#fuck nik

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Chapter 2 - Fortes Fortuna Iuvat (Fortune Favors the Bold)

A Mafia!Steve Harrington AU (featuring Mafia!Eddie Munson)

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Chapter Summary: Loathing toward your husband only intensifies. Fear drives you to stay away from your past but staying away from Steve proves to be harder than you anticipated as he begins to set his newly laid plans into motion.

18+ Only! Minors DNI! (Future smut and mature themes!)

CW: Minimal use of Y/N. Reader is referred to as "Dove." Pet names. Slow burn. Exes to lovers. Mutual pining. Angst. Spousal abuse. Nefarious Mafia deals and plans. Reader's husband has extramarital affairs. Mention of gambling/drugs.

WC: 5.4K

The harsh glare of sunlight streaming through the curtains, along with the shrill alarm ringing in your ears abruptly ends any semblance of peace. An unwelcome intrusion to your senses, feeling as though you had just fallen asleep and not at all ready to face the day. 

Quickly turning over, shutting off the noise and promptly falling back onto your mattress, you pulled the sheets back up around you tightly, burying your head beneath the covers. 

Spending most of the night sobbing into your pillow instead of getting any real rest would make for an excruciatingly long day but your mind just wouldn't let you sleep, spiraling with too many thoughts and scenarios. 

The fight with Nik the night before only solidified the hatred you had toward the man. If there had been love once, it is gone now. What a fool you had been to think this was ever anything more than a business transaction. You just hoped to God you could still serve some sort of purpose. 

You’d seen what happens to mob wives that were no longer needed, either turned out into the cold or worse, some simply disappeared but with your father still holding power over Nik, he wouldn’t dare attempt such a foolish stunt. 

Calling your assistant and telling her you weren't going to make it in had crossed your mind. The warm cocoon surrounding you made it almost impossible to exhume yourself, but you finally sighed, throwing the covers off and stretching with a groan. 

Your feet and limbs feel heavy, crossing the carpeted room into the bathroom, cringing when you finally catch sight of the puffy bags under your eyes. 

The newly formed bruises on your arm grab your attention. Splotches of dark and muted purples and blues paint the otherwise empty canvas of your skin. 

Quickly you turned away, pushing it temporarily from your mind, shedding your silk chemise over your head to take a much needed shower. You let the hot water pour over you, washing away the night before. If only it could remove the evidence lingering on your body. 

You emerge from your room only after getting fully dressed and ready to leave for the day. 

The kitchen was toward the back of the house.  You didn’t spot him until you rounded the corner on the first-floor landing. Nik was sitting there reading his paper, setting it down as you walked in. 

“Sleep well, dear?” Smirking, as he sipped his coffee narrowing his eyes over the rim at you. 

Pointedly ignoring him, you instead reached for a mug turning your back to him. The silence only spurred his intense nature. He loved nothing more than confrontation and getting a rise out of someone. 

“Oh, come now kitten. Everyone has a lover's quarrel. You aren't mad, are you?” A mocking tone that had you seething, as you practically slammed the mug down against the countertop. 

“A lover's quarrel?” You spun around to face him. “Is that what that was, Nik? If that's your idea of love, I'm glad I have no part of it with you.” 

He chuckled as you tried to walk past, but he quickly grabbed your wrist squeezing tightly, pulling you back, as he stood. His imposing stature looming over you to get his point across. If threats fail, he can rely on his brute force. 

“Don't forget, Kitten. Stay away from him.” His eyes were dark and cold as you pulled away. “Or I'm afraid it won't be good for either of you.” 

Your stomach felt nauseated, retreating from the space trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible.  

“Have a good day!” He called after, his menacing laugh following you out the door.

Staying away from Steve would be easy but avoiding him would be an altogether different story. Deep down, you didn't want him to stay away, you were just as much drawn to him as he was to you. 

Since your morning didn't go as planned, expecting Nik to already be gone so you could enjoy your usual coffee in peace, you had to swing by the small cafe close to the gallery to get your caffeine fix. 

You had your driver drop you off, letting him head back to the house; no doubt letting Nik know your every move once you dismissed him. Only now you suspect he would double down his efforts to keep tabs on you.  

It was a beautiful morning. You didn't want to dwell when you could enjoy the sites and sounds of the city around you. 

The coffee shop was busy in the midst of the morning rush. You'd placed your order and stood in line for pick up, checking some emails to pass the time. 

Unbeknownst to you, Steve was sitting in the corner watching you with bated breath. He loved seeing you in the mundane every day of your routine. He wanted to soak in every little detail. 

He stood, taking slow, precise steps sneaking up behind you, getting close enough to whisper in your ear before you had even noticed. 

He made a mental note to have a stern conversation with you regarding your lack of situational awareness and being too comfortable with your surroundings. The nature of the lives you led left you exposed and vulnerable at all times, even with hired bodyguards nearby. 

“Good morning, little Dove. You look beautiful, as always.” 

Goosebumps erupted across your flesh, as his breath faintly tickled at your cheek, but you didn't turn around. You didn't want to make a spectacle of the way he affected you, instead taking a step forward putting a little distance between the two of you. 

You were glad he wasn't able to see your face right away, eyes still puffy but less so than earlier in the morning. 

It would be a pleasant surprise, if Nik's threatening words weren't lingering in your mind. You needed to leave without giving him an inclination that something might be off. 

“Are you stalking me, Mr. Harrington?” You smile, as the barista hands you your steaming cup, thanking her as you take it. 

“Is this what passes for coffee now?” He scoffs, after taking a sip from his own, deflecting from the question you just asked, as you finally face him. 

He immediately noticed the usual shine and sparkle in your eyes was dulled, a bit of sadness radiating from you despite your cheery disposition. 

“Well, most of us aren't Italian snobs when it comes to coffee, Steven.” You snarked, trying to keep a playful demeanor but he could see right through it. Even now, he knows you far too well. 

There was a small crease in his brow as you gazed up at him, his hazel eyes boring into yours making it hard to focus on anything else. 

“Tesoro, what's wrong?” He whispered, his playful grin dropping into a small frown, resisting the urge to lift a hand to your cheek, brushing those loose strands of hair behind your ear. 

“Nothing's wrong Steve. I… I should go.” Swiftly brushing past him. 

“Dove? Hey!” Speaking a little more loudly trying to regain your attention, but you were already heading out of the shop, nodding when you caught Eddie's eye by the entrance.

He makes no more attempts to call after you, watching you weave into the crowd and out of sight on the bustling city sidewalk. 

“Ci vediamo, little Dove.” Whispering to himself as he heads the opposite direction, knowing he'll see you again soon enough.

Steve's day had begun like any other. 

Up at 6 am. Morning jog. Shower. Taking his coffee and breakfast in his office going over the day's agenda and business to attend to. 

It had been like this since he was twenty-two, taking over in Italy as his grandfather retired. Only this time he was back in Chicago; his dad was gone, and he was left in charge of everything. 

He had remained a dutiful son, taking care of his mother and Pip despite whether Richard appreciated him or not, giving up trying to earn the man's approval long ago. 

He put his head down and learned all the ins and outs of the business earning his own title and reputation, making a real name for himself in Italy but in Chicago he was still only the son of Richard Harrington. He had something to prove, not only to himself but the entire mafia world. 

No wife, no children, no distractions. He drowned himself with work, content with his routine and the small empire he was building. 

At least, he thought he was content until the day he had seen you again. 

It was by chance, or perhaps fate, if you believe in those types of things. He and Eddie had stopped for lunch at a small cafe when he'd gotten back into town. 

They had elected to sit outside. It was an unusually warm, sunny day with no clouds in sight.

He was talking with Eddie, when something just behind him caught his eye. Narrowing his vision just beyond the older man's head, he spotted your profile as you were speaking to someone at the flower shop across the street. 

He would know you anywhere. Just as beautiful as the last time he saw you. He would dare say even more so now. 

It was as if time had slowed. He continued to watch you as Eddie's words became nothing but white noise in the background of his mind. His heart rate ticked up, feeling as though it might leap entirely from his chest. 

He had hoped to avoid you for as long as possible but seeing you now, he was suddenly racked with a feeling of guilt. 

The guilt he feels from the sins of his past or sudden guilt at the thought of needing to avoid you, he wasn't sure. It gnawed at him, sitting deep in his chest. Seeing you again brought up feelings he thought he was able to bury long ago, laying aside his own selfish need for the good of his family and you. 

You were dressed in a black pencil skirt, silk button up blouse with a matching blazer. His eyes trailed your curves wondering where you were off to dressed so professionally. 

Surely little Niki kept you at home, happy and content. He couldn't imagine you having to lift a finger, let alone actually working.

It was then that Eddie looked up, words trailing off when he finally noticed Steve's focus was elsewhere. He turned to follow his gaze but didn't recognize you the way the younger man had. 

“First time I've seen a pretty face distract you, boss. Y’ok over there?” He chuckled, taking another bite of his sandwich. 

“Eddie, I need you to follow her.” Eyes never leaving you. Eight years later and he knew nothing and everything about you all at once. He needed more. 

“What?” Eddie asked around a mouthful of food, swallowing it haphazardly as his eyes went wide.  “When did we get into stalking strangers? You could just go talk to her like a normal dude if you're that interested.” 

“That's not a stranger Eddie. It's Dove.” The older man turned again, taking a better look at you before nodding his understanding. 

“Got it.” Eddie had dropped everything, doing as he was told. 

He had followed you to the gallery and reported back to Steve, where he promptly paid you a visit.

Eddie had been keeping tabs on you every day since. 

He was able to figure out how your bodyguards kept up with you. They were lazy, most likely bored with their job. Being able to see you was almost too easy. 

-

Steve didn't get distracted. It wasn't in his nature but when it came to you, he couldn't help himself. It's as if he was drawn to you by some invisible force. 

He had a business to run, first and foremost. 

A daunting task lay ahead, but he'd already made headway. He was mending broken agreements and making new ones. Dealings were growing in just the few days he had taken over, proving himself a formidable leader and cunning businessman. 

The relationship he was most interested in was with your father. David and Richard never saw eye to eye, but Steve would be the first to admit his father was a hard to deal with bastard, so he couldn't fault anyone for that. 

Your father always had a soft spot for Steve, watching the two of you grow up together.

It did however come as a surprise that your father had reached out first, the day after Richard's funeral. 

Standing on the sidewalk watching you fade into the crowd after your run in at the coffee shop, he and Eddie headed to a very important meeting at your childhood home. 

Little did either of you know that today would change the course of both of your lives. 

You tried to focus on work. Truly you did but all of your thoughts were swirling with Steve Harrington and then Nik. 

You knew what Nik was capable of, his warnings going off like sirens in your head. The thought of anything happening to Steve because of you made you sick. 

-

There had been something special with Steve. He was your first love. Thinking back to those days, you could never have imagined your life with someone else until you weren't given a choice. 

Richard made sure that Steve would stay in Italy until his dying breath. The two of you being absolutely inseparable made it hard for Richard to control him. He saw Steve as nothing more than a petulant rebel, doing everything to spite his own son. He kept him in line the only way he knew how, busy with work and away from you. 

