#seventeen down fourteen to go | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hysteria-things · 7 months ago

Note

smut w chris and goody 2 shoes reader who always acts so smart and innocent w people then acts like a brat to chris?

he gets sick of it and roughly fucks her into her place , caring less for her pleasure and using her just so she knows how much of a slut she is!

LESSON LEARNED

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: brat tamer!chris x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you get taught a lesson when you act like a brat in public.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, spanking, humiliation, face fucking, dry humping, squirting, p in v, rough sex, degradation, a sprinkle of praising, overstimulation, unprotected sex (no bueno!)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,502

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: HAPPY KINKTOBER!!!

this is based off one of my blurbs from a while ago😜

your reputation to others is excellent. you’re a nice girl, who is outgoing and will always follow directions or help whoever is in need. goody two shoes is what people mostly describe you as, which isn’t that far off. however, when you’re with your significant other, your bratty side slips up.

“let me go!” you tell chris like you’re a toddler, stomping your feet while he leads you to his bedroom. “i’m being serious!”

opening the door, he lets go of your wrist to have you lead inside, yelping when his palm smacks your ass to usher you more quickly before bending you over the edge of his computer desk. pouting your lips, you hear his heavy breathing as he forcibly pulls up your skirt. you know what’s coming. your punishment.

your eyes start to well up, feeling the slightest bit bad that you acted like a brat in front of his friends, but you’re one of all things. “o-one.” you say between a sob when your boyfriend’s hand slaps your ass for the first time out of many to come tonight. you start spewing out apologies, wiggling in his grip that’s pinned your hands behind your back. “i’m sorry, okay?” you admit, his hand spanking you once more. “i didn’t mean to!”

“if you didn’t mean to you wouldn’t have done it in the first place.” chris snarls back, followed by another smack. “keep counting,” he says through gritted teeth.

SPANK.

your cries echo throughout the room as he continues to punish your reddening bottom. each slap lands with accuracy, leaving its mark on your tender skin. your tears fall on your cheeks now, mixing with the stinging sensation. “seven... eight... nine!" you wail, your voice hoarse from yelling. your body shakes with each impact, trying to squirm away another time. again, no use.

his palm connects again, the force jolting you. the pain courses to your core, pussy throbbing in response with a mix of mercy and arousal. “ten! i swear i won’t do it again!” you plea, desperate for at least some sympathy. alas, chris remains careless, his anger still fresh.

he acts like he didn’t even hear your lame apology, his focus only on disciplining you for your actions. raising his hand high, he prepares himself for another smack against your now-colored rear. “eleven.” he says under his breath, starting to count for you. the sound of skin meeting skin chimes, along with your pained whimper. he pauses for a moment, letting you take a breath to let your punishment sink in — and there’s no way out of it. then, without warning, his hand comes down again, striking your already sore ass with a vicious hit.

“twelve.” chris states clearly, his tone lacking mercy. he continues this harsh pattern, each spank followed by a number. “thirteen... fourteen... fifteen...” the more he counts, the more you sob.

“sixteen… seventeen!” you take back your job, shouting after each brutal strike. your body trembles, feeling like every nerve is in pain. the heat from your bruised cheeks radiate down to your thighs and the folds of your pussy. despite being punished, you feel thrilling and excited all in one. “eighteen... nineteen... twenty!” you choke out, your voice barely audible over your heavy breathing. the tears keep streaming, skin shining from sweat.

by the time his hand falls for the twentieth time, your bottom is a crimson mess. the sting lingers, knowing it’ll be that way for days. yet, you’ve never been so turned on.

chris finally stops after the last spank, admiring his work. your ass is a beautiful shade of red, the perfect blend of pain and pleasure. he can see the arousal glistening between your thighs, a clear visual of what this has been doing for you.

with a firm grip, he grabs your hair and pulls your head back, forcing you to look at him. his eyes stare into yours, filled with a mixture of anger and desire. “what a fucking brat.” he sneers, his other hand roughly groping your numbing ass cheek. he releases your hair, pushing himself off of you with so much force you fall to the ground, landing with a thud. from the impact, your butt stings even more.

curling into a ball, you wrap your arms in front of your legs and cry softly. “i-i’m sorry, chris.” you whine, voice shaking. the humiliation of being bent over and spanked like a naughty child, combined with the intense physical sensations, leaves you feeling vulnerable and exposed.

despite the pain, you can't ignore the ache between your legs. your cunt throbs with a need that it’s confusing. you’ve never felt this way before, and it scares you.

chris watches you on the floor, a smirk playing on his lips. he knows exactly what's going through your mind. “get up.” he snaps, standing tall and towering over you. “and get on the bed; on your knees. now.” he waits, expecting a protest, but he doesn’t receive one. that means it’s working.

once you're in position, he comes over, his cock already half hard. “if you're going to act like a brat, you'll learn how to get treated like one, too.” chris explains, running a hand through your hair. he unbuckles his jeans so they fall freely onto the floor, dick springing out right in front of you while gripping your hair and pushing his tip against your lips. “open up.”

trembling, you part your lips, allowing chris to guide his thick cock past them. the taste of pre-cum fills your mouth as he thrusts deeper, hitting the back of your throat. “mmph.” you gag slightly around his length, eyes glossy. you don’t pull away, of course. instead, you relax your jaw to accommodate him.

he sets a steady pace, fucking your face with elongated strokes. each snap of the hips sends vibrations through your head, making your nose pressed against his pelvis. your hands grasp at the sheets below, wanting to hold onto something since he’s in full domination. you’re uncomfortable, but your pussy continues to clench with need, juices dripping down your thighs. without thinking, you start humping the blanket to try and get friction on your clit like a bitch in heat.

groaning in satisfaction as he uses your mouth for his pleasure, he can feel your throat tighten around him, fighting to breathe around his girth. “that’s it, take it all.” he grunts, holding your head in place as he ruts in and out of your stretched lips. “this is what brats like you deserve.”

taking his free hand, he reaches down to cup your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. the sight of you, tear-streaked and submissive, only makes him want more. noticing your desperate humping, he chuckles deeply. “look at you, getting off like a pretty little thing. you do enjoy this, don't you?”

you moan muffled around chris’ cock as he continues to use your mouth, driving you wild. “mmph! mmph!” you manage to respond, nodding frantically at his question. your hips buck harder against the bed, chasing the friction your clit needs. your pussy clenches tightly, a clear substance gushing out to soak the bedding beneath you.

seeing you drench the sheets, he grins, knowing he's pushed you to ultimate submission. he speeds up his thrusts, fucking your face with more power. “yeah.” he grunts, watching you fall apart beneath him. “you filthy slut. show me how much you love taking this dick like a good little whore.”

his words are degrading, but you enjoy the hell out of it. your mind goes blank, focusing on the feeling of his cock in your mouth and the desperate need pulsing between your thighs. sensing your climax, he pulls out abruptly, leaving you gasping for air and drooling. before you can recover, he flips you over onto your back and yanks your legs apart.

panting heavily, you stare up at chris in a daze, your body still shaking from the intensity of the previous actions. the sudden loss of his dick in your mouth leaves you feeling empty. you. want. more.

the exposing of your dripping cunt has his eyes widen, as if he’s a kid in a candy shop. “jesus, chris.” you whimper, feeling ashamed by how pathetic you seem right now. “please.” you’re desperate, not even sure what you're begging for anymore. release? punishment? his harsh words? all you know is that you’re craving every bit of him.

chris takes in the sight of your exposed, fluttering hole, his horniness shooting straight to his dick. “you want it?” he murmurs, his fingers tracing the swollen slit of your pussy. “you want my cock inside you; stretching out every inch of this needy pussy?”

when you’re about to answer, he lines himself up and plows in deep, burying himself in one stroke. a guttural groan rips from his chest at the tightness gripping him. “holy shit, you were made for this.” chris exhales, each pump of his hips driving him impossibly deeper. “taking my cock like the perfect slut you are.”

a sharp cry tickles your throat as he thrusts into you, the sudden stretch sending waves of pleasure and pain through your core. your nails dig into the sheets as he fucks you, each ruthless thrust hitting that sweet spot inside you and sending stars flying behind your eyelids. “yeah! oh, fuck, yeah!” you shout, your hips bucking fast to meet his brutal rhythm. “making me feel so good!”

the filthy words spill from your lips before it’s too late, fueled by the overwhelming pleasure you’re experiencing. you’ve never felt so full. his cock is hard inside you, pounding repeatedly against your cervix with each stroke.

his eyes flash with possession as he rails into you, living for the way your cunt clenches around him, gripping him deep. his balls slap against your ass with every violent thrust, the lewd sound mixing with your wanton cries. “mhm, scream for me.” he says, angling his hips to hit your g-spot just right. “let everyone hear what a cock sleeve you are for me.”

leaning down to your chest, he takes a nipple and swirls his tongue around it. his other hand snakes between your bodies to rub circles over your clit, wanting to push you over the edge. “cum on my cock, you filthy girl.” chris demands, his voice filled with lust.

each bite to your nipple sends sparks of ecstasy through your veins while his stimulation on your clit has you close to the brink of release. “oh god, oh god! i’m-i’m gonna—” your words turn into incoherent babbling as the waves of your orgasm crash over you. your pussy clamps down viciously on his length, milking him as your body shakes and becomes limp beneath him.

the grip on your clit tightens, prolonging your pleasure as he chases his release. with a final, sharp thrust, he buries himself and cums inside you, filling your spasming cunt with his seed. his cock throbs with each string until he collapses on top of you, his weight pushing you further into the mattress. “fuck, that was amazing.” he pants, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “and it’s all for me.” he whispers in your ear, referring to your body.

after a moment of silence, he pulls out with a wet pop. a trail of cum flows, painting your thighs with its sticky substance. he rolls off of you with a satisfied smile, but bites his lip when he spots his cum on you. “turn around and show me that pretty ass.”

“what—” you’re cut off when he guides you on your hands and knees, in the position he wants you in. his favorite; ass up with your pussy on full display. a shiver runs down your spine. it was silly to think you were getting off the hook that easy.

he shifts behind you, hands grasping your thighs as he aligns himself between your spread legs. one finger traces the marks he left earlier, your hips backing into him unknowingly. “so eager. tell me what you need, slut. beg for it.” he pushes the head of his cock against your entrance, letting you feel his growing erection.

chris waits patiently, your body practically calling his name to be filled again. he can see the desperation in the way you arch your back, presenting yourself even more. “you know what to say.” he points out. “i want to hear those dirty words from your smart mouth.”

he delivers a sharp smack to one cheek, watching the flesh jiggle and flush pink under the force. he massages the sting away, waiting for you to give him what he wants. “please, chris.” you pout, feeling embarrassed about how at this moment you can’t live without his cock. “please, fuck me again, baby. use me however you want.” it seems like you don’t know who you are anymore. hours ago you were tough and mighty, but now you’re small and submissive.

pulling you back against him, he lines up his dick with your soaked sex. “that’s it, princess.” he says, his breath hot against your ear. “swallowing my cock like the good girl i know.”

bullying himself inside of your used hole, your eyes roll back from being filled with him again. just as before, you wrap deliciously around him. he sets a quick pace, the sound of your bodies conjoining bouncing off of the walls. “you’re still so tight.” he hisses.

your mouth falls open in a silent scream as he slams into you, the wideness spreading you open and hitting spots you didn't know existed. it’s almost too much, but you love it. “yes! yes! yes!” you cry out, meeting each of his powerful thrusts. “h-harder.”

the explicit sounds of your guys’ love making fill the air, conjoining with your moans and the slap of skin. you can feel another orgasm building, your walls fluttering wildly around his base. “do-don’t stop. don't ever stop.” you babble incoherently, lost in the trance of ecstasy. “i’m g-gonna—”

feeling your gummy walls squeeze around him, chris is determined to bring you to release. “cum for me.” he insists, brunette strands sticking to his forehead. “come on, give it to me.”

he can feel his own high approaching, his balls tightening as he nears. he holds back, wanting to put you before him. walls spasming, your moans become a higher pitch. “i’m cumming! fuck, i’m—” you don’t finish your sentence when the familiar ring of white moves down his shaft. chris fills you up one more time shortly after, ropes of cum shooting into your womb.

exhausted is an understatement. you know damn well you’re going to be walking from side to side for days, possibly weeks. “i love you so fucking much.” he breathes from next to you, kissing your shoulder. you hum in response, shutting your eyes. if that didn’t make you learn your lesson, you don’t know what will.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @moncherriis @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @tworosesblackthorn @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hearrtsturns @freshsturns @etershine @sukiipjs @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @thesturniolos @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @bernardsbendystraws @hoes4matthew @deareststurns

#.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️【ＫＩＮＫＴＯＢＥＲ】🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖#✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut

1K notes · View notes

chvoswxtch · 2 months ago

Text

the devil and the widow

[status: in progress]

summary: matt murdock is recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D. to help take down a trafficking ring run by a new crime organization that rose to power in fisk’s absence. he’s forced to work agent y/l/n, who’s just as thrilled about the pairing as he is. as the investigation unravels more webs of lies, haunting details are uncovered, and matt starts to question who he’s actually working for, especially as he digs further beneath the skeletons of his mysterious partner’s dark past. every revelation leaves matt with the same unsettling question; who’s the real villain?

a/n: there was an idea...and it got out of hand and so here we are. i'm so excited to finally share this with y'all. it's been in the works for quite some time now. if you loved the bodyguard, I really hope you'll love this one. it's another slow burn, so get comfy. there's also going to be a lot of mature themes in this series, as well as spice (duh), but as always, I will post specific content warnings for each chapter as they drop.

if you've been in the daredevil fandom this whole time, it's great to see your beautiful faces again. if you're new here from dd born again, on behalf of all of us, welcome. we're glad you're here.

without further ado, sit back, relax, grab a drink and a snack, maybe some tissues, and enjoy.

»— anything marked with an astrik contains explicit content. minors dni.

»— all work is my own. please do not repost anywhere else without my consent.

chapter one: the head of the snake

chapter two: follow my lead

chapter three: by any means necessary

chapter four: an olive branch

chapter five: [coming 5/9]

chapter six:

chapter seven:

chapter eight:

chapter nine:

chapter ten:

chapter eleven:

chapter twelve:

chapter thirteen:

chapter fourteen:

chapter fifteen:

chapter sixteen:

chapter seventeen:

chapter eighteen:

chapter nineteen:

chapter twenty:

chapter twenty one:

the devil and the widow soundtrack

taglist sign up for updates

#the devil and the widow masterlist #the devil and the widow series #tdatw #matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock series #matt murdock smut #daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil series #daredevil smut

481 notes · View notes

plasticflowersinahistorycemetery · 1 month ago

Text

malevolence

part I

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Bobby's!Niece!Reader

Summary: You've had a crush on Dean for longer than you even remember, but Uncle Bobby told you not to play with fire. When Dean returns home from a hunt, you knew something was off... you just didn't expect it to be this.

Warnings: 18+!, language, violence, manipulation, gaslighting, corruption, pining, smut (kissing, spitting, marking, fingering, oral/cunnilingus, p in v, implied breeding kink, rough sex, dirty talk, mildly dubious consent, cum-play), I may have missed some.

Word Count: 5,887

A/N: Oh my god. This has been in my drafts forever and I'm so happy I've finally put it out. I'm thinking... three parts? If I get all of the story down as it is in my head, then for sure... should be about three parts. It's set not long after John's death, so Dean is still a baby boy. <3 I found these gifs ages ago and I was like, "oh, I need to do a Demon!Dean fic where he's early seasons Dean." because ugh, the potential. You know the drill. If all the warnings listed above aren't evident yet? They will be. Oh, boy, will they be. I hope y'all like this. All the love.

You didn’t remember when it started. Maybe it had always been there, tucked beneath your ribs like a secret. Something soft and patient, biding its time in the dark. A seed waiting for heat and blood and something wicked to make it bloom.

Dean Winchester had been in your life for as long as you’d had a life worth remembering.

Not family, not really. But close. Tangled up in the same blood-and-oil world that raised you. The golden boy in your uncle’s long, strange shadow. Loud, sharp, sunburnt around the edges—he came and went like a storm, shaking dust off his boots and filling every room he entered with too much heat.

He was six years older, which had once felt like a canyon.

When you were ten and he was sixteen, he may as well have been a movie star. Too cool. Too fast. All swagger and sarcasm and smudged knuckles from a fight he didn’t bother to explain. You remembered the first time he called you sweetheart—just a tossed-off thing, barely looking at you as he handed you an ice pop in the middle of a sweltering July.

“Here ya go, sweetheart.”

And you remembered the way it made you freeze. How the word hung in the air like cigarette smoke, thick and confusing and too warm. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know why it mattered. You just knew that your name had never sounded like that before.

He’d swung you up onto his shoulders that same day—hands sure, grip steady, like he didn’t mind your weight. Like you belonged there. You’d clutched fistfuls of his hair and shrieked with laughter while Bobby hollered from the porch to “cut that damn foolin’ around before someone breaks a bone.” Dean had just grinned and jogged faster.

You were twelve when he taught you how to throw a punch. Fourteen when he handed you your first switchblade, silver and wicked and gleaming like a promise in your palm.

“Keep it in your back pocket. If a guy gets too close, don’t hesitate.”

He said it like it meant nothing. Like he hadn’t just handed you the sharpest thing you'd ever owned and trusted you not to flinch.

He always trusted you not to flinch.

That was the difference.

You knew what adoration felt like long before you understood it. You knew you liked his voice, liked his hands, liked the way he’d lean against the hood of the Impala and call you trouble when Bobby wasn’t looking. You hated the way your stomach twisted when he brought girls around. Hated the way you’d listen for laughter through the thin walls of Bobby’s house and feel sick when you heard it.

You were seventeen when it changed. When it stopped being something soft.

You’d grown into yourself by then. Still not tall, still not loud, but sharper in the eyes. More aware. And Dean—he’d started looking at you like he wasn’t supposed to.

It was in the way his gaze lingered a beat too long when you passed him in the hallway. The way his voice dropped when he asked you how your day had been. The way he smirked when you snapped back at him, low and dark, like he liked it. Like he was daring you to try again.

You didn’t say anything. Didn’t push. But you started wearing tank tops when he was home. You started sitting a little closer on the couch. You let your fingers brush his when you passed him a drink.

You told yourself it was nothing.

Bobby, of course, saw it all.

“That boy’s got too much fire in him. You don’t go pokin’ it just to see if it burns.”

But by then, it already had.

You were twenty-one now. The canyon had closed.

That afternoon, like so many before it, you sat curled in your usual spot on the porch swing, the cushion beneath you faded from years of sun, the book in your lap more of a habit than a distraction. Your bare legs were pulled up under you, one foot tucked beside the other, your back pressed to the peeling white wood of the armrest. The breeze was warm, sticky with late-summer heaviness, and the cicadas sang like they didn’t know how to stop.

Out in the yard, Bobby cursed low under his breath as he wrestled with the rusted insides of a pickup that hadn’t run since the Reagan administration. His ball cap was pushed up on his forehead, sweat darkening the brim, grease streaking his arms all the way to the elbows. There was a glass of sweet tea beside you, sweating rings into the wood, forgotten in the quiet rhythm of turning pages.

The world hadn’t shifted yet. Not that you could tell. Everything was still where it belonged.

You’d been half-asleep in the sun, lulled by the rhythm of cicadas and the creak of the porch swing, when Bobby’s voice cut through the quiet like a blade.

“Son of a bitch!”

You blinked, looked up from your book. A moment later—

“Goddamn bastard bolt won’t budge—get in there, ya stubborn piece of shit—”

Yep. Classic Bobby.

You closed your book around one finger to mark your page and leaned forward, peering past the porch railing toward the truck hood and your uncle’s hunched figure.

“You need a hand, Uncle Bobby?” You called, voice lazy with the warmth of the afternoon. “Or want some tea?”

There was a pause. A soft clank of metal against metal. Then, gruff:

“Tea, girl. And ice this time—I ain’t drinkin’ lukewarm leaf water in this heat.”

You huffed a laugh and stood, arms stretching up overhead as your back arched, joints crackling from the hours spent curled on the swing. The hem of your tank top slid up your stomach, bare skin catching the last of the sun as you padded barefoot across the porch.

Your cutoffs were frayed at the bottom, threadbare in the way only your favourite ones could be. Your legs had picked up freckles over the summer. You felt them heat now under the open air as you reached for the screen door.

Inside, the house was cooler, dim and familiar. You moved on autopilot, pulling a glass from the cupboard, grabbing the pitcher from the fridge. The ice clinked softly as you poured. You lifted it, turned—

And froze.

That sound. That rumble. Low. Hungry. Home.

The Impala.

You nearly dropped the glass right there on the kitchen tile.

You turned so fast your bare feet squeaked against the floor. The screen door banged open behind you as you stepped out onto the porch, tea sloshing over the rim, eyes locked on the long black shape pulling into the drive like it owned the world.

She slid to a stop in a slow growl of gravel. The driver’s door creaked open.

And then—there he was.

Dean climbed out like a scene from a movie. One hand on the roof, the other shoving the door closed. His boots hit the dirt and your heart tripped over itself. He looked broader than you remembered. Taller somehow. His hair was longer than it had been last time—curling just slightly at the nape of his neck, damp with sweat. His jacket was slung over one shoulder, and he moved like he hadn’t just been on the road for hours. Like his body didn’t get tired the way other people’s did.

Bobby looked up from under the hood.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he said, already wiping his hands on a rag. “Where the hell’s your brother?”

Dean just smiled, that lazy half-smirk you knew too well.

And then you called his name.

“Dean!”

His head snapped toward the porch so fast it almost startled you.

And when his eyes landed on you—barefoot, flushed from the sun, standing under the porch roof with your tank top clinging to your ribs and the glass of sweet tea still trembling faintly in your hand—he grinned.

Not like he used to. Not like the soft smirks he’d given you when you were younger, teasing and warm and safe.

No. This one was sharp. Wolfish. Like he’d been starving and just spotted his first meal in days.

“Well hey there, sweetheart.”

You didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate.

The second his voice hit your ears, smooth and warm and laced with something low and dangerous, your body moved before your brain caught up.

The glass of tea hit the porch rail with a clatter, sloshing again, forgotten as your bare feet left the wood and hit the gravel, sharp stones biting into your soles. You winced but didn’t slow, teeth catching your lip, eyes locked on him like nothing else in the world mattered.

