#forgotten vows friday

[your-eternal-lies]

_  LEFT HAND GREEN (oneshot)

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PAIRING — Loki x f!Reader SUMMARY — You hadn't planned on spending your Friday night playing a game of Twister chicken with a literal god, but hey—if it gets you to where you need to be...

WARNINGS — Plot? What plot? This is basically just porn (but with some feelings because, you know, romance). Minors, please do not interact.

LEFT HAND GREEN

"Didn't you hear me, Agent?" Comes a voice, smooth as silk yet twice as dangerous. "I said, left hand green."

You scowl, making a mental vow to yourself right then and there, that you will never again attend another one of Tony's stupid parties. You are swearing off alcohol. You are swearing off form-fitting dresses that make it hard to breathe. You are swearing off him.

Loki—god of mischief, former alien invader, and current persona non grata—your partner and the bane of your existence. The only reason the two of you have been paired together is because he's already gone through more agents than anyone can count, probably scaring them all off with the mere sounds of his batshit crazy.

Steve and Tony made it clear, while they understood your reluctance, that you should do everything in your power to make sure this partnership worked. They had run out of agents to assign him, and you were the only option left.

His usual Asgardian garb is gone tonight, replaced with the crisp clean lines of a white button-up shirt and dark trousers. His dark curls, usually slicked back with precision, not a single strand out of place, fall loosely around his face.

Maybe it was the bubbles from all that champagne that had you staring at him a little longer than usual. You normally can't stand him, his features laced with the same arrogance that had him playing puppeteer with an entire city. Your city. Despite his joining the Avengers, you haven't forgotten.

Although, you must admit, it's getting harder and harder to remember at this very moment. Especially while the two of you are a mess of tangled limbs, exposed skin, and harsh breathing.

Why did you take your clothes off again?

Oh right, you think as you glance over to where your little black dress lies abandoned on the floor. You were getting too warm from all that alcohol, and the fabric had been too restricting for a game of Twister.

Well, at least you're still wearing underwear.

All that smack talk you two had heatedly exchanged earlier comes back to bite you in the ass. He had declared that this was the most pathetic party he had ever seen. You, while not particularly fond of Tony's too lavish parties to begin with, still felt compelled to defend it out of pure spite and nothing else.

Wanda had brought the damned game, was met with a chorus of protesting groans, and then cast her big green eyes to the floor while mumbling sadly about how she'd never played before. The whole team then reluctantly caved, of course.

But soon, one by one, people decided to call it a night, eventually leaving you and your so-called partner standing before the wrinkled plastic mat, challenging each other to another round because obviously there wasn't even any competition.

He arrogantly proclaimed that victory would be his, by a landslide.

You proudly declared that you were much more flexible.

And now his large body looms over you, all sharp angles and smirks, his hands placed firmly on the mat at either side of you. Meanwhile, you try to maintain your balance, your arms and legs awkwardly bent underneath you... your lace-covered chest thrust up into his face, the warm puffs of his breath dancing across your skin.

"Enjoying the view?" You grit sarcastically, rolling your eyes as he grins down at your heaving breasts. You lift your left hand and try for the closest green circle, huffing in annoyance when it remains just barely out of reach.

"Why, yes," he confesses, his face so close that his lips brush against one of your bra cups. "Midgardian fashion is just so... quaint."

You roll your eyes, not bothering to entertain his response, trying not to focus on the infuriating shape of his mouth, your limbs straining as you try and reach that blasted green circle.

"And obviously you agree, seeing as you couldn't stop staring at me all night."

Now, that makes your ears perk up. "Excuse me? I wasn't—"

"You forget who you're dealing with, dearie," he chuckles, the sound scraping against your every nerve... especially a particularly eager one between your legs. "How do you expect to convince everyone you hate me... when you look at me like that all the time?"

"Like what?"

"Like you want to bury me and consume me all at the same time."

"You are delusional, Laufeyson, as always," you bark, turning your head away so you can't get lost in those dangerous blue eyes. "Focus up; I want to win this damn game already. I'd rather not spend a minute more with you than I have to."

"That's a bit rich, coming from someone who's underneath me whilst half-naked," his lips curve up into a smile, and you can almost feel the movement against your chest. "But I suppose this could serve to... strengthen our partnership."

"A partnership implies equality and trust," you say, your shoulders and thighs starting to ache from trying to maintain your position. "I definitely do not trust you as far as I can throw you, and you obviously don't see me as an equal."

"Says who?" Loki drawls, and the room seems to shrink beneath the weight of his question. "In fact, darling, as much as it pains me to admit, you're the only one around here worth talking to."

"Stop trying to distract me," you mutter, your brow furrowing in concentration. You try not to think about how long it's been since you were this close to a man... you know, when you aren't twisting him into a headlock or kicking the absolute shit out of him.

"Ah, so I distract you?" Again with that smirk. That smirk that makes you painfully aware that he's destructive, pompous, and always so fucking patronizing—exactly your type, apparently, given the way your nipples pebble beneath the lace of your bra.

"I will smack you," you threaten halfheartedly, angling your body slightly to make one last attempt at completing your turn.

"Careful, mortal," the teasing and good humour are gone from his voice now, replaced with something else much more treacherous, "your heart beats too loudly."

"Then stop listening," you grunt, your torso inadvertently sliding along his. You freeze when he hisses, right when you feel your lower abdomen come in contact with his groin.

"Impossible," he groans loudly, his head tossed back and exposing the long white column of his throat. You swallow hard the urge to lean forward and bite him. "Who's distracting who, exactly?"

You gape up at him, frozen, feeling something hard against your hip. "Is that—are you—?"

The shock of it all causes your elbow to give under your own weight, sending you crashing down onto the plastic mat. Loki lowers himself onto you almost immediately, trapping you between him and the floor.

"Looks like you lost," he declares, his large hands already circling your wrists and pinning you to the mat. "Do I get to claim my prize now?"

"We never agreed—" you struggle against him, your voice failing when he leans in close, your noses almost touching.

"Terms can be negotiated, darling," the god whispers, eyes absolutely blazing, flashing with a hint of green that makes your clit throb. "The timing, however, not so much. I'd like to collect now."

All thoughts of distancing yourself evaporate instantly as his mouth crashes onto yours, his hands leaving yours to slide down your arms, finding their way around the band of your bra. He latches onto you like he's starving for whatever you're offering, his tongue dragging across the seam of your lips.

Without thinking, you open for him.

You begin wondering what he is truly the god of, because with each stroke of his tongue, you swear you're being struck by lightning.

God dammit, you're kissing Loki—something your wandering mind had certainly entertained before, but never expected to happen.

And it feels so damn good.

"I see you everywhere I go, Agent," he confesses against your lips, his warmth leaving your skin as he sits back on his haunches, making a show out of unbuttoning his shirt and revealing inch after inch of perfect unblemished skin. He shrugs the garment off, a mesmerizing sight as the delicate material whispers along his sculpted arms and falls to the floor. "I can taste you in the air I breathe."

"Lo..." your voice isn't working, other than to let out a series of whimpers and moans as his hands return. This time, they find their way to your hips, his fingers teasing a path underneath the waistband of your panties and then gently pulling them off.

You clutch the plastic mat underneath you, breath quickening as he lowers his face to your newly exposed sex. The moment his tongue touches your aching clit, stars explode. Loki is relentless in the pursuit of your pleasure, the sounds and vibrations of his groans getting lost inside you as he completely buries his face in the wetness of your desire.

You screech as your hips buck forward, gasping over and over again as he practically tortures you with his tongue. He is not quiet about it either, the room filled with the sounds of his sucking and slurping while the pressure in your belly begins to burn out of control.

But just as you are about to be catapulted over the edge, he releases his hold on your lips and pushes your thighs further apart to make room for him. His hands are a blur of movement at the front of his trousers, the rasp of the zipper so loud in the empty room, before his cock spills out from between the layers of fabric, already rock hard and pointing right at you.

Loki covers you with his warmth immediately, finding his place between your legs and grunting when you wrap them around his hips. His hands squeeze your breasts and lift them higher, enough to take one into his mouth, lace and all.

"Yes!" You cry out as he sucks at you shamelessly, fingers tracing the swell of your tits, swirling his tongue around your sensitive peaks until your bucking against him, trying to relieve the tension between your thighs. His teeth clamps down as one hand snakes down your torso, finding its way to your aching pussy, unceremoniously sliding two fingers deep inside you.

Loki draws back, admiring the bite mark just above the edge of your bra cup, his lips curving up into a satisfied smile.

"Well, aren't you a vision?" He growls as his fingers move faster inside you, the heel of his palm rubbing against your swollen clit. His erection grazes your thigh, twitching as if begging for attention, but Loki seems unbothered as his eyes darken just a shade. "Beg me."

"Ugh," this son of a bitch; you would slap him if you weren't so desperate to come. "Fuck you!"

"Not quite what I was looking for," he murmurs as he removes his fingers from your hole. He replaces them with the swollen head of his cock, teasing your entrance with maddeningly slow circles.

"Loki," you threaten, the tone of your voice leaving nothing up for debate, but that was all it took. Hearing his name like that goes straight to his hips, them punching forward almost as soon as you said it, sheathing himself inside you with one smooth thrust.

His own breathing becomes laboured as he keeps the pace brisk, unable to help pushing in and out of you, relishing the way your muscles clenched and trembled as you fully embraced his hard length.

"I tell myself I still yearn for Asgard's throne," he manages between thrusts, voice barely above a whisper as he continues to fuck you into the mat, his hips smacking into the back of your thighs. "That this pitiful planet is nothing more than a chessboard, a stepping stone towards my glorious purpose."

Your fingers wind themselves into his hair, your bodies reacting to each other more fervently with each passing second. Despite yourself, you tilt your chin up as if to silently beg for another kiss, the faintest whine escaping your throat when he doesn't oblige.

"But somewhere between your infuriating presence," he grunts, punctuating his words with a particularly brutal thrust, drawing another pleasured cry from your lips. "And the chaos of this world, I find myself torn... between the call of power and the unexpected allure of something far more perilous."

You want to say something back, but he fucks you so deep it's like you can feel him right up against your throat. All you can do is hold onto him, gasping for breath, hanging on for dear life.

"Feelings. Sentiment. For you." He spits out the words like they're foreign, distasteful even, his hips keeping up their cruel punishment, but his eyes are almost kind when they find yours. His lips hover just a hair's breadth from yours, teasing and tantalizing as his body invades you over and over again.

His confession hangs heavy in the air, charged with a cocktail of what looks like regret and a vulnerability you never expected to witness from him. You feel your walls of defence crack, just a hairline fracture, but allowing more than enough room for him to slip through.

"You say I distract you?" He thrusts harder, the tip of his cock finding a spot inside you that makes you let go of the last tiny string holding any remnants of your composure together. Stars explode behind your eyes as you squeeze them closed, the plastic mat sticking to your sweaty back as you arch up into your orgasm.

You feel Loki lean forward and bite your shoulder, grunting as he fucks you through your climax, a few more thrusts before he himself tenses inside you. His hold on you softens, his teeth retreating and replaced with the soft cushioning of his lips, all the while his hips jerk again and again as he spills hot rushes of fluid into you.

You lay exhausted on the floor, sweaty and dishevelled and wrapped in a tarp of colourful circles and still joined together. You close your eyes, trying to catch your breath as Loki slowly and carefully wraps his arms around you, but doesn't remove himself from the warmth of your body.

"My dear, you're the one who won't leave me be."

Fin.

