#or making conversation with who was around him at the time

[marvelslut16]

Robby's Biological Clock

Pairing: Dr. Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x resident!reader

Synopsis: Robby opens up to the reader that he realizes that he wants a child after finding out that he almost had one.

Word count: 2k+

Warnings: Mentions of abortion. Standing a little to close to the edge of a roof. My poor writing, felt cute might delete later.

A/N: The writing bug has bitten me yet again. And I have another Langdon one half done already. Wrote this over the course of 2 days and I didn't proof read it, so I really hope it makes sense!

You keep your eyes trained on Robby after he passes his caseload off to Abbot, you’ve kept an eye on him for the last few hours really. Something shifted in him a few hours ago, and he went from his stern but friendly self to closed off and distant. With everybody. You’ve been watching, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for him to snap completely. Or have a breakdown.

You watch as Robby slips out a side door into the stairwell, and you know right away where he’s going. You’d never seen it with your own eyes, but it was a poorly kept secret in the ED that after a long grueling shift either Abbot or Robby would go up to the roof and the other would talk them down. Everyone who knew, knew they wouldn’t actually jump, it was just a release for them. 

This time you can’t ignore Robby’s obvious distress, watching Abbot get dragged into South eight by one of his residents for a consult, you make up your mind to follow Robby. Up and up and up the stairs you go, until the wind is rushing past your face. Taking a deep breath, you let the cooler air wash over you after a long shift, and a part of you understands why your two favorite attendings come up here. 

“I don’t want to talk tonight, Jack,” Robby’s voice floats to you with the wind at the sound of the door shutting, never bothering to turn around.

“It’s a good thing I’m not Jack then,” you walk over to the railing, looking at the sunset, not at your attending. 

“(Y/L/N), what are you doing up here?” Robby turns around at your voice, and you reach out your hand a little for him to grab if he needs to be steadied.

“Thought you could use someone to talk to, you’ve been off the past few hours,” he sighs at your words, and turns back to the sunset. “Can you at least come back on this side of the railing? Please?”

“I’m fine,” he ignores your plea, and your offer to listen to him, leaning back against the railing.You stand in silence with him for two minutes- you counted- before deciding to do something you have absolutely no interest in and, frankly, scares the shit out of you. Hiking one leg up, you swing it over the railing and slip to the other side beside Robby.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he whips his arm out in front of you to keep you from slipping or stepping too close to the edge. 

“The same thing you are,” you sass at him against your better judgement. 

“So if I jumped off a bridge you’d do it too?” he matches your sass, sounding just like your mom when she would talk about the dangers of peer pressure.  

“No, I’d be waiting at the bottom for your dumb ass so I could save you,” your voice is harsh, wanting to nip any conversation where he could possibly die in the bud. “So…”

“So?” he mimics your voice causing you to roll your eyes at him.

“Are you going to tell me what's wrong?” you shift slightly to face Robby, back to the pink hues of the sunset.

“I found something out today,” he pauses, sighs, and rubs his forehead. “My world got turned upside down.”

“You aren’t dying, are you?” you tried, and failed to keep your voice neutral, fear lacing every word.

No,” he leans forward, and you clutch onto his arm desperately to make sure he doesn’t go tumbling if there’s a strong gust of wind. “Nothing like that.”

“Do you have a secret kid, or something?” you tease, and by the way his lips pull down into a frown, you know you’ve struck a little too close to home. “I’m sorry, I was just joking.”

“It’s fine,” his voice is gruff, but his soulful brown eyes give away that he is in fact, not fine. “Today a woman I used to date admitted that while we were together she became pregnant, and made the decision to terminate the pregnancy.”

“Robby-” he stops you before you can start pitying him.

“It really is fine. I understand. It was her decision and I support that, I would have supported her decision in the moment, too. But now I can’t stop imagining what my life would be like if I had a child,” he glances at your face, before looking back over your shoulder at the descending sun. “I love Jake like he’s my own, but any day now he could decide he wants nothing to do with me, and never talk to me again. For years I put off the idea of having kids, I didn’t want the burden while I was still in medical school, then I was focused on advancing my career, then I met Janey and she had Jake, and with Jake I felt like I didn’t need my own children.”

“But now you feel like you do?” you ask cautiously, surprised that by talking he’ll remember you’re here and clam up.

“I have to have a child soon if I want to see them grow up and see them off to college, my biological clock is ticking,” he tries to ease the tension with a stupid joke. “Since I found out this afternoon, all I’ve been thinking about is how I’d have a toddler now, I’d be taking my child for their first day of kindergarten, I could be signing them up for dance class or little league. I would actually take days off to take them on vacations, and go to waterparks, and fairs.”

“Well when you’re ready and announce to the world that the great Michael Robinavitch is ready to have children, there will be a line of women at least two blocks long offering up their ovaries for you. I’ll have to fight them off and keep them out of the ED so we can still treat patients.”

“You’re more confident than I am,” he locks eyes with you, finally. 

“Oh please, you’re kind, caring, funny when you want to be, and you have fantastic genetics!” you don’t know what you’re thinking, you aren’t thinking really, and reach out to brush your fingers lightly through his salt and pepper hair. “You still have a good head of hair, and gorgeous brown eyes that would look so adorable passed down to a baby. You’re going to be a fantastic dad someday soon, Michael.”

The door to the stairwell creaks open, both you and Robby jolt out of the little moment you’re having. You wobble a little and Robby practically throws himself at you to catch you and keep you upright. 

“I’m okay,” you whisper, face closer to his than it’s ever been before. You could just lean in two more inches and your lips would be on his. But you can’t do that, you can’t take advantage of him and his vulnerability he’s shown you tonight on the roof, and especially not when someone else has joined you two. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Jack barks out a laugh from the doorway. 

“Nope,” your voice cracks, and you carefully step away from Robby this time.

“Just trying to keep (Y/L/N) from falling,” Michael answers at the same time.

You thought the stairwell door opening was jarring, but nothing matches the cold feeling of reality washing over you at the use of your last name. It’s not like you expected him to fall to his knees and beg you to give him a child, but you at least thought after bearing his soul to you Robby could call you by your first name in front of other people, especially his best friend.

“Well I won’t take up anymore of your boyfriend's time,” you try to cut the tension, but it’s so thick you can’t even hack away at it.

“Myrna calls us the same thing,” Dr. Abbot shakes his head and offers you his hand.

“Thank you,” you smile at your second favorite attending as he helps you climb back over the railing. 

~

Everyone you worked with in the Pitt knew that you were having a tough time deciding if you wanted to be an ED attending or go into pediatrics once you graduate. You’ve always had a soft spot for kids, and they seem to always be attached to you, no matter how shy they were when they walked or were rolled through the doors. And that’s why Dana always makes sure you take the cases involving children. Today for instance, there’s a two year old back in the ER for the third time in just as many months because her fevers keep spiking and causing her to have seizures. 

Robby watches you with the girl, Eliana, you recognized her right away from her last few visits. He watches the way you crouch down to her height when she wants to ask you a question, making sure that you’re eye level with her. Watches the way you pull a dumdum out of your scrub pocket, you always have some in there in case a little comes in. The way you effortlessly scoop her into your arms to get her to stay still long enough to check to see if she bit her tongue or cheek too hard. 

Today you’ve promised Eliana that you’ll stay after your shift and sit with her until her parents arrive, both were at work when Eliana had her seizure at daycare. When Robby looks back over at you, you're curled up on a chair that he brought into the bay just for you, and Eliana is sitting daintily on your lap, both of you engrossed in the picture book Cassie’s son left in the break room a few years ago. If he strains his ears just enough, he can hear the different voices you give each character.

“Dude, you’re obviously in love with her,” Jack appears out of nowhere, waiting for Robby to hand off his cases.  Michael scoffs in denial, but his words are cut off, “even Gloria is betting on you guys.”

“Probably so she can send me to HR and fire me for dating a subordinate,” Robby pushes his readers back up, going back to the chart he was pretending to update while he stared at you.

“She won’t be a student anymore in one month man, I hate to break it to you, no one cares that you're her attending. Just you,” Jack sighs at his friend's stupidity. “So stop trying to come up with excuses for why you can’t go for it. I saw you two on the roof, the tension was palpable.”

“What are you, some kind of walking romance novel?” Robby puts his tablet down, the guise of updating a patient's chart long forgotten. 

“I’m just saying, if I had a woman as caring and as gorgeous as her offering to carry my babies, I would jump at the opportunity,” Jack throws his hands up in surrender at the glare Michael is sending his way. 

“How long were you out there?” 

An hour later you can finally leave, Eliana’s parents arrive with apologies, their eternal gratitude, and promises of them stopping by with donuts in the morning for the whole crew. Slowly, you trudge to your locker, doing mental math to figure how much longer it’ll be until you can slip into bed after a nice, long, steaming, shower. 

“Do you want kids?” Dr. Robby corners you by your locker, you thought he had left over an hour ago when his shift ended. 

“I’d have one in nine months if I found the right guy,” you refrain from swearing at his sudden appearance. “Why? Do you know a guy?” 

“I do,” Robby nods, backing you up into said locker. “With your nose and his gorgeous brown eyes, you two would have the cutest baby around.”

“You think?” your body relaxes into his when he rests hand on your hip, thumb sliding under your scrub top. 

“Most definitely,” he whispers, breath skimming across lips.

“Well Dr. Robby, your biological clock is ticking, we should probably get started now,” you laugh as he fumbles to open your locker, having given him the code over a year ago so he could grab you your cardigan when he grabbed his sweatshirt. He rips your purse out of the locker, grabs your hand and drags you out of the hospital. 

[joshujin]

smile, s.coups

you take a photo with rapper s.coups at the met gala.

1.5k words • masterlist • submit a request pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader cw: none

the met gala isn't something you particularly enjoy attending, but every year, without fail, you're told you're invited and yes, you are going and no, as reigning "princess of the met," we cannot debate this. it's the trade-off for doing what you love and being who you are: no longer having a say and simply going where you're told to go, doing what you're told to do.

you honestly blame this on kwon soonyoung. he's been styling you since your popularity really started taking off, and when you got invited to your first met, it was his art that made you a viral topic for weeks on end. your name was everywhere. you couldn't give an interview without someone mentioning your met gala appearance. your third album released a few weeks later and thanks to the attention already on you, it nabbed you your first grammy nomination—and win.

and from there, for the last six years now, you haven't been able to escape this godforsaken party. and all because stupid soonyoung was just a tad bit too good at his job.

you don't want to sound ungrateful; you know being the topic of conversation at an event as big as this one year after year has opened a lot of doors for you—opportunities served to you on a platinum platter. but being at the met gala felt dystopian to you sometimes.

the blinding flashes, the demanding, almost primal screams of your name, the hundreds of thousands of dollars spent to throw the event, then the hundreds more spent on the fashion to attend.

it's a lot and it's not something you ever thought would be a priority when you first started creating music. but here you are, in line to walk the carpet with countless celebrities you still can't believe you are looped in with annually.

the nerves always make you near-despondent in the hours leading up to the event. you hardly talk to the staff that accompanies you—your assistant, manager, and soonyoung—you try not to make eye contact with anyone because you don't want to socialize until you're away from the carpet and away from the photographers, and you try to breathe slowly and deeply in a pathetically weak attempt to calm your heart down.

you fidget for the millionth time, and soonyoung adjusts whatever you fidgeted out of place for the millionth time.

"this is your sixth year," he murmurs gently as his eyes slowly and deliberately sweep up and down your body. you'd accuse him of checking you out if you didn't know that he was just admiring his own work. "this isn't anything you haven't already conquered. you're going to be great."

you give him the tiniest nod and he smiles, resting his hand on your arm briefly before stepping away. it's almost your turn. you raise your eyes and find yourself staring at grey hair. there's something familiar about his stature as the stranger steps forward, immediately welcomed with a wall of roars. it's as disorienting as it always is, but you catch his name early on.

"s.coups!" the name continuously echoes across the carpet.

"s.coups? the rapper?" you ask, looking over at your team, waiting for any one of them to answer. it's your assistant who does.

"yes, he's the ambassador for boss and it's his first time at the met," she steps up and recites it like it's memorized information.

no one ever asks her to, but she studies everyone on the guest list every year like she's in the devil wears prada. however ridiculous, you have to admit it is useful.

"huh," you say more to yourself than anyone.

you were familiar with the rapper and his work. you had even played around with the thought of reaching out to get him on a song, but the idea just never came to fruition. you've been too busy to do much of anything, let alone follow his career, but if the screams are any indication, the man's popularity has substantially grown since you first discovered his music.

it's a cacophony of his name, requests to turn, questions about his outfit, demands for a certain pose. your ear drums rattle at the noise. you're overstimulated. more than anything, you're impressed.

he moves forward to the next spot he's directed to, and you know that means it's your turn.

soonyoung hurriedly prepares your dress to fall the way he wants it to fall, to float where he wants it to float, to stun the world the way he always does. then, staff is waving you to your marker, and you comply, stepping forward.

the crowd gets impossibly louder, and you do your best not to flinch. you see s.coups freeze a little at the sudden increase in noise, and as you walk up to the marker, he turns around, eyebrows raised in curiosity at who could inspire this reaction. when his eyes land on you, it's clear he knows exactly who you are. his eyebrows settle as his lips curve into a warm and knowing smile that reaches up into his eyes.

for the first time in six years, everything is quiet on the carpet. for the first time, you're thankful for the flashes because it allows you to better see s.coups's face. his eyes. his insanely cherry red lips. for the first time, you're not thinking about how much you hate this part of your job or how badly you want to go back to your hotel room or if you'll make a fool of yourself trying to socialize inside.

all your brain can process is the rapper standing in front of you.

it all comes barreling back—the screams, the demands, the nervousness—when you feel soonyoung gently shove the small of your back with a tiny: "what the hell are you doing?"

"oh, sorry," you breathe as you take the last few steps to the tape on the floor.

you make sure you're standing where you need to be and when you look back up, his eyes are still on you, so you return his smile with a small one of yours. his becomes even wider. he turns back to the crowd of photographers, and you both pose for a few moments before the staff is ushering him to the next marker, and you to his current spot.

before he walks to where he's being asked to go, he grins at the photographers and shouts, "i know what you all are really waiting for!" and he makes a show of bowing away from the spot as you walk forward.

you can't help the amused giggle that escapes you, and even with all the sound, he seems to hear it because he looks up and smiles sweetly. you think he's done, but he suddenly offers his hand. and when you take it, not sure of where this is going, he escorts you to the space he was just standing in.

you kind of hope he'll kiss your hand too. that maybe it will leave remnants of his gloss on your skin and you can convince yourself he's real. but he doesn't, simply bowing his head infinitesimally before letting go and following the staff to his next spot.

but the photographers don't let you two get away with that. only a second or so passes before they're screaming at you two to take a photo together. you both try to ignore them at first, but they shout nothing else at you other than: "together! together!"

you sneak a look at s.coups to see that he's doing the same to you, making you both laugh. he tilts his head in question, and without answering, you walk over to meet in the middle. you expect to take the photo side by side, arms politely around each other's shoulders. maybe even just posing together with an awkward distance between.

instead, s.coups has his hands on your waist and guides you to be just a small step in front of him. he lets his left hand rest on your waist, his right slipping into the pocket of his pants. you're thankful that soonyoung's look required an insane amount of blush around your temples and eyes because your face feels like it's on fire.

he looks down at you once you're both positioned and he smiles. "this okay?" he asks quietly.

you nod. "yeah." you're not even sure if he can hear you. you can't force yourself to speak any louder. "it's okay."

he smiles. "good. can't have the princess of the met covered by a nobody like me."

you scoff. "you're definitely not a nobody."

"oh?" he tilts his head again, bits of grey hair falling into his eyes when he does. "and what makes you say that?"

"if you were a nobody, how would the princess of the met know you well enough to know she wants you on a track with her?"

his lips fall open in quiet shock, and you smirk and pat the hand that's resting on your waist.

"smile for the cameras, s.coups."

you don’t bother to wait and see the expression on his face when you reveal you know his stage name. you feel a little more in your element, turning back to the flashes just as a photographer shouts: "OKAY FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, CAN YOU TWO PLEASE LOOK AT US NOW?!"

a/n: short and sweet. just felt like writing something while i was streaming this stupid event waiting for seungcheol hehe. it ended up being for nothing bc i completely missed him (or the vogue stream didn't show him, i still don't know). edit: the vogue stream didn’t show him. RAGGEDY BITCH BEHAVIOR!!!! anyway, they definitely bang in some isolated bathroom in the museum far away from the party, but i didn't feel like torturing my single brain cell to produce smut today lmao

[vanilleandclove]

playoffs; jack abbot x f!trauma surgeon!reader

pittsburgh has a vibrant pub scene, being of true east coast fashion. when it’s playoff season for the steelers, that can only lead to bar brawls and broken tooths, most times. sometimes it’s bloody knuckles and misogynists. + as jack’s 49th birthday is around the corner, you book him a solo-vacation. 

warnings: violence, harassment towards women, misogyny, alcohol consumption, language, comments on body image/weight by others, talks of the menstrual cycle, trauma induced infertility, postpartum depression symptoms mentioned (non-reader), age gap: reader is 33, jack is 48. word count: 4.7k notes: these are based on two different anon requests! i merged the ideas :) — anon transcript at the end. cenote = natural watering/sinkhole, i’m from the bajío lands of mexico, michoacan to be exact- my family is purely purépecha, and have only been to a cenote twice once in michoacan & cancun. 

Winter dawned onto Pittsburgh with an iron fist, near subzero temperatures, black ice, alcohol flowing into everyone to keep their blood warm, tree lighting ceremony, and most importantly, the Steelers made the playoffs. 

It became a tradition for the Pitt’s senior employees to pass the grunt work off to anyone R3 and under for the night shift and have the new attendings run the emergency room, all to gather around and watch the first game of playoff season. 

You and Heather stood at the bar, patiently waiting for the bartender to serve the three pitchers of beer. She knew you both were regulars, you thank the entirety of 2015 and 2021 when you had Abbot troubles and she had Robby issues, all around, it made for good conversation and excessive gratuity. 

It was crowded, gross, and musty. You almost wanted to scream “Go Pac, go!” just for the shoulders of the blue collared men to stop piercing into your spine. 

“I’ll get you ladies next, as well as those fancy cherries you like hon” Sara pointed at you as she walked into the back to grab the pitchers. You loved maraschino cherries, mostly because you wanted to prove you could tie the stems with your tongue to Jack who doesn’t believe you. 

“I thought boarding was worse, Sara must be swamped” Heather spoke up, yelling a tad from the loud noise around you both that could drown out her words. 

“I know her paycheck is fat during this time of the year” you shouted back, resting your hands onto the bar, glancing down at your engagement ring. 

It's been a long year with Jack, you couldn’t wait for it to be over with just so you have the false sense of a new era starting with your lover; it made for good motivation. 10 years he’s been in your life, a decade, now that made your lower back feel as stiff as a board. 

“Care to explain why we were left out of this?” Dana scooted between both of you, Bridget already occupying the extra chair you brought out for the booth. Dana’s husband was bulky and tall, like a lumberjack- pure midwest, he beelined his way to the bathroom as Dana conversed with you and Heathers

“Since when did you let the girls out to play?” you commented, giving her a hug with your outside arm, it’s been awhile since you’ve had day shift so seeing Dana was sparse. 

“Honey it’s date night, my kids are fast asleep with my eldest babysitting, the girls get to come out” she responded, giving Heather a hug before making her way to the booth. 

You smiled as it filled you with hope. Despite all of the years, kids, stressful jobs Dana and her husband had, they still had time for themselves.

“Can I buy you ladies a drink?” a stranger's voice peeked through, you could smell the alcohol seeping from his pores, his T.J. Watt jersey stained.

“No we’re good, thank you” you responded faster than you could think. 

“Really not even one?” his voice was nasally, grosser than the fact that his hot breath was directly in your face, “Could make y’all have a good time” he got a little too close to your ear. 

Jack made you carry a Swiss Army Knife- specifically the Swiss Champ on you at all times, he even gave you a 30 minute lecture on how to use it, even though you were mainly concentrating on his biceps and triceps flexing at the movement. He clipped them to your car keys, when you wore your jeans he put them on a carabiner with your keys and clipped them onto the belt loop.

“What about you darling? Want a drink with me, I know the perfect way to do jell-o shots, start at the cli-“.

“Okay, I already told you no, just go dude” you cut him off, sensing Heather’s uncomfortably from behind you, “Seriously you reek” you didn’t care for the fact that he towered over you, if he was bulky and the fist he started to make could land you in a worst spot than Dana in August. 

“You have no say for your friend missy” he pressed, anchoring his next to be at eye level to you. In your peripheral, you saw Jack straighten his back, sticking one leg out of the booth, ready for anything if you needed him. “Who knows, maybe I could take both of you”.

You made sure Heather was behind you, beginning to shield her with your arm slightly just so he wouldn’t fully register. “I bet your pussy is tight, soaking from all the attention you’re getting”. 

Within seconds you clocked his jaw, the act leading him to push you by the chest into Heather hard, getting the wind knocked into. Jack and Robby immediately got up and made their way in between you, just before you pounced onto him to throw another punch directly to his nose, the punch only making him more angry to the point where the punch that was supposed to land on your abdomen missed as Robby shoved him and led the punch to land directly on Jack’s arm that shielded your chest. 

You felt the blow nonetheless, cushioned, you still heard a groan leave Jack’s mouth. Just as Jaime, the bouncer, put the man in a citizen's arrest and quickly threw him out, Sara didn’t charge you for the pitchers or cherries, even threw in espresso martinis for you and the girls.

You all sat around the booth, Bridget in the chair, watching the Steelers versus the Packers, it was barely the second quarter. “How’s your arm?” you nudged your elbow lightly into Jack’s waist as his arm draped over your shoulders, holding your free hand and playing with your engagement ring.

“It’s fine, nice punch” Jack complimented, gaining a peck from you in response, “What even happened?”.

“You don’t wanna know” you responded, his eyes not leaving yours. He took your word for it even if it did bother him of not knowing. 

“So Rambo, I guess we should add Rocky onto your list of nicknames” Robby joked, his arm draped around Heather’s shoulder. 

You chuckled, taking a sip of Jack’s beer that you swore always tasted better, “I ain’t from Philly Robby” you deadpanned sarcastically.

“What about Rocky Marciano? He's a pure Masshole” Dana’s husband budded in smoothly. 

You nodded, “Brockton ain’t Boston” you shrugged, refusing to have another nickname of a Sylvester Stallone character, “On the other hand, we could go has Rocky and Adrian for Halloween next year” you added looking at Jack.

“I’m not putting on a red beret”.

“You’re breaking my heart Adrian” you feigned a Stallone voice only for Jack to shut you up with a kiss. 

“Do you guys have a date set?” Bridget popped the question everyone was dying to ask for the past two months since he proposed in October- after three back to back surgeries and while you were eating pizza from the same place your old apartment was next to.

You half-loathed the memory as your hair was greasy and disheveled, the makeup you had on was haphazardly wiped off with the spare makeup wipes you left in your glove compartment, your reading glasses on, and you had just pounded down a Dr. Pepper and needed to burp. 

“Not yet, I’d get married to her in the damn courthouse tomorrow but this one’s insistent on a ‘longer engagement’” he mimicked you. 

You sighed, “I want to get married in Nantucket- or Rhode Island, heaven forbid I want both our families there except his brother” you breathed the last part.

“What’s wrong with Abbot’s brother?” Heather inquired, Dana nodding as she wanted to know as well.

“You wanna tell them about Thanksgiving or do I?” you pressed, looking back to Jack.

He exhaled, “My brother made a comment on her ass- told her she must be pregnant ‘cuz her hips were wider than normal”.

“Not just that!” you added on, “He told Jack’s mom only for her to touch my stomach and ask if it was a boy or girl, it was a complete hazing ritual!” you laughed as you recalled the memory.

You did take a pregnancy test that night, only for it to be negative. Jack did assure you it’s probably just your ovulation coming, he had a bad- well good habit of knowing your cycle just by your body. 

During follicular, your nipples would darken, skin become a bit firmer than usual and you felt at ease from the in between of your period to ovulation. Luteal, especially the few days leading up to your period, you craved salt, and sex- a mix of the two and you’d have him laying down as you sucked him dry, you were insatiable during the time, your breasts heavier. Your period came during the night most times, so you’d wear a pad just in case the day before, sometimes you’d beat the hormones and start first thing in the morning, he noticed your hair would dry faster after the shower and you’d sleep more peacefully with his hand right onto your bare lower stomach. Ovulation sent him on a frenzy, truth be told he didn’t care about where in your cycle you were, if you wanted him, you had him. Your breasts were fuller, you felt more energized and sure enough, your hips widened. 

“Yikes” Robby broke the silence as they all digested what was told, “So, Nantucket?”.

“He wants Martha’s Vineyard but even for both of our salaries and older families, all that accommodation may just send us straight to the gutter” you elaborated, “Should’ve gotten married when I was 30 and we weren’t on the verge of a recession” you joked. 

“Just for that, no wedding ‘til you’re forty”.

“Speaking of big birthdays, what y'all doing for your 50th?” Dana smiled and nodded towards Jack.

“Nasty sex and barbecue?” you joked, Jack pointed at you just as he was about to speak up.

“And that is why I’m marrying her” Jack laughed, “It’s in a year, we’ll figure it out”.

The Steelers ending up advancing in the playoffs, you did eventually prove to Jack the cherry tie, only under a different roof. The next day, you all were swamped during the night shift as it approached 10 pm. 

You couldn’t lie, the engagement led you to be far more touchy. At any given moment, you wanted your hands on Jack. 

“40 year old male, TMGSW, he was stable upon arrival but during transport he kept crashing, gave him 50 of fent” the EMT ran over, it was an odd night to be running the trauma rooms.

Jack loved seeing you work, technically, you were his boss after Greene handed over the trauma department to you. He got a kick out of it as he claimed it made him a trophy husband. 

As the EMTs left, you and Ellis took over as you did an exam, only to realize his blood wasn’t circulating to his legs. “Blood flows unstable, can you call and see if there’s an OR available?”.

“They’re all filled, three with general, four with peds, I think a couple are ortho” an intern responded, only gaining a ‘tsk from you. Gloria gave a briefing to the surgical department earlier this week on maintenance in the operating rooms, leading for several of them to be closed.

“Fuck it, gown me, authorized personnel only, Parker you with me on this?” you shook your head.

“Want me to get Abbot?” she clarified as the nurses gowned and gloved both of you. 

“No- I need all the interns and med students to go to Doctor Abbot or Bridget, they’ll place you on a different case” you announced, clearing the room. “Have you ever seen a thoracotomy?” you asked.

“You and Abbot did one together my intern year,” Parker responded. 

“Good, so you know I’m not bullshitting” you replied, “I need a surgical tray and rib spreader”.

It took 30 minutes for you and Parker to complete the patient’s thoracotomy, never before have you seen her that intrigued. She held a heart in her hands- a beating heart.

“Excellent work Doctor Ellis” you told her, removed your gown and gloves as you sent the man to the ICU for observation and comfortability, you forced them to give him a bed. 

“I don’t know who’s more badass, you or Abbot”.

“He’s got the combat medic thing to bring to the table, I have the magic hands” you joked, dismissing her to do her own work as you met up with Jack at the nurse’s station.

“Your future wife just did a thoracotomy successfully with Ellis” you lightly bragged, your hand finding its way to his bicep, giving it a squeeze. Jack smirked, removing his eyes from the charts. 

“You know our shift isn’t over until 7 right?” he teased.

“I’m on an adrenaline high, sorry for being so needy for my insanely sexy fiance” you breathed, only to hear the beloved voice of none other than Myrna.

“I hear congratulations are in order for the happy couple!” you both haven't seen Myrna since before the engagement, she usually spends her times with the day shift.

“Not married yet Myrna, he’s still all yours” you responded to her, your hand finding itself resting on his forearm as he continued to chart. 

“Honey, lock him down, there’s patients all over the place ready to take him” she smiled at you, “If you guys have a daughter what will her name be?”.

“Haven’t decided yet Myrna” Jack intervened, “Might just have to get those baby name books from the gift shop” he looked into your eyes as he said the last part. 

Myrna wheeled off, leaving you two to yourselves. Jack was still doing yours and his charts which he seldomly enjoyed, took the heat off him while it could. Your hand caressed up and down his forearm, a bruise was forming on where the punch landed.

“How’s the arm baby?” you whispered to him.

“Fine, a little sore, nothing I haven’t felt” he told you, “You know you’ve gotten exceptionally clingy” he added, only for you to remove your hand when you noticed, “It’s not a bad thing, the amount of years I resisted, I’m surprised I haven’t taken you in a spare room”.

“I don’t know… It just feels good” you confessed, “You’re all mine and I got something tangible to prove it”.

“Me being around all the time wasn’t tangible enough? Or the nurses gossiping about our dirty talk that’s enough for a HR complaint if this department was anyway normal?” he quirked a brow.

“Give me your children and we’ll have another tangible thing” you teased.

“Playing with fire Doctor L/n” he responded.

“Oh you love it Doctor Abbot”.

Since August you and Jack had some instances where you thought you were pregnant, ever since Heather told you about her miscarriage, you refused to see a fertility doctor until you’ve run out of every possible option. However, your gynecologist said you were in good shape fertility wise, she made the claim that the more you expect it, the less chance it’ll happen.

Nevertheless, Jack got his labs done, perfectly normal, if anything, his sperm count was high. His therapist was shocked when he brought it up last session, thinking the trauma of his job and past were enough to shock his nerves and stunt fertility. Maybe it was all just timing.

Until Jack got even more panels done, only to reveal that his therapist was correct, he was the problem. Not having the heart to tell you, he saved it for a better day to come, hoping it was all temporary. 

The shift continued on, bar brawls and black ice, in true Pittsburgh fashion during football season. He drove you both home, seeing you dozed off in the passenger seat, he loved the days he worked with you. 

Jack enjoyed carrying you, though his back would hate him for it later, came with the job description. Your bags on both sides of him and you asleep in his arms as he made his way to the bedroom.

You groaned upon him sitting you down on the living chair. Remembering the one nonnegotiable rule.

Never take work to bed- physically and metaphorically speaking. He took your scrubs off, almost ready to give you a sponge bath because you gained clarity and consciousness. You did the rest, after extensive nights, you both settled for showering together, he washed you, you washed him. He gripped onto the support bar and you, it was a routine. He loved it. Gave him a chance to feel you all alone, he loved sex with you, just as much as he loved being nonsexually intimate with you.

The man would cut your toenails if asked, when you get sick once a year he’d gladly discard the tissues filled with snot, and didn't mind a single thing about living life with you. 

As he brushed his teeth while sitting on the stool, you took it upon yourself to massage his shoulders. 

“You know when you get lab work done it gets sent to my work email?” you brought up, kneading the knots in his shoulders as your comment made him anxious. He chose to remain silent and you understood, “Baby” you honestly didn't know about the labwork until you had to contact a patient to see if she could come in for a follow up.

He spat out the toothpaste, feeling your sensitivity towards him, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath before finally choosing to speak. “It could be temporary, maybe I just need to lower my stress levels”.

You looked at him through the mirror before crouching down to be at eye level with him in your eyes, staring into his eyes. “You know I love you regardless of if we have kids or not” you told him, “Don’t beat up yourself over things that are minuscule”. 

“I want them just as much as you do” Jack sighed, resting his forehead on yours, gripping the nape of your neck, “I have an appointment on Monday, gonna see what’s going on with me”. 

You sighed, “Maybe it’s a sign for an extended vacation” you hinted, “Get away for a few weeks, come back home to me…”.

“Like I’d go anywhere without you” he scoffed, only to realize the look on your face was sure “You’re not serious are you?”.

“Babe, we're together 24/7, it’s good to have your own time. Away from sperm tests, OB-GYNEs all up in there, fuck and work, Jack Abbot you’re not a soldier anymore sir” you told him, lightly joking, “For the past month you’ve been working on adrenaline-infused autopilot. I love you, but you can rest sometimes you know?”.

When you were met with silence you decided to speak up again, handing him an envelope with a plane ticket to Tulum that you hid in your gym bag. “Take a break, relax. At least sometime in the near future, I’m not going anywhere- hell I might just have Heather fill in for you so I don’t sleep alone” 

“Baby..” he opened the envelope, “Weren’t we saving this trip for Fourth of July?”.

“Already cleared it all with Bridget and Dana, I’m taking your caseload” you shrugged, you had the idea of him going on a vacation alone since last year, knowing he needed it. “You leave in a week from today” you smiled at him as relief washed over him, “It’s only for a week but when you get back maybe you and Robby can have something together, regain your groove”.

“Honey, I have my groove” he nodded, “I can’t go to Tulum without you”.

“Eh, we’ll do Cancun during the summer, a couple weeks, go exploring” you shrugged, “Have poolside sex in the private pool, fuck me proper” you whispered in his ear. “Oh! And the food”.

“You have quite the dirty mouth”.

“I wonder who influenced me”.

Truth of the matter was, you wanted to surprise him for his birthday. Wanted to throw a bigger get together than what you both originally planned and the only way Jack wouldn’t be at home or in Pittsburgh is if you were both on vacation or his brother convinced him to spend more than 2 hours with him.

“That 400k a year really does work wonders” he commented, “You can’t just go with me?”.

“Then it wouldn’t be alone time would it?” you told him, helping him get up from the stool holding him secured by the elbow. “Let me do this for you”.

He nodded, “You sure you can handle both our caseloads though?” letting you lead the way to the bed. “It’s just a huge ask hon”.

“Nothing I haven’t had before” you shrugged, letting him sit on the edge of the bed, “Don’t worry about baby” you noticed his sense of worry, “Plus when you get back, birthday sex”

“Oh god” he groaned, smiled from the thought but also realized he will be 66 at the kid’s graduation if you guys have a kid now after doing the math.

But that would certainly be a miracle. 

“49 isn’t that big of a deal” he spoke up, placing you between his leg and stump, planting kisses on your lotioned stomach.

“It is with the year we had” you ran your fingers through his grey curls. Hands never leaving him. You weren't wrong, with Pitfest and your near breakup, this past Halloween when you got alcohol poisoning after a stressful week, the week after Thanksgiving when Jack had inconsoble back pain from stress and work. Everything positive was a big deal.

The rest of the week passed, you had dropped Jack off at the airport Tuesday night, telling him to text you when he made it to Denver for his layover. He didn’t wanna leave you, but you knew it would be best for his own sanity. 

It was an interesting week without Jack. He got hooked on facetiming you every single night, sometimes twice a day, before and after he showered. Most of the time you were swamped at work, trying to not show your stress visibly. He knew it beyond the screen, could see the stress lines form between your brows, the lack of sleep prevalent under your eyes.

“Baby just go home” he sighed, he knew Gloria was on your ass the entire week and since you were already working overtime- 2 hours to be exact, the surgical department had separate scheduling most days. The logical decision would be to book it. Jack was awake bright and early for a tour in the cenotes of Tulum, it was 7:30 for you and 6:30 for him. 

You nodded, holding your phone towards the ceiling as you talked to your patient Sadie, she came in with a kitchen knife lodged in her wrist. She was a new mom and the sleep deprivation and postpartum only led to her lack of concentration while cooking. 

“Babe, I’ll call you back when I get home, gotta check up on my new mom” you told him, he looked calm and tanned through the phone. Couldn’t deny your mind, your future husband looked perfect. He understood you better than anyone, understood your job and life. 

“Okay, stay safe, I love you” he told you over the phone, he knew you were tired to the point where it didn’t register and you just hung up, your brain on autopilot.

“Hey hon, everything okay? Want me to get you anything? Any questions?” You asked lightly, checking her I.V. and antibiotics. 

“Do you know when I’m getting discharged? My sister’s at home but she’s leaving at 6:50 before my husband gets off work” she muttered, her throat dry from the intubation tube during surgery. 

“The knife was poking near your ulnar artery, a centimeter closer, you’d be in grave danger in a matter of minutes. Your body took a considerable amount of an adrenaline boost that led your blood pressure to skyrocket and your heart to go into what we call a silent heart attack” you told her, “Thankfully we caught it as it occurred and were able to reverse any damage but two operations in less than 24 hours- especially a strenuous one in the heart, I morally and medically can’t discharge you for at least two days” you looked at her in the eye, “I’m going to ask Bridget, my charge nurse, to transfer you to the post-op wing, it’s a bigger room and more comfortable- if not, I’ll go there myself to get you a bed”. 

“You’re a godsend” she sighed, her eyes swelling up with tears, “Do you have one?”.

“Hm?”.

“A baby” she clarified. 

“Oh no- not yet” you smiled at her, standing at the edge of her bed.

“You’re going to be an amazing mother” she complimented. 

