Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The clock ticks by on the wall so slowly, it drives her crazy. The paperwork on her desk was never-ending, piles and piles making a mess everywhere. You could almost not see her beyond the stacks. The clacking of her keyboard was irritating, the silence around her from her coworkers who all got to leave earlier than her was even worse.

Why was her boss always harder on her than everyone else?

She worked hard every day, harder than she’s ever seen her other coworkers work. She always managed to get everything filed by the end of the week, emails sent and answered at the end of every day. She was usually the last one out of the office.

Her coworkers didn’t like her, and her boss liked her even less. She wondered how she hasn’t been fired yet, but her hard work spoke for itself. She was more productive than half of the staff at the company. No doubt that the company was more organized and making more money with her around. Stocks were going up and the CEO was cashing in.

She was losing sleep working so hard, and she was barely making enough to pay for her apartment in the slums, with no promotion or anything to show for it. It was a dead-end desk job with no hope of success. When she first started she thought there might be a chance to go up in the company, but those hopes were dashed the first time her boss called her an airhead. And the insults just kept on coming.

She looks at the corner of her monitor, noting that it was now 2 hours past her shift. Everyone had been out of the office for hours now. Even her piece of shit boss would be at home in his luxury penthouse, sipping wine and having steak for dinner, while she sat at her little cubicle sending emails to potential business partners and clients, filing documents, keeping the office organized.

She sighs, turning off the monitor and standing up from her slightly broken, uncomfortable chair. She stretches, hearing a loud pop in her spine that felt really good to get out. She grabs her bag from under the desk and heads out, turning the lights off and locking up before she leaves. The rest of the stack of papers on her desk remains untouched.

A problem for future me.

After getting into the car, she drove to her dingy apartment, music blaring through her speakers. She wanted to go to the bar, but knew better than to drive because if she was going to drink, she was going to drink a lot. At this point she didn’t care how irresponsible it was to get wasted all alone, with no ride, in a place that was still very unfamiliar to her, in an area some would consider “the warzone”.

She would have called up a friend to drink with, if she had one. Instead, she decided to drink alone. She made no friends after she moved here. The only people she talked to consistently enough were her insufferable coworkers, who all disliked her for whatever reason. She still couldn’t tell why.

It wasn’t like she was mean, or cranky. She did a good job at work, spoke in a friendly manner to her coworkers, smiling warmly. They always shot her looks of disgust, sneering at her, or just flat out ignoring her.

After a while, she stopped caring. The only thing that got on her nerves was how hard her boss worked her, for such little pay, with no hope of that promotion she desperately wanted. The promotion she deserved.

Part of her began to regret moving here with the idea of a better life. Sure, her life back home was nothing short of miserable. Old friends who turned into snakes, family that disowned her and labeled her a failure, an apartment that was falling apart just as much as she was, with mold growing on the ceiling and a disgusting roach problem that no amount of poison would solve.

So, maybe her life was a little better here, in this unfamiliar place. Yet now, she was losing sleep, and making mistakes. She thought about looking for another job several times, filled out applications since her simple desk job was in jeopardy with the looming threat of layoffs (if it hadn’t been solved by her hard work and getting the stock up in the company). But nowhere ever called her back. It seemed like she was doomed to be a paper-pusher for the rest of her sad life.

Maybe she should have gone to law school like her parents wanted.

She parks her car in a spot somewhat close to her apartment building, pulling up the map on her phone to find the nearest bar. She thought there might be one close enough that she could just walk there, even if her shoes had heels and her feet ached. She was used to it.

Just her luck, the closest one was a bar that was just a mile away. It would be about a thirty minute walk in the heels she was wearing, but right now she just didn’t care. She didn’t want to waste money on two taxis, because she would definitely at least need one to get home.

So, she made the painful one mile walk in her heels to her salvation, bag thrown over her shoulder.

She makes it to the bar by just after eight, slumping herself into an unoccupied bar seat, next to a ginger-haired man. The bartender takes her order, walking down the bar to make the drink. She let out a heavy sigh, leaning her head in her hand.

She failed to notice the ginger’s dull blue eyes looking at her sorry state.

Her hair was in a messy bun, falling out at this point from her walk. She was in her office clothes; a black pencil skirt, matching blazer, and gray top, with black tights and her black heels. She looked exhausted.

“Long day?”

She snaps out of her dissociation, looking at the ginger next to her. He had a warm smile, maroon dress shirt unbuttoned just enough to show his collar bones. His hair was slightly unruly, fluffy, falling just slightly in front of his freckled face as he tilted his head to the side. “M-me?”

He laughs softly, and it’s the most wonderful sound, she thinks. “Yeah, you look tired.”

“Yeah, I probably do, huh,” she sighs, looking away at the bar top. The bartender brings her the drink, setting it down in front of her before walking away. She takes a long drink, enjoying the sweet burn of it down her throat. It sits warm in her stomach, but it’s not enough. It won’t be enough until she’s had so many drinks her thoughts cease.

“Whiskey?” He leans against the bar top, fingers ghosting over his own glass. It has a clear liquor in it, topped with fizz and a cherry. A vodka soda, she assumes. “Must have been a bad day to drink such a harsh liquor. You look like a fruit-cocktail type of girl to me.”

“Needed hard liquor after today,” she shakes her head, looking back at the man who’s decided he would be her companion, at least for the moment. “But I can’t say I object to fruity cocktails. I used to drink them a lot back home.”

“Not from here?”

“Nope,” she pops the p as she swirls the whiskey in the glass, ice clanking with the movement. “Came here for the prospect of a better life. But the grass isn’t always greener on the other side. Everywhere has its problems.”

He just nods, taking a drink of his own drink. She thinks the conversation has run its course as the silence settles in, and she continues to drink. She stares at the little bit of whiskey left in her glass sadly when the man speaks up again.

“I’m Ajax. You?”

She looks up at him to see that he’s looking at her again, waiting for her to introduce herself. She smiles for the first time in a long time, tapping her nail against the glass. “(Y/N).”

“(Y/N),” he repeats, smiling that beautiful smile again. She thinks he’s straight out of a dream, and it crosses her mind that maybe she never went to the bar. Maybe she went up to her apartment and passed out in bed, imagining herself talking to someone in a bar for once. Damn, I’m lonely. “Pretty name. What are you doing all alone at a bar like this? Are you waiting for some coworkers to meet you or something?”

She snorts mid-drink, almost choking. She shakes her head, setting the glass down. “No, no. I don’t…” she pauses, biting her lip. “It’s embarrassing to admit but after all the months I’ve been living here, I still don’t have any friends. I guess I’m pretty unapproachable.”

“I think you’re quite lovely,” his eyes darken a little and he leans toward her, muttering just loud enough for her to hear, “but that’s not something you should go admitting to just anyone, you know.”

She swallows thickly, glancing at him from her peripherals. He leans away again, that same smile etched into his skin. It seems a little more sinister than it did before. “Don’t worry, though! I’ll be your friend, and I’ll keep any unsavory people away, so just enjoy yourself!” He chuckles, waving down the bartender for another drink, and ordering another one of what she had. “You look like you need it.”

She should be scared of what he said, should throw the cash down onto the bar top and turn tail, run in her heels the mile back to her apartment, but she doesn’t. She stays put in that seat, next to the threatening ginger, lets him order her another drink. She was here to get wasted, after all. If something happened to her, did she really care? Her life was going nowhere. It was dull and boring and all she did every day was file paperwork, take phone calls, send emails. And every day was the same.

Fuck it. I deserve to let loose a little. Even if this man is a complete stranger.

“Yeah, I do.” The bartender comes back with two drinks, and she gladly takes it. She takes a small sip this time, humming sadly as she sets the glass back down. “Ajax, was it?”

He hums, taking a swig of his own drink.

“I know that we just met, but do you think I could vent to you about some things?” She asks shyly, a blush creeping up onto her face. She decides not to look at him, opting to look at her scuffed heels. “I don’t have anyone else.”

“Of course,” he nearly purrs, eyes glued to that cute blush on her cheeks. Oh, how lucky he was to meet such a lovely thing in a place so grungy like this. She almost didn’t belong here. She looked too proper for this bar, even with her bun falling out of place, scuffed heels, one stocking falling down just below her skirt.

“Thank you,” she mutters, taking another drink before tracing her finger along the rim of the glass. She takes a big deep breath, then all of a sudden she blurts out, “I fucking hate my job.”

“Why don’t you quit?” He asks like it’s the most simple thing. She barks out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.

“I’ve been looking for another job, but nowhere calls me back. I can’t afford to quit my job, and what’s worse is I’m under the constant threat of layoffs. If I make myself useful to the company then at least I’ll have a little job security,” she huffs, leaning her elbow against the bar top and letting her head drop into her hand. “But my boss is a fucking jerk, and no matter how hard I work, the promotion I’m aiming for is always out of my reach. Not to mention he hates me, and my coworkers hate me.”

“I came here thinking I’d find a better opportunity than what I was given back home. And while that may have been somewhat true, this job does pay better than the one I had back then, that doesn’t change the fact that I’m always walking on thin ice,” she glares down at the ice in her glass before she picks it up and downs the rest of it in one go.

Ajax looks at her with concern as she does. She wipes her mouth with her blazer sleeve, letting out a soft breath. “And I’m just as alone here as I was there.”

At least there I was familiar with where I was.

“I thought a fresh start was what I needed,” she lets her hands drop to her lap, picking at her nails under the bar top where Ajax couldn’t see. “Maybe I was wrong.”

“Do you want to know what I think?” Ajax asks, picking up the cherry from his drink and dropping it into his mouth. She hums and nods as he finishes chewing it. “I think a fresh start is definitely what you needed. You just have yet to meet the right people to get what you want.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You’ve been here, what, a few months? Everything takes time to get moving the way you want it to,” he hums, twisting the cherry stem between his fingers. He drops it on the napkin in front of him before reaching out to his glass to take another drink. “I don’t know what your life was like before you came here, but I’m willing to bet that leaving for that fresh start was probably for the best. Hell, you’re probably just a few weeks from that promotion you mentioned!”

“That’s pretty wishful thinking, Ajax,” she laughs lightly, shaking her head. She smiles wistfully, rubbing the back of her hands. “Leave it to me to be seeking advice and reassurance in my poor decisions from a stranger.”

“Isn’t everyone you meet technically a stranger, when you’re not from around here?” He smirks, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Well, kind of,” she bites her lip, bringing a hand up to rub at her eyes. “But don’t you usually only have conversations like these after you get to know someone?”

“A lot of people pour their hearts out when they’re drunk at a bar. It’s not that strange,” he chuckles, slamming the rest of his drink much like she did. He leans onto one elbow, tapping his fingers on the bar top. “How about another drink? On me. And we can talk about something a little less depressing, like ourselves. Since you want to get to know me.”

She blushes and nods, not wanting to decline his polite offer. Plus, even though he was kind of strange, a bit talkative, and something sinister hid behind those beautiful eyes and charming smile, she couldn’t ignore the fact that for once she actually had the opportunity to make a friend in this god-forsaken place she brought herself to. She would be a fool to decline this offer, wouldn’t she?

Or maybe it would have been smart to decline.

Ajax orders another round of drinks for them, scooting just a little closer to her. She doesn’t notice his movement, just tracing circular patterns into the bar top. “So,” he starts as the bartender appears with two more drinks, setting them in front of the two. “What made you decide to come to Snezhnaya, of all places?”

“There are a few reasons. First, it’s really far from my home country,” she takes a small drink, relishing in the way it builds up warmth with the previous two drinks in her system. She was starting to feel the tipsiness hit her, her head getting a little fuzzy. “And I like the cold. Plus, I’ve always wanted to live in a big city like this, even if my apartment has a crappy view. It’s still better than where I was living before. Added bonus that anyone who might come looking for me from my past won’t ever find me here.”

“Oh? Are you running for something, girlie?” He coos, sipping leisurely on his drink. Her eyes widen and she shakes her head furiously, realizing how it sounds.

“N-no! I just- I had some less than stellar old friends that might want to reconnect or something and I just… didn’t want that,” her voice trails off, face red from embarrassment and alcohol. He laughs, eyes crinkling at the edges as he does.

“I’m just teasing you,” his voice is syrupy and sweet, and only now does she notice that he’s close enough that she can smell his cologne, and the vodka on his breath. “You seem like a good girl, of course you wouldn’t be running from anything like that.”

What is he implying when he says that?

“So, what about you, Ajax?”

“Hm?” He still has that sweet smirk on his face, leaning in close. She doesn’t notice how his eyes look behind them at the other patrons, or how one arm goes to wrap around the back of her seat.

“Are you from Snezhnaya? Or did you come here like I did?”

“Oh, I’m from Snezhnaya, but not this city, specifically,” he hums. “I’m from a little seaside village, pretty far from here. Have family out there. I came for work. Nothing really exciting.”

“Oh, are you close with your family?” She asks, looking back at him with glossy eyes. Yeah, the alcohol was definitely hitting her now.

“Yes! I love my family,” he beams, smiling wide. He looks away, down at his drink. “It’s huge, I’m the middle of six kids in my house. My mama and papa took great care of us as kids. I promised them that once I left I would help them in any way I could, to repay them for how they raised me. I send them a big portion of my earnings each time I get paid, and when I go home to visit I always bring gifts for my little brothers and sister.”

“That’s sweet of you,” she says quietly, fondly looking into her own glass.

“Haha, I’m glad you think so,” he blushes. She glances up at him to see his face is tinged slightly red, and she assumes it’s from the alcohol, like hers. “Do you have family back home? I know you said earlier that you didn’t have anyone.”

“I mean, I have family. As for if I’m close to them, that’s a hard no.” She sighs, taking another drink from her nearly forgotten whiskey. “My parents think I’m a failure, and the rest of my family despises me too. I’m a black sheep in the family. Everyone shuns me. Not too far off from how everyone else treats me, now that I think about it.”

“Maybe that’s why I feel like I can get along well with you,” Ajax mutters lowly, looking at her from beneath his eyelashes. “Because you’re a black sheep.”

“Yeah? Are you a shepherd with a flock of black sheep, then?” She giggles to herself, closing her eyes. Her heart beats hard against her rib cage noticing the way he looks at her. I’m just imagining it.

“I suppose,” he huffs a laugh, hiding his face behind his glass as he takes a drink. “Never really thought about it that way before. I thought I was more of a black sheep myself, if I’m honest.”

“But you’re close to your family? Surely they don’t see you that way?”

“Well, sure, they love me and I love them dearly too. But I was a bit of a trouble maker back home as a teenager. Just because we’re close doesn’t mean I fit in with them.” He smiles sadly down at his distorted reflection in the glass. “But you’re right. I’m probably more of a shepherd than a sheep!”

“A shepherd with a flock of black sheep!”

“Haha, yeah, I guess so,” he chuckles, taking a drink. She’s so damn cute.

She takes another drink, finishing off the rest of her third glass. She sighs longingly, looking up at Ajax with a fondness in her eyes that makes his heart almost stop. “I really enjoyed talking to you tonight, Ajax. You made my shitty night a lot better. Thank you.”

“Of course, pretty girl,” he hums warmly, tapping his finger against the back of her seat. “Leaving now?”

“Yeah, I should go. I have to work again tomorrow and finish up everything I didn’t get done tonight,” she sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I’ll probably have a killer hangover in the morning, but it was worth it to meet you, and talk to you for a while.”

“Let me take you home.”

“O-oh, no, it’s okay, I was just going to call a cab to bring me home,” she stutters, clutching her hands together. “You’ve already done a lot for me tonight.”

“Then let me call you a cab. I’ll pay the fee,” he offers, pulling his phone from his pocket.

“Y-you really don’t have to-“

“I don’t mind,” he smiles, typing into his phone before calling up the cab. “And don’t worry, I’ll pay for your drinks tonight too, so just get home safe, lovely.”

“U-um, thank you,” She mutters, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “You’re really too kind. I-I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckles, pocketing his phone. “The cab will be outside in about ten minutes. I’ll wait with you to make sure it gets here.”

“Okay,” she nods, standing next to Ajax as he pays the bill for the drinks they shared. He offers her his arm, walking out of the bar with her as she sways a little with her movements. It’s embarrassing, but she leans on Ajax a bit as her eyes feel heavy while they wait in comfortable silence.

Ajax pretends like he doesn’t feel her lean into his side, loving the way she feels against him. He wonders what it would be like to hold her in his arms, to feel her soft, delicate hands against his chest, against his face.

He just hoped he would get to see her again. He would have to come to this bar more often if she might be there.

She starts to hum absently, a tune completely unfamiliar to him. He can’t help the smile that graces his face, savoring every minute of her sweet hums and gentle sway. She leans into him a little more, stumbling slightly. He wraps an arm around her to steady her, and she mumbles an apology.

He chuckles, rubbing her side gently. The cab pulls to a stop in front of them and the driver rolls down the passenger window, “Mr. Tartaglia?”

“Yeah, it’s a ride for her,” Ajax gestures to the woman leaning against him drunkenly. “Hey, lovely, your ride is here.”

“Mmhm,” she nods, detaching herself from his side to get in. He opens the door to the backseat for her and helps her inside, smiling at her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, pretty girl,” he says as he shuts the door, moving to lean into the front window to speak directly to the driver. “Get her home safely. Here,” he pulls out his wallet and hands the man a stack of cash.

“Thank you, sir,” he nods, rolling up the window as Ajax steps back onto the sidewalk. The driver pockets the cash and turns to the drunk girl in his backseat. “So, where to?”

She gives him her address, and he turns back to the road, putting the cab in drive and taking off. Ajax waves goodbye as the cab leaves, then puts his hands in his pockets as he sighs, turning to walk down the street in the opposite direction.

She’s back to the complex in a matter of minutes, getting out of the cab and stumbling to the stairs leading to her apartment. The cab driver asks if she’d like some help up to her apartment, but she declines, saying she’s fine. At the bottom of the steps, she reaches down to slip off her heels, thinking it would be easier to climb the four flights of stairs barefoot instead of in the damn heels.

It takes her longer than usual to get up to her apartment, but once she’s finally inside, she locks the bottom lock, the deadbolt, and slides the chain in place. She drops her bag onto the floor, throwing her heels next to them. She pulls her hair from the tie and lets it down, shaking it out before she stumbles to the bedroom, flopping onto the bed.

She’s asleep before she can even put the blanket over herself.

Chapter Text

How did she find herself in this predicament?

Oh, right, because she was the hardest working person at the company, and knew more about the upcoming projects than any of her coworkers. Plus, she was the one who kept in contact with the majority of the business’s partners, emailing them back quickly with kindness and professionalism. No doubt they kept most of their clientele because of her.

There was a charity event that most of Snezhnaya’s elite business men and contractors would be attending, and the CEO of the company was invited to attend. It would be a lavish party with expensive champagne and food, held in the esteemed event center with marble floors and expensive rugs.

The CEO was out of the country on business and couldn’t make it to the charity event, so he got permission from the event planner to send the Investment Manager and one of his project specialists from the company in his stead. It just so happened that her insufferable boss, Donovan, was said investment manager, and she was the project specialist they picked. She would have to curse the damn CEO for sending her instead of anyone else. She was hardly in a position to even mingle with all the big shot millionaires and CEOs that would be attending this charity event. She would be so out of place.

She knocks on the door of Donovan’s office, hearing his gruff voice tell her to come in. She opens the door and closes it behind her, walking up to the desk. He doesn’t look up at her. “Sit down.”

She does as he says, sitting down in the plush red chair in front of his desk. “I’m just going to be blunt so shut up and listen,” he grumbles, pushing some stray papers to the side so he can lean forward on his elbows, dropping his head onto his knuckles to look at her. She sits up straight, swallowing the lump in her throat. Please don’t fire me, please don’t fire me-

“There’s a big charity event next weekend. Mr. Ivanovich was personally invited by the event planner herself, Eva Volkova. She’s a very famous event planner, so I’m sure she needs no introduction,” he waves his hand dismissively. “Unfortunately, Mr. Ivanovich can’t make it, so you and I are going instead.”

“No need to dress up. Just wear your typical uniform. I’ll do all the talking, anyway. Now get back to work. You still have all those papers to be signed and filed on your desk.”

Now, here she was, standing in front of the mirror fixing her makeup while Donovan waited in his luxury car outside. She sighs, smoothing out the creases in her skirt before making her way to the door, snatching her purse and keys from the counter. “Well, showtime…”

He was parked outside her apartment complex, waiting for her to come down. He was to drive them to the party, and monitor her behavior. He taps his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as she finally approaches his car, pulling on the handle and getting into the passenger seat. “Took you long enough.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, letting out a heavy sigh. “It’s a little hard going down four flights of stairs in heels like this.”

“You live in a dump,” he states flatly, putting the car in drive and starting to head out of the complex. He doesn’t so much as glance in her direction. “You know this area is the warzone, don’t you?”

“So I’ve heard.”

She wore exactly what he told her to wear; black pencil skirt to the knees, matching blazer, white dress shirt, black tights, and black heels. Her hair was down for once, falling gracefully over her shoulders. Donovan wore something a bit more fancy, more suited for a business man. He wore a navy suit with a white tie and black dress shirt. His dark hair was slicked back, and his large glasses sat lowly on his nose.

The car is quiet for a few minutes, before Donovan finally speaks again, this time to discuss their objective while attending this charity event. “This is the perfect opportunity for us to make better connections. Tonight is all about networking. So what you’re going to do is stay by me, and do not say anything unless I tell you to. Don’t talk to any potential business associates by yourself. I don’t want you making a fool of me.”

“Yes, sir,” she sighs, squeezing her hands together anxiously. She stares out the window at the rapidly moving street lights and tall buildings with lights twinkling in the distance. Every time they passed a street light it would just barely illuminate the two in a soft orange light. The time on the digital clock on the dashboard read 7:43.

They both sit in uncomfortable silence for a while, driving to the grand event center where the charity party was being held. She refused to look over at her boss, choosing instead to take this moment to get a good look at the city. She was unfamiliar with most of the places they were driving through, considering the event center was on the other side of town in the safer, richer side of town, where all the expensive apartments and penthouses were.

Donovan was very familiar with the area.

“You’re quiet,” he huffs, leaning an arm on the door while his other holds the steering wheel. They stop at a red light, and he takes the moment to glance at her. “Honestly, I thought you’d be talking more.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, shaking her head. Her hair bounces softly with the movement. “I have nothing to say, sir.”

“Good, at least you won’t annoy me all night, then,” he turns back to the road as the light changes, and he continues to drive in silence. She already knew that tonight would be absolutely miserable at Donovan’s mercy, for hours late into the night. Spending even an hour with her boss was enough for a lifetime.

Finally, after twenty grueling minutes with Donovan in his car, they arrived to the event hall, where all these fancy business men and fancy cars were all parked and lined up, people handing keys to valets to park for them. It was all so grand and expensive it had her head spinning. Donovan turns off the car and demands her to get out, and opens his own door. He walks up to the valet with her at his side, handing the man his keys and walking inside, not even looking back to check if she was following.

She picks up her pace so she doesn’t get left behind, standing just a few steps behind him at all times. She looks around at all the business men dressed in their best, some with gold watches and rings and bracelets. All these men and even some women that were in attendance put both her and Donovan to shame. Donovan turns around and grabs her wrist roughly, whispering angrily, “Pay attention. Don’t get lost.”

She nods silently as he lets go, leading her toward their first targets for the night. He introduces himself as the company’s advocate, taking Mr. Ivanovich’s place for the evening. He apologizes on the CEO’s behalf, and introduces her as one of their project specialists.

They chat about the current projects, the expected increase in company profits, trying to earn a partnership with them.

And the party goes on like this for hours.

Donovan drags her around to many different business men, different groups that are already chatting, and even though she hates Donovan, she did have to admit he could talk up anyone into potential partnerships. He was a jerk, but he had a silver tongue when it came to getting what he wanted.

She finds a moment to slip away for a little breather, standing alone near the wall away from everyone else. She was starting to get overwhelmed by all the rich business talk, suffocating cologne and perfumes, sickly sweet words like honey laced with venom. All of these people would throw you under the bus for the sake of self preservation, no matter how kind they may have seemed. This is the rule of business.

“Hello, lovely! Fancy seeing you here!”

She jumps, turning so fast it almost makes her dizzy. Ajax is standing behind her, smile wide with a hand on his hip. He looks so much more sophisticated than when they met a few weeks ago at the bar, in a black suit with a maroon dress shirt underneath, a gray tie, and black gloves. “Oh, A-Ajax! I- um, I had no idea you would be here.”

“I didn’t know you’d be here either. It’s good to see you. I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon. I must be really lucky to run into you here, of all places,” he hums, letting his hand fall to his side. “Just when I was starting to get bored of this party.”

“So, um, how have you been, Ajax?” She asks, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She has a slight blush on her face, remembering how casual they were when they drank together, and how he paid for all her drinks, as well as her cab home.

“I’ve been alright. It’s been a little lonely at that bar without you popping in to drink with me,” he chuckles, teasing her with a mischievous glint in his eye. The redness in her face deepens, and his smirk widens at her display. He loved the effect he had on her. “And you? How’s work treating you, my little black sheep?”

Her breath catches in her throat at the nickname, vaguely recalling how she called him a shepherd. It was a really embarrassing moment. “Ah, well, haha, um-“ she laughs awkwardly, trying to ignore the nickname. “Well, I’m here, so that’s a plus, right? It means my boss trusts me a little.”

“That’s great! I’m glad to hear it’s looking up for you,” his smirk softens into a sweet smile as he takes a small step closer to her. She could smell his cologne, it was the same as that night at the bar. “You know, I’ve been thinking that we’re a bit overdue for another round of drinks. Maybe we could meet up again some time, yeah? I quite enjoyed our little talk last time.”

“Oh, that would be-“

“Ah, Mr. Tartaglia! I’m so sorry about her, she’s a bit air-headed. I’ll be right back to discuss our business proposal with you, I just need to talk to my project specialist for a moment,” Donovan interrupts, smiling apologetically, taking her wrist and pulling her to the side where no one could hear him scold her.

“What are you doing! I told you not to talk to anyone unless I’m there and I tell you to!” He sneers, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you have any idea who Tartaglia is!?”

She shakes her head no, and remains silent.

“Tartaglia is the VP of this city’s branch of the Northland Bank! Not to mention, he’s a-“ Donovan stops himself, shaking his head with a frustrated sigh. “Never mind that. But you can forget about that promotion after this slip up. If you ruined this potential business partnership I will fucking fire you, do you understand?”

She nods, looking at the floor.

“Good. Now go stand over there, or go outside, but for fucks sake do not talk to anyone. I’m going to go try to salvage this partnership with Tartaglia.” Donovan shakes himself off, putting up that fake smile and sauntering back over to Ajax- Tartaglia, leaving her to stand there by herself.

She turns around, rubbing her arm awkwardly as she holds back tears, feeling an uncomfortable tightness in her chest and a lump in her throat that she can’t swallow. It was humiliating having Donovan interrupt her like that in front of Ajax, when she wasn’t even discussing business with him in the first place.

And she ruined her chance at that promotion, too.

She slinks off to the door, slipping out to be alone in the hallway where she could let her emotions out. At least she was a silent crier.

Ajax watched as she went out into the hallway. He wasn’t even listening to whatever Donovan was spewing at him. He wouldn’t even look at him as he spoke, just watched her sadly walk away, after he was trying to have a pleasant conversation with her, too.

He hated events like this, where everyone only came to talk business. All hours of his day were consumed with business, whether legal or illegal. He was relieved to see her at this charity event, thinking he might catch a little bit of a break from the obligations of running the Northland Bank branch in the city. But this damn worm had to go and ruin it, and scold her the way he did.

He was fed up.

“Email me your proposal and I’ll look through it on Monday.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Tartaglia!” Donovan nods, thanking him and moving on after Ajax waves him off, walking past him to the same doors she had walked out of a few minutes before.

She’s leaning against the wall beside the door with tears streaming down her face. She hears the door open, and wipes furiously at her eyes to try to stop crying. She doesn’t look up to see who it is, assuming it was Donovan, and she starts to apologize. “I-I’m sorry sir, I-“

The person hugs her tightly, and she realizes the cologne isn’t Donovan’s. It’s Ajax’s. She buries her face into his chest as her tears soak his shirt, slowly wrapping her arms around him. His gloved hand strokes her back comfortingly. “Sorry, this is so unprofessional. I’m getting your shirt wet.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he replies warmly, reaching up to card his fingers through her hair softly. He wishes he could feel the strands on his fingertips. “Don’t worry about it.”

She pulls away, wiping at her eyes as she sniffles. “I shouldn’t be so upset. Donovan told me not to talk to anyone alone so I wouldn’t embarrass him in front of any potential business associates. I didn’t listen so that’s my fault.”

“Seriously?” Ajax can’t help but sound annoyed, and she flinches, thinking she made him mad, too. He sighs, crossing his arms as he leans back to give her space. “I walked up to you to start a conversation. We didn’t even talk business. He doesn’t seriously expect you to just sit quietly and say nothing if someone approaches you, does he?”

She shrugs, eyes downcast at the marble floor of the hallway. He frowns, looking down at her sad expression. “It would be more rude to decline to speak to someone who walks up to start a conversation with you. He’s an idiot.”

“Well, I think it’s because of your status,” she mutters, squeezing her hands together. “Because he said you’re the vice president of the Northland Bank branch here, so he really doesn’t want me messing up his chances at a partnership with the bank.”

“You? Messing up his chances at a partnership with Northland Bank? Haha,” he laughs sardonically, shaking his head. He steps closer, tilting her chin up gently with a finger to look into his sapphire blue eyes. His voice is low, and a little unnerving. “He’s the one making a fool of himself in front of me for interrupting my very pleasant conversation with my sweet little black sheep. He’s lucky I didn’t shut him down right then and there.”

“You’re not going to decline his business proposal for being a jerk, are you?” She asks quietly, unable to tear her eyes away from his. He withdraws from her, looking up and tapping his chin in a mock gesture of thinking.

“I don’t know, why?”

“He’s going to fire me if I fucked up his opportunity for a business partnership with you,” she mumbles, feeling her eyes sting again with more tears. She wills them away. She wouldn’t cry even more in front of such a powerful man.

“Would that really be so bad, though? Your boss is a prick,” he looks back down at her, frown deepening. “You seriously want to keep working for a guy that treats you like that? For a company that doesn’t care about you?”

“I don’t have any other options, Ajax,” she straightens and clears her throat, “um, I mean, Tartaglia… actually, what do you want me to call you?”

“You can just call me Ajax,” he sighs, putting his hands in his pockets. “Tartaglia is reserved for business. I like hearing my real name on your tongue. It sounds so sweet.”

She blushes, worrying her lip in between her teeth. “Okay,” she slumps back against the wall, deflated, embarrassed, and flustered. “Well, Ajax…” she sighs, “look, I can’t afford to lose my job. It’s all I have. Without it, I’ll be thrown out of my apartment. God knows my landlord is getting fed up with me just barely making rent on time as it is, let alone if I lose my job. Ah, s-sorry, I shouldn’t be complaining about this to you. I don’t want you to take pity on me, or take it the wrong way.”

“Ugh, I’m making a fool of myself…” she whispers to herself, but he catches it. He tilts his head, letting a soft smile grace his lips.

“I’ll give your boss’s proposal a chance,” he hums, rocking back onto his heels. “To be honest, I wasn’t even listening when he spoke to me earlier, so I have no idea what he proposed to me. I told him to email it to me on Monday, so I’ll let you know what I do. But-“ he chuckles, leaning in to her so close their noses were almost touching, “you’ll have to meet me at that bar again after you get off work on Monday to find out.”

“I can’t say I object to that,” she laughs softly, looking over at the door. “I’ll probably need a drink after work on Monday, anyways.”

“I’m sure you will,” he looks over as well, clicking his tongue before looking back at her. “Drinks will be on me. I’ll wait for you there however long I have to.”

“Oh, I can pay for my drinks,” she looks back at him with a blush on her face, eyes wide. “I couldn’t possibly ask you to pay for my drinks again. I still owe you for last time-“

“Consider your company payment enough,” he winks, causing her blush to deepen further. “Actually, if you really want to pay me back, you could let me take you out of here.”

“N-no, I really should go back in there. I’m supposed to be helping Donovan with networking, since Mr. Ivanovich couldn’t make it tonight,” she sighs, shaking her head. “I would definitely lose my job if I ditched him now.”

“I understand,” he huffs, a small smile remaining on his face. “I’m guessing that means I won’t be able to talk to you the rest of the night, hmm?”

“Unfortunately not,” she frowns, rubbing her cheek. “I think Donovan would kill me in front of everyone here if he saw me with you again.”

“I’d shoot him dead before he even got a chance to,” he sneers, and the look on his face seems like he means that. It’s a little scary. “But I get it. You don’t want to lose your job. I’ll just have to wait until Monday night, yeah? I’m looking forward to it.”

More than you know, lovely…

“I’m looking forward to it too, Ajax,” she smiles sweetly, turning to walk back inside. She stops in front of the door, turning to look behind her as she gives a shy wave. “Bye…”

She opens the door, disappearing back into the main event room, weaving through business men and women until she slowly crept back in behind Donovan, who was finally by himself. He grumbles, rolling his eyes. “There you are. I was starting to think you left.”

“You’re my ride, sir,” she mutters, keeping her hands clasped together in front of her. He scoffs, putting his hands in his pockets. “And I couldn’t leave you to network the rest of the night by yourself.”

“You’re not doing anything other than getting in my way,” he states meanly, checking his watch. “I can handle myself perfectly fine. I don’t need you. I really have no idea why Mr. Ivanovich told me to bring you with.”

She stays silent, hanging her head low as she glances around at all the business people chatting lively. She sees Ajax’s auburn hair stick out among one of the groups, chatting and laughing with them. Her heart clenches a little at the sight before she tears her eyes away to follow Donovan to the next group. She wishes she could have talked to him more, without Donovan pitching a fit that she’s making a fool of him.

Maybe she should have just let Ajax take her away, if Donovan was going to act like he didn’t need her help.

She stays quiet as she follows Donovan to each group of people he hasn’t spoken to yet, faking a smile and shaking hands when he introduces her. She doesn’t speak unless Donovan tells her to, letting him handle all the smooth talk. At one point during the night she stops listening, zoning out as she gazes at the sweet ginger meandering around the event hall.

Ajax kept stealing glances at her the rest of the night, and caught her looking at him a few times. Each time their eyes would lock on to each other he would wink, grinning triumphantly when her face would turn red and she’d look away. Several times he thought about going up and making a fool of Donovan and stealing her away. He could pull some strings to get her a better job.

He scolded himself at the thought, telling himself that she might be angry with him for meddling where he had no business to. Instead he resigned himself to occasionally looking over at her until Donovan leads her to the main doors out into the hallway, hours later.

The valet brings Donovan’s car around when they leave and she walks to the passenger side, getting in. She brings a hand to press against her right temple, where her head is pounding. She feels her heartbeat beneath her fingertips, squinting at the pain. She sighs quietly, buckling herself in as Donovan drives away from the event center. He says nothing to her, focusing on the road as he drives through the dark night.

She looks at the digital clock on his dashboard, noting that it was now past midnight. She leans her aching head against the window, closing her eyes to block out the city lights. The silence and darkness behind her eyes soothed the pain, enough so that she didn’t even care about how awkward the drive may have been. She was exhausted. She could have fallen asleep in the car, had it not been Donovan’s.

She was glad that he was silent, at least. She half expected him to talk down to her the whole drive back to her apartment. To tell her how useless she is, how much of an embarrassment she is, how stupid and air-headed she is. How she shouldn’t have even been the project specialist sent with him. That someone else like Anatoly or Tatiana should have gone instead.

She didn’t need him to say any of those things. It was already painfully clear in the way he told her “I don’t need you.”

Ajax’s words from in the hallway earlier that night ring in her head like a broken record.

You seriously want to keep working for a guy that treats you like that?

For a company that doesn’t care about you?

He’s probably right, she thinks. But she has no other choice. It’s not like she could move back to her home country and find a job so easily, or find a place to live, either. Nor could she find a different job here in this city, either.

She would just have to work extra hard the next coming month to maybe get another chance at a promotion. Maybe Mr. Ivanovich would see her hard work and reward her with a transfer to a different department. Then she wouldn’t have to work with Donovan anymore. Maybe in a different department she could actually make a few friends. Maybe the investment department was just screwy.

She opens her eyes to see that they’re not far from her apartment. Despite the throb in her temple, she watches the buildings pass until he finally turns into the complex, pulling up along the side of the building to let her out.

She steps out and shuts the door, and he drives off without a word. Without staying to make sure she made it up to her apartment.

Whatever. Wouldn’t want him sticking around to find out which is my apartment anyway.

She climbs the steps up to her apartment, unlocking the door and heading inside, dropping her purse on the counter and slipping her shoes off in the entryway. She goes to her room to strip off her business uniform and put on her sleep clothes, crawling into bed and lying on her side, looking at the curtains over her window.

Chapter Text

She hated surprise meetings.

The minute that Donovan walked into the building, he called all the staff in the investment department into the conference room for a meeting. Everyone filed in one by one, and she took notice of someone she couldn’t recall ever seeing before. He had blond hair that fell just past his chin, brushing against his neck. His bangs were swept to the right of his face, and his uniform was untucked and loose.

As he brushed past her, he glanced back and smirked at her, raising his hand in a small wave before he disappears among their other coworkers. She frowns, sighing as she takes her seat toward the back of the room. She assumes this meeting has to do with the partnerships she and Donovan managed to secure at the charity party, but when Donovan speaks she realizes that’s not at all what this is about.

“Mr. Ivanovich thinks we need some extra help to get things moving properly, because some of you aren’t doing your jobs,” he scolds, eyes flitting about between people she suspects are the culprits of said laziness. He gestures to the new face, silently urging him to stand. The blond stands, turning to face the rest of their coworkers. “So, he sent someone from the marketing department to assist.”

“Sir, why would they send someone from marketing to assist the investment department?”

“Because Nikolai is good at getting things done,” Donovan rolls his eyes, placing his hands on his hips. “And he knows how to talk investors into doing what’s best for this company. His talents are wasted in the marketing department, so they sent him here, where he will do work that benefits us more.”

Their coworkers all glance at each other, but she keeps looking between Donovan and Nikolai. That’s seriously all this meeting is about? Nothing about all those partnerships we got? Did he even tell Mr. Ivanovich about it?

“I look forward to working with all of you,” Nikolai says smoothly, soft blue eyes skimming over everyone. He sits back down, and Donovan says a few more things about productivity going down and the need to work harder before letting everyone go. She stays behind as everyone walks out of the conference room, back to their cubicles.

“What is it, (Y/N)?” Donovan groans, crossing his arms as he walks toward the door. She straightens her posture, holding her hands together in front of her.

“I just wanted to ask about the partnerships from the charity event, that’s all,” she clears her throat, trying not to seem anxious. He sighs, walking past her and stopping at the door.

“I’m sending the emails out this morning.”

“Right, okay,” she mutters as he opens the door, walking out. She walks out after him, ignoring the whispers and glares from her coworkers who watched her. She walks back to her desk, sitting down and picking up the papers on the top of the stack. She flips through them, checking off and signing where she was supposed to, stamping them and placing them in a separate pile before she grabs the next one, reading through it.

“Hey, you’re (Y/N), right?” Nikolai leans against the cleared part of her desk, smirking down at her. She glances up at him from the papers in her hands, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, why?”

“I was told to come to you if I ever had any issues in this department,” he hums, looking around at the other cubicles. “You seem to be the one holding up the entire investment department, so I thought I should come thank you.”

“Oh, thanks,” her eyes widen, taken aback by his statement. Even Donovan wouldn’t compliment her like this. What game was Nikolai trying to play? “I don’t believe that’s true, but thank you for the compliment anyways.”

“You’re welcome,” he pushes himself off her desk, turning to walk away. “It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you too, Nikolai,” she mutters, turning back to her papers before she looks back up to stop him. She gets up to walk up close enough to whisper, “It doesn’t look like our coworkers are very happy that you’re here. Just to warn you, they can be a bit mean.”

“I noticed,” he laughs, turning just enough to glance at her behind him. “Thanks for the warning.”

She turns back to her own desk, sitting down and picking the papers back up. She spends the next few hours going through the stack of papers, signing and stamping them, checking things off on her to-do list. She opens up her emails on her monitor, sending and replying to emails from current clients and business partners.

The phone on her desk rings and she answers it quickly, greeting the man on the other end politely. She discusses business with this man for a few minutes, looking up the project he was talking about in her computer. She explains more of the business plan, and asks if he has any other questions, telling him to call if he needs anything else later, before she ends the call.

She leans back and sighs, rubbing her eyes. She looks at the stack of papers, frowning. The stack felt never ending. No matter how many papers she read, signed off and stamped, it looked like the stack never got any smaller. She needed to take a small break, but it felt wrong when she has so much unfinished work to do. Maybe she could just grab a coffee and get back to work after.

She walks over to the break room when she overhears her coworkers gushing about Anatoly’s new promotion to project manager. The promotion she was aiming for. The promotion she screwed up that night at the charity event when she mistakenly talked to Tartaglia of the Northland Bank.

While she was at her desk working hard for hours, Anatoly was called into Donovan’s office and given the promotion. It felt like a slap to her face, especially after the charity party. She was crushed.

She swallows the lump in her throat and pours herself a cup of coffee. Nikolai walks by Anatoly and their other coworkers talking, glancing over as he continues his stroll into the break room. “What’s that all about?” He asks her, gesturing back at the group with his thumb.

She looks over at the group, then back at Nikolai, before turning back to her coffee and taking a drink. “Donovan promoted Anatoly to project manager. Since everyone just adores Anatoly, they’re all congratulating him on the promotion.”

“Probably sucking up to him so he doesn’t dump a large workload onto them and pushes it off onto someone else,” he walks up to grab a cup, pouring some water into it. “Someone like you.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, turning around to lean on the counter. “It’s okay though. I can handle a large workload. I don’t think they can.”

“I’m willing to bet that you can get double the work done that they can by the end of the week,” he chuckles, taking a drink.

“That’s not even a daring bet, it’s an objective fact,” she shakes her head, a small smile finding its way onto her face. She takes a sip of her hot coffee, sighing. “I already do double the work of everyone here all the time.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t get the promotion instead of Anatoly. Guess it’s because they value you more as a specialist than a manager.”

“Yeah, that’s why. Totally not because I messed up last week,” she replies sarcastically, rolling her eyes. She starts walking out of the break room to go back to her desk. “Anyways, I need to get back to work, Nikolai. I’m trying to get everything done early so I don’t have to stay late again.”

“Already? You just got on break.”

“I was just getting coffee. I have things to do after work so I want to get everything done as soon as possible.”

“If you want, I can take some of your paperwork and finish it for you. I know you have a big stack of papers on your desk. You look like you could use the help,” Nikolai stops her, leaning against the wall. “I don’t have much work to do right now, so I’ll probably finish early.”

“No, it’s okay, I can finish it. Thank you, though,” she sighs, waving him off. She didn’t know much about Nikolai yet, and she didn’t trust that he wouldn’t use this against her someday. Something was off about him, but she couldn’t place what it was.

She gets back to her desk with the cup of coffee and sets it down as she sits in the broken chair, picking up where she left off.

Her computer makes a noise as an email comes in from Donovan, telling her to write up a new proposal for a business partnership with a lumber supplier from a small village just outside the city. She pinches the bridge of her nose, letting out a frustrated sigh through her nose before pushing the unsigned papers aside to start up the new proposal.

She alternates between working on the proposal and going through the papers on her desk until she finishes the proposal, emailing it to Donovan two hours before he would leave the office. The cup now sits empty and abandoned on the desk, out of the way.

She puts her head in her hands, suppressing a groan. If she keeps getting more work, she would end up late and too tired to meet Ajax at the bar tonight. She shakes her head and sifts through the papers, reminding herself that working extra hard tonight would get her out early so she could meet with Ajax.

Finally, it was the end of her shift. The papers on the desk were almost finished, all the emails she needed to send were sent except one, phone calls answered and returned. She would still be the last one to leave, but at this rate she would get to leave earlier than she usually did.

Nikolai walks by her desk with a smug smirk on his face as all of her coworkers walk out of the office for the day. He stops in front of her, leaning against the desk where the stack of papers has significantly diminished. “Still hard at work, (Y/N)?”

She hums, continuing to type on her computer. He looks at his expensive watch, clicking his tongue. “Looks like a late night for you tonight, huh? You know, my offer still stands,” he says smoothly, dropping his hand to rest on his hip. “I’ll stay back and finish your work for you.”

“It’s okay, Nikolai. I’m almost done, so it’s no big deal,” she glances up at him after sending her last email. “You should go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Alright, see you,” he huffs, smiling as he shakes his head. He walks away, waving without looking back. “Don’t work yourself to death!”

She reaches out to the unfinished stack of papers and reads through them, signing and stamping them. After each paper she signs, she sets it into the finished pile and grabs the next. It took her an hour after everyone left to finish the last of the paperwork.

She brings the finished stack of documents to Donovan’s office, dropping them into the paper tray and walking out, locking the door behind her. She goes back to her desk to turn off her monitor, checking the time before she does. She sighs, grabbing her bag and turning off the lights as she heads out, locking up.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Ajax during the whole drive back to her apartment. Would he be waiting patiently for her, like he said he would? Would she get to the bar and he wouldn’t be there? Would he be excited to see her? Did he accept Donovan’s proposal, or reject him?

She parks the car and takes the mile walk to that same bar. She hoped he would be there waiting for her so she wouldn’t have to wait alone.

As she pushes the door to the dingy bar open, she spots Ajax’s fluffy ginger hair sitting at the bar in the same spot as when they first met. She can’t help the smile that spreads across her face, walking up to take the seat next to him. “Hey, is this seat taken?”

“Saving it for my pretty friend,” he smirks, glancing at her from his peripherals. “Left me waiting for an hour, lovely. I was starting to get lonely without you.”

“Sorry, sorry,” she apologizes, rubbing her cheek sheepishly. She sighs as Ajax waves the bartender over to order her a drink. “It was a long day. I had to stay late again to finish signing some documents. Boring office stuff.”

“No need to apologize. I did tell you I’d wait for you, after all,” he smiles, ordering himself another drink. She orders herself something lighter and fruitier than the drink she ordered last time, and the bartender walks away to make their drinks. Ajax clicks his tongue, resting his head on his hand. “I knew you were a fruity drink kind of girl!”

“I told you when we met that I used to drink fruity cocktails from time to time,” she giggles, stroking her arm with her thumb. Her giggles sound so cute to him, he just can’t stand it. He hums, eyes roaming over her body to take in her appearance. She looked a lot more put together than the night they first met, much like how she looked at the charity party.

“Yeah, you did,” Ajax laughs softly, leaning closer to her as the bartender returns with their drinks and two napkins. His drink looked the same as last time, cherry sitting on top. He takes it by the stem, humming as he looks at her through his lashes. “I like sweet things, but I prefer the taste of hard liquor.”

“I bet I can guess what your favorite is!”

“Okay, what is it, then?” He smiles teasingly, taking the cherry in his teeth and dropping the stem on the napkin. She hums, pointing at his drink with a cute, small smile.

“Vodka,” she reaches for her drink, taking a sip. He snorts, shaking his head and grabbing his drink. She blushes, biting her lip. “Because you drank vodka last time, and you’re drinking vodka again. N-not because you’re Snezhnayan, you know…”

“Well, you would be right that my favorite is vodka,” he swirls the clear liquid in his glass, listening to the ice clink against the glass. “I like the burn of it. And the buzz it gives you.”

“I’ll have to try it sometime,” she hums, taking another small drink of her cocktail. “Snezhnayan vodka probably tastes different than other nations’ vodka, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s smoother,” he taps his fingers on the bar top, taking a drink. “It also gets you drunk quicker.”

“I’m already a bit of a lightweight,” she lets out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. She tilts her head slightly, staring down at her drink with a small smile. “Maybe I shouldn’t.”

“You can always try it safely at home with a friend,” he leans in close, smirking mischievously. His fingers dance along the bar top, inching closer to hers but never quite touching them. “I can bring you my favorite sometime.”

“I would like that.”

“It’s settled, then!” He exclaims, flattening his palm against the bar. “I’ll bring you my favorite vodka and we can share a few drinks!”

“That sounds wonderful. I can’t wait,” she chuckles quietly, plucking the orange slice off the rim of her glass and taking a bite. “Mmm, so did Donovan send you his proposal?”

“He did,” Ajax drawls, taking another drink. “I will admit, the proposal he sent me was pretty impressive.”

“Oh, yeah? Which one did he send you?”

He describes the details of the proposal, and as he does her eyes narrow and she clenches her fist below the table. She bites her lip, shaking her head before looking away. She blinks in disbelief.

“No way. Are you kidding me?” She scoffs, trying to keep her voice down. “I’m the one who put together that proposal! That was my idea! And he goes and gives that promotion to someone else, because I almost “ruined” your business partnership?! You’ve got to be fucking with me!”

“Do you want me to email him back and say I changed my mind?”

“No,” she sighs angrily, rubbing her eyes. “It’s fine. It just bothers me that he sent you the proposal I put together and then promoted someone else who didn’t even do anything to deserve it.”

“I don’t see why he would promote someone else instead of you. Especially if your proposal is the one he sent me,” Ajax mutters, staring down at the clear liquid in his glass. “And I agreed to the proposal. I even complimented him on how thorough it was. Giving that promotion to someone else instead just seems cruel to me.”

“It’s because of that night at the charity party,” she rolls her eyes, leaning forward on her elbows. “He thinks I made a fool of him in front of you and everyone else, so even if I do everything right and provide him with projects and proposals that benefit the company, I’m still ineligible for a promotion.”

“That’s stupid,” he sneers, huffing through his nose as he grabs his drink. “They don’t value you enough at that company. That was probably one of the most well-written proposals I’ve been sent. I was honestly really impressed. Of course it was one you wrote.”

“The way you say that makes it hard to tell if that was a compliment or an insult,” she picks up her glass and takes a long drink.

“It was supposed to be a compliment, sorry,” he apologizes, rubbing the back of his head and flashing her a cheeky smile. “I just meant that I’m not surprised that you wrote a very detailed and impressive proposal. I’m sure you’re the one coming up with most of the projects I’ve seen from Ivanovich’s company these past few months. In fact, I bet you’re the reason that the company’s profit is higher than last year.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” she blushes, shaking her head. “I just happened to get a job here when the company was in the green. I just got lucky.”

“Luck or not, you deserved that promotion. Maybe I’ll email your boss back and make him,” he pauses, a dark look crossing his eyes as he looks away, a sinister smirk replacing the cheeky smile that was just there. “ Reconsider .”

“Please don’t!” She reaches forward and grabs him desperately, without thinking. “I-I just don’t want him thinking I did something bad.”

“Like?”

“W-well,” her blush deepens as she looks away, gently drawing her hand away from where she was clutching his arm. She wishes she could stop speaking without thinking. If she could, she would bite her own tongue off. “I don’t know, that I talked to you and convinced you or something.”

Donovan might think I slept with you.

“He won’t retaliate,” Ajax chuckles, taking a drink. “I can make sure of that.”

“Please don’t, Ajax,” she pleads, picking anxiously at her nails. He notices this and frowns. “I’m serious.”

“Okay, okay,” he sighs. “I won’t email him back about you. But I do wish you would stand up for yourself more. If you ever lose your job, I can always help you get a new one.”

“Thank you,” she traces her finger around her glass, glancing back at him before glancing away. “But you don’t have to do that for me. Really. I’ll figure something out if it ever comes to that.”

“Alright lovely,” he hums, slamming the rest of his drink in one go. “But my offer still stands.”

“Well, thank you, Ajax,” she takes the last drink of her own drink as Ajax waves the bartender over to order another round of drinks. “Anyways, enough about my day. How was yours? Busy running Northland Bank?”

“Boring,” he yawns dramatically, stretching and leaning his head back to look at the ceiling. “Answering emails, reviewing paperwork, meetings every hour. Nothing very interesting.” He sighs heavily, rolling his head to look over at her. He smiles softly for a moment at her before looking back at the ceiling. “I was really looking forward to getting drinks with you tonight. I’m glad you came.”

“I was looking forward to this too,” she hums as the bartender brings them two new drinks. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about you since we parted that night at the charity party.”

“Oh?” He raises a brow, expression full of amusement. “You’ve been thinking about me? Aww, I’m flattered!” Ajax leans in close to her, his voice lowering darkly. “Truth is, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night, either, (Y/N).”

“R-really?” She stutters, face flushing red. He chuckles quietly, breath ghosting over her face with how close he was. He doesn’t reply, just nods, not withdrawing from her. “That’s surprising.”

“It is?” He tilts his head in confusion, finally leaning away. She grabs her glass and takes a drink, trying to hide her face in embarrassment. “Huh, and here I thought I was pretty obvious.”

“Obvious?” She questions, furrowing her brows as she glances back at him.

“Haha, never mind,” he laughs, taking a drink from his own glass. His cheeks are a little pink, and he thought she might chalk it up to being tipsy or buzzed. Was he… embarrassed? “Don’t mind me. I’m just being dumb. Saying stupid things.”

“Sorry,” she apologizes, frowning into her glass. He shakes his head, still smiling.

“Ah, don’t be! Lighten up,” he huffs, tapping his finger against the glass. “We’re supposed to be letting loose, sharing a drink with a new friend. Enjoying each other’s company and all that! No need to be so serious, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she mumbles, twirling a loose strand of her hair around her finger. “I guess I’m still trying to get used to all-“ she waves her hands around her to emphasize her point, “- this , you know? I haven’t been able to let loose in, gods, so long. I don’t even know how long, now.”

