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hunnysahara · 3 months ago

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˗ˏˋ 𝒲𝒽𝓎’𝒹 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒪𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝒞𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑀𝑒 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒴𝑜𝓊’𝓇𝑒 𝐻𝒾𝑔𝒽? ˎˊ˗

Hamzah x fem!reader

It's harder and harder to get you to listen, more I get through the gears. Incapable of making alright decisions and having bad ideas.

Premise: Your ex friends with benefits calls you in the middle of the night and you know before you answer why he’s ringing you.

CW: cannabis usage / suggestive / crude + sexual language

WC: 2.6k

The soft glow of your phone screen fractures the darkness like a sliver of unwelcome light, casting long shadows across the room. It's the dead of night when the world holds its breath in a hush, yet here you are, wide-eyed, heart knocking gently against your ribs. You had been unpleasantly woken from your sleep by the sound of your phone vibrating itself off your bedside table.

Hamzah's name lingers on your screen. The messages spill one after another, frantic and garbled, like a stream you can't dam—misspelled words, scattered thoughts like he had thrown scrabble tiles together to form texts.

You aren't even able to fully read one message before it's replaced with another. You throw your phone down beside you on your bed, running your hands down your face and grumbling. It had been months since you heard from Hamzah.

The two of you had a very casual friend-with-benefits relationship though you took the initiative to end it when there was a landslide shift and the unceremonious hookups turned into mumbled confessions against your neck. It was too intimate, it breached the contract the two of you initially agreed on.

Though here he was, blowing up your phone like he would die without another word from you.

The phone buzzes again, his caller ID taking over the screen of your phone. You groan, your thumb hovering over the screen, debating whether to answer just to tell him to stop, to leave you alone. Maybe then, maybe if you hear the slur in his voice, the edge of something broken and far away, he'll finally understand that you're not his to call anymore.

The phone lights up again, and this time, you answer.

"Hamzah, stop."

"I knew you'd pick up," His words are thick like velvet, his voice groggy and coarse.

"Why are you calling me?" You ask, voice sharp like a bullet through skin.

"I just wanna hear your voice," On the other end, you can practically hear the smile in his voice. The way the words drowsily fall from his lips brings you to one conclusion.

"You're high?"

"Perchance," He takes a sharp inhale. After a moment of virtual silence, he giggles and coughs eventually settling down "Fine, you caught me. I'm very high."

"What do you want?"

"Why are you being so mean? I just wanted to say hi," There's a hint of playfulness in his voice and you can imagine him sprawled out in bed, hair a mess and glassy eyes half drawn.

Your head throbs as he jumps from one half-finished thought to another, rambling through memories like they're fresh scabs he needs to pick at, unravelling every thread you've tried so hard to tie up neatly. "Maybe I'm being mean because you called me at three AM."

"Yeah, that's kinda annoying," He laughs to himself. His voice filters through the phone, slick with an edge of playfulness that sends a ripple of irritation through you. "It's been too long since I've seen you," Hamzah says, drawing out the word in a lazy, teasing way that always used to make you laugh. But tonight, it feels grating like sand paper against your skull.

"Not long enough." You press the phone tighter to your ear, walking barefoot across the cold floor to the kitchen. The hardwood creaks under your steps, and the cool air feels sharp against your skin.

"Oh, how you hurt me," He adds a tinge of melodrama to his sarcasm.

"Hamzah," you sigh, but he barely gives you a second to speak.

"Did I wake you up?" He pauses to take a breath and you can hear the blunt crackling, and paper shuffling in the background.

"Yeah, you did."

"My bad, my bad-" He coughs again "What are you wearing? Is it that Grateful Dead shirt that hangs off your shoulder?"

You look down at your pyjamas, you were in fact wearing the Grateful Dead that hung off your shoulder and draped past your hips. "No." You lie through your teeth.

"Damn," He mutters before his brain hooks on another ramble "Remember that time—God, you were wearing that little white sundress, you remember?—and we went to that park with the swings? You kept pretending you were too good to be on a swing, but you ended up laughing like a kid when I pushed you too high."

You roll your eyes, frustration simmering beneath the surface. His tone is light, and flirtatious, like he's trying to conjure up a nostalgia that never quite sat right with you. The kitchen light flickers to life as you reach for a glass, the soft hum of the fridge barely audible over his rambling.

"Hamzah," you cut in, more firmly this time, holding the phone between your ear and shoulder as you twist the tap open. The sound of water hitting the glass is oddly soothing, something real and grounded amidst the chaos of his voice. "You're not making any sense."

"No, I think I'm making sense. You just don't wanna admit it." There's a slurred chuckle on the other end. "Come on, don't be like that. I know you're smiling right now. You miss this."

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice, and it makes your skin crawl. You take a sip of water, trying to quench the heat building in your chest. He always does this—twisting every conversation into something flirtatious, something playful.

"I'm not smiling, I’m frowning if anything," you reply flatly, setting the glass down with a little more force than necessary. "And you really need to stop calling me in the middle of the night. This isn't funny."

"But it's not the same during the day," he says with a laugh that feels too close, too familiar. "Night's that thing in that one song- made for saying things you can't say another day," He paraphrases poorly. His voice lowers, taking on that soft, honeyed tone he used to use when he wanted to get his way.

Your jaw tightens as you lean against the counter, fingers tapping impatiently against the cold surface. He's pushing, and it's infuriating how easily he slips back into this—this game of his, like he can flirt his way out of the chaos he's caused.

"Hamzah, I don't have time for this. You're high. Again."

"And you're still talking to me, aren't you?" he teases, his voice laced with a kind of smug satisfaction. "You didn't have to answer. Y'know there's this magical button on your phone that makes it so I can't message you? I think that you want to talk to me."

The audacity in his tone sends a spark of anger through you, your fingers curling around the edge of the counter. He always knows how to toe the line, to keep you teetering between frustration and the pull of something that's sweet on your tongue but now feels like quicksand.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm. "Hamzah, I'm not doing this. You need to hang up and sleep this off."

There's a pause, and for a second, you think he's going to listen. But then he chuckles softly, voice dripping with mischief.

"You're so hot when you're mad at me."

You nearly groan aloud, the exhaustion catching up with you in waves. This is pointless. You've been here before, hearing the same lines, feeling the same tired tug of emotions you've long since buried. But there's a part of you—a small, quiet part—that almost misses this, misses the ease with which he used to reel you in. And that's what makes it worse.

"Hamzah," you start, your voice sharper now, "go to sleep. Seriously."

"What if I told you that I really missed you?" He adds like it sweetens the deal.

"I would tell you that I don't care."

"When did you turn so cold on me?"

You pause, the phone still pressed against your ear. "Hamzah," you mutter, exasperation thick in your voice. The glass of water in your hand feels heavy, like a tether pulling you back into his orbit, even as you stand there in the dim kitchen, staring out at the quiet darkness outside the window.

"Just hear me out," he says, voice too smooth for someone who's supposed to be slurring. "I think me and you should do something together."

You don't answer, your hand moving on autopilot as you rinse the glass and set it down in the sink. There was always a certain ease between you and Hamzah, but that was before it got complicated, before the lines blurred. You clench your jaw, stepping away from the kitchen and into the hall, eyes scanning the house for some chore to distract you, to keep your mind from wandering back to those nights.

"Come on," he continues, undeterred. "I know you heard me."

You sigh, frustration buzzing beneath your skin, but your feet carry you to the living room where a few stray magazines and an old blanket still sit crumpled on the couch. Might as well tidy up while he babbles. Maybe if you let him talk himself out, he'll fall asleep or something. You grab the blanket, folding it with quick, jerky movements as he keeps talking.

"Can I come over?" He asks abruptly.

"No?" You furrow your eyebrows "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Damn, I really thought that would work."

As you sit down at the kitchen table, leaning your head into your hand, you notice the faint hum of traffic coming through the phone—tires on wet pavement, the distant growl of an engine passing by. Your brow furrows and a flicker of concern sparks through your irritation.

"Where are you, Hamzah?" you ask, voice sharper than you intended. It's late, and the sound of traffic at this hour doesn't fit into the picture of him sprawled out in bed, half-asleep and rambling, like you'd assumed.

"Why do you want to know?"

"So you don't show up at my house."

He chuckles to himself "Why on earth would I do that?"

"Maybe because you're obsessed with me?"

"I'm not- no, yeah. I am obsessed with you." There it was, the confidence that he so lacked when he was sober. With the help of cannabis, his tongue was as loose as his morals.

You press your lips together, gaze flicking toward the window, though the night outside your house is still and quiet, completely unlike the soundscape on the other end of the line. You disregard his admission "So, where are you?"

"I'm... walking. Clearing my head or whatever."

Your chest tightens, frustration mixing with a flicker of something you wish wasn't there—worry. "Walking where?" you press, though part of you already knows he's not going to give you a straight answer.

"Just around. Nowhere dangerous, alright? You don't have to freak out." He tries to sound nonchalant, but there's an edge to his voice that betrays him.

"Hamzah, you shouldn't be out right now. It's late, and you're—" You pause, choosing your words carefully. "You're not in the best headspace to be wandering around." You're caught between the urge to scream at him or call Martin to pick him up and haul him home.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine," he cuts in, that cocky smile returning to his voice. "I'm always fine, babe. You worry too much."

You want to hang up, to cut the thread between you and the mess that is Hamzah, but the thought of him alone, on some random street at this hour, makes it hard to press the button. "Go home," you say softly, barely above a whisper.

"Stay on the phone with me a little longer, alright? I'm almost home anyway," Hamzah pleads, voice taking on that boyish, playful tone you've heard too many times.

You rub your temples, eyes drifting toward the clock on the wall. It's well into the night, and here you are, listening to him stumble through whatever story he's trying to spin. "You always say that," you mutter. "But somehow, you're always ten minutes from home."

"Hey, it's not my fault time slows down when I'm talking to you," he says with a sly grin you can practically hear. "Like, relativity or something. I saw that in the Spider-Verse movie."

You roll your eyes, walking back toward the kitchen to grab another glass of water, your mouth feeling particularly dry. "You would know."

"Didn't we see that together when it came out?" He asks to no answer. "We should watch it again."

"I don't think so," You lean against the counter, cradling your glass as his words wash over you.

"I want to see you, I like the way you laugh," He humbles "That's why I was such a goof around you. I didn't mind embarrassing myself because it made you smile and god- that smile..."

"I don't really care what you want."