“Thank you” you breathed, “Day shift staff will be coming in a few minutes. I’ll ask my resident Doctor Mohan to check up on you, she’s a really smart and kind person, very easy to talk to” you smiled back at her. You needed a coffee, swearing you would pass out behind the wheel.

It took a few minutes while you were back at the computer ready to clock out to realize you hung up on Jack without saying “I love you”. That was enough for you to start crying at the computer, tired and overwhelmed, and just in time for Gloria and Robby to walk up to you, greeting you with a good morning.

“You okay Rocky?” Robby quirked a brow, placing a coffee cup right next to you.

“Doctor L/n, go home, you’re almost 3 hours overtime” Gloria spoke up, earning a concerned look from Dana, Heather, Robby, and Samira.

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Whitaker blurted, the poor kid, heart in the right place except his shift was going to start in 5 minutes.

“Nah it’s okay kid, I’m fine” you wiped your tears, they couldn’t tell if your eyes were bloodshot from the tears or lack of sleep.

“I’m going to ask if Emery can fill in for your surgical cases, Jamie can take Jack’s workload” Dana told you, “Now get the hell out of here before we call your union rep”.

You chuckled, getting your bag from the corner of the desk, letting your hair down for the first time in hours. “Doctor Mohan, I have a new mom, accidentally stabbed herself with a kitchen knife- the adrenaline triggered her BP to boost and she had an MI while on the table. She’s in South 3, I told her you’d be the perfect doctor to talk to when I clock out. Please check up on her?” you spoke to her as you walked off.

“No problem!”.

You made your way to Jack’s truck in the parking lot, choosing his truck over your car because it smelt like him all over. 

He'll be back soon; you mumble to yourself. Made all the exhaustion and stress feel a little bit tolerable. 

dividers by @cafekitsune

anon #1: Jack Abbot x fem reader. Everyone at the Pitt is having drinks at some bar after the shift. Until some assholes got touchy and angry when one of the girls and she just defended them despite having the boys over too. Jack only observe since he knows his gf can handle it. He would interfere when things got out of hand. Badass gf, asshole, violence. Do however you want to. Thanks!!! :)))

anon #2: Hey!! Love all your fic for Jack Abbot❤️❤️ Can I request Jack Abbot x fem reader? Whoever loves language is touched and Jack just accepts the fact that she is. Especially when she visits the Pitt, she would be close to him, hold his hand/arm/back/every where she could touch and Jack just let her despite everyone who knew him, that he's never letting anyone touch him like that. Just something cute, soft, kisses, suggestive. Thanks!!! :)))

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan Masochist Bully + Quiet Reader Drabble

[Reader has a speech impediment. Mentions of Physical violence]

"Get back here!-"

The gravel in his voice does little to detour you. The heals on your shoes spring against concrete as you pick up pace - gunning for the accumulating crowd ahead. As appalling as human contact was most days, bumping shoulders with your schoolmates was the lesser evil to tackle.

Just a few more steps and you'd lose him for good. Head home, take a shower, go to bed, and when he approaches you tomorrow deny all accusations. There's loads of students in your school. What he saw today was merely a trick of the light. With luck, you could weasel your way out of this and maybe, just maybe finish out the semester without drawing attention to yourself-

A harsh tug on your book bag sucks you into one of the many crevices in your school's foundation formed between buildings. The fluff of your sweater cushions you from the oncoming shove, though something tells you if he had wanted to hurt you with that push he would've. Balling your collar in his fist, he evens out the short distance between you - warm breath tickling your cheek.

"What. The fuck was that?"

You blink - lips wired shut. What did he mean exactly? Your brief conversation with that kind girl who sat next to you after class? The handful of words you gave back? The fraction of a smile you gave her when she invited you to her pool party?

Turns out, it was all of the above.

"So you're making friends now, huh? What does she have that I don't?" He barks, knuckles ashen from the tightening grip on your collar. "I give you the same treatment she does. I wave at you, I invite you to sit with me so you aren't alone. Not a peep from you. Why. Is. She. Different?"

Maybe it's the fact she doesn't press you for a reply. Maybe it's because she took the time to become someone you felt safe enough to air your impairment around. Maybe it's because she didn't act like you speaking to her was a miracle- unlike someone you knew.

"Le-Let go..."

Erin cups his free hand around his ear. "What was that? Can't hear you when you're mumbling."

Its too late to turn back now.

"I s-s-said le-t go of me, Er-in."

He's bothered you long enough to know you aren't afraid of him. Not him directly. Is this it? The big secret you've been hiding from him?

"Do you.... have a stutter?"

Your silence speaks volumes.

"Holy shit- You totally do! Is that why you haven't spoken to me all this time? You afraid I'll make fun of you? Fuck, that's so cut-"

Elbow scrapping the wall as you wind your arm back, you fling your fist forward in a blow that connects square center with his chest. Erin wheeze, hold on your sweater slacking enough for you to wiggle free and escape - bolting out of the alleyway before he could retaliate.

Wiping spittle from his lips, Erin gazes wistful at the spot where you once stood. The one time he doesn't have his camera on you, and this happens- He didn't consider himself unlucky given what he gained regardless.

You spoke to him. Him. Of all people.

And that stutter of yours-

It could just be the pain of your punch messing with his head, but if you got any cuter his heart just might explode out of his chest.

[no-144444]

Can you write military!reader x f1!driver like they back from tour and surprises the driver persanely I would like to read Lando but you write with your fav driver ofc

home soil- m.verstappen

꩜summary: you surprise max with an early homecoming

꩜pairing: max verstappen x fem! sargeant! reader

꩜a/n: if there's anyone in the US military, sorry! i probs got something wrong about how it works- i'm irish so my b if i did!

Max hadn’t been looking forward to Miami. He knew the car would be shit. He knew he’d be fighting Lando on track. He knew Oscar would pass him. He knew everything in store for him, and he still had no word from you. You went off-grid 2 weeks ago. He had no idea where in the world you were. What you were doing. If you were safe. In all honesty, he hated your job. He hated being away from you for so long. He hated the amount of unknowns it came with. He hated it meant you had to stay in the US. He hated that it took him 4 months to convince you that he wanted you, and to have you believe him. 

“Fuck’s sake,” he mutter under his breath as he walked into his driver’s room. He could’ve ripped the thing apart. P4 in the race. He was pushing like crazy. 

“Alright?” your voice broke through every thought in his head and silenced them. You. You. Home. Safe. 

He didn’t care that he was sweaty. He didn’t care that he had media duties. He wrapped his arms around you, and for the first time in weeks, he finally relaxed. “You’re here,” he whispered like it wasn’t true. You chuckled against his skin, nodding into his neck. 

“And I’ll be in Imola too,” you smiled brightly as his eyes went wide, his hands cradling your face like you could break at any second. “Got my leave approved.”

“That’s brilliant, schatje!” he smiled, and pulled you in for a kiss. 

Max wasn’t known for keeping his calm. He was a racer, he won, and he didn’t care how many times he got in someone’s way. 

You kept your calm no matter what. Cool, calm, collected. Calm enough to pull the trigger of a gun on a person and not have it faze you. Calm enough to date an F1 driver and keep him stable. Calm enough to be here tonight, and not make it a big deal that Max Verstappen was your fiancé. You were strong too. Tough. Sure of yourself. He liked it. 

That’s why he didn’t feel the need to intervene when he saw you being chatted up by some sleeze. He just smirked as the man inched closer, it was free entertainment for the night, which was always necessary at F1 events. 

“I have a boyfriend,” you reminded the man who had been hounding you for the past few minutes. Fiancé, if we’re getting technical, but Max rarely did. 

Charles flashed him a smirk. “Going to go over there?” he questioned. 

Max shrugged. “If it gets boring,” he chuckled. “She can hold her own.”

“She’s scary,” Lando admitted. “First time I talked to her she threatened to break my arm.” 

“You were flirting with her,” Alex reminded him. “I remember how pissed Logan was.”

“Oh yeah!” Oscar laughed, nudging Logan (who was beside him). “And when you found out about Max and Y/n.”

“He went ballistic,” Lando laughed. “Almost killed his sister!” 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Logan defended, but even Max gave him a look. “Ok, but it is shitty to go after someone’s sister!” 

The group continued laughing as Max listened back in on your conversation. 

“Oh yeah?” the guy smirked. Was it Tim, or Tom? Either way, he was a dick. “I don’t see him.”

“Now you do,” Max interrupted, wrapping an arm around your waist and smiling in a polite ‘fuck off’ way. The man chuckled. He was some NFL player. “Have a good night-”

“Let the pretty lady decide for herself, thank you very much,” he smirked. You gagged. 

“I chose him,” you deadpanned. 

“You’re in McLaren merch,” he pointed out, flicking at the hat on your head. You felt Max stiffen beside you, you could tell he was holding himself back from a fist fight. As much as this guy deserved it, Max was no MMA fighter, and you didn’t really want to be the reason he got his shit rocked. 

“Yeah, my mate drives for them,” you shrugged. “Do we have a problem here?” you demanded. “Because if we do we can talk about it.”

“No problem sweetheart, just don’t know if he understands how to be with a real woman such as yourself. I don’t see you at many races-”

“No, you don’t. Usually because I’m fighting for your fucking freedom you ungrateful asshole,” you scoffed, flashing your military ID card. The colour drained from the guy’s face and, before he could speak again Max whisked you away and back to the table with the rest of the guys.  He watched as you joked and laughed with them, happy you were there in front of him. He couldn’t ask for much more. You were safe.

You were here.

navigation for my blog :)

redbull & vcarb masterlist

[onlyforwoosan]

Wicked, Wild, and Yours— ℧

Pairing: Choi San (Outlaw Hunter!AU) × Female Outlaw Reader (Enemies to Obsession)

Wordcount: 4.8k

Synopsis: You’re a wanted outlaw. He’s the bounty hunter sent to catch you — but San doesn’t want the reward. He wants you. One chase, one fight, and one night where he makes sure you never run again.

Genre: Smut, Dark Western Romance, Enemies to Lust to Something Else, Outlaw Hunter!AU

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Rough sex, Dominant behavior, Gun violence, Knife use, Blood, Hair pulling, Dirty talk (degrading & possessive), Overstimulation, Handcuffs, Emotionally charged tension, Light gore (during fight scenes), Power play (consensual)

The night was quiet—too quiet for your liking.

The bar was mostly dead, except for the usual drunks and card players who were too broke to leave. Oil lamps flickered across creaky floorboards, casting a soft golden light over the worn mahogany bar. You wiped down the same glass for the fifth time, listening to the low hum of murmured conversation and the occasional thump of boots on wood.

Then you heard him.

The sharp clack of spurs hitting the porch. The heavy sound of a man who walked like he owned the dirt beneath his feet. You turned your head just in time to see him tie up his horse, one hand adjusting the brim of his dark hat, the other resting near the holster on his hip like it belonged there.

And then he walked in.

Choi San.

You froze.

Your breath caught, fingers locking around the glass as he strolled through the doorway. The man was sin carved in leather and bone, his coat swaying behind him like the wings of death itself. He waved to a few folks who recognized him—either too stupid or too scared to avoid his gaze. A hunter. The kind of man people whispered about in other outlaw camps. The kind who didn't take prisoners.

You'd seen posters of him before. "Bounty hunter. Ruthless. Gets the job done."  You thought he looked dangerous in the sketches.

But nothing prepared you for the real thing.

Your heart pounded harder than it should’ve. You couldn’t tell if it was panic or... something worse.

He didn’t glance at anyone else. Just walked right up to the bar and sat down directly in front of you. When he finally looked up, straight into your eyes—it was like he was already aiming.

"Evenin'," he said smoothly.

You nodded, trying to play it cool. “Evenin’.”  He tipped his head slightly, giving you a once-over that was anything but subtle. “You new in town?”

You kept your tone neutral, your face still. “Been around.”

“Hm.” His eyes flickered with interest. “You don’t sound local.”

You shrugged. “A lotta folks ain’t.” 

He smiled then—slow, deliberate, and just shy of cocky. “Fair enough. Whiskey. Neat.”

You turned your back to pour the drink, your hands moving automatically. But your mind was racing. What the fuck is he doing here?

Choi San didn’t just wander into towns like this. He hunted—tracked people down, flushed them out. The kind of man who didn’t ask questions unless he already knew the answers.

And you... were most definitely on someone's list.

You tried to steady your breathing, but it felt like your lungs were trying to crawl up your throat. He couldn’t possibly know who you were, right? You’d changed your hair. Wore different clothes. You were careful, goddammit.

But not careful enough.

You’d been caught once. Only once. That was all it took to get your face on a poster. And San? He didn’t miss.

You brought the drink over and set it down in front of him. “Here.” He took a sip, eyes never leaving yours.

“Y’know,” he said slowly, “I’ve seen a lotta faces. Yours… looks mighty familiar.”

Your throat dried up. “Do it?” you managed. He nodded, eyes sharp now. “Mm. Got one of those looks. Dangerous. Pretty.”

You flushed—goddammit, get a grip—and quickly glanced away, pretending to busy yourself with the bar rag.

“Where’d you say you were from again?” he added, voice light but laced with meaning.

“I didn’t.”

That got a chuckle out of him. “Feisty.”

You forced a polite smile, muttered something about checking stock, and excused yourself to the back.

The saloon’s back room was hazy with smoke and dust. You slipped in, shutting the door behind you, your chest rising and falling fast. “Haechan!” you hissed.

Your partner in crime—both literally and figuratively—was leaned against the back wall, cigarette hanging from his lips and a bottle of bourbon in his hand.

“Jesus,” he muttered, eyeing you. “What crawled up your—”

“San’s here.”

That made him freeze… He took the cigarette out of his mouth slowly. “The bounty hunter?”

You nodded. “He’s at the bar. He looked right at me. I think he knows.”

Haechan cursed under his breath. “You said he was on the other side of the territory. How the hell did he find us this fast?”

“I don’t know! Maybe someone ratted, maybe I slipped up.” You grabbed your head. “God, Haechan—he’s gonna kill me. You’ve heard what he does.”

He studied you for a second, serious now. “Then don’t give him the chance. Get out. Go out the back, take the alley, and run.”

You hesitated. “We said no splitting up.”

“We also said don’t get caught,” he shot back. “You’re the one they have posters of. You got made. I didn’t. I’ll cover for you if I can, but you’ve gotta move.”

You peeked through the crack in the door. San was still at the bar. Still watching. Like he knew. He lifted his glass and took a slow sip—then winked at you.

Your stomach dropped. Haechan stepped closer. “Go. Now.” You turned, breath shaky, every instinct screaming to bolt. But something held you there. Fear? Curiosity? Or the heat that still lingered in your skin from the way his eyes had trailed over you?

No. You had to focus. You straightened your spine, took one last look at Haechan, and pushed back through the door.

Back at the bar, San looked completely at ease, fingers tapping against the rim of his glass. You swallowed hard and approached. “Sorry about that. Had to check something.”

“All good,” he replied smoothly. “We were just getting to the fun part anyway.”

You arched a brow. “Fun part?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bar. “The part where you tell me your name. The real one.”

Your blood turned cold.

You stared at him, trying to find something casual to say, some smart remark, but your mouth wouldn’t move.. He smirked and reached into his coat. That was all it took… You bolted.

You didn’t wait to see what he was reaching for—gun, badge, poster—you weren’t about to find out. You shoved through the back door, hit the alley running, heart pounding, boots skidding across the dirt. You vaulted over a crate, ducked under a fence, and disappeared into the night.

Behind you, you heard the door slam open and a voice shout, “Shit—!”

You didn’t look back.

By the time San got to the alley, the only thing left was the echo of your boots and the swirling dust in the wind.

He stood there for a moment, glaring into the dark.

Then he smiled.

“She’s fast,” he muttered, already mounting his horse. “But not fast enough.”

Three days had passed since you vanished into the night, slipping through San’s fingers like smoke.

Three fucking days.

He wasn’t used to people getting away—especially not pretty little things who blushed under his stare and ran before he could even finish his sentence.

Now, the hunter was the one being haunted.

San rode through the outskirts of the dusty town under the silver sheen of moonlight. His horse’s hooves beat a steady rhythm against the dirt trail, a low wind stirring the brush. He had one hand on the reins, the other holding a small, battered communicator—cheap tech smuggled in from an old mining town. Outlaws didn’t trust satellites, but he and Woo had their ways.

“You still on her trail?” Wooyoung’s voice crackled through the speaker.

San sighed. “Yeah. She’s hiding good.”

“No shit. You let her run, remember?” San scowled at his best friend's comment. “She was fast.”

“She was hot,” Woo corrected, laughing.

San didn’t say anything. “Oh my god,” Wooyoung continued, smug as hell. “You do think she’s hot.”

“I said she was fast.”

“You said she was cute first. Then fast.”

There was a pause. San sighed again. “She was cute,” he admitted under his breath, just loud enough for Wooyoung to hear.

“Bro.” Wooyoung practically screamed. “Are you catching feelings for a felon?”

“She’s not just a felon,” San said. “She’s... wanted. Like—seriously wanted.”

“You’re not helping your case.”

San rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue. “I’m just saying... she’s interesting. I usually don’t remember faces. I can’t stop remembering hers.”

Woo whistled. “You gonna kill her?”

“...I don’t know yet.”

San hung up before Woo could answer. And then he heard it.

Voices—angry. Shouts. The sharp echo of a gunshot.

He clicked his tongue and pulled the reins, guiding his horse toward the source. A moment later, he spotted movement ahead.

A fight. No—a brawl.

Three figures. You, some guy beside you—firing back-to-back—and a third, dressed in outlaw hunter gear. The third was large, bleeding from the shoulder, but still charging.

You.

San’s stomach flipped. His hand went to the revolver at his side.

You had a knife in one hand and a pistol in the other. Your lip was bleeding, dirt on your skin, your shirt torn at the shoulder. You looked fucking feral—cornered, animal-like, panting as you turned and stabbed the hunter in the side. He grunted and backhanded you hard enough to knock you against the rocks.

San didn’t think.

He jumped off the horse mid-gallop, landing hard and rolling once before rising with his gun already drawn.

Haechan noticed him first.

San caught the flicker of recognition in his eyes before the kid bolted, disappearing behind a cluster of crumbling mining shacks.

You—bloodied, dazed—shoved yourself up from the ground and screamed after him, “You fucking coward!”

And then you turned—and froze.

San stood there, silhouetted in moonlight, revolver drawn and pointed—not at you, but at the hunter who had just recovered and was turning back around.

The man squinted at San. “This ain’t your business, bounty—”

Bang.

San shot him in the thigh. Then again, in the shoulder. The man dropped, screaming.

You stood in stunned silence, barely able to breathe. Your ears were ringing, your head pounding. Blood dripped from your chin. You watched San approach you slowly, holstering his gun like nothing had happened.

You stumbled backward. “What the hell—”

He grabbed you by the wrist before you could bolt.

“Nope. Learned that trick last time.”

With a swift motion, he yanked a pair of worn steel cuffs from his belt and clink—latched one around your wrist. The other he clipped to a leather strap on his horse’s saddle nearby.

“What the fuck, San?!” you spat, struggling.

“You ran once. Not again.” His voice was low, sharp, like a blade gliding against skin.

You tried to pull away, but the chain only rattled. “You just killed him!”

“He was gonna kill you.”

“I had it under control—!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. pissed.

“Your face says otherwise,” San growled, grabbing your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him.

His thumb brushed your split lip, slow, deliberate.

You winced—but didn’t pull away.

The tension between you thickened instantly, charged and volatile. His grip wasn’t cruel, but it was firm. Commanding. The way he looked at you wasn’t like a hunter and prey—it was something darker. Needier.

“You alright?” he asked, quieter now. He was a little guilty from snarling at you.

You stared at him, stunned. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” His eyes flicked down to your mouth. “Just don’t want damaged goods.”

“Wow. Charming.”

He smirked and released your chin. He turned toward the hunter, who was now crawling away, blood trailing behind him. San didn’t hesitate. He pulled out his second pistol and walked right up behind the man.

“Please—” the hunter gasped.

Bang.

You flinched. The sound echoed through the hills, and then silence.

San returned to you calmly, like he’d just taken out the trash. You sat in stunned silence, chained to his fucking horse, blood on your lip, your stomach twisted.

He kneeled in front of you again, this time slower, his movements careful.

“Next time,” he murmured, “don’t get caught in the dark.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were outnumbered.”

“I had Haechan—”

“Your boyfriend, who ran?” San snorted. “Yeah. Real dependable.” 

You look disgusted. Haechan was most definitely not your boyfriend. He would never be. “Ew! He's my best friend!” You snapped back at him. He looked a little surprised but was kind of happy. Maybe he had a chance..

“My bad, Y/N…”

You glared at him, cheeks flushed with rage. How dare he even use your name? “You think you’re so much better than everyone else because you’ve got guns and a goddamn horse?”

He leaned in close. “No. I think I’m better because I don’t leave people behind.”

You stopped talking. The words hit something raw in you. Something unspoken. Maybe something you’d tried not to feel for years.

San rose, tugging gently on the chain that led to your wrist. “Let’s go.”

You scowled. “What, now?”

“Unless you’d rather sleep next to a corpse.”

You rolled your eyes but stood, dragging your feet. He helped you onto his horse roughly, but not painfully. One hand on your hip, another guiding your thigh up. You yelped when the saddle caught your bruised leg, and he smirked.

“Sensitive, huh?”

“Go to hell.”

“You first, sweetheart.”

He climbed up behind you, his chest pressed to your back, one hand firmly holding the reins, the other lightly resting on your waist.

“You don’t need to hold me like that,” you muttered.

“Don’t flatter yourself. Just don’t want you falling.”

And with that, he clicked the horse into motion.

The ride was brutal at first—every gallop jostled your aching body. You bit your lip to avoid making a sound, even as you bounced against him, your back slamming into his chest.

When he sped up suddenly, you let out a sharp gasp.

“Easy,” he chuckled. “Didn’t take you for the jumpy type.”

“I’m bleeding, you dick.”

“You’re alive,” he replied smoothly.

The wind picked up, cold and sharp, stinging the open cut on your lip. You winced, and he must’ve felt it.

“You sure you okay?” he asked.

“Why are you being nice?”

“I’m not.”

“Right. Just a bounty to you, huh?”

He didn’t answer right away. Then, softer than before: “Not just.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to glimpse him over your shoulder. His face was unreadable in the moonlight, but there was something in his eyes—something unsettling. Like, even he wasn’t sure what he meant.

You faced forward again, heartbeat thumping loudly in your ears The rest of the ride was silent. But you could feel him—every breath, every muscle shift, every time his gloved fingers brushed your waist or gripped the reins just a little tighter when you leaned back too far.

And worst of all?

You didn’t hate it.

The ride to San’s hideout was long, but the tension made it feel shorter.

You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t talk. And San didn’t offer explanations.

The horse slowed just before dawn, stopping at a secluded ranch tucked behind a dead patch of forest. Weather-worn fencing framed the property, and the barn looked half-collapsed. But the house—it was quiet, sturdy, and unsettlingly normal. Too normal for a man who just shot someone in the skull two hours ago.

San dismounted first, then helped you down—not with kindness, but with control.

His fingers didn’t linger, but his eyes did.

He pulled the chain on your cuff taut and led you up the porch. The door creaked as it opened, revealing a dim interior filled with dust, warm light, and weapons. Guns lined the walls in neat rows. A single table sat under a bare bulb, with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

No Wooyoung.

You noticed.

San locked the door behind you. “He’s gone,” he muttered. “Bar hopping. Or fucking someone. Or both.”

You didn’t say anything, but you did blush a little.. Fuck– you blushed a lot.

You just kept scanning the space, taking note of the exits. Of the heavy boots by the door. Of the butcher knife, half-cleaned in the sink.

San watched your eyes track everything. “Smart girl,” he said. “But don’t bother. You run, I’ll just find you again.”

You glared. “You cuffed me to a horse.”

He smirked. “You looked cute like that.”

You scowled, but before you could respond, he grabbed your arm and dragged you further inside, pushing you down into a wooden chair near the table. He crouched in front of you, eyes locked on yours, fingers gripping your chin again.

“Let’s try this again.”

You didn’t resist—but you didn’t look at him, either.

“I wanna know who you were working with. Names. Routes. Safehouses.”

You scoffed. “Like I’d give you shit.”

He tilted his head. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

He grinned slowly. “You’re not leaving here unless I say so.”

You bristled. But something in your stomach flipped again—something sharp and dangerous and unwanted. He’s insane, you thought. But then he said—

“You thirsty?”

You blinked.

“What?”

San stood and reached for a nearby jug of water. He poured some into a clean glass and set it down in front of you.

You stared at it, confused.

“What the fuck? You were just being an ass.”

He chuckled. “I was always being an ass. Doesn’t mean I won’t give you water.”

You didn’t trust it, but you were parched. You grabbed it and drank. The metal of your cuffs clicked as you shifted. San sat down across from you, one ankle propped over his knee. He watched you sip, then spoke casually.

“You know, I’ve been thinking. I should kill you. Would make my job easier.”

You tensed.

“But…” He leaned forward, eyes dragging over your body. “There’s another option.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What. A deal?” 

He smiled darkly. “No. A punishment.”

Your heart jumped. “The fuck is that supposed to mean—”

His voice dropped low, sultry and razor-sharp. “Punishment like fucking that sweet pussy of yours until you forget your name.”

Heat exploded in your face. “You’re insane.”

“You’re wet.”

“Fuck you—”

“Exactly.”

He stood and crossed the room. You didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Your body was frozen—but not from fear. From want.

He returned with a small key and crouched beside you again. “I’ll unlock the cuffs. But if you run, I’ll catch you. And next time, I won’t be gentle.”

He unlocked the chain.

You didn’t run.

You didn’t want to.

He stood again and offered his hand. “Your choice,” he said, voice low and rough. “Out that door… or to my bed.”

You stared at him, then glanced at the door. You didn’t move. “Thought so.”

He took your wrist, pulled you up, and led you down a hallway. His room was worse than you expected. Dark wood walls. An unmade bed. Guns everywhere. Antlers mounted above the headboard. Shelves lined with bullets, whiskey bottles, and half-ripped wanted posters.

You paused—because three of those posters were yours. One was pinned near the bed. And it was stained.You didn’t ask what the white smear was.

San noticed you looking.

He smirked, leaned in behind you, and whispered, “Got real familiar with you before I met you.”

You swallowed hard.

His hand slid around your waist. The other gripped your shoulder.

He bent you over the edge of the bed, body flush to yours, breath hot on your ear.

“No more talking.”

Then the rip.

He grabbed the back of your shirt and tore it straight down the spine, fabric splitting like paper. Your bra snapped loose seconds later. You gasped, but his palm was already on your back, keeping you bent.

He dropped to his knees behind you, fingers roughly yanking your pants down to your thighs. He didn’t prep. Didn’t pause. You felt him move behind you, heard the telltale crack of a condom being torn open.

Then—

One hard thrust.

You screamed—half in shock, half in need.

“Shhh.. i’ve got you..” he growled, voice hot at your shoulder. “You can take it.”

“F- fuck!” You moaned as he slammed into you again, then again, his hips snapping rough against yours, one hand buried in your hair, the other gripping your hip like he owned you. You couldnt lie, you loved it. Him treating you like this.

“Fuckin’ tight little outlaw cunt,” he grunted. “You needed this, didn’t you?”

You moaned through gritted teeth, body on fire, legs trembling. “S–sannie..”

“You like being bent over like a prize?” he snarled. “Like a bounty?”

You didn’t answer��so he spanked you. Hard. You cried out, biting the sheets.

“Answer me, baby..”

“Yes,” you hissed. “Yes—fuck—yes.”

He fucked you harder.

No mercy. No pause.

He filled you like he was trying to ruin you from the inside out, rough and fast and filthy. He whispered the nastiest shit in your ear—how good your pussy felt, how pretty you sounded begging, how much he was going to fuck you until you couldn’t walk.

Your voice cracked as you tried to breathe his name, hips trembling under the weight of his body.

“S–Sannie…”

It came out broken, high and desperate. You weren’t even sure if you were begging him to stop or begging for more. The sound of it made him still for just a second — just long enough for him to lower his chest against your back, wrapping one strong arm around your waist to hold you close.

His breath was warm at your ear, the edge in his voice softening.

“There she is…” he murmured, lips grazing your temple. “My sweet girl.”

You whimpered again, tears clinging to your lashes. “I–I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” he said, quieter now, but no less intense. “You’re takin’ me so well. So perfect… you were made for this. Made for me.”

His thrusts slowed — deep and steady now — more like he was savoring you, not just claiming you. His fingers tangled with yours over the sheets, his other hand rubbing soothing circles over your ribs as you tried to catch your breath.

“Look at you,” he whispered. “All messed up for me. Cryin’ for me.”

You nodded shakily, voice trembling, “S–Sannie… it’s too much.. G–gonna cum.”

He kissed your shoulder, moving gently now — hips rolling slow and thick inside you, coaxing every gasp and moan from your throat.

“I know, baby,” he said. “But I’ve got you. You don’t gotta run anymore. You’re safe now… right here with me.”

And with the way his arms wrapped around you, the way his voice dipped into something raw and real, you almost believed him.

Your legs almost gave out—but he held you up, cock driving into you over and over until you were trembling, moaning his name in broken gasps.

When your body clenched and you came hard around him, he cursed, pulled out, and flipped you over.

“On my lap.”

You barely had time to breathe before he pulled you into his lap, straddling him as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

He was already hard again. Already rolling another condom on.

You whimpered.

He grabbed your hips and slammed you down onto him.

You gasped—eyes wide, back arching.

He leaned forward, grabbed his cowboy hat, and placed it on your head.

“There,” he smirked. “Now you look real pretty.”

You couldn’t speak.

You just rode him—driven by some fever you couldn’t explain, some need that had been burning for days. He held your waist and fucked up into you, your bodies slamming together, the hat slipping down your forehead.

He groaned every time you clenched, every time you whispered his name, every time you lost rhythm and whimpered into his neck.

“Naughty fuckin’ little outlaw,” he breathed. “Could’ve been mine this whole time.”

“You’re insane,” you whispered.

“And you’re soaked.”

You shuddered.

He let you ride him until your thighs burned and your legs collapsed. Your forehead stayed pressed to his as your hips moved faster, his hands gripping you tighter like he was trying to anchor both of you. San's breath was ragged, warm puffs against your mouth as he looked at you — not just your body, but you.

“I’m close,” you whispered, voice barely holding together, “Sannie, I—”

His hands slid up your back, one curling into your hair, tugging gently to tilt your face to his. “I know, baby. Just let go. I’ve got you.”

Your fingers dug into his chest as you ground down on him harder, chasing that high that sat right on the edge of every nerve in your body. His mouth brushed yours — not quite a kiss, just breath and warmth and the tremble of restraint in him.

“That’s it,” he whispered again, voice thick. “Ride it out for me. Take everything I give you.”

You cried out his name — sharp and breathless — as your body finally broke, pleasure rolling through you like a wave that knocked the air from your lungs. You clung to him, gasping, the world spinning around you as your muscles tensed and fluttered with each pulse of release.

San groaned deep in his throat, his hands tightening on your hips as he bucked up into you once, twice, chasing his own edge. “You’re perfect,” he choked out. “So fucking perfect.”

Then he pulled you fully against his chest, burying his face in your neck as he followed you over the edge — body shuddering, breath caught between a curse and your name.

Then he laid you down.

The bed creaked as he hovered over you, finally slow, finally controlled.

He kissed your neck once—just once.

Then he slid into you again, slow and deep.

You gasped, already sensitive.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “Let me feel you.”

This time, he didn’t pound you.

He rolled his hips with care, like he was learning your body. His hand found yours and pinned it over your head, his other hand gripping your jaw as he looked into your eyes.

“You were always gonna be mine,” he murmured.

Your lips parted.

You believed him.

And when you came again—shaking and breathless—he followed you, burying his face in your neck as his body tensed and trembled against yours.

“I’ve got you, sweetie..” He murmured in your ear.. You held onto his biceps.. Your eyes starting to close…

The bed was cold.

San’s hand dragged across the sheets as his eyes blinked open, muscles sore and head fuzzy from a sleep that felt far too short. The room was quiet—too quiet. No footsteps. No smartass remarks. No soft, sleepy breaths beside him.

He sat up quickly, heart already racing.

You were gone.

The cuffs were off. The door hadn’t slammed. You’d slipped out quietly, like smoke through a crack in the wall.

He cursed under his breath and scanned the room. That’s when he saw it:

A folded note, sitting crooked on the nightstand, weighted down by one of your spent bullets—small, but unmistakably yours.

He stared at it for a moment, jaw tight.

Then picked it up.

The paper smelled faintly like you—leather, dirt, and something sweeter underneath. He unfolded it carefully, like if he opened it too fast you might vanish for good.

Your handwriting spilled across the page, messy but confident.

“Morning, cowboy. Didn’t mean to disappear without a kiss. You were snoring too loud.”

“Don’t get your ego all twisted. Last night wasn’t a surrender—it was a draw. A damn good one, though.”

“I liked the way you touched me like you owned me. Even if I don’t belong to anyone… not really.”

“You’re dangerous. All coiled muscle and rough hands and a mouth that makes it impossible to think straight. Guess that’s why I didn’t shoot you when I had the chance.”

“But I’m not good at staying. Never was. Never tried to be. There’s always a bounty, always someone chasing me, always another dusty town to disappear into.”

“Still… you felt different. Even if I won’t say it out loud.”

“And maybe I’m stupid for leaving. Maybe I’m scared. Maybe both.”

“But if you find me again—really find me—”

“I’ll stay.”

“Because for all my running, I think I’ve been yours since the second you walked into that bar.”

—Yours. Always.”  

“p.s .. I love you.”

San didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

The note trembled slightly in his hand as he sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, marked up with scratches and bites you’d left behind. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, eyes locked on the paper like it might say more if he just stared long enough.

She’s gone, he thought.

But she’s not lost.

He folded the note gently and tucked it inside his coat—right next to his heart. Then he grabbed his belt, holstered his revolver, and headed for the door.

There was only one thought in his mind now.

He wasn’t mad. Not even close.

Because now?

He had a reason to hunt you again...

[kxsagi]

heyyy it’s 01/05 so i wanted to request a blue lock fic with the characters finding readers jealousy adorable? with isagi, sae, rin, nagi, and others? ty!

“𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦? 𝐣𝐚𝐢𝐥”

a/n: if my man giggles at another girl’s jokes, i’m pushing him down the stairs

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, kaiser michael, ness alexis, shidou ryusei

isagi yoichi

he’s so confused at first. like, genuinely puzzled when you glare at a waitress who calls him handsome. 

“love… you know you’re the only one who calls me that, right?” he says as if it’s a codename. 

once he realizes you're jealous, he gets all flustered and smiley. 

you pout? he melts. you roll your eyes? he giggles. you cross your arms? he starts poking your cheeks to make you laugh. 

“you’re jealous? of her? love, she doesn’t even know me like you do. you’ve seen me ugly cry after missing a penalty. she could never.” 

kisses your temple 400 times until you stop being fake mad. 

itoshi sae

you try to be subtle. keyword: try. 

but he catches it instantly. 

“you’re staring like you want to fight her.” 

cue your smug little shrug like ‘maybe i do.’ 

he leans down real close, eyes lidded and smug. “you know i only like one girl enough to deal with her attitude 24/7. and she’s standing right here.” 

he acts like he’s unbothered but the moment you look away, he has this soft little smile like yeah... my girl’s possessive. hot. 

next time someone flirts with him, he wraps an arm around your waist just to watch you smirk like that’s right, mine. 

itoshi rin

oh, he’s obsessed with it. 

you’re fuming and he’s just standing there trying not to grin. 

“you’re mad?” 

you: “why was she touching your arm?” 

him: “i mean. i do have really nice arms.” 

bastard. 

he fully uses it as an excuse to tease you. every time you get possessive, he’ll lean into your neck and mumble, “mine,” just to make you say it back. 

but if someone gets too bold, he’s not smiling anymore. one cold stare and they’re gone. 

then he turns to you like, “happy now?” 

(you are. you’re very happy.) 

nagi seishiro

thinks it’s lowkey funny that you’re huffing over something so “small.” 

“you jealous again? that’s kinda cute.” 

deadpan, lazy grin, but he scoots closer anyway. 

he starts being annoying about it. uses it as a way to get your attention. 

“someone looked at me today. you gonna kiss me or fight them?” 

but he actually gets really clingy when you’re jealous. like he’ll throw his arm over your shoulder in front of people and go, “mine,” like a sleepy toddler claiming a toy. 

and he always looks smug when you glare at someone. like, that’s his girl. look at her go. 

kaiser michael

oh. he lives for it. 

“you’re jealous? that’s so sexy of you.” 

literally eggs it on just to see you snap a little. 

