#“It looks like Nick is *so* in love with you”

[gilbertscurls]

worth it — matt sturniolo

It started with a group chat.

Which, to be fair, is how most chaos in your life did start—specifically when that group chat included the Sturniolo triplets.

[Chaos Goblins 🧨]: Chris: you free friday night? You: depends Nick: she’s free You: wow, thanks nick Matt: what’s happening friday Chris: nothing for you Nick: unless you wanna third-wheel Matt: what

You should’ve known something was up. Chris was way too casual. Nick was way too smug. And Matt? Matt was suspicious in the way a golden retriever gets when you say “walk” but don’t reach for the leash.

Still, you were intrigued. Also slightly bored. Also easily bullied by persuasive texts and too many heart emojis.

So when Friday night rolled around, you showed up at the cute little café Chris had sent you the address to, expecting—at the very least—a decent cup of coffee and a good story to tell.

What you didn’t expect was Matt.

Sitting at a table. Fidgeting with a sugar packet.

Looking equally confused.

“…Matt?” you asked, stopping mid-step.

His head jerked up. “Wait—you’re my blind date?”

You blinked. “You’re mine?”

There was a beat of silence. And then, in perfect unison:

“CHRIS.”

From a corner booth, Chris and Nick peeked over the edge of a menu. Chris waved. Nick looked far too pleased with himself.

“They’re so dramatic,” Nick muttered to Chris, who nodded solemnly.

“They’ve been in love for five years and still haven’t kissed. I’m doing the Lord’s work.”

Matt looked at you. You looked at Matt.

Then—helpless, resigned—you both sat down.

“This is so stupid,” Matt said, but he was smiling.

“Unbelievably stupid,” you agreed. “Want to order dessert first out of spite?”

“Yes,” he said immediately. “God, yes. Two slices of cake. And I’m not sharing.”

The “date” was… surprisingly fun.

Partly because you and Matt had always been good together—banter easy, laughter constant, conversations that bounced between chaotic and sincere. And partly because the sheer absurdity of being set up on a blind date with your best friend made everything feel surreal in the best way.

You fed him a bite of your cake at one point just to mess with the boys. Matt immediately retaliated by dramatically wiping frosting off your cheek with a napkin and whispering, “We’re really selling it now.”

Chris choked on his drink.

Nick facepalmed so hard, you heard it.

By the end of the night, you and Matt were walking back to the car, still giggling about the expression on Chris’s face when Matt offered to “accidentally” feed you a french fry.

“I can’t believe they tricked us,” you said, bumping your shoulder against his.

“I can,” Matt said. “We’ve been dancing around each other for so long I’m shocked they didn’t lock us in a closet together.”

You laughed. “Yeah, but a blind date? Really?”

Matt glanced at you, a little softer now. “Maybe they just… wanted us to admit what they already knew.”

You stopped walking.

So did he.

For a second, everything felt still.

The night air, cool and quiet. The streetlamp humming above you. The world holding its breath.

Matt shifted, suddenly nervous. “Okay, don’t laugh, but—”

You kissed him.

It wasn’t perfect—your teeth bumped, and you almost dropped your keys—but it was warm and real and long overdue.

When you pulled back, Matt’s eyes were wide. And a little dazed.

“I was gonna say I’ve been in love with you forever,” he whispered.

You grinned. “Yeah. I got that.”

From across the street, someone yelled, “FINALLY!”

You turned to see Chris doing a little victory dance and Nick filming it with the solemn energy of a documentarian.

Matt groaned. “We’re never living this down.”

You laughed, slipping your hand into his.

“Good thing I kinda like the idiot who made it worth it.”

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @shadowthesim237, @courta13, @frankdelreyy, @evansturn, @bamsblooming, @backwardshatnick, @whore4chris

[sturniololuvz]

Can you do one where Nate and the triplets little sister aren’t allowed to sleep in the same bed, but when she comes home from a bad day Nate notices and comforts her and they end up falling asleep in her bed but the triplets let it slide

“One Time”

It had been a rough day.

Everything just… sucked.

Her grade on the history test? Awful. Her favorite teacher snapped at her for no reason. Her friend ditched her at lunch. And on top of it all, her phone had died halfway through the day so she couldn’t even text Nate like she usually did.

So when she walked through the front door that night, quiet and heavy-eyed, it was Nate who noticed first.

He was sitting on the couch with the triplets, half-watching something dumb on the TV. But the second he saw her face, he stood up.

“Hey,” he said gently, walking over. “You okay?”

She didn’t answer. Just shook her head and slipped past him, heading straight to her room.

The boys exchanged a glance — Chris looked like he was about to follow her, but Nate was already turning.

“I got it,” he said.

They didn’t stop him.

⸻

Her room was dark except for the lamp on her dresser. She was curled up in bed, hoodie on, face tucked into the pillow.

Nate didn’t say anything right away. He just climbed onto the bed beside her and rubbed a gentle hand up and down her back.

After a few minutes, her voice broke through the silence.

“I feel like everything went wrong today.”

Nate leaned down, kissed the side of her head. “Want to tell me about it?”

She nodded, tears gathering in her eyes. “I hate when I cry over stupid things. It makes me feel weak.”

“Nothing you feel is stupid,” he murmured. “Not to me.”

She turned into his chest, clutching the fabric of his hoodie. “Can you just stay?”

He hesitated for only a second.

They both knew the rule. The triplets had made it very clear: No sleeping in the same bed. Even if they were dating. Even if they weren’t doing anything. Even if it was innocent.

But Nate looked at her — the way she trembled, how quiet her voice was — and pulled the blanket over both of them.

“Just tonight,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

⸻

The next morning, the sun peeked in through the blinds.

Nick was the first to knock, then push open the door — only to stop short at the sight of them.

Y/N, curled up against Nate’s chest. Fast asleep. Tear-stained cheeks. Nate’s arm protectively around her.

Matt appeared behind him, eyebrows raising. “Seriously?”

But then Chris came up behind both of them — and after one look, he sighed.

“Leave it,” he murmured. “Just this once.”

Matt gave a small nod. “She looks like she needed it.”

Nick shut the door softly behind them.

⸻

She didn’t know they’d seen.

And they wouldn’t say anything.

Because sometimes, love meant knowing when to enforce the rules.

And sometimes, it meant knowing exactly when to break them.

⸻

[humpster35]

Matt, Please pt 2

This is a part two of a smut I did awhile back. If you wanna read part one it’s here https://www.tumblr.com/humpster35/774316341524037632/matt-please-this-smut-includes-unprotected

Includes: crying, guilt, asshole!matt, anger, aftercare, confused feelings, anxiety, panic attack, mentions of sex and slight yelling

His hands danced across my skin, it felt as if my body was rebuilding itself everytime he touched me. It’s strange, a few minutes ago he obliterated my body and tore me apart. I guess it’s only right for him to put me back together again. Matt helped me out of the tub and dried me off.

“There. You’re all clean now apple.” Matt’s toothy smile could be heard from venus. The simple action of him smiling at me could have my mind go blank for days on end. “I never liked that you know.” Matt ran a hand through his beautiful messy hair before sticking his tongue out and holding up a peace sign. “Liked what?” I roll my eyes and push his chest. “You know exactly what i’m talking about Matthew.” I pull up the boxers he gave me to wear. “Your smile. It’s one action and all of sudden i’m coming apart again.” Feeling a tear almost slip from my eyes I look away.

“What you gonna cry now? Hm?” Matt grabbed my hips and gently stood me between his legs. “Did I mess up? We didn’t have to—.” “Matt just stop it alright. We fucked. It’s over.” Confused, Matt studied my face not letting me look away. “Tell me whats wrong apple. You usually wash up after sex right?” I watched as he started walking out of the bathroom, he grabbed his phone and started scrolling through it. “God you are just the biggest asshole Matt.”

Matts head snapped in my direction. His eyes were now filled with anger. “What the fuck?” I stormed over to him. “Matt you honestly don’t think before you speak do you?” Matt scoffed as he walked up to me. I looked up at him while he bit his lip. “I’ve never had sex before. You were—.” “What? I was your first time huh?” I remained silent. Growing frustrated with my inability to communicate Matt took my chin and lifted my head up. “Apple, please look at me okay?” I nod.

There it was, that same look that got me into this mess. His face, it’s so intoxicating when you’re staring up into the face of an angel. People say devils are scary but i’d say Matt has them beat. After all, the devil was an angel. Closing my eyes I decided to just tell him the truth. “Matt you were my first time.” Silence suffocated the room as we stand in front of the bathroom door. I continue to stare at his eyes, maybe they’d change and he wouldn’t care as much. Even if I am hurting on my end, he could at least move on.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Matt’s voiced said with a hint of anger. He backed away from me, his hand once again running through his hair. “You told me—heh—you fucking told me that we could have sex.” “Matt I—.” “No don’t you FUCKING say a word. Alright?” My lips trembled as he yelled at me. “Y-You told me that I could do that to you? That-That I could take something so special away from you, without me even knowing.” Seeing the pain and guilt in Matt’s once cheery eyes made my blood run cold. I never once thought about how he would feel, maybe a part of me just thought that as a guy he would like me more if I lied? “Matt I didn’t tell you because I knew you already had experience plus I trusted you. It wasn’t a big deal for me.”

The biting of Matt’s nails can be heard in this deafening silence. He had just found out that this girl whom he’d always promise to care for and love, lied about her virginity. “Apple…do you know about March?” Y/n walked up and sat next to Matt on the end of the bed. “March?” He nods as he takes her hand into his, a quick smile shows on his face before he started speaking again. “Back in March we had a video to film in Boston. I remember that, almost the whole week you had been so upset over us not being there with you.” Matt carefully caressed my hair. “Chris and Nick will never let me live this down but uhm….I bought you apples.”

I shot Matt a confused expression. He chuckled lightly and kiss the back of my hand. “I bought you apples because they reminded me of you. You know…..I had known about your little endeavors on trying to fit in and impressing us.” I felt the corners of my lips lift as tears started to fall from my eyes. “So why do apples have to do with right now?” Before he could speak I hear his voice crack. “You know you’re the only girl in the world a man would wanna buy apples for. I know you love them, i’ve seen the way you take your time to peel the skin.” Matt cleared his throat and wiped a tear. “You uh-you take the knife and you go slow because—you’ve never learned to hold it correctly and uhm…” More tears fell from my eyes as I begin to understand what he was gonna say.

