#or progressively blacking out from no water or food

[babstheyaga]

GO TO SLEEP

Or this will be me to you

Go to sleep sweetheart, have golden dreams ✨

hold on wait my mania is whispering to me right now...

mhm...

mhm...

yeah sorry he said it's not a pausable game

[sprout-fics]

OMEGAVERSE 141 MY BELOVED OH GOD IM GONNA THINK ABT UR WRITING ALL DAY

I do love this idea, so glad everyone enjoys this too!

Poly TF141 x Omega! Reader Headcanons

(Poly TF14 x F! Omega Reader)

(Part Four: The First Heat)

Tags: Omegaverse, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Hidden designations, Alpha! John Price, Alpha! Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Beta! Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, Omega! John 'Soap' MacTavish, Omega F! Reader, Group dynamics, Poly TF141, Heat cycles, Comfort, SoapGaz, Slowburn

Masterlist

Your heat hits hard

It's not as bad as the one that nearly killed you, but to say it's uncomfortable would be an understatement

You don't notice it at first. You feel off, sure, but everyone has off days. You assume you just ate something bad at breakfast, shrug, and try to move on

As the day progresses you begin to wonder if you're coming down with something. You're parched, too warm, a little shaky. You think maybe it's a cold, that you'll just sleep it off

It isn't until you run into Price later that day that you realize

The scent of an alpha that's scent marked you in the past to help keep other away wafts across your senses, and before you can blink-

It sends you to your knees

Price is alarmed, and reaches for you, before he realizes exactly what's mixed in with your scent. You see his pupils dilatate, see his throat bob as he swallows, but he manages to haul you upwards and slowly helps you to your room

You're sluggish and hazy eyed by the time you get there, leaning your weight onto him fully as your legs refuse to cooperate. You try to apologize, and Price reminds you there's no need, that you can't help it, that he'll make sure you're safely put away

Yet he merely dumps you in your room and extracts himself before he can have a change of heart, quickly texts the others to inform them of the situation

You barely make it into bed, exhausted, feverish, muscles and joints aching. It doesn't take long for you to pass out

When you wake up, it's dark outside, your room is dim, and you feel damp, gross with sweat. Yet there's a little message on your phone from Gaz, letting you know there's a care package for you right outside the door

You manage to crawl over, open the door just enough to slide the box in. Your back presses to the door as you sit on the floor, eyeing the contents

Snacks, water, hygiene items, a little soap bar where someone has taken a blade to redundantly carve the word 'soap' into it, and a black dark hoodie with a scent so heavy that when you hold it to your face you moan.

You notice neither alphas has come to offer their assistance, and for that you're both glad and a little lonely about. The thought is shaken away as you stumble towards the shower, clean off, slide the hoodie on, eat and hydrate, and collapse back into bed

Maybe it won't be a bad heat, you think

You wake up and your world is on fire

There's only hot air as you gasp awake, clawing at your blanket, drenched in sweat, sheets soaked. Your skin itches, and you pull off the hoodie just to get a cool reprieve, only to drag it back on when the ache between your thighs clenches painfully

It feels like you're drowning, like your veins are molten, like you can barely breathe

And between your legs is a searing, pulsing emptiness that makes you clench around nothing, has you buck and gasp and whine in search of reprieve. Yet there's nothing to help. Not even the touch of your scent marked pillow, not even the smell of Ghost's hoodie or water or food

You manage to fumble for your phone, reach and text one single line

"He lp"

It's the middle of the night, you think they aren't awake, and after a few minutes you decide to fix this yourself, pulling yourself from bed towards a cold shower

You don't get far, legs collapsing under you the moment you stand. It's so much, and try as you may you can't seem to drag yourself very far, crying out in frustration and resorting to hauling a blanket from bed to curl on the floor

It's how Soap finds you, curled up and writhing in pain. You see his face float into view, ashen with concern, and still dressed in his sleeping clothes. You take one inhale and whine, arch your neck submissively because he smells faintly like Ghost, like Alpha.

It doesn't take long for him to help you into the bathroom, stick you in the shower with all your clothes on, and turn on the coldest water you can manage

"Yer burning up, hen'." He mutters, eyes cloudy with worry, a hand placed to your forehead. "Need tae cool you down."

He vanishes for a moment, and you whine until he comes back with a clean set of clothes

"Can you get dressed by yourself?" He asks, and you consider, shake your head

Soap is nothing less than a gentleman despite the fact he's already seen you naked before, manages to fumble you dry and get you into fresh clothes before helping you back into your room

It's there that you find Gaz, in the midst of changing your sweat damp sheets, bleary eyed but offering you a smile

You're considerably more relaxed by the time the two sergeants have you fed and hydrated, finally curled up between the both of them on your cot

They're soaked in Price and Ghost's scents, and it's enough to make the need between your thighs relax just enough for you to go limp between them

Your head is cloudy with lust, with need, swimming with low pulsing desire at bodies pressing into you on either side smelling like alpha

It makes you hiccup, tears forming in your eyes at wanting, needing, hoping for them as your blood thrums too warm in your veins, and your voice chokes on their names as if somehow you can summon them the quell the ache

You know, in some distant, logical part of your brain, that Price and Ghost are being more than decent about this, that even if you asked in this state they'd refuse you until your mind is clear

It doesn't stop you from being a whiny, needy, horny mess between the two men that smell like them. Your hips jerk automatically, seeking friction, even as a hand kneads the small of your back to try and soothe you into keeping still. it has the entirely opposite effect, makes your fangs pop out and a low, heady moan tumble past your lips

It aches

Yet then a large, firm hand grasps onto your nape, and you suck in an unsteady breath as someone who smells like an alpha scruffs you, making you automatically go limp and still

"Good omega." Soap purrs in your ear, and you shudder, whine, but remain pliant in his grip, wet eyelashes fluttering as a heavy fog of sleep descends upon you once more, safe in the arms of the two men you trust the most to keep you like this

[charliemwrites]

Post-nap warm up

(Edit: still not canon; sorry guys! This is more of an au to the au)

Content: Animal Injury (Non-Descriptive)

You wake up, as you do most days now, to two warm bodies sandwiching yours. Johnny on your left, practically curled around you with his big head on your chest, lightly snoring. On your right, with his body stretched along yours and chin on your head, is Ghost.

You had originally settled on Phantom, but in the course of calling him silly nicknames, you realized he responds to “Ghost” better.

You yawn, stretch as carefully as you can. Both dogs groan and huff. Johnny tries to snuggle in harder, while Ghost sits up with a drawn out sigh.

“Cmon, big baby,” you coo at Johnny’s sad eyes, smoothing your thumb in the silky fur between them, “it’s time to get up.”

He relents only when Ghost shoves his nose under Johnny’s chin and starts nudging him up. You chuckle as Johnny goes out of his way to sneeze on him, earning him a grumble. They two of them shake off while you sit up and stretch, adjusting your skewed tank top to hide your breasts.

The boys follow you into the bathroom for your morning pee, then into the kitchen while Johnny starts chugging from the water bowl while Ghost stations himself next to one of the cabinets, watching you futz with the coffeemaker.

You drop scratches on his head every time you pass, smiling a bit when he licks your palm in return. As your coffee in brewing, you pause to kneel in front of him, dropping kisses all over his face.

“You’ve been doing so well, honey bun,” you murmur, laying your cheek on his head. “I’m so proud. Such a good boy.”

He licks your neck - the only part of you he can reach without dislodging you. For as big and rough as he can be (especially with Johnny) Ghost has been oddly gentle with you since the beginning.

Oh, sure. He can be loud and grumbly - even showed you his teeth once. But he’s never snapped at you, knocked you over, or even really stepped on you while snuggling in. It’s incredibly endearing and you’re sure to encourage him every chance you get.

“I love you, ghost,” you croon as you pull away.

His ears go forward, then back, then forward again. You grin, drop one last kiss on his nose.

“I do,” you continue laughing, “you’re my big shy baby and I love you.”

He huffs. Johnny comes in then, barrels right into you with tail wagging, whining as he nuzzles up under your chin.

“I love you too, John Bon,” you chuckle, wrapping your arms around his thick neck. “My precious snuggle bug.”

He makes a little “ruff” noise that you like to imagine is agreement. You give him one last kiss as well before standing to make your coffee.

They pile onto the couch with you for morning shows, then follow you around the house as you do chores. Around midday you make yourself a little lunch and then say the magic words.

“Wanna go for a walk?”

Johnny is instantly bouncing and barking, causing a fuss. Ghost wags, plumed tail sweeping conservatively side to side. You have to wrestle Johnny into his harness, muttering at him under your breath the entire way.

Ghost isn’t much better. Getting him accustomed to the harness has been a work in progress. Apparently he’s not food or play motivated, so training him to even tolerate it has been a challenge. The first two or three times you nearly had to chase him down (thought you were going to get bit one or twice) and even needed Johnny to help.

It’s been better lately, though - even if you have to negotiate him coming over to get strapped in. The black and silver gear is gorgeous on his cream colored fur and you’re sure to tell him that as you clip him in.

Once the boys are geared up, you finish dressing yourself and then open the back door. Ghost charges ahead as usual, ears forward and eyes sharp. Johnny splits off, weaving amongst the trees but returning to your side every couple minutes.

You hit the usual hiking trail with both boys, humming to yourself as they orbit around you. They never stray far, always checking your position and circling back to get a check-in scritch.

Maybe half an hour passes before both boys, currently flanking you, suddenly go alert. You pause, watching their bodies tense, ears forward, eyes focused somewhere ahead, mouths closed.

Ghost barks low and rough. And then they bolt.

You curse, knowing they wouldn’t leave your side for just anything, and hurry to follow.

When you finally catch up, your boys have cornered two men on separate sides of a clearing. They’re crouched low, tense, snarling and growling like thunder.

And there, cowering in the center of the clearing, is perhaps the biggest dog you’ve ever seen. You take in the big stick on the ground, the scattered rocks - nearly gag when you see a couple drops of blood.

Fury burns through you.

“What the hell did you do?!” you shout.

“Call your fuckin’ dogs off!” one of them shouts.

“Fuck off,” you snap in return, Ghost barking roughly with you.

You tug your phone from your pocket. When one of them sees, he starts towards you, only for Johnny to snap viciously at his hand, even drawing blood. He shouts and grabs at his hand, going pale. The other one starts yelling, but you ignore him, knowing your boys will keep them in line.

You dial the police, explain the situation and give your location. While you wait, you turn your attention to the lump of fur in the middle of the forest.

You creep slowly closer, positioning yourself where he can see you coming. The dog’s ears are pinned flat to their skull, mouth pulled tight in fear and pain, eyes squinted.

“Hi gorgeous,” you murmur. An answering whine breaks your heart. “Oh honey, I know. I’m sorry. It’s okay now. I’m here. We’ll keep you safe.”

You inch closer and closer. Stop whenever they twitch like they’re going to run. You dig into a pocket of your coat and extract a treat, gently toss it close to their nose. A twitch, a wet-eyed blink, and then they finally seem to come to life, carefully sniffing at your offering.

“Good baby,” you coo, “so brave.”

The police arrive quicker than you expect, and the dog curls up tight again while you explain the situation. Johnny and Ghost are reluctant to be called off, but a sharp word has them back at your side while the two men are arrested for suspected animal cruelty.

You assure them that you’ll take care of the injured dog - Johnny and Ghost sat like guards at your sides. Once it’s just you and the pups, you turn back to the poor injured dog.

“I know that was scary, sweetie. It’s okay now. No one’s going to hurt you.”

The dog’s ears flick, listening but not trusting. You sigh softly, inch a bit closer.

“Johnny?” you call. “Come here, come see if you can help.”

Johnny turns, follows your pointing. He sniffs at the other dog, licks their ears and forehead, coaxing them out of their tight, terrified curl. You guide Johnny down to his stomach, putting them at similar levels.

On your other side, Ghost leans into your side, watching with those too-sharp, too-intelligent eyes.

As the injured dog slowly starts to unwind, you offer your hand, let them sniff carefully at your palm and wrist.

“There we go,” you soothe as a nervous tongue flicks over your skin. “You’re doing so well, darling.”

Johnny starts wiggling with excitement, nudging at the other dog and whining quietly. Ghost joins, nosing gently at the other dog’s side until they finally shift and start crawling closer to you.

You stare at the size of their paws - nearly bigger than your own palm. They scoot closer and closer until nearly in your lap, snout inching beneath your shirt to press against your stomach.

You smooth your hand over their head, waiting until you see their tail wagging slow and cautious.

“Good baby,” you whisper. “You wanna come home with me, pretty baby?”

Main Story | Ghost | Konig pt. 2

Masterlist

[iwantoseemybonesss]

wl tips and tricks

1. spend your calories on healthy food obviously and eat enough Protein

2. cold showers are so good

3. Water, Water and Water!!! Drink a lot of water (cold)

4. Drink very warm water in the morning on an empty stomach this helps you with digestion and you can easily go to the toilet

5. Never drink your calories thats such a waste! If you‘re bored of Water, drink black coffee or sugar free tea

6. SLEEP! You burn a lot of calories while sleeping! if you don't sleep enough and and you're awake all night it doesn’t do anything

7. I recommend eating under 1000 calories a day! See what works best for you without binge eating afterwards! (I eat max. 400cals a day)

8. Don't weigh yourself too often as your weight will fluctuate throughout the day and this will make you less motivated. 1-2 times a day is enough. In the morning on an empty stomach and after you finished being on the toilet

9. walking!! Walk a lot!

10. Jogging or Running.

11. Eat slowly for better digestion and you don't bloat before eating drink water!!

12. Less carbohydrates more proteins! and vitamin!!!!!

13. Always weigh your food! Without knowing how much you've eaten, you don't know how many calories you've consumed

14. Don't tell anyone and surprise them with your you‘re new body!! Don‘t look for thinspo be the thinspo

15. buy clothes that make you look slimmer and emphasize your figure

16. Always stand up straight and elegantly as this will make you look purer, slimmer and more beautiful

17. don't disappoint Ana, she just want the best for you so listen to her

18. take before and after pictures to follow and realize your progress

19. zero drinks can cause your fat burning to stop and it is also unhealthy

20. Help a lot around the house (cleaning, tidying up,...) burns extra calories

21. Distract yourself from eating, be active and don't have time for eating! such as learning, drawing, playing, napping, ...

22. If you really want to eat something but don't allow yourself to, you can chew it and spit it out (you still swallow very few calories but not all of them!) its better than puking!!!

23. Cold burns calories but don't go out dressed too thin as you'll get sick more quickly than others

24. save calories! For example, if you want to eat toast, you can cut a slice in half into thin slices so you have a lid and a base made from one slice

25. always looking for excuses such as: I've already eaten, I'm going out to eat with friends, I have a stomach ache and the classic: I'm not hungry

26. buy clothes that are a size or 2 small so you are more motivated

[gabessquishytum]

Something is getting into Hob's back garden and trash cans. It's an animal to be sure, and to be subsisting on trash and old veggies, it's most likely hurt. This is backed up by the dried blood on one of the garbage cans.

Hob has seen a black streak speed by when he turns on the back porch lights, and most people would tell Hob not to do what he's going to do --- leave out fresh protein for the animal. Yes, Hob is aware he's probably just feeding a large raccoon, but something is out there, hurt. Hob can't just do nothing.

Morpheus is a large cat shifter (I'm thinking https://tinyurl.com/Black-Serval or https://tinyurl.com/BlackJaguars) who broke out of his containment (Burgess: zoo/research facilitiy/cage) and he doesn't know where he is or how far away from home he is, and he got hurt in the escape. He ran and hid in the first place that smelled safe.......this backyard. Hob's backyard.

Morpheus doesn't know what to think when fresh water and chicken are put out, but he won't be captured again.

Wahhh yeah I'm soft about this concept.

For days after Hob starts putting out the water and chicken, his mysterious yard visitor refuses to touch it. But Hob isn't giving up so easily. Every day there's fresh meat and fresh water, and he even takes a nibble from the food to show that it hasn't been doped. And after a while... Morpheus eats the chicken, and drinks the water before streaking off to hide again. It's progress, Hob thinks.

One day he comes out to put the food out as usual, and he's shocked to find the huge black feline sitting and waiting for him. It's claws are out and it looks warily at him, but it turns enough to reveal the severly damaged hind leg. Hob runs for his first aid kit immediately. He's able to treat and wrap the wound, but there's only so much he can do. It would be easier to bring the big cat inside, but it clearly doesn't like that suggestion...

Hob begins to understand why, when he finds a naked man shivering in his yard the next day. He recognises the sharp blue eyes and the midnight black hair. Morpheus shies away from Hob but desperately sticks out his leg, which looks even worse in human form. "I am too tired to turn back." He explains. "If you try anything, I will still claw your eyes out."