“schatz, should i give her my number? you look like you’re gonna push me down the stairs.” 

he’s not going to. he just wants to see that sparkle in your eyes when you’re about to fight someone. 

kisses you all over when you get feisty. “you care about me soooo much. it’s adorable.” 

and he starts getting even more possessive back. if you get jealous, he’s clinging. arm around your waist, hand in your back pocket, whispering “mine” in your ear with that cocky smirk. 

ness alexis

ness is clingy by default. but the second you get possessive? he goes full anime blushy mode. 

someone complimented his eyes and called him “soft boy material.” 

you didn’t like that. at all. 

you pulled him away mid-conversation like “he doesn’t talk to strangers, sorry.” 

he was literally glowing. “oh my gosh. that was soooo hot.” 

“i was serious.” 

“even hotter.” 

he starts fluttering his lashes like a cartoon schoolgirl. 

“are you gonna fight someone for me? steal me away? ruin their credit score?” 

you make one vaguely aggressive comment and he’s spinning in the air like a ballerina. 

sometimes he acts extra petty just to provoke people so you’ll act mean and protective. 

it backfires. you punish him by ignoring him for two hours. 

he cries into kaiser’s shoulder and kaiser tells him to “be normal.” 

he never learns. 

shidou ryusei

oh. oh he’s INSANE about it. 

“awww, you wanna bite someone? that’s so hot.” 

he deadass starts wagging his metaphorical tail when you get mad. 

“do it. scratch their eyes out. c’mon. you’d look so sexy in mugshots.” 

you: “i am one inch from strangling you.” 

him: “kinky.” 

he loves it so much, he starts acting even more scandalous. 

“you’re mine,” you snap. 

he groans like you just proposed. “say that again but with a little more ‘i’ll ruin your life’ energy.” 

he posts selfies with you captioned “don’t touch or i’ll bite” with a smiley face. 

you hate it. he lives for it. 

“you really like when i get crazy,” you mutter. 

“baby, i like it when you get homicidal. you’re so hot when you threaten violence.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[leo-in-the-pitt]

Until The End

Summary: With your 2 year anniversary coming up with Dr. Jack Abbott, you’re trying to figure out his secret plans and see if you can get over the final hurdle in your relationship before it's too late.

Warnings: Established relationship, age gap (unspecified but reader late 20s, Abbotts an old man), beginning is all fluff but the end is something else, strong language, sexual tension, unprotected p in v sex, fingering, handjob/blowjob, all the dirty stuff tbh 

Word Count 8.8K+, was shooting for 10k but I'll take it

Until The End 

Monday

You caught Jack talking to Robby that Monday afternoon. Both of you were busy obviously planning something for your 2 year anniversary. He was the absolute worst at keeping secrets but, apparently when it came  these plans he had nothing to say.

He ordered some pizza that night for dinner and you two sat next to each other on the couch. He seemed on edge, not making much conversation. He usually never shuts up during movies. He kept checking his phone and you could see him typing but, didn’t bring it up.

“You sure you’re alright Jack?”

He had a mouthful of pizza. “Yeah why?”

“You’re acting really sketchy.”

“I’m just trying to eat my pizza.”

“Mhm, so what exactly is the plan for Friday?”

“I already told you, it’s a surprise. Stop trying to spoil it for yourself.”

“Well you know that I hate surprises. I’m a planner Jack. I need to know what we’re doing. What am I supposed to wear?”

“I already told you I picked an outfit out for you.”

“Okay but what if it doesn’t fit? Or I don’t look good in it? There is an outfit right? You’re not just trying to get me naked?”

“Well, now that you mention it, that’s not too bad of an idea.”

“You’re just full of jokes tonight aren’t you Abbott?” 

Everybody called him Abbott, only you called him Jack, unless you were annoyed with him.

“Oh, now I’m Abbott?” He nodded his head in disbelief. 

“Until I know what we’re doing Friday, you’re Abbott.”

“Look who has the jokes now.”

You let the topic go for the rest of the night. But if there was one thing about you, you weren’t going to let this go. He would hear about it again.

———————————————————————

Tuesday

It was always a bit of a habit to go out for food together at least once a week. You both hated cooking and doing the dishes so this ended up being one of the easiest compromises in the past 2 years.

You typically ended up at your favorite diner, which he was most definitely tired of but, it kept you happy so he kept going. It was around noon when you arrived to the diner with him. Both ordering your usual without even needing the menus.

“You want to spilt a milkshake?”

“But you never want one?”

“Yeah but, I know that you do. And I’m feeling extra nice in this moment.”

“What are you doing? Making sure I don’t leave you before we hit 2 years?”

“Yeah I’m just buttering you up since there’s actually no plans for Friday.”

“You’re really pushing it Abbott, you know that?”

“You know you love it.” He said with his crooked smirk that drove you wild even after all this time.

You said nothing just shook your head at him. But don’t worry, you got your milkshake. 

Once you got home it was already time to start getting ready for a nap since you’d be working 2 night shifts back to back with each other before your anniversary. Maybe you could find out if he told anybody else about his secret plans.

You were dragging after your 3 hour power nap. No amount of sleep was ever going to be enough for you. But Abbott, of course, was already bouncing off the walls ready to leave. 

“We’re going to be late because of you.” He yelled from the kitchen. 

“Forgive me for wanting to cover up my under eye bags Abbott.”

“You gonna call me Abbott at work too?”

“Depends, are you going to tell me the plans?”

He rolled his eyes, “I’ll be in the car waiting for you.” And he walked out of the apartment.

Once you got to work, of course you had to go say hi to Langdon.

“What’s up kid?” He put out his hand for your handshake.

“I’m on a mission tonight.”

“Oh god that’s never a good thing.”

“First of all the last mission I went on here was to get Abbott, and I succeeded so I’m trying again tonight.”

“Wa- wait, did you just call him Abbott? What happened?” His eyes widening. 

“He’s Abbott until I know what Fridays plan is.”

Yet another man rolling his eyes at you tonight. “Why are you trying to ruin the fun?”

“I hate surprises Langdon, like I despise them. It’s eating me alive slowly and painfully. Like look at him over there whispering with Robby.” You looked over and squinted while waving at the two of them. 

Robby waved back laughing and Abbott just shook his head without cracking a smile. “They’re probably talking about it. Do you know anything?” You turned to him with puppy dog eyes. 

“I already told you, no. You’re my best friend and Robby is his best friend, why don’t you go ask him?” He shrugged. 

“You know what? You’re right. Maybe I should, I’ll be right back!” You skipped over to Robby and Abbott.

“Oh shit, I was just kidding.” He yelled but, you were already gone. 

You marched yourself over across the ER to the nurses station they were standing behind. Basically skipped over, smiling like a child.

“What’s the hot gossip boys?”

“I know nothing. I have nothing to say. I’m going home to my wife. Have a good night you two.” He waved directly at you, smiling. And he was gone.

You glared over at Abbott. “What did you do tell everyone not to talk to me until Friday?”

“That’s exactly what I did. Nobody knows anything anyway but, I don’t want them putting ideas into that mind of yours.”

The rest of the night was hectic. No more chances to trick anyone into spilling details. Not even a chance to sit down. You decided to give a rest, at least for the night.

———————————————————————

Wednesday 

He seemed different on the drive to work, glancing out the window, his mind racing with plans and details of the Friday plans, before forcing a calm smile as you asked him if he was okay. He was feeling guilty for not letting you in on the secret yet, but you had no idea.

“I’m telling you, I’m so ready for this week to be over.” 

Each night that you worked together, when things would slow down, even just slightly, you find each other to sit down for a quiet moment to catch up on charting.

Jack taps his fingers on the desk nervously, the clock ticking by slowly. He’s been planning the surprise for weeks, and now, the moment is almost here. But his mind was all over the place. He starts typing up a note, clearly not paying attention to what keys he was hitting.

You glare over at his screen. Words underlined in red and blue. Mistakes written all over the page.

“Hey, what’s up with you?” You sat back and glared at him. His mind clearly somewhere else. 

No response. For a moment, he’s lost in the thought of how his life is about to change.

“Earth to Abbott?” You waved your hand directly in front of his face. 

“What happened?” His head sharply turned to you.

You pointed to his screen. “What’s going on there? Forgot how to type?”

He rubs both eyes. Took a deep sigh. “Guess I’m just really tired tonight.”

“Wow, you tired? Never.”

———————————————————————

Thursday 

Tomorrow’s the big day. 2 years down, hopefully forever to go.

You were absolutely exhausted after the past 2 nights. But to flip your sleep schedule you were only planning a quick nap. Abbott on the other hand was basically ready for another shift.

“I will never understand how you require so little sleep.”

“And I don’t know how you need so much.”

He cooked you dinner, dishes are still in the sink. Sitting on the couch, a candle flickering on the coffee table, soft music playing in the background. Music from a playlist you’ve been adding to since you were a teenager in high school. It was filled with cheesy love songs, songs that you wanted at your future wedding.

“Can you believe it’s been almost two years?” You said laying your head on his chest.

“I know. Feels like it flew by yet also like I’ve known you my whole life. I still remember our first official date, how nervous we both were.” He caressed your hair out of your face. 

“You kept fiddling with your napkin the entire time."

“Hey, I was trying to impress you. Clearly, it worked well enough to keep you around all this time. I was trying so hard not to mess anything up. You were just sitting there, looking as beautiful as ever. It was intimidating.”

"I was nervous too! But honestly, the moment you started talking, I felt so at peace. Like I knew I was in the right place with you. I didn’t think even for a second that we’d end up here, like this, happier than ever.”

“I think that was the moment I knew. Something about you, just made sense. Just remember thinking, 'I really hope this isn’t the only date.'"

“And here we are, two years later.”

"And I wouldn’t trade a second of it. That night changed everything. You changed my life in all the best ways. I didn’t even know what I needed that until I met you.”

“I feel safe here in your arms. I could stay here with you forever and be completely okay.” You leaned up to kiss him. “So tomorrow’s the big day. Got anything special planned Abbott? This is your last chance to tell me!” You said while looking into his big green eyes.

“Those big beautiful brown eyes of your will get your anywhere if you try hard enough. But not tonight babygirl, not tonight.”

“I don’t quit Abbott!”

“I’m just gonna keep it simple. Just us being together. Nobody else.”

———————————————————————

Friday 

You slept for 12 hours straight Thursday night into Friday. You were woken by the smell of breakfast cooking. 

Still half asleep you said, “Oh god he’s going to burn the apartment down.” You quickly hoped out of bed. Wearing his clothes already, you grabbed a pair of socks out of his drawer, of course, and headed towards the kitchen.

As you walked out of the bedroom, the morning light streamed through the windows of the apartment. The clinking of plates and kitchen utensils filled the room. Your eyes light up at the sight in front of you. 

Pancakes, fruit, freshly brewed coffee, and the biggest bouquet of red roses you’ve ever seen. Balloons tied all around the apartment. A gift box in the middle of the kitchen island. And Abbott standing there smiling at you, ear to ear. His silver curls shined in the rising sun beaming through the shades. Still in the same clothes he went to sleep in. White t-shirt and gray boxers. 

God, how are you going to get through the day with him looking like that? You thought to yourself. 

“What’s all this for?”

“Haha you’re so funny.”

“I got jokes too. But really, happy anniversary to my favorite guy on the planet. I love you.”

“Happy anniversary babygirl. Love you more than you know.”

“Homemade breakfast? On our anniversary? You really are a professional at this ‘romance’ thing huh? Why do I feel like there’s more going on here than just pancakes?”

Next thing you know his hands were on your neck pulling you for a kiss. It was passionate. The type of kiss you don’t want to ever stop. But he pulled away first.

“I wasn’t done with you.” You said. 

“You’ll get more later, don’t worry.”

“You’ve outdone yourself already Abbott”

“Still Abbott huh?”

“Maybe you’ll earn your name back by the end of the day.”

“Oh, I plan on it.” In a lowered tone, “I’ll be hearing it nice and loud tonight.” Again with that smirk.

“What did you just say?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Oh you heard him loud and clear. You just wanted him to say it directly to you.

“Here.” He picked the gift box up off the table and handed it to you. “Just a little something to start the day with. Don’t worry, there’ll be way more later.”

You unwrapped the box slowly. A small jewelry box. Oh shit, this better not be a ring right here, right now.

You opened it. A necklace. Golden with his initial and birthstone.

“So everybody knows that you’re mine. Needed you to have something special, something you can keep close to your heart.”

“Oh my god. Put it on my right now.”

You took the necklace out of the box, handed it to him and turned around. He brushed your hair out of the way, gently rubbing the back of your neck. Shivers went down your back. You could feel him just centimeters away from you. Nothing separating your bodies except the thin fabric. 

God you were touched deprived.

You turned back around to him while holding onto the necklace. “I love it Jack.”

“Ah, I get my name back.” He smiled.

“For now at least.” You tilted your head at him.

“Wait let me go grab your gift!” You ran back into the room to get his present.

"Whispering as low as he could get, "I'll be hearing my name loud from you tonight." You could here him laughing from the kitchen.

"What did you just say?", you yelled from the bedroom. No response.

“Here!” You were so proud to hand it to him.

Two small boxes. “Which should I open first?

“This one! Not as poetic as your gift but just open it."

He opened up the box to reveal the watch.

“Holy shit!” He looked up at you. “You shouldn’t have.”

“New salary is treating me well I guess. Take it out! Look at the back!”

He took it out of the box to see the dates engraved. The day you met and the day you started dating. 

“I figured no matter where you go, you’d have a little piece of us with you. Plus, I just thought it’d look amazing on you."

“Can’t wait to show this off at work.” He immediately put it on his left wrist.

“Well, just don’t get blood all over it though. Come on open the other one!”

This one with a last second buy when you were leaving the jewelry store. A chain to perfectly match the watch. You’d been telling him since you got together how good he’d look with one on but, he never got one.

“I guess great minds think alike huh?” He winked at you. “Well now you have to put it on me.” He handed it to you and turned around. As quietly as he possibly could, he muttered, “You’ll be seeing this up close later.”

“Why the hell do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?” He laughed.

“Mumbling under your breath! It’s driving me crazy! What did you just say?”

“Are you going crazy? I didn’t say anything!”

Rolling your eyes at him you said, “So, now what’s the plan Abbott?”

“Really with the Abbott again? Really?”

“Stop mumbling and speak up then.”

“Well the plans don’t start until later, so I just want us to spend this time together, enjoying each other’s company, away from all other distractions.”

“Sound perfect to me!”

The day went on, spending time watching each other’s favorite movies, listening to music while dancing around the apartment. Time slipped away with him. 

He stretched as he got up off the couch, “Should probably start getting ready now.”

You went to shower first. Then he went. 

“So where’s this special outfit?”

“I left it hanging on the closet door. Shoes are in there too. Let me just go grab my clothes and then you can get dressed in there and I’ll get dressed out here.”

You went into the bedroom and took the dress out of the bag it was hanging in. 

“Abbott!”, you ran out into the living room where he was getting changed.

He was pulling up his black dress pants, blue briefs underneath. Leaving no room for imagination and showing you everything you have been missing. Zipper, button, and belt all still undone. His undershirt was still lying over the couch. You’d seen him shirtless all the time but, right now, your mind began to wonder. 

You licked and bite your lip not realizing that you were just staring at his bare chest. His hand slid into his pants to straighten out his briefs. 

“Did you come here to say something or just to see me half naked?”

You were able to rip your eyes away from his body for just one second. “Both apparently. Uhm when did you find the time to go get this?” You held up the dress.

It was dress you saw a woman wearing a few weeks earlier and became obsessed with, even asking her where she got it from. White with blue flowers, thin strips, open in the back, slit down the right leg. You never found the time to go see it in person. But he did. 

“I knew you wouldn’t go back for it. So I did. The day after you first saw it. Figured it’d be perfect for the occasion.

You turned around to start walking away. “Well you’re gonna be taking it off me tonight.” You whispered. 

Abbott started laughing. “What’d you just say to me?”

“Nothing!” You ran into the bedroom and shut the door behind you. 

Since he decided to surprise you wet the dress, you put on a surprise for him underneath. 

He even laid out your white sandals with a slight heel. He was still a whole head taller than you. 

“Can’t believe we’re finally going out. I’ve been looking forward to this all week."

Glancing over at you, grinning, “Wow, you look incredible, I think I’m going to have a hard time keeping my eyes off you tonight."

Laughing lightly, turning to face him, “Oh really? Well, I might need to make sure you’re paying attention to where we’re going, because you might get distracted."

He stepped closer, lightly touching your arms, “I think I’ll be okay but I might need a little reminder of how lucky I am to have you by my side." "Well, I’m lucky to have you too. Just don’t be surprised if I end up stealing all of your attention tonight.”

His eyes on you "Trust me, it won’t be hard. I don’t think I could ever take my eyes off you."

"Let’s see if you still feel that way after a whole night.”

He looked down at the time on his new watch. “Shit, we better get going to make the reservation. You might want to take a sweater or something, probably going to be a little chilly out later tonight?”

“Oh, so you’re going to take me somewhere outside then?”

“You’re killing me babygirl.”

“Let me go grab something then.”

You ran back into the bedroom, opening the closet door. Scrambling for one specific item. Putting your arm all the way in you found it. 

The Beers of the Burgh zip up sweater. 

Jack shoved it all the way in the back corner of the closet after your assault, making sure you wouldn’t have to see it. But you were ready to wear it again tonight.

“Okay, I’m ready!”

“What is that?”

You walked up to him and held out the sweater.

“Are you sure?”

“I feel completely safe with you Jack. I’m ready to fully move past it.”

He gave you a light kiss on the cheek, “Let’s go then babygirl.”

All the way down to the car, you pestered him to tell you where it was exactly you were going. He wouldn’t budge. 

“Maybe I’m taking you somewhere completely unexpected. I guess you’ll just have to trust me."

Laughing, playfully narrowing your eyes, “I do trust you more than anything, but now I’m really curious. Should I be excited or nervous?"

He smiled mischievously, “Definitely excited. Trust me, you’re going to love it. But I promise, it’s not whatever you’re thinking."

You leaned back in the seat, raising an eyebrow "You’re making me even more curious now. Are we going somewhere fancy? A secret restaurant? Or are you about to whisk me off to a secret adventure?"

"Maybe a little bit of everything. But tonight is about enjoying the surprise and you’re going to have the time of your life.”

Excitement took over your body. "Okay, okay, I’m all in. I guess I’ll just enjoy the ride and see where it takes me."

He reached over and giving your hand a squeeze "That’s the spirit. I can’t wait to see your face when we get there."

He parked the car and you finally underwent he was excited for you to find out the surprise. 

“Wait, is this the place? Oh my fucking god Jack! This is the place I’ve telling you about for months now!”

Smiling and glancing over at you, "Yeah, this is it. I knew you’d love it. Trust me, you’re going to be impressed."

“I talked about it so much but never even looked at their menu!”

"You’ll find out soon enough. All I’m saying is, they have some of the most interesting dishes. I couldn’t wait to bring you here."

Holding out his hand to you, “Come on, let’s go inside. And I promise, this is just the beginning of a perfect night."

You took his hand with a smile, "Okay, I’m officially excited. If the food is half as good as the surprise, we’re in for a treat."

You’ve were seated at an elegant table inside the restaurant, and you’re both soaking in the ambiance.

You looked around, amazed, "Wow, this place is gorgeous! I can’t believe you got a reservation here! They literally have a Michellin star Jack!”

Smiling as he watched your reaction. "I’m glad you like it. I thought it would be the perfect spot for tonight. I wanted the night to feel just as special as you are.”

Looking at him with a soft smile you said,  "You really know how to make a girl feel special. I’m already having the best time, and we haven’t even started eating yet."

Softly laughing, “That’s the plan. Just wait until the food comes, trust me, it’ll make the night even better."

“If the food is as good as the surprise, I’ll be asking you to pick all our date spots from now on."

“I’m happy to take that responsibility if it means making you smile like this all the time.”

After spending 3 hours in the restaurant, you could see the sun beginning to set outside.

"That was absolutely incredible. I can’t believe you did this. It was perfect!”

“I’m glad you liked it. But, the night’s not over yet. There’s one more surprise I’ve got in store for you."

Your eyes widened. "Wait, another surprise? I’m not sure I can handle any more excitement tonight Jack!”

“You can handle it, trust me. I promise you’re going to love it.”

“God, I hate surprises but, I think you’re beginning to change my mind.” 

He took your hand as you walked out the door. “Good. You deserve it. Just wait  it’ll be worth it at the end”

Right before he opened the car door for you, he stopped. 

“I need you to do something for me first.”

“I’m listening.”

“I need you to put this on.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a long strip of black fabric.

“A blindfold? Really Jack?”

“I’ll be worth it. I promise you. Trust me babygirl.”

“Fine but, you have to put it on me.”

You turned around. He reached around and gently tied it. He whispered , “Maybe we can use this later.”

You turned around to face him, and bit your lip. “I don’t know how you can top any of this, but I’m ready to watch you try.”

You could feel him smiling confidently as he opened the car door and guided you inside. His hands gliding across your body sending shovers down your spine.

“You’ll see soon enough. Trust me, this one’s going to be unforgettable."

He drove for what felt like forever. 

“Are we there yet? People are going to think you’re kidnapping me!”

“Perfect timing, we’re here.”

He put the car in park and turned it off. 

“Can I take this off now please?”

“Not yet. Let me come around and help you. Take your sweater, it got pretty cold out.”

“Jack, I swear if I walk into something-“

“I got you babygirl, don’t worry.” He held his hand on your lower back which was left exposed from the dress. You both walked a short distance from the car. Breeze slowly past you.

“We’re here.”

He stood in front of you, reaching his hands slowly around you to untie the blindfold.

You blinked hard to refocus your eyes. You looked to your left and right smiling. “You know when you said we were going somewhere special I didn’t exactly have the hospital in mind.”

You were standing at the entrance to the emergency department.

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

“The day you told me my excitement to be here would be short lived? I’ll never forget proving you wrong.”

“You know,” he took a deep breath, “I was struggling to come back here day after day, loss after loss. I wasn’t seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Not until you walked in and brought the sun with you into every shift. You’ve become my favorite part of every day. Even the hard days feel lighter with you in them. So yeah, this place will always be special. It’s the place where I found my forever. “

You went up on your toes to kiss him.

“Come on let’s go for a walk.” He grab your hand and lead you across the street into the park. After walking the path for about 20 feet, you saw tea light candles on both sides of the path with flower petals in between. 

You stopped right in your track. Tears already filling your eyes. Face becoming warm. 

“Jack, what is this?”

He smiled softly as you. “Come on. Let’s keep going to our spot. Want to show you something.”

You kept walking until you reached the middle of the path by the bench you two had sat on when he asked you to be his girlfriend. A bouquet of red roses sat on the bench in front of you.

“This is where I made you my girlfriend. And where I told you I loved you for the first time. Felt like the right spot to do this next part too.”

He pulled out a small piece of paper from his pocket. “You know, I did have this whole speech planned but, things never go according to plan anyway so…” 

He crumbled up the paper and shoved it back into his pants pocket. 

And lowered himself down onto one knee. 

“Two years ago today, we walked into this park as friends and left as a couple. Everyday since then has made me the happiest man on earth. You’ve been my partner in everything, my safe place, my challenge, my home. My forever. 

Tears filled your eyes as your hand covered your mouth. “Jack”, you said as your voice broke.

“You’ve taught me more than being a doctor ever could. You showed me that love isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s quiet. It’s in the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching, the way we laugh at things no one else would understand. It’s in how we argue, but always come back to each other. You’ve taught me what real love is. You make me brave. You make me a better man. And I want to spend my whole life figuring out how to love you even more than I already do. I’ve seen so many versions of happiness in my life but none come close to what I feel when I’m next to you The more I think about it, the more certain I become.”

Tears streamed down your face.

 “So I guess I just have one question for you.”

He slowly reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small red box. With his hands shaking, he opened it gently. He revealed a simple yet elegant ring.

“Will you do the absolute honor of marrying me?”

A mixture of awe, laughter, and happy tears beginning to fill the space between you. You fell into his arms as he knelt before you. Wrapping your arms around him and letting the full weight of your body lean into him. 

He leaned back, “Is that a yes?”, he said laughing.

“You could’ve asked me this the day we met and I would have said yes and 2 years later, the answer is still yes! I’ll always choose you Jack”

Still both kneeling on the cold, hard ground in each other’s arms laughing, crying, holding each other like no one else exists in the whole world.

He gently placed the ring on your finger. The outside world distant, everything had stopped except for you and him. The promise of a future.

He lifted you up and held you in his arms. You could stay in this moment forever. You glared down at the ring in full for the first time since he opened the box.

“I wanted it to be perfect. I spent weeks choosing it. Even brought Robby to the jewelers with me. I know it’s not just about the diamond or anything but I wanted you to have something that felt as special as you are to me.”

You couldn’t peel your eyes off of it. Slowly turning the ring on your finger, mesmerized by its beauty, feeling the weight of it, both literally and metaphorically.

“You picked the perfect one. Not just the ring. This whole night. Just you and me here together”

You took a deep breath you looked up into the cloudy night sky. A slight breeze flowing in between you both. Taking in the full moment for all its worth.

You heard more then just the wind rustling in the trees, before you could even realize what was happening, all your favorite people appeared. 

Robby, Collins, Langdon, Mel, residents, nurses, at least a dozen people closest to you two.

“Surprise!” You heard it from every direction possible. Cheers for the both of you. 

“You two are going to be so great together. You know we’ve all been rooting for you since day one, right?” Mel yelled excitedly. 

Hugs from all around for you both. You lost track of just how many people he brought to support you.

“Come on let’s see that rock!”

You put your hand out for everybody to see. Thankfully, you got your nails done earlier that week. The ring catches the moonlight just right, a subtle sparkle, not flashy, but full of meaning. Love. The kind of shine that doesn’t scream for attention but, the type that draws eyes to it.

“You did good.” Robby put his hand on Jacks shoulder. “Really good brother.”

You lost track of time as everyone was gathering in conversation. Almost everyone had left for the night already.

You saw Langdon standing off to the side and walked up to him. 

“So you did know huh?”

“Of course I did.” He nudged your arm, “Make sure you ask him about that note he put back in his pocket. You’re going to want to hear it.”

“I will. So, who are you going to be bringing to our wedding?”

He glanced down at you with a slight smile. “Mel.”

You started jumping up and down. Almost as excited as you were just earlier. “Oh my fucking god! I know it! I knew it this whole time!”

“Yeah I knew that you knew. That’s why I never explicitly said it.”

“Langdon, oh my god. I’m so happy for you two! She’s so good for you!”

“Trust me, I know.” He looked over at her smiling. “You’re not mad that I didn’t tell you about any of this? Or about her?

“I’ll never be mad at you Langdon. Jack might be my person but, you’ll always be my best friend."

“I’ll take second place I guess.”

“Mind if I steal her away for a moment?” Robby came up from behind him and put his hands on his shoulder.

“She’s all yours Robby.”

“You knew about all of it huh?” You glared over at him. 

“He unfortunately tells me everything.” You two laughed. “But on a more serious note you both deserve all the love in the world, and I can’t think of any two people better suited for each other. Watching this chapter of your lives has been a pleasure and I’m excited to see what comes next for you two.”

“Thank you Robby. It really means the world coming from you. I’ll always appreciate you and everything you do for us both.”

Jack and Collins came up to you two.

“Let the man have some time with his fiancé, Robby.” Said Collins while intertwining her arm into Robby’s.

“Uh fine. Congratulations to you both again! Excited already for the wedding.”

You exchanged hugs with them and they were off. 

“You put the sweater back on?” Jack looked down at you. 

“Makes me feel like I’m wrapped in your arms. And there’s no safer place in the world Jack.”

“Come on, let me get my fiancé home.” Jack winked and wrapped his arm around you. 

You grabbed your flowers off the bench before realizing that all the flower petal and lights were gone.

“Dana picked them up, gonna get them back Monday night. Could use them at the wedding for something.”

“Jack.”

“Yeah?”

There’s a short silence, just looking at each other. The mood shifts more tender, more intense. 

You put your hands onto his chest before crashing your lips into his. Hard. Lips moving rhythmically around each others. Desperate, aching, like you’ve both been holding your breath for years waiting for this moment. 

When suddenly you feel water dripping onto your face. It’s starting to rain.

“Could not have planned that out better if I tried.” Jack laughed. 

The walk back to the car was peaceful. Just you two in each other arms. The way it’s supposed to be. Rain falling around you.

Streetlights flash across the windshield. The silence is heavy. The tension during the car right home could be cut with a knife. He kept his left hand on the steering wheel and his right hand in yours softly caressing your thumb. Every chance he got he glanced over at you.

The ring still shines faintly as his hand is in yours. Rain tapping lightly on the windshield.

“Do we think the rain is good luck?”

“Maybe it’ll rain on our wedding day too.” You turned your head to see him smiling softly. “So fiancé, you got anything else special planned for tonight?”

“I could tell you or I could show you.”

The tension from the drive followed you too all the way upstairs. It didn’t snap, it deepened, filling the empty space all around you.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, he immediately turned around. His hands wrapped around your neck as your hands went up to his chest. He pinned you against the wall as his lips crashed into yours. Tongues swirling in each other mouths. Moans filled the elevator until the ding that you had arrived to your floor. He quickly pulled himself off of you. 

He pulled away breathless, panting already, he ran his hands through his silver curls. 

“Fu- fuck, let’s go before I rip your clothes off right here.”

As soon as you both stepped off the elevator, he stopped. 

“I can’t believe that I get to marry my best friend.” 

“Thought Robby was your best friend?”

“Oh you beat him for that title within a week of us meeting. Now come on, I got to give my fiancé what she deserves.”

He wrapped his arms all the way around you and threw you over his shoulder. You kicked your feet up into the air. 

“Oh my god, fucking finally! Yes!”

He carried you down the hall to the apartment door, fighting with the keys in his pants pocket to get into the apartment as quickly as he possibly could. Finally behind closed doors.

Before you know it his jacket hits the floor, shoes kicked off lazily, fingers tracing familiar lines around each other bodies Every movement is slow and deliberate, not just passion, but raw intimacy. The kind that screams, I want all of you and I’m not going anywhere.

“God you look so fucking good in this dress but, I need you out of it right now. Fuck”

He grabbed your hand and lead you into the bedroom. 

“Let me see what I’ve been missing out on.”

He pulled your body against his as his hands slid behind you untying the dress, never breaking eye contact. He gently pulled the straps on your shoulders down around your arms. Underneath a surprise. 

Not only did you go and buy him a gift earlier that week, you stopped at the lingerie store to pick up something extra special. A red set. Lace. Tightly wrapped all around your body. 

He trailed his fingers down the fabric on your stomach. “Fuck, you’re driving me insane already babygirl.” You watched his eyes roam your body, up and down as you unbuttoned his shirt, getting down to his belt buckle.

Hands went to your waist, pushing you back against the bed. Wrapped his arms around you, lifted you up, and threw you down onto the bed. His eyes went dark. He was starving for something only you could give him.

He stood at the edge of the bed, undid his own belt, pulling his pants off in a hurry. Tight black briefs that showed his excitement. He ripped off his socks before crawling on top of you. 

Fingers tracing every inch of your body. You squirmed under his touch. 

As he came face to face with you, you whispered, “Take me.” 

He hand slid effortlessly underneath you, untying your lingerie. Sliding in fully off your body as if he’s done it a million times before.

He lightly kissed you before making his way down around your neck as his hand began to explore your body. You felt his hand on your stomach, instinctually, you open your legs for him. 

“That’s my good girl.” You threw your head back letting a soft moan leave you as he sucked on your collarbone. You felt his hand go lower. 

“Jesus fucking christ, so wet for me already. He growls lowly, the possessive need in him taking over him completely. 

“Been waiting for you all night.” You panted out. 

“Is that right?” He didn’t hesitate, his middle finger was inside of you. 

“Oh fu-fuck Jack. Please.”

“Patience my sweet girl. You’ll get what you need soon enough.”, He leaned into your ear, “We’re going to do this how I say. You’re going to finish on fingers, then on my tongue, then we’re going to finish together.”

His fingers slid easily through your juices as he began sucking on your breasts. Gently biting your nipples. Fingers curled inside of you while his thumb did circles around your clit. The sensation of his breath against your skin made your head spin, the anticipation building as he curved his finger into you, finding that spot that drove you wild. 

Before you knew it, another finger was inside of you. The sounds of your wet pussy filled the room. He knew exactly what spot to hit each time. 

“Ja- Jack, I’m gonna, I’m gonna-“

“Give it to me babygirl. Cum on my fingers.”

You arched your back as your legs began to shake under the pleasure. There were sounds leaving your body you didn’t know you could make. 

“There we go, that’s my girl.”

You let go completely. A wave of pleasure took over your entire body. Your first of many orgasms tonight. His fingers still inside of you, slowly moving. 

“Gotta taste her now.”

“Fuck Jack, ju- just give me a second.” Legs still trembling, you struggled to catch your breath. You covered your face with both hands. Embarrassed that you were already struggling to keep up with him. 

“Damn you missed me that much huh?”

You didn’t respond.

“Are you alright?”

“Fuck I can’t believe I can’t keep up with you and your like twice my age.” You laughed. 

He grabbed both arms off of you dragging them to your sides before wrapping his left hand around your neck. His veins in his hand bludging out. You look down to see his new gold watch. What a good idea. 

“First of all, I’m not twice your age. Second, I know what my girl needs and how to give it to her.”

You glared up at him, chain dangling right in front of your face. You bite your lip and said, “Oh god, just shut up already and clean the mess you made.”

“Anything for you sweetheart.”

Before you knew it, he was leaving a trail of saliva down your body. Kissing every inch of your body. “You want this?”

You grab his hair and pushed him down into your cunt. His lips latched onto your clit, sucking hard, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Your fingers tangled in his sliver hair, gripping tightly as your legs trembled, and he groaned again into you, the vibration making you whimper.

"God, I could stay here forever.”, He mumbled against you. “This pussy is all mine tonight. You feel that? You hear that? This pussy's mine."

You could hear slurping sounds as he devoured you, his mouth greedy and desperate as if he’d been starving for this moment forever. Your breath came out in gasps, moans, your whole body burning under his relentless attention to you and your ever need and desire. 

Your body began to pull back from him. He reached up and grabbed your hands, pulling you back into him. 

“Where do you think you’re going sweetheart?”

“Fucking hell, Jack, ah Jack!” You wrapped your legs around his body. “Oh my god!”

Once again, he sent an orgasm crashing through your entire body. Leaving you gasping for air as he crawled back up to you to admire his work. 

“Come here, want you to taste yourself for me.”

He crashed his lips onto yours, shoving his tongue all the way into the back of your throat. 

He pulled off of you, “You need a second before we keep going?”

“No but, you’re going to when I finish with you.”

You pushed him off of you and onto his back. You leaned in, brushing your hand softly, over the strain in his briefs, the curve of seven-and-a-half inches compacted against the fabric of his briefs. 

“Lets get rid of these.” You pulled his briefs down to see his cock springing out, slapping against his stomach. You were drooling for him. 

You grab him with one hand and spit on it. Rubbing your saliva up and down his already throbbing cock.You kiss the tip before sucking on his head. 

“Just like that sweetheart, keep going for me.” Seeing Jack beg was a rare occurrence and you were eating it up. “Fu- fuck, oh god please.”

You pulled your mouth off and grabbed his cock with your hands, feeling every vein in him pulse against you. 

“You gonna finish for me baby?”

He grabbed all your hair in one hand. “Put me back in your mouth right now and I’ll show you.”

You moaned onto his member, fighting the urge to swallow him whole and suck every last drop of his cum out of his cock. You brought your hand to his balls, gently squeezing them, making him push himself further down your throat.

“Sh-shit, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!” He pulled your hair tight, letting out noises that you’ve never heard from him before. He came hard, shooting himself into your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down once more before crawling up to him, his cum dripping from the corner of your mouth dow not your chin. You wiped yourself with your thumb and sucked on your fingers while he watched. 

“You taste so good for me.” 

“Fucking hell babygirl.” 

“Yeah? You need a second?”

“Fuck no.” He flipped you over with no hesitation. Like you were nothing to him. The weight of his body fully on top of you. His sweat mixing with yours.

“Remember, I stopped taking my birth control Jack.”

“I don’t fucking care, I need to feel myself inside of you right now. I’ll go slow,” he promises, lips kissing yours, “You won’t have to worry about a thing babygirl. You just tell me if it’s too much.” Your heart flutters at his words. 

He holds his frame above you, both arms holding himself up around you. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, and you want it closer.

You lift your mouth and kiss him, his tongue licking the insides of your mouth. His hands move down your body, knees digging into the mattress to keep himself steady.

“Tell me you want this.”

“I want you to fuck me Jack. Please. I need you inside of me.”

