#[ king of hearts ]

[mojo-chojoo]

gricko is immune to pretty men apparently (no this is totally not because i think the dude he keeps referring to could be his ex or a one night stand situation noooooo)

[mrbopst]

King of Hearts: Jean-Michel Basquiat

[inbarfink]

[havocmadden]

disney descendants: the rise of red (2024)

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Chapter 5 - Clandestine Meetings

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

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Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Every interaction has finally led you to this moment, straight into the arms of the man you love.

18+ Only! Minors DNI! (Smut and Mature themes)

CW: Minimal use of Y/N. Reader is referred to as "Dove." Infidelity (reader is married). Dirty talk. Smut! Oral (Female receiving). Fingering. Big Dick!Steve. Protected P in V. Hint of a breeding kink (for both reader and Steve).

WC: 8.4K

The hours ticked by at an agonizingly slow pace while sitting in your room waiting for the first trace of light to filter through the curtains so you could sneak back out. You sat alternating between chewing your nails and ringing your hands.

Your only consuming thought was getting back to the office to gain access to your phone and warn Steve.

At least waiting for morning didn't make it quite as suspicious. It would be under the guise that you needed to make sure the space was properly cleaned and organized for business as usual come Monday.

It wasn't unusual. Nik knew you were meticulous, if not a little OCD regarding the gallery. He wouldn't bat an eye your way. At least you hoped so, after what you had overheard on your way in, you had to be extra vigilant.

When those first beams of light finally trickled in, you were off, not bothering to alert your driver or anyone else in the house, grabbing the keys to your cherry red convertible that Nik had purchased for you when you'd returned from your honeymoon.

It was one present you were now thankful for, the only vehicle in the house you had exclusive access to.

You quickly went to the garage and got behind the wheel, starting the engine and initiating the automatic garage door.

Nik watched you from his second-floor window with disdain and contempt, immediately phoning one of his many goons to make sure they followed you. Lucky for you they would have nothing useful to report back to him today.

You raced across town feeling as though you were against some sort of impending countdown.

It was early but you hoped Steve was already up as you sent your text.

6:20 AM: Please call me.

Simple. Effective. The phone rang within 30 seconds.

“What's wrong?” He asked before you had the chance to speak, sounding a little winded. “I'll be there in 10 minutes.”

“No, no. Steve. I'm fine.” You assured him, an audible sigh of relief was heard on the other end of the line. “It's you I'm worried about. When I came home last night, Nik was speaking with the boogeyman. Have you heard of him?”

There was a pause, his mind silently letting it register who you were referring to while choosing his next words carefully to not alarm you in any sort of way.

“I have. What did you hear?”

“Nik said he wanted to have him on standby. It doesn't sound like he's planning anything right away, but it's Nik. Any little thing could set him off.” You felt yourself getting worked up as you took a ragged breath. “Steve, I— I can't—”

“Dove, listen to my voice. Take a deep breath for me, tesoro. It's just you and me right now.”

You focused solely on his calm demeanor, yet commanding tone as you inhaled and then let out a deep exhale like he asked.

“Better?” He questioned.

“Better.” You parroted, a small smile finally gracing your features.

“Good, now let's avoid trying to give me a heart attack first thing in the morning, yeah?” You could hear the relief in his voice as he spoke. He was ready to leave the house at a moment's notice for you. He'd been prepared for all kinds of scenarios, hoping for best but always prepared for the worst.

“I can't promise, but I'll try to save the dramatics for a more reasonable hour.” You laughed, as the rest of your trepidation further slipped away. He had a way of doing that. Making you feel completely calm and safe.

“I'll come by tomorrow, if that's alright.” He took a seat at his desk and leaned back in his plush leather chair with another sigh.

“Of course, but I'm fine. Truly. I just needed to let you know.” I needed to hear your voice.

“I know, Dove. I just want to come by to see my girl.” The words came out so easily, he didn't even notice when they slipped out. In his mind, you were always his.

“Your girl, huh?” You grinned to yourself.

“Always, tesoro mio. Stay safe and say hello to your father for me.”

“My father?”

“It's Sunday, no? That was always a tradition in your house. Don't tell me you don't do that anymore.” Something Steve had always longed for. A family that actually cared enough for one another to have dinner once a week. He craved that kind of closeness with his own family some day.

“Of course, it's just— nothing, it doesn't matter. I'll see you tomorrow, amore mio.”

Amore mio. Your parting words had him over the moon. You were still his, in every way. He had a few more surprises for you in the days to come and he couldn't wait to share them with you.

He suddenly felt like a teenager again. Sneaking around so his father wouldn't find you together, except this time the stakes were much higher. He knew the dangers, but you were more than worth it.

-

The truth you didn't want to tell Steve was that you hadn't made lunch plans with your father. Not since the day he shed light on everything that he knew.

You had been keeping him at an arm's length. Texting him instead of calling him. Avoiding any face-to-face interactions if at all possible. It wouldn't last forever but right now it's what you needed.

He respected your decision, but he was hurting too. His only child going from devoted daughter to almost completely ignoring him gave him immediate whiplash, but deep down he knew he deserved it. After that day, he vowed to make everything right.

He was prepared to follow through, whatever the cost. He wasn't about to lose the only light he had left in his miserable life.

The day was open to possibilities, rarely staying at home anymore unless some sort of “wifely” duty was called for, but even that was becoming less frequent. You suspected Nik wanted nothing to do with you at this point.

It did worry you, but at the same time there was a huge sense of relief.

It was a beautiful, sunshine filled day. A walk around the park to clear your head and get some fresh air was high on the agenda.

You found an empty park bench close to the playground to read for a while.

The breeze was warm, spring would soon usher in summer, as children laughed and carried on around you. The book you tried to read, long forgotten sitting closed beside you.

You let yourself imagine for a moment what it would be like to be nothing more than a woman sitting at a bench who was free to do as she pleased, not chained to a life she was born into but one that was all her own.

Given the chance, you could walk away but the man you loved could never have that luxury. Deep down you know that he would have tried to make your life as normal as possible because it's what you had always wanted.

A simple dream of being a wife and someday a mother almost seemed too out of reach but when you looked at him you could still picture it all perfectly. You were both like minded, sharing the same dreams and goals. It has always been that way.

A child screamed in the distance, knocking you from your daydream. It was getting late in the afternoon as you packed your things and headed back home for the day.

You'd been expecting him all morning.

“Excuse me, miss?” He asked toward you and your assistant, Abigail turned as you bit your lip, hiding the smile that threatened to give you away all too easily.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Harrington. How can…” Your assistant began, but you quickly cut it, relieved to see him again.

“That's okay, Abigail. I'll see this gentleman.” She nodded and quickly dashed away.

He had turned back to a sculpture that had just made it to the floor, hands clasped behind his back seemingly studying it as you walked up standing beside him.

“Quite exquisite, no?” You asked.

“It's well, it's…” he tilts his head, eyes roving down and back up your body instead. “I would say breathtaking.”

“Is that so, Mr. Harrington?” You finally meet his gaze, soft hazel eyes focused solely on you as he studies your face.

You didn't want to break the trance, but it was beginning to feel suffocating being in this close proximity to him.

You swallowed thickly before looking away from him, cheeks flushing pink. You'd hope he hadn't noticed.

“So, does anything catch your eye?” Simply referring to the art.

“Absolutely. But what I want is sadly unavailable.” He whispered; you hadn't noticed when he'd inched closer; his woodsy scented cologne suddenly surrounding you.

You met his eyes, as he tucked his bottom lip briefly between his teeth drawing your attention back to his pouty lips.

“I would love nothing more than to take her home. Show her all the ways I've missed her, wishing I could take it all back.” Your body felt like it was being pulled toward him, as his eyes drifted to your lips.

“Steve, I—” It came out almost pained, as you released a breath you'd been holding.

“I told you once if this is too much, I'll stop. Just tell me what YOU need.”

Need. Not want. As if he already knew.

“I need room to breathe. I need the love and affection I so desperately crave. I need freedom.” Your eyes checked the room before stepping closer and whispering to him. “And most of all, I need you.”

“I'm working on that.” He replied, a small twinkle in his eye. He was up to something.

“I trust you are, but right now, Mr. Harrington, I need to get back to work.”

“Of course, I'll leave you to it.” He reached for you, fingertips grazing lightly across your skin before pulling your hand up tenderly to his lips placing a small kiss to the back of your hand; squeezing lightly before letting it rest back at your side.

The moment his lips touched your skin your mind went blank. You stare at him unblinking for a moment more before he smiles.

“Arrivederci, my dove.” He turned, leaving you to trail after him.

Steve would stop at nothing to keep you safe and make you his once more. He was ready to play the long game and he knew he'd win; family or husbands be damned. He knows who your heart truly belongs to just as he knows his has always belonged to you.

You had a habit of leaving your burner out in the afternoon while you finished working.

Sometimes he would text or call, knowing you were still at the office. You checked it after taking a small break.

921-987-5555 5:38PM: Tesoro, I left a few things unsaid this afternoon. Are you free to talk?

Sent 6:09 PM: Of course.

The phone began to buzz a few moments later.

“Mr. Harrington?” You asked.

“Ms. Alexander, it would be a pleasure to have you accompany me for dinner tomorrow evening.” He stated.

“Ste—” releasing a heavy sigh, as he interrupted.

“Ah, ah I know what you're going to say, but just listen. I have a place just around the corner from your gallery. It'll just be you and I, away from prying eyes.” Pausing a moment to light a cigarette between his lips letting what he had just said sink in for a moment. The two of you. Alone.

“What do you say? I'll show you those cooking skills and make us a nice dinner.” Taking a large drag, giving you the moment to speak.

“I— I'll think about it. It's—”

“Hey, don't worry about those goons or the goddamn Boogeyman. You deserve a night without worries. I want to give you that at least. Just think about it. Please?” He chimed in, as your mind began to drift with the possibilities.

“Okay.” You replied softly. “I'll think about it.”

