#so of course you'll be at this thing. and if you're not we'll take it personally'

[loveaurdeepression]

a/n: long awaited desi!reader<3 tell me if you want more :3

Your house is quiet when he enters. The silence is eerie after the commotion he'd caused back in the n109 zone, and despite the knowledge that there is no threat to you here, he can't help the surge of worry that shoots through him.

A few moments more and ah, he hears the slow jingle of anklets. Like a siren's song, their enchanting chime lures him in, deeper into the home you've made, decorated with pieces of your heritage, from the sandalwood incense stand to the tapestry, your house is sprinkled with the essence of you.

"Darling?" he calls out, testing the waters, seeing if you'll hear him. A breath later, soft music fills the house and he chuckles, you know he's here.

"In here, love," you say and he follows your voice, the tinkling of your anklets only growing louder as you move around your room, He'd asked you to be ready for a fancy dinner and was close to buying you a dress on his own when you'd waved his offer away.

"Buy me a dress when you take me out next time, jaan. I have the perfect thing for this."

He'd expected maybe a different cut or color but one thing he'd learned when he was with you was to always expect the unexpected.

And so, when he finally walks through your doorway, with the sun rays shining through your windows, he can't help but stare.

Because you're possibly the most beautiful you've ever been in the thousands of memories he's ever had of you. Because the sun shines just right on your brown, glowing skin. Because your kohl-lined eyes gaze at him with all the love in the world, albeit a little nervous, and the dress.

The dress.

"It's a lehenga, Sylus. Do you like it?" you ask, henna-decorated fingers fidgeting.

How could you possibly think he just likes it? When every dragonic instinct instilled in him since his rebirth has resurfaced, when every part, every version of him that is in his head is repeating in his mind, like a broken record-

Hoard.

He fights between wanting to take you to the abyss with him, where you can be with him and his gold and jewels, and showing you off for the world to see. For all the people in the restaurant to admire, and to weep.

Because this treasure is his.

He doesn't say a word, he only moves closer, drinking in every drop of you bathed in the sunlight like a parched traveler.

He gulps, "Darling, you look ethereal." He runs his hands through the intricate threadwork of the lehenga, fascinated with the shine of the set jewels. Your necklace makes him want to shove his face between your shoulder and jaw and tear it off of you, but not for the jewels of the necklace, no, of course not.

The dragon only wants you.

You giggle, a sound he savors, "You like it, huh?"

"I love it." he murmurs, taking your hands in his and focusing on the art on your hands, "I love you"

With a mischievous smile, you look at him, "Look for your name."

His heart beats faster, "My..name?"

You nod, "Legend says that if you find it, we'll be lovers forever."

As if that isn't already the case, he reigns in all the focus he has ever learned to muster to look, to seek, to search for his name. He looks at your fingers, and palms and reverently turns them over, and there, On your ring finger, is his name.

He pauses, kissing your fingers, looking up at you like he's a devotee and you're the benevolent goddess he's worshipped all his life.

"Looks like we're together forever, sweetie."

[sublux]

i can't wait to not do all the wedding nonsense when i get married. i am not subjecting myself or anyone i know to an engagement party bridal shower 7+ nights in hotels bachelorette weekend rehearsal dinner huge ceremony huger reception. who is it all for anyway

[laugtherhyena]

Playing Bomb rush cyberfunk has been a crazy experience so far because i feel like I've been enjoying the game just as much as I'm not doing so

[alex51324]

Useful article from CNN on election-night misinformation.

Key takeaway is that pretty much whatever happens, Trump will claim it's evidence that the election is being rigged against him.

Some additional things to keep in mind--particularly if you haven't been through many of these before:

The winner may or may not be projected on election night. How long it takes depends on a bunch of factors, having to do with the logistics of ballot-counting and how the statistical analysis comes along. Getting a projected winner by midnight and the count taking several days are both well within the range of normal, and neither one suggests that anything nefarious is happening.

Counting of votes always continues for several days after the election, until every vote has been counted. This happens regardless of whether or not the media have "called" a winner, or a candidate has conceded.

Media outlets project election winners based on the data that has come in and their statistical models--they do not "declare" or "decide" who won. The major outlets are very motivated to avoid an incorrect projection*, so if they make a call, it's because they're really sure they have enough information to accurately predict the outcome of the final count.

Usually, when this happens, all of the major media outlets are making the same projection around the same time--within the same hour, at least, and often in the same 10 minutes or so. If there's an outlier, there's a good chance they're either guessing or propagandizing.

Candidates do not get to call the race in their own favor. There's a decent chance Trump will try, but also it's also normal and expected for both campaigns to talk like they're expecting to win; e.g. introducing their candidate as "the next President of the United States" when appearing before supporters at events. (My guess is that if he does try, the mainstream media outlets will simply sanewash it as typical election-night bravado, which is actually fine.)

The only thing that means anything, coming from a candidate/campaign, is a concession. This will often happen after the media has called the race for the other candidate; it usually isn't a surprise. A normal campaign will often go quiet--stop sending people to talk on TV, etc.--when they're getting ready to concede. (Trump arguably** still hasn't conceded 2020, so no one is particularly expecting him to concede any time this coming week.)

It's normal for the numbers to change a lot. There are always some surprises, but there are also standard patterns: results from the southeast usually come in a clump, and put a lot of electoral votes into the Republican column, early in the night. Democrats usually pick up the west coast states, which of course are the last to close their polls and start reporting results***. For the swing states, where we'll probably see a lot of reporting on very incomplete vote totals, results will start coming in first from the rural areas, which lean red; cities take longer to count their votes--because there are more of them--and lean blue.

The more uncertainty there is about the outcome, the more you'll hear about the evolving numbers--news networks have airtime to fill, and there's only so many ways you can say, "Still too close to call." Try not to obsess over these numbers; the news networks have people specially trained to analyze this exact kind of data, and if they can't say how it's going to turn out, you're not going to know, either.

If it ends up being too close to call for several days, there will probably be reporting on small, county-by-county vote dumps. It's important to realize that this is all still the original count of the votes, not a recount or "finding new votes." We only hear about it when the election is so close that these relatively small numbers of ballots are likely to affect the outcome, but it happens every single election. In 2020, Trump repeatedly claimed that ongoing counts were some how irregular, and sometimes demanded that counts be stopped when the current total showed him in the lead. This is, to be clear, nuts; the full & complete count of the votes always takes more than just the one day, and it's a bedrock principle of democracy that every valid ballot is counted.

(* Back in 2000, the Bush-Gore election with the whole Florida debacle, several major news outlets did project winners too soon, and then had to walk back their projections.

This definitely contributed to the chaos that night, and may have also contributed to the widespread perception that Bush was the "real" winner and Gore was dragging the country through multiple recounts, in those first few days when the initial count of wasn't even complete in some states.

As a result, responsible media outlets are much more cautious these days about election-night projections.)

(**On January 7, 2021 he made a statement that was taken as indicating his understanding that Biden had won, or at least that he knew he wouldn't be staying in office, but he never stopped saying he won.)

(***This often looks like the Republican being miles ahead, and then suddenly California reports in and they aren't anymore. Expect Trump to pretend that this is somehow shocking, even though the last time a Republican won California was 1988.

Similarly, he will also pretend to be surprised when, for instance, Philadelphia turns in their first big batch of results, and Harris's numbers jump up.)

[creature-wizard]

Some ways to recognize AI generated images (other than counting the fingers!)

Hey folks! Since a lot of people out there are still getting taken in by AI images, I thought I'd do a post to help you spot some common tells in AI generated imagery. (All of these images come from Pixabay.) Since this turned out to be a really long post, I've put the rest of it under the cut.

Unnatural shininess and smoothness

AI generated images frequently have an unnatural smoothness to them. Here's a really obvious example:

These are supposed to be blueberries, but they're way too shiny. They look more like glass than actual fruit!

Here's an example that's a little less obvious:

At first glance, it's easy to miss that this is a procedurally generated image. But if you take a moment and look close, you can see an unnatural smoothness to this image. Compare with this real photograph below:

The real photo has a slight graininess to it, plus the berries themselves display more texture.

Here are more images displaying unnatural smoothness:

Exaggerated facial and body proportions

If a person or animal in an image that appears to be a photograph has cartoonish or caricaturish proportions, that's a sign the image is AI generated.

First, we'll start with a really obvious example. While I don't think the person who had this generated meant for it to be taken as photorealistic, it's still a good example of exaggerated proportions.

Now here's the less obvious example:

If you just glanced at this image, you might think this was a real child. But if you look for a moment longer, you'll notice that her head is slightly too big for her body proportions, and her eyes are slightly too big and round. (And of course, her toes are messed up.)

For comparison, here's a real child:

The real child's head is smaller, and the eyes don't have that cartoony look.

Here's an image of a baby that could pass as real at first glance... until you realize the eyes are too big and round, and it's making Dreamworks face! (Also, the brows and lashes are unnaturally smooth and the skin looks plasticky!)

For comparison, here's a real baby:

Melty-looking detailwork

AI images that are supposed to depict fantasy, divine, and historical figures often feature an extreme level of detailing. But if you look close, you'll see that this detailwork is usually a mess.

Here's a very obvious example:

If you look at her tiara, you can see that the center gem is actually floating above the rest, which is a dead giveaway that this is procedurally generated. Also, her tiara lacks symmetry and evenness where it should have it.

Here's another example:

Again, this is clearly a piece that should have symmetry in the metalwork, but has that uneven melty look so common in AI imagery.

And a less obvious example:

This one isn't as extreme as the others, but if you're familiar with the way AI "melts" details, you can recognize its work. (Also, her right earring is lower than it should be, and where her face is clearly meant to imitate an oil painting, her dress looks like a watercolor painting!)

Meanwhile, here's a real photograph of a tiara:

I'd also like to emphasize here that asymmetry on its own doesn't indicate AI! Many people create asymmetrical designs on purpose. The thing to really watch out for is melty-looking shapes and unevenness in things that shouldn't look melty or uneven.

Unnatural crispness and detail

AI image generators often lean toward high-contrast tones, which frequently makes images look unnaturally crisp. Here's a really obvious example:

Let's compare with a real photo of the Sphinx!

Quite a bit of difference, huh?

This faux Greek statue might be a bit harder:

This appears to depict a Greek-styled statue, but - look at the face! The crispness in the light and shadows gives this away as AI generated. (There's also no staining on the face, even though we see it on the next.)

For comparison, a real statue:

This has turned into a huge post, so I'm gonna call this good for now. Not each and every AI generated image will have these tells, but you'll be able to recognize a lot more AI generated images if you keep them in mind. If you'd like to get even better at recognizing AI generated images, you might go to the website I got them from - Pixabay - and search for "AI generated." Load the pictures at higher resolutions, pay attention to the details, and compare them with human-mage images. While you'll find that many AI generated images are very hard to distinguish from human-made ones, you'll start picking up on more of AI's idiosyncracies.

[svetamillss]

Headcanons: their language of love💗

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f), Kang Sae Byeok x Reader(f), Thanos (Su Bong) x Reader(f), Kang Dae Ho x Reader(f), Nam Gyu x Reader(f)

A/N: Orders are always open for you!

💗💗💗

Cho Hyun Ju

The language of love is words.