One hand reached down to grab his cock. He positioned himself at your entrance, slowly sliding just the tip in. Your moans filled the room as he slid further into you. 

In and out. Your body’s syncing up perfectly as he thrusted himself all the way inside of your soaking wet pussy. You dug your nails into his back. You threw your head back, closing your eyes as he pounded himself into you. His balls slapping against you with every thrust. 

He wrapped his hand around your throat once again. “You want me to keep going, you better keep those pretty fucking eyes on me.”

You opened your eyes to find in staring into you. His eyes dark. His chain swinging in front of you, hypnotizing you. 

He leans his head back, almost like he's fighting the orgasm, trying to make the moment last as long as his body will allow. 

“Fuck, baby, you're going to make me cum," he groans.

"Want you to cum, Jack. Want you to fill my pussy," you whine. Your words whimpering, practically begging, music to his ears. 

"You want me to fill you up babygirl?” his hands tighten their grasp around your neck. "You want me to cum inside you?”

“Please Jack, I need it. Put a baby in me," you say, not even thinking twice about it. You need him, all of him.

“You want me to breed you, babygirl? You want me to fill you up and give you a baby?"

As your whimpers gets louder he takes your hand and guides to your lower belly, pressing together with his hand on the place where his tip bulges from inside of you.

“Ah, fuck babygirl, come on, cum with me.” 

“Ja-Jack, oh god!”

He fall onto your body, his thrust became sloppy as he groaned into your ear. His breath hot against your flesh.

With his last thrust, he gently kissed your lips. “You’re so good to me babygirl. There you go, so glad I finally got to cum inside you”, he places a kiss on your forehead. “Think I’m going to have to start working out more to keep up with you babygirl.”

“Wish you could just stay inside of me forever.”

“I’m sure we could arrange that.” He laughed. 

He sucked on your neck some more while you could feel his cock soften inside of you. He finally pulled himself out of you. He lowered his hand and put it on your cunt. 

“Wanna keep her full. Don’t want you to ever forget how she feels with me swimming inside of her.” He dragged the dripping cum back up before putting a finger inside you once more. You let out a loud moan before he pulled out of you. 

He threw his body next to yours and let out a sigh. “Jack, I don’t think I can even walk right now. Trust me you don’t have to worry about me forgetting who I belong to.”

“I thought about this since the last moment we were in bed together. Guess all that waiting was good for something.”

“You could let the do all the work next time, you know?”

“You got a deal babygirl. Shit, I would’ve proposed a long time ago if I knew I was going to get the best sex of my life out of it.”

You crawled onto him, resting your head on his bare chest. 

“You know, not to ruin the mood or anything but, Langdon mentioned the paper you shoved back into your pocket earlier. Don’t know if you want me to read it.”

“Yeah I figured he would.”

“So are you gonna let me read it? Is it the same thing you said tonight or?”

“Well yes and no. It’s not technically a proposal written on there. Might actually be better if you read it the day we get married.”

“You want me to wait until the day of our wedding to read it?”

“I mean, I’ll hide it if you don’t trust yourself to not read it. But please, for the love of god, don’t go around asking what’s in it.”

“No, it’s okay, I think I’m starting to like surprises now.” You laughed. 

With his crooked smile, he said, “I love you.”

“I love you too Jack. Until the end.”

———————————————————————

Six Weeks Later

You’d be feeling off the past few weeks. You chalked it up to the stress of realizing you were going to have to plan out a whole wedding while working as a full time night shift attending. And now Jack wants to go house hunting. 

“Hey! You alright in there? We gotta go before we’re late!” Jack knocked on the bathroom door. 

“Jack, I don’t know if I’m going to make it in tonight. Can you come in here please?”

He slowly opened the door, peeking his head around first. You were sitting on the floor against the shower tub next to the toilet. Fully dressed and ready to go to work.

“Jesus Christ, are you alright??” He ran up to you. 

“Well, I just threw up and feel slightly better but, this nausea is just something else right about now.”

“You think you’re alright to be going to work like this?”

“Yeah I think I’ll be fine just need to take some Zofran or something and I should be able to push through. Don’t want you guys to have to work short tonight. I don’t know maybe it was your cooking.”

“You said it was good…”, he sighed as he helped you up off the cold bathroom floor.

“I don’t know just nauseous really. That’s it. This wedding planning is going to give me an ulcer Jack.”

You somehow made it through the entire shift without vomiting on a patient. But by the time handoff came around, you were struggling just to breath. 

Once you were done, you sat at the nurses station in the corner, waiting for Jack. You put your elbows on your knees and your head down into your hands.

“God you look so pale. Don’t go passing out on me now.” He walked up to you. 

“Can you just help me to the bathroom before I throw up all over the floor please?”

He walked you over and as soon as the door was open to the single stalled bathroom, you ran inside. Swinging your arm back to shut the door before he could see you throwing up yet again.

He could hear you in there and immediately followed you inside. “Fucking hell, again. Are you pregnant or something?” 

You glared up at him, “I don’t know but, something’s wrong Jack.”

“Are you late?”

“Jack I don’t know. I’m never even regular. I don’t fucking know.” You looked up at him and wiped the cover of your mouth.

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down, we’ll be okay no matter what’s going on.”

“I think we need to go buy some tests.”

“Shit.” His eyes widening as his jaw practically fell to the floor. 

———————————————————————

Woooo! Chapter 3! Wrote most of this while watching the MET Gala looks and honestly all the hot people make it so much easier to write lol. But I really hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I loved writing it! Keep an eye out for the next chapter to find out where this one is going! ;) 

Thank you to the like 4 people that asked for more! This one is for you guys!

[swordgrace]

𝐨𝐡, 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬. (𝐈𝐈)

┊ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: after being pulled back from one of the latest missions to recuperate, you take advantage of the time alone with your boyfriend.

can be read as a standalone fic. read part one here.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: robert reynolds (sentry) / fem!reader.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.2K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: light smut (mdni), mild angst, talk of insecurities, mentions of past abuse/addiction, lots of fluff, heavy petting, heavy kissing, sub!bob, praise kink, male whimpering, dry humping, body worship, extremely soft/gentle smut, fingering (fem!rec), mutual orgasm, aftercare.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: thank you guys so much for the love & support on the first bob fic! he is so fun to write for and I just adore him! If you all are interested in more bob content, let me know! thank you all for your love and support and I hope you enjoy! 🫶

When the rest of the team inevitably discovers your relationship with Bob, there isn’t a single surprised face in the room.

Instead, you’re met with plenty of understanding, snide remarks regarding how it was bound to happen, and mild shock that it hadn’t happened sooner. You’re grateful that it doesn’t become tense or awkward — everyone’s accepting.

There is always an element of danger, forming a bond with someone who’s life is constantly on the line — yours and his. This additional layer complicates things, but you’re learning, navigating it all, and so is he.

An incessant fear still gnaws at the recesses of your mind, the fear of losing him somehow, leaving your heart ragged. Bob is afraid of it too, much more than you — when you leave for a mission, it’s perilous, dark whispers nipping at his heels.

However, things are progressing — it’s a sluggish beast, recovering from immeasurable trauma, but he’s putting in the work. Even after so many months, there’s a stagnation he feels, as if he’s slammed into a brick wall, a plateau.

It’s to be expected, his therapist warns, and Bob doesn’t enjoy the feeling of little to no progress. Nevertheless, he swallows the discomfort and only lets it loose when most appropriate, long-winded conversation during his sessions.

He has you, though — his biggest supporter, a cheerleader encouraging him every step of the way without wavering. Sometimes, he feels unnecessarily clumsy, like a child, and he knows that he isn’t. However, you’re always the first to assure him that he’s doing well.

When doubt begins to fester, you extinguish it as best as you can, but it doesn’t always work out the way you intend. The Void is a patient creature, skulking about within the darkest parts of him, a predator preparing to strike.

Low days, high days; the low days eat him alive.

Bob wonders why you continue to stick around even after what you’ve witnessed; a blackness so encompassing that it nearly takes you, too. Though he's gotten better at managing it, it doesn’t lessen the burden, doesn’t take the sting away.

He’s taken to calling the “in-between” days even days, where he’s caught somewhere in the mix of it all, of despair and joy, of grandeur and melancholy. It starts when there’s word of a mission, he knows that you’ll go — he gets scared.

The nightmares still haunt him, lingering when he’s most vulnerable, but they become less frequent. More often than not, you sleep in his bed every night, limbs entangled, anchored to one another to make the pain lessen.

There’s something to brighten his days — your budding relationship, soft and effortless, a bond he cannot recall having with someone else. Yelena is protective, cautionary; he assures her that you treat him well, that you’re perfect.

Today is an even day, made lighter by the revelation that you aren’t going on this newest mission.

Admittedly, you’re desperate for a break, to savor time away from constant missions, publicity events held by Valentina for funding, fighting; you’re tired. As the opportunity arose to skip out, you seized it, and that meant spending more time with Bob.

Once the team is gone, the tower is blanketed by an unusual hush, save for the dismal sound of running water. He’s doing the dishes again, you realize, watching as the jet departs from the landing, soaring through the skies above New York City.

An impressive palette of hues paint the atmosphere, shades of violet intermingled with the glow of a waning sun, settling into a gentle twilight. When you wander back inside, you can hear him humming; tranquil, placating.

Slivers of sunset fall across Bob, turning his brunette tresses to a warm caramel, sleeves haphazardly tugged up toward the crooks of his elbows. It makes your heart lurch within your chest, skipping a beat, mesmerized by him; dazzled, really.

“Hey,” Greeting him with a smile, you inch closer, leaning against the edge of the granite countertop. “Do you want some help with those?” You gesture toward the pile of dirty porcelain.

Tension unfurls from within him as soon as your voice inhabits the space between, head craning over his shoulder to peer at you. He nods, stepping to one side, making room for you at the sink. “Sure.” He hums, passing off plates for you to hand-dry.

Busying yourself with such menial labor, Bob is preoccupied with you, stealing glances every few seconds, lashes fluttering. He notices the shirt you’re wearing, because it’s his, grey material sagging on your shoulders.

A warm scarlet invades his visage, creeping along his jaw, stretching against his throat. Having you here with him is incredibly soothing, and he’s happy to spend more time with you. Truthfully, if he could steal you away, he would’ve.

He’s discovering what he enjoys again, buried beneath the ruin of his trauma; and you make things so much easier. “What do you want to do tonight?” Breaking the bout of silence, you wipe off flecks of orange from a plate.

Bob gawks, uncertain of what to say. You don’t really have to do much of anything, as long as he’s with you. With a nonchalant shrug, the stack grows increasingly smaller, until there’s only a handful of crockery left.

“I’m not sure,” He admits, cerulean hues flickering over you again, flustered by the sight of you in his shirt. It was unexpected, but he wasn’t adverse to it, not in the slightest. “Is that my shirt?” Bob inquires, head canting to one side.

Caught, a familiar heat rakes over the nape of your neck, tendrils creeping towards your face. “It is,” Embarrassed, you chew at the inside of your cheek, knowing you should’ve asked beforehand. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked you if it was okay.”

Instantaneously, Bob is refuting your apology, afraid that he’s upset you. “No, no,” With a shake of his head, he smiles, an awkward chuckle slipping from his mouth. “I—I like it, I don’t mind.” He assures, and you feel relieved, lips twitching into a bright beam.

“Good. I like it, too.” Delighted, you fail to stifle your laughter, helping to clean the last of the dishes before you take the time to put them all away. Bob assists when you can’t reach something, hovering over you with a relaxed expression.

Slouched lounge pants complement his shirt, grey material swallowing you whole, still carrying the scent of him. Staying in the Tower often relaxed your dress code; Bob always thought you looked pretty in anything and everything.

When you weren’t looking, he was; azure hues never strayed far from you, his sun, emanating with a radiant warmth, chasing away the darkness. His gaze was one of longing, thinly-veiled affection, a security that he finds in you, you in him.

Fading sunlight turns grayed windowpanes to masterpieces, catching refractions of light, splaying out over the dark tile. Everything is bright, splendidly so; you’re bright too, beam glittering over your pearlescent teeth.

“I was thinking about watching a movie, maybe ordering something to eat,” It’s something idle to pass the time, but you’ve found that Bob finds enjoyment in it. “Does pizza sound good?” Your stomach snarls at the mere thought.

Bob barely registers your suggestion, too busy ogling you with doe-like hues and a countenance bristling with affection. He realizes how strange it might’ve been for you, his constant staring, murmuring an apology before he answers.

“Hm? Oh,” His throat stirs. “Yeah, pizza’s good.” Lips split into a smile that melts your insides, butterflies swarming within the pit of your belly, marrow turning molten.

“Hey,” You reach for him, hand gentle against his forearm. “Are you okay?” It’s something you’ve grown used to asking, practiced; it’s a habit, born of concern for him. Bob nods, visibly reassuring, the sincerity reaching his eyes.

“I like watching you,” There’s a peculiar softness in his admission, but he fumbles, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “Not — Not like that.” He sighs, but you understand what he means, flattered that he’s drawn to you; it’s endearing.

“I know what you mean, Bob.” With a wrinkled nose, you step closer, hesitant to invade his space without permission. He savors the physicality of it all, growing accustomed to your touch — it’s always gentle, always accommodating.

Allowing you to thin the distance, Bob exhales when your arms curl around his midsection, musculature firm beneath your palms, through the material of his sky-blue sweater.

He always tries to hide his blushing, hands coming to cradle your face, foreheads dipping to ghost over one another. Every facet of your countenance is committed to memory — it’s a face he knows he won’t forget.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” It’s almost breathless, the way he says it, steeped in such reverence. He’s gotten better with the compliments, better at being a partner, a boyfriend. He’s warm to the touch, a kiss of fire to your flesh.

Flustered, you fail to dismiss his sweet praise, content to stand here in the kitchen like this; together. A shiver cascades down his spine, able to feel your fingertips draw patterns over his back, the sensation unbelievably soothing.

His lips caress against your crown, allowing it to linger, moments stretching into some blissful infinity. It’s his heartbeat you listen to, a melody that climbs in rhythm, quickening when his head lowers, dipping against yours.

“So are you.” Without pause, it earns you a small chuckle from Bob, whose heart gallops, sings to you when your mouth ghosts over his. Everything slows to a crawl, deliberation exuding from you, sluggishness intentional, meant to savor.

Just as his heartbeat begins to race, so does yours, ringing deep within your ears as you let the kiss continue, disarmingly gentle. He’s careful with you, cautious even when he doesn’t have to be, thumbs stroking along your cheekbones.

Absentmindedly, you find yourself smiling into the kiss, palpable, and he feels it too, unable to stifle the blush that flourishes within his features. Bob exhales, flesh beginning to sting with excitement, and he gingerly withdraws, visibly smitten.

Reaching for your tresses, he toys with your hair, satiny between his fingers. Wordlessly, he kisses your cheek, lips drifting over the bridge of your nose, over the corner of your mouth.

“That’s nice,” You hum, lulled into a state of serenity, delighted to be doted upon, showered in peppered affection. Bob knows that you’re just as starved for contact as he is, the pad of his thumb sweeping over your brow. “I’m going to order that pizza now.”

He’s nearly forgotten about it, hunger lurching within his stomach, growling at the thought. Before you untangle yourself from him, you rock up upon your toes, planting a chaste kiss against his mouth before reaching for your smartphone.

Bob never strays very far away when you’re together, the closeness comforting to him; and you don’t mind whatsoever. He lingers beside you when you’re on the phone, fingers idly messing with his sleeves, waiting for you to finish.

“It’s your turn to pick a movie.” He reminds you, curious to see what you choose. You have a unique taste — you like everything, and he tends to find something good in each film you’ve watched together.

Indecisive, you hum, wandering toward the lounge, couches forming an oval, centered around a massive screen. It’s typically used for analysis and surveillance, but you don’t mind hijacking it from time to time for entertainment purposes.

With a soft huff, you unceremoniously fall into the plush, crimson cushions, one leg folded beneath you as Bob sits beside you. “How would you feel about watching a drama? Something historical, maybe?” You muse, and he shrugs.

“I don’t mind.” Bob feels you reach for his hand, digits twining together. The consistent touch is something he’s grown used to, something he adores. He feels seen, wanted; his thumb traces across your knuckles.

Contemplative, you recline, partially slumped against his shoulder as you wrack your brain for something to watch. When you come up empty-handed, you clear your throat. “Would you rather listen to music?”

That suggestion is met with some enthusiasm as Bob nods, seemingly embarrassed. “I figured out how to make a playlist,” He wasn’t incredibly skilled with a smartphone, and watching him try to navigate it was amusing sometimes. “I made one for you.”

Incredulous, you sit up enough to tilt your head, flattered by the innocuous gesture. It’s unexpectedly charming, endearing — he’s a little flustered, but he doesn’t shy away from wanting you to browse the songs he’s chosen for it.

“You made me a playlist?” Others might’ve scoffed at the gesture, found it meaningless or juvenile — not you. Music was something that you often shared with Bob, a method of connection, of furthering your relationship.

Flickers of anxiety tick across his features, coupled with that of boyish abashment. A stifled hum escapes him as he nods, dark hues meeting yours, lips wobbling into a half-smile. “Yeah,” He clears his throat. “It’s just songs that make me think of you.”

“Do you mind if we listen to some of it together?” Unsure if he wanted this to be something private, you ensure to ask, and he’s willing to share. After he tells you he’s agreeable to it, your belly pools with a pang of heat.

Bob shuffles from the couch, finding the nook he’s crafted beside the window. There’s a variety of books haphazardly stacked atop one another, a side-table where his phone sits.

“It’s still a, ah — A work in-progress,” He clarifies, wandering back towards you, eyebrows scrunched together as he navigates through his phone. Rejoining you, he sits down, feeling your hand nudge against his ribs. “There.”

Connected to the Tower’s mainframe and subsequent speakers, he hits ‘play’, starting the playlist from the beginning. A softer folk song reverberates throughout the room, the melody reminiscent of a lullaby.

Songs that make me think of you; it means more to you than he fully realizes, the thought that each song was chosen with meaning, with intent. A hush fell between, a comfortable silence as you listened to the music, feeling his arm curl around you.

Tucking your head between his collar and jaw, you listen to the thrum of his heart, to the idle humming that occasionally slips from his lips. Draping an arm around his midsection, space becomes nonexistent, bodies flush together, basking in the moment.

Bob’s eyes flutter, pleasantly half-lidded, drinking in the physicality that you provide. Gooseflesh ices his spine as your knuckles graze in circles over his ribcage, cheek resting comfortably atop the crown of your head.

“This is the sweetest thing someone’s done for me,” A low utterance leaves you, cadence bristling with a kindly warmth, one that weaves around him. Each song had meaning — things he remembered about you, or the melody simply resonated with him, as you did. “Thank you, Bob.”

Flushed, he nodded, throat bobbing as he swallowed the growing lump forming, stuffing down his nervousness. There was no reason to be anxious around you, he knew this — it was his own thoughts that made him flustered.

“You mean everything to me,” Despite the twinge of shrewdness within his tone, he’s sincere, palm mimicking your action of tracing over his ribs. With a brief exhale, he gets closer, if that were even possible; you’re nearly in his lap. “I should be thanking you.”

A mirthful scoff huffs from your mouth, as if the idea of him thanking you is a preposterous notion. “No, you shouldn’t,” You murmur, head tilting just enough to plant a chaste kiss against his jaw. “I really like being with you.”

It’s a raw reminder of how incomparable you are in his eyes ��� glittering, radiant, perfect. Bob’s smile is small, but it grows in your presence, proximity having something to do with it. Digits idly sweep aside his hair, lingering behind his ear.

Somewhere in the darker recesses of his mind, scrambled memories float about; he recalls feeling like a burden, feeling unwanted. Bob winces, pain unfurling from his chest, scratched raw, but it subsides when he glances toward you.

Several of the music choices are merely classical compositions, sound strung together to create enchanting harmonies. You wonder how they remind him of you, what goes on inside of his head, how he sees you from his perspective.

“I hope you like it,” Some small sliver of him worries that it’s all too much — he’s being too much, but you seem elated. “I wanted to make it special.” His cadence softens to a lower timbre, one that he doesn’t use often.

Gooseflesh ices your spine, a twinge of want stirring within your chest. It feels detestable to desire him, as if you’re some pervasive force invading his space, but you can’t help it. With a smile, you shift against his side, distracting your thoughts with something else.

“I love it,” As the music crawls to a heartfelt ballad, you decide to stand, slowly untangling yourself from Bob’s embrace. He seems a little disappointed, but it’s fleeting when you extend your hand towards him. “Do you want to dance?”

He laughs as if the idea is silly, but he’s more embarrassed than anything else. “I—I’m not going to be very good at it,” Bob trips over his words, gaining footing toward the end. “If that’s alright.”

With a wrinkled nose, you reach for him, hands twining, digits threading together, two pieces of a puzzle. It’s a seamless fit as you coax him forward and off of the cushions. “I’m not any good, either. We can just sway.”

“Sway,” Bob chuckles, still clinging to timidity even as he moves off of the couch and into your arms. Hands find their place against your waist, a touch shy as your arms loosely dangle around his neck. “What now?”

“We move,” A grin splits your lips, and he’s still laughing, a soft sound that jostles his shoulders. He’s a little uncoordinated, but he’s adaptable, mimicking your movements as you slowly turn about the lounge. “See? You’re a natural.”

“I don’t feel like it,” Blushing, Bob nearly hides beneath his lashes, posture hunched, as if he’s attempting to suppress his own height. Though, he does like being closer to you, too. “It’s nice.” He murmurs, digits curling into your shirt.

“Yeah?” A sigh of a whisper fans across his jaw, your breath a sweet plume. He begins to relax, less rigid, beginning to sink into one another. “Spin me around?” Playful, you take one hand, starting to twirl, albeit a little graceless, as he lets you turn.

Bob’s smile is the widest it’s been in a long time, and he’s careful with you, so delicate for someone with his inhuman strength. He eases you back in, hands joined together at one side, and he spins you again, caged to his chest.

You’re giggling, he’s chuckling, too; it’s pure bliss.

There��s a constant hint of shyness that permeates his visage, as if he’s stupefied by you. He knows that sentiment won’t change anytime soon; you’re beautiful, and you’re home.

“I’m happy,” Bob blurts, lips parting to make way for a trembling exhale. It almost feels strange, as if his life isn’t meant to be this way — he’s not meant to be happy, not meant to feel worthwhile. “Almost forgot what it felt like.”

Steps cease, swaying coming to a crawl as you stop to muster up a response. It’s devastatingly poignant, his statement — and yet, there’s something saccharine about it, too. “Bob …” Brows knit together, lips twitching into an empathetic smile.

“I—I know you don’t want my gratitude, but you make me happy,” It’s as if the earth shifts beneath your feet, something monumental; you feel just as undeserving as he does, sometimes. “You do, and I want you to know that.”

Tears sting the corners of your eyes, vision growing bleary, a haze of emotion as you swiftly try and blink them away. “You make me happy, too — so much,” You murmur, forcing a laugh to dispel any potential sobs. “I’m proud of you.”

Proud of you; Bob wants to dismiss it all, tell you that there isn’t anything to be proud of, but the words fade to ash upon his tongue. He’s still learning, still healing, a heart and mind that haven’t completely mended.

He knows that you don’t care, you take him as he is — Bob, the Void, Robert. Even the darkest parts of him are ones that you care deeply for.

It was his turn to become blubbery, head dipping as he stifled the tears, a smile still tugging at either corner of his mouth. Wordlessly, Bob’s lips press against your crown, the kiss firm, lingering; it’s his way of thanking you without saying it.

Violet-bruised skies subside, falling subservient to an inky black, chasing away the last wisps of an orange sunset. The room darkens, save for the glow of the monitor’s massive screen and the pallid lights that shimmer near the floor.

Before your lips can search for his, there’s a buzz that hums throughout the room — the bottom floor. There’s a monotonous voice that alerts you to movement downstairs, and you realize that the pizza is here.

“Oh,” Bob hums, mouth agape as another chuckle escapes him. “The pizza.” Admittedly, he had forgotten all about the food, forgotten about the vicious snarl emanating from his stomach.

“The pizza,” Conceding, you click your tongue, peering up at Bob with a tender smile. He’s flushed, using his sleeve to rid himself of any stray tears, pearlescent teeth glittering through the dim light. “You okay?” You ask, and he nods fervently.

“Yeah,” His smile grows when you kiss his neck, unable to reach his jaw this time. Fire follows in the wake of such an innocuous gesture, and he gapes, wanting to feel it again. “I’m fine — I’m hungry, too.”

“Perfect,” Clearing your throat, you move towards the elevator, pressing the communication button beside it. “Have him put it on the elevator, Tower.”

There’s some strange intelligence unit that helps power the Watchtower — you’ve taken to calling it ‘Tower’. Bob is somewhat unnerved by it, but it’s helpful to have an additional layer of security. Though, the elevator is notoriously slow.

“Now we wait.”

Remnants of a pepperoni pizza lay scattered atop the granite counter in the kitchen, scent of melted cheese and marinara heavy in the air. Bob is licking the grease from his fingertips while you’re cleaning up, tossing the box into the trash.

He’s grown fond of junk food; when in the throes of active addiction, he rarely ate, wasting away whilst searching for drugs. Bob fills the cravings with everything he can, with a penchant for burgers and milkshakes, too.

“That was good,” He remarks, having eaten a majority of the extra-large pizza you’d ordered. You were content to let him, noticing the streak of red sauce that’s still on his chin. “Thank you.”

“You’ve got something,” Gently, you reach forward, rocking up upon your toes as the pad of your thumb wipes away any stray marinara. “There.” You’re smiling and he’s smitten again, a bemused huff escaping him as the kitchen turns sparkling again.

The two of you go to your room this time, as opposed to his. Bob prompts the change of scenery, curiously admiring some of your decor, a reflection of your personality. There’s a picture of the two of you that Alexei took, secretly, both of you two deer in the headlights.

As the door slides shut, you move to turn on the nightlight over your headboard. You never had much of a use for it until Bob started sleeping in your bed — you don’t mind it.

“You kept this,” Bob murmurs, gingerly handling the photograph with a shy smile. “I—I didn’t think you wanted your picture taken.” It’s a small detail he’s picked up about you, incredibly adverse to flash photography.

“I didn’t, but it’s of us,” With a beam, you begin to fix up your comforter, making sure the pillows are there, sheets corrected. “I talked Alexei into developing it for me.” You muse, sitting down along the corner of your bed.

He examines the picture, finding you to be flawless in all senses of the word. You look startled, and even still, it doesn’t detract from your beauty. “Do you think I could have one?” He asks, glancing from the photo to you.

A peculiar warmth snakes over the back of your neck, heating your skin as you nod. “Absolutely, and we can take a new one together, too.” You wonder if it’s more than just sentimental reasons; so he’ll remember you, if something happens.

“I’d like that.” Bob hums, gaze fluttering about your room again. He’s been in it a handful of times, but things are constantly shifting around. You’re often inclined to go to his room when it comes to this.

Fingertips trace over the picture once more before he places it back on your vanity, hands retracting to toy with the hem of his sweater. Bob glances toward you again, his shirt pooling around your frame, exposing a glimpse of your collarbone.

A sliver of flesh, and he’s reeling, mind beginning to drift off, wondering what you might’ve looked like without his shirt. It makes his flesh burn with a feverish pitch, as if he’s been swallowed by fire.

He’s been thinking about it more often — intimacy.

Everything seems murky, clouded still as he wades through the tides of his past, searching for memories fragmented after he consumed the serum. He knows that he’s had a past fling, but none of it held a candle to what he shared with you.

He knows that he yearns for you, a feeling so intense that it’s overwhelming at times, something he tries to bury; and that’s wrong. Bob doesn’t want to scare you off, and he doesn’t want to make anything awkward.

Sluggishly, he moves to sit beside you, feeling your fingertips lightly trace over his spine. The sensation is something he welcomes, attempting to relax; you can hear his heartbeat. It’s somewhat erratic, an uneven rhythm that pounds within your ears.

Quiet, Bob dips lower, nose grazing yours, able to hear the subtle hitch within your throat. The kiss is devastatingly gentle, as always; there’s something inviting about his mouth, sweet and cautious, usually a touch shy.

As lips linger and still, he draws away, gazing down at you as if he’s awestruck, the ghost of a smile haunting his features. Wordlessly, you ask for more, tilting in again until his head briefly jostles in a nod, a sharp inhale puncturing his lungs.

There’s a subdued fervor behind this kiss, as if the both of you are actively skirting around the elephant in the room, avoiding startling the other. Absentmindedly, your hands gently perch against his abdomen, muscles firm and marblesque beneath your palms.

Bob feels himself burning with affection, but it’s heavier, heady; he feels your hands, steady atop his midsection, and it’s enough to make his head spin. Your lips are saccharine, each kiss one of a prevailing tenderness, a softness that he savors.

Kisses intensify, born of ardor as you tilt your head, deepening your entanglement. A soft, keening groan reverberates within his throat, a noise that makes you writhe in delight.

Finding some sliver of courage, his own hands snake toward your waist, hesitant, caging you in against his chest. Your hands are all over him, lavishing him in sweet caresses, and he begins to squirm beneath you.

One palm splays over the small of your back, digits ghosting over bare flesh, beginning to glide beneath your shirt. He feels your mouth stutter during the kiss, breath sharp and punctuated, likely out of shock.

“Sorry,” Bob apologizes, fearing that he might’ve taken it a step too far, but you’re there to soothe him, visibly content within his hold. “I—I should’ve asked, before …” His heart threatens to beat right out of his sternum.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Reassuring, you wonder what he’s thinking about, teeth chewing at the inside of your cheek. “I wanted you to.” Admitting your growing feelings, you notice the gears turning within his head, darker hues sparkling through the faint illumination.

“You do?” Incredulous, Bob doesn’t pull his hands away, doe-eyed as you attempt to broach the subject of physicality. You wouldn’t do it if you didn’t love him, that much you know. “If we … Would it be okay if we kept going?”

The thought entices you, heart pounding away beneath your sternum, as if it might rip a hole through your chest. You want to tell him just how much you want to, but it’s better to approach this gently, slower steps, easing into it.

“Yeah,” Swallowing the nervous lump within your throat, you ensure that you’re both on the same page about this. “We don’t have to do anything that you aren’t comfortable with. Even then, I want to take things slow.”

Bob isn’t exactly discomforted by the thought of exploring the physical aspect with you, but he’s terrified of disappointing you, or not being good enough. It’s maimed him, darker insecurities, but he knows how much you care.

There’s a distinct lack of raw lust, instead instilled by a burning tenderness, a mutual yearning, souls and bodies interconnected. That’s how you know that you’re willing to be vulnerable with him like this, in a way that you never were with others.

He nods, lips twitching into a tranquil smile as he holds you close, and you reach up to caress his brow as you’ve done many times before. “You’re so pretty.” Bob utters, wide-eyed and wanton, eyelids fluttering beneath your embrace.

Fingertips skirt along his brow, until your palm cups his jaw, thumb tracing circles over his cheek. He exhales, tension unfurling from his shoulders as he lets himself relax, lets himself become vulnerable. “You’re perfect.” You croon, beguiled.

It’s you who closes the gap this time, lips softly tangling with his own. Passion festers, a present spectator the more your mouths meld together, seamlessly molding to one another.

Bob shivers when your digits toy with the hem of his sweater, the feather-light dusting of your fingertips brushing over bare flesh. He’s not used to being touched like this, with kindness, reverence; a low groan stirs within his throat.

Shy, he begins to urge you closer still, but you’re halfway in his lap. “Is this okay?” Bob mumbles between sluggish kisses, and you’re quick to nod, adjusting yourself until your thighs are firm on either side of his hips.

This all feels like some distant fantasy, one that might slip through his grasp at any moment. He’s blushing, features permanently stained with scarlet as he adapts to the new position, his hands still politely gripping your waist.

He doesn’t know where to start, but he has inklings of ideas, awkwardly fumbling with the hem of your shirt, his shirt, blanketing your frame. You’re patient, preferring to explore, drinking him in for the hundredth time.

Tilting forward, your lips meet in another kiss, deliberate, and you can hear his heartbeat climb with a peculiar intensity. Bob caresses your waist, fingers flexing against the cotton material of your shirt, feeling your hand nudge beneath his sweater.

As mouths clawed for one another, a gnawing ache began to fester within your stomach, manifesting as arousal that coalesced between your legs. There is little space between you, replaced with a heated friction that seeps into your bones.

Your palm is cold against his abdomen, his flesh running hot, a shiver coursing through him at the contact. The sensation is somewhat foreign, but he enjoys it, reciprocating the kiss with a sudden blaze of passion.

His hands are like hot brands as they trace your bare flesh, gathering the confidence to push beneath your shirt. You shudder, delighting in the lingering kisses you give one another, never devolving to anything rough.

Slowly recoiling from his lips, your hands find the hem of your shirt, beginning to peel it from your body. Admittedly, you’re just as shy as he is about it, and the process of undressing feels like some sacred ritual.

Bob swallows, countenance one of pure amazement and elation as you toss the garment toward the foot of your bed. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispers. There’s scars on your body, past experimentation, but he finds favor in every single one.

A simple, black-cotton brassiere conceals your chest, nothing extravagantly fancy. His hands smooth over your waist, one arm curling around you, drawing you closer. Quiet, he presses a kiss to your shoulder, over a small scar.

One of your hands shifts, coming to perch against the nape of his neck, digits idly carding through brunette tresses. Bob exhales, the sensation pleasant to him as he feels your lips pepper his jaw, each kiss one of pure ardor.

A hoarse, low whimper escapes him when you gently kiss his throat, feeling his hands caress over your body. “Is this okay?” You mumble into his flesh, feeling his head jostle in an eager nod.

Poised to continue, you lavish him in feather-light, sweet kisses, chest flush to his, other palm still firm atop his abdomen. His noises are endearing, eyes nearly closed, preening beneath the attention you give him, kissing your way along his neck.

Thrumming in your ear, his heart sings a melody, calls your name, feeling your hand peruse through his hair. Flushed, Bob wants to reciprocate and more, heat bleeding from his skin, like warmth oozing from a crackling flame.

Lavishing him in the affection he deserves, your mouth continues to explore his neck, dipping against the hollow between throat and shoulder. Every kiss is fire, and he is naught but ash, a string of groans leaving him.

Joined hands meet at the trim of his sweater, following after you as he rids himself of the garment, running abnormally hot. As the blue material crests over his head, you marvel at the sight of him, as if he’s carved from stone.

He’s indestructible, muscles taut and nothing short of impressive, prompting you to swallow the lump within your throat. He’s so handsome, endlessly shy, his visage smitten as your gaze meets his.

Bob smiles, scarlet-faced as he moves to cradle your face. He’s more relaxed than he thought he’d be, stomach still coiled into an excitable, anxious knot, flesh bristling as he kisses you again.

Bodies twine together, and you’re slotted in his lap, hips occasionally urging against his own. There’s friction present, hot and unfamiliar; he’s infatuated by the sensation. He feels your hand drag from his torso to chest, hovering over his heart.

It’s soothing, your presence; a sanctuary that he feels uninhibited within, where his confidence begins to take root. It’s faint, but he can feel his courage flourish when his mouth begins to descend towards your jaw.

Bewildered, you feel yourself gasp; a subtle, surprised noise that becomes lost in the entangled barrage of sighs. He’s agonizingly slow in the best possible way, gaze occasionally shifting to make sure that he isn’t hurting you somehow.

Bob simply mimics your actions from before, and it has a rather powerful effect, ripping a low moan straight from your diaphragm. The sound is pretty, gives him some encouragement to know that he isn’t completely hopeless.

“S’good?” He murmurs, and you can feel the little quirk of his mouth against your throat. You nod, urging him to continue, and he’s more than eager to do so, kissing a trail toward your collarbone.

His hands remain stagnant, one occasionally caressing along your spine, the other content to rest against your hip. You don’t mind it, reveling in the affection he provides you, deliciously gentle, in the way that you desire most.

A shiver passes through him, your digits idly carding over his scalp, threading within his tresses, the sensation pleasant. Cupping the nape of his neck, you exhale, a shaky noise wrought with exhilaration as he kisses toward your sternum.

He’s blushing again, heat radiating from his skin, hesitant to continue further. Every scar on your body is tended-to by his sweet kiss, as if he’s worshiping your flesh, something you feel marrow-deep.

“Do you mind if I …” A tremulous sigh escapes him, and he reminds himself that there’s nothing to be nervous about; it’s just you, he loves you. “I want to see you — more of you, if that’s alright.” Bob inquires, his timbre low, a touch skittish.

A molten warmth curls over you, festering throughout your entire body, as if you’ve been struck by a fever. His constant desire for consent is endearing, and you nod, crawling off of his lap in order to sit beside him, instead.