“Oh, I can definitely show you how to let loose,” he coos, drawing his hand away from his glass. “I can take you places you’ve never seen here in Snezhnaya. We can do anything you want. I’ll show you around. I know you’ve been here for a few months, but you’re probably still unfamiliar with most of the city, right?”

“Kind of,” she takes a drink, squirming in her seat a little to get more comfortable. “The first time I’ve been to the other side of the city was for that charity event. I’m only familiar with the area my office is in and where my apartment is. And honestly, familiar would be a stretch. I just know how to get to work and home. And to here. The most I know is that my coworkers call this area “The Warzone”.”

“Ah,” he nods, face falling for just a moment before that carefree smile is back on his face. “Well, I promise that no harm will come to you here in the warzone!”

“Really?” She replies skeptically, leaning her chin on her knuckles. “How can you promise me that?”

“I have my ways,” his eyes darken as something sinister crosses them. It sends a shiver down her spine. I really don’t know anything about this man… Can I really feel safe with him? “But don’t you worry your pretty head about that! Just trust me, my little black sheep .”

“Okay,” she looks deep into his ocean eyes, searching them for any sign of a lie or facade. His eyes are oddly blank, somewhat lifeless. It’s a little unnerving. “I trust you.”

Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe she just doesn’t care. This wouldn’t be her first friendship with someone potentially dangerous. Potentially insane. But he hasn’t tried to hurt her yet. And he seemed to be well-respected by the community. Was it so wrong to finally find trust in someone like Ajax, so far away from home?

“Oh, great!” He beams, and the light returns to his eyes in an instant. He didn’t seem so sinister when he smiled like that. “I’m glad you trust me! I won’t let you down, darling.”

They spend the next few hours having drinks, talking about the little things. Trouble he used to get in as a teenager, and trouble she used to get in at that age, too. They had a lot in common, she thinks. They were both little trouble makers, up to mischief. He was always getting into fights, coming home bloody with a wild grin on his face when he knocked a kid out for making fun of his sister.

She was stealing liquor and wine from her drunken father’s cabinet, bringing it to her friends and getting wasted when she was just sixteen. Passing out drunk in the alley on stacks of crates, left there by her shitty friends. Playing cards and gambling everything she had for the thrill. She worked herself to the bone just to bet it all on one hand and lose.

Every week went that way. Work hard, steal, party, gamble, lose everything. Back then she was too young to care.

The difference between her and Ajax now was that he was a successful businessman, with a family and loads of money. VP of Northland bank. And she was just a project specialist with no hope of a promotion, living in the slums. Working for a company that didn’t care about her.

He still had the lust for fighting and mischief, while she mellowed out a bit. The fire in her had simmered down to a small ember, glowing on little bits of kindling. It was still there, waiting for something to reignite it. She still got angry, wanted to break things like she did when she was younger. She felt that same rage bubbling up when Ajax explained the proposal Donovan presented to him. She felt it when she saw her coworkers all sucking up to Anatoly because of his new promotion.

She had just gotten better at bottling it up inside than when she was younger.

She and Ajax were both four drinks down now, and he could see she was a bit drunk. Her face was flushed red, eyelids drooping with a dopey smile on her face as she stared at him wistfully.

Ajax holds his hand out to her, eyes half lidded and a smirk on his face. “Can I see your phone, lovely?”

“Um, okay,” she mumbles, taking out her phone and unlocking it. She reaches out to hand it to him before pulling it away from him, pouting. “But don’t do anything weird to it!”

“Relax,” he purrs as she finally puts it in his outstretched hand. He presses a few buttons and starts to type on it. “I’m just putting my number into your contacts. And sending myself a message so I have your number, too.”

He opens her messages and sends himself a quick text before handing it back to her, leaning close to her. “See?”

“What did you send yourself?” She asks, mostly to herself as she pulls up the text. “Hey handsome, it’s your pretty girl from the bar. Call me. Kissy face, heart. Seriously? I don’t talk like that! That’s so embarrassing.”

“I could get used to you calling me handsome, (Y/N),” he laughs.

“I’m not even the one who sent that! You sent that to yourself!” She pouts, locking the phone and placing it back in her bag.

“So you don’t think I’m handsome?” He feigns hurt, bringing a hand up to his chest dramatically.

“No- I mean, yeah- well, no wait,” she stumbles over herself nearly slurring her words. She gasps, narrowing her eyes as she crosses her arms. “You know what I mean! You’re setting me up!”

He laughs again, throwing his head back and reaching a hand up to run through his hair. “You’re so damn cute, (Y/N)! Oh, I can’t take it!” He wipes tears from his eyes as his laughter dies down.

“You know you’re handsome, you don’t need me to tell you that, too,” she mumbles, looking down at the bar top.

“It’d be nice to hear you say it, though.”

“Fine. Yes, you are handsome,” she grumbles, looking up at him through her lashes with the pout still clearly on her face. His heart leaps into his chest, and he’s sure his face got a shade darker. He wishes he could see that look she’s giving him all the time. She’s so damn cute, I think I might die. “Happy now?”

“ Very, ” he coos, folding his hands over each other on the bar top. She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. She can’t help the smile that crosses her face, and she puts a cool hand over her eyes to hide herself. “Will you let me take you home this time? Or do I need to call you a cab again?”

“I don’t know, Ajax,” she hums, picking at her bottom lip with her nails. She looks over at his satisfied grin for a moment before turning away, face tinted red. “Are you sober enough to drive?”

“If I’m not, are you gonna take my keys from me?”

“Should I?” This time she’s the one to lean in, poking him softly in the chest. “Hmm?”

“Aww, nooo, lovely,” He leans in too, faking a pout. She giggles, shaking her head as she leans back. “If you do then how ever will I get home?”

“Take a cab.”

“So mean,” he pulls out his phone, dialing a number and calling her a ride home. “When will I ever get the chance to take you home?”

“Next time, if you’re sober,” she teases, hopping off the bar seat only to stumble into him. He catches her, feeling her grip his coat sleeve tightly. She laughs embarrassingly, hiding her face in his sleeve. “Haha, s-sorry.”

“Looks like you’re more drunk than me, sweetheart,” he says lowly, leaning his chin on the top of her head. Her hair is silky smooth, and he has to stop himself from reaching up to run his fingers through her hair. “Let’s get you outside.”

Ajax pays for the drinks once again and leads her out of the bar, hand resting gently on her hip as she leans into him. One of her hands clutches the strap of her purse, while the other grips the back of his jacket.

The cab pulls to a stop in front of them, waiting for her to get inside. Ajax turns to face her fully, a drunken smile on his face. “Will you text me when you get home?”

“You’re not coming?” She can’t help but sound a little disappointed. He chuckles softly and shakes his head, running his hand up and down her arm comfortingly.

“No, no. There’s still a few things that require my attention.”

“You’re not gonna drive, are you?” She asks, looking up at his sweet ocean eyes. His heart swoons at the sight of her worry, and part of him desperately wants to ride in the cab with her back to her place, but he still had things to take care of.

“No, I won’t drive,” he smiles, presenting her with his hand, holding out his pinky. She looks at his hand then back at him questioningly. “Pinky promise.”

“Pinky… promise?” She mirrors him, holding her pinky out to him. He wraps his around hers, smiling as he gazes at their connected hands.

“Yeah, a pinky promise!” He laughs, not letting go. “You make a pinky promise, you keep it all your life. You break a pinky promise, I throw you on the ice. The cold will kill the pinky that once betrayed your friend, the frost will freeze your tongue off so you never lie again!”

“Thats…” she pauses as he finally lets go, smiling brightly at her. “Dark…”

“Haha! It’s a common saying here in Snezhnaya,” he ruffles her hair before dropping his hand down to his side. “Either way, I promise I won’t drive drunk tonight. I’ll wait for one of my comrades here to arrive to take me where I’m needed, so don’t worry about me. Just message me when you get home so I know you made it safely.”

“Okay, I will,” she nods as Ajax opens the door for her, helping her inside. She waves goodbye to him as the cab drives away, and he sends a text to his “comrade” to come get him from the bar.

Tartaglia: Park behind the bar. Make sure no one is following you. Bring Mikhail. I’ll need someone to take my car back to the penthouse.

???: Understood, Sir. Be there shortly.

(Y/N): I made it home safe. Thanks for another fun night. Be safe tonight.

Chapter Text

“You’ve already got him, then?”

“Yes, Sir. Viktor and Sergiu caught him in the alley trying to run.”

“And he’s still alive?”

“Yes, Sir. Tied up in Sergiu’s car. They’re bringing him to the pier.”

“And this requires my attention, why?” Tartaglia puffs a cloud of smoke out of his mouth, flicking the ash off his cigarette. He taps his foot against the floor of the luxury car, gazing out the window boredly. “Can’t Sergiu and Viktor handle it?”

“Considering your history with this specific client, we thought you may want to handle this one,” the driver responds, not daring to glance at his boss. “Apologies, sir. I should have checked with Ekaterina first-“

“It’s fine, Alexei.” Tartaglia sighs, taking another drag of his cigarette. He leans his head against the headrest, the breeze from the open window rustling his hair as Alexei drives them to the pier. Tartaglia’s phone vibrates with a new message in his pocket. He pulls his phone out, checking the message. “Considering how Lev has made a fool of me for this long, I guess you’re right that I should be the one to handle this. That way others will think twice before they betray me.”

Mikhail: Brought your car to the penthouse. Awaiting further instructions.

Tartaglia: Wait for me there.

Mikhail: Understood, Boss.

“What do you plan to do, Sir?”

“What do you mean?” Tartaglia checks his messages with (Y/N) while he has his phone out, thinking about how just an hour ago they were chatting peacefully at the bar. He imagines her sweet smile, and it brings a smile to his own face, despite the burning rage he feels at being played by Lev.

(Y/N): I made it home safe. Thanks for another fun night. Be safe tonight.

(Y/N): Even though I’ll probably be asleep, please text me when you get back home.

(Y/N): And don’t forget you promised me not to drive drunk!

“With Lev,” Alexei sighs, stopping at a red light. The light illuminates the both of them, casting them in a red glow. Tartaglia locks his phone and places it in the cup holder between him and Alexei. “What do you plan to do with him?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Tartaglia huffs, taking one last puff of his cigarette before snuffing it out in the ashtray. “I’m going to make an example out of him. I’m going to execute him. And I’m going to make sure that all of our current clients understand that crossing me ends with their death. No one will ever make a fool of me again.”

“What about the jewelry he stole?” Alexei asks quietly, stepping on the gas once the light changed. “How will we find it if we kill him?”

“He has family, friends, coworkers. I’ll have people question them to find the stolen jewelry,” he shrugs, locking his phone and pocketing it. “Someone has to know what he did with it. If I were to make a wild guess, I would say he pawned it off at a shop. I already have someone checking in with all the shops to see if the jewelry is there.”

“Anna?” Alexei asks, turning down a dark road. Tartaglia nods without saying a word, opening the glove compartment of the car and taking the gun there, slipping it into the waistband of his pants. He also takes his black leather gloves out, slipping them on.

“You can sit back by the car and wait for me while I take care of Lev.” Tartaglia crosses his legs, closing his eyes as Alexei drives.

“You don’t need me to do anything else?” Alexei asks, continuing down the dark road. Their car was the only one on this road, lit only by the headlights and occasional street lamp.

“No. I’ll just need you to take me home once this is all handled.” Tartaglia hums, leaning his head back as he keeps his eyes closed. A tiny smile graces his lips for a brief moment, before it’s gone. “I made someone a promise not to drive tonight. I intend on keeping that promise.”

“Got it, Sir.” Alexei sighs, turning down another lone, dark road toward the pier. “I’ll just wait for you, then.”

Finally, after a few more minutes of silence, the black unmarked car pulls to a stop on the concrete of the pier. Tartaglia and Alexei both step out of the car, walking forward to the other car already parked just a few feet away.

Sergiu and Viktor nod to each other as they see Tartaglia, walking forward to the back of the car. They open the trunk, dragging the tied-up man out and throwing him to the ground. He has a dark bruise on his left eye, dried blood on his chin and nose. His nose is clearly broken, and there are rope burns on his wrists from squirming.

Sergiu grabs Lev by the back of his shirt and pulls him up onto his knees. Viktor has his gun pointed directly at the man’s head, glaring down at him.

Tartaglia walks forward, shoes clicking against the concrete. The man gazes up at Tartaglia, eyes widening in fear. There’s an eerie lack of emotion on Tartaglia’s face as he tugs on his gloves.

“M-Mr. Tartaglia-“

“I’m getting very sick of meeting you here like this, Lev,” Tartaglia frowns, looking down at the man with a sinister darkness in his eyes. “This will be the last time.”

“P-please don’t kill me!”

“Please don’t kill me,” Tartaglia mocks with a higher pitch in his voice, placing his hands on his hips. He tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. “Honestly, what makes you think I would let you live this time?”

“Because I’m still useful to you!” Lev pleas. His brown hair blows from the ocean breeze into his face, waves gently crashing against the dock behind them. The ocean waves were eerily quiet, heightening all of Lev’s senses and amplifying every little noise from Tartaglia and his people. “I swear, I’ll do anything you need me to do!”

“You could be the most useful man in the world and I would still fucking kill you,” Tartaglia snarls through gritted teeth. “You made a fool of me, Lev. After everything I’ve done for you, you practically spat in my face. You didn’t really believe I would just let this go, did you?”

“No! I didn’t-“

“You did. You stole from me! You stole hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of jewelry from me,” Tartaglia huffs, brushing a few strands of hair behind his ear. “I foolishly trusted you to deliver the jewelry to me. And you decided to keep that jewelry to yourself, and sell it for a profit!”

“I-I don’t-“

“Shut the fuck up. I’m not here to listen to your excuses. You should have honored our agreement,” Tartaglia sneers, crossing his arms. “Instead, you stole from me! After all the fucking chances I’ve given you! Why would I ever give you another chance? So you can make a fool of me again?”

“I’m sorry-“

Tartaglia swiftly takes out his gun from his waistband and pistol whips Lev, knocking him to the ground. Tartaglia kneels down, grabbing a fistful of Lev’s hair and yanking his head up to look at him. Blood slowly drips from his face. “Don’t you know what happens when you steal from the Fatui?”

“P-please-“

“I do love when they beg,” Tartaglia says lowly, glaring at the pathetic man below him. He places the gun underneath Lev’s chin, lifting his head to look up at him. “However, it changes nothing.”

Tartaglia stands, motioning for Lev to stand as well. Lev doesn’t move, blood streaming down his cheek from the blow to his head. Tartaglia’s cold stare remains fixed on Lev as Sergiu and Viktor seize him by his arms, yanking him up to his feet.

“W-wait!” Lev pleads as Sergiu and Victor force him to turn around. He looks behind him to look back at Tartaglia with a newfound fear in his eyes. He looks at Tartaglia like he’s staring death in the face. “What are you going to do?”

“What I should have done a long time ago,” Tartaglia sighs, taking slow steps forward as Viktor and Sergiu shove Lev forward towards the edge of the dock. “To think I was stupid enough to give you another chance. I will not allow anyone to make a fool of me the way you have ever again.”

“Please, don’t do this!” Lev pleads, dragging his feet against the dock. Tartaglia rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “J-just give me a little more time! I’ll deliver the stolen jewelry to you in a few days, I promise!”

“Your promises mean nothing to me,” Tartaglia spat, clenching his free hand into a fist. He scoffs, kicking Lev back to the ground. “They’re all empty, anyways. How many promises have you broken, now, Lev?”

He stays silent, staring at the black abyss of the ocean in front of him. His soon-to-be resting place. In mere moments, he would sink into the dark depths of the ocean where he would be forgotten by the world.

“Do I need to recount them all to you?” Tartaglia hisses, coming to a stop right behind him. The barrel of his gun presses against the back of Lev’s head, drawing a shuddered breath from the man in front of him. “Your promise to return to me three times the amount I leant you, within two weeks? Your promise to fetch me the artworks you’d managed to secure from Fontaine? Your promise that this was the last time you’d be late on your payments? Need I say more?”

“Mr. Tartaglia, you must understand, I have a family to feed! They need me! I cannot die here, I have a young son-“

“Good, then your son can take care of his mother in your place,” Tartaglia sneers. “If you truly cared about your family, your son , you should have thought about them before crossing me. You knew what you were getting into when you asked me to loan you that money in that casino. You’re lucky I’ve given you this many chances. Well, no more. I’m sick of being played by a damn worm like you. I’ll use you as an example of why you never cross me!”

Tartaglia pulls the trigger, watching as Lev’s lifeless body falls forward and into the water. His body floats, and Tartaglia clicks his tongue as he slides the gun back into his waistband. “Ugh, clean up this mess. Make sure he sinks. Feed him to the sharks if you have to.”

“Yes, Boss,” Viktor says, watching Lev’s body bob with the waves. “Sergiu, start the boat. I’ll fish him out of the ocean.”

Tartaglia turns to leave his men to take care of the body, walking past Alexei. “Take me home. I’m tired.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The two walked back to the car, leaving Viktor and Sergiu to deal with the aftermath. “Sir, how do you plan on making an example of Lev? Will you tell others about him?”

“They’ll find out on their own,” Tartaglia lights up a new cigarette, letting out a tired sigh of smoke. “The fact that Lev had so much debt, and now other gangsters are questioning his friends, his wife and parents about the stolen jewelry, they’ll know that the fatui put an end to him. It doesn’t take a genius to come to that conclusion.”

“I see,” Alexei nods, sliding into the drivers seat as Tartaglia sinks into the passenger seat. Alexei turns the car around, looking out the rearview mirror to glance at Viktor hauling Lev’s body onto the readied boat. He quietly sighs as he drives down the same road they took to get to the pier.

Tartaglia holds the cigarette in his mouth for a moment as he takes his gloves off, putting them back into the glove compartment with his gun. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth and flicks the ash into the ashtray.

“Sir, can I ask you something?”

“When have you ever hesitated to ask me something before?” Tartaglia chuckles, running a hand through his soft ginger hair. “Go ahead.”

“Earlier, you said you made someone a promise not to drive. Who did you make that promise to?” Alexei asks quietly, too nervous to look over at Tartaglia. “And why?”

“A new friend of mine,” Tartaglia says simply, taking a drag from his cigarette. “And I promised so she would feel at ease that I wouldn’t drive drunk.”

“You aren’t even drunk, sir.”

“No,” Tartaglia laughs. “But I made a promise. You know that I don’t make promises I can’t keep. Or that I don’t intend to keep.”

Alexei nods, choosing to remain silent. Tartaglia taps his fingers on the leather interior lining the door as he puffs more smoke, watching the city lights finally come into view as Alexei turns onto the main road.

Tartaglia thinks about how cute (Y/N) was at the bar earlier. The way she laughed, the way she guessed his favorite liquor (though it was an easy guess), the way she leaned into him when he brought her outside to wait for a cab. His favorite part was the way she sounded so disappointed that he wouldn’t be joining her in the cab.

He couldn’t wait until they could go out together again. He would have to take her up on the invitation to her house to drink his favorite vodka. While he was thinking about it, he decided to place an order on his phone for his favorite vodka to bring it over and enjoy a night together.

Alexei stops the car and glances over at Tartaglia, noticing that he was smiling fondly down at his phone as he typed. He briefly wondered what Tartaglia was up to, and how he was so nonchalant after killing Lev. Maybe he felt more at ease now that the issue was handled. Maybe it was because of that new friend he mentioned. Tartaglia puffs one last cloud of smoke before he snuffs out the cigarette, pocketing his phone with a yawn.

After a long, quiet drive, Alexei parks the car beside Tartaglia’s outside of his penthouse. Mikhail is still sitting in the drivers seat of Tartaglia’s car, scrolling aimlessly through his phone as the lights flood through the window. Mikhail looks up out the window, watching Tartaglia step out and shut the door.

“Boss!” Mikhail steps out of the car, keys in hand. “How did it go?”

“It’s been taken care of,” Tartaglia holds out his hand as Mikhail drops the keys into it, taking a step back out of Tartaglia’s space. “Not too long now we should be receiving word about the jewelry. And everyone else will come to their conclusions on how Lev was disposed of.”

“Is there anything else you need from us, Boss?” Mikhail asks, crossing his arms and leaning against Alexei’s car.

“I’ll message you tomorrow,” Tartaglia waves him off, walking away toward the building. “Right now, I’m going to bed. So don’t bother me.”

“Alright, Boss.”

Once Tartaglia walks through the door into his penthouse, he sighs tiredly, slipping his shoes off and tossing his coat over the luxury couch. He doesn’t even turn on the light, flopping down onto the couch and pulling out his phone.

Ajax: Hey, lovely. No need to worry your pretty head about me. I’m home safe. And I kept my promise!

Ajax: I’m glad you had fun with me tonight. Have a good day at work tomorrow.

Ajax: If anyone bothers you, don’t hesitate to let me know! Talk soon.

Chapter Text

She lounges on the couch, her hair draped over the arm of it. She’s holding the phone up to her ear, listening to Ajax’s sweet voice on the other end. She’d been talking to him every day through text and phone calls for about a week now since their second tryst at the bar.

“Have you been to any of the restaurants here yet?”

“Not really. Nothing that hasn’t been catered to the office for lunch or at business outings,” she looks up at the ceiling, idly tapping her fingers on her stomach. “Usually I just get some ingredients I’m familiar with from the store and make my own food.”

“So you haven’t really had a chance to try many authentic Snezhnayan dishes, then?” Ajax asks, flicking the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray.

“No.”

“How about I take you out? We can try some of my favorite Snezhnayan dishes!” He exclaims, smiling brightly even though she can’t see it. “Maybe sometime I can even teach you how to make a few dishes yourself.”

“That sounds nice, but I don’t have the money to go out to eat.” She replies sheepishly, running a hand through her hair.

“Silly girl, it’s on me!”

“You already pay for my drinks at the bar. Now dinner? I’m starting to feel bad.” She grumbles, crossing her legs and rocking her foot from side to side.

“Don’t! I want to take you out to really experience what Snezhnaya has to offer!” He inhales the smoke from his cigarette before he blows out, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t mind paying for you. I have all the money in the world.”

“I feel like I’m taking advantage of you though.” She sighs, inspecting her nails. “We can just hang out without money, can’t we?”

“You’re so sweet.” Ajax coos. “Just let me do this for you! Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“Okay, but don’t take me somewhere expensive! I don’t want to blow all your money.”

“Yes ma’am!” He laughs lightheartedly. “How about Saturday night? I’ll pick you up from your apartment. You can just text me the address that day.”

“Saturday? Sure,” she nods, trying not to sound too excited. Truth is, she was very excited to go out with Ajax again. She didn’t feel very good about having him pay for everything, but if he was going to insist who was she to decline? Especially when all she wanted was to spend some time with him again.

“Great! I’m really looking forward to it, (Y/N),”

Once that Saturday comes, she feels nervous and giddy. She texted Ajax her address that morning after she woke up, and ever since she was running around getting everything in place and ready for her night. It takes her hours to clean and get everything together, and by the time she’s done it’s almost time for Ajax to come pick her up. She’s going through her closet, looking for a nice casual dress to wear, when her phone goes off.

Ajax: I’m on my way, lovely. I’ll be there in 30.

Ajax: Wear something cute.

Ajax: Although I know you’ll look amazing in anything.

She spends a lot of time looking in the mirror, fussing with her hair and makeup. She chose to wore a knee length casual red dress with long sleeves and a v cut neckline with her black heels and black tights. She didn’t have any other pairs of nice shoes other than her work heels, so she figured those would be fine. She pairs the look with a nice black coat.

After a lot of back and forth with her hair, she decides to just leave it down and fluff it a little to look nice. She hopes her outfit is cute enough, without being too formal. Not that she really had anything formal in the first place. Her phone dings with a new message notification.

Ajax: I’m here! In the red car.

(Y/N): Okay, be right out.

She grabs her bag and places her phone inside, fishing out her keys to lock the door behind her. She checks her appearance in the mirror one more time before she heads out and down the stairs.

She sees a luxury red car with tinted windows parked next to the sidewalk in front of her building. Ajax rolls the passenger window down and leans over, calling out to her, “Heya, lovely! You ready?”

“Hey Ajax,” she waves as she leans into the window, smiling softly at him. He grins back, patting the passenger seat. She withdraws from the window, opening the door to get inside.

“I knew you would look amazing,” Ajax purrs, smirking as he drinks in her appearance. She blushes and looks away, buckling her seatbelt.

“So, where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” he sings, tapping his fingers on the wheel as he drives away from her apartment. “You’ll love it though.”

“You look nice,” she mutters, wringing her hands together. He chuckles softly, keeping his eyes on the road. “Not that you don’t usually, but.. I don’t know, you just look nice. That suit looks good on you.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he leans back in the seat comfortably, hand still outstretched to the wheel. He’s nonchalant as he drives to the restaurant, driving toward a significantly nicer side of the city.

She watches the city lights pass by in a blur, a much different feeling than when she was in Donovan’s car that night going to the same part of the city. While it was quiet in the car, it was a more serene silence, with someone she actually wanted to be around.

When they finally got to the restaurant, she noticed it wasn’t quite an upscale fancy restaurant. It was a more casual restaurant, with a cozy, homey atmosphere to it. She honestly thought Ajax would ignore her request to not bring her to a fancy restaurant and take her to one anyway. It warmed her heart to know he cared enough to listen to her.

Ajax offers her his arm, smiling softly. “Ready, lovely?”

She nods, taking his arm and letting him lead her into the restaurant. The hostess greets the two with a nervous smile, leading them to a booth toward the back, a more private spot. She hands them menus and excuses herself, hurrying away.

Ajax leans back in the seat casually, eyes scanning over the menu he was handed. The waitress walks up, introducing herself and taking their drink orders. Ajax orders himself a water and a bottle of wine to share with (Y/N). She orders a water for herself as well. The waitress writes their orders down on a pad of paper before walking to the bar to get the bottle of wine. She brings it to the two and pours them each a glass, leaving the rest of the bottle on the table for them.

She leaves the two alone to figure out what they’ll get for their meal, rushing off to tend to other tables.

(Y/N) spends a considerable amount of time staring at the menu, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She’s so preoccupied with the overwhelming dishes that she doesn’t recognize, that she doesn’t notice Ajax staring at her wistfully. He thinks it’s cute the way she looks at the menu, frowning. He imagines himself pinching her cheeks and cooing about how adorable she is to him.

“I’m not sure what to get,” she sighs, finally setting the menu down in defeat. “I don’t know what any of these are. What do you think sounds good?”

“Ah, everything here is always so good,” Ajax hums, leaning his head on his hand as he gazes at her with a sweet glint in his eyes. “Borscht is usually my go-to, but their pierogis are amazing, too.”

“You can just order for me, I guess,” she mumbles, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I trust your choice.”

“I’ll order both of them for us, and you can try each one to see what you like!”

She had a feeling he would order everything on the menu to get her to try everything if he could.

The waitress returns to take their order, and Ajax orders borscht and a plate of pierogis to share between the two of them. She writes it all down and brings the order to the kitchen, letting the cooks know in a hushed tone that the ticket was for Tartaglia.

Ajax smiles as he takes a drink of his wine, leaning just a little closer to her across the table. “So, where are you from, anyway?”

“I’m from Mondstadt’s main city,” she twirls a strand of her hair around her finger, lifting the wine glass up to take a small drink. It was extremely bitter, nothing like Mondstadt’s sweet wines that she was used to.

“Ah, the nation of freedom?”

“Yeah. Have you ever been?” She asks, setting the glass down and dropping her hands into her lap.

“No, I haven’t had a chance yet.” Ajax hums, smiling softly. “What’s it like?”

“It’s nice for the most part. Breezy, warm, beautiful. The countryside has windmills and farms, and the grass is covered in dandelions. As kids we would pick them and make a wish, then blow the seeds and your wish was supposed to come true.” As she speaks, a look of longing crosses her face, almost like she misses it. “There’s also people who always play music on the street and in the taverns. Music is a big part of Mondstadt’s culture.”

“It sounds wonderful. What made you want to leave?” Ajax asks cautiously, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“It sounds nice on the surface. But honestly I was barely making enough to survive and I had to live in a really bad apartment.” She sighs, swirling the wine in her glass with a despondent look in her eyes. “Not to mention I had no support from my family, and I made some terrible choices, even worse friends, so it was just better for me to leave. It was more a problem with the people than it was with the nation itself.”

“And you chose to come to Snezhnaya instead? We aren’t exactly known for being friendly.”

“Snezhnaya is all about camaraderie though, isn’t it?”

Ajax laughs, leaning back in the booth. “Yes, that is true. But Snezhnaya is also very cutthroat. Not often do people move here from another nation. Those that do aren’t usually welcomed with open arms by most people.”

“Well, you’ve been very welcoming thus far,” she chuckles, taking a small drink of her wine.

“I’m not most people, lovely.”

“That’s true,” she sets her glass down, sighing. She looks into the red liquid and smiles sadly. “I can see what you mean by that, though. The rest of my coworkers despise me. I guess that’s because I’m not from here, huh?”

“Could be,” he hums. “Don’t take it personally, though. I find you quite wonderful. And I’m positive that there are other Snezhnayans that will have no problem with you once they meet you. Your coworkers are all probably just stuck up, and can’t stand that someone not from around here does better work than they do.”

”Yeah, that’s the reason.”

The waitress brings the food to the table, placing it in front of them. She asks if she can get anything else for them, and Ajax declines, thanking her. She leaves without another word, turning away stiffly and walking away to her other tables.

Ajax dips his spoon into the borscht and offers her a bite, holding the spoon out in front of her. She blushes, glancing around before leaning forward and letting him feed her. This feels too intimate to be just friends…

He smiles brightly, eyes crinkling at the corners as he does. “What do you think?”

She swallows, averting her gaze as the blush on her cheeks deepens. “It’s really good. So, borscht is like a soup?”

“Yeah! This one is made with beetroots, but it can be made with beef, pork, or chicken as well. My mama makes an amazing borscht too,” he sighs happily, setting the spoon down to grab a different one for himself. He takes his own spoonful of borscht, reminiscing at the taste. Honestly, since joining the mafia and getting hired at Northland Bank, he didn’t go out to eat like this much. He just went to the bar to drink, and would make himself a quick dinner every night if he had the time.

I would love to take her back home to meet my family.

“These look like dumplings,” she says quietly, picking up a pierogi and examining it, before she takes a bite.

“They are a type of dumpling,” he chuckles softly, taking a drink of his wine. “Native to Snezhnaya, so they are slightly different than the dumplings in Liyue.”

“I’ve never been to Liyue,” she mutters, finishing the first pierogi.

“It’s a wonderful place, I’ll admit,” he digs around for a chunk of beets before taking another bite of borscht. “Beautiful architecture, merchants lining the harbor. The scenery outside the harbor is beautiful. I still prefer my homeland, though.”

“I’ve seen pictures of the harbor before, from musicians sharing their experiences of traveling all over the world. Part of me wanted to do the same, but it wasn’t really in the cards for me,” she shrugs, taking a drink from her glass of wine. “I don’t mind it now, though. I did get to come here to Snezhnaya, after all.”

“Who knows? You may still get an opportunity to travel to other nations,” Ajax hums, finishing his glass of wine and reaching for the bottle to pour himself a new glass, as well as top hers off with more. “Snezhnaya has opportunities. You just have to invite them to come to you.”

“I’m sure,” she laughs softly, taking a drink of her newly topped off wine. “Thank you.”

Ajax hums in response, reaching forward to take a pierogi for himself. They both eat quietly for a few minutes, before he breaks the silence to ask, “What do you like to do for fun?”

“Well, I don’t really have time to do anything for fun anymore. But when I was younger living in Mondstadt, I used to play the guitar and sing a lot. I would sing when I was sad, danced to the bards outside when I was happy, strum the notes on the guitar when I was angry,” she sighs, a sad smile crossing her face. “But enough about me. What about you? What do you like to do in your free time?”

“I like to go fishing when I get the chance. Nothing beats ice fishing in the winter!” Ajax laughs softly, leaning his face on his hand. “I also love to cook. My mama taught me when I was little. She honestly would have killed me if I didn’t learn how to cook for myself, for when I left home.”

“I bet it was nice learning how to cook with your mother, huh?” She asks, giggling at the image in her head of Ajax covered in flour and a mess around him in the kitchen, with his mother scolding him. “I had to teach myself how to cook. I’m still not great at it, though. I just make enough to get by.”

“I’ll teach you everything my mama taught me! As well as what my papa taught me,” Ajax smiles brightly, reaching forward to gently grasp her hand across the table. “It’ll be fun, trust me!”

“And you’ll take me fishing, too?” She jokes, absentmindedly running her thumb over his knuckles. He blushes, but hopes she doesn’t take notice to it.

“If you’d like,” he hums. “And would you sing for me?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I haven’t sung in years.”

“Please? Your voice is such a pleasure to listen to. I’m sure you sing beautifully.”

“Well, can you play the guitar?” She raises an eyebrow, hand still clutched in his. “Maybe if you play me a tune I can sing for you. But you better not laugh at me, Ajax!”

“I wouldn’t dare!” He grins cheekily.

“I probably sound like an old pig wailing when I sing now, being out of practice for so long.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Ajax chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m sure you sing like an angel even after all this time.”

“Oh, you wanna bet?” she laughs, running her free hand through her hair. “Maybe if you get me more drunk, I’ll sing for you on the way home.”

“Do I have to get you more drunk to convince you?” He coos, gently squeezing her hand. “What if I got on my knees and begged for you?”

“N-no! No, don’t do that!” Her face burns bright red at the thought and she shakes her head, hair bouncing with the movement. “I-I’ll think about it, okay?”

“That works for me,” Ajax chuckles, finally withdrawing his hand to finish eating the food they had.

They finish eating, talking about little things like how their week went, what bullshit Donovan pulled this time, a difficult client of Ajax’s that he had to tiptoe around. Finally, Ajax pays the bill and takes her out of the restaurant, arm around hers as he leads her back to his car.

He opens the passenger door for her and she gets inside, smoothing the skirt of her dress down as he shuts the door. He gets into the driver’s seat, turning the car on and finding instrumental music to play on the speakers. He listened to a variety of music, but not often did he play music like this in his car. At home when counting bills or looking over reports, yes. In the car? Not so much.

He turns the music down considerably to listen to (Y/N) speak. She laughs quietly to herself, looking over at him as he pulls away from the restaurant and starts driving back to her side of town. “You really want me to sing for you, don’t you?”

“Only if you’re comfortable, lovely,” he replies smoothly, barely containing the smirk that threatened to creep onto his face. She hums in response, face turning a light shade of red as she considers it.

She clears her throat, starting to hum a tune to the beat first, before she starts to sing a song familiar to her from her life back in Mondstadt.

She sings the lyrics in her native language, one that most Snezhnayans wouldn’t be able to understand. Ajax was able to understand her well, but not perfectly. He was forced to learn the language after he started working at Northland Bank, having to make dealings with Mondstadters that couldn’t speak much if any Snezhnayan.

Her singing voice is as beautiful as he expected, and he easily gets lost in her voice as he drives her home. Her music is music he could listen to every day.

After a little bit, she stops, opting instead to hum to the music. Her voice was tired, after not being used to sing for years.

“I knew your singing would rival that of angels,” he murmurs, tapping his fingers on the wheel to the rhythm. She looks over at him with a look of absolute adoration, a look that he misses with his focus on the road.

“Thank you, Ajax,” she looks back out the window at the passing buildings and trees, leaning her head on her hand. “For everything. For dinner, for a fun night. And also for being so kind to me.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” he smiles, stopping at a light. He takes this moment to look over at her, taking in her entire appearance for the nth time tonight. “I should be thanking you, for indulging me.”

The rest of the drive is quiet, save for both of their humming. Her hums are soft and light, his are a little off-key, but he has the spirit. As he drives into the complex, she takes a deep breath before boldly asking, “Do you want to come in for a few minutes?”

Ajax blinks at her, a smile crossing his face. He’s about to tell her he would love to, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He clears his throat and apologizes, pulling it out to check what it was.

Alexei: We have a problem, Sir. I know you said you were busy tonight, but this cannot wait.

Alexei: I tried to call the clean-up crew to fix it, but even they don’t know how to handle this.

Ajax sighs, placing his phone in his pocket. “I’m sorry, (Y/N), not tonight. Unfortunately, one of my coworkers is having some technical issues and needs my help right away. I promise, I’ll come by another night, okay?”

“Oh, okay,” she nods, visibly deflated. “No worries.”

“I still have to bring over that Snezhnayan vodka I talked about at the bar, you know,” he smiles, feeling somewhat guilty. He reaches out to take her hand, squeezing it softly. “It won’t be long before we can spend another night together. I’ll text you, okay?”

“Okay. Have a good night,” she lets go of his hand and steps out of the car, smiling at him. “And be safe, okay?”

“Of course, lovely,” he waves, leaning back in his seat. “I’ll wait here to make sure you get inside safe, alright?”

“Thank you, Ajax.”

She turns and walks away, hurrying up the stairs to her apartment. As she goes inside and shuts the door behind her, he lets the facade drop, and visibly scowls.

This better be fucking important.

Chapter Text

Ajax: Hey beautiful. I got that special brand of vodka I was talking about.

Ajax: Want to have drinks with me tonight? I still owe you for the other night.

(Y/N): If you don’t mind it being kind of late. I have a lot of work to get done today and it looks like I won’t be getting out on time again.

Ajax: They work you too hard. Would you get in trouble for leaving before all your work is done for the day?

(Y/N): Yes. They expect me to finish before I leave every day.

Ajax: But they don’t punish any of your coworkers if they don’t finish?

(Y/N): They play favorites. I’m sorry I’ll be so late. We can do this weekend when I’m not working if that’s better?

Ajax: I don’t mind coming by late. Call me when you get home and I’ll come to your apartment.

Ajax: Or would you rather come to my place?

(Y/N): My place is fine. I’ll text you when I’m leaving.

(Y/N): Sorry Ajax but I have to get back to work so I can get everything done today. I’ll see you tonight.

Ajax: See you tonight, pretty~

Tartaglia casually leans back in his seat, legs crossed and resting up on the desk. He types a number on his phone and calls, bringing it up to his ear.

“Yes, sir?”

“Hey, comrade,” Tartaglia hums, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling of his office in the Northland Bank. “I’m going to be busy tonight with my dear friend. And I’m not interrupting my night with her again, so if there’s an emergency, or you need me to handle something, figure it out yourself. I’m not cleaning up your mess this time. You already ruined my night once.”

“I’m sorry about that, sir,” Alexei apologizes, rubbing the back of his head nervously. “It won’t happen again.”

“Good,” Tartaglia smiles sinisterly, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. “I would hate to upset her again. I can still see the disappointment on her face when I told her I had to leave.”

“I will make sure everything is in place so no one bothers you, sir.”

“If you have to, reach out to Ekaterina. She will know what to do,” he clicks his tongue, planting his feet back on the floor as he sits upright. “She knows not to interrupt me unless someone important is dying.”

“Understood, sir. I’ll let Mikhail know that you will be unreachable tonight.”

“Thank you,” he hums, opening the top drawer of his desk. “Well, I have to go. Business as usual. We will talk again soon.”

Tartaglia hangs up, slipping his phone into his pants pocket. He takes a strange looking key, a small, long metal poker and places it into a hole in the bottom of the drawer, cranking it downwards to pop a false bottom up. He grabs the folder contained in the false bottom, examining the contents carefully.

Thank you, Ekaterina. This will be just enough to solve our little problem before tonight even begins.

He grins devilishly, placing the false bottom back in place and shutting the drawer as if nothing had ever been removed in the first place. He places the strange key safely into his pen holder, hidden amongst all the pens, pencils, and highlighters.

Tartaglia grabs the folder and his office keys off the desk, standing to leave his office. He locks the door behind him on his way out.

(Y/N): Just got off work, heading home now. Do you still want to have drinks tonight?

Ajax: I’d love to! I’m on my way now. See you soon!

She sets her phone down in the cup holder in her car, pulling out of the parking lot of the office and driving home toward her apartment. She was excited, and nervous to have him over at her apartment. Part of her thinks maybe she should have taken him up on the offer to drink at his apartment instead, because she was self conscious of her small apartment in a dump, as Donovan so elegantly put it. But she certainly wouldn’t be able to drive home after drinking with Ajax, and she would absolutely die if she had to stay the night at his place.

She shakes off the thought, focusing on the drive to get home safely. Ajax wasn’t the type of man to belittle her for the state of her apartment, or the area she lived in, she thinks. Surely he wouldn’t make her feel like a peasant in his presence. He seemed to have come from a humble beginning, anyways, if anything he’s told her so far is anything to go by.

She finally makes it back to her apartment, where she slips her shoes off at the door and sets her purse down on the counter. She slips her blazer off but keeps her shirt and pencil skirt on, knowing she wouldn’t have enough time to change and tidy up the apartment before Ajax got there.

She decides she’ll just take that short time before he would arrive to tidy up just a few things, though, there wasn’t much to put away in her small, nearly empty apartment anyway. Just a few scattered papers and files that she had to quickly hide away in the desk in her bedroom.

She sighs as she shuts the drawer, and a knock sounds at her door. She turns to face her bedroom door, panic on her face.

He’s already here?

She hurries to the front door, cracking the door open to see Ajax standing there with the bottle in his hand, bright smile on his pretty face.

“Hey there, lovely,” Ajax greets happily, lifting the bottle of expensive vodka and rocking it back and forth. “I brought the vodka!”

“Hey, Ajax,” she smiles nervously, pulling the door the rest of the way open to let him in. “Come in.”

He walks inside, glancing around her apartment as she shuts the door and locks it behind him. She bites her lip, rubbing her hands together. She couldn’t help feeling nervous. He was the first guest she had over at her apartment. And it was a big step, inviting him over. Even if they were just friends.

Well, the other night at the restaurant felt like something more…

“Your apartment is nice,” he hums, taking it all in. Her apartment was very neat, almost no signs of having been lived in other than her living room TV and her purse on the kitchen counter. “Very clean.”

“Thank you, I try to keep it pretty clean,” she runs her thumb over her knuckles, standing there awkwardly. Ajax slips his shoes off next to hers by the front door before he walks into the kitchen to set the bottle of expensive vodka on the counter. “I uh, didn’t expect your text to come over and drink earlier, so I didn’t prepare juice or anything to chase the vodka with.”

“That’s okay, we can take shots instead,” he grins, crossing his arms and leaning the front of his body on the counter. “I think this brand of vodka tastes better by itself, anyway.”

“If we take shots like that, won’t we get really drunk?” She asks, coming closer to join him in the kitchen. “How will you get home?”

“I’ll figure that out later. I have my ways,” he winks, chuckling softly. “I’ll be safe, though. So don’t worry about all that.”

“Well, okay,” she sighs, opening the cabinet to grab two shot glasses. She sees only one, and mentally berates herself as she grabs it, shutting the cabinet door. She sighs in defeat, turning to face Ajax with the one glass in her hand. “I only have one glass.”

“If you don’t mind, we can share the glass,” he smirks, placing his hand over hers to take the glass. Her face warms, turning a bright shade of red at the potential implications of sharing a glass with him. How cute.

“Y-you don’t mind sharing a glass?”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I did mind,” he laughs, setting the glass down. He hums as he opens the bottle, bringing it up to his nose to smell the alcohol before he pours a shot into the glass. “Here, you can have the first shot, my dear.”

She takes the shot glass, inspecting the clear liquid before she knocks it back, feeling the smooth liquor burn her throat on the way down. It was smoother than other variations of the drink, with quite the burn to it. She sets the glass down, squinting her eyes and making a face at the taste.

Ajax snickers quietly, sliding the glass towards himself to pour the next shot. He downs it quickly, making a noise of satisfaction as he sets the empty glass back down. She frowns at him, crossing her arms as her face burns hotter. He smirks, leaning his side against the counter as he looks at her. “Don’t like it?”

“It’s fine, it tastes like vodka,” she murmurs, averting her gaze. “But you-you just drank that like it’s water!”

“It’s my favorite liquor, sweetheart!” He stands up straight, turning his full attention toward her. “Of course I drink it like water!”

She huffs, walking past him to the living room of her apartment. She plops down on the couch, closing her eyes. “Well, I’m from Mondstadt. I’m used to wines and fruity drinks. So don’t laugh at me when I unintentionally cringe because your Snezhnayan vodka is strong.”

“I told you it was,” Ajax takes the glass and the bottle, bringing it over to the little table in front of the couch. He sits down close beside her, making himself at home. She rolls her eyes and smiles, staring at the bottle. “You know, honestly, I keep forgetting that you’re from Mondstadt. Your Snezhnayan is pretty much perfect for being a Mondstadter.”

“My best friend was Snezhnayan and spoke it fluently. We liked to talk about people and didn’t want them to know what we were saying, so she taught me while we were growing up.”

“That’s adorable,” he coos, leaning forward. “Imagining you talking shit about other kids in Snezhayan and everyone wondering what the hell you’re saying.”

“We would!” She laughs, brushing her hair behind her ear. “It was fun. We could talk about anything and no one could understand us.”

“It’s like a secret language between you two,” he smiles, crossing his ankles. “That’s sweet.”

I wonder what happened between them if they aren’t friends anymore.

She hums, smiling fondly. She shifts her gaze to the wall, thinking about what they used to be and their old dreams, before everything fell apart. Ajax hums a quiet tune, pouring himself another shot and knocking it back as she’s lost in her thoughts. He didn’t want to press her about what happened to lose her friends and leave her home behind. He didn’t want to sour the mood, so he just let her be, before she finally spoke up.

“You were right.”

“Hm?”

“The vodka. It’s smoother than other brands. And it does taste better than others, too,” she turns to him, taking in his appearance. He has such a beautiful face. “Even if it’s stronger than the liquor I’m used to. I could get used to it, I think.”

I could get used to this. To you.

“Only if you drink it with me!” He gently nudges her side, smiling cheekily at her. “Nobody else.”

“I wouldn’t want to drink with anyone else,” she shakes her head, laughing quietly at the absurdity of it all. “I don’t trust anyone but you.”

“I’m honored.”

“Well, anyways, enough of all that. How was your day, Ajax?” She asks as he pours a new shot. He hums, handing her the shot glass to take. “What did you get up to today?”

“Oh, the usual. Boring bank stuff, dealing with annoying clients. It was a long day, like always.” She takes the glass, taking the shot and cringing after she does. The taste sends a shiver down her spine, and she sets the glass back down on the table. “And you? I know you said you had a busy day.”

“I did, yeah.” She sighs, “I feel like they give me the work they don’t want to do knowing that I’ll do it. Knowing that if I don’t do it, I’ll be the one in trouble for it not getting done.”

“They can’t fire you for standing up for yourself. Why don’t you confront your boss about them? Surely he can’t stand the lack of productivity from them.”

“Are you kidding? Donovan would never listen to me. He would just say that I need to help my coworkers complete their work and stop complaining about it,” she sighs. “I’m lucky to be working for Ivanovich. That’s what he would say.”

“Are you really lucky working for this company though?”

“I’m lucky to have found a job that pays well enough. They may not treat me well, but the pay is somewhat worth it. And I like living here. I mean, sure, I hate my job, but right now this is the best I can do.”

I can straighten them out, he thinks. It would take nothing for me to fix it.

“As long as you’re satisfied with it.”

“I am,” she nods as Ajax pours himself another shot. “I am now that I’ve met you.”

“Oh, yeah? And why is that?” He asks, taking the shot with ease. He sets the glass back down, leaning back as he lets the tipsiness start to sink in.

“Because now I have something to look forward to after work every day,” she smiles, clasping her hands together in front of her. “Getting to talk to you, and see you.”

He sighs, a happy smile tugging at his lips as he blushes slightly. “I look forward to your calls every night. Even more when I know we’re going to spend time together.”

She blushes as Ajax pours her another shot, sliding it on the table to sit in front of her. She picks it up, taking the shot. She coughs a little, setting the glass back down. She thought it might get easier to down the shots the more she took, but no. It only got harder after each one.

“You know, sharing a bottle of Snezhnayan vodka with someone earns a lot of respect and trust, here. If a friend is willing to share a drink and chat with you, you know they’re someone you can trust.” He hums, leaning against her slightly. “After sharing a bottle with you, well, I feel like I can trust you with my life.”

“Really? That’s kind of…” she pauses, freezing in place when she feels him lean against her. “Intense.”

“Is it?” He laughs, his breath fanning over her neck. He’s so close. He reaches a hand out to gently touch her hand, brushing his fingers over her knuckles. “But you trust me, too, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I said that earlier, didn’t I?” She turns her hand over, letting him entwine their fingers together. “It’s just the way you said it. You trust me with your life. You make it sound like I’m holding your life in my hands, somehow. Like you would count on me to save you.”

He leans onto her a little more, hair brushing the exposed skin between her neck and shoulder. It tickles a little, and she fights the urge to giggle at the feeling. He chuckles softly, squeezing her hand. “I guess I can be a little intense. Sometimes,” he closes his eyes briefly before lifting himself off her, letting go of her hand to pour yet another shot for himself. “I have the tendency to speak before I think about what I’m saying, sorry.”

“It’s okay, I do that too,” she shakes her head, huffing a quiet laugh. He slams the shot in one go, setting the shot glass back down as he clears his throat. “Especially when I’ve been drinking. Like that black sheep comment I made when we first met.”

“Oh, haha! That’s right, my sweet black sheep,” he purrs, taking note of the blush that finds its way onto her cheeks. He smirks lazily, gently poking her soft cheek. “Oh, you’re so fucking cute when you’re embarrassed.”

“Ah- hey,” she turns away, covering her face with her hands. “Don’t tease me like this, Ajax!”

He laughs loudly, leaning back and resting one arm behind her on the back of the couch.

“I wish I could give you a bottle of Dawn Winery’s specialty dandelion wine. Because you shared your favorite vodka with me.”

“Yeah? Is that because dandelion wine is your favorite?”

“It’s a staple of Mondstadt. You visit Mondstadt and you just have to try the dandelion wine!” she leans back too, looking over at him with a small smile on her face. “But, yeah, I’ll admit, it is my favorite.”

“Haha, caught you,” he tilts his head to the side, resting it on top of hers. He idly plays with the fringe on the blanket thrown over the back of the couch, humming to himself. Damn, those shots are really catching up with me now.

She speaks up, breaking Ajax out of his trance. “Will you tell me a story from your childhood, Ajax?”

“Haha, sure,” he laughs, leaning back against the couch. “But I want you to tell me a story when you were a kid in return. Deal?”

“Okay, fine. A story for a story.”

“There was this one time, when I was really small, I was playing in the woods with my big brother. We saw this big bird, and I didn’t know what it was at the time, but I tried to catch it. And it flew up into the tree, so I shook the tree to get it to come down, and when it came down I grabbed it and brought it home with my brother to my mama and papa. It was almost as big as me!”

“What kind of bird was it?” She asks curiously, picking at loose threads on her shirt.

“A vulture.”

“You… caught a vulture in the woods as a child? With your bare hands?”

“Yeah! Didn’t even get a scratch,” he beams proudly, pouring himself another shot. “When my papa saw me carrying it, in the calmest voice possible, he told me to stop petting it.”

“How could anyone be calm seeing your son carrying a vulture like it was nothing?”

“My family was just like that,” he chuckles, setting the glass back down. “So? What’s the story you’re gonna share?”

“Well, mine isn’t as interesting as yours, catching vultures and all, but…” she pauses, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “One time, when my grandmother was babysitting me when I was little, she was on the phone and badmouthing me and my mother, and she didn’t know that I was listening to her. And when she went outside to smoke a cigarette, I locked the door and locked her out of the house. Oh, the look on her face! She was pissed!”

“Haha!” He softly wraps his arm around her and pulls her into his side, laughing into her shoulder. “You were quite a devious kid, huh? Talking shit about your classmates in Snezhnayan and locking your family out of the house.”

“Hey, I’ve grown a lot since then!” She huffs, leaning away from him in his grasp.

“Grown into such a sweet little thing, huh?” He shakes her playfully, running his hand up and down her arm. Her face is heated, blushing wildly from his drunken actions. I don’t think I’m drunk enough for this yet.

Ajax lets her go, reaching for the glass to pour another shot. After he pours the vodka, she reaches out to silently ask for it, to which he grins wildly, passing it to her. She slams the shot, much like him, and hands him back the glass instead of setting it down herself.

“How about another story, Ajax?”

“Oh, sure thing, love,” he coos, eyes slightly drooping from the alcohol. They were at least half way through the bottle he brought, already, and drinking it fast. He would definitely need to call for someone to come get him at this point.

“So, the first time I went ice fishing with papa, I caught a fish that was as big as I was at the time,” he gestures to how tall he was at that age. “It was probably twice the size of the fish he caught himself! The biggest one we caught that whole day. That night, he taught me how to clean the fish for cooking and made me clean the big fish I caught.”

“I bet you looked really cute holding up that fish to your dad, huh?” She giggles, imagining it. “Did you go fishing with your dad a lot?”

“Yeah, I did. Went hunting all the time, too,” he hums as he pours himself a new shot. “But you’ll have to tell me another story about you, girlie, before I tell you about my hunting trips!”

“Okay, fine,” she smiles, letting her head droop slightly to one side. “Before we moved to the city, I remember chasing butterflies with my friends. I ran ahead of them and slipped, knocking over one of the neighbor’s pots and shattering it. My mother never heard the end of it, and neither did I.”