Hamzah lets out a low whistle "And yet, here you are," he shoots back quickly. "Still on the phone. Ah- I got you there."

You lean back against the counter, the weight of his words sinking in. He's right, of course. You're still here, still wrapped up in this bizarre late-night conversation, still listening as he spirals through his endless stream of nonsense. There's an odd comfort in the banter, as much as you hate yourself for it, there's safety in the familiarity.

"Yeah, yeah," you say finally, shaking your head. "You know how to run your mouth. That's about the only thing you're good at."

"Hey, don't forget I'm a man of many talents," Hamzah quips, the humour softening just a little. "And one of them is keeping you on the line way longer than you should be."

"Trust me, I'm very aware," you mutter, though there's a strange warmth behind your words now.

"Yeah, but you still picked up," he says, almost gently this time, his voice losing some of that playful edge. "That's gotta mean something, right?"

"I wouldn't bet on it."

"Do you miss me? Like at all?" He asks, the words falling from his lips with ease "You can be honest."

You roll your eyes, though there's a slight warmth blooming in your chest despite your irritation. "Please, Hamzah," you deadpan, pacing slowly across the kitchen. "Do you ever stop?"

A knock sounds from your front door, sharp and unexpected. You freeze, turning toward the noise, the sound cutting through the warmth of your late-night banter like a cold breeze. Your heart skips a beat, the suddenness of the interruption making your stomach twist with an uneasy kind of tension. "Hang on," you mutter into the phone, already moving toward the door. "Someone's at my-"

You trail off, eyes narrowing as another knock echoes through the quiet house. Your pulse quickens, a strange feeling creeping up the back of your neck as you grip the phone a little tighter.

As you open the door, the cold air hits you first, followed by the sight of someone standing on your doorstep. Your breath catches for a moment when you see him. There, leaning casually against the doorframe with that signature lazy grin, is Hamzah.

"What the fuck," You draw out.

"C'mon, don't be like that," Hamzah says, giving you a crooked grin. His phone is still pressed to his ear—well, it is until he lowers it slowly, that playful glint in his eyes growing even more mischievous as he hangs up, ending the call without a word. “So- are you gonna let me in?”

#hamzah #hamzah imagines #hamzah x reader #hamzah x y/n #hamzahthefantastic #martin and hamzah #slushy noobz #hamzahthefantastic x reader

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moralesmilesanhour · 2 years ago

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teamwork (makes the dream work...?) pt. 2

summary: miles is not exactly a productive work partner

wc: ~800

A/N: not much plot movement here, but a tiny bit of exposition sort of. Miles will calm down in the following chapters...maybe 🥴

prev. next

"Oh Miles? He's in some of my AP classes. Honor student," Your friend's voice filtered through your phone speakers while on the FaceTime call. She popped a potato chip in her mouth as she sat in bed and sniffled, at home with a nasty cold.

"I've heard his name before. I think his dad died, that true?"

"Yeah, a couple years ago. Say he used to be really sweet, and now he don't talk no more."

"That's sad," you remark. "Maybe that's why I'm only seeing him now."

"You actually saw him in class?!?"

Your friend's face was the picture of disbelief, eyes wide as saucers as if this was a rare event.

"Yeah, he's my partner for the week cuz you decided to go and get yo ass sick!" you explained, dramatically jabbing a finger at your phone screen.

"It's not my fault that kid from AP Chem sneezed on me, damn!"

"He's really smart, but his attitude fucking sucks. He draws good, though," you think out loud.

“It’s just a week, sis, give it four more days, you’ll be fine.”

“You’d better hope so, for your sake.”

The following afternoon saw you asking around, trying to piece together a picture of this kid that everyone simultaneously knew and didn’t know. By the time lunchtime ended and Ms. Jones’ calculus class rolled around, you had heard the following:

‘Almost flunked out of school…on purpose’.

‘Did graffiti on the school walls once.’

‘Freakishly quiet’.

‘Secretly joined a gang’.

That last bit made your stomach turn a little as you approached your new temporary seat. Sure enough, Miles was already slouched at his desk, twirling that same pen between his fingers like a drumstick. You didn’t bother to say ‘hi’ this time. He didn’t bother to look up, either.

Miles didn’t say a word during the lecture portion of class, not even to answer questions. Would explain why you’d hardly noticed him until this week.

As the heavy-set math teacher scanned the classroom, she frequently craned her neck and made brief eye contact with Miles, but never cold-called him.

Her skin was a chestnut shade, and she kept her dark hair pinned back in a tight, slick bun. The way she pressed her lips together as she moved on suggested that they’d been through this before, and she'd be sorely disappointed.

When her lecture ended, Miles suddenly stood to his full height.

You weren’t able to tell by the way he sat, but the boy was quite lanky. Even with his awkwardly-broad shoulders slumped, he likely was a half a head taller than you. Ms. Jones stopped her slow pacing around the classroom and sighed.

“Miles, sweetie, what did I say yesterday?”

Miles looked up at the ceiling and sighed in exasperation before plopping back down into his chair. He raised his hand as if it pained him to do so.

“Yes, Mr. Morales?”

“May I please use the restroom?”

A few snickers could be heard erupting around the classroom, and the woman rolled her eyes. An innocent smile was plastered over Miles’ face, revealing two deep dimples in his cheeks. If the smile had actually reached his eyes, you would’ve thought he was cute.

“Go ahead,” Jones relented.

The boy dropped the smile and noisily pushed his chair aside; As he shot back up from his seat and strolled past your desk towards the door, Jones narrowed her eyes at him.

“Hold it. Sir, where are your glasses?”

Miles stopped in his tracks, groaning loudly.

“Oh my god, I don’t need glasses to go potty, Ms. Jones. I can aim, I promise.”

“Make sure you put them on as soon as you get back, your mother told me to remind you. Go,” Jones said, waving her hand dismissively.

“Uh-huh, thank you, ma’am!” The boy was already in the hallway, letting the door slam behind him.

Today's partner work was just a packet of long equations to simplify, so you were only mildly irritated that Miles never seemed to return from his impromptu bathroom trip until the last fifteen minutes of class.

You looked up as he sauntered over to his desk, hands in his pockets.

“Where were you? Class is almost over,” you demanded.

Miles ignored you and sat down, picking up his pen to work at a long string of equations at lightning speed.

Suddenly, you reached over and snapped your fingers in front of him. The boy looked up with his lips curled into a grimace.

"What's good witchu? You got through the work, didn't you?" Miles hissed in a low whisper to avoid catching Ms. Jones' attention.

You frowned deeply. "And what if I didn't? I'd be struggling while you were off running around the damn school-"

"I needed time to myself," he interrupted. "To think."

" 'Think' about what?"

"Personal shit," Miles resumed his problem-solving. "Any more questions, officer?"

The school bell rang, pulling from you a sigh of relief that you wouldn't have to see him again for another 24 hours.

#miles morales #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #moralesanhour

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soaplickerrr · 2 months ago

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Accidentally Coincidental

CHAPTER 11 (click pictures for better quality)

| ⇠ Previous | Next ⇢ |

a/n: updates will be slow, i'm working on a pretty long fic on my side blog.

pairing: Idol!Kim Seungmin x Fem!College Student!Reader

genre: contemporary romance

SMAU

synopsis: Y/N, a regular college student accidentally texts Seungmin, a star in the K-pop group Stray Kids while trying to text her Ex, Soonyoung to come pick up his things, leading to an unexpected connection that blossoms into a heartfelt romance.

ignore time stamps, dates (other than the ones mentioned during texting) and typos

THERES A WRITTEN PART, DO NOT JUST SCROLL THROUGH THE PICS!

The morning light filtered through your curtains, painting your room in soft golden light.

You stretched lazily in bed, the memory of your first date with Seungmin still fresh in your mind.

The quiet moments, the playful teasing, and the way his hand felt warm and steady in yours, it had all left a lingering warmth in your chest.

As you reached for your phone, a message notification greeted you. It was from Seungmin, from 10 minutes ago.

You hesitated, a flicker of nervousness settling in your stomach. This wasn’t like your first date, where you’d blended into the crowd. But the thought of seeing him again was too tempting to resist.

As soon as you reached the JYP building, the common morning bustle was going on. Trainees were speedily going around with a strapped-on gym bag, staff rushed about from conference room to conference room, and the humming sound that filled the air was so familiar to productivity.

You settled into your desk in the editing department and booted up your workstation, diving into the day's assignments. The first thing on your plate was reviewing footage of a recent Stray Kids dance practice. The video flickered to life on your screen, and your eyes inevitably landed on Seungmin.

Even now, in rehearsal mode, he stood out. Intent and exacting, yet light in his movements- quietly confident in a way that made it impossible not to smile as you worked. Surreal, to be watching him like this after the time you'd spent with him off-camera.

"Y/N, can you send me the final cut for the highlight reel?" Jina's voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“On it!" you replied, exporting the file in record time. The rest of the morning flew by in a haze of edits and emails, though you did find yourself checking the clock more often than usual. As noon started to draw near, a quiet excitement started to bubble up inside you.

You glanced at your watch; it was exactly noon, lunch. Taking your phone, you headed towards the elevators. Every step seemed to kick your heart into higher gear, and as you rounded the corner, there he was, leaned against the wall, casually dressed in a grey hoodie and jeans.

It sent a wave of warmth through you at the mere sight of him, and before your brain could overthink it, you just walked right up to him and leaned in, pressing a quick peck on his lips.

The effect was instant. Seungmin froze, staring at you with wide eyes, his lips parted in surprise.

"You okay there?" you tease, taking a step back.

He blinked once; his composure faltered for a beat before a slow, boyish grin spread through his face. "Well. I certainly wasn't expecting that."

You shrugged, attempting to play it cool despite your racing heart. "Consider it a thank you for planning lunch."

"I may have to plan more lunches, then," he said lowly.

"Come on," you said, your eyes rolling even as a smile crept onto your face. "Let's eat before I change my mind."

Seungmin guided you down a deserted hallway and opened the door to one of the smaller dance practice rooms. A little table inside was set with takeout containers and drinks, even a few desserts. The room was dimly lit; the mirrors running floor to ceiling reflected the cozy scene.

"Impressed?" he asked, the grin laced with a hint of pride.

You laughed, sitting down on the floor across from him. "I'll admit, I didn't expect this. But it's… nice."

He handed you a drink and unwrapped his food. "Figured it'd be better than the cafeteria. Less crowded."