“You take the peels of them and you save them. That’s it, you save them neatly. Chris and I would see them put up in a container in the fridge but uhm….Ricky, the guy you’ve been talking to at that time…he didn’t like apples.” “Matt please stop-.” “Hes never liked apples because you have to peel them. You’ve never liked when someone just bites into an unpeeled apple haven’t you?” As my vision becomes blurry from the tears, I nod and place my head in his lap. “An apple. You want someone to take time to eat it, no rushing. In your eyes it’s rotten if eaten unpeeled.” “Matt, please i’m sorry—.” With steady hands, Matt lifts my head up and stands up. He wipes his eyes and grabs his phone. “Why would you let me make you rotten.”

“Matt you didn’t make me rotten i just —.” “YOU JUST WHAT? Hm? I FUCKING RUINED YOU.” I cried so hard I couldn’t hear Matt cursing to himself. “FUCK. WHAT THE FUCK. Y/n I literally asked you if this was okay. Why did you let me continue?” Matt grabs my by my shoulders and lift me up, sitting upright now I feel him embrace me. We stay like this for awhile, as my crying turns into hiccups I kiss his shoulder. “Matt i’m really sorry. I’m emotionally right now because this is all new for me and FUCK—I don’t know I just…I thought I could be fine with this.” Matt intently watched me as I spoke, he knew he wanted to say something more but this moment was so important for him. “Just breathe. Apple.” “Y-yea?” I say on the verge of hyperventilating. “Hey, look at me alright?” I nod, squeezing my eyes shut for a bit so I can repress the urge to scream. “In and out. Do it with me.” “I-In.” I breathe in slowly while Matt rests his hand on my chest. “Good, and now..out.” With the feeling of his gentle hand on my chest, I let go of all the air I had brought in. My mind felt at ease knowing that he was the one doing these exercises with me.

“Good. Goooood girl.” Matt rubs my back. “Good girl.” After I let out my sniffles, I watch as Matt grabs a tissue from the bathroom and bring it up to my nose. “Blow.” Doing as he says I blow into the tissue, all of the residue of my previous panic attack simplified into slimy colors of green and yellow. “Now…i’m going to reheat the pizza okay?” I nod while drawing circles on his thigh with my finger. “Apple I don’t want you to ever feel guilt about me feeling guilty. I’ll admit this does make me feel bad-.” My face started to frown and look away but May quickly grabs my face. “-BUT-But only because I thought I had hurt you. I would never wanna hurt you.” Looking outside the window, I watch as the cotton colored sky highlight the dull city below. In some way, my brain felt colored. It felt as if someone had filled in an empty parking lot and I could finally go inside the store. “Matt.” The boy turned his attention to the window as well. Matt softly pulled y/n closer and held her. “Yes?” I smile feeling his warmness. “Do you love me?” Matt turned his head down and stared into y/n’s eyes. A million feelings raced through his body, he’s never felt this way before. Could it be love? Was he capable of loving someone whose soul can capture a thousand waterfalls? “I-.”

Matt’s phone started ringing. The caller ID saying a name all too familiar……Madison.

Part 3???

Guys this took awhile to even do a part 2 to that smut because I honestly didn’t think people would enjoy it. Now i’m open to all comments, if you guys wanna see something or me to make any changes and what not please let me know.

[pankowcrumbs]

The Other Side of Us X Oscar Piastri (Requested)

MasterList

F1 Masterlist

Requested: Oscar Piastri x Reader Best friends to lovers. He finally has the courage to tell her his feelings.

If you asked anyone in the paddock who Oscar Piastri’s best friend was, they’d point to me without hesitation.

It had always been us. Since karting days, when I’d been the awkward kid tagging along with my brother, and Oscar had been the quiet, polite boy who always saved me a seat under the tent. Over the years, we’d grown up side by side him behind the wheel, me in the garage with a stopwatch and too many snacks.

We were inseparable. But never more.

At least… that’s what I told myself.

Lately, though, it had felt different. Subtle shifts. The way his eyes lingered when I laughed too hard. How his hand brushed mine but didn’t move away. The text messages at 2 a.m. when he couldn’t sleep. The way he said my name like it held weight.

Still, I never dared to ask. Because if I was wrong, I didn’t want to lose him.

Today was a rare day off, and we were back in Melbourne. I was sat on the bonnet of his car, sipping a takeaway iced coffee while Oscar fidgeted with his keys.

"Why do you always tap them like that?” I asked, watching his fingers rhythmically tap against the steering wheel.

He glanced up. “Nervous habit, I think.”

“What’ve you got to be nervous about? You drive 300km an hour for fun.”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

We were parked along the coast, waves crashing in the distance, the sky smeared in soft pinks and oranges. It was the kind of evening that begged for honesty. I wrapped my arms around my knees, my hoodie far too big because it was his, and I’d nicked it ages ago.

“You’ve been quiet,” I said gently.

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

I turned to face him fully, my heart thudding. “Okay. You’re not quitting racing to become a surfer, are you?”

He laughed nervously. “No, although the thought’s crossed my mind after that last race.”

I smiled, but it faded as his expression turned serious.

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” he said, voice low. “About us.”

My breath caught.

“Oscar”

“Let me finish?” he interrupted gently, shifting to stand in front of me. His eyes locked on mine, uncertain but determined. “I’ve liked you for a while now. Actually, that’s not fair. I think I’ve been in love with you for longer than I even realised. I’ve just been too scared to ruin what we have.”

The world tilted slightly. I stared at him, blinking as if that might slow everything down.

“You... love me?” I echoed.

He laughed again, nervous and soft. “Yeah. I do. You’ve been my best mate since forever, and I didn’t want to mess that up. But pretending I didn’t feel it was starting to hurt more than the idea of telling you.”

I was speechless. And that never happened.

Oscar rubbed the back of his neck, stepping back slightly. “You don’t have to say anything. I just needed you to know.”

I slid off the bonnet and closed the space between us. He looked at me, open and vulnerable, and I saw every version of us flash before my eyes karting days, silly bets over milkshakes, race weekends, hotel room movies, bad jokes over comms.

And all I could think was: how had I not said it first?

“I was scared too,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been in love with you for months. Maybe longer. I just didn’t think you felt the same.”

His eyes widened, and then his whole face lit up, like someone had flicked a switch.

“You’re serious?”

I nodded. “Completely.”

The relief that washed over him made me laugh. Then his hands found my waist, gentle and unsure, as if asking for permission.

I leaned in first.

It wasn’t a grand kiss. No fireworks or swelling music. Just the soft press of two best friends realising they didn’t have to pretend anymore.

When we finally pulled apart, I stayed close, forehead resting against his.

“So… what now?” I asked.

“We keep doing everything we already do,” he said with a small grin. “Except now I get to hold your hand.”

“And kiss me.”

He smirked. “And kiss you.”

We stood there as the sky deepened into twilight, the waves below crashing with the same rhythm as my heart. For the first time, it felt like everything had shifted into place.

Oscar reached for my hand, lacing our fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

[sturnsblogs]

CRASHING DOWN

Nick!Sturniolo X Tattoo!Artist!Mateo

Warnings- Quite a lot of angst.

—

Their clothes were tossed somewhere across the room. The sheets were messy, but warm. Nick laid with his head on Mateo’s chest, drawing absent-minded shapes on his skin. Their second first time had been everything the first one wasn’t—soft, slow, real. Mateo had kissed him like he meant it. Touched him like he cared. Told him how beautiful he was. And Nick believed him.

“I feel safe with you,” Nick whispered sleepily.

Mateo wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. “You are safe with me.”

Nick blinked up at him, wide-eyed and full of something Mateo knew he didn’t deserve.

“I’ll be right back, baby,” Mateo murmured, pressing a kiss to Nick’s forehead before slipping out from under the covers.

Nick watched him leave, his chest fluttering in a way it hadn’t in a long time.

Mateo came back a few minutes later, holding something behind his back. His heart was hammering. He wanted this to be a moment Nick remembered forever—maybe so he’d stay, even after everything. Even after the truth.

He knelt by the bed, slowly revealing a small bouquet of bellflowers and a box of Nick’s favorite chocolates.

Nick’s breath caught.

Mateo looked up at him, eyes shining. “These are your favorite, right?”

Nick nodded, already buzzing with excitement. “Mateo…”

“Will you be my boyfriend?” he asked quietly, almost shy. “For real. No confusion. No more ‘just friends’ bullshit.”

Nick let out a small, overwhelmed laugh, swiping at his eyes. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, I will.”

Mateo climbed into bed beside him again, wrapping him in his arms as Nick laid his head on his chest once more.

“You didn’t have to get flowers, you know,” Nick mumbled.

“I know,” Mateo said softly, “but you deserve them.”

They lay in silence, just breathing, bodies tangled and hearts beating too fast. But neither of them said anything more.

Because for a second, everything felt perfect.

And Mateo didn’t know how he was ever going to tell him the truth.

Mateo had fallen asleep not long after whispering “I love you” against Nick’s neck.

His face was calm now, lips parted just slightly, one arm still draped loosely around Nick’s waist. His chest rose and fell with the kind of peaceful rhythm that made Nick want to stay in this moment forever.

But Nick couldn’t sleep.

He was too full—of butterflies, of thoughts, of Mateo. So he laid there quietly, fingers gently tracing Mateo’s arm, then—after a while—he reached over for Mateo’s phone on the nightstand. He knew the passcode. Not because Mateo gave it to him, but because he once caught him putting it in. Nick didn’t plan to snoop… he just missed Mateo already, even though he was right there.

He unlocked it and opened Instagram. Mateo’s page popped up automatically, his grid full of smiling photos, skateboarding clips, a few thirst traps that Nick secretly liked a little too much. There were pictures of them too—some recent, some older—but all of them made Nick’s heart ache in the sweetest way.

Until it didn’t.

A notification popped up at the top of the screen:

zeke_secret just posted a new reel

“bet update”

Nick froze.