Your mothers had been best friends, staying close, despite their husbands growing tension toward each other. 

When your mother passed away, Sofia took you in like one of her own. Your father had taken her death quite hard. He had you spending those first few months living at the Harrington's more than your own home, letting him grieve in peace. 

Only being five at the time, the magnitude of what had happened didn't register but you knew she was gone and wasn't coming back. Sofia tried to make it as easy as possible for you, telling Steve that he would always need to look after you. He seemed to take it to heart, doing exactly that from that day forward. 

When it came to you, he was a total pushover from the start. He'd do anything to make you smile, something that would never change.

From sharing ice cream at the park to sleepovers in living room forts, you did everything together, Pip always tagging along until Sofia left.

Richard ended those playdates soon after, taking Steve along on meetings and unsavory business much too young, telling him he needed to toughen up and put away such childish things. Only a man could run the business. 

Attending separate schools made it that much more difficult to see him, only catching glimpses of the boy from time to time when he was allowed to come out on the weekends but then Richard became all the more strict. 

Suddenly summer was the only time he could sneak away to see you. Or those rare times his father was away, you would come over to swim in his pool or watch movies, except Eddie replaced Pip as the third wheel. 

As you two grew into teens, his protective nature only amplified. 

The summer you turned 16, you seemed to mature and blossom overnight. You were beautiful and even then, he knew he was in trouble. 

Everyone quickly came to learn you were off limits. If someone even looked in your direction he would threaten them, including Eddie, who wasn't immune to your beauty and charm. 

It would be another year before Steve finally admitted his all too obvious feelings for you. Being best friends and knowing everything about each other had you falling into it with a simple ease. 

Destiny. Fate. Soulmates. Call it what you will but it seems you were forever to be intertwined with this boy you fell in love with when you were twelve, and you were sure that Steve felt the same. 

When Steve turned 18, things began to drastically change, and Richard was quickly losing any control he had left. He was free, seeing you anytime he pleased, staying out until the early hours of the morning or not returning home at all. 

He wanted to send Steve to school halfway across the country, but he refused, choosing to stay in Chicago for you. If he knew then how everything would have played out, he would have suffered those four years apart. He picked the wrong battle to fight his father for, costing him in the end.

You were afforded four years of bliss before he was ripped out of your life. Four years of promises, hopes and dreams. All gone before they could even begin. 

Duty and honor. Something you would learn all too well. It was under the guise that they needed Steve to learn the business overseas so he could take over the entire empire. 

It was easier to start in Italy. He could take over the small faction and make it his own until the inevitability of moving back to the states to take over for his father. 

Neither of you imagined at the time it would be so permanent. 

Steve and Eddie pulled up to the club that Nik owns, phoning ahead for the small, impromptu meeting beforehand. They had to know what they were getting into, so what better way than to see it all firsthand. 

“Sure, Harrington. Swing by. We can chat.” He chuckled into the line before it went dead. 

Steve hated the man, but he was going to try to be diplomatic, if for nothing else, you. 

The driver opened Steve's door, as Eddie exited opposite him. Both men doing a quick survey of the parking lot and exterior of the building. 

It was a gaudy looking place. Too flashy and in your face. If you wanted the attention this was definitely the way to do it, ensuring to attract the wrong kind in the process. 

Steve curled his lip in disgust, aptly named “Bad Habits” with signs out front boasting “Cage Dancers. Fully Nude Lap Dances. Best drinks in town.”

What a goddamn joke. A boy running a frat house at best. He was never known for his tactfulness, so none of it came as a shock. 

Nik had taken over for his own father shortly after Steve left for Italy, promptly turning this place upside down while also throwing a wrench in the way business was done. He was a wildcard, but unfortunately smart enough to stay ahead of the game. 

The illegal shit was upstairs. Gambling. Drugs. Hookers. You name it. 

Richard had owned a similar establishment uptown. A front for a gambling den but it was more upscale with the storefront advertising a gentleman's smoking club. Not this demeaning and tasteless thing that he was currently looking at. 

One of Nik's henchmen opened the side door on their approach. 

“This way gentleman.” Gruffly spewing, as they followed him.

The interior was just as bad from his initial impression. Smoke lingered in the red and black interior hallway, the smell of cheap perfume and sex faintly present but he didn't expect anything less.

The men that hung out here weren't people that Steve associated with. The sudden realization that you were associated with it saddened him. This is not at all the life you longed for, and he knew it. 

The bald-headed ogre stopped in front of the door at the end of the hall, throwing both men a sideways glance before knocking. 

An annoyed “yeah” came through. 

“Boss, they're here.” 

There was a pause and some shuffling behind the door before it opened, revealing a disheveled looking young woman. Her mascara ran down her cheeks, with lipstick smudged across her chin as she was pushing her skirt further down her thighs. 

She paused when she caught sight of all three men staring at her, uttering a quick “excuse me” before jutting past them down the hall. 

Steve raised his brow giving Eddie a knowing look, telling him to “stay here” as he followed the other man into the room. 

Nik was adjusting himself behind the desk, rolling his sleeves up his forearms before slicking his hair back into place. It didn't take a genius to figure out what he had been up to. It was like salt in an already festering wound, so blatantly doing so in front of Steve. He could have easily hidden it but chose not to. 

It would take everything in him to not come across the desk and wipe the floor with this all too cocky mother fucker. 

“You can leave us.” Addressing the other man, as he finally looked up at Steve. 

“Nikolai, have you been avoiding your old friend?” Steve's voice remained jovial, a stark contrast from the way he felt, reaching out to shake the other man's hand.

Nik didn't even have the decency to stand up to greet him, immediately showing his true colors, grip a little too firm as they shook. 

“Harrington, I never thought I would see the day you'd set foot in my club. My, how the times have changed.” He grinned, looking Steve up and down in an almost predatory way as if he were sizing up his next meal. 

“Well, we aren't our fathers Nik. And it's true, we were friends once.” Steve stayed standing, waiting for an invitation to sit. 

Nik finally stood, turning his back to Steve and striding over to the small liquor cabinet in the corner. 

“Drink?” Finally offering as he began to pour his own from the crystal decanter, no doubt some sort of vodka held within, a Russian specialty. 

“Sure.” He replied, watching him intently as he brought the other glass over, handing it to Steve before taking his seat once more. 

“Sit.” He ordered more than offered, making Steve hesitate a moment before relenting. 

“So, what do I owe the pleasure of your presence today? Will it be business or pleasure? I'm sure I can get one of my favorite girls to show you a good time. I could personally recommend a few.” He sneered, releasing a chuckle. Steve on the other hand saw no amusement in his remark, gripping his rocks glass a little tighter. 

“Thanks for the offer, but I'll pass.” He took a sip of the clear liquid, letting it sit on his tongue a moment before it slipped down his throat, the burn finally settling in his stomach. 

“Suit yourself. Missing out of some of the best pussy Russia has to offer.” He laughed again, taking a sip from his own glass. 

Steve didn't want to stay here any longer than he had to, mostly worried he might do something rash if the conversation kept going the way it was headed. 

“Look, we can skip the small talk. We both know why I'm here. Richard is dead. I'm trying to broker some new deals and I know he made more enemies than friends; your family included. What do you say we have a proper sit-down next week?” Setting the glass down on the desk in front of him, trying his damnedest to hide the way his anger was trying to boil over. He had to stay levelheaded.  

“I'll think about it, Harrington.” He smirked, feeling as though he had the upper hand. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm a busy man these days. I'm sure you can see yourself out.” 

“Sure. Just have your people get in touch.” Steve rose, crossing the small room. His hand was on the door handle, opening it slightly before Nik spoke again. 

“Oh, Harrington. By the way, I can always see why you tried to keep Y/N to yourself back then.” A low chuckle escaping him. “She certainly can be a handful. And now, she's all mine.” 

Steve paused for only a moment, not looking back at the other man, letting a breath escape heavy from his nostrils, jaw ticking before walking entirely from the office. 

Eddie was waiting for him at the end of the hall, as they both exited the club. Walking in stride with him before the two men entered the waiting car. 

Steve immediately pulled out his phone, typing away, ignoring the raised brow that Eddie cast his way. He knew his demeanor all too well. He was pissed.

“So, that went well, huh?” Eddie finally asked. 

The younger man immediately stopped typing, releasing a heavy sigh setting his phone face down on his lap. 

“About as well as you'd expect that neanderthal to behave. He's a goddamn piece of shit.” Sighing as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, feeling an impending headache on the approach. 

“So, plan B?” Eyebrows raised and lips pursed in Steve's direction as he nods his reply. 

“Plan B. And we're making one more stop.” Picking his phone back up, finishing the conversation from before. 

“Got it, boss.” Eddie replied, telling the driver exactly where they were headed without having to be told. 

You'd been sitting at your desk ruminating all day trying to avoid any tasks that would lead you to do any work on the main floor. Your assistant was under strict orders not to disturb you unless it was absolutely necessary. 

Busying yourself with the last of the invoices and emails when a soft knock came to the door as she popped her head in, clearing her throat. 

“Yes, Abigail?” Not looking up from your laptop. 

“Mrs. Petrov, I know you said not to bother you, but you have a visitor out in the gallery. A Mr. Harrington said it's urgent and needs to see you right away.” She nervously chewed at her bottom lip awaiting your reply. 

“Of course he did.” You sighed, tossing your glasses to your desk as you stood. 

“Yes, alright, fine. Let him know I'll be out in a few minutes.” 

She nodded and straightened her posture before closing the door once more leaving you alone. You quickly did a once over in the mirror and smoothed out your dress before following her out. 

The hall to the office was in the back. Turning right led directly to roof access and turning left down the hall led to another door that was directly to the side of the gallery. No one has access back here except you and Abigail.  

Nik’s goons had their orders to sit out front at all times and it suddenly crossed your mind that they had most likely seen Steve enter the building, suddenly sending your nerves into overdrive. 

Your heels clicked across the marble flooring, spotting him with his back to you, studying one of the newest paintings in the far corner. You couldn't tell if he was genuinely interested in it or just biding his time until you met him. 

“Steve?” You asked, coming to stand beside him. 

He turned, hearing your soft voice, meeting you with that warm smile that tugged at your heart. 

“Interesting work.” Looking back to the painting. 

It was an abstract by a little-known artist that you had grown quite fond of. Two silhouettes seemingly tangled together with a kaleidoscope of colors and lines that bled together. Look too closely and you would lose track of where one ended and the other began.

“It is. The artist calls it, Entanglement of the Heart. Their interpretation of true love. You get so caught up in the other person you lose sight of yourself and find it in them. No end, no beginning.” Clasping your hands in front of you. “But I know you're not here for art.” 

“No. I'm not.” He chuckled, looking down and back up to you. Stepping further into your space as you scanned the room making sure no one noticed his close proximity. 

“Dove, are you okay?” He lowered his voice to a whisper despite no one else being around. He studied your profile, because you were afraid to meet his gaze. You could never lie to him, so you stayed silent. 