She always says nice words about love to you. He calls you cute nicknames, but the most important nickname: "baby". If you are at a distance, she writes you a lot of messages or sends you various funny pictures to cheer you up.

Also, she is always ready to support you, even when you don't need much support, she will still do it.

- Baby, you're the best for me, you'll succeed!

- Hyunnie, I decided to put together a children's puzzle. - you say with a smile.

You will never hear an insult or a bad word from her. She won't allow it. Of course, you also always tell her about love and support her, it is also very important for her.

Kang Sae Byeok

The language of love is time.

She is not a very romantic person and it is difficult for her to express her love in words. But she found a way to fix it. It's important for her to be with you and spend time together. That's why she devotes all her free time to you.

You go for walks, chat a lot or even travel. You also take her younger brother with you, who also loves you very much.

- The weather is terrible outside, I wanted to go for a walk with you so much. - You say sadly when you see that it's raining outside.

- It's not a problem, the three of us can watch a movie or play board games. We'll spend the whole evening together anyway. - she calmly answers, you gladly agree with her offer.

Sae Byeok recently realized that she can't be alone for a long time, she needs you to be next to her for complete peace of mind.

Thanos (Su Bong)

The language of love - gifts.

You couldn't even have imagined that your boyfriend would love to give you gifts. After all, at first he seemed to be a person who would talk all kinds of phrases to you. And then he was able to learn what you love and almost every day brings you flowers, sweets, cute things. Although you began to notice that he does it as well, so that you forget about the bad things he managed to do.

- You took drugs again. - you said with disappointment, when he return home at night, although he was drunk, but at least he did not get lost somewhere.

- Senorita, I didn't come home empty-handed! Here! - and takes out a little Teddy Bear from the back, of course you liked it. He knows your weaknesses.

- Oh, God, thank you, but let's stop with these club parties, otherwise no gift will save you! - you say with a slight anger when you start helping him undress.

Kang Dae Ho

The language of love - help.

Your boyfriend will always be ready to help you, even if you don't really need help.

- Honey, what are you doing? - he asks, entering the kitchen.

- I'm cooking dinner for us.

- Let me help you! After all, you cook meat, and I'm a man, I'll deal with him quickly! - he answers, standing next to you, you can't refuse him, so you agree to his help.

In general, your boyfriend will be ready to carry you in his arms, the main thing is that you feel good and always love each other.

Nam Gyu

The language of love is physical contact.

Oh, what a tactile person he is. You noticed it right away when on the first date he tried to touch you somehow. He even apologized to you, because he thought you might be uncomfortable, but you made it clear that everything was fine and you were just not used to it.

Your boyfriend will always find a way to touch or hug you, anytime, anywhere.

- Nam Gyu, we haven't seen each other for only a few hours, and you hug me like I left you for a week. - you said when you came home after shopping and he came at you with hugs, very tight hugs.

- I'm sorry, I can't help myself, I have a very strong tactile hunger. - he said laughing, but you were satisfied with everything.

💗💗💗

[justlemmeadoreyou]

rain-kissed* (footballer!harry x

nerd!y/n)

summary: y/n and harry, former rivals turned reluctant partners, find unexpected chemistry. heated glances, playful banter ignite a spark. a near-tragedy makes y/n confront feelings, and...will they be reciprocated? ft. lots of mutual pining

words: 6.1k

warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of a major injury, cursing, kissing, hints of smut, mutual pining.

Y/N groaned as she walked into the lecture hall for her literature class. "Are you kidding me?"

There in the very front row sat Harry Styles - captain of the football team, president of one of the biggest frats on campus, and certified douchebag extraordinaire. His feet were obnoxiously propped up on the desk in front of him as he laughed loudly with his friends. 

"This class is gonna be a nightmare," Y/N muttered, taking a seat as far away from Harry's circle as possible. She couldn't stand arrogant jocks like him.

Class started and the professor cleared her throat loudly, shooting Harry a pointed look until he dropped his feet to the floor with an eye roll. "Alright, since this is an upper-level lit course, we're going to kick things off with a big group project."

A collective groan went through the class. Group projects were the worst, especially when half the group didn't pull their weight. Harry raised his hand lazily.

"What's the project, Millers?"

The prof narrowed her eyes at Harry's casual address but proceeded. "You'll be analyzing the themes and formatting an anthology of poems, plays, and short stories from a particular era or movement. I'll be assigning the groups and topics."

Y/N mentally prepared herself to get stuck doing all the work as usual for her group when Millers started listing off the pairings. 

"Styles and Y/L/N - you'll be covering the Romantic period."

Y/N's head whipped up in horror as Harry scoffed loudly. Of course they'd get partnered up. This was quite literally her worst nightmare.

"Fucking kill me," Harry grumbled, slumping back in his seat rudely.

"I'd rather work alone," Y/N couldn't stop herself from retorting. Immediately, Millers zeroed in on her with a stern look.

"I don't recall there being a choice, Ms. Y/L/N. Unless either of you plans to drop this course, I suggest you learn to work together effectively."

Gritting her teeth, Y/N forced out a tight, "Yes, Professor."

Harry was already texting rapidly on his phone, not paying any attention. This project was going to be utter hell.

The rest of the semester only proved Y/N right about what a nightmare it would be to work with Harry. Their first meeting to divide up the work went about as well as could be expected - which is to say it was a total disaster.

"Look, I don't have a bunch of time for this bullshit poetry stuff," Harry kicked back in a creaky chair, looking entirely too at home in the empty classroom they'd claimed for their work session. "How about you just do the whole thing and I'll, like, proofread it at the end or whatever?"

Y/N stared at him incredulously. "Absolutely not! This is a hugely weighted project, Styles. I'm not doing all the work myself."

He shrugged impatiently. "Why not? You seem like a big ol' nerd who'd be into this."

Biting back a retort, Y/N forced herself to remain calm and reasonable. If he was going to act like a damn child,she had to be the adult in the relationship–or whatever this was.

 "Forget it. We're going to split everything 50/50 whether you like it or not. I'll take the poetry analysis and you can have the plays. We'll swap sections to proofread before compiling the final thing."

Harry made a face like she'd asked him to perform surgery. "Do I have to? Plays are so boring."

"Don't care," Y/N said flatly. "You're pulling your weight on this one way or another."

With a melodramatic huff, Harry finally agreed and they were able to separate the reading materials and due dates before parting ways, both dreading the long weeks ahead.

Except...after trading several heated email chains and a couple disastrous coffee shop meetups, something shifted. Maybe it was the punctuality that struck after virtually living in the library for a week straight. Maybe it was how they both surprised each other by not being complete idiots about the subject matter. But at some point, the bickering and resentful silences turned to a bearable truce and even - dare Y/N think it - a hint of reluctant respect between them.

Y/N had assumed Harry was just another brainless party bro who skated by on his looks and family money. But to her surprise, he actually had intelligent insights into the Romantic poets and playwrights - even if he still whined about having to read "this dramalogy crap." 

And Harry, who had fully expected Y/N to be an uptight, pretentious book nerd, found himself caught off guard by her whip-smart analysis...and her unexpected sarcastic quips that had him stifling laughs more than once during their study sessions. He called her nerd instead of her usual name, but was now slipping back to using Y/n more often.

"Oh my god, you did not just say that about Lord Byron!" Harry snickered as Y/N made another scalding comment about the poet's arrogant womanizing. 

"What? The man was an infamous manwhore by all accounts," Y/N shrugged unapologetically. "Self-important dickhead thought his brooding and philandering made him a genius."

Harry gasped in mock offense. "How very unromantic of you, love! Have you no poetic soul?"

Without missing a beat, Y/N deadpanned, "I prefer to admire poets who didn't give the clap to half of London."

The startled laugh that burst from Harry's lips was so warm and uninhibited that Y/N felt an unexpected little flip in her stomach at the sight. Whoa, what was that?

Shaking it off, she hid her face behind her book again, tamping down an oddly giddy–sort of feeling. Just because she'd managed to find Harry slightly less insufferable lately didn't mean anything.

And so it went, their bickering gradually becoming more lighthearted and playful rather than biting. The weeks ticked by as they somehow formed an unlikely...friendship? Bros? Sure, they'd go with that for simplicity's sake.

At some point, they started expanding their hangouts beyond just study sessions too. Grabbing food after class turned into actually sitting together, Harry regaling Y/N with stories from his frat's latest shenanigans as she pretended not to be entertained. 

On the rare nights Y/N wasn't holed up writing papers, she started joining Harry and his boys at their favorite dive bar, quickly becoming the calm voice of reason trying in vain to talk them out of their next boneheaded plan.

"Come on, PlainJane! Live a little!" Harry teased, throwing an arm around her shoulders at the bar. 

The rowdy group cackled at Harry's horrible attempt at a literary-themed nickname for Y/N, as per tradition when any new face got absorbed into their friend circle. Personally, Y/N thought it was a lame pun, but she secretly loved how easily she'd slotted into their bizarre fratty family...and maybe especially how Harry always seemed to plaster himself to her side whenever they went out.

The camaraderie and effortless banter flowing between them should've been a huge red flag that something was shifting. But Y/N was quite stubbornly oblivious, as was Harry in his own way.

At least, that was until their big group presentation day rolled around. They'd been prepping and quizzing each other for weeks, reviewing notes and analysis essays till they were cross-eyed. Harry had really stepped up, much to Y/N's surprise, retaining way more than she'd expected about the playwrights and their major works.

The whole lit class was spread out in the lecture hall, with bullet-pointed notecards and thick anthologies ready as the first group took the floor. When it was finally Harry and Y/N's turn, they moved to the front in sync, Harry shooting her a subtle wink as he grabbed the microphone first.

"Buckle up, kids - this is how you do a proper literary presentation," he drawled cockily.

Y/N rolled her eyes on reflex, biting her lip and bumping his hip with hers in playful admonishment. "Shut up and just start already."

Neither of them noticed the amused looks being swapped by their classmates at their easy rapport. Or Millers leaning back with a knowing smirk, clearly recognizing the chemistry flying between her formerly antagonistic partners.

For the next hour, Harry and Y/N launched into their meticulously prepared overview of the key figures and works emerging from the Romantic period. Their back-and-forth was flawless yet casual, almost playful at times with little ad-libs and jokes only they were in on.

At one point, Harry lightly mocked Lord Byron's arrogance with a pompous impression that had Y/N doubled over giggling into the mic, barely choking out the next lines through her laughter. When she managed to catch her breath, she shot him a look that was equal parts fond exasperation and...something more heated.

There was a noticeable spark between them that had clearly evolved far beyond the adversarial classmates they'd started as. And if anyone could miss that subtext, it became blindingly obvious at the end when they seamlessly transitioned into their concluding remarks, standing shoulder to shoulder.

"So in summary, while the Romantics may have been a pretentious bunch of melancholic lads-" Harry began.

"-their pioneering works cemented their place as quintessential figures in literary history," Y/N picked up without missing a beat. 

They shared a grin before finishing in unison, "And that's the tea, no cap."

A surprised burst of laughter rang out from their classmates at their cheeky sign-off, even the prof hiding a smile behind her hand. Everyone could see it - the easy chemistry, the almost electric undercurrent between the former rivals.

Everyone, that is, except Harry and Y/N themselves. 