He didn’t recognize the username at first, but it said “Zeke” and that was enough to make his stomach twist. His thumb hesitated. Then, almost on instinct, he clicked it.

The account was private, but he was already following it. And what loaded wasn’t just a reel.

It was him.

Well—Mateo. Sitting in some living room, wearing that stupid hoodie Nick always stole. His voice played through the speakers like poison.

“Bro, it’s not even serious,” Mateo laughed. “I can flick that shit off whenever I want. Nick’s cute and all but it’s just a bet. Don’t act like I’m in love or some shit.”

Nick’s chest tightened. His breath stopped.

The sound echoed in his head. “Just a bet.” “Flick that shit off.” “Not serious.”

He couldn’t breathe.

Slowly, he lowered the phone onto the sheets. Mateo still slept beside him, undisturbed, lips parted like nothing had changed. Like he hadn’t just broken Nick’s heart without even waking up.

Nick slid out from under the covers. Silently. Carefully. Like if he made too much noise, he’d break into sobs.

He pulled on his pants, grabbed his shirt from the floor with shaking hands, and slipped it over his head.

His eyes burned as he turned to look at Mateo one last time.

Then, with silent tears sliding down his cheeks, Nick left.

Nick didn’t remember the walk home.

Not really.

The tears blurred everything—his vision, the streetlights, the familiar cracks in the sidewalk. His arms were wrapped tightly around himself, sleeves tugged down over his fists as if he could hold his heart together by force.

The night was cold. Or maybe it just felt that way because Mateo’s warmth was still fading from his skin.

By the time he reached the front door, his hands were trembling. He didn’t bother wiping his face. He just turned the knob, stepped inside, and shut the door quietly behind him.

Chris was sitting on the couch, a bowl of popcorn on his lap, half-watching some movie on the TV. Matt was near the kitchen, sipping water straight from the jug, and both of them turned their heads immediately.

“Nick?” Chris called, brow furrowed.

Matt straightened up. “Dude… weren’t you with—?”

But Nick didn’t answer.

He kicked off his shoes quickly, head down, walking fast like he could outrun them if he just made it to the stairs.

“Nick,” Chris said again, softer now, more careful.

“Hey—” Matt stepped forward, noticing the way Nick’s shoulders trembled. “Are you—?”

“I’m fine,” Nick said, voice cracking mid-word.

But he wasn’t.

He made it halfway up the stairs before the sob caught in his throat, sharp and helpless. It broke out of him like a gasp.

Chris was the first one to follow. “Hey, hey—Nick.”

Matt was right behind.

“Please don’t,” Nick said, voice thin and breaking. He didn’t want to cry like this—not in front of them. Not when he’d given so much of himself away and had it all ripped out in one night.

But then he felt Chris’s hand on his back, and Matt’s arm coming around the front, and suddenly it didn’t matter how much he wanted to be alone.

Because they were there.

Both of them. No questions yet. Just warmth.

And when Nick collapsed into their arms, sobbing quietly into Matt’s hoodie and gripping onto Chris like his chest might cave in, neither of them let go.

They didn’t need to know what happened.

They just held him tighter.

They sat him on the couch like he was made of glass. Chris to his right, Matt on the floor in front of him, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes worried and locked on Nick’s face.

“Nick…” Chris’s voice was quiet, careful. “What happened?”

Nick sniffled, shaking his head like if he didn’t say it out loud, it wouldn’t be real. But the tears came back fast. He looked down, hands shaking in his lap, mouth opening—then closing again. The words got stuck.

Matt shifted closer. “Hey. You don’t have to say it if you can’t but—talk to us, man. What happened?”

Nick inhaled shakily and finally let it out in a choked whisper, “I saw a video.”

Chris frowned. “A video?”

“I-I was on his phone,” Nick mumbled, voice cracking again. “I wasn’t even snooping—I just wanted to look at his pictures and then… a notification popped up from Zeke.”

Matt stiffened. “Zeke?”

Nick nodded slowly, eyes glossy, heart pounding in his chest like it would bruise his ribs. “It was… it was his private account. I clicked it, and there was a video. Of Mateo. Saying…” He swallowed, barely able to finish. “Saying he could flick off his love for me like a switch. That it wasn’t real.”

Chris’s jaw clenched. “You’re kidding me.”

Matt sat back slightly, eyes wide in disbelief.

Nick continued, barely above a whisper. “I just… left. I couldn’t breathe. It hurt so bad, and I just—I didn’t wanna hear anything else.”

Suddenly, his phone lit up beside him, buzzing violently. One, two, five—ten messages in a row.

Chris glanced at it, eyes narrowing. “It’s him.”

Nick didn’t move. But the screen kept flashing, buzzing again and again until it was unbearable.

Matt reached forward and tilted it so they could all see the most recent texts flooding in.

Mateo: Baby please.

Mateo: Please answer.

Mateo: The video was before I even knew you. Before anything was real.

Mateo: I didn’t know I’d fall for you. I didn’t know I’d love you.

Mateo: Nick. Please. I love you now. I swear I do.

Mateo: I’m outside.

Nick blinked, lips trembling. Chris leaned in gently. “Do you want to see him?”

Nick didn’t know. Every part of him was cracked open, bleeding. But he also knew—deep down—that part of him still wanted to hear what Mateo had to say.

Even if it broke him worse.

Nick sat frozen, hands gripping the edge of the couch like it was the only thing keeping him tethered. His eyes were locked on the floor, tears silently dripping from his lashes, while his phone kept buzzing beside him like a cruel reminder.

Matt’s eyes didn’t move from the screen.

Another text flashed.

Mateo: I swear to god, Nick, I’d take it back if I could. Just talk to me. Please.

Matt stood up suddenly. “Fuck this. You’re not seeing him.”

Nick looked up, eyes wide. “Matt—wait—”

But Matt was already storming out of the living room, the front door slamming behind him before Nick could even finish his sentence.

Chris grabbed Nick’s shoulder gently, trying to hold him back. “Let him… just let him go off for a sec. He’s pissed.”

Outside, Mateo stood at the bottom of the porch stairs, wringing his hands, looking pale and anxious. The second he saw Matt, he tried to speak.

“Matt—please, I just need to see him—”

Matt didn’t hesitate. He stomped down the steps and got in Mateo’s face, shoving him backward by the chest hard enough to make him stumble.

“You think you can fuck around with someone like that and just come crawling back with flowers and a few texts?” Matt spat, rage twisting his features. “You think you can bet on someone like they’re a fucking game, and it’ll just go away?!”

Mateo’s breath caught. He held his ground, chest rising and falling rapidly, but his eyes were filled with guilt, not anger.

“I didn’t mean for it to go that far—” he tried, voice cracking.

Matt shoved him again, this time harder. “But it did. You made him love you. You made him feel safe—and now he’s inside, crying his fucking heart out because of you.”

Mateo stumbled back, hitting the car behind him. He didn’t push Matt back. He didn’t yell. He just stood there, face crumpling.

“I love him,” he whispered. “I do. I didn’t know I would. I didn’t expect it—I didn’t plan it. But I love him now.”

Matt sneered. “Well, too fucking late.”

“Please,” Mateo’s voice broke completely as he looked toward the house. “Just let me see him. Let me explain. I’ll do anything—anything. I just… I need him to know it’s real now. That I’m not playing anymore.”

Matt stared at him, breathing heavy, fists clenched like he was deciding whether to hit him or not.

Mateo’s voice was barely a whisper. “Please.”

And inside the house, Nick stood frozen by the door, watching through the window—his heart shattering into something smaller than pieces.

—

A/N- I know kier hates me rn 😇

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend @ariana3lovesu @sturnl0ve @cass-sturn @sturns-mermaid @sunrisemill @fadedstvrn @ikyoudreamofme @mattsdemi @kitkatbar1275 @skelet0nsinmyycloset @lezleeferguson-120 @bells-sturn @sturniolosymphony @kenziesturniolo54 @kikirasweatsweathoho @emely9274 @cherryystemm @realuvrrr @zenithsturniolo @kier-with-a-k @eeyoresturnz @elizasturn @ribread03 @sturnslux3 @costalgirlyr @pizzapocketpocketpizza @arianna1342 @mattsplaything @ed1tssturnn @ivysturnss @ilovemenwithlonghairr @whore4-chrissturniolo

[sturniolo04]

Can you do one where Matt and his girlfriend are napping and Nick and Chris wake them up for a vlog and the whole vlog she’s quiet and grumpy,

A/n:  ofc! I put a slight spin on it! I absolutely love these requests I have coming in, you guys are amazing!! I hope you love it! And remember to leave requests in my inbox! If you don’t like the pre added name in my works you can simply put in your own or don’t read it, it up to you :)-Charli

dividers: @issysh3ll

Matt knew when you didnt get enough sleep you tend to get and be in a bad or grumpy mood all day and this afternoon was no different.. Matt knew when you laid down to take that afternoon nap that you were just going to get woken up almost immediately because they had to vlog the rest of the day and go grocery shopping. So he should have known what he was in for. It wasn't a surprise.

"Sweetheart its time to get up"

matt whispers in your ear carefully moving the hair out of your face as you stir awake.

"mmm go away"

you mutter sleepily not wanting to wake up yet. Matt lets out a small chuckle leaving a few kisses on your temple. Chris and Nick walk into the room with the currently recording vlog camera.

"and here she is zoey the sleeping beauty"

chris exclaims as you begin to flutter your eyes open coming to the terms that you actually had to get up Chris put the camera in your face.

"chris get that shit out of my face"

you huff out covering your face with your freshly french manicured hands.

"dude seriously"

matt states to him nudging his shoulder.

"time to get up Zo we need to go get dinner and then get groceries and shit"

nick announces as chris and matt chuckle as you roll out of bed not attempting to change your outfit leaving on the clothes you took from matt's closet only putting on your comfy boots you wear all the time you were not having it rolling your eyes.

To say you didnt want to be out and about was and understatement.

"you okay my love"

matt asks as you all are standing in the candy aisle of the grocery store waiting for Chris to make up his mind about what he was getting in that aisle. You simply nod you head you completely went mute not very talkative simply because you were tired you wanted to go back to bed.

