#adjustable banner stands

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤA DATE WITH MY BOYFRIEND'S GAY BROTHER * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　Where at the Charlotte, NC show of the Sturniolo Triplets Surprise Party Tour, the surprise revealed by Nick is a date with Y/N, Matt's girlfriend.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader || Nick Sturniolo x best friend!reader　　　　　　　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

The big screen flicked for a millisecond before showing the banner with 'SURPRISE' written in big white letters, making the entire venue buzz.

On stage, the two orange couches sat like home, like that warm familiarity everyone already associated with the boys after three shows in a row.

Matt and Chris sat side by side on the right couch, Matt with his legs crossed and hands holding a mug, while Chris leaned comfortably against two cushions.

Y/N, whose eyes shined with pride and excitement, sat in her usual front-row center spot, the seat she’d occupied every night since the first show - a spot that the fandom named as her own little throne.

She wore her usual smile, the one that was soft and private when she was thinking about Matt, but also smug and knowing tonight, because this surprise... she knew exactly what it was.

The screen above the boys flickered again to show a countdown before finally transmitting them dressed up in suits, taking a collective inhale from the audience.

And then it finally stopped, fading into a crisp video of Nick standing in front of a camera, looking directly into it while adjusting his tie. The second he gave a crooked little smile, the entire theater erupted in cheers.

"I’m terrified." Nick's voice came from the mic in a singsong tone, scrunching his nose. "This is my first one."

Chris and Matt smiled widely, watching Nick's excitement as he explained the dynamics of the live broadcast channel and the hint he was going to show to the public.

As the crowd cheered louder, Matt and Chris got up from their current spots, changing to where Nick was seconds before while Nick himself made his way to one of the prop shelves on stage, reaching inside it.

His hand came back holding a single rose. Deep red, long stem, elegant as hell.

"A... rose?"

Chris tilted his head, already squinting like he was trying to read Nick��s mind. Matt just blinked at the rose, deeply frowning. Mutual laugh echoed from everyone as Nick made a show of putting the stem between his pink lips.

"Matt." Nick voice sounded muffle before taking the rose off of between his lips. "For you."

Matt cackled, taking it, then turned to the camera and pointed.

"It’s giving Bachelor a little bit. But I don't know."

Chris leaned in, taking it out of Matt’s hand when the middle triplet tilted it in his direction, resting his arm above his popped up knee.

"I’m guessing you went on a date or something."

Nick raised his eyebrows and gave a slow, knowing smirk.

Y/N could barely contain her own. Her right leg was bouncing slightly now, hands gripping each other above her jeans covered thighs like she was physically holding in the excitement.

"Alright, let’s have one person in the crowd to take a guess." Nick turned to the crowd.

Cheers. Screams. Hands flying into the air.

"One of the crew’s out there with a mic, they’ll pick someone. Choose wisely, we’re trusting you."

The spotlight scanned the crowd for a moment before it settled three rows behind Y/N. A mic was handed to a girl with long dark and a white shirt, trembling hands holding her phone and the mic.

"Hello! What’s your name?" Nick asked, the mic still in his hand, voice soft and sweet.

"Harlow." She said, a little breathlessly.

"Nice to meet you." Nick said, stretching his body above the cushions. "What do you think I did completely by myself, without Matt and Chris?"

She paused. A deep breath.

"You got a boyfriend?"

The crowd exploded in cheers, Matt and Chris laughing while holding up the rose. They knew that it wasn't that. I mean, they would know if it was. Right?

Y/N was laughing behind her hand, affectionately rolling her eyes with how Matt turned in his seat to look at her, silently mouthing 'WHAT IF IT’S TRUE?', and she just smiled, shaking her head.

Just you wait.

Nick turned back to the camera, now walking toward the empty couch again. He plopped down onto it, casually crossing one leg over the other.

"I hope you are all entertained." He started again. "And unfortunately, there’s a lack of a man in this surprise..." He paused, eyes gleaming. "BUT, let’s get into it and see what I actually did."

The big screen turned black for a second. A heartbeat passed.

Y/N inhaled, smile stretching wider.

The screen lit up with a soft, white light. The camera was steady on one very familiar hallway: the upstairs floor by Nick’s bedroom, right outside of it. There, standing right in front of the plain white wall, back straight, and plastic bottle of water in hand, was Nick.

Except, something about him looked... off. Not off in a bad way. Just... different.

And Matt, who had been watching the screen in full chill-mode, arms folded loosely, mic resting in his lap, squinted.

Because Nick looked exactly like him.

The jeans were wide-leg, same wash, same stitching, same fit Matt had been wearing during their trip to Milan a few months back - the pair that always sat too low on his hips unless he wore the belt that squeaked when you pulled it tight. He had on a black leather jacket zipped up halfway to the neck, and even though it covered most of the shirt underneath, Matt could already tell from the slightly bunched collar that it was one of his whites. The expensive kind. The kind he only let hang-dry. And the shoes?

Nick's body shifted ever so slightly, and Matt's confirmation was right there.

On Nick’s feet were Matt's black Prada loafers. The ones he was gifted by Prada itself.

Matt narrowed his eyes, eyebrows pulling slightly together as he leaned toward his mic, raised it to his lips, and with voice low but sharp enough to carry through the speakers, he asked.

"Is that my clothes?"

But Video-Nick’s voice just kept going, twisting the cap off the water bottle in his hand and taking a long sip before exhaling.

"I am so nervous." He said, eyes darting to the side for a second before returning to the lens. "Actually, that’s not true. I feel confident. I feel happy. And excited."

Chris snorted under his breath beside Matt, but Matt didn’t even look at him, didn’t move his eyes away from the screen. Brow furrowed, head tilted just slightly to the right with his mic still half-raised, resting lazily against his lower lip, but he didn’t say anything else. Yet.

"For this tour surprise." Nick kept going, stepping forward slightly so the camera picked up the shine on the leather of his - Matt's - jacket. "I decided I’m gonna do something that I have never done before."

Another pause.

"You’re probably asking yourself, 'Nick, what have you never done before?'" Nick continued, gesturing to the lens with the bottle. "And don’t worry. I’m about to tell you."

Chris's brows rose ever so slightly.

"Today, I'm going on a date."

The moment that word left his mouth, the theater shifted. Screams bounced around the walls, and every pair of shoulders jolted forward at the exact same time.

And then Nick's voice echoed again.

"But not with a man." He added, a twinkle in his eye. "I’ve never been on a date with a woman in my life, and it's happening today." He said, water bottle swinging from one hand. "Which, for me, is kinda crazy. Especially when you think about how me, Matt and Chris are literally the most emotionally avoidant men on YouTube. We don’t talk about this stuff. We don’t share this stuff."

Matt nodded sideways. Half truth.

"And yes, I am clearly a gay person." He went on. "So, this isn’t the beginning of some tragic reality where I go into conversion therapy. Absolutely not."

The audience snorted. Chris laughed out loud and dropped his head onto the back of the couch dramatically.

"But as a self-proclaimed gay best friend to many women." He said. "It occurred to me that if I’m gonna be giving them relationship advice, and dragging the men they date through the mud - which I will continue to do - then I need to know what I’m talking about. To have the certainty that I would, in fact, be a better boyfriend and man than whatever nonsense they’re dealing with."

And that’s when Matt’s brows twitched up again, this time with something behind his eyes.

Because Nick was smiling now.

Smiling that smile. The proud one. The one that only meant he was about to do something that absolutely no one ever thought that he would do.

"And as much as I may not like dating women." He said, shoulders rising with his grin. "I found the perfect ideal woman to share my first date with."

A long pause.

"And her name is Y/N L/N."

The theater cracked open with noise, a full screaming chaos.

Matt’s mouth dropped open.

His hand slowly went up to the mic, almost in slow motion.

"WHAT?"

The audience laughed harder.

Chris had thrown his head back, laughing so loud it echoed.

"Oh my God."

Matt blinked a few times, still watching the screen even though he wasn’t paying attention to anything Nick kept saying, then turned his head toward the audience.

"There’s no way. There’s no way."

He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees, soft blue eyes meeting Y/N’s.

"Nick thinks he’s gonna take my girl on a date and be a better man than me?" He asked, feigning dramatic disbelief.

Loud laughs echoed from the crowd while Y/N only watched her boyfriend with the widest smile, crossing her arms in front of her stomach, lazily shrugging.

Matt shook his head with the most dramatic eye-roll and leaned back in his seat.

"That’s my Prada jacket." He muttered into the mic, aggressively pointing at the screen. "And she's now apparently his date."

The video cut for a millisecond before Nick appeared again. In his hands, he held a bouquet of pink lilies - huge, fresh, wrapped in parchment-like paper, and tied with a silky pale ribbon that fluttered a bit when he moved.

"First step and it's already something that makes me a better boyfriend than all the boyfriends in the market, is that I'm showing up with flowers."

The flowers were beautiful. Soft pink petals curling outward like open arms, green stems still dewy.

"Obviously, pink lilies. She’s obsessed. And I don't know this just ‘cause I've heard her talking about it many times before, but because Matt literally never shuts the fuck up about how she likes this color, that flower, how she hates yellow roses and loves lilies ‘cause of the smell, the texture, the aesthetic... I could write a thesis on this girl’s floral preferences."

A gentle ripple of laughter ran through the theater. A few girls leaned into each other smiling, and a couple of people tilted their heads with soft little "aww"s.

On the orange chair, Matt blinked slowly, and then tilted his head back with a grin that couldn’t quite decide if it was amused or if he was just realizing how often he talked about Y/N without even noticing. Chris gave him a light nudge with his elbow, watching Matt shaking his head, laughing quietly, resting his cheek against his fist.

Then, in a single flicker of an edit, the video jumped forward.

"Okay, I'm going down now." Nick’s voice echoed in a hushed whisper, the camera following him from his right hand as he came down the winding staircase, kneeling down at the middle landing, right where the stairs turned, and left the bouquet there.

The video cut again, smooth and still steady, now framing the living room. Y/N was sitting on the cream-colored couch, legs crossed, her dress flowing around her knees in gentle waves. She had her phone in her hand, and she was scrolling with one finger, nails painted the exact color of dried roses.

"He-ey." Nick entered the shot again, adjusting the camera quickly as he placed it above the coffee table, tilting it just enough to frame both of them.

Y/N looked up, and her whole face lit up like the sun. Her smile came fast and wide, eyes sparkling even more than the subtle shimmer dusted across her cheekbones.

"Oh my God, hi!" She beamed at the camera. "Hi, people!"

Matt smiled quietly at her reaction, fingertips meeting the golden commitment ring decorating his left hand.

Nick turned to Y/N onscreen and grinned.

"Got something for you. Don’t move." He said, pointing at her with mock-seriousness.

She pressed her lips together, nodding like she was holding in a laugh.

"Okay, okay. I’ll be good."

As soon as he turned away toward the stairs, she glanced at the camera again, her eyes wide with playful disbelief. She leaned in just slightly, bringing her hand to the side of her mouth as if whispering to the camera.

"He's such a gentleman, right?"

A few girls in the audience audibly awww’d under their breath followed by a scoffed "yeah, right" coming from Matt.

Back on screen, Nick returned with the bouquet in hand, a gentle smile still on his face, holding it out to her like it was something fragile. Y/N’s mouth fell open, and then she gasped, eyebrows raising as she reached for it.

"Are you serious?" She said, her voice that high-pitched kind of delighted. "Oh my God- Nick!"

He handed it to her, and she buried her face in it for a second, eyes fluttering closed with the sweet smell of lillies. When she looked up at him again, there was a soft, wonderstruck little smile on her lips.

"How did you know pink lilies were my favorite?"

Nick tilted his head a bit, giving her a look that was fond and offended in the softest way.

"You really asking me that?"

Y/N laughed, the sound bubbling out of her. She shook her head as she leaned toward him, wrapping her arms around his middle in a hug. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, and he smiled while squeezing her back, resting his cheek on top of her head for a beat before taking a step back.

Matt let out a slow breath through his nose, blinking.

"Oh wow." He raised his eyebrows to the crowd, voice echoing from his mic.

"Kid really took your girl from you." Chris giggled a little, slapping a hand over Matt's thighs.

Matt shook his head like he couldn’t even process it.

"Yeah. You’re telling me he wore my shirt, my jacket, my loafers, brought my girl pink lilies, and hugged her like that?"

He laughed to himself, dramatically leaning back in his seat and covering his mouth with his fist for a moment before looking at Chris, defeated.

"Nah, I can’t compete with that, bro." He said into the mic, totally deadpan. "He’s literally the better man. I give up. The man brought her lilies. I barely even water the lilies I give her."

Everyone cracked up.

Video-Y/N then turned and started walking toward the kitchen table on the opposite end of the room.

"I’m gonna leave these over here and promise I’ll put them in a vase when we’re back, okay?" Her shoes clicked softly on the floor, and as she passed the camera still recording them from the coffee table, she glanced at it with the gentlest smile.

"Don’t forget." Nick called out, followed by her voice, 'Never!'.

Once she reached the kitchen table, she carefully set the bouquet down in the center before turning back around, her arms now free, and looked over at Nick with this childlike little grin on her face.

"So... what are the plans for our date?" She asked, tilting her head, the corner of her mouth tugging up even higher.

Nick let out a short laugh, rolling his eyes.

"I’m taking you to lunch. It’s a surprise, though... Well, not that much of a surprise since you’re gonna have to drive because someone." He said, pointing to himself dramatically. "Doesn’t have a license. But I’m putting the address on the GPS, so like... You don't see the restaurant's name."

Y/N blinked. And then snorted. Loudly.

"Wow. Romantic and chauffeur duties. I’m spoiled." She said with this exaggerated eye-roll as she walked over to the couch again, grabbing her purse and then her car keys from the small coffee table, right next to where the camera was still perched.

"I cannot believe you just told me that I'm a terrible date." He gasped, hand to his chest like she’d just stabbed him in the heart, reaching over and picking up the camera with one hand, rearranging it on his hands so it could keep filming her as she slung her purse over her shoulder.

Y/N raised both brows as she walked toward the front door.

"I didn't, but if the shoe fits..." She mumbled under her breath with a smirk, not even turning around.

The screen cut abruptly with a soft pop. When it came back on, they were already in Y/N’s car. The camera was above the dashboard, framing both of them perfectly from the passenger and driver’s seat.

Nelly Furtado’s "Say It Right" played in the background, just loud enough to be heard over the gentle hum of traffic through the closed windows. Y/N had her hands on the wheel, sunglasses on, her mouth mouthing part of the chorus.

Nick leaned back against the seat after making sure that the camera was recording.

"Okay, so we’re on our way." He said, voice smooth. "Probably almost there, and Y/N hasn't complained about not knowing where we're going not even once."

"Do I have an option?" She cut in, raising one brow without taking her eyes off the road.

Nick grinned, shaking his head.

"No."

Y/N turned her head just slightly toward the camera, her lips curling up with this sly glint in her eye.

"So that's how it feels like to be Matt." She teased, lifting her hand from the steering wheel to move it around, indicating the driver's seat and the camera.

Nick cracked up instantly, his laugh loud and sudden.

"Yeah, but he's usually quieter."

"Hey!" Matt shook his head with a half-smile, hiding it behind his mic. "That was rude, Nick."

"Oh, shut up."

The video kept rolling.

Nick glanced toward Y/N, the sound of the turn signal clicking as she slowed near a red stop sign.

"So, am I doing good? Like, for a first date? How’s this holding up against all your past ones?"

Y/N slowed the car and gave him the most incredulous look.

"Nick. Literally... Matt was my only first date ever."

Nick blinked like his brain had short-circuited for a second.

"Oh my god. I forgot that you guys are, like... literal high school sweethearts." He said, squinting at her. "Like, you’ve been together since you were fifteen. That’s wild."

Y/N nodded.

"And you’re still winning the first date contest." She said with a small shrug, tossing him a look that was half playful, half sincere.

Nick smiled smugly.

"I knew it. I knew I was the man. I am the man."

"Okay, straight man." She said with a snort, rolling her eyes again, but grinning wide as the light turned green and she stepped on the gas. "Sounding just like Taylor Swift right now."

Nick leaned forward toward the camera.

"Someone put that on a t-shirt. 'I Am the Straight Man'."

Y/N was still giggling.

"You should create merch with that." She said through a breath. "But like, my first date with Matt was cute too, okay? He planned this whole picnic thing at our neighborhood park, and he brought that one book I was obsessed with and read it out loud to me while we sat under the big tree near the swings. And he made Mary Lou help him cook pasta salad in a mason jar. I still have the jar back in Boston."

Nick melted visibly, slouching against the seat with a hand over his heart.

"You guys are disgustingly adorable."

"They are, aren't they?" Chris chuckled from the couch, shaking his head while pressing the mic against his bottom lip, turning his head to Matt just to see him looking down at Y/N, who blew a kiss to him, causing his ears to turn into a pinkish hue.

The screen cut for a second again, and now they were at the restaurant.

The camera was slightly tilted, clearly propped up on the table against something - maybe a water glass or the pepper shaker - because the angle was a little off-center, catching more of Y/N than Nick.

The lighting was warm and golden due to the afternoon hour. Behind them, there were plants hanging from the ceiling, twinkle lights twisted around exposed wooden beams, and the soft murmur of background chatter and clinking forks.

The plates in front of them were full of pasta. Y/N’s was some creamy, tomatoey mix with melted cheese bubbling on top, while Nick's was a simple Mac n' Cheese.

The camera cut in right as Y/N was mid-bite, talking around her fork.

"... but I told him, like, if you say one more word about this shit in front of me while I’m reading-"

Nick was already laughing as Y/N pointed her fork at him dramatically.

"I’m serious! He ruined the book ending three chapters early." She said, shaking her head, but there was a grin tugging at her mouth. "He was like, 'well obviously the main character isn’t gonna die', and I was just sitting there, waiting for my next class, like... wow. Thanks for nothing."

Nick put his hand up.

"In his defense, the man was clearly not gonna die. He had 80 pages left and a dog to save. You told me this before."

"But that’s the whole point! The tension!" She said, laughing as she stabbed her pasta dramatically and took another bite. "Ugh, straight men are dumb."

Nick snorted.

"That’s homophobic."

Y/N almost choked on her bite, laughing into her napkin as she wiped the corner of her mouth.

"Okay, fine, not all straight men. Just ninety percent of them."

The camera then caught Nick leaning slightly into the frame, his fork twirling through his pasta as he pointed it at her.

"Okay, but be honest. Out of all the pasta in LA... this one’s still the best? Because I need to know that I choose right."

Y/N didn’t even hesitate. She chewed one last bite, swallowed, and placed her fork down.

"The best." She said, eyes wide as if to make a point. "If I was ever on death row- which, like, I hope I’m not, but if I was, this is my last meal. No question."

Nick nodded solemnly.

"Noted. Putting it in your file."

"Thank you, you do that."

He smiled, resting his chin in his hand for a second like he was just watching her.

"You’ve brought Matt here before, right?"

"Duh." She said, gesturing vaguely with her hand. "He actually found this place on TikTok like, two years ago, and he knows how obsessed I am with pasta, so it was easy to love here."

Nick grinned.

"Pasta is the best meal ever."

"I know, right?" She said with a smile so soft it was barely there, but her eyes crinkled at the corners. "We’ve been coming here for date night's and stuff ever since. One time the waiter gave us free tiramisu because Matt told him it was our engagement dinner."

Nick blinked.

"Wait. You’re not even-"

Y/N burst out laughing.

"No, of course not! That’s the thing! We were like nineteen! He just wanted the free dessert."

"Oh my god. Matt having criminal behavior, who would've thought? I love that." Nick said, covering his mouth like he was shocked.

Chris, still curled up on the couch with a throw pillow now half-over his lap, glanced toward Matt, whose lips were slightly parted in that soft half-smile. His arms were crossed, head tilted slightly before moving his mic to his lips.

"The dessert was worth the lie, guys."

Screen-Y/N pointed a fork at Nick with mock seriousness.

"If you add me eating on the video and I get messages about how messy I eat pasta, I’m blaming you." She said, laughing as she twirled another bite.

Nick rolled his eyes.

"I only capture the truth, Ratatouille."

"Ratatouille." Chris’s voice came from his mic, cutting in half with laughter that seemed to bounce in the walls. His body dramatically moved to a sitting position on the couch, looking at Nick with the widest smile. "That was such a good one, Nick."

Nick just affectionately rolled his eyes at his brother. Chris really thought that he was the funniest person in the world.

"Way to treat a woman on the first date, Nick." Matt snorted.

The video cut again.

Now they were outside, the soft sound of wind rustling through trees and birds chirping layered under the video. The camera was balanced on Y/N's purse, and slightly tilted but perfectly catching the scene.

They were sitting cross-legged on a picnic blanket in the middle of a park. A soft purple print spread under them, surrounded by open gel pens, markers, and two thick coloring books - big, chunky Bobbie Goods ones with rounded pages and pastel covers.

"Shut up- no way you guys got Bobbie Goods!" Matt's voice sounded high-pitched, his eyes running directly to Y/N's. "We were planning on buying those to color it together."

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it." Y/N yelled from the first row so they could hear her from the stage, shrugging. "It was for a date, you know?"

Matt scoffed, looking at Nick, who simply ignored him, keeping his eyes on the screen.

Video-Nick reached toward the camera, adjusting it a little to make sure they were both still in frame, and gave a casual smile to the lens before speaking low and relaxed.

"Okay, so we stopped by this tiny bookstore a couple blocks from the restaurant, and they finally had these Bobbie Goods books that Y/N’s been, like, dying to get her hands on for weeks." He said, gesturing lazily with the blue pen in his hand. "She’s been checking online every day like an obsessed."

Y/N, still focused on the page in front of her, didn’t even look up.

"Lies. I checked every other day."

Nick laughed.

"Same thing."

He held up the coloring book to the camera for a second, the page half-filled with a very dramatic-looking bear wearing green sunglasses.

"So, naturally, we bought two of ‘em. And also... like. Sixty pens." He turned to look at the rainbow explosion of pens inside the small black bag.

"No exaggeration at all." Chris muttered inside the mic, giggling.

"You know that the bag comes with sixty, right?" Matt looked at him with raised brows, scoffing with how Chris just waved him off.

"Oh, and we also got ice cream." Video-Nick added, turning the camera a little more to show their cups. "Y/N got this vanilla-strawberry flavor with rainbow sprinkles, because she’s a little kid-"

"Excuse you." Y/N interrupted, finally glancing up. "It's called taste."

"And I got chocolate oreo. Obviously superior."

In the theater, Chris chuckled, arms folded.

"Okay, but like, he’s not wrong. Chocolate oreo hits every time."

"I will have to agree with it." Matt smiled, purposefully ignoring Y/N's devastating look at him.

Before Nick could say anything else, Y/N leaned a little to the side, catching a glimpse of his page.

"Why is your bear wearing green sunglasses?"

Nick blinked.

"Because he’s a cool bear." He said without missing a beat, eyes flicking back to the coloring book like it was obvious.

Y/N giggled.

"That is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen."

"Excuse me, he has style." Nick shot back, finally glancing at her with wide eyes.

Y/N flipped a page in her own coloring book, revealing a page full of tiny mushrooms with smiley faces.

"Mine is objectively better."

"This one's going to our fridge. 'You still have it?" Matt turned so he could look at Y/N, gently smiling with the way her head moved up and down with excitement.

Video-Nick leaned over slightly to peek, squinting like he was analyzing it.

"Okay, it looks cute. I’ll give you that."

A pause, the sound of Nick's pen brushing over paper echoing.

Then Y/N made a soft noise and peeked into Nick’s ice cream cup.

"Can I try yours?"

Nick didn’t hesitate, just picked it up and handed it over without even looking.

"Knock yourself out."

Y/N took his spoon full of oreo ice cream and took a bite, the softest little noise of approval immediately escaping her throat, head tilting back slightly.

"Okay, that’s good."

Nick just smirked like he knew it would be.

"You want mine?" She asked, already passing her cup over.

"Sure." He said, trading cups without even a blink. Nick took a bite of hers and immediately nodded. "Yours tastes like my childhood."

Y/N blinked.

"What, trauma?"

"No way you just said that, kid." Chris's voiced echoed mixed with a loud giggle, looking down to Y/N with an exasperated gaze.

"Well, she wasn't wrong." Nick shrugged.

Video-Nick nearly choked laughing, ice cream in one hand, and marker in the other.

"Okay, rude. I was gonna say like birthday parties and move nights."

"Oh." She grinned. "Same thing."

They both laughed again, heads a little closer now, their bodies leaning in just slightly.

Y/N scooped another bite from Nick’s ice cream, observing him changing his pen color. A sudden breeze rushed from the trees around them, causing a shudder to run from Y/N's spine to her legs, her hand feeling extra cold with the freezing cup.

"Ugh. I’m cold now..."

Nick didn’t pause his coloring, taking another bite of ice cream.

"You want my jacket?"

"Last romantic man on Earth, I know." Nick muttered against his mic, smiling.

Y/N’s eyes snapped up, her face lighting up immediately.

"Yes please."

Nick sat up, his now free hands meeting the top of his - not actually his - leather jacket, unzipping it and handing it over. Y/N smiled gratefully and pulled it around herself without even thinking, snuggling into it like it was the coziest thing on Earth, inhaling Matt's and Nick's mixed perfumes. She tucked the sleeves over her hands and tilted her head with a grin.

"Thanks." She said, then glanced at the camera with a glint in her eyes. "This is Matt’s jacket, by the way. His perfume is still here. I don't think he washed it since Milan."

In the theater, everyone cracked up, some "ew's" echoing with the last part.

Matt blinked.

"That’s not true, I washed all of our clothes from that trip as soon as we got back and you know it." He pointed at Y/N with raised eyebrows before squinting his blue eyes, watching her playfully pretending to ignore him.

The video cut again and this time, the lighting was low and warm, the sun had fully dipped, and the only light came from the soft overhead bulbs inside Y/N’s car.

The camera was wedged on the dashboard, the lens slightly angled toward the two of them inside her car. You could hear the faint beep... beep... beep of the car backing into their garage, followed by the slow whir of the gate closing.

Y/N was mid-sentence, hands loosely on the steering wheel.

"... so you would have a different shirt for every single show, you know? Like, just plain shirts with something different written on each one." She said, eyes flicking between the mirror and Nick. "Could be something funny, something iconic from the city, something random..."

Nick blinked, then broke into a slow grin.

"Wait... that’s actually a really good idea."

Y/N smiled proudly, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel.

"Right?!"

Nick gave a single, very approving nod.

"I’m doing it. You just became my tour stylist."

"She is amazing, huh?" In the theater, Matt softly mumbled, earning a quiet chuckle from Chris beside him.

"Amazing and demanding." Nick complement. "I had to do two of each shirt so she could match with me."

Video-Nick reached over, picked up the camera, and flipped it to face him.

"Okay, so we’re back home now." He said, the light from the dashboard casting a soft glow across his face. "And before this perfect date ends, I have one more surprise for Y/N."

Y/N turned to him, eyes wide, a hand already on the key, the car now parked.

"There’s more?"