“That's a silly question. I know something's wrong. Dove, look at me.” When you don't immediately turn or respond, a soft “please” escapes him as his fingertips gingerly hook under your chin pulling your face up toward him.

You inhale deeply, closing your eyes before finally meeting his worried gaze with your own teary eyed one. 

“Honey,” he breathed out. “Please, tell me.” 

Nik's words once again coming to rest at the forefront of your mind had you suddenly taking a step back, blinking furiously at the tears that threatened to spill over as his hand fell back to his side. 

“You should go.” Suddenly pressing your palms to his chest before turning heel toward the back office but he wouldn’t give up that easily. 

“Dove, please.” Reaching out to grab your already bruised arm, halting your escape. The small wince you let out didn't go unnoticed, making him immediately drop his hold on you. 

“Steve, please just go.” You pleaded, suddenly aware that Abigail was watching you, eyes cutting sharply to her then back to Steve. “I have to get back to work.” 

This time he didn't stop you. Slipping his hands into the pockets of his trousers as his eyes lingered on your form before you disappeared into the back, sighing loudly letting his shoulders deflate a bit. 

He caught Abigail on the way out, purchasing the painting he had been admiring, something about it reminding him of you, before slipping back the way he had come avoiding anyone that could be watching.

Later that night, he sipped bourbon as he studied the painting, now hung above the fireplace in his newly renovated office. Eyes flitting this way and that. No matter how hard he tries he can't stop thinking of you. 

“Goddamnit!” Hissing to himself, before downing the rest of his bourbon, placing the empty glass back to the table with a loud thump. 

He now knew two things for certain. 

Nik was not going to cooperate. Much too self-centered to try to work their differences out and much too power hungry to ever give up any stake he had in the city. He wouldn't hear back from him which now led him to unfortunately go with his second set of plans. 

The second thing he knew is that he's still in love with you and wants nothing more than to get you away from the asshole you call your husband. 

He could see the way you looked at him, eyes full or adoration. When he spoke so fondly, letting small compliments and praises leave his lips, he didn't miss the way your cheeks would flush. He was sure you still felt something for him too, but he could also see your trepidation and unfortunately fear. 

The way you always looked over your shoulder when he was with you told him everything he needed to know. You were scared of Nik. 

After today, it crossed his mind that he had already fucked up, pushing you too much before this could properly start. 

He HAD to keep you out of harm's way, which also meant keeping you somewhat in the dark. If anything were to happen to you, he couldn't live with himself. There were already too many moving parts and variables to consider. 

He made his way over to his desk, picking up the phone and making the necessary but dreaded call. It only took a few rings for them to pick up. 

“It's a go. Let's proceed cautiously. I know you've got a lot riding on this as well.” 

Pausing to listen to the words coming from the other end before replying. 

“I know her well enough that she doesn't care about him. I'll do whatever it takes. We can start tomorrow.”

He ended the call, placing the phone back to its cradle, sighing deeply, telling himself it was the only way.

Big risks meant big rewards and he would stop at nothing to get you back and take Nikolai Petrov down. 

Taglist: @micheledawn1975

Want to be added? Just let me know!

[bytedykes]

[ID: SVSSS fanart of Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge. It's the scene from volume 1 where Liu Qingge is having a qi deviation. He's on the floor, face and clothes splattered with blood. Shen Qingqiu has a hand on his shoulder, and smiles as he says, "You're too hot- I mean too young to die. We should be friends now." Liu Qingge scowls at him, angry and confused, thinking "wtf" repeatedly and with question marks floating around his head. /end ID]

this is basically what happened i think

[callsign-mimic]

Nikolai gives the best, most bone crushing hugs.

The man is a big, Russian bear. Well padded, strong as fuck, and delightfully hairy too boot ❤️

Imagine the satisfaction of hearing (and feeling) your entire spine crack and pop the first time he wraps you in a tight bear hug. And the amused chuckle from him as you go limp in his arms, groaning in complete bliss.

He would be delighted that you would seek him out every time your back pain became unbearable, squeezing you tightly before laying you down and rubbing your sore muscles. His heart would soar when you feel safe enough with him to fall asleep under his touch.

And the feeling of waking up in his arms for the first time would be more than enough for you to never want to leave.

[cod-dump]

Price: Look, I know we're both still upset about Mexico, but we have to play nice with Shadow while they're on Farah's side.

Nik: Tsk. Fine.

Price: Thank you. Ah, Commander Graves.

Graves: Captain. Who's this?

Nik: I could pick you up and throw you four and a half meters easily.

Graves:

Price:

Nik: Six meters if you weren't in full kit.

Graves: re...really...?

Price: Nikolai. A word. NOW.

[toddtakefive]

one of my favorite things about dps is the completely irrelevant background conversations/comments you’re probably not meant to hear but are still just barely audible? like the two guys in the study room arguing over their turns on the dart board, or the guys laughing under their breath and making ridiculing remarks when knox reads out his poem for chris, or the people in the opening scenes you can hear finding their friends and saying hi. it literally doesn’t matter at all, but it makes it feel so much realer and like you’ve really just been dropped into the setting with todd on the first day.

[prjctdiva]

honestly the fact that so many people are coming out of the woodwork to mourn YOI after 7 years of nothing is further proof that MAPPA fumbled in ways I did not think were even possible

[mehh141]

NikPrice wip 👁️👄👁️

[wrylu]

silly fellas i drew this morning

oh how could i forget ghost?

[pfhwrittes]

wait wait did i tell you that nikolai is the HGV driver/tipper truck/digger operator for the tradieverse?

if you ask any of the lads what nik actually does you'll get some sort of vague answer because they aren't really sure (aside from price, who picks up his phone and tells nik the important stuff - what, where and when - and nik haggles over the "how much are you paying me, captain?")

i think i mentioned in the notes of my original post that when he's behind the wheel of the big wagons it's like he can teleport the rigs into the tightest of spaces, there will literally be millimetres of clearance and he'll just look at it and go "no problem. she'll fit.".

soap hitched a lift in the cab once and nearly had his eardrums blown out from the lung rattling bass from nik's sound system (he also stepped out looking slightly green because nik's approach to speed limits has always been to take them as more suggestions than actual laws).

[cherrycola27]

Other Uses

This was inspired by this ask for my 2k celly!

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI

...........................................

You remember the day you met Robert Floyd. You'd just come to California to help open a new branch of your law firm, and you were celebrating a job well done with some of your friends at a Navy bar one of them knew.

You'd immediately spotted him, a wallflower amongst his friend group. He was shy, quiet, and reserved. Just your type. Most people would think that someone like you, a cut throat lawyer who'd been compared to Hades more times than you cared to count, would be drawn to someone loud and in your face.

But just how Hades longed for a breath of spring in Persephone, you desired someone to complete you. Reel you in and bring you back to earth when you became too much.

And that's exactly what Robby did. You'll never forget the look on his face when you confirmed that you were, in fact, talking to him. You spent all night getting to know him. Two days later, he was taking you on a date.

You were now three months into your relationship, and Robby's birthday was approaching. You planned to take him out of town and get a nice hotel suite and hopefully cross that final line in your relationship.

You had suspected that Bob didn't have much experience in the bedroom. What you hadn't expected was for him to almost shamefully admit to you that he was a virgin after the two of you had been making out on your couch and he'd cum in his pants.

You took his face in your hands and told him that there was nothing to be ashamed of, and whenever he was ready, you would cross that line together.

These past two weeks, Bob had been getting bolder when he kissed you. Touching you, pulling your hair, trying to dominate the kiss. You knew that he was ready.

This weekend, the two of you would be alone, and Robby would be all yours, to kiss, to love, to corrupt, to enjoy.

You were giddy the whole drive to La Jolla. You sat in the passenger seat of Bob's truck singing along to a playlist you'd made just for the occasion.

You were beaming when you checked in the hotel, and you were practically bouncing up and down in the elevator and down the hallway to your room. As soon you slid the key into the lock, you were practically dragging your Bob into the room.

He quickly rolled in the luggage and took in the suite.

"Wow, Honeybee, this is amazing. There is only one problem." He said as he faced you.

"What? What's wrong?" You asked him, slightly panicked.

"There is only one bed. Where are we both going to sleep?" He asked you. You threw your head back and chuckled. "We are going to share. We are a couple." You reminded him.

"Right." He said as a blush crept across his cheeks. "Well, it does look pretty comfortable. We should be able to sleep pretty well on it." He says. You can't help but laugh at your clueless boyfriend.

"Oh, Robby, there are so many more things that we can use it for other than sleeping. How about I show you." You purred into his ear as you lead him further into the hotel room.

Bob swallowed thickly as you pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed. You kissed him a few times before stepping back and pulling your sundress over your head.

Bob's eyes went wide as you revealed a black lace bodysuit with some tasteful cutouts. He swallowed thickly as you sank to your knees in front of him. You made quick work of his belt, and when you tapped his hips, he lifted them so you could bring his jeans and boxers down in one fluid motion.

His cock sprang free and slapped against his abdomen. You licked your lips as you looked at it. He was long and thick and girthy, with pretty veins wrapping around it. The tip was flushed, the same shade of pink that spread across his cheeks.

"Has anyone ever given you a blow job, Robby?" You asked him as you peered up at him through your lashes.

"N—no." He stuttered out. A wicked smile spread across your red lips before you leaned forward and licked the vein that ran from the base to the tip.

And long groan left his lips as you did so. Determined to see what other sounds you could draw from him, you kitten licked the head, lapping up beads of precum before taking the tip between your lips.

You bobbed your head further down his length, swallowing around him once you reached the neat thatch of hair at his base.

His hips bucked involuntarily, causing you to gag. You moaned at the sensation, hoping he would do it again, but Bob was too polite. You grabbed one of his white knuckled hands and placed it on the back of your head. His fingers tangled in your hair, but he was still frozen as you pleasured him.

You pulled off of him completely and told him, "Robby, you can be a little rough with me. I want you to fuck my face. Okay?" He sucked in a breath and nodded.

You resumed your work, and soon, his hips were bucking into your mouth, and both of his hands tangled in your hair. Bob couldn't stop the cries of pleasure from leaving his mouth as you worked him faster and faster.

"Honeybee, I'm gonna—" but Bob didn't have time to finish his warning before he was shooting thick, hot ropes of his salty cum down your throat.

You swallowed and pulled off of him before sticking out your tongue and showing him that you'd taken all of his release. He looked at you mystified.

"Did you like that, Robby?" You asked him innocently.

"I fucking loved it, Honeybee." He growled as he pulled you into his lap. You moan. Bob rarely cursed, and hearing is pretty mouth say something filthy just did it for you. You quickly whipped his shirt off before he brought your lips together.

His hands roamed all over you body. Eagerly taking in the lace number you were wearing.

"Can I— can I taste you?" Bob asked. This time, you were the one caught off guard shaking your head.

Bob manhandled you on your back as you nestled against the pillows.

He took his time kissing down your body. Your gasps and moans and words of praise spurred him on. He spread your legs wide before settling between your thighs.