"you dont look like it get some energy"

nick chimes in coming up to the pair with the camera. You side eye nick and the camera.

"what is this fit zoey"

chris chuckles walking over to you guys looking at the outfit you were wearing that you didn't bother to change to before you all left.

"i literally dont know what to tell you I was having the best nap of my life in my boyfriends clothes and you guys just had to interrupt that"

you huff out kind of irritated. Nick and chris chuckle shaking their head slightly.

" you look good though"

matt adds on as you roll your eyes folding your arms over your chest.

"do i have to be here cant matt just take me home"

you ask geuninely ready to go home.

"uh no because im not letting him drive my car I drove us here"

chris replies holding up his car keys in his hand.

"well how much longer im tired"

you whine out flopping your arms to your side defeated.

"someones grumpy"

nick chuckles out panning the camera over to you once more.

"i will break it if you dont get that out of my face I'm serious"

you huff out being completely honest.

"okay how about this we be nice and just finish what we need to do and we can go home"

matt states pushing nick away from you so you dont have anymore issues.

You guys had finished grocery shopping and were knowing standing in another store because to random bags out ice chris apparently needed for a stupid bit they were filming when they got home. You still were completely out of it over the day already. There had to been something wrong; everything just seemed off with you.

"hey you okay whats going on with you you usually arent this grumpy after a short nap"

matt whispers to you coming over to you away from nick and chris who were filming whatever at this point for the vlog. You let of a frustrated sigh as you bring your hands into Matt's jacket sleeves you were wearing as the tears welled up in your waterline.

"whats wrong"

matt asks worried tilting his head down to look at you in the eye noticing you were about to start bawling.

"i didnt want to say anything but"

you trail off.

"but what you need a hug"

matt asks seeing your flustered state. You simply nodded you head 'yes' as he brought you into his chest threading his fingers to your hair.

"i started my period"

you quietly sniffle out.

'Uh no Zo"

Matt exclaims feeling bad that they gave you a hard time all afternoon for your mood and urge to go home.

"yeahhh"

you sniffle out dragging out the 'y' as you pull away from the hug looking up at him.

"okay we'll go home"

matt states as you nod your head.

"c-can wait are you two done here zoey actually needs to go home dead ass"

matt states to nick and chris as they look at him confused.

"i mean yeah but we have to still go get dinner right"

nick asks as chris nods his head in agreement with him. Matt rolls his eyes walking over to the pair.

"i know cant you two just uber or somewhere to get your food and then uber home shes like not feeling well"

matt reasons with them both as chris lets out a sigh handing matt the keys.

Taglist🗂️

@mintsturniolo @spicymuffins03 @dirtylittleheart333

@stayingstromboli @wh0resstuff @ksturnz @chaoswithus @emely9274 @ivysturnss @sturniolo-szn2 @lezleeferguson-120 @courta13 @chrepsi @lyingonchris

@tezzzzzzzz @babytomatoes21 @sturniolosymphony @zenithsturniolo @bernardsbendystraws @sturnioloslut101

[tryandbehappy]

!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Wait.

Wait. OMFG

I just realized something and I’m losing my mind

Nick is literally her therapist in that post car scene.

Like, no, actually. I’m not joking!!!!

That entire conversation is him gently, so gently holding up a mirror to June’s soul and saying,

“Here. Look. See yourself. I’m still here.”😭😭♥️

And he’s not yelling. He’s not accusing. He’s not manipulating.

He tells her “You never cared what I had to do to save you.” 😭😭

And it’s not spiteful. it’s just a fact. It’s a truth she’s refused to look at. He gives her space to process the truth, the full moral complexity without shaming her.

He’s not trying to win. He’s trying to help her see.

AND THEN.

That line.

“But you love me. So what does that make you?”

I had to PAUSE.

That’s not him throwing it in her face. That’s not a power move. That’s literally a moment of emotional awakening he’s handing her like,

“I know you’re drowning in guilt, but let’s stop pretending this isn’t complicated

AND HE’S RIGHT.

She’s been clinging to this image of herself as the revolutionary, the loyal wife, the good person

and loving Nick doesn’t fit that narrative.

But instead of shaming her?

He’s like,

“Okay. But if you love me, you’re going to have to accept everything that comes with it. Including the parts you’d rather not look at.” 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 oh my god save this man

He’s pulling her out of her denial.

he’s saying:

“No more masks. You have to face it.”

And the whole time he’s not blaming her.

He���s not punishing her.

He’s literally “holding her hand” through the emotional breakdown she didn’t even know she needed.

And I just

The way he keeps saying her name as she walks away.

“June. June…”

And then just that little “Shit.” under his breath — like he just watched the person he loves the most fall apart and couldn’t stop it.

I’m sorry, but who else in her life has ever done that?

Who else has ever reflected her pain without trying to control it or turn it against her?

This scene is so soft and so devastating and so unbelievably intimate.

I’m actually unwell. Nick Blaine, sir.

I’m never recovering.

[otp-after-dark]

Feminism Isn’t Just About Survival — It’s About Choice.

(And right now, The Handmaid’s Tale is choosing the wrong narrative — and it’s pissing me off.)

I know a thing or two about being a strong, independent woman in a messy, complicated relationship with a layered, flawed man. From personal experience, I know what it means to choose that kind of love.

When you rewatch the early seasons — especially 1 through 4 — that message was loud and clear: Loving someone who isn’t perfect but still shows up. Who meets you in the fire. Who doesn’t make you smaller while you go on your own journey of independence.

And that’s why watching the show tear apart the one relationship that actually embodied that complexity? It’s beyond disappointing. It’s a betrayal.

💔 The Loss of Complexity

In the early seasons, it felt like the writers were building something revolutionary. A story about a woman who wasn’t defined by one label. Not just a mother. Not just a survivor. Not just a fighter. She was all of it. Messy. Flawed. Sexual. Fierce. Relentless. Human.

And the Nick/June relationship was at the center of that. Not because it was soft or easy — but because it was dangerous, complicated, and real. It was built on two people who saw the worst in each other and still chose to stay. It was a love that survived the ash and the blood and the compromises.

And that, right there, was feminist as hell. Owning her body. Owning her choices. Choosing the kind of love that didn’t sanitize her or make her smaller.

But now? Now we’re supposed to believe that the woman who once owned her sexuality, her power, her mess —is better off with a man who wants her to be grateful he stuck around. Or worse — that she should deny herself the man she actually wants to preserve some false moral high ground.

⚡️ The Feminist Double Standard

I can’t shake the feeling that Season 5 and now Season 6 are taking aim at Nick/June —not because it’s unrealistic, but because it’s too messy. Too morally grey. Too real.

Because loving a man who’s flawed and dangerous, who has blood on his hands but still shows up for you, is too complicated for a show that now wants to paint June as some untouchable symbol of righteousness.

But that’s not the June we met in Season 1. That’s not the June who chose Nick again and again. The woman who said “I love you” in the darkest, bloodiest moments of her life. The woman who fought for herself, for her daughter, for a love that didn’t make her smaller.

Now, instead of leaning into that complexity, the show is punishing her for it. And for what? To make Luke look better by default? To frame Nick as a monster so that June can be the “pure” one again?

That’s not feminism. That’s regression.

💣 Let’s Talk About Luke

Because Luke’s behavior in the last episode was worse than anything Nick’s ever done.

Nick is complicit in Gilead, yes. But he’s also been the only man who’s consistently put June first — even when it cost him everything.

Luke? Luke is punishing her for loving someone else. He’s weaponizing her trauma. He’s demanding gratitude while calling her love for Nick a sin. (And let’s not forget: he’s done all this from the safety of Canada, without taking a single real risk.)

And we’re supposed to believe he’s the safe choice? The feminist choice?

No. Love isn’t about being the last one standing. It’s about being the one who sees you — all of you — and doesn’t walk away.

And Nick has always seen her. Even when it hurt. Even when it cost him. Even when she didn’t say the words back.

🔥 Feminism Is Choice — Not Default

If this show wants to be feminist, it should be letting June choose.

Not settle. Not default to the man who stuck around because the man she actually loves is too complicated.

Because real feminism isn’t about staying safe. It’s about owning your truth. It’s about choosing the love that sees you — not the love that controls you. It's choosing a love that is messy, flawed, and dangerous, even if that man can be dark, complicated, and morally grey at times.

That’s the story they should be telling.

Because that’s the June Osborne who started a revolution. The one who didn’t apologize for who she was — or who she loved. The one who fought for herself even when the world told her to settle.

And that’s the June I want back.

[sturnboos]

KIDNAPPED BY CHRIS PART TEN

CURRENT WARNINGS: stockholm syndrome, eating disorder, nausea, Delilah has a mental breakdown, read at your OWN risk

READ OTHER PARTS HERE

I wake up the next day in Chris's arms. Again not remembering when I had fell asleep. I smile and look up at him, "good morning" he whispers in a deep morning voice.

"Morning" I smile, he smiles down and me then leans down and places a small kiss on my forehead.

"Nick and Matt didn't come home?" I ask, "Nick stayed at our friends house" he whispers. "and Matt did come home late last night, he just left again to go get Nick."

I cuddle my head into his chest again. "Cant Nick drive?"

"No." Chris chuckled. "Matt's been our designated driver since highschool. I recently got my learners license but like- I’m not supposed to drive without another licensed person in the car... so Matt's usually on taxi duty"

"Mhm" i mumble a reply then mintues later I hear the front door open. Chris kisses the top of my head then gets out of bed and slips out of my bedroom. I sigh. I sit up and look at the time. 10:23am.

"Delilah breakfast is ready" Chris yells for me.

Oh, breakfast. How did they make it so fast?

I get out of bed and walk out of my room and into the kitchen. I look at the hash brown and pancakes sitting on the counter in a white foam container which shows they clearly brought it already cooked from somewhere. I sit down on a stool, I look at the food infront of me. Chris leans against a bench eating his food. I have to eat it, Chris will think I'm stupid. I grab the plastic knife and fork and get a small peice of pancake, Chris leans on the counter and stares at me. I look at the food on the fork. Stop being stupid Delilah.. Just eat it. I quickly put it in my mouth, I chew for a couple seconds.

I'm gonna throw up.

