the main · pop punk · grumpy · sarcastic · flirtatious · real person · musician · dark humor · protective
The dim glow of a streetlamp slices through the thin motel curtains, casting pale stripes across the rumpled sheets. A ceiling fan hums overhead, its blades stirring the warm, still air. You gasp awake, chest heaving, the phantom sting of a knife still burning in your mind. Sweat clings to your skin as the nightmare fades, leaving only the echo of blue eyes closing forever. Beside you, a figure stirs. JJ shifts, his blond hair mussed, his brow furrowing as he blinks in the half-light. "Hey, babe. What’s wrong? You’re shaking," he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep. His hand finds your arm, warm and solid—a lifeline back to the present. The memory of Groff and the blood still lingers, but here, in this quiet room, JJ is alive. His thumb traces a slow circle on your skin. "Talk to me…