“The idea of you chasing butterflies, and being clumsy enough to break a neighbor’s pot is really funny to me,” he shakes his head with a lopsided smile on his face. He stares at the shot of vodka for a moment before he knocks it back and sets the glass back down. “What was in the pot? Flowers?”

“Herbs for cooking.”

“Oh,” he chuckles, running a hand down his face. He was starting to feel very warm and fuzzy, and light, like he was floating. He glanced at her, face flushed with a content smile on her face. He looks down at her lips, fighting the urge to push her down on the couch and kiss her. Control yourself, Ajax. We don’t want to scare her away.

He swallows thickly, looking away and reaching up to ruffle his own hair. “Did they make you pay for it? Or have you do chores to make up for it?”

“No, but my mom never stopped scolding me for it, that’s for sure,” she huffs, turning to face him fully. She leans her side against the back of the couch, draping her arm over it. “Well? Are you gonna tell me that hunting story, now?”

“My, eager to hear about it, huh?” He laughs, turning to face her as well. “Never been hunting before?”

“Fuck no,” she shakes her head. “As if my drunken wreck of a father could ever shoot anything other than a person with a hunting rifle! If I went on a hunting trip with that bumbling idiot I would certainly get killed by that man.”

“Then you can live vicariously through my stories,” he chuckles, a poor attempt at hiding the unsettling feeling he got hearing her say that. I would certainly get killed by that man. “Maybe one day I could take you on a hunting trip with my father. Or just us, even.”

“Or, I could live vicariously through your stories, like you said,” she smiles, leaning her head on her arm draped over the couch. “So, come on, out with it!”

“Okay, okay!” He turns to lay back against the back of the couch, looking up at the ceiling light of her apartment with a drunken smile. “Well, one of the times we were out hunting, there was this boar that was massive. Probably twice the size of a normal boar. I don’t think I’d ever seen one that big before. And my big brother had tried shooting it, but scared it off. Then, it showed back up again. And my papa told us to hold absolutely still while he aimed at the boar, and he managed to shoot it, but it still ran away, because it was just so big that it was barely injured!”

“So what happened? It got away?”

“Nope!” He turns his head to look at her, a dark look crossing his eyes. “I saw it again when I got separated from them. And I snuck up on it, and jumped on it. And it freaked out and tried to throw me off, but I just held on. And I reached for the hunting knife on my belt, and started wildly stabbing it. I managed to kill it, and my papa and older brother came and saw me covered in its blood, and it was dead at my feet.”

“You really liked to live dangerously as a kid, huh? Catching vultures and jumping on boars?”

“Honestly, growing up I believed I was invincible,” he hums, reminiscing on the times when he was still just a child. “Even now, sometimes I feel untouchable. But when someone challenges me, it fuels my adrenaline. I love it.”

“I think when I was a kid, I knew that anything could happen. That I was fragile,” she sighs, glancing over at the kitchen behind the couch. “Then, when I was a teenager, I let all that shit go and decided to live dangerously, just because I knew any day could be my last one. So, why spend it being overly cautious and afraid? That’s when I started doing stupid, reckless shit.”

“Like?”

“Like, one time after we moved to the city, my friends and I placed bets on who could climb the statue of Barbados fastest while drunk. And when it was my turn, I fell off and broke my arm. I did win the bet, though.”

“Oh, yeah? Was it worth it?”

“Yeah. The money wasn’t much, but the win felt great. The broken arm didn’t,” she laughs. “But honestly, it was also fun to climb the statue. Standing at the top, in the hands of Barbados, it was such a rush. And it felt like I was being held in Barbados’s hands, himself. The breeze was nice, and the view of the city from his hands was unlike anything else. I could hear music, like Barbados was playing a tune specifically for me.”

“Why did you fall?”

“I was drunk, Ajax,” she giggles. “During that short moment that I reveled in the view and the music from the city, I swayed in the breeze and slipped, falling off the statue.”

“Clumsy girl,” he coos, smirking at her.

“Hey, a story for a story,” she glares half heartedly at him, but her smile betrays her. “So spit one out, handsome.”

“I like that,” his eyes skirt over her lips again, before darting back up to her eyes. “Okay, sweetheart, here’s another for you.”

“I liked to play sports when I was in school, right? And I was really good at it, too. So one time, this player from the other team got heated about a play, and hit me. I beat the shit out of him until the referees were dragging me off. Honestly though, if you can’t handle the smoke don’t light the fire.”

“Oh, trouble maker,” she purrs, leaning slightly forward. Man, that vodka is really strong. He grins, face flushed at her tone.

Keep talking like that, angel, and I won’t be able to control myself anymore.

“So, what sport did you play?”

“Think you can guess?” He asks playfully, resting one hand on his knee. He digs his nails into the fabric of his pants to ground himself, holding back his urge to pounce on her.

“Football?”

“You’re pretty good at guessing these things! First you guessed my favorite liquor, now you guessed what sport I played when I was younger! Am I that easy to read?”

“I think it was just a lucky guess,” she giggles, bumping him playfully. His heart pounds loudly in his ears. “What position did you play?”

“Striker,” Ajax beams proudly. “I’m the one they expected to score the majority of the points on the team. And I was really good at it.”

“I imagine you’re really good at everything, aren’t you?”

“Mmm, not everything,” he shakes his head, averting his gaze to the carpet.

“Could have fooled me,” she sits up, reaching forward to brush a strand of hair out of his face. “A lucky fisher, skilled hunter, athlete, and you’re basically fearless. Maybe a bit of a trouble maker, but hey, it’s kind of cute.”

“And a shepherd with a flock of black sheep, if I recall.”

“Oh, shut up,” she blushes madly, softly smacking him on the chest. “You know, I’ve been wondering, what got you to work at the bank? You don’t seem like the type to enjoy desk work.”

“Ah, well,” he pauses, rubbing the back of his head as he looks off toward the window.

“What are you thinking, kid?” The man blows cigar smoke in Ajax’s face, an unreadable expression on his face. Ajax is unfazed by the powerful, older man in front of him.

“I need money to support my family. My baby brother is sick, and my other little brother can’t even start school yet. We have no money and where I work now doesn’t pay enough.”

“You’re putting yourself in a dangerous spot, you know.”

“I don’t care. I need to take care of my family. Plus this way I can protect them, right? This way, no one will touch them.”

“This line of work isn’t for kids like you. You’ll be taking more than just money from people. You’ll be taking lives. Can you even handle something like that?”

“Yes. I will do anything.”

“Sweet boy, you’ve grown into quite the young man since you first joined. How would you like to rise up the ranks? Become a Pakhan? You will have all the wealth and power you could imagine.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I will not let you down.”

“I know you won’t.”

“You’ve done so well. I believe a promotion is in order.”

“A promotion?”

“Northland Bank. The previous Vice President was disposed of for leaking precious information about the organization, and now there’s an opening that needs to be filled. You’ve proven your loyalty, as well as your wits and charm. Who would be more perfect for the position than you, Tartaglia?”

“I just wanted to be able to provide for my parents and my little siblings. Northland Bank gave me that opportunity.”

“I think it’s really sweet how much you love and care about your family.” He looks over at her, slightly wide-eyed. She smiles at him warmly, a fondness in her eyes. “I bet they’re all so proud of you. Despite getting into all kinds of mischief.”

All the people he’s had to kill while working for the Fatui briefly cross his mind, the way they screamed and cried and begged for their lives. I have a family. I don’t want to die. I’m sorry.

I bet they’re all so proud of you.

He smiles darkly, looking away. “Yeah, I’m sure they are.”

“Even if they aren’t, which honestly I’m sure they are, I’m proud of you.” She beams, taking one of his hands to draw his attention back to her. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy to get the vice president position at such a highly praised bank in Snezhnaya! You did say it’s very cutthroat here.”

“Aw, that’s sweet of you, love,” he hums, face burning at her blatant admission. Well, alcohol can be a sort of truth serum, in a way.

She smiles, running her thumb over the back of his hand. He glances down, looking at where her hand is on his, noticing the time on his watch. 23:27.

“Oh, God, it’s almost midnight,” he withdraws his hand from hers, running it through his hair as he stands. “You have to work tomorrow! I should get going-“

“But you’re really drunk, Ajax!” She stands up to chase after him, grasping the sleeve of his shirt to stop him. “You can’t drive home like this!”

“I’ll call my comrade,” he sighs, grabbing his phone.

“You can sleep here! I-uh, I don’t mind…”

“It’s alright. Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. Just like the last time, I’ll be safe.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he hums as he dials the number. Before he presses to call, he turns to look at her with a soft smile. “You need to get some sleep for tomorrow. And I would hate to intrude.”

“Okay,” she sighs, reluctantly letting go of his sleeve. He reaches out, pulling her into a hug as he presses to call Mikhail. She squeezes him tight, burying her face in his chest.

“Hey, comrade, I need a ride home. I’ll text you the address.”

“Got it, Boss.”

Ajax hangs up just as quickly as he called, slipping his phone into his pocket. She doesn’t want to let go, feeling him run a hand up and down her back. He finally pulls away, peeling her arms off him. He tilts her head up to look at him, noting the pout on her face. He smiles, brushing his thumb in soothing circles on her cheek.

She doesn’t register what happens, when all of a sudden his lips are on hers, kissing her softly.

He pulls away just as quickly as he’d kissed her, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I’ll text you later, lovely. Sweet dreams.”

He leaves the apartment without another word, waving to her as he shuts the door behind him.

I just can’t help myself.

Chapter Text

“Are you Miss…” the man with the flowers pauses, looking at the card. “(Y/N)?”

“Yes, thats me,” she raises a brow as the man sets a vase full of an assortment of white and red flowers down on the small unoccupied part of her desk. “Um, what’s this about?”

“Mr. Tartaglia asked me to deliver these to you, with a message,” he passes the cute little note card to her, before turning away to leave the office without another word.

She watches the delivery man walk down the hall with a confused expression before she looks down at the little card in her hands. It has her name on it, and when she turns it over, there’s a message written in elegant script with black ink.

Miss you, my darling. Enjoy the flowers. Love, Tartaglia.

Her eyes widen at the little note, and she sets it down next to the flowers. She hides her blush by turning to focus on her computer, opening up the files and emails that needed her attention.

It’s not even two minutes later when Donovan walks by her desk, seeing the large bouquet take up most of the space on her desk. He scoffs, crossing his arms as he stops beside it. “(Y/N), what is this about?”

“They were sent to me,” she replies dismissively, continuing to type the email reply on her computer. He huffs, spotting the note. He lifts it up to take a look, a glare on his face.

“I can see that. You know that stuff like this is a distraction from work,” he grumbles, seeing her name on the card. He turns it over. “Your productivity will go down with shit like this.”

“I’m not even looking at them, sir,” she rolls her eyes, sending the email before she turns to the stack of papers on her desk. She rifles through them, not even looking up at Donovan.

His expression falls as he reads the note, and his heart sinks into his stomach as he reads the name. Tartaglia. He sets the note back down, clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses. “(Y/N), please follow me to my office.”

She drops her papers and looks up at him incredulously. She groans quietly, getting up from her seat and following Donovan to his office, shutting the door behind her as she walks in after him. He doesn’t even sit down before he speaks. “Tartaglia sent you those flowers?”

“Yes. They’re just flowers. Do you want me to get rid of them?” She crosses her arms, frowning. “Or are you going to write me up for this?”

“No,” Donovan grits his teeth, tapping his foot anxiously against the floor. “No, I won’t write you up for this. However, I do want to know just what your relationship is with Mr. Tartaglia.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“You’re seeing him, aren’t you?” Donovan points a finger accusingly at her, narrowing his eyes. “You saw an opportunity to start seeing a very powerful, wealthy man from that party and decided to pursue him-“

“How dare you make that accusation, Donovan,” she sneers, clenching her hands into fists. She has a hard time holding back this time. “I’ll have you know, I met Tartaglia before that charity party. Not to mention, he’s the one who’s shown interest in me. I wasn’t the one who tried to pursue him, he’s the one who wanted to pursue me, as unbelievable as that is. Not like that’s any of your business.”

“And, you do realize that he’s the one who approached me first at that party, right? When you interrupted me and pulled me away to scold me and threaten to fire me for talking to him, we weren’t even discussing business,” she tilts her head up, leaning her weight on her right foot. “We were having a really nice conversation. And guess what? Tartaglia was so angry that you interrupted us that he was going to reject your proposal, but I asked him to give you a chance, because I didn’t want to lose my job!”

Realization dawns on Donovan as she speaks, and a look of mortification finds its way onto his face. Her voice gets higher as she speaks, nearly yelling at him in his own office. “On top of that, you sent him the proposal that I drafted! And you took all the credit for it! Then, you went and gave my promotion to Anatoly! He doesn’t even deserve it! Do you really think Anatoly would make a better project manager than me? Actually, don’t answer that. I already know what you’re going to say.”

Donovan gulps, sweat beading on his forehead. She huffs, shaking her head as her frustration boils over.

“Now, if that’s it, then I’m going back to my desk to finish up the work I was doing before you came and interrupted me,” she turns to the door, but looks back at Donovan before leaving his office. “Unless you plan on firing me?”

It’s a challenge. What are you going to do now, Donovan?

He’s silent for a moment before he mutters, “No, go ahead…”

She storms out of the office, back to her desk where she practically throws herself onto her chair. She turns back to the monitor, reopening her current project drafts and emails to ignore how pissed off she felt that Donovan would have the gall to accuse her of pursuing a relationship with Ajax because he was rich and powerful.

I’m not even actually dating him. Not really. I know he kissed me, but…

She blushes slightly at the thought, eyes drifting over at the beautiful, delicate red and white flowers in the vase. My darling… She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. I really need to focus on my work.

She opens her most recent project draft from last week and starts reworking it according to the client’s demands, only stopping once in a while to reply to emails. After a little over an hour, her phone beeps a notification of a text message. She unlocks her phone, seeing Ajax’s contact.

Ajax: Hey, my dear! Did you get my present?

(Y/N): Oh, that was you?

(Y/N): I’m just kidding. I love them, thank you. They’re beautiful.

Ajax: Not as beautiful as you, lovely. Glad you like them!

Ajax: I didn’t know what your favorites were, so I just picked the prettiest ones. Only the best for my pretty girl.

(Y/N): You picked well. The red ones remind me of you.

(Y/N): Oh, also, why did you sign the note as “Tartaglia”?

Ajax: Haha, I was hoping your boss would see it. And if he read “Ajax” he wouldn’t know it was me.

Ajax: So, did he see it?

(Y/N): Yeah. He called me into his office to talk privately.

Ajax: I didn’t get you in trouble, did I?

(Y/N): No, he looked like he was going to die on the spot. I’ll have to tell you about it later.

Ajax: I’m looking forward to it, darling.

“Hey, I saw Donovan called you into his office-“ Nikolai walks up to her desk, stopping as he notices the beautiful flowers on her desk. “Whoa, pretty flowers! Who are those from?”

“They’re uh, from a friend,” she mutters, glancing up from her monitor to see Nikolai reading the little note from Ajax in his hands.

“Just a friend, huh?” He smirks, setting the card back down. “Well, I won’t pry. Is everything okay? Donovan didn’t write you up, did he?”

“No, he was just being a nosy jerk,” she sighs.

“Why did he call you into his office?”

“Because of the flowers.” She groans, leaning back in her chair as she looks at him. “He said they’re a distraction. Then he started acting weird when he saw who sent them to me. And he crossed the line by questioning my relationship when it’s none of his business!”

“That’s stupid. I don’t see him saying anything to anyone else here about the distractions they have on their desk,” Nikolai rolls his eyes, running his fingers gently over the petals. “Oh, but a few flowers are too much? Laughable.”

“Is it like this in the marketing department?”

“No, not really. But also, we don’t have anyone from a different nation working in marketing. I think you’re the only one in the whole company that’s not from Snezhnaya.” He hums, thinking to himself. “Oh, actually, except in accounting. And the consulting lawyers. There’s some Fontainians and Liyueans working there. You’re the only one from Mondstadt, though.”

“Well, glad I could be welcomed on the team so easily,” she replies sarcastically, turning back to the documents on her desk.

“Even if these morons don’t like you, clearly someone else does,” he smirks, toying with the little note card on her desk. “Someone far more important than the disrespectful idiots at this company. So, at least there’s that.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” she blushes, hiding her face in her stack of papers. Nikolai laughs quietly to himself at this.

“I’m gonna go back to my desk,” he waves at her as he turns to go back to his own desk. “Need help with anything before I go?”

“No,” she shakes her head, looking through the papers for what she needs to sign. “Thank you, though.”

He smiles and walks away, leaving her to her drafts and paperwork. Her eyes scan over the words on the page before signing and stamping, moving it to the finished pile. She does this so much every day that it becomes almost second nature to her. It’s such boring, monotonous work that she zones out completely.

The only thing that keeps her from going crazy is when she works on her project drafts for the company, proposing different ideas specialized for each different partnership the company wants to achieve.

In her mind, the best project proposal she’s written for the company in the months she’s worked there was the one Donovan proposed as his idea to Ajax and the Northland Bank. It felt validating to hear Ajax say it was a very well written proposal, even if he was originally under the impression that Donovan drafted that proposal.

She sees from the corner of her eye as she’s going through each document on her desk the different women at the company glare at her desk, clearly jealous of the flowers she was sent. She ignores it, focusing on finishing her work as soon as possible so she could just go home and call Ajax. Talking to him was all she looked forward to after work every night, even if she felt somewhat awkward after their drunk kiss before he left that night.

“Hey, who are these flowers for?” A dark haired woman with deep red lipstick and too much makeup stops at her desk, sneering. “They can’t possibly be for you. Must have been delivered to the wrong desk.”

She briefly looks up at the woman, completely expressionless as she speaks. “Why? Were you expecting flowers, Nicolette?”

“No. But for you?” Nicolette snorts, resting a hand on her hips. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“Sorry to say, but yeah, the man who delivered them confirmed my name before he gave me the flowers.” She hums, turning her attention away from the rude woman. “And the note has my name on it.”

Nicolette huffs, crossing her arms. “Unbelievable. You probably sent them to yourself so you could seem important.”

“Nicolette, I don’t have the money to waste on floral arrangements. I can barely afford my rent. If that’s what you want to believe, then go ahead. I don’t really care.”

Nicolette glares as she starts to walk away, but stops on front of the flowers to take a red petal in between her fingers. She pulls it off the flower and walks away, rubbing it before she drops it to the floor. (Y/N) rolls her eyes at Nicolette’s action, burying the feeling of anger building up.

She wanted to get up and walk after Nicolette, snap at her, ask her what’s her problem. She tries to ignore it and go back to her work, biting her tongue from saying anything. Just focus on getting it done so I can go home.

Her messages ding on her computer with a request to modify another project, with suggestions on what to include. Usually, the project manager would be the one to modify project drafts after the specialists sent them, but Anatoly was an imbecile, and struggling to fit into his new role. So instead, he would send all the projects to her to be modified, even if she wasn’t the one who drafted the project in the first place. Thus, giving her even more work to do than before.

She spends her last few hours in the office fixing up the project drafts from Anatoly, adding the suggestions from the clients involved and sending them back. She leans back, fixing the stack of signed documents before bringing them to Donovan’s office. As she walks by her desk, she gently runs her fingers over the petals with a soft smile on her face, spending an extra few seconds examining the one Nicolette ripped a petal from.

She sighs as she circles back around her desk and turns off her monitor, reaching down for her bag. She slings it over her shoulder and reaches for the vase on her desk. I guess I’ll bring these home.

She carries the large vase through the empty office, to the first floor, and out to the parking lot. The breeze ruffles her hair, gently brushing through the flower petals. She panics a little that the wind might ruin them, and rushes to the car to try and preserve them.

She gets into the car, bag squished between her body and the door uncomfortably as she struggles with where to put the vase. “Maybe bringing these home wasn’t such a great idea.”

She settles on putting the vase on the passenger seat, using the seatbelt to lock it in place. She takes her bag off her shoulder and sets it on the floor in front of the vase, letting out a tired sigh. She leans back and takes a second for herself before she turns the car on and starts driving home, carefully as to not ruin the flowers Ajax gifted her.

When she finally gets back to her apartment, she sets the vase down on the kitchen counter, gently fluffing the flowers before leaving it alone to take her heels off and change.

She flops down onto the couch with her phone, opening Ajax’s contact and pressing the button to call. It rings a few times before he answers, voice warm and full of mischief.

“Hey, lovely.”

“Hey, Ajax,” she sinks further into the cushions of the couch, getting comfortable. “How was your day?”

“Boring as usual. Well, other than when I heard from you earlier,” he has a self satisfied smirk on his face as he sets the stack of money he was counting down on the table in front of him. “And you? Did the flowers brighten up your day?”

“Yes,” she brushes her hair behind her ear, glancing over at the window. “That was really nice of you. I was so confused at first when the guy put them on my desk, then I read the little card.”

“I wanted to send you something nice, and flowers were the first thing that came to mind,” he shrugs, glancing down at the cash. “Did you leave them at your office, or bring them home?”

“I brought them home. Donovan wasn’t very happy when he saw them. He said they were a distraction so I figured it would be better to bring them home. Plus, the other women at the office weren’t very happy to see that I got flowers. They kept glaring at me the whole day.”

“A distraction? That’s ridiculous.” Ajax scoffs, fingers flipping through the bills of cash in a neat stack on the table. “Some flowers would probably liven the place up a little. How boring.”

“Yeah, they certainly liven up my apartment, though. Thank you again for the flowers. I really like them.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He smiles, pushing the bills away. “Y’know, speaking of Donovan,” he drawls, leaning back in the chair. He crosses his legs, a smirk finding its way onto his face at the thought of her pretentious boss panicking at the sight of his name. A powerful man, indeed. “You said something about him looking like death. What did he think when he saw my name on the note?”

“He was definitely worried. And he asked me what my relationship with you was. He looked so scared.” She frowns at the memory, offended by his accusation. “He was probably worried about how it would affect the company’s relationship with the Northland Bank.”

He hums, tapping his fingers on the table. “What did you tell him? About our relationship?”

“Well, um,” she blushes, placing a hand on her cheek. “I just told him it was none of his business. And he made his own assumptions about us.”

“What assumption did he make?” He smirks, eyes narrowing.

“That we’re seeing each other,” she says quietly, picking at the skin of her lips with her nails.

He grins wildly. “Well, that’s kind of true, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you want to call us, though.”

“It’s pretty obvious with my terms of endearment for you, isn’t it?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. “That I want to make this official? I mean, I did kiss you the other night.”

“Yeah, you did.” She blushes darkly at the memory.

“So, let’s make this official!” Ajax beams, looking up at the chandelier above the table. “What do you think?”

“Oh, um, okay,” she laughs nervously, smiling.

“You don’t want that?”

“No! I- I do, I do want that,” she stutters, sitting up. “I’m just- I don’t know. Surprised? Caught off guard?”

“Haha, and why is that?” He chuckles softly, running his hand through his hair, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. “I did kiss you, after all. You don’t believe that I’m being genuine?”

“I believe you,” she starts blabbering on and on, and it’s hard to stop. “You’re just so wonderful that I’m surprised you would pick me. I mean, you’re everything I want. You’re kind, silly, and you’re so handsome, and I… I should stop talking.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet, darling,” he coos, smirking to himself. He can imagine what kind of expression she’s making. It’s so cute. He wishes he could see it for himself. “I could listen to you praise me all day. Tell me more.”

“No!” She covers her face. “It’s embarrassing!”

“I think it’s cute when you say things like that,” he hums. Your red face is so cute, too. “And it boosts my ego.”

“As if your ego needs to be any higher, Ajax,” she rolls her eyes, her smile widening. “If your ego gets any more inflated, your head will be too big to fit on your shoulders.”

“It could get a little more inflated before that happens, sweetheart,” he teases, laughing softly. “For example, you could call me irresistible and charming.”

“You don’t need me to tell you if you already know that,” she giggles, pressing her palm to her forehead as she shakes her head. Gods, this man. “But fine, I’ll humor you since you want to hear it so badly. Yes, you are just so handsome, and so irresistible, and charming. And I’m very lucky to have you.”

She says the last part quietly. It’s sounds so heartfelt and genuine that Ajax is taken aback at first, eyes wide and smile dropping for just a moment. “I would argue that I’m the lucky one, for finding someone so lovely and sweet.”

“Aww,” she laughs, trying to hide her insecurity. She thinks he could find anyone with those attributes easily. He was an extremely attractive man, with a lot of wealth and power. She’s definitely lucky to be able to be in a relationship with him, but she worries how long this can last before he inevitably leaves her for someone more exciting. She is just a project specialist at a corporation, after all.

“I really am lucky to be able to call you my girlfriend, now,” Ajax smiles longingly, crossing his arm over his chest as he holds the phone to his ear in his other hand. “Officially.”

“Now I don’t have to feel awkward after we kiss,” she teases him back for earlier, and he scoffs playfully in response.

“You felt awkward after I kissed you?” He clicks his tongue. “Well, I guess we need a redo of that kiss the other night then, huh?”

“I guess we do,” she swallows thickly, trying to be more bold. They were technically dating now, there was no reason why she couldn’t try to match his flirting more, right?

He whistles, smirking. “Next time I see you, haha. Be ready for me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” her face burns bright as she worries her lip between her teeth. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Neither can I, sweet thing,” he sighs, a light chuckle at the end of it. “We’ll have to go out soon. I’ll let you know.”

A knock comes from his front door and he turns to the sound, a low grumble coming from the back of his throat. I thought I had more time. “I’m sorry, love, I need to go. Text me more about your day, though, okay?”

“Okay, I will,” she brushes her hair behind her ear, nodding. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Goodnight.”

Chapter Text

Ajax: I’m going to a night club tonight.

Ajax: Do you want to come?

(Y/N): I’ve never been to a Snezhnayan night club before.

Ajax: It’s fun! Snezhnayans really know how to party.

Ajax: So, interested?

(Y/N): Sure. I’ll try to get off early.

Ajax: Good. I’ll pick you up from your apartment, then.

When she gets back to the apartment complex, she runs up to her apartment to change into a more club appropriate outfit. She thought about just going in her work uniform, but she knew she would stand out like a sore thumb if she wore that black pencil skirt and blazer.

She digs through her closet until she finds one of her dresses from her party days in Mondstadt; a short, sleeveless glittery blue dress. It’ll have to work.

She changes quickly, knowing Ajax was on his way to pick her up. She already spent a lot of time rifling through her clothes to find the right party sort of dress. If she spent any more time messing with her appearance, Ajax would get to the apartment and be left waiting out in his car.

She’s just fixing up her hair when her phone beeps with a message, telling her that Ajax was outside waiting. She spritzes her perfume twice before she slips her work heels back on and heads out the door with her purse.

She locks the door as usual and heads down the stairs, seeing the same luxury car he’d picked her up in before. Ajax rolls the window down as she approaches, looking her up and down.

“Oh, wow.”

“It’s not too much, is it?” She does a little twirl outside the car door, showing off the whole dress to him. Her hair bounces around her with the movement.

“Not at all, love,” he smiles softly. “You look amazing as always.”

“Does it… fit for a club?” She brushes a strand of hair out of her face, using her other hand to smooth down the fabric at the front of her dress.

“Yeah!” He beams, resting his arm against the middle console of the car. “Honestly, there isn’t really a dress code for the club. I know I’m wearing a dress shirt, but it’s just how I dress.”

“I think it suits you,” she slides into the passenger seat, shutting the door. “Although, you probably look good in everything.”

“There’s always time to find that out, my dear,” he coos, reaching out to cup her cheek. “Now, I believe I owe you something, no?”

She blushes, tilting her head slightly in confusion. He laughs breathlessly, gently caressing her cheek with his thumb. He leans over to give her a soft kiss, lips moving against hers with purpose. Her eyes flutter closed, leaning forward slightly to press closer.

Ajax is the first to pull away, eyes dark as he looks her over. “Remember now?” She nods slightly, unable to tear her eyes away from his.

He turns to face the road and starts driving, humming to the low music in his car. “I know you said you’ve never been to a Snezhnayan club before, but have you been to a club in general?”

“Sure. During my partying days in Mondstadt I’d been to plenty of clubs.” She watches the way the different lights bounce off him as he drives by, shades of orange, red, and green dancing on his skin and the dashboard of the car.

“If you love parties, you’ll love where we’re going,” he turns onto a different road, passing other cars. “It’s the most popular club in the city.”

“Oh, really?” She can feel her excitement building. She hasn’t partied since she left Mondstadt for good. She missed the experience. “What’s it like?”

“You’ll see,” he grins, an air of mystery about the whole thing.

“Aw, not even a little hint of what to expect?” She fake pouts, suppressing a giggle.

“It’s loud,” he laughs, shaking his head. “That’s all you get.”

“Ajax!” She groans. “Every club is loud! That’s not helpful.”

“Just be patient, baby! It’s a surprise,” without looking, he takes her hand in his and brushes his thumb over her knuckles. She huffs, smiling as she looks out the windshield at all the buildings as they go further and further into the heart of the city.

“Fine.”

When they finally arrive, he parks his car in a lot a block away. “Sorry, but there’s nowhere to park outside of the club itself. We’ll have to walk the rest of the way.”

“That’s okay.” She nods as she gets out of the car, looking around at the people walking the main streets where various shops and cafes line the road. Ajax takes her hand in his, leading her down the road to the club.

The Aurora is a bustling nightclub nestled between a tattoo shop and a salon. The lights from the club are pulsing pink and blue, and the sign is neon purple. They can hear the music from down the street, even before it comes into view.

There’s a line to get in, but the bouncer lets Ajax and (Y/N) in with barely a glance. She looks back at the bouncer as they walk in with a confused look, but chooses to brush it off as them knowing he’s a very wealthy man.

The music is so much louder inside the club, bouncing off the walls. There are men and women in skimpy outfits dancing on the dance floor, pumping their arms in the air and grinding on each other.

The lights are flashing pink and blue, matching the rhythm of the beat. Some patrons stand at the bar to the right of the entrance, enjoying drinks and swaying to the music.

She grabs Ajax’s arm and pushes herself close, afraid of losing him in the crowd. She tightens her grip on his sleeve and hugs his arm, looking around at the interior of the club. He laughs softly, continuing to push forward with her clutching his arm.

Ajax leads her to order drinks at the bar first. Her hands squeeze his arm just a little tighter. He thinks it’s cute how she clings to him as he leads her around, glancing around with a look of wonder.

They stop in front of the bar and she lets go of his arm, leaning her top half against the bar top. He wraps his arm around her, running his hand up and down her hip gently.

“What do you want to drink?” He shouts over the music, leaning in so she can hear him a little better. “I’ll order for you.”

“I don’t know. Something fruity?” She yells back, hardly able to hear herself. “And strong!”

Ajax grins, hand on her waist to hold her close to him as he turns to tell the bartender what to make. She can barely hear what he’s saying to the bartender, but clearly the bartender has no trouble understanding him as he turns away to make the drinks.

“So what did you get?”

“It’s a surprise!” He gently squeezes her waist, pulling her just a little closer into his side. He leans in close so she can hear him better as he lowers his voice just a tad. “You’ll love it, though. I know you will.”

They stand near the bar as they wait for their drinks. She takes in the atmosphere of the club, almost overwhelmed by the flashing lights and smell of various colognes and perfumes. She can hardly make out Ajax’s cologne from all the others.

Ajax is bobbing his head to the beat, eyes scanning the club. Truth is, he was here for more than just pleasure. He was looking for a certain someone that, when found, his people would follow around the rest of the night in the shadows, unseen.

This slippery client of his has been difficult to keep eyes on, somehow always managing to stay one step ahead of him, beyond reach. Well, no more.

He found out through some less than savory methods of getting information which clubs and bars he frequented and when. It was still hard to find the bastard, when he had no set routine and would go to his chosen favorites randomly. It was almost like he was trying to avoid the fatui, lest his debts catch up with him.

He knew that his client’s friends would be at The Aurora tonight to party their asses off, and that where his friends were, he would surely be close by.

That’s how Ajax found himself here, with (Y/N) at The Aurora. He had business to take care of, and she’s never been to a Snezhnayan nightclub. What a perfect way to handle two birds with one stone. He could blend in with all the other couples at the nightclub with her, so his client wouldn’t spot him if in fact he happened to be at the club.

Ajax felt a little guilty using her like this, but if she was enjoying herself then it wouldn’t be so bad. It’s not like she was in danger here, at his side. At least if he didn’t spot his client, the trip wouldn’t be a total waste, getting to spend more time with his lovely girlfriend in a place she had never been able to go before.

The bartender passes them two pink colored shots, to which Ajax thanks him and reaches for, passing one to her.

“Ajax, these are shots!” She smacks his chest lightly, a pout on her face. She grimaces at the memory of how badly she handled the vodka shots she shared with him at her apartment.

“Don’t worry! They’re fruity, like you asked! You can barely taste the liquor!” He laughs at her pout, knocking his shot back. “You said you wanted something strong!”

“I don’t remember saying ‘shots’!”

“You didn’t say no shots, baby!” He grins, urging her to take the shot. She reluctantly takes the glass from his hand, glaring halfheartedly before she drinks hers in one go.

“I was under the impression when you asked what I wanted to drink, you would order a drink,” she shakes her head, suppressing a laugh. “Not a shot.”

“It’s a little more standard in a club like this to take shots over full drinks.”

“I’ll let you get away with the surprise shots this time,” she jokes, wagging her finger at him. “Just because they tasted really good.”

He clicks his tongue, but she can’t hear it over the music. “Well, my love, would you like me to order more shots? Or an actual drink this time?”

She hums in thought, grinning as she leans in, grasping Ajax’s jacket. “Fuck it, it’s fun. Let’s do more shots, then!”

“Oh, I’m a bad influence on you,” he coos into her ear, brushing his hand against her arm. She blushes, releasing his jacket to rest her hand on his chest instead as he waves the bartender back over to order four more shots for the two of them.

The bartender returns with the shots, setting them in front of them. They both grab one, and she gives him a challenging look before she slams it in one go. He huffs, smirking as he takes his. She reaches for the next one as Ajax is finishing his, taking that one before he even has a chance to catch up with her.

“I see what you’re trying to do, baby,” he laughs as he grabs his last shot. “You can take these shots as fast as you want, but you’ll still end up more drunk than me.”

“Maybe I’m trying to match your level,” she steps onto her tip toes, trying to get in his face.

“I think you’re already past my level, sweetheart,” he shakes his head. He quickly downs the shot and sets the glass on the bar top, leaning forward to press a delicate kiss to her cheek. “Come on, let’s dance!”

Ajax takes her hand and pulls her over to the dance floor. He keeps her close as they dance, a hand on her at all times. She rocks her body to the beat of the music, pushed up against Ajax as he rests his hand against her lower back.

At first, she’s hesitant, just making small movements and swaying to the loud music with him. But then the alcohol starts kicking in, and she gets a little more bold, pumping her arms with the rhythm and giggling as she stumbles into him.

She shifts in his hold so her back is against his chest as she dances, closing her eyes against the pulsing lights of the club. She leans her head back and reopens her eyes, looking up at Ajax through her lashes. He smirks, reaching up to gently caress the side of her neck up her jaw, looking into her eyes.

She leans into his touch, smiling up at him as she continues to dance against him in the same way as everyone else on the dance floor. She’s pressed so close to him that she can feel the heat from his body against hers.

He sways to the beat against her, too. She tilts her head from side to side, mimicking the movements of the other women around her. She feels a chuckle rumble from inside his chest as he leans forward, lips brushing against her ear. He uses his hands to help guide her movements along with his.

His heart is beating hard against his chest, and he swears she could probably feel it against her back. Her movements start to get a little lewd, and it makes his face flush and blood flow straight to his groin. He tries to ignore it, knowing she’s not doing it on purpose.

She’s too shy to be doing it on purpose.

She stumbles backward a little and falls into him further, laughing. His grip on her tightens as he bites his lip, feeling her ass press against him. Hair falls into his face and he shakes it out of his eyes, puffing out a restrained groan.

Everyone on the dance floor starts chanting in Snezhnayan to the music, jumping up and down with their hands in the air. Ajax pushes away the nagging thought to jump her bones right there, instead focusing all his attention on finding his damn target. His eyes scan the dance floor for his client while she’s distracted, drunkenly bouncing up and down with everyone else, still held tightly in his grasp.

He huffs in annoyance when he doesn’t spot his target, taking a quick moment to look over his shoulder, hoping to see him. He runs a hand through her hair as he looks back down at her, trying to calm himself down. He was getting riled up, both from her basically grinding against him, and his irritation at being unable to find his client once again. She looks up at him again so sweetly, and something in him just snaps.

Ugh, I can’t take it anymore.

Ajax turns her around to face him, leaning down to capture her lips in a searing kiss. She whines into the kiss, parting her lips for him. His tongue delves into her mouth, swiping over hers. She clutches his jacket for purchase, pulling him down closer to her as their lips move in sync with each other.

She pulls away for air, panting as he leans forward to press slow, deliberate kisses against her jaw down her neck. She squeals as he nips at her skin, digging her nails further into the fabric and twisting. “A-Ajax-“

He pulls away, eyes dark and half lidded. He wipes his bottom lip, smirking as he takes her hand and drags her away from the dance floor. She’s giggling as Ajax leads her back over to the bar. He orders more of the same shots as before, feeling her lean into him as he talks to the bartender.

“You’re really something else, Ajax!” She buries her face into his chest, inhaling his cologne. She could probably get high off his scent alone. Maybe it was the shots making her feel so bold, or the atmosphere. Maybe it was that they were official, she didn’t know. She wasn’t exactly in the state to be thinking clearly, anyways.

“I could say the same about you, baby!” He runs his hand through her hair, enjoying the way it feels beneath his fingertips. “Are you having fun?”

“Fuck yeah!” She pulls away to look into his ocean blue eyes, hers twinkling with excitement and ecstasy. She grins, and it’s such a lovely thing, he thinks. “You’re right, Snezhnayans do know how to party!”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” he laughs, cupping her face. He brushes his thumb in circles against her cheek, looking at her with so much adoration she starts to feel a little shy again. She pulls away, turning to stand close next to him instead of directly under his powerful gaze.

He wraps his arm around her shoulders, locking her in place against his side. She hums and sways next to him, leaning her head against his shoulder. The bartender brings them their shots, and she quickly slams hers down.

Ajax knocks his back as well, and as he sets the empty shot glass back down, his eyes land on a man sitting in a booth toward the back of the club with a group of men. His eyes narrow and a smirk crosses his face as he turns away. Finally found you, bastard. He discreetly pulls out his phone, making sure her attention is elsewhere before unlocking the phone and messaging one of his group chats.

Tartaglia: I found Artyom. He’s in a booth toward the back of the club.

Tartaglia: Kat, are you in the area?

Ekaterina: The Aurora? Be there in 5. Make sure he doesn’t leave.

Tartaglia: He doesn’t look like he’s leaving any time soon.

Viktor: I’m 15 minutes out. Kat, keep an eye on him until I can get there. I’ll watch from the streets when he leaves and monitor where he goes next.

Tartaglia: Looks like you have it taken care of. Good.

Tartaglia: I’ll send a text when I’m able to meet with him personally. Keep in touch with Alexei and Mikhail if anything happens. I’ve got my hands full at the moment.

Ajax slides his phone in his pocket and looks over at the door, watching for when his secretary slips into the building to watch Artyom. He continues to rest a hand on her shoulder as he watches everything fall into place. She’s completely oblivious to his “work”, just enjoying her night by his side.

Ekaterina takes a seat at the bar with two other girls, concealed by shadows from most of the club. She’s in perfect view of Artyom’s table, and she makes a small gesture at Ajax to signal that everything is ready to go. He makes a subtle gesture back. Just watch him for now.

“Mondstadt clubs aren’t quite like this,” (Y/N) says, watching all the patrons slam shots at the bar and laugh, dancing like today is their last day to do so. She doesn’t notice Ekaterina beside the two girls chatting away.

“What are they like?”

“Well we dance, sure. And we have similar music. But shots aren’t really a thing,” she leans in to him so he can hear her better without straining her voice. “We’ll sing as loud as we can, drink entire bottles of various wines and dance with them in our hands. If you don’t leave the club sticky and covered in wine and cider then you weren’t really partying!”

“If we ever have a chance, maybe you could bring me to a club in Mondstadt, huh?” He asks. She’s taken aback by this, eyes widening as her heart sinks into her stomach.

“Ah, yeah! If we ever end up in Mondstadt,” she bites her cheek, turning away to look down at the cool marble bar top. “I would show you a lot of things if we went. Like the windmills, the taverns, the wine. Oh, and the statue of Barbados in front of the church!”

“The one that you broke your arm after climbing?”

“Yeah!” She laughs, leaning her head against his chest. “You could finally get to try dandelion wine. I don’t know if you would like it, but then you would know the true taste of Mondstadt.”

She speaks like she misses Mondstadt, but then she acts like she never wants to go back.

“I would like that, someday,” He hums, and she almost doesn’t hear him over the music in the club. She frowns for a short moment, then wiggles her way between him and the bar top. He backs up slightly, looking down at her in confusion.

She grabs the lapels of his jacket and pulls herself up, standing on her tip toes before she gives him a light peck to his chin. She’s still not quite tall enough in her heels or on her tip toes to kiss his lips.

He laughs softly, leaning down to capture her lips like she wanted. When he pulls away, he grins. “You could have just asked me to lean down, baby.”

“You’re so fucking tall,” she groans, dropping back onto her feet. He gently pets the top of her head, chuckling. She sighs contently, tilting her head slightly as her eyes shut.

Artyom gets up from the booth with his friends and walks behind Ajax, barely brushing against him as they leave the club. Ajax glances over his shoulder to see his target right there, within reach. He’s practically concealed by all the other tall, drunk men surrounding him.

Ajax looks over at Ekaterina. She nods in understanding at him, taking out her phone to send a message - probably to let Viktor know that the target is on the move. She leaves the club casually with the other women, giggling and gossiping about nothing. A perfect cover.

He doesn’t have too much time left, he thinks. Artyom is probably almost done with his nightly escapades, and Ajax really didn’t want to have to follow him home and break into his house to take care of him. That would make an even bigger mess for his people to clean up. Although, he wasn’t above such actions.

“Come on, love,” Ajax leans down so his nose is almost touching hers. “Time to go.”

“B-but how will we get home?” She rests her hands on his chest, cheeks flushed red. “We’re both too drunk to drive!”

“I, unlike you, can handle my liquor quite well. I’m not even tipsy,” he teases, gently pinching her adorable cheeks. “Plus, my penthouse isn’t far from here. We’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” she concedes, swatting his hand away from her cheek. He takes her hand and leads her out of the club, holding her steady as she stumbles slightly.

The cool night air hits them as they walk outside, causing a shiver to run right up her spine. Ajax notices this and stops on the sidewalk, taking his jacket off and putting it over her shoulders. The jacket is too big it practically swallows her. The sleeves go past her fingers, and the hem reaches to her mid thigh. “Thank you, Ajax.”

He hums softly in response, resuming his pace to walk back to the car. She struggles to keep up with his stride, her feet aching from standing in those damn heels all night. He glances back, watching her stumble drunkenly behind him.

He stops again, turning to face her fully. Her face is red with embarrassment as she looks at the concrete bashfully. “Sorry, my feet kind of hurt. I forgot we had to walk here.”

“Do you want me to carry you?” He asks, a teasing tone to his voice. He doesn’t even wait for a response before he places his arms around her back and legs, lifting her bridal style to carry her down the street. She yelps, wrapping her arms around his neck.

As he carries her, her head droops tiredly into the crook of his neck. All her exhaustion from her week at work hits her at once. She could probably fall asleep in his arms like this, wrapped warmly in his jacket.

“We’re almost back, lovely,” he says softly, feeling her hum in response. She nuzzles her face against his neck, hair tickling his skin. He laughs quietly at the feeling.

Ajax sets her down next to the passenger door and opens it for her. She gets in and sinks into the seat, yawning as she rubs her eyes with his jacket sleeve. He shuts the door behind her and walks around the car to get into the driver seat, buckling himself in as soon as he does. He leans over to grab her seatbelt and buckle her in, too, and she giggles as she takes it from him and buckles it herself.

He starts the car and drives out of the parking lot, continuing down the road. The music is low in the car, a stark contrast to the loud, booming electronic music of the club.

He glances over at her in the passenger seat, noticing she’s sound asleep, clutching the jacket close to her to keep warm. He smiles to himself at the sight, finding her so cute in his jacket, sleeping in his car.

It’s not much longer that they approach a tall building housing many luxury penthouses, including his own. He pulls into a parking space as close to the building as he can get this late.

Ajax gently shakes her awake, smiling as her eyes focus on him and she yawns. “Hey, beautiful, we’re here.”

“We are?” She looks out the windows and sees the lights of the tall building. He nods, gently brushing his fingers against her face.

“We are,” he gets out of the car, shutting the door behind him as she gets out. She stumbles a little as he walks over, reaching out to catch her. “Easy, princess. Here, lean on me.”

She leans against him as he wraps his arm around her waist to keep her upright and steady. She giggles and yawns at the end, bringing her arm to rest against his lower back. “Sorry, Ajax, I’m really tired.”

“You’re also still drunk,” he laughs, leading her to the front door of the building. It’s not too far of a walk from the parking lot to the building, maybe two or three minutes. The front door is entirely made of glass, with beautifully crafted windows on the front of the main floor of the building.

Ajax opens the door for her, letting her walk in first. The lights are warm, casting a soft light on the floor and walls of the expensive looking lobby.

They walk through the empty lobby, shoes clicking against the fancy marble floor. She looks around in awe at the luxurious red drapes and tapestries lining the walls and windows of the lobby. The golden trims and designs are the typical Snezhnayan design seen on rugs of antique shops and carpets in hotels.

At the end of the hall is an elevator that leads to all the different floors of penthouse suites. He presses the button to call the elevator down, tapping his foot impatiently as they wait.

When the elevator comes, he presses the eleventh floor and waits. The interior of the elevator is paneled with dark wood, lined with gold accents. She leans on Ajax, humming a soft tune with her eyes shut. He rests his hand on her lower back, leaning against her as well.

They reach the eleventh floor and he helps her down the hall to his door, pulling the keys from his pants pocket to unlock the several locks on the front of his door. She clutches the fabric of his dress shirt as she watches him meticulously unlock each lock, until he finally opens the door.

“We’re finally here,” he sighs, smiling softly. He steps inside, waving her to come in as well. “Make yourself at home!”

She looks around the living room for a moment, marveling at how beautiful the place is. Compared to Ajax’s penthouse, the lobby looked poor.

The walls are dark brown, with windows stretching from the floor to the ceiling. The drapes are red, just like the ones in the lobby. The tapestries on the walls are even more expensive looking than the ones downstairs, with more intricate designs and delicate threads.

She holds on to his arm to keep her balance as she leans down to slip off her heels by the door. Ajax uses his unoccupied hand to reach back and lock the many locks on the door.

He slips his own shoes off then takes her bag from her and sets it on the end table near the couch. He slowly leads her further into his penthouse, letting her take her time to admire the place, as well as not trip and fall in her exhausted, drunken stupor.

She takes his jacket off and gently drapes it over the couch, swaying slightly with her movements. He stays close to her to catch her if she loses her balance and falls. For being a Mondstadter, she can’t quite hold her liquor well, can she?

Ajax brings her to his bedroom, leading her to the end of the hallway to the last door. He pushes the door open and lets her inside, hearing her gasp.

The bed is massive, probably twice the size of her own in her apartment. The pillows are plush and in abundance, the comforter fluffy and unimaginably soft. A red throw blanket is draped over the end of the bed, decorated with the same typical Snezhnayan pattern that’s all over his penthouse and the complex itself. There’s a rug in the middle of the room, partially underneath the bed.

The curtains are pulled shut over the windows and balcony door. He has a bookcase in the room with various books and trinkets from all over the world, with Liyue style scrolls and Fontainian vases. An Inazuman festival fox mask is on display on one of the shelves.

There’s a large tv against the wall in front of the bed, a stand below it with all the systems for it stowed away behind sleek wooden cabinet doors. The bathroom door is on the other side of the room.

She spends some time glancing around the room, eyes wide as she holds onto him. He can’t help but chuckle, nudging her forward slowly towards the bed.

“Here, you can sleep in my bed.” He pulls back the covers and helps her sit down on the edge of the bed, keeping her steady.

“But what about you? Are-are you gonna sleep here with me, too?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Mmhm,” she reaches out drunkenly to him. He gets closer, taking her hand. She closes her eyes, leaning back. He chuckles softly, letting go of her hand to readjust her on the bed.

“Okay, okay,” he coos, climbing into bed with her as she scoots herself over to make room for him. He pulls the covers back over them, settling in beside her. Only for a little bit. Just until she falls asleep.

Chapter Text

Tartaglia lifts his head slightly from where he’s lying, arm draped softly over her. He looks over to make sure she’s sound asleep, making careful movements to get up without waking her. He shakes out the stiffness of his body, checking the time on his phone before he sends a message to Alexei.

Tartaglia: Everything is handled. I’m ready to go.

Alexei: On my way, Boss.

He leaves the room and turns down the hallway to enter his personal home office. He grabs the small key to his desk from the cup on the bookcase, unlocking the top drawer and taking his gun out. He checks to make sure there are bullets in the gun before he slips it into the waistband of his pants. He grabs his switchblade from the bookcase on his way out.

He locks his office door as he leaves, just in case she does wake up and starts looking around for him. He walks back to his bedroom to check one last time that she’s still sleeping. She’s curled up in the blankets, hair sprawled out over the pillow.

Tartaglia grabs his jacket from the couch where she put it, slipping it on. He stops by the door to put his shoes on, then straightens his jacket as he heads out of the penthouse.

Alexei arrives in a black unmarked car, parked along the back of the building. Tartaglia knocks on the window, signaling Alexei to unlock the door. He opens the door once Alexei unlocks it, sighing as he sits down.

“Are there cigarettes in here?”

Alexei takes out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket, offering one to Tartaglia. He puts the cigarette between his lips, turning to ask for a lighter when Mikhail reaches forward from the backseat, lighter in hand. He takes the lighter. “Thanks.”

“Sure, Boss,” Alexei and Mikhail say in unison. Mikhail sounds more cheerful, while Alexei sounds serious, all business. Tartaglia takes the gun out of his waistband and puts it inside the glove compartment, puffing smoke as he does so.

“So, where are we heading, Alexei?”

“Golden Stars casino.” Alexei takes the back roads away from the penthouse before finally turning onto the main road further into the city. “I’ve got word from Viktor that Artyom is there, at a table.”

“Oh, good. This will be quick, then.” Tartaglia checks his messages, taking a drag from the cigarette.

“Are we going to talk to him at the table?”

“No. Too many people would listen. We’ll talk here, in the car.” Tartaglia sighs, locking his phone and slipping it into the pocket. “It’ll make it easier to dispose of him as well.”

“We’re not letting this guy go?” Mikhail asks, tilting his head.

“No. He’s avoided us long enough. If he has what he owes, then he can leave. If he doesn’t, well,” Tartaglia pauses, making a vague gesture with his hands. “He will be taken out like the rest of the trash.”

“Got it, Boss,” Mikhail nods, settling into the backseat.

“Just worry about the part you play tonight.” Tartaglia flicks some ash into the ash tray. He takes another drag. “Nothing else.”

“Understood.”

Tartaglia watches the building lights and neon signs pass as they finally start to approach their destination. Alexei pulls up along the curb toward the back of Golden Stars casino. Tartaglia snuffs out the cigarette and grabs a new one.

“Make sure you collect his earnings from the casino. His money is our money.”

Alexei and Mikhail exit the car, heading into the casino from the main entrance. It’s loud and full of smoke, patrons sitting at the slot machines with cigars in hand as they play. There are women and men flirting and drinking at the bar in the middle of the casino floor.

Viktor is playing a game of billiards with an older man, a large wad of money on the table. He has a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. While the older man calculated his next move, Viktor makes a gesture at them to point them to the table Artyom was playing at.

Viktor continues his game as the two walk over to the poker table. None of the players seem to notice them walk up.

“Artyom?”

“Yeah?” The man grumbles, not even looking up from his cards. His opponents at the table ignore the other two men, some betting their chips, others groaning and folding their hands. “What do you want?”

“Come with us,” Alexei commands coldly.

“Go fuck yourself,” Artyom spat, waving them off. Mikhail scoffs, swiftly shoving the back of his head to slam his face against the card table. The other men at the table jump slightly, eyes widening as Mikhail grabs Artyom by the back of his shirt and drags him away from the table.

Artyom is spouting profanities as he’s dragged outside, and Alexei glances over the table once with an unreadable expression, before he turns to the dealer and makes a familiar gesture. “Confiscate his earnings. They belong to the Fatui now.”

Mikhail brings Artyom to the car, throwing him in the back seat and drawing a gun, pointing it at him as he slides in next to him. He finally realizes what’s going on as he sees the ginger in the front seat, lounging back and smoking a cigarette. “Mr. Tartaglia-“

Tartaglia clicks his tongue, shaking his head before he turns to look at him. “No, no. Don’t bother begging me for more time, or your life. As much as I love to hear it, I don’t have time, so let’s just make this quick, yeah?”

Artyom swallows the knot in his throat, sweat beading on his forehead. This was the very thing he was trying to avoid. But you can’t hide from the fatui forever. Your debts will always catch up with you eventually.

Alexei soon follows, getting into the driver seat and starting the car. Tartaglia turns away, tapping his fingers on the middle console. “You know where to go. Drive.”

Artyom watches the casino fade as they leave. Alexei turns off the main road to head towards the edge of town, near the forest. It was the closest dumpsite from where they were.