Morpheus is eventually persuaded to come inside, on the condition that the doors and windows are left open. Hob is happy to oblige. He's quite relieved when Morpheus dozes off on his sofa, full of chicken pasta and antibiotics.

Next morning there's a cat in Hob’s bed. Not quite purring, but obviously grateful. And despite his determination not to held or captured... Morpheus is quite glad to find a place that he'll never have to leave.

[ellecdc]

What about the kids (CBBH) seeing the ‘mudblood’ scar on Vix arm for the first time, and then the kids, specially Draco, trying to comfort her.

James and Sirius feeling guilty again because (James) “abandoned” her (no he didn’t) and (Sirius) cause he couldn’t protect her

Thank you so much, feel free to ignore it if you want to, but thank you anyway

Take care and don’t forget to drink water❤️

Ps: I love everything you write, thank you so much for providing us those precious chapters

*Takes a big ol' sip of water* *Cracks knuckles* *types furiously*

I LOVE these kinds of requests...I love diving deeper into the relationships and the histories further than what CBBH covered, so thank you for giving me the opportunity to write this! 🫶

CBBH Sirius Black x Vix!reader CW: hurt/comfort, discussions of war, PTSD, trauma, guilt, reference to death of a loved one, children, spoiler alerts if you haven't finished CBBH

The Mind Forgets but the Heart Doesn't

It had been a really trying week. 

Percy and the Twins had gotten into it during class one day this week at Potter Manor, and though James and Molly did what they could to placate the situation when it happened, it seemed to bleed out into the other kids as well.

Harry and Draco didn’t seem to be able to agree on anything at all anymore, Jasmine felt the need to play mediator to their squabbles which just aggravated everyone further, and Aurora was far too sensitive for her own good and took everything anyone said personally.

The adults didn’t seem to be fairing much better either.

You and Lily were expecting at the same time. It was very funny when Lily & James went to announce that they were expecting only to have Y/N & Sirius laugh and say ‘same’. Remus never stopped joking that the family would finally have a ‘set of twins’. 

Lily stopped taking the jokes so well as her pregnancy progressed, however.

“This is absolutely, without a doubt, the last one Potter!” She screeched as she excused herself from the dinner table for the sixth time to pee.

You were such a trooper, but Sirius knew that this pregnancy was taking far more out of you both emotionally and physically than your last one had.

The part that hurt (everyone) the most, was that your brain still associated pain and discomfort with your trauma from the war, and the wounds felt far more fresh lately than they had in a long time.

This left both James and Sirius feeling horribly guilty – James for having left you on the battlefield, and Sirius both for being the cause of your current discomfort and for the months during the war that he spent wallowing when he should have been fighting for you.

Sirius would wake up in the middle of the night and reach for you to find the bed empty. He’d go to check both Aurora and Draco’s room’s first before moving on to the rest of the house.

One particularly upsetting night he found you hiding in the shower after you had a distressing and disturbingly realistic nightmare.

But usually, he found you in the kitchens.

“What are you doing up, my love?” He spoke quietly into the room.

You must have heard him coming because you never even turned your head from where you were sitting; you just offered him a quiet hum in response as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and nuzzled his face into your neck.

His hands would migrate lower to what was usually the reason for your midnight wanders.

“Little one hungry?”

You were quiet for a moment, clearly far away from Potter Manor, before you responded.

“There were times I was only ever able to eat at night... when someone could sneak something to me or I could sneak to the kitchens. But sometimes, now, I wake up a little hungry – and my heart tells me that this is going to be my only chance, and I have to make it count. I tell myself it’s not true but... the anxiety doesn’t go away until I do something about it.”

Sure enough, in front of you on the table was a half-eaten granola bar; evidence of your late-night forage for food.

“What was it that Lily said about those muggle dementia patients?” Sirius asked you as he rubbed up and down your arms.

“The mind forgets but the heart doesn’t.” You responded quietly.

Sirius hummed into your hair as he pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“You’ve done so much work, love. But I don’t think you’ll ever be able to convince your heart to let it go – not fully.”

You sighed miserably, suddenly sounding very close to tears.

“Please be patient with yourself.” He pleaded.

“I’m trying.” You whispered wetly.

“I know, baby. I know.”

This was why the following morning at the breakfast table when Harry – seemingly out of nowhere – asked what a “mudblood” was, the room fell painfully silent.

The adults all seemed to share horrified glances before Regulus spoke up.

“Where did you hear that word, Harry?”

Harry, slightly ashamed now that he seemed to have sucked the air out of the room, looked at you and motioned towards your arm.

Sure enough, as you had reached across the table to pass Remus the plate of bacon, your sleeve had ridden up and your scar was on full display.

Why’d we teach these ankle biters to read? Sirius wondered to himself.

To Sirius’ absolute horror, you seemed to completely shut down. You hastily pulled your sleeve down and moved your arms into your lap, and your eyes turned foggy. 

“Please don’t occlude baby, stay with us.” Sirius begged quietly as he began to rub your arm.

“Haz, when you and Draco were very little, there was a war – do you remember me and daddy telling you about it?” Lily started cautiously.

“Uh huh, when the bad guy hated people who were different and stole Auntie Vix?”

James grimaced before confirming. “Yes, and how Uncle Reggie and Draco’s mummy Narcissa helped her escape and then defeat the bad guy.” 

“Well, the bad guy and his friends did hate people who were different than them. Mostly, they hated non-magical people,” Lily continued.

“Called muggles.” Harry interjected proudly.

“Right, he hated muggles. And he hated muggle-born witches and wizards as well.” James finished.

“But...mummy and Aunt Lily are muggle-born...” Draco added quietly from his place.

James nodded. “That’s right. And because they hated them, they made up a bad word to call muggle-born’s.”

“That’s what mudblood is, Harry. It’s a bad word to call a muggle-born witch or wizard.” Regulus spoke softly.

Jasmine gasped. “Mum! Did Harry say a bad word!?”

“I was only asking a question!” Harry screeched in his own defence.

“But... why is the bad word on your arm?” Draco asked quietly, looking at you.

Your son addressing you directly seemed to pull you out of yourself a little as you offered him a sad smile. “Well, when the bad guy stole me, I wouldn’t tell him what they wanted to know.”

“What did the bad guy want to know?” Jasmine asked curiously. 

Harry elbowed his sister for interrupting, which earned him a whack on the head in return, which caused Remus to switch seats with his niece in an effort to keep the peace.

“They wanted to know where your mummy and daddy and Harry were. They also wanted to know where Pads and Moony and everyone else in the Order were.” 

“Like the Weasley’s!?” Harry asked in horror, as news of your best friend potentially being on some maniac’s hitlist would do to an almost nine-year-old, even though said maniac was already after him and his entire family.

“But you wouldn’t tell them.” Jasmine stated solemnly.

You nodded at your niece. “That’s right.”

“But why was my mum and Uncle Reggie there?” Draco asked. 

You and Sirius both grimaced as you looked to Regulus, whose jaw seemed more tense than usual. 

“Our family comes from a long line of very bad people, Draco. The Black’s...mine and your dad’s family, as well as your mums, were not kind to people who were different from them. They supported the bad guy during the war, I-”

“But dad didn’t support the bad guy...and he’s a Black.” Draco interrupted as he turned to look at his father pleadingly.

Sirius smiled softly at the boy. “Yes, but you see, Draco, I had friends like Uncle Prongs and Uncle Moony, and your mum here, who taught me that it was okay to be different. And Uncle Prongs’ family also gave me a place to go when I no longer agreed or felt safe with my family. Uncle Reggie didn’t have the same kind of friends.” 

“Your friends were bad guys?” Harry asked plainly.

“Yes.” Regulus answered just as plainly. 

“So...my family was...bad?” Draco asked quietly, looking between you, Sirius, and Regulus.

“Not all of them baby, not Uncle Reggie, and not your mum.” You tried to placate, but Draco didn’t bite.

“But they were there! Supporting the bad guy! That makes them bad!” He insisted.

“No, it made us cowards.” Regulus corrected the boy. “I was too afraid to ask your dad or his friends for help, even though I knew that Sirius would take me in if I asked him to. And your mum did what was expected of her, Draco. Your mum believed marrying your dad and having you was the right thing to do.”

“Draco,” you said quietly as the boy tried to fight back tears. “If your mum and Uncle Reggie hadn’t been there, I would not be alive today. And quite frankly, I think that could be the same for a lot of us in this room. They saved us, baby. Your mummy saved you. There’s nothing bad about that.”

Draco still seemed perturbed by this but looked back down to your now hidden scar.

“But someone...hurt you? With that word? Was it my family?”

You shared a look with Sirius who offered you a small nod before you answered. “It was. It was your aunt...your mum’s sister.”

Draco seemed distraught at the news; his mouth turned down miserably and his eyes filled with tears. “My family was bad.”

“Dad, was my family bad!?” Harry asked severely. 

“Haz, hang on, okay bubs?” James asked quietly. 

“That’s right Draco, your family was bad.” You said.

Every head – child and adult alike – whipped to face you.

“They were bad people...but they’re not anymore. Your family is the people in this room, and your mum who died protecting you. You have Uncle Reggie, who was so brave to save me and to turn against the bad guy he was supposed to be loyal to. You have Uncle Moony, who despite doing very hard things every month, doesn’t ask anything of anyone and gives so much of himself to the people he loves. And you have Uncle Prongs and Aunt Lily, who helped us raise you when daddy and I had no idea what we were doing. And you have Haz, and Jazzy, and Rory and two new siblings coming soon. That’s your family, Draco, and they’re not bad at all.”

Draco scanned the room of all the people he loved the most as a few tears fell, and Sirius was quick to catch them with his finger from his place beside him. 

“I’m sorry the bad guys hurt you, mummy. I wish they hadn’t.” He offered finally.

“Oh! I know!” Aurora piped up out of nowhere (Sirius actually sort of forgot his own daughter was present at the breakfast table) and quickly stood from her seat to hurry away. 

Before the adults had time to ponder where the child had gone, she reappeared beside her mum with the first aid kit from one of the loos and her toy Mediwitch Kit. 

“Okay, mummy. Show Healer Ro where it hurts.” She demanded you in her most authoritative tone, which still sounded far too much like Alvin the Chipmunk to be taken at all seriously.

Sirius grinned down at his girl and pulled her up into his lap (for better access, of course) as you pulled your sleeve up on your arm to expose your scar.

Aurora tapped a fake wand to the injury and held a stethoscope to her ear. “It sounds good mummy; means you’ll be fine.”

“Oh, good.” You sighed in faux relief, failing to bite back the proud smile adorning your face.

“Yup, now just needs plasters. I have some golden snitches, unicorns, or bowtruckles, mummy. Which would you like?”

“I think she ought to have some of each, Ro.” Harry interjected from across the room.

“Quite right, Haz. Healer Ro, could you use some assistance with the plasters?” Sirius asked like a spokesman on a game show.

“Yes sir!” She answered, and each kid took turns applying plasters to your scar and kissing it better.

“Looks better already!” Jasmine cheered after their work was complete.

“Hmmmm...I don’t know...” Sirius said skeptically. “Could use a few more kisses I think.” Before he attacked you with kisses, and the kids followed in suit shortly after.

@ttulipwritezz

[bloodylullaby]

Author's Note: It's been a while since I wrote Smut, so I am a little rusty.

Parings: Noah Sevastian x Reader

Word Count: 1739

Warnings: 18+: heavy making out, sex

MasterList

Today marks your and Noah’s four-year anniversary, and boy, did he go all out. As a man with golden retriever energy, his love language is giving, and he certainly showed it today. From the minute you woke up, he was pampering you. Your day started with brunch in bed; Noah served you your favorite breakfast foods along with his version of bottomless mimosas. The tray was filled with freshly baked pancakes, fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and a small fruit platter that looked like it belonged in a magazine. He refilled your glass with a smile, ensuring you had everything. Every detail, from the freshly squeezed orange juice to the perfectly chilled champagne, was meticulously prepared to make you feel cherished and adored. As you enjoyed the delicious meal, he sat beside you, his eyes shining with joy and affection, soaking in every moment of your happiness. This was just the beginning of a day filled with love and surprises.

After your giant breakfast, he hurried you into the shower, where he joined you. The warm water cascaded over both of you as he gently helped you wash your hair, his fingers working through the strands tenderly. He gave you a scalp massage that felt like a full-body experience, his hands skillfully kneading away any tension. Every touch was deliberate, ensuring no part of you was left untouched or unworshipped. He moved with loving precision, his hands gliding over your skin, leaving a trail of warmth and relaxation. The intimacy of the moment, combined with the soothing rhythm of the water, made you feel cherished and adored. This was more than just a shower; it was an act of love, a celebration of your bond.

After begrudgingly leaving the shower, you both got dressed for a day full of fun and laughter. He took you everywhere, and anywhere you wanted to go. Your first stop was a romantic trip to the aquarium, where you marveled at your favorite sea animals. The gentle swaying of the jellyfish, the otters' playful antics, and the sharks' majestic glide captivated both of you, filling your hearts with wonder. 

Next, you had a picnic lunch in the botanical gardens, surrounded by your favorite flowers. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of blooming roses, and the vibrant colors of the garden created a picturesque backdrop. You sat on a cozy blanket, enjoying the delicious food Noah had packed, from sandwiches to fresh fruit and homemade baked goods. Laughter and conversation flowed easily, making the moment feel magical.

The day's final stop was a pottery place, where you got to pick pieces to glaze together. You opted for a mug, imagining cozy mornings sipping coffee, while Noah chose a dog bowl for your puppy. As you both carefully applied the glaze, you couldn't help but giggle at the splatters of paint and the creative designs you came up with. The experience was fun and intimate, a perfect ending to an incredible day. 

Once you got home from your long but fun day, you found a little black dress on the bed. “Put it on,” he gently said with a smile. As you slipped into the dress, feeling the luxurious fabric against your skin, Noah quickly dressed up alongside you. He looked dashing in his suit, his eyes twinkling with excitement. Hand in hand, he led you to the nicest restaurant in town. The ambiance was perfect, with soft lighting, elegant decor, and the gentle hum of live music in the background. The host greeted you warmly and escorted you to a private table adorned with candles and fresh flowers. The evening unfolded like a dream, with exquisite dishes, fine wine, and heartfelt conversation.

As the night progressed, you both eventually made your way back home. Noah sat on the bed, looking more beautiful than ever. After all the effort he put into making today so unique, you wanted to do something special for him. You start to make your way over to him seductively, ensuring every move catches his eye. His gaze follows your every step, filled with anticipation and admiration.  As you finally reach him, you straddle him and feel the warmth of his body beneath you. You lean in and give him a kiss filled with pure passion and hunger, your lips melding together in a fiery dance. Running your fingers down his arm, your hands interlock, creating a connection that sends shivers down your spine.

“I want to make you feel good,” you whisper, your breath hot against his ear. He gently moans, a sound that stirs a deep hunger within you. You continue to kiss him, your lips trailing down to his neck, tasting the salt of his skin as his heartbeat quickens. Your hands roam over his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breaths as you both lose yourselves in the moment. Noah's hands move to your waist, pulling you closer, his touch igniting a fire within you. 

The room fades away, leaving just the two of you in this intimate bubble. Your whispered promises and his soft responses create a symphony of desire, filling the space between you with a palpable energy. You pull back slightly, looking into his eyes, seeing the same hunger reflected in them. "Let me take care of you tonight," you murmur, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. His eyes close as he leans into your touch, a contented smile on his lips. 

You guide Noah’s hands to the zipper on the back of your dress, encouraging him to undress you. He takes the opportunity to tease you, his fingers lingering at the zipper before slowly, tantalizingly undoing it. Each inch the zipper descends feels like an eternity, heightening your anticipation and driving you wild. He peppers your neck with soft kisses and gentle nips, his breath warm against your skin as he continues. The combination of his deliberate touch and the sensual assault on your neck sends shivers down your spine, making your pulse race. His hands glide over your exposed skin as the dress loosens, adding to the electric charge between you.

It was your turn to undress him. Slowly, you unbuttoned his shirt, your fingers lingering on each button, grazing his skin with every movement. His breath hitched with each touch, his eyes locked onto yours with anticipation. You slid the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, and trailed your fingers down his chest, planting soft kisses along the way. You savored the moment, enjoying how his body responded to your touch. As you reached his belt, you looked up at him with a mischievous smile, taking your time to undo it and then sliding his pants down. Once the both of you were entirely naked, you both locked lips again. 

With one hand traveling down between your thighs, Noah put his other hand on the back of your neck and pulled you down so he could kiss you deeply. Despite the intensity of his kiss, you could barely concentrate as his fingers continued to move with delicate and expert precision on your clit. The sensation sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making it hard to focus on anything else but the overwhelming ecstasy building within you. Noah's touch was both tender and skillful, his every movement sending you closer and closer to the edge of bliss. With each stroke, each caress, he brought you higher until you were teetering on the brink of release, lost in the intoxicating rhythm of his touch and the passion of his kiss.