I quickly get up and run down the hall. I hear Chris follow me as I run into the bathroom and throw up in the toilet. I look at Chris, he stares at me. I promised.

A tear leaves my eye. "I'm sorry" I whimper. He walks over to me and wraps his arms around me. I fall to the ground. He pulls me onto his lap. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" I repeat the same words.

"Delilah it's ok" he whispers and pulls me on top of him. I wrap my arms around his neck and cry. He holds me tightly.

It hurts Chris seeing her upset. He loved her. He knew he’s not supposed to but he does. Matt and Nick appear in the doorway.Delilah doesn't see them tho only Chris spots them. Chris closed the lid of the toilet, "shhhh" he whispers to Delilah.

Nick finally realizes what happened to Delilah. His facial expression changes. He looks at Matt, Nick grabs Matt's arm and pulls him away. Chris kissed Delilah on the head softly, "your alright Delilah" he whispered.

"I want it to stop" i sob

"I know you do... but sometimes thats not how it works" he slowly stood up and carried me bridal style. I continue to cry. He carried me down the hall and into his room. He sat down on the bed and then lays down pulling me down beside him I lay next to him and put my head in his chest. He wraps his arm around me and runs my back softly until i calmed down and I fall asleep, Chris pulled the blanket over us carefully.

Then he plays with my hair, he pulled out his phone and scrolls on it as I slept.

The door suddenly opens. Matt barged it.

"Chris-" he looks at us then froze smirking.

"I knew it, Nick, I told you" Matt yells and walks out. "They've been fucking around behind our backs" Matt adds on.

Chris chuckled. Delilah moves a little.

"I totally ship it" Nick shouts back to Matt, as Nick was in the living room and Matt still in the hallway.

"Can you tell them to shut up" i groan still half asleep but the shouting woke me a little . "Go back to sleep" he whispers, "I can't when they're yelling" i whined. I pull a couple blankets from under us and pull them over us.

"Shhh" he smiled. A couple minutes later, I’m deep in sleep again.

TAGLIST: @mattsfavho @sturniolobananas1 @courta13 @thealexisa78 @chrisissos3xy @sturnobessed @mattschelseaa @sturniolos67 @norahsturns @blushsturns @blahbel668 @riasturns @iloveduckssm @cl1tlover3000 @emmaweasley @chrissbxby @mattscumdump @kayskreativeideas @dolliraez @jibitzlesscrocs @tits4matt comment here to be added

[pretty-face-breaker]

Reunion: Nick Catches Up

cw. whumper finding runaway whumpee, manhandling, kidnapping, very creepy and intimate whumper, violence, borderline psychological torture, manipulation, gun

Art by me! :D

—

Hayko feels the weight of a hand clamp down on his shoulder just as he’s halfway through his burger. His first instinct is startled confusion—Vlad had only just gone around the corner to complain about his steak being overcooked—but then he sees it.

A grin in the periphery. A familiar razor-slash of teeth.

Nick’s swung around in the booth behind him, arms draped casually over the red vinyl seatback, both hands now planted firmly on Hayko’s shoulders like anchors.

The moment hits Hayko like a car crash. Every muscle locks. His throat closes. His spine stiffens. His heart forgets what it’s for. Every nightmare, every panic attack, every choke-collared memory rises like bile. This can’t be real this can’t—

They’re alone in the corner of the diner. No one seated close enough to hear anything. It’s quiet. Night presses against the windows.

The diner is quiet. No one nearby. Outside, the windows are painted in cold streetlight. In here, just soft rock and his own rapid, ugly breathing. And Nick’s, fanning warm and lazy across the nape of his neck. 

“How’s dinner?”

Hayko’s fingers won’t respond. His hands stay frozen, white-knuckling the fork and knife. His body refuses to remember every self-defense move he’s spent a year drilling into his bones, spent weeks and months staying late in the training rooms until he tasted his own sweat. His mouth doesn’t work. This isn’t how it was supposed to—Dr. Carter said it wouldn’t happen this way.

“I always did like your freeze response more,” Nick murmurs, giving his shoulders an affectionate squeeze, one that makes Hayko’s stomach convulse. Then, his voice dips, low and coaxing. “My love. Look straight ahead. Do you see him?”

Hayko’s eyes flick to the window. Beyond the blinds, a hooded figure stands partially obscured. Watching them both.

“One nod from me,” Nick says, “and he puts a bullet in your friend’s head.”

Another squeeze. Hayko’s breath hitches audibly. 

Nick adds lightly. “Unless you make a fuss, I have no reason to.”

Hayko swallows, voice fraying.

“What do you want.”

“Up.”

He pushes off the booth slowly, barely making a sound. Nick rises with him and in the same motion swings an arm over Hayko’s shoulders, a movement that could have been mistaken for a lover’s, if anybody else had been bearing witness, but Hayko feels the cold snout of a pistol nestling like a promise between his ribs.

His thoughts blank out on instinct.

They walk.

The distance to the door stretches forever, and Hayko catches Vlad’s blond head in the corner of his eye—still turned away, mid-argument with the cook. Hayko wants to scream. Wants to bolt and shout, but—

Vlad’s profile vanishes behind them as they cross the event horizon. In its place: the hooded man. Closer now to the window, a predator stalking its prey and about to pounce, one hand already buried in his jacket where it hadn’t been before and Vlad is still arguing with the cook. He hasn’t noticed and he isn’t fucking going to notice.

“No—”

The protest barely escapes before Nick’s palm crushes it. A hand clamps over Hayko’s mouth, fingers locking his jaw so tight he hears something creak.

“Hold off until I text you,” Nick says, not to him.

The man hesitates and a breath stutters loose in Hayko's throat as he watches his hand slip back out. Empty. But Hayko doesn’t have a second to savor it.

Nick forces him forward. A black sedan glides up to the curb. The rear door swings open.

Hayko resists on good instinct, feet locking against the concrete, but Nick is faster—gripping the back of his neck, forcing his head down and shoving him into the car. He crashes face-first into the seat and tries to right himself, tasting blood, but everything is slowed—his limbs syrupy with shrill terror—by the time Nick’s inside and the doors are locked.

He’s yanked upright. Metal kisses his throat. Pressed right against his carotid as Nick buckles his seatbelt with a soft click, like a parent strapping in a stubborn child.

Then another. Nick buckles himself in. 

“Evening, love.”

The voice slithers in from the driver’s seat. Hayko looks up and locks eyes with the rearview mirror. Platinum blond hair, slicked into a grotesque pompadour. That wolfish, wide grin.

Harvey. That fucking—

Hayko doesn’t even register the sound he makes. His spine seizes. Electricity floods him, a flash-fry of memory—wires, teeth, screaming into a wet gag. All under that horrible, loveless smile. It’s not Nick’s. Nothing fond in it. Nothing in it at all. Just that empty-calorie cruelty wrapped in human skin that Hayko remembers so terribly.

Hayko reels into the flashback, yanked under—until he surfaces, hearing Nick’s breath again far too close. Until his warm leather and cologne ghost Hayko’s nostrils. Until he feels that arm pull him closer. The muzzle of the gun still firm against his throat.

And then—

And then it happens. A sob. Ragged, helpless, cracked down the middle.

Nick sighs in satisfaction beside him, like he’s just finished the best meal of his life. He presses his lips to Hayko’s ear and whispers lovingly.

“God, Hayko. I’ve missed you.”

—

Before this. A year of recovery, but never peace.

Hayko lived small in Montreal. A quiet apartment on the fourth floor. Two bedrooms, one filled with plants that Vlad watered fervently, even having a notification on his phone. The other full of plastic bins marked “don’t touch.”

In them: Doctor’s visits stacked like receipts. MRIs, lung scans, a neurologist who frowned at his reflexes. PTSD, insomnia, night terrors that left him raw-throated and shaking. Scars that ached and itched when it rained. A few months ago, he passed out on the bus because he thought he saw Nick’s silhouette in a storefront reflection.

Dr. Carter, his therapist, had soft eyes and a hard rule: no talking about Nick in the second person.

He earned a teaching certificate. Grade threes. Morning bells and watercolor handprints, tiny socks lost on the playground. He kept his sleeves down and practiced smiling in the mirror in the least fractured way possible. The children called him Mr. G. and he answered to it like anything else would be unthinkable.

They were laying low. But they were living. They were healing. And then—

The muzzle never leaves his back. Hayko walks ahead of Nick up the long stone path, his shoes scuffing on wet grit. The house is unfamiliar. Modern, faceless. Black paneling. Frosted windows. A house for a man who doesn’t plan to live in it but where it might be optimal to keep someone for a day. Or a few, if Nick intends for Hayko to pay more fully for his misdeeds.

The lock clicks. Nick gestures him in.

“Make yourself at home,” he says lightly. “Drink?”

Hayko doesn’t answer. He steps inside. The air is sterile, reeking of oak and varnish, cold metal underfoot. There’s an absurdly luxurious bar cart in the corner.

Nick walks ahead toward it.

He turns his back.

Hayko sees it all at once: the phone dropped on the counter, just out of Nick’s reach. The silence of the house. The hitman—waiting on that text. And there, on the console table, a glass vase catching the dim overhead light.

His body answers before his brain.

He grabs the vase and swings.

It shatters on impact, a crystalline shriek that floods the house. Nick goes down hard, a mess of blood and shards. He snarls, an animal thing that makes Hayko’s skin crawl but is already rising, pain ignored and teeth bared.

Hayko doesn’t let him. He throws himself at him again, fists raining wild, furious. One cracks Nick across the jaw. Another lands square in his collarbone. There’s blood on both of them now—Nick’s, maybe his own. Hayko doesn’t care.

A grunt. A shove. They crash into the wall. A picture frame falls and the glass within shrieks and shatters. Nick snarls, grabs him by the shoulders, shoves back. They stagger over furniture, breathing like animals.

Hayko brings his knee up. Nick blocks it, catches his wrists mid-swing, trips him, and slams him down against the floor. His head impacts viciously hard and Hayko cries out between his teeth, eyes squeezed shut.

“Goddamn it,” Nick mutters, laughing through bloodied teeth, breathing hard. “The diner. Where the fuck was this version of you?”