Nick nodded.

"Just one last thing. You ready?"

She turned the key, the engine turned off, and the whole car dimmed into quiet.

"Let’s go." She smiled, already cracking her door open.

They got out at the same time, Y/N bouncing on her feet as she waited for Nick to catch up before she pressed the car remote to lock it with a little beep-beep.

The camera cut to Nick holding it up now, slightly shaky from his movements as he trailed behind Y/N up the stairs from the garage to the main floor of the house.

"Oh my God!" Y/N visibly flinched and let out a little squeak of surprise when she stepped into the living room and saw Matt and Chris already home, lounging on the couch, faces lit up by their phones and the TV playing a random show.

Matt looked up at the sound and smiled so genuinely, like his whole day just got 10x better in one second. His hands immediately tossed his phone beside him on the cushion and sat up, grey hoodie rumpled and his hair a little messy, like he’d run his fingers through it too many times that day.

"Hey, baby." He said softly, voice a little scratchy. "You’re back."

Y/N blinked, laughing from the scare, then lit up.

"You scared me, I thought no one was home yet!"

Chris looked up too, his expression confused for a split second before raising a brow.

"Nick, what the fuck are you doing with the camera?"

Nick, as quickly as possible, turned the camera toward himself and backed up toward the stairs.

"It’s for the next vlog, like, a mini segment- weeks ahead, you know?" He walked as normal as possible to the stairs leading to his bedroom.

But before he disappeared to the stairs, the lens briefly caught Matt patting the space beside him and looking at Y/N with that lazy smile, his arms open.

Y/N dropped her purse by the kitchen table without even acknowledging Nick anymore, beelining for the couch and flopping down next to Matt like it was instinct. She curled up against him immediately, fitting right under his arm like that was her designated spot. He kissed the side of her head like he’d been waiting to do that all day.

"How was your day?" The middle triplet asked, voice low and warm.

Nick's background turned to white as soon as he got to the stairs, the camera lens now pointed toward his own horrified face.

"They weren’t supposed to be back yet, what the hell-"

Up in the theater, everyone was smiling with the real couple's scene. The fans loved when the triplets exposed a bit of Matt's and Y/N's relationship.

Nick was almost at the top of the stairs, still whispering urgently to the camera.

"I swear I thought they’d be home later." He paused. "Also. Pretty sure Chris saw me using Matt's clothes but I’m just gonna pretend he didn’t."

Then, from downstairs, off-screen, Matt's voice echoed loudly.

"Also..." His tone sounded casual. "Why were there flowers on the table when we got back?"

The camera immediately cut to black.

In the theater, everyone cracked up.

Screams. Laughter. Clapping. A few dramatic gasps from fans in the front rows who clearly hadn’t expected this as a surprise for tour.

The second the screams started to fade just enough, Nick leaned forward, gluing his mic to his bottom lip.

"Okay, so before we even say anything about that." He said, waving his free hand around like he needed everyone to pause. "I just feel like... we’re missing someone?"

The crowd was already catching on, shouts of 'Y/N!' were echoing around the arena in random waves.

"I mean, we can’t talk about the date without the actual date." Nick finished, raising his brows at his brothers. "Right?!"

And the screams just went off again.

Chris leaned forward, laughing into his mic.

"Y’all are crazy."

Matt was already smiling so big, shaking his head before meeting one of the security guards eyes stationed by the stairs, giving him a subtle nod, which the man was quick to understand, stepping toward the front row.

Still in her seat, hand half covering her mouth in that shy expression from all the attention, was Y/N, looking at the stage with a gaze that screamed 'you guys are NOT doing this', but she was already standing.

People were cheering, standing halfway up from their chairs, some of them even waving as she passed by with the security as if she was their best friend.

Chris cupped his mic dramatically.

"Be honest... do you guys love Y/N more than us, or-?"

The crowd didn’t even hesitate, they roared.

He winced playfully.

"Wow. I walked right into that."

Matt nodded, completely straight-faced as he spoke into his mic.

"Do you doubt it?"

Another explosion of laughter.

And then Y/N finally climbed the few small steps to the stage with the bodyguard guiding her halfway. She paused right at the top and glanced out at the crowd, her expression cracking into this huge, huge smile, and she lifted both hands and waved at every direction of the theater, her rings shining below the yellow lights.

"HI!!" She shouted into the air like she belonged to the stage.

The crowd? Lost it. Like, genuinely went feral.

Someone screamed "WE LOVE YOU Y/N", and without missing a beat, she cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted back an "I LOVE YOU TOO!!".

Matt’s head dropped slightly with a laugh, watching her with a proud, full of love, look.

Y/N then finally turned to the boys, walking over to the couch setup, and Chris moved to give her space on the right corner of the couch beside Matt’s chair.

"Alright, sit here." Chris told her, gesturing to the spot.

Y/N dropped onto the couch with a little bounce, immediately tucking one leg under the other, but before she could even settle in fully, Matt reached over and wrapped an arm around her shoulders like it was second nature, pulling her into him so that her upper body was kind of half-laying against his side.

He laced his fingers around her arm, holding her close, and then raised the mic to his mouth.

"So like... how’d you manage to hide a whole date from me that well?"

Y/N burst into giggles, leaning her head back just enough to look up at him.

"I’m just really good at secrets."

Chris was already shaking his head, bringing his own mic up.

"I’m not gonna lie, I’m still dizzy from that whole video."

Nick was laughing too, adjusting in his seat.

"Okay, yeah, what are your takeaways?"

Matt was about to answer, but Y/N was quick to grab his hand holding the mic, her soft skin meeting the cool metal of his commitment ring as she wrapped her own hand around his and dragged the mic toward her lips.

"This was definitely one of the best first dates I’ve ever had." She said into it, smiling like a menace.

Chris let out this little cackle into his mic, the sound mixing with the crowd's yells.

"Kid, you’ve had like, one first date besides this."

She shrugged.

"Still counts."

Nick brought his mic up again, leaning forward dramatically.

"Probably one of the best dates I've been on in my entire life, and it was with a woman."

Y/N beamed at him, visibly proud.

"The best date, thank you very much."

Matt smiled, resting his chin lightly against the top of her head.

"I feel like what’s so funny about this." He said into the mic. "Is that like, we never talk about stuff like this in our videos. Ever. Like, dating or anything romantic... that’s always been off limits for the most part. And you showing a full date to the world was crazy."

Nick held up his hands.

"Honestly, no regrets. It turned out perfect."

Chris nodded, agreeing with him before turning his head to the side, smirking a little while looking between Matt and Y/N.

"Matt, do you, like, feel jealous? At all? That Nick took Y/N out?"

The crowd ooooh’d as if this was some kind of high-school gossip.

But Matt didn’t even hesitate, shaking head.

"Nah. Of course not." He turned slightly, speaking into the mic. "I mean, Nick’s my brother. He’s gay. Y/N’s his best friend. And I’ve watched them do everything together since basically the beginning of time... shopping trips, movie nights out, car trips just to find a diner that serves something they want past midnight. This just felt like... another version of that. Just with... flowers? I guess."

Y/N laughed, her head falling back a little against Matt’s shoulder, bumping his cap slightly before bringing the mic back to her lips.

"It really was so fun. I feel like me and Nick already have our 'besties routine', like, we’re so used to doing stuff together, just the two of us. But this felt... different? In the best way. It actually felt like a date."

Matt looked down at her, that soft glow in his expression like he hadn’t stopped smiling since she walked on stage.

"I’m glad you had fun."

Chris was still laughing, shaking his head.

"I still can’t believe we’re all talking about Nick going on a date with a woman like it’s a press panel."

Nick grinned, turning to the crowd and raising his free hand in the air.

"Welcome to the first ever official 'Sturniolo Triplets Love On Tour'."

Matt snorted.

"Coming to all streaming platforms."

Y/N leaned into the mic one more time.

"Spoiler alert: I’m dating this one." She started, pointing her thumb at Matt. "But I’ll third-wheel Nick anytime."

Nick placed his hand on his chest like he was touched.

"An honor."

The crowd cheered again, louder this time, as the lights dimmed slightly to start the goodbye session, Nick fully turning to the audience and thanking everyone for their presence tonight.

Matt didn’t let go of Y/N’s hand, and she didn’t move from her spot curled against his side, attentively listening to Nick as Chris leaned back in his seat, smiling.

© vanteguccir

[totalapathy]

141 x reader Fic REC | Follow the Authors!

I did not write any of these. This is a list of fanfics I really liked that include all members of the 141 x reader or poly!141 x reader. If you have a 141 fanfic you like msg me and ill add it to the list! If you are an author and do not want your fic listed msg me and ill take it down.

- Series -

Off to See the Wizard | @nerdygirlramblings

Poly!141 x Reader | Series | 9/? | 15.2k | Stuck on Reader being someone like Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds, stationed in the US under Laswell

Forever winter (If you go) | @loveindefinitely

Poly!141 x Reader | Series | 14/? | 50.1k | When your commander -- Phillip Graves -- turns against the Los Vaqueros and Task Force 141, you find yourself stuck between a rock and a hard place. Between your own morals, and your duty to serve the man you can no longer idolise, a choice must be made.Do you help the two operatives you know deserve to live? Or do you fight with your unit -- the men you swore to stand beside?The decision is made when you find yourself stumbling, quite literally, into one Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish; and, effectively, the 141's entire lives.

This is Going To Hurt | @moody-alcoholic

Poly!141 x Reader | Series | 5/10 | 14.8k | During a botched military convoy you're kidnapped by Al-Qatala. While the rest of 141 are on their way to find you, you're forced to endure torture and help the enemy to survive.

On a Wing and a Prayer | @moody-alcoholic

Poly!141 x Reader | Series | 11/11 | 19.2k | 141 mistaken you for the traitor. The person who leaked intel to Makarov and got Johnny shot. Now you're forced to move on without the people you love the most.

Rec Room | @void-my-warranty

Poly!141 x Reader | Series | 2/? | 3.6k | NSFW The 141 swear the clit is in the wrong spot and you show them proof. After you sneak off to the rec room to jerk off at night, but Ghost seems to have a similar idea.

Fire Watch | @auspicioustidings

Firefighter!141 x Reader | Series | 14/14 | 30k | NSFW You really should have been less stubborn and just called an electrician to do the wiring, because after your cottage had went up in a blaze the 141 had made the decision to spirit you away to their fire tower deep in the woods to take care of you.

Deity!AU | @meadow-of-daisies-and-lavender

Deity!141 x Reader | Series | 3/4 | 10k | NSFW Once upon a time, there were four gods. Together, they took turns helping the mortals. But what spirit connects them all, centering their efforts? Of what clear mission banner do they unite under? To whom is the focal point of life’s great mysteries? In other words, smut about diety! 141

Mafia AU | @peachil

Mafia!141 x Show girl/Law Student!Reader | Series | 9/? | 17.5k | You’re a law student who performs shows at night, and you catch the eyes of a group of dangerous man.

Dukedom AU | @beloveds-embrace

141 x Duchess!Reader | Series + Extras + Drabbles | Arranged marriage to duke john price except it means you married four instead of one 👁️👁️

Omegaverse Works | @beloveds-embrace

| Poly!141 x Designationless!Reader | Poly!141 x ES Omega!Reader Beloved's embrace's omegaverse works

Hoarfrost | @prettypinkguns

Wolf Shifter!141 x Human!Reader | Series | 1/? | 5.5k | You soon realize something wasn’t quite right about those men or the pack of wolves, with their strangely intelligent eyes, that frequented the woods surrounding your property. Curious, you're determined to get to the bottom of it. But as the saying famously went… curiosity kills the cat.

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood | @soaps-mohawk

Poly!141 x Omega!reader | Series | 46/? | 377.5k | NSFW Task Force 141 operates successfully without an omega, at least that’s what Price has been saying since its formation. Two alphas and two betas balance the pack just fine, and they have the numbers to prove it. It works for a while, until the Omega Initiative is born and the 141 find themselves having to adjust to the sudden addition of an omega to their pack. Fresh out of an institute, you’re hardly fit for their secretive, dangerous world, or so Price thinks.  As each member of the team gets closer to you, things begin to come to light, not only about you but about the decision to force you into their lives.Maybe, just maybe, Price was wrong and the 141 does need an omega after all. 

Call of Duty Omegaverse AU | sprout-fics

Poly!141 x Omega!Reader | Series | 14/? | 20.9k | NSFW You've concealed your presence as an omega for your entire military career, careening up the ranks, collecting accolades, and having the privilege to assist the notorious 141 Taskforce. Yet on a mission gone wrong, you find yourself in circumstances entirely out of your control, and the events that follow hurtle you into the path of a pack that finds out they will do anything to make you theirs.

Only Human | @diejager

Monster!141 + König & Horangi x Human!reader | Series + Extras + Drabbles | God - Laswell - blessed you with a team of strong, capable monsters.

- Shots -

Home is where you are | @1-ker0sene-1

Poly!141 x Wife!Reader | One Shot | 1.3k | It was another thirty minutes driving before they finally pulled into the secluded driveway. Their safehouse. Their home. Where you are.

Something Bad | @loves-alibi

Dark!141 x Reader | One Shot | 1.6k | There’s something wrong with the 141…

Digital Mischief , 02 | @goatgoesmbe

Poly!141 x Reader | Double Shot | 3.8k | "In which you joined a discord server to find people to play an FPS game with, only to be welcomed by four military men."

Body Electric | @yeyinde

141 + Los Vaqueros x reader | One Shot | 8.9k | NSFW Several drinks in, Gaz turns to you and says: never have I ever... had a gangbang before, and things quickly devolved from there. (Well. You can scratch that off your bucket list.)

Afterburn | sprout-fics

141 & Los Vaqueros x reader | One Shot | 8k | NSFW Sprout-fic's take on the aftermath of Body Electric by @yeyinde

Call in Sick | @yufloria

Soft!141 x Reader | One Shot | 3.2k | After a mission gone wrong in an undisclosed location Task Force 141 is forced to stay in a safe house, a cabin, in the middle of a dense forest and high between the mountains. It is no task for the team but unfortunately for you. You were injured.  

Gangbang | @konigsblog

141 x Reader | One Shot | 6.5k | NSFW the 141 finally have their way with their teasing, disobedient recruit.

Crappy Alpha Male Bf Gets Dunked On | @charliemwrites

Poly!141 X Teammate's Gf!Reader | One Shot | 2.7k | Mr. steal your girl 141 & crappy alpha male bf

Free use Medic | @all-purpose-dish-soap

Poly!141 X Medic!Reader | One Shot | 1.1k | NSFW "You can share,” Price tells them. Then he gives you a pointed look. “Saves time. You can rest on the bird, sweetheart."

Ravenous , 02 | @tojisun

| One Shot | 7k | NSFW cant come <fuck me please <> quite forward of you. well, since you asked so nicely, we’re on our way.You had sent the message to- you had sent it to the damn group chat

Need to Listen to Me | @loveindefinitely

Poly!141 X Teammate!Reader | One Shot | 4.4k | NSFW Yeah. You don't fear many things. But Johns disappointment is quite easily in your top three, and this situation only cements it.

Our Girlfriend | @vampire-matcha

141 X Kyle's Gf!Reader | One Shot | 2.2k | NSFW Everyone always talks about John “share my wife” Price but what about Kyle “our girlfriend” Garrick???

"Shared Wife" Trope | @beloveds-embrace

141 x Price's Wife!Reader | One Shot | 1.2k | It wasn’t just him anymore, though. They were always there, watching. Protecting- for you belonged to John, and so did they

Bf Simon Shares Your Nudes With the Boys | @duskier

141 x Simon's Gf!Reader | One shot | 1.2k | NSFW "Come awn, tell us about her Lt," Soap would try and goad him. They were leaned up against each other, shoulder to shoulder against the wall behind them.

Our Girlfriend , 02 , 03 | @3amfanfiction

141 x Johnny's Gf!Reader | Triple Shot | 9.5k | NSFW (unknowingly) being the team's girlfriend. Smut, fluff, & a snippet

With Them, Who Swallowed a Star | @vellichor-of-the-solivagant

Professor!141 X Student!Reader | One Shot | 5.3k | NSFW A musician is a storyteller in their own ways. You had told yours and captured the sights of men you never expected to pull when you stepped inside an academy.

The Prize of Prey | @quitefawnish

Knight!141 x Reader | One Shot | 3.6k | NSFW knights in the middle ages only had to court noble women, whereas any peasant woman was open to their desires, and they were in fact encouraged to do so.

Bodyguard!141 x Sick!Reader | @beloveds-embrace

| One Shot | 1.7k | while you had initially bristled at the idea of four men shadowing your every step, you’d quickly grown accustomed to their presence.It was hard not to. They made you feel protected.

Deductive Reasoning | @auspicioustidings

Merman!141 X Researcher!Reader | One Shot | 1.3k | Mermen au with mer TF141 and researcher reader trying to learn about their... biology

Saint's Story , 02 | @charliemwrites

Omega!141 x Alpha!reader | Double Shot | 3.8k | NSFW having a full-time Alpha in a squad isn’t a necessity except in special circumstances.Per usual, Task Force 141 is special circumstances.

Yandere Hybrid team 141 | @nina-renmen

Hybrid!141 x Polarbear Hybrid!Reader | One Shot | 1.2k | 141 stumbles upon y/n. Thinking that she’s small and fragile they attempt to ‘take advantage’ of her only to figure out she’s a polar bear hybrid.

- Drabbles -

141 x Reader | Drabble | @cod-indulgences 141 finds your dildos NSFW 141 X Younger!Reader | Drabble | @loveindefinitely Uni Student!reader meets the 141 at a military bar 141 x Medic!Reader | Drabble | @goatgoesmbe there are an odd four that somehow always made your day better. Poly!141 X Puppy Girl!Reader | Drabble | @loveindefinitely 141 with a girl who acts more like a puppy than a soldier NSFW Poly!141 x Reader | Drabble | @lunarkitten97 Poly!141 x reader with an oral fixation NSFW Poly!141 x Reader | Drabble | @duskier Price holding your pussy open with his thumbs while the rest of the team looks over his shoulder NSFW Poly!141 x Reader | Drabble | @xo-cod Sharing the barracksSharing the barracks NSFW 141 x Kyle's Gf!Reader | Drabble | @all-purpose-dish-soap Poker night. But the boys know how to keep things interesting Retired!141 x Neighbor!Reader | Drabble | @burner141 they meet you. The charming new neighbor with a pretty voice and an even prettier smile. 141 x Bartender!Reader | Drabble | @devil-in-hiding The boys find out your not married Monster!141 x Owl hybrid!Reader | Drabble | @gremlingottoosilly Monster!141 turn Barn Owl!reader into their pet NSFW Monster!141 x Cat hybrid!Reader | Drabble | @gremlingottoosilly Kitten!reader gets tied up in string just as Monster!141 come back NSFW Monster!141 x Bunny Hybrid!Reader | Drabble | @gremlingottoosilly Crybaby Bunny!Reader who stumbles upon Monster!141's base NSFW Vampire!141 x Human!Reader | @beloveds-embrace they don’t tell you they are vampires and you have no reason to suspect they are Demon!141 x Reader | Drabble | @red5tars demon!141 staking claim on the poor little thing that summoned them. Dark!141 x Angel!Reader | Drabble | @goatgoesmbe GuardianAngel!Reader who was sent to 141 at their darkest time. Hybrid!141 x Human!Reader | @ cs-fox they’d be so surprised when a normal human joins their task force. Hybrid!141 x Crow Hybrid!Reader | Drabble | @ teddy-bear-baby crow hybrid!y/n joining hybrid!TF141 and just stealing random things from them Poly!141 x Beta!Reader | Drabble | @ teletubbyinlipstick okay, hear me out a/b/o tf141 universe where female betas are RARE. Poly!141 x Omega!Reader | Drabble | @ kaadaaan Soap who is sick of being the only omega in his pack so he’s digging up some dirt on another Sergeant Poly!141 x Omega!Reader | Drabble | @ kaadaaan They wind up with another omega, and find themselves more attached than they thought they would be. NSFW Poly!141 x Omega!Reader | Drabble | @ thecherubangel “Simon…f-fuck stop-“ You close your legs and try to move his hand; the others watch as you struggle in Ghosts grasp. NSFW Viking!141 x Reader | Drabble | @ nerdygirlramblings viking!141 with some historical accuracy Knight!141 x Peasant!Reader | Drabble | @ drgnflyteabox four massive armour clad knights at the door... and whaddyaknow, they're looking to stay the night NSFW Cultist!141 x Reader | Drabble | @ pricegouge Outlast2!au “Give us a baby and we’ll keep you safe.”

Last updated 03/11/25

[hollyoongs]

⤷ MY BABY LIKE TO STRING ME US ON!

시놉시스┆ 𝙟ake𝗵͢oon, ─────⠀f!reader 𓂅 𝑤.𝑐: +9.9k ꒰ ⌗ smut with plot ꒱ ↷⠀ ℰditoral ! 𓂂

─────⠀cursing, kissing, protected sex, oral (male and female), choking, use of lube (lots of it), fingering (anal and vaginal), double penetration, pet names (baby, princess, pretty, doll, etc), dirty talk (brief), daddy kink, praise kink, spanking (one time, if I remember correctly), squirting and let me know if I missed anything.

You looked at your watch; you could feel the excitement going through your veins as the time went by. After months of saving every penny you could get from your part-time job, you could finally afford tickets to a rock concert of your favorite band, Crimson Eclipse.

The concert had been on your mind for months ever since you saw the post of their official account; your brain was filled with fantasies of screaming along to their songs and losing yourself in the sea of fans, recording every now and then as you could feel your throat hurt from all the singing. And here you were, front row, right in the center. The venue was packed already; people were simply taking selfies, preparing the handmade banners they held, or running to the bathroom, the muffled sound of soundchecks echoing faintly through the heavy doors that made the place more pumped up. You adjusted your outfit—a mini black dress with an oversized leather jacket. It was not the best outfit for a concert, knowing that you would be jumping, and the boots with heels you were wearing also didn’t help at all, but that actually didn’t matter. It was your favorite band’s concert, and you were going to go all out.

You shook your head to erase any negative thoughts and took a picture of the spot you were in, the screen focusing on the stage, and you smiled, already knowing how worth it it was to pay for the first-row ticket. You’ve been a fan of them ever since you saw that recommended video of them at the ripe age of fourteen doing a cover of “Welcome to the Black Parade,” and you were still here, eight, almost nine, years later. It made you proud how far they have gone, winning awards and gaining a lot of recognition and fame, but you saw how they didn’t lose themselves or start disliking what they do, music.

The lights went out, surprising everyone who thought there had been a technical failure, but soon that was cleared by the sound of an electric guitar that alerted you, followed by excited screams that made everyone look around to find the source of the sound. This was the first (and hopefully, last) time the first row was conspiring on your contrary; at least, you could get a view thanks to the heels.

Two guys appeared, and you could help but scream at the very familiar shadow of the dynamic duo, Jay and Sunghoon. The two of them were rocking a new look, black hair, standing back-to-back under a soft spotlight that made them stand out. Both of them moved in different directions, Jay—sporting his signature eyebrow piercing—heading toward the first rows, all this while playing without missing a beat, drawing cheers from the audience. Soon after that small intro, the lights on them vanished, and so did they.

A new spotlight illuminated another person, this time, Heeseung, on the stage. He also had a new hairstyle, silver hair to be exact, with his guitar slung across him. He played with the microphone in his hand, his tongue tracing his lips, a small habit he had whenever he was about to sing that you found endearing the majority of the time. Key word, majority of the time.

"Put your loving hand out, baby…" he sang, all the spotlights coming on to point at the performers.

You glanced at the stage, Jake’s shirtless body welcoming everyone as he was playing with drumsticks, the flirty smirk popping out immediately at the cheer while Jay stood on top of the speakers.

Your loose hair was brushed aside delicately, the touch of unfamiliar lips on your shoulder trailing lower beneath my jaw, making you turn, ready to yell at whoever it was to not let you peacefully check on them, but the words froze in your throat when you realized it was Sunghoon. His lips moved closer to your ear as the cameras of several cellphones were pointed at you, recording the fan service you were receiving.

"I’m beggin’……"

Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was the only word running through your mind as you watched the guy walk away from your side and head to the stage with a smirk on his face, most likely pleased by your reaction.

“Fuck, you’re so lucky!” A girl next to you screamed, but you didn’t pay any attention to the glow of her phone recording your dumbfounded expression, too busy processing what just happened. Sunghoon was now standing behind the microphone, his fingers skillfully moving across the bass strings, still wearing that superior smirk that was quickly erased to focus on playing the right chords. Your gaze shifted behind him, and you were hit with a wave of surprise—and an even stronger wave of heat on your cheeks.

Jake was looking at everyone there, soon laying his eyes on you, his exposed tattoos making you trace them with your eyes; sometimes you couldn’t even see them properly because of either one, his flexed arms were moving rhythmically and passionately as he was playing the instrument, or two, that made you lose yourself in the song. His tongue peeked out slightly as he winked at someone in the crowd—or one of the members, occasionally. The piercing in the middle of his lips caught the light, a new piercing.

Yeah, they were going to be your reason to not be alive.

You could physically feel every note they played vibrate through your body—it was the reason why your body matched the energy the band radiated through jumping and singing every lyric. You had only heard the songs through your headphones at a very concerning volume, and even then, their songs caught and captivated you that another band has never done before. But now, performing right in front of you, completely live and giving their all to every song of the setlist, was like entering a whole new world.

The songs were hypnotizing, and they were unstoppable.

You couldn’t define a word to describe Heeseung, but one close to your way of thinking was striking. His black-polished nails contrasting against the silver rings on his fingers and his red microphone in his hands. The butterfly tattoo he recently got on his neck drew the eye, and his gaze never left the crowd, ensuring no one felt left out. You truly can wrap your head around the fact of someone having such charisma; it could be the fact that he was made for the stage, to project everything he had on his mind and connect with people with an ease that seemed almost otherworldly.

Jay, who was dressed in leather and chains with his dark hair falling into his eyes, was the one who brought fire to every performance. Matter of fact, everybody did, but he has this power that pulls the crowd with a single word; his guitar solos could make any room fall silent in awe due to his confidence because, to the fans, every single note he played was a piece of his past, present, and future woven into the strings of his guitar, making even the loudest venues feel intimate, letting them know that it wasn’t only technique but emotion and honesty.

Sunghoon can’t be left out, his hair slicked back, and his ripped jeans left little to the imagination, especially paired with his sleeveless shirt that showed off his defined muscles. He was a whole visual, but his passion for the music and how he can get things done was what made him him. He couldn’t simply exist in the background; he was intensity and precision incarnate, making his stage presence wasn’t about flash—it was about power. It didn’t matter if his fingers danced across the strings, if his voice was being for backup vocals or main; it was that fire in his eyes that was the proof that passion and love could be silent but deafening at the same time.

And Jake, funny enough, he was the heartbeat of the band, his hands always a blur as they commanded the drums with power and precision, channeling the rhythm that kept everything—and everyone—together. His perpetually messy blonde hair with his loose pants, low enough that they showed the ‘Calvin Klein’ elastic, and no shirt was a statement, as if he didn’t need to try hard to turn heads. He was dynamic, a force of nature on stage that was so effortless yet impactful that it made no doubt why he was one of the best artists, along with his brothers.