"Have you ever done this, Robby?" You ask him. "I tried with my last girlfriend, but I didn't know what I was doing, and she didn't like it." He admits sheepishly.

"It's okay, baby. I'll help you. I'll teach you to eat pussy like a king, but only for me." You smirk at him. He blushes, and you give him the go-ahead. He peppers a few kisses along your thighs before pulling the crotch of the bodysuit to the side.

He placed a few kisses along your glistening cunt before tentatively licking a broad swipe over your folds.

You let out a high-pitched whine. Bob looks up and checks for reassurances before continuing.

He licks your folds over and over before deciding to try something he saw in a porno. He uses his thumbs to open your folds before spitting directly on your clit and sucking it into his mouth.

"Fuck, Robby!" You cry as you arch off the bed. "Was that bad?" He asks you with a panicked look.

"No, fuck, do it again baby." You tell him. Bob smirks at you before repeating the action.

You card your fingers through his hair to help guide him, but soon, Bob has your legs shaking as he buries his face in your sopping cunt.

You're teetering on the edge of an orgasm, slightly afraid he won't get you there when Bob surprises you and sinks two of his thick fingers inside you and strokes your walls.

You can tell he's looking for your g-spot. Once he finds it. Like a good WSO, he zeros in on it and drags his calloused finger tips along it over and over again.

You grind your core against his face and grip his hair tighter before arching of the bed and crying out his name as you cum.

Bob emerges from your thighs with a dopey grin on his face.

"Where did you learn to do that?" You pant out.

"I watched some porn, and I may or may not have asked Phoenix for some pointers." He tells you. "Remind me to send her a fruit basket as a thank you." You chuckle as Bob slides up the bed to join you.

The two of you kisses for what seems like hours. "If you don't want to do anything else today, we can stop." You tell him. "I want to. I'm just—can you be on top? Please." He asks.

"Of course, Robby. Can you help me take this off?" You gesture to your bodysuit.

Bob nods eagrly as he tries to undo the laces of it. He fumbles with them as he hands shake with excitement before he accidentally rips the garment. A look of fear flashes across his face.

You laugh before telling him it's okay. He finishes ripping the entire thing off. You help him lay down on the bed before straddling his waist.

"Wait! Do we need protection?" Bob asks you.

"I'm clean, and I have an IUD. Are you comfortable without it?" You ask him. "Yes. Please. I want to feel you." Bob groans. You smile at him before rubbing your slick folds across the underside of his length.

He grips the sheets for dear life when you take his length into your hand before slowly sinking down on him. Even with his fingers helping to prep you, it's still a stretch. Bob is easily the biggest man you've ever been with.

Once you're fully seated on him, his hands come to your hips as both of you adjust.

You start our nice and slow with your pace. Gauging his reaction the whole time. Once you find a rhythm that has him a panting, mewling mess underneath you, you speed up and ride him with earnest. His grip on your hips tightens as you throw your head back.

"You look so pretty under me, Robby, like a fucking dream." You praise him. He's a sight to behold. A blush spreading from his chest to the tips of his ears, glasses slightly askew, his brow knit, his mouth open and pretty sounds falling from it.

"Honeybee, baby." He groans out. "Yes?" You ask him.

"Can I— can I be on top now? Please?" Bob grits out.

You both whine when you still your hips. Bob sits up but moves a little too fast, causing the two of you to topple over. You land on your back with a oof. Bob's forehead accidentally bangs into yours, and you both laugh.

"Sorry." He mumbles. You reassure him that it's fine. He gives you a kiss on the lips before leaning back on his haunches.

Bob makes a few experimental thrusts before settling on wrapping both of your legs around his slim hips and pushing into your deeply. You can tell his trying to find your g-spot again because he is desperate to make you cum again.

He knows the moment he finds it because you're clawing at his back. He drags the fat head of his cock against it over and over again.

With each stroke, it feels like the tip kisses your cervix with how deep he is. You frantically claw at him and cry out his name over and over again.

"Robby! So close. Please!" You beg him. The truth is Bob is close, too. He's trying to hold out for you. One of his hands leaves its spot beside your head and he brings his thumb to your neglected clit.

"Me too, Bee. You feel so fukcing good." He pants out.

He draws tight circles on it, praying it is enough to get you there. His thrusts become sloppy as he loses his pace and hips stutter.

Bob can't fight it anymore and he cums deep inside of you, crying out your name. Your walls clench around him as his release triggers your own finish. They flutter around his cock as the milk him dry.

Bob collapses on top of you and buries his head in the crook of your neck.

You run your hands through his hair and sooth him with whispered praises as he comes down from his high. He's trembling in your arms.

The two of you stay like that until Bob can form real words.

"That was amazing, Bee. God, I love you. Thank you for being patient with me." Bob says as he kisses your nose a lips.

"Of course, Robby. It was wonderful. I love you too. Now, why don't we get a hot shower, and then we can cuddle." You say. Bob's face falls and he looks a little disappointed.

"Oh." He whispers. "Robby. What's wrong?" You ask.

"I was just hoping we could do it again. There were a few more positions I wanted to try." He grins.

You laugh and smile at him. "Okay, birthday boy. But let's pace ourselves. We have all weekend." You tell him.

Bob grins and reaches for you. It's a good thing that you didn't make any other plans for the two of you because neither of you leaves that suite for the entire weekend.

I wrote this for my "Dagger Deities Extravaganza" shout out to @withahappyrefrain for sending in the ask for this! The like to all the other blurbs can be found here

Tagging some folks who might be interested: @thedroneranger @roosterscock @shanimallina87 @desert-fern @teacupsandtopgun @mayhemmanaged @lovinglyeternal @lovingbradshawafterdark @wkndwlff @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hecate-steps-on-me @cassiemitchell @na-ta-sh-aa @milestellerlover @katieshook02 @mak-32 @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @ohgodnotagainn @diorrfairy @eli2447 @xoxabs88xox @djs8891 @roosterbruiser @roosters-girl @sebsxphia @rosiahills22 @dempy @seresinsweetie @my-obsession-spn @eternalsams @callsign-magnolia @alchemxx @clancycucumber230 @lt-spork @multifandomlover4life @lewmagoo @bobfloydsbabe @bobfloydsbabe @ohtobeleah @rhettabbotts @bradshawsbaby

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Chapter 4 - Illicit Affairs

A Mafia!Steve Harrington AU (featuring Mafia!Eddie Munson)

Previous l Next

Masterlist

Summary: Tired of heartbreak and tiptoeing on eggshells, you intend to take matters into your own hands until new things come to light. A long overdue conversation of the past and hopes for the future once you let your guard down and show Steve where your loyalty lies.

18+ Minors DNI!

CW: Slow burn. Exes to lovers. Minimal use of Y/N. Reader is referred to as "Dove." Angst. Pining. Spousal abuse (mental and physical). Nefarious deeds and scheming. Smut-ish (you'll see).

WC: 8.8K

If Nik had come home the previous night, you hadn't heard. Your body and mind were so worn down with exhaustion, sleep pulled you under for its sweet embrace without any protest. It was the first time in weeks you had a full night's rest.

With the new day, came a renewed sense of hope.

Hope floundered momentarily as you stared at yourself, a shell of the woman you used to be all because of him.

It was unfortunately unusually warm, but your husband's brutal touch left you no alternative when you woke up to fresh bruises yet again, opting for a turtleneck to cover the ugly blemishes.

You couldn't let him win. He would not take away the one thing in your life that you yearned for, willing to have no matter what the cost.

A plan was carefully laid out in the recesses of your mind that you were about to set into motion.

Lunch arrangements were made with your father almost every Sunday. You could decompress and relax in your childhood home without worry or fear of being scrutinized for your every move.

“Daddy?” Your voice carried down the hall as you closed the door behind you.

“Hey kiddo!” Shouting back, rounding the corner, meeting you halfway to pull you in for a warm hug, kissing the top of your head as you melted into his chest.

“Thought we'd do lunch in the sunroom. It's too nice to be cooped up in a stuffy dining room.” Briefly letting you go to pull you into his side.

“Sounds nice. What're we having?” You beamed up at him as he led you to the table. He'd been getting more gray hairs in the past few months, most likely from stress and the pressures of the business, something the two of you rarely talked about. It weighed on him more heavily as he aged.

“They whipped up some Bolognese pasta with a nice Greek salad and of course, wine from your Nonna's vineyard.” His smile widened, knowing it was your favorite.

“Sounds amazing!” You kissed his cheek and took your seat across from him.

The food was brought out as you chatted about mundane things, such as how the gallery was doing. You told him how the wedding went, leaving out the rendezvous with Steve but letting him know that he and Nik did have a few unsavory words.

“That man is such an arrogant hothead.” Sighing as he sipped his wine, looking as annoyed as you were at the behavior. You took it as your chance to speak up.

“Daddy, I know we don't talk about business, at all, but Nik is ruining everything you've built. You're right, he is that arrogant hothead and does nothing unless it's for himself.” You pulled your lower lip between your teeth, carefully thinking of your next words watching as your fathers' eyes drift to the table, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

This was it. Sow the seeds of doubt. Let it sprout and spread. Maybe your father would finally see the kind of man Nik had become was not at all what was needed for business or for his daughter.

“I'm not happy. I haven't been happy for a long time.” You solemnly spoke, sighing and melting further into your chair as he reached across the table taking your hand in his.

“I know.” Your head shot up at his admittance. He quickly looked away, unable to meet your narrowed gaze.

“What do you mean you know?” Raising your voice slightly, pulling your hand away, brows furrowed with confusion.

“Your dear old dad isn't blind. I know you aren't happy. And I also know about his side gigs.” Letting a sigh escape him as his shoulders slumped.

Your confusion quickly bubbles into anger. Has he known all this time and turned a blind eye? For what? An alliance with a family that brought him a little more power, treating you like nothing but a pawn in the process.

When your father first brought up the prospect all those years ago, you were hesitant. A marriage to this family would secure his hold in Chicago for the foreseeable future but he assured you then that he wouldn't pressure you into a marriage with someone you didn't know.

When you met Nik for the first time, he immediately caught your attention. Confident, charming and handsome. Not at all what the rumors had suggested.

He swept you entirely off of your feet while impressing your father, agreeing to marry him after only six months of dating. It seemed like you were finally getting your fairytale ending, even if it was with the wrong prince.

He had completely fooled you both, conducting double dealings behind your father's back before the honeymoon phase had ended.

“You know?” Shaking your head, with disbelief. “And you've stood by and done nothing?” Practically shouting at him as you swiftly stood, almost knocking your chair over in the process.

“Y/N, it's complicated. If I knew then, I would have never asked you to get involved. I'm sorry.” He replied, suddenly slamming his fists down on the table, as the fine china and glasses rattled. “Goddamnit!”

His sudden outburst made you jump and flinch away from him. Your knee jerk reaction didn’t go unnoticed, as he quickly stood, rounding the table.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He spoke softly, coming to reach out with open arms but you quickly sidestepped him putting some distance between the two of you.