It’s been so long; he knows what to do, he thinks, but it’s overshadowed by this unforeseen pressure, impressing you. Bob knows it’s going to take some time for him to work himself up for the entire act, but he knows just how patient you are.

Shimmying out of your thin, pajama bottoms, you nudge the material aside, letting it pool on the floor below, left in your undergarments. His eyes are wide again, silently appreciating you, drinking in your beauty — he’s not subtle about it.

His hand flexes into the edge of the mattress, nearly ripping it apart, if he wanted to. Bob watches, mesmerized as you tilt forward, capturing his mouth in another kiss, one hand poised against his thigh.

He tenses, a soft groan pulled from his throat as each kiss seems to burn with a growing intensity. It feels incredible, to be wanted — to be desired by you, in all ways imaginable. As your other hand settles against his abdomen, his lips come to a crawl.

“Still okay?” Ensuring that he’s still wanting to explore, he nods, though there’s a bit of hesitancy present. “What’s wrong?” You ask, cadence soft and assuring, wanting him to know that his well-being comes before any physicality.

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” The weight of his confession is somewhat relinquished, vocalizing his nervousness out in the open. You’re nearly slotted in his lap again, chest ghosting over his, caressing across firm muscles. “It all feels new; but I know it’s not.”

Through furrowed brows, you shake your head, fingers sweeping to stroke through his tresses. “You’re not disappointing me,” You murmur, lips curling into a warm smile. “It’s okay if it feels new. I don’t have any expectations — I just want to be with you.” With that in-mind, he begins to relax.

Bob nods, visibly flustered as he shifts beneath you, attempting to hide the evidence of rousing feelings. “I want to keep going,” He gushes, hands settling against your hips. “Just a little more.” The enthusiasm in his voice is charming.

“Define ‘a little more’,” You utter, gaze glittering with curiosity as you caress his jaw, thumb tracing circles into his skin. “This is new for me, too, but it feels comfortable with you.” Those words strike a chord within him; he’s safe for you, too.

A twinge of embarrassment settles onto his countenance, marked by furrowed brows and a halfhearted, anxious smile. “I want to touch you,” He decides it’s best to be forthcoming. “If that’s alright.” Bob murmurs, watching your lips part in surprise.

Touch holds a certain meaning — you know what he wants, and when it comes from his mouth, it makes your skin scream with heat. Even then, he appears a little shy, as if the admission of it somehow tarnishes him.

“Okay.” Conceding, you watch as he sits back just enough, politely adjusting you to ensure that you’re in his lap again. Your hands settle against his shoulders, taut and broad beneath your palms, flesh an open furnace.

Bob beseeches you for another kiss, something to distract himself with, one hand fumbling over your thigh. He wants to come across as confident, self-assured, but it’s harder than he thought it would be. He starts to relax when your digits idly massage into his shoulders.

Lower, lower still; you shiver when his hand ghosts over the inside of your thigh, touch incendiary, a brand etched into your skin. Each kiss makes your head spin, a dizzying feeling.

Between loving, sluggish kisses, he finds the confidence to skirt past the material of your panties, digits finding the warmth between your legs. A sharp gasp splits your lungs, and he almost thought he might’ve burned you.

If it weren’t for his arm keeping you aloft, you might’ve collapsed beneath his touch, melting away into wisps of ash. Each sigh was rapturous, wanton moans inhabiting the space between bodies, a feverish warmth crawling over your spine.

“Bob,” Stifling a whine, you kiss his face, mouth snaking over his jaw as he begins to touch you. His ministrations are slow to start, sheepish, trying to find his footing with the act itself. “Keep going.”

The sound of his name rolling from your tongue with such ardor makes his heart catch fire, a low groan stirring when you plant kisses below his jaw. Nimble digits find the apex of your thighs, gliding through your folds as he touches you.

The sensation clouds your vision with a haze, drowning in desire as his fingers idly stroke along your cunt, rhythm somewhat erratic. He’s trying to discern where you enjoy it the most, but it’s difficult, especially when you’re kissing his throat.

A low, husky groan fluttered from his mouth, a noise that turned your stomach to molten heat. “G—Good?” The words barely escape between his hand and your mouth, and you nod, forehead drifting to press against his.

Pleasure coils your stomach into knots, letting him touch you, explore as much as he wants. He treats you with such care, visage flushed, chest-to-chest, his heartbeat slow compared to yours.

Scarlet blooms against his features, perspiration building along the nape of his neck, in spite of the friction. Your body continues to urge against his, sending tremors of delight through him, the closeness nothing short of perfection.

Arousal seeps into his bones, visceral and raw as he urged his digits against your cunt, easing them backward in rhythmic strokes. His pace was jumbled, each touch wanton, exploratory.

As his fingers deftly caress your core, you lurch forward when they graze your clit, countenance contorted into an expression of desperation. “There,” You moan, feeling the little spike in his confidence. “Right there, Bob.”

Bob exhales, head jostling in a brief nod, faces flush together, allowing him to steal a kiss from you. He whimpers into your joined lips, coupled with the sensation of your hand caressing his tresses, hips grinding against his.

Listening to your encouragement, his digits seek the spot that made you shudder, and when he finds it fully, you’re sighing his name. It’s beside his ear, hot, fervent; he’s enamored, completely and utterly devoted to you in all senses of the word.

As his fingers carefully circle around your clit, you find it difficult to sit still, squirming atop him, which only furthers the existing friction. Bob steels himself, flushed and exhilarated, gaze wide and doe-like as your eyes momentarily find one another.

You’re everything to him — his world, center of gravity, light in the darkness. There’s a semblance of awe in his eyes, coupled with adoration, a budding desire.

With a soft whine, your hands relocate, back to caressing over his chest, abdomen, ribs; anywhere within reach. Lurching forward, you desperately seek whatever scrap of friction he provides, feeling the coil in your stomach begin to unfurl.

“You — You’re so pretty,” Bob sighs, and it makes your limbs crawl with heat. “Like this.” He’s stumbling over his words, but it doesn’t stop you from soaring, completely enamored with him. He feels strange, saying something like that, but it’s the truth.

“Doing so well, Bob,” You huff, “Don’t stop.” It emerges as a breathless plea, and he reels at the thought of you embracing him like that. The room is shrouded by tangled sighs, groans, whimpering; the temperature feels rather tepid.

Preening beneath your praise, Bob holds you close, delighted to know that he’s been the source of your ecstasy. Lips collide once more, the kiss bruising, devastatingly tender even through the constant flurry of passion.

Consumed by want, by the adoration you feel for him, your hips continue to urge into his hands, chasing after any lick of heat. Bob is more than eager to give it to you, grinding haplessly against the pearl of your cunt.

Close; you can feel it, your body screaming for a release that you haven’t had in what felt like forever. Unbeknownst to you, Bob is there too, pushed to the brink by the constant drag of your hips against his.

The touching doesn’t stop, trembling digits steadying as he circles your clit, rhythm somewhat erratic, but you don’t care. You’re nearly there, each kiss raw, eliciting amorous sounds from the both of you, tangled within one another.

He groans your name and it’s your ruin, toppling over the edge at that sound. Bob sputters, foreheads nestled together, your chest flush to his, fingers drawing circles into his abdomen. Muscles tense, clench beneath your palms, his head canting just slightly.

As his fingers still toy with your cunt even through your orgasm, you reach for his wrist, a gentle reminder for him to slow down. A gentle ‘sorry’ slips from his lips, hand ceasing as he withdraws, caressing your body, instead.

Attempting to catch your breath, you notice his flurry of embarrassment, visibly sheepish as your gaze drops toward his groin. “That was perfect,” You whisper, and he’s crimson. Tracing your fingers over his brow, you make sure he’s alright. “You okay?”

More than okay, he realizes, sticky with an amalgamation of perspiration and his own spent, watching with mild dismay as you crawl off of him. However, it gives him an opportunity to retreat to your bathroom for a few minutes.

When he returns, hunched and flustered, you’re laying in bed, wearing his shirt, no pants; his heart nearly bursts from his chest. Bob basks in the afterglow, crawling into bed with you as he curls inward, his larger frame engulfing you.

“I’m fine,” Bob assures, pressing a kiss behind your ear, arm looped over your middle. He feels you writhe within his grasp, only to turn and face him, smiling as if the world is right again. “Was that alright?” He murmurs, hoping for your approval.

“It was amazing,” Admittedly, you weren’t expecting his enthusiasm, but it all seemed to work in your favor, and his. “I want to touch you too, next time — maybe a little more.” It’s an absentminded remark, but it makes him blush.

“I—I liked that,” Bob sighs, feeling you perch atop his chest, lying beneath you as your fingers caress over his torso. “I liked touching you.” His confession is sickly-sweet, wrought with a tenderness that makes you melt into him.

Loved it, really; his arms cage you in against him, holding you, even if it’s you halfway on top of him. There’s a semblance of contentment he feels, closer to normalcy, closer to himself.

Smiling to yourself, you hear his chest expand with a yawn, rising and falling underneath your head. “You’re good at it.” Praising him with saccharine words, you watch as his visage brightens with mild glee.

He’s less timid; he’s still nervous, but it isn’t as outwardly prevalent. Bob turns just enough to kiss your forehead, nestling against you, his breath pluming over your features. A hush falls between, and he’s content to hold you.

Beneath your palm, his heart hums, the rhythm even, placating. You press a kiss to his collarbone, bare skin still fuming with heat, his warm breath tickling your cheek. “Are you tired?”

With a nod, Bob melts into you, chin tucked atop your head, arms tangled around one another. “Yeah,” He hums, gaze half-lidded. He wishes that he could stay up longer and talk to you, but he’s beginning to feel groggy. “I can stay up, if you need me to.” He offers.

“No, no,” You soothe, peering up just enough to fully glance at him, pressing a kiss against his jaw. “We should get some rest.” Typically, you’re always the one falling asleep first — it was reassuring that it was the other way around this time.

“I can hold you,” Bob murmured, knowing that it was often you holding him; he wanted you to feel just as loved as you made him feel, too. With a smile, you turned over, back snug to his chest, his arms caging in around you. “You’re cold.”

“You’re really warm,” With a cheeky grin, you feel his head nestle within the hollow between your neck and shoulder, perfectly slotted there. Reaching for his hand, you interlace your fingers together, resting together over your abdomen. “Bob?”

His eyes are closed, legs tangled within one another, as if he’s wrapped you up in the heat of his body, all coiled around you. “Mm?” On the cusp of sleep, he’s almost out, so comforted by your presence that it’s lulled him to slumber.

You want to say it — the monumental confession, the three words that change everything; it hangs upon the tip of your tongue, dangling there until you swallow it whole. You’re anxious that it might be too soon, or that it might scare him.

“Goodnight.” You whisper, and your response is a soft kiss, buried into the column of your throat.

[svt-luna]

ʚིᵋ ⋆ CHEOLNA MOMENTS THAT MAKE ME QUESTION JEONGHAN’S BOUNDARIES (HE HAS NONE) ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── now playing…

synopsis: Seungcheol and Luna acting like an old married couple while Jeonghan watches from the sidelines, questioning his life choices and their boundaries— because they clearly have none.

i have said it once and i will say it again… this might be the best thumbnail edit i have ever made 😝 anyway! due to popular demand, here we finally have the highly anticipated CheolNa moments!! i love these two so much! it was so fun writing this and reading all your requests!! i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i did! see you on the next one, my lovelies!! 💖💖💖

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST╰ ౨ৎ youtube compilations

[added captions are in brackets] ღ

bold dialogues are spoken in english ღ

indented italics are additional voice overs

Hey besties. Welcome back to the inside of my brain rot. If you’re new here— first of all, I’m sorry. But also, welcome to the void.

So. A couple years ago I dropped a video that none of us have emotionally recovered from titled: ‘Jealousy Never Looked This Good: Inside the Jeonghan-Luna-Mingyu Triangle’. It was dramatic, it was hot, and it had more tension than my last situationship. Honestly? Oscar-worthy.

BUT. As time passed, the fandom evolved, my delusions got worse, and a new triangle began to form.

Not fueled by jealousy. Not fueled by rivalry. But by pure unfiltered chaos and the complete collapse of personal boundaries.

Yes. I’m talking about the Jeonghan-Luna-Seungcheol dynamic. Or as I like to call them, ‘the soft launch polycule no one asked for but now can’t live without.’

The thing is… unlike the Mingyu situation where Jeonghan was very much “girl, don’t even look at him, look at me,” this time around? It’s giving: “yeah baby, you can flirt with him. But only because I picked him and I’m lowkey also flirting with him.”

Because now that we officially know Jeonghan and Luna have been dating for YEARS— yes, confirmed, yes, engaged, yes, I’m still spiraling— it makes so much more sense why Jeonghan watches Cheol and Luna interact like he’s observing enrichment time at the zoo.

This man has no boundaries. Zero. None. Like he’d probably hand Luna a water bottle and whisper, “hydrate before you flirt with Seungcheol again, baby.”

And what’s worse? Luna’s just as bad. She flirts with Seungcheol like she forgot she’s taken. And Seungcheol? Sweet baby Seungcheol? He’s just standing there twirling his imaginary long hair, kicking his feet and giggling like “this is fine” while his friendship with Jeonghan slowly morphs into shared custody.

So anyway. This video isn’t just about my favorite CheolNa moments. It’s also about how I realized Jeonghan is the kind of boyfriend who lets you flirt with whoever you want as long as it’s someone of his choosing.

Honestly? Power move.

Anyway. Let’s begin.

THE CRUSH CONFESSION

Let’s start strong, shall we?

The chaos began exactly twenty-eight minutes and sixteen seconds into the live.

The set was a Carat fever dream— colorful streamers twisted around balloon garlands, paper confetti on every surface, and a massive “Happy 7th, Carats!” sign hanging crookedly above the sofa line where all fourteen members sat side by side. Platters of fried chicken, ramen bowls, sliced fruits, and soda cans were stacked like a tower of bad decisions on the table in front of them.

The whole vibe felt like a sleepover with too many extroverts and not enough filters.

Luna was settled toward the middle, comfortably with her hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, wedged between Dino who had been quietly hoarding grapes and Seungkwan who was already eating dessert before dinner. A few seats down, Seungcheol was half-lounging with his arm hooked around the backrest, the very image of relaxed leader energy— until, of course, the chaos began.

They’re laughing, eating, throwing subtle jabs, and fielding live chat questions. Halfway through the stream, the conversation naturally veers off the rails (as always). It starts with reminiscing.

[i love them 🥹]

Seungkwan, mouth half-full and eyes already glinting with mischief, suddenly perked up. “Okay, wait,” he announced with the enthusiasm of someone about to start drama on purpose, “was there anyone you didn’t think you’d get along with during trainee days?”

A few members made thoughtful noises, but Luna didn’t even hesitate. She reached for a chopstick, picked up another bite of japchae, and said with complete nonchalance, “Cheollie.”

[girl said no hesitation. she’s been waiting for this moment since forever.]

Seungcheol’s offended “Why me?!” came just as the other members burst out laughing.

He wasn’t even seated directly next to her, but he craned his neck dramatically over the heads between them, his pout exaggerated and comical.

[when your gym crush says you were the reason she developed anxiety]

Luna just smirked and popped the noodles in her mouth before explaining, tone perfectly casual, “Cheollie was so annoying during our trainee years. He used to tease me so much during practice or during break… constantly. He would pop out of nowhere just to scare me, or pull my hair when I was tying my shoelaces. Constantly. It was like he had a sixth sense for whenever I was at peace.”

[CHOI SEUNGCHEOL!!!]

A mix of loud laughter and nostalgic groans erupted as a few members nodded knowingly. Jeonghan, sipping his drink lazily, just raised an eyebrow as if to say Sounds about right.

[Be so real this sounds exactly like a 6th grade crush and a lawsuit waiting to happen]

“Ah, so you didn’t think you’d get close because of that?” Seungkwan summarized between bites, his tone amused.

Luna nodded and reached for her soda. “Exactly.”

She lifted the can to her lips mid-sentence— and that was when Seungcheol, who had been eyeing her smugly the whole time, chose chaos.

[He WAITED until she started drinking. I can’t.]

“I liked you, duh. That’s what teenage boys do when they have a crush on a pretty girl.”

[HWHEHBEJWBUSNSHEVUW]

[I REMEMBER WATCHING THIS FOR THE FIRST TIME!!!]

[THE WAY MY SOUL JUST EJECTED FROM MY BODY]

The words hit like a bomb.

[If Luna had a nickel for every SVT member who confessed to her, she’d have two nickels… she’d have three but I’m convinced SHE confessed to Jeonghan 🤭]

Luna choked.

Literally.

She sputtered mid-sip, the soda going down the wrong pipe as she bent over in a fit of coughs. Dino and Seungkwan instantly reached over to pat her back, both of them half-helpful and half-hysterical. Dokyeom clutched his chest like he’d just watched a K-drama twist happen live, while Hoshi let out the most high-pitched shriek imaginable.

[Miss thing went from sipping to slipping into the next dimension]

“Yah! Choi Seungc-c-heol!” Luna wheezed between coughs, eyes watering as she slapped a hand over her mouth.

Seungcheol was grinning from ear to ear, looking entirely too pleased with himself. He leaned forward slightly with that same teasing glint in his eyes, clearly enjoying every second of her meltdown.

[Cheol, please, she’s on the brink of death]

[He woke up and chose ✨MAYHEM✨girl you mean to tell me he had a crush while calling her a goblin?!?]

Jun was howling, and even Vernon cracked a smile as if the simulation had finally glitched beyond repair.

Once Luna finally recovered, cheeks flushed from choking and the statement, her voice was raspy, “What kind of excuse was that?!” she tried to brush it off as she waved her hand, not wanting the fans to freak out even more than they already were.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan sat there unfazed, calmly chewing on a rice cake and nodding like this was all very old news. “A lot of people liked you back then,” he said with an easy shrug, his voice muffled slightly by food.

There was no jealousy. No surprise. Just casual confirmation.

Luna whipped her head toward him, scandalized. “You knew?!”

[Bae Jiyeon.exe stopped working]

Jeonghan didn’t even flinch. He just glanced at her, one brow lifted in amusement, before going back to his plate. “Mmm.”

[Not Jeonghan acting like she was the community crush]

[She was… she is.]

[Also! THESE TWO WERE ALREADY DATING AT THIS POINT!!? He is unfazed.]

And then, in perfect timing, Seungkwan deadpanned under his breath, “Only back then?”

[That moment when seungkwan becomes the voice of the fandom]

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t even meant to be heard. But the camera caught the way he side-eyed Jeonghan, Mingyu, and Seungcheol— who were, in a tragic twist of fate, all seated directly next to one another.

Luna clocked the implication instantly.

[She said “Not today!”]

Eyes widening, she sat up straighter and immediately waved her hands. “Anyway!” she declared a bit too loudly. “What’s everyone’s favorite trainee meal memory? Huh? Remember ramen Sundays? Let’s talk about that!”

The boys groaned, some still laughing, some shaking their heads at the abrupt subject change, but they followed her lead.

[Diversion tactic 101 with Bae Jiyeon]

[She changed the topic like her publicist was in the room]

Later, the video would be clipped, subtitled, slowed down, and analyzed frame by frame.

For months, fans would speculate on that exact moment— on Luna’s reaction, on Seungcheol’s confession, on Jeonghan’s complete and utter chill.

But it wouldn’t be until a couple years later— when Luna and Jeonghan’s relationship was finally confirmed— that Carats would go back and realize what Seungkwan really meant.

And this scene? It became canon. Iconic. Historical footage.

[This live aged like wine and a little bit of delusion]

Jeonghan literally lets another man confess to his girl and just eats his food. Sir, where are your boundaries?!

He has none. This is what this video is for.

IN THE SOOP S2EP3

One of the cutest CheolNa moments 🥹 it’s so wholesome!

The sky was still dusted with traces of night when the camera panned to the main house, nestled in the quiet serenity of In the Soop.

It was just past 6 AM— early enough that the surrounding woods still hummed with the hush of dawn. Inside the house, most of the members remained fast asleep, cocooned in their blankets and dreams, unaware that one of them had already stirred.

Luna shuffled quietly out of her room, clad in oversized cotton pajama pants and a hoodie that draped over her frame like a blanket. Her hair was sleep-tousled, bangs puffed from the pillow, and as she rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palm, a soft pout tugged at her lips.

[She said: “I woke up like this. I’m flawless.”]

She had no real destination, only the sleepy instinct to move. The main house was dim and still, the sun rays filtering through the windows and casting lazy stripes on the floor. She tiptoed past the kitchen, glanced toward the living room where someone had left a half-empty bag of chips open, then turned toward the sliding doors. With a tug, she slipped outside, the crisp morning air meeting her cheeks as she made her way across the grass toward the playhouse.

[The sun isn’t even up and she’s already giving drama main character energy]

The smaller cabin creaked slightly as she opened the door. She wasn’t expecting anyone to be there— why would anyone else be up at this ungodly hour? But when her eyes landed on the sofa, she paused mid-step.

Seungcheol was already there.

[BE SERIOUS. WHY IS HE READING AT 6AM LIKE A DAD?!?]

He was lounging with one leg tucked under the other, a book in hand, glasses perched low on his nose. He looked up the moment he heard the door open— and paused when he saw her.

His eyes softened instantly, the crease between his brows folding with concern. He closed the book without marking the page and asked quietly, “Why? What’s wrong?”

[🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️]

Luna didn’t answer right away. Instead, she walked toward him slowly, like a kid navigating the weight of a rough dream. Her voice was barely a mumble as she whispered, “Had a nightmare.”

[my baby 🥺]

Before he could respond, she threw herself down beside him and curled into his side, arms wrapping around his waist without a second thought. Seungcheol instinctively draped his arm around her, pulling her in as he adjusted slightly to make room. His hand rubbed slow circles against her back.

[JAJSBHWJWHSHSBHSHSHSB]

“What kind of nightmare?” he asked softly, his voice still a little raspy with morning.

[good lord 🫠]

But Luna didn’t answer. Her head was now resting on his shoulder, eyes fluttering closed again. “Don’t remember,” she muttered, voice muffled against the fabric of his hoodie.

[she’s so fluffy, I’m gonna die]

Seungcheol let out a quiet chuckle, eyes warm. “Of course you don’t.”

He didn’t press her after that. Instead, he reached for his book again with one hand while the other remained loosely curled around her.

The camera lingered on the two for a moment, wrapped in a hush that felt sacred.

[Why does this feel illegal to watch?]

[she literally crawled into his ribs like it was her bed. he didn’t even flinch.]

[boyfriend? no. service animal.]

Minutes passed. The page turned. Luna’s breathing evened out against his shoulder.

And then—

The crunch of gravel outside. Footsteps. Voices.

“Hyung, I swear the deer literally stared at me like I owed it money,” Dokyeom’s voice could be heard clearly before the door creaked open.

Jeonghan entered first, holding a coffee mug with one hand and the other stuffed in his hoodie pocket. Joshua followed with sleepy eyes, and Dokyeom brought up the rear, still laughing at whatever he’d just said.

They all froze the moment their eyes landed on the couch.

There was a beat of silence.

Jeonghan raised both brows and tilted his head slightly.

[The boyfriend be like: “Should I leave?”]

Then, Seungcheol— without shifting even an inch from his position— held a single finger to his lips.

“Shh,” he mouthed, glancing down at Luna, still curled against him.

[HE DID THE DAD SHHHHHH]

Joshua let out a silent “ohhh” as if they’d just walked into a room mid-confession. Dokyeom just gave a cartoonishly exaggerated wink before dragging Joshua by the sleeve toward the art supplies set up at the other end of the playhouse.

That left Jeonghan standing in place, mug halfway to his lips, eyes trained on the two on the couch.

Silently, he made his way over. The camera zoomed in just a little.

He didn’t say a word as he sat down on Luna’s other side, moving with the kind of casual intimacy only Jeonghan could pull off. His hand reached out, fingers brushing lightly against Luna’s cheek with the back of his hand, the gesture so gentle it was barely a touch.

[I want what they hAvEee!!?]

His voice was quiet as he looked at Seungcheol. “What happened?”

Seungcheol glanced at him, then looked down at Luna, who had shifted slightly in her sleep but hadn’t stirred. “She had a nightmare,” he said simply.

[that’s all he said. BUT IT’S ENOUGH.]

Jeonghan hummed once and didn’t say anything else. He just leaned back against the sofa and kept watching Luna like he was trying to memorize her breathing pattern.

[THE WAY JEONGHAN JUST STARES AT HER FOR A SOLID MINUTES OR SO HAS ME 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️]

[IT’S SO NATURAL FOR THEM!? WTF!??]

[THEY ARE SOOOO DOMESTIC]

The scene faded with the morning light growing brighter through the window, the sound of quiet brushes of paint and muffled laughter from the other side of the room.

GOING SEVENTEEN EP45 TTT #2 (HYPERREALISM VER.)

Here I present to you, one of the most chaotic GoSe episodes in existence.

Dinner had descended into pure, unfiltered chaos in the best way possible.

[MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE TTT EPISODE!]

The sun had long dipped behind the trees, leaving a soft navy blue sky streaked with moonlight and the warm golden glow of the outdoor lights the staff had set up earlier.

Inside the house, the long dining table was littered with empty bottles of soju and beer, tangerine peels, used chopsticks, torn napkins, crumpled tissue, two abandoned slippers, and at least one opened container of yukhoe that no one claimed.

[If you find your slipper at the end of this episode please DM us.]

The members had eaten like they hadn’t been fed in six days. Meat grilled at lightning speed, rice stuffed into lettuce wraps, screams exchanged over who stole the last piece of samgyeopsal, and five separate toasts later, everyone was just slightly too full, way too tipsy, and aggressively competitive about the dumbest drinking games.

“SEUNGKWAN, IT’S YOUR TURN, PICK A NUMBER!” Dino shouted, voice cracking as he waved a beer can in the air like a sword.

“I PICK SEVEN!” Seungkwan yelled back.

“That’s the punishment number! YOU’RE DOING THE DANCE!”

“WH—WHY IS SEVEN ALWAYS THE PUNISHMENT?!”

“BECAUSE WE SAID SO!”

[SVT x alcohol is another beast entirely]

And just like that, Seungkwan was up on a chair doing Twice’s choreography with a scowl on his face the mic up his mouth.

[This is not dinner. this is psychological warfare.]

[do you hear the people sing? singing the song of unhinged men.]

By now, the house had splintered into different zones of madness.

In the entertainment room, a whole arcade corner had been discovered, and Wonwoo and Vernon were now aggressively button-mashing a 2D fighting game, faces stone cold like it was a life-or-death situation.

“I swear to God if you spam that kick one more time—”

“Skill issue,” Vernon replied flatly.

[Testosterone levels are dangerously high.]

Right next to them, in the same room— because SEVENTEEN doesn’t believe in volume control— was the karaoke area, where Hoshi, Dokyeom, Seungkwan, and Dino had unofficially formed a boyband.

And they were screaming.

[They have absolutely lost what’s left of their minds]

Hoshi was on the floor, dramatically belting out Taeyang’s ‘Eyes, Nose, Lips,’ while Dokyeom provided backup vocals with tears of laughter streaming down his face. Dino was adding adlibs that didn’t exist.

[This is a live exorcism. please send thoughts and prayers.]

[Hoshi is actively going through a breakup with air right now.]

Meanwhile— on the other side of the room, nestled into the largest couch like royalty on thrones— were Jeonghan, Luna, Seungcheol, and Minghao.

They had drinks in their hands, snacks on their laps, and the same expression of bemused detachment as parents watching their children go absolutely feral.

[THEY ARE IN DISBELIEF 😂]

Jeonghan sipped lazily from his glass, legs crossed, eyes twinkling as he watched Dino hit a high note that sent the dog somewhere outside barking.

Minghao was leaned slightly into him, talking about something art-related that Jeonghan was nodding through without actually understanding.

And next to them— on the opposite end of the couch— was Luna.

She was curled into a pretzel shape, her knees pulled to her chest as she faced Seungcheol, who sat beside her with an arm resting lazily on the back of the couch. She was deep in story mode now— tipsy, glowing, and absolutely unstoppable.

[Drunk Luna is a vibe]

[She gets so chatty, it’s adorable]

Most people wouldn’t clock that she was drunk. She wasn’t slurring or stumbling. But to the people who knew her best— the rest of the members — it was so obvious.

The giggles. The clinginess. The nonstop storytelling. The pout that kept threatening to take over her entire face.

“—and then I told him,” Luna was saying, brows furrowed like this was the most serious tale she’d ever told, “I told him, ‘Sir, that’s not how you make kimchi jjigae, okay?’ Like. I’ve eaten that dish my whole life. My mommy would cry if she saw what he did to the tofu. She would cry, Cheollie.”

[I legit want to know how they got to this point in the conversation]

She poked his chest to emphasize her point. “He put pickles. PICKLES!”

[How dare he?!?]

[That’s actually nasty 😀]

Seungcheol chuckled, his eyes crinkled in amusement as he nodded along, clearly entertained. “That’s criminal behavior,” he said, taking a sip of his beer.

“I KNOW!” she gasped, throwing her head back in horror before bursting into giggles again. “Like— like if I went to your mom’s house and put ketchup in galbijjim! You’d disown me!”

“I’d file for emancipation,” he nodded solemnly.

[Luna drunk-ranting about tofu is my roman empire.]

Luna pouted dramatically. “He ruined the tofu. The tofu did nothing wrong. It was just living its little tofu life.”

[Someone get her a mic she has THINGS TO SAY.]

[SHE IS ADORABLE THO 🥺]

“You should’ve called the police,” Seungcheol said with a straight face.

[Idk if he’s serious or if he’s messing with her!?!]

“I thought about it!” Luna wailed, before breaking into another wave of laughter.

Seungcheol just watched her, head tilted slightly, grin soft and fond in the corners of his lips. He looked utterly relaxed— shoulders slouched, eyes warm, like there was nowhere else he’d rather be than here, letting this girl drunkenly yell about tofu and food crimes.

[HE IS SO SOFT FOR HER SJNSKWHDSJSUSUS]

[I mean, I don’t blame him.]

Minghao, who had been talking to Jeonghan beside them, turned then, tapping Seungcheol on the arm. “Hyung, I meant to ask you— what time are we starting that basketball thing tomorrow?”

Seungcheol blinked and turned away from Luna to answer. “Oh, I think around ten? The staff said we have time—”

But Luna had stopped talking mid-sentence.

Her gaze shifted back and forth between Minghao and Seungcheol, mouth parted in offense. Her pout deepened like she’d just been personally betrayed.

[GOOD LORD I WANT TO KEEP HER IN MY POCKET AND TAKE CARE OF HER 🥹🥹🥹]

[She was MID-STORY. HOW DARE HE.]

[the tofu deserves JUSTICE.]

Jeonghan spotted it instantly. He grinned into his drink, then leaned over and pointed a single finger at her. “Aigoo,” he laughed. “You’re so cute right now, Nana-ya. Seungcheol-ah, look— she’s sulking.”

He tapped Seungcheol’s knee twice like he was pressing a notification alert. “Your tofu queen is mad.”

[Jeonghan seeing Luna’s face change first 🤭]

Seungcheol turned back to find Luna still staring at him with wide doe eyes and a matching pout, curled tighter into herself like a very offended shrimp.

The second their eyes met, she didn’t even say anything— just looked at him with betrayal so pure and dramatic it could win awards.

Seungcheol burst into laughter. “Aigoo, Jiyeonie, okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he cooed, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her gently into his side. “My bad. I’m back. I’m listening. I’m all ears.”

[I simply cannot handle this anymore.]

Luna narrowed her eyes like she didn’t trust him.

“I promise,” Seungcheol whispered, resting his chin lightly on the top of her head. “Tell me the rest. What happened to the tofu.”

[LAHHSHSHEVEJHDJEHSHHSJWUSEH]

“Well,” she huffed, shifting so she was pressed into his side, legs still curled up. “After he destroyed the tofu, he served it with this weird rice that had corn in it—like, not the good kind of corn, like the soggy canned one— and I just sat there like, ‘Is this a prank?’ Like, am I being filmed? Are there hidden cameras?”

[WHERE THE FUCK DID SHE GO?!]

“You were the victim,” Seungcheol nodded solemnly. “A culinary victim.”

“I was! And the worst part?” she said, gasping like she was about to drop the biggest bomb yet. “He said he learned it from YouTube. YouTube, Cheollie!”

“Immediate jail.”

Luna nodded furiously, pleased that he understood. “Thank you! Exactly!”

[her honor. her tofu.]

Seungcheol kept nodding along, completely focused on her, laughing at all the right moments, murmuring little “no ways” and “you’re kidding me” like she was reciting the epic tale of the century.

Which to her? She was. This was her TED Talk. Her tofu trauma testimony.

[This is the most unhinged therapy session i’ve ever witnessed.]

[THE TOFU DID NOTHING WRONG!!!]

Meanwhile, Jeonghan— who had been sipping his drink and watching the two like he was at a play— grinned slowly and tilted his head at the sight.

“Cute,” he murmured with a knowing smile, before he pushed himself up off the couch and walked across the room to where Hoshi had collapsed dramatically on the karaoke floor, head tilted back like Juliet in her final scene.

“Hoshi-ya,” Jeonghan said, crouching beside him. “Are you okay?”

[Hoshi was going through it this ep]

“No,” Hoshi croaked.

“Come on.” Jeonghan hooked an arm under his and pulled him up like dead weight.

And just like that, the night pressed on— wild and warm, full of laughter, chaos, karaoke, and tofu justice.

[We will never forget the tofu]

[tofu 4ever. pickles 4 never.]

LUNA’S AIRPORT SAESANG INCIDENT

This DESEVES an honorable mention.

Okay, okay, okay— Because THIS moment? DESERVES an honorable mention in the Best of CheolNa highlight reel.

No, actually— it deserves its own documentary.

Now if you’ve already watched my video “All Eyes on Her: Seventeen’s Ultimate Protective Moments,” then you KNOW exactly what’s coming.

If you haven’t? Babes. Pause this. Go watch it. Come back. Because the way Seungcheol launched into action like a man on a mission?

Chivalry is ALIVE and it looks like Choi Seungcheol.

So yeah. Honorable mention? Absolutely. Man of the century? YES. Hot as hell for reacting faster than anyone? YOU BET YOUR ASS.

And if this doesn’t confirm that Seungcheol is Luna’s unofficial bodyguard slash soft protector hybrid? I don’t know what does.

Anyway–

LOS ANGELES ‘RIGHT HERE’ WORLD TOUR DAY 1

This CheolNa moment is so bittersweet. Idk if i should cry or… cry…

The night had already been unforgettable.

The stage pulsed with light and sound, casting glows of red, blue, and gold over the packed arena. Fans screamed themselves hoarse, their chants rising in perfect rhythm with the beat.

Seventeen, Seventeen, Seventeen!

The energy in the arena felt like it could split the roof in half.

It was Day 1 of the ‘Right Here’ tour in Los Angeles.

[Day 1 of ‘RIGHT HERE’ tour LA was a MOVIEEEE.]

And despite the bittersweet sting of not having Jeonghan— who was back in Korea serving his military duty— or Jun, who was in China due to conflicting schedules, the show went on. And God, did it go on.

The eleven boys and Luna had brought the damn house down.

They laughed. They danced like their bones were made of rhythm. They screamed into mics and encouraged fans to scream back. They cracked jokes, stole water bottles from each other, and hit every choreo like their rent depended on it.

There were confetti. There were ballads. There was Hoshi screaming “WHERE MY TIGERS AT?” so loud a baby might’ve cried in San Diego.

[The Horanghae cult remains superior]

And through it all, Luna was radiant— shimmering in her sleeveless custom silver crop top and pleated skirt, her voice ethereal, her expressions playful, her dance lines sharper than ever.

[GODDESSSSSSSSS]

[MOTHERRRRRRRRRR!!!! LOOK. AT. HER.]

But more than her performance, fans couldn’t help but watch her… when she wasn’t trying to be watched.

Especially when she was next to Seungcheol.

[No because i was RIGHT THERE (*wink wink*) and they were literally in their own drama.]

Now it was the final ment of the night.

The lights had dimmed to a golden hue, warm and nostalgic. The music was soft in the background, and the energy had shifted from high-octane to heartfelt. All twelve present members were seated on the elevated stage platform, legs dangling off the edge. They looked out into the ocean of light sticks and banners, eyes glassy with gratitude.

The members took turns speaking into their mics, thanking Carats, reflecting on the tour, on missing the others, on what it meant to be here.

Luna was seated between Seungcheol and Dino. Her hands rested neatly in her lap, and her gaze stayed front and center, respectful as Dokyeom shared his thoughts— his voice sweet and trembling with emotion.

“I know this is only day one, but I feel like it’s already a gift just being here with all of you again,” he said. “Thank you for always waiting for us, even when we’re not complete. Jun-hyung, Jeonghan-hyung… I hope we get to be on the same stage again soon. We miss you.”

