front of a tall, sleek building that radiated opulence. The sign above the entrance was discreet, yet undeniably high-end, with bold, gold lettering reading, Le Jardin Royale. The soft glow of the lights spilling out onto the sidewalk only added to its air of exclusivity. The marble floors in the lobby gleamed beneath our feet as we stepped inside. The restaurant was luxurious in every sense—chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, softly glowing candles illuminating dark wood tables with pristine white tablecloths. Everything about the place screamed sophistication, the kind of place you only saw in the glossy pages of magazines, places that were designed for the rich, the powerful.

I stopped in my tracks for a moment, taking in the polished ambiance around me. This wasn’t the kind of place I was used to—not even close. I could already feel my nerves tightening, my usual comfort zone disappearing with every step. My gaze traveled to the velvet seating, the intricate floral arrangements on each table, and the uniformed staff moving with a practiced elegance that was almost too smooth. This wasn’t just fancy—it was something else. A world of excess, a world where I didn’t belong.

Jungkook must have noticed the expression on my face because he let out a soft chuckle.

"Like what you see?" he asked, his voice teasing, his eyes glinting with that same playful arrogance that I had come to really dislike.

I immediately wiped the surprise from my face, schooling my expression into something neutral. I looked away, feigning disinterest. "It’s… fine," I muttered, trying to hide the hint of awe that had snuck into my voice despite my best efforts.

His laugh rang in my ears as he led me deeper into the restaurant, guiding me past an array of tables full of well-dressed patrons who all seemed to be in the midst of business deals or fancy dinners. I tried to keep my eyes forward, doing my best to stay in control of myself. He was enjoying this way too much, and that only made me more irritated.

When we finally reached the front of the dining room, a well-dressed waiter approached, his demeanor as smooth and polished as the restaurant itself. His voice was polite but with an air of formality as he asked, "Good evening. What name is the booking under?"

Jungkook turned to him with an easy, almost regal grin. "Mr. and Mrs. Jeon," he said proudly.

I froze, feeling my heart skip a beat. What the hell?

I couldn’t keep my confusion from showing on my face as I stared at him. "Wait... what?"

The waiter, unfazed, led us to our table while Jungkook continued as if he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary. The opulence of the place seemed to swallow us up with its quiet atmosphere, but my mind was still stuck on what he had just said.

"Mr. and Mrs. Jeon?" I repeated, my voice a little louder than I intended. My words were laced with disbelief. "What the fuck, Jungkook? We are not married!"

He chuckled darkly, his gaze never leaving me. "Why not? You’d look good as my wife."

The words caught me off guard, and I felt my face heat up immediately. I quickly turned my head, hoping to hide my embarrassment. There was no way I was going to let him see me flustered. But my attempt to regain composure only seemed to fuel his smugness.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but it was hard to ignore the heat creeping up my neck. Why did he have to say that? I cleared my throat and turned back to him, forcing my voice to sound unaffected. "T-that’s not the point, Jungkook. I don’t like you, so why the hell would I marry you?"

He took a step forward, closing the space between us with a quiet confidence that made me take a half-step back. There was that infuriating smirk again, but this time, it looked like it held something deeper, something that made me uneasy.

"We’ll see about that, princess," he said softly, his words dripping with that same teasing arrogance that made my pulse race for all the wrong reasons.

We finally sat down at the table, the waiter offering us menus with a polite nod. As he left, I still couldn’t shake the unease in my stomach. I wasn’t sure what had come over me tonight, but Jungkook seemed to have an effect on me that I couldn’t ignore.

The silence between us was heavy, but Jungkook seemed content to let it linger. His fingers traced the edge of his glass idly, but his eyes never strayed far from mine. His gaze was as intense as ever, and I couldn’t tell if he was trying to figure me out, or if he was just enjoying seeing me squirm. Either way, I hated how much power he had over me.

I let out a long breath and shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to focus on the menu in front of me. But I could feel his eyes on me, waiting for me to break the silence.

I glanced at the menu, trying to focus on the extensive options in front of me, but my mind kept drifting back to Jungkook’s playful smirk and the ridiculous conversation we’d just had. I hadn’t come here for this, but now that I was sitting across from him at one of the most expensive restaurants I had ever seen, I felt like I had no choice but to go along with it.