“Good girl.” He purred, leaning back in his chair, propping his feet up on his desk. If his father could see him now, he'd likely kill him. “Take the night, Dove. Think it over.”

And you had been thinking it over. The last four hours lying in bed staring at the ceiling. It all felt like a fever dream. It was happening so fast yet taking its time.

You began to relive that moment from the gala over and over, always wishing and hoping for more. This was your chance.

You suddenly began aching with need at the thought of finally being alone with him, imagining his large hands roaming your body. His lips trailing soft kisses. His mouth, exploring and tasting you.

Your fingertips slipped past the waistband of your satin sleep shorts until they swirled along your clit, dipping further to your entrance as images of the two of you tangled together danced behind your eyelids. It didn't take very long for your orgasm to build at the thought of him filling you completely, remembering vividly what his cock looked and felt like.

He was bigger than anyone you'd been with since, not only long but thick with a prominent vein that ran down the underside almost from base to tip. You could picture the way he stretched you open with just his head, working you down his length little by little while whispering sweet praises in your ear.

“Steve.” You whispered out, breathy and high, working yourself as your fingers tried to reach that sweet spongy spot inside you. Your clit was throbbing, your cunt tightening around your fingers as you came harder than you had in a long time, picturing him telling you what a good job you'd done.

You slept easy that night.

It was never a choice. Your mind has been made up since the first time you had laid eyes on him again. It was time to take a leap.

Once you'd reached the office, you sent him a simple text stating, “when and where?”

It was followed quickly with an answer. His driver would be parked around back at 7 PM.

Your nerves were high, and your heart was pounding, excitement more than anything fueling your body.

When you locked up the driver was already outside waiting for you just as Steve had instructed, opening the door for you.

“For you miss.” Announcing when you got closer, handing you a small manila envelope. You hold it close as you sit down. “We don't have far to go, but do you need anything?”

“No, thank you.” Replying as he nodded and closed the door. No doubt under Steve's explicit instructions to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

The envelope has a little weight to it, you noted while opening it. No letter, you flipped it over as a brass key fell into your hand with a small slip of paper.

Top floor. Apartment 3.

Take the elevator, it's the last door on the left.

This was it. It felt like everything had been leading up to this moment and your life was about to change. If only you knew how true that would be after tonight.

The driver stopped about a block away at a smaller, but well-maintained apartment complex. Very low key. Your head swiveled, eyes looking over your shoulder for any hint of being followed.

“That key will open the main door; the apartment should be unlocked.” Tipping his hat as you exited the vehicle and walked the couple of stairs up to the front.

The interior was nice, recently updated with fresh paint and new flooring. The elevator was adjacent to the door, you entered and pressed 5 as it began to ascend.

You shifted, tapping your foot in time with each beat of your heart for the short ride up, as the door slid open revealing an equally empty hallway.

You took a deep breath, stepping out, immediately noticing a large, very intimidating gentleman posted by the stairwell. He spoke into an earpiece as you walked past him, otherwise ignoring your presence.

Steve has enough security stationed at various strategic points that no one could get within a fifty-foot radius of the two of you tonight.

Face to face with the cream-colored door adorned with the brass 3, you wondered if you should knock but dismissed the silly notion because he was expecting you, after all.

You slowly turned the matching brass knob, letting the door swing open slightly.

The intoxicating aroma of rosemary and garlic wafted through the air to meet you, pushing the door open so you could slip in.

It was a smaller apartment, the entrance situated inside the kitchen. His back was turned, humming to himself, as he chopped some fresh herbs.

His black dress shirt sleeves were rolled up his forearms, with a towel slung over his shoulder, still dressed in his expensive trousers and Italian loafers. He almost seemed completely out of place but at the same time, exactly where he should be.

Closing the door softly, you lean against the wall taking in the sight. He looks completely domesticated and it immediately feels like home.

For a few moments, you can imagine that this is your life. The life you were meant to have. Coming home to him each night. A loving, and caring man that had only had your best interests at heart. You craved these kinds of intimate moments.

He finished chopping and tossed the leafy greens into a pot of simmering sauce on top of the stove.

“There's a bottle of wine and a glass for you on the table.” He spoke, taking a spoon to stir in his newly added ingredients. “I know merlot isn't your favorite, but it pairs well with the meal.”

“Merlot is fine Steve. You'll find my tastes have changed somewhat.” Tossing your purse to the open counter beside you.

“Is that so?” He raised a brow toward you, looking over his shoulder before turning his attention back to his spoon raising it to his lips to have a small taste.

“That is so, Mr. Harrington.” You grinned, pouring your wine as you looked over the label, but it was from an Italian vineyard you hadn't heard of.

“Need any help with that?” Asking as you stepped closer to him.

“Now, what kind of host would I be if I let you lift a finger? Hmmm?” Pulling the towel from his shoulder, wiping his hands and tossing it to the counter before turning his attention fully to you. He found his own glass, eyeing you appreciatively over the rim as he took a sip.

“You look nice today.” Saying as an almost afterthought, eyes trailing down and back up. You were wearing a maroon silk button up, paired with a simple black skirt, sheer black hosiery and matching heels. Normal work attire.

“As opposed to any other day?” You giggled, sipping on the rich wine, noting hints of blackberry and subtle dark chocolate when the liquid splashed along your tastebuds.

“Tesoro,” he states, setting his wine down and taking a few steps to close the gap between you as you follow his lead, setting your own glass down. His hands come to rest on either side of your hips, your own landing on his chest, as you look up at him with bemused curiosity.

“You look beautiful, EVERY day.” He was crowding your space, invading your senses. A tingling, buzzing feeling began to hum beneath your skin. He was so close when he spoke his warm breath fanned across your cheek.

“You don't see me everyday.” You remarked, eyes trained on his, subtly shifting to his lips and back up.

“Don't remind me.” He huffed, his hold drifting to your lower back, pressing you closer still.

You were suddenly hungry for something other than food, as you bit your lower lip, looking up at him as if he'd hung the moon with stars in your eyes. You could feel the heat of his body radiating between the thin layers of fabric separating you, your own heat just beginning to pool between your thighs.

“Oh, wait.” Remembering what you had bought earlier in the day, reluctantly pulling from his grasp.

You reached your purse, noticing the rings still adorning your left hand. Pausing a moment, you pulled them off, slipping them into a side compartment. You weren't a Petrov tonight, pushing all thoughts of Nik aside.

It was just you and Steve.

“Here!” You pulled a box out, tossing it toward his chest. He caught it easily, looking down with a puzzled look.

“Condoms?” He quirked his brow up at you.

“Uh, we can't be too careful right now. As much as I would love for you to— um” you giggled, turning away from him briefly, suddenly feeling shy under his questioning gaze.

“Fuck you raw?” He finished with a salacious grin that had you blushing like a schoolgirl. “Like we haven't done that before?” He huffed an incredulous laugh.

“Yeah, well, Nonna Vittoria made sure we were covered back then, Steve. I haven't taken birth control since I got married.” You sucked in your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at him through your lashes. “If I remember correctly, your pullout game was terrible.”

His mouth fell open slightly, with a small gasp that had you laughing out. Nerves slowly melting away with the lighthearted banter.

“That isn't my fault. IF I remember correctly, you were the one always begging for it.” His hands drifted to his hips as he shot you a playful glare.

“Steven! I did not! We have to be careful until…” You looked away again, suddenly feeling shy once more. A silly notion.

“Until?” He questions further, taking a step into your space.

“Just until, well— we're together.”

“Are we not together?” His hand cups the nape of your neck, as the other drifts to your hip pulling you into him. You toy with his collar before looking into his honey hued irises that seemed to draw you in.

“You know what I mean, Steve. I can't exactly be fucking you without some sort of plan.”

“Wait, is that why you're here?” He looks around the room, as if confused. “I thought I was just making us a nice dinner.”

“Stop!” You whine out, slapping his chest, squirming slightly to step away from his grasp but he holds firm.

“Where do you think you're going, huh?” He asks, leaning in, the tip of his nose nudging yours. “I'm not letting you go.”

“Promise?” Tilting your head to look up at him through your lashes.

“I promise, tesoro mio.”

He leans in, his lips meeting yours with a needy and raw excitement. Intense in all the best ways but you needed more. You were hungry, licking at his mouth. Tongues meeting in a messy crescendo, tasting each other, as if it were the first time all over again, nerves suddenly giving away to butterflies dancing at your ribs.

Your hands began pawing at his chest, gripping the fabric of his starchy, black dress shirt. Fingers finding the buttons and making quick work of them.

“No interruptions this time?” You breathe out, pulling slightly away from him, pushing his shirt open, as he grips the bottom to move it free from his slacks and lets it peel away from his body leaving him in his undershirt.

“No. Fuck no. He's under strict orders not to bother us.” His lips find your jaw.

A small giggle quickly turns into a breathy moan as hot, open mouth kisses trail down your neck then to your collarbone. The fabric of your top hangs loosely around your shoulder as he starts to suck lightly, eliciting a moan from the sensation. He has to stop himself from leaving a mark, placing another kiss there instead.

He unlatches his lips momentarily to look you in the eyes, already blown full of lust.

“I thought instead of going at it on top of your desk, you deserve a proper bed. A proper fuck.”

His nimble fingers begin unbuttoning your top, moving slowly as he speaks again, savoring the way your body tenses at his movements.

“I want to take my time. Worship you, the way you deserve.” He reaches the last button, pulling it away from your skirt and lets the silk drift open, revealing a lacy black bra underneath. The cooler air hitting your skin makes you shiver slightly.

His hand comes to cradle your jaw. The affection you've come to crave, a foreign concept to you as you melt into his touch.

His thumb traces over your bottom lip, the feeling makes your eyes flutter closed. Your teeth graze his thumb pad when he pushes slightly past your lips, before your tongue darts out swirling the tip of his digit, taking him into your mouth and sucking.

He groans out, suddenly pulling away, and wrapping his arms back around you.

“Fuck. My dirty girl.” He grits out, hands reaching the fat of your ass pushing you flush to his hips, his fingers gather the fabric of your skirt in his hands with aching length pressed into your lower stomach. The anticipation was suddenly overwhelming. You needed him like you needed air to breathe.