As they moved to return to their seats amid the applause, neither seemed to register the weighted looks and muffled whispers following them. Harry just ducked his head with an almost bashful smile, still riding the high of how flawlessly they'd worked together. While Y/N felt her cheeks flushing under the weight of what she convinced herself was just residual adrenaline.

In the weeks after their wildly successful presentation, that same strain of electrifying connection only grew stronger between them. You'd never know they'd spent the first half of the semester low-key loathing each other based on their current vibe.

Now, when Harry's frat brothers tried to rib him about his "study buddy" at their typical dive bar hangout, he just threw an arm around Y/N's shoulders and proudly declared, "More like my brain twin!"

Y/N would just duck her head with a bashful grin, pointedly ignoring how her heart did a little somersault at both the affectionate nickname and Harry's easy touch.

Or like when they sprawled out on the quad between classes, passing a bag of chips back and forth as Harry ranted about his coach riding his ass over the big rivalry game next week. Without even thinking about it, Y/N would reach out to squeeze his knee consolingly as he huffed out his frustrations. It was such a simple, natural gesture between them now that she didn't even register the slightly stunned look Harry shot her before clearing his throat gruffly.

Even their friends couldn't resist commenting on their respective obliviousness at this point.

"Bruh, Y/N literally lets you call her 'love' without punching you in the dick," Niall pointed out bluntly one night when Harry claimed, once again, he and Y/N were "just friends." His Irish buddy arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Pretty sure she wants to ride your lancer if you know what I mean."

Harry smacked him hard while trying not to get flustered. "Shut the fuck up, asshole."

While on Y/N's end...

"Sooooo, when are you gonna admit you have a huge crush on Styles?" Her friend Riley asked point blank over brunch, making Y/N nearly choke on her mimosa.

"What? No I don't!" She insisted a little too quickly, refusing to meet Riley's all-knowing gaze. "We're just...really good friends."

Riley hummed disbelievingly. "Right. And I'm the Queen of England."

Y/N opened her mouth to protest further before clamping it shut as her mind started helplessly rehashing all her favourite little moments with Harry over the past few weeks. His warm, anthracite eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed at her jokes. The proud grin he'd get whenever she successfully understood something he'd tried explaining. The way she felt this inexplicable magnetic pull to stay pressed into his side for as long as possible whenever they hung out...

"Oh my god," she breathed out, smile slipping as the enormity of her revelation dawned. "I'm in love with Harry fucking Styles."

That's not to say the smitten epiphany immediately changed anything between the two. Well, maybe it made their lingering hugs and casual touches go on for a few beats too long. Or had them both shyly stealing glances when the other's back was turned.

***

Mostly though, they just continued their cozy, obliviously pining routine of late night FaceTimes and weekends holed up studying together for finals. All while Harry's team prepared for their annual football rivalry game - the biggest matchup of the season that would make or break their championship chances.

The night before the game, Y/N found herself inexplicably anxious as she sat in the stands amid a drunk, raucous crowd. Harry kept shooting cheesy grins and double finger-gunged winks her way whenever he trotted past her section, clearly buzzed on adrenaline.

"Go get 'em, superstar!" She shouted at one point, laughing as Harry blew her an obnoxious kiss before getting back in the huddle.

The energy in the stadium was electric and infectious, Y/N finding herself caught up in the cheers and chants despite not being a huge football fan normally. Something about watching her...Harry out there gave her swirling butterflies low in her belly though.

As the intense game raged on, Y/N was on the edge of her seat, nails digging into her palms whenever Harry took a brutal hit or made a heart-stoppingly risky play. At one point he got absolutely leveled by a linebacker twice his size, his helmet bouncing sickeningly off the turf.The roar of the crowd faded into the background as Y/N watched in horror as Harry's body slammed violently into the turf. She felt her heart stop as he didn't immediately get back up after the brutal hit.

"Harry!" she screamed, her voice drowned out by the gasps of the other spectators. 

The medical team rushed out onto the field as Harry lay unmoving. Y/N's hands shook with fear as she watched them carefully roll him onto a backboard and load him into the ambulance. She felt tears streaking down her cheeks as the ambulance pulled away, sirens blaring.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally received word that Harry was going to be okay. The doctors said he had suffered a severe concussion and possible spinal injury from the whiplash of the hit. He would need weeks of rest and recovery.

Y/N rushed to the hospital, desperate to see him. When she entered his room, her heart broke at the sight of Harry's battered body hooked up to various machines, a cervical collar immobilizing his neck.

"Harry..." she whispered, taking his hand gently in hers. "I'm so sorry."

Harry's eyes fluttered open at the sound of her voice. "Y/N? You're here..."

"Of course I'm here, you idiot," she tried to joke, blinking back more tears. "I was so worried about you."

A small smile tugged at his bruised lips. "I'll be okay, love. Harry is a thick skull, remember?"

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn't help grinning at his terrible joke. "Don't scare me like that again, Styles. I don't know what I'd do without you."

A look of tenderness crossed Harry's face that made Y/N's breath catch in her throat. But before either could say anything further, the doctor entered to check on Harry's condition.

***

Over the next week, Y/N diligently stayed by Harry's side in the hospital. She helped feed him, kept him company, and supported him through the difficult early recovery stages. Harry quickly grew restless being cooped up, but every time he tried to get out of bed against doctor's orders, Y/N was there to scold him.

"You heard what the doctor said, Harry. You need to rest and let your body heal properly," she chastised him one day as he tried to get up.

Harry groaned in frustration. "But I'm going stir crazy in this damn bed! I feel fine, Y/N, honestly."

"No, you don't," Y/N said firmly. "You could have had a serious spinal injury. You're lucky it wasn't worse. Now lie back down before I get the nurses to strap you in."

Grumbling, Harry reluctantly complied, though he continued to hate being so confined and immobile. Little did Y/N know, he was already hatching a plan.

A few days later, Y/N arrived at the hospital only to find Harry's bed empty. Her heart leapt into her throat as she rushed to the nurses' station in a panic.

"Where is he? Where's Harry Styles?" she demanded.

The nurse gave her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, he checked himself out against medical advice earlier today."

"What? No, he can't have!" Y/N cried. She knew immediately where he would have gone.

Sure enough, when she ran across campus to the football practice field, she found Harry standing on the sidelines in his gear, acting as if nothing had happened. White hot fury blazed through her veins.

"Harry!" she yelled, storming toward him as the first raindrops began to fall. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Harry turned with a cocky grin as he saw her approach. "There's my favourite nerd. What's got your panties in a twist, love?"

"You insufferable asshole!" Y/N exploded, not caring that they had an audience of his confused teammates. "The doctor said you needed weeks of rest and recovery! You could have permanently injured your spine!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Relax, babe, I feel great. Probably just overreacted with that whole backboard and neck brace nonsense."

"Are you kidding me right now?" Y/N seethed, hands balling into fists at her sides. Rain began pouring down around them, quickly soaking them both, but she didn't care. "You're incredible, you know that? You have zero self-preservation! No regard for your own safety and well-being!"

"That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?" Harry scoffed, though his casual demeanor faltered slightly under her furious glare.

"Dramatic? You could've been paralyzed, Harry! Doesn't that mean anything to you?" Her voice broke with frustrated tears. "Don't you understand how terrified I was watching you lying there, not moving? I thought...I thought I might lose you."

Something flickered across Harry's features then. His cavalier mask slipped for just a moment, allowing a flash of guilt and tenderness to shine through that sent Y/N's heart lurching treacherously. Then it was gone, the wall snapping back into place.

"Well, I'm right as rain now, so you can quit your worrying," he said gruffly, turning his back on her.

That was the final straw for Y/N. She grabbed his arm and whirled him around to face her, not caring that they were getting drenched by the downpour.

"You're so fucking reckless with yourself, Harry! Like you have zero self-preservation or even an ounce of common sense! Do you have any idea how scary that was to see you lying there, not moving? How I thought..." Her voice hitched, throat growing too tight to continue as burning tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

Through the rapidly blurring vision, Y/N registered Harry staring, chest heaving like she'd actually winded him with her outburst. His hands hung frozen at his sides, knuckles going white as he watched her come completely unraveled. And still she wasn't finished.

"You can't just keep putting yourself in danger like that! Pulling stupid fucking stunts and flipping off your own safety like it doesn't matter! Because it does, Harry. It matters so much to...to me," she finished in a thick whisper, finally allowing a tear to escape and streak down her flushed cheek.  

A weighted silence stretched between them, Y/N struggling to regain her ragged breathing as Harry continued gaping at her, utterly shocked by her reaction. Waves of tension rippled through the small space separating them.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably only seconds, Harry seemed to recalibrate. His expression went utterly blank for a beat before, out of nowhere, his eyes hardened into flashing jade. When he spoke, his tone was laced with a chilling detachment.  

"Why?"

Y/N blinked owlishly. "W-What?"

"Why the fuck do you care so much, huh?" Harry exploded, eyes flashing as he aimed his scathing hostility directly at Y/N. "Last I checked, I'm not your boyfriend or your family. I'm just some dumb jock you study with, right?"

Y/N flinched at the biting sarcasm, feeling tears prick her eyes anew at his harsh dismissal. But Harry was on a roll, fists clenching and unclenching as he visibly wrestled with...what? Anger? Fear? She couldn't tell, but his next words sliced deep regardless.

"So why do you get to flip out and pass judgment every time I take a hit, huh? You think I don't know how to handle myself out on that field?"

"That's not what I-"

"No, clearly you don't think I have any sense of self-preservation or whatever psychobabble bullshit diagnosis you want to armchair next!" Harry barreled over her attempted protest, voice rising in a sharp crescendo. 

He took a menacing step closer, using his full height to loom over her in a move that likely would've been intimidating...if his eyes didn't look so pained and conflicted behind that mask of bitter anger. "Tell me, Y/N - what gives you the right to freak out like that, huh? To look at me with those scared eyes like you have any claim over whether I live or die or-"

"Because I love you, dammit!" The confession exploded from Y/N with the force of a meteor strike.

A stunned silence fell over the field as Harry gaped at her, mouth hanging open in shock. Even the rain seemed to pause in the heavy tension between them.

After several moments where Y/N felt her panic rising, Harry finally found his voice again. "You...you what?"

Y/N took a shuddering breath, bracing herself. She had come too far to back down now.  

"I love you, Harry," she repeated, slower and more sure this time. "I have for a long time, you idiot. But you're always so reckless and careless 'bout your own safety. You take stupid risks and shrug it off like getting hurt is no big deal!"

She stepped closer, feeling tears mingling with the raindrops on her cheeks. "Don't you understand? The thought of you being seriously injured, or worse...it terrifies me. Because I couldn't handle losing you. You mean everything to me."

Harry continued staring at her, eyes blown wide and lips parted as if her confession had utterly short-circuited his brain. Y/N pressed on, needing to finally unleash all the feelings she had kept bottled up for far too long.

"I love your stupid jokes and your kind heart. I love how passionate you are about football, even if it drives me mental sometimes. I love the way you always smell like sandalwood and make me feel so safe when I'm with you. I'm in love with every obnoxious, laddish, reckless part of you and I can't keep ignoring it anymore."

She let out a wet chuckle, wiping futilely at her drenched face, her hands still shaking. "So yeah, that's why I care, you absolute wanker. That's why seeing you get hurt destroys me every single time, because the thought of being in a world without Harry Styles in it is just too much for me to bear!"