As you saw all of them three smiling and soaking in the moment, it popped to your mind that they were one of the few bands that weren’t just performing; they were living, breathing, and thriving under the stage lights, and their presence demanded attention, not because they forced it, but because it was impossible to look away. And you would make sure to give them all your attention with proud tears in your eyes.

You could feel your throat getting sore by the minute because of screaming along with the rest of the crowd; your feet were slightly hurting, though that was actually the least of your problems. About five—maybe eight—songs later, the band took a well-deserved break. Everyone started to take out their phones, including yourself, the moment you all saw Heeseung raising his hands to greet the crowd, flashing his perfect row of teeth that had more than a few people sighing in love.

“Good evening, everyone. Thank you for coming to our show tonight. Are you having a good time?” he asked. The crowd erupted with various affirmative responses, making the band smile. “That’s a relief to hear. If it’s your first time here, let me introduce ourselves. My name is Heeseung, and I’m the main vocalist and guitarist. To my left is our incredible bassist, Sunghoon; our star guitarist, Jay; and behind us, the best drummer I’ve ever met in my fucking life, Jake.” Each member greeted the crowd in their own way, gaining all the cheers from everyone in the venue.

You turned to see Jake leaning against a speaker with Sunghoon, both of them wiping their sweaty bodies with small towels. The Australian's eyes found yours again, his smirk widening as he caught you staring. He mouthed something—Well, hello there—before taking a swig from his water bottle, something that didn’t go unnoticed by a few fans there, and responding to him, tilting his head back in a way that made your knees weak. Sunghoon leaned in to say something to him, but Jake waved him off with a grin, his focus still locked on you.

“Before we get back to the set, this next song is really special to us; it’s really close to our hearts. Hope you all enjoy it.” Once again, the crowd cheered; now the light was slightly dimmed, leaving a soft blue glow to everyone, an unusual color to use since they only used red lights.

The moment the opening chords were heard, everyone realized it was a new song; you did a small zoom on your phone to only focus on the band, the crowd soon finding themselves swaying to the music, completely captivated by the unreleased song. In the middle of the song, Sunghoon had a bass solo where he got down to interact with the people, going from the back to the front, doing a few stops to interact with as many people as he could. By the time he approached the first row, he stopped in front of you.

Sunghoon knelt down right in front of you, the strap of his bass pressing against his chest as he played with ease, his fingers dancing over the strings and his gaze locking with yours. The corner of his lips quivered into a smirk when he saw the way your mouth hung slightly open, your awe written all over your face due to the talent he had. He leaned closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, not minding the people feeling his exposed arms or grabbing his chest, only you.

Your breath hitched as his smirk got a little wider. Before you could react, he straightened up, still playing, and gave you a wink before moving down the line to interact with other fans. The crowd around went wild, but your heart was pounding too loudly in your ears to care; you laughed in disbelief, forcing yourself back to enjoy the slow rock song. The song ended, and soon, the familiar opening riff of “Karma” blasted through the speakers.

You held your phone high, capturing snippets of the band. Jay took center stage, shredding his guitar like it was an extension of himself, his sharp features illuminated by the flashing lights. Sunghoon and Heeseung joined him at the front; Jake, meanwhile, was behind the drum kit, keeping the tempo tight.

Song after song, the setlist didn’t let anyone down. Fan favorites like “Blockbuster” and “The Walls” both had the entire venue screaming all the lyrics back at them. By the time the band announced their last song, the crowd was buzzing, their energy at its peak. In the middle of everything, you saw how Jay was now the one sitting behind the drums, and Jake picked up another guitar; the surprise on everyone was evident, but considering the fact that Jake was a guitarist who later fell in love with the drums, all of us knew he was not going to disappoint.

“We love you all,” Heeseung said into the microphone, his silver hair damp with sweat. “Thank you for making tonight unforgettable. This last one’s for you. Make some fucking noise!”

The band launched into their closing song, “Shout Out.” Jake and Sunghoon, back to back, played guitar in unison, and Heeseung jumped into the crowd; this was one of the many highlights of the concert. Confetti cannons exploding were the reason the crowd was being showered in glittering red and gold paper. The moment Heeseung went back to the stage, they did their final bows, some of them collecting presents they were being thrown at and others giving the towels they used to clean their sweat by some of the fan requests.

The house lights came on as the band exited the stage, and the crowd began to disperse. You were still on cloud nine when your phone vibrated in your pocket; you answered the call.

“Hey, Da Bi, what’s up?” you said, and you could sense from the other line that she was at a party.

“Y/N, did you forget that today is Sun Hee’s party at the Avalon Club, right?” You opened your eyes wide, already moving through the crowd to go. “Guys, she forgot! Pay me!”

“I’m so sorry; I’m already on my way; I think it’s near, right? I was at the concert.”

“Oh yeah, how was the concert?” You smiled wide at the mention of the concert that you were positive you won’t forget.

“It was incredible,” you said, your voice still hoarse from screaming along to the songs. “I can’t even explain it—everything was perfect. Sunghoon literally stopped right in front of me during his bass solo.”

Da Bi let out a dramatic gasp. “Shut up! Sunghoon? The bassist who looks like he walked straight out of a fantasy novel? You’re kidding!”

“I’m not,” you replied with a laugh. “I think I’m still in shock. And Jake kept looking at me too. I swear, I’m not imagining it.”

Da Bi’s voice rose in excitement. “Okay, now I really need all the details when you get here. You’d better hurry before we drink all the cocktails without you.”

“I’m on it,” you said, weaving your way through the dispersing crowd. “Save me something fruity, okay? I’ll be there soon.”

Ending the call, you quickly pulled up directions to Avalon Club on your phone. It wasn’t too far—a ten-minute walk at most. You adjusted your bag, made sure your phone still had enough charge, and joined the stream of concertgoers heading toward the main exit.

The cool night air hit you as soon as you stepped outside. The streets were alive with post-concert energy, people chatting excitedly about the show or taking pictures with their newly bought merch. You caught sight of a food truck nearby and briefly considered grabbing a snack but decided against it. Sun Hee’s party wasn’t something you could casually walk into late.

As you hurried down the sidewalk, your phone buzzed again. This time it was a message from Da Bi.

Da Bi: The DJ is killing it tonight. Don’t make me send Sun Hee to drag you here!

You laughed under your breath and picked up the pace. The distant thrum of bass from Avalon Club grew louder with each step, and because your tension was too high, you were ready to make your friend happy.

When you finally reached the club, you could see a line of people waiting to get in, the neon sign glowing bright against the night sky. You spotted Da Bi near the entrance, waving frantically when she saw you.

“You made it!” she said, pulling you into a quick hug. “Come on, let’s get inside before Sun Hee loses her mind.”

“Lead the way,” you said with a grin, already feeling the infectious energy of the music pulling you in. Since it was late, about to be eleven p.m., there were more people than usual.

Now that you really took a look at the place, it was packed; the music was pounding through your chest as you and Da Bi weaved through the throng of bodies on the dance floor, the diverse color lights pulsed to the beat, casting an almost hypnotic glow over the crowd. You could see how you two were spotted almost immediately from the VIP section by the birthday girl, waving wildly at the sight of you and your—hopefully—future girlfriend. She wore a sparkly silver dress that shimmered with the minimum movement she made, a drink in her hand and a contagious smile on her face.

“Finally!” Sun Hee exclaimed as you approached, pulling you into a hug. “You’re lucky we love you, or I would’ve sent someone to drag you here myself.”

“I’m sorry, but I have an amazing excuse. The concert was insane,” you replied, laughing as Da Bi pushed a fruity cocktail into your hand and, with his free one, grabbed Da Bi’s hand.

“Drink first, details later,” Da Bi declared, already swaying to the music.

You took a sip, the sweetness and tang refreshing after the rush to get here; you greeted Da Bi’s friends to not be disrespectful. The music shifted to a more upbeat track, and soon the three of you were lost in the rhythm, dancing without a care in the world. Sun Hee’s party was in full swing, complete with a table laden with drinks and snacks for the group.

There was a moment where Sun Hee was almost grinding between you and Da Bi, already drunk enough to even grab you from your neck. Some of the party invites were doing a circle around us, enjoying the show with their own partners or some random person they met at the club. You looked to your left, and you thought that the alcohol on your head was making you create scenarios in relation to what happened at the concert, but when you saw one of them raising his hand right in your direction, you knew you were not losing your mind.

At the corner of the VIP section, you saw Jake with a girl on his lap kissing his neck, his hooded eyes locked with your body and his hand waving at you. You returned the greeting and saw Sunghoon. He was seated beside Jake, a glass of whiskey in his hand, the amber liquid swirling as he tilted it slightly. His sharp gaze was piercing, trailing over your form with intensity. The shadows that the club lights created accentuated his features—his jawline sharp enough to cut, his lips pressed into a faint smirk, only looking away to some fans that recognized them and wanted a sign.

Your eyes went back to Jake, and when he realized that, his smirk deepened as he leaned back further, the girl on his lap completely unaware of the silent exchange happening between you two. Looking around, you found Heeseung and Jay playing drinking games. He whispered something into Sunghoon's ear, making him giggle, and their eyes never left yours, as if daring you to keep looking.

“Holy shit,” Da Bi whispered, her eyes wide and noticing the guys you were looking at. “Are they…?”

“Yes,” you said, barely able to get the word out, mostly because you don’t want them to have the idea that you’re stalking them.

“Okay, now you’re just living in a fantasy,” Da Bi muttered, shaking her head in disbelief as her grip tightened around Sun Hee’s waist.

You turned back to her, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I swear, I didn’t plan this!”

“Well, if this isn’t fate, I don’t know what is,” Sun Hee said, nudging you, her tipsy self still finding the way to speak. “Now, are we going to give them a show or what? Kiss me since you didn’t bring a present."

You looked at Da Bi, and she nodded, giving you the green light to grab the back of Sun Hee’s neck and put your lips together; the euphoria of the moment even made Da Bi not have a care in the world and roam with her hands over the birthday girl's body while kissing her neck.

The crowd around you was eating it up, and you were almost positive that you didn’t have to glance over to know Jake and Sunghoon were still watching—if you act cocky, it is obvious.

Sun Hee broke the kiss with a mischievous laugh, her eyes gleaming as she turned to Da Bi, pulling her into the moment as well, kissing her with passion. The three of you danced together, hands roaming, bodies swaying in sync with the beat. When you finally dared to look back at the VIP section, Jake’s expression was unreadable, and so was Sunghoon's. The girl on his lap was trying to get Jake’s attention by showing more of her cleavage with her hands caressing his chest, but his focus was solely on you. He tilted his head slightly, as if to say, ‘Keep going.’.

Sunghoon, meanwhile, leaned back in his seat, one hand resting on his thigh while the other one played with the back of his neck. His eyes were sharp, following every move you made; he soon reached out to take another sip of his glass, his lips curling into a subtle smirk when your gaze locked with his.

Da Bi leaned close to your ear, her voice barely audible over the music. “Just in case! There are free rooms upstairs!”

You laugh, already knowing what your friend was trying to say. “You’re out of your mind.”

She grinned, nudging you playfully. “You’ve got their attention. Just in case you want to take them both.”

You rolled your eyes at Da Bi's cheeky comment, though your lips curved into a sly grin at the thought of it. "Both? That's ambitious, even for me."

"Oh, fuck off! Don't act like you don't want it. You're practically making them beg from up here." Sun Hee said, looking at you before giving a quick look to the club. "Look, the girl from Jake's lap set off! Go get them!"

"Sun Hee, they are celebrities, and they are already taking pictures of them! If they see me going with even one of them, it’s most likely that they will get my address in no time. Please forget it." You decided to give your attention to Sun Hee, who was dancing with her friends, and you joined in with the iconic Big Bang song ‘Fantastic Baby.’. From the corner of your eye, you saw how Da Bi disappeared.

You stopped dancing when you saw how drunk Sun Hee was and how she was tripping with nothing but her feet, taking her hand so she could sit down at your separate VIP section. Da Bi started looking for the two of you; you caught her attention by putting your hands up in a waving motion. She quickly came, and you decided to go to the bar, coming back soon after with a bottle of water for Sun Hee.

"Where did you go?" You screamed so she could hear you as you sat down beside Da Bi.

"I went to the person that plays with the lights; they will turn them off and play for like half an hour with the colored lights."

"Are you out of your mind?! Why did you do that?!" Da Bi rolled her eyes as her palm touched your exposed thigh; you could also see how the alcohol was getting to her as she did a small giggle and forgot what she was about to say.

"So you can get down with both of them; when was the last time you had really good sex?" Sun Hee entered the conversation. "And if I’m being honest… I want to fuck Da Bi." You opened your eyes but soon laughed about it.

"You two are insane." You laughed, and just like Da Bi said, the lights turned off to make an entrance to the colored lights, distracting people as more bottles came their way.

"Go grab those sticks and sign that NDA; make us proud!" Da Bi made you stand up and slapped your ass. You walked a few steps before looking back at them; they were already making out, so you had no other choice but to go.

You started to walk to the bar for a shot of vodka to make you even braver to do anything with them; the liquid burned, but at least it did the work to calm your nerves. You exhaled deeply; the calm came to you in contrast to the wild environment you were in. People were coming from left to right to the bar, and soon, a person sat on the free chair next to you.

"You look like you've got something on your mind." His voice was loud enough to make you listen. You knew that voice like the palm of your hand, of course you did. The nerves came back when you saw Jake, leaning casually against the bar and close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

You raised an eyebrow, swirling the vodka in your second glass before drinking it all, the feeling a little more tolerable than before. “It's not very often that a person of your favorite group looks at you too much and comes to talk to you. You know?"

"You grabbed my eyes at the concert. Did you enjoy the show, by the way?" The smoothness of Jake’s voice near your ear when he decided to move closer captivated you. It was not the first time you heard his voice, but having it near you was such a different thing. Because of the closure between the two of you, you could see how his shirt was open just enough to tease the edge of a tattoo on his collarbone, smirking at the memory of him being shirtless in the show.

“You guys were unforgettable. You sang my favorite songs.” Your comment made Jake chuckle, not in a funny manner, but in a proud one.

“Good. I’d hate to think all the effort went unnoticed.” You got brave enough to create a small distance between the two of you, if it was possible, noticing how his gaze dipped and looked at your lips, lingering just long enough to make your cheeks warm.

“Sorry about him; he likes to flirt a lot.” A loud voice appeared, and by the smile on Jake’s face, you could think it was Sunghoon, and sure it was, once your head turned around to the direction of the voice. Your eyes met, and Sunghoon gave a side smile, a very common gesture of his. “I’m Sunghoon.”

“I already know that, but it's really nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” You grabbed his extended hand when you noticed it, his thumb caressing the top of it before letting it go. “I’m a fan since your MCR YouTube covers.”

Sunghoon’s smile now grew bigger, his characteristic shy smile with his fangs showing up and a genuine smile from Jake. “Wow, it’s been a while since we’ve heard that.”

“We’re lucky then; thank you for sticking around this long.” Jake said, and you grab another shot on your way, drinking it all at once and ordering some for Jake and Sunghoon. The moment they arrive, you point at them.

“Thank you for drinking these shots,” you teased, feeling a sudden surge of confidence. The bartender gave you six shots; the boys looked at each other before drinking three each of them. The DJ changed the music, people practically screaming when the speakers were blasting “Don’t Stop The Music” by Rihanna. You stood up and walked a few steps away before turning to them. “Wanna dance?”

“Who are you asking?” Sunghoon said, pointing at him and later, Jake.

“To both of you.” You tilted your head to look at them both, and Jake stood up from his chair. You went a little deeper into the crowd, and soon you felt a presence behind you. Jake gave you a smirk before grabbing your hips, and Sunghoon found his way in front of you, and your drunk self wrapped your arms behind his neck.

All the people were stuck together, and the sultry rhythm made you feel both of their bodies so close to you that you locked eyes with Sunghoon again, and just like Jake minutes before, his gaze went to your glossy lips and right back to your eyes.

“You don’t have to be shy,” you teased; your voice was just loud enough to be heard over the music.

One of his hands left your waist and directly moved your hair aside to speak directly through your ear. “I don’t think I am. We just don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or forced to do anything.”

“You both don’t make me feel any of those things. You two make me feel good". You gave a small laugh after the double senses of your last sentence, gaining a small smile from him as he noticed your voice steady and sure despite the alcohol.

“We can make you feel good.” Sunghoon’s hand on your waist traced imaginary figures on your sides; your right hand travelled sensually from his shoulder to the back of his head, softly grabbing some of his hair, a dominant move from your part.

“You have permission to prove it,” the words left your mouth, and his hand threw your hair back completely before giving a small bite on your ear, making you shut your eyes as you sighed. He started to pamper kisses from the back of your ear to your neck, feeling how he suctioned softly a couple of times and gaining soft moans from you, throwing your head back and falling on Jake’s chest in the process when he found a specific spot on your neck.

Jake watched everything, and you could tell how he was enjoying it fully; he saw how you opened your eyes to connect with his eyes, and you grabbed his right hand to put it right on the front of your neck, feeling the coolness of his rings making a contrast with your warm skin.

“Kiss me.” You didn’t have to tell him twice when his lips crashed with yours, and it was everything you expected as the moment was turning more intimate—intense, dirty, and needy. His hand tightened slightly around your neck as the kiss deepened, slightly limiting the oxygen you were breathing while feeling the coolness of your middle lip piercing. Sunghoon didn’t stop either; his hands went slowly to your ass, squishing the flesh of it as he was watching, slowly losing all self-control. All three had lust in their eyes.

The moment Jake left your lips, he made your head turn to Sunghoon, your hand flying to the back of his head again as he kissed you. His kiss was more sensual, he was practically savoring the moment, but when his tongue brushed against your bottom lip in a way to seek permission, it became rougher losing it when he sucked your tongue, and action that you secretly loved, his lips catching the sinful moan you gave to him. Now, you could feel Jake’s plump lips attacking the other side of your neck, and you smiled in the middle of the kiss.

Sunghoon bit your bottom lip, sighing at your state, his left hand stopping on your face to caress your cheek, watching your swollen lips and cleaning some of the saliva from the corner of your lips; you quickly wrapped your lips around his thumb when he touched your bottom lip with a teasing smirk playing on your face. The sudden move made Sunghoon's brows raise, his lips curving into a cocky grin.

“You look like a dream.” Sunghoon said, and Jake hummed in response.

“I look even better naked.” You didn’t want to sound like a ‘pick me,’ but if there was a chance to actually have them both by the end of the night, you wouldn’t waste it.

“Sunghoon, go to the manager so he can rent the room above us.” Since Jake was the oldest, he nodded and went to find him, making his way quietly in the crowd so he couldn't be seen. You and Jake made your way to a nonvisible corner following Sunghoon with the same caution as his friend, who ended up talking to one person that you recognize as the manager.

The club was still dark, green lights flashing every now and then with the beat of electronic music. Jake leaned casually against the wall of the reached corner, diving back to your lips and kissing you slowly, not trying to rush things despite having your approval. His hand was going south, handfully grabbing your ass while yours went to his shirt, undoing one button.

“All done; we can go to the room.” Sunghoon’s voice interrupted the moment, all three going through the hidden stairs to the last room of the hallway between laughs and slight touches. With a key, Sunghoon opened the door, making you enter first, the both of them joining right after.

The door clicked shut behind them, and the low thrum of the club music faded into a distant hum. Your hands were instantly placed on each side of your jacket, removing it and tossing it to an individual couch in the room, not noticing that Sunghoon was also taking his leather jacket off his body to leave it on a table as well as his rings. Jake came closer to you, his hand reaching for yours to put your chests together.

“Are you sure about this?” You could tell he asked for both of them, but you had already planted the idea in your head.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” Sunghoon approaches you after a few moments, his hands finding your waist as he draws you in for another kiss, hearing Jake scoffing at the action. You felt how his kiss was slow until it became rough like the one you had on the dance floor. Despite the heat that was radiating from both of you, his hands felt cold when they went to lower the back zipper of your dress, yours going immediately to his belt.

Jake’s presence loomed behind you, his hands brushing along your arms before resting on your hips. “Don’t get greedy, Hoon.” Jake’s breath was hot against your ear, and before going down your neck, you felt the cool air touch your back when Sunghoon successfully zipped down the dress and Jake let the fabric fall to the floor in a soft heap.

Sunghoon went directly to your back, separating Jake slightly, feeling how your bra got loose in a quick motion. You took the end of his white shirt, taking it off him with his help; meeting his unknown belly button piercing, a small gasp left your mouth. Usually, men will only have the traditional piercing, the two dots, but you will never imagine seeing a silver cross-shaped, dangling belly button piercing. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips. When the fuck did he get that?

“Not what you expected?” You denied it, and your hands went to his small waist, fingers lingering on the pretty jewelry.

“But it suits you.” You smiled as you made a 180° turn to face the Aussie boy, clamming his lips in a kiss. His hands softly gripping your breasts and smiling in delight with how you made them know how good they were making you feel, just like they said. You could feel Sunghoon's hand playing with the strings of your thong, snapping the elastic to your skin, making you grow desperate due to his little game.

"Fuck, just take it off," the exasperation was very noticeable by the tone you used, the sound of how SUnghoon spanked your ass resonated in unison with your gasp.

"Easy, baby." Jake guided you to sit on his lap on the edge of the bed, his erection trying to get out of his pants, but you were getting distracted by how Sunghoon kneeled in front of you. "Let me take your shoes off."

He took your heel boots easily and put them away; his hands caressed your legs from your ankles to your thighs, his lips leaving kisses in the process. You threw your head back to Jake's shoulders the moment his veiny hands grabbed once again your tits, his index and thumb playing with your nipples. All the sensations you were experiencing were embarrassingly noticeable on your underwear, sticking into your cunt.

Sunghoon’s hands slid higher up your thighs, not being able to see the mischievous glint in his eyes due to Jake abusing every spot on your neck. He leaned in, pressing his lips to your inner thigh, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just enough to make you shiver. Sunghoon’s fingers hooked into the sides of your thong, pulling it down slowly, his eyes never leaving your entrance. The fabric slid down your legs, and he tossed it aside, his hands returning to your thighs to spread them gently.

He trailed kisses higher and higher, causing small shivers through your entire body, a reason why Jake's hands moved down your waist to hold you steady the moment you squirmed at the sensation of Sunghoon's tongue against your core; moans falling from your mouth when his fingers went deep in you, stretching you out.

"You're so responsive," Jake said, his left arm hugging your body as the other hand went again to one of your nipples to pinch it, trembling at the combination. "You will hold your orgasm; can you do that for us?"

“Y-yes, I can, just… don’t stop, please.”

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl.” You could only nod since your voice caught in your throat as Sunghoon continued his work, alternating between slow, almost teasing strokes and firm fingering. "Sunghoon, let me."

You whined when Jake stood up and left you with your legs open; he lowered himself to the same level as your wet cunt and eagerly licked a long strip, collecting as much as he could of your arousal to make a stop on your clit. You laid down completely on the bed in a moaning mess, incoherent words coming from you that you couldn’t even understand when Sunghoon's tongue joined, fucking you as deep as he could. Both of your hands went to their heads to create a grip on their hairlocks; Jake hummed to your action, the vibration of it causing that familiar knot to almost snap.

“Please stop, please, please.” You were begging at this point; Sunghoon separated from you with his fingers inside you this time, curling them to touch that sweet spot that you sometimes couldn’t even reach yourself.

"You better give me a good reason," he said, nonstopping his movements and even making them faster. Your moans got higher as you tried to speak, looking for the perfect timing.

"I want to cum on your dicks." Your comment made both guys freeze for a moment, their eyes meeting over your trembling form. Jake let out a low chuckle, and his hand brushed your hair away from your face with his mouth and chin glistening from eating you out. “Please, daddies.”

You truly didn’t know what got into you; the word simply slipped out, tumbling from your lips before your brain could catch up. The room went silent, and a heavy tension hung in the air. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you froze, unsure whether to apologize or fake yourself passing out, but that last one would be too pathetic.

Jake’s hands guided you to sit down, and he walked straight to you. Your hair was formed into a messy ponytail by Jake. To make you look up, you gasped at the sweet feel of the slight pain that caused. “Be a good girl and help Daddy out, then.” Your hands travelled fast to his belt and boxers, hissing the moment he saw your doe eyes looking at his hooded ones with your hand wrapping his dick.

Sunghoon went to one of the drawers, and after some searching, he came to your spot and threw condoms and a half-empty lube.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Jake." You hand-wrapped around his length, his head being thrown back when you put a certain amount of pressure. You looked back; Sunghoon was almost naked, his black boxers still on, not helping with hiding his erection. "Let me help you so you can join."

With your free hand, you grabbed the elastic and took them down with his help. Sunghoon's dick had slightly more girth than Jake's, but the same length. He stood up next to him, your free hand positioned on Sunghoon’s hip before you left a kitty lick on his tip, being rewarded by Sunghoon’s soft groan.

You started slow movements, your hands sliding up and down their lengths, enjoying the way their breaths hitched and their eyes showed you how much they liked it. Jake’s hips bucked slightly into your touch, making you lean forward to put your lips together around Jake’s tip, swirling your tongue and earning a sharp intake of breath. Sunghoon groaned softly, his hand reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so good.” You heard Jake moan, so you went a little bit deeper, his hand not wasting time to put it behind your head, grabbing your hair in a messy ponytail to see how you fully took him. You took him deeper, his tip touching the back of your throat and making yourself gag around him, the vibrations causing his body to shake slightly and hold Sunghoon’s shoulder, who was also losing his mind. You were bobbing your head up and down, and the hand that was on Sunghoon’s length followed the slightly fast pace you were creating.

After a few more minutes of controlling his orgasm, you turned your attention to Sunghoon, taking him into your mouth as you continued to pump Jake. And just like Jake, his hand went directly to do the same messy ponytail.

“G-God, this feels… s-so good.” An idea popped out in your brain as you took him out of your mouth; hearing him whimpering was not something you expected, but it did make you even wetter for both of them. “P-Please, go deeper.”

You let him go out of your mouth as you spat on it for extra lubrication, “You mean like this?” You focused on breathing through your nose, relaxing your throat in the process as you took him deeper; Sunghoon’s hips bucked forward, hitting that little bell that actually made your eyes water.

“Fuck, y-yes, baby. Don’t stop, please.” Time passed, and you saw Sunghoon's polite facade turning off; the back of your head still got his hand behind it, with the difference that he was going deeply and roughly, trying to release himself. He was about to speak out when you once again took him out of your mouth but soon created a small choir of moans and groans when you made his and Jake’s dicks be placed right next to each other as you pathetically tried to suck on their tips, the corners of your mouths hurting.

You were going back and forth, hearing them praising you, only motivating you to suck them off even more; their moans grew louder, and that was your cue to stop. You looked up to meet their eyes. “Someone please sit on the bed.”