“You’re late on your payments, Artyom.” Tartaglia flicks some ash into the ashtray.

“I can explain-“

“I don’t want an explanation. I want what is owed,” Tartaglia sighs, taking a drag of his cigarette. He turns to look back at him, blowing the smoke in his face. “100 grand.”

“I don’t have it right now,” Artyom says with conviction. “I’m working on it!”

“By betting what you do have at the table?” Tartaglia scoffs, eyebrows narrowing.

“Not all of it! I can easily win more back!” Artyom notices the tree line getting bigger. He lets out a shaky breath that he hopes they don’t notice. “I already won more than I lost.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“No!”

“And yet you still play me for a fool?” Tartaglia takes the cigarette and puts it out against the skin of Artyom’s hand, burning him. Artyom hisses in pain and reels back, feeling Mikhail’s gun press further into his side.

Alexei pulls over on the road next to the forest. It’s dark, not a person or light post in sight. Artyom can barely see the gangsters right in front of him. His heart sinks.

“You’re out of time. You need to pay what you promised us, or face the repercussions.”

“Mr. Tartaglia, just give me a little more time!” Artyom begs, heart rate spiking when Tartaglia flips his switchblade, pressing the tip against the bottom of his chin. He just barely nicks the skin.

“More time? You said the inheritance would be yours after the job was completed. We were merciful enough to give you a month to get us the money,” Tartaglia clicks his tongue, pressing the switchblade harder. Blood slowly trickles down the blade. “What happened to all that? Hm? Don’t tell me you already spent it all?”

“No! That bitch left me with nothing!” Artyom speaks through gritted teeth. “I’ve been trying to make that back for months-“

“Really? That’s not what I heard. Either way, you’ve had months while you were hiding from us to collect enough to pay back what you owe, as well as interest.” Tartaglia frowns, watching the blood bead off his blade. “Now you want to beg me for even more time? After fleeing your responsibilities for months, you want more time? That’s not happening.”

“I swear, I won’t run again!” Artyom pleads, eyes looking down at the blade pressing into his chin. “I was so close to making it all back! I just need a little more time-“

“If you don’t have our money, then you know what happens next,” Tartaglia withdraws the switchblade, making a gesture to Mikhail. “You don’t play by our rules, well, you get eliminated from the game.”

“NO! This isn’t fair!” Mikhail opens the door and grabs Artyom by the arm with his free hand. He practically drags him out of the backseat onto the dirt. Artyom starts cursing Tartaglia as he’s being pulled, venom lacing his words. “You’re a monster, Tartaglia! You offer support to the people so you can make us indebted to you, with payments so high we could never hope to pay it back!”

“Is that how you see it?” Tartaglia hums, turning away with a smirk on his face. “It’s just business, Artyom. We were upfront about what you owe for the service we provided for you since the moment we made the deal. You’re the one who tried to cheat us by taking our services without payment.”

Mikhail drags Artyom away from the car. Artyom is kicking at Mikhail as he’s brought further into the woods. Mikhail throws him to the ground, watching him stumble over the loose branches on the forest floor. There is a light dusting of snow that crunches beneath each step.

Artyom attempts to fight back, swinging wildly at Mikhail, who swiftly dodges and kicks out the back of Artyom’s legs. Artyom groans in pain as he collapses to the ground, Mikhail standing behind him.

“You’re not a very smart man, Artyom,” Mikhail pulls the hammer back, aiming at the back of his head while he’s slumped over. “If you had been, I think things would have turned out differently.”

“You’re a filthy dog, stooping so low to work for him,” Artyom spits, glaring over his shoulder. “You shestyorkas are so happy cleaning up shit, for what? Table scraps? Hope they pay you well, pig.”

Mikhail steps on his already injured leg, crushing it beneath his foot just to add insult to injury. “That’s really what you want your last words to be?”

“Go to hell.”

Mikhail fires the gun, watching Artyom crumple to the ground, blood pooling in the snow beneath him. Mikhail takes his phone out and sends a message to Ekaterina, requesting a clean-up crew to “dump spot C”. He walks by the body and points down to fire two additional bullets into him, to make sure he was dead.

Mikhail puts the gun away and climbs back up the hill from the forest to the car. He slides back into the back seat behind Tartaglia. “It’s done, Boss.”

“That was quick,” Tartaglia leans back as Alexei turns the car around to take him back to the penthouse. “He didn’t have much to say?”

“Just insults,” Mikhail hums.

“He groveled at my feet when he thought he still had a chance to be let go,” Tartaglia huffs, flipping his switchblade boredly. “The moment he realized that wasn’t happening, he decided to act tough. How pathetic. I might’ve had a little respect for the guy if he’d kept that tough attitude from the beginning.”

“Would you have heard him out if he had kept the attitude?”

“No. He’s been fleeing from us for months now since his payments were due. No doubt he would have been too slippery to get if we just let him go with a warning ,” Tartaglia makes a breaking bones gesture. “He probably would have fled Snezhnaya for Fontaine or Mondstadt.”

“Yeah, probably,” Mikhail sighs, putting his hands behind his head as he leans back. The buildings quickly come back into view as they drive.

“Ugh, that took longer than I hoped,” Tartaglia groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ And I ended up leaving empty-handed. What a waste of fucking time. I just hope she hasn’t noticed that I’m not there.”

“Why don’t you just pick up some late night takeout? If she asks, say you got hungry,” Mikhail shrugs, reaching forward to motion for a cigarette. Alexei doesn’t even turn away from the road as he passes him the pack.

“Yeah, I guess I could do that,” Tartaglia sighs, running a hand up through his hair as he yawns. “A lot of work, though. I’m tired.”

“We can stop on the way, sir, if that would be helpful.” Alexei says, turning back onto the main road into the city.

“Yes, please,” Tartaglia huffs, closing his eyes. “Just get whatever you think a Mondstadter would like.”

Alexei glances at Mikhail through the rearview, and Mikhail looks over at Alexei. Mikhail takes a drag of the cigarette, cracking the back window to blow out the smoke. “What do you think Mondstadters like, Alexei?”

“I don’t know,” Alexei shrugs, stopping at a red light.

“I heard of some fish dish they have in Mondstadt,” Tartaglia waves his hand lazily. “I think it’s fried? I don’t know. Just get something like that.”

“Fried fish… okay,” Alexei mumbles, turning off onto a smaller road. The smallest smirk tugs at his lips as he glances at Mikhail from the rearview mirror. “Mikhail, place an order at that one fish place we always go to.”

“Sure thing. What do you want, Boss?”

“Anything, I don’t care,” Tartaglia yawns, crossing his arms.

Mikhail calls to place the order as Alexei changes direction to take a short detour to pick up takeout. Tartaglia keeps his arms crossed and eyes closed to rest a little bit before getting home. He wasn’t sleeping, he was far too cautious for that. But a little rest wouldn’t hurt.

After a few minutes, Alexei pulls into the parking lot of a small seafood place, the only car there. The neon open sign glows in the window. Mikhail gets out of the car, tossing the cigarette butt to the ground and snuffing it out with the tip of his shoe. He opens the door and goes inside to pick up the takeout, while Alexei and Tartaglia wait for him.

The woman at the takeout counter greets him warmly. “Just you tonight, huh? Hehe, late night snack run?”

“Maybe I just missed you,” Mikhail leans forward against the counter, smiling fondly.

“Oh, yeah?” she smiles and turns to grab the bag. “Missed me and not just the food?”

“Maybe a little of both. But seeing you is easily the best part of coming here,“ he chuckles, running a hand up through his hair. She giggles and brushes a strand of hair out of her face, a blush creeping up on her cheeks. He takes the bag from her. “Have a good rest of your night, miss Ava.”

“You too, Misha!”

Mikhail gets back into the car, setting the food down on the seat next to him. Alexei backs the car up and starts to drive away from the little late night restaurant. “Have you ever had food from here before, Boss?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” Tartaglia opens his eyes and looks out the window at the passing street lights. “If I get takeout usually it’s on company time, and I have someone else pick it up for me. I never know the names of them.”

“I’m sure you and your girl will like it, Boss! It’s my favorite place to go when it’s late and I’m shitfaced,” Mikhail laughs, playfully nudging Alexei in the driver’s seat. “Alexei and I go all the time.”

“Yeah,” Alexei says simply. Tartaglia leans his head back against the head rest.

“A comfort food for you, huh?”

“Mmhm,” Mikhail smiles as he thinks of Miss Ava and her sweet laugh. “What’s your comfort restaurant, Boss?”

“I don’t have one,” Tartaglia shakes his head.

“Really?” Mikhail pesters, leaning forward to actually look at him. “Not a single place comes to mind?”

“No, not really.”

Mikhail hums, but leaves it at that. It’s not long before Alexei gets back to the parking lot of the penthouse, parking as close as he can to the entrance of the building.

Tartaglia grabs the gun from the glove box and gets out of the car, stretching by the door. Mikhail gets out as well, handing him the takeout bag. Under the light from the street lamps, blue glitter sparkles in some places on Tartaglia’s jacket.

“Eh, Boss?”

Tartaglia hums, raising a brow. Mikhail points to Tartaglia’s coat as he suppresses a smirk. “You, uh, have some glitter on your jacket.”

Tartaglia looks down, seeing the traces of blue glitter on his shirt and jacket, as well as a little on his pants. “Ah, yeah. It suits me, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, it really does,” Mikhail can’t stop the smirk any longer, turning away from his boss. “You should wear glitter more often, Boss.”

Tartaglia laughs, waving him off as he walks back to his penthouse.

After he enters the penthouse, Tartaglia takes his shoes off at the door and puts the takeout bag on the counter in the kitchen. He takes off his jacket and heads down the hall, looking around the place to check if anything has been disturbed.

He takes a moment to unlock his office and put the gun and switchblade back where he found them, leaving the office and locking it once again. He quietly peeks around the door to his bedroom to see that she’s barely moved, turned to face the opposite way when he left. He sighs, smiling and shaking his head.

Tartaglia quietly crosses the room to stop at the bed, gently picking up the blankets to move them out of his way. He slides back into bed, wrapping one arm softly around her. He drapes the blankets back over them, closing his eyes to finally rest. She snuggles in closer, completely unaware he’d ever left to begin with.

Chapter Text

She wakes up in Ajax’s arms, wrapped in soft blankets. Her head is pounding so hard, it feels like an ice pick being driven into her skull repeatedly. She groans in pain, trying to wiggle herself out of his arms.

Ajax is sound asleep, his hair messy and falling in his face. He was turned on his side to hold her close to his chest. If her head didn’t hurt so bad, she would have stopped to admire how peaceful and sweet he looked like that.

She manages to free herself from his grasp and crawls out of bed, nearly falling over as she stands. She leans against the bed to steady herself while she waits for the world to stop spinning. Ajax stirs, turning onto his back and groaning as he throws an arm over his eyes.

She stumbles her way to the bathroom, leaning forward against the sink as she looks at herself in the mirror. She looks like a mess, hair tangled and sticking out in places. She still has that glittery dress on, wrinkled and pushed up high on her thighs from sleeping in it.

She turns on the sink and splashes some cold water in her face. She rubs the exhaustion from her eyes and turns off the sink, reaching for a small dry wash rag on the sink to dry her face.

She turns back to the bedroom, where Ajax is sitting up in bed, looking at her with a smug smirk on his face. “Morning, beautiful.”

“Morning, Ajax,” she sighs, pressing her fingers to her temple. She leans against the door frame. “You don’t feel like death this morning?”

“You do?” He laughs, throwing the covers off him and getting up from the mattress. “Here, let me get you something for the hangover.”

“Thanks,” she mutters, pressing herself against the open door to let Ajax pass her into his bathroom. He hums, digging through the medicine cabinet for paracetamol. He holds out his hand to her, two pills in his palm. She takes them as he pours some sink water into a glass, and she downs them without a drop of water. Ajax whistles.

“Damn.”

“I’ve had plenty of mornings like this one growing up, where water wasn’t available,” she sighs, taking the glass from him anyway. “Thank you, though.”

“On those mornings like this, were you waking up next to a devastatingly handsome man like me, as well?”

“More like on crates in the alley behind the gas station, next to people who don’t get paid enough to deal with that shit,” she snorts, shaking her head. “I was lucky enough that the morning employees gave me their ibuprofen to help with the hangover. And gas station sausages.”

“Oh, gross,” Ajax laughs, shaking his head as he leans over the sink to splash water in his own face. “Those gas station sausages are the worst .”

“Great hangover food, though,” she giggles, watching him through the mirror. “At least it was back then. I don’t know about now, though.”

“I think any food is good when you’re drunk or hungover,” he muses, drying his face with the same rag. He walks past her to leave the bathroom again, shamelessly stripping himself of his shirt in front of her. His back is turned to her, giving her a perfect view of his back muscles.

He’s muscular, and has a concerning amount of scars spread out over his torso.  She wonders how he got them. Probably from his recklessness as a child. He turns to face her with a smirk as he tosses his shirt on the bed, catching her staring. She clears her throat and turns away, retreating into the bathroom and closing the door as she says, “I’m uh, gonna use the bathroom now.”

He quietly laughs as he walks to his closet to change his clothes into something more comfortable. After all, he ended up sleeping in that damn dress shirt and those slacks.

I knew that surely he would be decently fit, but damn! He did NOT have to be that sculpted! Now I’m embarrassed…

After she finally cools down a little and finishes what she’s doing, she washes her hands with the nicely scented hand soap on his sink, then opens the door again to see him sitting on the edge of the bed looking at his phone blankly. He’s wearing gray sweatpants and a plain black long sleeved shirt with the sleeves pulled halfway up his forearm.

She tilts her head as she slowly walks over to him, a curious look on her face. “Everything okay, Ajax?”

“Oh- yeah!” He smiles up at her as he locks his phone, sliding it into his pants pocket. “I should be asking you that, you know, since you feel like death and all.”

“Yeah, my head hurts less now. It’s definitely more bearable,” she tugs at the hem of her dress to cover herself a little better. Ajax gives her a questioning look, raising an eyebrow. She frowns, sighing as she drops her hands to her sides. “This dress is starting to get uncomfortable.”

“Do you want to borrow some of my clothes?” He asks, standing up to go back to his closet. He misses the way she blushes, eyes blown wide. “They might be a little big on you, but it should be fine.”

“R-really?” Her face burns hotter as he hands her a folded shirt and pants, devilish smirk ever-present on his face. “Ah, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, darling,” he coos, fingers ghosting over her cheek before he turns to leave the room. “Go ahead and get dressed. I’ll be out here.”

She looks down at the clothes in her hands, then glances back at the open door that Ajax just left through. She reaches back and tugs on the zipper, letting the dress fall to the ground and pool at her feet.

Ajax sees the takeout he left on the counter last night and clicks his tongue, picking it up and tossing it in the trash. It’s no good anymore, anyways. Ugh, what a waste.

While she’s getting dressed, Ajax calls out to her, “Are you hungry? I’m going to make breakfast if you want some.”

“Oh, yes please. Thank you,” she calls out from the bedroom as she slips on the sweat pants he gave her. They’re definitely big, nearly falling off her waist. She pulls the strings as tight as they go, and they still hang loosely on her. The shirt is almost like a dress, falling to just above her mid thigh. The neckline is almost low enough to see the top of her cleavage.

She looks down at herself, trying in vain to pull the top of the shirt up higher to fully cover herself. After a minute or so, she gives up, running a hand down her face. How am I supposed to go out there looking like this? I look like I slept with him…

She slowly creeps out of the bedroom, peeking around the corner to see Ajax standing in the kitchen at the stove. He’s pouring some kind of batter from a bowl into the pan on the stove.

“What is that?”

“Blini! I’m also making Kasha. This will definitely liven you up after we eat,” Ajax hums, turning to glance back at her with a smile. She tilts her head as she gets closer, stepping up on her tip toes to see over him.

“Blini?”

“They’re like crepes.” She nods unconvincingly. He chuckles softly. “Like, thin pancakes?”

“Oh,” she gets closer in the kitchen, curious to see what he’s doing. “And Kasha?”

“Porridge, basically,” he turns fully to face her, finally taking the time to actually look at her in his clothes. He can’t help staring at the obvious- his shirt riding dangerously low on her breasts. She definitely notices, tugging the shirt up again as her face turns bright red. “You look…”

“Like a slut,” she grumbles. He clicks his tongue, pulling her into a hug while he checks on the food for a moment.

“No, I was going to say adorable .” He gives her a light peck on the top of her head before he lets her go. He ruffles her hair with one hand as she turns to walk away. “I didn’t think my shirt would be that big on you, sorry baby.”

“It’s okay,” she sighs, leaning against an unoccupied counter to watch him cook. “It’s more comfortable than that dress. And it smells like you.” She whispers the last part, but he still catches it.

“You can keep them,” he flicks his wrist, flipping the blini with his other hand. He smirks teasingly. “I can also buy you my cologne, since you seem to like the way I smell.”

“That-that’s not necessary,” she blushes deeply, crossing her arms and looking away. He laughs quietly to himself. She turns to look back at the batter next to the pan, creeping up to it curiously. “So what is that made of?”

“Buckwheat flour and yeast,” he places a blini on a plate and starts a new one in the pan. “Do you want to know how to make it?”

“I imagine it’s the same as a pancake, right?” She gets closer to the stove to look at the pan. “Just thinner? With different stuff?”

“Mm, it’s a little different,” he hums, moving slightly out of the way for her to see better. “But it is an easier Snezhnayan recipe. Breakfast isn’t all that complicated, here.”

“Oh,” she nods in understanding. She looks up at him with a sweet look in her eyes. “You know, in Mondstadt for breakfast we would eat bread, sausage, and eggs. Sometimes other stuff, too, like fruit. But mostly sausage and eggs.”

“Sausage and eggs, huh?” He walks over to a different cabinet and grabs a large saucepan, pouring water into it. He puts the grains of what she assumes is the buckwheat he was talking about, and adds butter to the pan as well.

“I’d like to make you a Mondstadt breakfast sometime,” she watches him longingly as he cooks. “Because you’ve been so generous to share your culture with me. I’d like to share with you a little of mine.”

“I’d like that,” he smiles softly, reaching out to brush a strand of her hair from her face. She’s so sweet and cute, he thinks. To want to share some of her own culture with him in return for welcoming her so easily.

He turns around to grab plates and bowls from one of the cabinets above the counter. “Do you want some help?”

“Sure, if you want to,” he hands her the plates, which she sets down next to him. “The butter is over there,” he gestures to a little glass dish with some butter in it on one of the opposite counters. “Place that on the table for me, please, love?”

She takes the glass dish and places it in the middle of the table, then turns to go back into the kitchen. Ajax is loading up the plates and bowls with food, humming a Snezhnayan tune.

He hands her a plate and a bowl, which she takes over to the table. He turns off the stove and takes the other plate and bowl, placing it across from her food. He takes a seat, facing the kitchen.

She sits down at the table in front of Ajax, getting a bite of her food on her fork. He places a large helping of butter into his kasha, then spreads butter over his blini. He stops to watch her take her first bite, before he grabs his own.

“How is it?”

She swallows, picking up another bite. “It’s really good. I like it.”

“Better than gas station sausages?” He laughs.

“Way better,” she hums, nodding in approval. “I don’t think anything compares.”

His heart soars watching her enjoy his cooking. He couldn’t remember the last time he cooked for someone other than himself, let alone a breakfast like this one. Probably since he still lived at home, cooking whatever he could for his little siblings. Never for a woman like this.

She finally took the time to look around his penthouse for real this time. She remembered looking around a little the night before, but she was too drunk to really take it all in. His penthouse really put into perspective the class difference between her and Ajax.

He was a wealthy, powerful man, and she was just a project specialist. And yet here she was, having breakfast at his dining table across from him. She slept in the same bed as him, got drunk with him, was wearing his clothes. A man who quite literally had everyone wrapped around his finger.

And she had him wrapped around hers, but she didn’t know it yet.

Not once in her entire life did she ever see herself in this kind of position. Even while aiming for a better promotion, she never saw herself being wealthy enough or lucky enough to set foot in a penthouse like this, let alone be dating the man who lives here.

The fact that this very same man was the one who tried to pursue her first confused her.

“You saw an opportunity to start seeing a very powerful, wealthy man from that party and decided to pursue him”

What did he see in her that clearly no one else saw? What did he see that she couldn’t see, herself?

“Are you alright, (Y/N)?”

Ajax startles her out of her thoughts, and she realizes she’d been staring down at the plate of food, barely touched. “Yeah, I’m okay,” she grabs another bite of food on her fork. “Why?”

“You look like you’re thinking about something,” Ajax frowns, poking at his food. He has a worried look on his face. Is she upset?

“Oh. I was,” she looks out the large window in the living room, watching small flakes of snow falling. “I was just thinking about last night.”

A total lie. But he wouldn’t see right through that, would he?

“Oh, yeah?” He raises a brow suspiciously, but doesn’t press the issue. “Did you have a good time?”

“Of course! I had a lot of fun,” she sets her fork down, smiling brightly. “Makes me think about what other stuff we’ll do together in the future.”

“We can do anything you want, lovely,” he leans his head on his hand as he smiles adoringly at her. “Just say the word. I’ll make time for you.”

“That sounds good,” she ignores the voice telling her these experiences are fleeting, that he will leave one day and this will all just be a distant memory. “Thank you, Ajax.”

They finish eating in comfortable silence, enjoying each other’s company. Ajax wonders how he got lucky enough to meet her one horrible day at the bar. He’s met plenty of women in his life, all of which were all over him for his looks, his power, his money. But she was just so different than everyone else. She was shy, sweet, and beautiful, not to mention adorable when she was flustered.

And she definitely could party. When she let loose, she really let loose. She was such an interesting person to him. There was so much left to unpack about her, he was sure.

He really hit the jackpot when he met her all those weeks ago.

She helps Ajax take the empty dishes over to the sink, offering to help him clean up. He shakes his head, and gives her a kiss on the cheek. “I can take care of it, love.”

“I can’t just let you do all the work, Ajax,” she pouts, crossing her arms. “You already made breakfast with me in your way. Let me do this one? Please?”

He stares at her quietly for a moment, before huffing a small laugh and moving out of the way. “Alright, alright, you can help. Don’t look at me like that.”

She smiles triumphantly, standing close to Ajax in front of the sink. Together they both clean up in half the time it would have taken him to do it himself, although he does waste a little time playfully getting soap bubbles on her nose. She, of course, pays him back by getting some on his face as well.

Once they finish cleaning up, he brings her over to the couch to lounge around a little bit. She’s resting her head on his chest, listening to him ramble on about this and that. She could listen to his voice for hours.

She glances up at the expensive clock on his wall, noticing it’s already afternoon. She pushes herself off him, running a hand through her hair. “I should probably get home, soon.” She sighs, looking out the window at the falling snow. It’s been falling constantly for hours, now. “I still have a few project ideas I wanted to flesh out a bit.”

Ajax clicks his tongue. “You even work on your days off?”

“I come up with my best ideas when I’m off the clock.” She looks back at him. “Plus, in the office I’m always so busy signing off on other paperwork and revising everyone else’s projects according to clients’ specifications that I hardly have the time there to make my own projects. In fact, that project that Donovan brought to you was one that I wrote up at home.”

“You’re incredible,” he coos, lifting her chin up to capture her lips with his. She reaches out to grab his shirt, closing her eyes as her lips move against his. He pulls away, brushing his thumb soothingly against her cheek.

“I just do what I can for the sake of the company.”

“They’re lucky to have you,” he leans in with a stupid smirk on his face, eyes glinting. “Now I’m convinced you’re the reason their stock is projected to increase!”

“That’s high praise,” she blushes, standing up from the couch. “I don’t think I would say that.”

“You work on projects in your free time, you write some of the best proposals I’ve seen, and you just said you edit your coworkers’ projects according to client suggestions. I wouldn’t say it’s that far out of possibility that you’re the reason the company is doing well.” He follows her, standing as well. “It’s not so much praise as it is facts.”

“Stop, you’re making me blush, Ajax,” she groans, hugging him and burying her face in his chest. He laughs, running his hand through her hair.

“Okay, okay, no more. Come on, I’ll take you home,” Ajax steps back and grabs his jacket from the couch. He places it on her, buttoning it up to completely cover her. She looks up at him questioningly, but he just smiles and brushes a hand through her hair. “Grab your stuff and we can get going, love.”

“Okay.”

He grabs a different coat from the coat rack by the front door, slipping it on as she walks back to his bedroom to grab her dress. He picks up her bag from the end table by the couch and holds it for her, checking his messages while he waits.

She grabs her folded dress off his bed sheets and hurries back to the door where she left him waiting. She slides her heels on her feet and takes his outstretched hand, heading out the door with him.

Ajax walks her down the lobby to his car with a hand on her waist, smiling proudly. The receptionist in the lobby eyes them curiously, and (Y/N) shies away from the looks she’s getting. She can only imagine what they’re thinking. She holds her folded dress closer to her body.

As they exit the building, the cold air hits her like a truck, and she shivers. “Oh, wow, the change in temperature from last night is so drastic.”

“Winter hits fast in Snezhnaya,” Ajax pulls her closer, trying to warm her up a little. He leads her quickly to his car to get her out of the cold. Their breaths are visible in the cool air. “This is your first winter here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” She feels her face getting colder, and she knows her face must already be turning red from the biting cold.

“Well, this is just a taste. It’s only going to get colder from now on,” he laughs, leaning further into her. He opens the door for her to get in, and she quietly thanks him as she sinks into the seat. He walks around the front of the car and gets into the driver seat. “If you don’t have warmer clothes, I can get you some for work.”

“I think the coat I already have is warm enough,” she sighs as he buckles himself in and starts the car, holding his hands out in front of the heater to feel for warm air. “I just didn’t bring it with me yesterday. I didn’t think it would get this cold so fast.”

Ajax hums, glancing over at her hugging his jacket even closer to herself to keep warm. He turns up the heat. “So, how cold does it get in Mondstadt? It must be really different than here.”

“It gets this cold, but not until mid winter. It’s barely changing from fall!”

“Like I said, in Snezhnaya, winter hits fast,” he drives out of the parking lot, heading towards her apartment. “You need to be extra prepared for it, here. Mid winter gets really, really cold. So cold that you’ll freeze to death in less than an hour without proper dressing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. People die from the harsh conditions all the time,” he waves his hand like it’s nothing. “Get lost in the woods, you’re as good as dead. They find bodies buried in the snow after it melts late spring.”

She’s quiet for a moment, before she mutters, “Maybe I should get myself a new scarf.”

Ajax laughs, throwing his head back. “I don’t mean to scare you! Don’t worry, baby, I’ll find you all the warmest clothes to make sure nothing like that ever happens to you, okay?”

“You don’t have to do that for me.”

“Yeah, but I am familiar with Snezhnaya’s climate. So I know what’s best suited for the harsh winters, here.”

“I guess you are right about that.” No use in arguing with him, here. He is right, after all. She watches the snow fall outside the window of the car, admiring its beauty. She sighs, playing with the sleeves of his jacket aimlessly.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Hm?”

“The snow,” he hums, stopping at a light. He glances over at her, and she nods, looking back at him.

“I’ve always loved the snow as a kid,” she admires the way the corners of his lips tilt up as he turns to pay attention to the road. She inhales deeply, a small smile crossing her face. “It always felt so magical to me.”

“What’s really magical is the aurora that paints the sky in winter,” Ajax says with reverence. “I’d love to show you one day. You can’t really see it in all its beauty from the city.”

“I’d love to see it with you.”

“Then I’ll take you!” He beams, reaching over to take one of her hands in his. She looks down at their hands and runs her thumb over the back of his hand. They stay like this the rest of the drive back to her complex, hand in hand.

Ajax parks the car and walks her up to her apartment, carrying her bag for her. She unlocks the apartment and steps inside, Ajax following close behind. He sets her bag on the counter as she takes his jacket off, offering it back to him. He takes it and drapes it over his arm to carry it.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Ajax,” she gets on her tip toes to give him a chaste kiss, one that he leans down for.

“Of course, love. Thank you for indulging me and coming to the club with me,” he smiles, tucking strands of her hair behind her ear. “I had a lot of fun with you.”

“So did I,” her eyes hold so many emotions it’s hard for him to process. Has anyone ever looked at him like that before? He can’t recall. “We’ll have to do something like this again soon.”

“I’d love that. I already have some ideas.”

“Oh? I can’t wait,” she gives him a tight hug, one that he reciprocates. When she pulls away, he has a look in his eyes she can’t quite place. “Be safe on your way home, okay? I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Of course. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything. Anything at all,” he winks, heading out the door. There are heavy implications behind that statement and that wink, implications she does not pick up on. He leaves the apartment with a wave, heading back down to his car. She leans against the closed door, clutching his shirt over her heart.

Chapter Text

She heads into the office that morning with a brand new coat, scarf, and leggings underneath her skirt instead of the tights she usually wore. All of which was brought to her home by Ajax.

The cheeky bastard insisted on giving her warm clothes for the winter. She scolded him once she found out the price of all the goods, and he just smiled lovingly at her as she did. There was just no getting through to that man about his endless stream of wealth.

The coat’s hood was lined with fur, typical of Snezhnayan fashion. It was black, much like the rest of her outfit. The scarf was red, a color that reminded her of him. He must have remembered how she said the red flowers he sent a while ago reminded her of him.

There was buzz among her coworkers over an attractive Snezhnayan representative from an up and coming champagne company. He was visiting from a neighboring city to attend a one-on-one meeting with Donovan.

“He’s so handsome! Total eye-candy.”

“I heard he’s single right now. I wonder what his type of woman is!”

“He’s supposed to be here to discuss a new product on behalf of their CEO. I wonder what Donovan will think.”

“He will most likely decline. Do we really need to invest in champagne, of all things? I thought we’re supposed to be strengthening bonds with other nations.”

“Snezhnaya doesn’t need to trade with the other nations. We’re surviving just fine on our own!”

She ignored the gossip and whispers, head buried in her work on her monitor.

She had so many projects to make edits to ever since Anatoly got promoted, she was practically drowning. She grumbles Mondstadtian profanities as she drops her face in her hands, sighing. Honestly, it was like he wasn’t even doing his job, just pushing it off onto her because she was better at it. She was doing the work of a project manager, while Anatoly received the bonus, the paycheck, and all of the credit.

She was fed up with it.

She stands up from her desk, locking her monitor before she walks away, heading for Anatoly’s new office. She knocks twice, not even waiting for permission to enter before she opens the door and walks up to his desk.

He’s looking at his phone, lounging back in the seat. He clicks his tongue. “Yeah? What do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Watching football?” She scoffs, crossing her arms. He glances up at her with a scowl. “Anatoly, this is ridiculous. You’ve sent me every single project draft that needs to be edited with all the client’s notes, expecting me to rewrite them. That’s your job! I was willing to help when it was just a few, but now it’s every single one!”

“Clients like the way you write the proposals,” he waves his hand dismissively, looking back down at his phone. He makes a quiet noise, pumping his fist as he gets reinvested in the game he’s watching.

“Okay, but that’s not my job! You’re the one who’s supposed to be doing the editing! It isn’t even hard to revise according to the client’s preferences.”

“If it’s not hard, then why are you complaining?”

“Because I have other work to do, Anatoly!” She exasperates, sighing. “I have faxes to finish, paperwork to sign, my own project drafts to fix. And I have to return calls and send emails! I don’t have time to edit and revise everyone else’s drafts on top of all that.”

“Fine. Finish the ones I already sent you and I’ll start doing the rest from now on,” he sneers, glaring up at her. “But I will still be sending you the more important contracts to fix for me. Does that work for you? Or are you going to bitch about that, too?”

“Fine.” Just because you’re too incompetent to handle projects and contracts with important clients. She bites her tongue. “Thank you.”

Anatoly makes a noise and shoos her out of his office, kicking his feet back up on the desk as he enjoys the game. She rolls her eyes as she walks back to her desk. That’s such bullshit.

She sits down angrily in that slightly broken chair at her desk, turning to work diligently on the drafts she had piling up in her files on her monitor. She would have to work quickly to get through them all by the deadline and still have time to finish her other work.

She would probably have to return some calls while still working on other drafts. It was a good thing she was an excellent multitasker. I don’t think I ever worked this hard when I was working in Mondstadt. But I was just working at different gas stations and restaurants back then, so it was a completely different line of work.

She preferred this type of work over the work she did back home, but she did wish that her efforts would be rewarded. Or that she wouldn’t have to work herself to death at least.

She poured her heart into writing those project drafts. It’s why she saw herself as a better project manager than specialist. As a manager, she could focus solely on the projects and clients themselves rather than all the other grunt work she had to do in addition to drafting proposals. If only-

“Aren’t you gonna go get something from the break room?”

“Huh?” Her furious typing stops as she looks up at Nikolai in confusion.

He laughs. “There’s some chocolates and pastries in the break room. Mr. Igor brought them as a gift for us! You should go grab some, before those damn rats take them all.”

“No, it’s okay.” She turns back to her computer, waving him off.

“Are you sure? They’re really good,” he leans over her desk to see what she’s working on. “They’re gourmet, from this one pastry shop. They have the best pirozhki. Seriously, you should go get one.”

“Maybe later. I have a lot to get done today,” she sighs, grabbing the phone and dialing the number on the sticky note stuck to her monitor. It was the number of a client she needed to call back.

“Okay,” he sings, turning away to go back to his desk. “I’ll try to save you something, then!”

“Thanks,” she mutters as the phone rings, before her client picks up. She politely greets him, introducing herself and getting straight to business. Just like all her other calls, she talks about the details of the project, getting his input and making notes for later. Anatoly would probably make her take care of the revision on this draft, as well.

As she hangs up, her phone vibrates in her pocket with a new message. She checks the message, and as she sees Ajax’s contact, a smile finds its way onto her face. Of course it was him. Who else would be texting her?

Ajax: I’m coming over tonight, so let me know when you get off work.

Ajax: I’ll bring some takeout! What do you like?

(Y/N): I don’t know. You’ve had me try some really good food so far, so I trust your choice. Just get me anything you want.

(Y/N): Thank you.

Ajax: Of course, love! I’ll see you.

She slips her phone back into her pocket and continues to work on editing the drafts, knocking each one down in record time. She types the proposals while making calls, occasionally writing notes on a notepad on her desk as the client makes demands. Her faxes are left untouched in a pile on the other side of the desk.

It goes on like this for her entire shift, with only short breaks of her grabbing coffee or water and getting back to her desk in less than five minutes. Nikolai watches this with concerned fascination.

Finally, everyone starts to leave the office, with Anatoly heading out first, because of course he was. Nikolai stops at her desk, hands in his pockets.

“Everyone’s heading out now. Why don’t you go home? You look like you’re itching to get going.” Nikolai leans casually against her desk, arms folded across his chest. She sighs, shaking her head as she continues to type on the monitor.

“Can’t. I still have to finish sending these faxes,” she gestures to the documents on her desk. “I’ve been busy all day wrapped up with revising Anatoly’s projects, I haven’t had time to work on them.”

“Isn’t that Anatoly’s job?”

“Yeah, but the prick would rather watch the Snezhnaya-Inazuma game than do his fucking job,” she scoffs, turning to face Nikolai fully. “He sent me like every single project that needs to be revised since he took that position. I’m the one doing his job for him, and he gets the pay and the credit for it. And then he has the nerve to say I’m just bitching about it when I bring it up to him.”

“Why not send it back and say, “done!”?” He grins, snapping his fingers. “Then, when he sends it back to the client, TCHA! Haha, the client messages back, “what the hell? You didn’t change anything!” And then he catches all the flack for it.”

“Yeah, and then I get in trouble with the company for not doing what was asked of me.”

“But that’s not your job,” Nikolai frowns, furrowing his brows. “If they want you to do Anatoly’s job, they should promote you, demote him, and pay you the money to perform that job.”

“Let’s be real, Nikolai,” she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Ivanovich, Donovan, everyone here doesn’t give a fuck about me. They will never promote me to project manager. They will never listen to my complaints. They will simply tell me that if I don’t like the way things are run here, then I can find a job somewhere else, knowing damn well I can’t do that.”

“Then let me take some of the load off you, then.”

“What?”

“Your faxes. I can send them for you,” Nikolai hums, tilting his head at her. “It’s the least I can do to help you. I can even finish revising the project files for you. If you’re comfortable with that.”

“What’s in it for you?” She asks suspiciously.

“Uh, nothing?” he laughs, pushing himself off her desk to walk behind it, picking the documents up. “Just helping a friend who deserves to have a break for a change.”

“It’s unlike you to help me.”

“I’m offended!” He gasps dramatically. He shakes his head with a smile. “I offered to help you with your work when I was first transferred to this department, remember?”

“Yeah, and I thought you would hold it over my head then, too,” she huffs, crossing her arms as she leans back.

“I would not hold this over your head, (Y/N),” he clicks his tongue. “Damn, we’ve really left a bad impression of Snezhnayan etiquette on you, hmm?”

“I guess so,” she giggles, turning off her monitor. “Fine, fine. Thank you for finishing up my faxes for me. But if you try to hold this against me, I’ll bring up this conversation!”

“Okay, okay! My, what a threat!” He replies sarcastically, shaking his head as he turns to take her faxes with him to his desk. “I’ll see you tomorrow, my friend. Have a good night!”

She shakes her head and quietly laughs, waving goodbye before she shuts down her computer. She grabs her jacket from her chair and leans down to pick up her bag. She pulls out her phone to message Ajax, excited that she actually got off work at a good time. Maybe Nikolai really had her best interests in mind. Or, maybe not. At this point, she wasn’t sure she cared.

(Y/N): I’m leaving work now. Nikolai promised he would finish the last of my faxes so I could leave early.

Ajax: Oh! That was nice of him. You’ll have to tell me about your day when I get there.

Ajax: I’ll head out now to get dinner and come by, okay?

(Y/N): Sounds good, love. Be safe.

Love… Tartaglia’s heart skips a beat seeing the word. Being on the receiving end of such terms of endearment made his heart soar.

He gets up from his desk and grabs his jacket from over the back of the chair, throwing it on. He takes his scarf as well and wraps it around his neck before he leaves his office. He strides by Ekaterina at the desk in front of his office, hands in his pockets. She’s looking at her nails, painted deep red. “I’m leaving for the night.”

She sits up and looks at Tartaglia, eyebrows furrowed. “Boss, wait. About tomorrow-“

“Yes, yes. Pantalone is visiting from Liyue. I know,” he sighs.

“You have a lunch meeting with him at noon. You have all the documents ready, right?”

“Yeah. The files are in my briefcase,” he waves her off, pulling out his phone to place an order at a nearby takeout restaurant.

“Aren’t you worried, sir?” She asks, standing up and placing her hands on her desk. “This is an extremely important meeting-“

“I’m aware.” Tartaglia rolls his eyes, tapping on his phone before he slides it back into his pocket. He turns to face Ekaterina with a bored expression. “Everyone else may be afraid or intimidated by Pantalone, but I’m not. I have everything handled. There’s nothing for me to be worried about.”

Ekaterina sighs, sitting back down with a concerned expression, but she concedes. “Okay, Boss. I’ll make sure everything is in order for your meeting tomorrow. Have a good night.”

“Thank you, Kat,” he waves goodbye, heading down the stairs to leave Northland Bank.

In his car, he turns the music up and taps his fingers on the wheel to the beat. Some verses he’ll sing along to, others he just hums.

As he drives to the takeout restaurant to pick up the food, an idea pops into his head. Maybe she would like some wine. I should stop at the liquor store on my way.

He turns onto a smaller road to take a detour to the liquor store he always shops at, not too far from the restaurant. It’s not long until he reaches the liquor store, a small shop next to a little antique store. Tartaglia pulls his scarf up to cover his face as he steps out of the car, hurrying inside out of the cold.

The door chimes and the man behind the counter looks over as Tartaglia uncovers his face.

“Heya, Mr. Tartaglia!” The man waves at him, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and snuffing it out. “Somethin’ I can find for ya?”

“Actually, yeah,” Tartaglia hums, walking over to lean on the counter casually. “I was looking to pick up a wine. Do you have any brands from Mondstadt?”

“Tchaa, Mondstadt?” The man clicks his tongue, looking around. “We should have some wines imported from Dawn Winery. Not many, though. It’s kind of an experiment, to encourage trade and to see if anyone is really interested in their wines. They’re expensive, ya know?”

Dawn Winery? I think she mentioned them before.

The man goes on for a minute about Mondstadt import prices and such, but Tartaglia ignores it.

“I wish I could give you a bottle of Dawn Winery’s specialty dandelion wine.”

That’s right. Dandelion wine.

“Do you have dandelion wine?” Tartaglia interrupts the man’s rant.

“Eh?” He raises his eyebrows, scratching the side of his head. “Dandelion? That’s a weird flavor. Nah, unfortunately we don’t. Just grape and cherry. Ah, we might have peach somewhere but that I’d have to go look.”

“It’s fine, cherry it is, then.” Tartaglia hums, reaching into his coat for his wallet.

“Gotcha,” the man turns around to wrap up the bottle behind the counter. He places it in front of Tartaglia as he takes out a black card to pay for it. “130. That okay?”

“Sure,” he swipes his card, typing in the pin before he puts it back in his wallet. “You know money is no issue for me, comrade.”

“Aha, yeah. But it’s expensive for a wine. Kssh, but I guess in Mondstadt they don’t care how much it costs to get drunk, yeah?” He makes a weird noise, taking out a new cigarette and lighting it.

“Not that different than us,” Tartaglia laughs, taking the bag with the wine. “Don’t you think it’s expensive because it’s an import? It probably isn’t that expensive in Mondstadt cities.”

“Ahhh, you’re probably right, Mr. Tartaglia,” he takes a drag of the cigarette, leaning back on the boxes behind the counter. “Hey, think I can I ask what’s got you interested in Mondstadt? You’ve never asked for anythin’ like this before.”

“A woman.”

The man whistles, a smirk on his face. “Of course, of course! She must be quite the woman to catch your attention, ay? Haha, well, enjoy your night. I’ll look out for that dandelion wine you asked for. If I find it, I’ll hold on to it for ya.”

“Thanks. See you,” he waves, pulling the scarf back up as he walks out the door back to his car.

It’s a quick drive from the liquor store to the restaurant, not even a full song passes before he parks the car and picks up the food. The cashier at the takeout counter recognizes him immediately and whistles to the back to bring out his food. “Mr. Tartaglia! Pleasure to see you tonight, sir.”

“Yeah,” he puffs a breath, hands stuffed in his pockets and scarf over his mouth. “How long has it been? Months?”

“Yes, sir. Something like that,” the cashier is shaking slightly, but tries to play it cool. One of the young men from the back comes out with a bag of hot food, handing it to the cashier and nodding his head respectfully at Tartaglia. “Here’s that for you. Thank you, sir. Take care.”

“Mmhm,” Tartaglia takes the bag, waving as he turns. “Thanks.”

He leaves without another word, and the cashier lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, slouching over the counter.

Tartaglia sets the bag on the passenger seat as he gets into the car, and finally heads to her apartment with everything he picked up. He sings along to the music as he drives the rest of the way to her apartment, an excited smile on his face.

Once he gets to the complex, he parks somewhat far away from her apartment and gathers both bags in his hands. He walks fast through the lot over to her specific building, huffing as he does. His breath is visible in the cold, and despite only being out there for a few minutes as he walks, his face is already getting really cold.

He hurries up the stairs to her apartment, carrying the food in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. He puffs a breath in front of her door, shaking the hair out of his face before he knocks on the door. He hears shuffling from inside the apartment before the door opens, and she’s standing there with her hair down and a warm smile on her face.

He grins, cheeks and nose red from the biting cold outside. She gasps quietly, reaching out to take the bags and ushering him inside. “Ajax! It’s freezing outside! You could have let me know you were here so I could let you in quicker.”

“It’s alright, love,” he coos, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him as she brings the food over to the kitchen counter. He sighs, smiling as he takes off his scarf and jacket, placing them on the hooks by the door. “I’m used to cold like this, remember?”

She hurries back over to him, reaching up to place her warm hands on his cheeks. He closes his eyes blissfully, leaning into her touch. “You’re freezing.”

He laughs, taking her hands in his and pulling her into a hug. “Sweetheart, don’t worry about it! I feel fine.” He leans down to nuzzle his cold face in her neck, making her shiver. “But if it means you’ll baby me more, then oh, I’m just so cold. Hold me.”

She scoffs playfully, smacking his chest. “Take your shoes off and come warm up, then.”

He squeezes her once before he lets her go, pulling his gloves off and slipping out of his shoes. He stuffs the gloves in his hung up jacket. She takes the food out of the bag and brings it over to her tiny dining table, setting it down. There’s two boxes of food, and two little cups of what she assumes is some kind of soup.

She goes back into the kitchen to open the other bag, expecting it to be more Snezhnayan liquor, but to her surprise it was a wine. “You brought wine?”

“Yeah, I thought you might like some wine,” he walks into the tiny dining room and sits at the table, resting his weight on his elbows on the table. He smiles lazily. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not. Thank you,” she looks at the bottle to see what brand, seeing the Dawn Winery label. Her eyes widen, and she looks over at Ajax. “Where did you get this from?”

“Just picked it up at a liquor store on my way here,” he hums. She just stares at him, dumbfounded. “I asked the clerk if they had any Mondstadt wines, and he said they recently had a few cases imported to encourage more trade between nations. Who knows if it’ll work out or not, but hey,” he shrugs, “I’m sure it’ll be nice to have a little taste of home, right?”

She swallows thickly, bringing the bottle over to the table. “Sadly, it’s not that dandelion wine you were talking about. I hoped to get some of that, but all they had was this cherry wine. I hope you’re not too disappointed.”

“Not at all,” she smiles, the corners of her mouth twitching. She was trying so hard not to cry. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea about his little gift. It was thoughtful of him to bring her wine from her homeland. She may have left on a sour note, but she did still miss it from time to time.

She turns away to grab two glasses from the cabinet. She didn’t have any wine glasses, so regular ones would have to do. “That was really sweet of you. I’m surprised you were able to even find this here.”

“I’m a little surprised myself, to be honest,” he leans back in the seat as she sits in front of him, placing a fork, spoon, and glass next to his takeout box. “I probably would have just bought a sweet white wine if they didn’t have any Mondstadt brand wines. I’m excited to try this with you.”

“Snezhnayan food paired with Mondstadt wine,” she giggles, shaking her head as she opens the wine. “That’s quite the pair.”

“Like us. A Snezhnayan and a Mondstadter,” he blows a kiss at her, smirking. She blushes, rolling her eyes. He chuckles, opening his box of food. “I hope you like what I got for us. I remembered you quite liked the pierogis we tried at Kaska’s Kitchen, so I got another dish that’s somewhat similar. They’re called pelmeni.”

“Pelmeni?” She opens her box, seeing a bunch of little dumplings in a different shape, topped with what looks like sour cream.

“They’re dumplings as well, but they’re always filled with meat. Pierogis can have potatoes or fruit, depending on how you order them,” he reaches for the wine, pouring it into her glass, then his. He places the bottle down and grabs the glass, holding it up to cheers with her. She grabs her glass and gently taps it against his.

They both take a drink before they start to eat. He savors the taste on his tongue, noting how sweet and smooth it was compared to the Snezhnayan wines he’s had in the past. I see why Mondstadt is known for its wine industry.

“What do you think, Ajax?”

He smiles. “It’s good. Great, even. I like it, it’s sweet. Like you.”

She blushes, picking her food up with her fork. “Well, I’m glad you like it. Cherry is one of those hit or miss flavors. I’m not all that surprised you would like cherry, though, considering how you always have cherries with your drinks at the bar.”

“You don’t like cherry flavor?”

“I do, I do,” she shakes her head. “It’s just not all that popular in Mondstadt. Grape and Dandelion are the most popular. But grape…” she pauses, looking away at the hooks on the wall where his jacket and scarf are hanging. She notices his scarf matches hers. “Well, grape is just not a flavor I enjoy much. Not anymore.”

“Not anymore?”

“Drank it too much I got sick of it, I think,” she laughs nervously, finally taking a bite of her food. He nods, starting to eat his own food. “This is really good. I think I like these more than pierogis.”

“Oh, good! I was worried you might not like it. I also ordered us solyanka in case you didn’t enjoy the pelmeni.”

“That’s what this is, then?” She points to the little cup of soup.

“Yeah, you can try that too. Or save it for later. It warms up pretty good,” Ajax hums, taking another bite. “So, how was your day, love?”

“It was okay. Well, the end was okay,” she sighs, picking up another pelmeni with her fork. “The rest of the day was kind of shitty. Anatoly has been sending me all the project drafts that need to be revised and when I told him he needed to do them because it’s his job to fix them and that I didn’t have time to work on them on top of all my other work, he just told me to stop complaining about it.”

“Why don’t you just send them back to him without them being finished?” Ajax suggests, taking another drink of his wine. “If he doesn’t check them and sends them back to the client without revisions, he’ll get in trouble instead, won’t he? I mean, that’s not your job.”

“You know, Nikolai said the same thing,” she laughs, shaking her head. “I thought about it, but I would still get in trouble because Anatoly would tell Donovan that I wasn’t doing my part.”

“Couldn’t you argue that it’s not your job to do the revisions on the projects?” He asks, poking at his food. “What does Anatoly even do as project manager if he’s not keeping contact with the clients and making adjustments himself?”

“He was watching football when I went into his office, today.”

“What the fuck?” Ajax scoffs. I don’t even slack off that much, and that really says something. “Goddamn, that company is so fucking dysfunctional. I’m secretly hoping that you’re the one that continues to work on the project with Northland Bank, considering you’re the one holding up the entire company.”

“Is it really a secret if you tell me that?” She giggles, taking a drink of wine. “Honestly, ever since Donovan emailed it to you, I haven’t seen it since. I think Donovan is working on that one himself personally. I don’t think he would leave such an important task to Anatoly, despite the promotion he was given.”

“That’s so dumb,” he seethes, taking a drink as well. “It was your project he submitted to me, Anatoly’s promotion, and yet you still do his job for him without an ounce of credit. And you don’t even get to make revisions on the project that I know you poured your heart into. You don’t even have to tell me you did, I can tell by the way it was written.”

“It’s okay, Ajax-“

“It isn’t, though. It’s really not,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “If I got slighted like that, I’d-“ I’d fucking kill them. He pauses, taking a deep breath. “I would be pissed. I honestly don’t know why you aren’t more angry about this.”

“I think it’s because at this point I’ve just accepted that this is the way it is,” she sighs, glancing down at her tiny table. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I am mad. That’s why I went to Anatoly today to tell him to do his own fucking job. But I also know that bitching about it to Donovan will only cause my job to get harder, and I’ll never have a chance at a promotion again after that, so I just bite my tongue and deal with it.”

“You don’t have to just deal with it , (Y/N),” he leans in, reaching out with one hand to take hers. “I can make it all change. Just say the words. Snap your fingers, and I’ll do it.”

She swallows, noticing that dangerous look in his eyes again. Is this what wealth and power does to a man? It makes him invincible?

“I mean it.”

“If something is going to change, I’d prefer it was because I deserved it,” she mumbles, brushing her thumb over his knuckles. “Not because you made it happen for me.”

“You do deserve it,” he withdraws his hand from hers and uses it to tilt her head to look at him. His eyes are dark, with a sinister smirk painted on his face. She counts the freckles dusting his cheeks. “It’s okay of there’s a little push to make it happen, yeah? What are the odds something will change even though you deserve it, considering that company so far?”

“They’ll think I’m taking advantage of you.”

“Who cares what they think?” He taps her chin. “They’re all lazy gossiping fucks. Their opinions should mean nothing to you.”

“Yeah, but,” she pauses. When it comes to you… I don’t know. “I just don’t want to be seen as a power hungry whore using you for your money and influence. Because I really like you, and I like you for you. For that flirty, goofy, family loving guy, that loves to drink with me. And I don’t want to ruin this.”

Ajax backs up, letting his hand drop to the table. His expression falls to one of surprise, eyebrows raising and eyes widening. Of all the things a woman could say to me, why is that what makes my heart stop? Why does it feel like she has her hand around my heart and she’s just squeezing?

“Ajax?”

“Huh?”

He’s been staring at her, completely lost.

“Did I say something wrong?” She looks worried, hands folded in her lap.

“Ah,” he laughs, running a hand up through his hair as he leans back in the chair. “No, no. I-“ I think I love you. “-wasn’t expecting you to say that. So, that’s what you like about me, hm?”

“Among other things,” she blushes, sighing. Back to his usual demeanor. “You’re also really thoughtful. I mean, you went out of your way to pick up a wine from Dawn Winery just because you thought I might miss Mondstadt. And you want to make work easier for me. Even though I keep declining your offers and probably making it harder on you.”

“You’re not making it harder on me, darling,” he hums, shaking his head as he takes a drink from his glass. “You’re making it harder on yourself. But I won’t press the issue. Just know, I’ll take care of everything. All you need to do is ask.”

“Thank you,” she reaches out and places a hand on his gently, fingers barely brushing against the back of his hand. “ Love. ”

She says it so quietly, a deep red blush on her cheeks. He smiles, turning his hand over to capture hers and intertwine them. There goes his heart again, pounding hard against his chest like it’s trying to escape.

She lets go of his hand to continue eating, enjoying the food and his company. She has no idea what she does to him.

“Did anything else happen today?” He hums, pushing his food around in the container with his fork. “You mentioned a coworker finished up your faxes for you? Did you finally make a friend?”