“Girl!” Bobby hollered from the front of the truck, voice sharp as a whip. “You’re out here barefoot on the goddamn gravel again—what’re you, feral?”

You didn’t answer. Just ran faster.

Dean was already grinning by the time you reached him. One brow quirked, his whole face lit with smug delight like he’d known you’d come running. Like he wanted it.

You could see it in the way he stood, relaxed and ready, arms just starting to open. Like he was expecting to catch you.

And God help you, he did.

You threw yourself into him without grace—without shame—legs wrapping around his waist, arms around his neck, breath catching somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. His hands caught you under your thighs, rough palms settling against bare skin, fingers pressing. Harder than they needed to.

He smelled like heat. Like leather and road salt and motel soap and something darker curling beneath it. Something you couldn’t name.

Your voice came out soft, pressed close to his ear as you held onto him tighter than you meant to.

“We missed you.”

His hands flexed where they held you—gripping tight. You felt it. The possessiveness in his touch. The way his thumbs slid just slightly against the crease where your thighs met the curve of your ass. The quiet exhale that ghosted down your neck.

“Speak for yourself,” Bobby grunted from behind, but even that sounded weaker than usual. More bark than bite.

There was a pause. Then:

“Dean,” he said flatly. “Put my niece down. Don’t think I ain’t seen where your hands are, boy.”

Dean turned his head just slightly, that grin never leaving his face. Still holding you.

“Just catchin’ her, Bobby. Can’t help it if she’s a little…” His gaze dragged back to you. Slow. Heavy. “Squishy.”

Your breath hitched. You felt heat rise all the way up your neck.

Dean’s fingers squeezed again. Barely perceptible. Just enough for you to feel it. For Bobby to notice.

“Dean,” Bobby snapped, and this time there was steel under it.

With infuriating ease, Dean let you down. Gently. Like he didn’t want to. His hands slid down the backs of your thighs as he lowered you, only releasing when your feet touched dirt and your balance returned.

You took a half-step back, suddenly too aware of the heat between your legs. Of the gravel under your soles. Of the way he looked at you like you were his to pick up again whenever he pleased.

Bobby was already walking past, muttering to himself and wiping his hands again.

“Damn fool boy…”

Dean just chuckled, low and satisfied. His eyes never left you.

“Miss me, sweetheart?”

The house smelled like garlic and onions and whatever Bobby had pulled from the freezer that morning and declared dinner. The table was set with mismatched plates, forks with dull edges, and two sweating bottles of beer you’d pulled from the fridge yourself. One slid in front of your uncle with a thunk, the other nudged across the table toward Dean with just enough force to draw his eyes back to you.

He caught it easily, grinned like he knew the touch of your fingers on the bottle had been deliberate, and then tipped it in a mock toast before popping the cap with the edge of the table. You pretended not to watch the way his throat moved when he took the first sip.

You took your usual seat to Bobby’s left, legs tucked beneath you, sipping your water slow and quiet. The table was warm and familiar. A little too small for three grown bodies. A little too crowded in the heat.

Dean and Bobby talked like no time had passed at all.

“So where’s your brother?” Bobby asked around a mouthful of food, squinting at Dean like he expected bad news.

“Chasin’ some lead out in Idaho,” Dean replied, casual. “He’ll meet me back on the road. Said somethin’ about needing space.”

“From you or the case?”

Dean just smirked. Shrugged. “Probably both.”

You didn’t join in. Just twirled your fork in your noodles, dragging them across the plate like you were thinking hard about something. You weren’t. You were trying not to look at Dean. You were failing.

He looked good. Too good. Tanned and broad and infuriatingly comfortable, leaning back in his chair like it was his own damn kitchen. Like he belonged there. Like he always had.

You caught yourself staring and dropped your eyes back to your food.

Then something brushed your foot. Just a light nudge. The kind that might’ve been an accident. The kind that would’ve been nothing, if you weren’t barefoot and hyper-aware of every single thing about him.

You froze. Fork paused mid-twirl. Eyes still on your plate. The nudge came again—more deliberate this time. A soft push against your arch.

You looked up. Dean was still talking to Bobby. Still sipping his beer, leaning back in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world.

But his eyes cut to you. And he grinned. Slow. Shit-eating. Wolfish.

Your stomach dropped straight to your knees. You cleared your throat and took a sip of water, suddenly warm all over. Bobby was still muttering about Sam, something about demon omens in Ohio, and you tried to focus. You really did.

Dean’s foot slid along the curve of your ankle. A slow, lazy stroke like he was petting a dog. You flinched. He didn’t.

You jabbed him back without looking, your toes kicking out under the table—more annoyed than anything else. But all it earned you was a harder nudge, right against your calf this time, like a shove disguised as affection.

You looked at him again. He didn’t break eye contact. He arched one brow, lips twitching around the mouth of his beer bottle.

What’re you gonna do about it, sweetheart?

You wanted to kick him. You wanted to crawl into his lap. You wanted to do something reckless. But you just stabbed a piece of meat with your fork and tried not to choke on your own pulse.

Bobby looked up, finally catching the flush on your cheeks.

“You alright there, girl?”

You smiled too quickly. “Just hot.”

Dean chuckled. Low and full of teeth. His foot bumped yours again under the table. You didn’t look at him this time. But you could still feel him.

You barely touched your dinner after that. Every bite tasted like heat. Every sip of water failed to cool you. You could still feel the press of his boot against your ankle long after he’d stopped. Like his touch had sunk straight through your skin.

You were the first one to stand when the plates were empty, scraping your chair back with a little too much force.

“I’ll get this cleaned up,” you said quickly, already stacking yours and Bobby's plates, trying to busy your hands so they didn’t shake.

Bobby looked up with a lazy arch of his brow.

“Someone’s in a damn hurry all of a sudden.”

You forced a small laugh, ducking your head. “Just trying to be useful.”

“Mhm.”

You were already halfway to the sink, rinsing plates under warm water, grateful for the hiss of the faucet and the hum of muscle memory. Plate, rinse, stack. Forks, soak, scrub. Your feet shifted over the cool tile, and for a moment, the tension in your shoulders started to melt.

Behind you, a chair scraped back.

“I’ll help.”

Dean.

Bobby snorted from the table.

“You? Since when do you ever lift a damn finger after supper?”

“Feelin’ generous,” Dean said, all smooth edges. You could hear the grin in his voice. “Must be the company.”

Bobby huffed and pushed to his feet with a grunt, grabbing the last beer and heading toward the living room.

“Well, bless your heart. I’ll be in my chair, pretendin' not to hear whatever dumb shit you’re about to break in my kitchen.”

And just like that, you were alone.

You didn’t turn around. Just kept scrubbing the last plate, shoulders a little too stiff, breath caught somewhere too high in your chest. You heard him behind you—soft bootfalls, the clink of glass against glass as he gathered the empty bottles and his dish.

Then—

Heat. He was behind you. Close. Then closer.

The heat of his chest pressed flush to your back, hard muscle and worn cotton, and you froze. Completely. Your breath caught in your throat. The plate in your hand nearly slipped from your fingers.

Dean reached around you, casually, his forearm brushing the side of your breast as he slid his plate into the sink with a quiet clink.

He didn’t move. He lingered, then stepped back a beat too slow.

“Oops.”

Your whole body burned.

You turned your head, wide-eyed, and found him just watching you. That smile on his face wasn’t sheepish. It was smug. Knowing. Unholy.

You tried to say something—tried to form any kind of reply—but your tongue felt thick and your heart was pounding in your throat.

Dean leaned one arm against the counter beside you, his body angled lazily toward yours. He was close enough that you could see the faint pink line of a healing cut along his collarbone. Close enough that his scent wrapped around you again—leather, motel soap, motor oil, and something else. Something you couldn’t name. Something dark.

“You always clean up this fast, sweetheart? Or just when I’m watching?”

Your mouth parted. Nothing came out.

He tilted his head, eyes dragging slow across your face, then down your neck, then back up.

“You've never been shy.”

You tried to laugh. It came out breathless.

“You’re messin' with me.”

Dean’s smile widened, teeth flashing.

“Am I?”

You shook your head—barely. “You don’t… You don’t look at me like that.”

“Don’t I?”

His voice was low. Deliberate.

You turned back to the sink, trying to hide your face, the blush crawling down your throat. Your hands moved automatically, scrubbing at a plate that was already clean.

Dean didn’t leave.

“Been gone a while,” he said, voice softer now. “Did you miss me?”

Your hand paused on the dish. Your voice was almost a whisper.

“Of course I did.”

He leaned in closer again, heat at your back, breath on your neck.

“Yeah?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

And behind you, he chuckled. Low and dark and pleased.

“Good.”

You didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Dean was still behind you, heat pressed too close, breath ghosting somewhere near your ear—and for a second, it felt like he might lean in further. Might say something else. Might do something else.

But before anything could shatter, Bobby’s voice cut through the house like a crack of thunder:

“You two done makin’ out in there or can I start the damn show?”

You practically jumped.

Dean chuckled—soft, smug, low in his throat like he was deeply entertained by your reaction—and stepped back just far enough to let the heat leave your skin.

You scrambled into the living room a little too fast, like Bobby’s voice had tugged you from the edge of something you couldn’t name. Your skin was still warm, your breath still not quite steady, but you dropped down onto the couch with a half-hearted exhale, like you could shake it off with the right posture. You curled your legs up beside you, pulled a throw pillow into your lap, and clutched your glass of water like it was going to save you.

“Eastwood or MASH*?” You asked, too quick, too light.

Bobby looked up from the remote, squinting at the ancient television like it had personally offended him.

“Whichever channel works. If I get static again, I’m throwin’ the damn thing out the window.”

You smiled, even if it didn’t quite reach your eyes. The house had settled into its familiar hum—floorboards creaking under the weight of time, cicadas still buzzing low through the open windows, the faint clatter of Dean moving around in the kitchen.

You heard him before you saw him.

He entered the room like a slow-moving shadow—easy, casual, like he belonged there more than the furniture. Your stomach twisted.

He didn’t say a word. Just met your gaze for a moment—sharp, amused—and then reached down, hooked his hands under your ankles, and lifted your legs without asking. You startled slightly, not because it hurt, but because it didn’t. Because it felt so easy for him.

Then, with a slow exhale, he dropped onto the couch beside you, your legs falling across his lap like he’d planned it that way all along. One of his arms rested along the back of the couch, close enough for you to feel the heat of it at your shoulders. The other—casual, lazy—settled over your shin, fingers tracing an idle path along your skin.

You tried not to tense. You tried not to breathe. He didn’t look at you. Didn’t need to.

And Bobby noticed. He turned his head slowly, one eye narrowing as it moved from the screen to your legs across Dean’s lap, then up to the hand that hadn’t stopped moving. His jaw clenched. His beer bottle landed on the side table with a quiet clunk.

“Touch her like that again,” he said, voice low and dry, “and I’ll break your fuckin’ hand.”

Dean didn’t flinch. He didn’t even stop. Just kept rubbing slow, maddening circles along your shin with the pad of his thumb. He still hadn’t looked at you.

“Aw, c’mon, Bobby,” he drawled, the smile curling across his lips like smoke. “Ain’t like I’m doin’ anything wrong.”

Bobby didn’t laugh. Didn’t even blink.

“You think I don’t see it?” He asked, and his voice was sharper now, honed to an edge. “The way you been lookin’ at her since you pulled up? I ain’t blind, Dean. And I sure as hell ain’t stupid.”

There was a pause, a hitch you felt more than heard. Dean’s smile wavered for the barest second. Just long enough for you to wonder if Bobby had struck a nerve.

Then it returned, just as cocky, just as easy.

“She’s not a kid anymore,” he said, casual, like that settled something.

Bobby leaned forward in his chair. His eyes were cold. Steady.

“No, she ain't. Which is exactly why I’ll put you in the goddamn ground if you so much as look at her like she ain’t got a choice.”

Something shifted.

You didn’t understand it, not fully. But you felt it. Something sharp beneath the surface. Something not quite right. Like there was more to what Bobby said than what he said.

Dean’s silence stretched long enough to be dangerous. Then he tilted his head, eyes still on Bobby, and smiled.

“She looks like she can make her own choices to me.”

You tried to move your legs. Tried to pull away, just a little. Dean’s hand pressed down. Not painfully. Just firmly. Deliberately. Bobby was still watching. And so was Dean.

“You touch her like that again,” Bobby said, lower this time, the threat coiled beneath each syllable, “and I’ll remind you who the hell you’re talkin’ to.”

Dean didn’t answer.

The television filled the silence, tinny dialogue from a rerun you couldn’t focus on. And under the hum of it all, Dean’s thumb resumed its lazy stroke against your skin, like nothing had happened at all.

The house was silent, save for the low creak of floorboards beneath your bare feet.

The kind of silence that came only after the heat of the day had broken—after the static between bodies had faded into cool sheets and shallow sleep. Bobby had gone to bed not long before you had, muttering something about his bad knee and early mornings, casting one last look between you and Dean like he was waiting for something to ignite.

But nothing had.

Not then.

Now, it was past midnight. Maybe closer to two. You didn’t check the clock—just blinked awake with your throat dry and your skin too warm beneath the sheets. The house had cooled but your body hadn’t. Something restless sat in your chest like a live wire humming under your ribs.

The floor was cold beneath your feet, quiet in the way old houses only were when everyone else had gone to bed and the world had softened into stillness.

The air felt different after midnight—cooler, heavier somehow. The way it settled in your lungs felt like a warning, though you couldn’t say why. You moved without thinking, sleepy and restless, fingers trailing along the hallway walls as you padded toward the kitchen, drawn by nothing more than the dryness in your throat and the weight of something unnamed sitting beneath your skin.

Bobby’s old shirt hung off one shoulder, worn soft with age, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs as you walked. No panties. No bra. Just that and bare skin and the ghost of sleep still clinging to the corners of your vision.

The fridge opened with a low hum. You filled your glass slowly, letting the cool water slide over the ice and kiss the rim, the glow of the open door painting your skin in pale blue light. You lifted the glass to your lips and drank.

And that’s when you heard it.

The creak.

Not the house settling. Not the wind. Not the sound of an old man in the hallway. Boots. Slow, deliberate.

You turned just as the light from the fridge caught the edge of his silhouette, cutting him out from the dark like something carved from smoke and heat and half-formed sin.

Dean.

Leaning in the doorway like he hadn’t been asleep at all. Like he was waiting. He didn’t speak at first. Just looked at you. And when he did? Something in his expression made your stomach twist—not with fear, not yet, but something so thick and dark and electric it almost knocked the air out of you.

That grin.

It was the same one he’d worn when you were sixteen and he caught you staring at his mouth. The same one he used when he fixed cars with the sleeves of his flannel rolled high and the cigarette tucked behind his ear. Familiar. Easy. Pure Dean.

But something about it wasn’t right anymore. It was too still. Too slow. Too hungry.

“Well,” he said, and his voice was rough in that way it always got when it was late and he hadn’t talked in hours. “Aren’t you a sight.”

You swallowed hard. “Couldn’t sleep.”

His eyes dropped down your body. Then rose again. Like he had every right.

You didn’t move. Didn’t cover yourself. You should have.

“You always walk around like that?” He asked, stepping into the room. “Wearing nothin’ but some old shirt and a smile?”

You didn’t answer. The question didn’t feel like a question.

Dean smiled again, slower this time, head cocked to the side as he watched you over the rim of the glass in your hand.

“Bobby know his niece’s struttin’ around like a damn centrefold at two in the morning?”

You flushed hot. “It’s just a shirt.”

“Mm.” He nodded slowly, stepping closer. “Yeah. I can see that.”

He was close now. Close enough to smell—leather and heat and that undertone you still couldn’t quite place. Something wrong. Something sour-sweet and unplaceable. It made your knees feel unsteady.

His hand lifted—not fast, just steady—and pushed the fridge door shut behind you. The kitchen plunged into shadows again, save for the faint light of the oven clock. He was still grinning.

“Didn’t think you’d grown up this much.”

You laughed, shaky and quiet, trying to ease the weight of his stare. “Been a year.”

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s showin’.”

Your breath caught.

He took another step. Close enough now that the fabric of his shirt brushed your arm. He tilted his head down, voice dropping just slightly.

“You used to look at me funny,” he said. “Back when you were younger. Always staring. Thought I was imaginin’ it.”

You blinked, pulse pounding. “You weren’t.”

“No,” he murmured, and his eyes flicked to your mouth. “Guess I wasn’t.”

You could feel his breath on your skin. The heat of him. His fingers brushed the side of your thigh—light, just once, and then gone. It burned like fire anyway.

“You’ve really come into yourself, sweetheart.”

He said it like a confession. Like a revelation. Like it was all finally clicking into place.

And you couldn’t breathe.

His voice went softer. Meaner.

“You want me to look at you like this, don’t you?”

You didn’t speak. He didn’t need you to. Because he already knew.

You didn’t know who moved first. Didn’t know if it was his hand on your hip or the tilt of your chin or the way the space between your bodies seemed to vanish all at once—like the air itself had given up pretending there was still a line that shouldn’t be crossed.

All you knew was that you were suddenly there. Back pressed to the counter. Dean’s body crowding yours like gravity had finally remembered what it owed you.

And then he kissed you.

Not softly. Not hesitantly. Not like a maybe. No, Dean Winchester kissed you like he was claiming you.

His hand came up to your jaw, thumb pressed against your cheek, fingers curling behind your neck as he pulled you in and kissed you like it was the only thing that had ever mattered. Like he’d been waiting too. Starving for it. For you.

You gasped into it, lips parting without thought, and he groaned—"fuckin’ finally"—and kissed you deeper, tongue slipping past your lips like he knew exactly how to take what he wanted. And he did.

You were drowning in him. Pressed between cool counter and burning heat, chest heaving, hands fisting into the hem of his t-shirt just to keep from sliding down the cabinets. Your knees had gone weak. Your body was molten.

When he pulled back, it was barely an inch. His breath hit your lips. His grin carved into you like a knife.

“Goddamn,” he whispered, voice thick and low and already wrecked. “I always knew you’d taste this fucking sweet.”

You didn’t get a chance to reply.

His hand was already moving. Down your side. Over your hip. Between your thighs.

You gasped.

He grinned harder.

“No panties,” he murmured, dragging the hem of the shirt up your thigh with his knuckles. “You really were asking for it, huh?”

You opened your mouth—to protest, to deny, to confess every filthy thought you’d ever had about him—but then two of his fingers slid between your legs and found you already wet, and the words died on your tongue.

“Fuck,” he breathed, eyes dark and hungry, lashes low. “You’re soaked for me. All this time, and you’ve been walking around just beggin’ for me to get my hands on you.”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t hesitate.

He slipped one thick finger inside you, slow and deliberate, watching your face as your jaw dropped open around a gasp. Then another, stretching you perfectly. You choked on a sound, back arching, thighs trembling.

“Shhh,” he crooned, lips at your temple now, the hand at your jaw moving to cover your mouth. “Gotta keep it down, sweetheart. Bobby hears you moaning like a whore in his kitchen, he’s gonna come down here and shoot me.”

His fingers curled.

Your eyes rolled back.

You moaned—muffled, desperate—against his palm as he started to fuck you with those fingers like he meant it. Like he’d been thinking about it for years.

And maybe he had.

His hips were pressed against yours, his breath against your cheek, his mouth dragging along your jaw as he fucked you slow and filthy and completely possessed.

“You ever think about me, baby?” He whispered. “Late at night, all alone in your bed? Bet you used these pretty fingers trying to imagine mine, didn’t you?”

You whimpered under his hand, your body jerking with every pump of his fingers, slick and obscene.

“Bet you used to fuck that little pillow, huh? Crying into it thinkin’ about me pinning you down, stretching you open…”

You were going to come.

It was embarrassing how fast it was happening—how quick he’d found every nerve, every want, every buried need you’d never let yourself speak out loud. But now it was all on the surface, raw and exposed, dripping down his wrist.

He growled in your ear, soft and dark and lethal:

“Come for me, sweetheart. C’mon. Be a good girl and come all over my fuckin’ fingers.”

You did.

You shattered—silently, somehow—body writhing against his hand, nails digging into his shoulders, whole frame trembling with the force of it. His fingers didn’t stop, fucking you through it, dragging every last wave from your body until you were limp in his grip, gasping into his palm.

He finally pulled his hand from your mouth, cupping your jaw again, kissing you slow and deep, like the filth he’d just whispered into your skin meant nothing. Like it meant everything.

He pulled his hand away, brought it up to his lips, and licked his fingers. Then smiled.

“Told you,” he said. “Sweet as goddamn honey.”

Then his lips were back on your neck.

You were still trembling, thighs slick and trembling where he held you, one hand gripping the back of your thigh, the other back between your legs, slick with everything he’d pulled from you. You were floating, dizzy, pressed between the cool of the counter and the heat of his body, his mouth trailing kisses up your throat like he was about to say something—

And then the kitchen door slammed open. You barely had time to register the heavy feet pounding across the floor before—

Splash.

Dean staggered back with a sharp, visceral hiss, smoke curling from his shoulder where the water hit, his skin bubbling in a flash of red.

You gasped, shoved back into the counter, heart leaping into your throat.

“What the fuck—!”

Dean growled—growled—low and guttural, his spine arching with the burn, lips curling back to reveal teeth that didn’t quite look like his own.

And Bobby was standing there. In boxers and a flannel and socks. Holding an empty mason jar in one hand and a shotgun in the other. Breathing hard. Rage in every line of his face.

“Get. The fuck. Outta my house,” Bobby said, each word like a shotgun blast. “Now.”

Dean turned his head slowly. Eyes flashing black for a moment before shifting back to the green you'd always known.

“Well, shit,” he rasped, voice raw. “Knew you were smart, old man. Didn’t think you’d catch on so fast.”

“Yeah, well,” Bobby snarled, stepping forward, “I’ve seen a lot of demons pretend to be worse things. You just happen to be wearin’ a face I liked.”

Dean smiled—teeth too sharp, too wide.

“I’ll be seeing her again.”

Bobby raised the shotgun in his hands.

“Not if I have anythin' to say about it.”

Dean looked at you once. Only once. That same smirk, but now you saw it—really saw it—for what it was. Too smooth. Too slow. Something evil wearing something you used to love. And then he vanished. Not in smoke, not in fire. Just… gone. The air thinned out. The heat left the room. And the absence of him was a screaming thing.