The words hung heavy in the rain-soaked air between them. Y/N watched Harry open and close his mouth a few times, clearly struggling to find a response. For once, his swagger and cockiness had completely deserted him as her feelings poured over him in an unstoppable tide.

Just when the silence was becoming too much for Y/N to bear, Harry finally seemed to find his voice again.

"You...you love me?" he rasped out, the disbelief and wonder evident in his tone. "Like, you're in love with me?"

Y/N felt her cheeks flush hot despite the cold rain. She gave a small nod, unable to meet his intense gaze. Her heart was thundering so loudly in her ears, she barely registered the shouts and hoots coming from Harry's teammates who had witnessed the whole emotional outburst.

"Shut it, you wankers!" Harry barked over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off Y/N.

In two long strides, he closed the distance between them until they were mere inches apart. Y/N's breath caught in her throat as Harry reached up with one hand to gently cup her jaw, tilting her face up toward his.

"Y/N..." he murmured, emerald eyes searching hers intently. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

She let out a shaky laugh, leaning into his touch despite herself. "And ruin our friendship if you didn't feel the same way? I couldn't risk that, Harry. You mean too much to me."

Something blazing and tender flickered across Harry's face at her confession. Slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, he leaned in until their foreheads were resting together. Y/N shivered at the intimate proximity, at the way his familiar woodsy scent surrounded her completely.

"You daft woman," he murmured, the words fanning warmly across her lips and making her shiver for an entirely different reason. "Don't you know there's nothing I want more than for you to be my girlfriend? To be able to love you the way you deserve?"

Y/N's eyes fluttered closed at that, her heart feeling fit to burst from her chest. She had spent so long forcing herself not to hope, not to read into the heated glances and lingering touches she shared with Harry. Could he truly feel the same earth-shattering connection she did?

Her eyes blinked open again at the feeling of Harry's calloused thumb brushing reverently across her rain-soaked cheek. He was staring at her with such naked adoration and longing that it stole the breath from her lungs.

"I'm so bloody gone for you, Y/N," he confessed roughly. "Have been for ages now, if I'm being honest. Thought maybe I was imagining things between us or reading too much into it since I couldn't fathom someone as incredible as you wanting a mug like me."

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, to reassure him that she wanted every infuriatingly charming part of him, but Harry pressed on before she could get the words out.

"Then today, hearing how scared you were when I got laid out...how you thought you could lose me?" He shook his head slowly, curls dripping rivulets of rainwater down the sharp planes of his face and throat. "Don't know how I didn't see it before, love. The way you care about me, put up with all my shite...it's because you love me. Isn't it?"

It wasn't really a question, more like Harry was testing the words out for the first time and savoring the way they sounded. A thrill went through Y/N at getting to be the one to put that Look of rare, hushed awe on his handsome face for once.

"Yes, Harry," she answered anyway, both hands coming up to cradle his beloved face. "I'm desperately in love with you. The good, the bad, the reckless...all of it."

A crinkly-eyed grin stretched across Harry's lips then, brighter and more vibrant than Y/N had ever seen before. He wasted no more time closing that minuscule distance between them, capturing her mouth in a searing, all-consuming kiss.

Y/N gasped against his lips as the dam finally broke, months of too-long denied want and need bubbling over in heated waves. Harry's hands slid into her soaked hair, angling her head to deepen the embrace as he licked hungrily into her mouth. Y/N clung to him just as fiercely, fingernails scraping against his scalp and shoulders as if trying to physically pull him closer.

They were both panting harshly by the time they wrenched apart, sharing the same air in the infinitesimal space between their swollen mouths. Y/N felt drugged by the glazed, predatory darkness swimming in Harry's blown pupils,by the intimate glide of their rain-drenched bodies.

"Fucking finally," he growled against her lips before diving back in, one large hand splaying possessively across the small of her back.

Y/N hummed in ardent agreement, getting lost in his dizzying taste and scent and touch once more.  It felt like a cosmic star had been reborn between them, the force of their crashing inevitability obliterating all the hurt and confusion from before.

Neither was sure how long they stayed like that, trading desperate, drugging kisses amongst the pouring rain. But eventually, Harry pulled away just enough to nose his way along Y/N's jaw, lips dragging hotly up to her ear.

"Let's get out of this downpour, hmm?" he husked, teeth grazing her shell and making her shudder. "Got some making up to do for being such a blind tosser."

Y/N pulled back just enough to catch the incandescent fire blazing in his darkened gaze. Her breath hitched at the onceiled promise flickering there, at the tips of his wicked fingers already slipping beneath the drenched hem of her top.

It seemed she wasn't the only one who had been harboring some pent-up longing and hunger.

Still, there was one loose end she couldn't resist tugging before allowing Harry to whisk them away...  "Does this mean you're finally going to start taking better care of yourself?" she asked archly, arching one pointed brow. "No more stupid, reckless stunts for my idiotically brave footballer?"

Harry audibly groaned, dropping his forehead dramatically against her clavicle as his hands flexed with bruising force against her hips.

"Whatever you want, love," he conceded gruffly. "No more injuries or shite, I swear it. Now can we please get the fuck out of here before I embarrass myself further by ravishing you in the mud right in front of my teammates?"

Y/N gave a squeak of surprise as Harry abruptly ducked to gather her up in his arms, hitching her legs around his waist in one fluid movement. He sealed his wicked promise with another lingering, molten kiss that left her head spinning.

"Now, where were we..." he growled darkly before striding determinedly off the field, Y/N clinging just as fiercely in his embrace.

The teammates' raucous catcalls and laughter faded into the rainy background as Y/N tucked her face into the curve of Harry's neck, savoring his familiar sandalwood and smoke and the feeling of being wrapped in his arms at last.

She was never letting him go again. Not if she had any say in it.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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[es-draws]

Poor thing, I know how much you've struggled to eat. I know how hard it is to fill up that little tummy of yours. How are we going to make you nice and big when you get full so very easily?

Don't you worry. I know just what you need.

✨ Capacity Training ✨

We'll start slow, of course. Go ahead and eat, until you're nice and full for me. As much as you can handle. I know you can't fit much yet, that's okay. Here, you can drink this instead. It's just water, for now. Go ahead, I know you must be thirsty after that big meal. Finish off the whole cup. Good, just like that, get it all down.

Do you feel it? All that liquid settling into your full belly? That's the secret, my dear. We're going to stretch you out. Teach your stomach to swell and expand, to grow larger and larger. Your body will learn to fit more and more of this delicious food we're going to give you. And once your stomach learns it needs to grow... well, then so will the rest of you.

This is how we'll start. I want you to have a nice big drink with every meal. You'll know you're done when you can feel all that liquid sloshing around in your middle, when you feel your tummy wobble and bounce once it's filled to the brim. Your stomach should feel like an overstretched balloon, as it's filled and overfilled with every last drop it can take. Keep that up. Drink a little more every day. It won't take long to notice the changes.

See how quickly that worked? You're eating more already. You would have never have been able to finish all this before. That's how much we've stretched you out. Your stomach is so much bigger now, trained to be filled, ready to grow even more. You've learned to eat like a prize pig. And you're ready to grow like one too.

You've done so well for me, darling. I'm so proud of how you've grown. And I think you're ready for the next step. Let's replace those drinks with some weight gain shakes, shall we?

Now that we've made you ready to eat, you're finally ready to be fattened.

[pyxxiestyxx]

Class-C

The shot glass sat in front of you, innocuous in appearance.  If you couldn't smell the tang of citrus, if you didn't catch the occasional sparkle suspended in it, you might think it mere water.

In front of you, your affini friend rested her head on her hand.  She practically bled smugness, the leaves around her neck slightly fluffed as if she was preening.  You rolled your eyes, mirroring her posture for the hell of it.

"So this is your bet?  Aren't Class-C's something on the 'dont mess with' list for terrans anyway?"

Her voice was a rolling purr as she answered, "Yes.  This is different.  A heavily diluted solution of a specific strain.  No lasting effects, just the intense feeling of a Class-C dose for about two hours."

The bet was simple: You had to make it through thirty minutes without confessing your love for her, or begging to be her floret.   She thought you couldn't do it.  You thought she was full of shit.  You had plenty of xenodrugs before, of course.  Class A's and E's were fun and relaxing, but ultimately you were still in control of things.

Shrugging nonchalantly, you picked up the shot and threw it back, the sweet flavor hitting your throat and tingling slightly as it went down.  You flipped the glass face down and slammed it onto the table, then looked up at her with a satisfying smirk.  "Easy."

Her smile only widened.  "We'll see." She flipped open her tablet and pressed a timer, starting a countdown clock.  She showed you it had thirty minutes remaining, then flipped it closed.  "No using the time you have left for rallying cries.  Just you, me, and the lovely chemicals your brain is about to be swimming in.  When the alarm rings, I'll administer the counteragent."

You scoffed, leaning back in my chair.  "You didn't even wait until it had begun to kick in?  Wow, you must really be confident."

"Oh, it begins nearly immediately.  Already the drug is interacting with those neurons, mixing in with seratonin and oxytocin and a few other things besides."

You looked at her, doubtful.  "Yeah?  Then how come I don't feel any different?"

"Sweetie, you've leaned halfway across the table already.  Move any further and you're likely to crush that shot glass you slammed down so viciously earlier." She gestured at your posture, causing you to hurriedly sit back into your chair with a blush.

"Shit, I...sorry.  Got carried away." You glanced down at the shot glass, biting your lip as you realized that you *had* been rather violent with it.  You carefully flipped it back upright, wiping the outside clean with your shirt.  "Um.  Sorry."

"Dear, did you just apologize to the glas-"

"NO!" Your face was properly red now.  Oh *stars*, you had!  You had just done something that embarrassing in front of your Best Friend and what if she thought you were silly now?  Would she not want to hang out with you?  You hoped not.  You really enjoyed her compa....wait....

Frowning, you shook your head roughly, slapping your cheeks a little.  It was just the drug.  You were in control.  The drugs were doing this.  But unlike the A or E, it was more...subtle.  or rather, it was potent, but you didn't even realize it until your best friend had pointed it out.  Gosh, she's so kind...

"Um, t-thank you for helping me remember I was drugged." The words felt good to say.  You wanted her to know how much you appreciated her after all.  So you could win the bet!

...

The bet?

"Wait, what happens if I lose?" You realized you had forgotten to ask that before.  Worried, you turned to look at her.

"Well, what would you like to happen, pet~al?" You blushed, realizing it was just like her to wait until you were...compromised before asking this.  Well, jokes on her!  You're still in control.

"Nothing!  I don't want anything to happen.  No new rules, no teasing, and no domestication.  Got it?"

She nodded, sagely.  "Of course.  In that case, I take that to mean that should you win, you'll get all of those wonderful things~"

You sputtered in shock.  "I- no! I don't want to... I'm...you can't be serious."

"Awww, is something wrong?" She smirked, her eyes flashing purples and golds in a way that made your heart melt.  "All you have to do now is lose, then~ Or are you so stubborn, you can't admit that you l~o~v~e me, flower?"

"I-I...you... fucking...."  You felt the indignation mix with the heady joy of her attention, of wanting to give into her, of wanting to beg.  She was trying to goad you.  She wanted you to win now.  She had entirely turned the rules on their head. 