Sunghoon was faster as he sat on the bed, taking the condoms and lube to his side. You crawled right on top of him, his tip touching your wet entrance at the action. You initiated a kiss; he was tasting himself through that kiss, feeling that he liked it when his hand went to the back of your neck, tongues touching and creating even more wet sounds.

“Are you going to keep sucking me, baby?” Jake’s voice made its way into the room; you looked around and grabbed the lube in your hand. He was confused at first, but soon opened his eyes when he realized what you intended to do. “Holy fuck, you want to kill me.”

Jake gave a small peck on your lips before going behind you; his hands gripped your hips, making you position yourself on all fours; the coolness of the lube touched your anus. While Jake dedicated himself to spreading and combining the lube with your arousal, Sunghoon took your face to pamper kisses. This time, they were sweet enough to distract you, locking his eyes with yours.

"How can I make you relax better, princess?" you thought about it, smiling softly at him.

"How about a 69?" The moment his lips went to your cunt at first, you could tell how much of a munch guy he was, like it was a life-or-death mission to leave you empty. Sunghoon smiled, both of you getting comfortable at the position.

You got once again his pretty dick in front of you; the red color of the base was evident, the tip shining due to the precum that you wanted to lick. You felt his kisses once again in your inner thighs, his thick fingers pushing into the skin of your ass, spreading it apart for him and Jake.

"I'm going to finger you first. Can you relax for me, baby?" Jake's voice was deeper than before. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as Jake's voice resonated in your ears.

Sunghoon was utterly absorbed, his lips and tongue working on you like a starving man, his fingers gripping behind your thighs for a moment before going back to your ass, holding you steady as you took him in your mouth.

Jake’s fingers traced teasing circles, spreading the lube evenly while ensuring you adjusted to the sensation. You sat for a moment on Sunghoon's face, and Jake took that opportunity to lean in closer, his breath hot against the back of your neck as he murmured, "Let me know if it's too much, baby. We want you to be comfortable."

You went back to being on all fours, licking Sunghoon's tip again before going all in and sucking him off, his moans vibrating right on your cunt.

"I want you to breathe for me, baby." You did what he said, feeling his fingertip barely pressing against the tight ring of muscle, giving you time to adjust. "You're doing so well, such a good girl." His praise made you wetter, arousal that Sunghoon licked every time.

"F-fuck, princess. Please take me deeper." You heard Sunghoon's whiny voice, so pretty, and you took it as you could, gagging around him and gaining a small spank. "Shit, sorry."

"Please do it again, Hoon." You said it was embarrassing how much you liked it and how you didn’t even think of what you were about to say, like you did this whole night. Your mind was out of it in pleasure. His palm spanked the plush skin of your ass again, more arousal creating on your entrance.

Jake's hand tightened on your hips, his fingers moving in a slow but deep rhythm, coaxing your body to adjust to his touch. You moaned softly around Sunghoon's length, your focus split between Jake's patient teasing and Sunghoon's growing desperation.

Sunghoon let out a deep groan, his mouth taking deep breaths to rest for a moment. “You’re doing so well, princess. Look at you, so pretty with your mouth full of me.” His voice was strained, trembling with need as your tongue worked over him.

His words sent a shiver through you as Jake's fingers finally pushed deeper, carefully allowing you to adjust once again to the sensation. Your body tensed at first, but the combination of Sunghoon’s tongue on your clit and Jake’s soothing words eased you into the moment.

“Relax, baby,” Jake whispered, “You’re taking me so well. Just breathe.”

You moaned around Sunghoon, your body relaxing as you followed Jake’s guidance. Sunghoon’s hand tightened in your ass, his breaths coming faster as he tried to hold back. “F-fuck, Y/N, you’re going to make me lose it.”

Jake chuckled softly behind you, his tone filled with both amusement and desire. “Not yet, Hoon. Let’s make this last.”

Jake added a second finger, stretching you; his other hand trailed up your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake and feeling how he pushed you down, making you gag around Sunghoon. Sunghoon’s hips bucked slightly against your lips, and you responded by hollowing your cheeks, taking him even deeper.

Jake's fingers began to thrust once he saw you moving your ass towards him, and Sunghoon went back to thrusting your entrance with his tongue. You had to stop sucking Sunghoon to let all the moans and gasps free.

"Fuck, d-daddies." You put your hands on Sunghoon's thighs for support, feeling your legs shaking. "You two are so good for me, shit!"

Jake's pace quickened to drive you to the edge, and Sunghoon was unwilling to let you catch your breath as he groaned against your core as his tongue thrust deeper, his lips teasing every sensitive spot.

“Look at you,” Jake murmured, his voice husky and low as he leaned over you. His lips brushed against your shoulder, sending shivers down your spine. “Such a needy little slut for us. Tell me how much you love it.”

“I—ah—I love it so much, Daddy.” You managed to gasp, your voice shaking with pleasure. “You’re both—fuck—so good.”

Sunghoon chuckled against you as he focused on pulling every last sound out of you. “You taste so good,” he said between licks, his breath warm against your skin. “Don’t hold back. We want to hear from you, baby.”

Your body trembled, your knees threatening to give you out as the sensation was consuming you. Jake’s fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot with each thrust, while Sunghoon’s fingers pounded in and suctioned on your clit. You cried out, your head falling back as your pleasure built to an unbearable peak.

“Daddy, I’m so close,” you whimpered, your fingers digging into Sunghoon’s thighs as your legs quivered.

Jake’s fingers withdrew suddenly, leaving you empty and aching. Sunghoon stopped his movements, mesmerized by how your pussy was clenching around nothing, eager to have someone inside you. Sunghoon separated you from his body; to sit properly with his back touching the bed headboard, he reached for a condom, ripping the packaging off and sliding the condom through his dick, twitching due to the sensitivity.

You crawled to him, lips kissing as you tasted yourself; your hand reached to his throat and applied pressure on it, an action that made him groan. You separate from him as you look at him.

“You also like that, huh?” Your teasing came flat as his hand went to your throat while his free one went directly to your pussy; you jumped as he inserted two fingers inside you.

“Don’t test me.” He lost his grip and kissed you back, no stopping his movements. You got on your knees on top of him when he stopped; he aligned himself in your entrance, and you slowly got lower, not holding the loud moan at feeling of finally being filled. In the meantime, Jake also put on a condom and went behind you, aligning himself as he also went inside you slowly; both of your holes were filled, and it was like all three were touching heaven in every way.

A few moments later, it was you who started to move as you could before they started thrusting into you; by their gasp of air and incoherent words that would leave from their throats, it was clear that they were enjoying it as much as you were as they moved in perfect unison, somehow synchronizing with the rhythm of your trembling form.

You were so wet that it was easy for both of them to go faster than before, touching spots that you never thought you had, their trust growing more confident, each one coaxing gasps and cries from your lips that only encouraged them further.

“Look at me, pretty,” Sunghoon's voice entered your ears, your blurry vision focusing on him as much as you could; his mullet was messy, swollen lips from the kissing and biting his lower lip, and eyes hooded from all the ecstasy he was feeling, “A pretty doll losing her mind for our cocks, right?”

“Y-yes! You fuck me so good.” you said, motivating the two of them as they went even faster, if that could be possible. “Daddy! I’m going to cum.”

Your walls unconsciously clenched around Sunghoon the moment Jake went deeper, stimulating even more the coil that they were creating. Sunghoon was now the first to stop; it took you back a little, but even more how he turned you around. You were now facing Jake’s fucked-out expression; Jake shared almost the same expression as Sunghoon, with the difference of his glossy eyes, the pleasure even being too much for him.

You felt how Sunghoon’s dick made its way to your wet ring muscle, occupying Jake’s spot. Jake could see how your eyes rolled and your mouth opened to let out the prettiest whines and moans, his mind already making scenarios of that same expression as he entered inside you.

He pumped his painfully hard dick before pushing himself inside you with ease; the double penetration was fast from the beginning. Your hands were extended behind you for support, and Sunghoon’s hands held you steady as Jake’s fast movements created friction for all of them; the bed was moving because of the mingling with the symphony of breathless moans and whispered praises.

“I—I need to cum! Please, daddies, let me cum.” You started to beg, an action that made Jake smile with cockiness.

“Let go, baby. You deserve it.” Sunghoon whispered in your ear, one of his hands going directly to your clit. “Let me help you.”

His fingers moved as fast on your bundle of nerves, and the coil inside you unraveled, your body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Your cries filled the room, your squirt making a mess in all of you three.

“Let’s leave her empty, Jake.” And they sure did that until the last drop of squirt left your body, both of them guiding you through the overwhelming sensation. Sunghoon followed soon after, his lips on your hips tightening as he reached his peak, a deep groan escaping his lips. Jake was the last to fall, his head resting on the curve that connected your neck and shoulder, his breath hot against your skin.

You felt even more empty when they let go of you, their condoms full of their semen as they threw them in the trash after they did a knot in them. The three of you collapsed onto the bed in a tangled heap, the aftermath of what happened leaving you breathless and content. You passed your hands to your face, knowing that your mascara definitely was ruined and you looked a mess.

Sunghoon’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as Jake’s fingers traced lazy patterns along your back, basking in the after in the quiet room.

“This is probably the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.” Jake said, making you and Sunghoon laugh.

“Glad I could make that happen,” you said, taking your hand to his cheek and leaving a small peck on his lips.

“And this is our first time having sex with a fan, or having a threesome in general.” Sunghoon’s comment shocked you, feeling a surge of pride due to his comment. You smiled shyly.

“I’m also glad to be your two firsts on that.”

Jake chuckled, pulling you closer into the warmth of his chest. “Well, you’ve definitely set the bar pretty damn high. I don’t think anyone could top this.”

Sunghoon smirked, propping himself up on one elbow as his fingers traced absentminded circles along your arm. “We should’ve done this sooner. But…” He hesitated for a moment, exchanging a glance with Jake. “There’s one small thing we need to take care of.”

“Signing an NDA?” you said with a smile, resting importance on it. “I can give your manager my number so he can deliver the paper. Or do you do that online?”

Sunghoon laughed softly at your comment, shaking his head. “Not exactly the romantic pillow talk I had in mind, but yeah, we need you to sign an NDA. It’s not personal, just… well, you know how things can get.”

Jake leaned in, his lips brushing against your temple. “We trust you, but this is more for everyone’s peace of mind. You understand, right?”

“Of course,” you replied, your tone reassuring. “I get it completely. I’d probably do the same if I were in your position.” You reached over to the bedside table for your phone, all of your phones were there thanks to Sunghoon, who stood up and grab all of them three. “So, how does this work? Should I text my info to your manager?”

Sunghoon tilted his head, clearly impressed by your level-headed response. “We’ll handle it. Our team can send it to you digitally, or if you’re comfortable, we can go over it together before you leave.”

Jake gave a lopsided grin. “Thank you for taking it well. Most people would freak out or make it awkward.”

“I don’t plan on ruining the best night of my life by overthinking,” you said, smirking. “Plus, I kind of expected this. It’s not like I can go around bragging about having a threesome with my favorite artist.”

They both laughed, and the tension in the air eased. Sunghoon leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Thanks for understanding. We’ll make it quick and painless.”

Jake grabbed his phone too, scrolling through it for a moment. “I’ll shoot a message to our manager and let him know. They’ll probably have it ready in a few minutes.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the surreal nature of the situation. Here you were, tangled in the sheets with two idols, discussing legal documents. “This has to be the strangest post-sex conversation I’ve ever had.”

“Well, it’s a first for us too,” Sunghoon admitted, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “But I think it’s safe to say this was worth it.”

Jake nodded in agreement, setting his phone down as he pulled you both closer. “Definitely worth it. And who knows? Maybe we’ll need to renegotiate the terms if we ever want to do this again.”

─── DON'T MIND ME, I <3 ROCKSTARS! I really got into it, hope this is a good enough blog to come back to enhablr, sorry if it's too long, got carried away as you saw. any grammar mistakes will be solved later!

𓄴 𝐓aglist (mostly moots!): @hheeluv @awqken @taeghi @caratstick @021894s @hees-love @heechwe @yangkkomi @dollyyun @wwooyology @ja3yun @v1rtu4ld0ll @firstclassjaylee

[marvelstoriesepic]

Small gesture, Big meaning

Pairing: Tfatws!Bucky x Shield!Reader

Summary: Sam and you prepare something for Bucky’s birthday with the little you can scrape together.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Sam roasting a poor muffin; Bucky being in his feels; bickering; subtle mentions of Bucky’s past

Author’s Note: Another little birthday fic because I felt like it. You might notice I'm extremely motivated to write lately. Let’s hope it stays that way. Hope you enjoy! ♡

Masterlist

“You’re putting too much faith in that sad little muffin.”

Sam is leaning against the rickety kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching with open amusement as you carefully place a candle in the center of the slightly misshapen muffin. It’s a little lumpy, a little too golden brown in some places, and has a slightly deflated top, but considering that you made it in a barely functioning oven with only the ingredients that are offered here, it looks pretty decent.

Supplies are scarce in this safe house, and baking has never been your strong suit. After all, as an agent of Shield, you don’t really have time for domestic stuff like that.

“It’s not about the muffin,” you shoot back, a little defensive. You are even a little proud of this thing, but you won’t admit that to Sam. “It’s about the thought,” you claim, adjusting the small happy birthday banner you both scrawled on torn notebook paper.

Sam hums, his smile not leaving. “Oh, the thought is loud and clear. Happy birthday, Bucky. Here’s a barely edible clump of regret.”

You narrow your eyes at his mocking tone. “Oh come on, at least I tried. You just stood there judging my culinary struggles.”

“I think you managed just fine.” His smile is so toothy. His voice so sarcastic.

Your eyes fall back to the muffin with a roll of your eyes. Sure, it looks a little rustic, but there is something satisfying about it. The last time you baked something isn’t even a memory in your mind anymore.

Your usual diet consists of protein bars and whatever passes for coffee in whatever part of the world you’re holed up in. But you made this. For Bucky.

And for something that isn’t a tactical maneuver, a recon plan, or a mission briefing, that feels like a win.

“It’s not bad.”

Sam snorts.

You throw him a glare.

For a moment, the two of you just stand there.

This isn’t just about Bucky’s birthday - it’s about reminding him that he’s seen, that someone gives a damn. That after all the decades of war, loss, and suffering, there is still something worth celebrating. Even if it’s just with Sam and you.

Sam clears his throat, shifting his weight. “He’s gonna act all grumpy about it.”

You take in a breath. “Yeah, I know. But deep down, he’ll like it.”

Sam softens.

You smile and light the candle.

The safe house you are in right now is tucked in some half-forgotten corner of Eastern Europe - somewhere off the grid but not completely abandoned.

The walls are cracked, the wood is old and worn, the air thick with dust, and the supplies minimal at best. It’s one of those places that’s good for disappearing, for catching a breath, and talking about strategy.

You three have been here for two days now.

There are only a few cans of food, stale crackers, instant coffee that tastes burned. The stove barely works just like the oven, the fridge hums as if it’s dying, and the water pressure in the tiny, rust-stained bathroom is a joke. But it’s shelter, and honestly even quite cozy, and that’s enough.

The situation with Karli and the flag smashers is getting tense. You are trying to track her movements, trying to predict her next move after the GRC camp attack in Latvia.

Bucky left a few hours ago, going after a lead - an arms deal happening at a dockside warehouse a few miles out. Maybe it’s nothing, maybe it’s something, maybe another piece of the super soldier serum still floating around in the wrong hands.

You didn’t want him to go alone and tried to make a case for joining him, but Bucky just gave you that look. The one that said he isn’t going to risk anyone else. The one that said he is used to doing things on his own, whether he likes it or not. And with Sam needing to check in with some of his own contacts, that left you here, holding things down.

So you let him go, but still checked your comms every now and then, waiting for the static to break with his voice.

He should be back soon.

Bucky has not said a thing about it being his birthday.

Not today, not yesterday, not in any of the days leading up to it.

Not that this surprised you. You expected it, honestly.

To him, a birthday does not seem to be a marker of another year lived, but rather just another date on a calendar that is too far ahead of him. Another reminder of all the years he wasn’t really there. Not as himself.

He was his usual brooding self. Still and watchful, sitting on the couch in the corner, hands clasped loosely, tapping his metal fingers against his knee in that absent way he does when his thoughts take him somewhere else.

The only real indication that he even knew his birthday was approaching was the way he got quieter. Bucky is never particularly loud to begin with. But there was a shift, a deepening of whatever burden he carried around.

You caught him staring out the window yesterday, waiting for the sky to darken, for the day to pass by unnoticed, slipping through the cracks like so many others before.

So you didn’t bring it up. Neither did Sam.

You just started planning.

Because if Bucky wasn’t going to acknowledge it, you would.

Maybe not with something big, because he wouldn’t want that, but something. Something only for you. Only for the people closest to him currently. A reminder, even if he didn’t ask for one.

Because birthdays might not matter to Bucky.

But Bucky matters to you.

The door swings open with a push that is firm but not rushed, the kind of movement that says he’s been through a thousand doors just like it, in places just like this, and expects nothing on the other side but the same four walls he left behind.

You straighten. So does Sam.

A gust of cold air follows him in, causing the candle in the muffin to flicker slightly.

Bucky steps inside, his boots scuffing against the worn floorboards, the leather of his jacket creaking faintly as he shifts, pushing the door shut behind him.

You don’t think you’re even breathing as you watch him roll his shoulders like he’s shaking off the weight of the night - like if he just moves right, he can shrug off the things he doesn’t want to carry.

“It was nothing,” he says, his voice rough, sandpapered. He is already pulling off his gloves, shoving them into his pocket. “Just a few guys moving crates. Looked like standard weapons, no serum, no Flag Smasher insignias. Could’ve been anyone.”

His tone is gruff, dismissive. Almost a little bored.

“Didn’t stick around long,” he continues, metal fingers curling at his sides. “They spotted me. One guy ran, but the rest didn’t put up much of a-”

And then he looks up.

And stops.

His shoulders tense mid-shift, his mouth still half open from words that don’t make it out. His eyes tell the whole story.

They dart from you to Sam to the muffin in your hands, the candle still burning, wax beginning to pool unevenly at the base. Then to the tiny, hand-scrawled banner you quickly shoved into Sam’s fingers to hold up.

Bucky doesn’t move.

For a long second, he just stares. Not in the way he does when he’s sizing up a threat, when he’s tracking movement in a crowded room, when he’s calculating distance and angles and exits. This is different.

His expression isn’t blank, but it’s unreadable in a way that makes you shift from one foot to the other. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with what he is seeing.

“Happy birthday, Bucky.”

The words come out light, but there is something heavy in them, and you feel that your voice is a little hesitant.

Gripping the muffin a little tighter, you suddenly feel self-conscious about how small this gesture is, how little you were able to put together. It felt like enough before. Like something meaningful. But his silence is making you uneasy.

“Happy birthday, man,” Sam echoes, voice sincere.

Bucky blinks several times, needing to catch up. His features, softened in surprise, start to pull back together, a slow crease forming between his brows. His jaw tightens, lips are still parted slightly before he presses them together, as if cutting off whatever response had almost slipped out.

His eyes continue sweeping around, from the muffin, up to you, to Sam, to the imperfect banner. Something swims beneath the blue of his eyes.

“What is this?” His voice is hoarse, like the words catch somewhere on their way out.

Like he doesn’t already know. Like he can’t believe it.

He shifts his weight, arms hanging stiffly at his sides, metal fingers flexing just slightly, one of those little tells you picked up during your time working together.

He is off balance, caught without an escape route, with no blueprints for this kind of thing. A man who has walked through fire and war and every shade of hell, and yet, somehow, this little gesture, is what catches him completely off guard.

There is something vulnerable in the way he looks at you both, something unguarded in the way his throat works around nothing, as if searching for a response but keeps coming up empty.

Because this is not something he can punch his way through or bury beneath sarcasm and brooding.

It’s just a candle and a muffin and a banner and two people standing in front of him, remembering what day it is.

And maybe that’s what gets him the most.

Bucky doesn’t look away.

He has always been one to simply stare at things, but this is getting intense.

As if the whole concept of this - of being given something without having to earn it through blood or survival - is too distant to reach for.

“Damn, man,” Sam drawls, arms crossing over his chest again. “Are you getting so old now that you forgot what a birthday is?”

You don’t know if you want to punch the man beside you in the gut with every ounce of strength you’ve got or grab his stupid face and kiss him like the world is ending. Maybe both. Probably both.

Because the bastard knows exactly what he is doing. Knows how to crack open a moment before it can become too heavy, how to make things easier for Bucky without making a big deal out of it.

And it kind of seems to work.

Bucky’s expression changes in the way his brows furrow deeper. His mouth twitches - almost a frown, almost a smile, almost something in between. Then he exhales sharply, breath hitching before rushing past his lips a little unevenly. It’s a scoff, but it’s weak, like he can’t quite summon the energy to be properly annoyed.

His eyes fall to Sam, sharp but lacking real bite. “Shut up.”

But there is no edge.

No venom. Like if he weren’t so caught off guard, if he had a little more time to settle into this strange, unfamiliar warmth creeping into the edges of the room, he might have actually had something to fire back.

He shakes his head slightly, as if trying to dismiss the moment before it can sink in too deep, before it can reach whatever part of him has spent too long convincing itself that things like that aren’t for him.

His gaze drops again to the candle. The wax drips lower, the flame wavers.

Then his eyes sweep over the lettering of the banner in Sam’s hand, reading your handwriting carefully, over and over and over again.

You offer a warm smile and hold out the muffin toward him, tilting it slightly in invitation. The candle’s flame flickers with the movement.

“You gotta blow out the candle, Bucky.”

He glances at you then, one brow arching in that familiar, dry skepticism, like he is debating whether or not to argue the point. But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t argue, only exhales another breath that is just a little shaky.

He steps toward you, slowly, as if closing the space between you and the candle is something to be made precisely, something to be considered.

Up close, the cut of his jaw is a little tighter, the blue of his eyes shadowed but not distant. His hands flex at his sides. Maybe a part of him still expects this to be something else, something with a catch, something not meant for him.

But you keep smiling, keep waiting, Sam keeps watching and after the briefest hesitation, Bucky leans in, breath ghosting warm against the tiny flame, and blows it out.

It snuffs with a quiet puff of smoke, curling into nothing.

Sam claps his hands together once, a low, easy sound that fills the space. “There you go, old man.”

You smile, a little brighter now, something in your chest disentangling at the sight of Bucky standing there, watching the smoke, looking slightly lost, but no longer frozen.

“Did you make a wish?” you ask lightly.

Bucky huffs out a breath. It might be a laugh but it is a little unsteady.

“Sure, doll.”

There is something in the way he says it. Something softer than usual, something a little worn at the edges but genuine.

As though, just maybe, he did not even have to make a wish. Because it already came true.

The candle’s tiny smoke disappears, leaving behind only the muffin - a little too brown, a little too lopsided, but warm in your hands.

Bucky stares at it, his expression unreadable in that way only he can manage, like he is feeling something too big to let show.

Sam sighs dramatically, eyes also trained on whatever you created there.

“Man,” he mutters, shaking his head, “it looked sad before, but with the candle out it looks even sadder. Like a single, abandoned biscuit in the middle of a war zone.”

You gasp, scandalized, turning to him. “Excuse me? This is a perfectly respectable muffin.”

Sam gives you a look, then gestures vaguely toward it. “That thing looks like it’s been through some things - like it’s seen battle, lost some good men, and barely made it home.”

You clutch the muffin closer to your chest. “I will not stand here and let you disrespect my baking skills in such a way.”

“What baking skills, huh?” Sam fires back, smirking. “You found a pre-mixed bag of something that might’ve been flour and might’ve been plaster, mixed it with a prayer, and threw it in the oven. I'm just saying, if that thing had legs, it would’ve walked away out of self-preservation.”

You open your mouth, ready to retort with the sharpest, most brutal comeback you can think of, but Bucky beats you to it.

“It looks nice.”

His voice is quiet but firm, stopping your bickering.

Sam and you both turn to look at him.

Bucky hasn’t taken his eyes off the muffin. His hands are still loose at his sides, his stance still slightly hesitant. But his expression is softened.

You don’t bother to hide your triumph as you turn back to Sam. “See? Barnes thinks it looks nice.”

Sam rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath about low standards and winter soldier pity points, but you don’t care.

Because Bucky - who didn’t mention his birthday, who never expects anything from anyone, who looks so lost in thought standing there in the poorly lighted safe house - thinks it looks nice.

And that’s more than enough.

You watch Bucky’s brow furrow slightly into something weighty, as if realizing only now, that you actually made this yourself.

His eyes shift to the uneven edges of the banner Sam is holding, to the way the lettering wobbles just slightly, as though you had to redo it a few times before settling on something half-decent.

Then his eyes move back to the muffin that has been made by hand - your hand - mixed together with the scraps you could find in the barebones safe house, baked in a temperamental oven that probably isn’t even meant for cooking anymore.

For him.

You made all this just for him.

His throat moves as he swallows hard, his lips parting slightly as if wanting to voice out something, but nothing comes up. His chest rises and falls, slower than before, as if he is trying to steady himself.

His jaw tightens just a fraction, but it doesn’t harden. It softens again slowly, and when he finally looks back up, there is something there you don’t think you have ever seen before.

A sheen over his eyes, so faint it might go unnoticed if you weren’t looking right back at him. If you weren’t watching him take this in, piece by piece, trying to figure out what to do with it.

He looks so touched.

So utterly affected by your gesture.

He spent so many of his birthdays forgotten, as someone wielded by metal and orders, to now come back to his temporary home, to his temporary family, who remembered long enough to plan a little something for him.

You don’t need to say anything.

You just glance at Sam, and he glances at you. He nods subtly, giving you a meaningful smile.

Because this matters.

Bucky releases a breath from deep within. It comes out slow, an attempt at trying to get his overwhelming emotions out, but it doesn’t seem to have worked that well.

His gaze drops for just a second, as though he needs to compose himself, before he looks back at you with something so gentle and exposed in his expression that it nearly makes you squeeze the fragile muffin in your hand to death.

This isn’t much. Just a tiny celebration in some run-down house out in nowhere.

But to him, it seems to be everything.

“After seeking to understand, it’s not the size of the action that counts. It’s the relevancy and impact of our action that makes the difference.”

- Heather R Younger

[hhaechansmoless]

OFF THE GRID [TEASER]

pairing: f1driver!scoups x ex!femreader

genre: angst, romance, exes to lovers au, childhood bestfriends / neighbours au

description: Part of the Beyond The Grid series. Four-time world champion Choi Seungcheol has spent years at the top with Ferrari, but as the 2025 season drags on, he can’t shake the feeling that he’s not quite where he used to be. The competition is catching up, his team isn't what it used to be, and for the first time, he’s starting to wonder if he’s past his prime. By the time the season winds down, he finds himself back in his hometown, which isn't quite the same either. But the hardest race was never on track, and sooner or later, he’ll have to figure out what comes next.

warnings: strong language, stressful situations, descriptions of car crashes and physical exhaustion, f1 heavy, miscommunication

teaser w/c: 1.3k fic w/c: 46.5k . Part 1

glossary

a/n: While it is not required to read Lights Out to understand what's going on here, the first half of this fic runs parallel to it. I personally had fun writing the parallels, oh you know, the downfall of one, rise of another. If you've read lights out though, you probably know how this weekend ends, but shush! LMAO. This one's run longer than I expected it to, so it'll be divided into three parts. Again, the glossary helps, so do read it! you can sign up for the taglist here !