You pulled back a little to look into his eyes. “Lay back,” you said. Noah complied, propping himself up on the pillows. As you climbed back on top of him, you positioned yourself at his entrance. With slow, deliberate movements, you began to sink down onto him, feeling the exquisite sensation of being filled. As your bodies joined, you both moaned in unison, the shared pleasure amplifying the intimacy of the moment. He placed both hands on your hips, guiding your movements as you rocked back and forth, each motion sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. The sensation of his touch, combined with the rhythmic friction between your bodies, heightened the connection between you, deepening the intimacy of your lovemaking.

The more you continued, the harder it was for him to sit back. Sensing his increasing urgency, he changed tactics and pulled you closer to him, his grip firm yet tender. You felt him slightly lifting off the bed, his hips rocking back and forth in a synchronized rhythm with yours. The new angle intensified the sensations coursing through your bodies, heightening the pleasure and deepening your connection. Lost in the moment, you moved together in perfect harmony, each movement bringing you closer to the peak of ecstasy.

He changed positions swiftly yet gently, flipping you onto your back. He positioned your legs on his shoulders with precision and care, creating a new angle. You gazed up at him, feeling a rush of anticipation and desire as he leaned in closer, his eyes locked with yours. In this new position, every touch and every movement sends sparks of pleasure coursing through your body, igniting a fiery passion between you.

In the heat of passion, you and Noah lose yourselves in the rhythm of your affectionate intimacy. With each thrust and caress, your connection deepens, as if every touch speaks volumes of unspoken words. The room fills with the sound of your shared moans and the symphony of your bodies moving together in perfect harmony. As the intensity builds, you feel yourselves teetering on the edge of ecstasy, on the brink of release. Noah's movements become more urgent, his touch more vibrant, as he strives to bring you both to the highest level of satisfaction. And then, with a shared gasp and a final surge of passion, you both reach the peak, exploding in a cascade of blissful release.

Breathless and spent, you collapse into each other's arms, your hearts racing synchronously. In the quiet aftermath, you bask in the warmth of your shared intimacy. As you lay there, entwined in each other's embrace, you know that this moment will be a testament to the depth of your love and the beauty of your connection. Nuzzling closer to Noah, you drift into a peaceful slumber, eagerly anticipating the next four years' adventures.

[pascallftv]

Girl Next Door— Part 3

Previous Part Series Masterlist

Summary: Joel invites you over for dinner and you watch a scary movie together.

Word count: 2.8k

AN: This had me kicking my feet and twirling my hair BAD

The drive down the road to Joel’s house consisted of your mind rerunning the events over the past few days. You over analyzed each touch, conversation, and even the way Joel looked at you. Consider it delusional, but you had yourself convinced that maybe your infatuation wasn’t one sided. The memory of Joel wrapping around you from behind to show you how to tear down the tiles replayed the most. Surely there was more to that interaction, you had thought to yourself. More so, you considered what your intentions were for the evening. Your plans to watch a movie could be harmless. The truth was you were lonely at the house alone, and you could only imagine how lonesome Joel got living by himself, so watching a movie together would lessen both of your times’ alone. However, there was a voice at the back of your mind laying out the potential to make a move on Joel.

Sure, the idea of being able to finally touch Joel in the way you wanted sounded captivating, but the consequences of your actions could be detrimental to the progress you’d made so far with him, and even ran a hazardous line for he and your father’s friendship. You fantasized about the sheer chance of Joel accepting your advances and everything working out perfectly when breaking the news to your father. It seemed within reach to you, but also so unobtainable at the same time.

After parking your car in Joel’s driveway, you tucked one hand into the pocket of flowy sweatpants, with a tote bag in the other containing a couple of movies that you’d picked out. For being a summer evening, the temperature had cooled off and you were a bit chilly with just a white camisole on your top half. Joel’s porch light was on, illuminating the steps and front door. You were nervous. It felt like the nerves before a first date, although this interaction was far from that. You lifted your knuckle and knocked on the door. After a few moments, the door opened to Joel wearing a pair of dark gray sweatpants paired with a black t-shirt. The outfit was very different from his usual attire, but damn did he look good. His muscular biceps and forearms were on display, as well as his tanned complexion.

“Hi.” You said, adjusting the tote bag over your shoulder. Joel’s eyes trailed down to take in your outfit as well. Your thin, yellow sweatpants flowed down your legs, and your tight, white camisole with lace details didn’t leave much to the imagination. The chilly evening air left your nipples erect, the fabric of your top peaked around them. Joel swallowed hard, his eyes falling upon yours before you caught him lingering on your chest for too long.

“Hi.” His gravelly voice responded, stepping aside to let you inside. His house was surprisingly decorated and very cozy. The walls were off white, and the foyer accommodated a beautiful dark green cabinet. The rug beneath your feet was an aged maroon with an extravagant bohemian print. A gold framed mirror was hung on the wall above the green cabinet. Joel’s attention to decorative details shocked you. You slid off your slip on shoes and sat them adjacent to a pair of Joel’s shoes against the wall. The aroma of cooking food wafted into your nostrils, the smell making your mouth water.

“I grilled some marinated chicken. The garlic potatoes are finishin’ up in the oven.” Joel explained, leading the way into his living room that was connected to the kitchen.

“It smells amazing, Joel.” You said, your eyes wandering, still observing the interior of his home.

The living room was just as breathtaking as the foyer. There was another bohemian rug across the dark, polished wood flooring. In front of a flat screen TV was a brown sofa and an aged wooden coffee table that matched the flooring.

“Your house is beautiful.” You spoke as you entered the kitchen. The tantalizing smell of the food was more intense, and you couldn’t wait to try his cooking. Joel looked back at you and smiled.

“Why thank you, darlin’.” He responded, grabbing an oven mitt off the counter, using it to pull the pan of potatoes out of the oven. He placed them on the stovetop next to the chicken breasts that looked grilled to perfection.

“I didn’t take you as a cook.” You said, stepping closer to steal a look at the food Joel prepared.

“It’s always the ones you least expect.” He said, reaching into one of the black cabinets to grab two plates. After dishing out a piece of chicken and some potatoes, Joel handed you one, then grabbed a fork and knife out of a drawer for you.

“I poured you a glass of wine, I wasn’t sure if you drank so I got you a glass of water too.” Joel explained, glancing over at the dining room table. It was a small, dark wood table and chairs with black cushions. The colors of his house felt like home somehow. In the center of the table was a clear vase with yellow flowers. They appeared to be flowers from the field behind your houses. For being such a gruff man, Joel’s house was delicate and cozy.

“I do love wine.” You chimed, following him to take a seat at the table.

You picked up your fork and knife, cutting into your chicken. You popped a piece into your mouth, and nearly melted at how amazing it tasted.

“Joel, this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” You gushed. Joel looked up at you from his own food, a smile toying at his lips.

“You sure do know how to flatter an old man like me.” He teased, taking a bite of his potatoes.

“I can’t believe no one has tied you down yet. I mean shit, you can cook, you’re an excellent builder and decorator.” You rambled. “Not to mention, you’re very easy on the eyes.”

Joel watched you with wonder in his eyes as you spoke. God, you were everything.

“If you find the answer, be sure to let me know.” Joel conceded, taking another bite of chicken. After he swallowed, he knitted his brows and rested his arms on the table. “You know, I could say the same for you.”

“Is that so?” You raised a brow, sipping on your white wine.

“Well, look at yourself, darlin’.” Joel gestured towards you. “You’re young, beautiful. You’re intelligent. What else could a man want?”

You swallowed hard, running your tongue over your teeth. You couldn’t decipher if he was simply being nice or if there was an underlying reasoning behind his words. You cleared your throat and chuckled softly.

“You’re blowing sunshine up my ass.” You said, poking a potato with your fork and bringing it to your mouth. Joel chuckled and shook his head.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” He insisted. You felt your cheeks flushing. You ate in comfortable silence for a moment, your thoughts running crazy. You felt even more delusional after Joel’s words.

“So I brought over a couple movies. I have the original Halloween and the first Scream.” You changed the subject.

“I haven’t seen Scream in a while.” Joel imputed, taking a swig of his mixed drink that appeared to be a Jack and Coke.

“Then it’s decided.” You winked.

When you both finished eating, you helped Joel pack away the leftover food into Tupperware containers. Even his refrigerator was organized. You helped put your dishes in the dishwasher before you both retired to the living room to put on the movie. You brought your glass of wine with you, placing it on the coffee table. Joel grabbed the movie from you, setting up the movie while you got comfortable on the sofa. After your conversations at dinner, your nerves had practically evaporated. You felt much more comfortable and less like you needed to act a certain way to impress Joel.

You watched his back flex underneath his black t-shirt as he leaned down to put the disc in the DVD player. You longed to run your hands down his back, feeling every curve and muscle of his back.

It was dark outside now, the only light source being a lamp that Joel had turned on. He walked to the couch, reaching behind you to grab a large wool blanket. He sat down beside you, your legs being only a few inches apart. Joel placed the blanket over both of your laps, and grabbed the TV remote off the table to click play on the menu to start the movie.

“This is going to give you nightmares, isn’t it?” Joel spoke, looking over to you. Your legs were curled up into your chest on the couch cushion, you pulling the blanket up over your arms.

“No.” You said with a smirk, looking from him back to the TV. “I’ll probably be scared shitless in that house by myself though.”

“A scary movie was a terrible idea.” Joel sighed, resting his arm over the back of the couch.

The first kill of the movie played across the screen, and Joel startled beside you. You turned to look at him, your mouth parted in surprise.

“Maybe it’s you we need to be worried about.” You teased, reaching over to squeeze his leg. His head snapped over at your touch. You turned back to keep watching the movie, but Joel’s eyes lingered on you. Your touch made him feel crazy. The power of your fingertips was enough to make him melt entirely. His eyes lowered to your plump lips, the shadows from the TV dancing across them. Your gaze was locked on the movie, not even paying attention to how you had Joel caught in a trance.

Strategically, Joel decides to lean forward to take a swig of his drink, coming back down to sit even closer to you. Your thighs were touching under the blanket now, his arm falling behind your head to rest on the back of the couch again. You glanced down to observe your close proximity. Your legs were still tucked up on the couch, so your knees were practically on top of his lap.

You continued to watch the movie, but you weren’t really paying attention. Your eyes followed the images flashing across the screen, but your brain wasn’t comprehending anything. All you could focus on was how good it felt to exchange body heat with Joel. You wanted to cuddle into his side, but you couldn’t find the courage to do so. Little did you know, that’s exactly what Joel longed for you to do. He wasn’t paying attention to the movie either. Likewise, he was fighting every urge to drape his arm across your shoulders instead of the couch.

As the movie progressed, a jumpscare happened, and you jolted and covered your eyes. Without thinking, you leaned into Joel’s side. He looked down at your head pressed into his chest, and he lowered his arm to wrap around you, his hand squeezing your arm gently.

“Holy shit, I even expected it too.” You muttered, leaning your head back just a little to peer up at him. Joel stared back into your eyes, the emotion in them unreadable. Joel reached his free hand up hesitantly, brushing your hair back out of your face. Goosebumps rose on your skin, your eyes flickered back and forth between his eyes, searching for any hint of emotion.

Joel didn’t speak. His thumb was working soft circles on your arm while his other hand lingered in the hair by your face.

“Joel.” You whispered. His eyes flickered to yours.

“Hmm?” He muttered gruffly.

“Kiss me.” You exhaled. Joel stared at you for a moment, his eyes dancing between yours and your lips. He furrowed his brows as he considered.

He was fighting himself mentally. If there were zero consequences, he would’ve kissed you way before this moment, but there were so many obstacles with taking things to that level with you. Would it make things awkward between you? Would you realize he was too old for you? What about your father?

Joel’s hand moved to your jaw, his thumb running gently over the soft tissue of your bottom lip.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Joel asked softly, the pad of his thumb still on your lip. You nodded, your hand reaching up to cup Joel’s face. His complexion was rough and tanned with wisdom, the crow’s feet by his eyes deepening with the perplexed expression on his face. You ran your fingertips over his beard, ghosting them slowly over the gray patches.

“Use your words, sweetheart.” Joel cautioned. You stared up at him, your fingers venturing into the hair by his ear. Your gaze flickered down to his lips, then back up to his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to.” You assured him, your tone smooth.

Your words were all Joel needed to hear. He leaned down, his lips softly pressing to yours. Your eyes fluttered shut, your fingers moving deeper into Joel’s salt and pepper hair. The kiss was sweet, the taste of the white wine on your lips mixing with the savory flavor of the Jack and Coke on Joel’s. Your bodies pressed together, your chests flush against each other. Your gut was swarming with electricity, Joel’s arm dropping to your lower back to press you closer to him. He craved you closer. Your tongue darted to brush against his bottom lip, a gentle whimper leaving his mouth, leaving enough of a gap for you to slip your tongue inside.

Joel’s hand lowered to your ass, pulling you up onto his lap, deepening the kiss further. Joel wound his hand into the back of your hair, his fingertips massaging into your scalp lightly. You placed your hands on either side of Joel’s face. You broke away from his lips, lowering your mouth to his jaw, peppering gentle kisses there, then moving to the rough skin of his neck. He exhaled deeply, leaning his head back into the couch, opening up more skin for you to press kisses to.

In that moment, the both of you knew you were playing with fire. You were at the point of no return. The intense infatuation reigned champion over the moral dilemmas that troubled your subconsciouses. The desire you felt for each other took precedence of any sort of reason about the reality of the situation.

Joel’s hands ran down the warm skin of your back as your lips ventured back to his. Your tongues danced together, Joel’s hips rutting up against yours. You felt him hardened underneath you, and suddenly reality swarmed your thoughts. A kiss was one thing, but the thought of moving further scared you. You wanted nothing more to be intimate with Joel, but it felt too soon. You wanted to take your time with him.

You pulled away from the kiss, resting your forehead against his, your warm breath fanning across his face. He ran his hands from your back to your hips, running them slowly up your sides.

“God, you’re beautiful.” Joel whispered, pulling away to gaze into your eyes. He brought a hand up to brush the pad of his thumb across your cheek. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the supple skin of your cheek, then lowered his mouth to your neck, breathing in your sweet, vanilla scent. You breathily moaned, intertwining your hands behind his head, pushing your breasts together.

“So so pretty, honey.” He murmured, his mouth ghosting over the soft skin of your breasts, his fingertip tracing over the peaking fabric from your nipples. Your brows taught together, your lips parted at his gentle touch.

“J-Joel I want to—” you began, “but it’s too soon.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Joel reassured you, lifting his hands to cup your face, pecking a soft kiss to your lips. “I’m just enjoyin’ tasting you. I don’t want to rush anythin’.”

Your belly fluttered, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. You bent down and kissed him again, this time with a little more pressure. You couldn’t verbally tell him how you felt about him, but your kiss told him everything he needed to know.

“Stay tonight.” Joel spoke against your lips. “We don’t have to do anythin’, just want to be with you.”

You nodded emphatically, running your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Okay.” You muttered breathily.

You lifted yourself off his lap and sat back down in your spot next to him, this time cuddling into his side. You couldn’t hold back the smile that overtook your lips.

[honkifurhoary]

Emmanuel the Emu: A Story of HPAI Mismanagement

Emmanuel, the TikTok-famous emu owned by Taylor Blake of Knuckle Bump Farms, made national news last month when Highly Pathogenic Avian Influenza (HPAI) hit the farm. According to Blake’s initial Twitter thread, Knuckle Bump Farms lost 99% of their avian flock- over 50 individuals- in only three days. These deaths were attributed both to the disease itself and to a cull carried out by the Florida Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services, who did so with Blake’s permission. Emmanuel and a black swan named Rico were the only two survivors, with Emmanuel left unable to stand, unwilling to eat or drink, and quickly fading. Hundreds of thousands rallied behind Emmanuel on social media as Blake documented Emmanuel’s progress, reaching out to public figures like Dr. Pol of The Incredible Dr. Pol and Bindi Erwin of Crikey! It’s the Irwins for help when she failed to find any other sources for emu rehabilitation. But soon, controversy emerged.

Early on, avian influenza experts expressed concern that Blake was not wearing any PPE when interacting with a presumably HPAI-positive bird. Avian influenza is transmissible from bird to human which, combined with the virus’ ability to mix genes and rapidly change, means that PPE is universally recommended when dealing with a suspected or confirmed HPAI outbreak.

In response to concerns, Blake explained that “Emmanuel freaks out whenever we approach him wearing a mask” and that the farm is on a state-mandated quarantine for 150 days, which is the amount of time HPAI is estimated to survive in the environment under ideal conditions. This quarantine reportedly only allowed Blake, Blake’s girlfriend Kristian Haggerty, Blake’s family, and veterinary professionals to enter the property. “I have taken every precaution recommended by the FDA” Blake stated, referencing the Florida Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services (FDACS) rather than the Food and Drug Administration (FDA).