But she also assumed you would take her bait.  You shook your head, biting your lip.  "I...fine.  I admit it."

"Admit what?" She had begun to rise up slightly, her hands clutching the edge of the table.  She was absolutely getting off on this.  You couldn't even meet her eyes, looking away and down.

"I love you?"

"Mmmm....I don't believe you." You could hear the smile in her voice, full of wicked glee.  "Say it louder, for one.  And look me in the eyes~ and don't be afraid to put a little more emotion in it, dearie.  This is a confession, after all~"

You whimpered, managing to drag your eyes up to meet hers.  Reluctantly, you allowed the feelings you had been fighting for several minutes now to wash over you, letting them guide your words.  "I l-love you...I need you..."

"I love you...?" She trailed off, waiting for you to complete it properly.  You wanted to scream, but instead all that came out was "Miss?"

"Dear, it's just a game.  You can use the one you want to use."

"I love you, Mommy."

"And?"

"A-and I want...I need to be your floret.  I need it, please stars I need it.  I...oh gods it's...I..." The feelings crashed through you in waves.

"Go~od job, petal.  You did it."  She slid the table out of the way, stepping into a kneel in front of you.  "You said those mushy gushy feelings!"

You nodded, pleased...until you remembered what that meant.  You weren't going to get anything now.  You had just said so.  Tears sprang up, and you had to stifle a sudden sob.  "I...it's..."

She was lifting you into her arms now, cradling you closely to her chest.  "Shhhh...petal, it's alright.  You didn't lose, silly."

"I...w-what?"

She smiled at you.  "How would love for another ever be seen as losing?  You won, silly."

You won. That made sense to you now.  Especially when She said it.  You beamed up at Her, letting Her wipe the tears away.  "I won..."

"You won!  And guess what that means, dear?"

"I'm...I'm a..."

"You're Mommy's little floret now." She tapped your nose as she cooed, causing you to giggle a bit.  A wiggling little thought in your head popped up, though.

"You tricked me, Mommy!"

"Did I?  Well, you knew we affini never play fair when it comes to cuties like you.  Awfully brave of you to make a bet with me anyway, wasn't it?  Almost like you wan~ted this, darling~" she purred at you, her eyes filled with light and warmth.  You thought you couldn't possibly blush more, but it turns out you definitely could.

"I...noooooooooo!!!  I didn't...I mean....maybe?"

"Silly little flower." She picked up her tablet, turning it back on and dismissing the timer, which had paused as soon as she had closed it.  "Now, let's get you home.  We have a contract to sign~"

[multi-fandom-imagine]

𝗣𝘂𝗺𝗽𝗸𝗶𝗻 𝗣𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵 || Dean Winchester ||

A/n: Giving Dean the life he deserved.

"H-Hey Kiddo! Stop running so fast." Dean shouted watching his daughter take off down the pumpkin patch.

"She's fine Dean, she's not going to get too far. Her legs are to small." You teased stepping beside him as his chest heaved with each breath.

"She's so fast." Dean. "Take's after me." He hummed as a smile on his face placing his hands on his hips watching his little look at each pumpkin.

Rolling your eyes you gave your husband a playful shove as he quickly tugged you to his side placing a kiss your cheek.

"You're such an ass Dean."

"You love it baby."

"Ugh."

Resting his head on your shoulder, Dean never thought he would have this life. A life free of monsters, demons and every horror he hunted since he was a child. He thought he would die a hunter, just like so many others before him.

Holding you close, he rested his chin on your shoulder keeping his gaze on his daughter. The six year old rolling a large pumpkin towards you both.

He owed this life thanks to you, thanks to meeting you. Who would have thought one little case would have changed his whole life. That he'd fall in love, meet the one of his dreams, to have a child he always craved. Sometimes he feels guilty, that he didn't deserve this life.

But waking up next to you each morning, cooking breakfast for his little girl. He missed Sammy of course, but at least his brother didn't cut him out of his life. His little girl did love her uncle Sammy after all.

"What are you thinking about?" You hummed looking up at Dean.

"Nothin." Dean placed a kiss to the side of your head, then grins lifting his daughter up in his arms. The little girl squealing with happiness. "Did ya pick the perfect pumpkin, pumpkin?"he teased.

"Daddy!!" The little girl squealed clinging to her father's neck. "Yes! This one. I want this one."

"Well anything for my princess...we'll just have to figure out-."

Taking your daughter from the mans arms, you placed a kiss to his cheek then smiled. "Have fun carrying the pumpkin Dean."

"What?! Come on babe." Dean groans as he bent down to grab the thing.

"You'll be fine Dean!, you were a hunter remember." You called out walking past various sizes, an even smaller one in your daughter's hand that she managed to snag.

Grumbling under his breath, Dean lifted the pumpkin in his arms as he trailed after you though his gaze softened watching you. He wouldn't change this life for anything.

[disneyprincemuke]

she's the man * vr dts special

what does netflix have to say about the first and only woman to make it on the grid in almost 2 decades?

warnings: danica patrick jumpscares

notes: hi im procrastinating my assignment that's due tomorrow so i'm making this for you guys <3 and this is so...? poorly written is what i'm trying to say bye

[will buxton] there is a new team on the grid: andretti's appeal to be the 11th team on the grid was approved early last year. there was a lot of talk about who they could hire in their driver lineup. nobody expected sebastian vettel, who literally just retired from being an f1 driver, to be stepping into the shoes of a race engineer. and to take a chance on a rookie driver...

what did you want me to say? she looks down at the clapperboard that's been handed over to her, lifting it up and down as she tries to ease her nervousness. [producer] introduce yourself first and we'll take it step by step from here. she nods and presses her lips together with a smile. hi. i'm driving for andretti racing for the 2023 season and i am the first female on the grid in almost 20 years.

[sebastian vettel] i... you know, i realised i have nothing to do if i don't race. so i took up the job with one exception – they allow a rookie into the team.

-> bahrain, 2023

she smiles, tapping her card onto the reader. she just waves at the crew ahead of her, cameras held up and lenses pointed directly at her as she walks alongside logan and oscar.

i'm a little nervous, of course – i didn't think i'd get this far. in all honestly, i thought f2 was the furthest i'd get when it came to racing. but i'm lucky. sebastian is taking a big gamble putting me in an f1 car this year.

[danica patrick] a woman in f1? i don't expect that will go well overall. does she even have the aggressiveness to be driving alongside these men who, for them, things like these come naturally.

-> abu dhabi, 2022

"well, would you look at that? the sole woman on the grid has made it to the podium. and that would," there's a pause from crofty, taking a deep breath as a smile spreads his lips, "award her as a runner-up in the drivers' championship slightly ahead of liam lawson. she's driven amazing all year round and it's just a wonder if she will ever make it further than formula 2 if she can produce these results at this level of racing."

[susie wolff] she's amazing behind the wheel. toto and i have watched a couple of her races over the years. it's an experience to have her around every weekend beside big household names like lewis hamilton and max verstappen. if her team can give her a good enough car to produce massive results, or she outperforms everyone's expectations this year, it could be very telling for the sport. and it sure opens a lot of opportunities for new generations of racers to come.

[sebastian vettel] well, she produces the results you'd want in a race car driver. i'd like to change the course of things around here, so there was no question that i'd vouch for her to get in a car with the best of the best. she's been in an f1 car before – with haas a while ago – so there's really not much worry about how she'll do this year. she just needs a good car to start.

[claire williams] nothing wrong with taking a chance on a rookie. but as a new team in the sport, you'd want to prove to everyone that you fought rightfully so for your spot as a new addition to the pitlane.

-> bahrain, 2023

she stands at the back of the garage. the camera zooms into the girl toying with the neckline of her fireproofs. she presses her lips together as sebastian talks to her. "so you're starting p18 tomorrow."

"oh." she looks down at the ground and purses her lips together. "well i told you: the car still felt a little difficult in the braking zones earlier. that was the best i could do without burying myself into a barrier."

"yeah, of course. that just means you'll have to work a little extra tomorrow during the race," sebastian grins. he places his hand on her shoulder to shake her gently. "you did your best today. don't even worry about it. you'll come back stronger tomorrow."

"of course. i didn't get this far just to fumble the bag at my first race."

[danica patrick] qualifying p18 as a rookie and as the sole woman in the sport... it's not a good look for either herself or the people who decided to take a chance on her.

"and that's the checkered flag. p11," sebastian says into her ears.

she sighs as she slows the car down for a cool-down lap. she lets out an exasperated sigh, shaking her head. "i could have pushed a little more to get better results. i'm sorry."

"ah, you finished ahead of a lot of people and you climbed 7 places on the track. it's a good first race."

[will buxton] right now, it seems that not everyone is fond of having a woman on the grid. that's very prominent in the fan side of things. but a lot of people are forgetting that she raced with some of the big names that people know today and was on par with them in the results growing up.

[oscar piastri] well, we go way back. you know, growing up karting together and constantly being in competition with one another, i think really encouraged her to stay in the sport. when we moved up to f3 from formula renault, she kinda got left behind to stay. so when i was poached by prema to race into f2, i suggested that they give her a chance.

well, i was up there fighting with oscar and logan, and occasionally liam, for good results during karting races and eventually in formula renault. the only disadvantage i had compared to them was that i'm a girl. you know, growing up, i would constantly be told that i wouldn't get very far cause this is a boy's sport. that really does discourage you from wanting and thinking that i'd get into official leagues, but i owe it to my best friends for pushing me to dream bigger and retain the passion i had for racing.

[logan sargeant] i mean... she kinda did hand me my ass every single time we were out on the track. if that doesn't tell people that she's a good racer, i'm unsure what will.

[zak brown] it was, truthfully, down to her and oscar for who should come in and drive for mclaren. but we weren't sure if the risks to bring her in would be worth it. so we went with the safer option.

[james vowles] i know a couple different teams – i'm definitely not namedropping – who were eyeing her for her performance last year. prema did a very good job marketing her as their driver as well so there's an extra factor. she's lovely.

-> australia, 2023

"oh, andretti's rookie passes the flag ahead of the alpha tauri and puts her in the points!" there's cheering in the grandstands, and nobody can believe their eyes at the results of the purple race car. "you see it here first – she is the first woman, in decades, to score points to formula 1"

"that's p9! there's your first points in formula 1!"

"oh? oh my fucking god! i did it!"

scoring your first points as a formula 1 driver... it's a very big feat as a rookie. but it means even more when you're in my position.

she runs to where sebastian stands, helmet in her hands. she screams as her team erupts in cheers at the sight of her sprinting towards them and she pumps her fists into the air.

"i did it!" she screams, immediately surrounded by the personnel clad in the bright andretti purple. "i scored my first points!"

she's seen in the middle of their makeshift circle, thrown around by her team as they bask in their first achievement in the sport and of the year. she's seen with tears running down her cheeks briefly before sebastian pulls her in for a very tight hug.

"i told you everything will be fine. you just had to be patient, kid."

[sebastian vettel] scoring points alone is already a step in the right direction. now we just need to focus on being consistent race after race.

-> azerbaijan, 2023

"there's a yellow flag here in lap 40. we're waiting to hear who it was caused by," the camera pans to the car head first into the barriers at a turn, "and it seems to be an andretti."

when you crash front first out of a turn, it's like the rudest jumpscare a person could have. it's nothing to do with the car – it was straight up a driver error.