The conversation had started light as you dug into your meals, talking work, favorite foods, and random quirks of daily routines. As the minutes passed, the conversation turned deeper, more personal.

"What's been the best part of editing so far?" Seungmin asked, leaning forward slightly.

You picked at your food for a moment, thinking. "I think it's getting to see all the little details- the moments people don't always catch. Like in that dance practice footage, there was this part where you smiled at Hyunjin after a misstep. It was so fast, but it made the whole clip feel more real."

Seungmin tilted his head, a soft smile tugging on his lips. "You're really good at noticing things, aren't you?"

You shrugged, feeling a little shy under his gaze. "It's part of the job, I guess."

"It's more than that," he said, his tone thoughtful. "You care about what you're doing. It shows."

His words had brought color to your cheeks, and you changed the subject in a hurry, asking him to talk about his best memories of performances. He launched into a story about a chaotic onstage moment, replete with exaggerated impressions of his groupmates, and you laughed so hard you almost spilled your drink.

As the lunch hour drew to a close, you both sat back, sipping your drinks, and let the quiet fall around you.

"Thanks for this," you said softly. "I didn't realize just how much I needed it."

"Anytime," Seungmin replied, the warmth of his voice palpable. "We can make it a habit. Lunch breaks should be fun."

He rose and extended a hand to you, hoisting you to your feet with little difficulty. As you straightened your jacket, he looked at the time. "I should probably walk you back. Wouldn't want anyone accusing me of kidnapping our star editor."

The walk back to the editing department was silent, but comfortable, Seungmin walking near enough that your arms touched from time to time. There was just something so trustworthy in his presence- something grounding- and you'd smiled without even realizing it.

Just as you rounded a corner near your department, Seungmin suddenly slowed his pace. In that instant, his expression changed, melting into one confusion and suspicion.

"What?" you asked, scanning where he was looking.

"Han," he muttered under his breath.

Sure enough, a little farther down the hall, Han was leaning casually against the wall, phone in hand. He didn't even try to hide it as he snapped a quick photo of the two of you walking together.

"Don't mind me," Han said, grinning as he pocketed his phone. "Just documenting history."

Seungmin sighed, rubbing his temples. "Han, don't-"

"Too late," Han interrupted, already walking away. "Check the group chat."

Seungmin groaned loudly, muttering something under his breath before turning back to you with a soft apologetic smile. "Sorry about him. He's…enthusiastic."

You laughed shaking your head. "It's fine. I'll leave that chaos in your hands."

With a final smile, Seungmin watched you go back into the editing department, a quiet warmth settling over him.

The phone wouldn't stop buzzing later that afternoon. Seungmin opened the group chat to find Han's photo, and the usual chaos.

Shaking his head, Seungmin pocketed his phone, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the teasing.

It felt like this chapter was very short and rushed :3

TAGLIST - CLOSED - if your name is in pink, I couldn't tag you

🏷️: @disasterousdangerousbi @akitfffr @alexateurmom @jeonginplsholdmyhand @sunarins-whore @feelikecinderella @minniesuperversee @istglevi-gotmesimping @dreamerwasfound @whiteghostt @your-favorite-pirate @pnutbutter-n-j-elyy @chuuyaobsessed @ihrtlix @onlyhyunjin @jisuperboard @dazzlingjade @sellomaybe @lixiesbrownies333 @kkamismom12 @iatemycatfreckles @puppyminnnie @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @ayyonoona @missvanjii @jc003 @dontwannaexsist @everglowdaisies

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seraphicloves · 13 days ago

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𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒊𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

❀ summary: Hyunjin never expected falling in love to be so…peaceful. Like a feather blown in the breeze, slowly and gently settling to the ground. He expected it to be harsh, dramatic, and loud. He expected one day for a brick to plummet in his heart with a You're in love! written in big bold letters.

❀ warnings: long ass story, physical descriptors being used but no name, they could be ooc i am not a skz expert, mentions of other kpop bands & people i have no clue about, almost 5k words 💀

❀ notes: i took multiple months to write this and i might have to separate it into multiple parts bc it is annoyingly long. I dunno if its super good but I wrote it for my bestie who loves hyunjin 😁

Hyunjin never expected falling in love to be so…peaceful. Like a feather blown in the breeze, slowly and gently settling to the ground. He expected it to be harsh, dramatic, and loud. He expected one day for a brick to plummet in his heart with a You're in love! written in big bold letters.

But watching her, with her fluffy purple hair and glittering dark eyes, he couldn't help but picture falling in love like cozying up against a fireplace after a long day playing in the snow. Falling in love with her felt easy. It felt like something he'd known all his life without fully realizing.

It was unfortunate that they seemed to be in entirely different realms. She was an American streamer with funny jokes and a big smile. He was a Korean idol who could barely utter a word lest the public eye shun him. Sure, it had gotten better since JYP had passed his entertainment industry to his much more progressive daughter, but still.

His fingers idly curl around his pencil, light strokes against the thick pad of his sketchbook as he watches her most current stream. She was with her friends, having a simple talk with her fans. It reminded him of the lives he did for his own fans, although he was sure her videos were not as filtered.

“Oh my favorite music? I have really liked K-pop since I was in middle school.” she says, her lips curving into that grin that never failed to send butterflies to his stomach. Of course, this led comments to flood all of them asking about her favorites.

“My favorite when I was in high school was Stray Kids,” She explained, making Hyunjin’s heart lurch in his chest. He set his drawing supplies down, fully turning to look at her as if studying the pixels of the screen might help him understand the real her better.

He caught a glance at the comments, asking who her bias was (something he has shamefully been tempted to do) and sat silently hoping she'd answer the question.

The heavens must have been looking out for him because she said, her voice like a melody made by Apollo, “My bias is Hyunjin though I love them all.”

Was he dreaming? Should he get Felix to pinch him? He shook off his thoughts, trying to clear his mind to make sure he heard you right. You kept talking about how you liked Stray Kids as a teenager, how they helped you through difficult times. Hyunjin struggled to understand the way his heart beat in his chest, the swell of pride in his stomach.

He took a glance at his unfinished sketch, yet another futile attempt at capturing the beauty of you. He could never feel like he got it quite right. He needed it to be perfect. One crafted by the gods must be worshiped, not tolerated.

Hyunjin continued to watch your stream until it ended, although his mind was still focused on that moment. It repeated in his head like a broken record, one that he was grateful had broken. If he was to be stuck in one moment eternally, he would choose that one easily.

As though he had been summoned, Felix bounced into Hyunjin's room. He wore a big smile, ready to poke and prod Hyunjin as if they were blood related brothers. However, the older boy was on a mission, and it could not be interrupted.

“Have you heard of this streamer..?” Hyunjin asked, her name slipping past his lips easily. Felix, as chronically online as he is, nodded that he had. Settling the nerves in his stomach, Hyunjin knew he ought to explain.

And so he did. Multiple times, actually, because Felix decided to involve the entirety of the band. Hyunjin couldn't even be that upset. They were a close-knit family. And he knew they would help him.

….

He was fairly certain that everybody around him was fully and clinically insane but he couldn't bring himself to care in the slightest bit. Somehow, he had managed to get an entire event hosted by JYP, which invited all sorts of streamers….namely her.

Although Hyunjin couldn't guarantee she would show up, he was certainly hoping against all odds. So was the rest of the Stray Kids.

“Hyunjin’s got a crush~” Bangchan teased, wrapping his arm around Hyunjin's neck and bringing him closer so he could ruffle his hair. Hyunjin laughed while he tried to wriggle out of the older boy's hold.

Finally, he got out of his hold, just as Hwa-Young entered. She was dressed as formally as ever, a crisp suit and perfectly styled hair.

“Please treat all our guests with respect and understand that the reason they are here is to advertise JYP Entertainment and the music festival at the end of the weekend.” She explained, letting her eyes travel across the people here. All bands under her company had been gathered to discuss this, making for quite the large display.

Hyunjin listened carefully, knowing that part of the reason was so she would come to South Korea. All expenses paid trip in exchange for her to advertise and spread publicity for JYP. He hoped she would spend time with Stray Kids the most.

After she had finished discussing basic ground rules for having a bunch of American social media influencers all around for two entire weeks, she gave a smile and said they would be arriving later that afternoon. It would be a lot, but it would be good for getting international fans for some of the lesser known bands.

All Hyunjin could do was pour all his emotions into the dance rehearsal while he waited to meet her for the first time. Each step helped make him stop overthinking, terribly anxious thoughts plaguing his head.

He just kept moving, making his blood flow through his body. He focused on each step of the dance until it was etched into his bones. Eventually, he had to succumb to the natural progression of exhaustion all humans must deal with. It was conveniently timed because the influencers were starting to arrive.

He wiped off some of his sweat with his shirt and took a swig of his water. Then he walked with the rest of the band with the hopes he didn't look gross.

…..

His eyes immediately darted to her as the crowd emerged, her arm wrapped around her friends’. She was even more breathtaking in person, the red of her shirt complimenting her skin. She wore black cargo pants with a metal chain wrapped around her belt loops, with red combat boots, and a red off the shoulder, slightly oversized top. Hyunjin tried to suppress his smile, happy that she was even fashionable just like him.

Bangchan hurried over to them before he had a chance, after he was the leader and the most sociable of the group. Without thinking much of it, Hyunjin followed closely behind with the rest of the Stray Kids.

“Hi!” Bangchan said, greeting both women with a hug. They accepted it with warmth, both being enveloped by Chan. Hyunjin watched from his spot, trying to stop him from running away screaming. She was rather intimidating!

I really need to go say hi. I don't want to seem unfriendly. He frowned a bit, trying to get his feet to move. With a small burst of relief, he felt himself move closer.

He was standing in front of her, in all her gorgeous glory. She was shorter than him, her head tilting up so she could see his face. Hyunjin wanted to paint her and capture her beauty forever. He wanted to study every feature and examine every inch of her. He wanted to worship her.

Hyunjin’s face flushed when she waved at him, suddenly making him realize where his train of thoughts had been going. He couldn't possibly expect to memorize her body if she didn't even know what he's like beyond a stage presence. (He wondered if they had ever met before, if she had gone to a concert long ago.)

“Hi.” He finally said, pushing the words off of his tongue and into the world. It sounded awkward and shy, like he sometimes felt when placed in front of a camera. Hyunjin wished he could be the painter instead of the muse sometimes.