“Steve,” you manage before he dips down and captures your lips again, as if reading your mind. His palms cup your ass and hoists you up on the counter situated behind you, making you squeak out in surprise as your heels slide from your feet with a thud onto the tile floor below.

You grip his shirt as he shifts forward, wrapping your legs around his waist, your skirt riding up when you grind your hips forward searching for any kind of friction to alleviate the prominent ache between your legs, finding his bulge with ease as you both moan out in unison.

His hands slip your shirt from your shoulders, without breaking your heated kiss, letting it drop to the floor to meet his. His palm finds your breast, kneading your warm, pliant flesh.

You suddenly grip his length through his trousers, making him release a guttural groan that has him pulling back.

“Fuck.” He hisses, forehead coming to meet yours, panting into each other's space. His pause made you momentarily question if you'd done something wrong.

“I wa— no, I need to taste you.” His voice is raspy and lust laden, taking something silver from his pocket that suddenly catches your eye.

“Are you very fond of these tights?” He asks. You realize he's holding a switchblade that pops open with a push of his thumb.

Your answer comes as you part your thighs further for him, rucking your skirt up to your waist as his eyes land on your core.

In one swift motion, he pulls them taut away from your skin and easily slices upward through the thin nylon material.

“And those?” Eyes flitting back up to you just a moment to seek your permission on the next barrier. In this moment, you didn't care if he cut every piece of clothing from your body.

You nod, sucking in a breath when his fingers delicately dip past the band, slipping the blade under and cutting both sides, as it falls away from your soaked pussy.

Closing the blade, he tosses it to the counter beside you as his hands wrap around the plush of your thighs.

“I'll buy you new ones.” He absentmindedly says, eyes glued to your glistening folds, suddenly pulling you toward the edge of the counter as he takes a knee, tossing your left leg over his shoulder.

His free hand pushes your thigh to further accommodate his frame as he finally comes to eye level with his meal, warm breath fanning your exposed core, causing you to shudder.

His name slipped past your lips in a breathy whine.

“I know, angel.” He cooed, eyes catching yours as his thumb and forefinger came to slowly spread your lips open for him. “Look at you, a mess already.”

He leaves you no time to respond, his tongue finding your entrance, the tip entering slightly before licking a broad stripe all the way up to your aching clit. Your hips jolt involuntarily at the sensation his mouth brings, as he moans into your pussy.

He unlatches himself momentarily to check your already blissed out expression. Barely holding yourself up with shaky arms, with your head thrown back.

“Angel, just lay back f’me.” He says, as you look back down toward him, slowly lowering your back to meet the counter. “That's it. We might be here a while, baby. Your arms were already getting tired.”

As soon as you get more comfortable, he pulls your other leg over his shoulder to dive back in. He began by swirling his tongue across your puffy clit, then flicking it, setting a rapid pace that already has your head spinning.

He'd grown as a man, and obviously gained some new skills along the way that suddenly made you feel a pang of jealousy.

You pushed those thoughts from your mind, instead running your fingers through his perfectly quaffed mane, tugging when his tongue slid back down to your entrance.

“O— oh, Steve.”

Darting in and out, his nose brushing your clit with every upward movement, then moving back up, sucking it a little harshly and soothing it with the fluid motion of his expert muscle.

His eyes close for brief moments but he wanted to watch you fall apart.

His lips and tongue focus on your bundle of nerves, easing his finger up to your entrance, swirling and teasing before dipping in gradually to see your reaction.

You moaned out, tugging a little more harshly on his locks.

He pushes his digit into your soaked hole, feeling it clench around him. He quickly adds a second as your back arches off the counter pushing your pussy further into his face, his fingers moving in and out of your tight channel.

He curves them up, stroking, searching for that spot that will have you screaming his name.

“Steve! Right there!” You whine out when he finds it, grinning to himself.

He doesn't stop, watching as your eyes flutter closed and your head falls back against the counter. Your hips grind into his face chasing your high.

Your mouth goes slack, each brush of his fingertips and suckle of his lips sending you closer to the edge. You'd all but forgotten pleasure that an expert lover could bestow until this very moment.

He begins to flick his tongue in time with his fingers thrusting in and out of you, first rapidly from side to side, then up and down.

He wouldn't let up until he made you come, uncaring how hard his cock was straining and aching against the confines of his trousers.

“Ah— Ste— I'm, I—” Your orgasm suddenly hit with a blinding force, unable to get out a coherent thought before your pussy clenched down around his fingers as you began to writhe and moan beneath him. He pins you to the counter with his free hand when your hips begin to rise, making you take everything he was giving you.

He moans into your cunt, your juices leaking out around his fingers, lapping up your arousal with eager need.

He works you through your release, before you have to push his face away, trying to scoot away from the sensitivity of it all.

“Steve, Steve. Stop. I—” You huff out, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath.

He grins, lips and chin shining with your release, that he gladly licks away. Your legs fall from his shoulders when he eases back up from the floor draping himself over your body, brushing the hair from your face.

You slowly open your eyes to see him beaming down at you, with a bright smile and shining eyes.

“Hi.” You giggle.

“Hi, angel.” Kissing the tip of your nose, before his lips brush over yours.

You wound your arms around his neck, finding his lips, greedily licking into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue.

His cock stirs, pinned up against your core, alerting you to his unsatiated desire. His hand finds the back of your neck, as he guides you to sit up gripping your thighs as you wrap them around his waist, locking your ankles at the base of his spine.

He carries you down the small hall to the bedroom, his lips working against yours the entire way, finding the edge of the bed, easing you both down. When your back hits the mattress, you finally detach from him long enough to help pull his undershirt over his head and toss it somewhere across the room.

He sits back, as you unzip the side of your skirt, pushing it down your thighs and tossing it away as well.

The small lamp in the corner provides enough light for your eyes to rove the expanse of his chest and abdomen. A silver chain is nestled in his chest hair, a matching bracelet adorns his left wrist.

A bronzed backdrop for the constellations that were scattered across his body, but he’s littered with a few more scars than you remember.

Steve had never been one for tattoos, but he had one on his bicep, his family crest along with something you couldn't quite make out on the left side of his ribs.

He smiled, looking down to where your eyes had landed, as you tilted your head to gain a better look.

His finger traces the outline of a small bird. A dove, with an olive branch held between its beak.

“I always carried you with me. You're my peace, my purity and everything good in this world. We can't change what we were born into Dove, but we can choose who we love. It's always been you.” Your glossy eyes found his; heart suddenly aching with his admission.

He leans back over you, thumb brushing an errant tear that slipped from your eye.

“I love you. I never stopped loving you, tesoro mio,” He whispers, speaking from his heart.

“I love you, amore mio.” Whispering back, with a sense of relief washing over you. A secret long held, burning you from the inside out, finally speaking it out loud and back into existence once more.

He leans in, kissing you tenderly, less hurried than before, taking every precious moment with you that he can. It's a gift not to be squandered.

He wants nothing more than to take his time and reacquaint himself with your body once more.

He pulls back, as you chase his lips with a whine, but his hands quickly find his belt, unbuckling it and popping the button on his trousers before you halt his movement.

“Let me.” You move to shift to your knees, but instead of helping him from his pants you reach around to unclasp your bra first. The straps ease down your arms as your chest is revealed to him.

He groans, reaching out to close his hand around your breast. You pull your lip between your teeth when his thumb grazes your nipple, sending a spark shooting back down to your core. You lean into his touch, your own fingers finding his zipper and pulling it down.

Your hands push his pants as the pool at his knees on the bed. The tent in his boxers doing nothing to quell your desire that's slowly beginning to build back up. Licking your lips, you grow a little brazen, pushing past his waistband and taking his girthy cock into your hand.

He's hot and heavy, bigger than you remember as you squeeze slightly. He tips his head back with a wanton moan, suddenly pulling your hand away as he slides from the bed. You pout at his abruptness.

“Hang on!” He calls back as he quickly darts out the room, hanging onto his pants to keep them from sliding from his hips.

You let out a small laugh, laying back against the silk covered pillow.

He comes back into view, holding up the box of condoms long forgotten on the kitchen floor, laying them on the nightstand as he comes back over to you.

He swiftly pushes his pants and boxers past his hips, letting them pool at his feet as he steps free of them.

Your eyes drift to where his hand is already wrapped around his cock. He pumps himself a few times, finding the head and smearing his precum down his shaft with a groan.

Finally joining you back on the bed, he situates himself back between your legs. His leg pushes yours further apart as he crawls up to meet you face to face, chest pressed tightly to yours.

He's a weak man. Say the word and he would slide into your dripping cunt without another word but he sees the way your eyes cut to condoms when his dick twitches at your bare core.

Leaning over, he furiously rips the box open and takes one out. He opens the small package, looking at you one more time for confirmation.

“It's just for a little while.” You lament. He nods, rolling it down onto his shaft.

“As you wish, Dove.” Saying as he finishes with the condom, holding himself at the base as he leans back over you, guiding himself to your entrance and stopping.

“Just know this,” his lips grazing yours as he spoke. “I can't wait for the day you beg for me to fuck my cum into this tight, little pussy.”

You gasp, cunt suddenly clenching when his head catches your entrance and breaches just slightly. It takes everything in him not to bury himself completely.

Your legs tighten around his waist at the intrusion, as he slowly cants his hips forward. His thick cock presses slowly into your tight heat. You hadn't been with anyone in a few years, let alone anyone that could ever compare to Steve's size.

“How the hell did we make this work before?” You huffed out, pressing your lips tightly back together with a grimace.

“Hey, it's ok.” He leaned down on his elbow, pressing his body close to yours, trying not to laugh at your pouty expression that he found absolutely adorable.

His fingertips smooth out the lines between your brows from where they were pinched, you melted into his touch, listening to his soothing voice.

“This little pussy just needs to relax.” He said, trying to keep a straight face, as you let out a small giggle.