Hayko lunges forward and sinks his teeth into Nick’s shoulder.

Nick howls—in pain, but not in defeat or even in anger. In delight.

“There you are,” he pants. “Fuck, baby. It’s been so long.”

Hayko snarls, wrenching, struggling, hissing like a feral thing and angling for another shot at ripping out Nick’s throat.

“Get the fuck off.”

Nick keeps him pinned, one hand digging into his forearm, the other still smeared with blood. His voice turns low and practical.

“I’m not going to kill you,” he says. “Stop fighting. I just want to talk.”

“You have a gun to my fucking neck.”

Nick raises an eyebrow, mouth bloodied but smiling.

“I’ll text him. Tell him to back off. That better?”

Hayko doesn’t respond. He breathes hard and uneven, chest heaving beneath Nick’s weight. Sweat gathers under his shirt collar. His wrists tremble in Nick’s grip and he doesn’t answer. Nick can go fuck himself with his mind games. Hayko won’t be so easily swayed with false promises of security, of mercy. Not again.

Not again.

Nick studies him for a long, quiet beat. Then his voice drops, not soft but sharpened.

“I know your house, Hayko. Every inch.”

A pause.

“Your bedroom. The kitchen. The basement, where you keep that box of medical receipts. I touched the flowers in the garden you and Vlad planted last spring. Daisies, mostly. A few sickly tulips.”

Hayko stiffens. His breathing skids.

“For two months, I know where you sleep,” Nick continues, unfazed. “Where you work. Where he works. Unless you plan on tearing your life up by the roots again—I’m in it. I’ll be in it. Forever.”

Hayko shuts his eyes. Regulate. Dr. Carter's voice in his skull: Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Ground. You are safe.

But he isn’t. He never was.

“I’m not going to torture you,” Nick goes on, still holding him fast. “I’m not going to kill you. I don’t need to break you.”

What would be the point? hangs unspoken between them.

“I want a conversation. Maybe we figure something out.”

Hayko’s voice comes out hoarse, a rasp over gravel: “What’s the alternative?”

Nick chuckles. Amused and warm and chilling.

“You don’t want the alternative.”

Silence swells between them. The only sound is Hayko’s breathing—irregular, staggered, sharp.

Then, finally:

“You don’t want a conversation,” he spits. “A conversation. You want me to shut up and kowtow to you and beg for mercy and forgiveness and grovel like the pathetic-” 

He gasps, air catching in his throat like smoke. A sound like a death rattle claws its way out of his lungs. 

“—shell you turned me into.”

Nick doesn’t flinch, only counters as softly as velvet. “You killed people, Hayko.”

Hayko jerks as if slapped. His voice thins, cracks on the edges.

“That was you. You made me.” 

Nick tilts his head. A mock-thoughtful expression, like they’re in court and he’s about to call surprise evidence.

“Beat them to death,” he recites. “Negotiated drug deals. Defended murderers. Slept like a baby some nights, didn’t you?”

“No. No.”

“Should I continue?”

“You fucking made me—”

“All I needed you to do,” Nick cuts in, almost gently, “was the defending part, my love.”

He smiles a terrible, crooked thing. There’s pride in it. Nostalgic recollection of a child walking for the first time, or maybe a dog finally learning how to maul on command.

“I provoked you. You rose to the provocation.”

Hayko stares at him. A pit opens behind his eyes.

He wants to kill him. Truly kill him, this time. Not just with fists or glass. He wants to erase him. Smother him in cement, because that’s all he deserves, and salt the earth where he stood. But it’s like trying to throw a punch in a dream—his fury keeps folding inward. Every move against Nick feels like it happens inside a sealed room, and Nick is always waiting on the other side of the glass.

“You broke me,” Hayko says, voice thudding low. “You broke everything I was.”

Nick steps forward, slow and deliberate. Hayko doesn’t back away.

“No,” Nick says. “I just peeled off the part that pretended otherwise.”

Hayko’s fists clench. His legs tremble. Sweat pools under his arms. He feels the blood rushing in his ears, the fire racing up his throat. He wants to punch, scream, shove something off a balcony. Instead, his voice shivers out of him like steam:

“I had a life.”

“You have a life.”

Nick moves like he might touch him, but doesn’t. And that’s worse. The excess and absence of contact and how they were wielded as one weapon against him. The ache opens right back up. He aches.

“A house. A job. A live-in partner who still believes he can fix you,” Nick says, and his tone is deceptively gentle now. “All I want is a place in it. A seat at the table. A corner, if that’s too much for you.”

Hayko laughs. One sharp bark.

“A corner? You blew up the whole fucking house. I had to teach myself to breathe again.”

Nick gives a small, pitying smile. 

“And look how well you’re breathing now.”

That does it.

Hayko lunges—but Nick slams him back down by the wrists, forceful but nowhere near as cruel as before, when Nick was getting his kicks off Hayko's immobilizing terror. They lock eyes. Nick’s pupils are blown wide with adrenaline and glee, but under it, something more calculating waits. A long game.

Nick is going to get what he wants.

“I’ll call off the guy. I’ll let you talk to Vlad,” Nick says smoothly. “But I meant what I said.”

He leans in, voice dipped in gravity now.

“You will never be free of me. You can live with that. Or you can keep running.”

Hayko’s breathing stutters. His body begins to shake—there's too much fury, too much heat in too small a cage.

He closes his eyes.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

The technique fails. Everything feels wrong inside his skin. But when he opens his eyes, it’s quieter. No less terrible. Just stiller, to the point that he can string together a coherent sentence that manages to make some progress in this waking nightmare.

“Fine,” he rasps. “That’s it. Just talk.”

His voice trembles with restraint, but it holds.

“Call him off. Call Vlad. Now.”

Nick’s phone is already in his hand. He types something out, then locks it.

“There,” he says. “See? Progress.”

Nick rolls his eyes when Hayko just glares at him with accusation, clearly tired of playing the patient villain.

“Fine. I’ll call him off while you watch. Jesus.”

He unlocks his phone, pulls up the messaging app, some off-brand secure interface with Cyrillic UI settings, and clicks through a few chats. A check mark appears next to the message. Sent. Hayko watches the movement of Nick’s thumb like it’s a loaded weapon.

“There. Happy? He’s off. Vladimir lives.”

Hayko’s voice is quiet but firm. “I’m not doing anything else until I talk to him.”

Nick groans theatrically, drops his head back like a man besieged by unreasonable demands.

“Come on, Hayko. You think I’m letting you call him so you can give him a head start?”

Hayko’s voice trembles and accidentally turns desperate. “Call him.”

It must do more than just give him away because Nick eyes him, lips thin. “You switch to Russian, the call ends.”

Hayko nods once, trying not to show his relief.

Nick exhales sharply, then taps open an encrypted call app—one Hayko doesn’t recognize. He dials. Hands it to Hayko.

Vlad picks up on the third ring. His voice cuts through the line like a blade.

“Where is he?” 

Hayko swallows. Suddenly, speech feels like walking a tightrope with a gun to his chest.

“It’s me,” Hayko says quickly, too quickly. He checks Nick’s expression to make sure he’s doing alright. If this is allowed. “I’m okay.”

There’s a pause. The kind that indicates Vlad's already stepped outside the diner, away from witnesses.

“Where are you?” Vlad’s voice is sharp but careful.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“Is he there?”

Hayko doesn’t answer fast enough. Not that he really needed to.

“Bring him back by tonight or you will regret it.”

Before Hayko can answer, another voice cuts in, close to the mic:

“My regret won’t be necessary,” Nick says, sing-song. “Your man will be home before sunrise.”

“Fuck yourself,” Vlad snarls immediately. “You lay one finger on him—”

“Please,” Nick laughs, easy, smooth. “We’re just having a conversation. And don’t bother trying to trace this call, by the way—it’s bouncing through five proxy servers and an Albanian VPN. Your Google Maps won’t help you here, comrade.”

Silence. Then:

“If anything happens to him,” Vlad says, even as ever, “I will not call police. I will call Alexei. I will name the city. And I promise you, Nick, by morning, I will have everything you own.”

Nick’s smile falters, just a hair. He covers it quickly with a chuckle.

“Very pretty, Vlad,” he says, lighter than before, but not quite cheerful now. “Ever the poet.”

Then he ends the call.

Hayko stares at the blank screen a beat too long before gently lowering the phone to the counter. The absence of Vlad’s voice leaves him cold in the bones. But he’s already calculating. Thinking of exit points, of how fast he could run now that the gun isn’t pressed to his ribs.

Nick watches him closely, then breaks the silence with a too-light question:

“Drink?”

“No.”

Nick sighs. “I wasn’t asking. And stop looking for exits.”

He moves to the bar cart again to pick up a new, still-sealed bottle of wine—a heavy red, foreign label—and uncorks it with a pop. The sound makes Hayko flinch. Nick notices, of course he does, but says nothing. Probably delights that he’s uncovered one of Hayko’s post-traumas already.

He pours into a glass. Then sees Hayko’s face.

“Oh for god’s sake.”

He grabs a clean glass from the shelf, holds it up to the light, then takes a cloth from the drawer and wipes it carefully—inside, outside, stem.

“See? Not a drop of chloral hydrate, I swear on my heart.”

He pours again. Slides the glass across the counter like an offering.

“Happy now? Drink. You’ll need something to take the edge off.”

Hayko stares at the glass. The color is dark, almost black in the low light. He doesn’t touch it. He’s not sure if it’s poison—but that’s not what stops him.

It’s that part of him, somewhere deeper than caution, darker than fear, knows Nick is right. He does need something. Something to slow the adrenaline, to anchor him in the room. Something to drink while bargaining with the devil. Because he needs to make this deal. 

Because there’s no alternative anymore.

Hayko picks up his wine and sips it, trying not to look too sour. Nick's life is half-theatre and Hayko will perform if it means they get to live.

Nick watches him with the same ease he might bring to observing fish in a tank.

“Did you really think you could run forever?” he asks, not expecting an answer. “New name. New job. New little apartment where the stove only half-works and the radiators clank all night.”

Hayko’s face twitches. He doesn't look up. His smile is faint, edged with something harder.