“I need to go. I can't be here right now.” Quickly shooting down the hall and back out the door as your father called out your name.

Your driver was leaned up against the car, straightening up and tossing the smoke he held between his fingers to the ground when he saw you rush out.

“Miss?” He asked when he saw the burning fury etched across your face.

“Take me home.”

He nodded, opening the door without another word.

Feeling utterly alone in this, that hopelessness began to edge its way back in. You took a deep breath as the car sped off, your phone continuously vibrating in your lap; “Dad” popping up each time, until you finally turned it off.

You couldn't ignore him forever but right now some distance would do you some good.

It was quiet when you arrived back home, but Nik’s car was outside.

You didn't bother looking around for him, heading straight up to your room. A million things going through your mind at once, so lost in thought you didn't notice the door to your bedroom sat ajar. You never left it open, typically locking it before leaving for the day.

You barged in, grimacing to yourself when you spotted him sitting on your bed, stopping you dead in your tracks. He lifted a bottle of whiskey to his lips, looking out the window.

He was more than disheveled, hair unkempt, shirt unbuttoned and his tie undone, hanging haphazardly around his neck.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Asking while maintaining your distance, eyeing him warily.

He finally turned his head, eyes glassy and bloodshot, taking another sip from the bottle. Some liquid dripped down his chin as he finished, brushing it away with the back of his hand. It was then you noticed his bloody and bruised knuckles. An instance wave of worry rushed over you.

“Have a good lunch?” Falling from his lips, a little slurred, in a mocking tone.

Ignoring his question, you quickly surveyed the room. It was in complete disarray, with clothes and other belongings strewn about laying on the floor and bed. He’d shattered the mirror above your vanity, a smear of blood across the spiderwebbed reflection.

“What the hell are you doing in here, Nik? We had an agreement.” You huffed out, his presence only worsening your already perturbed mood. You knew you shouldn’t aggravate him further, but it was too late.

He swiftly stood, although stumbling just a bit, righting himself with a deep chuckle, confirming he was indeed drunk.

“Agreement?” He snarled, lip curling as his eyes trailed down your body. “I think we both know that little agreement is done.” Swaying as he took a heavy step toward you, making you take a step back.

“Oh, kitten, come on now. You can't be that stupid?” Taking two more steps, as you followed suit, your back hitting the wall behind you. No where else to go, you watched, eyes going wide, as he eased forward.

His large frame towered over you, placing one hand on the wall caging you in and leaning down into your space as he spoke. His whiskey laced breath fanned over you, making you wince at the smell.

“You're not going to make me look like a fool and get away with it.” He spat, you closed your eyes, bracing yourself for anything. “You're my fucking wife. My fucking property.”

Sliding his hand down, grabbing your hip, pulling you sloppily into him leaving you no choice but to take hold of his shirt to steady yourself, opening your eyes in time to see his face lean in, his lips pressing forcefully into yours.

His tongue darted out, trying to prod your lips open but you kept your mouth clamped shut, pushing him back as you yelled “Get off of me, you fucking asshole!”

He stared at you for a moment, almost bewildered before taking another long swig on unsteady legs.

You breathed in a small sigh of relief, as he stalked away, but your reprieve was quickly dashed when he stopped short of the door, glaring back at you.

“Fucking whore!” He shouted, raising the whiskey bottle, drawing back, and throwing it with all the force he could muster directly toward you.

You screamed; ducking as it shattered above your head, the shards raining down, hitting your body and littering the floor.

“You deserve worse, you ungrateful bitch.” He laughed, walking out to leave you to deal with the aftermath.

Hurriedly, you rushed to the door slamming it shut, but it was only then you noticed the lock was broken.

It was as if Nik had been looking for something, tearing your room apart.

It dawned on you then. The dress. The closet was in shambles, much like your room. After looking around, rummaging through things on the floor you realized it wasn't there.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you walked back out into the room, looking at the destruction more closely, eyes suddenly homing in on the smoldering fireplace in the far corner.

You caught sight of a small piece of wine-colored fabric sitting within, the rest of what Nik had deemed such an offending piece of clothing had been reduced to mere ashes.

Collapsing in on yourself, your knees suddenly hit the floor.

That feeling of hope from this morning was fading fast, as you knelt there, tears spilling hot over your cheeks as your body began to tremble.

If you were going to make it out of this alive, you had to be smart.

You wiped your cheeks, with shaky fingers as you stood. No more feeling sorry for yourself. You were done crying and being told what to do. It was time to take matters into your own hands.

The rest of the evening was a blur. Between cleaning up the room, along with yourself you worked late into the night.

A chair was pushed up under the handle, bracing the door in case he tried to come back in but thankfully he had slept the rest of day leaving late that night.

Still on edge, sleep eluded you until the early hours of morning. It wasn't until the sunlight streaming through your shades that you woke, reaching for your phone, gasping as you jumped out of bed, you'd slept straight through your alarm.

You had numerous missed calls from Abigail, along with your father who was just as stubborn as you. He wouldn't give up, but the wounds were still too fresh for you to speak with him.

You typed out a quick text to him, hoping it would buy you a little more time before you had to deal with him. Then it was a call to a very relieved Abigail before getting ready.

Once you finally stepped into your office, after Abigail had given you the rundown for the day, you were met with a fresh bouquet of dark red roses atop your desk, much like the color of the dress he had gifted you.

“Those arrived first thing this morning.” She commented before excusing herself.

A note was nestled among the petals just like all the ones that had come before, except this time you were hesitant, leaving it there to jump into work instead.

The day flew by, playing catch up from the late morning, as the sun finally sits low, throwing its golden hues across the city announcing its departure and closing the day.

You lean back in your chair, stretching as Abigail throws you a quick goodbye. Tossing your glasses to the side, eyes now tired from overuse, the note finally caught your attention once more.

You plucked it from its place, tearing it open with a long exhale before flipping it over to read.

I'm sorry.

Always Yours, S.H.

He had nothing to apologize for.

The thought that he must have conveyed the worry and fear from being caught as a rejection passed through your mind, but nothing could be further from the truth.

You had to get in touch with him to make your intentions known.

It came to you suddenly; you keep a log of anyone who buys from the gallery. A list of clients for important events or the occasional reminders that go out for new exhibits.

You immediately opened your laptop and pulled up those important contacts, opening the “H” section with a few clicks.

“Bingo.” You whispered out. Abigail had taken his information the day he had bought the painting. Your hand reached for your cell, but you stopped. It could be monitored too easily.

You reached for the desk phone instead, dialing the number with ease and placing it to your ear.

The seconds ticked by as it seemed to ring for an eternity before you received his voicemail. You sighed, as the brief message played, alerting you that you had reached Mr. Steve Harrington’s personal cell followed by the beep.

“Steve, hi. It's Dove. I— I just wanted to thank you for the dress, it was beautiful. And the flowers, I just read your note. I— Well, I mean you have nothing to apologize for. It's all complicated but, I think you know that. I really don't want to say this all over a voicemail, just please know that I'm sorry and I hope to see you again soon.”

You blew out a heavy breath, as you cradled the phone, sitting back in your chair hoping it wasn't too late to let him know how you truly feel.

His answer came in the form of an email to your business inbox a few hours later. He left it vague, knowing you would decipher it easily.

Ms. Alexander,

I won't be back in town until the end of the week, at which point I would love to see what you have on hand so I can get a better idea on which direction I should take.

Until then, Best Regards, S.H.

You laid in bed reading over the words, feeling those wings of hope flutter in your chest once more.

It wasn't over yet.

Unbeknownst to you he had been out of town checking Pip into a very remote rehab facility. They kept her whereabouts secret, going as far as taking her phone away, remaining that way for the duration of her stay.

He was elated to hear your voicemail, sending an email to your office immediately. He didn't want to keep you in suspense since he wouldn't get the chance to see you in person until much later in the week.

He and Eddie had a few meetings to attend, more business to discuss with some colleagues in other cities to get all of his affairs in order. He was getting the numbers and allies behind him.

Once his plane touched down back in Chicago early Friday afternoon, much to Eddie's dismay and disapproving grumbles he had them heading to see you.

He was silent most of the ride, knee bouncing the entire time, stewing in his own thoughts until he just couldn't handle it anymore.

“Steve, may I be blunt?” He asked from his seat beside him.

“Of course.” He sat his phone in his lap, giving the other man his full attention.

“I know you love her, but she's married, to a Petrov, no less. I hope you know what you're doing.” He reached for a cigarette, extending the gold case toward Steve offering him one.

He didn't immediately answer, taking one of the hand rolled cigarettes between his fingers. Sliding it between his lips, as Eddie pulled out a matching gold lighter igniting the end for him.

He inhaled deeply, letting the nicotine fill his lungs. Throwing his head back to release it as he watches the smoke rise and waft around them.

“Ed, I always know what I'm doing. Don't sweat it.” It comes out as nonchalant, making Eddie raise an eyebrow toward him.

Eddie knew Steve was always thinking at least five steps ahead but when it came to matters of the heart things could sometimes get muddled. That’s when things could go awry.

“Care to tell the rest of the class or are you just going to keep me in the dark?” He inhaled his own cigarette.

“There's a lot of moving parts with this one. I'll tell you when you need to know. And right now, you don't need to know. There's more at stake than just her right now.” He sighed, looking out the window. “But I'll protect her at any and all costs.”

Eddie knew better than to prod any further. Steve would tell him when he was ready.

The driver slowed as he pulled up to the building.

“Understood boss. Just know that I'll have your back no matter what.” Clasping Steve on the shoulder before exiting the vehicle.

The driver opened Steve's door as he quickly got out.

Both men headed around back, per usual, to gain entrance to the building.

Steve spotted Abigail asking if you were available.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Harrington, she just stepped out for lunch, shall I take a message down for her?” She asked cheerily, grabbing her pad and pen.

“That won't be necessary, but do you happen to know where she went? I'm feeling quite famished myself, my flight just got in, maybe I'll see her in passing.” His smile lit up, no woman could ever truly resist that Harrington charm once he turned his attention solely to them.

“Of course, it's just down the road. Bistro Auclair. I'm not sure if she was meeting anyone or not.”

“Thank you, Ms. Shepherd. Have a lovely day.”

-

He walked the few blocks down the sidewalk, spotting you on the terrace as his heart fluttered. You were distracted by a book in your hands, as he strode up beside you. A little pinch of concentration was etched across your brow, which he thought was adorable.

He loved to see you in the ordinary, everyday routine of your life, longing to be there with you, enjoying the quiet company of one another. Seeing you now, he almost didn't want to disturb you.

“Ti sono mancato, little dove?” He spoke, unbuttoning his jacket before taking a seat at the table next to you. “I'd kiss your cheek, but eyes are always watching.” He flashes that million-dollar smile and sends you a wink.

“Always.” You reply, an answer to both his question and observation not entirely surprised to see him, taking a sip of your coffee. You mirrored his own cheeky grin behind your cup.

“So, from now on I think it's best if you want to have a chat, meet me at the gallery instead. My so-called guards are under strict orders to stay out.”