Many people, including HPAI experts, found this explanation unsatisfactory and instead decided to contact the FDACS and USDA directly. Both the FDACS and USDA work collaboratively to manage avian influenza outbreaks in Florida. Dr. Danielle Stanek of the Florida Department of Health clarified that the DOH can recommend that private individuals comply with CDC guidelines, which includes wearing full PPE when interacting with HPAI-infected birds, but they cannot mandate that they do so. Therefore, Blake’s decision to forgo PPE was hers to make, even if it wasn’t in accordance with the recommendations of the FDACS, CDC, USDA, and Florida DOH.

Just as discourse between experts and Emmanuel fans reached its peak, Blake announced that Emmanuel tested negative for HPAI. Instead, Emmanuel’s sudden decline was attributed to stress. “Emus are incredibly susceptible to stress. He was incredibly overwhelmed by the state coming in and euthanizing our flock . . . He stopped eating the day they depopulated.” His lingering issues- the inability to stand or walk independently, twisted neck (torticollis), continued inappetence and dehydration, and lethargy- were caused by a nighttime collapse that left Emmanuel “thrashing on the ground for hours, trying to get himself up”. “He never once had a single symptom of AI, other than not eating”, Blake stated.

HPAI symptoms in birds varies depending on the species and the individual. In chickens, HPAI often presents as respiratory and digestive distress, followed quickly by death. In other poultry species, symptoms may also include the nervous system, causing “tremors, twisted necks, paralyzed wings, laying down and pedaling”. Ratites- referring to the diverse group of keel-less birds that include emus, ostriches, rheas, kiwis, and cassowaries- also tend to develop neurological symptoms. Notably, emus can present with twisted necks (torticollis), ataxia (discoordination), leg and wing paralysis, inability to stand, decreased food and water consumption, purple discoloration or swelling of the legs and head, and lethargy. This corresponds with many of the symptoms Blake has documented in Emmanuel. And it should, considering that Emmanuel did test positive for HPAI.

Test results completed on October 27th, 2022 at the USDA’s National Veterinary Services Laboratories showed that Emmanuel’s serum sample, collected six days after the start of the outbreak, contained antibody levels that were consistent with recent infection.

When Blake announced Emmanuel’s stress diagnosis, she was likely relying on information provided by a rapid test, which can provide results within 48 hours. These tests detect viral proteins that indicate active infection and virus shedding. Serology tests, on the other hand, look for the presence of antibodies produced in response to infection, not necessarily active infection. For an indeterminate number of days prior to the sample collection (October 17, 2022) Emmanuel had an active HPAI infection that, rather than stress, likely led to his rapid decline.

Why, then, was Emmanuel not included in the state’s cull on Knuckle Bump Farms? An email between Dr. Michael Short, the FDACS’ Animal Industry Director, and Kassandra Curiel of the FDACS’ Office of the Commissioner, answers this question. Dr. Short states that “USDA guidance is that ratites (emus and ostriches), black swans and exotic pet birds do not have to be euthanized due to lower risk”. Blake echoes this on her Twitter, when she says that “the state only focused on the “super spreaders” which are poultry species and ducks. Ratites aren’t included because they typically aren’t as susceptible.”.

This allowed Knuckle Bump Farms’ four emus (Emily, Eliza, Elliot, and Emmanuel) and three black swans (two unnamed females and Rico), to be exempted from the cull. I cannot find any reference, either in USDA literature or anywhere else, that supports Dr. Short’s statement. In fact, all the literature that I reviewed and all the experts I talked to during my research only confirmed the devastating effects that HPAI can have on both ratites and black swans. This, coupled with the fact that three of Knuckle Bump Farms’ four emus and two of their three black swans died when “the virus hit them extremely hard and very quickly”, calls Dr. Short’s statement into question.

The USDA was also unable to substantiate Dr. Short’s statement. When asked how exemptions to culls were determined they explained that, rather than look at individual species, the USDA classifies HPAI-infected domestic birds as either commercial, backyard poultry, or backyard non-poultry. These definitions ascribe risk of potential HPAI spread by determining the level of contact a poultry premise has with other poultry premises. If a private farm or private household, where the poultry does not have any contact with poultry beyond the property, has an outbreak then they are classified as a non-poultry premises, even if they have chickens, turkeys, or other poultry birds. These non-poultry premises can thus be exempted from culling all their birds by being placed on quarantines by state officials, provided that they adhere to the quarantine and continue to not have contact with any poultry facilities. Knuckle Bump Farms does not sell poultry products; therefore, they were classified as backyard non-poultry and eligible for quarantine. The FDACS seems to have added their own interpretation onto this guidance when they specify ratites, black swans, and exotic pet birds as “lower risk”. I reached out to Dr. Short for comment but received no response.

This isn’t the only time Dr. Short and, by extension, the FDACS demonstrated faulty logic. In that same email between him and Curiel, Dr. Short used this comparison to explain why a citizen’s concern about Emmanuel’s exemption from the cull was unfounded.

“I have heard of only one report of a clinically ill human, over the past 1.5 years of a national response to the current avian flu outbreak. The risk of HPAI to the owner is much less than occurred with household pets that tested positive for SARS-CoV-2 (Covid).  I am assuming no one would advocate to euthanize all pets testing positive for Covid (At least I have not heard of anyone asking us to euthanize pets).

The risk of avian influenza is constantly occurring with all the wild birds in South Florida.  My understanding (not being a human health expert) is the risk to people, especially children and those immuno-compromised at public or private lakes, ponds and waterways from the AI being shed by water fowl is much greater than the sick emu at knuckle bump farm.”

Dr. Ben Golas, a VMD and postdoc with the USGS who is currently working on avian influenza research, weighed in. “It’s a bit like comparing apples and oranges to talk about risk of transmission of COVID vs. HPAI. With COVID, our primary concern is human-to-human contact. [. . .] With HPAI, farm animals are euthanized not only because the disease spreads within the farm flock like wildfire, but also to prevent spreading infection locally to other farms, because HPAI virus can be stable in the environment.”

The CDC agrees. “There is no evidence that animals play a significant role in spreading SARS-CoV-2, the virus that causes COVID-19, to people. […] It’s important to remember that people are much more likely to get COVID-19 from other people than from animals. There is no need to euthanize or otherwise harm animals infected with SARS-CoV-2.” When it comes to HPAI, however, they emphasize that human-to-human spread is rare and often limited to only a few individuals. Bird-to-human transmission is the primary method of human infection, with each new infection increasing the risk that a new, more virulent strain will emerge. This, along with the potential for massive bird-to-bird outbreaks that could devastate both wildlife and industry, is why complete depopulation (euthanasia) is standard for HPAI and not COVID-19.

The FDACS seems to be operating on contradicting and unsubstantiated information when it comes to managing HPAI outbreaks. Unsurprisingly, the employees seem equally conflicted in their internal emails regarding Knuckle Bump Farms. One Florida USDA representative noted, while forwarding a citizen concern about Blake’s lack of PPE, that “her face is real close to a bird that has HPAI”. Another USDA employee responded “actually, in one of the pictures she appears to be kissing it on the head.”. Dr. Kendra Stauffer of the USDA wrote, “. . . part of the allowing the pet bird to live was that there were rules the owner was to follow from DOH, which clearly she is not”.

Other employees, however, were eager to show their support. Commissioner Nikki Fried of the FDACS posted a photo of her, Blake, and Haggerty, and later posted a photo of herself drinking Knuckle Bump Farms’ branded beer while wearing an Emmanuel t-shirt.

Fried’s support generated a lot of concern, particularly amongst local farmers. One Florida emu farmer stated, “my disappointment and concern is 100% with the actions of Nikki Fried as Agricultural Commissioner to allow some birds to be exempt from depopulation, including emus, for no quantifiable reason. Emus are susceptible to HPAI. Emus in other states have contracted HPAI in this current outbreak and they either died on their own or were put down. Research shows they are susceptible to HPAI, and can spread it to other birds and humans. The decision by Fried and FDACS makes no sense and it sets a dangerous precedent.”

Considering that Blake has over 847.4K followers on Twitter, 938K on Instagram, and 2.4 million on TikTok, the precedent the FDACS and USDA have set here is, indeed, dangerous. Many of Blake’s followers learned about avian influenza for the first time through her documentation of Emmanuel’s illness and the state’s response to the outbreak. “I watch for Emmanuel updates every day! This has also been a great lesson for many people in farming education.”, one follower said. Another echoed this sentiment, saying “Thank you for taking the time to let us know what’s going on, and answering questions. You truly are an educator”.

Herein lies the problem. Knuckle Bump Farms is a small, backyard operation. Through social media, however, they reach millions. This specific outbreak of HPAI and its subsequent (mis-)management by the FDACS and USDA has now set the standard for many, rather than the exception. Blake’s public failure to comply with PPE recommendations, the lack of transparency regarding Emmanuel’s true diagnosis, a similar lack of transparency within the FDACS and USDA regarding this outbreak, exemptions to cull protocols made with seemingly no supporting data, and a publicly-elected official openly (and financially) supporting Blake through this process, all pose a serious threat to public confidence in HPAI management and future public health. The concerns of farmers, virologists, public health workers and organizations, wildlife rehabilitators, and animal sanctuaries have been ignored, particularly when they asked whether Emmanuel’s fame and the risk of public backlash led to the FDACS’ decision to leave him and several other symptomatic birds alive. It seems, through this research, that there is more support for this theory than the narrative we’ve been provided until now. It is my hope that, with the publishing of this information, the very real concerns raised by people directly effected by HPAI will be given the weight they deserve.

Please take this opportunity to learn about avian influenza from reputable sources:

Protecting Birds from Avian Influenza

Avian influenza and PPE

CDC Avian Influenza

USDA HPAI Response Plan

Florida Avian Influenza Update (Oct 2022)

A huge thank you to the following experts who generously answered my questions: Dr. Ben Golas, Dr. Jim Wellehan, and Dr. Jennifer Riley.

[echo-goes-mmm]

Kitty Elliot AU #2

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: past abuse

The catboy ate with gusto, and Ambrose prayed he wouldn’t get sick from eating so much so soon.

He looked filthy, dust and dirt and bruises. His hair looked gray and matted, and from a glance Ambrose could see his underwear was practically hanging off of him.

“Do you have a name?” he asked.

The catboy paused in the middle of drinking, his tongue peeking out before disappearing.

The young man stared at Ambrose, unblinking. His mouth opened and closed silently before shaking his head. He went back to the water.

“My name is Ambrose,” he said. “Is there something I can call you?”

The catboy glanced up and blinked in confusion. 

“Uh- I could make something up?” the young man lifted a shoulder in a shrug before resuming eating.

Ambrose’s mind worked, trying to come up with a list of names. Alex, Conner, Jason, Max, Elliot, Felix.

“How about Max?” No response. “Conner?” Nope. “Elliot?”

The catboy looked up, licking a stray drop from his lip. He opened his mouth and closed it again, a faint squeak from the back of his throat.

Hardly a sound, barely a meow, but it would do.

“You like Elliot?” The catboy nodded before going after the bread on the plate.

Ambrose watched Elliot finish eating. The fruit was gone, but Elliot had made a face when he ate it. Clearly not a favorite item, but he probably couldn’t afford to be picky. Ambrose made a mental note not to give him fruit.

Elliot didn’t seem to know what to do with himself now that the food was all gone. He just stared at Ambrose, still crouched on the floor. His hands and feet were under him, as if he thought he might need to pounce or run.

Ambrose rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly awkward. Elliot’s eyes followed the movement.

“How about a bath? With some nice, hot water?” he offered. Elliot’s eyes glanced over to the basin and pump in the corner and back to Ambrose.

“Upstairs, I mean,” clarified Ambrose. “I have a better bathroom on my floor.”

Elliot turned and slipped back under the bed. Fair enough.

“Alright,” he said, picking up the dishes. “I’ll let you rest. I’ll see you tomorrow, I suppose.”

He washed the dishes and cleaned up before heading upstairs. Ambrose hesitated outside Elliot’s door. It was silent.

Ambrose shook his head, still in disbelief. He trudged up the staircase that led to his room. 

What a day.

He lit some incense at the small altar, and told Janus about his day. A habit he never could bring himself to stop, even though it hurt.

Ambrose took a hot shower, scrubbing the day’s work off his body. 

He hoped Elliot would stay for a while, or at least until he was strong enough to leave. He could use the company.

Even though he lived in a small town with plenty of people who knew him, he was still lonely.

A friend, a real one, would be welcome. 

Ambrose slipped into bed and fell asleep.

___________________

He knocked on Elliot’s door after breakfast, scrambled eggs and toast in hand.

“Good morning,” he said, opening it after no response.

He caught a flash of tail disappearing under the bed. Huh. The sheets had been used; Elliot had slept in the bed, and that was progress.

“It’s just me,” he called out quietly, closing the door behind him. “I have some breakfast for you.”

Elliot’s face poked out from under the bed. Cute.

Ambrose set the plate out, a few feet from the bed. Elliot crawled out again to eat. 

He still looked wary, especially with Ambrose standing instead of sitting, but food was apparently more important than fear.

His claws weren’t out, which was a concern. His fingers looked fine, so he wasn’t declawed, but the marks on his body indicated violence.

What if using his claws was beaten out of him?

Ambrose scanned his body, taking in the wounds. There were scars on his back, raised and long. Bruises were everywhere, green and sickly yellow, purple and black. A prominent one in the shape of a boot lined his side.

Ambrose wasn’t wearing shoes yet, and maybe that was why Elliot was comfortable at his feet despite the clear history of being kicked.

Ambrose crouched down, and Elliot flinched. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Have you thought more about having a bath?” 

Elliot’s ears and tail twitched. 

“I just think it might be nice to have a wash. Don’t you want to be a little cleaner? Maybe get your hair and fur brushed?”

Elliot hesitated before taking another bite.

“You can pick out some clothes to borrow afterwards,” he offered.

Elliot didn’t seem convinced. 

Ambrose chewed the inside of his cheek. “I have some cream downstairs. You can have some after we’re done.” 

Elliot’s head shot up, his eyes wide. “I promise,” Ambrose said. “You can have a whole mug.” He hoped it wouldn’t hurt his stomach, which was likely, but it was his only bargaining chip.

Elliot wiped his face with the back of his hand, nodding. 

“Great. We’ll get it done after you finish eating, okay?” 

Elliot went back to his eggs, and Ambrose sighed in relief.

Food, water, a bath, some clothes, he checked off in his head. Pain medication, maybe. Slave for those bruises. And we can get rid of that awful collar.

Elliot cleared his plate in a scant few minutes, looking up at Ambrose expectantly.

“Good,” he said, and he could see the bare hint of a smile on Elliot’s face.

Ambrose let them upstairs, Elliot trailing silently behind him. He began to run the hot water, checking the temperature every few minutes to make sure it wasn’t too hot.

Soon the tub was full, and Ambrose fetched a towel and washcloth for Elliot.

But when he got back to the bathroom, the catboy was gone. Ambrose set the towels aside, pushing down his panic.

“Elliot?” he called. No answer.

Shit.

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em

@thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings

@zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @fanastyfinder @roblingoblin285 @whumpzone

@snakebites-and-ink @astrokea @latenightcupsofcoffee @tobiaslut @whumpsoda

@loserwithsyle @bitchaknso @cepheusgalaxy

[killxio]

the start of something beautiful | r. braun

word count: 402 [ 1 min 30 sec read] | ✪ content warnings: uuuhhh stay away if u team fuck them kids. i mean i am too but like.. who don't love a fictional baby?

✮ new dad!reiner x new mom!reader / reiner x black!reader

you, your man, and y’all’s newborn baby.

- new dad!reiner who cried more than the baby did at birth

- new dad!reiner who, despite not letting you lift a finger since finding out about the pregnancy, still puts you on bedrest for the first few weeks post-partum. regardless of doctor's orders.

- new dad!reiner who rushes to his babygirl's every beck and call. he's learned her different types of cries after just one week, and can damn near hear her cry before she actually starts crying.

- new dad!reiner who's there for every post partum ache or craving, anything you want he'll get.

"whats wrong?" he immediately shoots up from his book in bed at the sight of you teary-eyed.

"it's s-stupid" you sniffle

"how many 'stupid' things have i made happen for you during the pregnancy? you still think i care about stupid?? tell me what's wrong baby."

"i want a kinder bueno bar so badddduhh" you whine, slumping over into the pregnancy pillow you still utilize.

you barely blink and he's sliding on his hoodie and slides.

best believe you got three of those damn bueno bars.