He felt your muscles loosen slightly, granting him further access letting him push in another inch.

“See, angel. She knows what she wants.” He lifted his torso to look between the two of you. Barely halfway in, but he was trying to restrain himself for you.

You nod, as he pulls himself out and pushes back in. In and out, in and out at a slow but steady rhythm. His cock inching along your channel a little further each time, drawing small gasps and moans from you.

“That's it.” He praises, finally pushing in to the hilt, burying his face in your neck as you wrap your arms back around him.

“Y— you feel so fuckin' good.” He breathes out, pulling almost all the way out, barely leaving his head in.

“Ahhhhhh— fuck!” You cry out when his hips snap forward, plunging back in without any warning punching the air from your lungs at the force.

“Are you okay?” He breathes out, looking down at you.

“Fi— fine. Ju—just keep—mmmm—don’t fucking stop!” You manage out between his steady thrusts.

“There's my girl,” urging your thigh higher on his hip, he grips the headboard for more leverage, suddenly pounding in and out of your tight cunt.

The mix of your moans with skin slapping skin echo around the room. The new angle has him hitting that spot within you over and over as your mind starts to go fuzzy and numb.

Your nails dig into his back, urging him on.

“Fuck, Dove. Mark me. Claim me.” His head tilts back, his silver chain dangling in your face. You grip it, catching his attention as you pull him back down toward you.

“Kiss me, Steve. Please.” Suddenly needing him closer.

He could hear the waver in your voice. There were tears spilling hot over your cheeks, as he heard another soft “please” fall from your lips.

He stills, cupping your jaw, leaning back into your space; his lips meeting yours with tender urgency as they meld together.

Your fingers still grip the chain tightly, your free hand running up the back of his neck, nails scraping at his scalp and toying with the hair there.

You needed tenderness that his lips and touch could provide. A sense of intimacy that you haven't felt with anyone in a long time, not even your own husband.

“Angel, Ca—can I move?” He mumbles breathlessly against you.

You nod, as his thick cock drags out and pushes back in. His heavy balls hitting your ass with his upward thrust.

His hand slides down between the two of you, finding your neglected clit, drawing figure 8s with precision.

“I want you to come with me.” He said, kissing the side of your neck.

“Please.” It seems that's all you could manage. The only word in the forefront of your mind. You didn't know exactly what you were asking for at this point.

“I've got you, baby.” Pecking your lips once more before angling his hips up, and hitting that spot with the head of his cock that has you crying out with reckless abandon.

“St— please, don't stop.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.” He responds, keeping his pace, staving off his own release to see you fall apart one more time.

His eyes drift across your flushed face, so concentrated with pleasure and pure ecstasy, he couldn't fathom anyone ever denying you when you look like this. But he knows now you're his and no one else deserves to see you like this. No one else will EVER see you like this.

Your pussy fluttered, as your hips meet his next thrust pulling another particularly loud moan from you.

He was so lost looking at you, he momentarily forgot all about himself, solely focusing on giving you what you wanted he barely caught what you'd said before he felt his brain almost short circuit.

“We could ju— mmmmm— just pretend.” You repeated. “I want you to come in me.”

You were babbling at this point, that buzz in your abdomen was getting stronger, pulling you toward another high. Your hips were meeting his with more urgency.

“You’d like that, huh? Having another man’s cum deep inside you.”

Your pussy responded to his words, sending a shiver down your spine and straight to your core.

“Oh— St—” but he didn't let up. He could feel you getting close.

"But you're not really his, huh, Dove?” His nose nudges your cheek. “Huh, baby? Look at me.”

You slowly look up at him, his hair a wild mess from your fingers tangling in the chestnut tresses. Those hazel eyes are almost black as they bore into yours. His next words nearly send you over the edge.

“He doesn't deserve this pussy. It's mine.” He stops toying with your clit, instead grinds his hips so his pubic bone grazes it with every upstroke; taking his hand and pulling yours away from his necklace, threading his fingers through yours as they mold together so perfectly.

“Yes! God—yes! Mmph— Steve, it's all yours. I'm all yours!” Clawing at his shoulder, gripping his hand tightly.

“That’s right, angel! You're all mine.”

It felt like the world stopped, a blinding light behind your eyelids and all sound seemed to fade. A hot white heat flooded your core with the most intense orgasm you'd experienced in a long time. With a scream of his name, your back arches off the bed meeting his chest as he continues to rail you into oblivion.

“That's it, make a mess! Cum on my cock—fuck!” He couldn't finish talking you through it when your cunt clamped down around him, it was all over for him. His abdomen tightened, pushing his length as far into your cunt as he could, his head nudging your cervix as he released into the condom, wishing he was filling you full instead.

They always say sex is better with someone you love. Something about him completely surrounding and grounding you was a high, in and of itself, that you couldn't explain.

He finally stills a few moments later, head falling to your chest. You were both sweaty and spent. Your limbs felt like they were entirely boneless but you managed to wrap your arms back around him as he caged you in.

He bared his weight until you coaxed him to lay on top of you, rubbing soft patterns up and down his spine in the quiet afterglow. He snaked his arms under you, burying his head between your breasts.

“Fuck, I love you.” He finally spoke, kissing up your sternum as his eyes met yours.

He didn't want to ask, he wanted to keep you safe and wrapped up in his arms for as long as possible but he knew the inevitability of the situation.

It's as if you knew what he was thinking.

“I can't stay.” You whisper.

“I know, but just a little while longer.” He moves to get up, removing himself from you as you wince, already missing the way he could fill you completely.

“Sorry, tesoro. Stay right here. I'll be right back.” He kisses your cheek, slipping into the bathroom to dispose of the condom before returning to find his boxers and pulling them back over his ass as you gave him an appreciative once over.

“Don't move.” He reiterated, moving into the hall.

You laid there listening to the clinking of china and silverware, a few grumblings and a loud “shit,” that made you giggle and sit up in the bed.

He emerged from the hall carrying two plates loaded with the long forgotten pasta he had made for you.

“There's a robe over there in the drawer for you, in case you don't want to eat in the nude.” He grinned, as you slowly got up and pulled said robe from the dresser. You paused, noticing it was stocked with various other clothes as well.

“If you need them.” He said as you turned back around, tossing the silk over your shoulders as you slipped back in beside him. “This place is fully stocked with whatever you might need.”

“You really are too good to be true, Mr. Harrington.” Saying as he handed you a plate.

“Please.” He rolls his eyes. “Eat.” Steering the conversation.

He didn't want to argue the virtue of his morality. He was an outright ruthless asshole when he was outside these walls but you could bring him to his knees with one simple smile.

There would come a time when that conversation would need to be had but he wasn't worried about it right now.

You take a bite and the rich sauce explodes on your taste buds as you hum around the fork, closing your eyes to savor it.

“Oh my God! This is so good!”

He grinned around his own mouthful, thoroughly amused with your response.

“What else is there I don't know about you? Hmmm?” You inquired.

“Oh, I think we'll have plenty of time to catch up, no?” He planted a kiss to your cheek, sitting back against the headboard enjoying the moment, while he still could.

Once you both were both stuffed, he wouldn't let you lift a finger as he took the plates back to the kitchen.

He came to lay next to you as your fingertips traced the tattoo as he fondly recalled the memory of getting it. It wasn’t long after he left, but he was waiting to surprise you. A surprise that had taken a bit longer than he had initially anticipated. He left out the part that the ink had caused numerous arguments with an ex-girlfriend when he wouldn't get it covered for her, ultimately ending the tumultuous relationship.

You had gotten quiet, getting tired as the night was drawing to an all too soon close.

“Steve?” Coming out barely above a whisper.

“Hmmm?” He hummed into the top of your hair.

“I just want you to know what you're getting into. Nik isn't going to just let me go. This— Us.” You couldn't help from tearing up at the thought of returning back to that life like this never happened.

“Dove, don't worry about that. Leave it to me. There are things that are going on that you don't know about. That I don't want you to know.” He tucked you in closer to him, kissing your temple.

“Do you trust me?”

“With my life.” You answered, letting yourself shed a single tear. It was the truth but it still didn't quell the fear bubbling just below the surface.

He held you a little tighter, basking in the way his heart soared. Elated to have you back in his arms, exactly where you belonged.

A little while later he watched you get dressed, sans your underwear and hosiery. That little detail had him grinning again as you blushed.

He'd made a mental note to make sure you had new ones the next time you came by to replace them.

He held your hand as he walked you to the door, reluctantly releasing you after peppering you with another barrage of kisses that had you laughing out, a sound he could easily get lost in.

“I love you, Steve.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

You smiled at the rarity of your actual name gracing his lips.

You would take the impact of the moment, truly the entire day, with you until you could see him again. Hiding it away and showing it the light of day in secret but his love and affection would keep you going until you could finally show the entire world that he was yours once again.

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

Want to be added? Just let me know!

[salemshotspot]

IM SO UPSET /j

I wanted to just make a silly video like ‘haha guys look wrestling is sooo gay’ but this has turned out to unironically be the best thing I’ve ever made and I’m so upset about it /j

TAGS: @outsiderswolfpac

[drconstellation]

Come Back When You Can Make A Whale

This is going to contain some speculation for S3, so you know what to do! Or not do!

SITIS: What did God say? JOB: Um... I'm not sure. I didn't understand much. Things too wonderful for me. Ostriches came into it. SITIS: Ostriches? JOB: And whales. God's very proud of the whale. Went into some detail about... how great whales are. SITIS: But did They explain? JOB: [shakes head] I think the point was, if you want answers, come back when you can make a whale.

Whales, huh?

If you aren't well read, this could be quite the misdirection. It should be reasonably obvious, given who is doing the talking - Job - what he is actually referring to, then we can join a couple of dots to make some speculative leaps.

You still with me?

No? Then let us start with how do you make a whale?

By giving it another name.

Leviathan.

Chapter 41 of the Book of Job is all about the Leviathan, a great sinuous sea serpent with impenetrable scales and breath like fire. It sleeps beneath the sea until the end of days. Over time it came to be associated with any sea monster, then anything large, and what is the largest animal ever known to have lived? The whale.