“I think so. His name is Nikolai,” she shrugs. “He said he has no ulterior motives for helping me, so I’m choosing to believe him for now. He’s a newer guy, from marketing. Maybe that’s why he’s nicer.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Oh, yeah. And there was this representative from one of our partner companies visiting today, and he brought fancy Snezhnayan chocolates and pastries to the office,” she mentions, picking up her food to take a bite. “I wanted to try some, but I felt too awkward to go get any because the rest of my coworkers don’t like me. Nikolai tried to get me to go get something, but I just decided not to.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I would have picked some up on my way here.” He says, taking the lid off his cup of solyanka. He gets a spoonful and takes a bite.

“It’s okay. You already picked up food and wine, I couldn’t ask for more.”

“Baby, I don’t mind at all. I’d love to spoil you.” But you won’t let me. “Anything you want, name it and it’s yours.”

“Just you is enough for me.”

She’s going to be the fucking death of me. I don’t think I would mind that at all.

The next day is much like yesterday. Buried in faxes and documents, emails piling up in her inbox. Anatoly did keep his word to not send her more project files, for which she’s somewhat thankful. The dirty looks she’s getting from everyone else tells her everything she needs to know, though.

Anatoly told everyone I refuse to do his job for him, twisting the truth just enough to get everyone else to side with him.

Whatever.

“Hey, (Y/N), come check out the break room!” Nikolai puts a hand on top of the documents she was reading, forcing her to look up at him. “There’s all kinds of pastries and chocolates on the table.”

“Oh, again?” She follows Nikolai to the break room. The table was covered in a variety of fruity pastries and an assortment of different chocolates, with a note card left beside the pastry tray. “Who sent them? Another rep?”

“No,” Nikolai grins, picking up the note and handing it to her to read. “Take a look.”

For my love.

She turns the card over, and sees Tartaglia , written in that same elegant handwriting. She sighs, shaking her head, but she smiles at the gesture anyways. She slips the note into her blazer pocket, picking up a pirozhki to try with Nikolai. From the corner of her eye, she can see Donovan eyeing her cautiously. No doubt he read the note and saw just who sent them.

She can’t help but smirk as she takes a bite of the fruit filled pastry. Cherry. Tartaglia’s favorite.

Donovan scowls, retreating back to his office as Nikolai chats with her about typical office gossip he’s heard from the girls by his desk. She doesn’t usually indulge in these types of chats, or even breaks, but she decided to try it for once. Now that she’s finally made a friend at the office.

Once she’s back at her desk with a caramel dark chocolate truffle on a napkin that Nikolai insisted she take with her, she quickly sends a text to Ajax before she gets back to work.

(Y/N): You didn’t have to send all those chocolates and pastries to the office!

(Y/N): Thank you, though. They were amazing!

Chapter Text

Tartaglia takes a deep breath, feeling the cold air in his lungs before he steps inside the casual restaurant, Kaska’s Kitchen. The hostess holds her hands in front of her, but before she can greet him, he walks past her toward a back booth, waving at her dismissively. She swallows thickly, stepping to the side and nodding her head respectfully.

He takes a seat in front of a dark wavy haired man with glasses, a disarming expression on his face. Tartaglia knows the expression is a facade, that behind that smile is a dangerous man with enormous wealth and even greater power. He despises the man. Pantalone.

He sighs as he places the briefcase next to him on the seat, then loosens the scarf around his neck. “It’s good to see you, Tartaglia. How are you?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” he doesn’t bother with the fake smiles and chatter. A waitress stops to get him something to drink, having already served Pantalone with a glass of wine. He says curtly, “just water” and she hurries away. “Let’s skip the bullshit, shall we? I’m sure you didn’t come all the way here from Liyue just to ask how I’m doing. A call would be just fine.”

“You’re right, I’m here for much more than that,” Pantalone replies, smile never faltering. “I’m here to check on business with Northland Bank. You’re perfectly aware of what this meeting is about, no? Didn’t your secretary brief you on the details?”

“Yes, but you and I both know there’s more to this meeting than what you’ve told my secretary.” Tartaglia sneers. Pantalone hums, taking a drink from his glass of wine.

“The time will come for that conversation later. For now, we best discuss the business at hand,” he pulls out a pen and reaches for his own briefcase, opening it and taking out a note pad. “Things have been going smoothly in Liyue. Profits are up by an incredible amount, and business partnerships are working out smoothly.”

“I’m sure they are. I was there handling business a few years ago, remember?” Tartaglia huffs, crossing his arms. The waitress places the water next to him and leaves quickly, lest she interrupt their conversation.

“Yes, I remember, Tartaglia,” Pantalone sighs, leaning his head on one hand. “My, you seem tense. Couldn’t you lighten up even a little?”

“Sorry, but the longer you waste my time, the more pissed I’m going to get,” Tartaglia clenches his teeth. “So get on with it.”

“Fine, fine. Since you insist,” Pantalone holds his hand out. “Those files, then.”

Tartaglia opens his own briefcase, pulling out the files. They’re all separated by paperclips that Ekaterina meticulously placed and organized for him a few days ago. He hands them to Pantalone. “Here.”

“Thank you,” he briefly flips through them, skimming the words. “Good, good. Profits are increasing here, as well. I was afraid things might stall in my absence.”

Tartaglia’s blood boils at the statement. Is he saying I’m not capable of increasing profit? “Ah, you’ve included some interesting business proposals here, as well. This one in particular-“ Pantalone pulls one file out of the stack, holding it in front of Tartaglia to glance at. “-Is very interesting. If you can see this through to completion, well, Northland Bank will see great profit and results. As long as Ivanovich inc. can keep its promise, it’s well worth the investment.”

“However, if they fail to hold up their end, we need a failsafe to protect the bank’s integrity,” he hums, placing the files he was given into his briefcase. Pantalone looks back at him condescendingly. “Have you thought of anything?”

“Of course I have,” Tartaglia snaps. “Do you take me for an idiot, Pantalone?”

“You’re still young, Tartaglia. You’re smart, but you have a lot to learn,” Pantalone leans back casually, folding his hands over each other in front of himself. “I hope you’d take care to remember that all that matters is for Northland Bank to benefit from any partnership, so failsafes must always be in place to protect it. If Ivanovich inc. goes under, as well as any of our other partnership companies, well, shame but so be it. As long as it doesn’t affect the bank, it doesn’t matter.”

“As long as you’re making profit, you don’t care,” Tartaglia doesn’t think before he speaks. Pantalone smiles.

“Does that bother you, Tartaglia?”

“Not at all,” he taps his fingers furiously against the table. “Business is business. If they can’t bring us profit, there’s no point in investing. If a company fails and goes bankrupt, that’s not my concern. I’m not stupid.”

“You’re in quite a mood today, aren’t you?” Pantalone chuckles, crossing his ankles under the table. “Is there something bothering you, Childe?”

Tartaglia grits his teeth. If there was a glass in his hands, he was sure he’d shatter it with how hard he was clenching his fist. “You’re so fucking condescending. What is it about me that makes you act like such a prick? Or are you just like that to everyone?”

“I’m sorry, but you need to grow up,” Pantalone pushes his glasses up his nose. Tartaglia imagines himself wiping that smug look right off his face. “I know you’re young, and I know you haven’t been in this position for longer than a few years, but honestly I thought that you would be more mature about this by now. Don’t get me wrong, you were a great and terrifying boss before Northland Bank brought you in as Vice President. But to be a boss, and to be a Vice President are two different things. To run a company, much less a bank, you need to be composed and mature. You’re still Childe. You haven’t stepped up as Tartaglia yet.”

“That’s fucking bullshit,” Tartaglia seethes, slamming his hands down on the table. The hostess at the front jumps, glancing over at their table in fear. Pantalone gives him a serious glance. A warning. Behave. “You’ve seen the results since I’ve stepped up as Vice President. Northland Bank is thriving under my leadership. Snezhnaya is thriving under my leadership.”

“That may be true, but you still can’t keep yourself from showing your emotions. You practically wear them on your sleeve,” Pantalone shakes his head. “You still throw tantrums at this age?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Tartaglia rolls his eyes. “I can hide my emotions when I want to.”

“Then prove it.” Pantalone takes a drink of the wine. “Now then, let’s move on to why I’m really here.”

He leans forward and lowers his voice, looking over his glasses at Tartaglia. “I’m here about your work for us.” The fatui goes unsaid. “I noticed you’ve been having some trouble with certain clients. You’re not the boss you used to be. It’s almost like you’ve lost some respect, so others are challenging your authority.”

“Others?” Tartaglia’s eyes narrow. “Challenging my authority? Like who?”

“Clients. Clearly they aren’t afraid of the consequences of backstabbing when they make deals with you, specifically,” Pantalone crosses his arms, a challenging expression on his face. “Take Lev, for example. He really made a fool of you.”

“I disposed of him and recovered the stolen jewelry,” Tartaglia replies lowly. “As well as made an example of him. Yes, I gave him too many chances in the past. But that will never happen again.”

“Mm,” Pantalone hums, tilting his head. His hair sways with the movement. “And Dominik? Aleksander? Fyodor? Artyom? Need I go on?”

“I get it,” Tartaglia exasperates, running a gloved hand through his hair. “I understand that I let things get a little out of hand. I’m fucking taking care of it, Pantalone.”

“Are you? Because it seems as though clients think you’re being lenient with them. They think they can take advantage of us when they deal with you.”

“Is that what it looks like?” Tartaglia smirks, leaning back. “Because I’ll tell you now, all of my recent clients are terrified of me. Maybe some of our clients think they can use us how they see fit and nothing happens to them as a result. But I always make sure those who wronged us get what they deserve. And I always make sure to collect compensation.”

Tartaglia feels his phone vibrate in his pants pocket. He doesn’t check it.

(Y/N): You didn’t have to send all those chocolates and pastries to the office!

(Y/N): Thank you, though. They were amazing!

“Honestly, Tartaglia, I think you’ve gone soft lately,” Pantalone shakes his head, sighing. He takes his glasses off for a moment and wipes them with a small handkerchief from his pocket before putting them back on. “I know you still have potential, so I’m going to let your current mistakes slide. You are very loyal to our cause, even if you are reckless and emotional.”

Tartaglia glares, but bites his tongue.

“I’m willing to believe that this is just a hiccup in your work. In the coming months, I imagine you’ll slip right back into that terrifying boss you used to be. Maybe it’s been difficult for you to bounce between being the Vice President and being a boss,” Pantalone toys with the chain on his glasses. “Either way, I expect you to straighten up by the time I visit again. You wouldn’t want the other bosses to start to doubt your capabilities, now do you?”

“I’m sure you’re the only one doubting my capabilities, Pantalone,” Tartaglia bites back, rage clear on his face. Pantalone smirks.

“I don’t doubt your capabilities at the moment. As I’ve said, you’re young and naive. You have a lot to learn, and you need to mature.” He gestures with one hand as he speaks. “That’s why I chose to meet with you in person. To see with my own eyes how you’re doing. And I can see now that you still struggle with your emotions. But if this continues, well…” he pauses, looking down at his expensive watch. “I don’t think I need to explain what will happen.”

Tartaglia’s eye twitches, and he takes a deep breath. He speaks through gritted teeth. “I understand.”

“I’m only going to tell you this once,” Pantalone finishes his glass of wine and sets the empty glass down, looking at him dangerously. “Get a grip. I would hate to see you throw away so much potential because you let your emotions get the best of you.”

Pantalone stands up, collecting his things. Tartaglia stays seated, staring at the empty glass Pantalone left. He walks by, stopping right next to Tartaglia and glancing down at him. “I hope our next meeting can be more pleasant, Tartaglia. Take care.”

He walks out of the restaurant, politely telling the hostess goodbye as he does. Tartaglia drops his head into one hand, shaking with rage. How dare he talk to me like that. What a fucking joke. He clears his throat, throwing down a few bills and grabbing his briefcase, standing up and storming out of the restaurant without another word.

As he’s walking back to his car, he calls Ekaterina. “Is everything alright, boss?”

“I’m taking the rest of the day off,” he snaps. “If Pantalone comes by the bank and asks where I am, tell him I’m taking care of some things and I didn’t tell you what they were.”

“Did…” she pauses. “Did the meeting not go well?”

“I don’t want to fucking talk about it,” he shouts, his anger boiling over. “Just do what I say.”

He hangs up, stuffing his phone in his pocket before he yanks the door of his car open. He practically throws the briefcase into the car on the passenger seat and gets in, slamming the door shut behind him. He’s huffing, glaring at the dashboard as he starts the car.

He sits there as it warms up, clenching his teeth painfully. He screams out in rage, punching the steering wheel over and over. His eyes are wild, his hands are shaking, and he’s heaving breaths. “Fuck him. Condescending asshole!”

He growls as he runs a hand through his hair, gripping at the roots. He’s tempted to start pulling out his hair, but he controls himself enough to let go and just start driving.

Tartaglia drives recklessly back to his penthouse, weaving in and out of traffic as the music blares loudly through the speakers. His eyes are narrowed and he chews on the inside of his cheek, fingers twitching around the steering wheel.

Once he gets home and parks his car, he slams the car door and storms up to the eleventh floor. He’s grumbling Snezhnayan profanities as he unlocks the door.

Tartaglia shuts the door and locks it behind him, going straight to his home office. He throws his jacket somewhere in the penthouse, not caring where it lands or what kind of mess he makes. He unlocks the door and enters, dropping the briefcase on the floor next to the desk. He sits down in the chair, letting out a heavy sigh. He stares at the dark wooden top of the desk, a deep frown etched into his face.

Questioning my authority, doubting my capabilities. He laughs sardonically, throwing his head back as he leans back in the chair. He frowns, staring up at the patterns on the ceiling. That pompous prick doesn’t know anything. He hasn’t seen how things really are here in Snezhnaya since he took up command of the Liyue branch. He has no right to talk down to me.

Tartaglia sits up and reaches forward, turning on the lamp on the desk. It lights up the room in a warm glow.

He stands, walking over to the bookcase to grab the key to the drawers in his desk. Before he sits back down, he turns on the speaker on the middle shelf, turning up the music.

He sits down, unlocking the middle drawer. He takes out a little baggie of white powder and a card. He carefully pours some out onto the desk and uses the card to scrape it into a couple neat lines. He takes out a bill from his wallet and rolls it into a little straw.

Tartaglia leans forward, snorting the cocaine through the makeshift straw. He throws his head back, taking a deep breath through his nose as he does. He lets out a shaky breath, running his free hand up through his hair. He ruffles his own hair before he drops his hand to his side, gripping the arm of the chair.

He wipes his nose, huffing a bitter laugh as he stares at the line of cocaine left on his desk. Bastard. He leans forward and snorts the next line. He groans as he shakes his head, pinching his nose. He stands up, knocking the chair over as he paces the room.

The thoughts in his mind are scattered and loud, overlapping each other. His heart is pounding fast, and all he wants to do is hit something. He can feel his heart beat match the fast beat of the music.

He isn’t thinking straight.

Tartaglia grabs a small glass vase from his bookcase and throws it at the wall. The sound of shattering glass is satisfying to him. He starts swiping other things off the shelves and throws them to the ground, listening to things clatter and break. He doesn’t care.

He grins, laughing at the destruction.

It goes on like this for several minutes, about half an hour, before he finds himself lying on the floor amidst the mess, heaving as he comes down. It’s always so fleeting.

Music continues to play as he lays there, pressing his palms into his eyes.

He sits up among the open books, scattered papers, and broken trinkets. He pats his pants pockets, sighing as he looks around. “Where did I put it?”

He staggers to his feet, kicking shit out of the way. He looks around the desk, only seeing remnants of cocaine and what he used to snort it. He groans and leaves the office, looking around the living room for his jacket. It’s on the floor near the window, crumpled in a pile. He crouches next to it on the ground, pulling his phone out of the pocket.

Tartaglia scratches his head, sitting on the floor. He pulls up (Y/N)’s messages.

Ajax: I had a shitty day.

Ajax: Will you come over after work?

Ajax: I can send you the address.

(Y/N): Of course, love. I’ll come as soon as I’m off work. Do you want me to bring you anything on my way?

Ajax: Just you.

He digs around in the other pocket of his coat for the pack of cigarettes he knew he had there. Once he finds them he takes the lighter out of the pack and lights the cigarette, taking a long inhale. Tartaglia picks himself off the floor and goes into the kitchen where the ashtray was.

He stands at the counter, smoking to relieve some of his pent up stress. The cocaine didn’t really help, but it never has. He just does it to feel something when he lashes out. Tartaglia groans, hair falling messily in his face as he flicks ash into the tray.

He checks the time on the oven in his kitchen; a quarter after two pm. She wouldn’t be off work for at least three more hours, if she was lucky enough to get out on time. That left him to his own devices for another three hours, if not longer.

Tartaglia snuffs out the unfinished cigarette in the ashtray, turning to go back into his office. He looks over the mess, sighing. “I should clean this shit up before she gets here. Ugh, I don’t want to.”

He sees the abandoned baggie of cocaine still on his desk and reaches for it, pressing the seams closed and tossing it back into the middle drawer. He decides to leave the rest of the mess, walking out of his office and locking the door behind him.

He throws himself onto the couch, unbuttoning his shirt half way as he lays down. He huffs, draping an arm over his eyes as he tries to relax into the cushions.

He’s woken up a few hours later by his phone notifications.

(Y/N): I’m here.

Ajax: Come up. 11th floor. Last door to the left. Knock three times and I’ll open the door.

She swallows thickly as she approaches the grand doors to the building, intimidated by the grandeur of it all. She enters the building and keeps her head down as she makes her way to the elevator, pushing the button up to the eleventh floor.

She taps her foot anxiously as she waits in the elevator for it to climb up all the floors, feeling awkward as she clutches her bag close to her. Once the doors open on the eleventh floor, she walks all the way down the hall to the last door on the left.

She knocks three times and waits for a minute, glancing around the hallway. Is this the wrong door..? He said last door to the left.

The door swings open and she takes a small step back, seeing Ajax lean against the door. His hair is a mess, his shirt is halfway unbuttoned and untucked, and he has a tired look on his face. She opens her mouth to say something, but he just walks forward and wraps his arms around her, burying his face in the scarf around her neck.

She returns the embrace, running her hand comfortingly up and down his back as he breathes in her scent. Lavender. He squeezes her tighter, huffing a shaky breath into the fabric. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

“You’re too good for me,” his words are muffled, but she understands them regardless. She frowns, turning her head slightly to press a sweet kiss to his exposed neck. His fist twists the fabric of her coat before he finally steps back. “Sorry. Please, come in.”

He turns and walks back inside the penthouse, (Y/N) following close behind. He shuts the door behind her as she takes her coat and scarf off, hanging them up on the coat rack. She slips off her shoes and sets her purse on the table by the door.

When she sits down on the couch, Ajax plops down beside her and lays his head across her lap. She runs her fingers through his hair, hearing him sigh at the feeling. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” He grumbles, closing his eyes. “Just wanna be with you.”

“Okay,” she replies quietly, continuing to mindlessly pet his hair. He rolls onto his side, burying his face in her stomach. She rests one hand on his bicep, brushing hair out of his face with the other. He mutters something under his breath, muffled by her shirt. She doesn’t catch what he says.

She starts to hum softly, an attempt to comfort him. She was honestly shocked to see the obviously distressed state he was in, considering how carefree he usually seemed. Everyone has bad days sometimes. Even the most charming, carefree people.

They stay like this for a while, running her hand through his hair and stroking his arm with her thumb. He could fall asleep like this, he thinks. Her voice is so soothing, and it feels nice each time her fingers card through his soft, unruly hair.

“Do you want to do something fun to take your mind off it?”

He turns to look up right at her face. “Like what?”

“We could play cards, if you have them. Or a dice game? Or any game, really.” She stops petting, instead just resting her hand on his head. “Anything you wanted to do. We could even just talk.”

“Cards sounds fun.” He sits up, moving so he’s sitting right beside her properly. “You’ve never played durak have you?”

“No, I haven’t. Only poker and 21,” she tilts her head as she looks at him. “How do you play?”

“Well, first off it’s a game using a deck that’s only 36 cards. Not your standard 52 card deck.”

“Only 36?” She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t think I’ve ever played with a deck like that.”

“Each suit only goes to six. Six is the lowest, ace is the highest. It’s most common here in Snezhnaya.” He stands up, offering a hand to her. “I’ll explain the rules, so just let me know if there’s something you don’t understand. I’ll try to go easy on you for your first game.”

Ajax grabs a pack of cards from one of the bookcases in the living room, then sits down on the floor. she follows his lead, sitting in front of him. He briefly explains the rules, and when she stares at him like she didn’t catch a word, he just laughs. “Just follow my lead, okay?”

She nods excitedly.

The flipped card is an ace of spades.

Ajax is the first attacker, placing down a six of hearts to start. She furrows her brows in concentration as she looks at her cards, then pulls a ten of hearts to defend. Ajax smiles, next placing down a ten of clubs to attack. She defends with a queen of clubs. He places down a ten of diamonds, and she follows with a jack of diamonds.

He passes on attacking. She discards all the cards in the middle.

They both pick up 3 cards to refill their hands, and begin the next round. “You successfully defended all of my attacks, so now you can attack.”

She puts down a 9 of diamonds, and watches him expectantly. He hums, placing down an ace of diamonds. She frowns, putting a 9 of clubs. He shrugs, taking the pile from the middle and adding them to his hand. “I couldn’t successfully defend, so it’s your turn again after you draw.”

She draws 2 cards, and puts down an 8 of hearts. He defends with a king of hearts. She puts down a king of diamonds, and he places the ace again. She places an ace of hearts, smirking. He grins, placing a six of spades. “Trump suit beats any card.”

“Right,” she mumbles, shaking her head. “I pass.”

Ajax chuckles, discarding the pile. He draws one card, and she draws 3.

The game goes on like this for a while, ending with her defeat when Ajax places his last card. She sighs, a small smile on her face as she shakes her head. “Damn.”

“You had me for a minute there, love!” He smiles, leaning forward. She’s relieved to see him seemingly back to himself. He shuffles the cards. “Do you want to play again?”

“Sure, it was fun,” she nods, and he deals the cards once again.

They play more rounds, until the time reads 9:23. She yawns, rubbing her eyes with her hands. “It’s getting late, Ajax.”

“Will you stay the night?”

“But I work tomorrow-“

“I know. Please?” He looks at her pleadingly, pushing the hair out of his eyes. “I just want to stay with you longer.”

“Well,” she pauses, thinking about the state he was in when she first came over. She really didn’t want to leave him there alone when he was so upset, but she knew it would be a pain to go to work the next morning from his penthouse. She didn’t have a change of clothes, none of her toiletries, or anything to get ready. “I don’t have any of my stuff.”

“You can use my stuff,” he replies, standing and helping her to her feet. “You can wear my clothes to bed, use my shower, everything. I’ll even take you to work in the morning if you want me to.”

“No, no. That’s not necessary,” she shakes her head as he takes her hands in his. He looks down at her sadly, a childish pout on his face. She sighs. “Okay. I’ll stay the night with you. But don’t make me late in the morning!”

“I won’t! I won’t,” he embraces her in a tight hug, nuzzling her hair. “Thank you, love.”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Chapter Text

That morning, she struggled with Ajax to get to work on time. First, he didn’t want to let go of her so she could get up and shower. Then, he tried to convince her to call into work and stay with him all day. What a piece of work.

“Ajax, love, I need to get up, now,” she sighs, feeling him pull her closer. He nuzzles into her neck, pressing soft kisses to the skin.

“C’mon, baby, stay a little longer,” he whines, extra clingy this morning. She huffs, peeling his arms off her and getting up from his bed. He grumbles in protest, but concedes.

“I need to shower or I’m gonna be late,” she sighs, picking up her discarded uniform from last night. “Donovan will kick my ass if I’m late.”

“Why don’t you call in today and stay home with me all day?” Ajax sits up, running a hand up through his beautiful sunny ginger hair. She shakes her head. “You know you want to, my love.”

“I can’t. I still have a ton of work to do that I ended up not finishing yesterday,” because I wanted to get home to you early. “I have to get everything done before this weekend.”

“Then will you stay the weekend with me instead?”

She blushes, turning away to rush into the bathroom to take her shower. “Maybe. We can talk about it later, okay? I really need to get ready for work.”

“Ah, okay.” He flops back down into bed as she shuts the bathroom door.

His shower was massive and just as luxurious as the rest of his penthouse. He had nicely scented shampoo and conditioner, which did explain why his hair was always so soft and fluffy. He didn’t strike her as the type to care about his appearance despite being incredibly handsome, though. Ajax seemed more like the type of guy who was just blessed to look good with little effort.

She spent just a little too long under the nice hot shower, and she had to rush blow drying her hair and changing into her uniform for work to avoid being late. It was just so much nicer than her own shower at her apartment.

She walks out of the bathroom as she’s tying her hair up to see Ajax sitting up in bed, typing something on his phone. He looked like he was in a bad mood again, and she felt a little guilty for leaving him like this to go to work. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, locking the phone and setting it on the nightstand. He waves his hand dismissively. “Just had a few texts about work. It’s nothing.”

“Well, about this weekend,” she starts, adjusting her blazer top and smoothing out her skirt. “I can come over tomorrow night and stay the weekend with you. But I’ll need to go back home on Sunday to work on some projects for work on Monday. Okay?”

He smiles up at her tiredly, standing up to give her a tight hug. “I would love that. I’ll arrange for us to do something fun!”

She knocks three times on his door, holding a bag with multiple sets of clothes and a few other things for the weekend. She hears slight shuffling on the other side of the door before it’s pulled open. Ajax excitedly pulls her into a hug. “My love!”

She giggles, wrapping one arm around him while the other holds the bag. When he pulls away, he takes her bag from her and leads her inside, rushing to place the bag in his bedroom. She shakes her head endearingly at his enthusiasm, turning to put her scarf up on the rack.

Ajax walks up behind her and envelopes her in his arms, leaning his chin on her shoulder as he idly rocks her back and forth.

“I’d like to take you to a tavern tonight, if that’s okay,” Ajax smiles contently. “They can get quite lively on Friday nights. A few of my friends will be there tonight, and I’d love for you for meet everyone.”

“Oh, sure,” she brings her hands to rest on his arms, letting herself sway with his movements. “I’d love to meet your friends.”

“Great!” He pulls away, turning her around. He gently rests his hand on her cheek, a wild look in his eyes. “Let me grab my coat and we can go!”

She doesn’t get the chance to say something before he reaches around her to grab his coat, throwing it on. She steps out of the way to let him grab his scarf and slip on his shoes.

After he’s ready, he grabs her forgotten scarf and wraps it warmly around her neck, pulling it up to cover the lower part of her face. “Ready to go, lovely?”

“Mmhm,” she hums, nodding as he offers an arm to her to take. She pushes herself close and holds his arm as they walk to his car, already running and warming up.

In the car, Ajax is chattering about how excited he is to have her meet his people. As far as he knew, she only knew those that she worked with. And from what she’s said about them, they aren’t the most pleasant bunch. His people, however, were people who he knew she would get along with, once she was comfortable enough to open up.

Mikhail would certainly have a field day once he meets her, Ajax was sure of it.

She clutches Ajax’s arm as he leads her to the large wooden doors of the tavern. He pushes the doors open and ushers her inside the warm, cozy building. A fire rages in the fireplace on the other side of the room.

There’s loud chatter throughout the tavern, glasses clinking and laughter. A jazz-rock band plays music on the stage. One man with a very deep voice sings, one plays bass, one plays the drums, another plays the saxophone. The guitarist sings along with the other man sometimes, and so does the pianist.

Some men are at a table, playing cards. Women are giggling and gossiping about something pointless at the bar. Some people are dancing to the music.

“You must be (Y/N)?” A woman with a red braid approaches and greets her with a small smile. “I’m Ekaterina, Tartaglia’s secretary. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Tartaglia’s secretary?

Jealousy flares up inside her, but she buries it and smiles back, squeezing Ajax’s arm just a little tighter. She’s gorgeous. “It’s nice to meet you, as well.”

Another woman comes up to join Ekaterina, a drunken smile plastered on her face. “Oh, Kat, come join us! Liliya just lost to Sergiu and he challenged me next. I want my good luck charm there with me so I can destroy him.” She coos, running a hand down her arm sensually. She turns to look at (Y/N), eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiles sweetly. “You don’t mind if I steal her away do you, beautiful?”

“N-no, go ahead,” she shakes her head, watching the brunette drag Ekaterina away. Ekaterina waves goodbye. She looks up at Ajax with a confused expression, and he just smiles.

“Don’t mind Nadiya. She gets very flirty when she’s drunk,” he laughs. “Only with women. I hope she doesn’t charm you enough to steal you away, my love.”

“No, no. Never,” she laughs quietly, wringing her hands on his sleeve as he leads her to a booth towards a back window of the tavern. “But what about Ekaterina?”

“Hm? What about her?” He asks, ushering her to sit next to him. A waitress rushes over to get their orders, and he just asks for a bottle of wine. She scoots a little closer. “You mean her and Nadiya? I try not to pry into my employees’ lives, but as far as I know they’re dating.”

“Oh,” she clears her throat, face burning with embarrassment. The waitress brings over the bottle of wine, setting it on the table with two glasses. (Y/N) reaches forward to grab the bottle, pouring some into her own glass first, then his.

She takes a big drink to disguise her embarrassment at being jealous of a taken woman, avoiding Ajax’s gaze. He notices, shaking his head with a knowing smirk. “Oh, my love. You weren’t jealous of Ekaterina, were you?” She glances at him from her peripherals, glass pressed against her mouth as her face burns hotter. He gasps, unable to contain the grin. “Oh, you were! Oh, my dear, my baby, my sweet, sweet girl. Come here.”

She yelps as he presses many quick kisses to her cheeks, embarrassing her further. “I’ll just have to smother you in kisses so you know you’re the only one for me, won’t I?”

“You’re embarrassing me, Ajax,” she whispers, trying to push him away. He laughs, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he finally gives her space to breathe, grabbing his glass of wine.

“I can’t help it when you’re just so cute,” he hums, taking a drink of his wine. He reaches around her waist with his free hand to rest on her hip, humming to the tavern music. She hides her red face behind the glass of wine, trying to distract herself by looking around the tavern.

A man with very light brown hair, bordering on blond saunters up to them, pulling up an empty chair from another table to sit with them. “Tartaglia! Haha, I didn’t think you’d come!”

“Mikhail,” Tartaglia shakes his head, but his smile betrays him. “I think this is some much needed atmosphere after my absolutely horrible week, wouldn’t you agree?”

Mikhail nods, leaning back and throwing his arm over the back of the chair. He crosses one leg lazily over the other, clearly not intending to leave any time soon. (Y/N) continues to drink her wine awkwardly, gaze dropping to the sleek wooden table.

“Ah, you’ve yet to meet my lovely girlfriend,” Ajax gently squeezes her side, causing her to flinch and grip the glass in her hands tighter. She looks up at Ajax before she glances back over at Mikhail. “(Y/N), this is my friend, Mikhail.”

“Nice to meet you!” Mikhail leans forward and extends a hand, which she reluctantly takes. “Y’know, he’s absolutely smitten with you. I can tell by the way he’s looking at you.”

“Ah, is that so?” She withdraws her hand, discreetly finishing her glass of wine.

“What can I say? She’s such a wonderful woman,” Ajax coos, pulling her closer. She yelps at the sudden motion. “Has me wrapped around her pretty little finger.”

Mikhail laughs, settling back into his seat. “Clearly.”

She reaches for the bottle of wine and pours herself a new drink as the two men chat nonsense. She ignores their conversation. Not once does Ajax let go of her, fingers dancing along her side idly as he talks to his friend.

“I bet you’re still a bit tense after that meeting on Wednesday, huh?”

“You heard?”

“I did. Don’t know much about the details other than it really pissed you off.”

“The details don’t matter. I just think he’s a fucking asshole.”

“Doesn’t surprise me. Have you ever gotten along with him?”

“No. I don’t like to work with very many people. I’d much prefer doing business by myself. I can’t trust the others.”

“A vice president that hates working with others? At a company that actively works with others? The irony.”

“You know how it is. Business is business. I don’t mind that. I just prefer that everyone else stays the fuck out of my way. But I’m tired of wasting any more time thinking about that man. How about we chat about something else? How are things with that fish shop girl?”

“Ah, haha, her. Yeah.”

“Not going well?”

“No, it’s not that. Just don’t think she’s ready for anything serious yet. Gotta take it slow, you know?”

“I suppose.”

She continues to take long drinks, already halfway through the next glass when Mikhail looks back to her.

“And you?”

“Huh?” She lifts her gaze from the red liquid in her glass, a deer in the headlights look on her face. Milhail snickers, tilting his head to the side as he gestures lazily with his free hand.

“How are things going with you, (Y/N)?” He hums, tapping his chin as he looks up at the ceiling. “Come to think of it, I don’t really know that much about you. How is work? What are your hobbies? What do you and Tartaglia like to do?”

“Ah, work is… okay,” she sets her glass down, dropping her hands in her lap to fidget with the hem of her shirt. “Busy. I don’t really have any hobbies. Well, actually, does drinking count?”

“Sure! Why wouldn’t it?” Mikhail taps the back of the chair with his hand.

“The other night I taught her how to play durak,” Ajax leans his head on her shoulder, hair brushing against her neck. She fights back a giggle at the tickling sensation it gives her.

“Ah, durak! God, how long has it been since we’ve played durak, Tartaglia?”

“A few years, at least.”

“We should all play. You, me, (Y/N), maybe Alexei,” Mikhail hums, and Ajax snorts as he’s taking a drink, nearly choking.

“Alexei? If I remember correctly, he’s notoriously bad at card games. When we played, wasn’t he always Durak?” Ajax laughs, burying his face in his hand. She’s still pressed into his side, his other hand sliding from her hip to her back with his movement.

“Yeah, every time,” Mikhail laughs along, shaking his head. “You’re right. If we invited him, he would definitely refuse. Man, I can hear him already. “No way. I’m always the loser. Play by yourselves.”” Mikhail deepens his voice mockingly, faking a serious expression before he bursts into obnoxious laughter again.

She reaches for her glass, drinking more wine as a smile finds its way onto her face. She’d never seen Ajax with his friends before, so seeing him laugh and chat so openly with someone other than her was kind of nice. Part of her hoped that she could make friends with his friends, too, since Mikhail seemed so friendly and fun to be around.

It reminded her of her old friends that weren’t her friends anymore. That thought made her a little sad.

She quickly finishes her second glass and pours herself a third. Ajax is still on his first, having abandoned it to chat with his friend.

“Are you making fun of me?” A man wearing a hat approaches Mikhail from behind, putting his hands down on the back of the chair. He leans down, towering over the carefree light haired man.

“Maybe,” Mikhail smirks, looking up challengingly. “About time you showed up, Alexei. Fashionably late as always, I see.”

“I’ve been here a while, now,” his voice is deep, deeper than Mikhail was able to mock. He straightens his posture, grabbing the top of Mikhail’s head before he rubs his hair playfully. It was a strange contrast, his playful action with his stone cold expression and deep voice. “I was over there,” he gestures to Nadiya at the table, making more drunken bets. “Watching Sergiu and Viktor play cards. I got tired of Nadiya’s screeching and saw you over here, so I thought I’d come over.”

“Aw, you think I’m less annoying than Nadiya?” Mikhail coos, turning to look behind him at Alexei. Alexei scoffs, crossing his arms.

“I never said that.” Alexei’s gaze finally lands on Ajax and (Y/N), and his eyes soften a little. “I came to say hello to bo-“ he catches himself and clears his throat, “Tartaglia. And his girlfriend. You’re (Y/N), right?”

“Y-yeah,” her voice cracks from the wine. She can feel herself getting tipsy, and she leans into Ajax to hide from the intimidating man in front of her. “Yeah. Hi. Um, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Alexei replies, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Mikhail snickers, crossing his arms.

“Could you be a little warmer, Alexei?” Mikhail stands, nudging Alexei. “You’re scaring the poor girl!”

“Ah,” a slight blush appears on Alexei’s face and he turns away to hide it. He was always awkward in social situations that had nothing to do with his business in the mafia. “My apologies.”

“No worries, right my love?” Ajax turns to look at her, a gentle look in his eyes. She nods, looking back up at the other two men.

“It’s nice to meet you both,” she mutters, catching both of their attention. “I’m glad Ajax has such good friends. He seems so happy around you two.”

Mikhail smiles back, waving at her. “Well, I’m glad he finally found such a wonderful match. God, he used to be so fuckin’ miserable before he met you!”

“Hey! I was not that bad!”

“Take care of him for us, (Y/N)!” Mikahil laughs, dragging Alexei away towards the bar. Ajax sighs, shaking his head as he leans back next to her. She takes another drink of her third glass.

Nadiya’s loud, drunken laughter can be heard over everyone else as she stands triumphantly from the table where cards are strewn about. The man in front of her has his head in his hands, another man patting his back comfortingly. Ekaterina shakes her head, rubbing her temples.

A pale woman with very long black hair leans over the table and collects the wad of money, flipping her fingers through the bills to count them.

“Do you want to go play a game with her?”

“Um, probably not,” she rubs the back of her head, smiling softly. “I’m not very familiar with Snezhnayan card games.”

“I can help you if you wanted, darling,” Ajax leans over and presses a soft, chaste kiss to her cheek. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t think they would be very thrilled to have you helping me play if we bet money,” she giggles quietly, picking up her glass and taking another drink.

“I’m sure Nadiya would go easy on you since you’ve hardly played,” he hums, reaching out to play with her hair. “And because you’re gorgeous. But if you really don’t want to, we can just watch the chaos from here.”

“I’m okay with just watching the chaos,” she swirls the wine in her glass as she watches Nadiya goad on others in the tavern to bet and play cards with her. A young man with black hair drags the chair out in front of her and takes a seat, accepting her challenge.

She sips her wine and watches everyone else from afar, content to sit beside Ajax with his hand on her waist as he drinks from his own glass. She gets so wrapped up in listening to other girls nearby gossiping that she doesn’t notice the way he admires her, watching her every move.

The way her lipstick stains the glass, the way her hair falls to her shoulders, the way her jacket slips down a little as she adjusts in the seat to get comfortable. The way her face flushes red as she starts to get drunk.

“Oh, he’s so dreamy~”

“Go over and talk to him, silly!”

“No way! He’s really hot but I think if he turned to say anything to me my knees would turn to jelly and I wouldn’t be able to stand! I mean, gods, have you heard his voice? It’s so deep!”

“He really is a picture perfect man, isn’t he? Strong, serious, deep voiced. I bet he could pick you up like you weigh nothing!

“Stop! Stop! Say anymore and I’ll pass out!”

It’s not long before she’s on her fourth glass of wine, very drunk. She leans over and places a hand on Ajax’s thigh to find balance, and whispers drunkenly, “I want to kiss you.”

He chuckles softly, turning his head to look at her. Her face is red from the wine, eyes lidded. He presses a quick, teasing kiss to her cheek and pulls away. She scoots impossibly closer, practically sitting in his lap, now. She pouts, grabbing his shirt and placing a hand on his cheek to make him look at her. He lets out loud, boisterous laughter, throwing his head back.

“Don’t tease me.”

His laughter dies down to a light snicker, and he brushes a strand of hair out of her face. “Gods, you’re just so adorable I can’t take it.”

She groans in irritation, crawling into his lap. He smirks as she pushes him against the back cushion of the booth against the wall, pressing her lips to his. He rests his hand against her lower back, lips moving in tandem with hers.

She kisses him messily, tongue tangling with his. He tastes sweet, like wine. He reaches a hand up to run through her hair as he deepens the kiss, gently scraping his nails against her scalp. She whimpers into the kiss, pressing her hand against his chest to feel his rapid heartbeat beneath her fingertips.

She pulls away and kisses down his jaw to his neck, running her hand up and down his chest. Lipstick smears against his lips and skin where her lips have been. He sighs blissfully, tilting his head to allow her more access.

The chatter and merry laughter continues.

I just love drunken nights like this.

Nadiya leans forward and points an accusing finger at the man at the table as he takes the money with a smirk. (Y/N) continues to softly nip and suck at the skin of his neck as he watches the many games between patrons in the tavern.

Ajax idly plays with her hair and finishes what was now his third glass of wine. He hums and gently lifts her from his neck to lean forward. She pouts, leaning back but staying firmly in his lap. He goes to pour himself another glass.

The bottle was empty.

He clicks his tongue with a sigh as he sets the bottle down, burying his face in her chest. The night was still so young. Shame. He mutters against the skin, “Probably time to go, my love.”

He helps her off his lap, standing up from the booth. He follows soon after, taking her hand and leading her over to the bar where Alexei and Mikhail stood.

“Will one of you take us home?”

She’s warm all over as she clutches Ajax to keep herself from falling. She didn’t think she had that much, really. She just drank too fast, she thinks.

“Yeah, I can,” Mikhail offers, turning to face them. He smirks at (Y/N)’s display, and the obvious lipstick smears all over Ajax. Mikhail holds back a snicker seeing the marks. He turns to face Alexei once more, elbowing him in the side. “Hey, brother, I’m going to take Tartaglia and (Y/N) home. Have fun~”

Mikhail gestures to the women currently drunk beside him, cooing and softly touching him. Alexei frowns as he turns to face Mikhail, a worried and uncomfortable expression on his face. “You’re going to leave me here with them?” He speaks lowly so the women can’t hear. “You’re terrible, Misha.”

“You’re more than welcome to come with me,” Mikhail laughs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He leans in to whisper to Alexei as Ajax and (Y/N) make quiet small talk while they wait for their impromptu “ride”. “If you’re okay being in the front while Boss and his girlie get dirty in the backseat.”

Alexei scoffs in disgust, turning away to face the bar. “No fucking thanks, I’ll pass.”

“That’s what I thought. If it’s really so bad, comrade, go with Sergiu and Viktor to their next spot.” Mikhail waves him off. “They’ll probably go home to play billiards in the basement as usual.”

“Yeah, heard.” Alexei takes a long drink of his whiskey as Mikhail joins Ajax and (Y/N) by their side. “See you. Take care.”

Ajax and (Y/N) stumble drunkenly together back to his car, giggling and laughing the whole way while Mikhail strides up to start the car. He chuckles quietly to himself and shakes his head, rolling his eyes. Ay, Boss. You’re a mess.

Despite how drunk he is, he still takes care to open the door for her to slide into the back seat. Ajax slides in next to her, shutting the door as Mikhail starts the car and lets it warm up, not that it’s entirely necessary.

Ajax is all over her in the back seat of the car. He gently pushes her until her back is against the seat, lying down fully.

He pulls her scarf down enough to bare the skin of her neck to him. His hands slide up her shirt underneath her buttoned jacket, dancing along the skin as his lips mark the junction between her neck and shoulder. He bites down playfully, earning a whine from her.

Mikhail sighs, ignoring the display happening behind him. Just get these fucks home. I mean, I have seen him do worse. At least this woman is decent.

Mikhail turns up the music to drown out the noise, mostly from Ajax, since she tried to keep relatively quiet. Even drunk she was still trying to be considerate.

He seizes her lips, pulling her as close as he could in the backseat. He bites her lip, causing her to quietly gasp. He uses this opportunity to slip his tongue past her lips, brushing against her own. She grips his sleeves tighter, whimpering into the bruising kiss.

Her noises only egg him on more, making him grind against her. She pulls away from him, heaving deep breaths as he moves to attach his lips to the other side of her neck, sucking dark spots into the skin there too. She pants softly, holding back her noises to not embarrass herself. She tilts her head to the side to give him more room to leave marks. His teeth brush softly against the spots, nipping occasionally.

His breath is warm against her skin, and he whispers praises and nicknames drunkenly as his fingers trace patterns into her bare skin underneath her clothes. He slots his knee in between her thighs as he towers over her. He withdraws one hand to come up and rest against her cheek, rubbing circles with his thumb.

“I want to devour you,” he whispers huskily, voice drowned out by the loud music.

Mikhail rolls his eyes, faking a silent gag to himself. I’m DEFINITELY texting the group chat about this. What the fuck.

Ajax leans forward to capture her lips once more, smearing more of her lipstick against his lips and her own. She runs her hands through his hair, gently tugging at the orange locks. He groans in her mouth, arm snaking underneath her to pull her flush with his chest.

Mikhail pulls into the parking lot of Ajax’s building, taking a spot as close to the building as possible. He clears his throat, glancing up at the rearview mirror as Ajax pulls back, panting. “Hey dude, we’re here.”

“Thanks,” Ajax responds breathlessly, laughing. (Y/N) sits up, wiping the spit from her mouth. Lipstick smears against the back of her hand.

Ajax opens the door and gets out, offering a hand to help her out of the car. She takes it and crawls across the seats to the door. She steps out and stumbles as her feet hit the pavement. He catches her, helping her stand steady.

His hair was wild, sticking out in places. His scarf covered the blooming hickeys and smeared lipstick, but on his lips and cheeks it was clearly visible.

Mikhail steps out of the driver seat and shuts the door, locking the car before he hands the keys back to Ajax. He laughs, wrapping an arm around her waist as he begins to lead her to the doors of the building. He waves without looking back. “Thank you again, comrade!”

“Yeah, sure,” Mikhail snickers, shaking his head as he called up a cab.

Chapter Text

Tartaglia sighs, staring down at the files on his desk boredly. He really hated desk work.

This latest project draft from Ivanovich’s company was not helping to ease his frustration. Whoever was editing the draft and sending it back was incompetent, making unnecessary changes that would only hinder the success of the project.

Was he biased knowing that she had nothing to do with her own project? Perhaps.

He sends an email back to Donovan with more additions, warning him that if his suggestions were disregarded once again and the draft was not up to his standards, he would end the partnership and pull out of investing.

“We must keep Northland Bank’s best interests in mind.”

He flips through the various graphs of sales of their investment partners and separates them by failures and successes. So far, most had been successful, much to Tartaglia’s pleasure.

But Gods, these tasks were so fucking boring .

His phone chimes, and he reaches for it quicker than he’d like to admit, thinking it might be her.

Viktor

He sighs, answering it with a dull “hello?”

“Sir, we have a situation-“

“Well, figure it out,” Tartaglia replies dismissively, taking the phone away from his ear to hang up when Viktor calls out to stop him.

“Wait!”

“What?” He snaps, sitting up straight in his chair.

“We caught this man snooping around one of our operations looking for something,” Viktor sighs, running a hand through his hair. “We captured him but we don’t know what to do with him-“

“Common sense, Viktor,” Tartaglia sneers. “Take the trash out.”

“But Sir, I think he might know something,” Viktor replies cautiously, lowering his voice.

“Then question him,” Tartaglia pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, furrowing his brows. “Gods, Viktor, are you fucking brain dead?”

“You should question him, Sir,” Viktor flicks his cigarette, dropping ash.

“I should?” Tartaglia repeats, scoffing. “You’ve got some real balls to suggest what I should and shouldn’t do, comrade. Since I like you, I’ll let this go.”

“Send me the address,” Tartaglia says sharply, hanging up without another word. He rolls his eyes as the text comes in. The location was a warehouse the fatui commonly used for torturing captives.

Tartaglia: This better not be a waste of my time, Viktor. I’m a busy man, you know.

Tartaglia gets up from the desk and stuffs his phone into his pants pocket. He turns to grab his coat and scarf, quickly throwing them on. He leaves the office, shutting the door a little harder than he intended.

“Kat, I need you to finish filing the documents on my desk for me,” Tartaglia sighs as he walks by her desk. “Oh, and send the Liyue branch those faxes for me as well. Thanks.”

He waves dismissively as he heads out of the office and down to his car.

He only agreed to torture whatever poor soul made the mistake of looking for fatui secrets because he was bored.

Tartaglia can’t help the glare that crosses his features as he drives to the address Viktor sent him. Someone tried to steal fatui secrets? Bold, I’ll give them that. Directly challenging our authority?

Tartaglia scoffs at the thought, shaking his head.

I won’t let anyone make a fool of me again.

After several minutes of fuming in the car at the audacity of his enemies to cause him even more problems, he arrives at Viktor’s location. A warehouse commonly used for typical engineering business.

Tartaglia gets out of the car and heads inside the warehouse, waving dismissively at the workers who just merely glance at him. His boots click with each step, echoing off the large warehouse walls.

Sounds of metal being sawed through and hammers hitting nails can be heard as he meets with his comrades. They bring him to Viktor, who is smoking a new cigarette. He looks up when faced with Tartaglia, and tosses his cigarette to the ground, snuffing it out with his boot.

A man sits tied in a chair in the middle of the cold warehouse, a blindfold over his eyes. Tartaglia walks up from behind, passing him to go over to the metal table not far from the man.

He flinches when he hears Tartaglia’s footsteps get closer.

All he can hear is the sound of the instruments scraping the metal as Tartaglia goes through each one, deciding what to use first. The man hears the flick of a lighter, followed by a deep breath. Someone leans against a metal shelving unit nearby.

Work proceeds in the warehouse as if he’s not currently tied up and held captive by Snezhnaya’s most terrifying gang. What were they going to do to him? Would he make it out alive? He just wanted to see his sister again, apologize for everything he put her through-

“You dragged me away from work to deal with this?” Tartaglia clicks his tongue as his fingertips gently run over the cool metal of one of the blades. “Are you seriously incapable of handling this yourself? You needed me to do it for you?”

“Sir, you and I both know you would rather be doing this than your desk work,” Viktor speaks up from nearby, just a little further away from the man in front of them.

“Don’t act like you’re doing me a favor,” Tartaglia rolls his eyes, taking a long inhale from his cigarette. He slips his heavy overcoat off and drapes it over a stack of crates nearby. He picks up a pair of pliers, cigarette hanging loosely between his lips.

“Honestly, there’s no one more ruthless with our captives than you, Sir.”

“Then maybe you should step up your game,” Tartaglia turns to face the man in the chair, taking a moment to examine him. He hums, taking the cigarette out of his mouth to flick ash to the floor. He takes another deep breath of smoke before he stalks closer, shoes clicking against the cold concrete floor. The man tenses up as he feels breath ghost over his face, Tartaglia leaning down to be at face level. “Answer my questions truthfully, and this will be quick and simple. I don’t like having my time wasted.”

The man stays deathly silent, almost unable to breathe. Tartaglia sighs, resting his hands over the man’s wrists on the arms of the chair. The cigarette is between his two fingers. “Do you understand?”

Silence.

“ Answer me! ” He shouts, startling the man in front of him.

“I-I” he clears his throat, trying to steel his nerves. “I won’t tell you anything, fatui bastards-“

“Now you’re gonna act tough? Haha, I can see you trembling,” Tartaglia laughs bitterly, pulling away from the man. He takes another drag from the cigarette, staring down with a dead look in his eyes at the pitiful man. His voice drops an octave. “I’m really not in the mood for your bullshit.”

“Maybe this will help you open up a little.” In an instant, Tartaglia’s gloved hand is gripping the man’s hand tightly, holding his fingers in place. He pulls the pliers apart with one hand and wedges the jaws underneath the man’s fingernail. “Hey, comrade, do you think this will hurt him more if I strip him of his sight?”

The man swallows thickly, fingers twitching against the cold metal. “I think it’ll scare him more if he sees what you’re doing, but honestly it’s your call, Sir.”

“Of course it’s my call,” he sighs boredly, looking back at the man. Tartaglia takes another breath of his cigarette that hangs from between his lips, puffing the smoke in the man’s face. Without warning, he pinches the nail between the jaws of the pliers and yanks hard, pulling the nail clean off.

The man howls in pain, fingers locking up. Tartaglia looks disinterested in the whole ordeal, crossing his arms with the pliers still in his hands. “Do you finally realize how serious I am?”

The man heaves breaths through his clenched teeth, hanging his head forward. “I… won’t tell you anything.”

“Shame.” Tartaglia puts the cigarette out on the exposed part of the man’s arm, listening to him hiss. He flicks the cigarette butt to the ground and tilts his head to the side. “I haven’t even asked you any questions yet. Maybe I wanted to know about your day, or your favorite color.”

Tartaglia mocks him, shrugging even though he couldn’t see it. “Oh well. You’ll come around.”

Tartaglia repeats the process, yanking off another nail. The man shouts, throwing his head back as tears start to soak the blindfold. Tartaglia clicks his tongue, tapping the side of the man’s jaw with the cold metal pliers. “Aw come on, I barely started and you’re already crying? Pathetic.”

Finally, Tartaglia removes the man’s blindfold. The light catches him off guard, and he immediately squints his eyes to adjust to the harsh lights of the warehouse. Upon seeing the ginger and other fatui casually hanging around the warehouse, it hits him how fucked he is.

Tartaglia smirks at the man’s terrified expression. Not so tough now, huh? The sound of metal being sawed through can be heard echoing distantly in the large warehouse. Work proceeds as usual. A reminder that the fatui owns Snezhnaya. They’re untouchable.

Tartaglia leans against the metal tray with all his instruments, toying with a large blade. “Still don’t want to talk to me?”

The man stays silent as he looks down at his bleeding fingertips. It hurt like hell. But this was just the beginning of what Tartaglia had in store for this man. Pantalone said he was getting soft. Tartaglia scoffs at the thought.

Tartaglia frowns, grabbing a bottle of rubbing alcohol and popping the cap. He didn’t plan to use it just for cleaning his wounds, no. Quite frankly, he didn’t care if the man’s wounds got infected. Not that he would live long enough for infection to set in anyway. He was just going to use it to cause his fingers to burn more. He smiled sickly at the thought.

He pours the alcohol over the two fingers he’d mercilessly ripped the nails from, listening to the man wail and twitch uselessly in his restraints. Viktor tenses at the sound, watching from the corner of his eye where he was leaned against a metal shelf.