- new dad!reiner of whom you have a video of slowly swaying in the kitchen, lowly singing to an RnB song, daughter laying across one arm and a spatula in the other one early morning.

- new dad!reiner who has no concept of when a baby is meant to start eating solid food.

"so uhhh.. what's going on here?"

"’m introducing her to peanut butter."

"for one, ill be damned if my baby likes that solidifed dog water and two.. she's three and a half weeks old?"

"yeah. and?"

"'rei, that's like 8 month old shit. she can't even sit up on her own?"

(spoiler; not that you liked peanut butter before, but during your pregnancy the smell made you throw up on more than one occasion. no suprise she didn't like it a year later when reiner tried again.)

- new dad!reiner who you find in the hall late one night, showing babygirl your bump progression photos, explaining to her how big she was at each interval and how excited he is that she's finally here in the flesh.

- new dad!reiner who's first post of her had lyrics to "she's mine, pt.2" in the caption.

- new dad!reiner who, again, cries more than the baby does when his paternity leave is up and he has to work again.

- new dad!reiner, who makes you wanna marry him all over again.

[pianokantzart]

I saw this post by @elitadream for her Body Swap AU. I then blacked out, and when I came to I had written a one-shot. Enjoy! As usual, be mindful of the tagged trigger warnings.

––––––––

"Don't look so gloomy, you should revel in the fact that you held such power! You were the sole pillar that held The Mushroom Kingdom aloft!” Kamek reached out a hand and patted the great chained beast on the snout like it was the head of a small child. Mario winced and tried to turn his face away, but the enchanted shackles held him firmly in place. In his helplessness, he locked eyes with the malicious magikoopa, and blew a puff of smoke in a silent threat.

Having been imprisoned for so long, Mario passed the time learning to wield and control Bowser’s fire breath in hopes that, at some point, it would be of use. The way the heat built up in his lungs didn't feel too different from how firebrand once burned within his heart and weaved around the bones of his hands. In the dingy silence of his cell, he spat large jets of blinding orange flames, breathed tiny flicks of red embers, and puffed dark billows of grey smoke in a quiet contemplation of what all he was capable of. While his body was restrained in such a way that he couldn’t aim the weapon, the fact he could use it at all proved to be a very helpful form of self-defense against the soldiers who delivered his rations of food and water.

Once the guards had overcome the initial strangeness of Mario inhabiting their King’s body, they grew cruel, taking every opportunity to taunt the fallen hero. Physically damaging him was off-limits, but everything else was permitted, and when the usual insults escalated to spitting and throwing food, Mario finally lost his temper, releasing a billow of fire and a fearsome roar that cleared the room in seconds. From then on, whenever a koopa entered his cell, he would growl lowly and breathe smoke. This effectively deterred any further abuse…

… unless, of course, it was Kamek. Kamek was not only accustomed to Bowser’s fearful form, but he knew he was Mario’s sole hope of returning to his own body. Whatever threat was directed at him was nothing more than an amusement. “On the other hand," he continued, "you are the greatest crack in their defenses. Never before have we made so much progress in conquering a kingdom in such a short amount of time, and you’re entirely to thank for it!” “Leave me alone.” Mario had intended to sound menacing then, but despite his new voice there was no denying the fear and sorrow that muddled every word. Kamek smiled. “Oh? But don’t you want to hear about this progress we made? That the castle is falling? That Princess Peach has disappeared?” Mario’s eyes widened. The chains holding him back clattered as his massive body jolted. Fear built within him, stoking the literal flames in his chest until it glowed with heat.

Kamek appeared satisfied with this reaction. “Yes! Disappeared entirely! We expected such behavior from your brother… hiding himself like a proper coward… but we are having a good deal of trouble figuring out where The Princess has gone to!”

Mario suddenly became aware of a strange pain spreading through his body. He had, by now, become accustomed to the burning aches that accompanied being chained up for so long, but this pain was different: more direct and intentional, like a thousand little blades tearing at the sinews beneath the skin. He now saw that the wand in Kamek’s hand was glowing, the smile on his bespectacled face wider and more malicious. “Now, your body is still the property of Lord Bowser, and as such is not allowed to come to any harm.” He hummed, “Thankfully, I know a few spells capable of causing a great amount of pain without damaging the vessel.”

Mario tensed. The agony spreading throughout his body worsened, and he huffed a small burst of flame from between gritted teeth.

“So, I’ll ask this only once:” Kamek hissed, “Where do you suppose the princess has gone?”

Mario answered with a cold glare, then squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation. Kamek, having expected this, obliged by intensifying the spell. There was the initial surge, white-hot and agonizing, forcing a restrained cry, when the pain suddenly– and unexpectedly– ceased. Even stranger, Mario felt his restraints fall away, and nearly collapsed in their absence, his limbs slowly shifting in the relief of newfound freedom.

Kamek released a guttural gasp. Mario opened his eyes just in time to see his tormentor struggling against tendrils of bright pink magic that wreathed around him like serpents, until the magikoopa slumped quietly to the floor in an unconscious heap. Behind him stood the familiar figure of Princess Peach, her hands ablaze with magic that sparkled like starlight.

Seeing her in the doorway, disheveled but unharmed, scowling at the fallen foe before her, Mario was suddenly overwhelmed by fear and shame. He’d had dreams like this during his captivity, and believing them for even a second proved immeasurably painful when he awoke to find himself restrained and alone. But even if this wasn’t an illusion, everything he was at this moment was an affront to her: a strange combination of monstrousness and uselessness. His alien form complemented his own newfound insignificance, every ounce of goodwill he’d earned over the years now actively destroying all they had struggled to protect. His body fought to make itself smaller as he stumbled back, only to be immediately stopped by the far wall of his tiny cell.

“S-Sono costernato…” he began, loathing the sound of his own voice. But Peach had already crossed the room, desperate to hold him the moment she recognized his eyes. Mario felt the soft fabric of her gloves wrapped around his face, her hair tickling his snout as she pressed her forehead against him. It was difficult not to hold her in return, but Mario restrained himself. He feared underestimating his own strength and unintentionally hurting her more than he already had, so he simply stood there, basking in the sensation and taking in the undeniable reality of it all.

[outisgivingpac]

PAC: Little things you can do to improve your everyday life

Because there are days when simply existing feels like an extreme sport, this PAC shall give you some mundane advice to make your day a little bit easier 🌱☔✨

Check out my pinned post for my masterlist and personal readings ❤️

🐸Pick a pile/image you feel most drawn to🐸

Pile 1. Pile 2. Pile 3.

Pile 1: Queen of Pentacles reversed, the Empress reversed, The High Priestess

Dear Pile 1, there're a lot to unpack here so I hope you would stay with me till the end. Firstly, I can feel your fatigue streaming through, as it seems like you're buried under all kind of house chores and errands. What you can really use right now is a helping hand, not just someone who would nod sympathically to your struggle. Many of you could just be living alone, but some might share the place with someone who have different living standards as yourself. Either case, you could cut yourself some slack by asking for help, or simply letting others help you. On a side note, you might not have been eating properly as of late. Either you eat too little, or only fuel yourself with the kind of food that has little nutritional value. Though, it appears you're fully aware of all these problems, and just have to listen to your body more. You know better than anyone when you need to take a break, when to take a sip of water, or what you crave. So, yes, you should trust yourself on that as often as possible, rather than deeming it evil whisper your inner goblin lol

Pile 2: 6 of Cups, 7 of Pentacles, 9 of Wands

As it seems, people of this pile need a lot of activities and/or stimulations during a day to feel good in general. At the same time, idleness will weight you down like a plague. Without busying yourself with something that can be considered productive throughout the day, you tend to spiral hard in your head and become restless at night. This is often the case on those days when you don't have to go out for school or work. Aren't you a workaholic high-achiever with reasonable expectations for anyone but yourself? You're much encouraged to not take your day-off for granted, spending it worrying about work. Maybe you can pick up a hobby like handcraft (f.e. knitting, origami ect.), playing an instrument or engaging in certain outdoor sports. I know it could be much when you're low on energy, so it's important to find out something you truly enjoy to keep you (or your mind) active (maybe something you can do even when lying on bed?). The progress you make with your personal project will keep you in a more positive mindset. Lastly, some of you totally should keep your daily caffeine intake in check 👀

Pile 3: 7 of Pentacles reversed, 2 of Cups, Temperance

For Pile 3, I can tell you guys are goal-oriented people, who could get impatient when your effort are not met with immediate results. The lack of progress or productivity, whether it comes from your side or other party, could frustrate you greatly and taint your day in a sullen mood. To make your life a little bit easier, it's important to turn a mental switch when you're off work. Set your priority and boundary clear, knowing that you have tried to do the most you can with the cards you're served. There's always another day to continue or try again. Besides, if you have the "all or nothing" mentality, having compromises and taking the middle road will cut you some slack. As the world is not black or white, and it's completely normal to have inconsistency in your energy level. If you have a significant other, a close friend or family member, spending quality time with them is like swallowing a health potion. Oftentimes, they act like your personally cheerleader, hyping you up and helping you feel like your effort is seen, waaayyy before it is recognized by practical results. But hey, you can start giving it to yourself, too! Start to talk about/to yourself more kindly, like you would for someone you love.

[marshmellowrio]

Flight of the Night | Chapter 3

Word count: 1031

“I asked Rhys if I could take you to dinner with Lyssa, just us girls, and he said you wouldn’t want to. But honestly – would you rather spend time with those two ancient bores, or us?” Mor grips my chin and brings my face next to hers, both of our faces the picture perfect image of innocence.

“For someone who is the same age as me,” Rhys drawls and Mor lets go of my face, “you seem to forget-”

“Everyone wants to talk-talk-talk,” Mor says, giving Cassian a warning glare as he opens his mouth and I snort. “Can’t we eat-eat-eat, and then talk?”

Azriel chuckles from across the table and starts digging into his food. Giving the cue to the rest of us to start eating as well, Mor clinks her glass against Feyre’s. “Don’t let these busybodies boss you around.”

She’s one to talk, I think. Cassian beats me to saying it, “Pot. Kettle. Black.” He frowns at Amren’s plate while I shove another bite into my mouth. “I always forget how bizarre that is.” He takes her plate and dumps half of its contents on his own before passing the rest to Azriel, whose hand is awaiting.

“Cassian.” I scold at the same time Azriel excuses to Amren.

“I keep telling him to ask before he does that.”

Amren gestures absentmindedly towards me, “If you two haven’t been able to train him after all these centuries, boy, I don’t think you’ll make any progress now.”

Cassian doesn’t even look up from his, now again, full plate. I take a sip from my glass of water.

“You don’t---eat?” Feyre questions the ancient being across from her.

“Not this sort of food.”

I smile when Mor cringes next to me. “Cauldron boil me,” she says, taking another gulp from her wine. “Can we not?”

Rhys chuckles, “Remind me to have family dinners more often.”

I roll my eyes and lean back in my seat so I can look at him behind Mor and Feyre as I say, “Last time you said something along the lines of, never again, remember?” I grin as he grimaces.

My plate is almost empty when I hear Azriel start talking and look up to see him holding out his siphons for Feyre to see. “They’re called Siphons. They concentrate and focus our power in battle.”

I look down at my own hands, seeing the two emerald Siphons glittering in the light.

“The power of stronger Illyrians tends toward ‘incinerate now, ask questions later.’ They have little magical gifts beyond that---the killing power.” Rhys clarifies. At times I rather liked the incinerate now, ask questions later part, it kept me alive long enough.

“The gift of a violent, warmongering people,” Amren adds. I furrow my eyebrows at her, seeing Cassian give Azriel a sharp look as he nods.

Rhys goes on, “The Illyrians bred the power to give them advantage in battle, yes. The Siphons filter that raw power and allow Cassian, Azriel and Lyssa to transform it into something more subtle and varied---into shields and weapons, arrows and spears. Imagine the difference between hurling a bucket of paint against the wall and using a brush.” Nice metaphor. “The Siphons allow for the magic to be nimble, precise on the battlefield---when it’s natural state lends itself toward something far messier and unrefined, and potentially dangerous when you’re fighting in tight quarters.”

Cassian flexes his fingers, while staring at his red siphons. “Doesn’t hurt that they also look damn good.”

“Especially in the bedroom.” I counter as Cassian grins at me. Azriel closes his eyes and Mor sucks in a breath beside me.

“Illyrians.” Amren mutters.

Cassian bares his teeth and takes a drink of his wine. I continue eating as Feyre starts fumbling for words, “How did you—I mean, how do you and Lord Cassian—” Cassian spews out his wine across the table, Mor leaping up and me coughing as a piece of food gets lodged in my throat.

I cough harshly as my throat clears, tears having formed in the corners of my eyes, I take my glass and drown the liquid inside. Cassian howling with laughter across the table.

“Cassian,” Rhys drawls, “is not a lord. Though I’m sure he appreciates you thinking he is.” He surveys all of us. “While we’re on the subject, neither is Azriel. Nor Amren. Mor and Lyssa, believe it or not, are the only pure-blooded, titled people in this room.” The muscles in my entire body tighten at his words. “I’m half-Illyrian. As good as a bastard where the thoroughbred High Fae are concerned.”

“So you—you four aren’t High Fae?” Feyre says to us, catching my gaze for a second.

Cassian settles down enough to answer her. “Illyrians are certainly not High Fae. And glad of it.” He hooks his hair behind an ear—showing the round edge. “And we’re not lesser faeries, though some try to call us that. We’re just—Illyrians. Considered expendable aerial cavalry for the Night Court at the best of times, mindless soldier grunts at the worst.”

“Which is most of the time,” Azriel clarifies to her.

“I didn’t see you Under the Mountain.”

I still.

“Because none of us were.” Mor, she speaks up, daring to break the silence that had fallen.

Rhys’s cold voice explains. “Amarantha didn’t know they existed. And when someone tried to tell het, they usually found themselves without the mind to do so.”

“You truly kept this city, and all these people hidden from her for fifty years.” The wonder in her voice almost makes me snarl.

This city was safe, yes, protected. Not all had had that pleasure. My heart beat harshly in my chest, I hadn’t forgiven him, not yet.

Amren says, “We will continue to keep this city and these people from our enemies for a great many more.”

I grit my teeth, this dinner is proving to be more loaded than I expected.

Mor turns slightly away from me, towards Feyre, to explain, “ There is not one person in this city who is unaware of what went on outside these border. Or of the cost.”

A/N: Let me know how you liked it and if you wanted to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @inloveallthetime @mybestfriendmademe

[jellifysh]

Ride With You (part 10)

Or, Jungkook’s ex- fiances can really hold a grudge

OT7 x reader (ex-fiancés au, Jungkook x reader focus, mafia au, slow burn, Taehyung’s a weirdo, sparring/wrestling, boners 👀, sexual tension?, night club scene ft. Stray kids, Jungkook wants you so bad bro omggg, reader looks pretty twenty four seven)

When you returned, Namjoon, Yoongi, Jungkook, and Jimin were still up. Taehyung had been holed up in his room refamiliarizing himself with his flashdrive since you gave it back to him, and Jin had rushed off to his room immediately after he had driven you back to the house, already on the phone. He had been busy for the past few days, some situation with his father that you didn’t quite know the details about, only seeing him ghost through rooms and always on seemingly endless phone calls.

The men waiting in the foyer raised their head as you entered, Jimin letting out a snort. “I honestly thought you two would’ve ripped each other to pieces.”

Namjoon tilted his head as he lowered the book he had been reading into his lap, looking at the body slung over Hoseok’s shoulder. “That’s not Warner.”

“No, it’s not.” You smiled at him brightly.

When you didn’t explain yourself, he sat up, furrowing his eyebrows. “Why isn’t it Warner?”

“Because this dumbass shot him.” Hoseok scoffed, gesturing to the body on his shoulder. “When we got to the meeting, Warner ratted us out, so the informant shot him and ordered his guards to kill us. I wanted to just run, but Ms. Perfect over here lost her temper,” He now pointed a finger at you accusatorily, while you stood tall next to him, not ashamed at all. “And insisted we kill all the guards and take the informant as a hostage to make up for what he did.”

“That’s so hot,” Jimin breathed, ever present smirk on his face as he studied you, eyes locked on your figure. Jungkook sent him a bewildered look before brushing it off, turning to you, and standing up to make his way to your side.

“The important thing is you’re back home safe,” he said, planting a kiss on your forehead. “You look exhausted, let’s go to sleep.” And it was true, you could feel the exhaustion seeping into your bones, ignored in flavor of succeeding at your mission. The warmth of Jungkook’s hands as you moved them to squeeze your waist gently made your eyes start to droop.

“Right, go and get some rest, we’ll debrief in the morning.” Namjoon stood up from the chair he was sitting in now, everyone dismissed now that the mission had gone well— or rather, well enough. He and Hoseok moved down the long hallway that you now knew led to where they kept their hostages and you turned away, allowing Jungkook to pull you to bed.