[sebastian vettel] no driver wants to crash their car during a race and then admit to the whole world that it was their fault. especially when you're in her position, you know? the statement she released and choosing to be honest about it being a driver error – it was her decision to handle it that way. personally... he giggles with a smile. i wouldn't have done that.

[will buxton] she only seems to be getting better and better every single weekend.

-> monaco, 2023

"that's another finish in the points, kid. good race. that's p5 for you."

"thank you. the car felt great this weekend."

-> singapore, 2023

"here we have the andretti rookie in her engineer and mentor's arms, on a very historical evening. she has just scored her first podium this weekend at the singapore grand prix."

she jumps as she's in sebastian's arms, her face buried in his chest. she is seen pulling away slightly from him and he grabs her face, "amazing– you were amazing, kid! congratulations!"

tears, again, roll down her cheeks as she nods at his statement. her chest heaves as she cries. "thank you. oh, my goodness. thank you."

"there's no words. just that you were amazing this weekend."

a hand lands on her back. she turns around and covers her face as she fights the biggest grin. "you beat me in f1, mate!"

the australian accent fills her ears as he congratulates her. oscar takes her into his arms, resting his chin on her shoulder as they lock themselves in a tight embrace. he rubs circles on her back. "congrats on the podium, mate."

[danica patrick] now they're in a weird spot. oscar, on one hand, has been backed by mark webber for years. his best friend is racing under sebastian vettel. everybody knows those two don't get along – is it possible that it could reflect on their friendship as well?

-> silverstone, 2023

"overtake available." her andretti, slowly inches towards the mclaren of oscar's up ahead. "whenever you see fit."

"what's the gap?" oscar huffs, head snapping over to his side mirror briefly.

"0.2."

at the next turn, she takes a big lunge on the inside of the track to go ahead of oscar.

"there's a bit of fighting at the midfield here between a mclaren and an andretti. oscar piastri, however, does not let her go. he is still fighting to hopefully finish ahead of her in today's race."

"keep the pace. try to shake oscar off, he's still close behind you."

"noted."

racing on the track with oscar? nothing i haven't done before.

[oscar piastri] she's always been great at keeping up and being a challenging competitor on the track.

[logan sargeant] she's very fast on and off the track. i rarely beat her in racing... so...

"oscar piastri takes the checkered flag behind the andretti, failing to fight with the incredible pace the new car has shown this weekend."

in parc ferme, the girl takes her helmet off, turning around sharply to the man in papaya orange as he lifts himself out of the car. "good fight, mate."

"good fight," oscar smiles. they share a quick hug before the younger girl briefly runs away from him to approach logan further down the lane.

[danica patrick] we've seen what the sport does to friends. it does not matter how long you've been friends – it will eventually catch up to you and everybody involved.

-> austin, 2023

"the andretti finished in p5 and logan sargeant has just been promoted to p10 following the disqualification of charles leclerc and lewis hamilton. oscar, however, retires from the race following a crash with esteban ocon."

i don't beat oscar often – so whenever the rarity comes up, i take it with open arms.

"ah, screw you mate," oscar laughs, throwing his arms around the younger girl once again. "good finish."

she flips her hair as she pulls away and bats her eyelashes. "what can i say? i'm made for formula 1."

[sebastian vettel] they're sweet kids. i don't think there is any animosity between them. they lived together while they karted weekend after weekend. they're used to it... i think.

we've fought about things like these growing up. oh, for sure. we're both the oldest siblings – so the competition never ends between us.

[oscar piastri] she is very competitive. she's only fair when it comes to racing on the track though. everything else, she finds a way to come out on top.

-> oxford, 2023 (winter break)

"i won."

logan turns to look at her, eyebrows furrowed. "no, you didn't."

now stood up, the girl looked down at logan with a mirrored bewildered expression on her face. "yes, i did."

"no," logan repeats with his eyebrows raised, "you did not."

she clenches her jaw. "yes, i did."

"dude." logan turns to look at oscar, sitting across the table from them. their gazes all land on the card that she puts in the middle. "that's a yellow card that you coloured over with red marker. you lost – just admit it."

"what do you mean? that's a legit card." she lifts it up and reveals to the camera a card that's been poorly coloured red with some scratches that reveal the authenticity of the yellow that logan had just pointed out.

[logan sargeant] she's such a sore loser.

-> abu dhabi, 2023

"that's the andretti of the rookie driver crossing the finish line in p4, and that puts her in 6th place in the driver's championship. we might just be at the start of history being made, folks."

[sebastian vettel] what can i say? i'm never wrong with who i place my bets on.

[danica patrick] she proved a lot of people wrong this year, including me. she is an exciting up and coming driver.

she shrugs with a smug grin on her face. oh, i'm here to stay, babes.

andretti has secured her with a multi-year contract with the team – she will be racing under them until 2028.

the clapperboard clicks loudly, a man sits there with a cheeky grin as he stares into the camera. i'm liam lawson and i'm now an andretti race car driver. see you on the track in 2024.

– bonus

"aw, mate! they totally twisted that whole scene up!" she scoffs, throwing a small pillow at the tv screen. "dalton was the one that coloured that uno card in. not me!"

oscar turns to her. "yet you still used it despite the fact that we agreed to not use it in games anymore."

"the game would not have been fair if we were missing one card!"

logan scoffs. "we let you win, anyway."

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @nikfigueiredo @namgification @happy-nico @darleneslane @littlesatanicassholebitch @localwhoore @sadg3 @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @inejismywife @love4lando

[hoshigray]

Pleasurable Practice

Here's what I got: when you're left in headquarters to study for an upcoming language skit, your boss and work crush, Miguel O'Hara, does what he can to help his subordinate. And he does, in more ways than one...

A/n: It's been a week since I saw the film in theaters, and my brain hasn't been the same. I tried very hard not to write for this man, but here we are. Sighhhh, I swear I wasn't this bad when playing EoT (curse you Oscar Issac, and the ATSV art department!!!). And it doesn't help that my social feeds are full of him...Anyway, I hope you enjoy this piece! It's WAY longer than I wanted, but I guess that's meant to show how much fun I had writing, hehehe~. Also, ty so so much for 600+ followers!!

Cw: Miguel x fem!reader - some ATSV spoilers so tread carefully - sexual context so minors DNI - fingering (fem! receiving) - cunnilingus - clitoral play (Miguel's fangs lightly brush your clit, but doesn't bite it) - praise - kisses on the stomach - pet names (amorcito/little love, mi alma/my soul; amor/my love; vida/my life) - sexual acts in public - outside intrusions, but you two don't get caught.

Wc: 2.8k

"Hey, Lyla. You sure you wanna leave me here?"

"Aww, you scared something would happen without me?" She chuckles when you shrug. "You'll be fine; everything's been taken care of for today. If something pops outta nowhere, you know where to find Miguel or give me a call. Alright, I'm outta here. Cya tomorrow~."

"Bye, Lyla~" With that, the pixelated woman signs off from your line of sight, and you slump into your chair with a sigh.

It's late at night in Nueva York. The Spider Society headquarters is still active, but fewer people occupy the halls and sectors in these late hours, you being one of them. You're sitting at a conference table by the teleportation room, taking in Margo's shift. But since things are quiet around here, you use this time to work on your homework.

Well, you would've if a pair of hands didn't suddenly come from behind and blocked your vision. "Guess who?"

You shake your head with a smile. "Aren't you supposed to be at Earth-50101 hanging with Gwen and Pav?"

The hands are removed, giving your shoulders a quick rub. "Can't say a quick bye before I'm off?" Hobie Brown walks from behind to sit on the table, avoiding the scattered papers on the surface. "What's all this? School?"

"Yeah," You pick up a paper with color-coordinated dialogues. " I got a reflection to finish and need to read this script for a skit in my modern language class on Wednesday."

"What language?"

"Spanish." You flip the script for him to look at. A giggle slips from you. "Suppose you can't help me, huh?"

Hobie grins. "Yo lo haría si pudiera." Your eyes go big. Of course, the guy who "doesn't believe in consistency" would know a thing or two about other languages.

".....Please stay and help me."

"Can't, perhaps next time." Another heavy sigh as the tall other gets up from the table and opens a portal to Pavitr's universe. "We'll save some snacks to bring back tomorrow. See ya then."

"Bye, Hobie." You groan with your head meeting the table surface as the portal vanishes with Hobie's dismissal. In despair, you lift your head up and proceed with your work.

It's about 11 p.m., and you were able to finish your paper in about two hours. It's now time to work on your Spanish script. Unfortunately, your class partner can't be here (obviously) to say his lines with you, but you two promised to highlight your lines and recite on your own downtime. So you follow through with the blue lines — your lines — avoiding the red lines and announcing all the words to the best you can.

After the third time around, you start to get to the rhythm of it. So in tune with what you're doing, you don't mind your surroundings as you circle around the table with your face glued to your script.

"What're you doing?"

However, it all comes to a halt when a voice startles you. So used to the silence and your own tone that you didn't notice a familiar man creep from behind you. Your eyes widen at the tall and well-built figure before you.

Miguel O'Hara, Spider-Man 2099 and the leader of the Spider Society — your boss who you have a major crush on and is still waiting for you to reply after nearly scaring you to death.

"O-Oh, Miguel, umm," you quickly straighten yourself up, but the heat in your face encroaches. "Sorry, didn't see ya there. I was just looking at this script."

"A script?" He slightly tilts his head, surveying your moves as you sit back at the table. He follows and peers behind your shoulder to see what you're working on. "For what?"

"It's for a skit in my Spanish class. I'm reciting my lines for Wednesday." He nods at your answer, glancing around to see you're alone. "Lyla signed off for a while, but she told me to tell you that if you 'need anyone to put a leash on you,' Jessica would answer the call."

The man narrowed his eyes and sucked his teeth, "of course she said that..." was all he murmured under his breath from his pixelated peer's words. With a heavy sigh, he turns back to the paper in your hand and extends out his. His silent request is answered when you pass him the sheet to skim. A brow is lifted. "Is the skit like some kind of married couple or—"

You confirm. "Yes. Our unit is on relationships, and my partner and I wanted to do a skit where the husband — my partner — comes home and surprises his wife with their favorite flower and then gives a nice speech on how much he loves her." Miguel still reads the script, but you continue on. "Luckily, our instructor said it's not our final where it's required to talk entirely in Spanish. So, we can say some English phrases or words if our brains go blank."

Miguel finally stops examining the script and eyes at you. "I can help."

Huh? "Excuse me?"

"You're the blue lines, right?" Correct. "Then I can be the red lines and help you practice."

Wait, no! "Oh no, there's no need for that, Miguel! I'm sure you're busy looking at the screens on your station and—"

"No pasa nada, Y/n," You gulp when he grabs a chair and sits close to you. "I'll say your partner's parts, and you reply with yours." There's no use in arguing with him out of this, so you just follow suit.

For the past thirty minutes, you and Miguel have been practicing. Sometimes he'll call you out on words you forget or mispronounce, which hurts your little heart being scolded like a child. But then there are times when he praises you for saying something correctly without second-guessing, or he'll ask for a pen to scratch off something and write a better phrase for you to say. And you can tell that your memorization's been improving thanks to his help. Maybe there was no need to be nervous.