NOTES — Well then. I am definitely not going to church this morning 👀

#loki x reader #loki x f!reader #loki x female reader #loki x fem!reader #loki x you #loki fanfiction #loki oneshot #loki smut #loki fluff #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x f!reader #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson fluff #summer's fics

[marvelmaniac715]

Okay, but let’s talk about Tim Houston:

This little boy lost his mother in a tragic accident a year before Black Friday takes place, presumably not long after Christmas. His father, unable to cope with his grief and blaming himself for his mother’s death, is now emotionally withdrawn and doesn’t listen to what Tim actually wants. When he thinks that his father is going out on Black Friday to get a new blade for his bandsaw, he is slightly frustrated, but not overly shocked. He is nine, and this disappointment is not new to him. Yet, when things kick off at the mall, he insists on Paul and Emma taking him to his dad so that the two of them can be reunited. That’s when Hatchetfield is nuked. Tim Houston dies alone, in his car (probably the same car his mother died in, or one bought soon after that happened) waiting for the arrival of a father who will never come to save him. That is the true tragedy of Black Friday, in my opinion. There is a whole song in Black Friday about Tom being willing to get whatever Tim wants, and another where he vows to make up for his failings towards him. But in ‘If I Fail You’, the entire basis of their dynamic is summed up in one line: “Where’s Tim?” Tim is forgotten, a mere afterthought once Wiggly threatens Hatchetfield… this poor, poor child…

#team starkid #starkid #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #black friday musical #black friday starkid #tim houston #tom houston

[ace-of-zaun]

You (And I):

Silco x f!reader - 2.6k words - SFW

cw: best friend!silco, fluff, banter, mutual pining, idiots in love, mentions of cat-calling and harassment (not silco), mentions of poverty, soft silco my beloved, a little bit of angst in the form of reader being anxious about not knowing who is climbing through the window, but it's just the boy

summary: Your best friend misses you, so the only logical solution is for him to climb through your bedroom window at three in the morning, without telling you beforehand… It’s a good thing that you love him (and it’s an even better thing that he loves you too).

It’s taking you a little bit longer than usual to drop off to sleep as you lie in bed, curled up under the covers, trying to keep as much warmth in as possible. Your room is right at the very top of your parents’ bar, The Last Drop, which is also where you’ve just started to work full-time instead of just the odd job you’d helped out with growing up.

But now, with money for food tight and the threat of closure even tighter, you’ve found yourself doing pretty much anything to help keep the bar afloat, from running errands and setting up during the day to serving customers all evening and cleaning up after a long night. 

Your first proper job; you’d think with how exhausted you were you’d drop to sleep the very second your head hit the pillow. 

Not tonight, it would seem. Tonight your mind appears to be far too preoccupied to let your body relax. 

Your train of thought easily wanders to what you’d usually be doing on a Friday evening. More often than not you’d be holed up in the corner of a tiny café, trying to read your book while Silco asked your opinion on every little detail of whatever scheme he was working on at the time. 

Or you’d be forcing Silco to give you a piggyback through the streets after raiding the market for the cheapest items you can find, Vander in tow carrying all the loot. 

You can’t help but smile at the memories, a fuzzy, warm feeling spreading through you at the recollection of your best friend. Just the thought of him calms you; your lighthouse even in absentia. 

And it seems to do the trick, eyelids just starting to feel too heavy to keep open, a sure indicator of incoming sleep, when a scrabbling noise outside your window causes you to frown.

…you really hope you don’t have rats again.

Of course, the sensible thing to do would be to get up and investigate. But you’ve only just gotten warm and sleepy, and not only is the window on the other side of the room, but you’re laying on your side with your back to the glass, and honestly who in their right mind would want to get up in the freezing cold just to have a staring contest with some rats?

Scrunching your eyelids even tighter closed, as if it would block out the sound, you attempt to lull yourself back into that bliss you were so close to achieving, vowing to deal with the little rodents in the morning.

Almost like magic, the scrabbling stops and you sigh in relief.

Until you hear the unmistakable sound of the window creaking open.

Your eyes shoot open and your blood begins to pump urgently around your body. 

Fuck, why didn’t you lock the window before getting into bed? You must’ve forgotten in your sleep deprived state. 

One hand slowly inches towards the knife you keep under your pillow as two, almost-silent thuds resonate across the floorboards. 

Your heart practically leaps in your chest when you hear a series of soft footsteps approaching your bed, but you manage to keep yourself as still as possible, your only movement hidden beneath your pillow as you grip the knife handle tight.

A beat. Then another, as you wait for the exact right moment with bated breath. 

The intruder pauses by your bed and you inhale sharply, preparing yourself to strike.

Without warning, you abruptly swing your body around, throwing off the covers as you blindly leap towards them.

But they’re faster, shoving you back down against the bed with their lithe body and clapping a hand over your mouth before you can even think to scream out.

The knife slips from your hand, leaving it to clatter to the floor while you thrash about in your assailant’s grasp. 

“Stop it, it’s just me!” a familiar voice hisses down at you, halting your movements instantly.

You gaze up at the figure in bewilderment, slowly but surely recognising those jet black waves and hooked nose with every rapid heartbeat. 

It’s just Silco. 

He must spot the very moment that recognition sparks in your eyes because he’s soon grinning down at you, boyish, slightly crooked, and entirely too cheeky for his own good.

“Hey,” he says smoothly.

You push him off you with an unamused scoff, aiming to send him tumbling off the bed as you sit up and try to calm your erratic breathing. 

No such luck though, he just stumbles to his feet and quickly drops down next to you on the bed while you plant your feet on the cold wooden boards, running your hands through your bedraggled hair. 

Silco’s hand rests gently against your lower back and you glance up at him from your hunched up position of elbows on knees, palms against your forehead. 

You’re filled with the sudden urge to yell at him. Loudly. 

But your parents are asleep and they’ll be positively furious if they discover Silco in your bedroom in the middle of the night, so you settle for hissing at the ridiculous boy like an angry cat. 

“What the fuck are you doing climbing through my bedroom window at half three in the morning?”

Silco appears completely unfazed. 

“I left my lockpick at home, so I couldn't get in through the front door,” he replies, swiftly dodging the smack you try to deliver to his arm and instead catching your hand to press a chaste kiss to your knuckles. “And I missed you.”

You roll your eyes and snatch your hand back, but you’re unable to prevent your heart from swelling in your chest at his sweet words. Damn that natural charm of his. 

Luckily, a glance down at the knife by your feet distracts your wandering heart. 

“Why didn’t you say anything? I could’ve stabbed you.”

“Nah, you couldn’t,” he says dismissively until you shoot him a murderous glare. He returns it with a nonchalant shrug. “Thought you were asleep.”

“So why even bother climbing in?” you ask with a frown. 

And then, from the corner of your eye, he begins to look the tiniest bit bashful, gaze dropping to the floor as he starts to draw random shapes on the material of his trousers with his nails. 

“I, uh… I was gonna wake you up and ask if you wanted to go skip stones in the river.”

Your expression drops as you slowly turn to stare at him, which he meets with a dorky little grin. You groan and flop back down onto your bed, swinging your feet up so you can lay your head against the pillow, completely and utterly exasperated. 

Your best friend has been possessed by a five-year-old boy, you’re sure of it. 

Silco watches your dramatic display with clear amusement. 

“I’m gonna take that as a no, then?” he asks. 

“How do you have so much energy?” you whine, throwing your arm up to hide your face in the crook of your elbow. “Didn’t you have work today?”

“I had some work today,” he says, eyes quickly darting away from you. “Just not at the mines.”

Now this causes you to frown, peering over your arm at his trying-too-hard-to-look-relaxed body language. 

“What kind of work?” you question, which he promptly ignores, so nudge him with your foot, concern growing by the second. “Sil… what kind of work?”

He lays down next to you, propped up on his side with one elbow, and starts absentmindedly playing with your hair. 

“So, how was your day? You didn’t get any creeps trying to feel you up again, did you?”

You sigh heavily, knowing you’re not going to get an answer to your question. To be honest, you wish you didn’t have to give one to his. 

It had only happened once or twice since you’d started working late shifts in the bar, and it hadn’t been as bad since your parents had begun to shut it down everytime a patron got a bit too touchy. 

But it still didn’t make it right. 

“No, just the odd comment,” you reply, suddenly overly-interested in your nails. 

Silco wraps his arm around you and pulls you onto your side so he can hold you against his chest, chin resting on the crown of your head. 

“I’ll hang around during your next shift and kill anyone who even looks your way,” he declares, with a ridiculous amount of conviction. 

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see. Dramatic boy. 

“Don’t be stupid,” you say, lightly tapping your palm once against his back as a half-hearted scold. 

“You’re right,” he agrees with a resolute nod. “I’ll let you kill them yourself, you deserve it.”

Your sigh is laced with exasperation but you still shift to cuddle him properly, arms wrapped around his midsection. You just want to enjoy his presence while you have it, even if he is a pain in your ass. 

“I missed you too,” you say quietly after a peaceful silence, recalling his words from earlier. “It sucks working so much, I feel like I never see you anymore.”

“I know,” he hums soothingly, hand now rubbing tiny circles into the small of your back. “Just means we gotta make the most of the times we do.”

Snuggling him even tighter feels like the only appropriate response, so that’s what you do. 

You could honestly stay here forever. No responsibilities, no stress, just Silco. 

“You free tomorrow lunch? We could grab something to eat and then climb up to the roof of that factory by the river, if you want?” Silco asks. 

A warm smile tugs at your lips.

“Yeah, I’m free.” 

Your parents had been kind enough to give you the afternoon off tomorrow, but you were still expected to help out in the morning and evening as usual.

“Is Vander coming too?” you ask.

Silco shakes his head above you. 

“Nah.”

“Oh,” you respond, surprised the third member of your ragtag trio won’t be joining you. “Why not?”

“I thought it could just be a you and me thing, you know?” Silco reasons confidently, although you do spot just a hint of insecurity in his voice, like he’s nervous you’ll interrogate him further. 

Butterflies twirl through your stomach at the phrasing. You and him. You and Silco. A duet in this city of lonely hearts. 

“Okay. That sounds nice,” you say, trying to keep the smile out of your voice. 

He squeezes you once before he sits up a little, twisting around to pick the duvet up from off the floor. The covers are soon pulled over you both, where he tries to wrap his arms around you once more only to be met with you aiming little kicks at his legs. 

“Oi, shoes off, you heathen,” you demand, ripping the duvet away from him. “I just washed these.”

Seriously, you didn’t spend all morning washing, drying, and ironing all your clothes and bedding just for him to muddy them with his filthy shoes. Janna knows where he’s been in them or what he might’ve stepped in (especially considering you’ve never seen him clean them in all the years you’ve known him).

“Alright, alright,” he grumbles, muttering a sardonic little,“Bossy boots,” under his breath. 

Surprisingly, he does actually take the time to unlace them and even places them carefully under the bed, instead of just lobbing them across the room like you expect him to. 

Only then do you allow him back under the covers, shifting about until you’re both comfortable in each other’s arms, legs tangled together to ensure you’re as close as possible. 

“You know, you should really lock your bedroom window,” Silco comments after a few moments. “You never know who could be lurking about this time of night.”

You huff an amused breath through your nose.

“What, like you?”

“No, like some weirdo with nefarious ideas,” he insists, annoyed that you’re not taking him seriously.

You pull back in his arms to look him square in the face.

“...so, you?”

Silco pouts so adorably, you have to hold yourself back from just kissing him right there and then. 

“You’re mean,” he says, looking like a little boy who has just had one of his toys stolen in the playground.

In lieu of kissing him, you boop him on the nose with your finger and give him a cheeky, affectionate grin.

“You love it.”

But your heart sinks in your chest when Silco’s face drops, gazing at you intently as if he’s searching for something. Then his gaze darts away, the tips of his ears turning red, and you start to panic that you’ve said or done the wrong thing.

Instinctively, your hands hold him a little bit tighter, scared that he’ll just get up and go. 

“You know, my parents are going to kill me if they see us in bed like this,” you whisper over his shoulder, desperately trying to lighten the mood before he scarpers. 

“Well, as long as they don’t kill me, then that’s fine,” he whispers back, and you can tell by his timbre that he’s smiling through the words. 

You smack his shoulder, relief flooding through you in abundance. 

“Idiot.”

There’s a pause. 

Then, he says tenderly, (almost too tenderly for your poor heart).

“...Yes, but I’m your idiot.”

Patterns are happily traced against his back until you finally notice just how tired you are, leaning back to twist your head away from him so you can yawn into your hand. 

Silco watches you quietly, stroking your cheek with his thumb like a slow, soothing metronome. 

“You should get some sleep,” he says softly, his expression etched in quiet adoration. 

Your eyebrows lift at the sheer audacity. 

“Bitch, you’re the one who woke me up,” you protest sleepily.

He makes a show of turning to look over his shoulder and then back at you, pointing at his sternum with a quizzical frown. 

“Who? Me?”

So, you sneak your cold hands up against the back of his warm neck until he yelps. Silco wrestles your hands off his neck, clasping them in between his palms until he lets you tiredly wrestle them back and smoosh your face into his chest, giggling into the front of his shirt. 

He gently runs his hands through your hair as you both settle down once more, his own quiet laughter feeling like a blessing.

You almost don’t want to sleep now. You don’t want to miss any more time with him. 

