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screampied · 4 months

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TO THE NIGHT WE MET.

summary. you and nanami watch the ball drop together to end the year with a good start. funny how even the sweetest moments can feel so…surreal.

wc. 1.7k

tags. gn!reader, fluff in the beginning, angst-ish, just nanami being an affectionate husband, calls reader sweetheart + dear.

“sweetheart, ‘s almost midnight.” nanami would mutter is the sweetest voice. you’re in the kitchen and he’s sat lazily manspread near the living room. nice and cozy on the leather comforter before he rubs a hand against his thigh, ushering you to come join him.

“okay.” you’d hum, making your way towards him, and a soft smile presses against his lips. he could never find the right words to describe how he felt whenever he’d just stare and gawk at you. you made his heart fill with love, so much of it.

the tv was on, and playing on the flat screen was the iconic ball drop. it was being broadcasted live, with just a few minutes to spare.

you made yourself cushy and snug against his lap. he wraps an arm around you before pulling you close towards him, snaking his fingers alongside your waist before resting his chin near your shoulder, he exhales a soft sigh before mumbling against your ear. “gonna be another year with you by my side. ‘m so lucky..”

“i’m luckier,” you teased, hearing his chest jostle a bit against you, his body language letting you know that he was laughing, a sweet playful guffaw.

“i’m luckiest, my dear,” he whispers—softly ghosting his fingers along inside down the nape of your neck, gently brushing a thumb against some strands of your hair as the two of you had your eyes averted towards the screen. “told ya.”

“pft.” you scoff with a subtle eye roll.

nanami hums to himself, knowing he’d always get the last word, finding your bitter yet teasing frustration to be nothing but simply…adorable, that was the word.

currently, nothing major was happening.

just a few well known bands performing before the ball would drop. currently plastered on the screen in a bright neon timer it read 11:56 P.M. nanami continued to hold you in his arms, your back pressed against his chest as if you didn’t have a single care in the world.

because well, you didn’t.

every moment you spent with nanami, you wanted to savor and cherish every moment. every second — every sixty seconds that hung onto every minute. simply because you never realized how quick time would speed by whenever you two would do something as simple as talking.

just rambling and rambling about nothings, about your day, his day, or nanami just showering you with compliments, he’s your husband after all.

just hearing the calmness of your voice was enough to put him at ease. to put all his irksome worries to rest, a deep and utter slumber.

“before we leave this year behind, sweetheart,” he mutters against your ear, and you feel him reaching towards the side of the couch to grab something. “i got you a little gift.”

“kento…” you start to object, turning around to face him, still propped up against his lap, just barely.

he smiles, bringing a hand towards your face before stroking your chin, placing the gift into your hand.

it was a pretty medium-sized box, a bit of weight onto it and he chuckles, “i know. ‘s not really a special occasion like your birthday or anything but i jus’ wanted to give you something you wanted since i had no time to get you anything for christmas. work was—”

“i…i can’t even get mad.” you sigh, eyebrows narrowly furrowing together. you pull him into a brief hug and he guffaws, at your tight grip your arms have as they lock around him tightly. his hands gently rub against your back, tenderly.

nanami smelled so good too, a strong mixture of cologne, but he always made sure to wear the ones that you liked. he was always so fond of letting you even pick them out for him to wear. you nuzzle your head against his chest a bit before murmuring a soft, “thank you.”

“eh, shouldn’t you thank me after you open it? if anything, the box could be empty, dear.”

he grins at the tiny pout-like scowl tugging against your lips before he playfully boops your nose, intently staring into your eyes before happily sighing. “oh, quit it. ‘m only teasing. go ahead. hurry and unwrap it. think you’ll really like it.”

you give him a quick glance, a cute frisky scowl on your lips before you look down to yourself with an almost hidden smile. digging your nails and starting to unravel the bright silvery wrapping paper — you could only imagine what this particular gift was.

a few good seconds later, your hands run across to what feels like a hefty base, your fingers trace around the material of layers and grain, before it stops against a circular lens.

“you...you remembered?”

“you did always say how much you wanted a new polaraoid,” nanami starts, tilting his head with a soft simper. such kind eyes staring into yours, not once departing. “which was like all the time, but i made sure to save up for you, sweetheart. now you can take as many pretty pictures you want.”

you start to feel a sudden throb in your chest, the more you stared at nanami — holding the newly unwrapped camera in your hand, thumbs swiping against it, an imaginary lump randomly getting caught in your throat to where you find it hard to voice out a reply and then he breaks the silence.

“ah, they’re starting the countdown. c’mere…”

you cleared your throat, somewhat helping the strange tears that nearly made its way to trickle down your eyes from his sweet efforts at giving you a present on new years.

the scenery was so pretty, crowds of people in puffercoats. balloons and lots of confetti everywhere decorating and flying amongst the sky from the wind.

humming and singing along to the jams and tunes before getting a bit quiet once the reporter announced it was time to start the infamous countdown.

“alright everyone, ten….nine….eight…seven….”

you hugged nanami’s waist, the both of you counting down together with the screen, he smiles at your grip. nanami ghosts his fingers against your back as a soothing method, before the continue.

“six…five…four…three…two…one…”

and the both of you watch as the pretty glistening ball that was slow drops near the colored bright lights of the new year display upon the tower. it was so heavenly to witness. you could only imagine what it’d be like to see the ball drop in person with nanami. perhaps another year though.

“happy new year, sweetheart.” he hums, breaking you away from your thoughts. he makes you face him with a swift finger or two—bringing your chin to look up at him before bringing you into a sweet and passionate kiss.

your eyes fluttered before closing, planting your hands down against his broad shoulders, you returned the kiss with such passion. a teeny smile could be felt against nanami’s lips as he pressed his mouth against yours — he was so sweet and precise, gently raising your head up just a bit.

the music of the tv played in the background, every saying their goodbyes and happy new years, and it’s a good minute before nanami pulls away — and, it’s an understatement to say that he’s just a little flustered.

“first kiss of the year. we should take a picture to remember this by,” and then he playfully runs a hand down his hair, speaking in a near gruff tone. “perhaps even make this a little tradition?”

“how should we pose?” you shyly say, making him sit back down against the couch—and he’s all snuggled up against you, a arm slinging around your waist as you turned the polaroid camera backwards so the lens could face the both of you.

nanami shrugs before raising his brows. “you can always um.. kiss my cheek, my dear.”

“okay.” you giggle.

you position yourself and nanami to a good enough angle for the camera to reach. with a swift few clicks of your thumb, you toggle the button towards the option to snap a picture and within three seconds—you quickly scoot in to press a soft kiss against his cheek, he flashes a cute grin and click.

within a few seconds, the picture exits out of the camera, yet it’s not developed.

“i bet we look great.” he hums, lightly moving you close towards his chest to plant a chaste kiss against the tip of your forehead.

and nanami was right. the both of you did. you both looked so happy, so full of joy, yet most importantly, so full of love. so full of attachment, need, and just…love. the way you were nestled up against nanami, your lips gently pressed against the right side of his cheek.

nanami’s right eye was open — his other eye was closed, a subtle wink at the camera, he always knew how to charm.

although after about a good fifteen minutes, the picture finished developing. actually, it’s been developed.

for years now.

it was the start of a new year again, and you decided to treat yourself on a nice vacation. to clear your head, take some time to yourself and all. you still had your camera. it’s stuck with you ever since.

malaysia, it was so pretty.