The top of the matchbox is also worth a look. We have a skull and crossbones, which is classic Memento mori symbolism, fitting in with the resurrection theme of the Second Coming - but look at the way the address of the pub is spelt! Now, this not the same way it is spelt on the record single Maggie gives to Aziraphale; Goatgate is spelt as one word, not two. A little bit of searching reveals the meaning behind this fictional address that backs up and reinforces the quote on the side of the matchbox.

Strong's Concordance for 66 gives us "wild, savage, fierce." Goatgate is an interesting one, because it turns out to be a relatively modern term from the urban dictionary, and I'm just going to refer to the polite version of it here - it's another word for "mouth." So 66 Goatgate is a "fierce and savage mouth." Yes, that does sound about right - in more ways than one, once you know who it is. (If you want to look up the impolite version, go ahead - I'm sure you will still find the connotations very amusing.)

Our metaphorical Leviathan is Crowley. He gave the game away at the end of S1 during the appearance-swap.

This also means Aziraphale is his counterpart, Behemoth. Why - well, I made a bit of joke in my post here that he was playing at being a "river horse" while he wallowed in the bath of holy water during his part of the appearance-swap scene. Modern day scholars think the description of Behemoth in the Bible may be that of a hippopotamus in real life history. If that is so, I'd still be betting this is what the "dark horse" comment from Nina in S2E1 is foreshadowing.

Maybe none of this new to you if you've been hanging around the the fandom for a while. That's fine, I'm just trying to establish the scene. And the next bit we need to talk about is this one, where Job gets a lecture from God.

During this sequence, we hear lines that come from Job 38 and 39.

GOD: Job, if you have questions for me, I have questions for you. Do you know how I created the earth? Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth, Job? Were you there when all the morning stars sang together and all the Angels shouted for joy?

These lines are paraphrasing some of the beginning of Job 38.

Then we have:

GOD: Do you know the rules of the heavens? Did you set the constellations in the sky? Can you send lightning bolts and get them to report back to you? Did you give wings to peacocks, Job, or teach the ostrich to run?

These lines are again, paraphrasing Job, half from 38 and half from 39.

So then, we need to ask, why highlight these lines in particular?

Job 38 is mainly about setting the boundaries of the universe around us. The Earth might seem impossibly huge to a human, but it started with a single stone at its foundation. Earth and the other planets obey certain laws as they move around the Sun. The patterns of the stars in the sky take so long to change that it seems like they are set and inconstant. Even the chaotic form of lightning respects its Creator and returns to its point of origin.

From the last part of Chapter 38 to the end of 39 God challenges Job with a list of animals. The theme here is about freedom and wildness. Whether it is a noble lion, a loathsome crow, a nimble mountain goat, the head-strong wild ox or the willing war horse, they all flourish upon the Earth under the sight of the Almighty. Even the mightiest and most fierce beasts of all, Behemoth and Leviathan, have a place, although only God has the means to control those two.

None of this needs a human to be involved. We are so often the center of our own universe, and try so hard to control every aspect of the world around us that we lose sight of the bigger picture. Shit happens. Some things are out of our control. That doesn't mean its your fault and you're wicked and damned to go to Hell because of it. And that was the point God was trying to make to Job. The world is a far bigger, wilder and chaotic than you can imagine, but its also incredibly beautiful, and it runs itself within the rules and limits that seem to be set by invisible forces you can't see.

So back to the script from the show.

The first set of questions from God could apply to both of the duo. They were both around when Earth was created and were more than likely there when the "morning stars" (the highest angels, such as Lucifer, Gabriel, Michael and angel!Beelzebub) sang together.

The second set of questions are the ones that seem to have got the most attention so far, with ops cross-matching them to things Crowley does in S2.

Do you know the rules of the heavens?

Did you set the constellations in the sky?

Can you send lightning bolts and get them to report back to you?

Did you give wings to peacocks, Job...

(I make a suggestion this has something to do with Michael, but also see comments below)

...or teach the ostrich to run?

The first three of those questions are fairly straight forward, and I doubt many would dispute what they are referring to. But the reference to the peacock and the ostrich are more subtle and curious, and I would like to take a moment to look at the actual verse - because it is only one verse that is providing both questions - that is being paraphrased here.

Job 39:13 Gavest thou the goodly wings unto the peacocks? or wings and feathers unto the ostrich?

Did you realize that the King James Version of the Bible is the only one that mentions peacocks in this particular verse? All the other versions mentions the first sentence of that verse in relation to the wings of ostriches: "The wings of the ostrich wave proudly." The ostrich is considered a cruel and witless bird in the Bible, pleased with the way it looks, and seemingly careless about its young.

Why does that sound familiar...

Shax thinks this ostrich feather-clad angel in disguise isn't too smart either.

So using the peacock line is a curious choice in the script. Other than the "eyes" in the tail of the peacock having a connection to Michael's many watchful eyes on the world, it's still not clear how Crowley helped them upwards. Unless both lines are supposed to refer to Gabriel, and how the vain peacock was helped to both fly and run to a distant location in the stars.

Edit: Since I first wrote this, @beebopboom pointed me to some more peacock lore, and this helped me delve a bit deeper into them. Peacocks were associated with wealth and royalty, but they were also associated with immortality in early Christian beliefs. There was a belief that the flesh of the peacock did not decay after its death. The bright colours in its tail came from its eating venomous snakes, which reminded people of Christ becoming sin for humanity's sake (think of Crowley downing the laudanum to save Elspeth from Hell in the crypt in 1827, its a similar action.) The "eyes" on the males tail also represented the all-seeing eye of God. So we have a connection with both royalty and resurrection here.

(Oh - just as an interesting connection here - a number of the newer versions of the Bible not only don't mention the peacock in this verse, they compare the ostrich to the stork! The meaning is meant to be that the stork cares more for their young than the ostrich, but if you read the words at face value, you could take a double meaning away...)

Let us return to questions, answers, and whales.

Questions. Always questions. It's like the proverbial toddler who's always asking a never-ending string of "but, why?" for funsies and you just want them to shut up for a moment and think about the last thing you said first. They, too, are a bit like Job. They are the center of their own universe at that age, having not had much experience of the world. They have no grasp of how far it extends beyond them, and how little even we as adults know.

If at this point you're going "oh, no, no, no, no, op, please don't tell me the point of this meta is it's all ineffable," relax. I'm not.

The point was to set you up for some nice, juicy, awesomely sweet S3 speculation.

Because I believe Crowley will finally get to ask his questions of God.

(oh lordy, I made the mistake of taking a break to have a shower before trying to finish this off, because I was having trouble seeing how to finish this in a tidy way, and that caused me to have "shower thoughts" and now the nice sweet simple speculation has turned into a slightly bat-shit crazy kind-of one, although still on the same track as what I was originally thinking. Here goes...)

We have this three card spread from waaay back at the beginning of S1. We all think its something to do with the three babies.

What if its not?

Because we need something like this to happen again - Aziraphale and Crowley either side of a third protagonist. What if it's the King of Kings, Love personified, Jesus, in the middle? (Or Adam again, I wouldn't discount that option either...)

If you would look at the GIF and the screenshot together again and go, well that makes, sense, white for the angel on the right, and green for the demon on the left, I would jump up and shout at you - NO!

Look at the cards again! In the Tarot, that's the Ace of Swords on the right - it belongs to Aziraphale. It's a very powerful card, about new beginnings and change.* Lets call the one of the left Knight of Wands, which also represents the element of Fire. Knights are all about movement and journeys. Who owns the Bentley? And look what Gabriel has instinctively done with his hands - he has held his screen-left hand out to Aziraphale, the Sword, the angel who wears green, and his right hand out to Crowley, the Knight of Fire. The yin and yang qualities are actually swapped. That was what I was trying to tell you in this post. They aren't as obvious as they seem at first glance.

And love is the answer, it turns out. Did you see my comment the other day on another post? In Strong's Concordance 25 = to love.

Anyway, we should get a third parallel scene somewhat like this, and like when Aziraphale and Crowley took Adam out of time to talk to him in S1.

Only this time the three of them (with who ever is in the middle) should be having a talk with God about what is or isn't supposed to happen.

JOB: I think the point was, if you want answers, come back when you can make a whale.

Crowley could be a literal serpent (though I would be very surprised if he did manifest that way) but it should be a metaphorical Leviathan that stands before the Almighty to ask his questions and get his answers. And it will be that he has earned the right to be there, because he finally understands the lessons of Job.

@makewayforbigcrossducks I hope this answers one of your questions

*The Ace of Swords speaks of new beginnings, but it is a two-edged sword that can cut both ways. It is strength in adversity, victory out of struggle, good out of evil, a change in the old order on the way.

[marclien99]

Okay..🫣 I Have To Draw a king for our queen👑♥️

as always, I hope you guys like it.♥️♾️ 

And thank all of you for your love and support 🫡🫶🏼🫰🏻♥️🥰

And kindness 🥰

[arty-e]

Definitely not a case of love at first sight

[kellyaroman]

Added color to an ink illustration that I drew a couple years ago. Temped to illustrate my own playing card deck~ Prints available soon. Website | Shop | Instagram | Cara

[klikandtuna]

Finished Crowley, so here’s the set!

[kwyw]

She really could not have been more obvious.

K❤️K

[itsguysnightitsironic]

"¿Y cuáles deseos me was a dar?"

Dices tú: " Mi tesoro, basta con mirarlo, y tuyo será.

Y tuyo será."

"And what wishes will you give me?" You say: "My darling (treasure), you just look at it, and it will be yours. And it will be yours."

Tuyo by Rodrigo Amarante.

I don't know how Nikkie describing the most Victorian twink ever, got me thinking of El Zorro, specifically "The Mask of the Zorro".

(Also a little bit to Westley from Princess Bride)

Anyways, I want that twink obliterated--

[its-where-the-wild-things-are]

[blue-rose-soul]

To include Overlord Husk you can have it where Alastor kind of like funds his Casino or got Husk out of debt and has an outstanding favor.