“Sil?” you murmur. 

“Yeah, Squidge?” he replies.

Your nickname, from the time he threw a leftover tentacle at you from Jericho’s, named after the absolutely ridiculous noise it made when it slapped against your face. You love to hate it, which of course only makes Silco love it more. 

“We’re always gonna be best friends, right? No matter what?” you say, deep down hoping you don’t sound too clingy. 

You just can’t bear the thought of drifting apart from him. You honestly don’t know what you’d do without him. 

Luckily, he soothes your worries without even a hint of the usual teasing.

“Absolutely,” he affirms, carefully running his nails along your scalp in a calming, repetitive motion. “You’re stuck with me now, come rain or smog.”

“Good,” you nod happily. “Just checking.”

Basked in Silco’s warmth, you’re far too exhausted and cosy to fight against closing your eyes, drifting off to sleep while the boy presses a delicate kiss to your head. 

And right before you fall, he mumbles, oh so gently, into your hair.

“As if I’d want to be anywhere in this world except right here next to you, my perfect girl.” What a coincidence. There’s nowhere you’d rather be than right here, next to him.

#silco x reader #silco x you #silco x f!reader #silco #silco fic #silco arcane #one shot

[hamsterclaw]

Pretend

Yoongi and you hate each other, but sometimes you pretend not to. A Vows prequel. Read the rest here.

Pairing: Yoongi x F! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Arranged marriage AU, smut

Word count: 4k

Warnings: Explicit sex and swearing

@augustbutwinter this is what I meant!!

You hadn’t expected to find yourself walking along the pier with Yoongi after dinner at his friend Minho’s seafood restaurant, but here you are.

Your husband is beautifully dressed as always, in a dark shirt and slacks that fit him perfectly. He’s got earrings in tonight. They always make you a little feral for him. 

Not that you’d ever tell him that. 

The salty breeze ruffles his hair. He couldn’t look more enticing if he tried.

Until he opens his mouth. 

‘Couldn’t you have at least tried some of the food he cooked?’ he asks. His tone is flat, his brow creased with the annoyance he’s been likely holding back all evening. 

You cringe inwardly at your behaviour. 

It’s true, you’d been especially awful tonight. You’re surprised he’s still talking to you, you’d be apoplectic in his place.

Yoongi had taken you to meet his friend Minho, a charming and talented chef, at a hot new seafood restaurant in a gorgeous location near the coast. 

You’d not registered it was a seafood restaurant until you’d got in the car. 

You’re allergic to prawns, and in switching out your bags, you’d forgotten to put your epi-pen in your bag for tonight.

You would have, should have told Yoongi, but he’d said, as you entered the restaurant, something flippant about being on your best behaviour, and you’d seen red. 

By the time the second prawn course came round, it was too late to say anything.

You’d eaten what you could, carefully avoiding the prawns until Yoongi had asked if the meal wasn’t to your liking.

Which is when you’d made your second mistake. 

‘I grew up near the coast, we only got the freshest seafood,’ you’d answered.

The look Yoongi had given you had honestly made you feel pretty small. 

The meal had been unsalvageable after that. 

You’d thanked Minho as profusely as you could, but there was no hiding that you’d eaten barely anything.

You’re thinking of what to say back to Yoongi when you approach the entry gates of a fun fair. 

Your skin’s still itching from the broth, you can’t think of anything worse than getting back in the car. 

‘Can we go to the fun fair?’ you ask Yoongi. 

He looks at the gates, the bright lights, and then back at you. 

‘You want to go to the fun fair.’ 

‘Yes.’ 

‘I’ve got a few phone calls to make. I’ll wait in the car.’ 

You guess it would have been weirder if he’d actually wanted to go anywhere with you after your performance at dinner. 

You buy yourself some cotton candy to fill the hollow in your stomach, but you still feel a little empty.

You'd spent your teenage years working hard, always aware that you’d be working for your father’s company one day, not wanting to let him down.

You’d agreed to the arranged marriage to make your parents happy, too naive to fathom all the consequences of being married to someone you don’t know. 

Where does that leave you?

Covered in hives from trying to eat something you’re allergic to, so hungry that you’re on your second ball of cotton candy, and alone at a fun fair on a Friday night.

That’s not even counting the irritated husband waiting for you in the car.

You don’t want to keep him waiting long, so you resolve to try one game and maybe pick up some popcorn for you to share.

You scratch absently at a welt on your arm as you consider your options. 

You consider hooking a duck but your coordination is a little off from the wine you had on an empty stomach.

You shudder at the idea of a strength game.

Finally, you spot tin cans stacked on top of each other. It looks easy enough. 

Your first throw of the ball goes wild, not even touching any cans, much less knocking anything over.

Your second go makes the tin can at the very top of the pyramid wobble.

Your third go knocks a can over, not enough to win a prize.

Irritated, you’re turning away when you hear the familiar rumble of Yoongi’s voice. 

Your head turns so fast you make yourself dizzy. 

Yoongi’s next to you, weighing the balls in his hands as he lines himself up. He completely ignores you, even though you’re staring at him so hard your eyes hurt.

Yoongi knocks over an entire stack of cans in two throws.

The man behind the counter offers him a choice from the top shelf, which is when he turns to you, still gaping at him like you’ve never seen him before.

‘Which one do you want?’ he asks. 

You’re still looking at him, so he says, gently, ‘from the shelf. Which one?’

You close your mouth and look at your options carefully.

You plump for a stuffed kitten with a bell around its neck. Its black fur and sleepy eyes remind you of Yoongi.

You’re just opening your mouth to tell him that when you realise he’s walking off without you. 

‘Wait,’ you say, nearly tripping over in your haste to catch up with him. 

He turns, raising an eyebrow.

‘Can I get popcorn? Then we can go,’ you say.

Yoongi waits in line with you to get popcorn. 

‘What do you like?’ you ask, as you approach the counter. 

‘Unlike you, I had dinner so I’m not hungry,’ he snaps.

You guess you deserve that.

You end up choosing both sweet and salty, and are fishing some money out of your pocket to pay when you realise Yoongi’s paid for you. 

Wordlessly, he holds out a hand. 

You start to hand him the popcorn, and he rolls his eyes. ‘The cat.’

You hand him the cat, freeing up your hands to eat. 

‘It’s a kitten,’ you feel the need to point out. 

Yoongi doesn’t even look down at it. 

‘Do you want some popcorn?’ you offer, forgetting he’d chastised you a second ago when you asked him what flavour he wanted.

He’s still looking at you when you pick a big fluffy looking kernel up and bring it to his lips. 

He opens his mouth, and you feed him the popcorn. His tongue flicks at your fingertip for the briefest instant. 

Your giggle is completely involuntary. 

Yoongi looks like he’s about to smile then, just before he turns away. 

You walk the rest of the way back to Yoongi’s car in silence.

You must fall asleep on the ride home, because you jerk awake to Yoongi parking the car in the garage. 

‘Sorry,’ you say, groggy, disoriented. ‘I meant to keep you company.’

Yoongi says nothing, cutting the engine and getting out of his side. 

You enter the darkened house together, following Yoongi up the stairs.

Yoongi doesn’t stop at your door, you hadn’t expected him to, but you can’t let the night end like this. 

‘Yoongi,’ you say, hurrying to catch up. 

He stops so suddenly you nearly run into him.

He turns to face you. 

‘I hope you’re not expecting me to fuck you after your behaviour tonight,’ he says. 

The coldness in his voice stings even though you know you deserve it. 

‘No, I just wanted to thank you,’ you say. ‘For this.’ 

You hold up your kitten.

‘And for the popcorn. And the company. It was like a real date.’

You turn and head back to your room before you say anything even more stupid.

You brush your teeth and do your skincare routine and snuggle into bed, holding the stuffed cat that reminds you so much of your prickly enigma of a husband.

You fall asleep to the thrill you feel that Min Yoongi won a prize for you at a carnival. You know it’s silly, but it makes you happy anyway. 

***

You haven’t seen Yoongi all week, but you keep thinking about your date on Friday, cherishing the little burst of happiness you feel when you remember how he came to find you at the carnival, how he let you feed him popcorn. 

It’s that fondness that drives you to drop by his office as a surprise one afternoon, laden with a carton of the sweet and salty popcorn mix he likes and a stuffed bear that had taken you most of the morning to win for him.

You’ve been thinking so fondly of him it’d never even occurred to you that he might not be remembering that night the same way you’ve been.

You’re waiting in the chairs outside his secretary’s office after lunch when he comes in. He’s not alone, accompanied by Kim Seokjin and Park Gyuri. He’s laughing at something Seokjin’s said, and with a pang you realise you’ve never seen him laugh like that with you.

He looks happier than he’s ever looked with you, now that you’re looking at him like this.

The guarded expression that drops onto his face when he sees you could break your heart if you had any real feelings for him.

But of course you don’t. He’s just familiar because you’re married. 

Of course.

His eyes fall to the items in your arms. You wish you’d taken the time to change into something nicer before showing up at his office.

He and his two friends look stunning together.

You call upon your lifetime of privilege to give you confidence. ‘I just came by to give you this,’ you say, holding out the popcorn to him. 

He accepts, and then looks at the bear in your arms. 

‘Did you go to the fun fair again?’ he asks. 

There’s amusement in his voice, but here, with his beautiful successful friends in his beautiful office, it sounds more like he’s laughing at you than with you.

‘Yes,’ you say. Your voice is too high, all wrong.. ‘I’ll see you later, Yoongi.’

You leave his office mortified, face burning. 

You’re such an idiot. You’d let your foolish heart over romanticize what had probably been nothing to Yoongi. He’s older, more experienced than you in almost everything. 

And you’re just the woman he was forced to marry. You hadn’t chosen him, and you have a tendency to forget that he hadn’t chosen you, either. 

Thankfully the cab arrives quickly. You’re halfway home when you realise you’re still clutching the bear.

You look at its fluffy face and make a decision. 

You lean forward and tap on the glass partition separating you and the driver. 

‘I’ve changed my mind. Can you take me to the airport instead?’

***

Two months later

You open the door of your maisonette in Geneva to see your husband, the last person you’d expected to see. 

He doesn’t say anything at first, eyes drinking you in like you’re water and he’s just trekked through the Sahara.  

He’s thinner than you remember, more tired-looking. 

He’s stunning. You’re surprised by the wave of emotion you feel. 

You hate him, but God, you think you’ve missed him too. 

He stands very still. 

‘Just -’ 

His voice cracks on the word. ‘Just please can we pretend we don’t hate each other for a minute.’ 

‘I don’t hate you, Yoongi,’ you tell him. 

He hasn’t moved, so you step forward and put your arms around him. 

The black overcoat he’s wearing is cold under your bare arms, but his neck, under your lips, is warm. 

He nudges your jaw with his nose, tilting your face up so he can kiss you.

It’s sweet, warm, exquisite. 

He pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. 

‘Before you kick me out,’ he murmurs. ‘I’ve missed you.’ 

Your hands are up, curling around the lapels of his coat, pulling him closer even though he hasn’t moved away. 

‘Stay, Yoongi,’ you say, and now you’re the one pleading. 

He nods. ‘Whatever you want.’ 

****

The newness of seeing Yoongi sitting in your little kitchen is intoxicating. You can feel happiness bubbling through you every time you sneak a glance at him, as you cook. 

He flicks his gaze at you. 

‘I’ve finished cutting the carrots,’ he says. 

He gets up and drops the sliced carrots into your pot. 

His forearm brushes against yours. 

You smile at him, and your heart warms when he smiles back. 

You want to ask him why he’s here, why he bothered to come and find you if not to yell at you. 

You want to ask him how he’s been.

You’re worried that if you talk about anything of substance that you’ll slide back to the way things are broken between you. 

Yoongi nudges you. ‘Nice shorts,’ he says. 

You stare at him in surprise. Is he smirking? 

Is your estranged husband flirting with you? 

His gaze is steady. You can see why Min Yoongi is notorious for the trail of broken hearts he’s left behind. 

The thought sobers you, but not enough. 

‘They’re silk,’ you say, feigning innocence. ‘The material is very soft, want to feel?’ 

You tug his hand over your ass cheek. 

‘Soft, right?’ you ask. 

Yoongi’s gaze darkens as his hand cups your ass. His fingers reach over the centre seam of your shorts. ‘Are you wearing underwear?’ he asks. 

‘Check for yourself,’ you breathe. 