"Anything you like?" Jungkook asked, his voice casual as he skimmed the menu, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes as he watched me fidget.

I hesitated for a moment, thinking about what I should get. I wasn’t even sure what half the dishes were, but I didn’t want to look like a complete amateur. "I guess... the filet mignon looks good," I muttered, my fingers tapping nervously on the table.

Jungkook didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the side of his water glass. "Do you actually wan’t that?" he said, a little too knowingly. "Or are you just going along with whatever sounds good?"

Before I could answer, he cut me off with a smirk. "You do realize it’s a waste of money when you don't really like steak, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "You don’t know what I like, Jungkook."

"Sure I do," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Anything I say, right?"

I was about to retort when a voice broke through the moment, a familiar one that made my stomach drop.

"AJ?"

I looked up, my gaze snapping to the tall figure who had suddenly appeared next to our table. Adam.

I didn’t expect to see him here, and my heart skipped when I saw his expression. He looked surprised at first, then confused, and then... something else I couldn’t quite name.

"Oh, Adam, I didn’t know you were here," I said quickly, trying to keep my voice calm, though my nerves were getting the best of me.

He frowned, clearly not expecting to see me with anyone, especially him. "Yeah, I was having dinner with a potential business partner," he said, his eyes flicking to Jungkook. "What are you doing here? With him?" His tone shifted to something more annoyed, maybe even a little possessive.

Jungkook didn’t miss a beat. He sat up straighter, his gaze sharp. "We’re on a date," he said proudly, a smirk tugging at his lips.

I blinked, eyes wide with disbelief. "We are not on a date," I shot back quickly, my face heating up at the accusation.

I turned to Adam, feeling awkward now that everything seemed so... off. "He was the last customer and I hadn’t eaten before locking up so I agreed to dinner with him."

But before I could finish, Jungkook interrupted me again. "Exactly," he said, leaning back in his chair like he owned the place, "A date."

I glared at him, my frustration bubbling up. "No, it’s not," I hissed under my breath.

Jungkook only shrugged, unaffected by my irritation. He redirected his attention back to Adam, his gaze suddenly colder. "Now, if you don’t mind, fuck off so I can spend time with my girl," he said, his voice sharp.

I slapped his hand, which had been resting casually on the table. "Behave yourself, i am not your girl," I muttered. "You can take a seat if you want Adam, we were just about to order."

Adam shook his head with a chuckle, but his expression was still guarded. "I would, but there’s a few more things I gotta take care of so i’ll see you around, AJ," he said, his voice soft but with a hint of something unspoken.

"Oh, okay," I said, my heart sinking a little. "I’ll see you Monday."

Before I could blink, Adam was leaning over, gently taking my hand and planting a soft kiss on it. "Take care of yourself," he said, his eyes meeting mine for just a moment.

My face turned bright red. "I-I will," I stammered out, my voice trembling slightly.

As Adam pulled away, my gaze lingered on him, a strange heaviness in my chest. He walked off, and I could feel Jungkook's intense stare boring into me.I quickly turned to face him, trying to ignore the annoying tension that seemed to be growing between us. "What?" I snapped, frustrated.

Jungkook didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he glared at Adam’s retreating figure and then turned back to me, his voice low and serious. "Just so you know, I held back because of you," he said, his tone more dangerous than usual.

I raised an eyebrow, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"If he tries to kiss you again, next time you see him, he won’t be recognizable," Jungkook warned, his voice cold and calculating.

I stared at him, trying to process his words. "You’re insane," I muttered under my breath, but Jungkook’s eyes were still locked on me, unwavering.

Annoyed and caught off guard, I slapped his hand that was resting on the table again, just to snap him out of his weird mood. "Ow!" he exclaimed, rubbing his hand in mock pain.

"Behave yourself or I’m leaving," I said sternly, though I was secretly rattled by what he had said.

Jungkook put his hands up in mock surrender. "Fine, fine," he said, his voice light, but there was a strange glimmer of something unreadable in his gaze.