The time is now 11:46, and you feel way more confident about this skit than before. Miguel can also tell by how much you've performed that you'll do fine on Wednesday. Guess that should do it. He puts the script down and gets up, heading back to his original post.

"Hey, wanna do the actual skit with me?"

Huh? "What?"

"Well, I was thinking," You squeak. "Maybe we can try acting out the skit without the paper now that I'm kinda getting the hang of it? But, I mean, that's only if you're okay with it, ya know..."

His brows trench down. Miguel knows he shouldn't do it; there are many universes in his post that he needs to keep an eye on in case anything pops off. He can't afford to just act out a scenario for some class. However, when he glances back at you, he faces mixed feelings. Your eyes look at his, nibbling on your bottom lip, and your fingers fidget with each other as you wait for his answer.

Miguel knows he shouldn't...but it won't hurt to comply this one time.

"Fine," your heart skips when he turns back to face you fully. "But don't mention it to Lyla or Jess. I'll never hear the end of it from those two."

"Of course!" You reassure him as you ready yourself, mentally calming the happiness brewing inside down. "You go."

He nods and plays the scene. He acts like he opens a door and holds an imaginary object. "Estoy en casa, cariño."

"Oh, bienvenido a casa, bebé!" You rush to Miguel and give him a hug. You feel him go rigid, and you freeze. Wait, he's still my boss and not my actual partner! Oh, God, I bet he regrets doing this now...Ughhh!! Commit now, cry later!

You quickly improvise and pull him by his spider suit to come close, placing pretend kisses on his cheeks. "Llegas pronto a casa, mi guapo muñeco. Is something wrong?"

Miguel stares at you for a few seconds before he blinks and coughs. "Ahem, Querida, vine temprano porque es tu cumpleaños. Y quería darte esto." The hand with the invisible object comes up, and you take it.

"Dios mío, ¿mi flor favorita en mi día especial?" You give the man a warm smile and place a hand on his cheek, stroking his skin lovingly. Miguel hitches his breath. "Eres demasiado buena conmigo, muñeco. Pero no tenías que regalarme nada."

It takes Miguel a moment, but he coughs once more and returns to the task. "Puede que la flor no fuera necesaria, pero tenía que conseguirla para ti, mi amor." He puts a hand on yours that's still on his cheek, now it's your turn to slow your breathing. "Cada vez que veo esta flor, sólo puedo pensar en ti. No sólo hoy, sino todos los días. Veo todo lo que haces por mí y nunca lo doy por sentado. You are my everything, Y/n. Tú eres mi mundo. Mi luz. Mi corazón. Mi… Mi…"

He stops, noticing your expression and shallow breaths. Your eyes never leave his, mouth agape, and your attention entirely on his words— no, on him. Even in this little act, you dare not move or say something out of turn. Listening to the man before you intently, your hand still in his.

He knows he shouldn't, but Miguel leans into you, and a small gasp leaves you before his lips press onto your soft ones. "....Mi alma."

Your brain short-circuits, the feel of his lips overtaking you. You awkwardly kiss him back, resulting in a moan from Miguel. He grabs your waist while pushing himself forward, making you walk backwards until you hit the table. The bump has you two break the kiss, forcing you back to reality.

Miguel says nothing, and so do you, your eyes honing in on his deep red orbs. Your thoughts go too fast that your head pounds. What? What was that? Did he mean to do that??

"Túmbate."

He captures your attention. "What?"

"Lie down, mi amor." He commands in a stern voice. Hesitance restrains you, yet you still follow orders and sit on the table with your back to the surface. A small smile creeps up on Miguel, and he leans down to plant more kisses on your sweet lips. "Good. Now, say your part."

Slow smooches from your chin to your neck leave you breathless. Although the heat in your face is unbearable, you play along and stick to the script. "My wonderful husband...Y...You are so thought—"

"Se supone que está en español, Y/n." He corrects you. Lifting your shirt to reveal your abdomen. Miguel kisses your exposed tummy while his hand snakes past your bottoms, pressing a finger down on the wet spot of your clothed vulva. Your toes curl as your first moan leaves puffy lips. "Try again."

You intake a deep breath. "Ere...Eres muy considerado con—Mmmm....conmigo." Your bottoms and undergarments are now off, your bare cunt out for Miguel to see. The older man props your legs upward with both hands as he brings his face close to your pussy. He lightly blows on it, and you bite your lip from the cold air. "Keep going, mi vida."

"Cuando....no haya luz en mi—Oooh!!" Miguel flicks your clitoris with his tongue before nestling it between your soaked folds, sucking and laving your essence. "Nnnmp! Mi-Miguel, I can't do thisss...Your tongue, it feels so, so—Oh Christ..."

His ruby eyes peek at your face. "But you were doing just fine, Y/n." The way he says your name feels so sinful, so forbidden. But so pleasing to the ears. "Repeat it."

His tongue goes back to torment your slit. The risque noises the wet muscle makes with your slick-covered chasm ring your eardrums. Ecstatic whimpers fill the space around you, and you grab tufts of Miguel's brown hair when his tongue flicks your clit again. He's impatient, so you concede.

"Cuando no haya luz en mi vida....Haaaahhh, sé que estarás ahí para protegerme." Miguel pushes your tender bud against his teeth. His canine brushing on your pearl, causing you to jerk. "Eres mi sombra...Mi—Ahhhh!....escudo....Mi rey."

He chortles, "Good job, mi alma."

Satisfied with your cooperation, the man sucks on your precious sex as his forefinger nestles between your folds, your slick providing lubricant to naturally push his digit through your entrance. You jolt with a sharp cry, tears falling from your beautiful face.

His tongue and fingers go faster, and your release climbs higher with every lick. The stimulation of your poor cunt and clitoris is hardcore that you come in a few seconds, the walls of your chasm fluttering around Miguel's fingers coated with your personal fluids.

Your heavy pants slow down to steady your body that subsides from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Miguel withdraws his mouth and fingers from you, standing upright to take in your figure.

He scoffs with a tiny grin, licking his lips. "Amorcito."

You open your mouth to say something, but a flash of colors and shapes captures the attention of both of you. Your eyes go wide. Oh no, someone's coming!

With haste, you immediately grab for your bottoms and underwear before taking cover under the conference table, using it to quickly put your clothes back on before someone enters through the portal. That someone was Jessica Drew, making her arrival known by revving her motorbike.

"Jess," Miguel puts on his usually serious face. But on the inside, he's almost as nervous as you. Because he swiftly pulls a chair out to cover his erection lower regions.

"Hey, Miguel! I thought I'd find you here." The woman addresses him when she's done a lap around the table. Her portal vanishes from the scene. "I've been trying to call you through your watch. You not wearing it?"

He looks down at his wrist where it was supposed to be. "...I was using the restroom, so I left it on my station."

"Mmm, I figured." Jessica then notices the paper and backpack on the table. "This is Y/n's stuff, right? Where are they?"

"R-Right here, Jess!" To her surprise, you come out from the table with your bottoms fully secured. "Sorry, I was looking for my pen before packing up." You smile to ease the awkward tension and your racing heart.

"Oh, okay then." Jessica nods to your words and turns to Miguel. "Anyway, I was calling you up because I need backup. The guy I was dealing with somehow switched places with another villain. Took care of the other one, but my guy's elsewhere."

He hums. "Lyla."

"That's me." The yellow-pixelated woman with pink heart-shaped glasses appears once more.

"Where are the coordinates of the anomaly Jess was handling?"

"I'm sorry, you want me to do what?"

"...."

"What's the magic word?" The tiny woman teases him while you and Jessica hold in your laughs.

Miguel's brows furrow with a slight pout. "....Canyoupleasesend—"

"Woah, woah, woah," Lyla gets closer to his face with each word, raising his irritation as she does so. "Little too fast there."

"Can you please give us the co—"

"Already gave it to Jess."

"Then what was the point—"

"You know how much I love to pester ya," her smile doesn't help squander his frustration, not when he also hears the exchanged giggles between you and Jessica. "And call that payback for not having your watch on you."

To avoid their eyes seeing Miguel's situation, he leaves and fetches his watch quickly after being repeatedly teased by the two women. He returns ready with his mask on and the device on his wrist. Lyla and Jess are waiting for him, same with you and all your stuff packed up. It's 12 in the morning now, you have to get home. "Ready?"

"Yup, see ya there." The woman on her bike starts it up. Lyla disappears when the dimension is opened. "Bye, Y/n!"

"Bye, Jess!" You wave goodbye to the woman, who does one final lap before entering the portal to her new destination. And now you're back to being alone with Miguel, who you find looking at you. You gulp and say your thoughts. "Don't worry, I didn't tell them! And, sorry that it happened. I was being a little too close to you in the first—"

"Hey." Miguel lifts a hand to stop you from rambling on further, and you listen. "Your skit. When is it again?"

It takes you aback that he asks, but you still reply. "Wednesday?"

"Hm. Alright then." And with that, he walks to the portal to his next mission. But before he exits, he peers from his shoulder and proclaims something.

"Tell me how you did on Wednesday, then we'll continue with this talk."

[natsaffection]

Hii I’ve been a fan of your writing for awhile and loveeee it 🫣. I’ve never sent a smut request before but could you do something like, jealous nat with a totally oblivious to flirting reader. Like nat goes all “I’m gonna show you who you belong to” with reader and they’re like “no keep going I like this side of you” include like overstimulation and bondage with spanking plssss🙏🏻

LMAO it’s been rattling in my mind for a bit😭. If you do decide to write it, thank you so much!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼

Lesson. | N.R

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! Bondage, spanking, ending, begging, vibrator use multiple orgasm, overstimulating, Kinda possessive Nat 🧍🏻‍♀️

Word Count: 1,9k

A/N: I said it once, I’m saying it again..Overstimulating is my weakness..🫠

The party was in full swing at Avengers Tower, the room filled with laughter and conversation. You moved gracefully through the crowd, your charm and wit drawing people to you like a magnet. You were a natural speaker, effortlessly making jokes and compliments that made everyone smile.

Natasha, leaning against the bar, kept an eye on you. Your friendly nature was one of the things she loved most about you, but tonight a hint of jealousy gnawed at her. She noticed how people's eyes lit up when you spoke to them, how their smiles lingered a bit too long.

As you chatted animatedly with Wanda, making her giggle with one of your clever remarks, Natasha's eyes narrowed slightly. She trusted you, of course, she did, but something primitive and possessive flared up inside her.

"You always know how to light up a room," Wanda said, grinning. "What's your secret?" You laughed, your eyes sparkling. "Just being myself, Wanda. It's all about confidence and a good sense of humor." Wanda nodded appreciatively. "Well, you certainly have plenty of that."

Natasha's grip on her drink tightened. She loved seeing you happy and in your element, but tonight your interactions with others felt a bit too intimate. As you moved on to chat with Carol, Natasha decided she had seen enough.

You were just making Carol chuckle. "So, Carol, tell me more about your last mission. Did you really take out an entire fleet on your own?" Carol laughed. "Well, I had a bit of help, but yeah, most of it was me." You playfully nudged her. "Of course, it was. You're amazing."

As you moved back towards the bar, Natasha grabbed your arm and pulled you close. "Are you having fun?" she asked, her voice low and controlled but with a sharpness you couldn't miss.