She smiled brightly, her cheeks curving to allow such a beautiful expression. He was sure he had died and gone to heaven. Why else would an angel look at him so beautifully? He tried to ignore the blood rushing in his ears and hoped that it wasn't obvious he was warming up feverishly. (Would she mind if he kissed her? Just a small one, just to get a taste.)

“It's nice to meet you, Hyunjin.” She said, still looking up at him, “I've been a big fan for years.”

Maybe this was all a very big dream. Maybe the Sandman had decided to give Hyunjin something to enjoy, and he gave him…her. If this was a dream, Hyunjin didn't want to wake up. If the only way he could be in the presence of this woman was through his fantasies, so be it.

Oh, I still have to reply.

Bangchan glanced at Hyunjin expectantly, probably wondering why he was forgetting to speak. His brain was so full of thoughts that he couldn't help the way he got sidetracked.

“Well I am a big fan of you too.” He said with a smile, “I like your streams.” Was that too honest? Would she feel uncomfortable by his confession? He'll repent if she needs him to wash his hands with holy water and pray his awkwardness goes away.

She looked a bit shocked, her warm brown eyes widening ever so slightly. But then she warmed up again, like chocolate melting on his tongue. She was comforting without even realizing it.

“Who would've thought we'd be fans of each other?” she said with a shrug and a laugh before eventually moving on to greet the rest of the people. He wished he could make her stay, say something so stunning she can't help but feel transfixed by him.

Instead, he watched her walk away, trying to ignore the way his heart deflated. It made sense that she needed to walk away and do what she needed to do. It was understandable.

…..

The first day of advertisement was pretty boring. Hyunjin doesn't like to complain much, but he barely got the chance to hang out with her, and he was stuck going over plans. There were a lot of conference meetings, with stale cookies and uncomfortable seating. (He wondered if that was what it's like to work an office job - he's suddenly glad to be an idol.)

“Can we go home soon?” Han whined, already flopping on top of a displeased I.N. Hyunjin couldn't help but understand Han's frustration. They had been holed up for hours doing nothing.

Hwa-Young nodded in sympathy and said, “One more thing to discuss, then you can return to your dorms.”

Hyunjin perked up a bit at this, happy that today was almost over. He had been hoping to spend more time with his love, but she had been placed with the also influencers on the other side of the conference room. His eyes flickered to her as if he were a moth drawn to a flame.

She was listening intently to Hwa-Young, her arms crossed across her chest. She looked more relaxed, maybe even a bit sleepy, based on the way her eyes started to flutter shut. She was so pretty, and Hyunjin would be happy to die if it meant he could look at her forever.

“We have hotels for everybody. Listen carefully to your name so you can retrieve your housing information.” Hwa-Young explained before she started to talk about everybody. Soon, all the streamers left, all of them except for her and her friend.

Hwa-Young blinked in surprise, reading over her list once more before she flushed. Hyunjin watched with a bit of confusion, wondering what happened.

“I am terribly sorry, miss.” Hwa-Young said, hurrying over to whisper in the woman's ear. They talked quietly before Hwa-Young turned to face the bands.

“Will anybody volunteer to house these lovely ladies?” Hwa-Young announced, making Hyunjin’s heart fail. Maybe he was going into cardiac arrest because what the fuck?

Before Hyunjin could even begin to process Changbin stood up, with Bangchan giving an encouraging smile. Oh no, oh no no no.

“Hyunjin can take them in, as long as they are comfortable with it.” Changbin said, giving a charming smile to the foreigners. He was annoyingly friendly, like a gym bro teddy bear or something.

It didn't take long to convince her and her friend, Changbin was very good at charming people. She smiled and said, “Oh if he offers I would enjoy that very much. But I don't want to intrude.”

Hyunjin forced himself to speak, opening his mouth and saying, “It's not intruding. You can stay with me and Changbin.”

He didn't want to do this. He needed to escape her even for a moment. What if his heart gives out from racing so much? Hyunjin did not want her to stay with him, to leave him without any way to stay calm. But he would be kind (mostly because Changbin forced his hand.)

“Thank you, that's very nice.” Her friend also added, still standing beside her. Hyunjin noticed his love’s friend seemed to be rather awkward, looking anywhere but at the group of people before them. He supposed he could understand, but he hoped Changbin might get along with her. Hyunjin would be housing his favorite person in the whole wide world.

Maybe that's a bit aggressive to say though, she may bias Hyunjin but that doesn't mean she likes him all that much. So Hyunjin kept his thoughts locked up tight, not wanting a single one to slip through the cracks.

“Well, now that it's all settled we can head home.” Hwa-Young said with a smile and a clap of her hands. She stood up along with the other idols, all heading to their various dorms.

“Well, I guess we'll be off.” Bangchan said with a sly grin, having the other members follow behind him like ducklings following their mother. It was just Hyunjin and her, well and her friend and Changbin. But they were basically alone!

“Do you want to head to the dorm now?” Hyunjin finally asked, hoping his expression was calm and collected. Basically, it's the opposite of how he was feeling.

She nodded and allowed Changbin to lead the way with her friend following close behind. She walked side by side with Hyunjin, her hand brushing against his.

Surely he would explode, his heart would inhale until it was bursting with excitement. Hyunjin was totally going to die over this weekend. But maybe it wouldn't be that bad.

…..

He did not get a single wink of sleep that night. All he could think about was the fact she was sleeping outside his room, on the couch. She was so close to him, how could he possibly be expected to sleep?

Hyunjin got dressed the next morning, not being sure what to expect. What sort of videos might they film today? Who would he be filming them with?

With a yawn, he exited his room and noticed that she was not there. She must have gone already.

Changbin was waking up around the same time, stretching his muscular arms. His black hair was a bit messy and curled, since it was without the products he puts his hair in.

“Are we heading to the studio today?” Hyunjin asked the older man, tilting his head slightly. Maybe they would be showing the influencers new dances or something. Or maybe they would be writing songs and collaborating. There were many things they might do.

“Yeah, and we're late so c'mon.” Changbin said, walking towards the door and wrapping his arm around Hyunjin's neck. He dragged the younger boy with him, despite Hyunjin's attempts at getting free.

Hyunjin groaned, but allowed Changbin to ruffle his hair and do all the things he usually does. He is like a strange older brother, with the way he likes to tease and is awfully goofy. But Hyunjin likes it.

They walked quickly to the studio, remembering that the boys often left clothes there. So they would be able to change once they were there.

Once they arrived, Hyunjin felt incredibly underdressed compared to her. She was wearing a lavender chunky sweater with a black mini skirt and black tights. She was so elegant and pretty, he couldn't help but feel awkward still dressed in his lounge wear.

She smiled upon seeing Hyunjin, making his heart swell with a strange sort of fuzzy feeling he was unused to. Sure, he always felt warm and safe with the other members of Stray Kids. But this was a sort of feeling that made him want to wrap it around himself like a blanket. It was so lovely.

“What are we doing today?” He asked, momentarily forgetting he should probably apologize for being late or maybe he should get ready instead of staring at her with a look of amazement. He was certain his eyes had glazed over and he had his lips parted, staring as if she had just descended from heaven.

“Oh we are going to be doing some Tik Tok dances together then later we are going to do a kitchen stream,” She explained, her voice confident and self assured. Hyunjin wasn't completely inept when it comes to social media but this still wasn't his speciality. She was in her realm and bringing him in, despite his confusion.

“Oh,” He nodded, only half understanding what she meant. But he didn't want to look dumb in front of her- he wanted her to be impressed. A stream about kitchens? How strange, but if it worked for her Hyunjin would do it without complaint.

“While you get changed, I'll set up the camera.” She said with her lips curved up with a delightful grin. How was he expected to function when she looked at him like that? Like she saw him as more than an idol. Perhaps he was as deluded as his fans, but he wondered if there was a chance she liked him as he liked her.

Hyunjin nodded and moved away, wanting to get dressed as quickly as possible so he could spend time with her. She was calmer in real life, or maybe that's because she needs to be professional. (He wants to uncover each facet of her personality, to peel away the layers until he is greeted with her, the whole and true of her soul.)

…..

“I regret doing dances with professional dancers,” She grumbled, taking a swig of water. Hyunjin watched her from behind, trying his best to not let his eyes stay on her for too long.

“You're doing great,” he said, with an attempt at an encouraging smile. She definitely wasn't a dancer like he was, but she was trying her best. And he was sure fans would find her attempts at doing the Beabadoobee dance to be amusing.

“Well, it's okay since we are going to do the cooking video now.” She explained, turning to look at Hyunjin. Her brown eyes were shimmering delightfully, reminding him of dark glittering jewels. He could stare at her for hours and never get bored, memorizing every line of her face would be the best of tasks.

“What are we going to make?” Hyunjin asked, following her to the kitchen. The other members of Stray Kids were working with other streamers and influencers, doing a variety of activities from singing to doing the hear me out trend.

“Empanadas.” She hummed in reply, pulling Hyunjin’s thoughts back to her. He was like a moth to a flame, helplessly attracted to her. He was weak against her attacks, her ability to reel him in constantly impressive.

She pulled out ingredients while Hyunjin turned on the camera, flickering it onto a stream. A steady flow of viewers came in, making the count get higher and higher. He wished his English was better so he could better read the constant stream of comments in the corner of the screen.

“Hi everybody! Welcome or welcome back depending on if you're new here.” she said, glancing at Hyunjin, “Today's stream is extra special because I have a guest with me! Hwang Hyunjin from the band Stray Kids!”

The chat spammed with excitement, using a lot of smiling emojis and capital letters. He smiled at the camera, trying not to get suddenly shy. He was used to being in the public eye- just not used to it with his crush right next to him.

They got started, with her giving Hyunjin instructions and working carefully on the empanadas. He did as he was told, trying to focus on making food while also appearing entertaining. (How did she do this on a daily basis? At least Hyunjin has his other members to lean on whenever he gets tired. She works alone and works constantly.)

“Guys, stop.” She scolded suddenly, causing him to turn around so he can read what's happening in the chat. He read a few of the comments, a flush rising in his cheeks. Were.they teasing her for having a crush on him? He was so bewildered he didn't realize he had been staring blankly at the screen until she made a noise.

She said to Hyunjin, “Okay, I will admit I had a crush on you back when I was in highschool. Hopefully that will appease chat enough for them to stop bothering us.”

She sent a playfully stern look at the camera, unaware of the way Hyunjin felt like he was going to explode. She had a crush on him when she was in highschool. Which meant she used to have feelings for him. Holy shit.