Yoongi looks down at your face, eyes serious. 

‘Is this what you want?’ he asks.

‘Well, I like Kim Seokjin, but you’ll have to do,’ you say, unable to resist. 

Yoongi’s laugh is husky. ‘I forgot what a brat you are.’ 

‘And I forgot how fucking mean you are,’ you reply, stepping into his arms. 

Yoongi scoffs. ‘You like it.’ 

You’ll never admit it, but you do. 

Yoongi’s hand is still on your ass, cupping, squeezing, fingertips curling under the material of your shorts to the bare skin underneath.

‘No panties?’ he breathes, looking to you for confirmation.

You spread your legs a little, just enough so Yoongi can slide his hand in between them.

‘Yoongi,’ you say, as he cups your cunt. 

Yoongi’s busying himself tugging your shorts down. 

He slips them over your thighs, down to your ankles, kneeling in front of you.

He stays there. 

His hands slide over your bare ass, pushing you forward into his face.

His tongue slides over your folds, and you cry his name.

‘Have you been touching yourself, here?’ Yoongi asks, open mouthed, over your cunt. His fingers tighten over your ass, and you realise he’s waiting for an answer. 

‘Yes,’ you admit, and Yoongi groans. 

‘I bet your fingers don’t feel as good as my tongue,’ he says. He nudges your clit with his nose, tongue lapping at you.

You’d annoyed by his cockiness, but you’d be more annoyed if it weren’t true. 

Yoongi takes your silence as brattiness. 

He gets up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

‘Show me your bed,’ he says.

You take him to your bedroom.

‘Take your clothes off,’ Yoongi says, sitting on your bed like he belongs there.

He looks so fucking good you could cry.

You look down at yourself. Your bottom half is bare, your inner thighs sticky with your own arousal. 

You look at him as you lift your silky camisole over your head. You’re not wearing anything underneath.

Yoongi looks at you, so much heat in his gaze you feel like you’re burning up. 

His hand curls over himself, outlining his hardness. The sight makes your mouth water.

‘Show me how you touched yourself,’ Yoongi says, voice low.

You’re self-conscious at first, but you’re reaching the point where you’re too turned on to care. You know Yoongi will reward you for doing as he says. 

He always does.

You slip a hand between your thighs, pressing against your throbbing clit. 

Yoongi reaches out and pulls you closer, between his legs. He licks between your fingers, then pulls you down onto the bed. His fingers press between yours, sliding into you. 

‘This is better isn’t it?’ he asks, fingers stroking inside you. 

You bite your lip. 

Yoongi laughs. ‘Really?’ he asks, taunting. ‘You’re still going to be a brat?’ 

He curls his fingers, and it takes everything inside you not to grind against his palm. 

‘You’re gonna be a brat after I came halfway across the world to make sure you were all right?’ 

He’s moving his fingers faster now, thumb flicking over your clit. You can both hear how wet you are. 

‘You’re gonna be a brat after I’ve been worrying about you all these months?’ 

The moan spills from your lips before you can stop it. 

‘You’re gonna be a brat when I’m so fucking hard for you I could spill in your face right now?’ 

You can’t help yourself, the pleasure is building so fast you’re going to come all over him. 

Yoongi slaps your clit with his free hand, and you cry his name as you cum. 

You close your eyes, and you see stars, galaxies, fireworks, the whole fucking universe with Min Yoongi’s fingers inside you. 

He doesn’t stop, and you don’t want him to. 

Your hand reaches out, and he grabs it, curling it around his cock. His hardness feels so good you could cry. 

His cock inside you feels like it’s filling an emptiness you hadn’t known was there. 

‘Yoongi,’ you murmur, touching his cheek. He leans into your touch, closing his eyes. 

You curl your fingers into his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. You swallow his deep moan as he thrusts. 

He fucks you like he wants to hurt you, and you meet him thrust for thrust, tilting your hips, taking him deeper. 

He’s so fucking beautiful like this, sweaty, flushed, mouth open on your skin. 

You’ve missed the weight of him. 

You press kisses to his neck, lapping at his skin, and he groans. 

‘I’ve missed you,’ you tell him. 

Yoongi’s eyes snap to yours, and you realise he’s cumming. The hand he has wrapped around your wrist tightens, almost painfully, and his hips grind against yours. Then he stills, dropping down on top of you, burying his face in your neck. 

You don’t ever want him to let you go. 

***

You wake up to Yoongi lying on his back. He’s rolled a little away from you so you aren’t touching at all. 

The distance between you is inches at most, but it feels insurmountable all the same. 

He’s looking at the overstuffed armchair in a corner of your bedroom, at the fluffy bear on it.

‘You brought that to my office,’ he observes. 

‘Seventy five thousand won,’ you say. 

He turns his face towards yours. 

‘You bought that, for me?’ he asks. He’s looking at you intently. 

You consider lying, but only for an instant. 

‘I won it. Fair and square,’ you say. You pause, then you say, ‘I won it for you.’ 

It looks like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t. 

You get up and grab the t-shirt he was wearing, slipping it on. 

‘Come on, let’s have dinner.’ 

***

Yoongi’s phone keeps ringing. 

‘Is it the apocalypse?’ you ask. 

Yoongi’s looking at his screen. ‘If you’d told me before you left me, I wouldn’t have had to come here at this time,’ he says, not looking at you. 

‘How did you find me?’ you ask, curious. 

‘Nara,’ he says. ‘Don’t blame her. I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse.’ 

You could never blame your loyal best friend for anything. ‘I hope you compensated her,’ you say, shrugging. 

‘But why did you come all the way here, if you’re so busy?’ you ask. 

Yoongi gets up. ‘Honestly? I wanted to spank you.’ 

You look up at him. ‘But you didn’t.’ 

‘I haven’t yet,’ Yoongi agrees. 

‘When are you leaving?’ you ask. 

‘Tomorrow,’ he replies. He puts his phone down on your coffee table. ‘Ready for your spanking now?’ 

‘Panties on or off?’ you ask, seriously. 

Yoongi chokes on his own saliva. ‘Jesus fucking christ.’ 

‘Off,’ you decide. You get up and head for the bedroom. 

He’s on you before you even make it to your bed. 

****

You pick up the fluffy bear you won for Yoongi and join him in your living room. 

‘Here, don’t forget to pack this.’ 

Yoongi looks at you, incredulous. ‘That’ll take up my entire bag.’ 

‘I won it for you,’ you point out. 

Yoongi watches as you sit, gingerly, on the edge of the couch with his bear. 

‘How’s your ass?’ he asks. 

‘You’re stronger than you look,’ you say, rolling your eyes. 

‘You make me so mad sometimes,’ he tells you. 

There’s a serious note in his voice that makes you look at him properly. 

‘You make me mad too, Yoongi.’ 

‘I know.’ 

He sighs. ‘Is this how it’s going to be now? You run away instead of talking to me about whatever’s bothering you?’ 

You don’t know what to say. 

‘It’s childish,’ he says. 

‘Yeah,’ you agree. 

It is childish. Like wanting to go to fun fairs and sleeping with the kitten he won for you and buying cotton candy. 

Somehow Yoongi’s calm, reasonable tone makes you feel even worse. 

‘Wake me up when you leave, ok?’ you say. 

***

You wake up to early morning sunshine streaming through your window. 

You sit up instantly, Yoongi’s name out of your mouth before you’ve even opened your eyes fully. 

Has he missed his flight? He’d told you he was leaving early. 

Yoongi’s name echoes through your empty apartment, and you realise he’s left. 

You get out of bed and go to the living room. It’s empty. His shoes are gone. 

There’s no trace he was ever there. 

If there wasn’t a residual soreness to your ass you’d question if he was ever here with you. 

When you go back to your bedroom you realise two things. 

Firstly, your bear is missing. 

Secondly, there’s a stack of Yoongi’s t-shirts on your armchair. 

You pick up the top one, and a slip of paper floats to the floor. On it, printed in Yoongi’s spiky handwriting: 

You seem to like wearing my clothes. 

He hasn’t written anything else. It’s so typically him you can’t help but smile. 

You wish you’d had a chance to say goodbye. 

You pick up one of Yoongi’s t-shirts, press it to your face and inhale. 

It’s a poor substitute for the real thing. 

***

You’re tidying up your bedroom the next day when Yoongi calls. 

‘You didn’t say goodbye,’ you say, accusing. 

‘You looked tired,’ Yoongi replies. 

He’s lying on his bed, and it’s so dark you can barely see. 

‘Hey,’ he says, ‘I know we don’t chat, but I wanted to know what this bear’s name is.’ 

You can feel warmth spreading in your chest at the confirmation that he took his bear with him. 

‘He doesn’t have a name,’ you reply. ‘I’m not that childish.’ 

Yoongi says, quietly, ‘I don’t think you’re childish.’ 

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply before he says, ‘I think I’m going to call him Popcorn.’ 

You can’t hide your smile. 

‘Maybe we can go to a fun fair when you come back,’ he says. ‘You are coming back, aren’t you?’ 

You still can’t see his face, and you wish you could. 

‘I’m coming back,’ you tell him. 

He says, ‘Good. I’ll tell Mrs Gye not to give your things to charity just yet.’ 

You shrug. ‘Give my things away. I’ll just wear your clothes.’ 

His laughter rumbles through the phone. 

‘I’m going to sleep. Good night, Y/N.’ 

‘Good night, Yoongi.’ 

You’re about to hang up when he says, ‘hey.’ 

‘What now?’ you ask. 

‘Take as much time as you need.’ 

His words bring a lump to your throat.

There’s so much you want to say, but you settle for, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be back to annoy you soon enough.’ 

He asks, ‘how’s your ass?’ 

‘Missing you,’ you say, the words coming out before you have a chance to edit them. 

‘Good.’ 

‘Do you miss me?’ you ask. 

‘Not really,’ Yoongi replies. 

‘Yeah, I guess you fly around the world for just anyone,’ you say. 

‘Good night, Y/N,’ Yoongi says. He sounds exasperated, but there’s a warmth in his voice that makes you think he’s not that annoyed with you. 

‘Night.’ 

©hamsterclaw 2022

#yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #bts smut #yoongi fic

[madhatterbri]

Thanksgiving Debrief | Christian, Lucha, and Nick

Summary: Despite Nick waking up early to make his father happy, Christian let's Nick know how to improve.

Requested by @cody-uso

Nick Wayne woke up early on Thanksgiving day to make his father happy. He wanted everything to be perfect to make him proud. All the usual fixings would be present on the table for Christian and Lucha.

He prepared for weeks for this day by researching the order to cook the meals. He knew the turkey would take forever so that was the first thing he would start. He preheated the oven and started preparing the sides. Nick vowed this would be the best day ever. It wasn't.

Between having to run to get forgotten ingredients and dropping dishes the dinner was quickly approaching. All his research seemed pointless at this point. He tried to keep his cool. That is what his dad would do.

The dinner was as silent as Nick expected. Luchasaurus ate happily without a single complaint. He chewed loudly growling when the food fell back on to the plate. Christian sat at the head of the table as if contemplating what exactly he was tasting. Once he was done with his plate he stared at Nick.

"What does this turkey and the Sahara desert have in common?" Christian asked breaking the silence. Luchasaurus moved to get seconds of all the food on the table. "Both are dry,"

"It would have been nice to have some cheese with macaroni and cheese," he shrugged while pointing to the pot of macaroni and cheese. Lucha stopped eating to look at the two men.

"Unfortunately my doctor won't be in until Monday to prescribe me blood pressure meds for all the salt I just ate," he patted his fist against his chest as if to get his heart working.

"I thought I was having mashed potatoes not soup," he sighed in disappointment. He raised the spoon to show the mashed potatoes fall in liquid form. He may have added too much mashed potatoes. Nick gulped taking the verbal abuse of his hard worked meal.

"At least we can use the biscuits you made to choke anyone that gets in our way when I'm confucting business," he hit the hard biscuit against the table. "Or maybe even use those instead of steel chairs to knock someone out,"

"Come on my right hand of destruction. We must prepare for Black Friday," Christian announced and stood up from the table. Lucha followed after him and growled. "Don't worry we will stop at McDonalds before for a real meal,"

The door closed and Nick gasped for air. He hadn't noticed he was breathing. At least they were gone. A small smile appeared on his face. Christian couldn't even stomach Jack's food.