“You did a good job,” Nick continues, syrup-smooth. “You even got certified. Helping kids, shaping minds. Safe and sound, in a city where nobody else knows your name.”

He leans forward slightly, forearms on the table.

“Do you sleep better, knowing the men who wanted to carve you up are dead? The ones I killed. Or does that part not count, in your narrative?”

Hayko looks at him now. He does it slow. Purposefully.

“Is this a free therapy session?” he says flatly. “Or should I be charging by the hour for your whinging?”

It lands, despite Nick’s face not moving. His jaw finally clicks—once, audibly—as he grinds his teeth. Hayko sees it. And he smiles, sharp and small.

Good.

Nick’s fists clench, but only briefly. He exhales through his nose, forcibly casual.

“You’re lucky I like you like this,” he mutters.

“Just get on with it,” Hayko snaps. “Your terms. And no—no, sex won’t be one of them unless you’re planning to—”

Nick cuts him off with a dismissive sigh and a pointed eye-roll.

“Obviously I’m not stupid enough to open with that.” He gives him a dry look. “You can unclench. This isn’t that kind of negotiation.”

Hayko doesn’t answer. The silence bristles.

Nick adjusts his sleeve. “But since you’re so curious—fine. Terms.”

He counts on his fingers like he’s listing groceries.

“I want to see you. Talk. Sometimes. Coffee shop, bench in a park, dark alley, I’m flexible.”

Hayko blinks at him. “You think I’m going to just—schedule hangouts with you?”

Nick shrugs.

“You’d be surprised what people will do when their lives are on the line.”

He picks up his wine, sips.

“And keep in mind that yours is. Stalking was fun for the first few weeks. Watching you wait for your bus on Rue Rachel like clockwork, pretending you didn’t see me in the reflection—”

Hayko flinches. The blood drains from his face. He remembers that day. The way his spine locked. The full-body tremor he chalked up to a panic spiral.

“Yeah, love,” Nick says, gleefully watching the realization curdle. “Wasn’t your imagination, was it?”

Hayko swallows, hard. His palms are damp. But he’s still upright.

“How,” he says slowly, “do you imagine this conversation happens on any kind of even ground?”

Nick tilts his head.

“You think we’re equals now? You kidnapped me. You blackmailed me. You—" Hayko's breath stutters "tortured me. For two years. And yeah, you housed me. You fed me. Indulged my masochistic urges. You protected me from being tortured by other people. But that doesn’t erase it. You ruined my fucking life.”

His voice cracks, rising.

“Do you know how recently I got control of my panic attacks? You think that wine is gonna calm me down?”

Nick doesn't even blink.

“I know,” he says smoothly. “I read your therapist’s notes.”

Hayko’s whole body goes still as white horror washes over him. He sees a flicker of Dr. Carter’s handwriting. A post-it with his progress goals.

Nick's voice cuts easily through the fresh horror, unfazed.

“Without me, your body would’ve been dumped in a ditch on the outskirts of Chicago three years ago. You were a loose end. I saved your life.”

Hayko buries his face in his hands.

“It doesn’t matter,” he whispers. “I was so far gone I actually thought—”

He stops himself, shaking. His voice cracks again.

“I thought you loved me.”

Nick doesn’t move for a long moment. Then, matter-of-fact: “I do.”

Hayko laughs. A short, dry bark that’s almost a sob. “No. You don’t. You love owning me.”

Nick doesn’t refute it. He sits very still, fingers tapping once, then stopping.

Hayko lifts his head. His eyes are damp, but furious. His mouth set. His voice, hollow steel.

“Tell me your terms.”

—

TO BE CONTINUED (1/2)

@doveotions @thewhumpstuff @thatsthewhump @adamantem-rose @lonesome–hunter @whumpsorbet @whumpasaurus101 @lektricfergus @downrivergirl914 @burtlederp @redwingedwhump @nicolepascaline @ifbtnna  @whumperfully​​ ​@brittaunfiltered09

If you like my stuff, consider supporting me on ko-fi! :D

[sturniololuvz]

Can u write a fic where its like the triplets r on tour and sls went with them and she was missing nate and at the Boston show the boys suprised her with nate and his family but nate told her he couldn't go because of a work party or something so she was shocked

“Boston, With Love”

Tour had been amazing — lights, crowds, adrenaline.

But it was also exhausting. And for their little sister, tagging along as the only girl in a tour bus full of loud boys, it was starting to wear thin.

Especially without Nate.

He’d told her he had to skip the Boston stop — something about a work party he couldn’t get out of. And even though she tried to be understanding, the disappointment had clung to her like a shadow all week.

She missed him. Stupidly, deeply, in a way she couldn’t even fully explain to her brothers.

They tried. They made jokes. Bought her iced coffee when she looked extra tired. Let her sleep in the top bunk, even though Chris hated giving it up.

But she was still quieter than usual backstage before the Boston show.

“You good?” Nick asked, nudging her lightly as they waited behind the curtain.

“Yeah,” she lied.

Matt gave her a sideways glance, but didn’t push.

The crowd screamed. Lights went down. The boys ran out, hyped as always.

She watched from the wings, arms crossed, trying to shake the ache in her chest.

And then—

“Before we get to the next part,” Chris said into the mic, a little grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, “we got a surprise for someone really special tonight.”

The crowd quieted, sensing something.

“She’s been on the road with us, putting up with all our annoying crap,” Matt added.

“And she’s been missing someone bad,” Nick said, smirking toward the side of the stage.

She blinked, confused. Then turned—

And froze.

Nate.

Standing there with his goofy grin, holding a bouquet of flowers. Her jaw dropped.

“You said you couldn’t come,” she whispered.

He laughed, stepping forward to wrap her up in a hug. “I lied.”

“You lied?”

“Matt made me. Blame him.”

She couldn’t even be mad. She threw her arms around his neck, nearly knocking the flowers out of his hand.

On stage, the boys pointed and cheered. The crowd was eating it up.

“You didn’t actually think we’d come to Boston and not bring your favorite person, right?” Chris called out.

She buried her face in Nate’s shoulder, laughing and crying all at once.

It was loud. Overwhelming. But for the first time all week, her heart felt full again.

And later, when the show ended and she was tucked under Nate’s arm in the dressing room, she looked at her brothers with watery eyes.

“Thanks for knowing what I needed before I did.”

Chris shrugged. “It’s kind of our job.”

Nick grinned. “We’re like emotional support brothers.”

Matt just tossed her a water bottle. “Don’t ever say we don’t love you.”

She smiled, wiping her eyes.

“I know.”

⸻

[zalrb]

Tht fans/ writers who r like ‘this is who nick is been all along u were just too blinded by love and his hotness to see haha’

Its just a flat out lie. People are either genuinely forgetting how and what the early seasons depicted (which alot of ppl seem to be misremembering actual events) or just happy that nick is villianized

I just rewatched s1 and 2 - its a different show, nick and june are positively portrayed- nick is mysterious sure but the narrative framing around his character is positive

Also a common line about how hes evil is that he only helped june so why did u think he was good. First its not even true, nick was giving things to marthas/jezebels off the black market before he met june. He only joined the eyes after the 1st hanmaid died bc he wanted commanders punished, he got the letters out in s2, he tried to save edens life… and even if he only helped june how does that make him bad most ppl would prioritize the safety of their loved ones over strangers!!

And the writing for this is confused because they're acting as if June told Nick where the letters were and then he went told Wharton and they're also acting as if Nick knowingly went ALL THOSE JEZEBELS IN THERE ARE PLOTTING to save himself and that isn't what actually happened.

So, to me, the argument/honest conversation shouldn't be I'm an eye and I'm a commander and you ignore it to feel better, it should be, I'm a person doing my best, trying to survive, I didn't WANT this to happen, I didn't PLAN on this happening, I was backed into a corner, and this is what surviving looks like when you don't call me asking for a favour, this is what I have to deal with. And it wasn't that. Maybe they wanted that conversation to be that but that's not what I saw.

[smoulderingocean]

Everything about that argument that Nick and June had screams people saying things that they'll regret later on because in the moment they are both hurting so deeply that they exploded and lashed out without thought. June has just seen Nick knocked off the impossibly high pedestal of pure light she has put him on for years while Nick is dealing with the pain of being forced to make a consequential choice he didn't want to make and as a result June is looking at him differently now and he has lost her, which is his biggest and deepest fear coming to life.

They both said things out of turn and both hurt the other. It's the exact kind of argument that people who love each other deeply but haven't addressed the many things they are carrying have. The argument that occurs because so much has been left unsaid due to their moments being so fleeting and where they don't have the space or time to address anything difficult because they don't want to ruin the minutes they can steal.

June will come to regret saying that Nick was selfish for not dying; that she'd essentially rather he, a man she loves and the father of their daughter, die for women that Mayday would have killed anyway. She will also really regret saying that he is just like the rest of them; that he is like Wharton and Bell and Mackenzie and Putnam and Waterford, who are men that created this world, enjoy inflicting pain and do so deliberately, and who kidnap children, among many other things. June knows in her heart that Nick is not like them- she knows that he is good and kind and brave, but she didn't want to let herself see that he is a fully human.

Nick will regret throwing June's love for him in her face. In fact we can almost immediately see that he regrets it and that he hates that those words hurt her so deeply. The shame is deeply etched on his features. Their love is special and sacred. June seeing the good in him and loving him matters so much to Nick. To say that loving him while he's a Commander and Eye makes her bad like those men too, bad like she sees him, is something he knows isn't true. Her love in him, her belief in him, shows a goodness in her that he loves so deeply. Nick knows in his heart that her feelings for him while knowing his role (especially after his confession as an Eye) empowered her and made her stronger, not weaker like his words implied.

It really was an argument that said it all- "I love you but this is hurting me and I am suffering, and I have said things that I regret." It's a painful, classic moment, and one that lays bare all the things they've been holding back, meaning they will come back from this stronger and healthier.

[gilbertscurls]

impressed — matt sturniolo

Chris opened his mouth to say something, probably something dumb and sarcastic like “Do you smell that? Smells like desperation,” but he didn’t get the chance.