—

After what felt like endless tossing and turning, you sighed, rolling out from under Jungkook’s arm. You weren’t sleepy at all, the new developments tonight only making you think about your next move. You were making so much progress with taking down your organizations, and even though working with with Bangtan was previously unfortunate detail, you found recently that you couldn’t be anymore thankful for their help. You were so close to getting to shoot those bastards in the organization in the face.

Deciding to wander a bit to ease your mind, you crept through the house in the dark, subconsciously finding your way to the kitchen. Usually, you didn’t come in here much, just eating food when it was served in the dining hall. The kitchen was large and almost pitch black, empty of its usual staff who cooked food, leaving it quiet and empty. You walked towards the cabinets, looking for a cup to get a drink of water. As you turned your back to open the cupboard, a chill rolled down your spine. You could feel roving over you, and turned your head quickly towards the source.

Taehyung was sitting at the table across the room, previously obscured in the darkness, but as your eyes adjusted, you could plainly see that he had his eyes trained on you over the edge of his mug, as he took a long sip of whatever he was drinking. As far as you could tell, he was shirtless, only sweatpants tied low around his hips as he reclined lazily in the chair.

“Why are you just sitting in the dark?” You questioned him, turning back around now that you know the source of your mini heart attack. He didn’t answer you and you didn’t care, turning back around, still fumbling around for a cup in the dark.

You only heard a slight scrape against the floor before you could sense his presence right behind you, arms closing in on either side. One reached above you, pulling out a cup and the other wound around your waist as he lowered his lips next to your ear. “You know,” he started, you freezing deathly still as he murmured into your ear. “When you first came, I wished Jimin had left you in the cottage where he found you and Jungkook. I didn’t want you here, not when you were a reminder of the fact that Jungkook thought he could leave us.” His hand set down the cup and raised to gently stroke through a curl of your hair. “But now, after you saved Jimin, after you brought back my flashdrive, I think maybe this was all fate.”

“Or maybe you’re just weird.” You finally managed to say, ducking out from underneath his arms and moving to the fridge, filling it with water. He chuckled, leaning back against the countertop, still looking at you with that unreadable expression. It was different than before, amused rather than hateful, but unimpenetrable all the same. A long moment of silence passed as the two of held eye contact with nothing but the sound of water slowly filling your cup before he spoke up again.

“It’s just all so funny. You’re our usual type, too. Sexy, smart,” a longer pause, and you could almost feel his eyes as they studied your face. “Deadly. But better late than never, I guess.”

You didn’t know how to answer that, so you didn’t, moving out of the kitchen as soon as your cup was filled. “If you’re done talking, I’m going to bed. Good night.”

“Night, puppy. Sleep well.” He said before you turned the corner, particularly running away from whatever weird aura he had created in there. That was… weirder than usual. Taehyung barely looked at you twice, and now he’s trying to cuddle in the kitchen? Whatever, you shook your head, finally able to relax your shoulders now that you were out of his vicinity. Being around them always had you on edge and made sinking back into Jungkook’s arms in your bed even better.

—

The debrief was a bit unorthodox this time. While you were used to a spread of breakfast and discussion, it seemed Jin was still busy with calls and Taehyung had locked himself back in his room after the weird conversation last night. Namjoon forwent calling everyone down for dinner and just called you and Hoseok to his office instead.

Jimin was there, too, sculking around behind Namjoon, knocking the pieces over on his chess board and running his fingers over the countless spines of books on his shelves. He sent you a secretive smirk as your entered but didn’t say anything.

“So, the mission?” Namjoon said, leaning forward at his desk as he waited for you to elaborate.

And so you did. You relayed every detail, from how Hoseok kept whining in to car, to how your hostage decided to try to beg for mercy from the informant, to how you killed everyone in the building and only left behind a singular soul for more interrogation. Jimin’s eyes lit up with interest the more you spoke, eventually settling on the desk right next to Namjoon, and you could practically hear Hoseok’s eyes rolling behind you, leaning against a bookshelf with his arms crossed.

“Sure, just go ahead and make it sound like you saved the day.” He scoffed.

“I did.” You replied, not even turning to address him. “If I remember correctly, someone wanted to just leave.”

He glared at you, probably a sour to throw back another insult, but Jimin spoke up first. “Of course, our kitten wanted to do everything she could before leaving. You’re such a hard worker, pet.” You stood up a bit straighter, subconsciously proud at the praise.

Namjoon nodded. “The both of you did excellent work. We’re waiting for the informant to wake up before we ask him anything, but we might postpone it even longer since we’ve been having some… trouble.” He said, a hesitant pause before his last word.

“Trouble?” You asked.

“Nothing for you to worry you’re pretty little head about yet, puppy.” Hoseok said, moving to put a hand on the doorknob. “We’re done here, yeah?”

“Yes, thank you both.” Namjoon said, watching you out of his office as he turned back to the paperwork on his desk. As you turned towards the door Jimin sent you a wink that you steadfastly ignored and closed the door behind you.

Everything was so weird lately. When you first got here you expected to have to fight to show them you were worthy of even being looked at, and now they regularly address you, and stare at you, and almost, almost respect you. And in Jimin, and apparently Taehyung’s case, like you. From what you’ve pieced together, Bangtan liked company, and used to surround themselves with guests, though you and Jungkook are the first in a long time.

Some twisted up part inside of you was happy to be here. Being on the run was boring and stressful at the same time, and due to the way you were trained, the stream of praise they’ve been giving you lately was only making you feel warm inside, and more inspired to work harder. But the other part was worried for Jungkook and took that being here was talking on him. It felt selfish to feel happy at all when Jungkook was likely suffering mentally just being here.

You sighed as you reached your room and slumped into the chair in front of your dresser. You surveyed the room, still draped in shades of pink and yet, after the time you spent here, it didn’t strain your eyes as much as when you first arrived. The dresser had been cleared of frilly pink clothes and replaced with the same kind of standard plain clothing they had given Jungkook, blacks and whites and greys and beiges. Your nose scrunched. The frilly clothes were horribly uncomfortable sure but as at least they were good quality and colorful. The thin, plain, polyester fabric of the clothing was not exactly the height of luxury.

The door creaked open, your only indication that someone was there at all. Jimin had entirely silent footsteps, terrifying in its soundlessless, especially since you knew his fondness of you could flip on a dime and he could easily sneak in and finish you in your sleep when he so wished.

If he so wished, you corrected yourself, because he leaned against the doorway as you sat, that same Cheshire Cat smile that seemed to be a permanent feature on his face. Lately, it seemed almost like Jimin didn’t harbor any hostility towards you anymore. Not like before with biting words and sarcasm.

“Hello, pet. Thought I’d check on you after the debrief. Did you sleep well earlier?” He asked with a tilt of his head. Even now, the word pet was purred, not hissed like when he would say it before dripped in venom. Now his words seemed coated in honey.

You weren’t sure whether to be grateful or suspicious.

“Well enough.” You answer cryptically, turning back to the mirror. Jimin hummed, stalking over and standing behind you, bending down slightly to see into the mirror of the vanity over your shoulder. You locked eyes in the mirror and you raised an eyebrow. “What do you want?” You asked blankly.

“There’s a lot of way I could answer that, pet.” He spoke, almost murmuring the words into your ear. “But for now, I just wanted to check on you and see how you were doing.” He shrugged like it was a totally casual thought and not like everything he did was a long thought out decision in a mental game. He placed one hand on your shoulder, the other winding into the locks of your hair, giving you flashbacks of your encounter with Taehyung last night.

He played with it, twining it around his fingers. “I miss when we had you dolled up all pretty. You looked so cute with those clips and charms in your hair.”

You waved his hands away, failing to hold back a glare. “I have to disagree.”

He chuckled, low and knowing. “I’m sure you do. After all, you have a penchant for the more… luxurious things in life, no? Gold, silk,” he paused, leveling you with a sly look. “Diamonds.”

Your eyes narrowed. “I’m asking again, and this time don’t lie. What do you want?”

“You want a new suit, right?”

“Of course. The things you have me go in are hardly mission grade.” You sniffed arrogantly, turning back to the mirror. Jimin’s smile only widened.

“Well then. How would you like to spar with me?”

—

Jimin led you to the same place he had taken you for aim training, what felt like ages ago. Crazy how much you like has changed in the past couple days. Walking past the dummies used for the practice range, he led you to a large square of padded floor, the nearby wall padded as well. Leaning causally against a wall with a notebook and pen was Taehyung, eying you with that same unreadable look from.

“Why’s he here?” You asked Jimin, still holding eye contact with Taehyung.

“Taehyung designs the suits, remember? All the weapons and technological enhancements we use comes from his genius mind.” Jimin smiled, the closest thing to a genuine smile you had seen from him. “He needs to watch you fight to know how you usually move to ensure your suit will always be comfortable on you. Can’t have you ripping your suit to pieces again, right? Though I wouldn’t mind the view.”

“Are we sparing or not?” You said instead, settling into a loose fighting stance.

“Fine, since you’re so eager,” he playfully rolled his eyes, settling into a stance as well. “I know my arm just healed, but don’t go easy on me.”

“Trust me, I won’t.”

“Me either.” And with that he practically lunged at you, fast and powerful, and you was all you could do to dodge out of the way. He attacked you fiercely, not letting up a bit, powerful kicks and punches swinging at you at insane speeds with no clear rhythm. You kept jumping out of the way of his attacks, bending and flipping and moving, and mostly trying to remember how to breathe.

“You’re on defense, pet,” he growled, not letting up at all. “You need to fight!” He yelled, sweeping a leg underneath you and sending you sprawling to the floor. Before you could even recover he had you pinned down, hands pressed to your shoulders and his hips pressing down into yours.

“Come on, where’s your fighting spirit?” He teased. You pushed against his shoulders and found him near immovable, bearing down on you with the force of a boulder. Changing tactics. you tried to press your hips up against his to flip him over, freezing immediately when you felt something else pressing against you, hardening against your leg.

“Okay, I’m pinned, you got me!” You said, melting into the floor in an attempt to get distance between your bodies.

“Aw, so soon? It was cute watching you squirm.” He purred, a glimmer of heat in his eyes.

You scoffed, “With your third leg poking me? I’m sure it was.

That startled a laugh out of him, and he got off you, helping you up from the floor as well. You turned to Taehyung, pretending the heat on your face was just from the exertion. “Is that enough?”

Taehyung was also watching you intently, his eyes darker than their usual earthy brown. “No.” He replied.

You huffed, turning back to Jimin. “Fine. You want me to fight? I’ll fight!” You jumped towards Jimin, then ducked low, trying to catch him off balance, while you surprised him, if the look on his face was anything to go by, he reacted quickly, blocking both your attacks and jumping back. He came at you again, pure force and power and this time you were prepared, weaving between his attacks like water sliding off a leaf, and managed to plant a punch on his ribs. He fell back, surprise plain on his face, momentarily out of rhythm and before smiling and jumping back in with twice as much enthusiasm.

You grappled at each other, slipping and sliding out of each other grasps. Neither of you could get a handle on each other, bodies wrapping around each other and away, almost like a dance. Jimin’s hands slid over your skin in movements that definitely felt purposeful, his flirty smile not faltering even as sweat starts to drip down his face.

“Why are you smiling?” You huffed.

“Anyone ever tell you how pretty you look while fighting?” He managed to easily quip while bending over to dodge a kick of yours.

“No one who fights me usually lives long enough to say anything.”

“Should I feel honored?”

You huff again and he takes your moment of frustration to slam you against the wall pressing you against it with his body, solid muscle holding you in place.

“How are you so strong?” You definitely did not whine, because you are very mature.

Jimin chuckled, smiling down at you, your punches against his chest and stomps on his feet hardly phasing him. “Pet, not even you know everything about fighting.”

He grabbed your hands and pinned them above you, grip heavy like metal practically handcuffing you to the wall. He leaned in closer so that your noses were almost touching. “Such large bite for such a tiny kitten. Yield.” He commanded, eyes narrowing.

“No!” You snapped at him, still struggling to push him off. He regarded you with a steely look, then—

Jimin dropped his head onto your shoulder, laughter spilling out of his lips. You stopped in shock. He wasn’t holding you against the wall anymore, his hold on you lax, but you stood still against it, not sure what to do. You had never heard him laugh like this before, a real full bodied genuine laugh. He was almost doubling over with the force of it, stepping back from you. “I’m sorry pet, I just,” He managed to get out between giggles. “It’s just been a while since I’ve had someone to spar with. This is more fun for me than you can imagine.”

“Can’t you spar with each other?” You asked, dropping your hands and letting the blood flow back into your arms.

He sighed wistfully.. “It’s not the same. No one here is even near my level, I could bring any of these guys to the floor easily.” He smirked pridefully, softening as he focused back on you. “But you’re a challenge. It’s exciting.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the heat on your face once again. “Well, good for you, I guess.”

“Admit it, you like this.” He taunted, poking you in the side.

You smacked his hand away, trying not to smile and failing. “So what?”

“So when was the last time you let yourself have fun?” He asked, seeming genuinely curious.

“I have fun all the time.”

“I mean this kind of fun, princess.”

“Well, I usually save that kind of fun for my boyfriend.” You joked, trying to keep the mood light.

It did not seem to work, Jimin looking off into the distance again. “Right. Of course you do.”

Jimin shakes his head, seemingly making a conscious effort to stay cheerful. “Don’t feel bad you couldn’t beat me, you were quite close.” He teased again.

“I’ll beat you soon enough. I just need more practice.”

“Guess you’ll have to stay until then.” He said, sending you another one of those secretive smile. He turned to the other person in the room, who you had wholly forgotten about. “How’s that Taehyung?”

“Perfect.” He replied, not lifting his head from his notebook, scrawling something furiously fast. “You’ll have your suit soon.”

“Good.” Jimin walked over to him, peeking at the notebook. “Thank you again, pet.” He said, and you got the feeling you had been dismissed. You walked out quietly, and left the two in privacy.

—

The next time you see everyone, they’re standing around in the living room, speaking urgently in hushed tones. You and Jungkook had spent the last hour together after you got back from sparring, Jin apparently having made Jungkook do his usual chores all morning while he took some more calls. Jungkook was excited to see you when you got back sparring, kissing you eagerly, but at the fatigue in your movements, he eased up, seemingly content to just lay in bed with you after you’d showered and talk as you rested.

Now in the living room, the two of you originally just passing through after Jungkook convinced you to help him steal snacks from the kitchen, Jin is addressing everyone in what seems to be an impromptu group meeting. “Shouldn’t we just reschedule? We aren’t exactly in the position to be dragging them around.”

“Dragging who around?” Jungkook said, giving up on sneaking to the kitchen in favor of digging for information.

They all looked up, realizing you two were standing at the edge of the room. “Perfect timing.” Namjoon announced. “An ally of ours has had some suspicious activity as of late. It’s been a while since we paid them a visit so we were planning on dropping in on them tonight. But, with you two here…” his tone trailed off.

Taehyung spoke, “They should just come with us. We can handle them, it’s not like they’re in a position to misbehave.”

You did not like being spoken about like you were predictable, as if these men knew exactly you’d behave and react. Although, honestly, with the information they had complied of you and the way they study your every move like a hawk now, they probably do.

“We can play this to our advantage. We’re trying to get information out of them, they’d never expect these two to be with us. Maybe they can get them to say something they shouldn’t, let down their guard.” Jimin added, automatically agreeing with Taehyung, like always.

Namjoon sighed. “We’re supposed to trust them—“

“And we don’t. Pretending that we have blind faith in then won’t change that. Let’s make it certain.” Yoongi cut in with finality. Everyone in the room seems to be warring against Namjoon and it was moments like this that you really appreciated not actually being apart of their dynamic. Then again, they were comfortable with each other weren’t they? They could fight and still sleep in the same bed the same night. They probably cuddle even when they’re angry with each other. They’re just that close.

Namjoon eyed everyone in the room carefully, though no one budged against his intense stare. Finally he sighed, and agreed, “Fine.”

Jin rolled his eyes, making it clear that despite the distance away from you lately, his dislike for you hadn’t eased. “Well, no reason not to have extra help, I guess. I can’t come anyways.”

“Right. How’s that going by the way?” Yoongi asked, though he sounded more amused than sympathetic.

Jin groaned, leaning back in his chair dramatically. “Horrible. I have no idea why, but my dad is pestering me more than usual.”

“I told you to let us kill him.” Jimin hummed, as if commenting I’m on the weather outside, idly tapping against the wine glass he was holding. These guys drank a lot, you noticed.

“He’s better alive, less work for me.” Jin shrugged, his phone ringing almost immediately after he finished talking. He eyed the device with a level of annoyance you previously thought he could only direct towards you.

“Seems like a lot of work from my perspective.” Hoseok commented, and Jin rolled his eyes again, leaving the room to take the call.