#fanfiction #imagine #aew #mention of jack perry #christian cage is a warning himself #christian cage #nick wayne #luchasaurus #thanksgiving

[sister-cna-reader]

Bill: Brings out a thousand dollars worth of chocolate, flowers, and a horse ride.

Damian: Brings out a bag of peanuts.

Guess who Anya chooses.

and guess who Becky has to fill in.

I have been inspired. (This is great cause I think this means my brain has finally recovered from covid)

Becky sighed as Anya walked away with Damian to the cafe, leaving Bill to Becky’s care. 

Again. 

The bouquet of exotic lilies Watkins brought on Thursday gave Anya an allergic reaction consisting of hives and the most sneezing ever heard at Eden, totaling 50 sneezes in under an hour. The offending flowers had been passed on to the faculty break room to be appreciated, with Becky plucking the card from the blooms as they exchanged hands. 

Bill had been mortified by the reaction, vowing to make it up to Anya in the nurse’s office- his tearful face as earnest as he always was. 

So on Friday, he had offered the pink haired lady a box of the finest chocolates in Berlint. The amount of chocolates was so over whelming that Anya had handed them out to the class, taking only one of the 5 tiers to save for her parents. 

Becky had to pull Bill aside and explain that perhaps the way to Anya’s attention, and possibly affection were experiences- things that she couldn’t just buy.  

“It’s my job to spoil her with material wealth as her best friend you know.” she reasoned to the school’s lovelorn giant. “She likes action, experiences. Take her to an adventure park or something.” 

He had taken Becky’s advice alright, riding into the park Saturday on what had to be the largest horse to ever exist. Its tawny coat was well maintained, its’ dark mane and tail tied in a militaristic fashion. 

The war horse was docile, barely a twitch from its ear even as children gawked and giggled, huddling closer to see just how big it was. The park was teeming with people, even on the edge of the city proper, and on a Saturday when most would be shopping in the department stores or catching a movie.  Still, the beast only huffed when a hound was a little too loud, a little too close, the horse sounded more like a tired old man than a creature who could kill you with one kick. 

Bill had looked quite handsome in his riding attire, the tall boots still supple, and his matching jacket and cap showing his perfect posture. 

Not that Anya took any time to appreciate such a spectiule! Even Becky was moved by how natural Bill had looked on the steed. But Damian had crossed their pathes not two seconds after Bill arrived. The scion merely handed Anya a bag of roasted peanuts and mentioned a themed coffee drink for Anya to follow Damian, smile on her face, Bill and Becky forgotten. 

She knew Anya had her reasons to pursue the Desmond, but it didn’t excuse the little tact that she seemed to possess. 

Becky had an uncle somewhere like that. Couldn’t read a social cue to save his life.  (And to be fair, Desmond did ask quite bluntly if she wanted to go to said cafe- while Bill hadn’t said anything outright so far.) 

Now she had to pick up the slack for her best friend. 

Watkins leaned forward and patted the horse’s neck with a small frown. “I suppose I should just drop it.” 

Becky patted Bill’s calf (the only part of his body she could comfortably reach while he was still mounted on his steed), “Yes. But I should’ve tried warning you against it sooner.” 

Silence passed between them before Bill extended a gloved hand to her, his lips somewhere between a smile and a grimace. 

“Want to ride with me? I recall you’ve dabbled in equestrian sports.” 

Her foot was already in the stirrup and her hand in his as she answered. 

“I would never say no to such a handsome ride from a gentleman.” 

She was already seated in front of Bill by the time he recovered his composure. 

#becky/bill #bill watkins #becky blackbell #fanfiction #spy x family #Eden: License to Drive

[monster-cock69]

blue light, sleep tight

Moodboard made by @starkerkitty and AO3 link here for @khalixascorner's birthday

Pairings: Peter Parker and Tony Stark

Tags: Omegaverse, irondad, platonic

Warnings: None

It felt like a fucking Lifetime movie. 

There was a storm raging outside and the little boy – his little pup – was sitting on a  hard plastic chair crying and clutching a stuffed Hulk toy like a lifeline. 

Little Peter Parker smelled like he was fresh from a war documentary, distressed and begging for his mom to scent him and scream it’s going to be okay until it was. 

It wasn’t though. 

Mary wouldn’t be returning from the car crash, Richard would never hug him again, and Tony was all the pup had. 

It felt like he’d forgotten how his signature was supposed to look for a second. He wanted to run away screaming and drown himself in a bottle. 

The drunken night he’d spent with Mary was one he barely remembered. She’d been trying to convince him to fund something and he’d been horny enough to indulge. 

The following day, the check he’d jokingly written was gone and the sheets were cold. 

Now there were paternity tests and custody papers. His lawyers were all stiff and the social worker was practically shitting herself from nerves. 

“Alright, Pete. Dinner and a movie tonight sound good?” The poor thing didn’t even look up from his shoes. Lifting him onto his hip was easy enough. Peter just pressed his face into his neck and took in greedy lungfuls. 

A dark part of Tony hoped that he smelled better to the boy than any of his beta parents had.  If he was going to do this then he’d damn sure be the best at it. 

So much was running through his head, protective instincts raging at him that this pup needed food and comfort and to be scented and a nest and– 

Peter screamed the entire car ride. Tony couldn’t console him with soft shakes of his leg or the song his favorite nanny sang to him. The pup just wailed into his neck in a wordless cry for help that he couldn’t express any other way. 

It didn’t stop until Peter ran out of energy and fell asleep in the car. Traffic was characteristically bad for a Friday night getting into Manhattan. It meant that his arm fell asleep halfway through what was only supposed to be a half-hour drive. 

Each time Tony tried to put him down, Peter started grumbling. It left him awkwardly half-slouching with Peter almost hanging between his thighs. 

Putting him down once they got inside didn’t seem to be an option either. Peter started with those I’ll cry and you’ll regret it noises, so they wound up clutching each other on the sofa. 

He fell asleep like that, distantly vowing that they’d have a better morning. 

Then Peter woke both of them by peeing on his lap. 

Red puffy eyes were already tearing up again. Tony’s soft “I’ll get you clean, I’ll get you clean,” was more for himself than the boy. Stripping him down was weird but necessary. It was like he was intruding on Peter and he had no clue how he’d wash him without feeling like a pedophile. 

To make things worse, he was flailing so hard that Tony was scared he’d grab him too tightly and leave bruises. 

“Pete– okay, you gotta get– fuck it” getting dropped in the warm water JARVIS had filled the tub with shocked Peter into silence. 

Splashing water gently on his face made him laugh. It was a quiet, perfect little sound that Tony wanted to hear for the rest of his life. 

“I got you something for next time, you’ll like it. We’re gonna be alright Petey. I promise.” 

~~~~

Life continued on like that for some time. 

Peter would wake up crying because of a wet pull-up, cling to him like a second skin, and only eat small bits of food at a time. Usually, he’d fall asleep curled up against Tony with his face pressed to his neck. It didn’t leave him with much time for anything else but he’d have JARVIS read some parenting books to him. 

He had no fucking clue what to do. 

Sometimes, he’d see little bits of personality shine through. Peter would request that they watch Star Wars or insist on a certain shape of waffles. It grew more frequent as the weeks passed. 

Even with JARVIS as a filter, there was too much shitty information on raising omegas. Most people suggest he brush the crying and clinginess off as omega hysterics, a few called him a pervert for wanting to parent an omega alone.

Finding him a reputable therapist was the best decision he’d made. 

Peter started sleeping in his own bed during his after lunch naps, and once Tony figured out how to do it, he’d always let out a low rumble in response to Peter’s whines. He even started speaking better, something the therapist said had probably been stunted by the sudden trauma.

The others were all surprisingly understanding when it came to him. It wasn’t recommended that he spend too long with adults just yet – even with the team’s half-formed pack bonds – the two of them needed to form a proper scent bond first. So, they’d been keeping their distance and sending up lightly scented toys or blankets. 

His only issue now was that he was going crazy. 

Bringing Peter to the lab wasn’t an option because the boy liked to touch everything he saw, and Peter would wake up every time Tony moved in his sleep too much. 

That part might be even weirder. 

He hadn’t shared a bed with someone for more than a few nights in a row without being drunk since Pepper, and even that hadn’t lasted so long. 

There were smaller things he was starting to miss too, like shitting without Peter trying to crawl into his lap or spending a day without toddler spit on him. 

Putting Peter in a high chair and sticking to finger foods worked a little. 

“Peter fries are food not–” a french fry to the face interrupted him and made him rethink his fondness for Peter’s high chair. 

“You eat” 

“I am, I have my own fries and I don’t want you to throw yours at me. Would you like it if I threw mine at you?” 

And really, Tony should have known better than to question his kid like that. Peter just nodded so hard that it must have hurt his head. 

He wouldn’t admit to throwing a french fry at his toddler, but he’d admit that good moments like this helped him feel a little less crazy. 

Enough food made its way into Peter’s mouth to satisfy Tony. The dreaded appearance of baby wipes took the smile off his face, but Tony managed to give them both a good enough wipe-down. 

After watching Bluey and drinking a cup of apple juice on the couch, Peter was tired enough that Tony put him in his own bed for the first time. 

There’d been more smiles than tears recently, so he hoped that they’d have progress on that front. 

~~~~

Peter liked his new friend Tony. He smelled good and Peter didn’t need a night light when they cuddled at night. He also looked a lot like Iron Man. 

Waking up by himself in a small bed was weird. There was a small night light in the corner, but it was yellow instead of the blue he’d gotten used to. 

“Jay?” He whispered, trying to get the attention of his other new friend. 

“Yes, Peter? Would you like me to wake up Mr. Stark?” 

Peter picked at a thread on his blanket, not sure what to say. Tony was always saying that Peter needed to sleep, but he wasn’t sure if that meant Tony needed to sleep or not too. 

He’d been told that he’d be seeing Tony’s friends from downstairs in the morning though, so he guessed it was already time for that since he was awake. 

“Tony’s friends?” 

JARVIS took a second to answer before telling him that two of Tony’s friends from downstairs were awake and instructing him to get into the elevator. 

When he got there, two big guys were waiting for him. He couldn’t scent them properly without getting closer but the blond one smelled like an omega and the one with the shiny arm smelled like an alpha. 

The blond one that looked kinda like Captain America came toward him first. He knelt in front of Peter and held his hands out so Peter could see they were empty. 

“Hi Peter, my name’s Steve. Is your dad asleep upstairs?” 

Peter felt his eyebrows draw together. The last time he’d seen his daddy was when he and mommy were in those weird bed things, so why would he be upstairs? Was Steve asking about his friend Tony? 

“My friend Tony?” 

“Yeah, is he asleep?” Peter just blinked at him. Of course Tony was asleep, he always slept at night time. 

“I’m hungry, do you have french fries?”

Steve blinked at him and smelled a little surprised, “I’m sure Buck can make you some, let’s have a seat over here.” 

He was led to a breakfast bar like the one Tony had upstairs and Steve picked him up to seat him at one of the tall chairs. 

The alpha with the shiny arm started pulling some things out of the fridge and began cooking. Peter was watching the way that the window light seemed to make his arm look even shinier.

He wondered if he’d be able to make magnets stick to his arm. It looked like a fridge, and you could stick magnets on those. 

“Steve,” he whispered to his new friend, leaning closer so he’d hear, “I could put magnets on him?” 

“Do you have any magnets now?” Steve whispered back, looking between him and the alpha. 

Peter shook his head, he hadn’t had any magnets since he’d come to Tony’s house. 

“I’ll get some magnets for you tomorrow and you ask him if you can put them on him. That sound like a good plan to you?” Peter nodded his head and Steve walked away to get him water. 

The cup Steve got him was heavy and the water kept spilling on his lap, but no one seemed to mind. 

When his french fries were done cooking, the man with the shiny arm introduced himself as Bucky. Neither of his new friends ate with him, but they all talked while he ate. 

By the time that Tony got there, looking like he’d just 

“Holy shit Pete, why’d you leave?” 

“Woke up,” he explained before swallowing. 

“Well, why’d you wake up? Is there something wrong with your bed?” 

Peter nodded as he reached for the heavy glass of water. 

“Is it not comfortable?” 

“I like the blue light,” he turned to Steve, “can I have more water please?” 

Steve went to refill his water while Bucky laughed at Tony. After Bucky stopped laughing, the adults started talking. He kept quiet, used to adults talking around him, and leaned into Tony while he finished his water. Bucky and Steve both smelled nice but Tony’s scent was his favorite. 