The rest of the day went by extraordinarily quickly, but perhaps that's just how it felt since he was still distracted by the revelation. Did she still have feelings for him? How deep of a crush did she have back then? Had she talked about it before and how had he not noticed if she had? He watched her videos almost religiously, he couldn't possibly have missed a video of her talking about him. He would have remembered surely!

He couldn't get to sleep for the second night in a row. He was busy thinking about what he learned, how she used to have a crush on him. Maybe he was just overthinking, maybe it didn't matter that she had a crush on him in highschool.

But he couldn't let it go no matter how hard he tried. There was a strange feeling in the smallest part of his heart that told him she still felt the same.

…..

“Hyunjin,” Han said suddenly, snapping his fingers to get his friend's attention. Hyunjin turned around, flustered that he was very likely caught staring at her. It didn't help that she was working with TWICE so close by. He could probably feel the warmth of her skin, smell her perfume. Hyunjin was trying his very best to not get distracted.

“What do you need?” Hyunjin asked, stretching his arms. They were doing some sort of challenge where they needed to run and sing at the same time. It sounded complicated but it could be helpful for when they would go on for a concert.

“You should tell her how you feel.” Han replied, looking up with a rather serious look. He had his arms crossed in front of his chest, tapping his foot against the wooden floors. Hyunjin’s eyes widened, his lips parting a bit with shock.

Was Han serious? Did he actually expect me to bare my soul to the girl of my dreams so casually?

“Why? She probably doesn't like me back.” Hyunjin dismissed with a wave of his hand, looking away as though he couldn't fathom admitting this while making eye contact. Feelings are so troublesome it seems.

Han laughed and put his hand on his friend's shoulder, still staring so intently at him. “You can't be serious, Jinnie. She has fallen for you, almost as hard as you have for her.”

He turned away to look at her. She was busy with Momo, helping the girl do some sort of silly TikTok. However, what Hyunjin noticed when he also turned was the fact she was looking at them.

Her mouth broke into a smile and she paused enough to wave at Hyunjin, acting so casual despite the fact she was setting his heart on fire. Did she really feel the same way? Could she possibly want Hyunjin the way he wants her?

Hyunjin looked back at Han, and grumbled in a low tone, “How would I confess to her anyway?”

Han grinned at that, clapping his hands together. The shorter boy said, “Do what feels right to you, Hyunjin. What's a good way to confess?”

Then he walked away, returning to the influencer they were working with currently. Hyunjin stood in place, feeling almost as if there was cement in his bones keeping him still.

How would he confess? Should he write a letter to her? Maybe he should march over there and demand they go on a date! Okay..maybe that's a bad idea. But still, how should he confess?

She will only be around for the concert tomorrow and then she'll be returning to America. Suddenly he faltered, his heart racing with excitement.

What if…? Hyunjin could barely contain his sudden happiness, wanting to already put his plan into action.

…..

“This was a bad idea.” Hyunjin said, attempting to wrangle himself out of Changbin's strong grip so he could avoid getting on stage. It was a futile attempt, with the older man wrapping his arms around Hyunjin's shoulders.

“Nope, you're doing this.” Changbin said, shoving Hyunjin even closer to the stage. There was no getting out of this- he was going to confess to her.

“Fine, fine.” Hyunjin relented, pushing Changbin away with a half hearted glare. Then he shook his hands, trying to be rid of the nerves rattling around his chest.

He walks onto stage, ignoring the way his heart was pounding against his ribs. Looking up, he immediately found her. She was as beautiful as always, staring up at him with awe. He needed to do this - he needed to confess properly.

He said her name like one might a god, worshipping the shape of the vowels on his tongue. “I love you, so very much. I wish to be with you forever, and so I sing this for you.”

Then Hyunjin did what he does best: sing. He chose to sing Ice Cream, knowing it was one of her favorite songs after he had done his research. He put his soul into the lyrics, every ounce of his love into the silky tones of his voice.

…..

After the concert, he was greeted by her. She was a vision, something he wished to see in his mind's eye every time he goes to sleep. He might dream of her forever, use her as solace from the grim realities of the world. If he had her, he might be able to survive anything.

“You love me?” She asked, reaching out to grab his hands. Sparks shot through his fingertips, warm rushing through him wherever she touched.

Hyunjin nodded and said, “Yes, I do. I have loved you for a long time.”

She took a moment to process his words, squeezing his hands. She kept touching him, even the slightest brush of skin sending shockwaves directly to his heart. She was so lovely and she was holding his hands, was she trying to give him a heart attack?

“I love you too, Hyunjin.” She whispered, looking up at him. Her brown eyes glistened with an intense emotion, and something he is finally realizing is love. She stared up at him with a sense of adoration he had only dreamed of previously.

He leaned down, feeling her breath warning his cheek. He wanted to stay like this forever, holding her hands and keeping his face close to hers. With a small dose of courage, potentially regrettable or not, he leaned in close enough to kiss her.

He brushed his lips over hers, savoring the taste of her chapstick. He removed his hands from hers to hold her hips, pulling her flush against him.

She kissed him back, her hands pressing into his chest. She was so perfect, and she was his now, his to love and his to care for.

He pulled away and leaned his forehead against hers, letting his eyes flutter shut. This was everything he had ever wanted and more. If this wasn't heaven, he wasn't sure what was.

“Will you give me the honor of being your boyfriend?” He asked softly, still holding her close. If he could put her inside his heart, he could.

“As long as you'll let me be your girlfriend.” She replied, curling her fingers into his hair. Hyunjin could barely think, barely do anything except get her closer and closer. He wanted her, and now he had her. He was the luckiest man in the world.

Hyunjin didn't expect to ever fall in love the way he did. It was a gentle and slow descent, like ice cream melting on a summer's day. He was melting for her, his cold heart thawing to recieve her love. Having her in his arms was like coming home. He might nog have expected to fall in love like this, but he was incapable of regretting it. It was lovely, just like her.

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212-apricity · 19 days ago

Text

siren songs and stolen kisses, dead calm

ssask masterlist main masterlist

cant take school anymore, i hate boys and im getting my hair highlighted😍😍

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

The warm glow of the setting sun filtered through the overgrown trees surrounding the Chateau as we gathered around the weathered picnic table. Kie, Sarah, and I huddled over Pope’s latest diagram, his attempt at outlining the plan to lower John B into the well.

“It’s... um,” Sarah started, cocking her head at the page.

Kie interrupted, grinning. “It’s something, for sure.”

I laughed, holding up the paper and pointing to a wobbly figure in the middle. “Pope, is this supposed to be John B? Because if it is, he’s looking a little worse for wear.”

“It’s a diagram,” Pope defended, snatching the paper back and holding it protectively. “Not a work of art. You’re lucky I even did this, I’ve got so much revision to do.”

“Did you draw this with your eyes closed?” Sarah teased, leaning in to get a closer look.

Kie was still chuckling when JJ sauntered over, a lopsided grin on his face and that signature confident bounce in his step. “What’s so funny?” he asked, dropping down onto the bench next to me and propping his elbows on the table.

“Pope’s artistic skills,” I answered, still giggling as I motioned to the paper.

JJ took one look at it and let out a dramatic gasp. “Pope, man, this is tragic. This isn’t a diagram; it’s a crime against humanity.”

“You’re a crime against humanity,” Pope muttered, glaring at him.

“Alright, alright,” JJ said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. Then, leaning back and crossing his arms, he smirked. “Hate to ruin the fun, but we’ve got a problem.”

“Of course we do,” Kie muttered.

JJ ignored her, looking directly at John B. “Bro, those gold bars you’re all giggling about? They’ve got wheat symbols on them, no one’s gonna touch ’em. Too traceable. Even the sketchiest buyers will ask questions.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Of course, you’d be the expert in criminal logistics.”

“Thank you, it’s a gift,” JJ shot back, throwing up his hands in mock modesty.

“Okay,” Kie said, crossing her arms and grinning. “I have an idea.”

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

The sound of the furnace roared in the background as Pope’s dad’s workshop turned into a makeshift forge. The gold bars sat in the center of the flames, glowing brighter by the second. The heat was stifling, and sweat clung to everyone’s skin as we watched the transformation take place.

Kie and Pope monitored the melting process while JJ and I slipped outside for some fresh air.

JJ grabbed my hand, tugging me toward the roof of the Chateau. “C’mon, Princess. Best view in the Outer Banks.”

We climbed up, the cool evening breeze instantly relieving the sticky heat of the workshop. From the roof, the world stretched out before us, the ocean glittering in the fading light and the stars beginning to twinkle in the darkening sky.

I sighed, letting the peacefulness of the moment wash over me. JJ, however, couldn’t stay still for long. He leaned back on his elbows, his gaze fixed on me rather than the view.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked, noticing his lingering stare.

“You,” he said simply, his voice soft.

I rolled my eyes, smiling. “Smooth.”

He laughed, leaning closer. “What can I say? I’m a natural.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket, breaking the moment. I pulled it out and frowned when I saw the name on the screen: Gray.

“Who’s that?” JJ asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

I hesitated before answering. “Gray.”

JJ’s relaxed expression shifted immediately. “Why’s he texting you?”

I opened the message, reading aloud. “I don’t know. He said, ‘Hey, you free tomorrow?’”

JJ’s jaw tightened, and I could see the gears turning in his head. “Why’s he asking you that?”

“I don’t know, J,” I said honestly. “I haven’t talked to him in like forever. Not since we broke up like almost a year ago anyway”

JJ raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” I insisted, my voice firm. “It’s probably just a stupid joke or something. Trust me, JJ.”

He studied me for a moment before nodding, though the tension in his shoulders didn’t fully disappear. “Alright, but if he tries anything—”

“You’ll punch him in the throat?” I finished for him, a teasing smile on my lips.

JJ smirked. “Damn right.”

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

JJ was grumbling as we approached the counter, Pope’s plan weighing heavily on his shoulders. “Why do I have to sell this piece of shit? Can’t someone else deal with this?”

“Because you’re the best liar,” Pope said matter-of-factly.

“Flattered,” JJ muttered sarcastically as he offered me his arm to hold.

JJ and I stepped into the dimly lit pawn shop, the bell above the door jingling like an ominous warning. The air inside was stale, carrying the faint scent of cigarette smoke and something metallic. The walls were lined with dusty shelves holding everything from old typewriters to outdated TVs. Behind the counter, a woman in her late 50s, wearing a stained T-shirt and glasses perched on the end of her nose, glanced up from her newspaper.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her tone flat and uninterested.