You were still shaking. Still pressed to the counter, shirt rumpled, legs slick, skin flushed. The high hadn’t even left your blood yet. You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

Bobby lowered the shotgun, then turned to you.

“It ain’t safe anymore.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

He crossed to you slowly. Gently. Like approaching a spooked animal.

“That thing,” he said, voice quieter now. “That thing wearin’ Dean’s face? That’s a demon. And he’s been here all day.”

You stared at him. Everything in you recoiled. Denied. And yet—you knew.

Bobby exhaled hard. His hand came up to your arm, grounding you. Steady.

“I’m sendin’ you somewhere safe.”

You blinked. “What—?”

“Somewhere he don’t know. Somewhere he can’t get to you. You’re leavin’ in the mornin’. No arguments.”

You were still in Bobby’s shirt. Still barefoot. Still breathless. And now the world had cracked open beneath you. You nodded. Because what else could you do?

@mostlymarvelgirl @losers-clvb @lunaleah @itshellfire @drakulana @sl33pylilbunny @suckitands33 @nevercameraready @0ccvltism @lyarr24 @podiumackles @spxideyver @tinas111 @cevansbaby-dove @paristheonewhoreads @winchestersbgirl @blossomingorchids @sacr1ficialang3l <3

314 notes · View notes

zznblr · 1 month ago

Text

exes and ohs 𐙚 c.yj

ʚ♡⃛ɞ his ex is getting married to his brother. he’s totally okay with it. he’s very happy for them. of course, he’s going to the wedding. and he definitely did not pay his next door neighbor five hundred dollars to be his plus one at their destination wedding.

written + smau • fluff + angst • fake dating • friends to lovers • neighbors to lovers starring choi yeonjun featuring soobin and beomgyu of tomorrow x together • yeji from itzy • chaewon from le sserafim • manon and daniela from katseye started on. april 5th 2025 status. ongoing

character profiles

one: you are cordially invited two: and that's a bad thing three: get a girlfriend four: alert the news and the media five: favors for friends six: bem-venido seven: fumbling eight: walk down memory lane nine: defeated ten: kiss and make up eleven: brothers twelve: dinner with friends thirteen: they got you too fourteen: you're drunk... fifteen: viola sixteen: seventeen: eighteen: nineteen: twenty:

disclaimer: all representations of characters in this story are completely fictional. this is not a reflection of the real people that they are inspired by or even how i feel about them. it is simply for storytelling purposes.

reblogs n comments are appreciated :)

353 notes · View notes

zorosangell · 5 months ago

Text

⛥*ﾟ・。* masterlist (under construction)

note: masterlist updates will be sporadic and not scheduled at all. if you want the link to a specific fic just ask. and they are in release order

— protector: full wattpad ver.

⤷ chapter one, ⤷ chapter two, ⤷ chapter three, ⤷ chapter four, ⤷ chapter five, ⤷ chapter six, ⤷ chapter seven, ⤷ chapter eight, ⤷ chapter nine, ⤷ chapter ten, ⤷ chapter eleven, ⤷ chapter twelve, ⤷ chapter thirteen, ⤷ chapter fourteen, ⤷ chapter fifteen, ⤷ chapter sixteen, ⤷ chapter seventeen, ⤷ chapter eighteen, ⤷ chapter nineteen, ⤷ chapter twenty, ⤷ chapter twenty-one, ⤷ chapter twenty-two, ⤷ chapter twenty-three, ⤷ chapter twenty-four, ⤷ chapter twenty-five, ⤷ chapter twenty-six, more pending...

— lucky punch

⤷ chapter one, ⤷ chapter two, ⤷ chapter three more pending...

— perfect match

⤷ chapter one, more pending...

— piña colada

⤷ x -- some women just can't take a hint... good thing zoro's only got eyes for one girl

— onigiri

⤷ x -- zoro's on a training binge and refuses to bathe... this, unless its with you

— happy birthday

⤷ x -- it's a known fact that zoro can't stand his birthday... but when you finally discover the date, you can't help putting together something special

— oiran

⤷ x -- while luffy and the others are off saving sanji, zoro is assigned the role of a ronin, and told to keep a low profile as he roams the land of wano... but he riks revealing himself and the entire crew when he discovers you're a nearby oiran, and in need of his rescue

— rice crackers

⤷ x -- after nami discovers a little girl stowing away on the sunny, the crew comes together to interrogate her... but she won't stop claiming to be your daughter

— stein

⤷ x -- while you're laughing at the stories told to you by some rando at the bar, zoro can't help but be affected by the green-eyed monster. nami and robin try to quell his worries... but things take a turn for the worst when the man puts his hands on you

— kunoichi

⤷ x -- the story of how you met the strawhat crew (and your swordsman)

— vice admiral

⤷ x -- after receiving some terrible news by news coo, you're left completely devastated. the crew does their best to console you, to no avail... and zoro realizes that, for once, his actions won't speak louder than his words... and makes a promise he's willing to die to keep

— jug

⤷ x -- after going out to search for luffy, you and zoro stumble upon a bottle of pink sake. zoro drinks it without question, but lives to regret it, as you have to deal with the consequences... physically

— theory

⤷ x -- the effects of a devil fruit age zoro into a forty year-old version of himself. and after his initial annoyance passes, he grows thankful... as you can't seem to keep your hands off him.

— fantasy

⤷ x -- part two of theory

— pit

⤷ x -- time and time again zoro has forgotten about your outings, leaving you dressed up and alone on several occasions. but after nami witnesses it in person, she finally puts her foot down... and you finally confront your swordsman.

— knight

⤷ x -- as a princess, you constantly have a bounty on your head, which means you are almost always under attack whenever the crew docks on an island. so, after zoro saves you from being kidnapped again, you both have a heart to heart... which ends in a little confession.

— inn

⤷ x -- you'd known zoro nearly all your life—having grown up with the swordsman in his home village—and considered him the most important person in your life... so, after luffy saves you both from the execution yard and invites you to join his crew, you can't help but feel like your lack of strength will end up becoming a hindrance to zoro's dream

— bento

⤷ x -- part two of inn -- you and zoro have a heartfelt reunion on the sabaody archipelago... with the help of a kindly fisherman.

— mistletoe

⤷ x -- nami has to school zoro in the art of gift-giving in order to save your first christmas together. luckily, he manages to wise up... and gives you a gift you won't ever forget.

— ham melon

⤷ x -- after you contract a rare, deadly disease, zoro has to take care of you... the best he can.

— nurse

⤷ x -- a mysterious man crash lands on your gloomy island, and you patch him up... unaware of his odd relationship with your father.

— nightgown

⤷ x -- after two wonderful years with the swordsman, you're reluctant to let him go, especially without telling him how you feel. luckily, he feels the exact same way... and more than accepts your scanty going away present.

— brand

⤷ x -- you return to the ship with a horrible injury... and zoro goes fucking berserk.

— bmf

⤷ x -- zoro doesn't take kindly to you being disrespected... at all.

— endgame

⤷ x -- prequel to inn -- when chopper asks about your past, zoro reminisces on your history together... and is reminded of exactly what you are to him.

— boxers

⤷ x -- part two of pit -- zoro saves your life (ish) and finally finds the courage to win you back

— stupid

⤷ x -- part two of oiran -- zoro starts an argument over you going undercover as orochi's personal oiran. and it ends... interestingly.

— pleasures

⤷ x -- in an effort to get him to relax, you give your moss-haired boyfriend a massage, and get him riled up in the process... how else is he supposed to repay you?

— sweetheart

⤷ x -- after winning a candlelit dinner for two, zoro tries his best to ask you out... though you don't seem to catch the hint.

— rum

⤷ x -- part three of nurse, part two of nightgown -- nami notices zoro's recent, odd behavior and decides to drag him out to a bar in order to confront him. little does she know his funk is due to the absence of a certain someone... and little does he know that certain someone is right under his nose.

— white lotus

⤷ x -- you and your squadron reprimand zoro and bring him back to the castle after he's found wandering around in your kingdom's forest. turns out, the crew is already there since, surprise surprise, luffy destroyed something he wasn't supposed to. now the crew has to plead their case... but while they're doing so, zoro can't seem to keep his eyes off a certain someone, nor understand the weird feeling in his chest at the sight of her strength.

— reading

⤷ x -- after plotting on zoro for the longest, you finally decide to make your move... the only question is what zoro's willing to risk.

— round two

⤷ x -- part two of white lotus -- things get a little heated during a sparring session between you and the moss-haired swordsman. and the results are... inconclusive.

— firewood

⤷ x -- stumbling across a small shack in the country of wano, the last thing you expected was to find your boyfriend snuggled up with an oiran... zoro's got a lot of explaining to do.

— hibiscus

⤷ x -- after a wardrobe malfunction at the pool, you're left soaked and topless... luckily, you have a hot boyfriend to come to your rescue.

— scent

⤷ x -- zoro wakes up in the mood... and you'd be crazy not to oblige.

— stall

⤷ x -- after you catch a girl trying to spike zoro's drink, all hell breaks loose... hell being you.

— receipt

⤷ x -- part two of reading -- a rude store manager and an unruly gang of bounty hunters learn how much zoro DOES NOT play about the daughter of red-haired shanks (i.e you)

— beach

⤷ x -- after zoro finds you unconscious on an abandoned beach, he quickly takes you to shelter... where he learns that something's off.

— sake

⤷ x -- your friends-with-benefits relationship with zoro becomes complicated when he gets monstrously drunk and begins to confess his deepest, darkest feelings about you.

— daises and posies

⤷ x -- a kid with the hots for you begins to challenge zoro, insulting his pride as a swordsman and capabilities as a partner until the mosshead finally snaps... leaving you as the only thing standing between all-out war

— pocus

⤷ x -- when you're a no-show for your scheduled merienda, katakuri begins to worry. little does he know you're right in the middle of a Big Mom hunger pang, and she seems to be craving your specialty...

— sample

⤷ x -- prequel to pocus -- katakuri's dreams of you come to a head when he learns that the two of you are already engaged to be married. and to make matters worse, your ex-boyfriend makes a rather unpleasant appearance while the sweet commander is picking up his order of doughnuts.

— merienda

⤷ x -- prequel two of pocus -- a year into your marriage to the minister of flour, and you two had failed to progress past that of acquaintances. so, to liven things up, you decide to deliver your husband's daily tea in a rather scanty outfit, hoping to ignite a spark... only to discover his deep, dark secret.

#one piece #one piece x reader #roronoa #roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro #zoro x reader #zorosangell #op

460 notes · View notes

svt-luna · 2 months ago

Text

ʚིᵋ ⋆ NANA TOUR ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── episode 1-3.

Nana Tour with SEVENTEEN

synopsis: Episode 1-3! First step of the travel. Their first destination of the group tour in Italy is Rome! Find out SEVENTEEN’s fourteen ways to enjoy the Colosseum.

we have finally made it to Italy! this took a while but please expect that already when it comes to nana tour since i will be writing the entire episodes word per word, so please be patient!! see you on the next one, my lovelies 🩵💙

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST

╰ ౨ৎ fan reactions ╰ ౨ৎ nana tour masterlist

[added captions are in brackets] ღ

bold dialogues are spoken in english ღ

The plane touched down on the runway with a slight jolt, the tires screeching softly against the pavement as the aircraft slowed to a steady taxi.

It was 7:30 PM in Italy, and after hours of travel, the SEVENTEEN members had finally arrived at Leonardo da Vinci International Airport. A quiet murmur filled the cabin as passengers stirred, stretching out their limbs after the long-haul flight. The overhead lights brightened slightly, signaling that they were allowed to prepare for departure.

[And they have finally arrived]

The members, still somewhat sluggish from sitting for so long, started moving at their own pace, reaching for whatever few belongings they had brought. Since this was a completely spontaneous trip with no luggage, there was little to collect aside from the essentials— passports, phones, and any random comfort items they had managed to carry aboard.

Mingyu, already standing near his seat, turned to Dokyeom with an exhale of realization. “We don’t need to look for our bags because we don’t have any,” he pointed out.

Dokyeom let out a short, almost tired laugh as he stood up, rolling his shoulders back. “Seriously.”

Luna, still seated, stretched her arms above her head, fingers flexing as she let out a small sigh. The slight ache of travel was settling in, but she wasn’t in any rush to get up just yet. Jeonghan, standing beside her, had already begun collecting their things— his movements unhurried but precise, making sure nothing was left behind.

[Make sure they don’t leave the little they have]

Around them, the rest of the members were already on their feet, some groggy but focused, scanning the seats and floor to ensure they weren’t forgetting anything important.

“Let’s go,” Hoshi announced from Luna’s other side, ready to move.

Luna glanced over at him, and before he could take another step, she pointed toward his armrest. “Shi-shi, don’t forget your passport, please.”

[oops]

Hoshi followed her gaze and immediately chuckled when he saw the small booklet sitting atop the armrest, completely forgotten. “Oh, right,” he laughed, picking it up. “That would’ve been bad.”

“That would have been terrible.” Luna chuckled.

[That would have been detrimental]

Luna’s reminder seemed to trigger something in Dokyeom’s brain. He paused mid-step, eyes widening as a realization hit him. “Wait, my passport,” he blurted out suddenly, his hands already patting down his pockets in a frenzy.

[What?!]

Luna turned to look at him just as Mingyu’s head snapped in his direction.

“You lost it?” Mingyu asked, a mix of disbelief and amusement creeping into his voice.

“I just had it—” Dokyeom mumbled to himself, already lowering into a crouch to peer between the seats. He shifted forward, checking the crevices between the cushions, his panic growing when he didn’t immediately see it. Mingyu, despite his teasing, crouched down next to him, joining in on the search.

As if sensing the potential disaster unfolding, PD Na’s voice rang through the cabin. “Passports. Make sure you have your passports.”

Luna, still sitting, exchanged a quick glance with Jeonghan before the two of them smoothly lifted their passports into the air to show PD Na they had theirs. They began making their way down the aisle, maneuvering through the scattered members still gathering their things.

“Mingyu, make sure you have your passport,” PD Na reminded, specifically directing it at him. Given Mingyu’s history— having already lost his passport once before they even took off— it was a warranted concern.

Mingyu, however, let out a laugh and instead pointed at Dokyeom, who was still hunched over, checking every possible place his passport could have disappeared into.

“Really? Again… really?” PD Na’s voice was laced with exhaustion, as if he had already accepted that dealing with these two was his fate.

Mingyu simply nodded.

[He is not one to judge]

The exchange immediately caught the attention of the nearby members. Luna turned toward them, brows raised. “Did you really lose it?”

“Really?” Jeonghan echoed, his tone teasing but genuinely curious.

[In disbelief]

Dokyeom, still entirely focused on his search, didn’t even look up as he absentmindedly patted his pockets. “Oh?” he murmured to himself.

Mingyu burst into laughter, shaking his head.

“What? Again?” PD Na repeated, now also joining in the search as if that would somehow speed up the process.

Dokyeom groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Why don’t I have my passport?”

Luna, standing near the exit, tilted her head, trying to be the voice of reason. “You had it earlier, Kyeomie. So it’s probably just somewhere in the plane.”

PD Na exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re lying, right?” He was practically pleading at this point.

“No, he’s being serious,” Jeonghan confirmed with a soft chuckle, watching the chaos unfold with entertained amusement.

Before anyone could dwell on it further, Dokyeom suddenly perked up. His eyes widened as he reached forward, pulling something out from an empty seat a few rows ahead.

“Found it,” he said, relief washing over his face.

There was a beat of silence before PD Na sighed heavily, shaking his head in disbelief. “Crazy. He’s crazy.”

“You found it?” Mingyu asked, standing up straight.

Dokyeom nodded, holding up the passport like a prize. “I had to sit over there before, so I left it there.”

Luna and Jeonghan exchanged a knowing look before finally stepping off the plane, deciding they had seen enough of the disaster unfolding behind them. They left Mingyu, Dokyeom, and PD Na to deal with the aftermath while they joined the other members who had made it out first.

“At this point, they better just hang their passports around their necks,” Luna deadpanned as they walked down the tunnel.

[Don’t give PD Na ideas]

Jeonghan grinned, chuckling under his breath.

From behind them, PD Na’s exasperated voice carried through the tunnel. “You guys are crazy!”

“He’s the passport killer,” Mingyu declared dramatically, pointing an accusatory finger at Dokyeom.

Dokyeom, still clutching his passport, could only let out a sheepish chuckle.

[He is two for two]

PD Na blinked, the realization fully dawning on him. “Come to think of it, Mingyu has no fault either. It was your fault.”

“It is all my fault,” Dokyeom admitted, laughing.

Luna sighed before linking her arm through his. “It’s okay, Kyeomie. We still love you.” Her tone was flat, but the amused glint in her eyes gave away her fondness.

Dokyeom chuckled as she pulled him along, her other arm hooked around Jeonghan, who was carrying Cherry, her red plush bunny, for her.

“It’s a relief you checked in the end,” Jeonghan told Dokyeom.

“Right. I don’t wanna imagine if you didn’t,” Luna added with a shake of her head.

[Let’s not]

As they walked further down the tunnel, the chaotic energy of their group trailing behind them, it was clear this trip was going to be anything but ordinary.

The moment Dokyeom sighed, relief evident in his voice, it was as if the weight of their spontaneous journey finally settled.

“At least we’re here. We are really here. I really wanted to get off.”

His voice carried that mix of exhaustion and sheer disbelief, but there was also an unmistakable tinge of excitement bubbling underneath. He turned the GoPro in his hands toward himself, then smoothly angled it to include Jeonghan and Luna walking beside him as they moved through the airport along with the rest of the members and the production crew. The camera’s lens framed the three of them in the middle of a bustling Italian airport, their expressions ranging from fatigue to amusement to sheer anticipation.

As they stepped onto the escalator, PD Na’s voice cut through from behind them, his tone laced with humor.

“You brought a clutch.”

The way he said it made it sound so ridiculous that laughter immediately rippled through the group. The members, as if suddenly remembering what they were all holding, looked down at the small beige amenity bag in their hands— the ones they had all taken from the plane because they quite literally had no other belongings.

“Everyone… everyone has the same,” Wonwoo noted with a soft chuckle, his gaze sweeping across the identical beige clutches in their grip.

[“I love my team, I love my crew” ~]

“All of you brought a nice clutch. Was it a group purchase?” PD Na teased further, and that was all it took for another round of laughter to erupt.

Luna, however, simply raised an unimpressed brow, her expression so deadpan that it only made it funnier. She turned slightly to look at PD Na, arms crossed over her chest, before delivering her response with effortless sass.

“Well, we don’t exactly have a choice, considering someone didn’t allow us to bring anything,” she quipped, dragging out the last word for emphasis.

[She will NOT be letting that go]

Her tone was light but pointed, making the members laugh even more, a few of them even pointed at her quick-witted remark. Jeonghan chuckled beside her, nudging her playfully with his elbow as if impressed by how smoothly she threw that in.

PD Na, on the other hand, blinked at her in mock disbelief, mouth slightly agape as if he truly had no words. Luna, fully aware of his stare, immediately averted her gaze and started looking around as if suddenly finding the walls of the airport terminal absolutely fascinating.

[Out of sight, out of mind]

The way she did it— so obvious, so deliberate— only made the situation funnier, and Jeonghan smirked, shaking his head as he chuckled at her antics.

“You guys got off with it because we don’t have bags. Smart,” Mingyu observed, pointing out how they had taken the airplane’s amenity kits while he, clearly, had not.

The group continued moving, falling into step with the stream of people heading toward passport control. The airport was busy, filled with travelers arriving from different parts of the world, the atmosphere buzzing with movement and murmured conversations.

The SEVENTEEN members, still riding the high of their impromptu trip, were actively engaging with their cameras, speaking in bursts of excitement and disbelief.

“I came to Rome, what do I do?” Mingyu muttered, almost to himself, shaking his head in sheer wonder as if he still couldn’t fully process it.

“It kind of hit me now that I came here,” Dokyeom added, his voice holding that familiar mix of excitement and slight overwhelm.

Meanwhile, next to them, Luna and Jeonghan were having an entirely different conversation with their camera.

“I’m tired,” Luna stated, her voice carrying that soft lilt of exhaustion as she turned slightly toward Jeonghan.

“I’m sleepy,” Jeonghan followed up immediately, mirroring her tone perfectly.

[The ‘I’m tired, I’m sleepy’ counter: 1]

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, their eyes locking as if silently communicating their shared state of drowsiness. Then, in perfect synchronization, they both chuckled— small, knowing laughs that felt warm and easy, the kind that naturally came from years of knowing each other inside out.

“Should we just sleep here?” Jeonghan mused, his voice light and teasing as he subtly tilted his head, as if actually considering the absurdity of the idea.

Luna sighed dramatically, stretching her arms before pressing her face on his arm. “Honestly? If there was a bench right here, I’d probably lie down.”

Jeonghan grinned at that, amusement flickering across his face. “You’d be that person?”

She hummed in confirmation, then pulled back slightly to glance at the camera. “If you see a viral video of an idol sleeping in an airport, don’t be surprised.”

Jeonghan let out a soft laugh, shaking his head before glancing toward the camera with a knowing look. “At this rate, she might actually do it.”

“I will,” she confirmed with zero hesitation.

[Viral moments by Luna]

Their back-and-forth was calm, effortless, and filled with the kind of natural chemistry that needed no exaggeration. It wasn’t loud, but it was the kind of exchange that felt warm and familiar, like a quiet pocket of their own amid the chaotic buzz of the airport. The teasing was easy, the humor understated, yet their energy bounced off each other so seamlessly that even the camera seemed to pick up on it.

Jeonghan shifted slightly, adjusting Cherry— the small red plush bunny he had been holding for Luna— before offering it to her. “Here, you can use Cherry as a pillow if you want.”

Luna looked at the plush in his hands, then back at him, eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you… using Cherry to get out of lending me your arm?”

Jeonghan smirked. “Not at all. Just… giving you options.”

Luna let out a soft scoff but took the plush bunny anyway, cradling it in her arms before glancing at him with an exaggeratedly skeptical look. “Mm-hmm. Sure.”

Jeonghan simply chuckled, clearly entertained, before leaning in just a fraction closer. “I mean, if you really want my arm that bad, just say so.”

Luna rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at her lips. “You’re so annoying.”

“And yet,” Jeonghan quipped, grinning, “here we are.”