“he would have loved it here.” you sighed, slipping your fingers into your wallet to find that polaroid picture from those few years ago. you frowned a bit at the sight of it starting to develop a bit of crinkles but it was still in good condition.

your eyes stared down at the picture, of you kissing nanami on the cheek, him winking with an arm locked around your waist, and you could just hear his chuckle and his voice. “did you take the picture yet, sweetheart?”

the more you stared to reminisce, the more you sniffled. you didn’t wanna come to the bitter realization—the truth that you were still in grieve. nanami wasn’t here with you in malaysia simply because he was…gone.

it was a touch pill to swallow, but he went out people. that put you at somewhat of ease, right?

no it didn’t.

a sigh left your mouth as you brought your fingers up towards your face to wipe your incoming tears, the various droplets that suddenly fell onto the nearly crumbled up polaroid of your one and only loved, nanami kento.

“happy…happy new year, kento. i’ll make sure to take lots of pictures in malaysia. just for you. i love you..”

#★vegasbaby.#nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami fluff #nanami angst #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fic #jjk drabbles #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk angst

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niveditaabaidya · 2 years

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Ukraine Narrowly Escapes Nuclear Catastrophe Averted #ukraine #kyiv #za...

#youtube #Ukraine Narrowly Escapes Nuclear Catastrophe Averted. ukraine kyiv zaporizhzhia donetsk kherson Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskiy sai

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

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Thinking about Rockstar!Eddie meeting you at an autograph signing and getting off to the thought of you after his show...

“Here ya go,” Eddie says, forcing a tired smile as he hands a freshly-autographed CD to a beaming fan. Pre-show merch signings were part of the deal, and they certainly brought in the extra cash, but after five months on the road, the members of Corroded Coffin are tired. Eddie scratches at the five o’clock shadow dotting his face, glancing at his watch. Just another ten minutes until they can wrap this up and start soundcheck. Then they’ll be back on the bus, shipping off to whatever city’s up next.

The security guard lets the next two people up to the table. Eddie reaches over to the pile of CDs, giving an exasperated sigh as he asks, “Name?”

That’s when he hears your voice.

His head snaps up, and he relaxes as he takes in your shy demeanor. You’re holding the hand of your friend–girlfriend?--hey, it’s the ‘90s; anything is possible. Your eyes sparkle as you say and spell your first name, biting your lower lip and averting your gaze from the gorgeous rockstar in front of you. “Pretty name,” he murmurs, writing a short message and swirling the Sharpie over the CD cover to make his exaggerated signature. “Pretty name for a pretty girl, yeah?”

You just giggle, and the girl next to you squeezes your hand. “She’s, like, completely in love with you,” she blabbers. “Every damn day since we got these tickets, it’s been, ‘What should I wear? Do you think Eddie will notice me?’”

You free your hand to elbow her, a little harsher than you’d intended. “Dianna!” you hiss, burying your face in your palms in a feeble attempt to hide your humiliation.

But Eddie just cocks his head, checking you out from head to toe. “Oh, he definitely noticed you,” he muses, handing you the CD with two lanyards. “You ladies wanna watch backstage? ‘Course you do; Charlie will bring you where you gotta go and, uh,” he looks directly at you, sending an excited shiver down your spine, “maybe we can notice each other a bit more later.”

You and Dianna nod vigorously as the beefy security guard leads you to the backstage VIP suite. A waiter comes around and takes your drink orders. You ask for a vodka soda, and Dianna gets a Long Island iced tea.

“You sure about that?” you whisper as the waiter walks away. “Those are really strong.”

Dianna shrugs. “It’s not every day we get free drinks. Might as well drink as much as we can.”

Meanwhile, Eddie’s fumbling his way through soundcheck, thinking about the way your breasts peeked out the top of your Corroded Coffin tank top, how your denim shorts perfectly cupped your ass, the shiny gloss that emphasized your lips. God, he wants those lips wrapped around his hard, throbbing–

“Munson? You wanna get your head out of your ass so we can put on a show?” Jeff’s voice booms through his mic.

“He’s thinking about that hot chick he gave backstage passes to,” Gareth teases, and Simon makes kissy noises at their lead singer.

Eddie launches his guitar pick in Gareth’s direction, narrowly missing his head. “Shut the fuck up, all of you,” he grumbles, but he knows that they’re right. Just get through the show and she’s all yours. He palms himself over his pants discreetly. He’s never been more grateful for his guitar, since his tight leather pants do nothing to hide his burgeoning erection.

Corroded Coffin puts on a hell of a show, as usual. They close with “Rock Hard,” their hit single about hooking up with a groupie after a concert, and Eddie thanks every celestial being that it’s the last song of the night. As soon as the band thanks the audience and says their goodbyes, Eddie dashes offstage. He bolts into your suite, all sweat and smiles. “How’d you like the–” He stops, frowning when he sees an empty room, save for Charlie, who’s smoking a cigarette in a lounge chair. “Where is she?”

“Sorry, Casanova,” Charlie drawls. “Her little friend drank too much, got sick all over the bathroom. Had to get them outta here before she ruined anything else.”

Eddie groans, throwing his head back as his bandmates laugh at his misfortune. “Goddammit,” he hisses, pushing his perspiration-soaked hair from his eyes.

“C’mon, man,” Simon claps a hand on Eddie’s back. “There’s a bar down the street; plenty of the girls from the show will be there…” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Nah, I’m just gonna head back to the bus. ‘M pretty beat.”

“Oh, something’s getting beat tonight,” Gareth jokes. Eddie flips him off, but once again, he’s right.

He’s barely closed the curtain to his makeshift bedroom before he’s hastily unbuttoning his leather pants, shoving his ringed hand into his boxer briefs. Just the sensation of his own touch has him bucking his hips. He runs his thumb over the bead of pre-cum pearling at his tip, using it to lubricate his palm. He uses his free hand to tug his pants down to his knees, sitting on the bed. He imagines you on your knees in front of him.

“S’big, isn’t it, baby?” Eddie coos. He leans over, letting a trail of saliva drip from his mouth to his shaft. “Thas’ right, spit on it. Such a dirty fuckin’ girl.” He grips the bedsheet with his left hand, dragging his right from base to tip.

“What’s that? You want it in your mouth? Oh, pretty girl; you don’t have to ask twice.”

He fucks into his fist harder, feeling himself grow in his own grasp. “Mmm, let me make a mess of that face. Ruin that fuckin’ makeup you worked so hard on. Wanted me to notice you; well, I sure fuckin’ did. Knew I had to have you, sweet thing.” If you were actually here, you’d be gagging on his dick as your nose grazes the thatch of curls on his pevlis, tears reflexively gathering at the corners of your eyes. Your mascara would start to run; the telltale sign of a good blowjob.

He loosens his hold on the sheet, cupping his balls. “If you do that, ‘m gonna bust in that sinful mouth of yours, fuckin’ swear.” A harsh chuckle escapes his throat. “Bet you’d like that. Bet you’d take my whole load down your throat, swallow it all, yeah?”

Eddie brings himself right to the edge before forcing himself to slow down. “I know, baby. I know you wanna keep sucking me off. But I wanna–no, I gotta be in that perfect little pussy. Now, come sit on my cock. Nice and slow–thassit.” He tightens his grip on his length, keeping a slow rhythm to mimic the feeling of gradually filling you up. “You can take it, don’t worry. I’ve got you, baby girl.”

