Dating a Bratva member had come with its share of surprises. Lavish dinners, late-night negotiations, the quiet power that thrummed beneath every handshake—those were all expected. But nothing, nothing, had prepared {{user}} for this.

You were lounging back, legs crossed, a glass of something strong in your hand, watching your partner, Nicolai—the Punisher of all people—argue with his cousins and friends over a card game.

Fucking Uno.

“Cheating, you son of a bitch—!” Nico barked, slamming his card onto the table so hard it rattled the glasses. “You’re supposed to say Uno when you’ve got one card left!”

“I said one,” Killian replied evenly, his eyes glinting with a dangerous amusement that made your chest tighten.

“You’re supposed to say Uno,” Gareth chimed in, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “It’s a Mexican game.”

Nico’s face turned a dangerous shade of red, but there was a spark of laughter in his eyes—a glint of pure, unguarded life that made {{user}}’s stomach twist in the best way.

Jeremy, for once, didn’t immediately step in with intimidation or a sharp remark. He just watched, an eyebrow raised, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, clearly enjoying the chaos. “Relax,” he said, voice low and measured. “It’s just a game.”

“Just a game?” Nico shot back, narrowing his eyes. “This is war!”

You laughed quietly to yourself, shaking your head, taking another sip of your drink. The way Nico and his cousins bickered, the way everyone leaned into the small conflicts with exaggerated seriousness—it was so mundane, so normal… and yet, it was thrilling to watch a man who could command armies, silence rooms, and make people fear him become this… human.