[This is their way of staying awake]

Their quiet banter continued as they moved along with the crowd, the warmth of their laughter blending into the soft hum of the airport around them.

As they neared the passport control lines, the airport’s organized chaos became more apparent. Travelers shuffled forward, passports in hand, the soft hum of different languages filling the air.

Suddenly, a staff member stationed near the entrance of the lines started calling out, their voice cutting through the airport noise with clear direction.

“Korean here! Korean here!”

The SEVENTEEN members instinctively followed the call, moving toward the designated line as a group, their feet dragging slightly from exhaustion yet still carrying a spark of excitement. They were finally in Rome, and now all that stood between them and the outside world was passport control.

Just as they moved forward, Jun and Minghao hesitated for a brief moment, glancing at a different section of the immigration checkpoint.

“We need to go there, right?” Jun asked, looking toward their staff for confirmation.

One of the managers gave a small nod. “Yeah, that’s for visa screening.”

Understanding the situation, Jun and Minghao nodded back before veering off toward their respective line for passport holders requiring visa checks.

“Go safely,” Mingyu called after them, waving casually as the two Chinese members separated from the group.

The rest of them continued forward, the line moving at a steady pace. Jeonghan, who had been loosely linking arms with Luna for most of the walk, felt a sudden shift as she unhooked herself from him and took a step back. His head instinctively turned toward her, eyebrows slightly raised.

[???]

“Where are you going?” Jeonghan asked, his tone laced with mild curiosity, enough to grab the attention of a few members around them.

Luna didn’t answer immediately. Instead, a smirk curled at the corner of her lips as she slowly raised her hand, revealing a navy blue passport with a golden crest— her United Kingdom passport. She then pointed toward a separate immigration line designated for EU passport holders.

[Surprise]

“She has an EU passport,” PD Na announced.

The realization dawned on the members in waves, their tired minds taking a second longer to process before collective reactions of shock and amusement erupted around her.

“She gets to go through the fast lane?” Mingyu gawked.

“That’s so unfair,” Hoshi muttered, shaking his head with an exaggerated sigh.

“You should’ve let us sneak in with you,” Seungkwan joked, crossing his arms with a mock pout.

[Impatient no. 1, no. 2, and no. 3]

As the members continued their playful protests, PD Na handed Luna her own GoPro so she could film herself now that she would be separated from the group. She took it with ease, adjusting the grip before giving them all a small nod.

“I’ll see you guys outside,” Luna said with a smile, turning toward her designated line.

[The biggest smile on her face]

The difference was immediate. While the Korean passport line moved steadily but was packed with travelers, the EU line had significantly fewer people. With effortless ease, Luna stepped through the zigzagging ropes, barely pausing as she moved through the line at a near-skipping pace, Cherry the bunny plush tucked securely in her arm.

[There she goes]

From behind the ropes, the members and crew stood watching her, expressions ranging from jealousy to pure comedic disbelief.

“Look at her go,” Dokyeom whispered, shaking his head.

“She’s already at the front,” Joshua pointed out, eyes narrowing slightly.

“This is so unfair,” Hoshi muttered, watching as Luna reached the officer in record time.

[Jealous no. 1, no. 2, and no. 3]

Meanwhile, Luna, now at the passport control desk, was greeted by the airport staff.

“Hello,” the officer greeted her in a professional yet polite tone.

“Hello,” Luna responded, immediately taking off her cap out of respect before handing over her passport.

The officer gave a brief nod, flipping through the pages as they scanned the document. It took all of a few seconds before they stamped it and handed it back to her with a small smile.

“Thank you so much,” Luna said with a slight bow before stepping forward, officially cleared for entry.

Without missing a beat, she lifted her GoPro and adjusted the angle, switching into full vlogging mode.

“Alright, so,” she started, her voice carrying that casual yet amused tone as she began narrating to the camera, “as you guys can see, I’m already through.”

She panned the camera briefly to show the empty space behind her, a stark contrast to the still-crowded lines where the members remained.

“I got through so fast because of my European passport,” she explained with a small laugh, turning the camera back toward herself. “And now, it’s just me and Cherry.”

Luna lifted the small red bunny plush into the frame, wiggling it slightly in greeting.

[Hello!]

“We are the only survivors,” she joked, her voice dropping into a mock-serious tone. “We have lost the others… we don’t know when we’ll reunite.”

She paused for dramatic effect before sighing.

“I miss Cheollie.”

She let out another exaggerated sigh, glancing down at Cherry before shaking her head. “Leader-nim, where are you?” she muttered in fake despair, as if she had been abandoned on a great solo mission.

[He is now back in Korea… sleeping]

Still holding the camera, Luna made her way toward the airport exit, the large glass doors ahead signaling her transition from traveler to full tourist.

“I guess I’ll just wait outside,” she continued, panning the camera toward the doors before turning it back to herself with a resigned smile. “It’s hot. Just like I expected”

And with that, she pushed forward, stepping out into the fresh Italian air, ready to reunite with the rest of them once they finally made it through.

With a small sigh, she shifted Cherry the bunny plush to her other arm before slipping her jacket off, leaving her in her white cropped halter top. The light fabric was much more comfortable in the heat, and she welcomed the breeze that brushed against her skin. She folded the jacket neatly over her arm, securing it in place before glancing around.

The airport entrance was bustling with people, some waiting for taxis, others greeting family and friends. Luna leaned against a nearby railing, lifting her GoPro once again to document her wait.

After a couple of minutes, faint but familiar voices began filtering through the noise, growing clearer with each passing second. A small smile tugged at her lips before she even turned her head.

“They’re here. Finally,” Luna told the camera, her tone carrying a mix of amusement and relief.

[Translation: “I want to go to sleep.”]

She turned the GoPro slightly, aiming it toward the direction of the voices, though they weren’t yet visible.

“I want to lay down already,” she muttered, tilting her head back with a dramatic sigh.

Just then, an enthusiastic voice rang out loud and clear.

“We arrived!” Dokyeom announced, his excitement evident despite the long journey.

The moment the members finally emerged through the airport doors, they were met with the reality of their long-haul. However, the group wasn’t complete— Jun and Minghao were still missing.

“They’re still in visa screening,” PD Na noted, glancing at the large crowd still gathered inside.

“Where all the passengers were found,” Woozi muttered, shaking his head as he observed the long, seemingly endless line through the glass doors.

It was clear Jun and Minghao weren’t getting out anytime soon.

Despite that, the rest of the members spotted Luna almost instantly. She stood casually by the railing, one hand holding the GoPro while the other clutched Cherry.

As they made their way toward her, PD Na signaled for them to follow him toward their transportation.

Jeonghan, who had been walking near the back of the group, naturally gravitated toward Luna’s side. Without saying a word, he reached over and plucked her jacket from her arm, shifting it onto his own without a second thought.

“Wow, we’re really in Rome,” Jeonghan mused as they walked, his voice carrying a sense of realization that had only now fully sunk in.

“Are we taking a bus?” Hoshi asked, his eyes scanning the parking lot as they approached the large vehicle waiting for them.

“We need to,” Luna replied with a grin, motioning toward their entourage of staff, managers, and production crew. With their large group, taking separate cars would’ve been impractical.

As they neared the bus, the members slowly began to pile inside, each greeting the driver as they climbed the steps.

“Hello,” Luna greeted with a warm smile as she stepped up, still holding her GoPro in one hand.

Once inside, she instinctively gravitated toward a window seat, settling in before pulling out her phone. Jeonghan wordlessly followed, dropping into the seat beside her without hesitation.

She quickly unlocked her phone, tapping out a message to her mom to let her know they had arrived safely.

Meanwhile, the rest of the members settled into their seats, stretching out after their long journey.

“Did all the members get on?” Vernon asked, his head turning slightly to scan the bus.

“Other than Minghao and Jun,” Seungkwan answered, adjusting his bag as he sat down.

[The Chinese members still in line for their visa screening]

“Their line was really long,” Luna added, still focused on her phone as she sent her message.

Almost as if on cue, one of the producers, Hyo Jung, stepped onto the bus, addressing the group with an update.

“The visa screening line is kind of long,” she informed them. “I think we need to expect thirty minutes to an hour.”

PD Na, ever the instigator, turned toward Jeonghan. “Or Jeonghan…” he started, addressing him since he was the vice leader and, in Seungcheol’s absence, the one technically responsible for them.

“Should we go to our place first and play?” PD Na suggested.

“Oh, sounds good,” Jeonghan nodded without hesitation whatsoever.

[Translation: “Let’s go home and rest.”]

The sheer lack of deliberation sent the entire bus into laughter.

“You really have no affection,” PD Na deadpanned, shaking his head as the members burst into chuckles.

“I just baited you. I thought you would do that,” PD Na added, watching as Jeonghan chuckled, clearly unbothered by the comment.

The atmosphere inside the bus had settled into a comfortable quiet, the only sounds filling the space being the soft hum of the engine and the occasional rustling of fabric as the members shifted in their seats.

Most of them were occupied with their own devices, heads bowed, thumbs moving at rapid speed over their screens. It was the easiest way to pass time while waiting for Jun and Minghao to finally clear their visa screening and join them.

Luna, however, had already started dozing off. With Cherry, her beloved bunny plush, hooked securely around her arm, her body naturally gravitated towards Jeonghan’s warmth, her face smushed against his chest. She didn’t even seem to register how his arm was draped around her shoulders, holding her close in an almost absentminded manner while his other hand was busy on his phone.

[And she’s out]

Jeonghan, much like the rest of the members, was completely immersed in his game. His eyes were sharp, focused, his expression unreadable as he played with practiced ease. Around him, the other members were equally engrossed— some locked in silent battles with their screens, others whispering occasional exclamations of triumph or defeat as they competed with each other.

“What are you guys doing? Are you guys playing games?” Hyo Jung PD’s voice broke through the silence, cutting through the heavy concentration in the air.

Jeonghan barely spared her a glance, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he answered, “Go-Stop. We are playing Go-Stop right now.” His tone was nonchalant, his focus still glued to his screen.

Hyo Jung PD blinked, looking around at the group of fully grown adults hunched over their phones as if their lives depended on it. The scene was ridiculously hilarious.

[This is how idols wait]

Meanwhile, Jeonghan’s eyes briefly flickered towards Mingyu. “Mingyu, how much money do you have?” he asked, referring to their in-game currency.

Mingyu, still tapping away at his screen, responded without looking up, “This? Right now?”

“Yeah.”

Mingyu hummed in thought before answering, “1.3 billion won.”

At that, Jeonghan nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Let’s play.”

Mingyu glanced up for a split second, clearly intrigued. “What’s your name?” he asked, referring to Jeonghan’s in-game ID.

A small smirk played on Jeonghan’s lips. “Hani Hani.”

Mingyu huffed a small laugh before diving back into the game, the competitive energy between them instantly intensifying.

As the game progressed, Mingyu suddenly asked, “You got five times worth right now?”

Jeonghan’s gaze flickered to his screen. “What’s good if I get five times?”

Mingyu, fully invested now, explained quickly, “When you win, you get five times more points.”

A small, knowing smile tugged at Jeonghan’s lips. “Man, that’s amazing… let’s just stop.”

Mingyu’s head snapped up, eyes wide in betrayal. “I lost 300 million to you?” He let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. “Jeonghan, I don’t want to play anymore.”

Jeonghan merely tilted his head innocently. “Why?”

[Cause he is losing]

Before Mingyu could protest further, Dokyeom suddenly piped up from the seat next to Mingyu at the back. “Jeonghan, do you want to play with me?”

Jeonghan’s brows lifted slightly. “Yes… what’s your name?”

Dokyeom grinned proudly. “Meow.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Your name is Meow?” Wonwoo, who had been silently listening, finally spoke up, staring at Dokyeom in mild disbelief.

Dokyeom nodded, completely unbothered. “Yes, Meow.”

Jeonghan, meanwhile, checked the game’s leaderboard and nearly choked. “Hey, you have 13.4 billion?”

Dokyeom shrugged casually. “I got all of Mingyu’s.”

A chorus of amused laughter followed. Mingyu let out a defeated groan, slumping back in his seat.

[Exhibit A on why he doesn’t want to play anymore]

“Wow…” Jeonghan chuckled, the sound light and teasing. The movement caused Luna to shuffle slightly against him, a sleepy grumble escaping her lips.

[shh]

Jeonghan glanced down at her, amusement softening his features as he reached up to pat her head lightly. She barely reacted, just burrowing deeper into his side. With a small shake of his head, he turned his attention back to his phone, continuing his game with Dokyeom.

Minutes passed in the same comfortable silence, only the sound of tapping screens and occasional murmurs breaking the stillness.

Then, finally, one of the producers called out, “They’re here.”

The response from the members was as lackluster as it could possibly get.

“Wow.”

“Congrats.”

“Come in. Come in.”

“Welcome.”

“Great job.”

Each reply was delivered in the same monotone, half-heartedly spoken without a single person actually looking up from their devices.

[No one is looking]

PD Na, who had been watching the entire scene unfold, let out an amused chuckle. “They didn’t come yet,” he clarified. “The car is here.”

Still, no one reacted much.

With a shake of his head, PD Na made his way up the aisle, his laughter growing. “But you guys were answering so half-heartedly. No one was looking.”

The members finally broke into laughter, realizing how ridiculous they must have looked.

“No one was looking. Everyone was on their phones… those two are sleeping…” PD Na gestured towards Luna and Vernon, both completely knocked out. Luna was still nestled against Jeonghan, and Vernon had his cap pulled low over his face, his arms crossed.

At that, more laughter erupted.

Then, at long last, the doors of the bus swung open, and two familiar figures finally stepped inside.

“Oh, you guys came,” PD Na acknowledged, his tone light.

This time, the members actually reacted, clapping as they greeted the newly arrived duo.

“You’re here!”

“Congrats!”

“Good job!”

[A complete opposite reaction from earlier]

The sudden noise startled both Luna and Vernon awake. Luna groggily lifted herself from her previous position, rubbing her eyes as she tried to blink away the sleep.

Jeonghan turned his head towards her, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You were drooling on me,” he teased, his voice dripping with playful amusement.

Luna, barely registering his words, simply ran a hand through her hair before muttering, “You’ll live.” Her tone was dry, completely unfazed, making Jeonghan burst into laughter.

Still half-asleep, she turned to look at Jun and Minghao, offering a small smile as she mumbled, “Great job.”

Jun let out a dramatic sigh as he plopped down into his seat. “I didn’t know the line was this long.”

“It was so long,” PD Na agreed, shaking his head.

And with that, their group was finally complete.

The moment everyone had settled into their seats, one of the crew members announced, “We will leave!” signaling the start of their journey. As soon as the words left their mouth, the engine of the bus rumbled to life, and with a soft jolt, they were finally on their way. The movement was met with immediate, albeit somewhat delayed, enthusiasm from the members.

[On their way to their next destination]

“We are finally leaving and heading to the destination,” PD Na declared from the front, his voice filled with the same mix of excitement and exhaustion that often accompanied any trip with SEVENTEEN.

A round of claps and cheers erupted from the members, their energy reigniting now that they were officially on the move.

“Rome!” Dokyeom exclaimed loudly, his voice booming through the bus.

“Italy!” Joshua chimed in, equally excited.

“Italy!” Mingyu echoed right after, not wanting to be left out.

And as if to add a final flourish to their declaration, Dokyeom repeated with extra flair, “Italia!” stretching out the word in an exaggerated accent.

Joshua, seated beside him, turned to him with a grin. “DK is a pizza boy,” he announced, shaking his head in amusement.

At the mention of pizza, Dokyeom immediately perked up, as if the word itself had recharged his energy. “Pizza! Italy pizza!” he exclaimed, once again putting on his best— and worst— Italian accent.

[The loudest group are the ones at the back]

From her seat, Luna could only smile at the antics unfolding at the very back of the bus. Their energy was relentless, filling every corner of the space with chaotic yet infectious excitement. Meanwhile, PD Na, who was already dealing with the inevitable exhaustion that came with managing SEVENTEEN, let out a tired chuckle, rubbing his temples as if bracing himself for the long journey ahead.

“This is Italy,” he confirmed, as if saying it aloud would help him maintain control over the increasingly rowdy group.

[Exhausted]

To steer the conversation back to something remotely educational, one of the producers added, “The name of their airport— it’s called Leonardo da Vinci Airport.”

There was a moment of silence as the members nodded in acknowledgment, their brains momentarily digesting the information.

And then—

“Vernon!” Dokyeom suddenly called out with a sense of urgency, as if he had just made a groundbreaking discovery.

Immediately, Joshua, Mingyu, and Wonwoo turned their heads toward him, their expressions varying from confusion to mild concern.

Up front, Luna, who had been listening in with mild amusement, couldn’t help but grin.

“Wrong Leonardo,” she pointed out from her seat, effortlessly seeing through the misunderstanding.

Mingyu, finally catching on, let out a chuckle. “Not DiCaprio… da Vinci,” he clarified, shaking his head in exasperation at Dokyeom’s mistake.

Realization dawned on Dokyeom’s face, and the moment it did, he burst into laughter, as if even he couldn’t believe what he had just done.

Joshua, deciding this moment needed further explanation for PD Na and the crew, leaned in slightly. “Long time ago, Vernon, he heard that he looked like Leonardo DiCaprio,” he began, his tone carrying the weight of an old legend being retold.

PD Na raised his brows with interest, while the crew chuckled, already sensing where this was going.

“So when you said it was da Vinci…” Joshua trailed off, throwing a knowing look at Dokyeom before delivering the final punchline, “‘Dokyeom went, ‘Vernon!’”

That was it— the entire bus erupted into laughter. Dokyeom, at the center of it all, was already doubled over, his shoulders shaking as he covered his face in embarrassment. Even PD Na let out a chuckle, shaking his head at just how absurdly their minds worked sometimes.

“I said it to be funny!” Dokyeom reasoned, still laughing but now attempting to defend himself.

Joshua, who clearly wasn’t going to let this go so easily, nodded in exaggerated understanding. “A different Leonardo.”

“I said it after hearing Leonardo,” Dokyeom chuckled, finally accepting his fate.

As the laughter from Dokyeom’s Leonardo mishap finally died down, the energy in the bus settled just enough for PD Na to seize the opportunity to continue his announcements. He cleared his throat, sitting up slightly in his seat as he addressed the group once more.

“It takes about thirty minutes to the city,” he informed them, his voice cutting through the lingering chuckles. “Our dorm for today is an Airbnb.”

The announcement was met with an immediate and enthusiastic response from the back of the bus.

“Airbnb!” Dokyeom and Mingyu chorused in perfect sync, their voices filled with excitement as they cheered.

[Na PD’s cheerleaders]

PD Na, who was by now well-accustomed to the members’ habit of reacting to literally anything with enthusiasm, could only chuckle as he shook his head. “You guys like it all when I say anything.”

“Airbnb is nice,” Dokyeom explained matter-of-factly, as if justifying their excitement.

“Nicer than a hotel,” Mingyu followed, nodding in agreement, despite the fact that neither had actually seen the place yet.

Luna, seated near the front, turned slightly to glance at the two from her seat, her lips curling into an amused smile. Their enthusiasm for even the simplest things was both endearing and hilarious, and at this point, she wasn’t even surprised anymore.

PD Na, who had already resigned himself to the group’s chaotic nature, simply pressed on. “On the way to the Airbnb, since we have arrived at Rome, I thought that you might be kind of sad to just go home.”

“Oh, it is disappointing,” Dokyeom immediately agreed, nodding seriously, as if PD Na had personally read his thoughts.

“So,” PD Na continued, undeterred, “we are going to have a group photo at the Colosseum.”

The moment the words left his mouth, a wave of excitement swept through the bus.

“Colosseum picture!” Dokyeom practically leaped out of his seat, throwing one hand up in pure enthusiasm.

[It’s either the excitement or the lack of sleep]

From her seat, Luna turned to look at him again, this time pointing at him as she let out a chuckle, obviously amused by how quickly his energy rebounded with every new announcement.

“The Colosseum— you all know how it looks like, right?” PD Na asked, shifting the conversation towards something slightly educational.

“Yes,” the members responded in unison, their voices harmonizing in a way that almost sounded rehearsed.

“Round,” Hoshi added confidently, as if he had just unlocked a deep historical fact.

PD Na nodded approvingly. “It looked round,” he repeated, acknowledging the correctness of Hoshi’s very basic observation.

Still in his educational mode, PD Na continued, “It’s a building that was made about two thousand years ago. It’s an ancient theater. Simply put, it’s an amphitheater.”

The members fell into a brief silence, listening attentively— though some of them were probably only half-paying attention, distracted by the thought of taking pictures there.

“There’s an audience, and what do you think they did in the center?” PD Na quizzed them, clearly trying to keep their engagement up.

“Fight,” Luna answered first, her voice confident.

“Duel,” Mingyu followed right after, nodding to himself.

“Bullfight,” Hoshi added, looking particularly intrigued.

PD Na nodded. “Gladiators fight each other, or for example— tiger versus human.”

At the mere mention of a tiger, Hoshi immediately perked up, his eyes widening with interest. His entire posture shifted, as if his soul had momentarily left his body and then returned stronger.

[Horanghae]

PD Na, pretending not to notice Hoshi’s reaction, continued, “Or lion versus human. They fight like this too.”

The information made some members murmur in interest, while others simply absorbed it with mild curiosity. PD Na, sensing a moment for yet another educational tidbit, cleared his throat and went on.

“There was sand underneath it, like a wrestling ring. They call sand ‘rena’ in this country,” he explained.

The members blinked at him, processing the new information.

PD Na, never missing a chance to test them, quizzed again, “Isn’t there anything that comes to mind?”

A beat of silence passed before Mingyu confidently answered, “Leonardo DiCaprio?”

[???]

The entire bus chuckled as PD Na instantly shot him down.

“No, wrong,” he said flatly before shaking his head and repeating dramatically, “Wrong, wrong, wrong.”

His exaggerated rejection, reminiscent of his famous game show catchphrase, immediately made the members burst into laughter.

“Arena,” Luna answered confidently, cutting through the laughter with the correct response.

PD Na’s eyes lit up as he pointed at her. “Correct!”

A collective sound of realization spread through the bus as the members went, “Oh…” all at once.

“Ah… rena,” Mingyu repeated, now understanding where the word came from.

“This is why an amphitheater is called an arena,” PD Na concluded, nodding as if pleased with himself for successfully delivering a history lesson.