Jimin turned towards you, smiling warmly. “Ready to play eye candy again?”

“Overjoyed, even.” You responded blankly, tightening your grip on Jungkook’s hand. He squeezed back and you loosened some tension from your shoulders.

Namjoon at least seemed sympathetic, but you figured it was more so you’d cooperate rather than any actual concern. “We’ll find you both something to wear and then we can go.”

“We have your old suit, Kookie. Remember the one we got you for our anniversary?”

“Burn it.”

“Hmm, no actually. I think we can get our pet a matching dress. Would that make you more inclined to wear it? I’d love to see you in it again.”

“You know what? Just do what you want. You usually do anyways.”

“That’s the spirit.”

—

The limo pulled up to a nightclub off the west end of the center of town, where the lines between their gang and their allies blurred. It was big and bright, neon signs lighting the building in fun attention grabbing shapes, spelling out Thunderous. It was packed with a line wrapping around the building of impatient looking people. The boys slid out first, walking right past the line as if they didn’t see it at all, Jimin and Taehyung pulling Jungkook along with them and sticking to his side. Namjoon hung back for you, gesturing for you to link arms with him.

You eyed him, watching the way Jimin and Taehyung pulled Jungkook ahead like kids excited to play with their toy. It seemed like they were going to be having fun with keeping you two apart tonight. You looked back at Namjoon, hesitatingly linking arms with him. “How come I always end up hanging off your arm? You got a soft spot for me, Joon?”

“No, it’s just better to keep an eye on you.” He said as you kept walking. The people in line glared at you all as you walked right up to the bouncer, hardly stopped for a second before being let in. You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out at them.

“Keep telling yourself that.” You replied to Namjoon instead. Hoseok and Yoongi appeared, drinks already in hand, Hoseok eyeing the closeness between you and Namjoon with a suspicious gaze and Yoongi looking like he couldn’t care less about anything, looking around the club with apathy.

A voice caught your attention, snapping your gaze away from the scenery. “Namjoon-ssi, always an honor to speak with you.” The man who spoke held out his hand as he approached Namjoon, respectfully but amicably and you realized this was likely the owner of the club and the gang you were here to meet. He shook Hoseok and Yoongi’s hands, and finally shaking Namjoon’s hand as with a strong grip, then the man turned to you, holding out a hand for you to shake as well.

You studied him instead. Average height, with some muscle, but his commanding and outgoing personality suggested he was not one to be underestimated. You forwent shaking his hand, turning your nose up at him and looking a way as if he never spoke. Partly to see how he’d react, partly because you didn’t trust him and partly because you just really didn’t want to. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Yoongi smirk and Hoseok scoff.

“A shy one huh?” The new man said, and you could detect an Australian drawl to his words. “I’m Bang Chan, but you can call me Chan.” He smiled, leaning into your line of sight to catch your gaze.

Namjoon moved his hand around your waist and chuckled, deep and rumbling through his chest. “You’ll have to excuse our princess. She can be a bit spoiled.” You raised an eyebrow at the word princess but said nothing, opting to just observe for now. You glanced around the club past the bar section you were in to the left where music was surely blaring over the dance floor. If you looked hard enough you’d probably find Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook there, but you figured you’d leave them be. They wouldn’t hurt Jungkook so hopefully you could stand an hour or two away from him.

“She’s quite pretty.” Chan’s gaze roved over you appreciatively and you leaned further into Namjoon, eyeing him suspiciously. Yoongi shifted slightly as if to cover you from sight and cleared his throat, any pleasantness he previously had gone. “We have business to discuss.” He reminded him coldly and Chan’s gaze snapped away from you to the three Bangtan members.

“Of course, this way.” He led you to a hallway off to the side, a series of doors trailing on either side. He opened one, revealing a comfortable looking sitting room, velvet couches and a mini fridge inside. Two men were already inside, sitting casually on the chairs. They straightened up when they spotted Namjoon though, leaving space for their leader to join them on the couch they were on.

Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok made themselves comfortable on the couch across from them, sitting like they owned the place, while still commanding power and clearly displaying who was in control of the situation. The couch was rather large, but with three men sittting on it there was hardly space for you to join them.

Hoseok pushed an short ottoman towards you, a small circular stool that was practically a pillow raised from the floor by stout little legs. “Go on, puppy. Get comfy.” He taunted, and you glared at him.

“You two are so childish. Just come here.” Yoongi sighed, pulling you by your wrist onto his lap. You pinched his arm in retribution and he looked at you boredly, as if he didn’t feel it at all, looking back to the men across from him as they began to converse.

“I swear I saw Jungkook earlier.” One of the men across commented.

“You did. We’re back together.” Hoseok cheerily lied.

“Ah, that’s good to hear. I’m glad you found him again.” One of the other men commented, seemingly genuine, an Australian coat to his words as well. “Who’s the new one then?” He asked, pointing at you.

“That’s just our new pet. Don’t mind her, Jungkook is fond of her so we’re keeping her around for now.” Hoseok waved the question off dismissively. You resisted the urge to stomp on his foot with your stiletto heels.

One of the men closer to you smiled, blonde hair falling over against his shoulder as he leaned closer to you, “Nice to meet you.”

“Hi.” You responded blankly after a long moment.

“She’s not very social. But anyways, we’d like to talk with you about some activity we’ve seen lately…”

The men trailed off into conversation. Stray kids, as they called themselves, had seemingly been allowing Ateez to hold weapons in buildings on their property, but Stray kids denied this, saying they had no knowledge of this and weren’t holding any weapons, which led them to discover that they actually had a rat within their lower ranks who was conspiring with Ateez to overthrow Stray kids and blah blah blah. Boring gang stuff. You rolled your eyes. Why did you have to be here? These people seemed pretty honest, as far as you could tell, and it’s not as of you could get them to say anything under the guise of a stuck up pet while Bangtan ran the conversation anyways.

Over the course of the conversation, the man who had said it was nice to meet you earlier had moved closer to the door, leaning against the wall next to it. When you caught his eye, he tipped his head towards the exit, then slipped out. You followed after, Yoongi, Hoseok and Namjoon distracted by discussing logistics with the other men.

When you exited, he was standing outside, not far from the door. He turned to you, making sure you were following, then walked out the hallway back towards the main club area.

It was harder to hear out here, but that just meant your conversation was less likely to be overheard. “Hey.” He finally said, smiling warmly at you. “You looked like you could use a break.”

You looked away, playing aloof. “Yeah, business meetings aren’t my forte.”

“Yeah, they aren’t mine either. Especially when Namjoon hyung comes. I love the guy but he’s terrifying.” He faked a shiver and you smiled.

“Nah, not when you get used to him.” You replied, hopping up into a nearby barstool.

He gave you a dubious look, seating himself into the barstool next to you. “Maybe he just likes you. He and his men are so creepy sometimes.”

“That I can agree with.” You gave a wry smirk and he laughed at your brazenness.

“How’d a pretty girl like you you get mixed up with them?” He said, attention trailing towards your dress. Or rather, he was likely looking at your figure in the blue satin, but you couldn’t help but admire your dress. It was beautiful, and true to the boys’ word, it matched Jungkook’s midnight blue suit, sleek dark blue fabric falling to just above your knees in an elegant but alluring cut, and a strapless neckline to fit the party look.

“It’s a long story.” You said eventually.

“I’ve got time.” He replied, easily. You found conversation with him was rather comforting, and being away from Bangtan with some one who seemed normal— as normal as someone in a gang can be anyways— was refreshing. “I’m Hyunjin, by the way. What kind of drink do you want?” He asked, flagging down the bartender.

“Oh, I don’t drink.” You denied, playing shy. It was best to stay sharp in unfamiliar territory, away from any of the boys. But maybe taking a drink would make him think your guard was lowered and make him inclined to ramble. You were technically here to see if you could glean extra information. A talk over a drink would be best for that.

“C’mon, it’s on us.” He insisted, and you nodded, feigning reluctance.

“A chocolate martini would be nice. I like mine extra sweet.” You winked, for good measure, and he laughed again, cheeks brightening slightly.

“An extra sweet chocolate martini, just like you.” He winked back and you faked a laugh. Hyunjin turned to talk to the bartender and turned back. “Do you…” His voice trailed off as his eyes focused just slightly behind you and you tilted your head.

“Is something wrong?” You asked, an eyebrow raised, but it wasn’t Hyunjin who answered.

“I’d say something’s wrong.” You jumped slightly, turning your head. Jungkook was standing behind you, tall frame cutting an imposing glare at Hyunjin next to you. His arms were crossed as he stared Hyunjin down, who was comparatively less composed, looking at Jungkook with nervousness and a bit of fear.

“Jungkook, what are you doing here?” You turned to question him. He had rolled up the sleeves of the suit, midnight blue folded right below his elbows. You could see the swell of the muscles in his arms more clearly like this and you couldn’t resist the urge to smile. Jealous Jungkook was always cute.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He asked, voice hard, but it softened when his eyes turned to you. “Why aren’t you with Namjoon, babe?”

“I got bored. Hyunjin offered me a drink.” You explained with a shrug, trying to subtly convey that nothing was amiss.

“Oh did he?” Jungkook repeated, voice flat. Okay, so that didn’t work. You held back the urge to reach up and hold his hand, not knowing how close you were supposed to act in front of Hyunjin.

“I wanted to ease her nerves. She looked a bit nervous.” Hyunjin supplied, and you wanted to applaud for managing to keep his voice from shaking. You knew that Jungkook’s stare wasn’t an easy one to handle.

“Nervous?” He reappeared, shooting a concerned look at you. “Thank you for your help, but we can handle her from here.” He gently but firmly escorted you out of your chair over to the corner booth he must’ve been previously occupying with Jimin and Taehyung, who was laughing amongst themselves before you and Jungkook returned.

“Aw, what’s wrong, Kookie? You look pouty.” Jimin asked when you got back, fake pouting in a bad imitation of the expression on Jungkook’s face.

“Hyunjin was talking to her. Alone.” Jungkook answered, sliding into the booth and ensuring you stayed close to him with the grip on your wrist. “Why the hyungs let walk away her alone, I have no idea.” He huffed.

Taehyung gasped, “Did you hear that Jiminie? He called them the hyungs. It’s been so long since we heard you say that, Kookie.” He gushed, making Jungkook roll his eyes.

“I’ll make sure to never do it again.”

“You said it was Hyunjin talking to her?” Jimin hummed, eyes glinting towards the bar. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.” He promised, a twinge of anger swirling through his expression.

You didn’t like the sound of that. “He was just being nice. Besides, Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok have it all handled. They were in the middle of boring business talk, so I snuck out. Hyunjin had nothing to do with it.” You explained. You’d feel bad if Hyunjin got in trouble for a simple conversation.

However, it seemed to have the opposite effect, all three of them turning to you with varying degrees of shock and anger. “Just being nice? He knows not to be nice to what’s ours. And why are you defending him?” Taehyung scoffed.

“I just—“

“You don’t have to worry about a thing, okay, pet? Leave making friends to us.” Jimin poured a cup of the bottle of whatever drink they had on the table, sliding a cup of something red towards you.

You glanced at Jungkook, who seemed as if he agreed seeing as he didn’t say anything, and lifted the drink to your lips. Their attitudes really had changed if they were going from ignoring you to monitoring whoever you talked with. Before you were sure they’d be happy to pawn you off to the highest bidder, gladly letting you talk to whoever you wanted as long as you weren’t bothering them. But now?

You placed the glass down onto the table again, emptied of its contents. These men were going to be a handful.

—

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[idiot-cheesehead-archenemy]

Fancy Meeting You Here

Word count: 4629

Warnings: implied parental abuse

Prompt: Danny sneaks into a fancy party that happens to be attended by one Vlad Masters

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The evening had been going pretty well. 

Danny had noticed the mansion while flying in the area a few days ago. He'd come back tonight to see what he could lift - nothing that would be badly missed, of course, maybe some food and cash - and had been pleasantly surprised to find a lawn party in progress. Parties always had the best food, and though he knew he was risking getting caught, he also knew that he was capable of pretending to be a rich socialite for at least a few minutes when necessary. That should get him far enough. 

He flew back to the city, taking an appropriately sized suit from a store he knew - it would be returned by the time they opened in the morning - and again to the mansion to scope out the scene.

The lawn itself was not massive, a rectangle about the size of a football field. Still, it gave the few hundred guests plenty of space to mill about without getting in each other’s way. The mansion was probably half a football field in total area, spread across several irregularly shaped wings. Danny didn’t see many people inside; it seemed the guests only went in to use the restrooms. The building made up one edge of the lawn, another edge ran along the parking area and driveway, and the other two butted against the thick forest that covered most of this region. The entire property was surrounded by a barbed-wire fence, no doubt lined with cameras, but Danny had barely given that a thought as he flew invisibly overhead. 

He did note the black-clothed security guards walking the perimeter and roving through the sparse crowd. They might be an issue, but there were so many people here that it would take some time before they noticed him. Enough time to grab a few handfuls of hors d'oeuvres, at least.

After walking casually out of a restroom, Danny made a beeline for one of the food tables, smiling and nodding at people as he passed. He found an assortment of tiny sandwiches, fruits, and vegetables. All of it had been artfully arranged at some point, but the effect was less impressive after about half the food was gone. 

He picked through the sandwiches, finding various nut butters and thinly-sliced meats with strong scents that didn’t quite appeal to him. He did grab a couple of carrot sticks, though; he had to be the adult and remind himself to eat healthy, now that there was no one else doing it for him. 

The next food table was more interesting - a mixture of cooked and raw fish and other seafoods, with a rainbow of toppings and side dishes that reminded Danny, probably intentionally, of a coral reef. This table, too, was at least half-empty, but there was plenty left to choose from. 

“I’d pass on the caviar,” said an older woman on the other side of the table. Danny had not been reaching for the caviar, but he pulled his hand back and gave her a grateful look. “Far too salty,” she continued. “But that bluefin -” she nodded toward a plate of pink cubes coated in black sesame seeds - “is perfection.” 

“I appreciate the advice, thank you.” 

“Waters, Kindra,” she said, as if Danny had been asking for her name. He wasn’t quite sure which name was supposed to be first. “And you are?”

“Andy Benson.” It was his preferred alias; something close enough to his real name that he would turn his head automatically when he heard it. 

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Andy.”

“Likewise.” 

“May I ask whom you’re here with?”

“Oh, he’s …” Danny looked around, as if surprised that his responsible adult wasn’t right next to him. “Actually, if you’ll excuse me,” he said, still turned away. He didn’t really have anywhere to go, though, with the whole party being in a single open space. Maybe he should go back inside and turn invisible so he could continue browsing the food without risking any more awkward conversations. 

He got about halfway back to the house before feeling a tap on one shoulder.

A broad man wearing all black and an obvious earpiece stood behind him. His shirt didn’t actually say “security” in a bold white font, but it may as well have.

Well, crap. Danny probably should have given them more credit. He quickly scanned the crowd, wondering what had given him away. Maybe his age; he didn't see any other teenagers in the immediate vicinity.

Turning fully to face the guard, Danny channelled his inner rich asshole. “Do you need something?” he sneered.

“What’s your name?” The security guard’s tone suggested that he had already decided Danny wasn’t supposed to be here, but protocol didn’t allow him to drag the teen away just yet. 

“Benson, first name Andrew. I’m on the list.” Danny crossed his arms impatiently.

“Andrew Benson,” the guard said into his earpiece. After a few moments of silence, he said, “You sure the Hell aren’t.” 

“Oh, that’s ridiculous. Who is in charge of this list? I want their first and last name. And for that matter -” 

“There you are!”

Danny and the security guard both turned toward the voice. A tall man with long silver hair was striding purposefully in their direction.

“Mr. Masters?” The security guard sounded slightly cowed, now that he was faced with an actual rich asshole. “You know this boy?”

“I was just telling them,” Danny started quickly, hoping he’d read the man’s intentions correctly, “they said there’s no Andrew Benson on the list, and I was just saying -” The man, Mr. Masters, held up a hand to silence him. 

“What’s this about Andrew not being on the guest list? He’s my plus-one.”

The guard spoke into his earpiece again, looking apologetic. “Does Masters have a plus-one?” After another few moments he said, “I’m sorry sir, you don’t have a plus-one listed. And, if I may be so bold -” Mr. Master’s glare suggested that the guard did not, in fact, have his permission to be so bold, but he continued regardless, “- I checked everyone in personally. I don’t remember seeing this young man with you, or at all.” 

“That’s ridiculous. Are you implying that I not only failed to inform Mr. Marra about my guest, but also somehow lost track of said guest before we even got through the gates?”

“I don’t mean to imply anything, sir, I’m just -”

“Just doing your job, I’m sure. Well, then, how about you run and tell your boss that you think a teenager got past your security team, and I can tell him that you were harassing one of his guests, and then he can decide which story he likes better and what to do about it. Does that sound reasonable?” 