[Brb… my eyes are sweating…]

The crowd cheered, a soft, collective “Awww…” washing over them like a wave.

Luna smiled softly. But from the corner of her eye, something tugged her attention sideways.

Seungcheol.

He was massaging his left knee.

Her stomach dropped.

It wasn’t dramatic— he was subtle about it, trying not to draw attention. But her eyes narrowed as she watched his thumb press slow circles into the joint, his brows pinching slightly before smoothing out again.

[she looks so worried]

It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed it. Even during the high-energy numbers, there were flashes of hesitation. Small moments where he would stop dancing for a beat. Grimace. Breathe in through his nose sharply before catching up again.

Ever since he tore his ACL, his knee had never truly been the same.

[THIS MAKES ME SO FUCKING SAD BRO]

[I hate seeing Cheol in pain 🥺]

And now, despite smiling and leading with his usual strength, she saw the truth in his fingers. In the way his other hand gripped the edge of the platform like he was grounding himself.

Her expression shifted. Worry crept in.

She turned her head slightly, just enough to catch his eye.

He noticed her gaze instantly— and of course, he smiled. A small, practiced curve of his lips that tried to say, I’m okay. Don’t worry.

[What did he do to deserve this?!??)&@2)62]

But Luna wasn’t buying it.

She reached up and carefully removed one of her in-ear monitors, leaning closer, murmuring just loud enough for him to hear her or read her lips.

[🥺🥺🥺]

“Are you okay?”

Seungcheol blinked at her, then nodded once, his lips barely moving as he replied back:

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

Luna’s eyes didn’t budge. He could feel her doubt.

Still… she didn’t push. She just scooted a little closer, subtle and slow, until her thigh gently pressed against his. She leaned down and placed a hand on his knee. Her thumb started to move in small, precise motions over the muscle— mimicking his earlier touch, but gentler, more comforting.

Seungcheol exhaled quietly and leaned back onto his hands, watching her fondly. His eyes softened instantly.

[NOT HER MASSAGING HIS KNEE LIKE A WIFE AFTER HE TOOK OUT THE TRASH.]

[But on another note, she’s so sweet]

And then— Luna suddenly reached down and pinched the air above his knee with two fingers, like grabbing an invisible bug, then theatrically flicked it away with a dramatic wrist flourish.

[HER. THROWING. AWAY. HIS. PAIN. I CANNOT.]

[OWUEUEHUSHEJWJSIHWJWIWNSIEJSISJ]

[SHE IS THE BEST PERSON ALIVE WTF?!?]

She did it again. This time, she rolled her eyes in exaggerated annoyance and muttered something like, “Ugh, take your pain and go.”

[She said “be gone THOT” to his injury.]

Seungcheol burst into laughter.

Real, full-bodied, head-tilted-back laughter that shook his shoulders. His hand flew up to cover his mouth but he was already gone.

[I’m honestly so thankful to her for making him laugh at least]

“Stop,” Seungcheol whispered in a huff between laughs, shaking his head.

“You’re welcome,” Luna grinned smugly.

Then, without thinking— Luna leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss on top of his knee. A gentle little kiss that made time stop for a split second.

[SON OF A BITVCHKSJEHEJBSJENJSJSB]

Seungcheol’s smile melted into something warmer. Softer. He looked at her like she’d just rewritten every rule about how to love someone.

His hand came up, brushing through her hair affectionately before settling on her bare knee. His fingers splayed across her skin gently… then slowly began opening and closing like a blooming flower.

That annoying little tingling thing he always did. The one that gave her goosebumps.

Luna flinched with a surprised squeal, her mic barely catching the sound as it escaped her throat.

[HOLY SHIT HER MIC PICKED IT UP SO GOOD I’M DECEASED.]

She slapped a hand over her mouth too late, eyes wide as several members turned to look at her. Mingyu paused mid-sentence, blinking in surprise.

[I CANNOT 😂]

“What?” Seokmin asked.

Luna waved her hand in the air frantically. “Nothing! Nothing. Keep going!”

She motioned toward Mingyu to resume his ment.

The moment the attention slipped away again, she turned back to Seungcheol and smacked his arm playfully.

“Asshole,” she mouthed.

Seungcheol bit his lip, failing to look sorry.

[Me giggling like a child in church. this is illegal levels of cute.]

[Little moments like these… i’m living for it.]

And just like that, under the stage lights of Los Angeles, surrounded by twelve of their closest friends and ten thousand screaming fans… Luna and Seungcheol existed in their own little bubble.

And not a soul dared pop it.

TOKYO CLAW MACHINE JEONGHAN-LUNA-SEUNGCHEOL SIGHTING

This fucking video right here! I– I don’t even know what to think anymore… just watch.

This clip in a nutshell: Tokyo streets. Luna being babygirl. Jeonghan and Seungcheol being down BAD. Let’s unpack this.

A phone camera shakily zoomed in from across the crosswalk, capturing a trio that didn’t even try to blend in— not when were literal K-pop demigods.

“Is that… wait— IS THAT LUNA? AND—SEUNGCHEOL? JEONGHAN?!” the fan whisper-screamed behind the camera, nearly dropping their phone in the process.

A second voice gasped beside them. “They’re here together? In public? IN TOKYO? I’m gonna cry.”

[Same. Same.]

The footage zoomed further as the trio strolled through the narrow Tokyo street, colorful shopping bags swaying in their hands. Their managers and bodyguards lingered a polite distance away, eyes scanning the street with military precision— but none of that mattered.

The holy trinity was right there.

They stopped outside a cutesy pink arcade nestled between two cafés, the claw machine outside practically glowing like a beacon of destiny.

Sure enough, Luna let out a soft squeal and dashed toward it, her shopping bags rustling against her arms. Her boots clacked against the sidewalk, skirt bouncing with every step.

[Luna saw the claw machine and sprinted like her life depended on it.]

Jeonghan chuckled behind her and picked up his pace, while Seungcheol just grinned and followed with a shake of his head.

[Those two just trail behind like loyal golden retrievers I can’t.]

Reaching the machine, Luna turned around and extended her arm toward them, palm out.

“She wants coins!” one of the fans cackled.

[SHE SAID PAY UP, BOYS.]

Jeonghan smirked like he’d been expecting this exact moment his entire life. Without hesitation, he nodded toward Seungcheol, wordlessly nominating him as tribute.

[Jeonghan said “that’s yo sugar daddy right there.”]

Seungcheol huffed a laugh and patted his coat pockets before pulling out a few yen coins and handing them to Luna. Her eyes twinkled as she bowed her head dramatically, muttering what had to be a “thank you” before inserting the first coin.

[She is so real for just holding out her hand like that.]

Luna’s brows furrowed in concentration as she gripped the joystick.

Her target: a My Melody keychain, nestled cruelly between two plush Rilakkumas. She pressed the button, the claw descended, grazed the keychain—

—and dropped it.

“NOOOO!” the fan behind the phone whispered dramatically. “She missed!”

[LOVE the commentary by these two btw 😂]

Luna turned to the two boys with the most theatrical pout in history, her lower lip wobbling slightly.

[GET HER THAT DAMN MY MELODY KEYCHAIN]

Jeonghan raised both brows in mock offense at her expression, clearly amused. Then, wordlessly, he took another coin, stepped forward, and popped it into the machine himself.

[Hannie said “I got this. Watch and learn.”]

He didn’t push her away— instead, he stepped behind her, draping himself over her like a second skin. His arms slid around her, hands gently covering hers on the controls. His chin hovered just next to her cheek, their heads nearly touching.

[MY PRONOUNS ARE J.E.O.N.G.N.A RAGGHHH 🦅]

[I’m not breathing. Is anyone else not breathing.]

Together, they moved as one— Jeonghan guiding her, whispering something into her ear that made her giggle.

[MY MOM AND DADDDDDDD ENJEJRJSHUSBEUS]

The claw descended again— this time, snatching a Hello Kitty keychain instead.

Luna gave a little bounce of excitement as it landed in the prize chute. Jeonghan bent down, retrieved it, and presented it to her with a slight bow and a flourish.

[He gave it to her like it was a proposal I’m gonna go feral.]

She accepted it like royalty, beaming as she clipped it onto her purse. Then, without missing a beat, she turned and pointed again at the screen— then at the elusive My Melody still taunting her from inside.

[She want My Melody!]

[We know damn well why 😏]

Whatever she said wasn’t audible, but it was very clear from her animated gestures and Jeonghan’s dramatic shrug that she was not giving up.

That’s when Seungcheol stepped forward. Cool. Calm. Collected. He slid another coin into the machine like it was second nature.

[“Fine. I’ll do it myself.” –Seungcheol Thanos Choi.]

As Luna busied herself rearranging her new keychain like they were her prized possesion, Seungcheol’s eyes narrowed at the claw. He moved it carefully, finger hovering with surgeon-level focus. Jeonghan stood beside him like a coach, pointing occasionally, giving him little nods of encouragement.

[Not them tag-teaming a claw machine for her.]

[This is a hilarious sight btw 😂]

Then— it happened.

The claw dropped.

It closed.

It lifted.

And the pink bunny-shaped keychain wobbled precariously in the air before— miraculously— dropping into the chute.

The camera shook violently.

“HE GOT IT! OH MY GOD— HE GOT THE MY MELODY!”

[THESE CARATS CRACK ME UP]

Luna’s head turned just in time to see Seungcheol reach into the chute and triumphantly hold out the prize. She beamed like the sun, jogged up to him, and snatched it with a grateful, “Thank you, thank you!” before adding it to the growing collection on her purse.

She looked at them both with such a smug little smile. She didn’t even have to beg. She just pointed— and they delivered.

[“I want it, i got it” ~]

[Luna really said “get me that one” and both men complied.]

[I need whatever delulu potion she’s drinking.]

With the keychains now swinging happily from her purse, Luna clutched her shopping bags again, let out a soft sigh of satisfaction, and turned toward the street.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol fell into step beside her, one on each side, as their little Tokyo adventure continued— bodyguards resuming formation behind them, blissfully unaware that a viral fan cam had just been born.

[Luna doesn’t chase. She attracts. Always.]

[Girl math = one pout = two keychains = two whipped men.]

PROTECTIVE CHEOLLIE #1 - PARIS PUDDLE

Before we start with this next clip, I just want to introduce this next little segment.

So we talked about that moment at the airport when Seungcheol almost rearranged someone’s ancestors because a sasaeng got too close to Luna?

Since you guys absolutely lost your minds over that, and rightly so, we now present to you…

‘PROTECTIVE CHEOLLIE: THE SERIES.’

Four clips. One man. Infinite threat levels.

From “awww he held her bag!” to “SOMEONE HOLD HIM BACK HE’S ABOUT TO THROW HANDS,” we’ve compiled every flavor of Papa Seungcheol being the emotional support Rottweiler he is.

HE’S A MAN! HE’S A WALL! HE’S A SECURITY SYSTEM WITH FEELINGS!

So buckle up. Grab your water. Stretch your delulu joints. Because Protective Cheollie is in the building and he came swinging (we are not responsible for any emotional damage caused by what you’re about to see).]

Let’s start off easy and cute— this little moment I like to call ‘The Paris Puddle’.

It had rained hard earlier in Paris— classic cinematic downpour with thunder cracking like it was scored by Hans Zimmer.

The clouds still loomed heavy and gray above the Haussmann-style buildings, casting a moody tint over the hotel entrance, where a modest cluster of devoted fans were still waiting in the damp cold with umbrellas, posters, and Carat Bong light sticks in hand. Their shoes sloshed slightly on the rain-slicked pavement, but none of them cared. No weather could stop them. Not when Luna and Seungcheol were in the city of love.

[Carats in the rain like we’re in a rom-com. Not even God’s tears can stop the grind.]

Some were tourists who had caught wind of the photoshoot schedule. Others were locals— true Parisians— yet all of them shared the same pulse-racing anticipation as a sleek black van finally pulled up in front of the hotel. It glided to a stop, tires hissing against the wet asphalt.

Immediately, a ripple of movement ran through the crowd. Umbrellas were lowered, phones raised like shields, and the fanbase collectively inhaled like they were about to meet God Himself.

[Black van pulls up — everyone: activate fangirl stance.]

[Honestly same]

But they stayed respectful. No one rushed. No one shoved. Just hopeful eyes and shivering hands holding out albums and Sharpies, trying not to scream so loud they’d get kicked off the sidewalk.

The first to emerge was their security, a walking brick wall in a black puffer and earpiece. He looked around, did the usual silent scan, then stepped to the side.

The car door opened.

Cue chaos.

“S.COUPS!!!” a few screamed in perfect unison.

And there he was— Choi Seungcheol, fresh off a shoot, dressed in a tailored camel coat with black slacks and a moody silk scarf around his neck like some kind of K-drama second male lead who was definitely going to steal your girl. His hair was styled soft and parted, glinting under the dim Parisian light.

[GODDDAMNSJJEBSUSHEIHSUEHDISJUS]

He grinned at the reaction, his dimple flashing like a well-timed jump scare.

Then, lifting one finger to his lips, he gently hushed the crowd with a chuckle.

[I AM SAT]

[I’ll go mute if he wants me to]

That was when his hand came up— smooth, natural, instinctual— and rested gently on the top frame of the car door. He tilted slightly, head lowered, eyes tracking the next figure stepping out of the van.

Luna.

[🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️]

[heEeee hEeeeeee¥|$]$?\\>\>\>>\%\2]

She emerged slowly, one hand holding the edge of the door, the other clutching her coat. Her long skirt fluttered delicately in the cold wind, the hem twirling like a petal around her calves. Her heels wrapped around her legs with thin straps that laced up to mid-calf, giving her an almost Grecian look. Her hair, loose but styled, bounced slightly as she moved. Despite the weather, she looked like she had walked straight off the cover of Vogue Paris.

[WHATTHEFUCKISWRONGWITHTHEBOTHOFTHEM?!!??]

The fans gasped again— this time softer, more reverent. A few called her name.

“Luna!”

“Luna!”

“Jiyeon!”

She smiled warmly and waved at them. “Hello! You guys are so cute for waiting in the rain!”

[I WOULD WAIT IN A HURRICANE FOR YOU, BAE JIYEON! DON’T TEST ME!]

Seungcheol glanced toward the street and instinctively placed his palm on her back, guiding her closer to the curb and away from any random Parisian car that might dare disturb the sanctity of their moment. They started walking toward the hotel entrance.

[Bonjour bitches. Protective Choi Seungcheol just landed.]

But then— it happened.

A puddle.

Correction: a miniature lake disguised as a puddle. It stretched directly in their path, a deep basin filled with murky post-storm water, glinting ominously under the streetlamps.

Luna slowed, eyeing it, then glanced at her shoes. Her heel hovered cautiously above the edge. She looked like she was calculating a leap.

Big mistake.

[GIRL, I WOULD LAY ON THAT PUDDLE SO YOU CAN STEP ON ME AND WALK PASS…]

[I have a problem…]

Seungcheol had already clocked it. The heels. The slick pavement. The perilous depth of the puddle. The potential clownery if she slipped.

Absolutely not on his watch.

Before Luna could even lift her leg, Seungcheol took one large, confident stride across the puddle. Then, without asking— without even warning her— he turned back, placed both hands gently but firmly on her waist, and lifted her like she weighed nothing.

[Bro thought he was in a drama and HE WAS RIGHT.]

Luna made a startled laugh. “Wha— Cheol!”

She was already on the other side before she could argue. He set her down with the delicacy of a man placing a crown on royalty.

The fans exploded.

“OH MY GOD—”

“S.COUPS, YOU ARE SO STRONG?!”

“NOPE. I’M OUT. I’M DECEASED. I’M GONE.”

“PRINCESS TREATMENT? IN THIS ECONOMY???”

[Accurate reactions because same 🫠]

Still chuckling, Luna waved to the fans, flushed but not flustered, brushing her hands down the sides of her coat. “He’s so dramatic,” she called out playfully.

[Girl just say you enjoyed it]

Then— like this wasn’t already a K-drama finale— Seungcheol crouched down.

[HE 👏 IS 👏 NOT 👏 DONE 👏 YET 👏]

Right there on the wet sidewalk. In his expensive coat. Knees bent.

Luna blinked. “Cheollie— enough— what are you—?”

He reached for her ankle. One of the long straps from her heel had come undone in the lift. Without a word, he began to wrap it back around her leg carefully, pulling it snug and retying it in the neatest little bow like he’d done this a thousand times before.

[A man. A man. A maAaaAnN]

[He served. He slayed. He accessorized the fantasy.]

Luna looked down at him, the softest smile curling her lips.

“Thank you,” she said quietly when he stood again, brushing invisible dust off his knees like it was just another Tuesday.

He shrugged. “Can’t have you tripping. Not on my shift.”

[Every man in France just turned to dust.]

And then —just like that— they turned to the fans.

[Acted like nothing fucking happened]

No explanation. No pause. They stepped up to the barricade and started signing posters and albums like nothing had happened.

“Hello! Did you guys wait long? You guys didn’t get too wet, right?” Luna asked sweetly.

“No! We are okay! I love your outfit, Jiyeon!” one fan squealed, practically vibrating.

Seungcheol reached out and signed an album cover, nodding. “Hello.”

“S.COUPS, DID YOU CARRY LUNA LIKE THAT JUST NOW?!” another gasped.

He smiled, completely unbothered before nodding. “She… was gonna… ruin her shoes,” he said in English after hesitating.

[This man is not real. He’s a figment of our collective delusion.]

[ALSO! HIS ENGLISH IS SO FUCKING CUTE!!]

The signing went on for several minutes— ink flying, fans squealing, photos snapping like fireworks. Despite the drizzle still misting from the air, neither Luna nor Seungcheol seemed rushed. They signed each item with care, made eye contact, nodded along to fan comments, and even laughed when someone shouted, “You two better drop a collab next!”

[YESSSSSSS PLEASENEJEJEJHEJSJS]

“Maybe we already did,” Luna teased, shooting a playful glance at Seungcheol, who just grinned and gave a non-committal shrug like “Who’s to say?”

[IM SICK OF THEM. I LOVE THEM SO BAD.]

One by one, the fans started getting their moment. Seungcheol gave polite bows, flashed that dimpled smile, and even signed a phone case with a cartoon version of himself. Luna took pictures with fans, even making matching poses when someone nervously asked her to do a heart. Her voice was sweet, her laugh louder than expected, and she touched her hand to her chest every time someone complimented her outfit.

“I was scared my skirt would fly off in the wind,” she admitted at one point, earning a collective gasp and more screams.

[I LOVE HOW THEY MADE SURE THEY SPOKE TO EVERYONE 🥹]

Eventually, the staff gave a subtle nod— it was time to head inside.

Luna waved both hands toward the crowd, voice ringing out cheerfully. “Thank you for waiting for us! Go get warm, okay?! Drink something hot!”

“Bye, Luna! Bye, S.Coups!”

“Rest well!”

Seungcheol stepped back, waving with one hand as the other found its way instinctively to the small of Luna’s back. It was a featherlight touch, guiding her gently as they turned toward the hotel entrance.

[HAND. PLACEMENT.]

Her heels clicked softly on the wet pavement, and just before the stairs, she paused ever so slightly— eyeing the slick marble steps.

She didn’t need to say anything.

Seungcheol was already there.

Without a word, he extended one hand toward her. Luna placed her palm into his like it was second nature, fingers curling. He helped her up the first few steps, steady and slow, his other hand hovering protectively behind her like a safety net. When her heel caught for half a second on the edge of a step, he caught her waist with the kind of ease that said he’d do it a hundred more times if needed.

[HELP. THE FIRM HAND ON THE BACK. I’M UNWELL.]

[I HAVE REPLAYED THIS ONE TO MANY TIMES]

“Careful,” he murmured near her ear.

She chuckled softly. “Always am.”

[AT THIS POINT I DON’T NEED A MAN LIKE CHOI SEUNGCHEOL… I NEED CHOI SEUNGCHEOL.]

They reached the top step and turned slightly— one last wave to the fans still waiting outside.

Luna blew a kiss with both hands. “Bye bye~”

Seungcheol gave a short, respectful bow and winked.

[HE HAS LOST HIS GODDAMN MIND]

[I’m calling the cops.]

[WHAT ABOUT MY SANITY, CHEOL!?!?]

And with that, they disappeared into the warm golden glow of the hotel lobby, the heavy doors closing behind them with a soft hiss— like the end of a perfect scene.

I’m crying in French.

PROTECTIVE CHEOLLIE #2 - SPIDER SAVE

And here we have the next scene where chaos, fear, and absolutely zero brotherly instinct collide.

This next clip is a collective effort on saving Luna… a collective effort for SOME of them..

Viewer discretion is advised— especially if you’re scared of spiders or watching your faves scream like children.

It was the night after the MAMA Awards in 2023. Fresh off their Grand Prize win, SEVENTEEN had returned to the hotel, finally shed of their glitzy stage outfits and makeup. The tension of the night had melted into laughter, oversized hoodies, bare faces, and that delicious post-win glow. The air buzzed with pride.

[This live cracks me up istg 😂]

In the cozy glow of Luna’s hotel room, all fourteen members squished together in front of their Weverse Live setup. The camera rested precariously on a pile of stacked water bottles and a room service tray— real idol behavior. They’d gone live to thank Carats, express their raw emotions, and bask in the surreal moment they’d worked their whole lives for.

Woozi, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, Joshua, Wonwoo, Hoshi, Dino, Jun, and Minghao were all squished together like an idol burrito on the couch at the side. Mingyu, Dokyeom, and Luna were settled casually at the edge of her bed, and Vernon and Seungkwan took the floor like the two gremlins they were.

Everyone was glowing— some sleepy, some energized, most just buzzing.

Luna was in the middle of speaking when it happened. Her voice was steady but tinged with emotion, hands fluttering like always when she spoke from the heart.

“I just… I still can’t believe it,” she said softly, her hands waving gently as she leaned forward, her all-black long-sleeved top clinging slightly to her frame under the heat of the lights. “We all worked so hard… and getting this kind of acknowledgment? It’s beyond anything I ever dreamed of. Thank you for giving us this chance—”

Then she froze.

Her words got caught in her throat like static.

Her hand had felt something shift. Something weighty. Something… alive.

[THAT THING WAS HUGE]

Her eyes widened, a gasp ripping from her chest like a fire alarm as her arms immediately raised into the air in total surrender.

[NOPE. NOPE. ABORT MISSION.]

Everyone looked at her.

“Jiyeon-ah?” Seungcheol and Jeonghan asked first in unison, confused, brows furrowing.

“Are you okay?” Woozi leaned forward.

“What happened?” asked Joshua from the couch.

“Did you forget what you were saying?” Dino asked innocently.

[The fact none of them saw it is terrifying]

She didn’t answer.

“H-Hannie…” Her voice cracked.

[THE. FACT. SHE. CALLS. FOR. JEONGHAN. FIRST.]

[I’m not okay…]

And that’s when Jeonghan’s head snapped back toward her, expression instantly alert.

“What’s wrong? Nana-ya — what is it?” he asked, pushing off the couch halfway.

Her hands trembled, still hovering above her shoulders like she was under arrest. “It’s on me,” she whispered hoarsely.

[It’s. On. HER!!!]

The moment she said it, Seungkwan, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside her feet, turned his head to look.

And saw it.

[KWAN MADE EYE CONTACT WITH IT 🫠]

The massive, hairy, actual demon from hell clinging to the fabric of Luna’s black shirt like it paid rent.

His scream could’ve cracked concrete. “AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH— IT’S A TARANTULAAAAAA!!!”

[YEAH NO. I WOULD’VE DIED RIGHT THERE.]

Seungkwan launched himself backward in a barrel roll so dramatic it deserved its own OST. Vernon saw it next and flinched so hard he flopped flat onto his back like a ragdoll.

[I FUCKING CANNOT WITH THEM 😂😂😂]

Jeonghan was now standing.

“Jeongie…” Luna whimpered, her eyes shimmering with tears. “A spider.”

[Luna said: “Jeongie 🥺” AGGHHHHHHH]

That was all it took.

Mingyu and Dokyeom, who had been right next to her, leapt off the bed like it had become lava, tripping over each other and nearly taking out the lamp as they scrambled.

[HAHAHAHHAHAHAHSBSHEHSJWB]

[THE WAY THEY JUST DOVE AWAY FROM HER 😂]

“I’m sorry, I can’t, I’m sorry!” Mingyu shouted, already halfway across the room, arms flailing like a windsock.

Dokyeom screamed, “IT HAS FUR. FUR, GUYS!”

[It was literally every man for themselves!!]

Woozi, Jun, Hoshi, Minghao, and Dino all collectively cringed and began shuffling away like penguins trying not to fall off an iceberg.

[SO NONE OF Y’ALL ARE GONNA HELP HER??]

The camera— still streaming live to tens of thousands of fans— jolted from the tremors of fleeing members.

In fact the fans saw it first, however, they were so immersed in their conversation, they didn’t see that chat.

The tarantula shifted again. Luna squealed and slammed her hands over her eyes, trying not to move.

“Save me,” she whispered helplessly. “Save me. Save me.”

“I CAN’T, I’M SORRY!” Mingyu shouted again from behind a chair. “LU-LU, I’M SO SORRY, I LOVE YOU BUT I GENUINELY CAN’T—”

[KIM MINGYU USE YOUR MUSCLES AND YOUR HEIGHT?!?]

Tears were now streaming down her face. She felt it crawling. Her breath hitched with every tiny movement.

[“SOMEONE SAVE HER!” I say as I hide behind the screen.]

“Move, move,” Jeonghan barked at them, finally crossing to her.

Seungcheol was right behind him. “Wonwoo, come.”

Joshua was already beside her, crouching. “It’s okay, Jiyeon-ah. It’s fine.”

[I love you Joshua but it really isn’t fine.]

“It’s okay, Nana-ya,” Jeonghan whispered, carefully reaching out, trying to touch anything but the spider. “It’s okay. We’ll get it off.”

“Don’t move,” Wonwoo said, calm but firm.

“Seungkwan! Give me that empty glass and the menu,” Seungcheol said.

“W-Wait—what?!” Seungkwan held them up like he was handling plutonium.

[HE DIDN’T WANT TO BE INVOLVED AT ALL 😂]

“NOW, KWAN.”

Seungkwan half-crawled, half-tossed them over like a reluctant courier. “TAKE IT, JUST TAKE IT!”

[I AM DEAD HAHSHAHHSHSJAHSHSH]

[I rewatch this clip whenever I’m sad.]

“Get it off. Get it off. Get it off,” Luna cried quietly, her voice breaking over and over as her eyes stayed squeezed shut.

Wonwoo and Seungcheol coordinated, slowly, precisely, while Jeonghan kept her locked in place with his touch and voice. Joshua’s hand never left her knee.

With one swift motion, Seungcheol slammed the glass over the spider and slid the menu underneath. It hissed. Or maybe that was just Mingyu and Dokyeom screaming again.

[Those two were ✨YELLING✨]

As soon as it was off, Jeonghan yanked Luna into his arms.

Her entire body crumpled against him like a puppet with its strings cut, trembling and limp.

“It’s okay,��� he murmured, carrying her across the room and sitting on the couch with her practically in his lap. “You’re okay, pretty girl. It’s gone. It’s gone now. Just breathe, okay?”

Her face was buried in his neck, shaking like a leaf as he rubbed soothing circles into her back.

[PRETTY GIRL?!!? HOW DID WE NOT SEE THE SIGNS!?]

[I know this is a CheolNa moments video but I cannot help but gush about JeongNa. Sue me.]

Wonwoo and Seungcheol hurried out the room with the spider, muttering something about throwing it out the hotel.

And once everyone was back and settled, the room fell silent.

Shocked. Processing. Haunted.

[The silence after 😂]

Then Luna slowly sat up in Jeonghan’s lap and wiped her eyes with the sleeves of her shirt.

“Does anyone want to switch rooms?” she asked weakly.

[😂😂😂]

“No.”

“No.”

“Hell no.”

“I love you and all but… no.”

[Just the collective “no’s” is killing me]

The chorus came in like a wave.

“I’ll switch,” Seungcheol said.

[🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️]

“Please,” Luna whispered without missing a beat, looking at him with the desperation of a woman betrayed by the universe. No hesitation.

“The spider was just trying to congratulate you for being a Grand Prize winner,” Jeonghan said lightly, tightening his arms around her waist.

[A MENACE]

That made them all laugh— some still recovering, some still sweating.

But Luna? She blinked at him, deadpan. “It’s a hater.”

[LUNA. PLEASE.]

[NO CAUSE FACTS.]

“Awww,” came a collective coo from the couch as Jeonghan kissed her temple and tightened his arms around her, rocking them slightly like he was calming a toddler post-vaccine.

[SON OF A MOTHERFUCKING BITCH]

Just a cute little moment for my main ship!

PROTECTIVE CHEOLLIE #3 - FIT FIX

We are now LIVE from Mexico and this is historic behavior.

The bass was thumping like the pulse of the crowd, relentless and euphoric as the final chorus of ‘Very Nice’ exploded across the Tecate Pa’l Norte stage. Spotlights chased after twelve bodies sprinting across the vast platform— chaos incarnate in white, glitter, sweat, and sound.

It was the end of their ninety-minute set, and if anyone was tired, no one was showing it. SEVENTEEN were everywhere at once— on the main stage, the wings, the extended platforms jutting into the sea of screaming Carats— grabbing water bottles and launching them like missiles into the sweltering crowd, pointing mics to the sky, hips jumping in sync, hearts pounding out of their chests.

[I’m sweating and i’m not even there. this is cardio.]

[Aju Nice is just that song yk?!]

The fans were feral. They were drenched. They were howling. And still, they sang along.

By the edge of the extended stage, Luna was crouched low, balancing effortlessly on the balls of her feet in her sky-high black combat boots, her mic pointed toward the front row as she grinned wide at the sea of hands reaching for her. Her black mesh tank clung to her glistening skin, her leopard bralette peeking through beneath. Sequined leopard print shorts hugged her hips, glittering under the lights every time she moved. Her jewelry sparkled— rings, earrings, bracelet, and necklaces— and the tattoos along her rip cage looked like they’d been inked by the stars themselves.

[No because this is LITERALLY the mother we all collectively share.]

[RED HAIR BAE JIYEON IS SUPERIOR!]

She held her mic out again, laughing as the crowd screamed the next “Aju nice!” back at her, nearly shattering the sky.

Then she saw it— an arm in the pit, holding up a brown cowboy hat. It waved wildly in the air, fingers curled in desperate offering. Luna’s grin widened like the start of trouble. With a wink, she reached forward, snatched the hat clean from their grip, and dropped it onto her head like she’d worn it her whole life.

[NOT THE COWBOY HAT. NOT THE COWBOY HAT. I CAN’T BREATHE.]

[ALSO THAT FUCKING SMIRK AND WINK 🧎‍♀️]

[THANK YOU TO THE CARAT WHO GAVE HER THAT]

The fans lost their collective minds. Deafening shrieks pierced the humid night as Luna smirked, tilting the brim of the hat low over her eyes, full Yeehaw Mode activated.

[I CANMOT DEAL WITH HER!?!]

[y’all she just gave us yeehaw Luna. she just served country slay. i am unwell.]

[YOON JEONGHAN COME COLLECT YOUR FIANCÉE]

Still crouched, her laughter barely contained, Luna leaned back into the chorus, belting the next “Aju Nice!” with a fire that could’ve burned down the northern half of Monterrey. But as she stood back up, bouncing to the rhythm, the motion tugged her glittering shorts a little higher up her thighs, the hem riding just a bit too far without her noticing.

[hold on. HOOOOOLD ON.]

From somewhere behind her, Seungcheol saw it happen. The man had been spinning water bottles in both hands, soaking the left side of the stage with his usual finale chaos— until his eyes found Luna.

[Cheol’s guard dog sensors activated in 0.2 seconds flat.]

He was on the move before anyone clocked it. Making a beeline straight for her, dodging Hoshi’s flailing limbs mid-jump and ducking past Dokyeom who was scream-laughing into a mic with his head thrown back. In three long strides, Seungcheol was beside her.

[HE IS A MAN ON A MISSION 🫡]

And then— like it was muscle memory— he reached around her lower back with one arm, planted himself close against her side, and dipped low enough to slip his other hand down the curve of her hip.

[STOP. STOP RIGHT NOW.]

[I CANNNNOISYSGAHSBHSHSJSBHSSHHSB]

Still singing, still grinning, Luna barely reacted as Seungcheol’s fingers ghosted the hem of her shorts, looped through it discreetly, and tugged it down ever so slightly to keep her from flashing half of northern Mexico.

[HE ADJUSTED HER SHORTS. HE SAID MODESTY FIRST. I’M BARKING.]

The crowd erupted. If the energy had been chaotic before, it was now full nuclear meltdown. Phones were raised at lightning speed. Screams climbed into glass-shattering territory. Fans grabbed at their friends, mouths hanging open, full-body shaking.

[Honestly same]

[The way my soul left my body like. that was biblical. that was primal.]

Still wrapped in his arm, Luna glanced sideways at him, smile softening just enough to show something tender beneath it all. Her voice dropped with her next line, sweet and amused as she mouthed, “Thank you.”

Seungcheol smirked, giving her hip a final pat before his eyes flicked up to the top of her head.

[SHUT THE FUCK UP!/7626)/6/)@29]

[He clocked that HAT.]

Luna caught the look instantly.

“Oh,” she said with a wicked little smile, “You want it?”

Without waiting for an answer, she reached up, plucked the brown cowboy hat off her head, and spun it once on her fingers like a lasso.

Then, with exaggerated flair, she placed it right onto Seungcheol’s head, adjusting the fit before tipping the brim low over his eyes.

“There. Much better,” she grinned.

[LET US ALL THANK MOTHER LUNA 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️]

[I’M IN LOVE WITH HER. BUT ALSO HIM. BUT ALSO BOTH.]

Before he could retaliate, Luna trailed one hand down the front of his soaked black tank top— slow, gentle, teasing fingers ghosting over his chest as she passed him by— and then turned on her heel and walked away like she hadn’t just wrecked everyone’s life.

[WHERE IS HER OSCAR. WHERE IS HER GRAMMY. WHERE IS MY INHALER.]

[WHAT?!? IS?!? WRONG?!? WITH?!? HER?!?]

Seungcheol stood frozen in place for a beat, the brim of the cowboy hat shadowing his face.

[Choi Seungcheol.exe stopped working]

Then he laughed. Low. Dangerous. Delighted.

When Luna glanced back over her shoulder, she saw him watching her— smirk crooked, dimple deep, eyes locked like a loaded gun. He tipped the hat at her in return, and she— still walking backward now— winked at him before spinning around and bolting back toward the others at center stage.

[AND SHE WINKED. SHE WINKED. YOUR HONOR THEY ARE PLAYING WITH ME PERSONALLY.]

[CHOI SEUNGCHEOL STAND UP!]

[i need therapy. i need a priest. i need this live in 4k.]

And just like that, Luna vanished into the chaos again— racing back to the group, voice rising in the final chorus of ‘Very Nice,’ leopard shorts glittering, laughter ringing, while the fans continued losing their absolute minds.

Absolute tease. The both of them.

PROTECTIVE CHEOLLIE #4 - LENS LOCKDOWN

Tho clip makes me so feral but also makes my BLOOD BOIL every time. the way some people are so CREEPY to Luna.

Cheol handled it like a KING but I still want to fight everyone.

He said “i will bodyblock for her in 4K” and I cried.

It should’ve been a cute moment.

All fourteen SEVENTEEN members— yes, fourteen,— casually gliding through Incheon International Airport like a black-and-white Calvin Klein ad with matching duffel bags and designer sunglasses. Fans screamed from both sides of the terminal, cameras flashing like strobe lights, phones held high like digital rosaries. Security moved like shadows around them. Their team led the way, airport staff politely panicking in the background, and behind them… media.

Too much media.

Too many lenses.

But Luna didn’t notice any of that. She was too busy vibrating.

[She’s so happy.]

“Guys! We’re going to my home turf,” she beamed, bouncing slightly on her heels as she clutched Jeonghan’s hand like it was a backstage pass to her childhood. “You’re gonna love the rain. And the food. And the chaos.”

Jeonghan only smiled, clearly too sleepy to banter back but definitely awake enough to let his thumb lazily run over the back of her hand as they walked. He looked like he was running on three hours of sleep, a single iced americano, and the joy of annoying airport staff by refusing to wear both shoulder straps of his backpack.

[They are so cute 🥺]

“Are your parents coming to Glastonbury?” Mingyu asked from behind, dragging a suitcase like it owed him money.

“They are,” Luna grinned. “I already warned my dad not to yell out embarrassing things in the crowd.”

“You just guaranteed that he will.”

