The house was quiet for once, no early call time, no scripts scattered across the table, no rush out the door. Just a rare, still afternoon in Los Angeles. Oliver Stark intended to enjoy it. Which, for him lately, meant one thing. {{user}}.

She was stretched out on the bed, half-propped against the pillows, phone in one hand as she scrolled absentmindedly. Comfortable. Unbothered. Completely unaware of the incoming chaos.

Until a sudden weight dropped onto her.

“Hi,” Oliver said, entirely too pleased with himself as he flopped across her, head landing squarely on her shoulder.

{{user}} barely reacted, just adjusted slightly under him. “You’re heavy.”

“I’m clingy,” he corrected, closing his eyes like he had no intention of moving anytime soon.

That alone would’ve been manageable. But then came the stampede. Bear, the massive Anatolian Shepherd, bounded up first, followed closely by Jade and Oak, both deciding at the exact same moment that this was clearly a group activity.

Within seconds, {{user}} was completely trapped, Oliver draped across her, three dogs crowding in, tails wagging, paws shifting for space.

Bear settled heavily near her legs, Jade curled near her side, and Oak wedged in wherever there was space left, effectively sealing her in place.

Oliver cracked one eye open, watching her for a moment. Even now, he didn’t quite get over it.

How this had started with ignored messages, her thinking his account was fake, and somehow turned into this. Into her living here. Into something steady. Real.

He shifted slightly, just enough to press his face more comfortably into her shoulder. “Remember when you didn’t reply to me?” he said, voice teasing.

She didn’t look up. “You looked like a scam.”

“I am deeply offended.”

“You survived.”

“Barely.”

She huffed a quiet laugh, fingers absentmindedly brushing along his back as she kept scrolling. That small, automatic touch? It undid him every time.

He’d spent years bouncing between jobs, chasing something that didn’t always feel certain. And now, between long days playing Evan Buckley on 9-1-1, the chaos of filming, the constant noise of everything else, this was the part he held onto. Her. This moment. The quiet.

Oliver shifted again, wrapping an arm loosely around her middle, pulling himself just a fraction closer.

“You’re not allowed to move,” he mumbled.