The guard looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t back down. Danny had to respect that, even if it was inconvenient for him. “I will have to make a report, Mr. Masters.”

“Please do. If more accurate reports had been kept in the first place, we wouldn’t even be having this discussion. In the meantime, however, I’d ask that you leave myself and young Andrew to enjoy the party in peace, hm?” 

The security guard looked to Danny, then Mr. Masters, and finally nodded. “Of course sir; I apologise for the disruption.”

Before walking away, he threw one last narrow-eyed look at Danny, leaving no doubt in Danny’s mind that, whatever this random rich guy had to say about it, security would be keeping a close eye on him from now on. Annoying, but not a disaster. He’d gotten away clean from worse situations than this. 

Running through possible escape scenarios, Danny allowed Mr. Masters to lead him to the edge of the treeline. A handful of people followed the duo with their eyes, no doubt having been eavesdropping on their encounter with security. 

“I trust you understand what just happened,” Mr. Masters said when they stopped, his voice low but stern. “I’ve vouched for you, which means, from this point forward, your actions reflect on me. Behave yourself, or you will regret it. Is that clear?”

Danny wondered if this guy was a dad. If so, he felt bad for his kids. 

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes or do a mock-salute, Danny simply said “Yes, sir.” He figured someone like this probably wouldn’t accept being called much less than “sir” by the likes of him, and now probably wasn’t the best moment to offend him. Later, maybe … 

“Good.” He straightened his already-straight, perfectly-pressed suit and scanned the crowd. Idly, almost as if to himself, he asked, “What do you enjoy?”

“... I’m sorry?” 

“Enjoy,” he repeated, eyes still on the other guests. “What interests you? Art, mathematics, technology, … video games, I don’t know.” When Danny still didn’t answer after a few seconds, he added, “These sorts of events are about networking as much as anything; everyone will expect me to introduce you to people, especially people who work in fields you may be interested in. I’m trying to figure out who you can talk to without making an ass of yourself.” 

“Oh. Uhm …” He could lie, but why bother? It wasn’t like his desire to be an astronaut was some kind of identifying characteristic. And anyway, it would be a lot easier to keep up his cover if he wasn’t also trying to improvise his way through conversations about subjects he didn’t know anything about. 

Of course, it would be even easier to just say he had to go to the bathroom and then disappear … But he’d barely even tasted the food, and it could be fun to talk to people who worked in astronautics, assuming anyone here actually did. 

“Space travel, and astrophysics, that kind of thing.” 

Mr. Masters looked at him then, maybe trying to figure out if he was lying, or maybe just surprised by the answer. His expression was hard to read.

Danny suddenly wondered whether the expensive suit he was wearing was expensive enough, or maybe too expensive. Could rich people tell how much a suit cost just by looking at it? Did Mr. Masters suspect that it was stolen? Come to think of it, why hadn’t he asked any questions? And, for that matter, why hadn’t Danny?

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful … sir. But why are you covering for me at all?” 

Mr. Masters’ gaze had returned to the people milling about the yard - some of whom, Danny noted, were still throwing occasional glances their way. He didn’t turn or otherwise acknowledge Danny’s question, though Danny didn’t doubt he’d heard. He spoke after a moment, still looking away. That seemed to be a habit of his.

“Our host’s name is Edward Marra. He owns the parent company of many of the big names in cobalt mining and processing. This party is to celebrate his recent acquisition of what was previously his biggest rival company in the Asian market. I’ll point him out when I see him. You won’t really be expected to know who anyone else is, but you will be expected to act duly impressed whenever they mention what they do, and to remember names. Can you handle that?”

Acting impressed, probably. Remembering names, probably not. 

“Sure.” 

“Good. And do wipe the cream cheese off your sleeve.” 

Danny frowned as he inspected both sleeves. There was a tiny bit of something white on one of the hems; it must have been from when he was reaching across the table of tiny sandwiches. Danny wiped it off with his finger and then tasted it, confirming that it was, in fact, cream cheese. How had Mr. Masters known that? 

The man was already walking away, and Danny hurried to catch up. 

No one did work in astronautics, it turned out, but Danny met several people who’s companies had contracts with NASA, and others who simply had a personal interest in space exploration. One woman who couldn’t have been older than thirty spoke with passion about the need to create human-livable environments off-planet, before Earth itself became inhospitable. A man who couldn’t have been older than twenty-five spoke with passion about the vast potential for resource-extraction in asteroids. 

Mr. Masters always introduced Danny as Andrew Benson, the son of some old college friends of his. Danny always corrected this with a polite “my friends call me Andy.” 

It took what felt like an hour at least, and probably more than fifty introductions, for Danny to learn that Mr. Masters’ first name was Vlad. Though he always addressed people by first name, it seemed few were willing to be so informal in return. Was he much richer than most of the people here then? Or more powerful in some other way? A politician, maybe?

Vlad Masters. It sounded vaguely familiar. Then again, Danny had heard so many names in the last hour that they were all starting to sound alike. 

Vlad had just exchanged a few pleasantries with a husband-and-wife duo of scientists - two of the few people in attendance who seemed to have gotten rich off their own work, rather than collecting salaries as executives of profitable companies - when something caught his eye. “Ah, there’s Edward. I wondered where he’d gotten to. If you’ll excuse us …” 

Danny was glad for the distraction. Though the two scientists bore no physical resemblance to his parents, they reminded him of them in spirit, and it was not a welcome reminder. 

Following Vlad, he tried to remember if he was supposed to know who ‘Edward’ was. Oh, right - the host. He worked in … mining? Diamond mining? No, that wasn’t it. And what was his last name? 

The man they were approaching was distinctly middle-aged, but wearing it well. His shortish hair was a mix of blond and grey, and his face bore deep laugh lines. He noticed the pair coming and grinned, throwing his arms out by way of greeting. Danny wondered if he was a hugger. 

“Vlad Masters,” he called while they were still several yards away. His voice was loud, projected like an actor’s, and seemed to fill the space despite them being outside. “They told me you were around here somewhere.” When they were close enough, Edward reached out both hands to shake Vlad’s enthusiastically. 

“Edward,” Vlad said with a warm smile, “a pleasure as always. And may I be the, oh, three-hundredth, I’m sure, to congratulate you on your masterful acquisition.” 

Edward grinned, somehow, even wider. “It means more coming from you than from the other three hundred combined.” Was that because Vlad was a good friend? Danny wondered, or because he was so much more successful than all the others? He kicked himself again for not asking more questions while they had some privacy. Who was this stranger he was following? 

Then Edward looked down at Danny and shook his hand with just as much energy. His grip was firm but not hard, and his smile seemed genuine - but you could never be sure with these types. 

“And this is our ghost, I presume.”

Danny froze.

He couldn't have guessed, could he? Would he be smiling like that if he had? Would he have taken Danny's hand so carelessly if he thought Danny was a dangerous monster? Surely not. Probably, this man didn't even believe in ghosts. Most people didn't.

But some people did.

Unpleasant memories prickled at the back of Danny's neck, and he worked to keep his attention in the present moment. 

“Edward, this is Andrew Benson, the son of some old college friends. Andrew, this is our gracious host, Edward Marra.”

“My friends call me Andy,” Danny recited, not quite managing the smile and friendly laugh that were supposed to accompany the line. 

“Andy,” Edward said warmly, like they really were friends. Danny did not think about his parents. “There's no need to be nervous; you're not in trouble. I'm just fascinated that no one seems to remember you coming in, or even have any record of your RSVP. And yet, here you are. Like you've appeared out of thin air.”

“Like a ghost.” Danny managed a small smile at that. Of course he'd meant it metaphorically. Danny dropped his shoulders and noted, pleasantly surprised, that his hands weren’t clenched into fists. He was fine. 

“Spooky, isn't it?”

“But no real harm done, in the end,” Vlad added, possibly as a way to get away from the topic. Would Vlad face any consequences if someone found out he was covering for a party crasher? A few whispers and odd looks, maybe. Danny doubted someone like him had much experience with real consequences.

“No, heaven's no, of course not.” Edward waved a hand dismissively. “The important thing is that you're here now and enjoying the party.”

“Very much so, sir.” 

“Then I've done my job. So tell me, Andy, what is it you want to do after school?”

“I want to be an astronaut.”

“An astronaut!” Again, Edward’s voice boomed out, probably audible even at the far end of the yard. “Well, there's a lofty goal, eh?” It took Danny a second to realise Edward was making a pun, so his laugh was late. Edward seemed to take no notice of this as he continued without missing a beat. “Shoot for the moon, that's what I always say. It's rare for someone to take that advice so literally.” He laughed at his own joke, and his laughter boomed too. Maybe this was why the party was held outside.

Despite himself, Danny was put at ease by Edward's joyful demeanour. It reminded him - no. It was just nice to talk to someone so unreservedly happy. 

“To be completely honest, sir," Danny said with a wry smile, "I think the moon is a bit played out. I'm actually aiming for the stars.”

Edward boomed out another laugh, as Danny had expected he would. 

“I think you’ve got a little disrupter on your hands, Vlad.” Edward winked conspiratorially at Danny. “That’s a compliment.” 

Danny wasn’t quite sure what to say next, so he was relieved when Vlad took the attention off him again. Vlad and Edward made small talk about stock prices or something for a few minutes before Vlad pulled a “I don’t want to take up too much of your time” to end the conversation.  

“Of course, of course, I have plenty more hands to shake. You two enjoy the rest of your evening. But keep an eye on this one, eh?” Edward gestured to Danny. “You never know when he might disappear again.” 

“I’ll be sure to do that.” Though Vlad said this with a laugh, Danny sensed a conviction behind the words. It sounded a little like walking into a room and then hearing the door lock behind you.

This time when they walked away, Vlad didn’t lead Danny to yet another group of people, but instead was heading toward a nearly-empty food table with no one around it. 

“He seemed pleasant,” Danny volunteered, keeping his tone light. He'd just ask to go to the restroom now. Vlad couldn't exactly say no to that, could he?

Vlad responded, predictably, without looking at him. “He would destroy you and everyone you’ve ever loved to save himself a penny.” He said it casually, like this fact was as interesting as the man’s birthday or shoe size. “And, just in case it wasn't clear, he absolutely knows you aren’t supposed to be here.”

What Danny heard was, ‘I am currently the only thing standing between you and the man you’ve slighted who has no qualms with murder.’

Though it sounded like a figure of speech, Danny suspected the description of Edward's character was more or less accurate. Danny remembered one of Sam’s rants about the diamond industry, and then reminded himself not to think about Sam. The point was, if Edward Marra ran a diamond mine or something close to that, he probably had, indeed, sacrificed lives for his fortune. 

Was Vlad threatening him, then? Implying that, if Danny didn’t behave as he wished, he’d turn him over to Edward? Or suggesting that Danny owed him something now, since he had stepped in and put himself at risk to protect Danny?

Except, of course, Vlad didn’t seem remotely concerned for himself. All evidence suggested that, whatever Edward Marra might be capable of, Vlad Masters had nothing to fear from him. 

“Who are you?”

Vlad finally turned toward Danny, wearing a hurt expression. “You mean you haven’t heard of me? Vlad Masters? Owner of Mastersoft?” 

Danny couldn’t keep the dawning realisation off his face, though he schooled his expression as soon as he saw Vlad’s satisfied smile. 

Vlad wasn’t just a rich guy. He wasn't even just a billionaire. He was one of the richest people in the world.

“What are you doing here?” Danny wasn’t exactly knowledgeable about the financial elite, but he didn’t think anyone else at this party was a multi-billionaire. 

“Networking, as I said.” 

“Why would you need to network?” 

“Everyone needs to network,” Vlad said with a solemnity that suggested either a deeply-held belief or a very dry joke. 

“Right,” Danny muttered. “Well … Thank you for helping me tonight. I think I’m pretty much partied-out, so I’ll probably just hit the restroom and then take off.” 

Vlad nodded. “Indeed, I think I’ve had about all the small talk I can handle for the month. Shall we peruse the dessert table before we go?”

Vlad turned so they were side-by-side and simultaneously reached a hand behind Danny's back, like he was going to physically push him in his intended direction. Danny stepped away and turned so he was facing Vlad again. Unfazed, Vlad smoothly moved his hands behind his own back, striking a pose that should have seemed silly but looked natural for him.

“I didn’t mean that you had to leave just because I am,” Danny clarified. 

“What, am I to stay and mingle without you? What would people say? ‘Where’s that charming young man that was with you earlier? Lost track of him again, have you?’ I’d have no answer.” 

No, Danny supposed that would be kind of a bad look. Not that that was his problem. “Okay. I’ll go to the restroom while you say your goodbyes, then we’ll meet at the gate.”

“So you can disappear on me? I think not.”

Well, he wasn't stupid; Danny had to give him that.

“Where would I go? There are security guards and a huge fence.”

“Just as there were when you came in.”

Danny huffed, slightly frustrated with himself. It would have been simpler to leave as soon as security had clocked him. 

 “Fine. We walk out together, then go our own ways. If you think I’m getting in a car with you, you’re nuttier than a can of snakes.” Vlad raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask. 

“It will be a bit difficult to explain why I’m getting into the car without you.”

“I leave it to your vastly superior intellect to think of something.” 

Vlad inclined his head, allowing that. 

They did, in fact, hit the dessert table before they left. It was hard for Danny to limit himself to one plate, but without a more stable container, and knowing he’d be flying soon, he didn’t have much choice. He did, however, stack and interlock as much as he possibly could, grateful that the plates were sturdy ceramic instead of paper. He didn’t expect anyone to stop him from walking out with one of the plates - though he certainly wasn’t supposed to, he was also with Vlad Masters - and no one did. 

When Vlad’s driver arrived in a twelve-foot long limo, Vlad explained that he’d decided to enjoy the night air for a little bit longer, telling the driver to wait a mile or so up the road. 

“Very good sir,” the driver said, like he was trying to sound like every stereotypical butler in every movie, except that his accent was less British and more New Jersey. Vlad didn't acknowledge the random teenager beside him, and the driver followed suit. 

“I see you went with one of your more modest limos,” Danny deadpanned as they started down the long driveway. 

“Naturally, I didn't want to upstage the host.” 

They walked along the side of the road that bordered the Marra property, marked by the tall fence that ran as far as Danny could see from his current vantage. The other side of the road was the edge of the forest. Danny only needed to go a few yards in to be confident he was hidden, and then he’d be free to go ghost and fly back to his temporary home. 

“You know,” Vlad began, interrupting Danny considering whether to split off now or wait until Vlad and his driver were gone, “I’m not actually planning to kidnap you. If there’s somewhere you’d like a ride to …” 

“Thanks, but no thanks. I found my way here; I can find my way back.”

“And how did you find your way here? You obviously didn't drive. We’re really not within walking distance of anything, or even reasonable cycling distance." 

Shoot, had he given away too much? No, Vlad would have been wondering that anyway; at worst Danny had called attention to what was already a suspicious detail. And anyway, there were plenty of non-ghost-related possibilities. 

He shrugged. “I have my ways.” 

Vlad smiled slightly and nodded, probably having expected a response like that. Why would Danny answer honestly, after all? Most likely, Vlad had only asked to let Danny know that he was suspicious. Maybe it was another subtle threat, implying that he was curious about Danny and would be looking for answers. Or maybe Danny was being paranoid. Or maybe one of the most powerful people in the world - someone who could probably get some security camera footage and access to a police database if he really wanted to - had taken an undue interest in Danny, and Danny should get as far away from him as he could as soon as possible. 

“I’m going to leave now,” Danny said, not seeing much point in tact. “I’m going to cross the street and walk into the forest and you’re not going to see me again after that.”

“Watch out for wolves,” was all Vlad said in reply. So Danny crossed the street, glancing behind him constantly. Vlad never broke his stride and showed no sign of even remembering that Danny was there. 

What had the past hour and a half been to him? A brief distraction from the monotony of yet another boring “party”? A good deed for a clearly troubled youth? Or the beginnings of a puzzle he intended to solve? 

A few times in his life, Danny had been truly lost, with no idea how to even begin searching for familiar territory. When it happened, he never felt himself becoming lost; he firmly believed that the way back was clear, until he tried to take it. Then he would realise that he had, in fact, been going the wrong way for hours. 

Danny had a sense like that now - looking back on the evening, trying to figure out exactly where he had turned right when he should have turned left. Should he have run from the security guard? Should he have just stayed invisible from the start? At what point had this outcome become inevitable?

Granted, Vlad had given no real sign that he cared one way or another where Danny had come from or where he was going. Maybe there really was nothing to worry about. Still, as he watched Vlad Masters stroll casually away, Danny couldn't shake the feeling that he hadn't seen the last of him.