He bites his lower lip so hard that he swears it might bleed. “Oh, angel. Y’feel even better than I ever imagined, holy fuck.” He increases his pace, choking out a pathetic moan. “What’s that? You want me to come inside you? So desperate f’me, aren’t you?” He whimpers at the mental image of you bouncing on his cock, tits pressed up against the dusting of hair on his chest. “Come with me, fuck, wanna make you come. Want you to cream my cock while I fuckin’ fill you up.” Eddie lets out one last pornographic moan as thick, hot ropes of cum spurt out onto his thick fingers. He pants, trying to catch his breath as he comes down from the high of his orgasm.

Cleaning himself up, Eddie grumbles to himself about your stupid drunk friend and how he’s so tired of fucking his own hand. He falls asleep quickly, worn out from the combination of the concert and his own post-show escapades.

The next morning, Eddie wakes up and wipes the sleep from his eyes. The bus driver has already set out for their next destination, somewhere in Bumblefuck. Eddie doesn’t care, he just wants you. Real you, not the fantasy he’d conjured up last night.

“Hey, boss,” Charlie says when Eddie pads out to the bus’s common space. “Forgot to give this to you after the show.” He hands him a folded piece of paper, which reads:

Eddie:

Had to get Dianna home before she puked on the carpet. I was not paying for that to be replaced–the tickets for your autograph already bankrupted me…

But if you wanna stop by my hotel room later, just give me a call. I don’t think you were done noticing me. I certainly wasn’t done noticing you.

You signed your name with a glossy lip print and your hotel room extension.

“Charlie,” Eddie starts through gritted teeth, “if you can convince the driver to turn this bus around, I won’t fire you.”

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson stranger things

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lobstersinmyhouse · 1 year

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I promise you that freight rail is far more important than you think. It is the lifeblood of all industry in America. All raw materials and the ingredients to make them run on America's shrinking rail network. I mean everything from refined petroleum products (ALL OF THEM- gasoline, plastic pellets, etc.) to sheet steel to grain, all of it is moved from industry to industry on freight trains. Right now, this essential service is under the thumb of wall street. It is a noose both around the neck of the workers who keep it running and the rest of us who rely on it. Corporate America is constantly cutting costs to maximize profits- that means less maintenance, fewer crews, and a greater burden on everyone else. That's why there was a narrowly-averted rail strike, and that's why an entire train was derailed in one of the greatest environmental disasters in American history.

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edenesth · 3 months

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The Way to His Heart [9]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 8 | Fic Masterlist | Part 10

Standing in front of the door to your former prison, all your insecurities came rushing back. Suddenly, your newfound identity seemed to evaporate, leaving you feeling like nothing more than a shell of your past self.

"What's wrong, my dear? Why do you keep staring at this storeroom, hm? You know you can tell me anything." Seonghwa asked in a gentle voice, sensing that you were far from okay. He cupped your cheek tenderly, urging you to meet his gaze.

Jongho and Eunsook stood anxiously behind you, waiting for you to reveal the truth to the general. Only then could they finally bring your family to justice for their misdeeds. The weight of everyone's expectations rested on your shoulders.

Please, mistress, just say it, and we will handle the rest.

No matter how hard your husband tried to capture your attention, all you could see was beyond his shoulder, where your family glowered at you. All the determination you had to confront your family diminished, and you were reminded of your true self.

Just a worthless, insignificant piece.

You felt undeserving of Seonghwa's love, too ashamed to confess that this pitiful excuse for a room was where you had spent your entire caged childhood. Would he still want you as his wife if he discovered the truth?

"Come on, my dear. Talk to me, please." The general leaned in, attempting to dominate your field of vision. He didn't like how you kept glancing nervously back at your family as if still afraid of what they could do to you.

Your husband's heart shattered as he gazed once more into your vacant, hopeless eyes. It felt as if he could never truly connect with you. Once again, he found himself lost, unable to reach you. It became clear that your biggest obstacle wasn't trusting him; it was trusting yourself. Despite all his efforts, your insecurities persisted.

Bringing you back to this place seemed like a colossal mistake, undoing all the progress you had made. The words Hongjoong had spoken to you were now pushed to the recesses of your mind, overshadowed by your demons.

Seonghwa's stomach sank when you averted your gaze, blinking your wet eyes with a shake of your head, "Nothing, it's nothing. I... I'm sorry, I don't know why I kept looking here; it's just an old storeroom, as you can see." Your family collectively sighed in relief, narrowly avoiding exposure. For once, they felt slightly thankful to you for not ratting them out.

Of course, it couldn't have been this easy.

Despite the internal frustration, the general flashed a reassuring smile down at you. His plan had crumbled, and you didn't speak up as he had hoped. The head maid and assistant couldn't conceal their disappointment at the missed opportunity.

Casting a glance at his assistant to silently acknowledge the failure of the plan, he squeezed your trembling hand, "It's alright, nothing to be sorry about. Well, if that is all, perhaps we can begin discussing the wedding arrangements then."

Minister Jang immediately brightened, "Of course, let us get on with it. I'm sure we have much to discuss."

With a subtle shake of his head, Jongho signalled to the private investigator that the plan wasn't unfolding as expected. Noticing the exchanged glances, your father raised an eyebrow, "Wooyoung, do you and the general's assistant know each other?"

Both froze momentarily, cursing inwardly at their lack of caution. The fake servant beamed innocently at the minister, "Oh yes, master! I thought he looked familiar; turns out we were from the same village!"

The assistant nodded along quickly with a wide smile, "Yes, what a small world."

Fortunately, the fabricated story seemed convincing, and your father nodded without suspicion, "Huh, what are the odds? Just don't let me catch you slacking off. If you want to catch up, do it after work."

Wooyoung grinned quickly, "Yes, master!" before bowing deeply. Glancing at the general for approval, he was relieved to see Seonghwa nodding lightly, silently expressing 'good job'. His heart raced, still finding it surreal that he was looking at his role model up close and being acknowledged.

Resettling into the main hall, your husband couldn't hide his concern for you. He maintained a firm grip on your hand, a constant reminder of his presence and an attempt to provide comfort despite your lack of reaction to anything. Eunsook, noting your distress, made a point to stay close behind you, silently assuring you of her support.

"Alright then, where should we begin?" Minister Jang clapped his hands together, eager to get it all over with as soon as possible.

Seated opposite you, your three sisters were still seething, their attention fixed on the general's unwavering touch on you. Refusing to concede defeat, they were determined to fight for Seonghwa, unwilling to witness you marrying their dream man in a grand wedding ceremony. He was too good for you.

She doesn't deserve him.

Before the two men could delve into any details, Jinhee, tired of her sisters always being a step ahead, seized the opportunity to speak up, "General Park, I believe I would make a better wife than unnie ever could. I urge you to change your mind and consider choosing me."

Jinah and Jinjoo scowled, feeling a sense of betrayal as they hadn't anticipated the sudden spiritedness from their middle sister. She had always been the calmest among the three. It appeared that the allure of the general was potent enough to pit them against each other for the first time.

The minister smacked a hand on his face in disbelief, growing tired of his stepdaughter's obnoxious behaviour. Just as he opened his mouth to reprimand her, the other two chimed in loudly, "No, I'd make a better wife!" before glaring at each other.

Pressing a kiss onto your knuckles to rile them up, your husband stared at the girls with an amused grin, "Really? Do you think you'd make a better wife? Why don't you each tell me why you think so? I'll consider it."

It was apparent that the general was merely toying with them, but the three were oblivious and engaged in a heated debate among themselves, striving to convince Seonghwa that each of them would make the ideal wife for him.