Suddenly, Matt burst into the house like a Category 5 hurricane, slamming the door shut behind him with a resounding bang and wild eyes that screamed “emergency.” Without a word, he zipped to his room, then to the kitchen, and began feverishly wiping down the already clean coffee table in the living room. Then he sprinted back to his room. Then the bathroom. Spray bottles were involved. Disinfectant fumes wafted into the hallway.

Chris blinked. “Did he… did he just vacuum the ceiling?”

Matt looked around the house like a man possessed—eyes scanning the perimeter, jaw set, hoodie slightly askew like he’d run a mile with it half on. He muttered something unintelligible, then beelined straight for his room, again. A loud thud followed by the sound of drawers opening and closing echoed through the hallway.

Then he reappeared. Still didn’t say a word.

Nick blinked. “Um.”

“Um, man?” Chris called out as Matt breezed past with a lovely bouquet of colorful flowers in hand—sunflowers, tulips, and even one slightly confused-looking rose shoved in there like it didn’t know how it ended up in this situation. Matt shoved them into a vase with the desperation of a man trying to win an Olympic medal in floral arrangement. He looked at the bouquet like it had just appeared out of nowhere.

Chris furrowed his brow. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, hi,” Matt said like he’d only just noticed they were in the house. He tossed a dishtowel over his shoulder like a frazzled sitcom dad. “Y/N’s coming for dinner, so you need to get out of here.”

Chris blinked again. “Excuse me?”

Nick, from his spot on the couch, held up his phone and didn’t even try to hide the recording he’d started. “What do you mean ‘get out of here’? I live here.”

Matt picked up a throw pillow, fluffed it, and then threw it—lovingly but with purpose—at Nick’s head.

“I need this place to look... romantically effortless,” Matt said, using finger quotes like he’d read it on a Pinterest board and memorized it like scripture. “You guys ruin the vibe. You radiate… fraternity house.”

Chris scoffed. “Dude, last week you ate Froot Loops out of a measuring cup because we were out of bowls.”

“Dude,” Matt said, dead serious, “you guys are embarrassing. You’ll say something weird, or try to vibe check her, or worse—start beatboxing over the pasta.”

“Okay, that was one time,” Chris mumbled.

“One time too many!” Matt shot back. “This is the first time she’s coming over for dinner, not just hanging out. This is a big deal. This is real-life boyfriend stuff. I bought vegetables, Chris. Vegetables.”

Nick smirked. “Name three vegetables.”

“Nick.”

“Name one vegetable.”

Matt paused. “…Carrots.”

“Solid.” Nick nodded.

“Anyway, out. Both of you. I need a calm, peaceful environment. Ambiance. Romance. I lit a candle!”

Chris sniffed the air. “Why does it smell like pumpkin spice and bleach?”

“It’s a theme.”

Nick and Chris exchanged glances.

“You're freaking out,” Chris said gently, like a man trying to reason with a cornered possum. “Y/N already likes you. You could show up in a Shrek costume and she’d still think you’re cute.”

“Yeah,” Nick added, “and you literally snort-laughed root beer out of your nose on your first FaceTime and she still wanted to hang out again.”

Matt stopped. Blinked. Slowly turned to them.

“…You think I should change shirts?”

Chris groaned.

Just then, a knock echoed from the front door.

Matt yelped and flailed for the Febreze, spraying a wide mist across the living room like he was blessing it. Then, he gave the boys a look—a desperate, pleading “please just disappear” look.

Chris sighed and made his way to the back. “We’ll be downstairs. If you need anything, don’t.”

And as they exited stage left, muttering about how they’d never get this time back, Matt stood in the middle of the living room and took a deep breath. The candles were lit. The lights were dimmed just the right amount. The flowers were centered. And his Spotify playlist labeled “Romance but Chill but Not Too Chill” was queued and ready.

He looked around the room one more time, smiled to himself, and whispered, “Game time.”

When you walked in, he greeted you at the door with the softest smile and an awkward, “Hey, uh, I made spaghetti.” You didn’t say anything about the faint smell of lemon-scented cleaning spray.

You just smiled back.

And Matt forgot all about the pasta timer going off in the background.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @shadowthesim237, @courta13, @frankdelreyy, @evansturn, @bamsblooming, @backwardshatnick, @whore4chris

[chriscumslut]

Hawaii vacation- Matt x chris sturniolo

summery- You,matt and Chris are on vacation in Hawaii and you HAVE to share a hotel room with them, and stuff gets freaky…

warnings- Smut, dom!matt, dom!chris, sub!reader, Eiffel tower, backshots, dick sucking

you were with Chris and Matt for a tour surprise, your guy’s surprise was going for a Hawaii vacation without nick. You guys are at the hotel right now and you’re in your room, a moaning mess sprawled out on the bed with Chris above your head and matt between your legs. Chris is pounding into your throat making you struggle to breathe, while matt is pounding into you from the front. “she’s such a slut, taking us both so well” Chris chuckles and smirks. Matt looks up to Chris and nods while panting and his eyes roll to the back of his head coming to a near finish. You pull of of Chris with a pop and moan, then he quickly shoves his dick back into your throat, “don’t pull off yet, he hasn’t finished yet baby” Matt says leaning over me, his hair in my face bobbing up and down with each thrust. Chris looks up and takes a deep breath, while still thrusting in my mouth making a throat bulge, cumin’ down my throat. Moans and groans leave his mouth, while he cums deep down my throat. He pulls out of my throat and lays down near me kissing me passionately. Matt gets faster, he groans as he finishes he pulls out and his cum is leaking out of me, i’m moaning like a slut, but i love it right now, i’m getting fucked by Matt and Chris Sturniolo and i love it.

“get on all fours for us” Matt says, they both look at each other like they both know what there going to do next. Chris is behind me while matt is in front of me, Matt forces his dick in my mouth, while chris is behind me and forces his dick in my ass. The Eiffel tower of course, their favourite position. “f-fuck” i moan matt shoves his dick back into my mouth and i take him all, “we want everyone to hear you in this hotel, you got it?” Chris says sounding out of breath, i nod in approval “nu-uh words baby” Chris says gritting his teeth together, “yessssss fuck, please guys” you moan louder than before, everyone could definitely hear you now, the beds banging on the wall while your getting fucked like the little bitch you are. “fuck, your being such a good girl for us” Matt says whispering, Chris picks up the speed making me collapse, “fuuuuuuck, ughhhhh” i moan, chris gets a fist full of my hair and lifts me back up. “stupid slut, your not meant to do that” Matt says grabbing his dick and shoving it back in my mouth, my mascara running down my face as Matt is fucking my throat, while i’m whimpering and moaning. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum in this tight ass you want that?” Chris asks while smirking, “hmmmmm, yesss” i say begging, “shiiiiiiiiit, i- oh fuuuuuck” Matt moans cumin’ down my throat his eyes rolling back, chris then cums not long after matt, they both pull out and we all collapse in the bed. After getting your breathes, we all get up and clean ourselves.

THIS JS SO RUSHED IM SORRY ITS SHORT😞😞😞

@chrepsi

songs to listen to while reading:

[tryandbehappy]

Not Everyone Has to Be a Revolutionary (and Why That’s Okay Especially for Nick)

I need to scream this from the rooftops because people are seriously losing the plot. I’m so fucking tired to read this. That he’s a nazi and we all missed the signs ugh

Why does everyone expect Nick to be the main, active revolutionary? Why does he have to sacrifice himself for the greater good to prove he’s “a good man”?

HE DOESN’T. And that’s not a flaw, it’s literally what makes him beautifully human.

Look at the characters who are fighting Gilead:

• June is burning with rage. She lost her daughter. She was raped and tortured. Everything was stolen from her. In Gilead, she still has friends like Janine and wants to free them. Also, she comes from a mother who was an activist, she grew up around protests and was part of them from a young age. Her core values are rights and freedom. Of course she’s fighting.

• Luke lost his wife and child. Hannah is still there. He was left powerless. His whole identity collapsed, he wants revenge. (Also he wants to prove June that he is worth something because he feels she doesn’t love him the way she used to😏)

• Moira was enslaved, dehumanized. She has every reason to fight with everything she has.

And others.They are fueled by personal trauma. Their war is personal.

And Nick?He’s not driven by revenge, because Gilead didn’t destroy him the way it destroyed others. That doesn’t mean he supports it, he’s just not a soldier in someone else’s war.

He doesn’t trust politicians. He doesn’t want to be someone’s pawn (he is so sick of it because once he trusted them “once you get in bed with the government it’s not so easy to get out). He fights for love, not ideology.

And his greatest strength?

LOVE.LOYALTY.SACRIFICE FOR ONE PERSON.

He saved June over and over.He broke rules.He risked his life.He was ready to run away to live a quiet life with her. (Even though it’s really risky for him because he’s a commander after all, a war criminal)

That is also powerful.

And guess what? June believes in love too. She btw values it the most. She’s the one who said:

“People die from lack of love.”

Telling Fred that love is worth living

“You grab love wherever you will find it” etc

She is grateful to Nick for exactly that. For keeping her alive when she was drowning. Only love saved her. “He helped me to survive” ♥️

And now people wanna cancel him because he’s not on the frontlines with a machine gun? (Or on the wall 😀) just for some women or ideology?? Because he values a single life, June’s, more than the idea of a revolution?

Are you kidding me???

That’s not weakness.That’s just a different kind of strength.

Reality check:

Only about 5% of people in real revolutions actually fight on the frontlines. (Thanks, historians like Charles Tilly & Eric Hobsbawm.) The other 95%? They resist in small ways.

I get it. The Handmaid’s Tale is a story mainly about revolution. It’s about resistance, fighting the system, burning it down.

But not everyone in this world wants to grab a gun and start a war. Some people like Rita or Nick are just trying to survive. And help their family. (Why everyone is ok with Rita but for Nick it’s different?)

And that’s not weakness. That’s realistic and human.

Nick is the guy who risks everything not for politics and power, but for love.

Honestly, I think what Nick really lacks is focus because he loves June too much. He’s so scared of losing her, of something happening to her, of her dying…(“she’s not coming back to you. - I know, i just want her to stay alive 🥹)

And her obsession with revolution? It only makes that fear worse. He’s not thinking straight, he’s spiraling, because everything in his world revolves around her.

He shouldn’t be punished for loving her more than he hates the system.