I don't think Alastor would ever fund the casino. It's implied that Husk was cheating people out of their souls when he was an Overlord.

Selling and obtaining souls is the driving force of the Pride Ring's politics and economy. Even if he has a problem with the way a contractee is being treated, Alastor won't interfere with another person's soul contract unless he has his own reason for going after the deal maker. After all, the contractees knew what they were signing up for and they typically do gain something from these deals. But that's not the case where Overlord Husk is concerned. The souls don't gain anything from their contracts with Husk, they simply lost a game. Arguably that's still their risk to take and they knew the potential outcome. However, it's not unlikely that a lot of these souls were desperate, down on their luck folks, some with similar addictions to Husk and Angel Dust, who were willing to try literally anything to get a leg up. Even gambling their souls. And maybe it could still be justified if there was a chance they could win and walk away with enough money to start over again. Except Husk cheated.

The more I think about it, the more I like the idea of introducing Husk in this AU as an antagonist, but one who later joins the main crew.

Maybe he sets his sights on the hotel after the botched extermination and sees an opportunity to empower himself. He presents himself as a friendly face, looking to invest in the hotel and possibly get in good with Hell's royalty. In reality, he's hoping to get either Charlie or Alastor under a contract so he can use them as leverage against Lucifer. Only, Alastor catches on to what he's planning and manages to trap Husk in a contract instead. Husk joins the crew, but instead of being the tired old man resigned to Alastor's leash that we know, he's a recently fallen Overlord being dragged towards the light against his will and is still railing against it.

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

King of Hearts

Chapter 1 - Long Live the King!

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

Next

Masterlist

Chapter Summary: The Mafia world is on edge when Steve Harrington comes back to town to take over for his father. His presence sets off a whirlwind of emotions that you'd thought you'd buried long ago.

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

CW: Slow burn. Exes to lovers. Minimal use of Y/N. Reader is referred to as "Dove." Angst. Pining. Reader is married to an abusive asshole (this will get worse as the story progresses). Reader is assaulted. Talk of death. Funeral. Drug use/abuse.

WC: 6.1K

You crept through the foyer, hoping the small sound of the door closing wouldn’t rouse anyone in the large house.

Removing your heels from your stocking clad feet, so that you could silently move through the room and quickly check your surroundings, pausing, listening. You were met with nothing but the sound of your heartbeat reverberating in your chest.

You thought you were in the clear, but your false sense of security was quickly shattered, rounding the corner only to be met with your husband’s steely glare. A cigarette and stiff drink in hand. He was home early.

Nikolai was a large, intimidating man with broad shoulders, sandy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that threatened to set anyone aflame that came near.

He was sitting in front of the large fireplace in the study. When you caught his gaze, he bid you to come forward as he set the drink down. Brining the cigarette to his lips, taking a long inhale before resting it alongside his drink.

Dressed in his usual suit, his jacket left on the chair behind him, leaving him in a white button up with the sleeves rolled up on his forearms revealing an expanse of black ink beneath.

You shuffled forward slowly, crossing your arms behind your back with your heels still dangling from your fingertips.

“Tough day, my love?” he cooed, in a sickly-sweet voice that would almost sound sincere to anyone else. His lips turned up into a cruel smirk as he turned to look at you.

You hated it when he called you that. There was only one man that said it and ever truly meant it.

“You know exactly how my day has been.” You hissed, already over his little games.

“Now kitten, a little birdie told me you were seen with him. Though, it doesn't come as a surprise.” Calm tone, but you knew that was about to change. The literal calm before the storm.

“Nik,” you started, his palm met your cheek with a sharp smack that echoed in the otherwise quiet space, along with the thud of your heels that fell from your grasp. Your eye instantly welled, unable to control the tears forming from the force of his blow. Pain instantly searing the skin.

You could taste the familiar metallic tang in your mouth, as you reached up trying to soothe the discomfort. Yet another bruise to hide in the morning.

Ever defiant, you raise your head slowly, to meet his cold, indifferent gaze.

He gripped your chin, forcing your face closer to his.

“Now, kitten,” no feeling whatsoever behind those words.

“This kind of behavior just won’t do for my reputation. I can't let you go whoring around with him out in public, making me look like a fool in the process.”

He removed his hand slightly, only to cup your cheek engulfing it with his large palm. It was tender, a stark contrast to the pain he had just inflicted. Raised welts beginning to form under his touch.

Playing this same game a dozen times over, you know how it ends. One moment an enraged monster, the next a doting husband.

He pushed your face a little harshly, putting some distance between you to take his leave.

“Clean yourself up and get ready for dinner. Your father will be joining us.” He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours, catching the back of your head pressing you closer to his larger frame. You made no attempt to push him away, knowing it would only spur his anger.

He released you, grabbing his jacket and turning back one last time before he spoke.

“And kitten, end it. Or I will.”

Your father, the head of the crime ring. Your husband, a marriage for alliance. You, an heiress to the proverbial throne.

You didn’t want any of it. Caught in the middle and destined to forever be separated from the man you loved.

You thought you were being careful. You both should have known better.

8 Weeks Earlier

The gallery you managed downtown was your escape from all things family or business related. Here you could be your own person, not feeling bound by duty or marriage. It was your grandmother that instilled a love of art within you at a very young age taking you to art exhibits or museums around the city. You fell in love with the beauty and feeling of it all.

A new piece had just been delivered that you were examining, thoroughly ignoring your surroundings as usual, much too focused on the matter at hand.

You hadn’t heard him enter, as he came to stand directly behind you, pressed in much too close.

Tiny glasses perched toward the end of your nose; he watched the way you were so intently focused on nothing else in the world carefully focusing, stopping only to write small notes on the clipboard in your grasp.

“Little Dove,” clearing his throat slightly, startling you a bit.

You whirled around, only to be met with golden caramel mossy framed eyes staring back at you. The nickname uttered from his lips like soft silk.

“Steve?” you asked, almost breathless. You thought it would be a cold day in hell before you saw him again.

“In the flesh.” He grinned softly, holding his arms out as if showing himself off. Dressed in a navy-blue pinstripe suit and gray turtleneck that you were sure came straight from Italy just as he had.

“What… What are you doing here?” your tone more whispered as you looked around to make sure no one was watching.

“It’s ok, I made sure to slip past them. Your tails… uh… aren’t that great.” He whispered back in a mocking tone, chuckling lightly.

“You look…” you studied the man before you. “You look different, good.”

The last time you had seen Steve he still had his boyish features, but a man stood before you now. Rugged, but clean cut, sporting shorter, more tamed hair with slight stubble lining his jaw. He was even more handsome than you remembered. Italy seemed to be treating him well.

There was an air about him that commanded attention. When he entered a crowded room, he knew everyone would fall in line. A far cry from that party boy years ago. A boy that only ever had eyes for one girl, the woman stood before him now.

“Tesoro, leave it to you to find a job surrounded by beauty but you are the most beautiful piece here.” He smiled that crooked grin that always made you melt, his words syrupy sweet, cheeks heating at the praise.

You clutched the clipboard in your hands closer to your chest, face casting downward as an attempt to hide the blush that crept across your face.

You'd been told you were beautiful by countless men your entire life but when it came from the one man that mattered you turned into a shy mess.

His attention suddenly made it feel like all those years ago, hiding away in a dark corner as he spoke sweet nothings into your ear. Trailing kisses down your neck. Telling you the endless things he'd do for you, or to you.

Two young lovers hidden away from the world with nothing but dreams in their heads and stars in their eyes. Still naive to how cruel and unfair the world could truly be.

Eight years since you've seen him and yet staring at him before you it's as if not a single day has passed. It would be so easy to pick up where you left off, if only…

You snapped out of it, suddenly realizing the only reason he'd be back, shifting your gaze back to him.

“I'm sorry to hear about your father.” His smile fading as he nodded. “I know you two never saw eye to eye, but…”

“It’s okay Dove.” He slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers, eyes casting downward. “It was only a matter of time. He'd been hiding the cancer diagnosis for months now.”

So, it wasn't a rival family or hired hitman that took him out. It was cancer. Everyone had been wondering when the news had come.

“I was still sorry to hear it, Steve.” You hesitantly reached out and rested your hand on his arm, squeezing lightly. “How's Pip holding up?”

Steve's younger sister, never seeing the cruel side of Richard Harrington the way he had. Pip was his Princess and she never let anyone forget that. She went to live with her mother when she was very young, only seeing Richard on holidays and birthdays. It was only natural she was devastated from his death.

“About as well as you'd expect. She uh…” pausing to scratch at his brow. A habit he always had when he was trying to find his words. “She's not doing well. I'm not sure how she's going to get through it tomorrow. I’m sending her back to live with mamma. I think it'll do her some good to get out of the city for a while.”

You didn't pry, knowing Pip was a little reckless and wild. She always gave Steve a run for his money when they were younger. Seems things hadn't changed much for her.

“I'm surprised she's listening to you.” You laughed out.

“I'm not giving her a choice.” You nodded in understanding. Steve was already taking his new role as head of the family very seriously, but you'd expect nothing less.

He was born to one day take over for his father, trained and taught all the ins and outs of this life from a very young age. He would, no doubt in your mind, lead the entire city one day, especially hearing the rumors from across the sea about how ruthless he could be, but you couldn't quite imagine the Steve you once knew to be anything but the kind, caring gentleman before you.

In this world, those kinds of assumptions are what get you killed, and you knew full well Steve had changed. You were unsure of just how much.

As comfortable silence fell between you, he allowed himself to let his eyes linger over you once more. Your back stiffened as you looked from the entrance back to him, shattering this moment of peace as reality settled back in.

“Well, Mr. Harrington it's been nice seeing you, but I must get back to work before those two idiots do their walk through to check up on me.”

“Ms. Alexander.” He smiled, nodding his goodbye.

“It's Mrs. Alexander-Petrov, but you know that.” He did know, but his jaw tightened when he heard it spoken aloud. To imagine you and Nikolai Petrov together made his blood boil.