“Ah…” a few members chorused before playfully adding, “…rena.” They chuckled amongst themselves, amused at how easily they could turn anything into a running joke.

“Feels like we met a smart history teacher,” Seungkwan mused, referring to PD Na, his voice filled with newfound respect.

“Right?” Luna agreed with a grin. “It’s like we’re at a school field trip. It’s so much fun.”

“So, the Colosseum is one of the biggest arenas. It’s one of the representative arenas,” PD Na added before clapping his hands together, signaling the end of his impromptu history lesson. “Let’s go there and take a picture.”

With that, the bus erupted into excited chatter once again, the members buzzing with anticipation as they imagined their upcoming visit to the Colosseum.

The bus rumbled softly as it made its way through the dark streets of Rome, the dim glow of streetlights casting fleeting shadows on the tinted windows. Jeonghan let out a small chuckle, his head tilting slightly as he squinted outside.

“When will we be able to see the outside? I can’t see anything,” he mused, his voice laced with amusement as he leaned closer to the glass. His comment immediately caught the attention of the members, who instinctively followed his lead, pressing their faces toward the window with curious expressions.

[Pitch black]

“I can’t see anything,” Mingyu echoed, his brows furrowing in confusion as he stared into the pitch-black abyss outside.

“There’s nothing,” Dokyeom added, his face practically smushed against the window as if the closer he got, the more he would be able to see.

Luna, who was seated next to Jeonghan by the window, mirrored Dokyeom’s action, leaning in as she cupped her hands around her face in an attempt to block out the reflection. But instead of a view of Rome, all she saw was her own faint reflection staring back at her. Between the nighttime darkness and the bus’s heavily tinted windows, the outside world was completely invisible to them.

“It’s practically a mirror,” Luna noted with a small chuckle, giving up on trying to see outside and instead using the window’s reflection to fix her hair. She fluffed up her strands, tucking a few pieces behind her ear before turning her attention back to the lit interior of the bus.

[Uses it as mirror]

Slowly, the initial excitement of arrival began to settle down, and the members fell into their own quiet activities as the journey continued. Some scrolled through their phones, thumbs lazily flicking across the screens, while others engaged in hushed conversations, their voices blending into the soft hum of the engine. A few members, exhausted from the long day, had already dozed off, their heads lolling against the seats or resting on each other’s shoulders.

In their own little world, Luna had rested her head on Jeonghan’s shoulder, her body comfortably curled up against him as the steady motion of the bus lulled her into a peaceful state. Her fingers absentmindedly reached for Jeonghan’s hand, tracing small, invisible patterns over his skin before she started playing with the silver rings adorning his fingers. She twisted them gently, rolling them up and down before slipping them off entirely, trying them on her own fingers just to see how they fit.

Jeonghan allowed her to do whatever she pleased, his arm resting relaxed on his lap as he silently watched her with a lazy grin. He found it amusing how she entertained herself so easily, her curiosity evident in the way she examined each ring before returning it to its rightful place.

Then, an idea crossed his mind.

Without a word, Jeonghan gently took Luna’s hand in his, flipping it open so her palm faced upward. His fingers lightly brushed against her skin as he started tracing something with deliberate strokes.

Luna, quick to catch on, didn’t pull away. Instead, she glanced up at him with intrigue, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “Is it a word or a drawing?” she asked softly.

“A word,” Jeonghan replied smoothly, the corners of his lips tugging into a teasing smirk.

Luna hummed, her brows furrowing slightly in concentration. “Write it again.”

Jeonghan obeyed, his finger gliding across her palm with feather-light precision, forming the same letters once more.

Luna’s lips parted as she concentrated. “Hmm… Is it ‘Rome’?” she guessed, tilting her head.

Jeonghan shook his head. “Wrong. Try again.”

Luna pouted slightly, pretending to be deeply offended by his rejection. “At least give me a hint!”

“No hints,” Jeonghan teased. “You’re smart, aren’t you?”

Luna huffed dramatically. “Fine, fine. Let me think.” She closed her eyes for a second before opening them again as he write it again. “Is it ‘sleep’?”

Jeonghan chuckled. “Close, but no.”

Luna groaned. “Okay, just tell me—”

“Nope. One more guess.”

She squinted at him suspiciously before turning her attention back to her hand, trying to recall the exact movement of his tracing. “Oh! Is it ‘tired’?”

Jeonghan’s grin widened. “Bingo.”

Luna smirked triumphantly. “See? Smart.”

“Barely,” Jeonghan teased, earning a playful shove from her.

Now it was her turn.

Luna took Jeonghan’s hand, flipping it over in the same manner he had done to hers. She gave him a knowing look before dragging her finger across his palm, forming a slow, deliberate pattern.

Jeonghan, eyes locked onto her face, waited until she finished before guessing. “Is it ‘Luna’?”

She scoffed. “You think I’m that predictable?”

Jeonghan smirked. “I mean, you love me. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Luna rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her smile. “Wrong. Try again.”

Jeonghan tilted his head, closing his eyes as if that would somehow help him recall the movement more clearly. “Ah… is it ‘cute’?”

Luna raised an eyebrow. “Are you complimenting yourself?”

Jeonghan grinned. “I was referring to you, obviously.”

She sighed exaggeratedly. “Wrong.”

Jeonghan tapped his chin. “Then… ‘sleepy’?”

Luna’s eyes twinkled as she clicked her tongue. “Ding ding ding! We have a winner!”

“I knew it.” Jeonghan smirked. “You’re always sleepy, Nana-ya.”

“And you always look tired, so we’re even.”

[The ‘I’m tired, I’m sleepy’ counter: 2]

Jeonghan let out a dramatic sigh. “It’s hard work being this handsome.”

Luna snorted. “You mean, it’s hard work being this annoying.”

They continued taking turns, lost in their own bubble, whispering and teasing each other in the dimly lit bus.

Jeonghan’s next turn had Luna stumped for a bit before she finally guessed “sleepyhead,” correctly accusing him of drawing letters differently to confuse her.

Luna’s next turn had Jeonghan blinking at his palm, completely lost before she smugly revealed it was “cheat.”

And finally, Jeonghan’s last turn.

He took his time, making sure to write slowly and carefully this time. He watched Luna’s face, waiting for her reaction.

The moment he finished tracing, Luna’s eyes widened. A second later, she turned to look at him, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“Really?” she whispered.

Jeonghan shrugged, his expression feigning innocence. “What?”

Luna shook her head, biting her lower lip to suppress the fond grin spreading across her face. “‘143’, huh?”

Jeonghan chuckled, leaning in slightly. “Took you long enough.”

Luna rolled her eyes, but her fingers tightened slightly around his, her warmth lingering. “I knew right away, idiot.”

Jeonghan smirked. “Then why didn’t you say it immediately?”

Luna leaned closer, her voice just a whisper. “Because I wanted to see you get impatient.”

Jeonghan scoffed, amused. “You really are a menace.”

Luna squeezed his hand. “And yet, you love me.”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan admitted without hesitation, his voice soft as he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze back. “I do.”

A few more minutes passed, the bus humming softly beneath them as they rode through the streets of Rome. The city lights flickered outside, casting warm glows on the tinted windows.

The chatter among the members had died down into occasional bursts of laughter or quiet conversations as they settled into the journey

Then, PD Na’s voice crackled through the intercom, snapping everyone back to attention.

“Nana Tour will be arriving at the Colosseum in five minutes.”

Immediately, there was a shift in energy. Some members perked up in their seats, stretching and blinking away sleep, while others eagerly turned towards the windows. This time, the city lights were brighter, allowing them to finally see the world outside their previously pitch-black reflections.

Jun was the first to spot it. “I can see the Colosseum,” he said, pointing excitedly out the window.

A chorus of gasps and exclamations followed as the others pressed closer, their faces nearly squished against the glass.

“Wow.”

“That’s insane.”

“It’s so cool.”

Even the quieter members found themselves marveling at the sight before them.

[Time to get out of the bus]

Finally, the bus pulled to a stop. The members began gathering their things, stretching their limbs before stepping off one by one into the cool Roman night. The moment their feet touched the ground, they were greeted by the towering presence of the Colosseum, illuminated against the dark sky.

Luna stepped out, cradling Cherry the bunny in her arms as she followed behind the others. She tilted her head back to take in the grand structure before her, her eyes widening in awe. “Wow, it’s huge,” she murmured, her voice tinged with amazement.

Beside her, Wonwoo adjusted his glasses as he observed the massive amphitheater. “It feels different after seeing it from down here,” he commented.

PD Na, standing in front of the group with a tour guide flag that proudly read NANA TOUR— just in case anyone got lost, turned to them with a grin. “Isn’t it so cool? This has been here for two thousand years.”

Hoshi, ever the imaginative one, clasped his hands together as if he were seeing something completely different. “If you look at it like this— this is the Olympic Stadium,” he declared confidently.

The group burst into laughter, entertained by Hoshi’s unique perspective as they followed PD Na, who led them closer to the Colosseum’s entrance.

“I just want to walk around. What do I do?” Mingyu sighed dramatically, taking in the vast open space.

From next to him, Luna raised a brow. “We are walking around,” she pointed out, giving him an amused look.

Dokyeom let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “The fact that I’m walking around Rome right now… it’s funny.”

They finally reached a spot near the Colosseum where they could pause and take in the view properly. That was when PD Na turned to them with another announcement. “I think we are each going to film on our own and look around,” he said.

[Photo time]

At that, the members immediately scattered, some pulling out their phones to capture photos and videos while others simply took in the atmosphere with their own eyes.

Luna, like the rest, reached into her pocket and retrieved her phone, angling it up to take a picture of the Colosseum. Just as she was about to snap the shot, Mingyu, who was standing beside her, suddenly chuckled.

“Wow, I left my cell phone.”

[Mingyu’s favorite phrase: “I left…” or “Where is my…]

PD Na, who had clearly heard too many of these confessions from Mingyu throughout the trip, turned to him with exasperation. “What are you doing? How many things are you leaving behind?” he playfully scolded.

Mingyu, ever the carefree giant, simply shrugged. “I am seeing it with my eyes,” he said, as if that was enough justification.

Luna, narrowing her eyes at him, tilted her head. “Left it where? In the bus, right?”

Mingyu let out a sheepish laugh. “Of course, at the bus.”

Luna, unimpressed, gave him a teasing look. “Just making sure. You could have left it on the plane for all we know.”

She shot him a playful smirk before turning on her heel to walk away. But before she could get far, she suddenly felt a weight on her back— a very large, very heavy weight.

“Ya—”

Mingyu had draped himself over her like a giant koala, his long arms wrapping loosely around her neck as if he was waiting for her to carry him like a piggyback ride.

[Gets tackled by a man half her size]

“Stop— Kim Mingyu!”

She squealed, staggering slightly as she tried to balance herself under his weight. His laughter rumbled in her ear as he clung onto her, completely unbothered.

From the side, Jeonghan and Minghao had already reacted, each moving instinctively to grab one of her arms, keeping her steady.

“Ya, Kim Mingyu,” Jeonghan scolded, though his voice held a twinge of amusement.

[Scolded by the vice-leader]

Luna could only struggle, her body slightly hunched forward as Mingyu continued to leech onto her like an overgrown child. “Kim Mingyu, get off! What do you think I am? Do I look like I can carry you?”

Mingyu simply let out another laugh, still not letting go as they waddled forward like an awkwardly fused pair.

Luna let out an exasperated breath, still trying to steady herself as Mingyu remained latched onto her like an overgrown koala. She shot him a glare over her shoulder, her voice sharp yet undeniably amused.

“Kim Mingyu, if you’re going to cling onto me like this, at least do something useful and carry me instead!”

Mingyu, who was still comfortably draped on her back, let out a deep chuckle. Releasing his hold, he slowly peeled himself off of her, standing back to his full height with an amused glint in his eyes.

Then, without a word, he slightly crouched down in front of her, patting his shoulders in invitation.

Luna blinked, her lips parting slightly in surprise before she let out a small huff, but a grin tugged at her lips as she stepped forward. She climbed onto his back, wrapping her arms securely around his neck— one hand gripping her phone while the other still held Cherry the bunny safely between her arm.

[And now she’s happy]

Mingyu’s hands found their place under her legs, his large palms securing her comfortably before he gave a light bounce, adjusting her weight.

“You good?” Mingyu asked, turning his head slightly to check on her.

Luna nodded, shifting slightly. “Yeah, just don’t—”

Before she could finish, Mingyu took off.

“Ya! Kim Mingyu!”

Her startled yelp turned into uncontrollable laughter as Mingyu dashed forward, carrying her closer to the Colosseum. His long strides covered the distance quickly, and before she could even regain her breath, he suddenly started spinning.

[#SaveLuna]

“Oh my god, Gyu— stop! Stop spinning, you maniac!” Luna squealed, tightening her grip around his shoulders.

Mingyu only laughed louder, clearly enjoying the chaos he had created.

Luna, knowing there was no way to stop him with sheer force, resorted to the only logical solution— she smacked the back of his head. “If you trip and fall with me, I’m going to actually kill you.”

Mingyu let out a dramatic groan, still laughing. “Ouch! Violence!” he teased, but he did slow down, eventually coming to a stop as he stood in front of the Colosseum.

Luna exhaled, still catching her breath, before an idea popped into her mind. She lifted her phone and adjusted the angle, preparing to take a picture.

“Don’t drop me, I’m serious, Gyu. I’m going to take a photo,” she warned, her tone shifting into something genuinely serious despite the amusement in her eyes.

Mingyu scoffed, tightening his grip on her legs. “What do you take me for? You’re precious cargo, you know. I’m basically your personal tripod right now.”

[Kim Mingyu the tripod]

Luna laughed at that, shaking her head as she focused her camera. Deciding to trust him completely, she slowly removed her other hand from around his neck, leaving her entirely unsupported except for the firm grip Mingyu had on her legs. Holding her phone with both hands, she framed the shot, her gaze focused on capturing the grand structure before her.

For a moment, she was completely still, trusting Mingyu’s strength as she immersed herself in the view.

But that moment of peace was short-lived.

Jeonghan, who had been watching from the side with his usual mix of fondness and exasperation, immediately moved behind her. Without hesitation, he placed a firm palm on her back, his touch grounding.

“Ya, Bae Jiyeon– tsk.”

The sharp yet affectionate sound of his tongue clicking had Luna turning her head, her expression immediately shifting into a sheepish smile as she met his unimpressed gaze.

[Scolded by the vice-leader pt. 2]

And just like that, her reckless fun had been caught red-handed.

Jeonghan’s unimpressed gaze remained locked on Luna, his dark eyes carrying the weight of a silent scolding. He didn’t even need to say anything— the look alone was enough to make it clear that he was not amused by what she had just done.

Feeling the heat of his stare, Luna quickly wrapped her arms around Mingyu’s neck again, as if that would somehow protect her from Jeonghan’s impending lecture. But the moment Mingyu caught sight of Jeonghan’s expression, his instincts for self-preservation kicked in.

Without hesitation, he let go of her legs and gently set her down, stepping back as if he had never been involved in any of this. His hands shot up in surrender, and he took a few cautious steps away. “Okay, yeah, you two can deal with that. I was never here.”

Luna turned to glare at him. “Traitor.”

Mingyu only grinned sheepishly before making a quick escape, leaving Luna alone to face Jeonghan. She turned back to him, her lips forming a small pout before she took a step closer, wrapping her arms around his waist in an attempt to soften him up.

“Sorry.” Her voice was small, almost childlike, as she rested her forehead against his chest.

Jeonghan let out a deep sigh, his irritation melting away as he felt her warmth against him. He raised a hand to gently smooth over her hair, his fingers carding through the soft strands.

“Be careful, please.” His voice was softer now, the warning laced with nothing but concern.

Luna nodded obediently, pulling back to give him a small smile before they resumed walking, taking in the beauty of the Colosseum while the other members scattered in different directions, capturing their own moments. Some were snapping photos, some were simply standing still, absorbing the view, and others—like Mingyu— were probably still running away from Jeonghan’s wrath.

As they strolled through the historic site, Jeonghan suddenly let out a sigh. “I’m tired.”

Luna, who had been glancing around, hummed in agreement. “Me too… I really want to sleep.”

[The ‘I’m tired, I’m sleepy’ counter: 3]

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, her exhaustion was momentarily forgotten, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She tugged on Jeonghan’s hand eagerly.

“Take a photo of me here, Hannie, please.”

Jeonghan didn’t protest, simply holding out his hand as Luna eagerly handed him her phone. She positioned herself in front of the Colosseum at a spot she liked, adjusting her posture before striking a pose.

Jeonghan crouched down, angling the phone to get the perfect shot. He moved slightly, tilting the phone to find the best perspective, his gaze focused entirely on capturing her in the best light.

Just as Luna shifted, assuming she was done, Jeonghan held up a hand to stop her.

“Stay there, Nana-ya,” His voice was firm yet casual, his eyes still locked onto the screen.

Luna blinked but complied, watching as Jeonghan smoothly pulled out his own phone, switching from photographer to personal paparazzi. He snapped a few more shots, his sharp gaze ensuring each one was perfect before he finally lowered his phone and looked at her.

“Pretty girl.”

The simple compliment caught Luna off guard, and she felt warmth creep up her neck. She quickly glanced away, her cheeks slightly flushed— but before she could recover, her eyes landed on Joshua.

Excited, she grabbed Jeonghan’s hand. “Joshie! Can you take a photo of me and Han, please?”

She handed Joshua her phone, which he accepted without hesitation, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he watched the two of them move closer together. The couple posed comfortably, Jeonghan standing next to her while Luna leaned in slightly, their expressions relaxed as Joshua took a few shots.

Once the quick photo session was over, they thanked Joshua and moved towards the group, reuniting with the rest of the members.

As they neared the Colosseum wall, Jeonghan suddenly made his intentions clear.

“I am going to touch the Colosseum and go.”

Without waiting, he reached out, pressing his palm against the ancient stone surface, nodding as if he had just completed a great achievement.

Dokyeom, who had been nearby, immediately followed suit, mirroring Jeonghan’s action. “How is it? Hand that touched the Colosseum?” he asked, grinning.

Luna chuckled at their antics, quickly snapping a picture of the two of them before her gaze shifted to another scene— Hoshi, crouched down, reaching for the ground with great enthusiasm.

“The Colosseum ground.” Hoshi declared dramatically, as if touching it held some deep historical significance.

[The tiger is pawing the ground]

Luna giggled, lifting her phone to capture the moment. “You guys…” she trailed off, shaking her head fondly as she continued filming their antics.

As the group remained caught up in their own fun, Luna walked ahead, taking more photos on her phone. She was too focused on capturing the scenery to notice that Jeonghan, instead of walking beside her, had slowed his pace. His phone was lifted in her direction, quietly taking pictures of her as she moved.

Her back was to him, her form bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, completely unaware that he was documenting her existence in the most candid way possible.

Soon, she found herself nearing Minghao, who was sitting on one of the steps, his eyes fixed on the view in comfortable silence. Without a word, Luna moved to sit next to him, mirroring his posture as she let the peaceful moment sink in.

Her gaze drifted back to the group, just in time to see Dokyeom lying fully on the ground as Joshua stood over him, taking a photo.

Luna raised an eyebrow but couldn’t help but smile. This was exactly what a SEVENTEEN trip looked like— pure, chaotic fun in the most ridiculous ways possible.

[Only SEVENTEEN]

Luna had been watching them but as she giggled at the scene, an idea suddenly sparked in her mind. Her eyes widened slightly, and she clutched Cherry— the cherry red plushie she had been carrying around all day— before quickly standing up.

Without a word, she moved closer to the Colosseum, scanning for the perfect spot. Finding a small, clean patch of ground near the base of the ancient structure, she gently set Cherry down, adjusting the plushie’s position as if it were a real person.

Taking a few steps back, she crouched down with precise focus, her phone angled carefully in her hands.

[Strike a pose and Vogue]

She had promised Seungcheol that Cherry would take his place first while he was back in Korea, and she intended to fulfill that promise properly.

The plushie sat proudly in front of the Colosseum, looking oddly regal despite its small size. Luna tilted her head, making sure the framing was just right, before snapping a few pictures. Then, unsatisfied, she shuffled slightly to the left, adjusted Cherry’s posture, and took a few more.

[Her own muse]

She was so engrossed in her mission that she didn’t notice the members slowly gathering a few feet away. One by one, they huddled around Hoshi, who was now holding his phone, an idea of their own forming.

“What time is it in Korea right now?” Dino asked, tilting his head.

“Six in the morning,” Jeonghan answered smoothly, barely needing to think.

“Coups must be tired,” Dino said, a hint of sympathy in his voice.

But instead of leaving their leader to rest, Hoshi’s finger hovered over the screen, dialing Seungcheol. They all leaned in, eyes fixed on the phone, waiting for him to pick up.

“It’s funny if he picks up at this time,” Jeonghan remarked, smirking slightly.

“I think he might pick up,” Dino countered, glancing at the screen expectantly.

And after just a few seconds— against all odds— the familiar face of Choi Seungcheol appeared on the screen.

“He picked up,” a few of them chorused in shock, their voices overlapping in disbelief.

“Hyung!” Dino called out excitedly.

“We came to the Colosseum,” Hoshi added quickly, flipping the camera to show the grand structure behind them.

On the screen, Seungcheol was barely awake, his eyes squinting as he adjusted to the brightness from the phone. He blinked a few times, his gaze darting around to take in all of the members who had gathered.

[The leader has been woken and did a head count]

And then, his tired brain seemed to register something— or other, someone— was missing.

“Where is Jiyeonie?” was the first thing he mumbled, his voice groggy but immediately concerned.

The members froze for a second, glancing among themselves as if suddenly realizing she wasn’t part of their little huddle.

Then, like a slow-motion scene in a comedy film, their heads turned in sync toward the side, where Luna was still busy crouched down, snapping pictures of Cherry with intense concentration.

[Peek-a-boo]

“Aigo… noona…” Seungkwan chuckled, shaking his head.

“She’s…” Mingyu started, but laughter overtook him before he could finish his sentence.

Hoshi chuckled as he flipped the camera towards Luna, capturing her completely oblivious to their antics. “Our Jiyeonie is busy,” he narrated dramatically, making the others snicker.

S.Coups let out a deep sigh on the other end, rubbing his face. “Don’t lose her,” he muttered as if he were scolding a bunch of irresponsible babysitters.