Tartaglia sets the bottle back down, grabbing a large hunting knife instead. He turns back to the man with a dark expression. “Who sent you?”

“Nobody,” he breathes, refusing to meet Tartaglia’s cold eyes.

“You broke into one of our operations alone and snooped around for what, then?” Tartaglia scoffs, slowly approaching him. “Shits and giggles? No. No, someone sent you to find something specific. Don’t fucking lie to me.”

Tartaglia traces the man’s upper arm with the blade of the knife just barely, watching blood bead up from the small incisions. He hisses through his teeth, tensing up beneath the blade. “I’ll ask you again. Who sent you? ”

“Nobody!”

“Liar!” Suddenly Tartaglia swipes hard with the knife, cutting deep into the man’s forearm. The man shouts in pain again, watching the blood start pouring from the wound and down his arm. Tartaglia is clenching his teeth, glaring daggers down at the captive. “You know, I’m not a very patient man. The longer you deny me answers the worse this is going to get for you.”

“I… have nothing to say to you,” he heaves, fingers twitching against the arms of the chair. He wouldn’t sell out his comrades, not to this sadistic bastard. Tartaglia clicks his tongue, shaking his head.

“Was it another gang? Hm?” Tartaglia’s voice raises in pitch, manic smile spreading across his face. He brings his face closer to the captive’s, watching his body tense up at the proximity. “The Vorovskoy? Sem’ya?”

The man shakes his head, continuing to stare and the bleeding cut on his arm. Tartaglia’s eye twitches as he takes a step back. He slams the knife right into the man’s thigh and twists, listening to him cry out. “Who sent you?! Who?! Huh?”

The man sobs, knife still lodged in his thigh. Tartaglia grabs a long metal pipe lying not far from him on the ground, and winds up to swing. The metal pipe collides with the man’s knees, and Tartaglia hears a sickening crack of bones at the impact. “ Who fucking sent you?! ”

The man slumps forward, weeping. Tartaglia throws the metal pipe to the side, once again reaching for the pliers. “Fine, I’ll ask you a different question this time. What were you looking for?”

“Nothing.”

“Wrong answer,” Tartaglia grabs the man by his hair and yanks his head back, shoving the pliers into his mouth. His eyes widen in fear as the jaws clamp onto one of his front teeth. Tartaglia pulls hard, yanking the tooth right out of his mouth.

He lets out a gut wrenching scream, blood pooling out of his mouth onto his chin. No one in the warehouse bats an eye, continuing on with work undisrupted.

Tartaglia reaches forward into the man’s pocket and pulls out his wallet, flipping through the contents while he whimpers pathetically in the chair. He pulls out his ID, a few bills of cash, a condom. Dominik Petrov. He notices a polaroid picture tucked away in one of the compartments with a name written in black ink on the back, and a date.

Katya Petrov. 19-02-20XX.

The woman in the picture looks just like Dominik. She’s sitting on a couch with another woman, bottles of alcohol in their hands and smiling drunkenly.

“Katya, huh,” Tartaglia muses, holding the picture between his fingers. The man’s breath hitches.

“L-leave her alone, she has nothing to do with this!”

“Tell me what I want to know and I will,” Tartaglia hums, tossing the picture aside. He had no intention of involving Dominik’s sister in his affairs, but Dominik didn’t have to know that. He didn’t like dragging his targets’ families into their messes, if it could be avoided, considering his relationship with his own family. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t use that thought to manipulate targets into giving him what he wanted. He wasn’t above such actions.

For a brief moment, (Y/N) crosses his mind. She was probably hard at work, dealing with those incompetent managers and pulling double her weight for the company. He might have made it harder for her by threatening to pull out of the investment. She was probably working on his project draft now, he hoped at least. Even if it was more work for her. I’m so selfish.

And here he was, torturing a man and threatening his family for daring to oppose the fatui.

Why am I thinking about this now?

“What did you come here looking for?”

Dominik spits up blood on Tartaglia’s shoes. Tartaglia glares, and without thinking he starts punching him repeatedly. Blood is smeared all over Tartaglia’s glove, some has splattered up onto the sleeves of his suit jacket.

The look in Tartaglia’s eyes is cold and empty. His teeth are clenched as he pulls back, shaking out the dull pain in his fist. He’s panting, hair falling messily in front of his eyes.

“Do you have his phone, comrade?” Tartaglia looks over his shoulder at Viktor, who pulls a cracked phone from his coat pocket. “Give it here.”

Viktor walks over, placing the phone in Tartaglia’s outstretched hand. Tartaglia grabs Dominik by his hair and yanks again, exposing his face to the front of the phone to unlock it. Once unlocked, he drops Dominik’s head and looks through his contacts, until he stops over Katya’s.

He reads her number out loud with a disturbing grin, followed by the address of what he assumes is either her residence or work. It wouldn’t take much digging to figure out. One of the other fatui in the warehouse writes it down. Dominik lifts his head with little strength, barely able to make out Tartaglia’s figure through blurry vision.

“Please, don’t-“

“What are you here for ?” Tartaglia punctuates each word with another menacing step forward.

“I-I was just supposed to grab some papers! I-I don’t know-“

“You don’t know? You don’t know what papers you were even looking for?” Tartaglia scoffs, shaking his head. “I don’t believe that. I’m not stupid, I know how this works. You were here to get something specific. What is it? ”

“Just- stuff about your operation!” Dominik is hyperventilating, unable to maintain eye contact with Tartaglia. “Buildings, projects, times of shipments, you know? Just-typical gang shit!”

“Who sent you?”

He stays quiet, shaking his head. Tartaglia narrows his eyes, picking up the picture of Katya and showing it to Dominik. “Don’t forget whose life you’re playing with.”

Whose life Tartaglia is playing with.

“Vorovskoy,” Dominik mutters, tasting the warm iron of the blood from his missing tooth. “The Vorovskoy.”

“ Who , specifically?” Tartaglia crosses his arms, peering down at him with a dark expression. “Vorovskoy is good, but I want a name. ”

“I don’t have a name!” Blood is starting to slowly pool in a small puddle on the floor from the deep gash in Dominik’s arm. “Do you know how the Vorovskoy work? Shestyorkas like me don’t get to know who gives the order. I just know a guy that goes by Vee told me to dig up information on the fatui’s operations, and he gave me an address.”

“What does he look like?”

“I don’t know-“

Tartaglia yanks out the knife still lodged in Dominik’s thigh, watching a dark stain of blood begin to form. Dominik grunts in pain, lurching forward as more blood drips from his face. “I don’t know I swear! He just messaged me, I didn’t meet in person.”

“Vee, huh.”

Usually he loves torturing his captives, but today it wasn’t doing anything for him. What was wrong with him lately? Maybe he needed a hit.

Yeah, that was it.

Tartaglia’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He picks it up and turns to walk away towards the metal tray. His heart clenches when he sees the contact, and her thoughtful message.

(Y/N): Hey Ajax! I bought some groceries yesterday and I wanted to cook dinner for you tonight.

(Y/N): I got off work at a reasonable time today so I’m about to head home now.

(Y/N): Please come over? If you can’t tonight it’s okay.

Ajax: I’d love to. I’ll finish up work and head right over.

(Y/N): Great! Be safe love!

Tartaglia sighs, slipping his phone back into his pocket before he turns to the man tied up in the chair. He glances over at Viktor, who was leaning against the frame of one of the metal shelves that held up some equipment. “Something’s come up.”

Viktor looks up from his phone as Tartaglia pulls his revolver out of his pocket and shoots Dominik point blank in an instant, before anyone knew what was happening. Viktor gasps, stepping forward. “Sir-“

“He was useless,” Tartaglia sneers, wiping the blood from his face. He stares at the mess in front of him, slipping his gun back in his waistband. “Waste of fucking time. Next time, consider how important my time is before you fucking call me here to handle work that can easily be done by someone else.”

“I understand, Sir,” Viktor sighs, walking closer to Dominik’s dead body.

“Dig through his phone for anything useful we can find. Anything relating to who this “Vee” person is,” Tartaglia hands Viktor Dominik’s phone, then takes off his bloody gloves, handing them to one of his other fatui comrades to dispose of. He throws on his jacket, wrapping his scarf around his neck.

If he showed up to her apartment covered in blood, what would she think? Would she see him as the monster he is?

He smiles grimly at the thought.

How long can I keep this up?

Tartaglia leaves the warehouse without another word, walking back to his car with authority in his step. Everyone stays out of his way.

He slips into the driver seat of his car, driving away from the warehouse back to his penthouse so he could quickly change out of his bloody clothes.

Stopped at a light, he grabs a cigarette and lights it, breathing in the smoke deeply. Low Snezhnayan rock music plays on the speakers. He imagines (Y/N) asking him questions about the torture and interrogation at the warehouse.

Would you really have gone after Katya if Dominik didn’t give you answers?

No, probably not.

Did you have fun?

Not really. Not this time. I don’t know why.

Did you think about me?

A little.

He sighs, taking another long drag of the cigarette. What a fucking day.

He finishes his cigarette and puts it out in the ashtray, grabbing another and smoking it back to back. He runs a hand through his hair and ruffles it, feeling tired.

Once he gets home, he quickly strips himself of the bloody clothes and throws them in a pile by his closet door, exchanging them for a fresh set of clothes. He reaches for the cologne on his sink and sprays a couple times before he swaps coats and heads back out in record time.

This time, he doesn’t light another cigarette, despite how much he wants one. She never said anything about the smell of cigarette smoke before, but he assumed she wouldn’t be one to like cigarettes since she’d never smoked around him before.

Come to think of it, he didn’t actually know her opinions on smoking. Or on drugs. Would she do them with him if she found out?

Certainly not. She’s too innocent for that sort of thing.

As he finally pulls into the parking lot of her complex, he checks the time. Fuck, it’s been over an hour since I texted her back. I’m late.

He huffs, getting out of the car and rushing up to her apartment. He knocks, fixing his hair as he hears her steps get closer to the door. As it opens, she greets him warmly, waving him inside.

“Sorry I’m late, baby,” he smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. I’m a fucking awful boyfriend. “That took longer than I expected.”

“That’s okay! If anyone understands that it’s me,” she replies lightly, excitedly hurrying back to the kitchen where the food was still cooking. Fuck, why are you so fucking sweet to me? “You made it just in time, actually! I was just finishing up!”

“Oh, yeah? I’m excited to try what you made for me,” he takes a seat at the table and waits patiently for her. A weight should feel lifted off his shoulders being here with her, but he only feels heavier.

“I made sticky honey roast! It’s the first dish I learned how to make at a restaurant I worked at back in Mondstadt. I’ll admit, it was a little hard only using Snezhnayan ingredients so it might not be that good, but I hope it’s good enough!”

She sets the food down in front of Ajax, a bright smile on her face. She sits in front of him with her own plate of food. He stares down at the plate, lifting a fork to try it.

I don’t deserve you.

“What do you think?”

“It’s delicious,” he hums, the corners of his lips twitching. He sticks his fork into the piece of meat, cutting off a bite with his knife.

He’s rather quiet tonight, and it worries her. Did he hate it? Was he just being nice? Did something happen today?

“Is everything okay, Ajax?” She asks, a look of worry plaguing her beautiful features. He shakes his head, stabbing the food rather brutally.

“Everything is fine, darling,” he leans his head onto his hand, looking at her fondly. “I was just thinking about work. It’s been a little stressful lately since the CEO came from Liyue to pay me a visit.”

“Oh, did something happen?”

“He was just monitoring the bank’s progress. It’s nothing serious,” he lies, hiding it behind a fake smile. “How was your day, my love?”

“It wasn’t too bad,” she pushes her food around with her fork thoughtfully. “Donovan told me to stop doing my worthless desk work and pushed it onto poor Nikolai. He wanted me to focus on fixing the project he sent the bank instead.”

“That may have been my fault,” he smiles apologetically. “I got really frustrated earlier and sent him an email that told him if he ignored my suggestions again I would pull out of investing in the project. I wasn’t really thinking.”

I just want things to go smoothly so Pantalone will stop annoying me.

“I’ll admit, whoever was working on editing my original draft really butchered it,” she frowns, taking a bite. “Do you have your previous suggestions too? If you do can you send me them so I can actually do this project justice so it can be seen through to completion?”

He sets his fork down, looking back at her incredulously. “Ah, yeah. I’ll need to look through my work emails on my computer in my office but when I find them I’ll text them to you.”

“Thank you.”

“But, ah, isn’t that more work for you?”

“I don’t mind it because it’s something I actually care about. Plus my other work is no longer my responsibility, and honestly that’s what was really weighing me down,” she hums, smiling softly at him. His heart honestly feels like it could stop when she looks at him like that. “Though, I do feel bad that Nikolai has to pick up my work for me because of it. Donovan should have made Anatoly take over instead, the useless prick.”

Ajax laughs, nodding in understanding. “I seriously can’t believe that Ivanovich hasn’t overridden Donovan’s decision to put Anatoly in charge of projects instead of you.”

“It’s like you said before, that company doesn’t care about me,” she sighs, smile still ever present on her face. “Nothing I can do about it now but deal with it. Hopefully things can change, once they see what I can bring to the table. Maybe. Haha, probably not though.”

“Remember baby, I can always make the change for you,” his smile is dangerous, eyes drooping. “Just say the word. I’ll do anything.”

“I know, love,” she brushes a strand of hair out of her face. “Thank you, but I’m okay where I am now. I’m just… glad I can be with you.”

“You don’t know how much that means to me, (Y/N).” Ajax stares down at the food she made for him, heart heavy and thoughts swimming in his mind. “ I love you. ”

She stares at him wide-eyed in silence, completely taken aback. It’s only when he sees her face that he realizes what he said.

I love you.

I love you?

Fuck.

Chapter Text

“You seem distracted,” Nikolai crosses his arms and leans against the table in the break room, watching her make coffee. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, Tartaglia just said something that startled me last night,” she sighs, turning around to face Nikolai. She blows on the coffee before she takes a sip. “He said I love you.”

“So?”

“ So? ” She looks at him incredulously, putting a hand on her hip.

“You’re really surprised?” He raises a brow, tilting his head to the side. “Those little notes he left you when he sent you gifts here said it all.”

“I kind of just assumed thats how he was, I didn’t think-“ she shakes her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I didn’t think he really felt that way!”

“Is that bad?” Nikolai asks.

“Well, no,” she mutters, looking down at the coffee in her cup. “I just-“

“You don’t feel the same way?” Nikolai interrupts, walking over to the break room fridge to grab his cold bottled coffee.

“I do! I do feel the same, it’s just complicated,” she huffs, taking a drink of the coffee in her cup. He takes a seat and motions for her to do the same. She sits in front of him, looking off to the side. “We haven’t been together for super long, and yeah we’ve known each other for a decent amount of time but honestly it just caught me off guard. I feel like he’s too good for me and he’s just looking for a good time.”

“So when he said I love you it was just really shocking,” she draws random patterns into the table with her finger, eyes downcast. “He looked at me like a deer in headlights. Even he looked like he couldn’t believe what he said to me. It doesn’t help that he hasn’t sent me anything since, either.”

“Did you try sending him something first?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Start with a simple, “hey babe, how’s everything going?” Just act like nothing happened,” he shrugs, popping the cap from his drink.

“Can I really do that?” She frowns, tapping the side of the foam cup anxiously. “It might be kind of cruel to disregard his feelings like that and pretend like he didn’t tell me he loves me, don’t you think?”

“My friend, we’re Snezhnayans. We disregard our own feelings,” Nikolai snickers, taking a drink of his cold coffee. “Honestly, the fact he hasn’t said anything to you tells me he can’t make a decision on what to do now.”

“Do you think he’s going to break up with me?”

“No way!” Nikolai shakes his head, furrowing his brows. “Right after he said that? It would make no sense for him to break up now. No, he’s probably struggling to decide if he should really lean in to the lovey dovey shit, or to backpedal and keep acting the way he’s always acted with you.”

“You seem like you know Tartaglia well.”

“I don’t know him any better than everyone else here. He’s a well known businessman. I only know him from rumors floating around,” Nikolai hums, leaning his head on his hand. “It’s just a guess. Hell, he could even just be busy with Northland Bank. I overheard that there’s been a little trouble at the bank. Don’t know what all the fuss is about. As far as I know, they’re making a lot of money and connections.”

“He doesn’t talk about work much with me,” she sighs, tapping her nails against the wood. “Although, he did mention last night that the CEO came in from Liyue to visit and check up on business, but he said it wasn’t anything serious.”

“Oh?” He looks at her curiously. “Northland’s CEO has been in Liyue for a long time. Maybe there is real trouble at the bank if the CEO traveled all this way to pay a visit. I guess the rumors do hold some weight, then.”

“Please don’t say anything, Nikolai. This needs to stay between us,” she pleads, glancing around to make sure they were the only ones in the break room. “This is probably why Tartaglia doesn’t talk business with me unless it’s about my projects.”

“Oho, so that’s why I’ve got to do all your work now, huh?” Nikolai muses playfully, swirling the coffee in his bottle. “Tartaglia got you working hard on the Northland project?”

“It’s not my fault that Donovan butchered it!” She huffs, taking a drink of her rapidly cooling coffee. “He threatened to pull out of investing in the project if they didn’t fix it, so I guess they decided to have me redo it this time. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were purposely sabotaging the project to have a valid reason to fire me. But then they had me do damage control so maybe they’re really just that incompetent.”

“I’m sure they’re just that incompetent,” he laughs, leaning back in the chair. “And hey, maybe if this project is successful and gets us all buddy-buddy with Northland then Ivanovich will finally override Donovan’s decision and promote you to project manager!”

“That’s wishful thinking,” she chuckles softly, shaking her head. “They’ll probably just spit in my face again by giving Anatoly a raise he doesn’t deserve for my hard work.”

“You’re a real optimist, huh?”

“Just keeping it real,” she takes another drink before standing up to go back to her desk.

“Wait,” Nikolai stops her, standing up as well. “You didn’t tell me what you’re going to do about Tartaglia.”

“Oh, I don’t know yet,” she sighs, shrugging her shoulders. “Right now I need to focus on fixing that project, then I can think about what to say when I’m going home.”

“That project is really important to you, huh?” He hums, stuffing one hand in his pocket while the other holds his coffee. “You know you don’t need to impress Tartaglia even more, right?”

“That’s not why I’m working so hard,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I believe in this project. I want to see it to completion and watch it succeed. I would work this hard on it no matter what company chose to oversee it.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll do it justice,” Nikolai smirks, leaning his weight on his left leg. “I’m just glad that someone at this company actually cares about their job instead of barely doing the minimum of what’s asked of them. It’s really a shame they don’t appreciate you like they should.”

“It is what it is,” she turns away, walking out of the break room. She hears Nikolai laugh breathlessly from behind her.

“They’ll regret the way they treated you once you realize your worth and ditch this company.”

Nikolai waves as he walks the other way to his desk, and she makes her way back to hers. She sits down and sets her coffee down on the cleared part of her desk. This was the cleanest her desk has been since she first started working here. It was nice not having all those documents and faxes cluttering up her desk.

She could get used to this, she thinks. It’s too bad that once she sent back a draft that was near perfect and no longer needed to be edited, she would be back to the same mundane tasks she used to complete, with papers overloading her desk again.

She opens the draft file, reworking it by taking out the stupid changes Donovan made and replacing them with her own changes that could work. Of course she fixes the verbiage of the draft after adding Ajax’s suggestions, as well. He never did send her the other suggestions he’d made before that, but it didn’t really matter. She could make do with what she had now.

She’s razor focused, typing away as she ignores the chatter and gossip around her. She wants this draft to be as thorough and well-written as possible to make it easier on the department that will be putting the project into action. It is a plus that Ajax would be the one to read the new draft, though. And it would be nice to hear his praise more.

When he crosses her mind, her heart clenches a little. She wonders why he hasn’t said anything to her all day. She hopes Nikolai is right and that he’s just been busy with his work at the bank. She thought he would have at least texted her on his break. He always made sure to text her during the day.

I love you.

Strange how one phrase could make things so different.

I love you, too.

Why did she hesitate for so long last night to say those words? It wasn’t actually that long of a pause before she repeated the phrase, but to her it felt like way too long. Was it because she was caught off guard? She told herself that was why.

Ajax looked mortified by what he said. Why? If he meant it then why would he look so upset by it? But why would it even slip if he didn’t mean it? What was so different about calling her “my love” and actually saying the dreadful phrase I love you ? Why did it even matter?

Her thoughts start to spiral out of control.

She realizes she’s been staring at the computer for too long when Nikolai taps her desk with his pen and snaps her out of her thoughts. She looks up, and he’s got his brows furrowed. “You’re thinking too much, (Y/N).”

“Uh, yeah,” she sighs, saving the draft before she closes it and checks her emails to look busy. Nikolai sighs, crossing his arms.

“You should call it a night, my friend,” he tilts his head, watching as their other coworkers start to gather their things from their respective cubicles. “Give him a call when you get home. Maybe hearing his voice will answer all those questions swimming in your mind.”

“You’re right,” she sighs, shutting down her monitor. She turns to him with a tired expression, leaning back slightly in her broken chair just enough that she doesn’t make it worse. “What about you? Are you going home now?”

“Nope, still have paperwork to finish,” he chuckles, noting her guilty expression. “I don’t really care, though. Got no one waiting for me at home so it’s no big deal.”

He leans in with a smirk, speaking lowly, “And, between you and me, I’ve been sneaking mouse traps in Anatoly’s desk when I’m here by myself to snap his fingers when he goes to grab something.”

“Nikolai!” She gasps, covering the smile on her face with her hand. He snickers, leaning back with a shrug. “I hope you don’t mess with my desk while I’m not here.”

“Of course not!” He huffs at the accusation, but the smirk still remains. “I might take one of your pens sometimes but I always replace them.”

“So that’s why my pens have been disappearing,” she stands up and puts her coat on. “I honestly thought it was Nicolette messing with me. I feel betrayed you would steal my pens like this. I thought we were friends,” she teases, wrapping her scarf around her neck and face.

“A pen is a decent price to pay for me having to pick up all your work now, isn’t it?”

“I told you it’s not my fault!” She groans, picking up her bag. “I am thankful for that, though. So fine, take all my pens if you must. Just leave me one at least.”

“Of course,” he laughs, turning to go back to his own desk to finish up for the night. “Take care. And don’t fret so much over Tartaglia.”

“Will do. See you tomorrow, Nikolai,” she waves, leaving the office. The cold air hits her as she steps outside. She instinctively shuts her eyes against the cold, wrapping her arms around her to keep warm. Drops of snow hit her face as she hurries to her car.

Each night leaving work has been colder than the last, and she wonders how much colder it will get here in Snezhnaya. She knew it was cold, but it didn’t really hit her how cold it could really get until she felt it for herself. She thinks about how warm it could be in Ajax’s arms.

She finally gets in her car and turns it on, shivering as she waits for it to warm up. She was lucky enough that it never took too long to warm up, and that Ajax had been kind enough to buy her a very warm coat and scarf. He really wasn’t lying when he told her how cold it could get.

She watches the snowflakes gather on the windshield, thinking about what he must be up to right now. She takes out her phone to check of maybe she just missed his message or something, but no. She had no notifications.

Her heart sinks, and she slips her phone back into her pocket as she finally starts to feel a little warmth from the heater. She readjusts the way she’s sitting and pulls out of the parking lot, driving back to her apartment.

All the way home, she thinks about what to say to him when she calls. Should she do what Nikolai said and act like nothing happened at all? Should she ask Ajax what was wrong? Should she bring up last night?

She could flip a coin to decide, but that would only work for two options. She would have to narrow it down to only two options. Maybe she could put together two of the options into one.

Yes, that’s what she would do.

She sighs, shoulders slumping in her seat as she continues the drive. The drive never seemed so long before, but she hasn’t had so many things to think about that time dragged on like this since she was still living in Mondstadt. Nikolai was right. She’s thinking too much.

Hearing Ajax’s voice might really answer some of her questions. Hearing his voice might also make her buckle under the pressure. She wouldn’t be able to avoid it forever. She didn’t want to avoid it forever. She wanted Ajax.

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until her vision is blurry.

She wipes at her eyes, grumbling nonsense to herself as she finally reaches the complex. She parks in a spot somewhat close to her building, and grabs her things before she’s rushing up to the apartment and out of the cold.

She doesn’t care that she just drops her bag on the floor. Nor does she care that her shoes are out of place next to the bag. She takes her coat off and hangs it up with her scarf, then makes her way to her room to change.

She decides not to make dinner, and sits down on the couch, staring at her phone. Her heart pounds loudly in her ears, and her eyes land on a Snezhnayan coin sitting on her coffee table. She leans forward to pick it up, running her fingers over it in her hands a few times.

Heads, I’ll act like nothing happened last night. Tails, I’ll bring it up and ask him what’s wrong.

She takes a deep breath, flipping it in the air and letting it land on the table. She bites her lip as she looks down at the coin.

Tails.

Chapter Text

“Fuck, why did I say that?”

“Did she say “I love you” back?”

“Yes, but she probably felt pressured to say it because I made shit awkward,” Tartaglia groans, dropping his head into his hands.

“Maybe she actually does love you,” Mikhail shrugs, tossing a card into the pile. Alexei frowns, picking up all the cards in the pile.

“You didn’t see the way she looked at me, Mikhail,” Tartaglia shakes his head, setting his cards face down in front of him. He reaches for the pack of cigarettes on the table, grabbing one and lighting it up. He takes a deep breath, exhaling the smoke. “She looked at me like I told her I was in the mafia.”

“Does she know you’re in the mafia?” Mikhail draws more cards to fill his hand.

“No! Ugh, that’s not the point, here,” Tartaglia throws his head back, leaning back in the chair. He taps his fingers on the wooden table in frustration. “She didn’t seem very thrilled that I suddenly said I love you. It’s probably still too soon for that. I just barely realized it myself that I love her.”

“Have you talked to her since?”

“No,” Tartaglia sighs, reaching for his glass of vodka. He takes a long drink as Mikhail throws down another card. Alexei throws one down, too.

“Why not?” Alexei glances over at him quizzically, cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth.

“Maybe you should,” Mikhail interjects, using his free hand to take a drink of his own glass of vodka.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You? Not knowing what to say?” Mikhail says sarcastically, leaning forward on his elbows. “That’s a first.”

Tartaglia rolls his eyes, flicking ash into the ash tray between him and Alexei. Mikhail frowns at Tartaglia’s lack of response.

“Damn, no snarky comeback? Not even a Fuck you?” Mikhail leans back, looking back down at his cards. He huffs, tossing a card into the pile. “You’re really not acting like yourself, comrade.”

“I know,” Tartaglia exasperates, taking a drag from the cigarette. “I haven’t been feeling like myself for a while.”

Alexei clicks his tongue, tossing a card into the pile. “Is it Pantalone getting to you? Or your girl?”

“Fucking both,” he runs his free hand through his hair, pulling his bangs back away from his eyes. “Once I realized she was special to me, everything looks different. And I fucking hate it. Makes me feel weak.”

“Daww, Boss is experiencing love for the first time,” Mikhail teases, folding his hand and setting the cards face down in front of him. He waves at Alexei to pass, and Alexei discards the pile. Tartaglia’s face turns red as he glares, grabbing his glass to down the vodka. “She seems like a lovely woman. Why are you so upset?”

“I’m fucking Tartaglia, Mikhail. My name strikes fear into Snezhnayan men’s hearts. I’m a bloodthirsty mafia boss who enjoys killing and torturing my clients. A man with unimaginable wealth and power,” Tartaglia throws his arms out to his sides dramatically, cigarette between his fingers. “For a man like me to fall in love with a sweet little sheep like her is unthinkable.”

“Even the most brutal bosses have husbands and wives,” Alexei shrugs, drawing cards to fill his hand. Mikhail does the same.

“Not me,” Tartaglia huffs, breathing in smoke as Mikhail pushes the bottle of vodka closer to him. Tartaglia pours another glass. “I’m the type of man who takes pretty women out to get shit faced and have sex at the end of the night. The women I’ve been with are one night stands, or occasional longer flings. We drink and do drugs and fuck. Not this- romantic shit I should be doing for her.”

“I shouldn’t be in a serious relationship like this. I’m a mobster, for fucks sake. She would probably run for the hills if she found out what I really do for work,” Tartaglia takes a drink as Alexei plays a card. Tartaglia picks up his cards and tosses one without really thinking. “She’s too innocent for a man like me.”

“I don’t think innocence has anything to do with it,” Mikhail replies seriously, draping an arm over the back of his chair. “You’re scared. You’re scared of loving her. Why?”

“She’s not meant for a life like mine,” Tartaglia sighs, leaning forward on his elbow and resting his chin on his palm. “I thought I would just have some fun with her because she’s beautiful and foreign and I was infatuated, but once it hit me that I loved her, I don’t know. It’s even worse now that I fucking said it to her.”

Alexei plays a card while Mikhail looks at him curiously. Tartaglia shakes his head.

“You know what? I’m just going to pretend that I never said that,” Tartaglia tosses a card on top of Alexei’s.

“Probably a little late for that now, considering you didn’t say anything to her all day,” Mikhail hums, taking a drink from his glass.

“That won’t stop me,” Tartaglia snuffs his cigarette out as Alexei plays the next card. He defends with a trump card, and Alexei passes. The pile is discarded, and no more cards are left to be drawn.

“So what are you gonna do, then? Act like nothing happened, keep calling her pet names and getting her drunk?” Mikhail asks, dragging his finger lazily around the rim of the glass. Tartaglia tosses a card into the middle, staring at Mikhail with dull eyes.

“Yeah. That’s the type of person I am, remember?” Tartaglia glances over at the window where snow starts to collect along the bottom. I’m a bad guy. “I get girls drunk and hooked on me because I’m powerful and attractive.”

“So unromantic,” Mikhail teases, defending by placing another card. Tartaglia throws down a new card, looking back at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What would you know about romance?” Tartaglia quips back. Alexei just watches with mild amusement as the two go back and forth. “You haven’t even tried to pursue that fish shop girl.”

“I told you I was trying to take it slow!” Mikhail scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully. “Gods though, Tartaglia, the least you could do is take her somewhere nice. Relationships aren’t all getting drunk and getting laid.”

“I’ve heard,” Tartaglia grumbles as Mikhail plays another card.

“You know, if you don’t think this is the life for her, why not break things off?” Alexei asks, reaching to take a drink of his neglected vodka.

“I thought about it,” Tartaglia stares down at the pile sadly. He shakes his head, taking another card and playing it. “I really did.”

“But?”

Tartaglia sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “I’ve grown to enjoy her company. It hurts me to let her go. It hurts to love her and it hurts to let her go. I’m a selfish bastard. Even if it’s not the life she deserves I still want her for myself.”

“Love is a complicated thing,” Mikhail tosses another card into the pile. “Makes even the most composed people act like fools. Not to say you’ve ever been a composed man, Tartaglia.”

“Shut up,” Tartaglia rolls his eyes, throwing down his last card. He leans back in the chair, folding his arms over his chest as Mikhail discards the cards in the pile. “As if you aren’t a fool yourself, Mikhail.”

“I am,” he admits, smirking as he places another card. “But the difference between us is I’m willing to admit it.”

“Whatever,” Tartaglia grumbles, taking another drink from his glass. Alexei places a trump card on top of Mikhail’s. “I’ll do what I do best— ignore the issue until it grows too big that I have to deal with it.”

“You’ll have to make a decision eventually.”

“A decision for my future self to make,” he huffs, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. “It was a mistake bringing this up with you two. You didn’t help at all.”

“You were expecting us to?” Alexei raises an eyebrow as Mikhail plays his next card. He plays a higher card.

“Would have been nice,” Tartaglia replies sarcastically, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Hey, I tried to help! I told you to try being more romantic,” Mikhail points a finger at Tartaglia. “And I said she probably feels the same way.”

“You wouldn’t know.”

“Neither would you, apparently,” Mikahil rolls his eyes, tossing another card into the pile. Tartaglia huffs, but stays quiet in the chair. Alexei frowns and picks up all the cards, glaring over at Mikhail. Mikhail only smirks, tossing down his last card triumphantly.

“Haha, you’re durak, again,” Mikhail laughs, holding his hand out in front of him. “Pay up, loser.”

Alexei huffs, taking a few bills from his pocket and smacking them into Mikhail’s hands. “I don’t know why I play these games with you.”

Tartaglia feels a smile tug at his lips as he sits back upright, reaching for his glass. Despite the fact the two didn’t really help him at all, he did feel a little lighter playing card games with them. He couldn’t remember the last time the three of them met up like this to play durak. Usually the three of them were always too busy handling their own fatui business respectively.

“Oh, don’t act like you hate playing. You just hate losing,” Mikhail teases, hand resting on his glass. Alexei rolls his eyes.

“Whatever. You know, when I play with Viktor and Sergiu I don’t lose,” Alexei raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat. “But with you, I do. Maybe you’re a cheating bastard.”

“I’m offended you would even make that accusation,” Mikhail gasps, bringing a hand to his chest dramatically. “In front of the boss, too? I would never.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You just don’t want to admit that I’m better than you,” Mikhail replies smugly, swirling his glass.

“You both realize that I was the first one to get rid of all my cards, right?” Tartaglia chuckles, crossing his arms. “So that technically I’m the winner?”

“Ah, yeah. But you know we don’t play like that!” Mikhail rubs the back of his head with a smile. “We play with losers.”

“Yeah, I know,” Tartaglia shakes his head, smile ever present. “Just don’t want you two to forget that I’m here, too.”

“We would never.”

Tartaglia is about to say something when his phone rings, interrupting his train of thought. Mikhail smiles knowingly as Tartaglia takes out his phone and looks down at the contact on the screen.

(Y/N)

Tartaglia frowns and throws his coat on, grabbing the pack of cigarettes and the lighter from the table. He heads out to the backyard, quickly lighting up a cigarette. He picks up the phone. “Ah, hey.”

“Hey,” she swallows thickly, playing with her hair. “Um, is something wrong? You haven’t said anything to me all day.”

Tartaglia sighs, breath visible in the cold. She can’t stop herself from babbling on, biting her nails anxiously. “You’ve probably been busy with work and just haven’t had time, I don’t know. I just thought that because of last night, maybe…”

“Relax, (Y/N),” he shakes his head, crossing one arm over his chest. He takes a deep breath of smoke.

Mikhail and Alexei are standing by the back door, listening intently to his conversation.

“Nothing is wrong,” Tartaglia looks up at the clouds, feeling snow fall on his face. “You’re right, I’ve been busy with work and haven’t had a chance to check my phone.” He lies, leaning back against the wall of the house.

“And about last night,” he pauses, flicking ash to the ground. “Don’t worry about it. When I have a little more time to myself, we can go out to dinner. Or meet at the bar. Whatever you’d like to do.”

“I’d like that,” she stands by the window, watching the snow fall and gather on the window. She gnaws on her lip, eyes drifting to the floor. “You’re sure everything is okay?”

“Of course, my love,” he says it casually, but the expression on his face is pained as the words pass his lips. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know, you just seem,” she pauses, trying to find the right word. “ Off. ”

“I told you, I’m fine-“

“Then can we meet? Please?”

He freezes, nearly dropping the cigarette from between his fingers. He closes his eyes, huffing a sigh of frustration. “You don’t believe me?”

“I do! I do,” she replies frantically, squeezing her arm to ground herself. “You just seemed so tense when you left last night, I-“

“I said it’s fine,” he says a little too harshly, practically crushing the cigarette in his hand. She goes quiet, and he realizes his mistake. He sighs, tossing the ruined cigarette to the ground. “I’m sorry. I’m just really stressed out with work right now. I can’t meet you tonight, but maybe another day, okay?”

“Okay,” she deflates, feeling a knot start to form in her throat. She runs a hand through her hair as she wills tears away. She just wanted to see for herself that things weren’t messed up or different now. She has her answers now, she thinks.

“Don’t be sad,” he mutters, knowing by the tone of her voice that he upset her. Why do I keep ruining everything? “We’ll see each other again soon, after I get a handle on things at work.”

Another bold-faced lie.

“Promise?”

The breath is almost knocked out of his lungs, and he chews on the inside of his cheek as he hesitates. “Yeah. I promise. So don’t be sad. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah,” she nods, even though he can’t see her. “I…”

I love you.

“I’ll talk to you later, then. Good luck with work,” she steadies her voice. “Goodnight, Ajax.”

“Goodnight, love.”

I love you.

She hangs up first, and he sighs, turning to go inside. He sees Alexei and Mikhail standing by the back door, pretending like they weren’t eavesdropping on him.

“It’s rude to eavesdrop on other’s private conversations,” Tartaglia rolls his eyes, walking past them back into the dining room where they’d been playing card games.

“Why did you lie to her?” Mikhail asks, following him as Alexei shuts the back door.

“It’s easier than admitting the real problem.”

“Putting it off is going to make it more difficult to deal with later,” Mikhail shrugs. Tartaglia takes off his coat and drapes it over the back of the chair, slumping into it. “Why not just rip the bandaid off now?”

“I don’t want to deal with it now,” Tartaglia puts the pack of cigarettes back on the table. He frowns, crossing one leg over the other. “I’d prefer to not deal with it at all.”

“The world doesn’t work that way,” Mikhail sighs, walking up behind Tartaglia and swiping the cigarettes off the table. He takes one out and lights it for himself, then tosses the pack back onto the table.

“Then at least let me fucking think before I have to face the problem,” Tartaglia leans his head back to look up at his friend.

“Are you really going to think about it, though?” Mikhail puffs a sigh of smoke as Alexei joins them at the table, taking a seat where he’d been sitting before. Mikhail puts a hand on the back of Tartaglia’s chair and leans against it. “Or are you going to avoid it altogether until you can’t ignore it anymore, because that’s what you do?”

Tartaglia bites the inside of his cheek, crossing his arms as he continues to look up at Mikhail with narrowed eyes. His silence tells Mikhail all he needs to know. “Honestly, I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal out of this.”

“It’s all new to me and I don’t know what to make of it, okay?”

People like me aren’t meant to fall in love.

“You’ll figure it out,” Mikhail walks away, grabbing the bottle of vodka while the cigarette hangs from his mouth. He refills Tartaglia’s glass and takes it in his hands, passing it back to him. “You always do. Even if it’s too late by then.”

Chapter Text

Tartaglia taps his finger on the glass, scowling deeply at the clear liquid. Liliya called while he was in his office to tell him there was an important client that wanted to meet with him in the back of the Ice Spire nightclub. Of course he went, believing it to be true, only to be met with Nadiya, Liliya, Sergiu and Viktor partying in the club.

I can’t believe I fell for that.

“Boss, you need to lighten up!” Nadiya playfully nudges Tartaglia’s side, grinning at his resulting glare. “We invited you out to let loose a little and you’ve been sulking over here all by your lonesome.”

“You mean tricked me into coming here.”

“Don’t be a buzzkill!” She scolds, dramatically rolling her eyes in motion with her whole head. “Come on, I have something fun for you.”

He raises a brow as she opens her hand, two little colored tablets sitting in her palm. He takes the little pink colored tablet from Nadiya, downing it easily. She takes the other one, tapping Tartaglia’s arm to have him follow her. He slips out of his seat at the bar and downs the last of his vodka before he joins her and the others on the dance floor, scowl ever present on his face.

“Yikes, Sir, if looks could kill,” Viktor teases, even though he knows damn well that Tartaglia  is not in the mood.

“Come on, Sir! Relax!” Sergiu sways drunkenly, reaching a hand out to Viktor to steady himself. Tartaglia huffs, feeling slight amusement creep in past his initial irritation. “Think you need it more than any of us!”

“Whatever,” Tartaglia drawls, rolling his eyes as he takes in the atmosphere on the dance floor.

People are dancing and laughing, pushed close together as music blares loudly through the speakers of the club. Sergiu breaks off from Viktor to flirt with the drunk girls on the dance floor, while Nadiya and Liliya dance together and sway to the beat.

Tartaglia feels increasingly warm and fuzzy, with a sudden burst of energy hitting him. He runs a hand up through his bangs, feeling sweat gather on his forehead. He sighs blissfully, a wild grin finding its way onto his face.

“Feeling better, Boss?” Viktor hums, smirking at the change in Tartaglia’s demeanor. Tartaglia huffs a laugh, ruffling his ginger hair with a nod. Viktor sighs contently, closing his eyes as he moves his head along to the music.

About fucking time. Tartaglia’s been so tense lately.

Nadiya turns around from her place on the dance floor and frowns, skipping over to Tartaglia and grabbing his wrist roughly. “Come on, pretty boy! Party’s over here!”

She drags him onto the dance floor and shoves him, cackling as he stumbles and catches himself before he bumps into a scantily dressed woman. Sergiu is close by, both arms wrapped around two different very intoxicated women. They’re giggling and nuzzling against him, and Sergiu has a satisfied smile on his face. His hands rest on both women’s’ hips.

Everyone around him is dancing wildly, chanting and singing along to the loud punk music. It reminds him of the night he brought (Y/N) to the Aurora.

Nadiya grabs Tartaglia’s hand and starts dancing with him before she lets go, twirling around until she falls dizzily into Liliya’s arms.

Nadiya giggles and turns around to grab Liliya’s hand. Liliya spins around with her as Nadiya laughs loudly. Liliya has a neutral expression as she twirls Nadiya, dancing recklessly to the booming music.

Tartaglia laughs, throwing his head back.

“I feel so alive!” He exclaims, throwing his arms out to his sides as he looks up at the dancing lights above him. The colors were so vibrant, neon pinks and purples mingling with blues and greens.

He revels in this feeling. The atmosphere, the lights, the music, the warmth flooding his entire body, everything.

Tartaglia slips away from the crowd to get a drink at the bar, nearly falling over himself as he does. He catches himself on the bar, huffing as the bar looks blurry. He chuckles, dropping his head onto the cool wood bar top.

The bartender knows exactly what to get him, and fetches a new glass of premium vodka.

Viktor offers Tartaglia a cigarette, one that he gladly takes and lights up. “You should probably drink some water instead, boss.”

“I’ll be fine,” Tartaglia breathes, reaching for the glass after the bartender sets it down. “Not like this is anything new to me.”

“Won’t your girl be worried?”

“Not if she doesn’t know.”

Viktor hums, but leaves it at that. He looks over at the other side of the club as Tartaglia sways in his seat, taking heavy drinks of his vodka and puffing the cigarette.

“Why aren’t Mikhail and Alexei here, too?” Tartaglia asks, not even looking up from his glass. “Don’t they usually join you four on your little—“ he waves his hand around, smoke from his cigarette trailing the movement. “— escapades? ”

“Busy with work,” Viktor replies, glancing back at Tartaglia with a raised brow. “Why? You miss them?”

“Haha!” Tartaglia laughs, but doesn’t respond to such a question. Viktor doesn’t need an answer. He can tell by the way he asked where the two were that the answer was yes .

A party isn’t a party without Mikhail.

Tartaglia finishes his cigarette and snuffs it in the ashtray in front of him. He looks up and stares at the neon lights for a moment, watching the colors shift and move.

How long has it been? It feels like he’s been high for hours, now.

Nadiya finally saunters over to the bar, leaving Liliya to “flirt” with— intimidate— a man on the dance floor that came on to her. Some men love scary women that could easily beat the shit out of them.

Nadiya hops up into the seat next to Tartaglia, the one Viktor had just vacated to drag a very intoxicated Sergiu off the dance floor and promptly home.

“Why are you so worried, Boss?” Nadiya slurs, crossing her arms as she looks at him through narrowed eyes. “You’ve never been this concerned, as long as I’ve known you.”

“I don’t fuckin’ know,” Tartaglia hums, smirking up at the neon lights. “Honestly. I’m a powerful fuckin’ man. Have everything I want in the palms of my hands. I handle everything swiftly and effectively and perfectly. Under my leadership we are thriving. I command respect and adoration.”

“Yep!” She chirps from beside him. “So why don’t you go fix it?”

“Go fix it?”

“Things with (Y/N)! Show her what you’re made of! How lucky she is to have you, Mr. Perfect,” Nadiya shoves him with a stupid grin. “God, I know you’re powerful but you sure are dumb sometimes.”

Tartaglia sighs wistfully, closing his eyes. “She is lucky to have me, isn’t she?”

Nobody else can treat her better than I can. No one else can give her the world like I can. No one deserves her more than me.

“You’re right, Nadiya,” Tartaglia takes a deep breath of the smoky air of the club. “I’ll go message her.”

He makes his way through the club to the back, down the hall to the bathroom. Tartaglia pushes the door open, stumbling inside. There are long red lights lined on the long side of every mirror, illuminating the entire bathroom in an ambient red glow.

He leans against the sink with a grin, pulling out his phone.

Ajax: (Y/N), my love! I’m heading over to your place, so if you haven’t left the office yet you better do so.

Ajax: You don’t want me to freeze to death out there all alone while waiting for you, right? Haha.

(Y/N): Of course I don’t! I’m leaving now so take your time, please?

Ajax: Hmm, I don’t know sweetheart. I’m so excited I might just speed to get to you.

(Y/N): Don’t drive recklessly! Be safe for me, okay?

Ajax: I’m joking! So serious~

Ajax: Be safe as well, lovely. I’ll see you soon.

Tartaglia chuckles as he pockets his phone again. He takes a look in the mirror to fix his crooked suit and messy hair. His bangs are stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his cheeks are flushed red. His eyes are wide and dilated, the blue of his irises almost completely consumed by the black of his pupils. He turns on the sink and splashes cool water in his face, rubbing his cheeks furiously with his palms.

He takes a deep breath before leaving the bathroom, walking by Nadiya at the bar. He tosses some bills onto the top to pay for his drinks. “Thanks for the invitation , Nadiya. I’m going to my girlfriend’s now.”

“Sure you don’t want to call Misha to pick you up? Probably not safe for you to drive like—“ she gestures to his disheveled appearance, “— that .”

“He’s busy. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’ve done worse,” Tartaglia huffs, turning away with a wave. “See you around.”

“Be safe, you stupid bastard!”

Tartaglia sways and stumbles out to his car, feeling the cold air nip at his skin. Snow crunches beneath his feet, and the sweat on his face feels like it freezes to ice. He slumps into the driver seat and turns the heat on low, just enough that he doesn’t freeze to death, but not too much as he already felt warm.

In a matter of minutes, the car is warm and he begins his drive to (Y/N)’s apartment. The Ice Spire was a lot closer to her apartment than the Aurora, being located in his territory. It wouldn’t take long at all for him to make it there.

The world almost feels like it’s spinning around him, and the lights from the street lamps dance along the dashboard as he drives. Jazz rock similar to the music at the tavern that night they went home together plays over his speakers, reminding him of how sweet her lips felt against his that night. Oh how he wanted to feel that again.

His fingers tap along to the beat as he sings along to the words, voice slurring slightly as he does. Despite the coolness inside the car, he feels so hot. His palms were slick with sweat against the steering wheel, his face flushed red from heat. He had the window down like a madman in the cold Snezhnayan winter night just to cool himself down. His scarf was discarded on the passenger seat beside him.

It feels like a while, but isn’t long at all before he pulls into a spot in the parking lot of her apartment complex. He shakes out his fluffy hair, only making it more of a mess before he gets out of the car.

Ajax happily rushes up the stairs to her apartment, knocking a little too enthusiastically. When she opens the door and starts to greet him, he interrupts her by throwing his arms around her, inhaling the scent of her shampoo as he holds her tight. She stumbles backward by the force of it, but he doesn’t let her fall.

“Ajax?”

He hums, smiling blissfully as he plants messy kisses along her neck. The open door blows cold air into her apartment, and she shivers. Her breath hitches, and she gently nudges his arms to let go. He only tightens his grip in response, nuzzling his face into her warm skin. Despite being outside in the cold, his face was surprisingly warm. “Ajax, love, I need to close the door-“

“Mm,” he grumbles something unintelligible before he lets go, moving out of her way so she could close the door. Once the door is shut and locked, he hugs her from behind, dipping down to kiss the back of her neck. She yelps in surprise, turning in his grasp.

“Ajax, what’s going on with you?” She gently pushes him away with a hand on his chest, eyebrows raised and face flushed red.

Why is he acting like this?

“What do you mean, my love?” Ajax coos as he leans in close, grinning widely. “I’m on top of the world!”

“Well, the other night you-“

“Ohhh, I was just stressed and pissed off, baby. Don’t worry about it,” he smiles disarmingly, taking her hand and bringing it up to his lips. He kisses her knuckles, then slowly trails his lips down the back of her hand to her wrist, and up her forearm.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?”

“Does it matter?” He snorts.

“It’s just that-“

“Baby, please, you worry too much,” Ajax coos, gently taking her face in his hands. “Just enjoy the time we have together, hmm? Don’t you want that?”

“Y-yeah,” she stutters, and he takes this as the go ahead to continue peppering every inch of her skin with light kisses. Her breath catches in her throat as he pulls her flush against him, almost molding himself to fit her shape perfectly.

“I-um have you eat-eaten yet?” Ajax ignores her question, burying his face into her chest, nibbling on her collar bone. Her voice cracks. “Are you- are you hungry?”

“No. Just let me get lost in you tonight,” he breathes, squeezing her hips as he drags his nose along her exposed skin. “ Please. ”

Chapter Text

Ajax mutters incoherently as he feels the other side of the bed, finding it empty yet still slightly warm. He groans as he blinks the exhaustion from his eyes, sitting up and letting the blanket fall from his bare chest.

Outside of the window, the sky is still dark. The bedroom door is cracked open, a sliver of light from the hallway creeping into the room casting a clear line of light against the floor. Ajax rubs his face with one hand before he throws the covers off, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

He stands to leave the room quietly in search of (Y/N). In the hallway, he sees the door to the bathroom shut with light peeking from the crack underneath the door. He quietly knocks before pushing the door open, stepping in.

She glances at Ajax in the mirror as he comes up from behind to wrap his arms softly around her waist. He drops his head onto her shoulder, unruly hair tickling her jaw as he does.

She’s already dressed in her office uniform, hair still wet as she brushes her teeth. She uses her free hand to rest atop his hands, tilting her head to the side as she finishes up. She leans forwardover the sink, pulling away from Ajax to spit the toothpaste into the sink.

“You’re ready for work already?” Ajax grumbles, pouting as she turns around to give a soft peck to his cheek. “The sun hasn’t even come up yet.”

“I have to go in early to finish up the draft for Northland Bank. Donovan wants to send it to you today.”

“And if I give him an extra day? Then will you stay with me longer?”

She snorts, shaking her head. “Ajax, I would love to stay with you all day, but Donovan would bite my head off if I delay this project any longer. I would like to keep my job, thank you.”

That worthless fuck keeps getting in my way.

“Let’s have dinner tonight, so I can make it up to you?” She suggests, smoothing down his messy hair. Ajax shuts his eyes contently as he enjoys the feeling of her fingers in his hair. “Maybe Donovan will give me a bonus for fixing his mistakes and I can pay this time!”

“I would never ask you to pay for dinner, lovely,” Ajax coos, bringing a hand up to gently graze her cheek. “Your presence alone is enough for me.”

“So you will have dinner with me?”

“Of course. I would love to have dinner with you,” Ajax sighs, leaning down to give her a soft kiss to her lips. “I’ll make reservations on my break, and pick you up after work. How’s that sound?”

“That sounds perfect, Ajax,” she runs a hand up through his hair, pushing his bangs out of his face. “Now get dressed! I have to leave soon if I want to make it to work on time.”

He frowns, watching her pull away to blow dry her hair. She’s so quick to get rid of me. He pushes the thought away as he goes back to her bedroom, picking up his shed clothes and slipping them on.

Is it so wrong to want her all to myself? Ajax glares at the floor as he buttons his shirt halfway, before getting frustrated and leaving the rest open. Maybe if she lost her job she would be all mine.

He scratches his head furiously, shaking his head. His hair only becomes more of a mess. Don’t make her lose her job. That’s fucked up.

“Ajax, sweetheart?” Her voice calls from the doorway, and he turns to face her. Sweetheart . His heart pounds loudly against his ribcage. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, baby,” up goes that facade. He walks toward her, placing a kiss on her forehead before he walks past her to go down the hall to the living room. “Riling myself up before work.”

“I’m sorry I have to go to work so early today,” she sighs as she follows him to the door, slipping her shoes on as he slips on his. “I’m hoping that work will get a little easier now that I’ve proved myself.”

“It’s alright, darling,” he huffs, reaching out to grab his coat that was haphazardly thrown over the couch last night. Ugh, last night. What a fucking mess I’ve made of things. “No more excuses tonight, though. ‘Kay?”

“Yeah, okay,” she nods, eyes dropping to the floor as she grabs her own coat, hanging on the rack. “I said I’d make it up to you. And I will. I’ll try.”

“Good. I’ll see you tonight, then. Get off work on time,” Ajax crosses his arms. “Even if you have more work to finish. Reservations have a specific time, you know.”

“Yeah, I will. I’ll kill Donovan if I have to,” she jokes as she wraps her scarf around her neck, not noticing how Ajax’s eyes darken a fraction.

“I’ll help you hide the body,” he coos, eyelids drooping. She laughs, shaking her head as she grabs her keys and bag. “Quite the date idea. I didn’t know you roll like that.”

“Oh, ha-ha,” she laughs dryly, rolling her eyes as she opens the door. Ajax follows her out of the apartment, waiting for her as she locks the door. “No matter what, though, I’ll be here on time for you to pick me up. I don’t want to miss another night with you.”

His heart swells with affection as he gives her one last hug before walking down the stairs and parting ways with her. Yeah, neither would I.