ITALY, AUTODROMO NAZIONALE MONZA

Saturday, Qualifying

The roar of the Tifosi is deafening, even from inside the garage.

Seungcheol sits in his cockpit, helmet still on, hands resting lightly on the wheel as the mechanics swarm around his car, making final adjustments. The session clock is still running, but for now, he’s stationary—P3 on the leaderboard, a tenth ahead of Jaehyun.

Outside, Monza is alive.

The Tifosi are everywhere, packed into every inch of the grandstands, a sea of red that stretches as far as the eye can see. Flags whip through the air, massive banners draped across the stands, their messages bold and impossible to miss. Monza is one of the circuits where the grandstands are sold out even during qualifying. There’s something different about this place. Something that doesn’t exist at any other circuit, something even the best drivers struggle to explain. It’s not just the speed, the history, the track itself. It’s this. The weight of expectation. The way Ferrari doesn’t just belong to the team—it belongs to the people. To the thousands in the stands who live for this weekend.

Usually, Monza is Seungcheol’s favourite track. He’s set impressive records here before and the energy of the crowd is always motivating.

Even through the layers of his helmet, his balaclava, and the deafening sounds of the other cars on the track, he hears them chant his name.

At least they haven’t given up on me.

His fingers tighten slightly around the wheel.

He sits in P3 for now. Ahead of Jaehyun, but still behind a Red Bull. A Red Bull on pole.

At Ferrari’s home race.

It’s an insult to their team, a disgrace on their part.

His gaze flickers across the garage, past the blur of engineers watching the monitors, past the mechanics murmuring updates to one another. No one looks at him. Not directly. Not long enough for it to mean anything.

But they’re waiting.

They won’t say it, won’t dare to speak it aloud but he knows what they need from him.

They need him to take back Monza.

They need him to put Ferrari back where it belongs.

Like always. Funny that they need me, now that their new star driver can’t manage to fucking qualify above P5 when it actually matters.

His race engineer's voice cuts through his earpiece, slightly more alert now.

“Track is clear. Sending you out now.”

Seungcheol scoffs, a humorless laugh against the inside of his helmet.

Right. Of course they are.

He presses the clutch paddle, lets the engine roar back to life, and rolls out onto the pit lane.

The television flickers, the glow of the screen casting soft light across the dimly lit living room. You keep the volume as low as possible. Your parents are sleeping, and you wouldn’t want to wake them up because of the commentary at this ungodly hour. 

You hadn’t planned on watching qualifying. It had been a long day and the last thing you needed was to be up at one in the morning, wet hair dripping onto your t-shirt after a bath, on the edge of your seat as you watched your ex-boyfriend qualify for his team’s home race.

You should be asleep, but instead, you sit curled into the corner of your couch, staring at the leaderboard on the screen.

P3 – Choi Seungcheol.

The commentators have been talking about him all session. About how this weekend is crucial, about how Ferrari needs a strong result at their home race. About how Jaehyun is only P5 and how Seungcheol is the only Ferrari in a position to fight for pole.

The pressure is unbearable even from here, thousands of miles away. You can only imagine what it must feel like there, in the cockpit, in that worrying little head of Seungcheol’s.

The camera cuts to the Ferrari garage, to Seungcheol sitting in his car, helmet on, hands loose on the steering wheel as he waits.

Your stomach twists as his engineer’s voice crackles through the radio.

"Track is clear. Sending you out now."

Seungcheol doesn’t respond. Just shifts into gear, rolling out of the garage onto the pit lane.

The commentators barely take a breath before launching into his out-lap analysis.

"This is it, folks. One final shot for Ferrari’s Choi Seungcheol. He’s currently sitting in P3, but can he challenge for pole?"

"He’s had a tough session so far, struggling with the car’s balance, but he’s pulled off magic laps before. Let’s see what he can do."

You exhale slowly, pressing your knuckles against your lips as the camera follows him through the out-lap. He’s weaving aggressively, warming up his tires, testing every movement.

And then, finally—

"Choi Seungcheol begins his final lap."

The screen shows his car flying into a long, sweeping curve, and something tugs at your memory.

"It’s trickier than it looks," Seungcheol had once told you. It was late, the two of you sitting in the dim glow of his kitchen after Monza in 2023. "It’s easy to take it flat-out, but if you misjudge the line by even half a meter, you’re screwed on the exit."

Your breath catches slightly as you watch him now, the Ferrari holding steady, perfectly placed, just like he described.

The timing screen flashes, indicating a purple sector.

The commentators react instantly.

"He’s improving! Seungcheol is on a great lap. Can he challenge for pole?"

Your fingers tighten around the edge of the blanket draped over your legs.

The car flies through the next sector, fast and on the edge. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. It’s pure instinct, the kind that only comes after years of knowing exactly where the limit is.

Purple again.

"He's still gaining! This could be huge for Ferrari!"

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath.

The final corner looms. The moment of truth.

"It’s deceptive," he'd said, "the Parabolica. The biggest mistake is to brake early. If you do, you lose all your momentum. You have to trust the car. Trust yourself."

His Ferrari dives in so late you think for a second that he’s overdone it. But who are you kidding? It's Seungcheol. Seungcheol who would never settle for anything less than a front row at Monza. He knows what he's doing.

As he crosses the finish line, the leaderboard updates.

P2.

The commentators erupt—a front row start for Ferrari. The camera cuts to the grandstands, where thousands of fans in red are screaming his name.

You exhale.

Not pole.

But at least he’s ahead of Jaehyun.

The screen flickers back to the garage. Seungcheol removes his helmet slowly, setting it down beside him. He doesn’t look at anyone, doesn’t react to the pats on his back. His expression is unreadable.

Seungcheol is disappointed. Yes, he's out-qualified Jaehyun. But a Red Bull still sits on pole. Another at P3. His teammate's stuck at P5.

He mentally scoffs, A championship contender, that boy.

It's been a hard weekend for Ferrari this year. The Red Bulls have been fast all weekend. All season, but this weekend matters the most and Seungcheol has a chance. To prove to the team, to prove to himself and to win for the fans. 

He watches as Jaehyun gets out of his cockpit, looking thoroughly frustrated for once. 

Good, Seungcheol thinks. He's not going to be able to fight for the championship always, but if Ferrari has any chance of challenging for the constructors then Jaehyun needs to start doing better. Needs to start being harder on himself. 

As his PR manager approaches him, Seungcheol thinks about what this year's driver’s championship winner would mean. If it’s going to be Haechan, which seems to be the most probable case, then that would mean the downfall of Ferrari again. If Jaehyun won against the odds, it would mean that Seungcheol lost to a teammate for the first time in his career.

Ferrari is going to start asking him to play the team game soon. He's not going to have the choice to deny that. He just hopes it doesn't start tomorrow.

He needs that win.

[velaenam]

𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭

                                                                         ◦ ♡

𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐫!𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐫!𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 — non!mc. a princess from a powerful merchant kingdom is thrust into a political marriage with rome’s most feared military emperor—only to catch the eye of a rival sovereign who believes her freedom is worth starting a war. 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 — set during the early imperial period of rome, the story unfolds at the height of political intrigue and military dominance, where empires clash, alliances shift. story will take place between 1st century bce – 2nd century ce, give or take. 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 / 𝐭𝐰 — swearing, nsfw language, political manipulation, power imbalance, emotional manipulation, toxic relationships, war and violence, sexual themes, misogyny/patriarchal culture, classism and elitism, culture tensions, xenophobia, racism, non consensual stuff at times.. uhh.. romantic love triangle, slow burn, angst, fluff, smut 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — please note that this is a civilization thousands and thousands of years ago, so they probably aren't as socially accepting.. you are also of arabian and hellenistic heritage. normally i am ambiguous of how i describe the protagonist of my stories, but i'll be a bit more focused on my details in this story. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH, IF YOU HAVE ANY OF THESE TRIGGERS PLEASE BE MINDFUL. i will also put a DISCLAIMER of any non consensual stuff or any triggering events that may end up happening PRIOR to the actual scene. (obviously it will not be frequent thing) — reblogs comments & likes are appreciated. let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 — PROLOGUE | next chapter

this will be a bit short. its the prologue— so its going to just go over a little tid bit of how everyone is going to be and you can see how the atmosphere is.

the morning is soft with silence.

sunlight filters through the sheer drapes like it’s hesitant to enter, golden dust suspended in the hush. your room smells faintly of rose oil and crushed figs, of silk warmed by the sun. servants move quietly around you—gentle hands braiding your hair, smoothing the folds of your linen dress, adjusting the golden clasp at your shoulder. you don’t speak. neither do they. it’s an old, practiced ritual. the preparation of a daughter for something unspoken.

you watch yourself in the polished bronze mirror. not a girl anymore, not quite a queen. something in between. something uncertain. how were you feeling? you felt dreadful. to be a pawn was never a good thing. a knock at the door. soft, like you can hear misery through a pounding. then a murmur. “his majesty is waiting.”

your sandals smack softly against the stone as you walk, heart quiet but heavy. the hallway stretch long, filled with mosaics that tell stories of your ancestors—men who conquered, the women who waited. you walk past them like a ghost. your father is standing near the open colonnade, among the atrium, staring out at the city below. his toga catch in the breeze like banners. he does not turn when you enter.

“you sent for me,” you say above a whisper, as the chamber echoed your voice. he nods once. his voice is as it always is— stoic. weathered by experience.

“rome has made an offer. emperor caleb xia would like your hand in marriage”

you say nothing. the wind picks up. it carries the scent of figs and pomegranates— your favorites. you stand, stiffened. is this from the emperor himself, or his senate? 

“you’ve always understood the weight of your position,” he continues, still not looking at you. “this isn’t punishment. it’s legacy.” you wonder if he’s speaking to himself.

“and the emperor?” you ask softly. “do you trust him?” he couldn’t even lie if he tried. your father turns, finally, eyes sharp and tired all at once. “no. but alliances are not built on trust. they are built on necessity.” he steps closer, and for a moment, he is not a king, but your father. his hand rests on your shoulder, not heavy, but firm. “you will do what must be done,” he says. “as we all have.” you nod. because what else is there to say? no? what the hells would even happen if you said that? with an even heavier heart, and a tight lip, you bow slightly, before turning heels and walking back to your chamber. 

later, when you return to your chambers, you unpin your hair with trembling fingers and stare at the mirror again, and when you look up to the mirror, your tears fall. you realize this may be the very last time you could have your peace to yourself— at least for a while. you weren’t a woman basking in the sunlight anymore. laying near the ravine with your closest friends. you were a pawn. 

the air inside the tent tastes of iron and dust.

outside, the murmurs of the camp never sleep—shields being oiled, blades checked again and again, men speaking low in the hush of an almost-won war. the sky beyond the canvas is the color of smoke, the kind that clings to your skin long after the fires are gone.

caleb stands alone over the war table, eyes fixed on the parchment map that bears the scars of too many campaigns. lines drawn and redrawn. cities conquered. rivers crossed. this battle will end tomorrow, and with it, resistance in the east.

he doesn’t smile. he never does. victory is expected of him. and expectations are chains dressed as crowns. a soldier enters, bows low. news of the enemy’s retreat. talk of surrender. a whisper, almost offhanded, like it doesn’t matter:

“a formal alliance is being discussed in the senate—nabira’s hand in marriage. her daughter.”

caleb says nothing at first. he does not lift his head. just another treaty. just another crown to bind with rome. how many women were given to him for this reason? he couldn’t count the amount of attempted alliance and leverage thrown at him. a mere woman’s soul is the price of not being taken and pulled apart? no. no, this would be different.  

“what’s her name?” he asks, not because he cares.. just to know what name history will one day try to stitch beside his.  the soldier hesitates. then: “they don’t speak it aloud, not yet. only that she is.. magical…shadowed... her father guards her like a secret.”

caleb’s gaze lingers on the edge of the map, where nabira is inked in faint gold. a kingdom on the edge of empires. he says nothing else, and neither does the soldier, and after a couple beats skip, the soldier leaves.

caleb stays there a while longer, the quiet pressing in as he glides his fingers across the map, calculating to himself. he knows better than to believe in fate. but still—he wonders what kind of woman is hidden behind a crown, guarded like a blade, spoken of only in quiet corners of powerful rooms. was she formidable? he wonders. his heart races at the slightest at the thought of you. 

and he wonders what kind of man he will need to be to win your loyalty. surely not with war? with silken drapes, and golden gifts. will he need to throw lavish expenses to win such an even more lavish heart? he was thinking too hard— he doesn’t even know a god damn thing, and this was distracting him. 

shahanshah - king of kings / emperor (persian. pronounced sha-han-sha)

the night air in parthia was cool, the scent of myrrh drifting through the royal palace gardens. shahanshah  sylus stood alone beneath the towering date palms, his thoughts far from the usual state matters. the sky stretched dark above him, the stars twinkling like scattered diamonds, but there was little peace in his mind tonight. the soft footsteps of an approaching figure broke the silence. the emissary bowed deeply as he came closer, careful not to disrupt the stillness. “shahanshah,” the emissary spoke, voice low and respectful. “we’ve received word from the princess' brother. the decision has been made.” sylus didn’t turn right away, his gaze fixed on the horizon. his voice, when it came, was quiet but sharp.

“what decision?”

“the marriage… it’s been arranged. the princess of nabira will marry emperor caleb of rome.”

sylus paused, his fingers tightening on the edge of the stone column beside him. he hadn’t expected this development, not so soon. but your father had always been pragmatic, and in these times of shifting alliances, a marriage to rome made sense—at least politically. still, the news stung.  

“and the princess?” sylus asked, his voice colder than it had been moments before. “was she consulted?” it was a quick quiet, the emissary hesitated. “she… was informed. the decision was her father’s. from what i understand, she did not take it well. there were tears, and anger.”

sylus absorbed the information quietly, his gaze never leaving the view before him. he knew this was coming. the union of rome and nabira had been hinted at for months, but hearing it was another matter entirely. he didn’t think that your father really had the balls to actually pull through. 

“her brother– the diplomat, he must have known this was coming,” sylus said, a small frown pulling at his lips. “why send the message to me now?”

the emissary nodded. “her brother… he has long worked with you, shahanshah. he is a trusted ally in trade, and he wanted to ensure you heard it from him directly. he also believes this marriage could open doors for more favorable dealings between parthia and nabira.”

sylus turned now, finally facing the emissary. his red eyes were hard, calculating. unreadable. the emissary shifted his posture.

“so this marriage is as much about trade as it is about politics?” sylus asked, voice laced with an edge. “but what of the princess? does she have no say in the matter?”

“her father has made the decision. the princess is caught in the web of diplomacy. her brother… i believe he tried to shield her from the worst of it, but ultimately, the decision rests with the king.”

sylus’ jaw clenched, and his mind raced. the political situation was delicate, but this… this felt different. he feels as if he’s seeing a life slip from its freedom.

“what does her brother say?” sylus pressed. “is he pleased with this marriage?”

the emissary hesitated again. “he does what is best for nabira. but it is clear he does not want to see her in the hands of rome. he worries for her.”

sylus’ lips tightened in thought. he had always known your brother had his eyes set on securing an advantageous position for nabira, but this marriage would change everything. the alliance with rome would tilt the scales of power in ways that were difficult to predict. an insurmountable amount of money would be handed over to the most powerful empire in the world. the silk road would bloom into something more. 

he straightened, his voice firm as he turned back toward the emissary, “tell her brother that i expect an update—soon. and i will not forget what this means for parthia. if rome wants nabira so badly, they will have to deal with us.”

the emissary nodded and bowed deeply before taking his leave. as sylus watched him depart, his thoughts lingered on you. you were bound by duty, but he knew that the chains of politics could break, and alliances could shift.

“she may not have a say now,” sylus murmured to himself, staring into the night. “but nothing is final until i decide it is. and i will make sure that, in the end, she has her freedom.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ! - @rcvcgers

[forsworned]

Simon is not the most artistic, nor the most meticulous when it comes to cake decorating, but for you—on your birthday? He's buying all the piping materials, the springform cake pans, and preparing the best-tasting buttercream frosting and cake recipe he can manage after hours of scouring the internet.

He knows you won't be back from the office until 5:30. He had no clue why you had worked on your own birthday, but for this moment in time, he was grateful. He rose quite early to start decorating the loft. Balloons, a deconstructed banner that he put together when he realized that there were no more birthday banners, and a poorly decorated heart-shaped birthday cake with all sorts of vintage lattice patterns.

"Surprise!" He grins as you enter through the front door. Hair a bit mussed up, dark circles framing your eyes, and the collar to your button-down crooked. You're midway through taking off your heel, but your eyes soften at the sight of him standing there with your birthday cake lighting up his face, defusing the sharpness of his features.

"Simon..." You murmur upon approaching him. Your other heel comes off and you slowly shut your eyes as you make a wish before blowing out the candles.

For a moment it's dark. Your vision has not yet adjusted to the murk of the inky living space. His lips are on yours and you melt into his touch. So tender, so sweet—so Simon.

And don't get me started on the way he's so accommodating to you in bed. Not that he already isn't, but he's careful with the way he unbuttons your shirt and unzips your skirt. His fingers work methodically to ensure he doesn't rip your pantyhose. You're breath catches when his index finger curls around the waistband of your thong and you practically beg him to just slip inside of you.

You're too eager to have him fill you up and like the good husband he is, he obliges. Pushing past your sweet, succulent folds. God, you were ready for him.

He's pumping you slowly and deeply as he urges himself into you. Toes are coiling, and back is contorting in pleasure as you swiftly enter into your orgasm. You're panting out heavily as your nails dig into his taut flesh. His blonde lashes flutter to lovingly gaze down at your naked, sweating form.

"Thank you." You susurrate, threading your fingers through bleached sandy blonde hair. His grin only widens as he places a hot kiss to your lips.

"Oh, but that was only the first of many." He breathes over the skin of your neck. Your little 'eep' sends him into a fit of mirth as he readies himself to pleasure you all night long.

[haikyu-mp4]

Wrong team – Kageyama x reader wc 986 – f!reader, brother!Atsumu, brother!Osamu

Being a student could be difficult, but being a student in Osaka and Osamu Miya’s little sister had its perks. Osamu hired you quite quickly after you graduated from high school, letting you work part-time at the restaurant, which also meant you were his favourite employee to bring for job excursions.

Like this huge one, where your other brother and his team were playing against the Schweiden Adlers.

You practically bounced as you walked past the banners when entering the arena a couple of hours before the game was set to start. Chatting away with Osamu on how you thought the teams would play, the two of you enjoyed setting up the stall and preparing everything to hopefully sell a bunch of delicious onigiri.

“Okay, ya did good. Ya get…” Osamu checked his wrist watch, humming under his breath before smiling up at you again. “Fifteen minutes to roam around, then I need ya back here.”

“Thanks!” you squealed and high-fived him quickly before running off, still wearing your complete uniform. Osamu had told you it was better to keep it on so that no one thought you had snuck in, so you even had the cap and name tag on.

You first ventured around the halls for a bit, nervous to approach the actual court where you could hear them warming up. However, the nervousness eventually couldn’t stop you from peeking inside.

There they are, the gorgeous Schwe- oops, surely you mean the Black Jackals?

Smiling sheepishly to yourself, you slowly crept inside the main arena to observe. Just as you found Atsumu, he seemed to catch a break and ran off towards Osamu’s stand, probably to check if everything was okay. You frowned, wondering if you should turn back so you could wish him good luck before-

“Hi.”

It felt like your heart jumped right out of your chest at the unexpected company, eyes snapping to the Kageyama Tobio standing there with a volleyball tucked between his elbow and waist. In an attempt to hide that you had to catch your breath, you cleared your throat and adjusted your hat. “Hey! Ready for the game?”

That was smooth enough. Good job.

“Getting there, it’s our turn for warm-ups on the court in about a minute,” he told you casually. Clearly, he wasn’t aware of your clammy hands and burning ears.

“I’ll be cheering for ya! From the food stands,” you told him with an awkward chuckle.

Kageyama walked closer to you, leaning in to look at your name tag and the logo on your shirt. His eyes seemed to brighten, and you felt entranced with their oceans. “Thank you. I might have to come get some onigiri if you have any left after the game… and the signing… and the press meeting.”

You chuckled more genuinely this time, charmed by how he got more and more dejected at the realisation that he might not have the time to get onigiri today. “If yer ever back in town, ya could always swing by. We’d be happy to serve ya, maybe even add yer photo to the wall of fame.”

“Speaking of, shouldn’t you be cheering for the other team? With that last name on your shirt.” Your heart once again tried to kill you as it did a double take with Kageyama’s surprisingly cheeky comment.

“I’ll have ya know it’s not just on ma’ shirt-”

“Y/N?!”

You sighed, a headache already forming at Atsumu’s heavy footsteps. “I just came to tell ya good luck, Tsum.”

Atsumu glanced at Kageyama, who seemed to take the hint and gave you a little bow before gathering with his team to start warming up their attacks. You waved him goodbye before getting pulled back by Atsumu, all the way back to Osamu’s stall.

“It’s yer responsibility when we’re here that no Adlers get close to her,” Atsumu instructed to deaf ears. Osamu was too busy readying the register and simply waved him off. “She’s our baby sister- ow!”

After you threw a solid punch at his arm, he finally let go of you so you could return to your spot behind the stall. “Cringe,” Osamu commented, making you nod in agreement.

“I’m barely two years younger than ya.”

After Atsumu made his way back to his team, you barely had a spare minute to think much about your interaction with Kageyama. A lot of people came to watch, including several old friends of yours from Inarizaki, so you sold a lot of food before the game started and held a conversation or two to catch up where you could.

About ten minutes into the game, the line finally dispersed as everyone got back to their seats to watch the best game of the season. “Tsumu’s up to serve,” you mumbled as if Osamu wasn’t watching the same thing.

The serve was great, but Hoshiumi was on it, getting the ball up for Kageyama in a tough spot. You clutched your hands together as you watched in anticipation, ultimately cheering when the set led to Schweiden Adlers’ point. Osamu placed a hand on your head, pushing your cap down over your face. “Wrong team, idiot.”

Osamu hadn’t actually taken any of Atsumu’s allegations seriously, but maybe he should have. That’s what he thought when he watched Kageyama walk inside his restaurant one evening, hands tucked deep in his pockets and looking around like he wasn’t there for him.

“Welcome to Onigiri Miya. How can I help ya?”

“I was hoping-” Kageyama’s eyes trailed from the kitchen behind Osamu and back to him, a small pout on his lips. “I’ll just have today’s special.”

“So yer the Adler my brother warned me about, tsk tsk.” Osamu shook his head and sighed as if this took years off his life. “I’ll get her.”

Atsumu will be livid when he hears about this, Osamu thought, and that was always his greatest motivation.

masterlist

requested by @livelaughlovetoru for my event, anything for you <3 I changed your idea a little to my preference, but I hope it’s still enjoyable!

[daryltwdixon]

hiii, would it be okay if you made a daryl x reader fic where daryl finds out you used to have a crush on him? like someone accidentally reveals it to him and he comes to find you as soon as he finds out just to confirm it?! i just think the concept is so adorable 🥹

Daryl Dixon x Reader Dibs

hehehe this is so cute! It's been sitting in my drafts for a few days, just needed to make the banner!! Thank you bb! enjoy your fluffy daryl drabble

The woman had been lingering too close for most of the run, and Daryl had noticed. It started when they stepped through the shattered doors of the abandoned corner store, picking their way through stripped shelves and broken glass. She wasn’t searching for supplies like the rest of them, wasn’t even watching for trouble—just watching him.

"You’re pretty quiet," she finally said, stepping a little closer.

Daryl shifted, adjusting the strap of his crossbow, eyes scanning the dimly lit aisles. "Guess so."

She let out a soft laugh, twirling a loose thread from her jacket between her fingers. "I think that’s kinda hot. The whole broody, mysterious thing."

From a few feet away, Glenn made a noise—half-choked cough, half-laugh—and Daryl instantly shot him a glare. He wasn’t in the mood for this. He barely acknowledged the woman as he stepped past her, brushing her off without a word. "Sorry I uh...I gotta check back here. Ain’t got time."

He heard Glenn snicker as he caught up with him by the registers, rummaging through drawers for anything useful. "That was painful to watch," Glenn said, smirking as he tossed aside a handful of expired coupons.

"Shut up," Daryl muttered, yanking open another drawer a little harder than necessary.

"You better get used to it," Glenn teased. "Now that we’ve got all these new people from Woodbury, you’re the guy everyone’s whispering about."

Daryl frowned. "The hell’s that mean?"

Glenn shrugged, looking far too amused. "Just saying, a lot of them think you’re some kind of survivalist badass. The strong, silent type." He smirked. "Which I guess is hot, apparently."

Daryl rolled his eyes, grabbing a pack of matches and shoving them into his bag. "That’s stupid."

"Well, Maggie thinks it’s hilarious."

Daryl gave him a wary look. "How’s that?"

Still grinning, Glenn leaned against the counter. "Because Y/N had dibs first."

Daryl froze, his grip tightening on his crossbow. "The hell does that mean?"

Glenn snorted. "She’s had a crush on you for the longest time."

Daryl felt something tighten in his chest, but his face stayed impassive. "Bullshit."

"Nah, man. She did," Glenn continued, totally casual, as if he wasn’t throwing Daryl’s entire world off balance. "Way before all these new people started fawning over you. Maggie says Y/N was into you for ages, she just never said anything. Thought you’d never be interested."

The words settled in his stomach, heavy and unexpected. He clenched his jaw, shifting uncomfortably. "Used to," he said after a pause.

Glenn glanced up, brow raised. "What?"

"You said ‘had’—past tense," Daryl muttered, voice gruff. "Means she don’t feel that way no more."

Glenn just looked at him, a knowing glint in his eye. "I mean… you could always ask."

Daryl didn’t answer. Instead, he adjusted his crossbow and walked out, ignoring the way his heart was pounding.

🪻🌷🌻🪻🌷🌻🪻🌷🌻🪻🌷🌻🪻🌷🌻🪻🌷🌻🪻

You were curled up in your bunk when you heard boots stop just outside your cell door. Looking up, you found Daryl standing there, shifting from foot to foot like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

"Hey," you said, surprised. "Everything okay?"

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he held something out to you. A small bundle of wildflowers.

You blinked. "Uh… what’s this?"

He shoved them closer, looking anywhere but at you. "They’re flowers. What’s it look like?"

You stared at them, then at him. "Yeah, but—why?"

Daryl shifted, ears burning red. "Glenn said somethin’."

Your stomach dropped. "Oh god."

"'Bout you," Daryl muttered, clearing his throat. "Said you—you used to—" He hesitated, almost like he wanted to take it back, then forced the words out. "Had a thing for me."