[The second time they lose her today]

At that, Jeonghan, who had been watching with amusement, finally decided to call her over. “Nana-ya!”

Luna looked up immediately at the sound of Jeonghan’s voice, her large doe eyes blinking in curiosity. She clearly hadn’t noticed that the entire group had gathered without her, nor did she seem to care. But the moment she spotted Seungcheol’s sleepy face on the screen, her entire expression lit up.

Grabbing Cherry with both hands, she shot up from her crouched position and practically skipped towards them, squealing, “Coupsie!” as she joined the huddle.

Seungcheol gave a small wave, still looking half-asleep. “Is it fun?” he asked, now that their chaotic group was finally complete.

“We came to the Colosseum. Do you see that behind us?” Seungkwan said, angling the phone up dramatically to showcase the massive landmark.

“Let’s take a photo,” Hoshi suggested excitedly. He turned the phone to face the crew, who were already in front of them, filming and preparing to take a picture of the whole group now that they had their leader on the call.

“We are together,” Hoshi declared as Seungcheol, still lying in bed, managed a sleepy peace sign. The members all smiled as the camera flash went off.

[Flash! Flash! Flash!]

For a few seconds, the light flickered as the photos were taken, and Luna, arms still loosely wrapped around Jeonghan’s waist, deadpanned, “I’m sure that woke him up.”

[It did]

“My eyes hurt,” S.Coups groaned, confirming her statement as he blinked rapidly to adjust.

Once they were done, they thanked the crew for taking the picture, laughter still lingering in the air as they continued speaking to their leader.

Hoshi turned the camera around, his hand steady as he positioned the phone to showcase the grandeur of the Colosseum. “Should I show you the Colosseum?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of excitement as he prepared to act as Seungcheol’s personal tour guide despite the limitations of a phone screen.

On the other end, Seungcheol, still groggy from being woken up, blinked at the sudden movement of the screen. His voice was low and drowsy as he mumbled, “Yes, show me.”

Hoshi enthusiastically flipped the camera, angling it so that the full scope of the Colosseum was in view, but even through the screen, it was clear that the sheer scale of the monument couldn’t be captured properly. The members, who had gathered around to watch, hummed in agreement.

“But… it won’t capture it on the screen,” Woozi pointed out, tilting his head as he observed the way the structure shrank in comparison to its real-life magnitude.

“The marvelousness won’t get captured,” Wonwoo agreed, his eyes narrowing as he analyzed the video feed.

[The camera doesn’t do it justice]

Seungcheol, despite his sleepy state, managed to process the scene before him and let out a soft hum before remarking, “‘Super’ MV… it looks like the ‘Super’ MV set.”

The members chuckled at the unexpected comparison, and Hoshi, ever the enthusiastic one, nodded in agreement. “It’s big, right?” he said, his voice filled with awe.

Seungcheol hummed again in response, but before he could say anything more, Luna, who had been quietly watching, leaned closer to the phone, concern laced in her voice.

“Coupsie, you should sleep more,” she said softly. Then, with a playful but gentle touch, she cupped the phone with both hands as if shielding her words from the rest of the members— though, of course, they all heard her anyway. She whispered, “Don’t worry, like I promised… I’ll take you here when you’re better.”

[That’s a promise]

The warmth in her voice made Seungcheol’s groggy features soften further, a small fond smile tugging at his lips as he gazed at her through the screen.

It was a promise he knew she would keep.

Luna then pulled away and waved at him with a bright, reassuring smile. “Sleep well, Coupsie.”

Seungcheol, despite his exhaustion, lifted a lazy hand and waved in response. “Mm.”

“Yes, Coups. Good night,” Hoshi added, waving at the screen before turning the phone to show the other members, who were all gathered around, sending their own waves and goodnights. Seungcheol waved back, albeit sluggishly, before he finally ended the call, his screen going dark.

[Good night]

The moment the call ended, Jeonghan, who had been waiting for the perfect opportunity to make his declaration, clapped his hands together, his tone decisive. “Okay! Let’s film reels and go!”

Luna giggled at how clear it was that Jeonghan wanted nothing more than to get to bed. His energy, which had been somewhat sustained by the excitement of the trip, was now rapidly depleting, and she could tell he was ready to collapse at any given moment.

“Members, please all come here,” Seungkwan called out, taking charge as the group began assembling in front of the Colosseum.

They linked arms, forming a straight line, their movements slightly sluggish from exhaustion but still full of enthusiasm for the final task before they could officially call it a night.

“What are we doing?” Luna asked, confused but still following along, slotting herself between Hoshi and Jun as she linked arms with them.

“We are gonna lean and fall down,” Mingyu explained, motioning with his free arm to demonstrate what they were about to do.

It took Luna a second to process before realization dawned on her. “Ah…” she nodded in understanding. They were about to do the viral trend where they all leaned and fell sideways, creating a seamless transition to another location in their video.

[Trendy SEVENTEEN]

As the crew positioned themselves to film, some members took the time to ensure everyone knew exactly what needed to be done. Amidst the light chatter, Luna glanced down at Cherry, still held securely in her hand. Without hesitation, she took the plushie’s small arms and looped one through hers before turning to Hoshi and offering him Cherry’s other arm.

[Hello!]

Hoshi, instead of questioning it, simply looked down at her with a fond smile before linking his own arm with the plushie’s, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He understood without words— Luna was a woman of her word. Cherry would take Seungcheol’s place for this entire trip, just as she had promised their leader.

“Remember this spot right now,” Hoshi reminded them, knowing that they’d have to replicate the exact setup in another location for the transition to work smoothly.

The members murmured the names of the people beside them under their breaths, making mental notes to ensure they stood in the same order later.

Then, Hoshi, taking the lead as the performance leader of the moment. “Guys, we’ll go after three. Let’s fall after three,” he instructed, making sure everyone was ready.

A small pause settled over them before he counted down. “1… 2… 3… let’s go…”

In perfect synchronization, they all leaned to the left, tipping over as if being caught in a wave before catching themselves at the last second. The camera captured it all smoothly, sealing the moment for their content.

“Okay, let’s go,” PD Na announced, satisfied with the take.

[On to the Airbnb]

“Let’s go,” Jeonghan immediately echoed, his voice filled with relief.

“Let’s go home,” Minghao followed up, his tone just as exhausted.

“Yes… finally,” Luna sighed dramatically, her voice filled with longing as she practically skipped forward, catching up to Jeonghan, who was leading the group alongside PD Na. They were right at the front, practically glued to the staff members directing them back to their transport.

The excitement of the trip was still there, but at that moment, it was overshadowed by the undeniable exhaustion creeping into their bones. It felt like they had been traveling for twenty-four hours straight. Maybe they actually had— from Tokyo to Korea, then to Italy. The time zones were blurring together.

Jeonghan and Luna, the self-proclaimed sleep bunnies, were ready to crash.

Tomorrow, they would wake up rejuvenated, ready to fully immerse themselves in the experience. But for now… they just needed to recharge… if PD Na would let them…

[To be continued in Clip 1-4]

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - lunaఌ

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

370 notes · View notes

finelinefae · 1 year ago

Text

tongue-tied

synopsis: y/n has a stutter and harry likes to hear her talk

word count: 3.1k

contains: fluff, highschool romance, harry's a football player, popular boy x shy girl, brief mentions of bullying

a/n: happy soft girl Sunday !! I wasn’t planning on posting just because I posted the second part of the aviator a little later than I was meant to but I could resist putting this one out <3

. . .

“E-excuse me!” Y/N weaved her way through the mass exodus of students heading in the opposite direction to the lunch hall. She had tried to leave class a few minutes before the lunch bell to avoid the large groups of people but she had been so invested in writing her essay, she’d lost complete track of time.

She was running as fast as she possibly could to get to the library, knowing the person waiting for her wouldn’t get too impatient but she didn’t want to waste a second of their lunch break not being with him. Her bag slipped from her shoulder, her braids flying behind her and her knee-high socks falling down her calves.

Y/N barely registered the people around her, wondering where she could be going in such a rush, until her face collided with soft, grey fabric. Before she could even get embarrassed and profusely have to apologise for bumping into them, long arms snaked around her, hands clasping behind her back. She caught a whiff of his woody cologne and the floral fragranced detergent his mum always used to wash his school uniform.

“There y’ are, Dove.” He murmured, “I was starting to get worried.”

Y/N looked up and settled on those familiar green eyes she loved so much. She relaxed into his embrace, “Harry,” She sighed.

Harry and Y/N had been dating since they were fourteen. If it weren’t for the fact that their parents all worked together at the local hospital, they probably would never have met at all, although Harry liked to believe they were fated to be together so they would have ended up meeting each other some way or another.

Harry had always been popular at school. For one, he was on the football team which instantly made him a name within their year group. He was also very handsome for his age. Girls would whisper and giggle whenever he passed by in the hallways even those from the lower years. Despite the fact they had just turned seventeen, Harry could honestly pass for an almost twenty-year-old with how tall and mature he was.

Y/N was the complete opposite. When it came to her social life she was shy and not often one to make friends easily. She was part of the arithmetic club and had made a few friends there and in some of her other classes. She liked to keep to herself and struggled to talk in class not only because she was quiet but also because she had a particularly bad stutter.

It had developed when she started High School. She had been to multiple speech therapists to help her get rid of it and although it wasn’t as bad as it used to be, it still never failed to make her life all the more difficult than it already was.

A lot of the other kids liked to pick on her for it too. Whenever teachers picked on her in class and she’d reply, the rest of the class would start snickering, whispering in each other’s ears. She wanted to be invisible to everyone but it was her stutter that made her stand out.

When Harry’s family would come over to Y/N’s house for dinner, her parents would often force them to go off together whilst the adults spoke in the dining room. She remembered the first time she invited him into her room and how embarrassed she was when he saw all her comic books lying on the floor that she had forgotten to put away. But it eventually became the seed of their relationship, the common ground that allowed them to bond.

Soon Harry was inviting Y/N to his football games and up to his room every other weekend when she’d come over with her parents. They’d exchange comic books and talk about their favourite characters. Y/N was always apologising for her stutter whenever she’d ramble on for too long but Harry never cared, he loved hearing her talk.

Their first kiss was on her bed whilst their parents were in the room below them. Harry was the one to initiate it and Y/N hadn’t been expecting it so it was slightly awkward at first but then she got used to it and eventually all she ever wanted to do was kiss him. Every weekend, whether at her place or his, all they did was sneak around and kiss each other, giggling and falling in love all at the same time.

Now, three years later, things were still the same except they were older now and more in love than they were yesterday.

Wherever you looked, Harry was there, and Y/N was never too far behind. Students had grown accustomed to their relationship, and the bullying Y/N endured wasn't as severe as it used to be. Even teachers couldn't help but be enamoured with their young love — how fortunate it was to find love at such a young age.

Things were great, everything was great and Y/N had hoped she could finish her last year of High School on a high note. That was until she entered her English class on a Friday afternoon when the teacher announced it was time for their presentations which would go towards their final grade.

“I can’t Harry!” Y/N cried into her pillow after school, Harry was sitting on the end of her bed with his back against the wall as he rubbed his hand up and down her back.

“I know Dove,” He comforted her, already knowing the reason she was so upset over it.

“Everyone’s going to l-laugh at me,” She could already picture herself standing up in front of her class and everyone pointing and laughing at her.

Harry sighed, “Dove,” He shook her gently, “Will y’ look at me?”

Y/N hesitated before turning her head so her cheek lay against the pillow. Harry smiled and lay on his side in the spot next to her, their faces inches apart, “There’s m’ pretty girl,” He cooed, his heart hurting at the tears on her cheeks. He cupped her cheek in his big hand and wiped some of those tears away with his thumb.

“I-It’s not fair,” She huffed, “Why’d I have to have this stupid stutter.”

“Hey,” He frowned, “Enough of that hmm? Everything about you is beautiful, y’ know I love to hear y’ talk. Could sit here for hours and just listen.”

“But you’re d-different,” She whined, shuffling closer to him so she could hide her face in his grey jumper. Her stutter was rarely ever that bad in front of Harry which was why he was the easiest person she could talk to.

Harry laughed breathily, his hand going to her hair to play with the strands, “Would it help if I helped you a little?”

“How?” Y/N asked, her words muffled by his jumper.

“We could practise in the library at lunch, y’ could read me a few things and it might help your stutter.” He thought.

Y/N’s head looked up to his face where she could count every mole and freckle on his nose and cheeks. She couldn’t help but pucker her lips to kiss his jawline, “That’d be nice,” She murmured.

“Yeah?” He smiled, kissing the top of her head in return, “I only want to help you so if you don’t enjoy it or you’d rather practise alone then y’ can tell me,”

She shook her head, “N-No, I want to do that with you. I’d like it very much.”

So it became a daily occurrence, five days a week during lunch hours when Harry didn’t have practice, they’d sit in the library and Harry would pick out a book for them to read. They started with simple YA books with less complicated words.

“Good job, Dove!” Harry cheered every time Y/N finished a chapter.

“Wait I’m not done,” She huffed and then said the last line just for Harry to cheer for her again just as proudly as the first time.

Now that the day of her presentation was getting closer, they had finally made their way onto Classical novels which Y/N had come to despise.

They walked with their hands intertwined to the library after Y/N had bumped into him in the hallway. It was natural as they stepped into the library and headed straight to their table in the corner hidden away by two tall bookshelves.

Y/N placed her bag under the chair whilst Harry unzipped his to pull out the book they were currently reading. It was Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, even looking at the front cover made Y/N’s stomach turn.

“A-Are you sure we can’t go back to YA books?” Y/N huffed, taking the book and opening it up to the chapter they were last on.

Harry laughed, “But you’re doing so well, Dovey.”

“I-it’s hard though and the w-words are so tiny.” She pouts, Harry can’t help but lean forward and kiss her.

“C’mon, jus’ a few pages and then I can show y’ something I got for you.” He tried to persuade her, knowing the surprise would be enough to win her over.

“Fine,” She sighs dramatically.

She read for five pages, Harry listening intently to every word. His eyes focused on her lips as she spoke, stumbling over a few words here and there. He tried to hold back from smiling so much with how concentrated she was on each letter of every word. He thought it was adorable how her eyebrows creased and her hands gripped the book.

Eventually, she had enough, placing the book down on the table and closing it shut. “Good job baby!” He cheered, pressing multiple kisses to her cheek, “M so proud of you.”

Y/N giggled, “Thank you, Harry.”

Harry smiled and reached into the pocket of his blazer for the surprise he had promised her. Y/N looked down and saw a small, black pouch in his hand. He gave it to her, her fingers carefully pulling on the ribbon before pulling out the small item inside.

“It’s an anxiety ring,” Harry explained as she held the silver ring in the palm of her hand. He picked it up and slid it on his pinkie finger to show her, “Y’ can twist this band whenever you feel nervous, thought y’ could wear it on the day of your speech.”

He passed it back to her, Y/N narrowing her eyes to look at the spinning band which had a small inscription written on it, ‘i love the way you speak almost as much as i love you, your harry.’

Y/N’s eyes watered, unable to come up with the right words to say how much she adored it as well as the boy sitting in front of her. Instead, she leapt forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, “Thank you,” She murmured, “I love it. I love you.”

Harry softened even more from her embrace, “I love you more, Dove,” He whispered.

Y/N pulled away enough to kiss his lips, she was thankful for the privacy they had in the back of the library since she was never that good with public displays of affection and all she wanted to do now was kiss him because she was so grateful for him being there all the time.

It wasn’t long before the day of her presentation. After school, Y/N had been working on a short essay. She was going to speak to the class about her favourite comic books and why she loved them so much. She had recited the words out loud to herself and Harry and even her parents, that she could probably speak it off by heart.

Harry and Y/N stood outside the school. Her English class wasn’t until the third period but she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate in her morning classes until the presentation was over. Harry was wearing his football uniform because he had a game against another school in the morning. Y/N had been with him after school as he practised for it, wearing his coat as she wrote out her speech on a notepad.

They stood side by side facing the school building as if it was some kind of beast they had to tackle, “O-okay,” She huffed, “I can do this,”

Harry looked down at her smiling and then reached for her hand, “You can do this,” He squeezed her fingers in encouragement.

“Good l-luck with your game today,” She grinned, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you, baby,” He spoke softly, “Y’ can tell me all about your presentation and how well it went afterwards.”

“Okay Harry,” She nodded, completely determined despite how nervous she was. She had spent weeks preparing, she couldn’t let fear get the best of her.

“Good luck kiss?” Harry grinned, cheekily.

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes and craned her neck to kiss his lips. Harry held her face in his hands, unable to pull away from her even when she tried to, “I love you,” He murmured against her lips.

“I love you too.” She sighed, blissfully.

When third period came around, Y/N stood outside her English classroom, counting to five in her head. She clutched onto the piece of paper where her speech was written out in gelled ink, spinning the ring Harry had gifted her on her finger. With a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped foot into her classroom.

. . .

Harry could hardly concentrate during the football match but he was trying his best. His team were two points ahead and it wouldn’t be long before the game was over. Since it was the morning and the game was mostly practice for the two schools competing, there wasn’t a huge audience watching them.

He was glancing down at his watch every few minutes when he was supposed to have his eye on the ball, checking to see whether third period was about to start. All he could think about was his little dove and how nervous she was when they stepped into school this morning.

She had been working so hard on reading things out, even stopping in shops when they went to town together to read the labels on the backs of food containers. He fully believed in her and her ability to speak in front of the class even when she didn’t and it killed him not being able to watch her do it.

So when the whistle finally blew marking the end of the game, Harry ignored the celebrations with his team after they won the match and ran across the field through the entrance of the school. He raced up the steps, his football boots clicking against the crowd. He knew he probably didn’t smell the best and his knees were muddy from falling over but he didn’t have much time to think about it as he searched for Y/N’s English classroom.

“Y/N?” He heard the teacher’s voice call her name as he approached.

“A-Already? O-Oh, O-okay.” He could hear her nerves just by listening to her speak.

Harry was about to knock on the door but he hesitated, wondering if it would worsen her nerves if he was in the classroom watching her. He knew how much of a big deal this moment was for Y/N and he didn’t want to intervene or make a spectacle of the moment especially since he wasn’t in her class.

He lowered his hand and instead pressed his ear up to the door.

“H-Hello,” Y/N started, “My name is Y-Y/N and today I will be sharing with you m-my love for comic books,” Harry’s heart ached as her voice came out quietly.

“C’mon Dove,” He whispered, wanting her to do well.

Y/N cleared her throat and let out a shaky exhale, “A-As you can probably tell, I-I am not all that good at speaking. I s-stumble over letters and sometimes even have to replace words with o-others because my mouth t-turns into mash potato and I can’t seem to get t-the words out.” People chuckled and Harry’s heart began to beat against his chest, “T-That is why I love comic books so much because of the l-lack of words. Instead, there are pictures,” Y/N continued, her voice gaining strength the more that she spoke, “T-They tell stories without the need for p-perfect sentences or flawless speech.”

Y/N continued her speech and Harry spent the entire presentation with his ear pressed up against the door. He ignored the looks of teachers and other students walking past as a huge grin spread across his cheeks the more Y/N spoke in front of the class.

By the time she had finished, it fell silent before the class responded with a round of applause, “Brilliant work, Y/N,” Her teacher said.

Y/N felt like she was floating on a cloud as she left her English classroom. Even if her speech wasn’t perfect, she had done it and gotten through it all in one piece. As she stepped out, two arms snaked around her waist and lifted her off the ground, “Harry!” Y/N giggled as he spun her around.

“M so proud of you, Dove.” He kissed her softly, lowering her to the ground but refusing to move his hands from her waist.

“I-I can’t believe I did it, Harry!” Y/N almost squealed.

“Heard every word, y’ did so good, M so proud of you.” He rambled, unable to cease his admiration for her.

“You heard?” Y/N’s eyebrows creased, her lips pouting slightly.

“I ran here as fast as I could and stood outside to listen to you,” Harry explained, “Y did perfect, honestly, the best speech I’ve ever heard.”

“You really ran h-here to listen?” Y/N asked, still in disbelief.

“I did,” Harry smiled, “It was all I could think about when I was on the field.”

“Did you win?” Y/N asked.

Harry pulled her flush against him, “You already know I did baby,” He smirked, kissing her. Y/N smiled against his lips.

“Let’s go out tonight,” Harry murmured, “To celebrate.”

“And do w-what?” Y/N wondered, even though the idea of spending any time with Harry was always her favourite.

“Maybe go to the bowling alley and get dinner after,” He shrugs.

“O-oh and maybe we can stop at the comic book store on the way home!” Y/N said, excitedly.

“Course m’love,” Harry’s smile widened the more she spoke, “We can do whatever you want as long as I get to hear you talk.”

Y/N grinned broadly as Harry interlaced his hands with hers, feeling the cool metal of her ring against his skin. Together, they walked hand in hand down the hallway, Y/N unable to stop talking the entire time, while Harry hung onto her every word.

#softgirlsundays #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #fic rec #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic rec #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry edward styles #one direction #harry styles writing #writing #fanfic rec #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you

2K notes · View notes

grandline-fics · 3 months ago

Text

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo so he's his own warning. Brief mentions of violence and killing. Enemies to Lovers, Soulmate!AU, some slight suggestiveness(?)

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 4,540

A/N: The next chapter is here and I'm a lot happier with how this one turned out. Thank you to everyone who voted in the recent poll to determine one of the reader's talents and I think it linked into the story better than I'd anticipated. I hope you all like what I came up with and thank you for all your support, it means a lot 💕

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

——————

After having a taste for escaping your room, you grew more determined to get out of bed at least a couple times a day. In your eyes if the doctors were happy to reduce the strength of your medicine then you were getting well enough to be more physical even if it was a light walk into the corridors. Some attempts were more successful than others. Some occasions you’d managed to avoid anyone spotting you until you were already headed back to your room and allowed them to usher you back to bed without much resistance. Other times you were caught almost immediately. Depending on who it was, their tactics for getting you back to your room varied.

The servants pleaded, fearing Doflamingo’s anger would be directed their way, some even going so far as to fall onto their knees in front of you. The doctors tried to convince you to be a little more patient and with a few more days of complete bedrest you could maybe start attempting light exercise but not yet, throwing medical jargon at you to exhaust and frustrate you. For them you dug your heels in but eventually went back. Then the middle and lower ranked pirates seemed the most unsure about how to approach you because you always held your ground with them, refusing to go to your room. They couldn’t order you to go back and touching you was not an option so all they could do was block your way forward while one of the group ran off to get Doflamingo.