Meanwhile, you silently accepted your fate, believing that your husband was present to entertain the idea of replacing you with one of your stepsisters. If that's what he desired, who were you to object? You considered yourself fortunate to have been sent to him, and now that he had seen your sisters, perhaps he sought someone better than your useless self.

The general burst into a fit of vicious laughter, singling out the middle sister who promptly straightened up, "You," he pointed, "it seems like you have the most convincing argument. I suppose that makes you the most suitable for me, doesn't it?"

Jinhee vigorously nodded, "Yes, my lord!"

With a sly smile, he continued, "Very well, I'll consider marrying you, but on one condition that your father must agree to," Her eyes widened in excitement while her sisters clenched their fists in frustration, dissatisfied with her being chosen, "Anything! Just name it, and you shall have it!"

"If Minister Jang agrees to retire from his position and let me take over, then I guess I'll think about it."

Your father heaved a deep sigh, frowning at the foolish girl in irritation, "That's enough, Jinhee. Are you even hearing yourself? None of that will ever happen. I'm sure the general is only joking around."

Her stubbornness prevailed as she continued to press, "Father, this is for my happiness! If you loved me, you would agree to that!"

Even her own mother, finally sober enough, shook her head disapprovingly, "Stop it, Jinhee. Do you know what it would mean for the rest of us if your father were to retire?"

Having enjoyed the comedic display, Seonghwa chuckled darkly, "Your father's right; I was only playing with you. After all, I couldn't possibly marry you, even if he had agreed to that condition."

"Why is that?!" She questioned, still determined to have him for herself. She hated the sight of him cradling your hand; it should be her beside him. She had gotten so close to having him earlier that she refused to let the opportunity slip away so quickly.

For some reason, the minister couldn't shake off the ominous feeling he was getting from your husband's smugness. Something wasn't right; this felt oddly like a trap.

In a mock-innocent voice, the general answered, "Isn't it simple? Because you're not even Minister Jang's legitimate daughter; you do realise you're merely his stepdaughter, right?"

Your father and stepmother's eyes immediately widened, knowing exactly where this was going. Before they could do anything to stop it, Jinhee yelled out, "But I am father's real daughter!"

Gotcha, bitch.

Jongho and Eunsook did their best to suppress the growing grins on their faces, relieved that at least their master's plan B seemed to have worked out. During the assistant's time away from the estate, working with Wooyoung, they had managed to confirm the general's suspicions about the three being Minister Jang's actual daughters.

This revelation itself was enough to bring him down, as the three were born when your mother was still alive. And if they were, in fact, his, that would mean he had been disloyal to his wife and had fathered bastard children outside. This was more than enough to tarnish his reputation for good.

Rising abruptly from his seat, the minister cleared his throat loudly, "General Park, please don't take her words seriously. Clearly, she only said that out of desperation. The girl is still young and doesn't know when to stop; do not mind her. Come, let us take our discussion somewhere else."

"Save it, minister. If she isn't your daughter, where would she have gotten the confidence to voice that out loud? Don't make me laugh." Seonghwa retorted coldly.

Finally, you lifted your head to stare at the old man upon hearing the revelation. Could it be true? You didn't know if it was supposed to make you feel any better, but you used to question why your father had treated you so badly when you were his only real daughter. Now, it would make more sense, at least.

Scoffing, Minister Jang clenched his fists, "I would advise you to be careful with your words, general. After all, it wouldn't be too wise of you to slander your father-in-law and superior so carelessly like that. What would His Majesty think of you being unfilial and disrespectful to me?"

If your father thought that threat could save him, he was wrong; it seemed he was only digging himself a deeper grave.

The general peered amusingly at him through his lashes, "You know, it's really funny you should say that. Would it still be considered slander if I had evidence to back up my claims? Oh, minister, you should not have brought the King into this. He was already so disappointed in you when he learned of the truth about you and your dirty deeds throughout the years."

"Wh-what do you mean by that?" The minister stammered, visibly trembling in his spot, and his family could only sit back with terror in their eyes, not knowing what your husband had uncovered.

"Minister Jang, did you really think the King had allowed me to come here just to make wedding arrangements with you? I'd rather burn in hell than have you host my wedding, especially after what you had done to my wife in all the years she had been under your care. I'm only here for your confession, under His Majesty's orders."

A series of gasps rang across the hall as your stepmother and stepsisters froze in their seats, the realisation finally hitting them that they had been under scrutiny this whole time. It became apparent since the minister's suspicious behaviour at the assembly.

Little did everyone know that Seonghwa's investigative work had been funded by the King himself the entire time. The two had shared a deep conversation after the assembly; what initially started off as idle chatter regarding the general's new wife transitioned into a serious discussion as your husband revealed what he discovered about the minister thanks to your arrival.

Your eyes widened at Seonghwa's words, wondering if he had known all along about what had happened to you. Feeling your gaze on him, he turned to face you with a soft smile, "I told you I'd protect you."

Feeling your heart flutter and eyes tearing up with tears of relief, you finally squeezed his hand back, "Thank you, Seonghwa."

Cutting your moment short, your father shook his head in denial, "You're lying. Nice try, General Park. I'm not falling for your trick. If you were telling the truth, why would His Majesty have bothered to send you here when he could have just arrested me?"

Turning back to face the old man, your husband smirked, "Now, where would all the fun be in that? Of course, I didn't expect you to admit everything to me so easily. It was fun watching all of you panic in front of the so-called storeroom earlier. I hope you enjoyed the temporary relief, courtesy of my lovely wife. Someone, bring the minister a chair before we start recounting all the interesting things he's done so far."

Jongho was more than happy to help, "Yes, sir!" He promptly moved a chair to the centre of the hall where the minister stood before returning to his position behind his master.

Your stepmother and stepsisters remained glued to their seats, hearts filled with dread. Jinhee regretted her every action immediately, not that it made much difference. They were already doomed from the moment they delivered you to him.

"Will you not sit, Minister Jang?" Seonghwa teased, and when the old man glared at him, he shrugged, unbothered, "Suit yourself. Let us begin then."

The general stretched a waiting hand in his assistant's direction and waited as the younger man fished a few documents out from his pockets, "Here you go, sir."

"Alright, let's see, where should we start?"

With a devilish grin, your husband flipped through the pages, addressing the minister, "So, were you denying that these three are your biological daughters? Not to worry, I have just the thing to prove it. See, we have their birth certificates and the fake ones you forged right here. You bribed your physician quite a bit for these, huh? Well, it seems the amount you paid was not nearly enough since he spilt everything to us so easily."

The minister's wife pointed a shaky finger at the papers in Seonghwa's hands, "Th-that's not possible. How did you get your hands on those documents?"

"Ah, so you admit these are yours?" The general raised a brow, "I get it; it's hard not to when the only copies to exist were found in your private quarters, hm? I'll have precious Wooyoung to thank for these. Come here, boy. You should be so proud of yourself."

"Thank you, my lord! I'll work harder!"

In front of the minister and his family, the mole finally unveiled himself. All five of them could only gape at the new employee who had recently joined the estate. They praised him for his work and even thought of him as a hard worker. Suddenly, it all made sense why he always seemed too eager to help around. He had been snooping around for the enemy all along.

Your father pointed accusingly at the fake staff member of his estate, "Y-you traitor—"

"How can he be a traitor when he was never on your side to begin with? Let's not change the subject, alright? Now, let us conclude the number of crimes you've committed here; first, you've cheated on your wife and had not only one but three illegitimate children outside of your home. I must say, minister, you're setting a horrible example for the married men in all of Joseon." Seonghwa shook his head in disapproval.