Little Niki had been a vile womanizer. He and Steve knew each other from boyhood and their father’s dealings. He just hoped he was good to you and worships you the way he himself wishes he could.

“Right. Apologies Mrs. Alexander-Petrov. I'll see myself out. Take care, Tesoro.”

“Tell Eddie I said hi.” You called after him.

“Of course, Dove.” Stopping to look at you one last time.

You watched him exit out the back, through the alleyway.

There was still something there. That spark you couldn't deny. Maybe it was just you looking for closure but deep down you knew it would never truly be over between you. He

was your first love, always hoping he would have been your last.

It was a somber affair with a huge turnout. The Church was packed full of mournful guests.

For a funeral, it was still lavish. Old world money mixed with new. Women flaunting their Gucci or Louis Vuitton came second nature. Men with their expensive suits and gold watches. Any excuse to flaunt the wealth they had accumulated.

Family and business associates mingled, sewing together their tales and fond memories of the late Richard Harrington.

If you looked closely at the crowd, you could spot a few enemies mixed within, come to see the bastard exactly where they'd wished him to be.

As is tradition, you didn't necessarily come to pay respect to the dead, but you still paid respect to the family.

Steve and Pip, at the head of the church, accepting well wishes from each person that passed by. Eddie stood a few feet away giving them space but if anyone truly knew him, he was just as much family as the Harrington siblings.

Steve was stoic. From the moment you spotted him, you could tell he was trying to be strong. You couldn't help thinking of how handsome he looks, even in this setting. Pip could never hide her emotions, every person she talked with sent a fresh wave of tears flowing.

You had accompanied your father, David Alexander. Nikolai had excused himself from coming at the last minute, saying he had an emergency to take care of at the club. You didn't buy his lie but didn't bother arguing.

You had dressed simply, all black like the rest of the crowd. Knee length, quarter sleeved dress. Tight, but not suffocating. Modest compared to Pip’s attire. That girl never knew how to do anything simple or modest, her flamboyant personality would never allow it.

You both stood in line to see them, your eyes darting back up to Steve every few minutes.

“You're too quiet. What's eating at you?” Your dad leaned over to whisper.

“Hmm?” Your eyes shot up to his. “Nothing, just a lot on my mind.”

He squinted down at you as your head drifted toward the front once again. He followed your gaze, softly smiling to himself.

“Steven’s looking well, no? That boy has really grown into his own.”

You placed your arm around his when he extended his elbow, comfortably settling your hand to his forearm as he led you down the aisle.

“Yes, he looks well.” You hummed and nodded.

Your father grinned to himself as your eyes traveled back toward the front. He patted your hand and sighed as the line in front of you began to dwindle.

The couple ahead of you peeled themselves away from the siblings. Revealing you and your father to them.

Steve's eyes lit up immediately, but he held his solemn expression trying not to give himself away.

Your father spoke up first.

“Steven, my boy,” holding out his hand to greet him. “It's good to see you. My condolences, to you and your sister.”

Steve shook his hand, “Thank you, Mr. Alexander.”

“Please, call me David, son.” It made your heart warm faintly at the thought of your father seeing Steve for not only the man he now was but as an equal, first name basis was usually left for business partners or family only. Your father commanded an air of respect, especially from other families.

Their small talk faded from you as you looked over at Pip. She was so different from the last time you'd seen her. Her frame appearing thin with a sickly pallor accompanying dark sunken eyes.

When she spotted you staring at her, she smiled sweetly, reaching out to hug you.

“Dove!” She almost shrieked.

Your arms hugged her tightly to your chest, confirming what your eyes had seen. She was thin, strikingly so, filling you with worry.

“Pip, I’m so sorry sweet girl.” You soothingly rubbed her back, as a sob racked her body. You let her shed a few tears as she sniffed and leaned back up wiping at her cheeks.

“I’ll be okay, it's just hard knowing he's truly gone. But it's so good to see you. Let's catch up soon.” You nodded, squeezing her hand gently. She didn't let go immediately, grasping a little harder.

“Dove, will you please sit with me during the service?” Her eyes softly pleading, reminding you of your days as children when she would beg you to play a game or watch a movie instead of hanging out with her brother. She was by all accounts your little sister too.

“If it's alright with Steve, I…”

“Steve doesn't care. Do you, Stevie?” Her hand flew up, batting his chest as he gritted his teeth releasing a harsh breath.

“Not at all, Dove. But only if you're comfortable with…”

“She's fine Steve. Thank you, Dove!” She hugged you once more as you heard Steve mumble, “anything for the Princess.”

She shot him a glare before releasing you as you turned your attention toward him.

“Steve, I'm so sorry.” You wound your arms around his neck. His stiff demeanor immediately deflated and melted with your soft touch as his arms found their way around your waist, pressing you further into him. His scent enveloped you, smelling of the warm, spicy cologne he wore.

You held each other for a moment too long, getting lost in the warmth of his embrace, finally coming to your senses and easing back.

“I guess I'll see you up there.” Taking a step further back, seeing him nod.

“I…” He was about to speak before someone cut him off with more condolences as you shied away searching for your father who had already taken a seat in the back, speaking with some men that ran in his circle.

You weaved your way in and out of the crowd. Chatting with familiar faces and being polite to those you didn't quite know.

As the music began to play, everyone found their respective seats for the service to begin. You made your way to the front, feeling eyes on you as you went.

Pip was seated right beside Steve, but once she spotted you, she scooted over. Patting the space between the two of them.

You sat closer to her, trying not to crowd Steve into the corner.

“Thank you, Dove.” She whispered, taking your hand in hers. Black gloves covering her dainty fingers.

“Of course.” You stared ahead, trying not to cut your eyes over to him. The small space between you didn't shield you from the heat that radiated from him.

He remained quiet, but you heard him sigh softly. You wished you could hold his hand and bring him some sense of comfort. In another time and place you could imagine taking your seat beside him without the judgmental looks and hushed whispers.

The service went swiftly, Pip leaning on your shoulder and clutching your hand the entire time as she sobbed and sniffled. Steve maintained the same level of stoicism throughout.

You lost your mother at a very young age. The loss of a parent is something you never truly get over. You could relate in some sense, though you never truly knew your mother.

“Dove, you can ride with us to the cemetery. There's more than enough room.” She leaned over to whisper while they were finishing up, garnering Steve's attention as well.

“Pip.” He hissed, throwing her a warning glare.

“What?” She whispered more loudly, looking past you then.

“I'm sure she doesn't have all day to babysit you.” He said it without looking back at her.

You could see the sadness slowly subside on her face, as it was replaced with anger.

“Fuck you, Steve.” She spat, getting up from her seat, loud in the relatively quiet space while the priest was finishing his last prayer, momentarily causing him to pause, as she stomped down the aisle.

You were taken aback by the outburst but not surprised. Pip was a loose cannon, especially when it came to Steve. Two such domineering personalities that always clashed.

He was about to get up, but you grabbed his forearm stopping him, as he looked at you with a furrowed brow.

“Hey, don't worry. I'll go after her. You stay.” You reassured him.

“You don't have to do that. She's just…” he whispered.

“No, it's okay. Let me go talk to her.”

He nodded, as you slid from the seat. Holding your head high as you followed her, avoiding sideways gazes thrown your way.

You found her sitting on the steps outside the church, smoking a cigarette. Her mascara had begun to run but she hasn't bothered trying to wipe it away this time.

“Hey, you.” You lowered yourself down, knocking your shoulder into hers as you sat.

She took a long drag, exhaling toward the sky as the smoke curled away from her lips, letting the ashes fall to the concrete beside her.

“He doesn't have to treat me like a child. I know I've got issues but I'm not a fucking child. Mr. I don't show my emotions so you shouldn't either. Our dad died. You think the least he could do is show me a little compassion or act like he gives a shit.” She released a tagged sigh, taking the cigarette to her lips once more.

“I don't think he necessarily means to make you feel like that. Steve has a lot on his shoulders and your dad, well… he and Steve never saw eye to eye. I know he's hurting too, but he has to be strong. You know how it is with these men.” You rubbed soothing circles to her back as you spoke.

She sniffed, pulling a tissue out to wipe her face.

“I can ride to the cemetery with you. I don't mind.”

“That'd be nice.” A faint smile crossed her face, as you wrapped your arm around her waist. “I'm going to get cleaned up. Wait for me?”

“Of course.” You helped her up, following her back into the lobby as the service ended, watching her disappear into the restroom.

You caught your father on his way out, letting him know you were going with them, and he could head home if he needed to.

“If you're sure.” He kissed your forehead, before leaving you to stand by the door waiting for her to exit, when Steve strode up beside you.

“Where's Pip?!” He asked, a little breathless.

“She's in the restroom.” As soon as you got the sentence out, he began to bang on the door, twisting the knob.

“Steve, what're you doing? For God's sake, give her a little privacy.” You pleaded.

“Pip, open the goddamn door.” He rushed out, pounding his fists harder than before, looking worried when he was met with silence.

“Steve?” You looked around, a crowd slowly gathering around at his outburst.

“Just step back, I'm knocking the door down.”

You did as you were told, with your heart beginning to pound in your chest at how worried he seemed.

“Pip, I'm coming in!” He shouted, before his shoulder slammed into it, knocking it open as he rushed in.

You turned the corner to see Pip, slumped over against the back wall passed out. Your mind didn't comprehend what you were seeing at first.

He knelt down beside her, pulling her face up and lightly slapping her cheek.

“Pip! Wake up! Goddamnit!” His fingers flew to her neck, checking for a pulse.

It all seemed to be happening in slow motion as you watched the scene unfold. Eddie rushed in beside you, as Steve yelled at him to bring the car around, lifting her up with him from the ground, moving aside as he passed you.

It was frantic, the sea or people parting to let them go by as you stood there in shock. Watching Steve run with her lifeless body in tow.

Only coming to your senses when you hear someone close by seemingly laughing at the scene. “Pip, always the life of the party.” They sneered.