It didn’t matter what the Warlord was doing, all it took was the report you were out of bed to get him to his feet. He followed the subordinate to your location. Upon seeing him appear you would let out a huff, watching him approach and let your body go limp when he lifted you; sometimes under his arm or over his shoulder. Normally he went straight for your room, this time however he turned and started to head back in the direction of his office. “Oh, we going the scenic route today?”

“You’re sounding better.” Doflamingo noted, choosing to ignore your question. “Your breathing seems clearer.”

“That’s what I keep telling you and your doctors, I’m practically completely healed.”

“Apart from your unrecovered energy levels, remaining infection reading in your latest test, limited-”

“I said practically, not entirely. No need to get smart.” You cut in with an unimpressed roll of your eyes as you heard the office doors open while Doflamingo laughed. “So, why the change today?”

“I have a lot of work to catch up on and so long as you’re here you won’t get into trouble.”

“I could get into plenty of trouble here if I wanted to.” You answered with a disgruntled mutter as you were dropped unceremoniously onto the plush sofa near his desk.

“Well then by all means, cause trouble.” Doflamingo taunted down at you, the challenging grin fixed firmly on his lips as he watched you recline against the cushions and glared at him while a pout shaped your lips.

“Don’t want to. Maybe later.” You explained. Truthfully the walk through the halls before you were caught had started to drain you and now that you were sitting down again, you weren’t going to get back up anytime soon. Doflamingo didn’t need to know that though. Even if he correctly assumed the reason for your choice to relax against the sofa, you weren’t going to admit it out loud. Draping your arm over the back of the sofa and laying your head against it you glanced towards the desk to see the stacks of papers on the usually tidied and more managed surface. “Wow, you weren’t kidding about work. Guess there’s more to being a King and ruler of a criminal empire than attending fancy galas and terrorising civilians.”

“I much prefer the paperwork to fancy galas.” Doflamingo told while while he slid into his desk chair and lifted the top sheet of paper on one of his piles.

“Oh yeah, good food, good booze. Simply torture.” You drawled sarcastically.

“Go to one you’ve been to them all. Besides there’s no actual entertainment.” Doflamingo explained without taking his eyes from the report of materials expected to be brought to Dressrosa’s SMILE factory in the coming days. “Everyone tries to be sneaky and subtle about their clumsy assassination attempts and seductions and fail spectacularly. Plus the fancier they are, the less blood gets spilled. Boring.”

“Awww poor King Doffy doesn’t get to massacre rich people.” You pouted in false sympathy. “However will you survive such hardships?”

“With admirable dignity and humility.” Doflamingo grinned when you let out a small amused huff at his reply and moved onto the next set of reports. “Why so curious anyway? Would have thought you’d have harsher feelings than I do on fancy nobles and their parties.”

“Being a bodyguard on the sidelines or stationed outside their rooms until they returned isn’t exactly the same as attending.” You shrugged lazily. You weren’t often stationed on those kinds of missions. Normally your assignments were more action and surveillance based. Protecting people of importance and wealth was usually left to those with higher ranks and for the most part those were the easiest jobs about since it was more a precaution than a necessity to have a Marine presence at such events. You hardly needed to worry or think about that now though, given your new place in life. No longer dwelling on it, you focused your attention onto Doflamingo once more.

Silently you were impressed to see how much he’d manage to work through in such a short amount of time. It made you wonder why he’d let it all just gather in the first place. You knew enough by now to know the correspondences, missives, updates and completed reports from subordinates never came through at a rate to make it unmanageable. Because you’d been so ill you hadn’t heard much chatter from the servants that you’d normally pick up on when they were unaware you were in earshot so you had no idea what else was happening with Doflamingo or the rest of Dressrosa. Then you paused, had he neglected everything because you’d been ill? You recalled how nervous everyone was around him while you’d been so close to death. Perhaps it was for the best he’d ignored those reports until now. You noticed his jaw clench slightly as he read over the sheets of paper in his hands before setting it aside to a new pile while making note of something on a different sheet of paper. Had he read that a week ago, there was no telling how he’d have dealt with it and the person who sent the report had no idea how lucky they were.

————

Over the course of the next few days your plans to leave your room were already met and anticipated by Doflamingo before any servant, doctor, or subordinate could find you first. As expected you were brought to his office and dropped on his sofa while he continued to work. Some cases you grabbed a random book from the shelves to flick through to pass the time in between idly talking to Doflamingo or taking a small nap.

For you it was just nice to be somewhere other than your room and you weren’t pestered as much here as you would have been in your room by the still hovering and assessing doctors. Even with your visible improvement they weren’t ready to give you a complete all-clear just yet, their protectiveness and cautiousness stemming from their own need of self-preservation more than anything. For Doflamingo, having the reassurance that you were staying still and technically resting while also being in his line of sight brought him the ability to focus on things again. At least for the most part because today it seemed like you were determined to be restless. You were constantly shifting on the sofa, adjusting the cushions, lifting the current book that had your attention only to close it and set it aside repeatedly.

While he was re-reading the same line of the report for what felt like the tenth time he finally looked up when you rose from the sofa and started walking around the spacious office. Surely you had everything memorised by now but still you casually let your eyes scan everything, searching for something you might have missed or something to capture your unsettled attention. Finally you stopped longer than you had at anything else and Doflamingo sighed when he realised what it was. “Have you been cleared yet for alcohol?”

“Have you given them permission to clear me yet for alcohol?” You asked lazily, turning your head to give him an accusatory stare. Your fingers curled around the handle of the drinks cabinet and slowly opened it, your knowing smile growing when Doflamingo clicked his tongue. Your pressed a little more. “I’m down to medication just once a day now. Just a little one? I’ll even be nice and let you pour.”

Even as you asked you didn’t fully wait for an answer, your fingers were already skimming along the neck of the first bottle you came into contact with, but not firmly taking it yet. Keeping your eyes only on Doflamingo allowed you to at least pretend to be innocent. After a few seconds Doflamingo sat back in his seat and arched his fingers, pulling two glasses from the inside of the cabinet and letting them settle silently onto his desk. Immediately you grabbed the bottle under your touch and brought it to him, perching yourself on the edge of the desk while handing the bottle over. You looked momentarily surprised to see him pour a plentiful amount into the first glass but then you glowered when he poured a pathetic dribble by comparison into the second and pushed it towards you. “Cheers.”

“Gee thanks.” You hummed unenthusiastically. Really you knew to be grateful to even get that much when he could have easily been a bigger asshole and given you a single drop instead. Lifting your glass you took a small sip, deciding to savour the drink you had. The rich taste flooded your mouth and you wanted to drain the glass completely now but knew you had to resist that urge. Forcing yourself to take sips you distracted yourself with the paperwork on the desk.

Your eyes scanned the different locations each report was coming from, places deep into the Grand Line and as far back as the North, South, East, and West Blues. You caught sight of ‘Wano’ on a letter underneath a few other pages and your eyes flickered to Doflamingo. So his criminal empire even had a connection to Kaidou? Deciding you were better off not delving any deeper into things you turned on the desk so you were instead facing the window behind Doflamingo and let your gaze drift upwards. The usually bright blue skies seemed to be gathering more clouds today. While you were silently predicting that rain was going to hit at some point in the day you were pulled from your thoughts when you heard Doflamingo’s pen snap and his voice growling out a curse of anger. “Problem?”

“Weapon shipment got intercepted by the group they were meant to be used on.” Doflamingo growled, casting the missive aside to take a longer drink from his own glass, now in greater need for the sharp alcohol. These things did happen occasionally but it was infuriating all the same. You lifted the paper and scanned over the report. You didn’t see any mention of who the groups were. The name of the island the report came from didn’t ring a bell as being a place under protection or rule of the World Government. Your expression became thoughtful, not escaping Doflamingo’s notice. “What?”

“Civilians aren’t involved in this?” You asked, deciding to address that point before speaking your mind.

“No, it’s a lawless island. Two major criminal groups are fighting over territory.” He explained, sitting back in his seat, propping his foot onto his knee. “What are you thinking?”

“Let the opposing group keep the weapons they intercepted.” You explained, rolling your eyes when Doflamingo interrupted you with a bored, uninterested noise. “Extort a bigger payment for replacement weapons to be sent out to the group it was intended for since they’re clearly compromised and there’s a risk of getting intercepted again.”

“Who said they’re compromised?”

“They probably aren’t but it’ll spread distrust amongst them.” You shrugged, taking the final sip in your glass. “Tensions will be high anyway, no doubt some will already be thinking how their enemies knew about the weapons coming. It’ll lead to infighting, some will most likely defect and start a third group. That third group will need weapons too and they’ll reach out to you.”

Doflamingo’s grin had been spreading the more you talked. Truly you had a diabolical mind when it came to dealing with criminals. So long as it didn’t involve innocents or civilians, you held no remorse for letting criminals hurt or kill each other. It was an added sign you were recovering because the last time he caught a glimpse of this side of you was just before you’d fallen ill and you’d both kissed after he watched you kill. Quickly needing to wipe the memory of the tempting taste of your lips Doflamingo drained his glass and grabbed the bottle of alcohol, pouring another small amount into your glass and then poured into his own.

“I think a plan like that deserves another drink.” He explained, grinning at your confusion over his actions. Slowly you looked up at him and smirked, not going to say no to another glass of the delicious drink. You lifted your glass and this time, you clinked your glass against his in gratitude.

————

As you’d expected rain did fall that night and into the following morning. When you stepped out of your room you were slightly caught off guard to see that Doflamingo was nowhere to be seen. Partly you suspected he was still in the dining room with the family for breakfast and if that was the case you knew it wouldn’t be long before he made his way to his office. As you walked you thought you would have run into him along the way but still he didn’t show. You were confused until you opened the doors and stopped to see Doflamingo already at his desk, reclined back on his seat and from the deep, even breaths you could see he was asleep. His face was obscured by an open book and as you stepped closer you saw it was the one you had been idly reading while he worked.

Standing by the desk you saw that save for a couple of new reports and letters, everything else had been cleared away. Silently you became suspicious that he had decided to work through the night to clear the backlog. Perhaps after coming across the days old report of the intercepted weapon shipment, he didn’t want to risk missing any other important reports. With a small sigh you reached out, beginning to lift the book from his face only to stop when you saw under the cover of the book his glasses were no longer covering his closed eyes. You froze and stared as your attention was firmly grabbed by his face. You knew he was handsome, but without there was just something that heightened his looks now that the glasses no longer obscured his features.

You could finally see the full peacefulness in his expression as he slept. Tilting your head you spotted the pale lashes brushing against his cheeks. You curiously now tried to picture him with different eye colours, trying to work out what suited him best and what the truth was. Looking around you couldn’t see his signature glasses anywhere and you weren’t about to start rifling through Doflamingo’s pockets for them. As carefully as you could you set the book back over his face and took your place on the edge of the desk, deciding to stay close just incase the book fell. In all your time here you knew it was an unspoken rule to never see Doflamingo’s eyes without his permission.

You recalled passing by in the gardens one day to overhear one of the maids shaking in fear as she recounted for her friends that in the middle of one of his attempts to kill you, the glasses had slipped slightly. She explained that she turned her back in time and didn’t see a thing, relieved that Doflamingo was too busy with you to have even questioned what she saw. You remembered how the other servants sympathised with how frightening that must have been while also joining in her relief that no harm befell her for what would have been an accident. Part of you had considered waking him now while it was just the two of you but after seeing how peaceful he was, you decided he needed the rest even if it was for just a little while longer.

That extra time didn’t last long at all. You heard the sound of footsteps approaching and moved on the desk to block more of Doflamingo from their view when they would open the door. However in your adjustment, it caused Doflamingo to stir in his sleep, the book falling to the floor before you could stop it. As you heard the soft knock and handle turning you moved without thinking. Your hand fell over Doflamingo’s eyes while you landed on his chair. With your knees on either side of his legs you made sure to keep all of your weight off of him and turned your head sharply to see who had entered.

“Ah! U-um.” You stared hard at the servant who froze in place at the scene in front of him. For yet another instance in your time on Dressrosa there was an innocent explanation for what was happening but those that intruded saw things differently. From this servant’s perspective you were straddling his King, unable to see you were only doing this for his benefit.

“What is it?” You asked sharply, not knowing how much longer Doflamingo would be asleep for but your tone only served to fluster the servant, mistaking it for frustrated impatience. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to force his mind to work. His floundering however only annoyed you.

“N-no-nothing important!” The servant finally managed to declare once he wasn’t so tongue-tied. “Sorry for intruding!”

You watched the servant bow lowly and scramble to leave the room, pulling the door shut behind him. You let out a sigh at the same time Doflamingo’s chuckle began to build in his chest. Still you remained unmoving, staring down at his laughing face as you kept your hand over his eyes. Only now you could feel that his eyes were open, his lashes brushing against your skin with each relaxed blink.

“Where are your glasses?” You asked, not needing to explain yourself, knowing Doflamingo was awake long enough and smart enough to connect things. Still he laughed at the situation and could already imagine the gossip-hungry servants having this spread through the palace before lunchtime. To lazily answer your question, Doflamingo sat up from his previously reclined position and used his strings to pull his glasses from the top drawer of his desk and let them dangle in the air. With Doflamingo’s change in his seat you were closer against him but still you refused to draw any further attention to how close and intimate this was and how easily it could have been deepened should either of you wishes it to. Instead you kept on the topic at hand. “Aren’t you going to put them on?”

“Don’t you want to see first?” Doflamingo asked in amusement but you could clearly hear the curiosity underneath.

“What horrors await me if I look?” You asked, a small smile curving your lips while Doflamingo’s grin grew. “Everyone’s so scared about what happens if they see, it needs to live up to the hype. Will I turn to stone? Or will I have my eyes gouged out maybe?”

“Does it matter? You’re unaffected regardless of what would await you.” Even though his eyes were covered, Doflamingo could practically hear the bored pout shaping your lips at his answer. “Choice is yours though.”

You weighed the options but ultimately decided that seeing that part of Doflamingo, to see a part of him no one else was allowed to was a step in trust and further closeness you weren’t ready to invite or indulge. Keeping your hand in place you leant over to reach for the glasses suspended in the air. You stilled when you felt Doflamingo’s hand settle on your lower back; not to pull you closer but just to simply keep you steady. You managed to get a firm hold on the glasses and pulled them towards Doflamingo’s face. “Close your eyes.”

Doflamingo smirked and did as you instructed, only feeling the gentle warmth of your touch leave his face when you felt his eyes close firmly and were certain he was going to keep them closed. He felt the cold frames brush against his skin and even after he felt the familiar dark tinted lenses hover over his eyes he still kept them closed. You stared down at him for a moment, amazed at how different he seemed now all because of his glasses. To those who were scared of him, never knowing what lay beneath the very recognisable accessories only added to the menacing and mysterious enigma that was Donquixote Doflamingo. To you though, this was the version of him that you knew and were used to. “Okay, you can open them now.”

“You took your time.” Doflamingo chuckled. “Were you going to change your mind?”

“Nope, was just relishing in you doing as you were told for just a little while longer.”

“Well with a view like this can you blame me? Now I can fully appreciate what got my servant so flustered.”

“Oh shut up.” You lightly rolled your eyes at his teasing, shoving his shoulder as he grinned widely. You finally rose from his lap and crouched down to collect the fallen book from the floor. As you straightened and stronger and clearer knock sounded compared to the soft and meek one the servant had made.

“Doffy, is it okay to come in now?” You frowned at the deep voice, you didn’t recognise the speaker on the other side of the door. Doflamingo knew him though and with a twitch of his finger he pulled the doors open with his ability. You watched the figure enter and you stiffened to see Vice-Admiral Vergo walk into the room, completely at ease. You knew Doflamingo had people working on his behalf from inside the Marines given how well-connected he was but you had no idea it went so high. You remained standing in place by the desk while Vergo came to a stop in front of his, his attention firmly on Doflamingo.

“This is a surprise.” He grinned at his subordinate. “This a social call or is it something more pressing?”

“Social but I’ll be setting off again very soon.” Vergo replied simply. “Decided to stop by on my way to Punk Hazard. Partly I wanted to see your soulmate for myself Doffy, I truly didn’t see that coming when you first told me they rendered your abilities powerless.” Finally Vergo turned his head toward you. “Your personal affects from your Marine lodgings were sent into storage. I brought what I could with me and instructed one of the servants to leave them in your room when I arrived.”

Your personal affects? You frowned slightly at that. Any uniforms you had there would have been reclaimed for officers. The same would have been the case for any of your standard issue weapons. At first you couldn’t think of what would have been snuck out of storage to bring to Dressrosa then your eyes widened. You wasted no time and left the room, moving straight for your room. Seeing you leave so abruptly made Doflamingo’s grin slip slightly, and he looked to his elite officer as he rose from his seat. After having sat for so long through the night finishing his work and sleeping, he now needed to stretch his legs. “What was that about?”

“You’ll find out soon enough. First I need to ask, when I arrive on Punk Hazard am I to check on his progress regarding the research you asked him to look into?”

Doflamingo left the office with Vergo matching his strides, walking in silence as Doflamingo considered the question. In the beginning when the first few attempts to kill you hadn’t worked he’d tasked the scientist to look into the matter of soulmates to find a way to kill you by his own hand. Since there’d been no updates or theories on how to undo fate from him, and with the recent events Doflamingo hadn’t bothered to contact him. “Since he’s yielded no results in the time I’ve given him, tell him to stop and return all of his focus to SAD. The last thing he needs is to fall behind schedule.” Vergo nodded and for a moment Doflamingo thought he’d take his leave immediately. It was never in him to linger, out of a need to ensure the wrong person didn’t spot him in Dressrosa and blow his cover that he was truly on the side of the Donquixote Family. “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss, Vergo?”

“Hm? No. I just wanted to hear first.”

“Hear what?” To answer Doflamingo’s question a sound began to break through the silent corridors. What began as the low testing of a bow against the strings, playing individual chords soon turned into the starting of a song. Immediately it caught his attention, the striking melody building and capturing notice of the rest of the inhabitants within earshot. Vergo let out a low appreciative whistle at the obvious mastery of your playing. Satisfied he bid farewell to Doflamingo and moved towards the palace’s exit while Doflamingo headed closer to the sound of the violin being played finally stopping at the open door. You stood in the middle of the room, eyes closed and lost entirely in the song you were playing. As the song quickened Doflamingo couldn’t help but stare at your fingers moving against the strings under your precise command, noting how they arced and pressed beautifully in a way almost reminiscent of how his own hands moved when he used his strings. Of all the things you had a talent at, of all the instruments you could have known to play, it had to be this. It just had to something that created another similarity and connection between you both and with each one he discovered it made it just an extra bit harder to want to sever it.

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya , @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow

265 notes · View notes

rueclfer · 4 months ago

Text

evergreen

𖤓 part viii. | series m.list | prev | part ix.

you weren't sure how things got to this point.

with one hand, you were clutching onto a fitstful of touya’s t-shirt and in the other you had your fingers wrapped around his outer forearm as it slung over your shoulder.

touya's body weight threatened to drag you down with him as you two stumbled through the woods. with his phone flashlight haphazardly swinging in all directions in his loose grasp, you could only hope you were heading towards the right direction.

"move your fucking feet, touya," you groan, dragging him forward.

"the fuck do you think i'm doing?" he slurs, accidentally kicking the back of your foot for the third time.

you felt hot against the side of his body at all points of contact. your palm was burning against his waist as were your fingertips wrapped around his wrist.

it's fine. it's fine. it’s fine

how did a couple shots turn into another quarter of that handle of vodka? how were you somehow managing fine?

the first time you gotten drunk at camp was during your last summer. hawks and touya made it a tradition to sneak in a bottle or two since you were fourteen, but it wasn't until you were seventeen when tomura was old enough to be invited to partake and the weight of peer pressure had finally cracked you.

that night, you were met with your creator in the woods behind hawks' cabin at an ungodly hour with a blanket hung over your shoulder and touya holding back a fistfull of your hair.

"everyone's first time is like this, don't be embarrassed." he assures, biting back laughter.

"did i ruin it?" you drunkenly sob over a pool of your own vomit.

“no, you were perfect.”

at least this wasn’t that.

you could’ve at least enjoyed this experience and been a bit tipsy, but the responsibility of dragging touya of all people back to your beds was harrowing enough to sober you up.

"my phone died." he groans.

"yeah, i can tell," you huff, staring at the ground in darkness.

"i'm scared."

"of the dark? you're a twenty three year old grown man, babe," you scoff "i'm sure the woods are more scared of you than you are of it."

"in the dark. in the woods. alone. with you." he hiccups.

"i don't bite."

"wish you did."

you hear the smirk in his voice- the familiar teasing tone that never failed to twist your stomach and make your throat go dry. you don't respond.

the buzzing of your cabin's porch light called out to you like an applause at the finish line and you swore you've never been more excited to be reunited with a rock hard twin sized mattress.

“you’re gonna have to walk up a couple steps, okay?”

you pull him closer to you. how cruel would it be to leave him on the front steps of the porch if he doesn’t cooperate? of course you’d bring him a blanket and pillow. it’d be nice to be woken up by the rising sun wouldn’t it?