He fell asleep while they were still talking, only waking up a bit to notice Tony putting him down in the big bed. 

Tony held him tight against the bright blue nightlight in his chest until Peter fell back to sleep. 

~~~~

Peter was progressing beautifully. He got piggyback rides from Clint, mani-pedis with Nat, and put magnets on Bucky’s arm. There was a rambunctiousness to him that shone in the way he’d run and shriek with laughter every time Bucky pretended to chase him or in the way he jumped onto the sofas before bath time. 

There was also something else there, some kind of spark that Tony couldn’t identify. He saw it when he and Bruce did dumbed-down experiments with Peter, or when he let the pup touch the suits. 

The therapist was urging him to start sending Peter to school, but Tony selfishly wanted to keep him at home a little longer. He didn’t seem to miss pre-k 3 and Tony took it as a sign that pre-k four was optional. Peter wouldn’t have to start school until kindergarten – and that would only be if Tony couldn’t find him a tutor. There was no need for his pup to be out in the world. 

It seemed though, that the lovely therapist he’d hired was as stubborn as he was. She put her foot down on the idea of keeping him home and made Tony put him in a playgroup. It meant that Peter’s existence would need to be announced. 

Pepper had a field day dealing with the PR team, but they managed to get it announced without making Tony step in.

Questions about the distant future of Stark Industries arose since omegas couldn’t inherit property above a certain value. Pepper rebuffed them on his behalf and the lawyers drafted NDAs for the parents and nannies of Peter’s future playmates. 

Tony had to sign a few himself since the other children were also pretty high profile. 

Peter was predictably excited, but most of the adults there were nannies and Tony was the only alpha. 

Also, Johnny Storm’s kid kept melting the legos.

~~~~

In true Stark fashion, the first time Peter met Rhodey he was trying to get him into trouble. 

Running away dripping wet and naked at three wasn’t quite as bad as lying in bed crying with alcohol poisoning at fifteen, but Tony appreciated the similarity. 

Rhodey picked up the squirming pup with a firm grip around his ribs and Tony wrapped him up in an appropriately themed turkey towel. 

None of them put stock into Thanksgiving, which made it a good day to head upstate for a little family owned farm that was more than glad to host them. 

“Peter, if you want to go get the apples and tree you have to wear clothes.” 

He sighed and flopped himself backward into Tony, making both alphas scramble to keep a good hold on him. It was probably too early to bathe him but baby wipes could only do so much against orange juice to the hair. 

Another reminder of their plans had Peter succumbing to his fate of thick sweats and a warm sweater. Rhodey carried him to the elevator while Tony grabbed their coats. 

“I’m gonna get apples from the tree,” he heard Peter proudly tell Rhodey. 

The duo went back and forth excitedly. Peter was glad to have a new friend and Rhodey was eager to gently pry out every detail about him possible. 

Steve had decided they weren’t allowed to take the easy way out and fly upstate. They packed themselves into cars aside from Bucky and Steve who were taking the pickup he’d gotten just for this. 

Peter was stuffed into his car seat and given one of his newer stuffed toys. 

They had a four hour drive ahead of them, made quicker by Peter’s excited narrations of the scenery.

An hour or so in, Peter’s words had longer pauses between them. He fell asleep while explaining how trees lived in the forest with bears and wolves. 

They pitched their voices lower once they noticed, both unwilling to have a cranky toddler on their hands. 

He didn’t sleep long. Just after they’d gotten over the Bronx border, Peter woke up demanding juice. 

Passing a juice box back between the seats felt more natural than he’d have thought it would. When it came to Peter things had fallen into place so innately that Tony didn’t want to imagine what he’d be doing without him. Instinct wasn’t his guiding factor anymore. They had gotten to know each other well enough that Peter hardly ever looked unsteady around him anymore.

Miraculously, Peter didn’t squeeze it too hard and send juice everywhere. He drank slowly while looking at the scenery.

Five or so minutes later when they were ten minutes away from the nearest rest stop Peter started squirming in his seat and quietly let them know that he wasn’t able to hold his pee. 

Tony had to pull over and Rhodey suggested that they open both the passenger door and Peter’s door so they’d have more cover. 

Everyone passing would know what was happening but they were more concerned with someone trying to get a peep at little Stark’s crotch. 

“Not the grass, the potty.” His pup was pouting, looking disdainfully at the patchy grass before him. 

“You said you had to go now, and you’re not wearing a pull-up. Gotta use the grass, Pete.” 

Peter huffed in indignation but eventually pulled down his bottoms. Tony had to help him aim, and Rhodey pretended he wasn’t laughing for Peter’s sake.  

Baby wipes were passed around again and they were all packed back into the car. 

Peter went back to sleep and slept until Tony had to gently tug him out of his car seat. 

The mid-morning sun was mercifully warm enough for Peter to run between rows of apple trees. Someone had come to clean the rotting ones off the floor before they’d arrived. 

Cutting down one of the huge Christmas trees would be last on their list. 

They took turns helping Peter reach the branches where the apples hung. Bucky put him on his shoulders and walked around slowly. Peter would fist leaves in his hands rather than find apples for the most part – a lot of them ended up in Bucky’s hair. 

He didn’t tire out as quickly as Tony thought he would have. He was too excited to see everything around him and touch whatever he landed his eyes on. They amassed heavy baskets full of apples and selected a tree that would barely fit in the bed of the pickup.  

Above them, the sun had started to set and the air was going chilly. Peter buried his smiling face and pressed a hand tightly to Tony’s chest. 

With his coat on, there was no way Peter would be able to see the reactor’s faint glow. Tony didn’t think he cared much.

#irondad #omegaverse #belle writes #better tags on ao3 #peter parker #avengers #marvel #tony stark #spiderman #iron man

[roseharpermaxwell]

Caught in the Act

If you’ve been under a rock, you may have missed the fabulous Caught in the Act Dramione collection. I’ve read each one now and loved them so much, I asked @whimsymanaged if there was a tumblr collection post I was missing. No? I must make one.

Go read these ten fabulous, caught-masturbating Dramione fics, some of which have smoking hot art by @catmintandthyme.

hands to myself by whimsymanaged. E, 2.4k. 

Every Friday night, Hermione goes to her favourite bar with her friends. One of the reasons this bar is her favourite is because she inevitably runs into Draco Malfoy.

Tonight, all their flirting comes to a head.

Caught Wet-Handed by @millennialgrandma. E, 2.8k 

“Really, Hermione?” he said, as he slipped inside the study. The question almost whispered as he firmly closed the door behind him. A thrill shot down her spine when she heard him begin to set the wards to “Do Not Disturb.”

And then he stalked toward her. Like a predator. The sandal dangling precariously from her foot fell to the floor.

“Did we not agree, sweetheart, that we wouldn’t?”

“Yes, Draco, which is why-”

“And were you not the one you suggested, no, insisted, we abstain until the wedding night?”

Leave the Door Open by @eveningstruggle. E, 4.5k. 

“Oh—er, yes—an ink stain, just there,” she lied. He looked skeptical, as if he didn’t quite believe her.

His eyes stayed locked on hers as he licked his thumb and wiped the spot. “Did I get it?”

She glanced back at his neck, slightly red where he’d rubbed it, but otherwise flawless. “Um. Yes. All good now.” He tilted his head slightly and looked at her appraisingly. She mumbled something about having forgotten a file and retreated to her own room, face burning. She splashed cold water on her face, pulled herself together, and returned to his room with her professional pants on, ready to settle in for an evening of serious work and not lusting over her coworker.

or:

Hermione decides to let off some steam but forgets to lock the door.

bitter touch by emilyinwonderland. E, 5.5k. 

Granger gave a minute shake of her head and clenched her jaw. “Witches have far more self-control than wizards. Just look at your debased stories.”

“Really?” Draco asked, leaning forward in his seat. Granger’s toffee hair tensed with magic, her fingers now thrumming an angry tune against her crossed arm. 

“Of course,” she scoffed. 

“I bet you wouldn’t last a week,” he seethed. There was an intake of breath at the table. The others were certainly watching the two now — taking in the tension with a spoon. 

Pansy clapped her hands. “Wonderful! That’s it. We all take a vow — no sex, no wanking — and we’ll see who comes out on top.”

The Clinic by @catmintandthyme. E, 5.8k. 

When Pansy and Luna needed a sperm donor Draco was there for them. Too bad he forgot to lock the door.

A Dramione caught wanking fic, for the Wheel of Doom's Caught in the Act collection!

Life Imitates Art by @dumbledoodlewriting. E, 6.9k. 

Hermione briefly glanced over her shoulder at Draco. Still fast asleep. Good. She made a quick decision and slipped her pajama bottoms off under the covers, kicking them to the floor. Her hand snaked down her stomach and underneath the waistband of her knickers.

***

OR Hermione Granger starts reading a romance novel on her tenth wedding anniversary and realizes that they may have some merit after all…

Because He Loved Her by @forgotten-traveler. E, 7k. 

“These potions aren’t ingested. They’re absorbed through olfactory means.” Hermione kept her eyes downcast, unable to look at him. “She brewed them in here, so the fumes are everywhere.”

“English, please?”

“The smell is triggering this... uncomfortable change in us. Dorris was brewing enhanced aphrodisiac potions. Lust potions.”

Tall Drink of Water by @indreamsink. E, 7.3k. 

Hermione is perfectly capable of ignoring her feelings for her neighbour, Draco Malfoy. Until he catches her in an intimate situation―and suddenly he's all she can think about.

House Husband by @sodamnradd. E, 8.9k. 

omg... they were roommates

“Granger,” Malfoy's voice drew her attention to his eyes, only to find them heavy-lidded and fixated on her mouth, which she realised was parted, air puffing in and out audibly.

Flatmates. They were flatmates and this couldn’t happen.

She pulled away from his grip, his warmth, those enticing muscles and a crotch she could swear had swollen since they’d pushed up against one another.

Without a word, she rushed into her room and clicked the door shut.

The next day, she visited a sex shop and bought a silicone toy entitled ‘Jake, the football player, 8-inch vibrating dildo’.

Love a Lie by @ambpersand. E, 20k. 

Malfoy’s hand is unforgiving against her own, squeezing hard enough that it aches. Hermione digs her nails in, knowing the sensitive expanse of his pale skin will be marked for hours.

A fair trade, considering the heavy diamond ring on her finger that feels like a shackle. Her hand and arm still tingle from the binding magic, and she can’t risk looking down at it. She knows if she does, she’ll remember the gold strand that wrapped around her skin, tying them together for the rest of their miserable lives.

I hope you find something to love here! If you're looking for more to read, here is my masterlist of recs.

#dramione fanfic #draco/hermione #draco x hermione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #hp fanfic

[nicklloydnow]

A dress rehearsal for a revolution to come like Potemkin? The last act of rebellion before totalitarianism like Kronstadt? A footnote in an American history book like Storozhevoy? Maybe just another Friday in Russia…

“Russian authorities stepped up security in Moscow and issued an arrest warrant for Yevgeny Prigozhin, the owner of the Wagner paramilitary group, on charges of mutiny after he called on his troops to oust the country's military leadership.

(…)

As Russian soldiers in armored personnel carriers secured key installations in Moscow, leading Russian military commanders who had worked with Wagner urged the group's fighters to stop before it was too late. "The last thing we need is to unleash a real civil war inside the country. Come back to your senses," urged Lt. Gen. Vladimir Alekseyev, the deputy chief of Russian military intelligence.

(…)

"The evil that the military leadership of the country brings forward must be stopped. They have forgotten the word justice, and we will return it," Prigozhin said in an audio recording posted on Wagner's social media Friday. "Anyone attempting resistance will be considered a threat and immediately destroyed. This includes all the checkpoints on our path and any aircraft above our heads."

Friday's events showed the depth of political crisis inside Russia after 16 months of grueling war marked by a series of military setbacks. Pressure is rising on Putin to squelch any threat that Prigozhin now poses to his power, and to Russia's ability to continue waging the war. Putin, so far, hasn't made any public statements about the drama unfolding in Russia.

(…)

For the past several months, Prigozhin has been focusing his vitriol on Russian Defense Minister Sergei Shoigu and Armed Forces Chief of Staff Valery Gerasimov. Earlier on Friday, he accused Shoigu of leading Russia into war in Ukraine on a false narrative in order to get awards and a promotion in rank.