Your breath caught.

Your mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again. You wanted to kill Glenn.

Daryl watched you struggle, something tense in his expression. "That true?"

You swallowed, debating whether you could somehow dodge the question. But this was Daryl. You couldn’t lie to him.

"…Maybe," you admitted, feeling your face heat.

His blue eyes flickered down to the flowers in your lap, then back to you. His voice was quieter when he asked, "Still?"

Your chest tightened.

Your fingers curled around the stems of the flowers, slightly crushed from how tightly he must’ve been holding them. That alone made your heart clench. He’d picked them for you.

Slowly, you nodded.

Daryl exhaled, shoulders dropping just slightly, like that was the answer he’d been hoping for but wasn’t sure he’d get. His fingers twitched, like he wanted to do something—maybe reach out—but wasn’t sure how.

Instead, he just stepped closer. "Okay," he muttered.

You bit your lip, hiding a smile. "Okay?"

"Y-yeah, good. I'm...That's good."

The two of you just sat there for a beat, the air thick with something neither of you had the words for. Then, before he could overthink it, Daryl leaned in, pressing a rough, hesitant kiss to your cheek. It was brief, just long enough to send your heart racing, but it lingered in a way that felt intentional.

When he pulled back, both of your faces burning, and your fingers tightened around the flowers.

He cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly. "G’night."

And then he was gone, disappearing down the hall before you could even respond.

You touched your cheek, grinning like an idiot as you pressed your nose to the flowers.

[amirasainz]

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl ♥️

The Nurse and her Racer

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon as Yn hurried through the bustling paddock of the Monaco Grand Prix. The air was thick with the scent of fuel, burnt rubber, and the faint tang of espresso from the hospitality suites. Ferrari’s scarlet banners fluttered in the morning breeze, and the hum of engineers fine-tuning the cars filled the air. Yn, as always, was in the thick of it, her medical bag slung over her shoulder and a warm smile on her face. She was the heart of the Ferrari team, the one person everyone turned to when they needed comfort, care, or just a listening ear.

But today, something was off. Charles, their golden boy, was missing.

“Where’s Charles?” Yn asked, glancing around the garage. The usually lively Monegasque driver was nowhere to be seen. Lewis, leaning casually against a counter with a cup of tea in hand, raised an eyebrow at her.

“Didn’t you hear? Poor Charlie’s down with the flu,” Lewis said, his voice tinged with amusement. “Fred decided to bench him for the weekend. Can’t have him passing out in the car, can we?”

Yn’s heart sank. Charles had been looking forward to his home race for weeks. She knew how much it meant to him. “Is he okay? Has anyone checked on him?”

Lewis smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Funny you should ask. Fred’s sending you to his apartment to take care of him. Seems like you’re the only one he trusts to handle our precious Charles.”

Yn blinked, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Me? Alone? At his apartment?”

Lewis chuckled, clearly enjoying her flustered reaction. “Oh, don’t look so nervous. It’s just Charles. Besides, I think he’ll be thrilled to see you. He’s been giving you those puppy eyes for months now.”

Yn rolled her eyes, though her heart skipped a beat. She and Charles had always shared a special bond. He was sweet, kind, and endlessly charming, and she couldn’t deny that she had feelings for him. But she had never acted on them, and neither had he. It was an unspoken thing, a quiet understanding between them.

“I’m just his nurse,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered slightly.

Lewis raised an eyebrow. “Sure you are. Just don’t forget to take care of Leo too. That dog’s more protective of Charles than Fred is.”

---

An hour later, Yn found herself standing outside Charles’ sleek, modern apartment in Monte Carlo. She took a deep breath, smoothing down her scrubs and adjusting the strap of her medical bag. Before she could knock, the door swung open, revealing a very sick-looking Charles. His usually bright eyes were dull, his hair messy, and his cheeks flushed with fever. He was wearing a loose hoodie and sweatpants, looking far from the confident F1 driver the world knew.

“Yn?” he croaked, his voice hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

“Fred sent me,” she said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “You look terrible, Charles.”

He managed a weak smile. “Thanks. I feel terrible.”

Behind him, Leo, Charles’ dachshund, trotted over to Yn, wagging his tail excitedly. She bent down to scratch his ears, earning a happy bark from the little dog.

“At least someone’s happy to see me,” she teased, straightening up and giving Charles a gentle smile. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”

Charles groaned but didn’t argue. He shuffled back to his bedroom, Leo following closely behind. Yn took in the apartment as she followed him. It was spacious and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of the Mediterranean. But it was also surprisingly cozy, with photos of Charles’ family and friends scattered around, along with a few racing trophies.

She helped Charles into bed, fluffing his pillows and tucking the blankets around him. He watched her with half-lidded eyes, a soft smile on his face.

“You’re too good to me,” he murmured.

“It’s my job,” she replied, though her cheeks warmed at the way he was looking at her. She busied herself with taking his temperature and checking his vitals, her touch gentle and professional.

“You’re burning up,” she said, frowning. “Have you taken anything for the fever?”

Charles shook his head. “I forgot.”

Yn sighed, rummaging through her bag for some medication. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

He chuckled weakly. “Maybe. But you’re here to take care of me, so I’ll be fine.”

She handed him the pills and a glass of water, watching as he swallowed them. Leo jumped onto the bed, curling up at Charles’ feet and giving Yn a look that seemed to say, I’ve got this.

“You should rest,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

Charles hesitated, his eyes searching hers. “Will you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?”

Her heart melted at the vulnerability in his voice. “Of course,” she said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Charles shifted slightly, making room for her. Before she could protest, he reached out and pulled her down beside him, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her neck. Leo wiggled closer, pressing himself against her side.

“Charles—” she started, but he cut her off.

“Please,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. “Just for a little while.”

Yn’s resolve crumbled. She relaxed into his embrace, her hand resting lightly on his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath her palm, and she could feel the rise and fall of his breathing. Leo let out a contented sigh, his tail thumping against the blankets.

For a while, they lay there in silence, the only sound the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Yn’s mind raced, torn between her professional instincts and the feelings she had been trying to suppress. Charles’ arms around her felt so right, so natural, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same way.

“Yn?” Charles’ voice was barely a whisper, drowsy from the medication.

“Yes?”

“Thank you for being here. It means a lot to me.”

She smiled, her fingers gently stroking his hair. “Always, Charles. Now go to sleep.”

He hummed in response, his grip on her tightening slightly. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, and she knew he was asleep. Leo let out a soft snore, his little body rising and falling with each breath.

Yn stayed there, her heart full, knowing that this was where she was meant to be—right by Charles’ side, taking care of him, loving him. And maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way.

---

The rest of the weekend passed in a blur. Yn stayed with Charles, nursing him back to health and enjoying the quiet moments they shared. By the time the race was over, Charles was feeling much better, and the sparkle had returned to his eyes.

As they stood on his balcony, watching the sun set over the Mediterranean, Charles turned to her, his expression serious.

“Yn.” he said, taking her hand in his. “I need to tell you something.”

Her heart raced, but she nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“I… I really like you. More than just as my nurse. You mean so much to me, and I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she smiled up at him. “I like you too, Charles. More than you know.”

He grinned, pulling her into a tight hug. Leo barked happily, wagging his tail as if he knew exactly what was happening.

And in that moment, Yn knew that her life was about to change in the best way possible—with Charles by her side, and Leo as their loyal protector.

[cherienymphe]

Birds of Prey

Carmine Falcone x Reader

Warnings: DUB-CON, age gap (reader is around Sofia and Alberto's age), power imbalance, implied stalking, mentions of organized crime

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @whimsicalrogers

summary: Carmine Falcone doesn't believe there's anything in Gotham he can't have—and you like to pretend that doesn't include you.

⭑

“The boss wants to see you.”

A familiar deep voice reached your ears, coming face to face with one of the many bouncers at the club when you looked over your shoulder. Your jaw took a break as you stopped chewing, your minty breath reaching your nose as you exhaled and frowned. It wasn’t too long ago that you’d just talked to Oz, and similar words left your mouth, confusion filling you on what he could possibly need to talk about.

“Not Oz,” was all Kenzie said, and you pressed your lips together.

Oh.

“...oh.”

You hadn’t even realized that the dark haired man—your actual boss—was here tonight, and you swallowed, inadvertently swallowing your gum. You ignored the way your heart stuttered, and you folded the tips you’d previously been counting before sliding them into your boot. The way Kenzie lingered told you that he was meant to be escorting you, and with a small sigh, you forced yourself to your feet. 

You clearly wouldn’t have the time you wanted to yourself to mentally prepare to talk to Carmine Falcone tonight. 

It wasn’t that you disliked the man—no more than you disliked any of the other corrupted men in this city. In fact, you’d say that he was pretty okay in your eyes, but he was just so intimidating. You supposed it was natural, after all. He was rich and powerful and practically owned the city, and being in close proximity to someone like that—without the flashing lights and loud unintelligible music—made you all too aware of not only just your shortcomings but also the huge imbalance that filled the room whenever it was just the two of you.

Kenzie made no move to step out of the elevator with you when it opened, and the heels of your shoes clicked against the floor when you stepped into the loft. The elevator doors closing sounded so loud to your ears for some reason, and aside from the low hum of music playing in the space, the only sound that could be heard was your heels. 

At least until you heard the snap of billiard balls hitting each other.

Your heart jumped at the confirmation that he was in here, and despite your reservations, you picked up the pace, determined to get this over with. You’d been in his loft a handful of times, most especially when you first started working at the 44 Below and he wanted to know how well you were adjusting. It was always coincidentally when you’d just finished a shift, boots full of the money you’d gotten from eager customers with their hands out for Drops. You suspected that Mr. Falcone hadn’t quite trusted you just yet then, recalling the way he sometimes counted your loot thrice.

Now, however, only a few years later, things were different…

“How were things tonight?”

It wasn’t an unusual way to be greeted, Mr. Falcone concerned with the money and business before all else. He hadn’t even looked up from his game as he spoke to you, those dark shades of his no doubt hiding a very intense gaze.

“Things were good,” you told him, bending down to reach into your left boot. “I only really had trouble from maybe two guys, but-.”

“Who?”

The sudden question threw you off, and you looked up from your knelt position to see that he was standing straight now, game forgotten as he held the pool stick in hand. Your eyes were briefly distracted by the glint of the gold ring on his pinky, and you forced yourself to remember that he wanted a response.

“I didn’t… They weren’t regulars,” you said, standing. “I think they came with someone else, and we just had a brief back and forth about the price.”

You were quick in handing the money to him, and you watched him count it. He didn’t really make a habit of asking you about your shifts anymore, so you didn’t think this was all he wanted. In fact, you were sure of that, and that made you nervous. Carmine Falcone wasn’t the kind of guy to concern himself with the likes of you just because. If it wasn’t about business then it was about pleasure, and you had never talked to the man about anything that wasn’t business.

The silence between you stretched and despite the fact that there were so many things you needed to do tonight before it got too late, you didn’t dare rush him. Not only was the man the reason you even had a job, but he just wasn’t the kind of man you rushed. You waited on him, and you watched him nod as he took his time in counting the last few bills from what you’d been able to sell.

“Not bad,” he praised in that low voice of his, and you sent him a small tight lipped smile.

You wondered if he could see how nervous you were and decided to put you out of your misery.

“I talked to Oz earlier,” he began, getting straight into it, pocketing the money. “He said that he gave you some extra money for rent.”

Of all the things that this could be about, that was at the very bottom of the list for you and truthfully…it shouldn’t have been. You shakily exhaled, feeling his eyes on you through those shades, and you briefly looked away. You didn’t even know how you became a topic of conversation between them, and some part of you wanted to curse Oz for putting you into this position. 

You knew exactly why Mr. Falcone was bringing this up with you.

“It’s not what you think,” you hurried to say, shrugging and waving your hand. “I asked him about any extra shifts and because there aren’t any, he offered me cash instead.”

The tall man slowly started to make his way around the pool table, and you were quick to get your next words out.

“It’s just a loan. I’m paying him back…”

“With what money?”

You snapped your lips together, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I didn’t say I was paying him back tomorrow,” you eventually mumbled.

“I think Oz would prefer it if you paid him back never.”

Your eyes found the floor at that, hating the truth in his words and especially hating the predicament you found yourself in. You wondered if the other man knew what he was doing when he told Mr. Falcone about what he’d done, and while you liked to think that Oz was just some blundering idiot, sometimes he seemed a lot more calculated than people gave him credit for.

“Oz knows that it’s not like that, and…besides, if he did then I would just give the money back.”

The dark-haired man before you didn’t respond to that at first. Instead, all that met you was a small change in expression, and you watched the way the corner of his mouth lifted. It was the closest thing to a smile you’d ever see on his face when he wasn’t talking to his daughter. He turned away from you, and you kept your eyes on him as he made his way to his bar.

“...and then how would you pay your rent?” he wondered. “This is still the same landlord, I presume.”

He presumed correctly, and you were reminded of a similar conversation months ago. The only sound that could be heard was alcohol flowing from one glass container to another. When he approached you with a clear glass of brown liquor, you hesitantly took it, feeling pressured to do so even if only to be polite. You could feel him eyeing you, and you slowly took a small sip.

“Seems to me like Oz made you an offer you couldn’t refuse…”

“Mr. Falcone-.”

“...but you refused me just fine.”

“It’s…different,” was your only reply, and you looked up at him as he took a sip of his own drink.

“How so?” he asked in that way that reminded you a lot like a dad would ask their child.

“You’re my boss,” you said—a little loudly—and you couldn’t stop your incredulous chuckle.

“So is Oz.”

You rolled your eyes at that, briefly forgetting who you were talking to.

“Sure, yeah, but you’re my actual boss,” you elaborated. “Nothing against Oz, at all, but everyone knows he doesn’t really run anything. Nothing other than what you let him think he’s in charge of.”

He only took another sip, his gaze never leaving you, and you got the feeling that he wanted to see how far you’d go to explain why you’d take money from Oz and not from him.

“Oz can’t do anything without your okay, and that includes anything pertaining to my job. He’s not actually in charge of me,” you quietly finished. “You are, and…I can’t take money from you.”

You got the feeling that you were offending him—the same feeling you got months ago when your landlord decided to hike up the rent for no reason for the umpteenth time—and you didn’t know how to feel about that. Surely he could understand why taking money from Oz was wholly different from taking money from him. Needing something to distract yourself with, you took another sip, appreciating the slight burn in your throat.

“Different or not, I don’t want you taking any more money from Oz.”

Despite the fact that you had no plans of doing that, the finality in his tone made you bristle. You didn’t appreciate how he was choosing to prove you right, knowing that if you didn’t do as he said and he found out, your job could come into question. You could only nod, hating that this place was the safest place in Gotham to make the kind of money you were making with your credentials.

The older man moved closer to you, his free hand lifting to touch your chin, and you swallowed when he tilted your head up ever so slightly. His fingers on your skin made you shudder, and you wished that you were the naive girl you used to be. You wished that you didn’t know why being so close to him gave you goosebumps. You wished that you didn’t know why he was offended you wouldn't take his help. You wished that you didn’t know what this whole thing with Oz was really about.

“Is that understood?”

He wanted a verbal answer, and you softly exhaled.

“Yes, Mr. Falcone.”

“Look, doll,” Oz’s accent was thick as he followed you around the room. “I know you still got that good for nothing landlord, and you ain’t making any more now than you were a month ago.”

The club had long shut down for the night, but when you were one of the girls who had to stick around and clean up, it could take ages. You grabbed a half empty glass full of something that you were too scared to try and identify as the man beside you limped along with your even strides. There were no flashing lights and no loud music, so you had no choice but to engage in conversation with the man who’d done you a huge favor.

“I already told you, it was a loan,” you said to him, setting a tray of dirty glasses aside. “How am I supposed to ever pay you back if you keep bailing me out of trouble?”

You faced him now as you wondered this, and by the brief look that passed over Oz’s features, you knew that Mr. Falcone was correct in his assessment of the heavyset man. You’d known it then, and you swallowed down a sigh, feeling like you were stuck between a rock and a hard place. You were going to pay Oz back, that was the truth. Not just because you hated owing anyone anything and you wanted to, but also because you needed to. 

Just like your boss, Oz wanted something from you too, and he definitely felt more owed to it if he could hold a few measly hundred dollars over your head.

The gold in his mouth winked at you as he sent you what was meant to be a comforting grin. It only struck you as lecherous, and Oz shrugged.

“That’s not something we gotta worry about, right now. You can’t exactly show up for work if you’re out on the street, now can ya?”

You fixed Oz with an even stare, and the way his features dropped told you that he realized he wasn’t getting through to you. Even if you wanted to give into your desperation and take any more of his money, you couldn’t. Mr. Falcone had left no room for confusion, and you were more afraid of him than you ever would be of Oz. Oz just wasn’t a serious guy at all—which made you feel even shittier about accepting his money—and everything about your boss was very serious.

The way he moved, the way he talked, and the way he simply looked at people. He navigated his relationships with people with an asuredness that he couldn’t be touched, and he was so confident in it because it was true. The man was practically untouchable, and it was why he was a man you never wanted to get on the bad side of.

Even over something as simple as borrowing money from Oswald Cobb.

“I’m sorry, Oz,” you shrugged. “It’s really sweet of you—so sweet—but I just can’t.”

You brushed past him before he had a chance to respond, noticing the way his expression had already begun to sour. Oz walked around like he had something to prove, and it being so obvious only made it worse. You didn’t want to hear what he could’ve possibly come up with about why you wouldn’t take his money. You didn’t even know what you would say if he continued to press you about it. After all, it’s not like you could tell him the truth.

You didn’t see the conversation going over well if you told him that Mr. Falcone didn’t want you accepting any more money from him because your boss felt slighted that you wouldn’t allow him to metaphorically pee on you. It was such a crass and vulgar way to put it, but it was the truth. Oz you could take money from and turn down any further advances without the fear of losing your job.

Mr. Falcone…not so much.

Taking his money would cross a line you couldn’t uncross. There would be no paying him back and certainly no giving it back. Taking your boss’ money would come with strings you just wouldn’t be able to cut, and it was already bad enough that you were on his radar, the powerful man no doubt keenly aware of you and everyone you cared about.

It was late when you finally walked out of The Iceberg Lounge, your thin coat tight around you as you stepped into the biting air. There was hardly a soul on the street, let alone a taxi, and as the seconds ticked on, it was starting to hit you that you were going to have to walk. The dangers of Gotham at night weren’t even your biggest concern—it was the cold.

Just when you convinced yourself that the walk would warm you up, a nice sleek car pulled up beside you. It was black and nothing like you’d ever ridden in before. It wasn’t a limo, that much you could tell, and as it slowed to a stop in front of you, your mind distractedly settled on a Lincoln. You were just thinking that it seemed like the kind of car someone would be driven around in when the back window was rolled down.

A light drizzle started as you came face to face with Mr. Falcone.

Your lips parted in surprise before you pressed them together again, jaw clenching as you realized the predicament you found yourself in. If turning down Mr. Falcone’s money offended him, then you had no doubt that turning down a ride would be an even worse offense. You knew the path this conversation was going to take before he even opened his mouth, and you resigned yourself to it.

“Y/N.”

His deep voice greeted you over the light rain, and you responded with a soft smile. 

“Mr. Falcone. I didn’t even know you were up there tonight,” you said, keeping your voice light. “I was just about to head home.”

Even in the privacy of his car, he still had those shades on, and for some reason the sight of them on his face struck you as more eerie now than normal. Maybe it was because with hardly any light around, you couldn’t even see the faint shadow of his eyes. You were just staring into darkness, and the sight almost made you miss his next words.

“Why don’t you get in. I’ll drop you off,” his words came out like a suggestion, but you knew they were anything but.

With only a second of hesitation, you gave him a soft ‘okay’ before rounding the car.

The inside smelled like him—manly and clean with a hint of wood. You apologized for wetting his seats as you strapped yourself in, but he held his hand up before you could finish, signaling to you that it was nothing. You felt awkward sitting in his backseat with him, the heater warming you up more than your coat ever could. As if he could read your mind, the head of the Falcone family spoke.

“Were you going to walk home in that?”

It almost took you too long to realize that he was talking about your coat, and you fingered the thin material, a sheepish smile on your face.

“It wouldn’t have been that far of a walk,” you shrugged.

It was a lie, and you both knew it.

Even when you eventually looked away, you could still feel his eyes on you, and you didn’t expect his next words.

“Why are you so afraid of me?”

A beat of silence.

“I’m not.”

Another lie.

“I don’t like liars, you know that,” he called you out.

Swallowing, you looked out of the window, but that didn’t last long, hating the sight of his reflection behind you. The silence between you stretched, and the longer it went on, the more obvious it became that he wanted an actual honest answer to his question. Your shoulders heaved with a deep breath, and your gaze fell to your lap.

You swiped your tongue between your lips.

“I feel like you want something from me that I’m not exactly willing to give,” you slowly told him.

You were all too aware that there was a third person privy to this conversation, but you wondered how much the driver was paid by the Falcones to basically see and hear nothing because Mr. Falcone acted like he wasn’t even there, so you forced yourself to do the same. All that met your words was silence, and when you glanced at him, the other man wasn’t looking at you but instead staring straight ahead.

You started to think you’d said the wrong thing by acknowledging the elephant in the room whenever you were with him.

“...and what exactly is it that you think Oz wants from you?”

You leaned back in your seat at that, pressing your lips together and resisting the urge to fire back at him that you weren’t an idiot. Oz wasn’t exactly subtle, but you could handle Oz. You didn’t want to give Mr. Falcone the satisfaction of knowing that his power and connections and place in Gotham scared you more than any measly feelings.

So he wanted to fuck you. Big deal.

That wasn’t exactly new or daunting or shocking. Working at the 44 Below, you encountered plenty of men who did, but none as powerful as him. That was the part that scared you, being wanted by a man like Carmine Falcone. Oz was nothing, just another man on the street with a gun and some money who thought he was bigger than what he was. Mr. Falcone on the other hand…

You’d heard things—whispers of women around him disappearing and dying. He was the head of an organized crime family, so you couldn’t say you’d be surprised if he was even worse than you imagined. It was why you couldn’t blur this line between you, no matter how much he was trying to. He was your boss, you worked at his club, and that was all it could be. You were suddenly extremely aware of the fact that you were sitting in his car as he gave you a ride home out of the rain, and you looked out of the window.

You would have to find a better job and soon.

When his driver slowed to a stop outside of your apartment—the source of your current dilemma—you were quick to reach for the door handle…and Mr. Falcone was quick to reach for you. He’d only ever touched you a handful of times, and like always, his hand was gentle on your arm, but it felt so heavy to you through the thin material of your coat. You nervously watched him reach inside of it with his other hand, and your heart dropped at the wad of cash he pulled out.

You were shaking your head before he even spoke.

“Give this to Oz,” he told you, no room for argument in his tone. “I know everything that goes on in my club.”

You could feel his eyes on your face as he said that, and your earlier conversation with 

Oz came to mind.

“...and I don’t want you owing him anything.”

You thought to yourself that you shared the same sentiment, but owing Oz was better than owing a man like Carmine Falcone You didn’t say that though, accepting that you were going to be offending him for a third time tonight, and you didn’t want to make it worse. Ignoring his words and the money, you opened the door and was immediately greeted by drops of rain.

“I can handle Oz.”

That was all you said to him before closing the door behind you, hurrying around the car and into your apartment building, only relaxing when you were bathed in darkness.

You resisted the urge to fiddle with your fingers as you met his even stare with one of your own. You knew this conversation wasn’t going to be the lightest once you finally told him, but no amount of mental preparation was enough, it seemed. Mr. Falcone always had a stern look on his face, even when he wasn’t seemingly upset, but it was clear in this moment that he wasn’t happy with the turn of events.

At all.

“This clearly isn’t a ‘two weeks notice’ kind of establishment, but…it seemed like the proper thing to do,” you finally added. “The restaurant doesn’t pay what I make here, that’s for sure, but it’s decent money.”

There was a lot left unsaid, and you certainly weren’t going to voice it, but that apparently didn’t matter.

“Of course, it doesn’t hurt that you won’t have to deal with me anymore.”

He had no problems saying what you wouldn’t, and you actually winced at his words, looking away as he took a sip of his drink. His loft was quiet, and you finally sighed—softly—as you briefly closed your eyes.

“I never meant to offend you. I swear,” you said, looking at him again. “I’m just…not that kind of girl, and you seem very…determined to make a liar out of me.”

His mustache twitched, a crooked smile on his lips, and you were right to be nervous as you watched him stand. You started to stand too when he held a hand out, and despite your confusion, you remained seated. Your positions weren’t lost on you as he moved closer to you, towering over you and looking down his nose at you where you sat. He still had his drink in hand, and when he lifted his free hand, you expected the feel of his fingers on your chin.

He only pointed at you instead.

“You will need my help.”

He said it with so much conviction that part of you couldn’t help but to believe his words, and you blinked.

“You will,” he reiterated, and you oddly felt like a child being scolded by a parent in this moment. “You will need money and assistance because this city doesn’t reward the good and doesn’t believe in being fair.”

You struggled to swallow at that, knowing without a doubt that if nothing else he said was true, that definitely was.

“...and what will you do? Run to Oz with your tail between your legs?”

You shuddered at the thought, and you knew he noticed by his slight chuckle.

“Sacrifice your dignity to become the kind of woman you claim you’re not but for strangers instead? Hmm?”

Your throat felt tight as every word from him felt like a slap.

“Would it really be worth it just to pat yourself on the back for not taking my help?”

You didn’t have anything to say to that, blinking back tears as he shook his finger at you before dropping his arm entirely. He took another swig of his drink, and you watched him turn away from you with a shake of his head.

“You remind me a lot of my son, you know that?”

You had only crossed paths with the young man in question a handful of times, and you weren't impressed, so this comparison only made you feel worse.

“Just like Alberto,” Mr. Falcone dragged out. “So hard headed and stubborn and always needs to do things the hard way just to prove a point.”

You finally stood on shaky legs, adjusting your purse on your shoulder. You hated to admit that his words were already getting to you, a lot of truth in them that you refused to face. 

“Thank you, Mr. Falcone for the opportunity you gave me here,” was all you said. “I know it may not seem like it, but I really am grateful.”

When he didn’t respond, you made your way to the elevator, your heels echoing off the walls. You had just stepped inside when he spoke again, face to face with him just as you pushed the button to go back down to the ground floor.

“The devil you know is always better.”

That simple statement made your heart drop, and you didn’t respond, refusing to give him the satisfaction. When the doors shut though, your face crumbled, and the longer they stewed in your mind, the less his words felt like speculation and more like a curse. He wasn’t wrong, and you hated it.

This city swallowed people like you up. Gotham cackled and spat in the face of anyone who tried to do things the ‘right’ way here, and you wondered if you were really about to be next on its long list of victims all because you didn’t want to get tangled up with the likes of Carmine Falcone. Maybe he was right. Maybe you would end up right in his grasp where he wanted you…

…but you owed it to yourself to try.