"Next, you've bribed your physician to silence him and then get him to further commit the crime of forging official documents for you. I guess this could have been understandable if it had been a silly little commoner not knowing any better, but my goodness, you are our nation's Minister of Military Affairs! What would the people think of us if they knew their leaders were this unethical?"

"And the worst of it all, you kept my wife caged in that pathetic excuse of a room all her life. You all had a hand in her suffering and abused her endlessly, all for your own entertainment. And what had she done that was so wrong to deserve any of that? Just because she was born from the wife you did not choose and love?" The general spat, feeling his heart ache and anger rise.

It was your turn to rub a thumb softly over his skin to remind him that you were fine now; you were loved and cared for, all because of him. He tightened his hold on your hand, vowing to get you justice.

"Can any of you even call yourselves human?" He growled, glaring at your family. Your stepsisters trembled, avoiding his death stare, feeling like complete idiots, especially after their stupid little innocent act earlier. Why did they even believe for a second that they could have fooled him?

With a deep breath, Seonghwa put on a sarcastic smile, "And with all of that, it should be enough for you to be stripped of your title and for your entire family to be demoted from a noble house to commoners."

The old man's knees went weak, and he ended up plopping into the chair Jongho had placed behind him. Clenching his fists, he shook his head again, "No, you can't do this to us. You can't do this to me. I've dedicated my life to this job and this country. I have contributed so much—"

Smirking, the general cut him off, "Why? Are you unsatisfied with this conclusion? I expected no less from you, you ungrateful bastard. Fine, I guess we'll have no choice but to dive deeper and talk about your most severe crime then."

There's... more?

Furrowing your brows, you wondered what other horrible things your father could have possibly done. Everything that your husband had already listed seemed like a lot to you.

Your stepmother gasped loudly, clutching onto her chest as she took in the general's wicked grin, "He knows..."

Jinah frowned, grabbing her mother's arm in confusion, "What is it? What does he know? What else has father done?" The other two sisters stared at their parents, who looked scared for their lives.

"Yes, I do know, Lady Jang. Did you really think the two of you could keep your dirty little secret hidden forever? As if adultery and illegal document forgery weren't bad enough, you were both audacious enough to commit murder against an innocent person."

Minister Jang and his wife shared a horrified glance, realising that the veil of secrecy they had meticulously woven was now unravelling before them. The colour drained from their faces, and beads of sweat formed on their foreheads.

The mistress of the Jang estate stammered in fear, "N-no, that's not true! You're making baseless accusations, General Park. We haven't committed any murder!"

The general remained unfazed, a cold stare fixed upon them, "Really? You haven't? Then tell me, why do the two of you seem so afraid? You weren't trembling with fear when you poisoned the first Lady Jang to death, and you certainly weren't afraid when you robbed my wife of her mother."

Staring at your father and stepmother in horror, a wave of disbelief crashed over you. The revelation hit like a tidal wave, leaving you stunned and paralysed. The people you thought were simply cruel for torturing you all your life had now revealed a more sinister truth – they were the reason you never knew your own mother.

The shock and betrayal etched across your face, your eyes locked onto theirs as the weight of their sins settled in. It wasn't just about the abuse and mistreatment; they had orchestrated a tragedy that deprived you of the one person who could have brought warmth and love into your life.

"And what evidence do you have to prove that?" The minister finally mustered the courage to challenge the accusations, still putting up a fight. His three daughters, nearly as shocked as you were by the revelation, couldn't fathom that their parents might have actually taken someone's life.

Seonghwa remained unyielding, maintaining his cold gaze, "Not to worry, I have it all right here." He gestured to the documents Wooyoung held, revealing a series of letters exchanged between the couple all those years ago detailing the best way to end someone's life and make it look like a natural death, as though they had succumbed to an ordinary illness.

"Isn't it an uncanny coincidence that the physician confessed to the first Lady Jang dying from mandrake poisoning, and simultaneously, there is an abundance of mandrake planted in your garden? Alongside these incriminating letters, everything aligns seamlessly. There's nothing you can say to undermine this evidence, minister. Would you care to explain your actions now?"

Minister Jang's face contorted with defiance and anger. He took a deep breath before finally admitting, "Fine, it's true. I did it; I killed that woman. But you have to understand; the first Lady Jang ruined my life. I never wanted to marry her in the first place. It was a political arrangement forced upon me to please her influential family. They held more power than I did at the time."

His eyes darted around, gauging the reactions of those present, especially his daughters, "I clawed my way up, working tirelessly to reach my position as Minister of Military Affairs. I didn't need her family anymore. So, I did her a favour – I ended her unhappy marriage and made room for the person I truly loved."

He looked at his current wife with a twisted sense of affection, completely ignoring the horrified expressions around him, "I had to make a choice for my own happiness. No one understands the sacrifices I've made for this family and for the sake of my love. It was the only way."

"If you hated my mother so much, why did you bother having me then?" You finally croaked, voice breaking as you choked back tears. Seonghwa pulled you close to him, never wanting you to go through any more pain alone.

Your father let out a scoff of displeasure, "I never wanted you. You were just another duty to please your mother's family. When she died, I refused to let any of them near you out of spite. You were a constant reminder of her, a spitting image that angered me every time I looked at you. That's why I hated you so much."

His admission hung heavily in the air, each word cutting through the silence like a knife. Your eyes, filled with sorrow, met his cold, callous gaze. Your husband tightened his hold on you, offering silent comfort as the painful truth unravelled.

"And there we have it, the confession His Majesty wanted. Royal Secretary Choi, did you manage to get all of that?" The general called out with a smirk.

To the minister's horror, the King's closest and most trusted aide emerged from the entrance, flanked by a team of royal guards, "I sure did, General Park. You've done well; we'll take it from here. His Majesty shall decide the Jang family's final sentencing."

« Preview of Part 10 »

As Eunsook followed her master's orders to assist you out of the hall and to the waiting carriage at once, your husband stayed behind to express gratitude to the dedicated private investigator.

"You've worked hard, Wooyoung. I assure you we will compensate you for your excellent performance. You didn't have to help us this far, but you did, and I appreciate it."

The younger man enthusiastically bowed, "It's my pleasure, sir! I'm a huge fan of yours; I think people don't appreciate you enough for defending our country! Those who think you are heartless are clearly mistaken. If only they'd seen you today. You are a wonderful husband, my lord. It's reassuring to know Lady Park has you."

Clearing his throat, the general looked away and fought the faint blush dusting his cheeks, "I'm glad you think so. I can only hope she thinks the same."

Wooyoung grinned, "I'm sure she does, my lord. I've seen how Lady Park looks at you; I can tell you mean a lot to her too," Seeing Jongho approaching to escort his master out, the informant bowed one final time, "It was an honour working for you, sir. Please don't hesitate to reach out if you ever need my services again!"

Seonghwa nodded appreciatively, "I'll keep that in mind."

Just as he turned to leave, the royal secretary came up to him, "Before you go, General Park, His Majesty wishes to meet you and Lady Park soon to discuss your actual wedding arrangements."

Nodding lightly, the general replied, "Got it, I'll see you then."

"Oh, and one last thing; I know you've both been through a lot, but the worst is over. I wish you and your wife happiness."

"Thank you, San."

Y'all I'm not even gonna lie, this part literally gave me a whole ass headache LMFAO I hope this felt satisfying enough! Of course, we still don't know what consequences the evil family are about to suffer muahaha😈

Also, the second mood board depicting the general's estate is out! Go take a look if you haven't already!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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Tag list (cont.): see comment/reply section

#edenesth #the way to this heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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mediumgayitalian · 2 months

Text

“Oh, come on, there’s just —” Will blows an errant curl from out of his eyes, cheeks red with exertion, balancing nimbly on his feet to put both hands on his hips. “There’s no way, Nico.”