Gen. Sergei Surovikin, the former commander of Russian troops in Ukraine who, unlike Shoigu and Gerasimov, has been repeatedly praised by Prigozhin, made a late-night video appeal asking Wagner's troops not to obey the group's owner.

"Whatever your intentions are at the moment, as valiant as somebody told you they may be, this is a stab in the back both for the country and the president," he said. "This is a military coup."

(…)

In Friday's recordings, Prigozhin said that he has 25,000 men under arms but also considers the entire army, and the entire Russian society, his strategic reserve.Russian commentators reacted to this turn of events with shock.

(…)

Earlier in the day, Prigozhin said Shoigu lied to Russians and to Putin when he told a "story about the crazy aggression from the Ukrainian side and the plans to attack us with the entire NATO bloc." In an implied criticism of Putin, he added that Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky would have agreed to a deal if the Kremlin had deigned to negotiate.”

“Vladimir Putin has vowed to crush an armed insurrection led by the warlord Yevgeny Prigozhin, describing the rebel militia making their way towards Moscow as a treasonous “stab in the back”.

The Russian president labelled the first coup attempt in three decades as a “deadly threat to our statehood” and compared it with the 1917 revolution that led to the collapse of imperial Russia.

(…)

Russian military helicopters fired on a convoy of Wagner troops and armoured vehicles, including tanks, rumbling north along a highway towards the capital, according to unverified videos published on social media.

The convoy, which also appears to contain mobile air defence systems, advanced steadily from Rostov towards Moscow despite “combat operations” by regular armed forces, and in the early evening of Saturday was abound 350km from the capital’s outer ring road, where Russian troops have set up checkpoints.

If the convoy is able to advance without hindrance, they could reach Moscow before midnight local time.

(…)

The insurgency is the most serious threat to Putin’s decades-long rule, and comes after months of public infighting between Prigozhin and the country’s armed forces.

“Prigozhin’s mutiny is the greatest challenge to date of the rule of Vladimir Putin,” said Andrius Tursa, eastern Europe analyst at Teneo. “Even if the mutiny fails, the crisis events will only exacerbate perceptions of the regime’s weakness.”

Wagner’s rapid advance sparked an emergency call between G7 nations who agreed “to co-ordinate closely”, and enhanced security measures in Nato countries bordering Russia, which possesses one of the world’s largest nuclear arsenals.

(…)

In Kyiv, the crisis was a “window of opportunity” for its forces to push ahead with a counter-offensive to liberate territory occupied by Russian troops, said Hanna Maliar, Ukraine’s deputy defence minister. She added that the decision to invade Ukraine had triggered “the inevitable degradation of the Russian state”.

Putin’s pledge on Saturday to crush the attempted coup came hours after Prigozhin announced he had “blockaded” Rostov and the headquarters of Russia’s military command centre, responsible for Ukraine operations, as armed, masked men with tanks and armoured vehicles surrounded government buildings.

Putin’s grave address, which did not mention Prigozhin by name but accused his organisation of “blackmail and terrorist methods”, suggests the president has left no room for compromise with his former acolyte. “What we are dealing with is treason. Unchecked ambitions and personal interests have brought about betrayal of our country and our people,” Putin said.

Prigozhin issued a defiant response, saying his Wagner force no longer wanted to live “under corruption, lies, and bureaucracy”.

Sixteen months of war against Ukraine has hamstrung Russia’s economy because of a barrage of western sanctions and an exodus of foreign capital. The conflict has cost tens of thousands of lives and created a dangerous patchwork of competing militias and security forces.

(…)

The extraordinary decision to launch a motorised assault on Moscow was part of what Prigozhin said was a “march of justice” against defence minister Sergei Shoigu and Valery Gerasimov, commander of Russia’s invasion forces, whom he has accused of mishandling the Ukraine invasion.

(…)

Volodymyr Zelenskyy, Ukraine’s president, said the events had laid bare “Russia’s weakness”.

“The longer Russia keeps its troops and mercenaries on our land, the more chaos, pain and problems it will have for itself later,” he tweeted. “Everyone who chooses the path of evil destroys himself.””

“Russian dictator Vladimir Putin's plane left Moscow on the afternoon of June 24 amid an ongoing rebellion led by PMC Wagner chief Yevgeny Prigozhin, the Belarusian Hajun monitoring project said on Telegram on June 24, citing data from the Flightradar24 service.

The Russian government’s Il-96−300PU aircraft took off from Vnukovo Airport at 14:16 local time and headed for Valdai, one of Putin’s residences, it said.

(…)

The plane reportedly disappeared from radars near the Russian city of Tver (about 150 kilometers from Valdai), the independent Russian website Important Stories (IStories) said on Telegram on June 24. The media outlet claims that the plane is “equipped to control the armed forces.”

(…)

The Ukrainian online publication Ukrainska Pravda cites an unnamed source in the Ukrainian special services who states that “Putin is leaving Moscow, he is being taken to Valdai.”

The Insider, a Russian investigative journalism project, also writes that as of 3 p.m. local time, another Russian special forces aircraft had landed in St. Petersburg.

The independent news outlet Mozhem Obyasnit, in turn, reports that Russian officials are fleeing from Moscow on business jets – at least three flights served by the Special Flight Unit “Rossiya” of the Russian President’s Administration have already departed for St. Petersburg.”

“Dmitri Alperovitch, founder of the Washington, D.C.-based think tank Silverado Policy Accelerator, shot down suggestions that the conflict would result in the development of a new Russian civil war, predicting in a series of tweets that Prigozhin's forces would quickly be defeated.

"No, this is not likely to turn into a civil war," Alperovitch tweeted. "It is what in Russia is called 'razborki' (gangland warfare) And it looks like one gang is about to get totally crushed because the other has all the weapons and the security services on their side."

(…)

In additional tweets, Alperovitch suggested that Prigozhin "might not survive the weekend" due to his declaration of war, while commenting that "this show is very entertaining but unfortunately it might be a very short one."”

“Mick Ryan, a retired major general in the Australian military and fellow for the Center for Strategic and International Studies, told Insider that while exactly what is happening on the ground in Russia remains unclear, "this is the kind of thing where no one wins — everyone loses something."

(…)

"Prigozhin is likely to be the biggest loser," Ryan told Insider. "But Putin and his inner circle will look like they don't have their hands on all the levers of power in a way that some Russian elites would expect them to. And the Russian army will be looking forward at the Ukrainians attacking them and looking behind themselves and their nation, seemingly in chaos — whether that's a reality or not — and it will cause deep disquiet among senior Russian leaders."

Ryan said the deep unease felt by Russian troops after hearing a regime-affiliated official disparage military leadership could be used to Ukraine's advantage as they continue to fend off Russian attacks.

(…)

"I think Prigozhin probably crossed a Rubicon of some type. This is probably the end of the tolerance for his outbursts and demands of the military," Ryan told Insider: "I think it's most likely that things won't turn out well for him. I certainly wouldn't be booking or reserving places in an old people's home if I was him."”

#russia #ukraine #russia ukraine war #putin #wagner #yevgeny prigozhin #mutiny #coup #potemkin #kronstadt #putsch #dmitri alperovitch #silverado policy accelerator #mick ryan

[miko2495]

DDLV small headcanons

The Forgotten's name has been changed to "Elizabeth"

Raya and Mulan are often sparring partners

Mushu and Sisu often try and one up each other

Cinderella brought back royal balls and dancing lessons

Minnie, Daisy, Rose, Elizabeth, Anna and Elsa have Horror movie/game nights mostly on Fridays, Saturdays or Sundays. Minnie's idea.

Mickey and Minnie renewed their vows shortly after Minnie came back

Donald was often mad due to jealously of Mickey getting his love back (before Daisy returned)

Tiana sometimes work at Chez Remy

King Triton is harsh on both Rose and Elsa for abandoning their kingdoms.

#disney dreamlight valley #dreamlight valley #ddlv headcanon

[simstryingtheirbestok]

The Vaneaults cruised into the weekend with David trying out for a gig at the coffeehouse on Friday. Sadly, he was turned down, told to come back when he had more experience.

When I checked, he had only just reached level 3 in the Acrobat career. Only one more level to go! but also, I've noticed that it seldom does any good to audition at the low end of the job experience scale, when the Sim is only at the minimum career level required. I therefore put him on a schedule of workouts and performing for tips around town, and vowed to try again.

Saturday, all the teens beseeched Ruby for help learning to drive. Emmaline got her request in first. Ruby looks about as thrilled to be doing this as you'd expect.

Unfortunately, Ruby's job means she works weekend nights, so Emmaline is the only one she was able to teach Saturday. Evan eventually corralled David and learned from him, leaving only Eloise remaining.

When she got home Saturday night, Ruby informed me that she'd been promoted again. That's great!

She also informed me that I'd forgotten her birthday.

She promptly joined David in having a midlife crisis. 😞

#ts3 #ts3 challenge #the sims 3 #the sims 3 challenge #career opportunities challenge #sim: david vaneault #sim: ruby vaneault #sim: emmaline vaneault

[katiew1973]

Can’t Help Falling In Love

Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings - None, just fluff.

Words - 686

A/N - Originally written as Chris Evans x Reader, (Link HERE) I’ve re-worked for Steve Rogers for @caplanbuckybarnes Cappy’s Decades Challenge. This is also the first time I’ve written for any of Chris’ characters - I hope I do Steve justice in this one!

My song was Can’t help falling in love— Elvis Presley.

It had been 64 days since the last time you were in his arms. You’d promised that you wouldn’t count but you couldn’t help it. You missed him, even now after all these years of you both being with the Avengers, and him going on missions, you still missed him – especially when he couldn’t contact you as regularly as he’d like to.

You missed everything – his strong arms around you, his sense of humour, his smell. Him. To most people he was Captain America, leader of the Avengers, but to you he was just Steve. He might seem strait-laced and uptight, and, in some ways, he was with people he didn’t know, but not with you. Like everything, it’d started with a friendship. Working on the press team, you’d got to know Steve through regular meetings and things eventually blossomed into romance. He had pretty much left his apartment in the Avengers Tower to move into your place, preferring it to the hustle & bustle of the tower, using it only when he had to – home was with you, not there, not any more.

Today was one of those days where nothing had gone right – you’d woken up late as your phone was flat, you’d forgotten to plug it in, and the alarm didn’t go off – one downside of not living in Steve’s apartment – FRIDAY would have made sure that you didn’t miss your alarm call. You’d had nothing but stress at work and you were getting worried as you’d not heard anything from Steve or Nat for a few days, which wasn’t like them.

Deciding not to cook, you ordered takeout from your favourite Italian place and, opening a bottle of wine, you pulled up your love songs playlist on Spotify and settled in with a book. You didn’t normally listen to songs like that, usually wanting to stick to something upbeat that you could dance around the house to if you felt like it, but this was the mood you were in tonight.

You’d fallen asleep and had woken up when a light clicked on. Before you could work out what was happening, Steve scooped you out of the chair, he gently placed you onto your feet and into his arms, just as Elvis’ Can’t Help Falling In Love came on your playlist. The two of you just stood in the middle of your living room, gently moving to the music on the speakers.

“Wise men say only fools rush in But I can’t help falling in love with you Shall I stay? Would it be a sin If I can’t help falling in love with you?”

He whispered in your ear “I’ve missed you so much.”

Like a river flows surely to the sea Darling so it goes Some things are meant to be Take my hand, take my whole life too For I can’t help falling in love with you”

“I love you Y/N, I love you with all my heart and my soul.”

Like a river flows surely to the sea Darling so it goes Some things are meant to be Take my hand, take my whole life too For I can’t help falling in love with you For I can’t help falling in love with you”

“Marry me Y/N?”

You moved your head from his chest to look him in the eyes, trying to work out if he was serious or not. He was.

“I mean it. Marry me? I don’t have a ring now, but we’ll go to choose one tomorrow. I just want to be with you. I can’t see my future without you being in it and I realised that it was time that I took that big step with you, if you’ll have me?”

You reached up and bought his head towards yours. Kissing him slowly you only had one thing to say.

“Yes. I’ll marry you; I’ll marry you in a heartbeat.”

A year later, the two of you exchanged your vows in front of family and friends by the lake at Tony’s estate. Your first dance? Well, that was the easiest choice you made.