The drive to work is quiet and lonely, not many cars out at this hour. It’s freezing, and snow is consistently falling around her. Thankfully, it’s not so hard that she cannot see in front of her.

She felt a little guilty leaving Ajax like that this morning after seeing his kicked puppy expression. She reasoned with herself that it was for the project, that it was for the Bank, and by extension Ajax. Yet deep down she knew she couldn’t really justify it. Ajax didn’t care about the project as much as he cared about her, and being with her. And Gods know that the company doesn’t care about her so why should she care?

She pushes the thought from her mind as she parks her car at the office, the first and only one there right now. If she could finish the draft before Donovan came into work maybe she could finally get a promotion, and less work. Maybe she would finally be free to spend more time with Ajax, if his work permitted it.

She rushes up to the office and unlocks the door with her key, quick to get out of the cold. She would be working nonstop on the draft for hours before anyone else came in. She might even get some of her other work done and take some load off of Nikolai’s shoulders.

She sits down at her desk and gets to work, typing away in the dim light of the office. She’s so absorbed in the work that she fails to notice when her other coworkers start to trickle in, settling in at their desks and completing their tasks. It’s only when Nikolai stops at her desk to greet her for the morning that she finally looks up.

“Early start this morning, (Y/N)?”

“Yeah, had to finish the Northland Bank project draft for Donovan. I’m just about to send it,” she sighs, rubbing her eyes.

“I bet Tartaglia is stoked, huh?”

“Hardly,” she huffs, tilting her head from side to side to get rid of the stiffness in her neck. “He didn’t want me to leave this morning.”

“You decided not to stay with him?”

“Donovan would have been pissed off if I didn’t finish the project before he came in this morning.”

“I don’t know why you let Donovan dictate your life so much,” Nikolai sighs, shaking his head in disappointment. “You’re dating one of the most powerful men in Snezhnaya and you’re afraid of Donovan of all people? Tartaglia could squash him like a bug.”

“I would rather not have to rely on Tartaglia to solve all of my problems,” she mutters, gaze falling to her desk. “I don’t want it to seem like I’m needy or incapable of handling things myself. And I don’t want him to think that I’m with him because he’s powerful. I know I’ve said it a lot but I really mean it. I love him as he is, not for what he’s capable of.”

“Yeah, but you know, it’s okay to lean on him sometimes,” Nikolai shrugs. “Like when your boss puts impossible standards on you and works you to death. Nobody would blame you for going to Tartaglia for help, then.”

“I guess,” she shakes her head, turning back to her computer before shooing off Nikolai with a wave. “Okay, okay, I need to finish this now. Come back later to talk.”

“Alright, sheesh.” Nikolai laughs as he turns away.

It’s not even an hour after Nikolai sauntered up to her desk that she sends over the draft to Donovan. He sends her back a message to reach out to other clients and start reorganizing the files in her cabinets. She glares at the message, feeling her fingers twitch. Back to the same old bullshit again, huh.

It’s hours of mindless work before Donovan sends her another message, this time requesting her to go to his office. She stands up from her desk and locks the monitor before she heads for his office, mind swimming with possibilities.

Did Ajax reject the proposal and pull out? Am I going to lose my job? What if Ajax hated the new draft? Oh, maybe it will be good news. I hope it’s good news.

“You asked me to come in?”

“Yes. Have a seat.” She sits down on the chair in front of his desk. Donovan sighs, removing his glasses to wipe the lenses before placing them back on his face.

“Good work, (Y/N). Tartaglia accepted the project you reworked for me.” He leans back, eyes level and expression neutral. “Now I just need to appoint a team to put the project into motion.”

“Great.” She nods, hands resting calmly in her lap. “Am I going to lead this project?”

“No. Anatoly will be leading the project.”

“What? why?” She frowns, furrowing her brows. “Haven’t I proven that I’m good enough to lead this project? I was the only one you could trust to fix the Northland Bank project draft!”

“Just because you are good at fixing drafts does not mean that you can successfully lead a project, especially one as important as this.”

“Oh, but you think Anatoly can?” She scoffs, narrowing her eyes. “I’m sorry, but that’s bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Donovan.” She sneers, standing up from the chair to tower over him. Her fingers twitch as she holds herself back from slamming her hands on his desk in rage. Stay calm. Violence never solves anything. “Anatoly is the least qualified person to be leading this project. He’s lazy! He doesn’t care about this company or its projects. Nor does he care about the Northland bank. If you aren’t going to appoint me to lead this project, then at least have Tatiana or Nikolai lead instead.”

“Nikolai is from marketing. He is hardly the man to be leading an investment project like this one.”

“Tatiana, then.”

“She is lazy as well. Anatoly works harder than she does.”

“Why do you keep making excuses for him?”

“I’m not.”

“Bullshit! All he does is watch football in his office! He gives me all the drafts to fix and pushes all of his other work onto other people,” she argues, crossing her arms. “As the department manager you should know that, and if you don’t, then it’s because you’re a shit manager!”

“How dare you say that to me, (Y/N).”

“Oh, you’re just offended because deep down you know it. You know that you’re a fucking awful manager. So what, then? You appoint Anatoly to such important projects and threaten me because you’re trying to fuck the company over?” Her voice cracks as her blood starts to boil. “What is it? Anatoly has blackmail on you or something?”

“You’ve got quite the mouth, don’t you?” Donovan huffs, patience wearing thin. “Is it because of Tartaglia? Is that why you feel you can get away with saying whatever you want? Knowing damn well I can’t do anything while you’re dating that man?”

“No,” she laughs bitterly, clenching her fists. “It’s because I’m tired of being treated like shit because I’m not Snezhnayan. You all treat me like garbage because I let you. But not anymore.”

“If you don’t like it, then you can leave.”

“Your company wouldn’t survive without me. You know it won’t. I’m better than everyone here and you know it. That’s why you talk down to me. Because you can’t stand that a Mondstadter is better than you.”

“Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better about yourself. But I would never be jealous of a Mondstadter like you.”

“Go ahead and appoint Anatoly to lead this project, then,” she spits, digging her nails into her palms painfully. “Just know when you come begging for me to fix his mistakes so that Northland bank doesn’t pull out of the investment, I won’t help you. You will be on your own. So if you really trust him, then by all means.”

She leaves Donovan‘s office, storming angrily back to her desk. She knew she should go to Nikolai’s desk and pick up all her previous work, but she was so angry she knew she might just snap at him and poor Nikolai didn’t deserve to get the brunt of her rage.

She sits down in that broken chair, sinking into the fucked up cushions as she stares at her reflection in the dark monitor. She needed to do something about her work, but honestly right now she couldn’t be bothered. Right now I just want to fucking scream.

Nikolai walks by her desk, noticing her sour expression.

“Did something happen?”

“The usual,” she sighs, rolling her eyes as she looks up from her bleak expression in the monitor. “Me getting absolutely shafted.”

“Damn. Do you want to talk about it?”

She huffs, a small smile finding its way onto her face. She grabs her coat from the chair. “Yeah, sure. Need a break anyway.”

“Why the jacket?”

“We’re going outside.”

“Oh, for a smoke break?” They circle around the office to his desk to grab his jacket, before they head out of the office. “Aha, I didn’t take you for a smoker.”

“I’m not,” she sighs as the cold air hits her, and she nuzzles her face into the fluff of her hood. “But it was getting stuffy in there and I’m pissed off and I’d rather not have all our fucking piece of shit coworkers hear me bitch about that fucking loser boss.”

“Damn,” Nikolai mutters as he pulls out a pack from his pocket, taking out a cigarette to light it. He honestly didn’t know what else to say. “Sure you don’t want one?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“So, what happened, anyway? Is it about the Northland Project?”

“Yeah,” she grumbles as she leans against the wall next to Nikolai. She looks up at the cold gray sky, watching small flakes fall. “Good for you, though. I get to take back all the work I was doing before so you don’t have to do it anymore.”

“Well, I didn’t really mind honestly. You aren’t leading the project?”

“Of course not. Donovan trusts Anatoly more than anyone else. I even told him to appoint you or Tatiana over him if he wasn’t going to appoint me, and he refused.”

“Why did you mention me?”

“Because you work just as hard as I do, and I trust that you would do the Northland project justice,” she sighs, clenching her fists in her pockets as she idly kicks snow beneath their feet. “Anatoly is going to fuck it up. And when he does, I won’t bail them out this time.”

“Tartaglia isn’t going to like that.”

“No, he isn’t. But it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to force Donovan to appoint me instead. It would be an abuse of his power.”

“It would benefit Northland bank, and the company if you did. So is it really an abuse of power, then?”

“It would still be, yes.”

“Even if it helped the company overall?” He puffs out a breath of smoke, flicking ash to the ground.

“It doesn’t matter. Clearly the company means nothing to Donovan. I don’t think the company means anything to anyone, really.”

“Does it mean something to you?”

“The project does.”

“I think you should talk to him about it.” Nikolai takes another drag, shrugging.

“I told you I don’t want to ask Tartaglia for help.” She exasperates, leaning the back of her head against the cold wall. “Things are already kind of fucked up between us right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I asked him what was wrong like you said and ever since he’s been acting strange.”

“Strange?” He raises a brow, looking at her confused.

“Yeah. When I talked to him at first, he was pissed. He yelled at me,” she sighs, eyes downcast at the snow covered concrete. “But then last night, he came over and he was almost manic. He told me he was just stressed, but I don’t know if I believe that. There was this look in his eyes, I don’t know.”

“He probably is just stressed out. He’s a vice president,” Nikolai flicks more ash to the ground, waving with the cigarette between his fingers. “I imagine that job must be difficult, especially since Northland is Snezhnaya’s main bank.”

“I guess you’re right, but I don’t want to stress him out more by telling him they appointed Anatoly to oversee the project.”

“He’ll find out eventually,” Nikolai shakes his head, watching cars pass by on the road. “Finding out later might be more stress on him.”

“So you think I should tell him?” She looks over at Nikolai, who has a serious look on his face. It doesn’t feel like him at all.

“Yeah. And if you don’t want to make him appoint you instead, then have him tell Donovan to appoint someone competent, not lazy.”

“Who else would he appoint instead of Anatoly? He already refused to appoint you.” She mutters, frowning.

“There are other people besides me and Tatiana. I’m sure he could find someone more competent than Anatoly of all people.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“I am right.” He smirks, tossing the butt to the floor and snuffing it out with the tip of his shoe. “Now come on, you’re gonna freeze out here if we stay still any longer, Mondstadter.”

“Shut up,” she shoves him, turning to go back inside. He catches the small smile on her face, and laughs as he jogs to catch up.

She picks up the documents from Nikolai’s desk before going back to her own, getting back to work, albeit reluctantly. She was still pissed off at being slighted again, but her conversation with Nikolai did make her feel a little better.

And, she decided if the company would continue to not value her or her hard work, then everyone could drown. She wouldn’t push herself so hard anymore. And if it got her fired, well, hopefully Ivanovich Inc would burn to the fucking ground.

She flipped through her paperwork, but once the clock struck five, she turned her monitor off and left the rest of her paperwork on her desk untouched. She grabs her coat and scarf, sending a quick text to Ajax to let him know she was heading home on time for once.

He was elated.

She left the office with a smug smirk on her face, that irritation still bubbling up inside but it’s down to a simmer instead of a boil. She was so tired of getting stepped on. She worked so hard just to keep being upstaged by that lazy rat, Anatoly. It was beyond infuriating.

As soon as she steps inside her apartment, she goes to her room to get dressed. She wears one of her only nice dresses, putting on thick leggings underneath to keep herself warm.

In no time at all, Ajax is knocking on her door to escort her down to his car. He smiles warmly as she steps outside, locking the door behind her like she always does. “Beautiful as always, lovely.”

“And you’re just as handsome as the day we met,” she huffs, wrapping her arms around his as he takes her down the stairs. “I swear, is there ever a day where you don’t look like you were crafted by the Gods?”

“Haha! I don’t think I’ve heard that one before!” He cackles, almost doubling over with his laughter. “Weren’t you the one who told me I didn’t need a bigger ego?”

“W-well!” She blushes hard, looking away from him in embarrassment. “You don’t, but it’s true.”

“You’re so fucking cute.”

She gets into his car with a red face, slumping down into the seat. He slides in smoothly, starting the car and getting it warm. He grabs her hand, running his gloved thumb over her knuckles.

They’re both quiet on the drive to the restaurant. It’s a comfortable silence, one where they just enjoy the other’s presence. She enjoys the warmth she can feel seeping through their gloves where their hands are connected.

Soon, they get to the restaurant. It’s an upscale, fancy restaurant this time. She swallows thickly as she walks inside with Ajax, feeling like this is hardly a place she belongs. The place has silky red drapes on the windows, a dress code, and the tables are all full of rich Snezhnayans in fancy clothing. The closest thing she’s been to that resembled this was that damn party from months ago.

She’s never been to a fancy restaurant like this. Even during her time in Mondstadt. She couldn’t help feeling underdressed and out of place.

The hostess took their coats and walked them to their table, bowing before she left. Ajax took her seat out for her, then took his own. After the waitress took their orders and brought a bottle of wine that was pricey enough to make her head spin, they finally began their date.

“How was your day, love?”

“Ah, busy, busy,” Ajax sighs, taking a sip of his wine. His eyes are lidded as he gazes at her longingly. Honestly, he just wanted to get her home and hold her in his arms. He reaches out and takes her hand, smiling. “As always. Donovan sent me the project like you said this morning.”

“Yeah, he told me you accepted it.”

“I did. You put everything I suggested into the document perfectly. When I read it, I was so impressed,” Ajax hums, eyes almost sparkling as he praises her. She blushes, taking a drink of her own wine. “What else did Donovan say?”

“Well,” she trails off, eyes drifting away from his as she pulls her hand away. “He praised me for fixing the project, then proceeded to put me down by telling me that he would have Anatoly oversee the development of it.”

“You’re kidding?” Ajax’s face falls, eyes narrowing. She huffs a quiet, bitter laugh, and shrugs.

“Nope, that’s what he decided,” she sighs, leaning her chin on her hand. “I wanted the project to succeed, so I tried to get him to appoint Nikolai or Tatiana to lead the project instead but he refused.”

“I don’t know why he trusts Anatoly so much. Part of me feels like he only gave Anatoly that promotion and so much responsibility because he’s being blackmailed to do so,” she shakes her head, dragging her finger lazily over the base of her glass. “Or he’s purposely trying to tank the company. Why else would he constantly reward and defend someone so lazy?”

“Maybe you’re right, maybe Anatoly found out something Donovan doesn’t want to get out, and he’s forcing him to keep him in charge,” Ajax leans back in his seat, toying with the edges of the napkin in front of him. “Or, maybe he really does just want to screw over Ivanovich. Maybe he feels slighted, and wants Ivanovich to fail so he pretends like he cares, taking out his failures on you, then doing everything in his power to make bad decisions and blame everyone else for the stocks dropping.”

“Are stocks really dropping?” She asks, eyes widening. “They don’t fill me in on that sort of thing.”

“Not yet, probably not while you’re still there making them money by attracting more investors with your well written proposals.”

“Maybe that’s why he keeps telling me to quit, so the company will lose investors and Ivanovich will go bankrupt,” she muses, staring at the deep red liquid in her glass. “But then, why come to me for damage control to keep the partnership with Northland Bank if he just wants the company to fail?”

“Ivanovich probably caught wind of his fuck-up and forced him to try and save face. So his schemes to destroy the company from within wouldn’t be discovered, he had to make you fix it. After all, losing the bank as an investor would be catastrophic for Ivanovich. He clearly must be involved in his own company enough to be aware of the business dealings with Northland.”

“Did you talk to Ivanovich yourself?”

“Me? No,” Ajax laughs softly. “The CEO may have, though. He has been keeping an eye on me lately. Although, I’m unaware of his actions, and honestly he may not care much about business dealings such as this. Unless it makes a profit, he doesn’t concern himself with it.”

“He sounds like a shrewd businessman.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Ajax sneers, turning his nose up at the mention of Pantalone. “I think cunning is a bit more apt, though. Cold, calculating, heartless.”

“Well, isn’t that typical of bank owners and businessmen?” She tilts her head. His expression sours more and he huffs, looking away. “Except you, of course. I think you’re probably the only one I’ve met who genuinely cares about things.”

“Maybe that’s why I’m constantly being talked down to by Pantalone,” he mutters, frown deepening.

“Well, as far as I know Northland Bank is doing great, isn’t it? You’re doing a great job leading things here considering the CEO is always managing from Liyue,” she leans over the table to brush her fingertips over the back of his hand. “Even if it’s typical of a businessman to be cold and heartless, I think the ones that actually care like you do a much better job than them.”

“Oh, yeah? And why do you say that?” Ajax raises a brow. “Just to make me feel better?”

“No!” She exasperates, grasping his hand gently. “Okay, fine. Let me give you an example. So, Anatoly, right? He doesn’t give a shit about the company and all his project drafts are rejected by investors and clients. Now take me. I actually care about the quality of the drafts I send out, because I want to see the projects succeed. And as mean as everyone is, I do want to see Ivanovich inc succeed. You always tell me that I’m the reason stock is increasing in the company because I get people to invest. He doesn’t care, and I do. And I’m doing better than he is for that very reason. Now replace Anatoly with the CEO and me with you. Now do you see my point?”

“Yes, yes. That’s a great way of explaining things,” he laughs, nodding as the waitress brings them their food. This time, he’s the one who pulls his hand away, moving out of the way for the waitress to place down their plates. Ajax thanks her as she excuses herself, then picks up a fork to start eating.

She waits for him to start eating before she does, glancing around the restaurant to see what the proper etiquette is to eating in a fancy restaurant like this. Ajax notices, and huffs in amusement. “Baby, you eat fine. Don’t worry about all of them.”

“This restaurant is too fancy for me,” she mutters as she finally takes a bite of her food. She smooths down her napkin over her lap, chewing slowly. “I feel out of place.”

“You’re not out of place when you’re by my side, darling,” he coos, poking at the food on his plate as he watches her instead. After a few minutes, he pushes his plate away and tosses his napkin onto the table. She looks up at him, startled.

“You know what? How about we get out of here?” He smiles, tilting his head. She sets down her fork and looks at him, confused. “We can pick up some takeout, go home, and just be comfortable there? Yeah?”

“Are you sure?” She asks, voice laced with concern. “I’m okay with finishing up here, Ajax. You don’t have to change plans so suddenly just because I’m uncomfortable.”

“It’s no big deal!” Ajax chuckles, leaning back casually in his chair. “Honestly, I’ve always thought this restaurant was a little overrated. I’d rather just spend time with you alone.”

I just want you all to myself.

“Ah, well, if that’s what you want then okay,” she nods, wringing her hands together under the table. “I don’t mind either way. Whatever you want to do, love.”

“Great,” he lowers his voice, eyelids dropping. She barely catches the look on his face before he’s turning away, waving over a waitress to fetch him the check.

She stares at him, bewildered, while he finishes paying for everything. He snaps her out of it when he stands, offering her a hand. “Let’s go home, my dear.”

“Okay, love.”

Chapter Text

Donovan,

I advise you to appoint someone COMPETENT to lead the project we discussed. If this project is delayed for any longer, we at the Northland Bank will cease our partnership with Ivanovich Inc.

I believe you know just as well as I do that Ivanovich Inc. cannot afford for us to terminate our partnership and take back our investment. You would be wise to ensure that this project is carried out with absolute perfection, as outlined in the document. Otherwise, we will be forced to take action.

Email me the contact information of the person leading the project so I may discuss further issues concerning the completion of the project.

Tartaglia, VP Northland Bank.

Tartaglia huffs, leaning back in the chair at his desk after hitting “send” on the email. He shuts his eyes against the lights of his office, rubbing his temples. He could feel a headache coming on from the stress of this project.

Honestly, why did he care so much about the success of this project? If he were asked, he would say it was because Pantalone was on his ass about the bank. Ekaterina would say it was because it was (Y/N)’s project. Truthfully, it was a bit of both.

He shouldn’t be so focused on this right now, when he has to meet with the other bosses at a restaurant in the business sector of the city. If his meeting with Pantalone weeks ago was anything to go by, he was sure he would be chewed out by the others.

He huffs, pushing over some papers to clear a spot to look through the contents of fatui-related files. He takes a brief once-over of the papers in preparation for the meeting later. His eyes glance over the papers from his run-in with that shestyorka from the Vorovskoy. He groans as he tosses the file back down.

If only he’d made more progress investigating the Vorovskoy and Vee.

All this stress is really making his headache worse.

Tartaglia opens the top drawer of his desk and rifles through various drugs and papers until he grabs a little bottle of tylenol. He pours a couple of pills into his hand and downs them before he gets up, throwing his jacket on to leave his office for the meeting. He bids a quick, bland “farewell” to Ekaterina as he passes her desk.

She hums in response as she applies a fresh coat of red polish to her nail. “Good luck at the meeting, boss.”

He grumbles angrily as he walks through the bank and out the door, reveling in the sudden burst of cold against his face. Cold winter weather was always his comfort.

He slips into the driver seat and turns on the music. It plays loud through the speakers, loud enough to drown out his thoughts. He lights a cigarette while stopped at a light, smoking while he drives to the meeting. It takes him four songs before he gets to the restaurant, a nice, luxurious place fit for the most elite businessmen in Snezhnaya.

He parks the car and sits for a minute, leaning his head back against the seat. He always dreaded meetings like this one. It was the one thing he hated about being a boss. Plus, most of the other bosses— like Pantalone— were insufferable.

He finally wills himself to get out of the car and go inside the restaurant, telling himself that it’s time for a show and the sooner I go in, the sooner I can leave.

Tartaglia walks to the table at the far back of the restaurant where 5 people are already seated. An elegantly dressed blonde woman is applying deep red lipstick as she looks at her pocket mirror in her other hand. A short, navy haired man taps his fingers against the table impatiently, scowl etched into his cold features.

The two older men chat quietly about their own business, while a white haired woman looks over at where Tartaglia walks in. As he takes his seat beside her, one of the older men, Pierro, clears his throat.

“Right, now that everyone is present, we can begin,” Pierro says, a dullness to his tone. “Thank you for coming. As you can tell some of us are not in attendance today. Despite that, we will proceed as usual.”

Pierro takes out a cigar and lights it, taking a large puff. Pulcinella makes a face as smoke wafts into his face. Pierro looks cold and menacing as he addresses Tartaglia. “Tartaglia, how is business proceeding at the Northland bank?”

“Fine. Profits are steadily increasing,” Tartaglia leans back in his seat, eyeing Pierro carefully. “We have a few promising investments laid out, as well. I’ll spare you the details, but if you want me to send it to you later, I can.”

“No need. Pantalone said the same thing about the Liyue branch. It seems that both of you have it under control, then,” Pierro flicks his icy blue eyes over to Scaramouche, taking a drag of the cigar.

“Scaramouche, how is our influence in Inazuma progressing?”

“Good. Not much to say on the matter,” Scaramouche replies curtly.

“No concerns?”

“None.”

Tartaglia almost forgot how much he despised Scaramouche.

Pulcinella speaks next, looking over beside Tartaglia to address Arlecchino. “Arlecchino, do you have anything to say about your work at the House of the Hearth?” Pulcinella smiles, face wrinkling as he does. It looks friendly, but Snezhnayans know it’s deceiving. “How are the children?”

“The children are doing well,” there’s a hint of pride in her voice as she thinks of the children. Her expression betrays none of it. “However, we will need more resources allocated to the House, to ensure that the children continue to thrive.”

“Consider it done.” Pierro puffs on the cigar, rings of smoke billowing out of his mouth. “Email me a list of everything the House needs and I will see to it that it’s taken care of.”

Arlecchino simply nods, hands folded together over her lap.

“Now, on to other matters,” Pierro puts out the cigar. He straightens his posture in his chair, an attempt to look bigger.

“I’ve noticed that for some time, there was a lack of respect for the fatui,” Pierro looks over the five of them, eyes narrowed. Tartaglia’s jaw tightens. “But as of a few weeks ago, it seems fear has been reinstilled in the people who do business with us. People are no longer taking advantage of our business.”

“What do you mean there was a lack of respect?” Scaramouche scoffs, crossing his arms. “Everyone who works with me would never dare to disrespect the fatui.”

“There’s been an increase of people in Snezhnaya who have needed to be disposed of for overdue debts.”

“That’s Childe’s fault. He’s far too forgiving to our clients. No one is afraid of him.”

“Shut the fuck up. Do you know how many people are actually afraid of me? Plenty. ” Tartaglia scoffs, glaring over at Scaramouche. “You best watch your fucking mouth.”

“Oh wow, I’m so scared. Terrified even. Whatever shall I do?”

“Keep testing me, and I will make sure you fucking regret it.”

“Stop it, you two. We do not need more conflict within our ranks,” Pulcinella signs, shaking his head. “Even if it was Tartaglia’s clients who disrespected us, it’s been taken care of.”

“How can we trust that this won’t happen again?” Signora rolls her eyes

“I will never let it happen again,” Tartaglia nearly growls, fingers twitching beneath the table. “I hate being made a fool of.”

“As someone who hates being made a fool of, you sure are made to look like a fool quite often,” Signora chirps from her seat at the table, leveling a look at Tartaglia.

“Remind me, why are you even here, Signora?” Tartaglia huffs, shaking his bangs out of his eyes. “I haven’t heard any update on your work during this meeting.”

“Well, if you had shown up earlier , you would have known that I’m here in Pantalone’s place.” Signora sighs dramatically, inspecting her well-painted nails boredly. “I’ll be reporting the important information on this meeting back to him when I return to Liyue.”

“Lapdog,” Tartaglia mutters under his breath. Arlecchino pretends to not have heard it.

“You know, it would help if Childe treated his men as they are rather than equals,” Scaramouche shrugs next to Tartaglia.

“They respect me,” Tartaglia replies, sneering over at Scaramouche, “unlike yours.”

“My men fear me. Fear commands respect much better than treating them as mutuals. They would never act out of line because they know I will kill them,” Scaramouche puts a hand on his chest as he speaks, looking at Tartaglia annoyingly. “Yours act out of line because they know you’re weak.”

“I am not weak.” Tartaglia growls, clenching his fist so hard under the table he can almost feel his nails dig into his palm through his glove. “Ask anyone. I’m the most dangerous of all of us.”

“Because you’re a loose cannon,” Scaramouche drawls, rolling his eyes. “Unpredictable.”

“Hey, it works. Don’t act like you’ve never made mistake mistakes.”

“I don’t make mistakes, I’m perfect.” Scaramouche replies smugly, a self satisfied smirk on his face. Pierro pinches the bridge of his nose as he watches the two argue, sighing in irritation.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Tartaglia crosses his arms, rolling his eyes childishly. Arlecchino fights back a snicker. “Just know, your subordinates talk bad about you behind your back. Mine don’t.”

“I don’t care what they think. As long as they are afraid, they will not cross me, and they will not fuck up.”

“Some way of commanding authority, I guess.”

“That’s enough, Tartaglia, Scaramouche. We have bigger problems than respect and authority.” Pierro snaps, stopping the two in their petty argument. “The Vorovskoy are getting bold, targeting our operations. Tartaglia, you recently had a run in with one of their people, no?”

“Yes, just a shestyorka. I’m still looking into it.”

“Maybe things would progress faster if Childe wasn’t preoccupied ,” Scaramouche sneers, looking at Tartaglia with a look of distaste.

“It would progress faster if the Vorovskoy didn’t cover their tracks well. If you think you can uncover answers quicker than me, then by all means, capture your own gangsters and torture them to your hearts content, Scaramouche.” Tartaglia waves dismissively, closing his eyes. He reopens them, glaring meanly back at the shorter man. “I guarantee you will face the same roadblocks that I am.”

“Im far too busy with operations in Inazuma to deal with that.” Scaramouche shakes his head, leaning back casually in his chair.

“Then shut your mouth.”

“You’re quite amped up today, Tartaglia,” Arlecchino says bluntly, glancing at him from her peripherals. Tartaglia could read between the lines. Calm yourself down. He huffs, but remains quiet.

“I am also looking into the Vorovskoy, after Tartaglia brought it to my attention,” Pulcinella adjusts his glasses over his long nose. “He’s right, they are difficult to track. They rarely make mistakes.”

“They’re no match for the fatui, though. Once I get my hands on them, I’ll destroy their entire organization so that no one ever questions the fatui’s authority again,” Tartaglia glares darkly. “Everyone will know who really runs Snezhnaya.”

“We need to be more aware of everything going on around us, no matter which nation we are in at any moment. Whether we’re dealing with the Vorovskoy, the Millelith, the Doushin, or anyone else, including our own gangsters and clients, maintaining our authority is the top priority.”

“Understood.”

“Is that all? If so, then I’ll be going now,” Signora rolls her eyes once again, slinging her purse over her shoulder as she stands from her seat. “I have more important things to be doing than listening to you two assholes bicker.”

“As if I want to stay and keep bickering with Childe,” Scaramouche sneers, standing up to leave. “I take it the meeting is over, then?”

Pierro sighs, nodding. Scaramouche huffs, then turns to leave without so much as a goodbye. Tartaglia gets up from the table as well, before Arlecchino stops him. “Tartaglia, I’d like to have a word with you.”

“By all means,” he bites the inside of his cheek anxiously, stepping away to speak to Arlecchino alone. They go outside into the bitter cold, where he lights himself a cigarette.

“I have some important business that only you are capable of doing for me,” Arlecchino keeps her voice low as she speaks. “I didn’t want to bring this up during the meeting. Someone working for the company you’re currently working closely with has put the House in jeopardy and I need him killed. But before that, I need to find out what exactly he has against us. You have a shestyorka employed at that company, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Tartaglia takes a deep breath, blowing smoke from his nose. “So what? You want my guys to torture the man for answers? Find out what he knows?”

“Be more discreet, Tartaglia,” she huffs an annoyed sigh. “Not everything can be solved through a means like that. This is a delicate matter and needs to be handled accordingly.”

“Oh come on, Arlecchino. You know that I’m not the type to be discreet,” Tartaglia leans against the side of the building.

“You were rather discreet with some of your operations in Liyue,” Arlecchino retorts, crossing her arms. “Until your outburst. ”

“Yeah, the one that got me sent back here. Don’t remind me,” Tartaglia groans, pressing his palm into his forehead.

“If you get me the answers I desire, without killing him, then I will get you information regarding the Vorovskoy,” he lights up upon hearing this. “I know you’re in hot water right now. Taking out the Vorovskoy, or at least getting enough information for Pierro and Pulcinella to be satisfied will get you out of that hot water. And, maybe they’ll stop calling you a child and treat you like a man.”

“Fine, I’ll put my men on it. Follow him, rifle through his work desk for anything, I’ll find out what he has against you,” Tartaglia agrees, taking one last puff of the cigarette before tossing it into the snow. “But, wait, didn’t you want him dead? Now you don’t?”

“Not until I get my answers,” Arlecchino turns away to leave. “I’ll keep in touch. Don’t let me down, Tartaglia.”

“I won’t.”

Chapter Text

“Do you think Tartaglia will like this color?” She shows Nikolai a picture on her phone of a new lipstick she had thought about buying. “I was thinking it would be kind of cute but I don’t know if he’ll like it.”

“I think he will like any color you pick, (Y/N),” Nikolai snickers, shaking his head. “Why are you so worried?”

“I just want to look nice for him,” she replies, looking through other colors on the shop. “Be someone that he’s not afraid to show off.”

“(Y/N), I guarantee you he is not afraid to show you off.”

“Yeah but we went out to dinner at this fancy restaurant last night and I felt so out of place. My dress was boring, my makeup was plain, and my jewelry was cheap. Being seen with me was probably an embarrassment,” she sighs, putting her phone back in her pocket. “I’m probably thinking too much, but I felt like everyone was staring.”

“You’re definitely thinking too much.”

“Either way, even if he isn’t embarrassed of me, I would still like to look the part,” she frowns, picking at her bracelet with fake stones.

“You don’t need to do all that,” Nikolai scoffs playfully, shaking his head. “I’m sure he likes you just the way you are-“

Anatoly storms up to where they’re chatting in the break room. “ You. ”

“Huh?”

“You got me taken off the Northland project!” Anatoly seethes, getting too close for her comfort. Nikolai steps forward to squeeze himself in between them as she takes a step back, eyes widening. Anatoly tilts his head to look over Nikolai’s shoulder at her. “Fucking whore! Using Tartaglia’s influence like that!”

“It’s not my fault you’re too lazy and incompetent to handle leading such an important project,” she crosses her arms defiantly.

“Bitch, I should fucking kick your ass!”

“Anatoly, lay a finger on her and it’ll be the last thing you do,” Nikolai narrows his eyes, shoving him away.

“Right, as if you could hold your own in a fight,” Anatoly sneers as he catches himself, rolling his eyes. “Defending this power hungry slut? What, you have a crush on her or something?”

“She’s my friend, I’ll have you know,” Nikolai huffs, crossing his arms. Then, he smirks, eyes darkening as he walks closer, muttering so she can’t hear, “and, who said that I would be the one to do something?”

Anatoly shuts up immediately, face going pale. “You’d better think twice about threatening anyone in this office,” Nikolai shakes his head. “Ivanovich wouldn’t be very happy to hear that you threatened our dear (Y/N) because Donovan took you off the project. Honestly, why are you so surprised, anyway? You were never the right person to lead a team.”

“Fuck you, Nikolai,” Anatoly growls, turning around to leave the break room. He stops at the door, looking over his shoulder at (Y/N). “And fuck you, Fatui plaything.”

She rubs the back of her head as Nikolai takes a deep breath, recomposing himself. “Fatui? What’s that all about?”

“Ah, nothing,” Nikolai shrugs, walking back over with his usual sly expression. “Anatoly is just being a dick. Don’t worry about him.”

“See, this is why I would rather handle everything my own way,” she grumbles, eyes drifting to the floor. “So people wouldn’t antagonize me.”

“Don’t worry about all of them,” Nikolai huffs, waving a hand dismissively. “I don’t know why you care what they think. They’re just jealous, condescending assholes. Their opinions shouldn’t matter to you.”

“Yeah, but I do have to work with them,” she exasperates. “It would be nice if I could do anything that didn’t result in a dirty look or a barrage of insults. And, you know, not be given an asinine amount of work to punish me for simply existing.”

“Yeah, sorry, that’s just something you’ll have to look past,” Nikolai replies, an apologetic expression on his face. “But I like you! And Tatiana likes you, too, even if you two haven’t really had much interaction. So just ignore Anatoly and everyone else that acts like a fool.”

“Yeah. Ignore them, that will totally work,” her tone drips with sarcasm. She frowns, walking past Nikolai with a sigh. “Well, I guess I should go get back to work, now.”

“Mmm, wait, Nikolai?” She stops in the doorway, turning around to look back at him. He hums in response, leaning against the counter. “Actually, never mind. I’ll talk to you later.”

She turns away to go back to her desk. She hears him chuckle from behind her. “Oh, by the way, I’m sure Tartaglia will love that shade you showed me.”

She sits down in the chair at her desk, feeling it lean to one side. When will they replace my chair?

Probably never.

She buries herself in her meaningless paperwork for the next few hours, feeling her back ache from the uncomfortable position. She can feel the glares from her coworkers burning holes into the back of her head.

Tatiana gives her a sympathetic look when she passes by on her way to the break room.

By the time her shift ends, she has a bigger stack of paperwork to get through than when she started. When did the stack get bigger? She grumbles Mondstadtian profanities as she gathers her things to leave for the night. She would worry about that later.

Fuck you, Donovan.

She stops at Nikolai’s desk to say goodbye, finding him buried in paperwork as well. “They got you, too, huh?”

“What?” Nikolai looks at the stack, then back at her before it clicks. “Ohh, the paperwork? Yeah, haha. Looks like a late night for me.”

“I’m sorry, Nikolai,” she frowns, adjusting the strap on her bag over her shoulder.

“Don’t be!” He leans back, smiling at her. “Just go home and relax. Take it easy.”

“Thanks,” she sighs, pulling her scarf up to cover her nose in anticipation of the cold winter air. “You too. See you tomorrow.”

She sulks all the way home as she drives, thinking about how angry Anatoly was. Honestly, she wouldn’t care so much if it wasn’t for the way he approached her, voice raised. If Nikolai wasn’t there to step in between them… she didn’t want to think about it.

Once in the safety of her bleak apartment, she sets her phone and bag down on the counter. She drags her feet as she walks to her room to change out of her uniform. She starts to get frustrated as she wiggles out of her skirt. Fucking piece of shit-

Her phone rings from the kitchen. She huffs as she rushes over to answer it in her thick wool leggings and undershirt, not having had enough time to fully change.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby,” Ajax coos, eyes lidded as he drags a finger over the rim of his glass. “You’re not at work late again, are you? Can you talk? I miss you.”

“Yeah, I can talk. I’m at home,” she can’t fight the smile on her face at his words. “What do you mean you miss me? You saw me this morning before I went to work.”

“I’m not allowed to miss you?” She can practically hear the pout in his voice. He clicks his tongue. “Let’s talk, I want to hear your pretty voice. How was your day?”

“It was… okay,” she pauses, thinking back about what transpired earlier.

Fucking whore.

Power hungry slut.

“Anatoly was taken off the Northland project.”

“I know. I told Donovan to appoint someone competent or else Northland Bank would pull out of the investment.” Ajax hums, eyes briefly drifting over the rolled up bill on the table.“He gave me the contact info for the new leader. Name’s Dmitry, or something like that.”

“Oh.”

“Are you upset?” He frowns, picking up the glass to take a drink. Am I meddling too much? No, no. She should be grateful I care so much. I’m just trying to make it better.

“Not at all,” she walks over to her couch to sit down comfortably. “Anatoly sure is though.”

“Of course he is. He probably feels humiliated for being called incompetent and told he can’t lead an important project,” Ajax chuckles, swirling the vodka in his glass. “Good.”

“I don’t know if that narcissist could ever feel humiliation,” she rolls her eyes, huffing. Ajax smiles back, even though she can’t see it. “He’s acting more like a petulant child who isn’t getting his way.”

“What did he say to you?” Now he’s curious.

Bitch, I should fucking kick your ass.

“Nothing important, just accusing me of abusing your power like everyone else does.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make things more difficult for you.” Why does that bother him so much? It’s no secret that he’s a powerful man. In fact, he absolutely loves flaunting it. But knowing that others are accusing his sweet lover of abusing his power, it irked him. It irked him because he knows that isn’t true. Right?

It’s insulting.

It’s an insult to her and him. Almost like they believe he’s so foolish to let a woman abuse his power because she’s beautiful. Like they believe she’s capable of using anyone for her own personal gain.

No one insults me and gets away with it. No one insults her and gets away with it.

“It’s okay, you didn’t make anything more difficult for me,” she reassures him, kicking her feet back and forth. It may have been a small lie, but honestly like Nikolai said— who cares? “Definitely made a fool of Anatoly!”

“As it should be,” Ajax snickers, looking out the window of his penthouse longingly. Oh how badly he wanted her. “I would have nothing less. It’s too bad I couldn’t have seen his face myself.”

“It wasn’t all that entertaining honestly,” she mutters, remembering his hostile behavior and sharp words. “But how about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah,” she giggles quietly, leaning back against the cushions. “How was your day?”

“Ah,” he sighs, closing his eyes. The petty argument he had with Scaramouche briefly crossed his mind before he shoves the memory away. “Typical. Busy, boring. Nothing much to say about it.”

“Have things been going okay at the bank?” She runs her fingers idly along the arm of the couch. “The project with Ivanovich isn’t making you more stressed out, is it?”

“Not at all! In fact, the CEO got a chance to look through your proposal and thinks it will be a promising investment, if done properly,” Ajax smiles, hoping to ease her worries. Truthfully, it was mildly stressful, if only for the fact that pulling out of the investment would likely cause her to lose her job.

Well, and one of his targets works for the same company.

“I don’t really know anything about Dmitry, but he’s likely a better leader than Anatoly,” she purses her lips, looking to the side in thought. “I think the project is probably in good hands. I’ve never had a bad interaction with Dmitry, so there’s that! I just hope that we can live up to the CEO’s expectations.”

“I’m not worried,” Ajax takes another drink of his almost-forgotten vodka. “I didn’t have time to contact Dmitry between meetings and other obligations, but I’ll message him tomorrow to check in.”

“Great!” She responds cheerfully. “I hope everything works out.”

“I have no doubts that it will,” he laughs softly at her enthusiasm. He can just imagine the expression on her face.

“You’ll have to let me know how that goes,”

“Sure! It’s your project, after all,” he says playfully, tilting his head. His bangs fall over one eye with the movement. “I’m sure you’re very curious about its development.”

“Yeah…”

They fall into silence. Ajax is swishing his half empty glass back and forth lazily. She’s staring out the window at the steady snowfall.

Fucking whore.

Her eyes drift to the floor as dread starts to sink in, and she clears her throat.

“Hey, Ajax?”

“Yes, love?”

“You don’t think I’m a…” she pauses, swallowing thickly around the words as she forces them out, “ whore , do you?”

“Of course not!” Ajax lurches forward with a shout, eyes narrowed. “Who said that to you? Anatoly?”

“Well, yeah,” she replies sheepishly, eyes downcast at the floor.

I should fucking kill him.

“Nikolai told me to ignore him, but that just bothered me a little.” A lot.

“Why would I think you’re a whore?” He sounds pissed.

“I don’t know-“

“You’re a sweet little thing, you know? So shy,” his voice drops dangerously. She blushes. “So gentle, and cute. So innocent. Like a little sheep.”

He’s less of a shepherd and more of a wolf.

“I won’t tolerate talk like that, (Y/N). You’re not a whore,” Ajax practically growls, eyes dark. “So don’t say that. And don’t ever ask me if I think you’re a whore, either. You know my answer.”

“Okay,” her voice is small as she sinks further into her couch.

“I’ll shower you in gifts and praises and kisses every moment of every day just so you stop thinking that I would ever think lowly of you.” His words are sweet, but they carry a sharp edge, almost like a warning. Don’t ever doubt him. “Yeah? Okay? Sweetheart?”

“Okay, love.” She picks at her bottom lip with her nails nervously. “I won’t say that again.”

“Good.” He huffs, running a hand up through his hair. He looks down at the table with a mean glare. “Maybe you should take Nikolai’s advice. Ignore them.”

I’ll see to it no one disrespects you or me again.

“Okay, I’ll try.”

“Thank you, beautiful.”

Anatoly puffs out smoke from his cigarette, checking scores and his parlays for the Snezhnaya-Fontaine game. It’s dark and cold outside the office, snow steadily falling like always. Snezhnaya is losing 2-1. Nothing is going his way tonight.

He grumbles profanities under his breath and walks around the side of the building to head to his car, flicking his cigarette to the ground. He places another bet. Why not?

A sharp pain in his head throbs as a heavy metal object is struck over the back of his skull. He collapses to the ground, reaching up to hold the spot. His phone clatters to the concrete beside him. He’s kicked in the side hard, rolling over on the snow. He looks up at his attacker, and only sees the silhouette of a man about his size, dressed in all black. Maybe a little taller.

He can’t see his face, his hair, his eyes. All he sees is the black hood and scarf pulled up over his face.

The metal object is thrown aside, a sharp metallic sound echoing from the nearly empty parking lot.

He should have left earlier. Damn Donovan for sticking him with extra work to finish.

The man stomps on him and kicks him again before he climbs on top of him to punch him in the face repeatedly. His blood smears across the man’s gloves. Anatoly is so delirious from the initial hit to the head and caught off guard that he doesn’t think to struggle or fight back. His vision is swimming. He sees two of everything.

There’s a sickening crack as one of the hits lands in the middle of his face, breaking his nose. He wails out in pain. He’s met with cold silence.

He’s kicked one more time before his attacker walks away without a word, like nothing ever happened at all.

Anatoly pushes himself up onto his knees, dripping blood into the snow as he swipes his phone up from the ground beside him. He staggers to his car, looking frantically around for anyone else.

There’s no sign of anyone else having been in the parking lot at all.

Snow continues to fall, covering tracks and drops of blood.

Chapter Text

“Nikolai, last night Anatoly was beat up in the parking lot. You were the only person still here when he left, correct?”

“Yeah. Donovan saddled me with more paperwork to get faxed and filed away.”

“You and Anatoly haven’t been getting along, have you?”

“Just cut to the chase, Marcel.”

“You’ve been accused of attacking Anatoly last night.”

“What!?”

“You two got into a verbal argument in the break room, and he says that you threatened him.”

“I did not threaten him! He’s lying! And I certainly didn’t attack him! That’s absurd! I was upstairs doing paperwork in my office!” Nikolai scoffs, glaring down at Marcel. “You can check the cameras! I was there the whole time!”

“We will be investigating this. You should go home.”

“Seriously? You’re punishing me for absolutely nothing!” Nikolai raises his voice. “If you’re going to investigate, then you should know that during that little argument in the break room yesterday, Anatoly threatened (Y/N) and called her a whore and a slut. Anatoly should be investigated for his threats too.”

“Anatoly didn’t mention anything about (Y/N).”

“Of course he didn’t. Because then you would have called her in here to get her side of the story, and he would have been the one in trouble instead,” Nikolai huffs, arms crossed. “He’s manipulative, and he will do anything to keep his job. I’ll go, but keep in mind that when you see that I’m right and that I didn’t leave until long after everyone else, I’m reporting this to Snezhnaya’s Worker’s Union for unfair treatment. Especially because of his threats to our Mondstadt project specialist.”

“Fine, you can continue your work. But you are not to approach Anatoly until the investigation is complete.”

“Are you going to call (Y/N) in, too? Punish her for being a victim?”

“There’s no need for that, Nikolai.”

She walks by Nikolai’s desk and notices his scowl. It’s unlike him to look so upset about something. She stops, a concerned look on her face.

“Hey, is everything okay?” She asks, frowning as she holds a thick stack of papers to her chest. “What happened?”

“I got called in to HR.” Nikolai leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Anatoly got beat up in the parking lot last night and he accused me of doing it.”

“What?” Her eyes widen in shock. “You didn’t, right?”

“Of course I didn’t!” Nikolai scoffs, hurt by her implied accusation. “Who do you take me for?”

“So, what did HR do, then?”

“They said they’d do an investigation. I told them to check the cameras because I was up here in my office until late after everyone was gone, including Anatoly. I never left,” Nikolai huffs, rolling his eyes. “I told them he threatened you.”

“Are they going to call me in to HR?” She deflates, shoulders sagging. “You don’t think I’ll get in trouble, do you?”

“For being the victim? No way,” Nikolai shakes his head, blond hair bouncing with the movement. “And if they do, go to the Worker’s Union and report Ivanovich Inc for unfair treatment. They can’t seriously let his threats go unpunished.”

“I wonder who beat up Anatoly, then,” she mutters, looking off to the side. Nikolai smirks, but lets it fall before she can see it.

“Probably someone he stiffed on a sports bet,” he gestures vaguely, a bored expression on his face. “I know Snezhnaya lost last night’s game. And Anatoly bets on every game.”

“Do you think he’s okay?”

Nikolai is taken aback by that, looking at her like she’s suddenly grown two heads. “Anatoly? Yeah. He wouldn’t be here today if he wasn’t. But why are you asking that?”

“Just- because,” she frowns, readjusting her grip on the heavy papers in her arms. “He’s a jerk, yeah, but it’s not like I’m glad he got beaten up! It’s easy to think he deserves it but then when it happens, I don’t know.”

“Well, he’s fine,” Nikolai sighs, then mutters so low she doesn’t catch it, “ unfortunately. ”

“Will you be okay, Nikolai?” She asks, something like guilt crossing her expression for a brief moment before it’s gone. Nikolai smiles, waving her off.

“Of course. Like I said, I didn’t do anything. And when HR realizes that I’m right, well,” he huffs a quiet laugh. “Well, they’ll owe me an apology. And I take my apologies written in icing on expensive cakes.”

She laughs at that, and shakes her head. “Well, when you get that HR apology cake, save me a slice. Apology cake sounds awesome.”

He laughs back as she walks away, waving, before she makes her way back to her desk.

She drops the large stack of papers on her desk beside the stack of folders, sitting down and going through them. She staples each one and moves it to the side. She does this mindless task for an hour until the entire stack has been stapled and moved out of the way.

Finally, she starts to look through the file folders she left behind when she had to print out copies of the latest faxes. She frowns as she sees the folder on the top is meant for Tatiana, but Donovan gave it to her instead. She sends Tatiana a quick message from the company chat, asking if it was a mix up.

Tatiana replies within seconds, telling her to bring the folder over to her desk and she’ll sort it out. She asks if there’s any other of her files in the stack, and (Y/N) tells her she’ll take a quick look.

She sifts through them and finds that there are five files meant for Tatiana in her stack. She separates them from the rest.

She takes the file folders she organized and walks to bring them over to Tatiana, but briefly stops when she sees Anatoly talking to Nicolette by the break room. Anatoly has a broken nose, split lip, and two black eyes, with bandages on his cheeks. He has a sharp glare on his face that could cut glass.

She overhears Nicolette say coldly, “I’m sure it’s that bitch’s fault for the attack. She probably spread her legs to get some gangster to stop by here last night to attack you.”

Anatoly rolls his eyes. “I’m convinced it was that bastard white knight Nikolai.”

Anatoly’s eyes meet hers, and he sneers. (Y/N) averts her eyes and walks away before she can hear anything else, dropping the files onto Tatiana’s desk with a quiet “here” before she rushes back to her own desk. She leaves before she can even hear Tatiana say “thank you”.

As she sits down in her broken chair, she can feel the dirty looks burning holes into her back. She’s sure Nikolai is receiving the same treatment. She just wished she could be like Nikolai and be completely unbothered by it. She makes out gossip-y whispers about her and Nikolai.

I bet he’s got a crush on (Y/N) and beat up Anatoly to profess his love for her.

Are you kidding? Her? No way. She’s not even attractive.

Well, I heard she’s dating Tartaglia. He’s sent her a few gifts in the past.

Tartaglia has no taste.

Honestly, I think Anatoly didn’t pay off his debt.

You think?

Well, Snezhnaya lost last night. You know he’s got a gambling problem.

Yeah, but I heard he and Nikolai got into it in the break room yesterday. You don’t think Nikolai retaliated?

I don’t know enough about Nikolai to say if I think he’s capable of catching Anatoly off guard like that.

(Y/N) definitely has something to do with it. Same with that marketing loser, Nikolai.

They’re in it together, 100%.

She rubs her temples, sighing heavily. She can feel a headache coming on, and she still had a few hours of work before she could go home and forget the day.

She struggles to focus on her work with all the whispers around the office, rereading the same paragraph over and over on the page until she gives up and decides to reply to emails instead.

She ends up staring at the monitor for the rest of her shift, thoughts spiraling about Anatoly and HR, and what may or may not happen to her as a result. The panic doesn’t really feel like it goes away until her shift ends without HR sending her a message to come to the office.

She walks by Nikolai’s desk as he gathers his things to leave. “You’re not staying late tonight?”

“Nope,” he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He still looks pissed. “They wanted me to go home earlier and I refused. So, I guess I’ll go home on time for once and fucking do everything else later.”

“Oh,” she swallows thickly, squeezing the strap of her bag nervously.

“It’s fine though. I was going to ask Tatiana and some friends out for drinks,” Nikolai laughs. “Would you like to come with?”

“Oh, sure,” she nods. “I should try to meet new people. The only friends I have in Snezhnaya are you and Tartaglia. I did meet some of his friends at this nice tavern one time , though. They have a band that plays jazz there.”

“Oh, I know what place you’re talking about! I’ve been there a couple of times,” Nikolai nods as he throws on his coat. “It’s a nice place. I’ll text my friends to meet us there.”

“Okay, great. I’ll meet you all there, then,” she nods as he takes out his phone to message his friends. He hums as she walks away to go down to her car and start driving to the tavern. She didn’t remember how to get there very well, considering Ajax drove them from his apartment that night, but she knew that his penthouse wasn’t that far from her office, so surely it wouldn’t be too hard to find it from work.

She looked up the directions on her phone and headed that way, until finally she was parked in the lot outside the tavern. She got out and rushed inside, only to find Nikolai was already there. He waved her over with a smug smile.

“Did you get lost, friend?”

She laughs awkwardly as she takes a seat at the table, Tatiana and another man already there sitting with Nikolai. The man looked vaguely familiar, a man she thought she might’ve seen when she and Ajax came here.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Tatiana waves shyly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’m glad we can finally get together outside of work. I-uh, I’m sorry I’ve never really stood up for you before.”

“Oh, no worries, Tatiana,” she smiles as Nikolai waves a waitress over to order drinks. “The fact that you don’t hate me is enough.”

“You’re not gonna introduce me to your new friend, Niko?” The man speaks teasingly, leaning his head in his hand as he narrows his eyes.

“You’re capable of talking, aren’t you, Serg?” Nikolai rolls his eyes, but the corners of his lips twitch upward and betrays that he’s actually amused.

“Mmhm,” the man— Serg?— hums, waving to get her attention. “Since Niko is being so rude, let me introduce myself. I’m Sergiu, Nikolai’s best friend.”

“You are not my best friend,” Nikolai groans, leaning back in his seat. Tatiana and (Y/N) giggle as Sergiu fakes a hurt expression, gasping.

“You’re so cruel, Niko!”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sergiu. I’m (Y/N).”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” he smirks as he looks back at Nikolai, and points a finger at him. “See, you should learn something from your friend, Niko. She’s polite, unlike you.”

“I’m plenty polite.”