Nico, not blessed with such balance, has to hold all footholds with all limbs, staring warily at the lava wall’s snake holes.

“What? I’m just not as good as you.”

Will flops his right arm outwards, narrowly avoiding smacking it against the rock. “But you are!”

Nico shifts his wary gaze from the snake holes to Will’s rope harness. Is it tight enough? It better be tight enough. Will is putting a lot of faith in it, right now.

“You scaled those cliffs in — in the place —” he trips, still, over the pit, on the odd time he mentions it, and it always makes Nico wince — “like it was nothing! And whenever Percy visits and challenges you you’re suddenly the lava wall expert!” He turns stern blue eyes to face Nico’s head-on. “Not buying it, di Angelo!”

A gush of lava forces him to resume climbing, but there’s an aggression to his movements — a specific, stiff, curated aggression, that Nico has learned means anxiety in people known as William Andrew Solace. That, and coupled with the rapid muttering which, in between the roar of molten stone, Nico believes is a a repetition of “dumbass” “always tryna act a goddamn fool” and “I’m gonna kill him before he sends me into cardiac arrest again”, interspersed with random swears in English, Latin, Ancient Greek, and also — gods — Klingon.

“Will.”

Will ignores him, scampering the last few feet up the wall and slapping the top before relaying down. Nico sighs, following him (albeit significantly slower).

“Will.”

“You’re hiding something from me.” He practically rips the harness off his body — do not think about that do not think about that do not think about that — and shoves it on the hook so hard it damn near snaps off. The look he levels in Nico’s direction practically turns him to stone, it’s so frigid, and he has to resist a shiver. “I can tell.”

It takes a good amount of pushing to make Will all testy like this. Sure, his buttons are easy to push, but most of that is for show. He likes to be dramatic. (Especially because he knows Nico will indulge him, more than anyone else ever has. He relishes in it, Nico thinks; he likes that Nico will watch his productions. An Apollo kid through and through.) He’s not usually one to show his genuine frustration.

But, hoo, boy, when he is frustrated.

Nico has a bad, bad habit of making it worse.

(As if it’s his fault that Will’s hot when he’s mad.)

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nico says, forcibly lightly. He sticks his hand out defiantly. “Check me, why don’t you? Not hiding anything.”

He really isn’t. No injuries, no illness, hell, he’s not even tired. Had a full three meals and everything. Even his perpetually achey joints aren’t bad today.

All of this, obviously, is communicated when Will touches him, squinting suspiciously at their joined hands.

“You’re heart rate is high,” he mutters petulantly.

Nico looks at him patiently. “That’s ‘cause my smokeshow boyfriend is holding my hand.”

Grumpy as he’s trying to be, his ears redden. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.

“Shut up.”

Nico grins, pulling his hand up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the knuckles.

“No.”

“Whatever,” Will says, snatching his hand back. His smile spreads widely across his face, now, and he looks away, as pleased as he is exasperated. “You’re still being a weirdo. I should not be so far ahead of you on the wall, Neeks.”

Success — back to nicknames. Crisis averted.

“Have you considered that you’re the camp-wide record holder for a reason, you spider monkey?”

“Still!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nico gets up on his tiptoes, pressing a lingering kiss to the bridge of his freckled nose. “Stop worrying about me, Solace. I’m fine. Burn off some steam, I’ll watch.”

Will huffs. “Fine. But I’ll find out, y’hear me? Truth can’t hide from me for long.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He watches as Will suits back up, helping him with his more complicated straps (because Nico was raised to be a gentleman, obviously, why else) and shooing him away when he opens his mouth for more interrogations. He switches to sticking out his tongue, and after a moment of hesitation, bounds back over to his first true love — being a big nerdy jock dork.

Nico settles on the grass several feet away from the wall, pretending to clean his sword. After a few minutes, he hears footsteps, and two people sit next to him on either side.

“So,” says Lou Ellen, ignoring Nico’s suspicious look as she tosses a glowing ball of something around, “how come you’re not climbing?”

Nico shrugs. “Only so many times you can climb before it gets boring.”

On his other side, Cecil makes a loud buzzer sound.

“Nope! Wrong answer. Try again.”

Nico is a dignified grownup who refuses to stoop down to Cecil’s level by responding. Instead, he reaches over and pokes him in his ridiculously sensitive ribs, hard, sending him sprawling with a screech.

“Shut up,” he says mildly, as his friend flails. “I’m trying to be a supportive boyfriend, and I can’t do that with all your whining.”

Will has, in the ten minutes since he started, made it halfway up the wall. He seems to have it programmed to the Super Extra Mega Evil Insane mode that the Athena and Ares kids invented just for him, since he smoked all the other levels. He dodges a shot of lava with a laugh, throwing himself to the side and hanging on with three fingers and one scuffed sneaker poised on the tiniest sliver of rock. His attention is broken when Lou Ellen sticks her face right in Nico’s field of vision, tracing Nico’s eyeline with narrowed eyes.

“Ah,” she nods knowingly. “You’re staring at his ass.”

Nico falters, damn near slicing his own fingers off. “No idea what you’re talking about,” he says blithely. He gestures without looking at his sword. “I’m busy, see?”

She scoffs. “Real busy. That’s why you almost just did emergency surgery on yourself.”

“Exactly.”

Will pushes up a foot, shifting his hips and launching himself upwards. He makes a little shout of victory, plastering himself to the wall to keep balance, every muscle tensed.

From his place on the floor, Cecil makes an appreciative noise. “He does have a nice ass. Can’t blame you for looking.”

Nico frowns. “Hey. Stop objectifying my boyfriend.” He reaches out and smacks a hand over Cecil’s eyes. “That’s my job.”

“You guys are ridiculous.”

Nico reaches over and puts a hand over her eyes, too, ‘cause there’s no missing where they’re pointed.

“Shut up or I’ll literally put shadows into your retinae and blind you forever,” Nico threatens. (Is this a thing he can do? No. Do his friends know this? Also no.)

“You’re a dictator!” Cecil protests.

“Depriving us of basic human rights!” Lou Ellen agrees.

Nico shrugs. He glances back up the the climbing wall, where he has a very perfect view — and a great reason to never even try to climb faster than Will does. He grins.

“Too bad for you guys.”

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suugarbabe · 6 months

Text

[Chapter 1]

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Word count: ~3.5k

Warning: slow burn, nothing too intense…yet

an: this is my main work right now, I’m super excited for it. I will not be doing a taglist for this story but I will be working on it consistently so updates will come when they come but I plan on being pretty consistent. Feedback is welcome and highly encouraged 🤗

Pulling the sleeves of your jumper over your fingers, you tucked your hands under your armpits as you made your walk from the diner to the club around the corner. You’d say you weren’t sure how you got here, but that would be a lie. You did your best to suppress a shiver that was creeping up your spine as the cool night air bit at the skin of your neck.

The red glow of the club sign lit up that portion of the street. Protego. It was a clever name for the club really. To any passing muggle it seemed like any other foreign fancy name for a stip club, but the owners knew what they were doing. Protego, in the wizarding world, was a protection spell, and that’s exactly what this club was for Mattheo and his cronies; a protected space, the home hub. Any wizard that had ill intentions wouldn’t be able to step foot on the premises, which was exactly what you were hoping for.