JJ strode confidently to the counter, pulling the gold nugget out of his pocket and placing it down with a dramatic flourish. “Got something you’re gonna wanna see.”

The woman leaned over, squinting at the piece. She picked it up, turning it under the light, then snorted. “Looks like spray-painted tungsten.”

JJ’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t lose his cool. “Spray -painted tungsten? Oh, come on now. Test it. You know, science and all that.”

The woman rolled her eyes but grabbed a small testing kit from under the counter. As she worked, JJ leaned back on his elbows, looking far too smug for someone in our precarious situation.

I nudged him with my elbow. “Could you act a little less cocky for once?” I whispered.

“Relax,” he whispered back, his lips twitching into a smirk. “I’ve got this under control.”

The woman ran the tests in silence, her frown deepening with each result. When she finally looked up, there was a glint of interest in her eyes. “Where’d you get this?”

JJ didn’t miss a beat. “My mom. It’s all her old jewellry.”

“That’s a lot of earrings,” the woman said skeptically, crossing her arms.

Before JJ could answer, I stepped in, putting on my best look of heartbreak. “It’s been really hard watching my fiance’s mom fall apart with Alzheimer’s,” I said, my voice trembling just enough to sell the lie. “She doesn’t even remember where it came from anymore.”

JJ shot me a sideways glance, his eyebrows raising slightly, but he quickly masked his surprise. The woman seemed to kind of buy it, though. She softened, her gaze flickering between the two of us.

She disappeared into the back, presumably to speak with her boss or prepare an offer. The second she was out of sight, JJ turned to me, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Fiancé?” he teased, leaning closer.

I shrugged nonchalantly, hiding my own grin. “Seemed believable.”

JJ chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable. Maybe even a better liar than I am.”

I felt his lips brush against my cheek, a feather-light kiss that made my heart skip a beat. “Looks like I’m a bad influence on you princess,” he murmured.

Before I could respond, the woman returned, holding a clipboard. “Alright,” she said, placing it down on the counter. “Talked to my boss. Let’s talk numbers.”

What followed was a tense back-and-forth negotiation. JJ, ever the smooth talker, leaned into his natural charm and wit, throwing out lines like, “Come on, you’re not gonna find gold like this anywhere else,” and, “You’re practically robbing me at that price.”

Eventually, they settled on a number that was just shy of what we’d hoped for.

“There’s just one problem,” the woman said, her tone turning serious. “I don’t have the cash here. You’ll need to head to the warehouse to finalize the deal.”

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

The Twinkie rattled along the uneven road, the faint hum of its engine the only sound cutting through the night. John B had one hand on the wheel, the other drumming absentmindedly against the dashboard. The rest of us sat in varying states of exhaustion and tension, the adrenaline from the pawnshop still buzzing faintly in the air.

"Alright," John B muttered, leaning back in his seat. "Next stop, the warehouse. We trade this hunk of melted gold for cash, and then we’re golden—pun intended."

Pope groaned from the backseat. "That was terrible, John B."

"You’re terrible," he shot back with a grin, turning around briefly to shoot Pope a look before everyone drifted into meaningless conversations.

The mood was light, for once. Too light. My stomach twisted with a sense of foreboding, like the calm before the storm.

“Hey, is that—” Kie started from the back, leaning forward to peer out the windshield.

“What the hell?” John B muttered, slowing the Twinkie to a crawl.

Before we could process what was happening, bright lights flared behind us. I twisted around to see another car screech to a stop, pulling us over.

“Shit,” JJ hissed, straightening up in his seat. His hands frantically wrapping the gold in a microfibre cloth before shoving it in the under seat as everyone panicked.

The driver of the car in front of us stepped out, his face partially obscured by a skull mask covering the lower half. He was mediu, height, broad-shouldered, and moved with a casual menace that made my skin crawl.

“I don’t like this,” Pope muttered under his breath.

The masked man approached the driver’s side window, tapping the glass with the barrel of a pistol. “Out of the car,” he ordered, his voice muffled but firm.

John B hesitated, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Look, man, we don’t want any trouble—”

“Did I ask for a fucking speech?” the man snapped, slamming his palm against the window. “Out. Now.”

“Just do it John B,” JJ said, his voice low and urgent. He glanced at me, his jaw tight. “Stay close to me.”

JJ stepped out the car first, his chest puffed out and shoulders squared, a reckless fire blazing in his eyes. "You really think you can just take our shit and walk away?"

Barry stopped mid-step, turning back toward JJ with a slow, mocking chuckle. "Kid, I’ve got a gun, and you’ve got a mouth. Wanna see which one wins?"

“Don’t,” I whispered urgently, grabbing JJ’s arm. His muscles were taut beneath my fingers, trembling with barely-contained rage.

“Listen to the girl,” Barry sneered. “Wouldn’t want pretty boy over here getting hurt.”

JJ’s jaw clenched, his lips pressing into a tight line. For a second, I thought he might actually lunge at Barry.

Barry raised his pistol, aiming it squarely at JJ’s chest. My heart leapt into my throat, a wave of cold panic crashing over me.

“Lie down,” Barry ordered, his voice low and menacing. “All of you. Face down in the ditch. Now.”

We hesitated, glancing at each other.

“Do it!” he barked, firing a warning shot into the air.

The crack of the gunshot made me flinch. JJ’s hand found mine again, squeezing tightly as we moved to lie down in the dirt.

As I pressed my face against the cold gravel, I felt JJ shift closer to me, his body positioned protectively between me and Barry.

Barry’s eyes landed on me and Sarah next to each other, and his smirk returned. “And who do we have here? The little princesses slumming it with the Pogues? You really are scraping the bottom of the barrel, Maybank. You too Routledge.”

“Shut the fuck up,” John B snapped, his voice like a whip.

“Hey, asshole!” JJ suddenly yelled, his voice cutting through the tension. “Say one more thing about her, and I swear—”

“JJ,” I hissed, my heart hammering in my chest with anxiety “Please stop.”

Barry laughed, a cruel sound that made my skin crawl. “Cute. Real cute. Maybe I should take her with me, huh? Teach you a lesson.”

That was the breaking point. JJ surged upward, his fists clenched, but before he could fully rise, Barry kicked him back down.

“Stay down, hero,” Barry growled, pressing the barrel of his gun to JJ’s temple.

JJ froze, his entire body trembling with suppressed fury.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Nor could Kie. “Stop it!” she shouted from her place next to Sarah, her voice cracking. “You’ve got what you want! Just leave us alone!”

Barry glanced at her, his expression unreadable behind the mask. For a moment, I thought he might actually listen.

The ground was cold and damp against my stomach as I lay down, the grass scratching at my skin. JJ was beside me, his hand never letting go of mine. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, so softly I almost didn’t hear it.

Barry turned around and crouched down, inspecting the van. “Now, let’s see what we’ve got here.”

He opened the back doors, rummaging through our stuff with the efficiency of someone who’d done this a hundred times before.

Barry’s grin widened as he took the bag, holding it up like a trophy. “See? Was that so hard?”

JJ’s grip on my hand tightened, and I could feel the anger rolling off him in waves.

As Barry turned back to his car, John B shifted slightly, his eyes darting to the gun Barry had left carelessly on the passenger seat. I knew that look.

“John B,” Sarah and I whispered, our voices barely audible.

But John B was already moving.

He sprang up, diving into Barry’s car and grabbing the gun. Barry spun around, cursing loudly as John B wrestled with him for control.

“Go!” JJ shouted, pulling me to my feet as chaos erupted around us.

John B managed to shove Barry out of the car, sending him sprawling onto the ground. Pope and Kie joined the fray, their fists flying as Barry’s goons tried to intervene.

JJ kept me in his arms the entire time, ready to pull me back from my kicks if Barry tried to hit back whilst JJ’s eyes dart between the fight and the road, calculating our next move.

When Barry finally sat up, his face bloody and his expression furious, he started to speak, but JJ didn’t give him the chance as he let me go and grabbed the gun fron John B.

The crack of the gun’s butt against Barry’s jaw was deafening, silencing everyone for a split second.

“JJ!” Kie yelled, her voice a mix of shock and fear.

But JJ didn’t flinch. He reached down, grabbing Barry’s wallet and pulling out his driver’s license.

“Let’s get out of here guys.” Pope said, flexing his hands from punching Barry.

“One last stop,” he said, his voice cold and unyielding. “Let’s go see where this son of a bitch lives.”

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

The Twinkie rolled to a stop outside Barry’s grimy trailer, the headlights cutting through the shadowy junkyard. The air felt heavy, charged with tension as we stared at the dilapidated house. Scrap metal and rusted car parts were strewn across the yard, and a broken porch light flickered ominously. It was like something out of a bad horror movie.

“Great,” Pope muttered, his voice thick with sarcasm. “Barry lives in a horror movie set.”

JJ ignored him, already halfway out of the van. He held up the wallet he’d snatched during the fight, flipping it open to reveal Barry’s driver’s license. “This is the address.”

“JJ, seriously,” Pope said, following him. “What are you planning to do? You’re gonna knock on the door and ask nicely for our gold back?”

“Not exactly,” JJ replied, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

“Okay, so, what’s the plan?” Sarah asked, her voice a little shaky.

No one answered immediately. JJ was already halfway out of the van, his jaw set in determination.

“Uh, someone should probably…” Kie started, trailing off as she gestured toward JJ’s retreating figure.

“Yeah, got it,” John B and I said in unison, exchanging a quick glance before we scrambled out of the van to follow him.

The air felt thick and stifling as we entered the dark, grimy interior of Barry’s trailer. The smell hit me first—an acrid mix of stale beer, cigarettes, and something rotten. The place was a disaster: empty cans and bottles covered every surface, and the furniture looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years.

JJ didn’t hesitate. He was already rifling through a drawer in the kitchenette, tossing junk aside as he searched.

“JJ, stop,” John B said firmly. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” JJ snapped, pulling out a duffle bag filled with wads of cash.

“This is insane!” John B said, his voice rising. “Stealing money from a drug dealer? You think that’s a good idea?”

JJ slammed the drawer shut and turned to face him. “He stole from us first. Or did you forget that part?”

“This isn’t the way to fix it JJ!” I said, stepping forward. “You’re just making the whole situation worse.”