It took a second restaurant gig just to keep your head above the water. The corruption in Gotham didn’t just extend to the cops and drug lords, but even all the way down to the lowly landlords too. You knew the day was coming when your rent would be hiked up again with no explanation nor rhyme or reason as to why, but with your two jobs, it wasn't anything you couldn’t handle. Sure, you didn’t ever have any money left over for things like food and other necessities most times, but you had a place to lay your head at night.

…and most of all, you didn’t have to stare into the eyes of Carmine Falcone and pretend like you didn’t know he was just waiting for you to offer him something so many other women probably had.

You had no doubt that he’d played this game before. After all, the man wasn’t just rich and powerful, but handsome too, and the kind of women who worked at the 44 Below—hell even just the Iceberg Lounge—tended to have no qualms about entering an arrangement with a powerful good looking man to keep a nice sum of money in their pockets. You wondered if that was part of the hang up with you—that you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

You supposed he was right when he called you stubborn, although you could’ve gone without the comparisons to Alberto. Everything he prophesied came true, and it was only some months later when you found yourself standing outside on a corner with some girls you were familiar with.

“The first one is always a little nerve wracking,” she told you, a comforting smile on her glossy lips.

“Speak for yourself,” another one interjected. “They all make my skin crawl.”

They chuckled together, and you nervously joined in.

You were no virgin—far from it—but you’d never offered the pleasure of your company for money before. You figured it couldn’t be all that different from any other one night stand. It was sex, and that pretty much worked the same no matter who it was with, only tonight you'd be getting paid for it. You weren’t in danger of being put out on the street—yet—but you were at a point where you were working just to pay bills…and it had started to get to you.

You needed some extra money in your pocket.

A low feminine whistle pulled you from your thoughts, and you followed your friend’s gaze.

“This is your lucky first pick, I can tell. Look at that car,” she praised pointing at the dark vehicle.

You didn’t join in on their excitement when you finally studied said car—a familiar car. Your heart sank to your stomach as a congratulatory pat was given to your arm, and despite how much you told yourself it was only a coincidence—he wasn’t the only rich man to be driven around in a car like that—something deep in your gut told you otherwise. You blinked as it slowed down, and your friends’ voices had faded some as they backed away to give you privacy.

You weren’t surprised when the back window rolled down.

Just sick to your stomach.

“Mr. Falcone,” you eventually greeted, never one to be rude to him despite everything.

He didn’t respond, just staring at you through those dark sunglasses, face as taut as ever.

“I can get one of the other-.”

“Get in.”

You bristled at the interruption, halfway turning to gesture to one of the other few women on the corner.

“I’m serious. Any of them would be happy to-.”

“I don’t like repeating myself, you know that.”

You swallowed the rest of what you were going to say, and your arm fell. You stared at him, and he stared at you, and the longer the seconds dragged on, the more you wanted to just…cry. Did he stake out notorious corners regularly? Had he just been waiting for the night you showed up on one of them? If you dared to walk away right now, you wondered what he would do. Follow you? Drag you into the car?

You’d never seen Mr. Falcone so much as raise his voice, but to be a successful head of an organized crime family, you knew it required a level of brutality you’d just never been privy to. You thought about those rumors and whispers you heard of the women around him, and you didn’t know which option was worse, right now—getting in that car or walking away from it.

As you distractedly watched one of your friends walk off with some John, you realized that your former boss’ presence was going to affect any attempts to service any man—any other man—tonight, and you angrily huffed.

No more words were exchanged as you stomped around the vehicle, the silence loud from the moment you slid into the backseat. The wheels were turning before you even clicked your seatbelt in place, and you refused to look at the dark-haired man next to you. Your gaze remained on the window, even when it became apparent you weren’t heading towards the Shoreline Lofts.

It didn’t take you long after that to realize just where you were heading, and despite how much your nerves spiked, you bit your tongue.

The Falcone family mansion was just as stunning and impressive as you’d heard it to be. You’d never had the pleasure of laying eyes on it, and for a brief moment, you’d forgotten the corner your former boss had backed you into. Your lips were parted at the sight of it, slow to get out and almost stumbling over your feet as you never took your eyes off of it. You think you would’ve been content to stand outside and stare at it all night.

Your companion for the night, on the other hand, had other ideas…

You did end up stumbling when he took your arm, and your heart was fast beneath your chest as he walked you to the imposing building. An added layer of fear and apprehension surrounded you, tonight unlike all the other times you were alone with the older man. You knew that some way or another he was going to get what he’d been after, and you didn’t quite know how consensual your part in all of this was going to be.

After all, you didn’t want to sleep with him, not even for money.

…but it was clear more than ever that Carmine Falcone wouldn't rest until he was taking care of you, and you were taking care of him.

Just like he wanted.

“Tell me something…”

His deep voice broke the silence the moment he let you go, and you felt wholly uncomfortable in the bedroom that was the size of your entire apartment. You hadn’t even thought to admire the impressive artwork on the walls and grand staircase as you made your way up it, only concerned with how the rest of your life was about to start.

“Is sleeping with some strange man off the streets really more appealing than sleeping with me?”

It seemed like you’d offended Mr. Falcone enough to last a lifetime, and so you decided to be honest as he poured you both drinks.

“You terrify me to my core…so yes.”

You didn’t miss the way he paused at that before continuing on.

“Those men on the streets of Gotham?” you shrugged. “They’re just men. Men who aren’t nearly as big and bad as they think they are, men who I can handle just fine…”

You only stared at the drink being offered to you when he stopped to stand before you.

“...but you run this city, and everyone in it, and I want nothing to do with a man like that.”

When you didn’t take the drink, he only set it off to the side on a nearby side table like your refusal meant nothing to him. He took his time in sipping his own drink, and you couldn’t stop your eyes from drifting towards the bed. Hours ago, you had no idea how this night could possibly end, but in this moment, you were never more sure of anything in your life.

Your eyes followed his movements as he set down his empty glass, the sound of it hitting the wood making you flinch. Like everything he did, he took his time in moving closer to you, always moving like he had all the time in the world. Your chest was heaving ever so slightly, and you lifted your gaze to look at his face just in time to watch him reach up and remove those dark shades. You didn’t recall ever having stared directly into his eyes before, and oddly enough, you found the sunglasses that always covered his eyes to be less intimidating. 

You weren’t surprised to feel his fingers on your chin, and you blinked at the familiar feel.

“How much were you going to charge?”

You answered him, knowing what he was referring to.

“$300 for an hour.”

You didn’t miss the haughty smirk that graced his lips, and you continued before he could speak.

“I needed extra money and they aren’t all Carmine Falcone,” you told him, a bit of an edge in your voice.

It didn’t get by him, and you felt his fingers tighten on your chin.

“...and that was really preferable to accepting my help.”

It came out like a statement, and so you didn’t respond because no response was needed. When his thumb touched your bottom lip, your heart skipped a beat. The older man’s intense gaze was on you, and a huge part of you wanted him to put you out of your misery. The two of you had been playing this cat and mouse game for months—really years—and you comforted yourself in thinking that the first step was the hardest part.

“Let me take care of you.”

From anyone else’s lips, that would’ve sounded like begging, but when Carmine said it, it sounded like an order. It sounded like he was telling you to let him do what he wanted because he was going to do it anyway. You voiced your thoughts.

“Do I have a choice?” you wondered into the quiet room.

The only response to your question was the scent of his cologne filling your nose and his lips on yours. You felt overwhelmed by his mere presence, realizing that this was the point of no return. Carmine Falcone had you exactly where he wanted you, and you were the last place you ever wanted to be. You felt almost silly for attempting to put this off for so long, reluctant to admit that you were always going to end up here from the moment he’d decided it.

The only shot you had was leaving Gotham entirely.

The dress you wore tonight was meant to come off and on easily, and it did just that with a few movements of his hand, the fabric falling at your feet. For the first time in years, you were nervous because as many men as you’d slept with, none of them were like him. Your movements were shaky, and you were both relieved and intimidated once you quickly realized that he liked to be in charge.

The sheets on the bed were softer than any you’d ever had the pleasure of laying on, and they only served to remind you what kind of life you were about to be drawn into. Whether or not it was worth it wasn’t even something you’d been able to consider, having little agency in this arrangement. Carmine Falcone took what he wanted and did what he wanted, and you didn’t want to believe that you were naive for thinking you could be the exception.

Your fingers trembled as you undressed him, and he didn't take his eyes off of you the entire time. You were sure some other type of power play was at work here, and you clenched your jaw as you undid his belt. You could feel his hand touching your hair, fingers finding their way to your neck and grazing the skin there.

It seemed that he was content to save the feigned romance of it all for later, wanting to put himself out of his misery for an entirely different reason than you wanted to put yourself out of yours.

You couldn’t stop the surprised gasp that left you when he pushed himself into you, hips connecting with yours before you had a chance to process what happened. Your nails pressed into his skin, and the way he shuddered beneath your touch told you that he liked that. It felt difficult to wrap your head around your predicament—pinned beneath your former boss and lying in his bed.

Forcing yourself to let go of your apprehension and fear, you found that you could enjoy yourself if you just turned your brain off for a moment. As it was, you couldn’t stop thinking about what this meant and what your life would be like tomorrow and what this would mean for your relationship with Carmine. However, his hand on your neck forced you to think of nothing but him inside of you and his hands on you.

Everywhere he touched flared with heat, and you didn’t even know when you’d wrapped your legs around him. The thin layer of sweat that started to appear on your skin did little to cool you, but your mind strayed further and further from that with every thrust of his hips. Your lashes fluttered as you felt yourself stretch around his cock, your other hand reaching down to twist around the sheets.

The feel of his facial hair brushing along your skin made you shudder beneath him, and your gaze landed on the ceiling, eyes absentmindedly roaming along the walls and wallpaper and every detail that made your little apartment look like something out of a horror movie. You told yourself that there was a silver lining in this, but what did the silver lining mean to you when you never wanted this in the first place?

As his lips met yours again, you could see yourself getting used to this despite your initial refusal. However, it didn’t seem smart to get comfortable around the likes of Carmine, but as he curved his hips into yours again, you wondered if that line of thought was easier said than done. Beneath him, it was easy to forget just what he did and the kind of business he ran and the power he held in this city.

However…

When he pulled away, gaze meeting yours, a stab of fear tore through you.

Carmine Falcone always scared you and probably always would, no amount of money and fancy apartments and cars would change that. You unintentionally arched your chest up into his, back curving as his fingers danced along your spine. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he liked that he scared you, that your fear made this more fun for him.

His hand trailed over your skin and slid up between your chest before he took your chin in his hand. He kissed you again—a trembling breath leaving your lips—before that same hand slid around your throat. You lost track of how long he plunged his cock into you, and you were already embarrassed to think about someone else cleaning up the mess that was his bed tomorrow.

With a house like this and a family like his, there were no doubts in your mind that someone did their cleaning for them.

Some time throughout the night, you recalled words leaving his lips and yours that sounded a lot like a verbal push and pull. He wanted you to proclaim something you didn’t want to, and your refusal would be met with little nips from his teeth into your skin here and there. He’d call you stubborn, and you would turn your head away. You vaguely recalled asking about the rest of the family, nervously wondering how your presence would be received in the house. 

You didn’t think Carmine had any qualms about being honest about what and who you were. He was the type to do whatever he wanted unapologetically, and you didn’t doubt that it extended to whatever woman he wanted to parade around with whose time and company he was paying for.

“They know you’re mine,” was all he said. “They’ll do as I say.”

That didn’t bring you any comfort.

[altxrrmelancholy]

Mediate

Tags: Bf!Yunho, reader and Seonghwa have an argument, spanking, threesome kinda, oral(f receiving), Yunho... mediating.?

Banner can be found here..

Of course, Yunho wasn't taking this all that seriously, but he had had enough of you and his best friend arguing all the time that he had to do something. He wasn't even sure why you two didn't like each other, and he was fine with it. That was until the fight almost turned physical with you almost slapping Seonghwa and him pulling on your hair. Your shrill scream is what eventually got him out of his bed as he had previously decided to ignore your raised voices.

And even as he has both of you seated on his bed, with him in front of you with his arms crossed, even if you could see the obvious unimpressed look on his face, the two of you were still arguing over each other on his bed.

"-wouldn't even be arguing with you if you just weren't here all the time-"

"My presence always bothers you, why shouldn't I care what you think-"

"Your presence bothers me?! I couldn't care less about you-"

"You know you think you're better than everyone that you can say anything you want-"

"I in fact think that I am better than everyone-"

"Why don't you leave anytime I come over, Mr. I can't stand being in the presence of other people because I'm a deity-"

"Why are YOU always here-"

"If you two don't shut the hell up, the both of you are gonna end up outside. I'm not joking."

The two of you looked at Yunho. You didn't even have the guts to say anything because unlike both of your voices, Yunho's was frighteningly low and deep. Yunho turned around and locked the door while the two of you just kept staring at him, waiting to see what he would do. You looked up at him and decided to be the bigger person, mostly because you wanted to one-up Seonghwa.

"Yuyu, I'm sorry-"

"Shut up."

You gasped at your boyfriend as you heard Seonghwa snicker at you from beside you.

"Stand up." He suddenly commanded. Yunho never talked to you like this, but you felt the need to at least listen to him since you angered him. As you took your time standing up, Yunho got a chair from his desk and dragged it across the room, right in front of Seonghwa. He jumped a little as he watched Yunho sit a meter in front of him, his narrowed eyes on him.

He then looked at you and motioned for you to come towards him. You hesitated. "Yunho?"

"Lie down." But he was gesturing to his lap. You looked at Seonghwa and he was staring at Yunho in confusion too. "Don't make me drag you, y/n."

He felt his patience thinning and suddenly stood. You widened your eyes as you saw him approach you.

"W-wait, Yunho- aaah!" And you were in the air. He sat on the chair and adjusted you such that you were laid across him, your ass in the air. The skirt you were wearing slid up and you were aware of the air hitting your thighs. "Yunho-"

Smack! You couldn't even register what happened. All you felt was a sharp pain on your ass. And then another and another. Your boyfriend was spanking you, right in front of Seonghwa.

He had never done this, even when you were alone.

You didn't know what to say.

Seonghwa meanwhile was flabbergasted, for lack of a better word. His mouth hung open as he stared at the red forming on your thighs. A scream left your mouth every time you were spanked. Seonghwa didn't know how to feel.

"Yunho? Look, I g-get it. I'm sorry-"

"Shut up, Hwa."

Oh boy.

.

.

The more Seonghwa moaned, the more you could feel yourself getting wetter. You were pretty much still on Yunho's lap, but you were leaning on his chest while the other male worked on eating you out on his knees. He hadn't even hesitated when your boyfriend told him to get on his knees. He pretty much lunged at you when he was given the green light.

You could feel the vibrations from his moans through your entire body as he dragged his tongue from your slit all the way to your clit, sucking it in his mouth between his teeth. He pushed his face closer to you, his nails buried on your thighs leaving indents on them. Your head was thrown back on to Yunho's shoulder with a whine. Your boyfriend himself was busy fondling your nipples with his long fingers. He released a groan right by your ear.

"You two don't wanna say anything to each other?" Seonghwa turned red and pushed his face even further into you drawing out a long moan from you. He sped up, sucking even harder. You pulled on his long hair and trapped his head between your thighs as you climaxed, a soft whine accompanied by your orgasm. Yunho grabbed your face and began to kiss you as you like after cumming. Your ass had been moving over Yunho's hard cock and he had been aching for you ever since he heard you moan.

Seonghwa was still red, panting softly all while lying across your thigh with his eyes closed as he heard you and your boyfriend make out. How was he supposed to navigate this situation.

"Are you okay, sexy?" Yunho murmured on your lips. All you could do was nod as you didn't know what would come out if you spoke.

"You two thought you would argue with each other with no consequences, since you thought you were grown, huh?" His voice was low and deep and you felt yourself getting turned on again.

"Hwa?" Seonghwa absentmindedly humed.

"Get on the bed." And his eyes snapped open. Your eyes were still closed as you didn't want to look him in the eye. How were you supposed to talk to him now?

Seonghwa shakily got on the bed and sat upright. Yunho smirked as he saw that he was also hard. He stood and slowly carried you over to Seonghwa, his hands on your thighs that were still wide open. He couldn't help but stare at your wrecked form thinking, he did that. He had just made you cum.

Shit. He just made his best friend's girlfriend cum.

Yunho put you on top of him, face to face. You both could barely even hold eye contact and you faced away from him, Seonghwa turning red as he could feel your bare self sit on his hard on

Yunho began taking Seonghwa's pants off and you could feel him panicking. His breathing suddenly sped up. "Y-yunho, come on man."

"I can't keep telling you to shut up,Hwa. Besides the girl you were arguing with is right on top of you. Might as well get on with it."

He succeeded in getting off his pants and underwear, revealing his dick. They never really saw each other naked, and Seonghwa was getting so flustered that he thought he could explode. He also couldn't reach and stop him from taking off his pants because he would have to get you off of him, and he didn't want you to get off him to make Yunho mad.

You were suddenly pushed to Seonghwa's chest and he was quick to shift his hands to your waist as he fell back to the bed. You felt Yunho's dick at your entrance and you started panicking.

"Yunho-"

"I didn't say you could talk to me, sweetheart."

And you felt him enter you.

[eatmyheartoutjpg]

Spin off/continuation of: Jealous Conscience

CLAIM ;; Short fic. Romantic/Established Relationship. Ambessa is not a jealous woman. She knows where your loyalty lies, but she does feel the need to show you belong to her.

11.27.24 Masterlist

The room was lavish, a mixture of Piltover and Noxian pride. Silk drapes fluttered lightly in the breeze, and the golden light of dusk poured in through tall windows, casting everything in hues of gold and amber.

You stood before a large mirror, adjusting the heavy necklace Ambessa had placed around your neck earlier. Its gold links were thick, crafted with unmistakable Noxian artistry, and the emblem of her house gleamed at its center.

It was impossible to ignore the weight of it—both the physical heft and the meaning behind it.

“You’re fidgeting,” came her voice, rich and commanding, as she stepped into the room. You saw her appear behind you in the mirror.

Ambessa Medarda, clad in her usual armor of confidence and finely tailored military ornaments, strode toward you.

The room seemed to shrink under her presence, the air thickening with her energy. She moved with the precision of a general and the allure of someone who knew what kind of authority they wielded.

“I’m not used to this,” you admitted, meeting her gaze through the mirror. “It’s… heavy.” Your fingers lightly graced the gold, as if worried they'd break under fragile touch.

Her lips quirked into a knowing smile as she approached, standing behind you. Her hands, calloused from years of wielding blades and commanding armies, came to rest on your shoulders. Despite their roughness, her touch was oddly gentle.

“It’s meant to be,” she said. “Gold has weight, as does loyalty.”

Her eyes flicked to the necklace, her reflection towering over yours. Her fingers brushed the chain lightly, almost possessively, before sliding down to your collarbone.

“I don’t expect you to wear it lightly. I expect you to wear it proudly,” she added, her voice dropping to a near growl.

You turned to face her, tilting your head slightly. “You know I’m loyal to you, Ambessa. You don’t have to… cover me like this.”

Her laugh was low and rumbling, filling the room. “Oh, but I do.” She took a step closer, her hand trailing from your collarbone to your waist, where she tugged at the edge of the crimson cape draped around your shoulders. “It’s not about need. It’s about choice. My choice to show everyone exactly who you belong to.”

The cape was unmistakable—Noxian red, heavy with embroidered patterns that mimicked the war banners of her homeland. It was hers, and by wearing it, you became an extension of her power. Her territory. Her pride.

“You don’t strike me as a jealous woman,” you teased, a small smile playing on your lips.

“I’m not,” she countered quickly, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I know where your loyalty lies. You’ve proven it time and again.” She leaned in, her breath warm against your ear as she whispered, “But that doesn’t mean I won’t remind the world of it.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and your pulse quickened. She was right—Ambessa Medarda didn’t need to be jealous. She was a force of nature, a woman who took what she wanted and made it her own. Her confidence was unshakable, her authority absolute. But her need to mark you wasn’t about insecurity. It was about dominance.

She pulled back slightly, her hand slipping under your chin to tilt your face upward, forcing you to meet her gaze. “Does it bother you?” she asked, her tone softer now, almost teasing. “Being draped in my gold, my colors, my signatures?”

You hesitated, though not because you were unsure. Rather, you wanted to savor the moment—the way her eyes studied you, the way her touch lingered, the way her presence filled every inch of the room.

“No,” you said finally, your voice steady. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“Good,” she said simply. Her thumb brushed against your jawline before she stepped back, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then, as if satisfied, she turned toward the small table near the window.

From it, she picked up a small vial of perfume. You recognized the scent immediately—spiced leather and sandalwood, a fragrance that clung to her skin like a second armor. She uncapped it, dabbing a small amount onto her fingers before stepping close to you again.

“Hold still,” she ordered, her voice a command and a promise.

You obeyed, standing motionless as she pressed the perfume into your pulse points—your wrists, your neck, just behind your ears. The scent enveloped you, unmistakably hers. It was a mark more intimate than the gold or the cape, one that would cling to you long after she was gone.

“There,” she said, her lips curving into a satisfied smirk. “Now, no one will question who you belong to.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in your expression. “And what if I wanted to mark you?”

Ambessa chuckled, a deep, resonant sound. “You already have,” she said, her voice softer now. “But the difference is, I wear your mark here.” She tapped two fingers against her chest, just over her heart,

ˢᵉᵛᵉⁿ

[rosierin]

in your court | atsumu miya

synopsis; he serves like a show-off, scores like it’s nothing, and winks like he knows exactly what he’s doing to her. (y/n) claps. rolls her eyes. maybe blushes a little. it’s all fun and games until she catches herself heading toward the locker hallway after the final whistle.

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

It was rare—ridiculously rare—for all four of them to have a day off at the same time. Between, Atsumu and Suna’s volleyball career, Osamu’s long shifts, and (y/n)’s inconsistent rotas, syncing up schedules was like trying to catch lightning in a bottle. But somehow, today lined up.

Atsumu’s match just so happened to land on it.

(Y/n) walked into the arena sandwiched between Osamu and Suna, the buzz of pre-game energy already humming in the air. The place smelled like polished floors and concession stand popcorn, like cold air and adrenaline. Music thumped faintly overhead. Fans were filing into the stands, voices rising like a tide.

“Does he know we're here yet?” Suna asked, adjusting his hoodie as they climbed the stairs.

Osamu lazily checked his phone, thumb flicking over the screen. “Mm, don't think so.” He shrugged, then glanced down at (y/n), a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “’M sure he’ll come runnin’ once he sees (y/n), though.”

She huffed a quiet laugh, brushing off the comment like it was second nature. Her eyes drifted around the arena, taking in the colourful banners and glittery signs lining the stands.

“We should’ve made one of those,” she said, tugging Osamu’s sleeve and nodding toward a group of fans waving a hand-painted poster with the players’ names in bold letters.

“Should’ve brought earplugs,” Suna muttered, eyeing the already-hyped Bokuto warming up near the net.

They settled in. The seats were decent—close enough to see expressions, far enough that they wouldn’t get hit by stray balls.

(Y/n)'s eyes scanned the court, skimming over the blur of black-and-gold jerseys until—

There.

Atsumu was standing near the baseline, bickering with Sakusa, if his flailing arms and exaggerated expressions were anything to go by. Sakusa, in turn, looked like his patience was hanging on by a mere thread, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger.

(Y/n)’s lips twitched.

Atsumu turned his head mid-rant—and spotted her.

The change was instant. His whole face lit up, smile blooming like a sunrise. He raised a hand in a lazy wave, then, without hesitation, jogged toward the stands.

“See, what’d I say?” Osamu said, chuckling as (y/n) shot him a look.

“He’s like a puppy,” Suna drawled, glancing up as he jerked his head in greeting.

Atsumu reached the railing, still slightly breathless, but grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “Look who actually showed up,” he teased, gaze locking onto (y/n) like she was the only one there. “Didn’t think ya cared.”

“Mm, I don’t,” she said smoothly, smirking. “Osamu bribed me.”

“Damn. Was it food or money?”

“Both.”

He laughed. “Figures.” Then, tipping his head just slightly, voice dipping low: “Glad yer here, though.”

(Y/n) opened her mouth—whether to respond or deflect, she wasn’t sure—but a sharp whistle cut through the air, followed by the coach’s voice barking for players to regroup.

Atsumu clicked his tongue. “Duty calls.”

He took a few steps back, eyes still on her, a smug grin tugging at his mouth.

“Don’t blink,” he said, jogging backward a few paces. “I’m ’boutta put on a show.”

Then he spun on his heel and jogged toward the baseline, straight to the service line—shoulders loose, steps confident. He bounced the ball once, then caught it with one hand, rolling it lazily along his fingertips like he had all the time in the world.

The buzzer sounded.

The crowd swelled with cheers as the match officially kicked off, voices bouncing off the high ceilings, energy crackling in the air like static.

Atsumu stepped up to the baseline, spinning the ball in one hand as he sized up the court. The noise in the arena surged—clapping, chanting, shouting.

Then he raised his fist.

The crowd fell silent.

It was almost eerie, how quickly the volume dropped. The tension stretched, taut and electric, like the entire arena had drawn in a collective breath and was holding it in.

Osamu snorted beside her, leaning in just enough for (y/n) to hear. “Can’t believe he still does that.”

“Such a diva,” Suna added, arms crossed as he watched from beneath his hood.

(Y/n) stifled a laugh, biting the inside of her cheek. They weren’t wrong—he was dramatic, theatrical, always had been. But still… there was something kind of cool about it. The way he held the moment, owned the silence like it answered to him.

Not that she’d ever say that out loud.

Atsumu’s hand rose. His toss was clean, high.

And then he jumped.

His form was sharp, powerful. The moment his palm met the ball, it echoed—crack—cutting through the quiet like lightning.

The serve ripped over the net, too fast to track, slamming untouched into the far corner.

Ace.

The crowd erupted. Bokuto yelled something unintelligible and slapped Atsumu’s back with enough force to make him stumble. Atsumu turned, grinning, and pumped his fist with satisfaction.

Then, like clockwork, he looked toward the stands.

Found her instantly.

And with a face full of smug, he waggled his eyebrows.

(Y/n) huffed a laugh despite herself, clapping just for him. Idiot.

He went back to the line.

The next serve was just as clean—fierce and fast, skimming inches above the net. The game settled into rhythm, and with each rally, the heat in the room seemed to rise. (Y/n) watched, breath caught somewhere in her chest, as the match unfolded like choreography—fluid, fast, ferocious.

Bokuto was impossible to ignore, all wild limbs and explosive energy, hitting like the world might end if the ball touched the floor. Every spike was a declaration. Every yell a battle cry.

Hinata moved like lightning—impossibly fast, defying logic with his jumps, reacting before the ball even touched down. His sheer unpredictability made him a weapon and a blur all at once.

Sakusa played with cold precision. Every move was clean, efficient. He was deliberate in a way that felt lethal—like he saw the game two steps ahead of everyone else.

And then there was Atsumu.