I gave him one last look before pushing my chair back. "Let’s just eat and get out of here," I said, not wanting to deal with any more weirdness.

The rest of the meal passed in an odd, tense silence. Jungkook didn’t say anything more about Adam, and I didn’t bring it up either. We ate, but it was like we were both trapped in our own heads, each of us silently navigating the growing distance between us. The clink of silverware on plates and the soft murmur of conversations around us felt distant, like they belonged to a world that wasn’t ours. I kept stealing glances at Jungkook, but every time our eyes met, it was like he was just slightly out of reach, as if there was something he wasn’t saying, something left unspoken between us.

The food was good, but my appetite had long since vanished. My thoughts were scattered—mostly around Adam and Jungkook, the tension I couldn’t shake, and the strange pull I felt toward Jungkook despite everything. We had never really crossed that line, yet something about the way he kept showing up, something about his persistence, made me feel like I was teetering on the edge of something I couldn’t quite grasp.

When the check came, there was no hesitation from Jungkook. Without a word, he picked it up and handed over his card. I wanted to protest, wanted to insist on paying my own way for once, but the words got stuck in my throat. It was easier to let him take care of it, easier to swallow down the urge to argue, just for tonight.

Afterward, he offered to walk me home. The words felt unexpected, yet they lingered in the air like they were supposed to mean something more. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t refuse. Maybe it was the exhaustion settling in after the long day. Maybe it was just the need to escape the sterile, suffocating atmosphere of the restaurant. Or maybe, deep down, I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts. Whatever the reason, I didn’t protest. I just nodded, and we both stood up and left the restaurant.

The night was cold, the kind of crisp chill that settled in your bones, but it didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would. The city was quieter now, the usual buzz of traffic and chatter subdued by the lateness of the hour. The streets stretched out before us, bathed in the pale glow of streetlights that painted everything in long, stretching shadows. We walked side by side, but the air between us felt heavy, filled with unspoken words and thoughts neither of us dared to voice.

Jungkook walked a little too close, his presence constant, almost suffocating. Every step he took was in sync with mine, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was purposely staying just close enough for me to feel him. As I reached the front door, I paused, turning to face him one last time. There was something in the air—something that lingered, an unspoken tension between us, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t over. I crossed my arms and met his gaze. "Are you going to stop following me now?" I asked, my voice firm but tired.

Jungkook didn’t respond right away. He just stood there, his eyes softening as he looked at me, studying me in a way that made my heart beat faster, even though I didn’t want it to.

"No," he finally said, his tone low but steady. "I’m going to keep trying until I make things right. You can push me away. Hell, you can even fight me, but I’m not stopping until things are the way they should be."

I stared at him, not sure how to respond. The weight of his words hung in the air, and it was hard to ignore the sincerity behind them. I didn’t want to acknowledge it, but something deep inside me told me that he was serious.

Before I could speak, he stepped closer. I froze, caught off guard, as Jungkook leaned forward. Then, without warning, his lips pressed softly to my forehead.

"Good night," he murmured quietly, his voice like a promise.

My breath caught in my throat, and before I could react, he pulled away. I stood there, frozen, my hand instinctively lifting to touch my forehead where his kiss lingered. The door clicked shut behind me, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the warmth of his lips on my skin. My face flushed, heat spreading across my cheeks as the tingling sensation in my chest lingered.

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to collect myself, but the feeling was overwhelming. His kiss... it was different. It wasn’t like Adam’s. Adam’s kisses always felt innocent, like a first crush, something light and new and untainted. But Jungkook’s kiss? It was something else entirely. It felt like two souls meeting after years of separation—like we were being drawn together by some invisible force that neither of us could resist, no matter how hard we tried. There was a depth to it, an intensity, something that left me breathless and unsure of what to do next.

I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling my heart race even as I tried to rationalize everything that had just happened. I didn’t know what was going on with Jungkook. I didn’t know what this meant, or why he was doing this, but I couldn’t deny the pull I felt when he was around.

As I leaned against the door, trying to steady my breath, I couldn’t help but wonder if things would ever go back to normal—or if this was only the beginning of something completely different.

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