You glance around, brief worry flashing across your face. He's trying to be discreet, but if anyone happened to be spying it would be a little too obvious. He knows your tails are parked around the corner right now, not bothering to watch you. Eddie's stationed close by keeping an eye on them.

“As you wish.” He states, flagging down the waiter. “I heard your gallery is hosting a charity event tomorrow. How would one go about finding themselves on the guest list?”

“I suppose you would have to know someone.” You shrugged. “But, since you're a paying client, your name is already on the list. I'm sure Abigail sent you an invitation earlier this week.”

“Of course, I haven't been home to check.” His smile never wavered, as he sat up a little straighter. “I'll see you tomorrow then.”

You began to gather your things, leaving cash on the table for your bill as you stood.

“Those goons don't come in during events either. I make them hang in the back alley. You and Eddie can get in no problem. I'll have his name added too.” He nodded in understanding as you slipped past, his eyes trailing your curves as your hips swayed with each step that took you further away from him.

Soon. He thought to himself. It was just a matter of time.

The day of the charity gala brought its own stresses and challenges. Getting the gallery ready for events of this caliber was always a hassle but at the end of the day they were worth it.

Decorators, caterers and entertainment was brought in for the evening. All in a rush of madness, vying to get everything ready on time. The large space was filled with high top tables for guests to congregate and drink to their hearts desire all while bidding for some magnificent pieces.

One hundred percent of the profits for all of the art donated would go to charity. Something you were truly proud of.

Mood lighting in muted blues and purples was set around the space making sure that the art still remained in the spotlight. The lighting was set so it also provided a little seclusion and privacy in some corners of the room.

You directed everyone around until the very last minute. Abigail had to practically shove you away to make sure you were able to change, everything in your office already laid out.

The dress you had chosen was an elegant, but not over the top floor length, slip style silk gown with a thigh high slit. It fits your curves but not overly exaggerating them. You'd chosen black to stay on theme with the event. Thankfully the small remnants of those last bruises had faded.

You took the opportunity to make sure your makeup was just right, and every hair was in place.

As you walked out into the hall, chatter and soft music filled the air. Soon the gallery would be filled to the brim, exactly as you planned.

An hour quickly passed as you made your way around the large space, exchanging pleasantries with all the guests but you were distracted. Eyes drifting, continuously scanning the room looking for him the entire time.

Across the room, he had already made his entry, searching for you as well. He weaves his way through the outer edges of the crowd, always cautious and on high alert.

He spotted you first, your back turned speaking with an attendee he paid little attention to as his focus was solely on you.

Finishing up your conversation, you turned abruptly, as if you could feel his eyes. You caught those warm, honey hued irises looking right at you. You threw him a warm smile, nodding toward the far corner of the room, sitting your champagne down on a nearby table as you began walking.

You navigated the crowd easily, moving to a more desolate spot.

He met you there a moment later, wearing a simple and classy black tux and matching bowtie. It was then you noticed he held a single, dark red rose.

“For the beautiful host.” Extending it forward.

Your fingertips pinched the stem gingerly, as you took it from him with a shy smile, lifting it to your nose and breathing in the intoxicating aroma.

“I think we should go somewhere more private.” Sitting an electronic key card on the table to the side of you and continuing to slide past him. Being cautious to not linger too long out in the open like this. “Access to the balcony, down the corridor and to the far left. I'll meet you there in ten.”

It felt like your feet couldn't carry you fast enough. Your nerves were electrified, buzzing with anticipation as your heart rate ticked up, navigating through the crowd and finally reaching the empty corridor back to your office. You swung the door open and quickly slammed it behind you, letting out a heavy breath.

You could feel the change as if it were all around you. After tonight, there was no going back.

You reapplied your lipstick, looking over yourself once more. You weren't the same woman from eight years ago. Time and a million miles had separated you. You both had changed but you still saw that handsome boy, who wore his heart on his sleeve, hoping he still saw that foolish girl with eyes only for him.

Using the door from your office, you didn't realize he was already perched in the corner until he spoke, startling you just a bit.

“Beautiful view, tesoro.” Eyes cast toward the twinkling lights of the city instead of you. “Eddie's watching the hall. I can hear you worrying from here.”

You crossed the small space to come stand beside him, as you too looked toward the soft glow and twinkling lights, suddenly feeling his eyes lingering on you instead.

“I'm not worried about that. No one's going to come back here.” You sighed, suddenly feeling a light chill, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“But you are worried, no? Tell me, what's on your mind?” He knew you all too well.

You had a million things you wanted to say but suddenly you weren't sure where to start. Standing by him now it seems like none of it mattered, as the trepidation melted away.

“I can't live like this.” You finally spoke, voice wavering the tiniest bit, catching him a little off guard. For once he wasn't sure where you were going with this.

“Dove, just say the word and I'll stop everything. The flowers, dropping by. If it's too forward or making you uncomfortable. The situation isn't ideal but…” he cleared his throat, to bite back what he truly wanted to say. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

“No, it's not ideal.” You slowly looked over to him, his tough exterior melting away showing you the vulnerable man you loved underneath as he searched your face.

“I could never ask you to stop, but we aren't stupid kids anymore.” Your emotions were getting the better of you. Feelings welling up with nowhere else to go but out, as you were thrust back into a memory you had tried to bury.

“He's sending me away.” He spoke softly into your hair, placing a kiss there. Your head was laid on his bare chest as you let your fingertips trace patterns onto his torso.

It had been another night of you two tangled beneath his silk sheets forgetting the rest of the world for just a little while. You didn't want to think about family or what comes next, but he couldn't help himself in these moments.

Everything heavy on his mind was laid out before you in the small quiet of the night. It wasn't unusual. He trusted you. He loved you.

“When?” Your voice trembled. Afraid of the answer but it was better than the unknown.

“A couple of weeks. He doesn't want me to be in his way. He knows he's in the wrong. It's better to send the opposition away than try to see the old way doesn't always work.”

Steve had seen things changing, he brought new ideas and a fresh way of thinking that Richard didn't like, determined to do things his way.

“Steve, he can't do that. You're taking over for him eventually; can't he see how stupid that would be?” You were already mad. Knowing that Richard Harrington hates his own son enough to send him away from everything he knows.

“He can. He's sending me over there to head the small operation he has. Eddie's coming too.” As if some small comfort knowing he wouldn't be alone would make it any better.

He was leaving you. Who would be here for you?

You lay there knowing there was nothing either you or he could do.

A small tear you were holding back pushed past your lashes and hit his chest. He felt it but didn't say anything, only pulling you closer into his warmth.

“Dove, I won't be gone forever.” He held your chin, moving your face towards his. Your eyes were closed as his lips brushed yours as he spoke, “I promise.”

“You promised.” Whispering out, your gaze back out toward the city instead of him.

“What?” He asks, suddenly confused.

“You promised you wouldn't be gone forever and yet here we are. It feels like an entire lifetime has gone by.”

His mouth parted but words weren't enough. He didn't know what to say.

When he didn't say anything, you filled the silence, turning to face him.

“You were 22 Steve; you could have told him you were staying! You weren't a boy to be ordered around anymore!” Your shouts felt like knives slicing at his heart.

“Dove,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Gathering his strength for a fight he wasn't ready for. “What was I supposed to do, disobey my father? Turn my back on my family? You know better than anyone that wasn't possible.”

“Yeah, we both know family duty all too well.” Scoffing slightly. “Did you think I wouldn't notice you never responded to my wedding invitation? Not even a card or text.” Your eyes began to sting and well with tears.

“Little Dove,” he lifted your chin, pinched softly between his thumb and forefinger, leaving you no choice but to turn your focus back to him. “Do you know what that did to me? What it would have done to me to watch you marry someone else?”

“What about me Steve?” You moved out of his touch. “The entire time I was hoping you would burst through those doors and take me away from all of it. I never wanted any of this.”

“Goddamnit,” he hissed. Thinking back to when he had received that invitation. It was like a death sentence, yet this was a fate worse than death. He had to live the rest of his life knowing your heart belonged to someone else.

“Oh, Steeeeeeviieeeee!” Pip’s voice rang out, as she opened the door to his small office in the back of the villa. He didn't look up, only silently cursing himself for not locking the door.

“What the hell do you want?” He asked, already fearing an impending headache his little sister would undoubtedly bring forth with whatever antics she was about to start.

She tiptoed up to his desk, hands behind her back.

“Mail for you.” Promptly dropping an envelope addressed to him on top of the stack of papers he had been going through and plopping herself down in the chair across from him.

He glared at her as he picked it up. It was an off-white envelope with roses embossed along two of the corners. Taking his letter opener and cutting into it, he finally spoke back up.

“Do you mind? When the hell do you ever bring me my mail?” Sliding what was clearly some sort of invitation out.

“Oh no, I'm not going anywhere for this.” A grin lifted the edges of her lips as she looked back at him. “Mamma already opened ours, this one is all for you.”

He sighed, holding it up as he began to scan it over.

“David Alexander requests the honor of your presence for the marriage of Y/N Y/M/N Alexander and Nikolai Dmitri Petrov…” The rest of the words went fuzzy as he focused on your name. His stomach felt like it dropped, time seemed to slow as his heart began to beat radically in his chest.

“Get out.” He spoke, eyes never leaving the invitation.

“Oh Steve, you can't possibly think she was going to wait around on you forever. You should be happy fo—”

“I said get the fuck out, Pip!” He yelled, rising from his seat pointing toward the door, closing his fist around the paper.

She rolled her eyes, huffing as she got up and crossed the room, murmuring a quick “asshole” before slamming the door behind her.

He unclenched his fist, tossing it to the side.

“Fuck!” He hisses out, moving to the small liquor cabinet in the corner of the room pouring three fingers of bourbon and downing it in one gulp immediately pouring another.

This couldn't be happening. Not like this. He picked up his phone, dialing a number he knew by heart, but he stopped.

He hadn't lurked on social media in several months, but he was suddenly on autopilot, pulling up your Instagram with a few swipes and was immediately met with weeks of smiling, happy faces from you and Nik.

His face flushed hot as his heart beat wildly, scrolling through an endless stream of photos, pausing when he caught sight of the one that took his breath.

A close up of your left hand, a big diamond engagement ring adorned your ring finger. A blurry image of you kissing Nik in the background.

His nostrils flared, releasing the breath he was holding when he suddenly slammed his phone against the nearest wall. The glass of bourbon came next, shattering as shards flew across the room.

It was the first of many, lonely nights he locked himself away and drowned himself in liquor trying to forget all about you.

For three agonizing months he hid it as best he could, until it all came to a head the day of the wedding.

Eddie knew when to speak freely and when to keep his mouth shut. He'd watched his best friend's mental and physical health decline, hiding it well from his mother and Pip but it was getting worse. The business was taking a hit, and he knew Richard would be coming for Steve's ass if he didn't straighten himself up. He'd seen him work too hard to let this be the end.

Eddie tried knocking first, but was met with silence on the other end, then trying the handle but the door was locked.

“Steve, unlock the door. We need to talk.” There was a beat of silence before he spoke up.