JJ’s gaze shifted to me, and his jaw tightened. “You wouldn’t understand, Y/n. You’ve never had to worry about this stuff. Everything’s handed to you on a gold platter.” His voice cracked slightly as his frustration boiled over. “You don’t know what it feels like to have the one thing you have slip right through your hands.”

His words hit me like a punch, but I forced myself to stay calm. “No, JJ, I don’t know what that’s like with money. I’ve never had to worry about that.” I stepped closer, my voice softening but firm. “But I’ve had you—all of you—almost slip through my hands way too many times, and I think that’s pretty damn close.”

For a second, his face faltered, and something unspoken flickered in his eyes. But then he turned away, focusing on the next drawer as if he hadn’t heard me.

My heart twisted painfully. I couldn’t stand there and watch him spiral anymore. “Fine, JJ. Do whatever you want,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Then I turned and walked out of the house.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

The night air felt cooler as I stepped outside, but it did nothing to ease the weight on my chest. The rest of the Pogues were waiting near the van, their faces etched with worry.

“What’s going on?” Pope asked as I approached.

I shook my head, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. “He’s not listening. He’s just—he’s so angry.”

“What’s he even doing in there?” Sarah asked.

“Stealing,” I said bitterly. “Because apparently that’s the solution to all our problems now.”

Pope’s jaw clenched, and Sarah exchanged a nervous glance with him.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Sarah asked, her voice hesitant.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But whatever he’s going through, he won’t let me—or anyone—help him.”

The sound of raised voices from inside the house made us all flinch. I could hear John B yelling something about Barry finding out and JJ snapping back something that probably shouldn’t be repeated.

“God,” I muttered, rubbing my temples.

“They’re gonna kill each other in there,” Pope said grimly.

I glanced at the house, torn between wanting to go back in and knowing it wouldn’t do any good. JJ’s words replayed in my head, sharp and cutting: You wouldn’t understand, Y/n. Everything’s handed to you on a gold platter.

I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms, willing the sting of tears to go away. He didn’t mean it—I knew that—but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Maybe we should just leave him,” Pope said, his voice laced with frustration. “Let him figure it out on his own.”

“No,” Kie said firmly, shaking her head. “We don’t leave each other. Not like this.”

Sarah gave me a supportive smile and rested her head on my shoulder, but the tension in the air remained heavy. We all stayed quiet, waiting for whatever was about to happen next.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

When they got back outside, the rest of the Pogues were waiting by the Twinkie, their faces a mix of confusion and concern.

“What the hell is this?” Pope asked, eyeing the bag JJ was carrying.

“It’s called payback,” JJ said, tossing the bag into the van.

“This isn’t what we signed up for,” Pope said, crossing his arms.

JJ whirled on him, his expression hard. “No, Pope, you didn’t sign up for anything. You just sit around and wait for the rest of us to handle it.”

“JJ, what?” Pope shot back.

“You’re acting like a psycho!” Kie shouted.

“No, I’m doing what has to be done,” JJ said, his voice rising.

John B groaned, running a hand through his hair. “What are you gonna do when Barry finds out? Huh? You think he’s just gonna let this slide?”

JJ shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips as he repeats my joke from before but he meant it now. “We punch him in the throat.”

“Yeah, great fucking idea, JJ,” John B said sarcastically, throwing his arms up. “Really solid plan.”

JJ glared at him and after a beat, “I’ll handle it.”

“Yeah, sure,” Pope said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Because you’re so good at thinking things through.”

JJ turned to me after asking everyone else if they’d join him, his eyes blazing. “What about you? You with me or not?”

I hesitated, my chest tightening. “No JJ, this isn’t a good idea. You’re just making it worse for yourself—for all of us.”

His expression darkened, and his voice dropped to a cold, sharp tone. “You know what? I don’t even want to talk to you right now.”

The words hit me like a slap, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Everyone else was quiet, the tension crackling in the air like static.

JJ’s eyes locked onto mine, his jaw tightening as he exclaimed, “Are you even with me? Or are you fucking Gray behind my back?”

My mouth fell open in shock. “What the fuck? JJ, that’s insane!”

“Oh, is it?” he snapped, his voice dripping with bitterness as he nodded.

“JJ, shut the fuck up,” John B said, stepping between us.

“Seriously, dude,” Kie added. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

JJ’s gaze didn’t waver from mine, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Keep talking like that,” Sarah said, her voice firm, “and you’ll end up all by yourself, JJ.”

JJ’s eyes flickered, something soft and vulnerable breaking through for just a moment. But then the anger returned, and he stepped back, shaking his head. “Fine. I’ll go by myself.”

He grabbed the bag and turned away, pausing just long enough to glance at me. His eyes softened for the briefest second, and I saw something that looked like regret. But then it was gone, replaced by the same stubborn defiance.

I felt tears prick my eyes as he walked away, the weight of his words pressing down on me like a stone.

The rest of us stood in silence, watching him disappear into the night. The sound of the Twinkie’s door slamming echoed in the stillness, and I couldn’t shake the feeling.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

After the chaos at Barry’s house, we all regrouped at The Wreck, needing a neutral place to calm down and figure out our next move. The dimly lit diner felt oddly comforting as we slid into a booth at the back, away from prying eyes.

John B sat at the head of the table, his arms crossed and his face a mix of frustration and exhaustion. Pope fidgeted with the salt shaker, Sarah twirled her straw in her drink, and Kiara leaned back, her arms crossed as she shot annoyed glances toward the door.

JJ, of course, was absent.

“He’s not coming,” Pope said flatly, breaking the silence.

“How do you know?” Kiara asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Because it’s JJ,” Pope replied, his tone edged with annoyance. “He’s probably off somewhere, getting drunk or into more trouble.”

I stayed quiet, sipping my water and staring at the tabletop. I could still hear JJ’s voice in my head, accusing me, doubting me.

“He’ll show up,” John B said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

Sarah nudged me gently. “You okay?”

I forced a small smile. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” she said quietly. “What happened back there?”

Before I could answer, Kiara chimed in. “He’s been like this for weeks. It’s like he’s on some self-destructive mission.”

“It’s not just him, though,” Pope said, slamming the salt shaker down. “We’re all risking everything, and for what? Gold we might never see?”

John B rubbed his face. “We’re not quitting now, Pope.”

“No one said anything about quitting,” Kiara said sharply. “But JJ’s spiraling, and if we don’t do something, he’s going to get himself killed or arrested or something.”

The conversation shifted into an argument, voices overlapping as everyone tried to make their point. I stayed silent, my thoughts focused solely on JJ.

“He doesn’t trust me,” I blurted out, cutting through the noise.

Everyone turned to look at me.

“What do you mean?” Sarah asked.

I hesitated, unsure how much to share. “He thinks I’m not with him. That I don’t understand what he’s going through.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Kiara said, frowning.

“Is it, though?” I said quietly. “I don’t know what it’s like to struggle like he does. I don’t know what it’s like to not have a safety net.”

“But you’re here,” Sarah said firmly. “You’ve always been here for him. Even when you weren’t like together together, I’d always see him getting water or a snack or something in our kitchen at night before going back up to your room after his dad…”

I nodded, but the weight in my chest didn’t lessen. “I know, I just… I don’t know if he believes that anymore.”

The table fell silent, the tension thick and suffocating.

“Look, we all love JJ,” John B said finally. “But he needs to work through this himself. We can’t fix him.”

“Maybe not,” I said softly. “But we can still be there for him.”

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

The Twinkie bounced along the dirt road, rattling with every bump, as Y/N, Kie, and Pope returned to the Chateau. The supplies they had packed tightly in the back rattled along with them, preparations for their next trip to the well. Their conversation had been lighthearted, filled with plans and jokes, but as they pulled into the driveway, all chatter came to an abrupt halt.

String lights dangled lazily from the trees, casting a warm glow against the deepening twilight. And in the middle of the yard, a hot tub stood bubbling and lit up like a Christmas tree, steam rising into the cool evening air. The sight was absurd—almost comical—except for the figure lounging in the steaming water with a beer in hand.

“Who the hell is that?” Pope asked, squinting through the windshield as the Twinkie rolled to a stop.

“Better question,” Kie added, her tone sharp, “where did that come from?”

Y/N stepped out first, cautious but curious. The others followed as they moved closer, their pace hesitant. The figure in the hot tub turned toward them, his unsteady grin illuminated by the string lights.

“Guys!” JJ slurred, throwing his arms wide as though greeting long-lost friends. “You’re here! Perfect timing.”

“JJ?” Y/n’s voice was incredulous. “What is this?”

“Are you kidding me?” Pope exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

“Welcome to paradise!” JJ called out, grinning widely.

“JJ, what the actual hell?” Kiara demanded, storming up to the hot tub. “Where did you even get this?”

“Spent some of Barry’s cash,” JJ said nonchalantly, taking a sip of his beer.

“You what?” Pope yelled.

“Relax,” JJ said, waving him off. “I didn’t spend all of it. Actually no I did.”

“You bought a hot tub?” Pope’s voice rose in disbelief. “You could’ve paid off your restitution with that money!”

“Or given it to, I don’t know, literally any charity,” Kie added, her arms crossing as she shot JJ a withering glare.

JJ’s grin faltered, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. He waved a dismissive hand, the motion unsteady. “Oh, come on. Why are you guys always so serious? I didn’t do that because I got this for you. For our family.”

“JJ, be serious,” Kie pushed, her tone softening only slightly. “You could’ve gotten out from under Barry, from—”

“From what Kie?” JJ’s voice rose sharply. His expression twisted as he stumbled slightly, his grin fully gone now. “From my crap life? From Luke? What, you want me to donate it well I didn’t do that, alright?” JJ shouted, his voice cracking. “I didn’t pay off my restitution, and I didn’t donate it to some fucking charity. I got a hot tub for my friends—no, fuck that, I got a hot tub for my family! I didn’t get this for me! I got it for us! I got it for us because we deserve to have something good! Just one damn thing that’s ours!”

“JJ,” Y/N’s voice was quiet but insistent. She stepped forward, her heart racing as her eyes caught something beneath the glow of the lights. The bruises were stark against his skin, dark and angry splotches decorating his ribs and stomach. A lump formed in her throat as her mind pieced it together. “What happened?”

“Don’t.” JJ’s voice cracked, his hand shooting up in a defensive gesture. He pointed a trembling finger at her, his eyes glassy and defiant. “Don’t look at me like that. Don’t start with the pity, Y/n. I can’t take it. Not from you.”