Standing at the edge of the parking lot you did your best to straighten your skirt before deciding to hike it up a bit higher. You pulled the strappy heels you had packed out of your bad and put them on before pulling your jumper off to reveal the low cut top you had put on. You did your best to appear confident as you walked up to the club door, but the ocean eyes of the bouncer giving you a once over made a chill run up your spine.

The bouncer was tall, broad shoulders with a mess of brown waves on his head. His tongue ran along his bottom lip as he did nothing to suppress his smirk, “You lost, dolcezza?” His tone mocking as his eyes roamed your form. Your body flushed under his gaze, him shamelessly taking in your appearance.

You pulled your shoulders back, ignoring every fiber in your being that told you to run, to change your mind, that coming here was a bad idea. “I was wondering if you guys were hiring any more dancers,” you kept your tone even despite the screaming between your ears.

The man in front of you scoffed, “You want to be a dancer?” You did your best to hold eye contact as you nodded, crossing your arms over your stomach with the sudden feeling of self consciousness. You averted your gaze as he smirked at you again, not saying anything.

The door opened suddenly behind him causing you to flinch and step back. A woman with neat black hair appeared in the doorway, a scowl on her face, “I swear to fuck, Nott, I told you to stop pulling that fucking legilimens bullshit on me when you’re too lazy to use your fucking phone.”

The man, Nott, finally broke his stoic facade, rolling his eyes at the woman, “Oh, per favore, Pansy, you know I hate that muggle bullshit.” Pansy peered around Nott, glancing at you up and down as he did before, “This the girl?”

He nodded, smirk annoying plastered on his face once more, “Said she wants to be a dancer.” Pansy furrowed her brows, coming fully outside of the club before taking you by the shoulders and forcibly turning you around so your back was facing her. “Hmm, it could work, should I bring her to Mattheo?”

You shook her hands off, turning yourself back to face them, “Erm, who is Mattheo?”

Nott flashed his teeth in a charming smile, “Mattheo, dolce mia, is the boss.”

You did your best to follow Pansy towards the back of the club. It was much larger on the inside than it appeared, you were sure thanks to a charm that was placed on the building. You assumed the alcohol the muggles seemed to be guzzling down helped them ignore the clear disproportion.

You marveled at the girls on the different stages throughout the room, some two to a stage. How their bodies seemed to move, how they just narrowly seemed to sway away from the men’s touches but still appear desirable.

“Don’t fall behind, pretty witch like you would get swallowed alive out here without direction,” Pansy continued to maneuver around tables, ignoring the eyes of patrons with ease while you felt like bugs were crawling on your skin from the men peering at you with every step.

You quickened your pace slightly to catch up with her, holding your bag tight to your side until you both came to a large black door. Pansy lifted her fist, rapping once with her knuckles, then twice quickly, then a singular time once more.

The door seemed to open on its own, as the only people in the room were a tall brooding blonde leaning on the edge of a large black desk, while the other was a man sitting back in a large chair. The man in the chair, while sitting, still emanated a large presence. It was obvious this was Mattheo, the boss. He had dark chestnut curls that seemed to have one or two fall flawlessly over his forehead. His eyes were onyx and they were roaming your figure not dissimilar to Notts earlier in the night.

However unlike Nott you didn’t necessarily feel objectified when Mattheo looked you over, more like he was observing, watching you take in everything around you. The blonde man broke the silence, voice low and almost teasing with his question, “This the bird Theo wanted us to see?”

Pansy put on a tight lipped smile, pushing you further toward the two men, “This is her, tell them your name.” You stumbled forward slightly, stuttering over your name as you did so, internally cursing yourself. The blonde smirked, “Not much confidence, this one, yeah?” He turned to Mattheo, “Gonna need more of that if you wanna be a dancer, Darling.”

You straightened your spine, doing your best to stand straight, “I have confidence.” The blonde scoffed, “Could’ve fooled me, little bird.” You rolled your eyes, not appreciating being talked down to after everything you’d been through in the last few months.

“Please, I’m not going to take insults from someone who looks like they stepped out of the bloody Children of the Corn films.” The blonde’s brows furrowed at your comeback, his grey eyes clouded in confusion as Pansy did her best to hide her laughter. Nonetheless, she helped him out, “It’s a muggle movie, Draco.”

Draco scoffed again, “You bring a bloody muggle in here Pan-” his words were cut off as his necktie tightened around his throat with a twist of your fingers by your side, causing him to choke and cough as he tried to pull it down.

“Not a muggle, but I know enough to be around them and not cause suspicion,” you loosened his tie with another twirl of your hand and Draco gasped for breath. His grey eyes turned to storm as he went to take a step toward you. Mattheo’s hand shot out, grabbing Draco’s arm, “Leave us, cousin.” Draco shook his head, “Fuck, no. You saw what she did she-”

“Malfoy. Now. And take Parkinson with you,” Mattheo’s voice was low and authoritative, causing Draco to merely scowl in your direction. He threw open the office door, Pansy following quickly behind him and shutting it on her way.

You never turned your back, staying facing Mattheo at his desk. “Sit,” he pointed to the chair directly in front of him. Like a scared pup, you obeyed. Any confidence you had towards Draco vanished with Mattheo’s strong and commanding tone. You took careful steps, dropping your bag on the floor next to the chair. You tugged slightly at your skirt as you sat.

“Don’t cover up now, Princess. If a dancer is what you’re seeking to be, you’re going to have to be comfortable showing a lot more than upper thigh,” Mattheo’s face was unreadable, blankness in both his eyes and his expressions. You couldn’t help but shift in your chair opening your mouth to respond before Mattheo cut you off.

“You can be a bartender, but not a dancer,” he started writing something down, ignoring your expressions in response. “But I came here for…why not a dancer?” Mattheo sat his pen down, finally making direct eye contact with you. It seemed his eyes changed with his mood, and from what you saw he clearly wasn’t used to being questioned.

You did your best to hold eye contact, despite the erratic beating of your heart that you were sure he could hear. “You’re not fit to be a dancer, you’d do better as a bartender,” reading the look on your face, Mattheo did his best to restrict rolling his eyes before he continued, “You said it yourself earlier, you know enough about muggles to be around them but not cause suspicion. A third of our clientele are muggles, much to my cousin's dismay. Enzo does well managing them, but he could use another strong witch to help him out when they get too far gone.”

You perked up slightly at his compliment, “You think I’m a strong witch?” Mattheo stood from his seat, standing up to round the desk and lean back on it in front of you. Merlin, you figured he could be intimidating before, but seeing all of him in front of you; long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, arms crossed over his broad chest, you could see how others were quick to listen. Or quick to fall for him.

“Not many people would’ve pulled a stunt like you did on Malfoy, wandless no less,” Mattheo leaned forward, leveling his face with yours. His eyes pierced yours and you did your best to steady your breathing, but it was as if he was peering straight into your soul, into your past with how he was looking at you, “You’ve been through something. I won’t make you tell it to me now, but know if you work here, there’s no secrets. We can’t afford them in this business, on the surface and especially below it.”

He leaned back, allowing you to let go of a breath you weren’t aware you were holding. “How’s your legilimens ability,” he leaned back on his hands, as if the question was the same as ‘how’s the weather today.’

“I, erm, s’okay I guess? S’that something I needed to know if I were to work here? I-I wasn’t aware that-”

Mattheo held his hand up to stop your rambling, “Lets see what Enzo thinks of your abilities first, then we’ll see if it’s necessary. If it is, you'll do lessons with me. Twice a week until I feel like I can trust it.”