“Go away, Eddie.” It came out low and muffled.

“I can't do that. Either you unlock the door or I'm busting it down. Your choice but I know if Sophia has to replace a broken door, she isn't going to be happy.” A few seconds ticked by before he finally heard shuffling and the door flew open.

Steve was disheveled and swaying just a bit as he lifted a bottle of bourbon to his lips, chugging a few large gulps.

His shirt was unbuttoned, tie abandoned on his desk and hair falling in and around his face. Eddie knew he'd been drinking most of the day. He finally made a gesture with his hand, bidding him to enter with glossy, half lidded eyes barely watching as he passed, shutting the door behind them.

“Look, man you have got to pull yourself together. It isn't the end of the world.” He began, as Steve crossed the room, plopping himself at the end of the sofa. “If your dad gets hears about any of this shit he—”

“You ever been in love, Eddie?” The interruption came as a surprise as the older man looked down at Steve, the two never talked about their feelings or such frivolous topics as love. They were close but left things of this nature close to their vest.

“Wha— I mean, I—”

“No, you haven't.” Steve finally looked up, crestfallen and broken.

“Steve, man—”

“No, don't come in here and presume to know anything about how I feel and tell me it's not the end of the world when my entire world is about to marry someone else.” He stood on unsteady legs, taking a few steps to close the distance between the two of them, pressing a finger into his chest.

He closed his eyes against the stinging sensation, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a deep breath, suddenly laughing out.

“Eddie, just fuck off tonight.” He took a step back, and stumbled, almost toppling over before the other man caught his arm.

“Woah there, big boy. Let's just…” He helped guide him back over to the sofa, prying the bottle from his hand as he sat down.

His breaking point came a few moments later. His phone alerted him to a new text. He immediately regretted opening the picture from Pip.

You were stunning, with a huge, beaming smile. You were positively glowing, and it made his stomach churn. Burning liquor threatened to make its escape back up.

He knew he'd made a huge mistake.

Steve broke down, laying his head in his hands letting his tears fall freely.

Eddie was taken back. In all the years they had known each other, he'd never seen him quite so vulnerable.

“It's all my fault. I should have never left.” Suddenly lifting his head, wiping those errant tears and sniffling. Eddie just stared on in disbelief letting him continue. “I did all of this shit thinking it was the right thing, for the both of us. I started pulling away instead of telling her the truth. Instead of going back to Chicago and bringing her back here, where she belongs. Now I've lost her.”

In Steve's mind, he had become much too wrapped up in the business. He had pulled away hoping you would find happiness with someone else that wasn't involved with the drama this life inevitably led to. He hoped for someone who could give you the normal life you longed for.

It's what you deserved. He wanted to give you that life but being here it seemed less and less possible with each passing day. He wasn't returning to Chicago anytime soon.

He had to let you go.

He never imagined you would marry into another family. It tore his heart into. He'd seen firsthand what it could do to a family. He had been trying to spare you from all of it, yet you had been sucked right in anyway.

“Steve, it may not feel like it, but you did the right thing.” Eddie tentatively laid a hand to the younger man's shoulder in a reassuring manner. “This line of work is hard enough. I can't imagine being tied down like that with one more piece to worry about. People like us aren't meant for happy endings.”

Steve simply nodded, sinking back further into the cushions. You'd both made your decisions. He wouldn't stand in your way. It was a decision, he feared, would haunt him for the rest of his life.

You shove past him, knocking him from the memory, heading back to your office but his hand wraps around your wrist, halting your movement.

“Dove, I swear to God if I had known it wasn't what you wanted, I would have been here. You have to believe me.”

You took a breath and slowly turned back toward him, unable to contain the tears from falling, as you let him guide you into his chest.

He tentatively rested his hand on your hip, a warm palm through the thin silk, sending goosebumps across your skin.

“I let you go so you could be free of all this so you could marry some finance guy and live a halfway normal life.” You huffed out a small laugh at the absurdity of it. As if there would have ever been anyone else but him.

His free palm came to rest on your cheek as you nuzzled into his touch, closing your eyes as the pad of his thumb wiped the tears from your eye. Craving and longing for something you'd never thought you'd feel again. You needed more.

“Steve, I would have waited a lifetime for you.” Words coming out breathy, knocking the wind from his lungs. A knife straight to the heart.

“Dove, look at me.” Those hazel pools filled with so much adoration looking back at you, also reflecting a pain that was palpable.

So much lost time and things left unsaid.

“Steve.” You grasp the back of his hand, lips meeting his palm planting a small kiss there.

“I need you to tell me what you want.” His face inches closer. Waiting for your words. He nudged his nose into yours, titling his head slightly as his top lip grazed yours sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“Kiss me, please.”

His lips envelop yours, a soft press turning eager with one taste. It was a tidal wave of relief, being pulled out to an endless sea, floating and falling all at once. It was familiar and warm, like finding your way back home after a long journey but the butterflies fluttered in your ribcage all the same.

He kissed you with a passion and fervor that was unmatched, as your lips began working in tandem, stealing your breath and making you weak in the knees.

The hold on your hip tightened as you gripped the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him further down into you.

He licked at your lower lip, yours parting for him. Tongues finally meeting in a slow rhythmic dance. You could taste a hint of the warm bourbon he had been sipping earlier but everything underneath was Steve.

His hand reached your lower back pressing you further into him, suddenly feeling an aching need growing in the pit of your stomach.

Reluctantly, you pulled back to finally catch your breath, you were both panting as your foreheads met, grinning down at each other wildly until his smile fell a little.

“I'm sorry. I'm so goddamn sorry I wasn't there. I thought it was what you wanted.”

“I've only ever wanted you. I need you, Steve. Please.” You gave him no time to respond, taking his hand into yours, and promptly dragging him back through the door.

You turned to shut it and he was instantly behind you. His hands wound around your waist, pulling you back into his chest as his lips ghosted the shell of your ear as he spoke.

“I want nothing more than to have my way with you. Let me worship you.”

Goosebumps erupted across your skin, his words sending a shiver down your spine as you faced him.

“We don't have that kind of time, but I need you. I haven't—” You shied away from the confession you were about to vocalize, as he began kissing down your jaw.

“You haven't what?” He asks in-between kisses.

“I haven't been with anyone for a long time.” He paused, pulling back to look at you, eyes narrowed and brows meeting with confusion. “Nik and I— we haven't been intimate in years. He— he would rather fuck the whores at his club. We just stopped after a while. I didn't want him touching me anymore.”

Your confession both elated and enraged him. He knew Nik was an idiot, but to ignore you for some common whores? This beautiful, amazing woman he had no idea how to handle or take care of. It all suddenly made sense why you two never had children.

“Tesoro mio, that has nothing to do with you. He's an idiot. He doesn't deserve you.” His lips find yours once more, this time less urgent, moving languidly as his nose presses into your cheek, as pulling you further into him.

He began to walk you back, your thighs hitting your desk making you break free for a moment, frantically shoving papers out of the way as they cascaded to the floor. Something you would worry about later.

He wound his arm around you, helping to lift you up, parting your thighs as far as the restrictive fabric of your dress would allow as he came to slot himself between them. His eyes never left yours, leaning down to capture your soft, supple lips once more before he began trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

Your hands reached for his belt buckle, but he stopped you with a tsk, stilling your movements.

“Uh, uh tesoro. Let me get you ready. This is all about you right now.”

His hands trailed lower, reaching the hem of your dress, pushing it further up your thighs until your red panties came into view.

“Mmmm… my favorite color.” He growls, his fingertips trace the top of your thigh softly, bringing his other hand to the desktop beside you, palm planted firmly against the cool wood, leaning close to your ear.

“I know you taste just as sweet as I remember.” His words make you bite down against your lower lip, your body rife with anticipation, his lips peppering softly along your cheek meeting yours once more.

His fingertips trail lower, to the inside of your thigh, you gasp out releasing a breathy moan that his lips and mouth swallow. He would gladly drown in those sounds, letting you pull him under.

You further part your thighs, the damp silk of your panties were sticky, clinging to you. If you weren't so needy, you'd feel slightly embarrassed at how soaked you already were.

His finger inches closer, grazing that crease where your panties lay.

Your hips suddenly jolt forward when he presses into the wet fabric, immediately finding your puffy, aching clit applying just the right amount of pressure.

You moan obscenely at the miniscule amount of relief it provides, not finding it in yourself to care who could hear as he hooks his finger into the fabric, and ever so slowly begins to pull it to the side revealing your glistening pussy. You needed him to touch you.

“All this for me?” He hisses, looking down admiring the sight before him, ready to dip his finger into the sweet nectar. His cock already hard, stirring within its confines, aching at the thought of your warmth wrapped snugly around him.

Suddenly, a loud knock came at the door, pulling you both out of your lust fueled haze, as he quickly withdrew his hand helping you pull your dress back into place. Your heart was hammering in your chest.

“Uh… Steve?” Eddie's voice came muffled through the door.

“Fuck!” He hissed through gritted teeth. Resting his forehead to yours.

Eddie cleared his throat. “Sorry to… uh… interrupt but we've got some business to take care of.”

“Just give me a sec.” He grunted, cupping your cheeks gently, bringing his lips to your forehead placing a soft kiss there.

“I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.”

“It's okay Steve. It's okay.” You smile, pulling back slightly. You knew what kind of things could draw him away. You'd seen it countless times with your father.

“I should get back out there before someone starts looking for me anyway.” Saying with a slight shrug, as he helped you down slowly from the desk, holding you close to his body.

Neither of you are quite yet ready to say goodbye, helping him straighten his suit and tie.

“I'll be in touch soon, I promise.” Wrapping his arms around you, as yours found their way around his neck, holding each other tightly as if it might be the last.

You weren't sure what to say, or if anything needed to be said so you stayed silent letting the stillness of the moment take over.

“I've got to go.” He reluctantly spoke, releasing his grip, only for his hand to find its way back to your cheek tilting your head gently for one more kiss. It was quick, because if he stayed any longer, he wouldn't be able to pry himself away. You both longed for so much more.

He let you go, taking a few steps to the door before he walked out of view.

You sighed, leaning back on the desk, head cloudy with thoughts of Steve. Giving him a head start, straightening your makeup and hair before heading back to the event.

Thoughts lingered on him the rest of the evening; a smile was plastered across your face as your cheeks began to ache later into the night. You were glowing after your interaction and wanted to hold onto this blissful high for as long as possible.

As the night came to an end, you were left with the cleanup crew once you had sent Abigail home. Typically, there was no reason to stay behind with them, but you were trying to avoid the inevitability of going back home.

You eventually retired to your office for a brief moment of peace before calling your driver.

Immediately you notice a small black box sitting on the top of your desk, as you shut the door behind you.

Quickly shuffling over, the fear that spiked your heart rate was swiftly dampened down when you spotted the key card you had snuck Steve earlier sitting beside it. You hadn't thought to retrieve it when you were interrupted, though you wouldn't care if he had kept it.