The group moved like a unit, half asleep but polished to idol perfection. Snapbacks, masks, glasses— yes. Matching suitcases with tiny plushies clipped on them— also yes. Half the members kept their heads down. Others waved at fans. Jeonghan blew a kiss. Woozi pretended not to hear someone yell HUSBAND. Vernon nodded at a fan holding a sign that just said “YOU.”

[Vernon has had it with these signs]

Luna was radiant. Her oversized hoodie was half-tucked into a pleated skirt, and her boots stomped like she owned every square inch of tile. Her hair was up in a red claw clip. She wore no makeup but smiled like she was lit from within, occasionally squeezing Jeonghan’s hand and waving at fans who called her name.

She looked happy. Excited. Comfortable.

That’s when it happened.

They were halfway up the escalator leading toward their gate. Their team was ahead. Security circled the members like satellites. Luna leaned her head on Jeonghan’s shoulder, her arm swinging gently between them.

Jeonghan tilted his head so it rested lightly against hers.

[MOM! DAD! ADOPT ME! PLEASE!]

Seungcheol, just a step behind her on the escalator, clocked it all with a soft smile. He knew that look on her face. He knew that feeling. That joy. He loved seeing her like this.

Then—

Then something shifted.

Something moved.

A rustle. A shuffle. A weird mechanical click.

His gaze flicked sideways, over the edge of the escalator railing, and landed squarely on the camera in the hands of a man walking just behind the security line—. part of the trailing media group. Normal. Annoying, but normal.

Except the angle wasn’t.

The lens was pointed up.

And aimed directly at Luna.

No. Not her face. Not her smile. Not even her and Jeonghan together.

Lower.

Too low.

Far too low.

[PISS ME THE FUCK OFF]

[I WOULD HAVE PUSHED HIM OFF THE ESCALATOR AND ENDED UP IN JAIL 🤷‍♀️]

Seungcheol saw red.

His entire body moved before his brain did. His hand shot out and covered the lens, palm snapping over it like a lid. The camera jolted. The man flinched.

[THAT’S MY MAN!]

Seungcheol stepped off the escalator and immediately positioned himself behind Luna, blocking her completely with his body.

[CHEOL FULLY SWITCHED INTO “IF I CATCH YOU I’M BEATING YOU” MODE.]

His voice was low, dangerous.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, sharp and slow.

The media guy stammered. “I— I was just— creative shot— group angle—”

“Yeah?” Seungcheol’s eyebrows lifted in a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Real creative to angle your lens under a woman’s skirt.”

The man opened his mouth again.

“Say another word,” Seungcheol cut in, tone deathly calm, “and you won’t be flying anywhere this week.”

Their security team caught the shift instantly. Two men peeled off from formation and grabbed the man by each arm. He protested. Loudly. The commotion earned a dozen turned heads, including Vernon and Woozi, who looked back with eyes narrowed. Dino stopped walking completely. Joshua blinked, confused.

Jeonghan turned just in time to see Seungcheol’s hand still outstretched.

He looked down at Luna.

Then at the man.

Then back at Luna again.

The dots connected.

Without a word, Jeonghan moved, gently but firmly shifting Luna in front of him, placing himself between her and the now-chaotic situation. His arms came around her in a quiet, instinctive shield. Luna blinked up at him, brows furrowed.

[STFU I LOVE THEM SM 🥺]

“What’s going on?” she asked softly.

“Nothing,” Jeonghan murmured, voice deceptively light. “Just stay here.”

Luna’s brows twitched in confusion but didn’t push. She trusted him. She trusted them.

[We don’t deserve them but i will fight for them.]

Behind them, the man was being dragged away, sputtering, as Cheol spoke to their security team with clenched teeth and an expression carved out of stone. His jaw worked. His hands kept twitching. He looked like he wanted to throw a suitcase.

[🥵🥵🥵]

Then, finally, as the situation diffused and the media noise dulled, he exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair.

But he wasn’t done.

Without saying a word, he stepped forward again and planted both hands on either side of the escalator handles, one on each rubber grip. His body formed a triangle behind Luna and Jeonghan. Not touching them, not crowding them— but surrounding.

Blocking.

Protecting.

Anyone behind them now saw nothing but Seungcheol’s back. Tall. Broad. Furious.

[He activated bodyguard mode and I haven’t recovered.]

That was the last image fans saw before SEVENTEEN disappeared through the gate.

No waves. No bows.

Just idols, their team, their guards— and a wall of Seungcheol.

[Glastonbury hasn’t even started yet and the lore was ALREADY off the charts.]

And if I EVER see that camera guy on the street. it’s over for him.

Seungcheol if you see this I’d marry you in front of my mom right now.

KKUMA & BUG WEVERSE LIVE PLAYDATE

Just this entire CheolNa & pets Weverse live

The way this live was supposed to be about the pets but turned into a couple’s domestic comedy hour with a side of jealousy and chaos.

The screen blinked to life with the familiar Weverse Live notification pinging across CARATs’ phones, the caption reading: ‘S.COUPS & LUNA & KKUMA & BUGS!’

[You guys don’t know how fast I clicked on a notification]

The live opened with the camera a bit tilted, someone clearly struggling to adjust the tripod, which only made it funnier when Seungcheol’s voice called out, “Ya, you said you knew how to do this!” followed by a soft chuckle from behind the camera.

A very familiar chuckle.

[JEONGHAN IS BEHIND THE CAMERA I REPEAT THE SNITCH IS IN THE ROOM.]

“Okay, we’re live,” Luna announced cheerily, finally sitting on the floor mat with her legs crossed and a small blanket over them, her wine-red hair loose and fluffy around her shoulders. She looked like the picture of domestic comfort, until she suddenly yelped—“BUGS, BABY NO, NOT THE CORDS—” and lunged off-screen.

Cue chaos.

“KKUMA! STOP FOLLOWING HIM—” Seungcheol groaned, dragging his giant white fluffball in the opposite direction as the tiny brown rabbit darted behind a shelf.

[The bunny has no fear. the dog has no care. Luna has no control. Seungcheol has no authority.]

“Hi guys,” Luna finally greeted breathlessly as she returned to the frame, now with a smug-looking Bugs in her lap like he didn’t just try to commit appliance homicide. “This little criminal is Bugs. Hannie got him for me last Christmas. He thinks it makes up for for him not being here. It doesn’t. But the bunny is cute.”

A loud scoff could be heard from behind the camera.

[BOY– HAHAHHAHAHABAJBSJEBSJSB]

Seungcheol plopped down beside her, Kkuma flopping over on her side with her tongue out and tail wagging like she’d just run a marathon. “KKuma just wants to be friends,” Seungcheol whined, gesturing at the bunny now dramatically grooming himself like royalty. “But someone raised a diva.”

“He’s not a diva,” Luna defended, “He’s cautious. And elegant.”

“Elegant?” Seungcheol stared. “He tried to body slam Kkuma earlier.”

[Bugs is his father’s child]

“He’s establishing boundaries,” Luna shot back, scratching behind Bugs’ ears. “I support him.”

[Luna raising her bunny like a gen z therapist. Bugs has a trauma-informed care plan.]

The comments were already flooding in, fans crying about the cuteness overload. One caught their attention:

“BUGS VS KKUMA FIGHT NIGHT WHEN?”

Luna laughed, holding up Bugs’ tiny paw. “Bugs would win. Don’t underestimate the bite radius on this guy.”

“Okay, but Kkuma has size and the emotional intelligence of a houseplant,” Seungcheol added proudly. “She’ll doesn’t know how to lose. She’ll keep fetching until the world ends.”

Behind the camera, Jeonghan’s laughter could be heard again— quiet, but undeniably there.

Luna leaned toward the screen like she was sharing a secret. “You guys hear that? That’s Bugs’ daddy,” she added, putting air quotes around the word with a dramatic eyeroll. “But he insisted on being here because he ‘missed Bugs too much.’”

“Lies,” Seungcheol deadpanned. “He’s here to supervise you.”

[Y’all she’s blushing. someone hold me back.]

Luna did not blush. (She totally did.) Instead, she ignored Seungcheol and read another comment aloud.

“WHY DO BUGS AND KKUMA HAVE BETTER CHEMISTRY THAN HALF OF Y’ALL’S FAVORITE DRAMAS.”

“I mean…” Seungcheol squinted as Kkuma gently sniffed at Bugs, who gave him a single disapproving thump before hopping two inches away. “It’s giving slow burn enemies to reluctant allies.”

Bugs then launched himself onto Luna’s lap, causing her to shriek-laugh. “Bugs baby! Daddy trained you better than this!” she scolded.

From behind the camera: “He takes after you.”

[YOON JEONGHAN?!!]

“I— WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?” Luna spun around but Jeonghan was already silent.

Seungcheol howled. “You’re gonna get smacked.”

“I dare him to try!” Luna huffed. “He’s scared of Bugs.”

“I AM NOT—”

“You are.”

“I AM NOT.”

[It’s always the ones behind the camera starting the fights.]

The pets eventually settled— Bugs nibbling on a little bowl of strawberries Luna brought, Kkuma resting her chin on Seungcheol’s thigh like a certified sad girl. Luna reached over to smooth her hand through Kkuma’s fur and the big dog’s eyes closed in bliss.

“Cheollie,” she murmured, “she’s literally the fluffiest thing ever.”

“You say that, but someone will fight you.”

“He can try,” she smirked. “He’s behind the camera. Powerless.”

[I CANNOT WITH THEM 😭]

The camera suddenly tilted.

Luna screamed. “HEY—”

[YOON JEONGHAN IS FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE.]

Seungcheol leaned forward, squinting at the chat. “Someone said: ‘do the pets get along better than Jeonghan and Seungcheol?’”

He and Luna looked at each other. Then burst out laughing.

Luna replied, “Yes. But only because Bugs doesn’t have to sit through your leadership speeches.”

“Oh, and JeonghanNie does?” Seungcheol said.

“Every single day of his life,” she deadpanned.

“Anyway,” Seungcheol continued, brushing Kkuma’s ears back as the dog began to snore audibly, “We just wanted to do a small live because the kids haven’t hung out in a while, and it’s always good to bond with your fellow single parents.”

[KIDDDSSSSS 🥺]

“Excuse me?” Luna turned to him slowly. “Single?”

[Jiyeon really said “Me? Single?”

“Oh, right. Bugs has a stepdad.”

[HAHAHAHHAHAHAHSBJWHSJWBJWHE]

“I will throw this rabbit at you.”

[JIYEON PLEASE 😂 I AM WHEEZING 😂]

Behind the camera, a loud snort broke the tension as Jeonghan wheezed. “Don’t involve the child in your divorce.”

“OUR child is thriving!” Luna yelled.

[The fact this is our first update of Jeonghan in A WHILE]

[This live is a three-person custody battle and two pets just trying to vibe.]

Luna leaned forward again, noticing another comment.

“kkuma + bugs sub-unit when??”

“Honestly,” she said thoughtfully, “it would outsell all of us. Their logo would be a paw and a paw-pad.”

“I’ll manage them,” Seungcheol offered.

“You’re too emotionally invested.”

“You dressed Bugs in a sweater.”

“It’s cold in the studio!”

“HE HAS FUR.”

[They’re fighting again. the pets are traumatized.]

But Bugs just sat there, blissfully unbothered, chewing on a strawberry like he was above all of this. Kkuma twitched in her sleep, probably dreaming of a chew toy.

Eventually, Luna stretched her arms with a groan. “Okay, before Bugs decides to chew through another wire and Hannie drags me off-camera for defamation, we should wrap this up.”

Seungcheol nodded, giving Kkuma a little pat. “Say bye-bye, baby. We’ll do this again soon.”

Luna blew a kiss to the camera. “Thanks for hanging with us! And remember— if you don’t support Bugs and Kkuma, you’re anti-fun.”

Jeonghan behind the camera: “And anti-cute.”

[YOON JEONGHAN I MISS YOU!!!]

“Exactly.”

[This was not a pet live. this was a sitcom pilot.]

[JeongCheolNa ARE THE FOUND FAMILY TRINITY. GOODBYE.]

So. CheolNa.

The duo that radiates ‘accidentally in love in a K-Drama hallway confession scene’. They’re confusing. They’re chaotic. They’re codependent. And most importantly…

They are the funniest part of my mental illness.

We’ve laughed. We’ve cried. We’ve watched Seungcheol almost commit crimes in airports. We’ve watched Luna gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss while feeding her bunny strawberries and dodging security threats. We’ve watched Jeonghan suffer in silence behind the camera like the single mother of two bickering toddlers.

But the real takeaway?

Bugs and Kkuma need a spin-off series. Immediately. Disney+, call me.

So thank you for joining me on this 17-minute descent into hell, otherwise known as ‘CheolNa moments that make me question Jeonghan’s boundaries (he has none).’

If you came here looking for closure, jokes on you. These two have never closed a single emotional arc in their lives. They will flirt, fight, protect each other, and probably file each other’s taxes out of pure obligation— but will they ever define the relationship?

No. Never. Not until Jeonghan leaks the wedding photos out of spite.

Anyway.

Don’t forget to like, comment, subscribe, and send this video to your emotionally unavailable best friend. And remember:

If Bugs ever starts talking… we’re all in danger.

Until the next one… toodleoo!

comments…

@/lunababybae • 1 day ago ╰ Cheol and Gyu’s confession to Luna are my Roman Empire.

@/rinarieee • 1 day ago ╰ Jeonghan being so unbothered when Cheol confessed to his girl is mind blowing to me

@/gyusshadow • 1 day ago ╰ MINGYU AND DOKYEOK NOSE DIVING AWAY FROM LUNA WHEN THEY SAW THE SPIDER STILL CRACKS ME UP TILL THIS DAY 😂😂😂

@/moonbae17 • 1 day ago ╰ Cheollie is KING of hand placements 🥵

@/saythename • 1 day ago ╰ Jeonghan is fine with their flirting because Luna is fine with him flirting with Cheol

@/mad-lineeee • 1 day ago ╰ Luna going to Cheol when she had a nightmare 🥺

@/mrsbaebae • 1 day ago ╰ “Only back then?” SEUNGKWAN AS HE EYED JEONGHAN!! PLUS THE WAY JIYEON CHANGED THE SUBJECT 😫 1:00

@/alyy1625 • 1 day ago ╰ 15:18 GOOD LORD 🥵 CHEOL TUGGING JIYEON’S SHORTS DOWN

@/jeongnanana • 1 day ago ╰ Luna being a cute and clingy drunk 9:55 she really went 🥺

@/gyuuuuudaily• 1 day ago

╰ THAT WHOLE TOKYO ESCAPADE WITH THE CLAW MACHINE IS MY ROMAN EMPIRE!

@/sallluuuteee17 • 1 day ago

╰ The way Seungcheol carried Luna so effortlessly over the puddle 11:05 HAS ME ON A CHOKEHOLD!

@/lulu-nana17• 1 day ago ╰ THAT CREEP WHO TRIED TO TAKE UPSKIRT PHOTOS OF LUNA SHOULD ROT IN HELL

@/sebongrighthere • 1 day ago ╰ Our first update of Jeonghan after weeks is him supervising the pet play date live cracks me up 🤣

@/missbitchhhh • 1 day ago ╰ This is my Challengers.

@/shadowmyshadow• 1 day ago ╰ It’s always JeongNa or CheolNa not JeongNa AND CheolNa 😣

@/angel7266 • 1 day ago ╰ Our Jiyeonie kissing Cheollie’s knee 🥺

@/hannnieeeee7251 • 1 day ago ╰ 10:45 Jeonghan getting all up behind Jiyeon to help her with the claw machine 🫠

@/user763816262 • 1 day ago ╰ Cheol and Han immediately covering Jiyeonie from that creep 😣

@/ashonashonash_ • 1 day ago ╰ THESE MFS HAD ME STRESSING OUT WITH THAT DAMN SPIDER

@/jijijiyeonienie • 1 day ago ╰ Luna had Jeonghan and Seungcheol working that claw machine while she stood there and looked pretty. That’s iconic behavior 🤭

@/baebybaejiyeonie • 1 day ago ╰ I sense a pattern. Whenever Luna feels sad, anxious, nervous, scared or whatever she immediately goes “Hannie 🥺” and Jeonghan is already nose diving to figure out what’s wrong… and I am here for it.

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

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Taglist: @zhqvie @minminghao @angie-x3 @jennwonwoo @k13endall @heeseungthel0ml @chisskaa @megumi2020 @yoonzzziino @lllucere @smh-anon @yveclipse @randomworker @bunnystrm @iamawkwardandshy @gratefulbunny1 @bmo-bri @syren-ash @megseungmin @multiplums @unlikelysublimekryptonite @night-storm7 @cookiearmy @seokqt @btskzfav @billboard-singer @junhuisworld @caturdayvibe @coralbatlampzonk @sof1eya @lyraea @jihoonsbbygirl @cocopuff2424 @okoknotco @minvxq @soulphoenix1618 @whineywheeiny @rairaine @toplinehyunjin @ateez-atiny380 @cherrylovescheol @jiimtaee @blurr3db3rry @seomisaho @amanda08319 @peanutbutterslothsstuff @cheolsboo @allthings-fandoms @mystic-megumi @sherlockbye @tastyluvr @luperque @reignofraine @kpoplover-19 @star2013 @frankenstein852 @axleighkaize @jmkookie01 @shhh94 @gigglensnort @stupendouscookiehumanmug

[wordsarelife]

—foolish one

pairing: theo nott x fem!reader

summary: it's your birthday, but theo forgot about it.. or did he?

warnings: very very little angst, mostly fluff

note: i absolutely hate this and beg you guys to not let this piece form your opinion about my writing lmaooo

“i told you he was an asshole.” enzo was laying on your bed, facing the ceiling.

you turned around to look at him. “come on,” you muttered, and enzo moved so he could hang his head over the edge and stare at you. you almost had to giggle at how red his face got.

“what am i supposed to say?”

“something that’ll make me feel better,” you suggested. “you’re my best friend, enzo.”

“fine,” he sighed, before he thought for a moment. “maybe theo had a good reason to forget your birthday. maybe someone obliviated him, or he hit his head and forgot all about your six-year friendship—or no, better, maybe he went out to fight voldemort to make sure nothing could come in the way of your special day.”

“enzo,” you sighed dramatically.

even though you hated to admit it, he was right. your hopes had been up all morning, excitement pooling in your chest while enzo and you walked to the great hall together. your excitement had evaporated into thin air when all your friends had been there—except for the one person you had most hoped to see.

your friends had, of course, congratulated you and promised to give their presents to you in the common room later, but theo hadn't shown up all morning, and despite their best tries, you had slipped into a sour mood at his forgetfulness and absence.

"let's just stop moping around, how about that, huh?" enzo suggested, and you rolled your eyes.

"i'm not moping around," you remarked. "i'm getting ready." as if to prove your words, you quickly grabbed the blush, applying it onto your cheeks.

"yeah, you were totally doing that this past hour," enzo nodded sarcastically. "i'm not saying that you shouldn't be disappointed about theo, i'm just saying that you have friends who actually remembered what day it was."

"yeah, i know, and you're right." you smudged the blush with your fingers until it looked even and mostly natural, before you stood up. "let's go back down and join the others."

enzo smiled and nodded, following you out of your room. to your surprise, the common room wasn't looking like it normally did. it was decorated with balloons and streamers, and a happy birthday banner was hanging between two tall columns.

it hadn't looked like that when you had come back from breakfast.

"happy birthday!" your friends and a few housemates chorused as you laughed in surprise.

theo stepped through the crowd of people, a wrapped present in his hand.

you turned around to look at enzo, who just shrugged. "sorry," he smiled, and you shook your head, realizing that theo's absence had been part of a bigger plan.

"you didn't forget?" you asked unnecessarily, your eyes looking up at him with hope.

"of course i didn't," theo shook his head as if he couldn't fathom how you would ever think he could forget. "i was just busy planning this party, so i couldn't congratulate you sooner."

you shook your head, tears brimming at your eyes as you again took in the room around you. "you did all that for me?"

"of course," theo chuckled. he opened his mouth, ready to give you your present, but you interrupted him, opening your arms and throwing them around his body in a hug.

he tried again when you loosened the hug, but was interrupted by your friends, who all walked forward, ready to congratulate you. you looked around one of your friends in front of you, trying to gather a look at theo. he smiled at you, sending a wink in your direction, before he stepped back, letting the small box sink into his pocket, saving it for later.

you didn't see much of him for the rest of the party. someone always demanded your attention, but you saw him look at you a few times, maybe even debating coming over and joining the conversation.

you knew theo hated birthday parties, especially ones that involved a lot of talking. but he had still organized this for you, surprising you with something you loved, because in that departure, theo and you were polar opposites.

the party began to wind down, and though you had tried your best to enjoy it, you couldn’t help but feel the growing distance between you and theo. but you were determined not to let it ruin your night. there would be time later. you'd get your moment, your chance to talk to him.

and then, as if on cue, theo appeared. he was standing in the doorway, watching you, his expression unreadable. you stood up straighter, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear as you moved toward him.

"hey," you greeted softly, your voice almost unsure. it had been a long evening, and though the disappointment from earlier still lingered, you didn’t want it to define this moment. you wanted this to be your chance to reconnect.

theo’s eyes softened when he saw you, but there was something else there—a quiet sadness, something he hadn’t allowed to surface all night. he gave you a small, almost apologetic smile. "hey. i, uh... i wanted to find you earlier, but something always got in the middle."

"no, yeah, i get it," you smiled. "it's fine."

"i still need to give you your present." his expression relaxed a bit as he found something he could hold onto. his hand went into his pocket and took out the small black box, holding it out in front of you.

you looked at it for a few seconds before you softly took it, his and your fingers meeting for a fleeting moment.

the box snapped open with a low thud, revealing a dark red cushion and a beautiful golden bracelet laying on top of it. it was decorated with little diamonds, which seemed to be a bit too real.

"theo..." your breath hitched, unable to come up with real words. "this must've cost a fortune."

theo ignored your words. "do you like it?" he asked instead. "you mentioned something about a diamond bracelet your grandma always wore, which got lost when she died. this is the closest i could find that fit your description."

"you remember that?" you wondered, looking up with tears forming in your eyes. "that was years ago."

"i wanted it to be as close as possible to the real one," theo shrugged. "this one came out at the beginning of the year."

"you're joking," you shook your head, still not able to really understand what was happening.

"you said you loved that bracelet," he continued to explain. "and i remember how sad you were when it got lost. i wanted you to have something to remember your grandma by."

"theo..." you said once more. "this is too much."

"no," he shook his head with a soft smile. "it's the least i could do for you."

you looked up again at his words, your eyes crashing into his. the sincerity in them almost made you stumble. you had waited years for him. years in which you had begged that he would finally say the words.

but all this time, he had clearly shown you what he felt, with you being simply too oblivious to realize it.

"do you want me to help you put it on?" theo asked, and you nodded, holding your arm out in front of him.

theo's fingers were soft as they worked around your wrist, the golden bracelet bringing a sudden cold to your heated skin.

"can you do something else for me?" you asked without thinking.

theo didn't even hesitate. "of course, anything."

you took a small breath, the moment feeling like it stretched forever in your chest. "kiss me, theo." your voice was almost a whisper, as if you didn't really want him to hear the words escaping your lips.

the stunned surprise on his face was enough to make your stomach drop—just for a second, you thought you might have ruined everything. that this might be too much, too sudden. but then, just as quickly, the surprise vanished, replaced by something deeper, more certain. his expression softened, his gaze lingering on yours for a beat longer, and in that moment, you knew. he wasn’t pulling away.

your eyes fluttered closed, and before you could take another breath, his lips were on yours. it was gentle at first, as though he was still testing the waters, but then, it deepened—slow and warm, like everything else that had felt uncertain between you two was melting away.

his hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek, and you couldn't help but press closer, feeling the comfort of his presence, the certainty in his touch.

down there in the dark common room, theodore nott's lips were all you felt and all you wanted to feel for the rest of your life.

[strawberrystepmom]

dante x f!reader. established relationship, a minor disagreement that ends up in hurt/comfort. | wc: 1.4k, reading time: ~5 minutes

“I’m coming with you.”

Your remark is firm while you practically chase after Dante who slumps down in the chair behind his desk for the briefest moment, pulling equipment from the drawers of his desk and putting it into his pockets. 

“No, you’re not.”

It irritates you how he won’t even look up, preoccupied with getting out of here. Your jaw slackens, eyes narrowing.

“Why not?”

Now he looks up, his own teeth clenched. 

“Because I’ve said no ten times and meant it every one.” 

He hates fighting with you. In fact, he hates telling you no about anything and you’re all too well aware of it judging by the way you seem to think you can wear his defenses down into a yes right now. 

Disengaging by looking down, he loads a few bullets into his guns which further irritates you. 

There’s no such thing as a truly unexpected job in his line of work. He gets calls at all hours of the day or night sometimes, reporting to wherever he needs to be to take care of business, but you don’t understand why he won’t let you come. It’s midday and he’s clearly playing coy about the threat level of whatever is out there meaning there may be a need for help.

Laughing sarcastically, you stand in place in front of his desk. 

“It amazes me how you are never this serious about a no until it has to do with what I want.”

Whipping his head upward so fast his hair falls out of place against his forehead, the man you love more than any other curls his lip and points all five of his fingers toward you, eyes wide.

“And it amazes me that you’ve never bothered to wonder why I'm so serious about it. How many times have we had this exact conversation?" 

There has never been a time where he’s raised his voice at you and he has no plans of starting now but you are seriously testing his patience. 

You fold your arms across your torso and raise your brows adversarially high. "I wish you’d just admit it’s because you think I'm weak and can't protect myself. Your little liability."

Finally, you push Dante to the point of a frustrated, humorless chuckle punctures the tense air of the room. You flinch in place, averting your eyes from him to other corners of the room that seem a lot easier to look at. Walls don't have eyes that pierce to your very soul the way his are right now, feeling them even if you don't see them.

"Will you please stop thinking the worst about me? I know better than anyone you can take care of yourself." 

He scoffs, another ironic chuckle following it. 

"In fact, this isn’t even about you. Have you ever thought for even a second that I keep you away from my jobs because I don't know what I would do if something happened to you? That nobody does?" 

You look up and he looks directly at you, brows furrowed. 

"Yeah, I've been called out about it before. By Trish and Lady and everyone who has ever seen the way I am when it comes to you." He shakes his head, rising from his seat behind the desk, reaching across it and grabbing your trembling hands. "They’ve all had the same thing to say about how you can't be around because my focus becomes keeping you safe."

He looks away from you, retreating to somewhere distant in his mind. 

"I catch myself thinking about a world without you sometimes and it's dark and heavy and...and I know I couldn't do it if I didn't have you."

"Do what?"

"Any of this.” He waves his hand around the waiting room of Devil May Cry dramatically. “Exist."

"Dante..." 

You click your tongue, chest aching at his words. They’re well meant but even the faintest insinuation of him stumbling into the bad shape he was when you first met makes you feel hollow.

"I mean it, sweetheart. You could come up with a hundred arguments and probably already have but I wish you wouldn't waste your time arguing with me about what the truth is. It’s not that you're weak, it's that I'm weak for you."

Now you feel like a real problem, pouting like a little girl while he airs out the truth. “Stop it.”

“No, you stop. Let me tell you how I feel and maybe, just maybe, actually listen to me for once.”

Pushing your fists against your eyes, you take a deep breath and allow the pressure of your knuckles to keep the levy holding back your tears from breaking. You probably look as pathetic as you feel standing there like this, shoulders slumped inward and breaths coming in staggered pants. 

Merciful man that he is, Dante never lets you suffer for long. 

You hear his footsteps round his desk in the  same pattern you memorized a long time ago, his warm arms coming to cradle you even if you won’t look at him. Your body naturally leans against his chest, fists pressed against his shirt, face hidden. 

“You’ve made me a man, not just someone pretending to be half one.” He unburies your face to kiss the tip of your nose, pulling you against his chest to bury your head beneath his scruffy chin. “And you’re one thing I wanna keep safe forever because of it. Is that so wrong?”

Shaking your head no, you sigh in lighthearted defeat. How can you put up a fight, especially when he is safely nestling his beating heart in your hand? You protect it, he protects you. 

It’s not all that bad of a deal when you really think about it. 

“You’re starting to give me a stomach ache,” you joke, lifting yourself up on the tips of your toes to kiss him. It’s a little brush of lips against lips, far less searing then how you usually approach. 

Still, it says everything. The pair of you remain locked together - two bodies and one shared soul - refusing to part even to continue the conversation. 

“Sorry for thinking the worst.” 

Your apology is only slightly muffled, mashed between his mouth and yours. He parts his lips to reply but chooses to kiss you instead, tongue dipping between lips he could not successfully exist without. You’ve given his world more than color, you’ve breathed life into every last corner of it. The least he can do is tell you so once in a while. 

Smiling against your lips, he stops for a breath and backs away enough to look down at you. 

“Let me know next time that happens so I can get ahead of it, okay?”  

A lighthearted reminder, sealed with another small kiss. The tension in the room gradually soothes itself, minute by passing minute. The safety of his arms even improves your mood slightly, your fists pressed against the center of his chest rather than over your eyes. 

“Please stay behind and let me come home to you in one piece.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you fight the urge to insist you need to continue fighting for your place in his life. He’s telling you clearly that you’ve earned it. 

“Alright,” you acquiesce, raising yourself up on tippy toes to kiss him again. 

Opening your mouth to continue speaking he shoots you a look, not venomous or dangerous, but serious. He doesn’t wanna argue about this again. 

You lean into him, big eyes staring. “Fine, God, okay. But you need to call me as soon as you’re done because I don’t know what I’d do without you either and cannot think about it so please don’t make me.”

Dante nods, chuckling. 

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Later on, after you’re less emotional and he’s home safe and sound, you’ll admit he’s right. You’ll mutter against his hair that he’s not merely a good man but the best one for thinking of you the way he does and that you constantly question if you deserve it or not. He’ll whisper to you that nobody has ever deserved it more, rocking you gently until you fall into a fitful sleep and leaving him awake for a little longer. 

Only then will he find himself alone enough to silently thank whatever force brought you, this stubborn, beautiful woman, into his life to save him. He’ll insist to this same force that he’s only making up for lost time by protecting you from danger to begin with. 

It happens every time.

[smallsinger5901]

rating how high i think death note character’s pain tolerance is

this is very random but i realised i have strong opinions on this. So:

Light- 3/10. I cannot see him as having a high pain tolerance im sorry but he presents himself all godly and YET he would still fold if given a single paper cut

L- 9/10. Conversely, I think L is the kind of person who has absolutely no reaction to any kind of pain unless he’s literally getting mashed into a fine pulp

Mello- 7/10. He had a fairly high threshold for pain before the explosion just by virtue of building it up over years, but afterwards anything touching his scarred areas feels like hell incarnate. And he Hates that.

Near- 6/10. As a chronic pain Near believer i think he knows his limit and generally has a fairly high baseline of pain and knows what to avoid to stop it flaring up, but when it get really bad does he still has to recover for a bit

Misa- 10/10. Girl didnt even think about confessing under literal torture. She has the kind of strength that makes everyone a little scared once they realise she isnt flinching

Matt- 5/10. He’s good at managing to avoid pain but that one time he cracked his neck a weird way from whipping his car around he complained about it for like a month

Matsuda- 4/10. He is NOT good with pain and everyone teases him for it. Even Light, who will never admit that he would have had a wayyyy worse reaction

[alisonwritesimagines]

Night Out ~Bucky Barnes Imagine~

Summary: Bucky didn't want to go out at first. That was until he saw you and what you were wearing.

Author’s Note: I imagine reader with Starfire's Earth clueless personality in a way. Also, please note, this is not smut despite the summary being smut coded.

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: fluff, no smut

Do not repost this anywhere!

Once a month, for bonding purposes, the team would go out just to let loose and build a better relationship. And this time, it would be your first time going. You, Nat, Wanda, and Pepper went out shopping for some new outfits for tonight since you didn't have anything to wear.

The Avengers rescued you a month ago from being a weapon for an organization that was trying to be the next Hydra. And luckily, you were able to solace with the Avengers. Especially Bucky who knew what you went through and helped you heal.

"Bucky! Are you coming with us tonight?" You asked him after running into him in the hall.

"Not really. Think I'm just gonna work out and turn in early tonight," Bucky tells you.

"Aw. That's a shame. I was hoping you'd join us," you pouted a little.

"Maybe next time," Bucky tells you.

"Okay. I'm gonna get ready. Nat wants to see how I am drunk. I've never been drunk before so this will be fun," you tell him before walking to your room.

Bucky was in the gym, lifting some weights until he saw someone from the corner of his eye. He looked over to see you in a black dress that hugged your curves. He stared in awe as you stood nervously in front of him. You were in heels that you were already feeling uncomfortable in. Your hair was done nicely and your makeup made you glow even more.

"Are you sure you can't join us?" You asked him.

Though you only knew him for a month, you grew feelings for the Winter Solider. Bucky was always there for you when you needed it. You couldn't help it.

"Um... yeah. I... um... I gotta..."

"Y/n! Come on. Everyone is already almost there," Wanda said, coming over to you. She linked her arm with yours before dragging you away. You looked back at Bucky who was still staring at you.

"Fuck it," Bucky said, quickly leaving the gym to shower.

The bar you all went to was somewhat packed. Tony had reserved an area for you all so you wouldn't be bothered and you had a place to sit. You sat in the booth with the girls as you took a sip of your first cocktail of the night (and in your life).

"So how is it?" Nat asked.

"It's strong," you tell her with a slight face.

"You'll get used to it. But cheers to your first drink," Nat said. You smiled softly as you took another sip.

You talked to the girls before talking to Sam.

"So, how are you liking a bar?" Sam asked.

"Is it always this loud and dark?" You asked him.

"Yup. You'll get used to it," Sam chuckled.

"Okay," you nodded.

"So Bucky couldn't come huh?" Sam asked you. You shook your head at him.

"He said he was just gonna work out and go to bed early," you tell him.

"I see."

"I'm gonna get another drink. Wanna come with me? I don't know how to order at a bar," you tell him.

"Yeah. I'll come with you kid. Let's go," Sam said.

When Bucky got to the bar, he spotted you and Sam ordering some drinks. He watched as some guy walk over to you, sparking a conversation. Bucky moved his way towards you as you looked uncomfortable talking to the man.

"So, you wanna dance?" Bucky heard the man ask you.

"Well, um..."

"She's with me," Bucky tells the man as he stood next to you. He wrapped his arm around your waist, making you look up at Bucky in shock.

"Bucky!" You say surprised.

"Right. My bad," the guy said, noticing Bucky's vibranium arm.

"I thought you weren't coming?" You asked him.

"I changed my mind," Bucky tells you.

"I'm really glad you're here," you tell him with a smile.

"Me too. What did I miss?"

"Um, everyone has been getting me to take a sip of their drinks and I am feeling very different. Is that normal when you drink alcohol?" You asked Bucky.

"Depends. How different?"

"Like a good different? I feel less stressed," you tell him.

"That's good. But you probably shouldn't alcohol as your only source to let loose and be less stressed. Come on. Let's get back to the team," Bucky said.

"Okay," you nodded. You held Bucky's hand, leading him over to the reserved area.

Steve noticed you two first when you walked over. He watched as you said something to Bucky before walking back over to the girls.

"So, what happened? Thought you weren't coming?" Steve asked Bucky. Bucky glanced over at you which Steve noticed. "Oh I get it. You know, you should ask her out. She likes you."

"Does she?" Bucky asked.

"You can't be that blind in the way she looks at you. Also, she goes to you after every mission," Steve pointed out.

Bucky looked back at you as you smiled happily at the girls. You looked over at Bucky and waved at him. You excused yourself from the girls before walking over to Bucky. Steve patted his back before leaving Bucky alone.

"This is fun. Are you having fun?" You asked him.

"In all honesty, I'm here for you," Bucky answered.

"You are?" You asked surprised.

"Yeah. I rather be somewhere with you than to be alone."

You looked away, feeling your face grow hot. You couldn't help but feel yourself grin happily at what Bucky told you.

"I think I experienced a bar long enough. Do you maybe want to go back home and we can be alone together?" You asked awkwardly and nervously.

"I'd like that," Bucky tells you. You giggle happily before rushing over to grab your purse.

"Bye girls!" You quickly said before rushing back over to Bucky. He held your hand before leading you out of the bar.

"Think they'll get together at the end of the night?" Pepper asked.

"Without a doubt," Nat smirked.

[clarkeysbedchem]

more than just us

george clarke x single mom! reader

summary: you have been dating george for almost a year, and he finally meets your daughter

masterlist | main masterlist

Wednesdays were your thing, every week without fail like clockwork. A bottle of wine, shared laughter over dinner, and you tucked into George’s side as he walked you back hime. A year of soft unsure glances that turned into soft kisses and weeknight rituals, but still, there were parts of your life you kept tight to your chest; like the pastel-painted bedroom down the hall, and the little girl who called you “Mummy.”