You looked around the small bathroom, spotting her purse on the floor, quickly picking it up and taking it with you avoiding the gazes of onlookers but keeping your head held high all the way.

Richard Harrington was buried while colleagues and friends looked on. None of his children were there to see him interred.

You were ringing your hands in the back seat as your chauffeur took you across town the next morning. Nerves getting the better of you.

It has been years since you've seen the Harrington residence but as soon as it comes into view memories begin to flood your mind.

There were the sweet moments when you were young children. Playing in the garden or swimming in the pool. You, Steve and Pip. Much simpler times when a game of hide and seek could keep you all occupied for hours.

Isabella Harrington had finally had enough right after Steve turned 10, leaving Richard and taking Pip with her back to Italy. She didn't leave Steve to fend for himself intentionally but given the option of losing both her children or taking Pip, she has no other choice.

Suddenly, the play dates were dwindling, and you began to see less and less of Steve. Separate schools made it even harder but despite it all you remained close.

You'd been in love with Steve since you were 12 when he told you that one day he was going to marry you and gave you your first kiss behind the pool house.

So caught up in your thoughts you hadn't heard the driver or noticed the car had stopped.

“Miss? Are you alright?” He said a little louder, catching your attention and thoroughly pulling you from your daydream.

“Hmmmm? Yes, fine, thank you.” Replying quickly.

“We’ve arrived, Mrs. Petrov.” He said as he exited the car, coming around to get your door.

“Thank you,” you whispered as you removed yourself, neck craning upward. The house seemed bigger, more intimidating than you remembered.

Immediately clocking several security personnel stationed in various positions around the yard, no doubt already alerting him to your arrival as you stepped across the cobblestone drive, heels a little unsteady against the uneven stone.

Reaching the few steps to the large front door, it opened before you had the chance to knock.

“Hi stranger!” Eddie beamed down at you. Curls tied back into a low bun, still dressed to impress. Burgundy silk dress shirt thrown over his frame, tattooed forearms on display. He was handsome in his own right.

“Hi Eddie! How have you been?” You stepped closer to him, pulling him in for a quick hug. “Sorry we didn't get to chat yesterday.”

“Doing well, and don't sweat it. There was a lot going on.” He laughed, albeit a little nervously as he pulled back. “He's in the office, you can follow me.”

You remembered the layout fairly well, the office was at the back of the house on the first floor. A large space, with windows overlooking the expanse of the back garden.

Eddie walked quietly ahead of you, as you looked around the house. It was exactly as you remembered. Dark walls with marble flooring leading to the ornate door at the end of the hall.

He didn't bother knocking, as you followed him in. The curtains were drawn back from the windows letting the natural light illuminate the space.

Steve leaned against the far wall staring out the window. He was dressed down in a sky blue short sleeved shirt and cream-colored trousers. He turned, chestnut locks a little unkempt with a thin gold chain resting against his chest.

He turned in time to see you both enter, pushing off the wall to meet you halfway.

“Dove! What a pleasant surprise.” He flashed you a warm smile, turning to dismiss Eddie as he closed the door behind him.

“I brought Pip’s clutch.” Holding out for him to take.

“Thanks, I'll let her know. Though I'm not sure she even missed it.” He sighed, easing it from your hand, tossing it to the desk beside him.

You'd heard she'd barely made it to the hospital. Apparently, the coke she had ingested was laced with fentanyl. Pip was a party girl, she hadn't intentionally tried to overdose which was a relief, all things considered.

“How is she?” You asked.

“I honestly don't know. I thought she…” His face flashed with momentary worry, before shaking it off. “She's going to rehab before I send her back to Italy. I think this might have actually scared some sense into her even though she's pissed at me.”

“You're doing the right thing. She needs you to be there for her.” Reassuring him.

He nodded before you both fell into a comfortable silence as your eyes took in the room. He had already begun renovating it to his liking which made you smile.

“I thought it could use an update.” He said, as if reading your mind.

The wallpaper was being taken down, replaced with a fresh coat of paint. Steve has always hated his father's gaudy taste, as if he needed to remind himself of his wealth in his own office. Steve was humble, he didn't need to flaunt and inflate himself to others. You admired him for that, always staying true to himself.

“I'm sure it'll be perfect. Doing the whole house, I hope? The medieval dungeon theme is so last year.” He chuckled.

“You don't like it? I thought about adding some chains and cuffs in the hall to really set it off.” You both laughed.

“But, yes I'm planning an overhaul for the entire house.” For a moment he wondered what you would do with the place. He could imagine the way your eyes lit up knowing you could make it your own.

A place for you and him to raise a couple of kids, have family dinners every Sunday and eventually grow old together. Or would you want to move out of the city altogether? Sell this old house and start anew?

If only he knew the similar thoughts that swirled through your mind but you couldn't allow yourself to dwell.

You suddenly checked your watch, clearing your throat.

“I'm sorry to cut this short, I've got a client coming by in a few.” Sighing to yourself.

“No worries. I'll let Pip know you brought this by.” Holding her purse up for emphasis. “Let me walk you out.”

He followed closely behind you down the hall, just shy of reaching his palm out to your lower back, into the foyer as one of the security guards opened the front door.

You turned once more to bid him farewell but it was he who spoke first.

“Dove, you're welcome here anytime. Please, stop by. I'll even show you my fancy cooking skills sometime.” He grinned, the smile reaching his eyes, boyish and bright.

“Steve Harrington cooks? This I'll have to see.” Mirroring his smile, as your driver opened your door. “Bye Steve.”

He waved, as you got in and continued to watch your car exit the drive.

He couldn't explain it. The inexplicable need to be near you. Wishing for another life. A once upon a time he could have had with you.

Alone in his big house, with no one to share it with, he sighed heavily making his way back to his office.

Fairy tales, he thinks. Meant for much gentler souls than he. Someone deserving of it, brave and pure of heart, just like the stories his mother used to read to him and Pip when they were still children, still room to believe in such notions as soul mates and true loves first kiss.

Eddie was waiting there, sitting behind his desk.

“Call for you.” He stated, getting up from the chair extending the phone towards him.

“Take a message, I'm not in the mood right now. I'll call them back.” He crossed the room, pouring himself a drink.

“Steve, I think you're going to want to take this.”

You hated lying but you had to get out of there.

A whole lifetime's worth of memories seemed to overtake you when you stepped through the threshold of a home that you practically grew up in.

You dreaded going back to your own home. A home that you'd hoped one day would have been filled with love that never came to fruition.

Such high hopes in the beginning with Nikolai.

He was the perfect gentleman. A whirlwind romance that had you so swept away you didn't see his true colors until it was too late.

So caught up with what he was, but it was truly only what he showed you. What he wanted you to believe.

Soon after your marriage, it was late nights at his clubs coming home smelling of liquor and sweet smelling perfume that turned into not coming home at all some nights.

You'd wanted white picket fences and children laughing down the hall. He gave you heartache and crying alone in your empty king sized bed.

Almost five years later and you're left to question if he ever loved you or if it had all been a strategy to gain his power.

Later that night you were in the study reading on the large sofa, room lit softly by the fireplace. Cozy in silk pajamas and your favorite blanket, it was the perfect end to the day as you sipped some wine.

Nik slipped in, late as usual, loosening his tie as he stomped into the room.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” He hissed.

“Well, nice to see you too, dear.” You didn't look up, only rolling your eyes. “It looks like I'm reading, no?”

“Why the hell did you go to Harrington's today?” He stepped in front of you, crossing his arms.

“I was returning Pip’s clutch. She left it at the church.” Shrugging and returning to your book as if it should be the end of it.

“You expect me to believe that?” He leaned down, arm caging you in, as he swiftly pulled the book from your hand tossing it in the empty space of the couch beside you. Closing in, almost nose to nose, as his imposing frame hovered over you.

“It's the truth, Nik. I really don't care what you choose to believe.” You spat back at him. Not at all in the mood for his little games or vile attitude.

You knew the only reason he skipped the funeral was because he had a bone to pick with Richard. Now it seems he's trying to take it up with Steve.

You pushed his chest, getting up from the couch as you started to cross the room now done with the conversation but he grabbed your arm, wrenching you back around to face him.

“Let's get one thing straight, YOU, under no circumstances, are to see him again.” His grip tightening as he spoke. He'd never laid a hand on you, but the way he was squeezing you now was surely going to leave a mark.

“Nik, let me go. You can't forbid me to stay away from my childhood friends. You're being ridiculous. Steve is not Richard. You have nothing against him.” His grip only grew tighter, shaking you just a bit as you tried to pull yourself free. “Nik! Let go of me!”

“No Y/N! I mean it. You are not to see him again!” Screaming in your face, droplets of spital flying toward you. “Do you understand me?”

You finally nodded. Worrying if you tried to push the issue further it would only make things worse.

“Say it!” He shouted.

“I understand. Now, let me go!” He did so, pushing you slightly away from him.

“Good.” He sneered, smirk now donning his face as he brushed past you on his way to pour himself a drink from the small bar in the corner of the room as you quickly grabbed your things.

You passed one of Nik’s security details, whose gaze fell away from you as you rushed out of the room, he'd overheard the entire thing. You were mortified at his behavior. Nik was a grade A asshole but he had never been physical.

Your feet carried you swiftly to your room, heaving a sigh of relief as you locked the door behind you. Glad to have some kind of barrier between the two of you tonight.

Running into the bathroom, you slid your robe from your shoulder to examine your arm. It was already starting to form finger shaped bruises.

You could easily hide them, wearing long sleeves, which you did most days. It was horrifying to think you had no choice but to hide them. HE had done this to you.

You washed your face and slid into bed, crying softly to yourself as your mind began spiraling. This was a life you had never wanted.

A husband that never looks at you, unless it's with disdain and contempt. Now seemingly hell bent on keeping you in line the way he sees fit. When words don't work, he'll easily use brute force to bend you to his will.

Telling Steve would be completely out of the question for both of your sakes, but in the coming days you would soon find out how difficult it would be to avoid him completely.