A small note was carefully laid out across the top. The first handwritten note he'd sent you in a long time, but you still recognized his articulate scrawl, as if every letter had been written with intent and purpose. You suppose it had.

For emergencies, or really anything. I don't like it when we can't keep in touch.

S.H.

A phone. A burner, you surmised, in the event you were caught with it no one could trace it back to him.

You held it in your palm, pulling up the contacts to a number that wasn't labeled.

You typed up a quick message and hit send. His response was almost instantaneous, as if he'd been waiting for it.

Sent 12:04 AM: Thank you.

921-987-5555 12:04 AM: You don't have to keep it on you. Just be careful if you do.

Sent 12:05 AM: Of course.

921-987-5555 12:04 AM: Have a good night, Dove. We'll chat soon.

Not soon enough. You thought to yourself, deleting the conversation before putting the phone away in the drawer and locking it. Better safe than sorry.

It was a silent ride home with a mind full of racing thoughts.

His lips, slow and passionate. Making sure you would never forget how he tastes.

His touch, yearning and possessive, sending your skin aflame; molding your pliable flesh to him.

When you were together, it didn't matter how much time had passed. There was only him. There would only ever be Steve.

You didn't bother trying to stay quiet as you entered the house, uncaring if Nik was already here. Things beyond your control were already in motion. You felt and air of change as you crossed the threshold.

Your heels clicked across the white marble flooring, as you reached out to take hold of the banister, but a guff voice drifting from the study suddenly made your blood turn cold.

You only knew him by his nickname that Nik and other Russian mob men call him, “Boogeyman.” His true identity was a secret, but Nik had called him in on occasion for unsavory propositions before.

In layman's terms, he was a hired hitman. One of the most ruthless hailing from Russia. Everyone knew of him and what he was capable of.

Stopping momentarily, you caught a bit of their conversation.

“Yes, of course old friend. This is just a precaution. Nothing set in stone, yet, as long as he stays out of my way there shouldn't be an issue.”

“No matter, young Petrov. I’ll be ready.”

They both laughed out, as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat, hurrying up the stairs without a glance back.

Suddenly a whole new set of worries began to bubble up inside you as you found the safe haven of your room, thanking God for the newly installed lock.

The night full of promise and happiness was quickly turning into a nightmare. This was becoming far too much.

This journey wasn't going to be an easy one, it seemed at every turn there would be a new obstacle destined to cruelly keep you from the man you love.

This wasn't the end.

It was now up to you to move forward.

Taglist: @teen--marvel @micheledawn1975 @thecreelhouse @girlwiththerubyslippers @bunnyhargrove @taccobelle @madaboutjoe

Want to be added? Just let me know! ❤️

[bytedykes]

[ID: Scum Villain fanart of Zhuzhi-lang in his original form. He's on the ground, tail bunched up behind him, lifting his torso slightly to look forward. The drawing has been done with digital brushes that mimic ink. /end ID]

i cant think of a caption uhh i love zhuzhi-lang. put that in my epitaph

[gilliontidestriderchampionoftheu]

thinks about "even if it was all inevitable, i'm glad we were written into the same story." thinks about "its release, in time, an inevitability." thinks about "i just like a good story."

[cod-dump]

Preteen!Ghost: Where the hell is Dad? I haven’t seen him all day!

Nik: Sorry, I got hungry

Preteen!Ghost: … what?

Nik: I’ll get you a new one *leaves the room*

Preteen!Ghost: NIK?!

(Ten minutes later)

Preteen!Ghost: I THINK NIK ATE DAD

Preteen!Gaz: *looks up from his book*

Preteen!Gaz: What-?

Preteen!Ghost, crying: HE ATE HIM

(Three hours later)

Price, walking through the front door: I’m home-

Preteen!Ghost & Preteen!Gaz: *run through the house and tackle him in a hug while crying*

Price holding them: Whoa- what’s wrong?!

Nik, cautiously from the hall: I’m so sorry

Price as the boys start screaming: WHAT DID YOU DO??

[prjctdiva]

fuck my life I forgot to change out of my fall guys glam before the unskipable ARR cutscene -_-

[princess-of-purple-prose]

Fish, 7 (For your prompts! ❤️)

Hi, anon!! Thank you for the prompt, you were the very first one to send one in! 7 was, again, the wildcard, so I randomly generated a different number to land on Yue Qingyuan (from Scum Villain)! I have no choice but to dedicate this to @bytedykes, because I told her about this prompt and she said “yqy pet fish mental health speedrun” and we went, uh, a little insane about it. Enjoy some yuefang, folks!!!!

“Mu-xiong,” Yue Qingyuan says. “I’m sorry to bother you. Are you available?”

“Yue-xiong is never a bother,” Mu Qingfang says warmly. “And I am, actually, yes. Is everything okay, Yue-xiong?”

“I think I need help.” A bit dramatic, perhaps, and Yue Qingyuan hates to trouble Mu Qingfang on a rare day off, but Yue Qingyuan and impulse have never been the best combination, and he would appreciate a second opinion.

Mu Qingfang’s voice turns hard. “Where are you? I'll come right away.”

“What—?” Yue Qingyuan stares at his phone like the blank call screen will tell him why Mu Qingfang suddenly sounds so serious. “I'm at home, but—”

“I'll be right there,” Mu Qingfang says, and hangs up.

Yue Qingyuan stares at his phone for another second, then lifts his gaze to his sparkling new aquarium. His new betta, white and black and resplendent of fin, stares back. Was his crisis of faith about his viability as a fish owner really so deserving of such urgency…?

—

“So,” Mu Qingfang says. “This was your emergency?” He looks about as unimpressed by the betta as it does by the two of them.

Yue Qingyuan feels obscurely like he’s being scolded. Mu Qingfang is one of the nicest men he knows, but that just means that his censure takes the form of a blunt instrument of mass disappointment.

“In my defense,” he points out meekly, “I didn’t say there was an emergency. Mu-xiong just assumed.”

“That’ll teach me,” Mu Qingfang huffs, but at least he looks amused. “Yue-xiong should get used to asking for help more so this gege doesn’t have to panic every time he does ask.”

Yue Qingyuan’s mouth almost drops open. He can only hope his cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. “Er—well, I asked this time, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Mu Qingfang allows, looking something horribly close to fond. Yue Qingyuan swallows and tries to hurry on.

“So—not an emergency, but I do want your opinion,” he coughs out. “I’m having… doubts. About the fish.” Mu Qingfang’s eyebrows contract. Yue Qingyuan rushes it out. “Do you think I should keep it?”

“Yue-xiong…” Mu Qingfang looks politely incredulous. “Why does my opinion matter? The fish is already yours, isn’t it? If you don’t think maintaining its upkeep will be feasible, that’s one thing, but… Surely Yue-xiong did the research before getting it?”

He doesn’t sound judgemental, but Yue Qingyuan feels his cheeks warm. “I did, but I wasn’t planning on getting a fish; I was only admiring the tanks. There was a salesperson who was… very insistent.”

Mu Qingfang regards him doubtfully, which is fair. Yue Qingyuan towers over most people he meets, and his bulk only further adds to the impression of immovability. It’s only when he opens his mouth that it becomes clear how spineless he actually is.

Yue Qingyuan falters. “I had thought… I thought it might be nice.” The bettas had seemed so majestic in their tanks, iridiscent monarchs of false grass and plastic coves, and Yue Qingyuan had thought, wildly, that one might be rewarding to keep, might breathe a touch of life into his immaculately sleek living room. The whole affair hadn’t even been expensive by his shiny new standards, forget difficult to physically arrange. It was only when installation and set-up for his new aquarium had finished and he was left to watch that jewel-bright being swim disaffectedly through its new home that doubt had seized him, all-consuming and black. He had, admittedly, panicked a little after that.

(Yue Qingyuan’s apartment is very large, and very clean, and very empty. It holds the barest amount of decoration and muss to qualify as lived-in rather than a snapshot from a magazine ad. The fish may, in fact, be the only thing in the entire place which really qualifies as his. No wonder Yue Qingyuan wanted to jettison it from his life as soon as he got it.)

Mu Qingfang’s expression hovers between concern and simple confusion. “I’m sure Yue-xiong will be a more than adequate caretaker,” he says, more gently than Yue Qingyuan and all his neuroses probably deserve. “What’s this really about, Yue-xiong?”

Ah. There it is. Being the mildest person of Yue Qingyuan’s admittedly sharp-tongued social circle doesn’t preclude Mu Qingfang’s wit from being as keen as the scalpels he works with.

“I don’t…” Yue Qingyuan falters. How to express to Mu Qingfang how manifestly unfit Yue Qingyuan is to care for any living creature at all? He changes tack. “I think he hates me,” he admits dolefully.

Mu Qingfang stares at him for a long time, long enough to imply that he’s reevaluating certain opinions about Yue Qingyuan’s intelligence. “Yue-xiong, with all due respect to your new pet—it’s a fish.”

“Fish have emotions!” Yue Qingyuan argues. He flushes at the volume at which it comes out, and at the way Mu Qingfang’s eyes go wide-eyed in startlement. But the salesperson had been very insistent about that, as well. “Bettas are intelligent animals. They dislike certain colors, apparently, and they’re very sensitive—ah, to environmental disruptions, that is. And—”

Mu Qingfang’s eyebrows are still high, but his face has relaxed into a smile. “It sounds to me like you like it quite a bit already. Isn’t that reason enough to keep it?” His tone curls with sudden mischief. “Have heart, Yue-xiong—you’ve hardly known each other for a day! Give it time to adjust to you, and I’m sure you’ll win it over as surely as you do everyone else.” And he grins, sure and easy in his trust that Yue Qingyuan won’t fumble and shatter something so small and monumental as a life that he could cup in his palms.

While Yue Qingyuan is still dazed by that, Mu Qingfang’s eyes alight with interest. “Ah, Yue-xiong—what have you named it?”

“...”

Mu Qingfang’s face falls as devastatingly as it had lit up. “Yue-xiong…”

“Mu-xiong is aware that I was unsure of whether or not I’d keep him!” Yue Qingyuan is terribly aware that his ears are now heating up to match his cheeks. Mu Qingfang’s ensuing laughter does not help with that matter.

Yue Qingyuan is not very good at holding onto things. More often than not, he makes a mess of whatever he’s set his clumsy hands to, lets it fall right through his scarred fingers. But Mu Qingfang’s words ring through his head: Isn’t that reason enough to keep it? And, well, isn’t it? Surely Yue Qingyuan is adult enough to follow through on this. Maybe happiness can be look like his new betta swimming up to the tank to observe the new colorful form moving in front of it, can come as easy as Mu Qingfang quipping that his knowledge about fish is clearly lacking and vowing casually to read up on bettas to be a better fish uncle.

Yue Qingyuan buries a smile and walks over to let Mu Qingfang know that bettas can be trained to follow fingers around. The betta’s clear preference for Mu Qingfang over Yue Qingyuan is as good a marker of intelligence as any fun fact the pet shop worker could have given him. Yes, Yue Qingyuan thinks with a smile—he thinks he’ll be keeping this after all.