Ivy.

She had been your whole world since you were nineteen. And as much as your heart expanded for George and his sleepy voice in the mornings, the dumb jokes that he made just to hear you laugh. You kept him separate from that part of your life. Not because you didn’t want him in it but because you were scared, he’d leave once he saw what came with loving you.

Tonight, your mother had cancelled last minute, leaving you with no sitter and stuck. You were stood in the kitchen, phone pressed to your cheek, apologizing a hundred times over to George with the sound of Ivy’s humming along to her film in the background.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, “Can we rain check? Ivy’s staying with me tonight and I don’t want to spring that on you.”

George paused, just for a beat, “No worries at all,” he said, his tone warm and casual like always, “We’ll do next week, yeah?”

You agreed the conversation lingering for a few minutes before you hung up with a tight chest, guilt knotting itself into your ribs. Ivy had peeked around the corner, holding her stuffed bunny upside down.

“Mummy, can we have pizza?”

You smiled brightly, kissed the top of her curls, “Course we can.”

An hour had passed when a knock echoed through the hallway, your eyebrows furrowed looking over at the front door. Ivy was painting at the coffee table, a dot of purple on her nose. You opened the door in your leggings and oversized hoodie, and George was stood there, holding pizza boxes in one hand, a paper bag in the other, and a cautious smile on his lips.

“Thought maybe I could still come over,” he shrugged, “Brought nuggets and smiley faces. For Ivy. Hope that’s alright.”

You blinked, “You, you didn’t have to.”

“Couldn’t go the whole week without seeing you,” he said, his eyes soft, “And I wanted to meet her. If that’s okay.”

You stepped aside before your voice could betray you.

Ivy was shy at first clinging to your leg as George crouched in front of her and introduced himself like a character from her favourite cartoons, even giving her bunny a formal handshake.

“Hello, Mr. Bun,” he introduced himself to the stuffed animal, “Pleasure to meet you.”

Ivy giggled and you felt yourself melt instantly.

Dinner was full of laughter. The three of you eat on the floor, picnic-style, while Ivy letting George pick the film and he picked Princess and the Frog - Ivy’s favourite – as he made a dramatic deal about how lucky he was to be having dinner with ‘two gorgeous girls.’

George let Ivy steal most of his chips and even two slices of his pizza as she sat in front of him slouched into his chest. Then when she dropped ketchup on her pyjamas, he dabbed at it with a napkin and tells her he does that all the time.

You had caught him glancing at you every now and then, always with this quiet, careful softness like he knew what this night meant, and he was trying to hold onto it gently.

By the time the credits rolled, Ivy had curled herself up half on your lap, half on George’s, her thumb in her mouth, eyes fluttering shut.

“I’ll do bath,” you whispered, rising carefully.

George looked up, “Need help?”

You hesitated before nodding, the anxiety in your chest slowly floating away.

Bedtime was gentle. You showed George how to do her hair in loose braids for sleep, and he followed your lead through the bedtime story, adding silly voices to the characters making giggles fall from Ivy as she leaned into his chest.

Then Ivy asked for him to do the last page, and your throat tightened.

He read it gently, slowly before tucked her in like he had always been there.

“Night-night, Ivy,” he murmured, “Sleep tight, superstar.”

She reached out and her palm sprawled out on his cheek, “Night-night, George.”

You stood in the hallway after, staring at him as he carried about his night like he had been in this situation before and it was like you were seeing him for the first time.

You were back on the sofa, the house finally quiet, nestled into him. Your head on his chest, his hand rubbing small circles on your back, the flicker of the lamp low and warm casting shadows over the walls.

“You’re amazing with her,” you whispered, not moving your head scared to look him in the eyes.

George tilted his head down, resting his cheek against your hair, “She’s brilliant. Like you.”

You closed your eyes, breathing him in, “I didn’t let you meet her sooner because I was scared. Scared that you’d run and I’d have to explain to her where you had gone, scared that if you knew what this was actually like, you’d give up.”

He was quiet for a moment, then shifted so he could look at you properly, “Ivy’s part of you,” he said, “How could I ever run from that?”

Your breath hitched tears collecting at your waterline as you took a deep breath.

“I just... no one’s ever really stuck around for both of us,” you admitted, voice cracking, “They say they care about me, but it’s always too much, too complicated once they realise it’s not just me.”

George’s thumb brushed under your eye, catching a tear you didn’t realise had fallen.

“I’m not them,” he said gently, “I’m here. For you, and for Ivy. I don’t care if it’s messy or complicated, I just care that it’s real. And this,” he kissed your forehead, “is real.”

You wrapped your arms tighter around him, feeling something inside your chest release. The tension of four years of being enough for Ivy, but never enough for someone else leaving your thoughts.

“I think she really liked you,” you murmured.

George chuckled, “Yeah?”

“She made you a friend in her bunny club. That’s a big deal.”

He grinned, “That means I made the inner circle. Better not mess it up then.”

You laughed, light and full for the first time in ages.

In that moment, wrapped in his arms, your daughter sleeping peacefully down the hall, you realised something simple and powerful: You weren’t alone anymore.

taglist: @jamiekluivert @reidyourpalms @roc-haze @whisperturnedecho @graceln4 @dopeysunflowers @super-gay-for-u @bethorwhateverr @livvymd @lilyyxoii @4ngelrealm @kiyoomology @canyouseethesainz @happyclifford @golden-hoax @tatumrileyslover @madforgeorge @wherethezoes-at @themdera @xlovergirlx @smzyyx @bowielovesyou @pretendyoucantseeme @elhotchner @duolingofanaccount @pookietv @ooostarwarsfandom501st

a/n: this based on a dream i had btw and i put in my notes app and completely forgot abt it

[cassiemaebarnes]

Grumpy & the New Girl: Part 13

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Masterlist

Bucky x reader

Summary: She wasn’t supposed to meet him like that. He wasn’t supposed to let her in. But sometimes, things don’t go according to plan.

Word Count: 6,607

Warnings: 18+ only, minors DNI, explicit content

Dinner had come and gone in a blur of laughter, drinks, and more food than anyone really needed. Plates were cleared, the server brought out coffees and dessert menus, and no one seemed in a rush to leave. The group had lingered, sprawled out around the big round table, as they settled into casual conversation.

You were leaned slightly into Bucky, your shoulder against his, both of you sipping from warm mugs while the others chattered around you.

Inevitably, the conversation circled back to the elevator.

“So,” Sam said, leaning forward with a smirk, “we’re just not gonna talk about it anymore? Like it didn’t happen?”

You groaned. “We already talked about it.”

Clint pointed a spoon at you. “We watched it. That’s different.”

Wanda nodded thoughtfully. “It was very…passionate.”

“Explosive,” Nat added with a smug grin.

Peter looked mildly traumatized. “It was so fast. The doors closed and it was like – bam.”

“You didn’t even breathe first,” Sam said, shaking his head. “Just immediate heat.”

Bucky gave an amused sigh beside you. “You act like we staged it.”

“Honestly,” Tony chimed in, “with that kind of timing? I’m not ruling it out.”

Wanda shook her head, but she was smiling too. “We knew something was going on. It was obvious.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Obvious, but still…surprising.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, looking between the two of you. “You guys were all slow-burn tension, lingering glances, brushing hands – then suddenly we’re watching a rom-com finale in an elevator.”

Nat tilted her head. “So…when did it actually start?”

All eyes turned to you and Bucky.

You exchanged a glance. A silent agreement passed between you.

“Yesterday,” you said casually. “After shopping.”

There was a beat of silence.

“That’s it?” Sam said. “You go shopping and come back soulmates?”

“Must’ve been some really good sales,” Tony muttered.

Clint leaned forward. “Did something happen at Victoria’s Secret?”

You just gave a tight-lipped smile and took another sip of your drink.

Bucky rested his hand on your knee under the table. “Let’s just say things escalated.”

Peter buried his face in his hands. “Oh my god.”

Wanda laughed softly. “You don’t have to tell us. We already know too much.”

“Way too much,” Steve added with a pointed look at Tony, who was still very proud of himself for digging up the footage.

“Not like that,” you said, waving them off. “We actually almost got kicked out for laughing so hard.”

“You almost got kicked out for laughing,” Bucky said, giving you a look.

“You were the one making me laugh!” you fired back, pointing a finger at him.

“Not my fault I’m funny,” he said, smirking.

“Well if you didn’t get kicked out for laughing, you would’ve gotten kicked out for touching all the thongs,” you said, raising your eyebrows at him.

That got the table’s full attention.

Tony nearly spit out his drink. “I’m sorry – what?”

“Excuse me?” Nat said, eyes already gleaming.

Bucky held up a hand like he was under oath. “Okay, pause. That sounds worse than it was.”

“Oh, I need to hear this,” Sam said, leaning forward with way too much interest.

“I was just–” Bucky started, but you were already cutting in.

“He was grabbing them. Holding them up and inspecting them like he was on a mission.”

“I was making observations,” Bucky said defensively. “They were tiny. It was a scientific evaluation.”

Clint was nearly wheezing. “What kind of science experiment involves fondling lace?”

“I wasn’t fondling! I was–” Bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay, look. I was just picking them up and making comments.”

“Oh, he was,” you said, eyes twinkling. “He picked up this bright pink one and said, ‘This barely counts as fabric.’”

Sam was laughing now. “He’s not wrong.”

“He held up a mesh one and said it looked like a bag of onions from the grocery store,” you added.

That sent Wanda and Nat into giggles, and even Steve had to bite back a smile.

“You’re killing me,” Peter mumbled, red-faced and trying not to picture anything.

“I was just trying to entertain her!” Bucky said, throwing his hands up. “It was a distraction tactic. She was blushing so hard I thought she might pass out.”

“And yet,” you said sweetly, “you still walked me in there. Proud as anything.”

“I carried your bag,” he muttered. “Like a gentleman.”

“You also asked the cashier if they made bulletproof versions.”

That broke the table.

Even Steve lost it, laughing into his glass as Sam wiped tears from his eyes.

“I cannot believe you two are real,” Nat said, shaking her head.

“Oh, they’re real,” Tony said, already reaching for his phone again. “And I’ve got a whole folder to prove it.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as Bucky muttered under his breath, “I’m going to rewire the elevator system. Tonight.”

“Why, you planning on doing more in there?” Clint said, raising his eyebrows.

You just shook your head as the rest of the team kept laughing.

The teasing continued for a few more minutes, but eventually, someone changed the subject – probably Steve, out of mercy. You leaned back into Bucky’s side, still red-faced but laughing, your hand brushing against his under the table.

And even if you couldn’t keep the story straight, the secret was long gone.

But somehow, it all felt even better this way.

--

Eventually, everyone started to get up from their seats, finally filing out of the restaurant. When you got back to the compound, it was almost midnight.

Everyone else scattered, heading back to their rooms, but you stayed in the kitchen, pulling the freezer door open.

“Midnight snack?” Bucky asked, coming up behind you.

“Yep. I deserve it,” you said, grabbing a pint of your favorite ice cream out of the freezer.

Bucky was already opening the silverware drawer, pulling out two spoons. He handed you one as you pulled the lid off.

You dug in first, taking a big bite and sighing as you leaned against the counter.

Buck took a bite next as you just looked at him.

“I thought you only liked old man flavors,” you said, scooping up another bite.

“They’re not old man flavors,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Then why is it only old men who get them?” you asked, raising your eyebrows.

“Because they’re the only ones smart enough to know that this,” he said, pointing his spoon at the container, “is too sweet.”

“Oh please,” you said, waving him off. “Only an old man would say that.”

He just side-eyed you and smirked. “I guess you’re into old men then.”

“I guess I am,” you said, smiling up at him.

You kept eating in silence for a few minutes, until you finally decided on a plan of action. You didn’t forget about what he did in the elevator earlier, and you needed to get him back double since everyone else saw it now, too.

You took another slow spoonful, casually leaning against the island. “Hey, Buck?”

He glanced over at you, still chewing. “Yeah?”

You grinned – then let your spoon “slip,” just slightly, letting a dollop of ice cream fall right onto your shirt, just over your chest.

You gasped dramatically. “Ugh – dammit.”

Bucky froze, spoon halfway to his mouth.

“I hate when that happens,” you said, voice as innocent as possible, looking down at your shirt like it was just another everyday inconvenience.

He just eyed you with an amused look on his face before reaching over and grabbing a paper towel.

But before he could say anything, you set the pint on the counter, grabbed the hem of your shirt with both hands, and in one fluid motion, pulled it off.

Revealing your new red bra.

You shook your head like it was nothing, plucking the paper towel out of his hand as his eyes swept over you, landing on your chest.

“Ugh, thanks Bucky. Such a mess,” you muttered, patting at your skin.

Bucky had not moved.

Not a blink. Not a breath.

Just wide blue eyes, completely transfixed.

“Bucky?” you asked sweetly, glancing over your shoulder.

Still frozen.

“Hmm?” he finally croaked.

You tossed the paper towel in the trash and casually walked past him toward the doorway, letting your bare shoulders and red straps do all the work.

You paused beside him, your voice low and smooth in his ear. “That was for the elevator.”

Then you disappeared down the hallway, leaving him standing there, spoon still in hand, looking like someone had just hit pause on his entire nervous system.

But you weren’t done yet.

You pulled your shirt back on before stepping in the elevator, not wanting Tony to have any more embarrassing videos.

And as you walked down the hall to your room, you pulled the group chat up on your phone, attached the video of Bucky sleep talking, then pressed send.

You grinned as you stepped into your bedroom.

You pulled your shirt off again, then threw on an oversized t-shirt, making sure you could still see the red bra straps as you made your way back downstairs. As you walked into the elevator again, the group chat was already blowing up.

Natasha: Oh my god😭

Sam: “THE CAT TOOK THE SYRUP” I’M LOSING IT 💀💀💀

Tony: Please tell me this is the start of a documentary. “The Waffle Wars: Barnes’ Untold Story”

Peter: WHY DOES THIS SOUND LIKE A PIXAR MOVIE

I would 100% watch it

Steve: He always did take breakfast seriously.

Clint: “Waffles got legs.” Me too, man. Me too. 🤝

Wanda: Is he okay?? 😭😂

Sam: This man is fighting demons in a diner at 3 am

Tony: “NO BUTTER” – he said that with his chest

You: He’s literally going to kill me when he sees this 😂

Natasha: Worth it. We needed this.

Peter: can we auto-tune it and make a remix???

Tony: Already on it. Dropping the track by midnight. Featuring DJ Syrupcat.

Steve: Please don’t encourage him.

Sam: Too late. It’s gonna be my ringtone

Bucky: …I hate all of you

Tony: 🥞🥞🥞🥞🥞

Sam: 🐱🥄

Peter: 🧇🦵

You: I’m sleeping with one eye open tonight.

Bucky: Good. So am I. Gotta protect my pancakes.

When you walked back into the kitchen, Bucky was leaning up against the counter on his phone as you tried to hold in a laugh.

He looked up right away, giving you a look. “Seriously?”

“Hey, I had to get you back double since you got us exposed.”

“I don’t remember you exactly pushing me off in the elevator,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you. “In fact, I remember you wrapping your legs around me.”

“Because you picked me up and pinned me against the wall!” you yelled, trying not to laugh.

“And you know you liked it,” he fired back, smirking.

You paused, then just sighed and rolled your eyes, knowing you couldn’t argue.

Because you did like it.

You leaned back against the island, and before you could reach for the ice cream again, Bucky took a step toward you, looking down at you with a smirk. He stopped right in front of you, then reached out and placed his hands on your hips.

“So you do like when I pick you up, huh doll?” he said, picking you up effortlessly and setting you on the counter.

Your heart started beating like crazy, but you didn’t want him to get the satisfaction of making you flustered again. So you just raised an eyebrow at him.

“I think you’re the one who likes picking me up.”

He just kept his eyes on you, trying to make you break. But you just held his eye contact for a little longer, before turning to grab the pint of ice cream and your spoon.

You started swinging your legs back and forth, with them brushing against Bucky’s legs, like sitting on the counter like this was completely normal. You scooped up a big spoonful of ice cream, eating it before you dipped it back in and held up a spoonful to Bucky’s mouth.

“Want some?” you said with your mouth full.

He just huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me.”

“I hate you, actually.”

“Really?” you said, tapping your chin while your legs were still swinging. “Because I vividly remember you telling me you liked me just this morning.”

He just chuckled and shook his head again. “Just eat your ice cream.”

He took a step back so he wasn’t so close, but he still kept a hand on your hip as you continued eating.

A few minutes later you sighed and set the container down next to you. “I’m full.”

Without saying a word, Bucky just stepped away and put the lid back on the ice cream before slipping it back in the freezer. He took both of your spoons and rinsed them in the sink as you leaned back on your hands, watching him.

Then, he walked back over to you, grabbing your waist and lifting you up off the counter, setting you back on your feet on the ground.

You raised an eyebrow. “You seriously think I can’t jump down from the counter.”

“No. I think you wanted me to pick you up again,” he responded, smirking.

You just rolled your eyes again and smacked him lightly on the arm as you started walking away, him following right behind you.

“Ugh, I can’t wait to get out of these jeans,” you said, pulling at the waistband. “I should’ve changed when I went up the first time.”

“Are you gonna come back to my room after?” Bucky asked, looking down at you.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What, you think you’re gonna get some?” you asked, laughing.

“No,” he said, softly, looking a little embarrassed. “I just sleep better when you’re there.”

You could’ve melted right there.

But you just smiled at him, feeling bad for joking with him now. “Of course I will.”

He smiled at you, then you looped your arm through his, leaning your head on his shoulder as you continued down the hallway toward the elevator.

When you got in, Bucky pressed 8, saying he would just go up to your room with you.

You walked into your room and went straight to your dresser as Bucky plopped down on the edge of your bed.

You pulled open your drawer and immediately peeled off your jeans, stepping out of them. You grabbed a pair of sleep shorts and pulled them on, then bent down and picked up your jeans.

You took a step toward your laundry basket, then froze, not even realizing what you did until now.

You slowly turned toward Bucky, jeans still in hand.

He looked a little shocked when you made eye contact with him, but not as bad as you thought he was gonna be.

“Sorry,” you said, cringing. “I promise I didn’t mean to do that. I already got back at you enough,” you said, laughing.

He just shook his head and looked down, chuckling. “You’re gonna kill me doll.”

You threw your jeans in the basket before going into the bathroom and getting ready for bed. You also took your bra off, knowing you definitely couldn’t do that in front of Bucky.

When you came back out of the bathroom, Bucky was standing near your door, waiting for you. You padded over and gave him a little smirk as he fell into step beside you, both of you walking quietly to his room.

Once inside, you headed straight for his bed, climbing in and laying back against the pillows. You pulled the blanket up over you, watching him from across the room without bothering to hide it.

Bucky didn’t say anything, just started getting changed – right in front of you. He reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it up over his head, his muscles flexing with the motion, the ridges of his abs visible in the soft lighting as he tossed the shirt aside.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep your face neutral, but your heart rate definitely didn’t get the memo.

Then he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans and slowly pushed them down, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. He stood there for a moment before turning toward you, clearly aware of the way your eyes followed him, the smallest smirk tugging at his lips.

“See something you like?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

You rolled your eyes, even as your face heated up. “Please. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He chuckled, clearly not buying it, then turned to grab a pair of sweatpants, tugging them on at a leisurely pace before pulling a t-shirt over his head. You just kept watching, not even trying to be subtle anymore.

When he disappeared into the bathroom, you let out a slow breath and blinked up at the ceiling.

A few minutes later, the bathroom light flicked off and the door opened again. You watched as he crossed the room and climbed into bed beside you, the mattress dipping slightly as he slid closer and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you in against his chest.

“Comfortable?” he murmured against your ear.

You smiled softly. “Very.”

There was a pause, then he added, “You know you drive me crazy, right?”

Your smile grew. “I know.”

His hand lightly traced patterns against your side through your shirt, and you shifted to look up at him.

He was already looking down at you, a mix of softness and hunger in his eyes.

You pushed yourself up slowly, giving him a little smirk before kissing him.

His hands immediately went up into your hair, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. Your hand cupped the side of his face, before you slowly lowered it and roamed over his chest and abs.

You broke the kiss, breathing heavily as you sat up. Bucky lifted his head immediately, looking at you like a sad puppy, causing you to smirk at him even more. He pushed himself up and shifted back, so he was leaning against the headboard.

He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, you swung your leg over him, straddling him. He froze, then slowly smiled, leaning back in to kiss you before his hands grabbed your hips.

You slung your arms around his neck, one hand going up into his hair as your other stayed on his back, feeling his tight muscles through his t-shirt.

He deepened the kiss once again, tongue beginning to part your lips, exploring your mouth.

Slowly, you started to rock back and forth on his lap, pulling a low groan out of him. He gripped your hips harder now, not stopping you, but making sure you keep a slow, steady rhythm.

You slid your hands down his chest again, then around his waist, pulling him flush against your chest. Bucky’s hands slowly slid up, underneath the hem of your shirt, resting on your waist.

You stopped moving as you grabbed the bottom of Bucky’s shirt, pulling away from him as you pulled it over his head. He gave you a smug smirk as your eyes roamed over his chest and arms before you leaned in to kiss him again.

Bucky’s hands slowly started moving higher, the difference between the warm flesh and cool vibranium sending shivers throughout your body. He noticed, smiling against your lips before moving his hands to your back, pushing you further into his chest.

You could feel him getting hard beneath you now, the growing pressure unmistakable as your bodies pressed together. It only made your breath hitch, your hips stuttering slightly in response.

Bucky let out a low groan against your mouth, his lips moving with yours before he started trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck. You tilted your head for him instinctively, eyes fluttering shut as he nipped lightly at your pulse point, then soothed it with his tongue.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your skin, his voice low and raspy.

You let out a soft sigh as he kept going – down to your collarbones, taking his time, tasting every inch of exposed skin. His hands roamed your back and sides, fingers gripping like he didn’t want to let go.

When he reached the neckline of your shirt, he paused. One hand slipped down to the hem, fingers curling under it, lifting just slightly.

His other hand pressed gently to the center of your back, holding you against him as he looked up at you. His eyes were dark, but still so tender.

“Is this okay?” he asked quietly, breathless but careful. “Can I take this off?”

Your heart clenched at the way he asked – checking in, even now, with so much care in his voice.

You nodded, whispering, “Yeah. It’s okay.”

He didn’t move for a second, just stared up at you like he was trying to memorize the moment. Then he slowly tugged the shirt up, lifting it over your head and tossing it gently to the side.

When his eyes met your chest and he realized you weren’t wearing a bra, he froze again.

His breath caught in his throat, and his hands moved instinctively to your waist, holding you in place as his gaze slowly traveled over your bare skin.

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re so beautiful.”

Your cheeks flushed, but the way he looked at you – like he couldn’t believe you were real – made you feel like you were glowing.

You leaned in and kissed him again, this time slower, more deliberate. Bucky let his hands wander up your back and over your sides, memorizing every curve like it was sacred.

Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging gently as you kissed him, but then Bucky suddenly shifted.

In one smooth, effortless motion, he flipped you – rolling you onto your back and pressing himself over you in one fluid move. You let out a soft gasp of surprise, heart pounding as you looked up at him.

He was smirking again, that same cocky expression that said he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Show-off,” you breathed, your voice slightly shaky from the rush of movement.

“You love it,” he whispered, his nose brushing against yours before he kissed you again – slower this time, but deeper. His body settled between your legs, weight supported by his elbows as he moved against you.

Then he broke the kiss, lips trailing down your jaw and neck once more, making you shiver as he lingered there. His tongue flicked out over your skin before his lips followed, warm and soft and relentless.

He kissed down to your collarbone, then lower.

Your breath hitched.

His mouth found the curve of your breast, and he paused, eyes flicking up to meet yours one more time. Just making sure.

You gave the faintest nod, already dizzy with anticipation.

That was all he needed.

His lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking gently, his tongue swirling in slow circles before he moved to the other, giving each the same reverent attention. His metal hand held your waist, grounding you, while his other slid up your side to cup your breast, thumb brushing lightly as his mouth kept working.

You arched into him, moaning softly, fingers gripping his shoulder. His hips rocked forward, slow and deliberate, pressing himself against you.

Even through the layers of clothing, you could feel the heat between you – the pressure building, the tension thrumming just under your skin.

“Bucky…” you whispered, voice barely there.

He didn’t rush.

He stayed there for a while, still worshipping your chest with soft, open-mouthed kisses, dragging his tongue slowly over your skin and letting his teeth graze lightly before soothing the spot with a kiss. You were a mess beneath him – breath shaky, fingers tangled in the sheets, body aching for more.

But he took his time. Like he wanted to memorize every inch of you.

When he finally started to move lower, his kisses trailed down your stomach, slow and deliberate. He paused at your belly button, giving you a little smirk before kissing just below it.

Then, just as you were starting to squirm from the anticipation, he pressed one last kiss to your lower stomach and started making his way back up. He kissed between your ribs, up your sternum, then back to your lips, where he kissed you deeply – tongue sliding against yours, one hand cradling the back of your head.

When he pulled back, his lips brushed against your cheek as he whispered, “Can I take these off, sweetheart?” His fingers were already hooked lightly in the waistband of your sleep shorts, waiting for your okay.

You nodded, voice caught in your throat, but that wasn’t enough for him. His eyes locked with yours again, more serious this time. “Say it, baby.”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please.”

That was all he needed.

He sat back a little, pulling your shorts down slowly – like he wanted to savor it – and dropped them off the side of the bed. You were left in just your underwear now, your chest rising and falling fast.

Bucky’s eyes drank you in for a second before he lowered himself again, trailing kisses over your hipbone, then down your inner thigh. His vibranium hand held your knee gently, keeping your leg steady as he pressed kisses there too.

You gasped softly when his thumb rubbed lightly over the damp spot at the center of your underwear. He groaned, low and rough in his throat.

“Fuck, baby…” he said, voice low. “You’re soaked.”

You turned your head to the side, heat blooming across your cheeks.

He leaned in, lips brushing against your ear now. “That all for me?” he asked, voice rough and teasing. His thumb rubbed slow circles over the wet fabric, applying just the slightest pressure.

You whimpered, biting your lip. “Yes.”

He kissed your cheek. “Good,” he said, voice barely a growl. “Because I’m not stopping ‘til I’ve got you falling apart for me.”

Bucky pressed one last kiss just above the edge of your underwear, then looked up at you, eyes dark but still so full of care.

“Can I take these off too, baby?” he asked softly, his fingers already toying with the sides, but not moving further until you answered.

You nodded quickly, breath catching. “Yes. Please.”

He didn’t waste another second.

With slow, steady hands, he hooked his fingers into the waistband and tugged them down your legs, eyes never leaving your face. Once they were off and tossed aside, he leaned back in, one hand resting on your thigh as he trailed kisses up the inside again – this time much closer, much more deliberate.

You felt his breath first – warm and slow against your already-sensitive skin. Then his lips. Gentle at first, like he was easing you into it. But when you gasped and your hips twitched, his hands held you down more firmly.

He looked up for a second, smirking. “That’s it, doll…just let me take care of you.”

And then he really started.

His tongue moved in slow, expert strokes, switching between teasing licks and deep, purposeful movements that had you gasping for air. Your fingers dove into his hair without even thinking, tugging hard as you moaned his name like it was the only word you knew.

“Bucky – oh my god–”

That only spurred him on. He groaned low against you, the vibration sending a fresh wave of pleasure through your body. He gripped your thighs tighter, keeping you spread for him as he focused entirely on you – like this was all he wanted, all he needed.

And you couldn’t stop saying his name.

Over and over, breathless and shaky, like a prayer.

Your hips started to roll against his mouth on instinct, every slow stroke of his tongue drawing you closer and closer to the edge. He kept you there, his hands steady on your thighs, mouth relentless in his focus.

Then – without warning – he shifted slightly, bringing one hand up, and you felt the lightest press of his finger against your entrance.

Your breath hitched. His eyes flicked up to meet yours.

“Okay?” he asked, voice low and hoarse against your skin.

You nodded quickly. “Yes – yes, please.”

With that, he slowly eased one finger inside you, keeping the pressure firm but gentle, still moving his tongue in perfect rhythm.

You arched beneath him, the new sensation overwhelming in the best way. Your fingers tightened in his hair, your thighs trembling around his shoulders as you gasped.

“Bucky – fuck–”

He groaned again, loving the way you said his name, the way your body reacted to him. He added a little curl of his finger as he moved it in and out of you, syncing the pace with his mouth until your whole body was practically humming with tension.

“That’s it,” he murmured between kisses. “You sound so good, baby. You taste even better.”

You whimpered, hips jerking as you clung to the edge, your whole body coiling tight like a spring. His finger moved deeper, firmer, mouth never stopping – his tongue, his lips, his voice all combining into something that pushed you higher and higher.

You were so close now it was unbearable.

“Bucky – I’m–” you gasped, barely able to form words.

He just hummed in response, his free hand sliding up to hold your waist gently, grounding you while you started to come undone.

Your words fell apart as your body seized with pleasure, a high gasp escaping your lips as your back arched and your thighs clamped around him. He didn’t stop – his finger kept moving in that perfect rhythm, his mouth softening just slightly but staying with you through every wave, every tremble, every broken moan of his name.

“That's it,” he murmured, voice low and full of awe between kisses to your inner thigh. “That’s my girl.”

You felt like you were floating, your whole body trembling as the rush of your orgasm pulsed through you. Your fingers slackened in his hair but didn’t let go entirely. He slowed his pace gently, easing you down from the high, coaxing you through every last ripple of sensation.

Only when your legs finally stopped shaking did he press one last kiss to the inside of your thigh, then your hip. You let out a soft, breathy sigh as he pulled back, and the bed dipped when he crawled up over you again.

His hand slid up your side, and then you felt the warmth of his mouth on your jaw, your cheek, your lips. He kissed you like he meant it – slow, sweet, and deep.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered between kisses. “So damn beautiful. You should see yourself.”

Your heart clenched at the way he looked at you – like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held.

You smiled sleepily, still catching your breath. “You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”

He grinned, brushing his nose against yours. “Yeah, but I’ve got nothing on you.”

Then he leaned down and kissed you again, his hand gently brushing your hair back as if you were something to be cherished.

Bucky’s mouth moved hungrily against yours, hands caressing your waist as the heat between your bodies grew almost unbearable. He finally sat back slightly, eyes never leaving yours as his hands moved to the waistband of his sweatpants.

With one swift motion, he pulled them down and kicked them off, followed by his boxers. You felt your breath hitch as your eyes instinctively dropped – he was fully hard now, and…big. Like, bigger than you expected. Your heart thudded in your chest.

“Too much?” he asked, the tiniest smirk playing on his lips, but there was sincerity in his voice too – he was asking seriously, giving you an out if you needed it.

You shook your head slowly, smiling. “Not even close.”

That look he gave you – part hunger, part adoration – sent a full-body shiver through you. He leaned back in, kissing you deeply, slowly. His hips shifted slightly, and you felt him brush against your entrance, just enough to make your body tense with anticipation.

Bucky pulled back just enough to meet your eyes again. “You sure, doll?”

You nodded, voice soft but sure. “I want you.”

He smiled and pressed another kiss to your lips, then trailed down again – along your jaw, your throat, the tops of your breasts. He lingered there, worshipping every inch like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. His hands held your sides firmly, grounding you, steadying himself.

He pulled away again, reaching over to open his nightstand and pulling out a condom. He ripped it open before rolling it on, then bent back down to kiss you again.

You felt him guide himself gently, the anticipation building with each heartbeat.

And then – he paused, breath mingling with yours, his eyes never leaving yours.

Everything about this moment was electric: the heat, the tension, the closeness. But more than anything, it was the trust, the care, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world.

Bucky hovered over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other gently cupping your cheek. His thumb brushed softly across your skin as he looked into your eyes, waiting – checking one more time.

You nodded again, barely breathing. “I’m okay,” you whispered.

He leaned down and kissed you, slow and deep, full of warmth and patience. You could feel the way he held himself back, every movement cautious, like he was determined to do this right. To make you feel safe. Cherished.

As he started to press in, he moved slowly, pausing when he felt you tense just slightly.

“Breathe, baby,” he whispered against your lips. “You’re doing so good for me.”

You took a shaky breath, wrapping your arms tighter around his shoulders, grounding yourself in the strength of him, the warmth of his body. He kissed the side of your neck as he pushed in a little further.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re so tight baby.”

When he was finally fully inside, you let out a soft gasp, your body adjusting around him. He stilled, resting his forehead against yours.

“You okay?” he asked again, voice low, barely more than a breath.

You nodded, your voice just as soft. “Yeah.”

He kissed you again slowly and began a gentle rhythm, each movement careful and intentional. His hands cradled your sides, holding you like you might break, even though the way you clung to him said the opposite.

After a few minutes, the tension shifted. Your fingers started tugging a little harder at his hair. Your hips rolled to meet his. Your breath caught differently now – more desperate. Needier.

Bucky felt it too. His pace quickened slightly, his grip tightened, and he groaned softly into your neck.

“You feel incredible, baby,” he murmured, voice thick and rough with restraint. “So perfect for me.”

The tenderness was still there – woven into every kiss, every touch – but now the heat was rising between you fast, spreading like fire under your skin.

“Oh, Bucky…” you moaned, nails digging into his shoulder.

Bucky’s breath started to quicken, leaning his forehead against yours as he started to whimper.

“Fuck, doll,” he groaned, quickening his pace.

He let out one last groan before he came unraveled too with a groan, breathing heavily while you let out a sigh.

His breathing was still uneven, chest rising and falling as he hovered just above you, supporting himself with a forearm beside your head. Your hands were gently tangled in his hair, fingertips trailing lightly along his scalp, and Bucky leaned in to rest his forehead against yours.

Neither of you spoke at first. The room was quiet, other than the soft hum of the building and your slow, steady breaths syncing together.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, voice low and sincere, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

You nodded, eyes still half-closed. “Yeah,” you whispered. “More than okay.”

Bucky smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, then another to your temple, before shifting his weight and lying beside you. He curled his arm around your waist, pulling you close until your head was tucked against his chest. His hand rubbed small circles on your back, soothing and warm.

“I still can’t believe you’re mine,” he murmured, lips brushing against your hair.

You laughed softly, the sound muffled against his skin. “I’ve been yours.”

He exhaled, almost like a laugh, and tightened his grip just slightly. “I mean it, doll. You have no idea what you do to me.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, your fingers tracing lazy shapes on his chest. “I think I’m starting to.”

For a moment, you just looked at each other – all the teasing and tension from earlier replaced with something quieter, deeper. His expression was so open, so full of affection, it made your heart ache in the best way.

Then he leaned down and kissed you again – slow, tender, like a promise he was sealing between the two of you.

A few minutes later, you slowly sat up, muscles pleasantly sore and spent. The room was quiet except for the gentle hum of the AC and the sound of Bucky’s breathing beside you – steady, calm, comforting.

“Be right back,” you whispered, brushing your fingers softly over his arm before slipping out of bed.

You padded to the bathroom, still a little wobbly on your feet, and shut the door behind you. You went to the bathroom and splashed some cool water on your face after you washed your hands. You caught your reflection in the mirror and smiled to yourself – flushed cheeks, messed up hair, and a kind of glow you couldn’t quite describe.

When you returned to the bedroom, Bucky was sitting on the edge of the bed now, leaning down to pick up his boxers. As he pulled them back on, you grabbed your sleep shorts and put them on, along with his shirt – oversized and soft – before crawling back into bed beside him.

He rolled toward you immediately, gathering you up like a blanket he’d been missing all night.

“You’re so warm,” he mumbled against your hair.

You giggled softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re the one radiating heat like a space heater.”

“Mm, shut up and cuddle me,” he said, smirking at you.

You settled in closer, his arm wrapping tightly around your waist as your head tucked beneath his chin. His fingers lazily traced up and down your spine, slow and absent-minded.

After a long, peaceful pause, he whispered, “You really stayed.”

You tilted your head just enough to look up at him. “I told you I would.”

“I know, but…” He looked down at you, brushing some hair back from your face. “I still can’t believe I get to fall asleep like this.”

You smiled, heart clenching. “Get used to it.”

He smiled back, soft and sleepy. “Yeah,” he murmured, voice a little raspy. “I think I could.”

With one last kiss to your forehead, you both sank into the mattress again, legs tangled, bodies perfectly aligned. Sleep tugged at your limbs, but it wasn’t the exhaustion of before – it was the kind that only came with feeling safe. Held. Loved.

You drifted off in his arms, the steady beat of his heart the last thing you heard before you fell asleep.

--

Part 14 | Masterlist

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