You went to ask what he meant when a quick singular rapt at the door caught your attention. With a wave of his hand Mattheo opened the door, “Enzo, this is your new trainee. Teach her the ropes tonight then report back to me. You know what I’m looking for.”

“Yes, boss.” Enzo’s voice behind you seemed calmer than all the others before. Mattheo motioned for you to stand, you did. You turned to face the man that was to be training you the rest of the night. What you didn’t expect was Mattheo’s voice in a whisper next to your ear, “Enzo is charming. Seems the sweetest of all of us, but don’t get fooled, Princess. If I needed it, he’s also the deadliest.”

An uncontrollable chill ran up your spine as Enzo greeted you with a kind smile, motioning for you to follow him. Enzo was the tallest man you’ve interacted with tonight, not as thin as Theo, but just as broad in the shoulders. He had a mop of brown hair and amber eyes that you were sure any girl fell easy for.

His black vest displayed the muscles in his shoulders and arms, one of which was covered in an array of tattoos down to his fingers. With a large hand splayed across the middle of your back he guided you to the side of the club where the bar resided. Immediately upon his return a slew of men were waving cards at him and shouting drinks.

He bent down to whisper in your ear, “Okay, Angel, let’s see how you do. If you don’t know how to make a drink, just mumble a spell into a class with your back turned, the boss said you’re pretty decent with wandless magic.”

You blushed slightly, whether it was the proximity he was to you or another compliment from Mattheo you were unsure, but now you were determined to show how well you could do. At the site of fresh meat, men at the bar were crowding your side, shouting various drinks along with cat calls your way.

They didn’t bother you much, nothing compared to how you’d been talked to before. Enzo’s eyes seemed to be always checking you, even between mixing drinks and grabbing pints it seemed like he was able to watch you. You did your best, grabbing drinks, swiping cards, pouring cocktails.

At last call the men seemed to get more frenzied, more desperate for your attention to drain their minds of their pathetic reality before they had to rejoin it after closing. One man in particular seemed to think he could control you, demand you give him more simply because you appeared weaker, smaller.

When you refused to get him another pint, as he was clearly loaded, he got handsy, grabbing your forearm and attempting to command your attention. Before Enzo got a chance to react you already twisted your arm in the man’s grip, grasping the collar of his shirt and pulling his face down to the bar, “Touch me again and you’re paying with a body part instead of a card, understand?”

The man nodded, a slight whimper leaving his throat. You let him up, him stumbling backwards before running off. You smiled sweetly at the slew of other men standing in front of you, silently asking if anyone else was going to be a problem for you.

Within thirty minutes you had everyone else’s tabs closed and were assisting Enzo with closing up the bar. As you were stacking cocktail glasses Enzo leaned on the bar beside you, “Quite impressive earlier, Angel. Thought I was gonna have to swoop in and save you from that drunk bastard.”

Your suppressed snort, “Despite appearances I can handle my own.” Enzo hummed in agreement, “Boss will like that. Where’d you learn to do that anyway?” You paused your actions, trying to control any color from rushing to your face at the memories of what you went through that caused you to want to be stronger, to learn how to better protect yourself.

“Taught myself, a necessary skill if you will,” you tried to play it off with a sweet smile but Enzo’s eyes told you he wasn’t buying it, only being polite and not pushing. You tried to distract you both, turning instead towards the man carrying a patron towards the door, “He work for the club too or is he just a good samaritan?”

Enzo followed your gaze, a grin spreading across his face, “That’s Blaise. He runs security with Theo, but he does more of the inside while Theo does more of the out. I’ll introduce you when he’s not as busy, real sweetheart if he likes you.” You picked another glass to dry as you kept conversation, “And the others, I know Mattheo’s the boss,” you emphasized the phrase with a playful tone, “but what about Pansy and Draco?”

“Draco’s in charge of finances, amongst other things. While Pansy…well she’s kind of like Mattheo’s assistant,” Enzo’s tone told you there was more to both statements. “What other things? You lot are always saying things that double as another; s’giving me a headache. And assistant like…an actual assistant or like an assistant assistant?”

Enzo couldn’t help but laugh at your questions, “Godric, no, nothing like that. Like she’s his actual assistant, appointments, helping with hiring, the likes. Really keeps the rest of us in order when he’s off doing other business. As for the former question, if you need to know, Angel. You’ll know. Speaking of,”

Enzo titled his head behind you, causing you to turn and see Malfoy walking your way. “Cmon, little bird. Time to take you home.” You walked from behind the bar, “I can apparate home myself thanks, no need for the sitter.”

Draco rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed that he was the one tasked with this, “You don’t have permission to apparate in the building. C’mon, I’m taking you home. It’s not my choice either, a’right?”

“Then I can just leave the building and apparate home. I don’t understand the problem,” you crossed your arms in defiance, which only made Draco more irritated. He held his hand out towards Enzo in a will you please explain motion.

Enzo cleared his throat, “Listen, Angel. Mattheo’s rule is that if you work for him, he knows everything. That includes where you live, it’s gonna be easier just to go with Malfoy then fight it. Although I would love to see that fight, heard she gave you quite the run earlier.” Enzo smirked at the blonde.

“Watch your mouth, Berkshire,” Draco turned to you, holding out his arm, “C’mon little bird, I don’t wanna be at your place all morning.” Resisting further argument, you walked over toward him, grabbing his arm. The familiar feeling of twisting and pulling occurred before landing on your feet in front of your flat.

Draco’s sneer was evident as you grabbed your bag from his other hand and dug around for your keys, “This is where you live?” You scoffed, “Not everyone can live in a manor. Thanks for taking me back. Now you’ve seen it, you can go now.”

A small chuckle left Draco’s throat, “Sorry, birdie, Mattheo wants me to check out the entire flat. So I’m coming inside…unfortunately.” Draco followed you up the steps to the door, his tall figure looming over you as you undid all three locks on your door before mumbling undoing charms as well.

“Quite the security you have, birdie. What’re you afraid of?” Draco’s tone was dripping with curiosity that you weren’t about to entertain, “I’ll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours, Blondie.”

You turned the knob, walking through the door with Draco following. You did your normal routine, kicking off your shoes and hanging up your jumper by the door as Draco walked around your home. You walked into your kitchen, putting on the kettle for a cuppa.

When the kettle whistled you took down two mugs and filled them. Surprisingly Draco took one as he entered the room, taking a sip and making a satisfied humming noise. “Find anything interesting worth reporting back to your boss, Draco?”

He set his mug down, putting his hands in his trouser pockets, “Your boss too now. Enzo made a good report about you, said you held your own pretty well, kept up with orders, were strict when you needed to be and, as you phrased it earlier, blended in.”

A grin started to appear on your face, but quickly dropped at his next sentence, “But Mattheo won’t let you live here.” You leaned against your counter, crossing your arms over your chest, “What the bloody hell does that mean?”

The smile that formed on Draco’s lips was anything but settling, sending a chill to your bones no cup tea could warm, “Enjoy the night here little bird, but it’s gonna be the last in this flat. What you showed tonight has Mattheo thinking he can use you for…real work. I’d get good sleep tonight, birdie. Your legilimency lessons start tomorrow, and Mattheo is ruthless.”

Before you could even open your mouth to respond, Draco disappeared from your kitchen with a pop, leaving you standing there with his words swirling in your mind. As intimidating as the situation sounded, you needed this job. You needed the protection this job provided. You just hoped the cost didn’t outweigh the benefit.

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