Can’t Help Falling in Love lyrics © Gema, Sony/atv Acuff Rose Music, Sony/atv Melody, Gladys Music, Embassy Music Corporation, Imagem Music, Darkpriz Publishing, Orpheum Music, Curb Songs, Universal Music Mgb Songs, Warner-tamerlane Pub Corp., 139th & Lenox Entertainment, Emi Glenwood Music Corporation, J. Albert & Son(international) Pty. Ltd., Bug Music O/b/o It’s A Hit Publishing, Irving Music, Inc., Emi April Music Inc, No copyright infringement intended.

#cappysdecadeschallenge #steve rogers #Avengers #fanfic

[blueheartedmayor]

awwww Damien, thinking about a quieter life after being mayor? Maybe sharing a house and just being between going out for some excitement with the colonel?

@selfshippinglover

(In reference to this)

-

It's a quiet Friday evening. Barnum is slumped in his bed, half-chewing a squeaky frog toy as stimulus to keep himself awake. (His human is still awake. It's too early for bed time!)

The mayor, however, is in the small kitchen. He sits at the high table, slowly stirring his coffee.

"It's something I've been thinking about. I'll need to make my mind up before my final year begins. If I do want to go ahead with it, then I need to start allocating savings to printing posters and leaflets, organise volunteers, and all the other headaches of an election campaign. It's certainly not an easy task when you have to persuade a full city." Damien pauses as he watches the swirling motion of the coffee.

"I graduated in political science. I set myself up for this life, but I can't be Mayor forever. I thought I would be able to make positive changes while in office... But it feels like I'm being blocked in many angles. There were things I promised to do while in office, but they've been delayed by opposition for so long that I don't think they'll officially finish in my time. And this isn't considering the headache of social media. It's very easy for people to say what they like with little consequences. As the saying goes: A lie can travel around the world and back again while the truth is lacing up its boots."

Another pause follows this, brief this time as he laughs.

"I suppose I can't really say much. Politics is a fairly rotten business, and outliers such as myself are unpopular. Not trusted by the public, disliked by your peers... It's a lonely profession, ironically, but it might be nice to be forgotten by them all for a while and just be."

He had vowed to give his full self to this when he was elected. Was it worth putting his entire life on pause?

"I still have time. Barnum doesn't deserve a life cooped up in an apartment. I'd like him to be able to explore a garden, meet new friends, and live a proper life that'd make any dog happy."

#(you won't believe who has had two major family-related events that needed priority) #(and you'll never guess who had very little motivation to work in the downtime) #selfshippinglover #v; keeping the egos in check #(when the modern mayor's dog is coincidentally named after the Colonel it only adds to the confusion tbh xD) #('I can't be Mayor forever'; he says. It's been six years and he's still halfway through that four year term)

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

17th March >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

Solemnity of Saint Patrick, Bishop, Missionary

And

Friday, Third Week of Lent.

Solemnity of Saint Patrick, Bishop, Missionary

(Liturgical Colour: White: Year A(1))

First Reading Ecclesiasticus 39:6-10 The wise man will be remembered for generations.

If it is the will of the great Lord, he will be filled with the spirit of understanding, he will shower forth words of wisdom, and in prayer give thanks to the Lord. He will grow upright in purpose and learning, he will ponder the Lord’s hidden mysteries. He will display the instruction he has received, taking his pride in the Law of the Lord’s covenant. Many will praise his understanding, and it will never be forgotten. His memory will not disappear, generation after generation his name will live. Nations will proclaim his wisdom, the assembly will celebrate his praises.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 115(116):12-19

R/ A thanksgiving sacrifice I make to you, O Lord. or R/ Alleluia!

How can I repay the Lord for his goodness to me? The cup of salvation I will raise; I will call on the Lord’s name.

R/ A thanksgiving sacrifice I make to you, O Lord. or R/ Alleluia!

My vows to the Lord I will fulfil before all his people. O precious in the eyes of the Lord is the death of his faithful.

R/ A thanksgiving sacrifice I make to you, O Lord. or R/ Alleluia!

Your servant, Lord, your servant am I; you have loosened my bonds. A thanksgiving sacrifice I make; I will call on the Lord’s name.

R/ A thanksgiving sacrifice I make to you, O Lord. or R/ Alleluia!

My vows to the Lord I will fulfil before all his people, in the courts of the house of the Lord, in your midst, O Jerusalem.

R/ A thanksgiving sacrifice I make to you, O Lord. or R/ Alleluia!

Second Reading 2 Timothy 4:1-8 I have run the race to the finish; I have kept the faith; it is time for me to be gone.

Before God and before Christ Jesus who is to be judge of the living and the dead, I put this duty to you, in the name of his Appearing and of his kingdom: proclaim the message and, welcome or unwelcome, insist on it. Refute falsehood, correct error, call to obedience – but do all with patience and with the intention of teaching. The time is sure to come when, far from being content with sound teaching, people will be avid for the latest novelty and collect themselves a whole series of teachers according to their own tastes; and then, instead of listening to the truth, they will turn to myths. Be careful always to choose the right course; be brave under trials; make the preaching of the Good News your life’s work, in thoroughgoing service. As for me, my life is already being poured away as a libation, and the time has come for me to be gone. I have fought the good fight to the end; I have run the race to the finish; I have kept the faith; all there is to come now is the crown of righteousness reserved for me, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will give to me on that Day; and not only to me but to all those who have longed for his Appearing.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Gospel Acclamation Luke 4:17

Praise and honour to you, Lord Jesus! The Lord has sent me to bring the good news to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives. Praise and honour to you, Lord Jesus!

Gospel Matthew 13:24-32 Let them both grow till the harvest.

Jesus put another parable before the crowds: ‘The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a man who sowed good seed in his field. While everybody was asleep his enemy came, sowed darnel all among the wheat, and made off. When the new wheat sprouted and ripened, the darnel appeared as well. The owner’s servants went to him and said, “Sir, was it not good seed that you sowed in your field? If so, where does the darnel come from?” “Some enemy has done this” he answered. And the servants said, “Do you want us to go and weed it out?” But he said, “No, because when you weed out the darnel you might pull up the wheat with it. Let them both grow till the harvest; and at harvest time I shall say to the reapers: First collect the darnel and tie it in bundles to be burnt, then gather the wheat into my barn.”’

He put another parable before them: ‘The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed which a man took and sowed in his field. It is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the biggest shrub of all and becomes a tree so that the birds of the air come and shelter in its branches.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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

Friday, Third Week of Lent

(Liturgical Colour: Violet: Year A(1))

First Reading Hosea 14:2-10 A call to conversion and promise of safety

The Lord says this:

Israel, come back to the Lord your God; your iniquity was the cause of your downfall. Provide yourself with words and come back to the Lord. Say to him, ‘Take all iniquity away so that we may have happiness again and offer you our words of praise. Assyria cannot save us, we will not ride horses any more, or say, “Our God!” to what our own hands have made, for you are the one in whom orphans find compassion.’ – I will heal their disloyalty, I will love them with all my heart, for my anger has turned from them. I will fall like dew on Israel. He shall bloom like the lily, and thrust out roots like the poplar, his shoots will spread far; he will have the beauty of the olive and the fragrance of Lebanon. They will come back to live in my shade; they will grow corn that flourishes, they will cultivate vines as renowned as the wine of Helbon. What has Ephraim to do with idols any more when it is I who hear his prayer and care for him? I am like a cypress ever green, all your fruitfulness comes from me.

Let the wise man understand these words. Let the intelligent man grasp their meaning. For the ways of the Lord are straight, and virtuous men walk in them, but sinners stumble.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 80(81):6,8-11,14,17

R/ I am the Lord your God: listen to my warning.

A voice I did not know said to me: ‘I freed your shoulder from the burden; your hands were freed from the load. You called in distress and I saved you.

R/ I am the Lord your God: listen to my warning.

‘I answered, concealed in the storm cloud; at the waters of Meribah I tested you. Listen, my people, to my warning. O Israel, if only you would heed!

R/ I am the Lord your God: listen to my warning.

‘Let there be no foreign god among you, no worship of an alien god. I am the Lord your God, who brought you from the land of Egypt.

R/ I am the Lord your God: listen to my warning.

‘O that my people would heed me, that Israel would walk in my ways! But Israel I would feed with finest wheat and fill them with honey from the rock.’

R/ I am the Lord your God: listen to my warning.

Gospel Acclamation

Praise and honour to you, Lord Jesus! The seed is the word of God, Christ the sower; whoever finds this seed will remain for ever. Praise and honour to you, Lord Jesus!

Or:

Matthew 4:17

Praise and honour to you, Lord Jesus! Repent, says the Lord, for the kingdom of heaven is close at hand. Praise and honour to you, Lord Jesus!

Gospel Mark 12:28-34 'You are not far from the kingdom of God'.

One of the scribes came up to Jesus and put a question to him, ‘Which is the first of all the commandments?’ Jesus replied, ‘This is the first: Listen, Israel, the Lord our God is the one Lord, and you must love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind and with all your strength. The second is this: You must love your neighbour as yourself. There is no commandment greater than these.’ The scribe said to him, ‘Well spoken, Master; what you have said is true: that he is one and there is no other. To love him with all your heart, with all your understanding and strength, and to love your neighbour as yourself, this is far more important than any holocaust or sacrifice.’ Jesus, seeing how wisely he had spoken, said, ‘You are not far from the kingdom of God.’ And after that no one dared to question him any more.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[wikifoxnews]

Who is Salman Rushdie ( Salman Rushdie is stabbed on stage ) Wiki, Bio, Age, Incident details, Family, Arrest, Investigation and More Facts

Salman Rushdie Biography                               Salman Rushdie Wiki

Author Salman Rushdie was injured after being beaten and stabbed onstage before a speech he was scheduled to give in Chautauqua, near Buffalo. Author Salman Rushdie, who suffered years of death threats after writing The Satanic Verses, attacked on stage in New York state https://t.co/X5vDka4nAX — BBC Breaking News (@BBCBreaking) August 12, 2022

Salman Rushdie Age

The 75-year-old writer was attacked as he took the stage for the CHQ 2022 event before delivering a talk on Friday morning. He participated in a discussion on the United States as a haven for exiled writers and other artists and a home for freedom of creative expression. Witnesses claimed he managed to get off the stage with help and the attacker is reportedly in custody. Blood appeared to be splattered on the wall behind where Rushdie had been attacked, some could also be seen on a chair. The author was knighted in the UK in 2007 "for services to literature" by his friend Tony Blair. Rushdie has previously received death threats for his writing, with his 1988 book The Satanic Verses sparking protests. He wrote The Satanic Verses, which led to a culture war igniting in Britain in 1988 - with UK protests and book burnings. Pakistan banned the book, and a fatwa – a death sentence – was imposed on it by the Iranian Ayatollah Khomeini in February 1989. Khomeini called for the deaths of Rushdie and his publishers, and urged Muslims to point him to those who might kill him if they could not do it themselves. The fatwa, or "spiritual opinion," followed a wave of book burnings in Britain and riots across the Muslim world that left 60 dead and hundreds injured. Rushdie was placed under 24-hour surveillance at the expense of the UK taxpayer when a £1.2million bounty was placed on his head. He was in hiding with police protection for a decade and previously reported that every year he received a "sort of Valentine's card" from Iran letting him know the country hadn't forgotten the vow to kill him. Hitoshi Igarashi, who translated The Satanic Verses into Japanese for Rushdie, was stabbed to death on the campus where he taught literature. Ettore Capriolo, the book's Italian translator, was stabbed to death in his Milan apartment. The novel's Norwegian publisher, William Nygaard, was shot three times outside his home and left to die in October 1993, but survived the attack. In Turkey, the book's translator, Aziz Nesin, was the target of a hotel arson attack that killed 37 people. Rushdie previously wrote a 655-page fatwa memoir that was nominated for Britain's top non-fiction award, the Samuel Johnson Prize.   Read the full article

[victorluvsalice]

I said “late April,” and lucky me, the very last day of April is a Friday. XD Here we are, folks -- the first chapter of “In A World Of His Own!” Short and -- well, “sweet” doesn’t feel like the right word, given this chapter features the return of the Cannery Snarks and the introduction of Fury, the personification of Victor’s temper. But I think it serves as a decent opener, at any rate. Hope you enjoy!

#forgotten vows friday #in a world of his own #tw: vomiting #yeah those damn fish are back #so if you don't like snarks horking their guts up #look away #but hopefully you find other things to enjoy in the chapter #another look at the Living Dead Forest #an exploration of what Victor would look like if he was both hit by a Rage Box AND entered Hysteria Mode :p #references to the original Alice books #it's all there #queued