“heard.” he mumbles, resting his cheek against the side of your head.

you curse to yourself once your cold hand meets the warmth of skin where his t-shirt had ridden up his waist.

you almost reflexively rip your hand away until your fingers twitch against the sudden divide between soft flesh and unfamiliar rough thick grooves running up his torso.

your eyes dart back and forth between the concentration sewn in his furrowed brows, and the front door just steps away. your fingers freeze in place. touya’s focus remains down at his feet. he doesn’t notice.

you let your fingers press into his skin as you help him keep balance up the steps. your index and middle finger push against thick rubbery skin as your ring and pinky finger sink into soft flesh. you don’t know what to make of it.

once you two practically fall into the front door, you think about giving him a glass of water, and laying him on his back. you could let your hands glide up his torso, bringing the ratty band tee up over his head and onto the ground, and you could look at him. really look at him.

that white hair he used to complain about and slather in black hairdye had grown past his ears. did you stop dyeing you hair because you lost the only person you’d let touch it?

he added a few new piercings to his collection. did you do these yourselves again?

his cerulean eyes still has that gleam to them. i still recognize you.

this is the first time you’ve let yourself think about him all day. every time he crossed your mind since your meeting this morning, you’ve been quick to chased it off with a distraction. maybe you were drunk, because for the first time in years, you’re wondering besides the obvious, what’s changed?

a lot could happen in five years. new people. freak accidents. it’s all inevitable.

maybe it's nothing.

a/n: somehow leaning towards canon adjacent dynamics and snippets eeeeeeep and i also feel like we r finally moving the story along kinda sorta so yaay

tags:

@iluv-ace @bitchyfestivalbouquet @redr0sewrites @babylambdietcoke @bnhabadass @hanmastattoos @1ndee @starsryi @nesrynsblog @twoplayergaymers @suksatoru @ita606 @pookiebear16 @fictionalcharactersownmyheart @in-the-marina-trench @haruhi269 @itgetzweird08 @ilophilia @chimimon @emluvs-sugu @punishblue @whorror-complex @akumakitsune21 @maddie-rose-1 @ixeyi @commonmisery @ggriwm @exselily @kryscent @starrmage @vannyinthestars @burnishingbagels @soobhns @kaybug88 @lantsovheiress @0skullyard0 @albakugo @sleepyk0dyz @blu3-l0v3r @bakugouswh0r3 @kaldurahms-lover @thoughtswithbbg

274 notes · View notes

webbluvrsugar · 8 months ago

Text

Spencer Reid x Shy bau!reader: trying to work together.

cw: drabble, fluff, fools in love, mutual pining, you’re both in love and you both can’t see it.

You’re stuck alone in a small kid’s bedroom, pink pillows and princess bedsheets, toys all over the room along with books thrown on the floor, a broken window and a missing plush, you’re supposed to be investigating, but it’s almost like the presence of each other is just too distracting.

The team knows how your two feel for each other even without words needed, the glances you give at each other, the mutual pining that’s been going for months, they’re a bunch of profilers, they see it, and you two are profilers too, you should see it. But you don’t, which led to being put together in cases more times than you could count.

“Reid.” You nod for him to come closer, he does, but not after fumbling with a small toy on his hands, almost letting it fall in the process before putting it on its rightful place on the little girl’s shelf.

When he’s next to you, hands clammy on his gloves, suddenly sweatier than they were, taking just a few more steps without realising and suddenly the room feels tight, you’re both really close to each other, he can see the light flush on your cheeks but brushes it off for another different reason, maybe you have allergies or something, who knows?

“I f — found this.” You smile briefly before raising the it up on his face, a glass shard with hints of blood.

Spencer nods, mostly staring at your face than anything else as you look at him expectantly, clearing his throat before speaking.

“Yeah it… has blood in it, that’s — that’s good for the case.” He pulls out a plastic ziplock bag, handing it to you so you can place it there, closing it for you in the process.

“Let’s just hope it’s the unsub’s.” You flash him another smile again, he nods one more time with you.

You both stay silent, he’s looking over at you and you at him, his body towers over yours, you can feel your heart beating consistently, he parts his lips as if he’s about to say something, but you’re both interrupted by Hotch calling you.

“We should — We should…” you point towards the door.

“Yeah, let’s just.. go.” He nods, you walk away in front of him, he follows behind you.

When you’re both back at the bau, you’re talking to JJ and he’s on the other side of the room, sitting in front of Morgan, staring at you, because he really doesn’t know how but he just can’t get you off his mind. He sips on his coffee, Derek notices where his gaze is thrown at, one of his eyebrow raises, it’s almost like you’re too blind to realise what he’s looking at.

“Pretty boy,” Morgan smirks, Spencer turns his gaze right to you. “Go to her.”

“What? No that’s… she’s talking to JJ, I’m just not gonna go to her and..” he’s quickly interrupted by the man in front of him, who’s clearly skeptical.

“Just go, man.” Derek grabs his mug of coffee, slowly pushing him to him before sitting down.

Spencer finds himself walking towards you, gulping nervously as you turn to him, his eyes going to yours before going down to your other features, the soft plush of your lips, your cheeks, the hair that frames your face.

“Hi.” He speaks, JJ raises an eyebrow, turning to you.

“Hey.” You respond, it’s simple, a single word just like him, the blonde understands and makes a move to leave you two.

“Would you… would you uhm..” he sighs, gripping on to the hem of his sweater. “Would you like to grab lunch with me?”

You turn red almost immediately, turning silent in the process, Spencer slightly frowns, waiting for your answer, it’s been just thirteen seconds and he’s already thinking this is a bad idea, fourteen and you’re still quiet, fifteen, he’s starting to think you don’t even like him and then finally seventeen until you answer.

“Yes, I —“ You chuckle, a bright smile showing from your lips. “I would love that.”

He smiles with you, extends his hand for you to grab it, you do, fingers locking with his in a heartwarming motion, taking slow steps to the exit.

“So, what would you like to eat?” You ask as you keep walking to the elevator.

“Whatever you want to.”

818 notes · View notes

humaling · 22 days ago

Text

Silver Glow of Moonlight.

pairings: finnick odair x reader

summary: finnick finds comfort in your arms after waking up from a nightmare. (based on a req!)

warnings: hurt/comfort, heavily mentions of prostitutions!! the usual hunger games

word count: 3.7k

You and Finnick go back a long way, your lives once running parallel like boats tied to the same dock. Both children of fishermen, both raised on the same windswept shores, and both products of the same weather-beaten district school. It was inevitable, really—how the two of you ended up as friends, bonded over sunburnt afternoons and saltwater in your hair.

But that friendship, like most things touched by the Capitol, didn’t survive for long. When Finnick won the 65th Hunger Games at just fourteen, it felt like the boy who used to yank you out of your house just to see who could catch the biggest fish didn’t come back. Or maybe he did, but not in one piece. The Capitol cheered for their bronze-haired darling while you watched the light drain from someone you once knew. The arena didn’t just kill twenty-three tributes that year—it buried Finnick too, just in a different way.

After that, he shut you out completely. Wouldn’t talk to you, wouldn’t even look at you. It was as if whatever thread tied you to him had been cut clean through. You drifted apart like a boat slipping quietly from its moorings, vanishing into open water.

And strangely enough, it didn’t destroy you the way you thought it might. Maybe it was because, deep down, you’d already mourned him the second his name was drawn. Because how could a boy who spent his days spearfishing in the shallows and racing you along the beach possibly survive the carnage waiting in that arena? You’d made peace with losing him long before the cannon sounded.

But tides are strange things. They go out, yes—but sometimes, they come back in. And by the time you turned seventeen, Finnick had returned to your life like the sea reclaiming what it once lost.

You remember that day in piercing detail. The way the air seemed to split open as your name was pulled from the reaping bowl. The stunned silence that followed. The sand clinging to your feet as you staggered toward the stage, every step heavy with dread. The look on Finnick’s face as he stood among the crowd, pale and sick, like someone had reached inside his chest and yanked something vital out. You remember your mother’s sobs, wild and raw, and your father’s arms straining to hold her back as Peacekeepers pulled them away.

Everything after blurred together into something distant and warped, like trying to recall a nightmare through fog. But even through all that, there were moments you remember with painful clarity—like the way Finnick seemed to breathe life back into your fading memories. He was everywhere in those first days, relentless in his efforts to prepare you, to give you even the slimmest chance. Advice poured out of him in frantic waves, strategy after strategy until your mind felt like it might split. Mags had to physically drag him away at times, gently reminding him that even soldiers need rest.

And then came the morning of your departure. The sky was wide and painfully blue, the sun casting long streaks of gold across the rooftops of the Tribute Center. A hovercraft hummed quietly, waiting just beyond the edge of the platform. Peacekeepers stood nearby, silent and stiff. You remember your heart pounding so loud it nearly drowned out the sound of your name being called. And Finnick—he was there, waiting for you beside the metal steps, his expression strained and tight, like he was barely holding himself together.

He didn’t speak right away. He just looked at you—really looked at you—with something like desperation burning behind his eyes. And when he finally spoke, it wasn’t the soft reassurance you expected. It was firm. Fierce. He told you that if you wanted to survive, you couldn’t just try. There was no room for hesitation or half-measures. You had to fight. You had to want it so badly it burned through every bone in your body. He told you he’d do everything he could to protect you—but only if you swore, right then and there, that you wouldn’t give up.

And you did. You promised him, with dry lips and shaking hands, that you would survive.

You kept that promise. You made it back. Crowned victor of the 68th Hunger Games, still gasping for air, still blinking away the blood and the lights and the thunder of Capitol applause. Still too young, still too stunned, still foolish enough to think that survival meant freedom.

But Finnick knew better. He’d seen how Snow worked—how he waited, patient as a snake in the grass, until cracks began to form. And despite everything Finnick had done to shield you, Snow found his way in. All it took was one carefully delivered threat, one whispered promise of death, and the walls Finnick had built around you crumbled. Just like that, Snow reached you. And once he had you, he didn’t let go.

Snow exploited you in ways you can barely bring yourself to say, the kind that digs into your bones and never really leaves. But the one that broke you completely came the day he asked—no, ordered—you to attend to a special client of his. You should’ve known better. Should’ve said something to Finnick. Should’ve run, screamed, fought—but it was too late. The damage was done. And there was no undoing it.

You never told Finnick. Not because you didn’t want to—but because you couldn’t. You were too ashamed. Too furious with yourself for being so stupid, so blind. How could you not see the signs? How could you not understand what Snow really meant with his polished words and polite smile? Maybe he was right. Maybe you were too naive for this world. Too soft. Too foolish.

And so you kept quiet. You endured. Night after night, you were passed around like a prized possession, warming beds that smelled of wine and power and violence. The pain they gave you wasn’t always physical, but it lingered deeper than any bruise ever could. Your clients didn’t just take their pleasure—they stripped you of everything: your pride, your voice, your sense of self. Until you were left staring blankly at the ceiling above rich satin sheets, unmoving, numb, praying to whatever gods might be listening that they would take you in your sleep and be done with it.

When Finnick found out, it wasn’t because you told him. He wasn’t supposed to know. Not yet—not ever, if you had your way. But Finnick had always been too perceptive for his own good. He knew something was off the second you stepped off the train after a three-month stay in the Capitol. That length of time, that kind of assignment—he didn’t need to ask. He’d been there before. He knew what it meant.

He didn’t push. He never asked directly. But he watched, closely. You couldn’t take a breath without feeling the weight of his gaze. He hovered like a ghost—quiet, relentless. He knew. Even if you never said it, he knew.

It all unraveled the day he caught you off guard.

You thought he was gone, finally distracted or pulled away—but he wasn’t. Finnick had come back, maybe to ask if you’d eaten, maybe just to see your face again. He hadn’t meant to barge in. But he did.

And there you were—half-dressed, your shirt slipping off your shoulder, exposing skin that should have never seen the light. His expression shifted instantly, from surprise to something darker. His eyes dropped, locking onto the marks scattered across your body like stains on porcelain.

“Who did this to you?” His voice was quiet, controlled, but laced with a rage that made the room feel colder. He stepped forward slowly, eyes scanning each bruise, some still raw and purple, others fading yellow like dying stars. His hands hovered near you but never touched—until you flinched.

That was what did it. That single, involuntary recoil. The way you pulled away from him, like he might hurt you too. It shattered something in him. You could see it on his face—the heartbreak, the betrayal, the helplessness.

You tried to speak, but the words tangled in your throat and collapsed into a sob. The dam broke without warning. Your knees hit the wooden floor with a harsh thud, and all at once the grief came pouring out, shaking your body with the kind of cry that made your chest burn. Finnick dropped beside you without a second thought, gathering you into his arms, careful, gentle, as if you might break beneath his touch. He held you close without pressing too hard, arms curled around you like he could shield you from every memory.

That night, a silent understanding formed in the spaces between each whispered truth. You told him everything. Every bitter detail. Every horror that came after your victory tour. There was no point in holding anything back anymore—what dignity did you have left, when it had already been stolen from you by hands that touched and claimed you like property?

Finnick didn’t flinch. Instead, he told you his truth too, peeling away the mask he wore so effortlessly. And it floored you—because you never expected it. Never imagined that Finnick, with his charm and bright Capitol smile, was carrying the same weight. But he was. He always had been. You cried for him too, the way he cried for you, and the two of you stayed there on the cold floorboards, tangled together, broken and bleeding and finally seen.

As time passed, so did the tide. It always pulled deeper, sometimes farther than you thought it ever would—but it always returned to the shore. That’s how you came to understand your relationship with Finnick. A constant ebb and flow, shaped by trust and the quiet vulnerability you shared in the hollow of sleepless nights, when the nightmares clung so tightly to your chest that you couldn’t bear to close your eyes.

You and Finnick moved like one. Attached at the hip—where he went, you followed, and where you stumbled, he steadied you. Always watching each other’s backs, always circling just close enough to keep the Capitol guessing. It wasn’t just habit—it was survival. And it worked. Most of the Capitol’s elite tired of your closeness, irritated by the way you hovered over one another like a pair of stubborn shadows. But some—most, in fact—found it thrilling. They took pleasure in watching you both, fascinated by the way you moved in rhythm, in step, as if you were made from the same breath. There was a kind of beauty in it, they said. A kind of chemistry. And that only made the offers more frequent, more invasive.

There were nights when one of you came back from a meeting quieter than usual—eyes glassy, shoulders rigid, mouth set in that too-still line. Neither of you ever had to ask. The other just knew.

Sometimes, it was Finnick who would come in, jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might crack. He’d drop his coat onto the floor without a word, his hands trembling just enough for you to notice. You wouldn’t ask what happened. You’d just rise from the edge of the bed and walk over to him, pulling his hands into yours, guiding him to sit. You’d wash the glitter off his face with a damp cloth, even if it wasn’t yours to clean, murmuring small things—pointless things—just to fill the silence. He wouldn’t speak, not at first. He’d just watch you, his gaze softening like waves retreating from the shore. And when he finally lay down beside you, he’d press his forehead to your shoulder and whisper, “I’m okay,” like it wasn’t a lie.

Other times, it was you. You’d return to your shared suite on unsteady legs, the Capitol perfume still clinging to your skin like rot. Finnick would be waiting—he was always waiting—and the moment you stepped inside, his expression would change. He never said your name. He didn’t have to. He just pulled you into his arms before the mask slipped off your face. He held you through the shaking, through the tears you refused to let fall until the door was closed behind you. He never asked you to talk, but he’d stay up all night if you needed him to. Sometimes you just lay there in silence, your head on his chest, counting each breath like it might steady the ache inside you.

There were moments in public, too—subtle things that no one seemed to notice unless they were watching closely. When a client reached too far, too fast, Finnick’s hand would already be at your lower back, gently guiding you away under the pretense of a dance. When someone whispered something cruel in Finnick’s ear, your fingers would brush his knuckles, anchoring him before he could react. Sometimes it was a glance across the room. A nod. A hand on the knee under a long tablecloth. Little things that said: I’m here. I see you. I won’t let them break you.

And they tried. Oh, they tried.

But the Capitol never really understood that you weren’t just two victors thrown together by convenience. You were tethered—by pain, by shared nightmares, by promises whispered into the dark and sealed in blood. You didn’t just survive together. You endured. You healed, in the only ways you could.

Sometimes, healing looked like Finnick drawing a warm bath for you and sitting just outside the tub with his back turned, humming some old tune from home until your breathing evened out. Sometimes it looked like you helping him wash his hair, your fingers gentle against his scalp while he sat half-awake, too tired to speak but grateful beyond words. Sometimes it was curling up together in silence, his thumb tracing the scar along your collarbone, your hand pressed over the steady beat of his heart.

It was never perfect but it was real. And in the world you were forced to live in, that was the only thing that ever felt like home.

It had been a while since you and Finnick shared a bed. The nightmares weren’t as relentless as they used to be—not since you both returned to District 4 two months ago. Slowly, quietly, you’d begun slipping back into the dull rhythms of everyday life. No more scrambling for weapons in the dark. No more waking in a cold sweat after a night with a client. Things were a bit calmer now, still fragile, but no longer constantly unraveling. And that peace gave you both room to breathe, to exist separately. Nights like this had become more common—alone, but not lonely.

You knew Finnick was just a few doors down, staying in the room by the end of the hallway. He liked sleeping near the window, where the ocean was visible from the moment he opened his eyes. You, on the other hand, stayed near the stairs—instinct, mostly. In case something went wrong. In case someone came. That paranoia never really left you. You weren’t sure it ever would. Even now, in the safety of your district, knowing that no one could reach you here, the dread lingered. Because how could it not, when you lived with a president who preferred to gut people slowly—with favors and secrets instead of blades?

You were halfway lost in thought when the soft creak of your door pulled you back. Your head snapped up on instinct, breath caught in your throat, heart thudding.

But it was only Finnick.

Relief bloomed in your chest the moment you saw him, his figure framed in the moonlight like a ghost coming home. You hadn’t heard his footsteps in the hall, which made your pulse stutter in that split second of confusion. He’d always been quiet, but tonight he was silent in a way that made your skin prickle.

“Finnick?” Your voice came out low and hoarse, rough from hours spent saying nothing, staring at the ceiling, sinking into memory.

“Hi,” he murmured, and the word cracked a little at the edges. Tired. Strained. Something wasn’t right.

You squinted through the dim light to get a better look. He stood just inside your doorway, shoulders curled inward like he was trying to make himself smaller. His hands fidgeted with the doorknob behind him, and his weight shifted restlessly from foot to foot. His head hung low, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Finnick,” you said again, sitting up, concern sharpening your tone.

That’s when his eyes finally lifted to yours, and you saw it.

The wild panic still swimming behind them. The dazed, unfocused look that came after a nightmare—the kind that clung to him long after he woke. The moonlight caught on his cheek, and you saw the dried salt lines trailing down from his eyes.

You didn’t hesitate. You reached out your hand.

He didn’t move at first. Just looked at you like he wasn’t sure he was allowed. Like he might break whatever fragile peace the two of you were keeping tonight. But when you wiggled your fingers again, urging him closer, he caved.

He moved quickly after that—long, purposeful strides across the room. The bed dipped beneath his weight as he slid in beside you without a word. The comforter shifted as he pulled it over his body, fitting against you like he never left. His head found its place on your chest, just over your heart, and you let your arm wrap around his shoulders. Your fingers found their rhythm—slow, soothing circles against his skin. His breath hitched once, then settled.

And in that quiet, where only the beating of your heart filled the room, he let himself fall apart in your arms without saying a single word.

You feel the rise and fall of Finnick’s chest against your side, the way he breathes through his nose slowly, as if he’s trying to calm a storm that’s already passed but left wreckage behind. His fingers curl slightly into your shirt, holding just enough to feel anchored, but not enough to cling. You don’t speak at first, letting the silence settle around you like fog rolling in from the sea.

Eventually, he shifts. Just barely. His voice is soft, muffled against your skin.

“I hate when it feels real,” he murmurs.

You don’t need to ask what he means. You’ve been there, too—caught in those dreams where the Capitol drags you back into its velvet cage and paints your smile in blood.

“What was it this time?” you ask gently, keeping your hand moving, never stopping.

He pauses, like the words are stuck in his throat. Then, slowly, “You weren’t here.”

You blink, surprised, but you don’t say anything yet. He keeps talking, voice growing quieter with each word.

“They took you somewhere. Somewhere I couldn’t get to. I kept looking, but every hallway led back to that stupid white room with the glass floors. I could hear you screaming, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t move.”

You press your hand a little firmer against his shoulder, grounding him. “I’m here,” you whisper. “I didn’t go anywhere.”

Finnick lets out a shaky breath, his hand fisting gently in the fabric of your shirt.

“I know. I just—” He swallows. “It felt like it did when I thought I lost you. After your first client.”

You close your eyes for a moment. That memory, heavy and cold, settles in your chest like a stone. There are things that don’t need to be said aloud anymore. Not between the two of you. They live in the quiet between heartbeats, in the way your hand doesn’t stop moving, in the way Finnick presses himself closer to you like he needs proof you’re not going to vanish the moment he falls asleep again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you tell him. “And if they try to take me again, they’ll have to go through you first.”

That earns the faintest huff from him, something caught between a laugh and a scoff.

“They’d have better luck wrestling a shark,” he mumbles.

You smile faintly, tilting your head so your chin rests atop his hair. “That’s the spirit.”

There’s another pause, then his voice, quiet again: “Promise me.”

Your hand stills for a moment. Then you start again, even slower, more deliberate.

“I promise,” you say. “But only if you promise too.”

Finnick shifts, just enough to look up at you. His sea-green eyes are dull, tired, but filled with something deeper—something heavy and real. He doesn’t say it out loud, but he doesn’t need to.

His fingers gently squeeze your side.

You feel him begin to loosen, the tension easing from his body piece by piece, like waves pulling back from the shore. His breathing evens out against your chest, his arm settling around your waist more heavily now, no longer braced like he’s ready to fight his way out of the dream.

“I used to think the worst part was the pain,” he murmurs after a long pause, his voice slurred slightly with fatigue. “But it’s not. It’s the quiet. The quiet after.”

You hum softly, fingers brushing through his salt-tangled hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp the way you know soothes him best. “The quiet makes it real.”

Finnick nods faintly, barely moving. “It’s when I remember the names.”

Your hand pauses, then continues. “You don’t have to say them tonight.”

“I know,” he mumbles. “But they’re loud sometimes.”

You don’t answer. There’s no fix for this, no magic words that’ll unmake what’s already been done. All you can do is offer your body as shelter for the storm he carries. You press a soft kiss into his hair.

“You’re safe, Finnick. I’ve got you.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Then, barely audible, a whisper shaped by exhaustion:

“I like your heartbeat.”

You blink, lips parting, but no words come. He’s already sinking, eyelids fluttering once, then again, before they stay shut for good. His breath warms your skin in slow, even intervals. The weight of his body becomes heavier, less tense, completely at ease.

In the silver glow of moonlight, his features soften. The lines between his brows fade. His lips, slightly parted, twitch with the remnants of something dreamlike—something quieter than nightmares. Something gentler. Maybe your heartbeat, maybe not.

You don’t dare move. You let him stay curled against you, counting the rise and fall of his chest and the way his hair tickles your collarbone.

And as the quiet finally settles into comfort instead of dread, you find yourself whispering the words you didn’t get to say earlier.

“I like yours too.”

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #the hunger games x reader

243 notes · View notes