Pope and Kie’s eyes followed Y/N’s, their own indignation morphing into concern as they registered the injuries.

“JJ,” Pope started, his voice unusually soft. “What happened? Did he…?”

“Shut up Pope,” JJ snapped, his voice rising. He ran a hand through his damp hair, the motion frantic. “It doesn’t matter, okay? I’m fine. I don’t need a lecture or… or your stupid looks. I need you guys to… to just get in the damn hot tub and be happy for once. Can you do that?”

Y/n’s heart broke as she watched him unravel. Without hesitation, she kicked off her shoes and climbed into the hot tub, the warm water soaking through her clothes instantly. She ignored the discomfort, her focus solely on JJ. She reached out and wrapped her arms around him, her touch gentle but firm.

For a moment, he resisted, his body stiff and unyielding. Then, as if a dam had broken, he collapsed into her embrace. His sobs were muffled against her shoulder, raw and unrestrained. “I can’t do it anymore,” he choked out, “I can’t go back there. I was about to… I was gonna kill him, Y/n. I swear to God, I can’t…”

“It’s okay,” Y/n murmured, running her fingers through his damp hair. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

Kie and Pope exchanged a look, their earlier irritation fully replaced with empathy. Without a word, they climbed into the hot tub, their clothes soaking immediately. They joined the embrace, their arms wrapping around JJ and Y/N. The bubbling water swirled around them as they clung to one another, a cocoon of warmth and solidarity in the cool night air.

JJ’s sobs eventually subsided, his breathing evening out as the comfort of his friends enveloped him. For a long time, none of them spoke, their shared grief and love filling the silence. The string lights swayed gently in the breeze, casting their soft glow over the four figures huddled together, holding on as if the world depended on it.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

Later that night, the Chateau was eerily quiet. Kie and Pope had gone home to give us some space, and John B was at Tannyhill with Sarah. I was sitting cross-legged on JJ's bed, finishing up some homework. The soft scratch of the pen on paper was the only sound until the bathroom door creaked open. I glanced up to see JJ shuffling in, wearing a loose T-shirt and sweats, but the bruises on his ribs were still visible beneath the fabric and his hair a wet, tangled mess.

“C’mere,” I said, setting her notebook aside and patting the edge of the bed and grabbing a hairdryer.

He groaned. “Do we have to?”

I rolled my eyes. “Sit down, Maybank.”

He sighed in defeat and sat down with a slight wince. I plugged the hairdryer in, her movements calm and methodical. I raked my fingers gently through his hair as I dried it, the strands puffing up under the warm air. When I pulled back to look, I couldn’t help but laugh at the golden halo.

“Don’t worry,” I teased. “It’ll calm down by morning.”

He tilted his head back to look at me, his blue eyes soft and filled with something I couldn’t quite name. “Thank you.”

I grinned. “For what? Fixing your hair?” I replied lightly, unplugging the dryer and setting it aside. But when I moved to stand, he reached out, his fingers wrapping around my wrist softly.

“No,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “For always being there for me. Even when I treat you like that.”

I turned to face him fully, holding his face in my hands as he leaned in, closing his eyes. “Of course, JJ. I’ll always be here. But you’ve got to make it easier by trusting me. There’s nothing going on between me and Gray. You don’t need to doubt that.”

He nodded, guilt flashing across his face. “I know. I’m sorry, baby. I won’t doubt you again.”

“Good.” I kissed his forehead. “Now, let’s get some sleep.”

We curled up together on the bed, his arms tight around me. As his breathing slowed, he whispered, “I don’t want to go back to that house.” His voice cracked, and I felt my heart break all over again.

“You don’t have to, J,” I promised. “You can stay with me at Tannyhill or here with John B. Wherever you want.”

He pressed a kiss to my temple. “What would I do without you?”

I smiled, brushing my fingers through his hair. “Probably punching people in their throats.”

JJ let out a quiet laugh, the sound warm and genuine despite everything. He pulled back slightly, just enough to press a soft kiss to my lips. It was gentle, a silent thank you that words couldn’t fully express. When we broke apart, he nestled into the crook of my neck, his breath warm against my skin.

Y/n ran her fingers through his now fluffy hair, the scent of coconut and vanilla from her shampoo still lingering. As his breathing slowed and evened out, signalling that he’d fallen asleep, she gazed at him with all the love in her heart. Gently, she kissed the top of his head and whispered into the stillness of the room, “I love you, J.”

Her words hung in the air, unacknowledged but deeply true. She tightened her hold on him, determined to shield him from the world, if only for a little while longer.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

part seven done!!

and friday is taking so long to come, ive got a shit ton of homework and my philosophy teacher hasnt been in or set work online for 2 months so im defo failing mocks in february💖💖

taglist: @harryssideboobz @onelonelybitch @jeyramarie @snowtargaryen

61 notes · View notes

hotteoki · 2 years ago

Text

boyfriend skz things - happy 1k followers!

notes: this was long overdue so i rushed it a bit, but thank you everyone so so much for 1k! here’s a lil celebration that was not proofread 😭

chan (방찬) - flirting

despite being in a long-term relationship with him, chan will never stop complimenting you, opening doors for you, spoiling you with gifts etc. it’s so frequent to the point where the others have long given up on making fun of him, opting for a simultaneous groan whenever the both of you share any type of interaction.

just as chan was about to lean in to kiss you, jisung interrupted from beside you, “the parents are at it again!” this created a trend for everyone to follow, screaming a few “get a room!”s or “not again!”s. chan pursed his lips, “i really look forward to the day i move out.” you laughed, “you don’t mean that.” “no i really do.”

minho (민호) - sending filter videos

it was very well known that minho is an avid filter user, using sending random videos to stays on bubble and laughing about them. little did anyone know, the amount of videos or pictures minho posts online were only 1/5th of how many he sends you. without even counting them, you could confidently say that 90% of your gallery was him with some ridiculous filter.

"min, stop sending me stuff, my storage is running out because of you." minho blinked at you slowly, before turning his attention back to his phone, ironically already filming a video with him as a bumblebee, "no." you laughed, "what do you mean, no? i quite literally have more pictures of you than me on my phone-" "good."

changbin (창빈) - reminding you to drink water

knowing how much changbin cares about his health, it was safe to assume that he would care just as much about yours. before he began dedicating his time in the gym, it was always you reminding him to stay hydrated. changbin used to be the most forgetful person ever, and would always be too busy working to drink water. however, after you switched jobs, you were often too stressed to eat or drink at all. thank your lucky stars that changbin is basically a walking alarm.

a glass of water was wordlessly placed beside your laptop on the desk. "binnie, i just drank some literally 5 minutes ago," you looked up from your screen to meet his stern eyes. "no, you drank a sip of my water over an hour ago," changbin crossed his arms, staring pointedly at the clock. you knew he wasn't going to budge until you finished every last drop of that glass, so you complied, downing the water. it was only then did he smile proudly, kissing your forehead quickly before leaving to wash the glass.

hyunjin (현진) - drawing

everyone knows how much hyunjin loves art, most of the pieces he posts on instagram were of flowers, or sceneries. however, he has a notebook that is dedicated to his drawings of you. he knows how you aren't confident in yourself most of the time, but he's determined to prove you wrong. whenever you were with him, hyunjin would always have his notebook and pencil in hand, ready to sketch you.

"what are you always drawing?" "hm?" hyunjin hummed, gaze still fixating on his pages. "i mean, you're always drawing something, can i see what it is?" his cheeks turned slightly pink from your attention, "i'll show you when i'm finished." "but you work on a new piece every time?" hyunjin paused, thinking of a reply to that, "i'll show you the entire book when i'm done. i have around 11 pages left or so anyway." you nodded, satisfied with that answer. hyunjin smiled to himself before continuing his work on your eyes, he always thought they were the prettiest he'd ever seen.

jisung (지성) - petting

it started off as a subconscious movement, you were pretty certain jisung hadn’t even realised doing it until you asked him why he was stroking your arm out of nowhere. he responded with a blush, moving away before you could stop him. it was when it happened again that you told him you found it adorable, and that was also when jisung kissed you for the first time.

“i never got to ask you,” you said, nudging jisung's foot with yours, earning a hum from him. “why do you always pet me?” the hand that was caressing your thigh halted, before continuing as jisung thought of an answer, “i don’t know. i think i just got used to petting bbama, and now i pet you.” you kissed his cheek lightly, smiling against his skin, “fair enough.”

felix (용복) - baking

it was regular for felix to bake a batch of brownies for the members and staff, and usually they would all be devoured before you could even get your hands on one of them, which is why felix would always bake a smaller batch reserved just for you. sometimes they would have chocolate chips in them, or m&ms, whatever you were craving, they would probably be put in the brownies.

"yah, felix, do you have any more brownies?" minho yelled from across the room. "no, sorry, that was all!" felix called back. "what do you mean? you literally have a box of them right there?" jeongin pointed out. felix immediately reacted, extending his arm until it was out of jeongin's reach, "they're not yours." "they're mine!" you added in, walking over to felix and taking the box from him, kissing his cheek as a thank you. "ugh, not in here," minho recoiled.

seungmin (승민) - taking pictures

much like hyunjin, he's an avid believer of capturing the moment. seungmin carries a film camera with him at all times, knowing that if he used a regular camera, you would ask to see the picture and instantly ask him to delete it. by using a film camera, you wouldn't be able to see the picture, and seungmin would be able to print them out without your knowing, and pocket them in his wallet.

"when did you take this?" you indicated at the picture of you in his wallet, you swore you've never seen that picture before. "a while ago," seungmin shrugged, taking his wallet from your hands. "do you just take pictures of me out of nowhere?" you laughed. "yeah, all the time. i thought you knew that." you blinked, "i did not." "well now you do."

jeongin (정인) - letting you wear his rings

jeongin's usually very reluctant about letting other people borrow his things, but when he saw you trying on some of his rings, he knew he would let you have anything you wanted that belonged to him. it wasn't even a possessive thing, he simply thought that it warmed his heart to know that you loved him so much you would wear a reminder of him every day.

"hey, can i borrow this for tonight? it goes with my outfit." without even looking up from his phone, jeongin nodded, "sure." "innie, you're not even looking," you stated teasingly. he smiled, "i don't need to. you can keep whatever you want." you gaped, "really?" jeongin switched his phone off, beaming at you, "yeah. what's mine is yours. not my clothes though, i need them for my ootds."

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