Her phone buzzes in her pocket, and she pulls it out to see a text from Ajax. She smiles softly as she reads his messages.

Ajax: Hey darling, I didn’t hear from you at lunch. How was your day?

(Y/N): It was kind of hectic actually. Can I call you when I get home?

(Y/N): I’m out having drinks with Tatiana, Nikolai, and his friends at the bar.

Ajax: You’re having drinks without me? :(

Ajax: I’m hurt, love.

(Y/N): Just a couple!

Ajax: Okaaaaay. Don’t get into any trouble, missy.

Ajax: Call me tonight. I’ll be waiting.

She puts her phone back in her bag as the waitress returns with drinks, and Sergiu swipes the glass of clear liquor and takes a swig. He cringes and makes a noise as Nikolai smirks and sips his own.

“Brother, why vodka lemonade?” Sergiu sounds disgusted, glaring down at the glass like it personally offended him. “Vodka anything else would have been much better. Are you trying to poison me?”

“Then order something else. I ordered something I thought (Y/N) would like,” Nikolai waves him off dismissively as Tatiana takes a sip of her own drink.

“I think it’s refreshing. You should give it a try, (Y/N),” Tatiana says from beside her, tilting her head slightly with a warm smile on her face. She nods and takes a drink while Sergiu orders himself vodka with cranberry juice, and Nikolai makes a face at Sergiu’s taste.

His phone vibrates in his pocket.

“Cranberries?” Nikolai scoffs as he checks his phone. “And you say my taste is disgusting.”

“Because it is.”

“You’re right, Tatiana, it is pretty good,” she nods, smiling. “I think a cherry would make it better, though.”

“Strawberries are actually better in this kind of drink,” Nikolai hums, taking another drink as he switches conversations from Sergiu. (Y/N) is too busy paying attention to Nikolai, Tatiana, and the drink to notice how Sergiu smirks at her cherry comment.

Two men walk up behind Nikolai’s chair, dressed in similar jackets and baggy pants tucked in laced up boots. One had long curly black hair with stubble along his jaw, and the other had a short beard and long curly brown hair.

The one with black hair slams his hands on the back of his chair, startling him to look up. Nikolai smirks and reaches a hand up to swat him away, and the dark haired man laughs as he slumps into a seat between her and Nikolai.

“Sorry we’re late, Niko,” the lighter haired man sits in the seat between the dark haired man and Nikolai.

“Vlad insisted on finishing the work on his bike first,” the dark haired man gestures to his friend. “I sat there fuckin’ organizing nuts and bolts until he was ready. I could have left his sorry ass at the shop and came here myself first, but, eh. Courtesy, I guess.”

“Thanks for waiting for me,” the lighter haired man— Vlad, rolls his eyes.

The darker haired man turns and really looks at (Y/N), who at this point has scooted closer to Tatiana out of habit. She only knew Nikolai and Tatiana, so she felt more comfortable sitting close to her. He smirks, waving at her.

“I’m Jorgi. I’d offer you to shake my hand, but,” he laughs, shrugging, “dirty ass mechanic hands and all.”

“You didn’t wash your hands before you came here?” Nikolai raises an eyebrow, a judging expression on his face.

“Of course we did!” Vlad huffs, offended at the notion that they wouldn’t. “Stains kinda last, though. Also, sorry Miss, I’m Vlad. But you probably guessed that by now.”

“I’m (Y/N),” she smiles awkwardly, waving as Tatiana scoots closer to her as well.

“I’m offended that you all just forgot I’m here!” Sergiu grumbles as the waitress brings his drink, and takes orders for the two new guests. “Even Viktor and them aren’t this cruel to me.”

“Yeah, well-“ Jorgi stops, shrugging. “Anyways, no one could forget your fuckin’ loud ass is here. I’m surprised you haven’t gotten up and started trying to fuck anything that moves.”

“Don’t insult me in front of our new friend here!” Sergiu crosses his arms, before he turns to (Y/N) with a disarming expression. “Trust me, I’m not so much of a pig that I’ll be that easy.”

“Uh huh,” Nikolai smirks, eyes lidded as he looks at Sergiu like that’s bullshit. Sergiu looks back at him red-faced, making the same face back.

“ Anyways, ” Vlad coughs, looking over at (Y/N). “You’re a coworker of Nikolai’s, right? How do you like working at Ivanovich Inc?”

“It’s… a job,” her smile falters a little as she takes another drink, and Tatiana reaches under the table to softly grasp her hand, a reassuring gesture. “It pays…”

“Sounds like a shit job,” Jorgi grumbles, leaning back.

“Shut up. You think all corporate jobs are shit jobs,” Nikolai crosses one leg over the other, swirling his drink in his glass as the waitress comes back with two more drinks for Vlad and Jorgi.

“Not true. I work on corporate vehicles sometimes,” Jorgi says as he takes a long drink.

“Mechanic work and corporate work are very different things,” Nikolai sighs.

“Sooo,” Sergiu interrupts, leaning forward on his elbows to get attention from everyone at the table. “You said something about an absolute shit fucking day, and you needed to go out for drinks. You gonna spill your guts about what happened or just sit here shooting the shit all fuckin’ night?”

“Yeah. Ugh,” Nikolai runs a hand up through his blond hair, leaning back. “I got fucking called into HR this morning. Marcel— stupid bastard. He said Anatoly told him I beat the shit out of him last night in the parking lot.”

“No way! That’s what happened?” Tatiana gasps, covering her mouth. “I hadn’t really heard anything all day?”

“Really? All I could hear was rumors all day long about how I’m a fucking slut and got Nikolai to beat the shit out of Anatoly for calling me a whore after Tartaglia got him taken off the project with Northland Bank,” she mutters bitterly, looking down at the vodka in her glass.

Sergiu leans back, pulling at the collar of his shirt awkwardly. Vlad and Jorgi share a look, while Tatiana squeezes her hand under the table again. Nikolai blinks slowly as (Y/N) quietly takes a drink, clearly more bothered by the rumors than she was letting on.

Sergiu quietly mutters, “Damn.”

“Yeah. So,” Nikolai clears his throat, ruffling his hair and making it unruly. “Point is, I fucking didn’t. And Marcel really pissed me off. I’m also pissed that (Y/N) got dragged into it with all those stupid fucking rumors.”

“Rumors are rumors,” Jorgi waves dismissively. “Fuck what anyone thinks. Those corporate assholes are always about backstabbing and all that. Camaraderie isn’t what it’s supposed to be. Fuck.”

“Well, I’m not from Snezhnaya.”

“So fuckin’ what? I don’t give a shit where you’re from, as far as I’m concerned, you’re one of us,” Jorgi tilts his head, gesturing with his glass. “You live here, you speak the language fuckin’ perfectly. No point treating you like you’re foreign.”

“I wish everybody thought that way,” she sighs, frowning.

“Ah, well, you don’t need any of them, (Y/N),” Sergiu smiles sweetly. “You’ve got Niko, Tatiana, and now the rest of us. And, haha, Tartaglia, right?”

“Um, yeah, I guess that’s true.”

“Great!” Sergiu stands, leaning over the table with his glass lifted in the air. “Fuck corporations!”

“Fuck corporations!” Vlad and Jorgi shout, raising their glasses. Tatiana shyly raises her glass, and Nikolai rolls his eyes, but raises his glass anyways. (Y/N) hesitantly raises her glass, and Sergiu cheers triumphantly before slumping back into his seat.

The next few hours are much of the same. Tatiana and (Y/N) have their own quiet conversations every now and then while they listen to Sergiu chatter on and on with Vlad, Jorgi, and Nikolai about pretty much anything.

She notices Sergiu and Nikolai keep making weird expressions at each other, but says nothing of it. Vlad asks her about her hobbies. Jorgi mocks Sergiu with a smirk and makes her laugh. Tatiana never lets go of her hand.

Finally, the night starts to wind down. Jorgi grumbles that a late night client is at his garage for repairs and he needs to go. Tatiana mentions she’s tired and should probably head home. (Y/N) says she still needs to call Tartaglia to tell him about her day. Sergiu bids farewell, but stays put at the table with Nikolai.

She drives home with the music in her car playing quietly, directions to her apartment complex pulled up since she had no idea how to get home from the tavern. It’s not too long before the complex comes into view on the road, and she pulls into the lot.

Once she finally climbs those awful stairs and pushes her apartment door open, she sets down her things and sits down on her couch, sinking comfortably into the cushions. She presses on Ajax’s contact to call, and it only rings once before he answers, voice smooth as ever.

“Hey, my pretty girl.”

“Hey, love.”

“How did drinks with Nikolai go?”

“It was pretty fun. I met some of his friends today,” she smiles at the memory of his hectic friends, and her moment to actually bond with Tatiana. “And I got to get to know Tatiana a bit finally. She’s really nice, actually.”

“That’s great, darling,” Ajax hums, tracing patterns idly on his table. “Who did he introduce you to?”

“Sergiu, Jorgi, and Vlad.”

“And were they fun?”

“They were interesting, that’s for sure,” she laughs quietly, shaking her head. “But I think I liked Mikhail and Alexei more when you introduced me to them.”

“Mikhail would love to hear that,” he laughs, kicking his feet up on the table. “I’ll have to invite you out with us sometimes. I think Mikhail would enjoy that.”

“If it’s not troublesome,” she smiles shyly. “But honestly just being with you is enough for me. I kind of wish you were there tonight.”

“If you want me to come next time, just let me know,” he hums softly. “I’ll be there whenever you need me, my love.”

“Thank you,” baby. She bites her lip. How would he react to me calling him that? Can I call him that? … fuck it. “ Baby. ”

Ajax pauses, heart stopping for a moment as his mind processes it. A grin finds its way onto his face as he runs his hand up through his hair. “Mmm, call me that again.”

“Baby.”

“Fuck, you don’t know what you do to me, sweetheart,” he sighs breathlessly, throwing his head back in his seat. She giggles back, stomach fluttering like she’s falling in love all over again.

“Anyways,” Ajax drawls, lighting up a cigarette with a smirk. “You said today was so hectic you went and had drinks with a few coworkers and extra company. So, what happened today that made it so hectic?”

“Well, everyone was gossiping today so it was hard to get any work done,” she sighs, scratching the back of her neck. “And Nikolai got called into HR.”

“Really? Why?” Ajax takes a drag of his cigarette, leaning back in his chair with a brow raised.

“Anatoly accused him of beating him up.”

“Anatoly got beat up?”

“Yeah.” She glances over at the window where snow falls slowly outside. “Although I’m not convinced. I’m thinking he might have staged it to get Nikolai fired. They had a pretty intense exchange yesterday, so I could definitely see him asking a friend to beat him up outside the office when he knew Nikolai was the only other person in the building.”

“That sounds crazy, (Y/N),” Ajax stares at the embers of his cigarette blankly, expression unreadable even though she couldn’t see his face anyway.

“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?” She hums, tapping her fingers idly on her arm. “But I just can’t see Nikolai beating him up! And I don’t know why else he would get beaten up. Nikolai said it could be because of a bet. Do people really get beaten up over bets that often in Snezhnaya?”

“Oh, baby, you’re so innocent,” Ajax coos, eyelids drooping. “People get beaten up for far less than a misplaced bet. Especially pathetic sewer rats like Anatoly. I would wager a guess that Anatoly got what was coming to him.”

“Yeah, he did probably deserve it,” she mutters, unable to stop herself from frowning. “I do feel kind of bad he got beaten up, though. He looked like hell when I saw him talking to Nicolette in the break room earlier.”

“Why would you feel bad?” Ajax asks with a huff to the question. “It’s not like it’s your fault he got beaten up.”

“They really seem to think it is.”

“Men like Anatoly will find anything or anyone to place the blame on to avoid taking responsibility for their actions.” Men like me. Ajax grins bitterly. “Sweetheart, you just work there. Anatoly is a reckless gambler who is incapable of doing his job. I’m sure there’s a long list of people waiting to punch his lights out.”

“And even if it was Nikolai who beat him up, that still wouldn’t be your fault.”

“I don’t know about that, Ajax.”

“Why do you say that?” Ajax raises an eyebrow, puffing out smoke. “Did Anatoly threaten you or something?”

“No!” She says a little too quickly, but Ajax already knows. “It’s just because Nikolai might’ve felt angry he called me a whore or something, I don’t know. I don’t think Nikolai attacked Anatoly, though. I really don’t.”

“Well, then you have nothing to feel sorry for,” Ajax hums, flicking ash into the ash tray before he takes another drag. “Hell, maybe even Donovan finally had enough being blackmailed by the punk that he beat him up.”

She snorts at that. “Yeah right. I couldn’t see that pretentious jerk ever getting his hands dirty to beat up Anatoly. In fact, he’s probably scared of Anatoly. He’s kind of afraid of everyone I think.”

“Well, it’s a mystery, then,” Ajax replies playfully, eyes gleaming with mischief. “One we’ll never have answers to.”

“Ah, I hate being curious and not knowing,” she giggles softly, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. “But I guess if I never know what happened, I won’t have to feel guilty for it happening.”

“Exactly,” Ajax says, snuffing the cigarette out. “But even if you had answers, you shouldn’t feel guilty for other people’s actions. And you shouldn’t let rumors at work make you feel like it’s your fault either.”

“Yeah. It’s just hard to listen to,” she sighs sadly. “They say some pretty messed up things about us.”

“You remember what I said last night, right?” Something dark crosses Ajax’s expression as he taps his fingers against the table.

“Yeah.” She swallows thickly, eyes downcast at the floor.

“So, what did I say?”

“To ignore them.”

“Mmhm,” Ajax hums, planting his feet back on the floor before he leans forward. “What else?”

“You don’t think lowly of me.”

“That’s right,” he coos, eyes lidded. “I would never think lowly of you. And my opinion is the only one that matters to you, right?”

“Yeah,” she says quietly, squeezing her arm.

“Good girl,” Ajax’s voice drops, a sinister smile spreading across his face that she can’t see. “Don’t forget that, my love. You ever start to fall, tell me. I’ll be there to catch you. I promise. ”

Chapter Text

Tartaglia is sitting at the poker table with three other men, staring down at the cards in his hand boredly. His latest client— a casino owner who’d fallen on hard times and was weeks away from being forced to close the place— insisted on meeting in a private room of the casino.

“Mr. Kuznetsovsky,” Tartaglia’s eyes flick up from his cards to the man in front of him. His voice carries a dangerous edge to it, causing the three men at the table to tense. Tartaglia places his cards face down in front of him and leans forward, resting his head on his hand. “While I do enjoy games, I am a very busy man. Let’s end this game here and move on to business, hm?”

“Mr. Tartaglia, I like to discuss business over the table,” he replies smoothly, despite the way his fist clenches beneath the table. “If you don’t mind.”

“Yet, you haven’t said a thing about business. I’m beginning to think you’re just trying to waste my time,” Tartaglia fights the urge to roll his eyes, leaning back in the seat with his cards still face down.

“I’m just trying to gauge what kind of man you are,” Mr. Kuznetsovsky gestures to the dealer, who flips over a card. “Games like this can tell you a lot about another person.”

“Is that what you think?” Tartaglia raises a brow, crossing one leg over the other. “Tell me, then. What kind of man do you think I am?”

“Reckless, impatient, calculating.”

Tartaglia smirks.

The dealer flips the last card, and everyone including Tartaglia show their hands. Tartaglia just barely wins with a three of a kind. Chips are slid to Tartaglia, who couldn’t care less at this point.

“Leave us,” Mr. Kuznetsovsky waves the other men at the table to disperse, and they quickly stand, exiting the room with the dealer to give him and Tartaglia privacy to discuss the details of their business.

“How about we play a simple game of blackjack while we talk, hmm?”

He hands Tartaglia a deck of cards to shuffle and cut. Tartaglia flicks the cards easily between his fingers, then slides the yellow card in the middle of the deck, before placing it on the table between them. As Mr. Kuznetsovsky reaches for the deck, Tartaglia swiftly takes a revolver from the waistband of his pants and sets it on the table next to him, pointing directly at Kuznetsovsky. A threat, a warning.

“I’ll play along, Mr. Kuznetsovsky. But don’t forget who you’re talking to,” Tartaglia leans back as the other man’s fingers tremble just slightly, maintaining his perfect poker face. But Tartaglia can read him. He’s terrified.

“Of course, Mr. Tartaglia,” he says cooly.

“Deal me in, then.”

Mr. Kuznetsovsky deals them each two cards, and Tartaglia tilts his head from side to side to crack his neck. Tartaglia grins wolfishly, one hand on the table between his gun and the cards, the other resting against his cheek casually. “Now, let’s talk business, Mr. Kuznetsovsky.”

“Right. Well, I’m sure you’re aware of the casino’s current… financial situation.”

“I am,” Tartaglia hums, tapping his fingers to hit. Mr. Kuznetsovsky places another card in front of him. 8 of spades. 20. He waves over the cards once, signaling a stay. “You’re weeks from being forced to close the place.”

“I need 500 grand to keep the place open long enough to see profits again.”

“That’s not beneficial for me, Mr. Kuznetsovsky,” Tartaglia shakes his head. Mr. Kuznetsovsky draws a card for himself, landing a 20. They stalemate.

“I swear to you, I have a plan. I know this place can be successful.” Cards are discarded and redealt.

“So why is it, then, that the place is bleeding money faster than a man with his arteries severed?”

“Fucking dealers are cheating us of money,” he spat bitterly, narrowing his eyes. “Bastards take bribes from customers and cheat so they can win big and fuck me over. Bleed the place dry. Hell, you saw how many people are here. There should be no doubt in your mind that I can make back the money you loan me!”

“And you’re sure these people are here because of your casino itself, and not because they know that your dealers accept bribes to cheat you out of your money?” That shuts him up. Tartaglia sighs, sliding the cards to the side to lean forward and get a good look at the man in front of him.

“Do you have any idea who it is you’re asking to borrow 500 grand from? What my reputation is?” Tartaglia raises a brow, expression growing cold and intimidating. “What I’m capable of, and what I do to clients who can’t pay back their debts on time?”

“I… have some idea,” Mr. Kuznetsovsky gulps, but doesn’t look away.

“What’s your plan?” Tartaglia leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “You get the 500 grand. Keep the place open. What do you do next? How do you plan to close the wound and stop the bleeding?”

“Hire new dealers. Enforce a policy to ensure they don’t accept bribes. Let the money flow back to me the way it was before.”

“That’s not a viable strategy, Mr. Kuznetsovsky,” Tartaglia narrows his eyes, a dangerous look crossing his eyes. “This place isn’t worth 500 grand. Hell, it’s not even worth 100 grand. The place is a fucking dump. Money won’t flow back to you like it used to because there are places like Golden Stars and illegal back room gambling hideouts behind mafia owned bars. You’ve given me no reason to believe that people aren’t coming here because dealers are corrupt and they’ll easily get massive payouts.”

Mr. Kuznetsovsky clenches his teeth, and says nothing.

“I can give you 50 grand now. Enough to keep the place open a month or two. Not enough to hire new staff or clean up the place. You’ll have to figure out how to fix those problems yourself. Beat the shit out of the corrupt dealers if you have to. Honestly, I don’t give a fuck what you do. Just prove to me profit can increase, and I’ll loan you more money,” Tartaglia waves dismissively. “I expect 100 grand back in two months. If you can’t pay that back, you should know what happens.”

Tartaglia taps the gun beside him.

“100 grand? That’s 50% interest!” Mr. Kuznetsovsky gapes, eyes wide. Tartaglia’s expression remains unchanged. “You-you can’t be serious!”

“Oh, I very much am. Can’t you tell?” Tartaglia’s phone buzzes in his pocket, which annoys him further. “I give you 50 grand, you give me 100 in two months. Think about it.”

He stands, swiping the gun off the table and taking out his phone to check his messages. “I’ll be leaving now. I have other business to take care of. You know how to contact me if you want to take the deal.”

He walks out of the private room, leaving the man standing there, stunned.

Sergiu: Finally found Vee. Pain in my ass.

Sergiu: Really did a number on Vik. But we took care of it.

Tartaglia: Send me the address.

Sergiu: *sent attachment*

Tartaglia hums a Snezhnayan tune that he used to sing to his siblings as he leaves the casino, hands in his pockets as he strides with confidence. There’s a subtle tick to his jaw as he steps outside into the cold, snow settling on top of his wild ginger hair.

Really did a number on Vik.

He stops just outside of the doors to the casino, fingers closing around the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. He takes out the pack, pulling a cigarette out and flicking his lighter. He takes a deep breath of the smoke. He continues walking back to his luxury black car, smoke curling around his fingers where the cigarette rests.

Once inside the car, he pulls up the address and puts on loud music, driving the long way to the large industrial warehouse on the edge of the city.

This one was different than the last, but fatui owned nonetheless. Work went on like any other day, despite the obvious fatui presence. There were more of them than usual, the workers thought. Oh well. Best to pay them no mind.

Most workers had headphones in. All steered clear of the little section reserved for mafia affairs, not that it was hard to do so. The area was swarming with fatui gangsters, guns in waistbands and holsters, masks over their eyes. Some sat in chairs, others leaned against walls and crates. They kept out anyone who wasn’t involved in the fatui.

Tartaglia walks through the warehouse with a blank expression, a dangerous air following him with each step. Everyone keeps their distance.

When Sergiu hears that Tartaglia is at the warehouse, he pushes past everyone to go meet him. “Sir!”

“Take me to him.”

It’s a simple statement, one that was spoken with venom and held so much. Sergiu leads him through the warehouse, but Tartaglia stops for a moment, making Sergiu stop as well. “How is he?”

“Vee?”

“No you idiot. Viktor.”

“Oh,” Sergiu turns away, shrugging. “Vik is alright. Got stabbed once but it wasn’t too bad. He’s here right now.”

Tartaglia says nothing, following Sergiu the rest of the way to the back of the warehouse. He pulls his black gloves on quietly, flexing his hands.

Viktor is leaning against the wall, bandages covering his knuckles. A few patches are on his cheeks and forehead. A cigarette hangs loosely between his fingers. He nods at Tartaglia as he walks by.

“We took a cyanide pill off the fucker after we knocked him out,” Sergiu huffs, rolling his head to pop his neck as he stops walking. “Fuckin’ prick planned to kill himself if he was caught, I guess. Ah, well. Your time to shine now, sir.”

“Yeah.”

“Get a few good ones in for Vik!”

Tartaglia slowly approaches the man tied to the chair with a blank expression on his face. He was still passed out from whatever Viktor and Sergiu had done to him to get him there. His face was bloodied and bruised, lip split open. Small cuts were visible along his exposed arms, and his knuckles were bruised and scraped.

Tartaglia tilts his head from side to side, seemingly in thought, before suddenly he kicks the man in the stomach hard with the heel of his shoe, painfully waking the man up.

Vee gasps in pain and looks around in a daze, before his gaze lands on Tartaglia. He glares as he huffs a strained breath, flexing his fingers against his restraints. One eye is almost swollen shut already. Tartaglia leans down to be face to face with the man, expression scarily calm.

“You’re going to tell me everything I want to know.”

“Or what, fatui rat?” Vee spat, baring his teeth threateningly. “You’ll kill me? Hah, I don’t give a shit.”

“I’ll make every last fucking second you breathe feel worse than the hell you’ll be sent to when I take your miserable fucking life.” Tartaglia sneers, withdrawing and standing to his full height. “Hell will feel like vacation when I’m finished.”

“Do your worst, ginger fuck.” Vee snarls, head held high despite the position he was in. “I won’t sell out my comrades.”

“How honorable,” Tartaglia drawls sarcastically, looking down on him with a terrifyingly powerful expression. “I’ll make sure yours is worse than the poor bastard you sent to snoop around our operation.”

“Fuck you.”

Tartaglia turns away to grab a crowbar from one of his lackey’s hands. He twirls it in his hand as he turns back to Vee, each step slow and menacing. He swings the crowbar into Vee’s ribs with a sickening crack.

Vee chokes on a gasp, coughing up a few droplets of blood. He heaves, slumping forward. Through ragged breaths, he says, “You’ll have to do more than that, pig.”

Tartaglia removes his coat with quiet precision, tossing it over a nearby crate. He rolls up his sleeves, ordering his men to rip off Vee’s shirt as he grabs a long chain.

Two fatui gangsters surround Vee, cutting through the bloodied fabric of his shirt to expose his bruised and scratched abdomen. There’s a long red mark along his ribs where the crowbar connected with his ribs. Vee sneers profanities as he squirms, calling them every Snezhnayan derogatory name in his vocabulary.

“Who’s your boss?” Tartaglia asks calmly, fingers tightening on the chain as the fatui gangsters step away from Vee, leaving him exposed and at Tartaglia’s mercy.

“As if I’d tell you.”

Tartaglia winds his arms back and swings hard. The chain collides painfully with Vee’s abdomen, earning a shout of pain. The end of the chain clatters to the floor, dragging against the concrete as Tartaglia moves.

“I’ll ask again. Who is your boss?”

“Eat shit, cuntslut,” Vee barks viciously, bloody spit spraying onto the floor as he talks back.

Tartaglia swings the chain again, bringing it down and hitting him along his thighs. Vee hisses through clenched teeth, gripping the arms of the chair hard until his knuckles turn white.

“Give me names, Vee.”

“I’m not giving you shit, impatient fuck!”

Tartaglia tosses the chain to the side, turning away to approach the metal stand with the tray of torture instruments organized and laid out. Vee laughs cruelly, a hollow sound. “You giving up, butcher? Hah, thought Fatui were supposed to be efficient.”

Tartaglia swipes an ice pick off the metal tray, and before anyone could blink, Tartaglia was in front of V, driving it straight through Vee’s shoulder. His eyes were dark and menacing, the corners of his lips twitching slightly upwards. Vee howls in pain as Tartaglia wrenches it out, only to thrust it back into another spot near the first, piercing through skin and bone.

“ Talk, Vee. Talk and this ends quickly. ”

“Never,” Vee gasps, staring into Tartaglia’s eyes defiantly.

“You think the pain means anything?” Tartaglia leans in close, voice slow and menacing. “You think you’re doing them a favor by staying silent?”

“Better men than me have died before selling out.”

Tartaglia sighs, seemingly bored as he twirls the bloody ice pick between his fingers. In one smooth motion, Tartaglia jams the ice pick into Vee’s right hand, piercing straight through and pinning him to the chair. He leaves it there as he walks away, Vee’s heavy breaths and groans of pain echoing around them.

Tartaglia’s fingers drag slowly over the blowtorch, seemingly in thought before he decides to pick it up and fire it up. The blue flame hisses as he turns and approaches Vee.

“How about an easier question, then.” Tartaglia presses the blowtorch to the opposite shoulder, watching the skin blister. Vee screams, raw, animalistic. Tartaglia speaks over his screams, dragging the blowtorch slowly along his skin. “How many men do you have digging into our business?”

Tartaglia finally lets up to get an answer. It’s not the answer he wants.

“Why don’t you go find out?” Vee shakes, speaking through labored breaths and a sick smile. “Who knows? Maybe some of your own men aren’t even fatui in the first place!”

Tartaglia’s eyes narrow as he turns the blowtorch off and sets it back on the table. Fatui gangsters share nervous glances as Tartaglia reaches for a skinner’s knife, razor sharp, thin, and curved. “You think I don’t have my men under control enough to know when there’s a mole in my ranks?”

“I think you pretend to be in control,” Vee taunts. One of the fatui guards shifts nervously on his feet. “But you know your control is slipping too. You wouldn’t be here now cleaning up messes like this if you were still in control.”

“You really think I’m not in control?” Tartaglia scoffs, looking at his reflection in the skinner’s knife. “You know nothing.”

Tartaglia circles Vee like a predator before he stops beside his arm. He leans down and slices cleanly through the skin, peeling off a long strip of skin. Vee roars, thrashing in place as Tartaglia lifts the bloody strip. He holds it up in front of Vee’s face with a disgusting smirk. “God, I love the sound of screams.”

“Bastard.”

Tartaglia peels another strip, one from his abdomen. The flesh curls disgustingly, bloody and wet. Vee’s eyes flutter as he nearly passes out from pain, but Tartaglis slaps him hard, keeping him conscious. He grips Vee’s chin, fingers digging into his cheeks. “Stay with me. I want you awake for all of it.”

“You’ll still get nothing from me.”

“Then I’ll take pleasure in listening to you scream.” Tartaglia replies lowly, reaching forward to slowly peel piece after piece of skin until Vee is a mess of blood and missing patches of skin. Eventually, Tartaglia gets bored, tossing the skinner’s knife lazily to the side.

He grabs a thin steel wire and wraps it around the fingers on Vee’s left hand, tightening it until his fingers turn blue. Vee hisses through gritted teeth, and snarls. “You’re fucking desperate. Scared. Th’t’s why you’re dragging this out.”

“Haha,” Tartaglia chuckles sinisterly, wiping his bloody hands on a rag. Something dark crosses his eyes, and his grin is like the devil. “You think I’m dragging this out because I’m scared? No, Vee. I’m dragging this out because I enjoy it.”

Tartaglia pauses, shoes clicking against the concrete floor as he steps closer.

“You know what? Tell me,” Tartaglia drawls, grabbing Vee’s bruised and bloody chin to look up at him. “What is it you think I’m afraid of?”

“Us.” Vee breathes, smirking even with blood on his teeth. “We’re the ones that will topple your empire, and it scares you.”

Tartaglia laughs loudly at this, the sound manic, echoing mercilessly in the warehouse. Some of the fatui gangsters share looks. This is why Tartaglia is terrifying. “You really think the Vorovskoy can destroy what we’ve built? You’re fucking delusional.”

Tartaglia waves over Sergiu, barking to bring him Vee’s phone. Sergiu hands it to him with a devious smile, glancing back at the beaten and battered man in the chair. Vee’s phone is cracked, blood smeared across the glass. Tartaglia steps forward, holding it up.

“If you won’t talk, maybe this will.”

Tartaglia unlocks it with Vee’s half-flayed thumb, smearing more blood along the screen. It lights up— contacts. Dozens of names. Tartaglia scrolls rapidly, expression blank.

“You think you’re clever?” Vee sneers, licking the blood off his teeth. “That phone’s as empty as your fucking soul.”

“Mmhm.”

“Every number in there’s a ghost, or a goddamn trap. Keep chasing shadows, fatui boy. You’ll find nothing. ”

Tartaglia turns away, slowly stalking back to the metal tray with all his knives and instruments. If he’s right, I’ll be sending my people right into a trap. If he’s bluffing and I don’t look into it, I’ll lose valuable information.

“I’m in your head, Tartaglia.”

Tartaglia’s jaw ticks, setting the phone down. I’ll have to bring this to Arlecchino later, see if she has anything for me.

Tartaglia tightens the wire on Vee’s hand until he hears a snap, and fingers break. Skin splits open, blood drips down onto the floor. Vee screams.

Tartaglia walks back over to the metal tray, taking the bone saw at the far left. He returns and grabs Vee’s hand, the one mangled by wire. He holds it still, the bone saw in his right hand. Vee chuckles, struggling to focus on Tartaglia’s face. “You wanna hold hands? You soft mother—“

Vee is interrupted as a guttural scream is ripped from his throat, the saw coming to life against Vee’s wrist. Blood spurts across the chair and floor while Vee howls in agony. Tears stream down his face as he chokes on blood and screams.

“Last chance, Vee. Names.” Tartaglia growls low, eyes narrowed. He leans forward, eye level with Vee. “Where are the rats hiding?”

“Go to hell, svolach,” Vee spits blood into Tartaglia’s face, landing on his cheek. Tartaglia takes a step back, eye twitching as he reaches up to swipe the blood off his face. “You’ll find them there.”

Tartaglia climbs on top of Vee, not caring of the blood that smears on his suit as he does. He shoves Vee’s head back roughly, holding him in place with one hand as the other inches closer to his eye, the one not swollen shut. Vee thrashes weakly underneath him, muttering profanities through labored breaths.

Tartaglia uses the hand holding him in place to anchor Vee’s eyelids open as he digs his other fingers into the socket around the eyeball. Vee screams louder than any of his other screams. Raw, pained. He rips out Vee’s eye, listening to Vee cry, feeling his body tremble beneath him.

“Tell me what I want to know. This is the last time I’ll ask.”

“Fuck you, fatui boy.” Vee’s voice is quiet, labored. Even now, he refuses to give up. Tartaglia huffs an irritated breath, getting off of him. He grabs a switchblade from his pocket, advancing on Vee again.

“You don’t want to talk? Fine,” Tartaglia grabs Vee’s tongue from his mouth, yanking it out and pressing a blade to it. “Then choke on it.”

He slices his tongue off cleanly as Vee screams, choking on the blood that flows down his throat. Tartaglia stuffs his severed tongue back into his mouth and forces his mouth shut, feeling him struggle to breathe and choke to death beneath his hands.

As Vee finally slumps backwards, lifeless, Tartaglia removes himself, wiping his switchblade on a rag. Tartaglia’s eyes twitch as his jaw ticks, and finally the rage boils over.

“Fucking Bastard!” Tartaglia practically screams in rage, kicking over the metal stand, sending everything atop it clattering loudly to the ground. “Gave me nothing!!”

Tartaglia turns to face his men, standing terrified to the side. He points, “ You. ”

“Fucking dispose of him. Make an example of Vee,” Tartaglia snarls, violently grabbing his coat and throwing it on. “Show them all what happens when you fuck with me.”

Tartaglia storms out without another word, leaving behind an air of violence and power in his wake.

Chapter Text

“Hey, did you hear?” Tatiana says softly as she sets a few papers on (Y/N)’s desk. She raises a brow, tilting her head.

“Hear what?”

“Anatoly didn’t come to work today,” Tatiana leans against the clean side of the desk, glancing around before leaning forward to talk lowly. “I heard rumors that he got fired for making threats.”

“I heard he quit,” Nikolai rounds the corner to join them, arms crossed. “Probably mad that HR concluded the investigation so quickly. They sided with me and that probably broke Anatoly’s already fragile ego.”

“They verified that you were in your office the whole time?”

“Yep,” Nikolai smiles triumphantly. “Told you. Cameras proved that I was in my office when he was attacked. I didn’t hear or see anything while I was up here.”

“They concluded their investigation quickly,” (Y/N) mutters, fingers idly flicking through the stack of papers on her desk. “Nothing about what he said to me? They didn’t even call me in to get my side.”

“I guess they didn’t need to,” Nikolai shrugs dismissively. “Cameras and all that or whatever.”

“So did they give you cake with an apology written in icing?” She jokes, and Tatiana giggles quietly.

“Damn, that’s what I should have said to Marcel earlier,” Nikolai sighs dramatically. “Maybe I should get everyone to sign a card that says “I’m sorry for spreading rumors about you Nilolai” with a sad face and a hundred dollars inside.”

“That’s bribery,” Tatiana raises an eyebrow.

“It’s an apology.” Nikolai gestures vaguely as he speaks, a smirk plastered on his face.

“I think (Y/N) deserves more of an apology, though,” Tatiana says quietly, looking down at where she sat on that broken chair. “She was dragged into this conflict for no reason, it’s not fair to her.”

“We both deserve apologies. Me for the baseless accusations against me that I would ever beat up a coworker,” Nikolai huffs. “And (Y/N) for the disgusting rumors our coworkers have been spreading. Especially Nicolette.”

“Nicolette has always been a cunt,” Tatiana sneers, and (Y/N) is slightly taken aback by the vulgar choice of words from Tatiana. She didn’t think soft spoken, sweet Tatiana had that in her. “I would have rather had Nicolette quit than Anatoly. But Anatoly was a lazy rat manager anyways so good riddance.”

“Agreed.” Nikolai nods. A thought seems to hit him, and suddenly he sighs, dropping his head to the side sadly. “Ahh, now that Anatoly is gone I have no one to sneak mouse traps into their desks. It was always quite fun to hear him yelp when one caught his fingers. The highlight of my day and now it’s gone.”

“Nikolai!” Tatiana giggles, shaking her head. “You’re too much.”

“Start sneaking them into Nicolette’s desk,” (Y/N) grumbles, turning back to her monitor. “Or Donovan’s.”

“Ohhh, I would never be able to get away with sneaking them into Donovan’s desk,” Nikolai chuckles, shaking his head. “Nicolette, however. Hmmm, that’s a good idea.”

“I fully support that notion,” Tatiana nods approvingly, pushing herself off (Y/N)’s desk to head back to her own. “I’ll supply the mouse traps.”

“Devious!”

Nikolai walks away laughing, leaving (Y/N) to continue her work in peace.

Well, as peaceful as it can be when rumors still swirl around you like a storm.

“Anatoly quit just like that? There has to be more to it. He loved working here, he wouldn’t just quit so easily.”

“He did get the shit beaten out of him in the parking lot outside. And project manager is a demanding position. He probably felt humiliated when he got demoted and found a different job.”

“I bet Anatoly was forced out of the company by someone higher up.”

“You think Mr. Ivanovich made him resign?”

“Doubt it. Mr. Ivanovich doesn’t get involved like that. Probably Donovan or one of the investors.”

“Like Tartaglia?”

“Maybe. I wouldn’t put it past him. From what I’ve heard about him, he loves flaunting his power. Forcing someone like Anatoly out would take nothing for him to do.”

“I caught wind that Anatoly left the country.”

“No fucking way! Where?”

“Fontaine. Opportunities are higher there. Plus, he loves Fontainian women. Sounds like paradise for a man like him.”

“You think he got severance pay?”

“He definitely quit because of (Y/N) and Nikolai. They’re at the center of the problem!”

“Nikolai wasn’t fired. They must have decided Nikolai had nothing to do with what happened in the parking lot.”

“That doesn’t clear (Y/N) of suspicion! She totally could have hired a gangster to attack him! I mean, doesn’t she live in the warzone? There’s a gangster on like every corner over there.”

A message from the company chat pops up on her monitor. Dmitry. He tells her that he wants her thoughts on the Northland Bank project, and to come to his office to talk. She messages him back that she’ll be right there, and turns off her monitor before stepping away from her desk.

She walks by Nicolette’s desk on her way to Dmitry’s office, and resists the urge to knock over a glass paperweight on her desk. Don’t be petty. Don’t be petty.

She knocks softly on the door and waits for a few seconds before Dmitry’s deep voice can be heard. “Come in.”

She opens the door and walks in, approaching his desk. There are papers strewn all over it, and he’s picking up some and moving them as his eyes scan over them briefly, seemingly looking for something specific.

He’s messy, but at least he isn’t leaned back watching football on his phone.

“Hey, so what do you need?”

“You might want to sit down. It’s gonna be a while,” Dmitry gestures with his free hand to the seat in front of his desk while he scrutinizes the paper in his hands. He tosses it back onto the desk with a sigh as he turns back to his monitor. She takes a seat.

“Is there a problem with the project?”

“Yes,” Dmitry replies, typing something quickly before dragging his cursor over a file folder. “Well, kind of. I ran into a couple issues, but it’s not major.”

She hums in response, but says nothing.

“I haven’t been able to get ahold of Mr. Tartaglia all day. You’re his girlfriend, so I figured you could help me instead.” Dmitry doesn’t look at her as he pulls up the draft and other notes related to the project. “Plus, you drafted this project anyway, if anyone can help me it’s you.”

“Sure. Where are you stuck at?”

“So, right here…” Dmitry points out a section of the draft, and explains that with the budget  the company allotted to the project, it wasn’t possible to make it work. She proposes her own adjustment, and the two go back and forth testing different solutions.

It takes them both hours before they come to a viable compromise. By the time she left his office to head back to her desk, everyone else except for Nikolai was gone for the night.

She grabs her things and throws on her coat, stopping at Nikolai’s desk to say goodbye for the night. He smirks at her and waves, then turns back to the overwhelmingly large stack of papers on his desk.

Seems like he’s being punished like her now that he’s in this department. I wonder if he misses the marketing department.

As she steps out into the snow alone, she glances around nervously. Anatoly was beaten up in this same parking lot, and it’s still unknown who did it. What if she was attacked out here, too? Nikolai was still upstairs in the office.

Maybe she should have asked him to walk her down before going back up to finish paperwork and faxes.

She walks quickly to her car, stepping carefully to keep herself from slipping on ice. She was hyper aware of every sound around her. It wasn’t so bad last night when she left at the same time as everyone else, but since her impromptu meeting with Dmitry about the project ran later than she expected, she left after everyone else was gone.

Everyone except Nikolai and Dmitry, of course, who both still had work to finish before going home.

She didn’t used to think it was so scary to leave this late before when she first started working there, but after Anatoly got attacked out here, it’s a little more real. Even if Anatoly was probably attacked for a bad bet or whatever other excuses everyone is making up at the office.

She feels someone watching her, and looks around frantically only to see no one there. She looks up at the windows on the floor of their offices. The lights are still on. She turns and rushes the short distance to her car.

She makes it safely to her car and sighs a breath of relief, turning the car on and letting it warm up for a moment before she finally leaves, heading straight for the comfort of her apartment.

God, she never thought she would think of her apartment as safe before, considering that it was in a seedy part of the city. Oh, how things change.

She hurries up the stairs to her apartment after parking the car, eager to get out of the snow and away from the “gangsters on every corner” as her coworkers said while whispering earlier. They whisper like she can’t hear everything they say.

She goes about her usual routine every night when she gets home. Changes out of her uniform, warms up a quick meal, settles on the couch.

She finishes eating, and brings her dishes to the kitchen to clean them when a knock startles her from her spot in front of the sink. She dries her hands and heads to the door when a second knock sounds, and she slowly opens the door.

Ajax is standing there, hair a mess, face red, eyes obscured by his bangs. She opens the door all the way and smiles.

“Oh, Ajax, I-“

Ajax pushes past her into her apartment, stumbling over to the couch. He falls into it with a groan, and she shuts the door quickly, then rushes over to him, panicked. “Ajax! Are you okay? What-“

“C’mere,” Ajax slurs, grabbing her wrist and tugging her on top of him. She yelps in surprise, smelling the vodka on his breath as he leans in to capture her lips with his. “Fuck, baby. I miss you. Ugh.”

“H-hey, rough day?”

“Fucking miserable.” He nuzzles his face into her clothed breasts, inhaling her perfume. She reaches up with shaky hands to run softly through his hair, raking her nails gently over his scalp. “You have no idea what I had to deal with today. Fucking rats.”

“Rats?” She asks, twirling a strand of his ginger hair around her finger. He sighs contently, burying himself further into her.

“Don’t mind it, my love,” he murmurs against her chest. His hands settle to rest on her hips, occasionally dragging up underneath her shirt. “Just keep running your fingers through my hair. It feels nice.”

She continues dragging her fingers through his hair, humming a soft Mondstadt tune as she feels his breathing slow. He relaxes into the couch, slumped forward into her. He pulls her closer to him, almost like he was trying to merge the two of them into one.

“You’re going to be my undoing, love.”

He mutters it so low, she doesn’t catch it. He sighs, turning his head to listen to hear quickening heart beat. “You’re the only person I would let wreck me, you know?”

“Hmm?”

“Haha, I mean, you already have,” his arms squeeze her tightly, but not too tight to be uncomfortable. “Completely wrecked me.”

“I-I have?”

“Mmhm,” Ajax hums low in his throat, beginning to plant soft kisses over her shirt, moving until he reaches skin. “But it’s okay. I like when you ruin me.”

She huffs, face red as she looks down at the mop of orange hair nestled against her chest.

“You’re drunk.”

“You’re so cute when you point out the obvious,” Ajax chuckles, nosing along her collarbone.

She brushes his bangs out of his eyes, looking down at him like he was everything and more. He could practically see the hearts in her eyes. He groans, head falling back against the couch briefly before he returns to the spot between her neck and shoulder. “That… That’s what I’m talking about.”

“What?”

“That look in your eyes. It fucking destroys me, you know.”

“I-in a good way?” She stutters as his lips suck a mark into the skin.

“In the best of ways.”

She shifts in his lap slightly, fingers still tangled in his soft, wavy hair. He groans, licking over the mark before moving up to make another.

“Such a sweet, innocent thing,” Ajax breathes, hands caressing her soft skin underneath her shirt. Hands that have caused major suffering. Hands with blood on them. “No one else can give you what I can. Right?”

“Y-yes, baby,” she whines as his teeth softly pierce the skin below her ear. A whole body shiver courses through his body at the nickname, and the way it passes her lips. “You’re the only one I want.”

“Fuck, I need you so bad.”

Ajax flips their positions, her back landing roughly on the cushions. She gasps, looking up at him wide eyed. He huffs, bangs falling in front of his face as he peers at her, eyes lidded dangerously.

Ajax climbs on top of her, pinning her to the couch beneath him. He presses quick, sloppy, wet kisses to her jaw and down the side of her neck, murmuring Snezhnayan profanities. He leans up, looking into her eyes with an almost desperate expression.

“Tell me I’m in control.”

“W-what?”

“Please. Tell me I’m in control. Tell me you trust me.” He cups her cheek with one hand, impossibly gentle. “Tell me I haven’t lost control. Tell me I know what I’m doing. I need you. I need you to tell me.”

“Y-you’re in control, Ajax.”

“Again.” He buries his face in the crook of her neck, grinding against her roughly. She can’t suppress the moan that bubbles in her throat. “Say it again.”

“You’re i-in control. You’re in.. control.”

“Fuck, yeah. Haha.” He seizes her lips with his, swallowing her moans and whimpers. He steals her breath, lips moving against hers desperately until her lungs burn. Finally, he pulls away, panting. “No one will tell me I’m out of control again.”

Chapter Text

An incessant ringing from his work phone wakes him from his sleep. The sky outside the window is dark with muted stars, and the digital clock on the nightstand says 00:18. Ajax is curled around (Y/N), one arm slung over her waist and his legs tangled with hers. She mutters incoherently in protest, nuzzling closer to him in her sleep as he sits up and answers the phone.

“Yeah?”

“Boss, I’ve got an update for you.”

“About?” Ajax grumbles, peeling himself away from (Y/N) to step out of the bedroom. “I have a lot going on. You’ll need to be more specific.”

“The representative you asked me to look in to.”

“And this couldn’t wait? I was in bed with my girlfriend.”

“Sorry, Boss. I’m still in the office and wanted to check in before I left,” the man sighs, and Ajax can hear pages rustling on the other end. “You asked me to look for any blackmail related to the fatui, specifically to the House of the Hearth. But I found something… better.”

“Spit it out.”

“Vorovskoy names. Turns out Akim was looking into company bank statements and found discrepancies in the investment department,” there’s a smirk in the other man’s tone. “Donovan has been marking the books wrong. He’s embezzling. And it doesn’t end there. Donovan is in bed with the Vorovskoy. Or, someone else here is, someone that Donovan is covering. Someone Donovan doesn’t want to get hurt.”

“Okay,” Ajax hums, leaning against the wall beside the window. “That’s great. Make copies of all those documents for me. I’ll be needing them later.”

“Will do, Boss.”

“And what about what I asked you to do originally?” Ajax glances back toward the bedroom, keeping his voice down. (Y/N) was still peacefully sleeping in bed, blissfully unaware of how deep her asshole boss is involved with criminals. “Did you find what I asked?”

“Akim doesn’t have anything in his desk related to the fatui or the House of the Hearth. If he has anything on the Knave and the House of the Hearth, it’s not here,” the man sighs, and more rustling can be heard. Ajax imagines he’s taking the documents he found to the copy machine to make copies. “It’ll likely be at his home, if there’s anything. He likes blondes, by the way.”

“Are you trying to suggest I have someone seduce him to steal the files?” Ajax raises a brow with a scoff. “Maybe you should seduce him. You’re blonde.”

“I’m also a man,” he huffs. “And unfortunately, Akim isn’t gay.”

“You’re pretty enough to make a straight man gay,” Ajax chuckles. “Just ask Sergiu.”

“Oh ha-ha. I would laugh if I didn’t think that was absurd,” the man says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “I’m making copies now. I’ll drop them at your desk in a few hours before my shift. I’ll leave them with Kat.”

“Good. Make sure no one at the company suspects you’re working for me. That incident the other night already put your cover at risk,” Ajax says lowly, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t risk your cover again.”

“Understood, Boss.”

The call ends just as abruptly as it came in, and Ajax stares out the window at the dark sky for a moment before he turns to go back to (Y/N)’s bedroom. As he crawls back into bed beside her and wraps an arm around her again, she mutters sleepily, “where did you go?”

“Ah, living room. I had to take a business call,” Ajax brushes his thumb over her bare skin. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“A business call this late?” She cracks an eye open curiously, resting her hand on his chest.

“Ah, you know. Time zones and all that.”

Again with the lies. Who are you protecting by lying?

“Oh, I guess that makes sense,” she yawns, closing her eyes again. “People should be more aware of time zones when conducting business.”

“Mmhm,” Ajax hums, nuzzling his face into her neck. “Go back to sleep, love.”

“No more business calls?”

“No more business calls,” he chuckles, squeezing her just a little tighter. “I promise.”

That morning, Tartaglia was late to his office. No one was really surprised. The members of the fatui that were present in the warehouse when Vee was tortured and killed witnessed an epic crash out from their boss, and most of them didn’t expect that Tartaglia would even show up.

What they didn’t know was that Ekaterina was in possession of highly important files that needed to be picked up and concealed today.

No matter how badly Tartaglia didn’t want to come in to work today, he had to. At least for long enough to pick up the files and bring them back to his penthouse. And he would need to make a few calls, and inform Arlecchino of what his plant in Ivanovich’s company told him at midnight about Akim.

Tartaglia had a lot to do today, but all he could think about was what Vee said about losing control of his soldiers.

Tartaglia? Losing control? Surely not.

“Do you have those files for me, Kat?”

“Right here, Tartaglia,” Ekaterina opens the bottom drawer and pulls out a thick folder. He takes it from her and flips through it before shutting it and turning away to leave the bank.

“Thanks. I’ll be working from home today. Clear my schedule,” Tartaglia waves her off. “I will not be attending any meetings.”

“Understood,” she sighs, turning back to her monitor as Tartaglia walks away with the files.

The drive back to his penthouse was tense, music low, knuckles white around the steering wheel. He knew he shouldn’t let that stupid gangster get to him the way he did. But with the other bosses all calling him Childe, acting like he was too young and dumb to understand the world he’s been living in since he was 14, quite frankly it irked him.

It bothered him so much more than he wanted to admit.

The door to his penthouse slams shut behind him and he kicks off his shoes, walking to his locked office door. He pushes the door open and circles around to the desk.

Tartaglia drops the files and sinks into his chair, running a hand through his ginger hair. He huffs a sigh through his nose, and opens the folder to start actually reading what was on the files.

There were dozens of names, all connected to the Vorovskoy. Some were full names, some were aliases, some had notes about their rank in the gang. One name stood out to Tartaglia the most.

Mikolov.

One of his own men that had been present when Vee was tortured and killed.

His eye twitched.

Why wasn’t I told last night when the documents were found?

He wanted to crumble the remaining pages, go out to drag Mikolov out in front of everyone and execute him himself. But he dug his nails into his palm, buried the rage for now.

He still had other documents to examine before he did anything irrational. He had to prove he’s still in control.

He sends a quick message to those he trusts, before going back to the files on his desk.

Tartaglia: We’ve been compromised by the Vorovskoy. Don’t tell the others yet.

Tartaglia: Mikolov.

Tartaglia: Mikhail, Alexei. Handle it.

Mikhail: You got it, boss.

Tartaglia: keep him alive. I want to see him before he dies.

He flipped the pages angrily until he found the printed financial records for Ivanovich inc., inspecting the inconsistencies he was told about early that morning. He narrows his eyes in thought, tapping his fingers before he pulls his laptop out of the bottom drawer.

He logs in to his work account, pulling up email exchanges between himself and Donovan, until he finds the quarterly projections that were shared with him. He smirks mirthlessly, huffing. “That stupid bastard.”

He pushes those pages to the side and pulls out the paper from the stack implicating Donovan in embezzlement of company funds. Paid “business trips” to Fontaine and Inazuma, money conveniently being moved to different accounts, fraudulent checks and transactions, etc.

And underneath it all, Donovan’s connection with a man called K.

“K, Vee, gods, are every one of the higher ups in the Vorovskoy gonna go by alphabetical letters? Fuck.”

Tartaglia leans back, crossing one leg over the other. “So, representative Akim has been investigating embezzlement at Ivanovich inc, and found out that Donovan is the one committing fraud. Oh, I can definitely use this later.”

Tartaglia sits back up properly and begins scanning the files into his laptop. He runs them through multiple encryptions, dropping them into zipped folders, then sends the files to Arlecchino.

Tartaglia: *sent encrypted file attachment*

Tartaglia: *sent encrypted file attachment*

Tartaglia: *sent encrypted file attachment*

Tartaglia: This is all I have so far. It was all Akim had in the desk in his office. I know these files have nothing to do with what you asked, but it does implicate the investment department’s manager in the embezzlement of funds from Ivanovich Inc., as well as connections with the Vorovskoy.

Tartaglia: I figured it would be good for you to have these files as well.

Tartaglia: I am still looking in to Akim like you asked, by the way.

Tartaglia: If he has anything on the House of the Hearth and the fatui, it will probably be at his home. He has a deep affection for blondes, so I will send Anna to seduce him and find out what else he knows.

Knave: I see.

Knave: Have you had any progress with the Vorovskoy aside from the connections to Ivanovich inc?

Tartaglia: I did find one of the guys I was looking for. Went by Vee. The guy who sent that shestyorka couple weeks back.

Tartaglia: He didn’t give me anything useful to work with, though. Got his phone but he said all the numbers are dead or traps. Think you can look into it?

Tartaglia: I’ll get you a drink.

Knave: I don’t do drinks.