He was everywhere and nowhere all at once—darting across the court with surgical control, setting from impossible positions, eyes always scanning. His sets were pure instinct, tailored to each hitter like he could read their minds. Not just quick, but clever. Every toss seemed to hang in the air for half a second longer than it should have, pulling blockers out of position before snapping into place—clean, perfect, untouchable.

He called plays with a sharp eye and an even sharper tongue, pushing his teammates but trusting them, too. He grinned through the chaos, jaw tight with focus, soaked in sweat and still somehow cocky as ever. Not just good—magnetic.

(Y/n) watched him in silence, heart thudding in her chest.

It was easy to forget, sometimes, how serious he could be. How brilliant. How sharp his game sense really was beneath all that bravado. She always knew he was talented—but watching him own the court like this? Watching him burn with that kind of passion?

It made something stir in her chest. Something proud. Something that felt a lot like adrenaline.

Atsumu glanced toward the stands again, tongue peeking out between his teeth as he adjusted his knee pads. He didn’t smile this time, didn’t wink.

But his eyes found her.

And for a split second, even from across the court, she could feel the charge between them like a current.

“God,” she breathed, the word slipping out before she could catch it. “He’s good, isn’t he?”

Suna hummed low in his throat, nodding once—slow and sure. Recognition from a fellow pro. No teasing. Just fact.

Osamu, on the other hand, puffed out his chest like he was the one being praised.

“Darn right,” he said, pride practically radiating off him as he leaned back in his seat. “All that hard work’s payin’ off.”

The spell broke when the ball was served again, but the charge lingered.

Even as the game carried on—sweat flying, feet thudding against the court—she kept catching herself watching him.

Watching the way he moved.

The way he played.

The way he made her feel.

Rallies stretched longer. The score climbed higher. Every point brought more noise, more pressure, more heart. There were impossible saves, stunning spikes, and moments so fast the crowd couldn’t even gasp before the ball hit the floor.

The Jackals fought hard. So did the opposing team. But in the end, it was the fire in their eyes that made the difference—the burn behind every leap, every block, every set.

And Atsumu—Atsumu was at the centre of it all.

And when the final whistle blew and the crowd rose to their feet, (y/n) stayed still for a moment, heart still racing.

Around her, the arena surged with cheers, players exchanging high fives and half-hugs at the net. Bokuto was already bouncing on his toes, dragging Hinata into a sweaty headlock. Sakusa gave a stiff nod of approval. Atsumu was all grins and flushed cheeks, soaking in the aftermath like it was his own private spotlight.

(Y/n) stood with the boys, clapping along, the adrenaline still buzzing in her fingertips. Around them, the crowd was spilling toward the aisles, voices raised in celebration, bodies pressing forward in every direction.

But her eyes were still on the court.

Or… where the court had been.

Players were dispersing, coaches shaking hands, the arena losing its shape in the blur of people moving. She caught sight of Bokuto waving to someone in the crowd, Hinata bouncing on his heels. Sakusa had already disappeared.

And then—just for a second—she saw Atsumu’s back, his jersey clinging to sweat, a towel slung over one shoulder as he disappeared into the tunnel.

Her breath caught.

Osamu caught it instantly.

“He’ll be headin’ toward the changin’ room,” he said casually, jerking his chin toward the back corridor. A knowing glint sparked in his eye. “That way.”

“I’m just going to—” she started, waving vaguely, but the heat in her cheeks betrayed her.

Suna smirked, tugging at the drawstring of his hoodie. “Gonna go congratulate him properly?”

Osamu snorted. “Tell ’im to keep it down if ya end up makin’ out in the lockers.”

(Y/n) huffed, flustered. “You two are gross.”

But she didn’t argue more than that.

And before either of them could say another word, she was already weaving through the crowd—shoulders squared, face warm, heart hammering.

Toward the hallway.

Toward him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The hallway outside the Jackals’ changing room still pulsed with post-game energy. Cheers echoed faintly through the concrete walls, teammates’ laughter spilled out of open doors, and the lingering scent of gym floor polish and sweat hung in the air. The kind of buzz that felt electric and heavy all at once—like the match was still happening, somewhere just beyond reach.

(Y/n) stood near the corner, rocking on the balls of her feet, trying to look casual. Like she hadn’t been waiting there for the past ten minutes. Like her pulse wasn’t ticking just a little too fast.

She hadn’t seen him yet.

But when Atsumu rounded the corner, it was impossible to miss him.

Water bottle in hand, hair damp and tousled, skin flushed from exertion, he looked like the personification of adrenaline. Loose-limbed and glowing with victory. His grin broke wide the second his eyes landed on her, something fond and wicked lighting up his whole face.

“Well, well,” he drawled, smug and sun-warm, “If it ain’t my favourite supporter.”

She arched a brow, arms folding across her chest as the corner of her mouth twitched. “If it ain’t Japan’s number one setter.”

“You got that right, baby.” His voice was cocky, but his eyes gleamed when he said it.

As he slowed beside her, still radiating energy like static off his skin, (y/n) reached out and gave a firm slap to his chest—just over his heart, where the jersey clung.

“Good job out there,” she said, grinning. “You killed it.”

He actually curled in on himself a little, shoulders hiking up at the impact, a laugh bubbling out of him—light and almost boyish, like she’d caught him off guard.

“Thanks, angel. Ya flatter me.”

For half a second, his expression softened, something warm flickering behind the grin. Then it shifted, teasing again.

“What’re ya doin’ all the way out here anyway?” he asked, a smirk tugging at his mouth. His voice dipped a little lower, his eyes half-lidded, glinting with mischief. “You come to give me a victory kiss?”

(Y/n) snorted, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

Tilting her chin, she gestured behind him.

He turned, and sure enough—a cluster of fangirls stood at the far end of the hallway. One held a glittery homemade sign with “MIYA ♡” scrawled across it in big, bubble letters. Another clutched a volleyball and a phone like her life depended on both. All of them were watching, eyes wide and hopeful.

The moment Atsumu lifted his hand in greeting, a wave of squeals rippled down the corridor.

(Y/n) gave him an amused look. “You not gonna go entertain your fans?”

Atsumu turned back to her with a smirk that could melt gold. “Why, when my number one fan is standin’ right here?”

That one landed a little lower in her stomach than she cared to admit.

She cleared her throat, eyes flicking down, then back up to his face. “Anyway, you played really well. That last set was…” Her fingers fluttered in the air, vague but meaningful. “…kind of electric.”

His smile widened into something bright and boyish. “Kind of? Just kind of?”

A snort. “Don’t get cocky.”

He tilted his head, something playful dancing in his gaze. “Can’t help it when I’ve got you watchin’ from the stands. Makes a guy wanna show off.”

“Oh, so am I the reason you didn’t botch your serves today?”

He stepped a little closer, enough that she could feel the heat still rolling off his skin, the warmth of him brushing the space between them.

“Mm. Somethin’ like that.” His voice dropped low, almost coaxing. “Admit it. You liked watchin’ me out there." He cocked an eyebrow, almost like a challenge. "I think yer just too proud to admit it."

(Y/n)’s arms folded tighter, not as a shield—but as something to do with her hands. She shifted her weight onto one leg, her stance relaxed but purposeful. Then she tilted her chin up, looking at him through her lashes, a grin curling slow and smug across her lips.

“I think that you’re a shameless flirt, Miya.”

It sounded like a reprimand.

It felt like a dare.

He laughed, soft and low, like he was savouring her words. His gaze flicked over her face, and something about the way she was smiling now—bold, open, playful—made his chest feel tight in a way he’d never admit out loud.

“And I think you like it.”

The space between them shrank by inches. His hand lifted, slow and careful, and he brushed his fingers beneath her chin, tilting her face toward his. Her skin tingled where he touched. She didn’t step away.

Their eyes locked.

The world fell quiet.

She wasn’t smiling now—just watching him, gaze steady, challenging. But her breathing had changed. Her shoulders had stilled. Her lips parted just enough.

“Say it,” he murmured.

(Y/n) didn’t move. She didn’t speak. But she didn’t look away, either.

She could just almost feel his breath against her lips…

Her eyes fluttered shut.

Atsumu’s followed suit.

A throat cleared.

Sharp. Disapproving.

They both flinched like teenagers caught in the act.

Sakusa stood a few feet away, arms crossed, unimpressed.

Atsumu stepped back, hands raised like he was surrendering, that same shit-eating grin still playing at his mouth.

“Easy now. We were just talkin’.”

(Y/n) turned away slightly, fixing her hair like it mattered, cheeks burning.

“You’ve got no shame.”

“Never claimed I did,” Atsumu called over his shoulder as he casually re-joined Sakusa, still wearing that infuriatingly satisfied look.

Before she could collect herself, a familiar voice boomed behind her.

“HEYYYYY!!!”

An arm slung itself across her shoulders with all the weight of unfiltered excitement. Bokuto beamed down at her, hair still damp, jersey clinging to his broad frame. He smelled like men’s deodorant and sweat—like a boys’ locker room in a strangely comforting way.

“I’m so glad you came! It’s been forever, right?” he said, already squeezing her into a one-armed hug. “Did you see that spike?! It was insane, right??” He leaned back, eyes wide with anticipation. “Tell me it was insane—Hinata, you know the one!”

“Set two!” Hinata chimed in, popping up at Bokuto’s other side with a wide grin. “No—wait—set three! Whatever, it was INSANE!”

And just like that, she was swallowed by chaos. Caught between Bokuto’s enthusiastic replays and Hinata’s sound effects, swept away in a whirlwind of animated retellings, wild gestures, and overlapping voices that buzzed in her ears.

She smiled. Laughed, even. But even as she nodded along, her eyes drifted—

Atsumu was walking down the hallway with Sakusa, a towel slung over one shoulder, head ducked in casual conversation. But just before he turned the corner, he looked back.

Their eyes met across the noise.

His gaze dipped—slow, deliberate—giving her a once over before flicking back to her eyes. His lips curled into a smirk… then he winked.

(Y/n) exhaled sharply through her nose—more scoff than sigh—and shook her head, fighting a smile.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered.

But her heart didn’t quite agree.

[heliosunny]

Yandere!Mydei x Knight!Reader

[part 1]

You were sent to assassinate Prince Mydei, the heir of a kingdom feared for its brutality. Slipping into the royal palace undetected, you finally make your move only for him to stop you effortlessly.

Rather than ordering your execution, Mydei claims you. As a cruel punishment, he forces you to disguise yourself as his personal knight, making you stand by his side at all times, protecting the very man you once tried to kill.

The golden candlelight flickers as you press a dagger to Prince Mydei’s throat, its cold steel biting against his skin. His golden eyes gleam, not with fear, but with something far more unsettling—amusement.

“You’re bold” he murmurs, lips curling into a smirk.

He should be calling for his guards. He should be fighting back. Instead, he leans into the knife.

For the first time in your career, hesitation seeps into your grip. He isn’t afraid. He isn’t struggling. He wanted this.

“Go on” he breathes, voice as soft as silk. “Kill me if you can.”

Your fingers tense— And then, everything shifts.

A blur of movement. A crushing grip. Pain flares as Mydei twists your wrist, the dagger clattering to the marble floor. Before you can react, he slams you against the wall, his fingers curling around your throat.

“Did you really think it would be that easy?” Mydei chuckles, his golden eyes glowing like molten gold in the dim light. His grip tightens, just enough to remind you who is in control.

His gaze lingers, sweeping over you like a predator savoring its prey. There’s no anger, no fear—only fascination.

“How disappointing” he sighs, though his smirk never wavers. “But don’t worry. I won’t kill you. No… you interest me far too much for that.”

His lips brush against your ear as he delivers the words that seal your fate:

“You belong to me now.”

The royal armor feels heavy on your shoulders. The crest of Okhema's knight gleams proudly on your chestplate, a mockery of your enslavement.

Prince Mydei watches you from his throne, his golden eyes glowing with amusement.

“How does it feel?” he asks smoothly, resting his chin against his palm. “To wear the colors of the kingdom you sought to destroy?”

Your hands clench into fists, nails digging into your palms. You hate this. Hate him.

He knows. And he delights in it.

“Come now, little knight” Mydei hums, rising gracefully from his throne. He steps toward you, his presence suffocating. His gloved fingers ghost along the sword at your hip, the one he gave you. A cruel joke, as if you would ever use it to protect him.

“You will stand by my side” he murmurs, his golden eyes locking onto yours. “You will guard me, fight for me, kill for me. And should you ever think of betrayal again—” he tilts your chin up with two fingers, his touch light but unshakable, “I will remind you who owns you.”

Your blood runs cold. You were once a killer, a shadow in the night. Now, you are Mydei’s most treasured knight, his captive, his obsession. “I understand.”

And no matter how much you wish to drive a blade through his heart, you know one thing for certain:

Prince Mydei will never let you go.

The throne room is silent except for the rhythmic clink of your armor as you kneel before Prince Mydei, golden banners draped behind him. His piercing eyes rest on you, filled with quiet amusement.

“Rise, my knight.”

You grit your teeth but obey, standing before him in full royal armor. You feel suffocated, weighed down—not by the metal, but by the mockery of it all.

“You’ve done well adjusting” Mydei muses, resting his chin in his palm. “But I wonder… how far does that loyalty go?”

Your body tenses.

The heavy doors creak open. Two royal guards drag a bound figure into the chamber, their face bruised, their breath ragged. You recognize them instantly.

Your contact. The one who had arranged your failed assassination attempt on Mydei.

“You know them, don’t you?” Mydei asks, his tone light. He rises from his throne, stepping toward the bound figure, tilting their chin up with a gloved hand. “They’re the one who sent you to kill me. How interesting…”

Your pulse pounds in your ears.

“So, my loyal knight” Mydei purrs, turning to you, his golden eyes glowing with delight. “Shall I consider this unfinished business? Why don’t you finish what you started?”

A blade gleams in the dim candlelight. Mydei extends it to you—an executioner’s weapon, cold and polished.

“Kill them.”

Your fingers twitch. You’ve taken countless lives before, without hesitation, without guilt. But this… this is different.

Your contact meets your gaze, eyes pleading. If you refuse, Mydei will kill them himself. Or worse.

You hesitate.

“Ah…” Mydei hums, stepping closer, his breath ghosting near your ear. “You hesitate. How cruel.” His fingers graze your wrist, slow and deliberate. “Did you really think I wouldn’t test you?”

Your throat tightens.

“This is simple, Y/n” he whispers, his grip tightening slightly. “You belong to me now. Your blade belongs to me. Show me.”

Your grip tightens around the hilt.

Kill them—or betray him. Night falls over the royal palace, but your torment does not end.

The execution-your choice still lingers on your hands. The weight of it, heavier than any blade you’ve ever held.

In the grand chamber, Mydei watches you from his seat by the fire. He has been silent, waiting. Watching. Enjoying your torment.

“Are you sulking?” he finally speaks, voice teasing. “How ungrateful. I spared your life, gave you a purpose. And yet, you frown as if I took something from you.”

Your freedom. Your identity. Your will.

Your jaw clenches. “You-”

But he only smiles, seeing through you as he always does.

“You’re beginning to understand, aren’t you?” Mydei murmurs, rising from his chair. He walks toward you slowly, as if savoring the moment. “You can resist me, fight me, hate me… but in the end, you will always be mine.”

You take a step back. He follows.

Finally, the wall greets your back.

He forced you to look up to meet his glowing eyes.

“And the sooner you accept that, my dear knight…” his voice dips into something dangerously soft, intoxicating, “the sooner I will make this so much easier for you.”

His lips brush dangerously close to your ear.

“You will not escape me.”

You hate him.

You fear him.

And yet, as his warmth surrounds you, you know he’s right.

The grand ballroom of the palace is alive with music and laughter, golden chandeliers reflecting off polished marble floors. Nobles from across the empire gather, their silken robes shimmering under the light.

You stand at Mydei’s side, forced into the role of his personal knight, wearing the crest like a brand of ownership. You loathe every moment of it: the whispered glances, the knowing smiles, the way Mydei’s golden eyes flicker with amusement whenever he catches you tensing.

But the true danger of the night comes in the form of Lord Aldric, a noble from a neighboring kingdom.

“Your Majesty, you have quite the remarkable knight” Aldric muses, swirling his wine as he appraises you with interest.

“Efficient. Strong. And quite… stunning” he continues, his tone dipping into something suggestive. His blue eyes meet yours, and there is a challenge in them, one that makes your stomach twist. “It is rare to see such talent outside the royal guard. Tell me, dear knight, have you ever considered serving another lord?”

The air shifts.

Prince Mydei is still smiling, his golden eyes bright with amusement—but you know better. That is not a look of joy. That is a look of warning.

“My knight?” Mydei hums, tilting his head slightly as if contemplating something. His voice is still smooth, still elegant, but there is an edge beneath it, a sharpness like a blade hidden beneath silk. “How interesting that you would assume they have a choice.”

Lord Aldric chuckles, taking a step closer to you, seemingly unaware or perhaps unconcerned—by the storm brewing behind Mydei’s golden gaze.

“Surely, even knights deserve the freedom to choose whom they serve, Your Highness.” Aldric presses, his smirk deepening. “Or is this one particularly… special?”

For a moment, no one speaks.

“Kneel.”

Mydei’s voice cuts through the ballroom like a blade.

You freeze. The room stills. The musicians falter for a brief second before quickly recovering, but all eyes have turned to you now.

The weight of his command settles over you like chains.

This is not a request. This is a display.

Your jaw clenches, your hands curling into fists at your sides. Mydei is forcing you to submit in front of everyone, making it clear to Aldric and to the entire court—exactly who you belong to.

But defying him here, in front of so many witnesses… would be a mistake.

Slowly, with every ounce of hatred burning in your veins, you lower yourself onto one knee, bowing your head.

Satisfied, Mydei steps forward, tilting your chin up with his gloved fingers. His eyes gleam with satisfaction, his touch both cruel and intoxicating.

“You speak of freedom, Lord Aldric.” he muses, not even sparing the noble a glance. “But my knight already knows their place.” His fingers trace along your jaw- a mockery of affection, a silent reminder of his control.

“Don’t you, my dear?”

The room waits. Your heart pounds, but you know the answer he wants. The answer he expects.

“Yes… Your majesty” you grit out.

Mydei smiles.

“Good.” he murmurs, his touch lingering just long enough to make your skin crawl before he finally releases you.

You rise to your feet, your pride crushed beneath the weight of his amusement, the court’s whispers echoing around you like a thousand daggers.

But the night is not over.

Later that night, the golden glow of the ballroom is replaced by the cold darkness of Mydei’s private chambers. The door clicks shut behind you, and you realize you are alone with him.

“You were quiet tonight” Mydei muses, pacing toward you with slow, deliberate steps. “Did Lord Aldric’s words tempt you, my knight?” he asks, his voice soft, almost mocking. “Did you enjoy his attention?”

You glare at him, refusing to answer.

He laughs. Such dangerous sound—low, smooth, curling around you like silk tightening into a noose.

“You see, I was going to let it go...” he sighs, reaching for a wine glass, swirling its contents lazily. “But then, I noticed something.”

He takes a step closer.

You stand your ground.

“You didn’t pull away when he touched you.”

He noticed. Of course he did.

“Are you growing bold, my dear?” Mydei whispers, setting the glass aside as he reaches out, his gloved fingers grazing your wrist. “Do you think another could ever take you from me?”

“They cannot” he assures you, voice dipped in deadly certainty. His grip tightens enough to remind you that he could. “You are mine.”

He leans in, his breath warm against your skin.

“And I do not share.”

Despite the shiver runs down your spine, you refuse to move, refuse to let him see any weakness. Mydei chuckles softly, sensing your defiance.

“That’s alright” he murmurs, his fingers trailing along your jaw, tilting your chin up, “I enjoy reminding you.”

Mydei may have spared Aldric tonight, but the next time someone looks at you like that…

They won’t live to see the sunrise.

[vanteguccir]

mom! reader (of preferably twin boys) x chris (or matt) based on the indoor zoo video ?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤINDOOR ZOO * CHRIS STURNIOLO * BLURB

SUMMARY　::　where Chris's and Y/N's twins make an appearance on the 'we turned our house into a barn' video

FEATURING　dad!Chris Sturniolo x mom!reader

WARNINGS　::　none

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error

The Sturniolo house was in an adorable state of controlled chaos. Matt and Chris had planned everything down to the last hay bale, receiving help from Y/N in transforming their living room into a cozy indoor petting zoo.

Little Eudora, with her chestnut curls bouncing, was giggling as she raced around the room with a small white duck waddling after her. Calum, the spitting image of his father, clutched a surprisingly calm porcupine in his lap, his face lit with pure fascination as he gently patted its back.

In front of the full-body mirror, Matt was crouched beside a midsized goat, Buster, giving it gentle scratches on the back, while a curious little black pig kept nudging him with its nose, vying for attention.

Chris and Y/N stood side by side, standing in the middle of the living room with arms crossed, taking it all in with warm smiles. Y/N’s hand found Chris’s, and he gave it a little squeeze, chuckling softly as he watched Calum carefully cradle the porcupine with awe.

"Be careful with him, buddy." Chris's voice echoed, breaking the momentarily silence while moving to a cluster of hay bales, grinning as he adjusted the banner that read "Welcome Home, Uncle Nicky!" surrounded by multicolored prints of small hands.

Their cameraman, who was used to the lively energy in the Sturniolo home, was getting every adorable moment on tape, his own laughter blending in with the kids’ squeals of delight as he recorded.

Then, suddenly, they heard the unmistakable sound of keys rattling at the front door. Y/N and Chris exchanged amused glances, and Matt looked up from the goat, a gleeful grin spreading across his face with the twin's reactions.

The kids froze, looking at the adults, and Chris quickly raised a finger to his lips, signaling for quiet. Eudora's right hand flew to her mouth, her big blue doe eyes dancing with excitement as she bounced on her heels, her white dress flowing around her small body with her movements. Calum clutched the porcupine close to him, glancing over at Matt with eyes wide, receiving a wink from his uncle.

Chris leaned forward and called out.

"Hey, Nick! How's it going?"

A muffled "Hey" came from Nick, who had just closed the door behind him. He started heading up the stairs from the entryway to the living room, clearly oblivious to the surprise that awaited him.

Just as he reached the top of the stairs, Y/N called out.

"Careful with the thing blocking the door!"

Nick stopped abruptly, his brows knitting in confusion.

"What thing-?" He began to ask, then froze as he noticed a turtle calmly stationed right by the passage.

His eyes lifted to the rest of the room, widening comically as he took in the scene beyond: animals everywhere, little straw bales scattered, and his entire family - together with an unknown woman dressed in a zoo uniform and their cameraman - caught mid-laughter in a rustic, farm-like setup right in their living room. His mouth dropped open, completely dumbfounded.

"Wha-what the..." Nick started, his words catching as he tried to process what was happening. Before he could continue, the twins finally sprang up, squealing in excitement.

"Uncle Nick!" They yelled in unison, darting over to him, the small porcupine bouncing in Calum's hands.

Nick barely managed to drop his bags with a thud before crouching to his knees, throwing his arms open wide as Calum and Eudora barreled into him. His gaze roamed the room as he held his niece and nephew close, enjoying the warm heat emanating from their bodies while taking in the fluffy chickens clucking happily nearby and the small pig nibbling at a strand of hay.

"What the fu-freak is going on?" Nick stammered, catching himself just in time, though the sheer astonishment was clear on his face. His arms kept wrapped around the twins tightly, and with a breathy laugh, he shook his head. "I’m never leaving the house again."

Eudora beamed, wrapping her small arms around his neck as she squealed excitedly in his ear.

"We made this surprise for you, Uncle Nicky! Did you like it?"

Nick looked down at her, his eyes softening drastically as he took in her excitement, then looked over to Chris and Y/N, still stunned.

"Like it?" He repeated, almost at a loss for words. "I love it! This is insane!"

Just then, Calum piped up, holding up the porcupine he’d been cradling like a prized possession.

"Look, Uncle Nick!" He said eagerly. "It’s a porcupine! Do you wanna hold it?"

"Baby, be careful not to hurt your uncle with its prickles." Y/N was quick in warning the little boy, watching his movements carefully.

Nick’s eyes widened even further as he realized what Calum was holding too close to his face. He quickly glanced over at Y/N, and then at Chris, the fear evident in his expression.

"Uh... Chris?" He stammered, his voice high-pitched with barely concealed alarm.

Chris stifled a laugh and quickly stepped forward, taking the porcupine from Calum’s hands, ignoring the big pout forming on his son's lips.

"I got it, I got it." He said, giving Nick a playful grin. "Only the safest surprises for you, bro."

Y/N chuckled softly, her hand covering her mouth as she watched Nick’s face go through an entire range of emotions. Matt joined in, shaking his head as he pet the goat one last time before walking closer to the others, clearly reveling in his brother’s shock.

Nick took a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face, then looked down at his niece and nephew nestled snugly in his arms. His expression softened into a disbelieving grin as he pulled them even closer, wrapping them in a hug filled with all the warmth he’d bottled up during his time away.

"You two..." He murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to each of their heads. "This might be the best surprise I’ve ever had."

Calum and Eudora beamed up at him, their matching blue eyes alight with pride.

"Even better than the band, Uncle Nick?" Calum asked, his small hands curling around Nick’s tattooed arm, eyes wide with hope.

Nick let out a heartfelt laugh, nodding as he glanced down at his nephew.

"Even better than the band, buddy. Was this all your idea?" He asked, focusing warmly on Calum but keeping one arm wrapped around Eudora, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on her back.

Calum’s face lit up even brighter, grinning from ear to ear before looking over at his dad and Uncle Matt, seeking their approval.

"Well..." Calum started, only to have Matt jump in, flashing a teasing grin.

"You know how it is, Nick." Matt said, leaning in with a conspiratorial tone. "We missed you, and these two couldn’t stop talking about going to the zoo all week, so..."

Nick’s eyes narrowed playfully as he turned to Chris.

"And you let him pick the porcupine?"

Chris chuckled, throwing up his hands in defense.

"Actually, the porcupine was my idea, but..." He gestured at Calum with a shrug. "He’s been attached ever since."

"Like father, like son." Y/N's voice echoed full of amusement, her plump lips forming a wide smile. "Do you want some water, Nick?" She asked gently, moving towards the kitchen, receiving a positive answer from the oldest triplet.

For a few more minutes, Nick just sat on the floor, surrounded by warmth and joy as the twins excitedly recounted every little detail from the week - even though they’d already shared those stories over FaceTime, feeling too excited to tell him all over again in person. Nick listened, hanging on every word, giving all of his attention to them.

A soft nudge against his side caught his attention, and he looked down to see the little goat butting his arm. Smiling, Nick gave it a gentle scratch behind the ears, chuckling under his breath at the delightful absurdity of it all. His gaze drifted up, finding Y/N’s across the room. Her eyes were warm, crinkling at the corners as she watched him with a look that needed no words, patting the small bunny in her hands.

He mouthed a "thank you", his expression soft, clearly moved by their thoughtfulness.

Chris’s arm snaked around Y/N’s waist, pulling her close as they shared a quiet, knowing smile, content to watch Nick settle back into the chaotic embrace of the family they’d created.

© vanteguccir