You smiled and tilted your head. "Just being friendly, Nat." Natasha's grip tightened slightly. "Friendly, huh? I think you've been more than just friendly." Your eyes sparkled mischievously. "Are you jealous?" Natasha's eyes darkened, a smile playing on her lips. "Should I remind you who you belong to?“

Your breath caught, excitement flooding your veins. "Oh, I like this side of you," you whispered, leaning closer. "Remind me then, Natasha."

Natasha's green eyes burned with intensity. "You think you can flirt with anyone you want?" she murmured, her lips brushing your ear. "You belong to me. Don't forget that."

You shuddered, a mix of anticipation and desire flooding your senses. "I belong to you, Natasha. Always." Natasha's eyes softened slightly, but the intensity remained. "Good. Because I don't like sharing."

"I don't either," you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. Then, with a cheeky grin, you added, "But I love seeing you jealous. It's kind of hot."

Natasha's expression hardened, and her grip on your arm became more possessive. "Oh, you're asking for it now," she growled, pulling you even closer.

Your heart raced, but you couldn't help it. "Go on. I like this side of you," you teased, your voice dripping with challenge.

Natasha's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and desire. "Is that so?" she said, her voice low and dangerous. "Then you'll get exactly what you've asked for."

Instead of heeding Natasha's warning, you pulled away with a playful grin. "We'll see about that.." you said, diving back into the crowd.

Natasha watched, her jaw clenching as you continued mingling with people. You made your way to Maria, complimenting her new tactical suit, and then to Cho, laughing over a shared joke. Every interaction was accompanied by lingering touches and meaningful glances in Natasha's direction.

Your eyes frequently sought out Natasha, gauging her reaction. You could see her knuckles whiten around her drink, the possessive fire in her eyes growing. When you finally reached Pepper and praised her leadership skills, leaning a little too close, Natasha had enough.

Natasha's anger exploded. She stormed across the room, grabbed your arm, and pulled you away mid-sentence from Pepper. "Natasha!" Pepper called out in surprise. "Excuse us, Pepper," Natasha said, her voice tense. "I need to have a word with my girlfriend."

Your heart pounded with a mix of fear and excitement as Natasha dragged you into a secluded hallway. Natasha pressed you against the wall, her eyes blazing with anger.

"You think this is a game?" Natasha hissed, her face just inches from yours. "You think you can flirt with everyone and get away with it?"

Your breath caught, but you couldn't suppress the smile on your lips. "I knew it would get a reaction out of you," you said, your voice breathless. "And I loved every second of it." Natasha's grip on your arms tightened. "You belong to me. No one else has you."

"I know," you whispered, your eyes locking onto Natasha's. "And I wouldn't have it any other way." Natasha's eyes darkened further, a steely determination in her gaze. "You need to learn not to challenge me," she said, her voice low and dangerous.

Before you could respond, Natasha spun you around and began marching you towards the elevator. You rode up in tense silence, the tension between you palpable. As the doors to their floor opened, Natasha pulled you firmly towards her room.

Natasha shoved the door open and practically dragged you inside, slamming it shut behind her. She turned you around, pressing you against the wall with a fierce look in her eyes.

"You think you can challenge me and get away with it?" Natasha hissed, her face inches from yours. Your breath quickened, your excitement mingling with a hint of fear. "Natasha, I—"

"Enough," Natasha interrupted, her voice commanding. She pulled you away from the wall and led you to the bed. "You need to be reminded who you belong to."

Natasha sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you over her lap in one swift motion. Your heart pounded as Natasha's hand rested on your backside, the anticipation building.

"You will count," Natasha instructed, her voice firm. "And you will thank me for each one." You nodded, your voice trembling slightly. "Yes, Natasha."

The first smack came down hard, the sound echoing in the room. You gasped, the pain sharp and immediate. "One... Thank you, Natasha."

Another smack, harder this time. Your body jerked at the impact. "Two... Thank you, Natasha.."

Natasha's hand continued to come down, each smack leaving a burning sensation. Your breath hitched with each one, your voice growing shakier.

"Three... Thank you, Natasha..."

"Four... Thank you, Natasha."

By the tenth smack, your resolve broke, your voice barely more than a whisper. "Ten... Thank you, Natasha..." Natasha paused, her hand resting gently on your reddened skin. "Do you understand now?" she asked, her voice deep and intense. "You belong to me. No one else."

"Y-Yes..," you whispered, your voice filled with submission and arousal. "I understand. I'm sorry.."

"Good." Natasha helped you to your feet, her expression softening slightly. "Now, for your next lesson." Natasha positioned you on your back. She retrieved a set of soft but secure restraints from the bedside drawer and bound your wrists to the headboard.

"Do you remember your safeword?" Natasha asked, her eyes locking onto yours with a serious look. "Yes," you replied, your voice firm. "It's 'red.'"

"Good," Natasha said, her voice softening for a moment. "If it gets too much, you use it." Natasha's fingers glided over your body, teasing and caressing. "You've been a naughty girl," she murmured. "And naughty girls need to learn a lesson."

Your heart raced as Natasha's hands roamed over your body, teasing and caressing. Natasha's touch was both gentle and commanding, driving you almost mad with anticipation.

Natasha leaned down, her lips brushing your ear. "I'll make sure you never forget who you belong to, Detka..I’m going to love this.." she whispered.

Natasha then retrieved a small vibrator from the nightstand, turned it on, and let the soft hum fill the room. She brought it to your most sensitive spot, teasing and stroking with expert precision. You gasped, your body arching in response. "Natasha... please..." you moaned, your voice filled with need.

"Not yet," Natasha said firmly, increasing the intensity of her touch. "You'll take everything I give you." Natasha continued her relentless teasing, bringing you to the edge of release only to pull back at the last moment. You writhed against the restraints, your body begging for release. "Natasha, P-Please!!"

"Not until I say so," Natasha replied, her voice unyielding. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Natasha allowed you to tip over the edge, your body shuddering with the force of your release. Natasha continued to touch you until you were a quivering, gasping mess.

"One more for flirting with Wanda," Natasha whispered, bringing the vibrator back to your overstimulated spot. Your eyes widened, your body tensing as you were driven towards another climax. "Wait, please, I can't..." you whimpered, your voice breaking.

Natasha paused, leaning close and looking deeply into your eyes. Her hand gently stroked your hair as she spoke softly but firmly “You know you can always use your safeword, right?” You nodded, your breath catching. “Yes..”

“Good,” Natasha said, her voice softening for a moment. “But until you do, you’ll take everything I give you.” With that, she resumed her relentless teasing, the vibrator pressing against your sensitive spot. Your body convulsed with another orgasm, your voice breaking into a cry. Natasha didn’t relent, the vibrator continuing its torturous work.

“And this one is for Carol,” Natasha continued, her voice deep and commanding. “You’ll remember this.” You struggled against the restraints, your body trembling with the intensity of your third orgasm. Tears welled in your eyes, your voice hoarse from moaning.

“F-FUCK! Please! I-I get it..!” you whimpered, your voice barely more than a whisper. “One more for Pepper,” Natasha said, her tone unyielding. “You wanted my attention, and now you have it.”

Your body was a trembling wreck, your senses overwhelmed as Natasha drove you to another peak. The overstimulation was almost too much to bear, your mind reeling.

Natasha slowed her movements slightly, letting you catch your breath but never completely stopping. She lay beside you, her hand gently stroking your hair and keeping the vibrator in place.

“Do you know why I’m doing this?” Natasha asked quietly, her voice filled with a mix of authority and care, her eyes locked on yours.

“Y-Yes, please im s-sorry..” you stuttered, your body trembling with sensitivity.

“Tell me,” Natasha demanded, her fingers continuing their relentless teasing. “B-Because I… I flirted with them, to..make you jealous..“ you gasped, your voice shaking.

“That’s right,” Natasha said, her voice softening slightly as she brought you to another climax. “And you’ll remember it.”

Your body convulsed again, your screams growing louder as Natasha held you on the edge, not letting go. Each wave of pleasure was more intense than the last, pushing you beyond your limits.

“Please, I can’t… it’s too much..!“ you begged, tears streaming down your face. Natasha leaned down, her lips brushing your ear. “You can always use your safeword,” she whispered, her eyes boring into yours.

With that, Natasha drove you to another climax, your body convulsing violently. Natasha held you close, grounding you as the intense pleasure washed over you.

When Natasha finally stopped, she turned off the vibrator and released your wrists, pulling you into a tender embrace. “Do you understand now?” she whispered, her voice soft and loving.

“Y-Yes, yes i do, i-I’m sorry..” you replied, your voice hoarse. “I understand. I’m sorry..”

“Good,” Natasha said, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Never forget it.” As you lay together, Natasha continued to stroke your hair, her eyes filled with a mix of love and authority.

[concretejunglefm]

Wonderland.

Summary: You wanted so badly to be in the studio with Noah while he's working but couldn't keep quiet when he asked you to. You obviously wanted to be part of the song you were being so loud, well now here you go.

CW: smut including fingering (f receiving), praising, use of a toy (bullet), illusions towards exhibitionism, overstimulation and multiple orgasms.

Dividers: Silent-stories.

AN: this is a series in collaboration with @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard which the masterlist of can be found here.

Tagged: @fadingangelwisp @blade-dressed-in-red @deathblacksmoke @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @lacy1986lacy1986 @ichoosetenderomens (lmk if you'd like to be tagged)

Smut below the cut 🔞 Minors DNI.

"Can we get another take for that part, Jol?" Noah asks, leaning away from the mic before coming closer as the music starts.

You're sitting beside Matt on the couch Noah has in the studio, watching in awe as he does his thing. It's a talent you find yourself constantly captivated by, but as you hear Matt utter a comment in your ear, you can't help but let out a giggle, quickly holding your hand up to your mouth and covering it as Noah comes to a stop again, clearing his throat with an obvious disgruntled sound.

"Sorry." You wince and press your lips together in another attempt not to laugh as Matt stifles his own.

"I said that you could be in here so long as you were quiet and you." He fixes Matt with a glare. "Should know better."

Matt raises his hands in mock surrender while you lift your own, bringing two fingers against the side of your head in a playful salute. "Yes, boss." It led both you and Matt into laughing once more, and with a sigh, Noah steps back from the mic.

“Alright, we'll wrap it up for today." Noah declares to Jolly, joining him in checking over the saved files before ushering him out of the room, followed by Matt.

"What? Come on, baby. I said I was sorry. I promise to be quiet this time." You try to sway his decision, but he's already sending his friends off and leaving you alone in his studio as he says his goodbyes.

It wasn't the first time that you'd made a sound or been told by him to be quiet. You knew how important his music was to him, how focused he became in these moments, and you felt a twinge of guilt that you had caused him to derail those plans for the day.

Getting up from the couch, you look over to Noah as he re-enters the studio, instantly addressing you as you walk towards him.

"Uh, where do you think you're going?"

"I thought you were finished?"

"With them, yes. But I haven't even gotten started with you yet."

It took a moment to process his words before you recognized the flicker of something in his eyes. It wasn't annoyance, at least not anymore; his frustration had pooled with another kind: arousal.

"Oh." The look he gives you alone is enough to make you squeeze your thighs together, feeling the familiar tingle in your stomach at the thought of what's to come as a smirk breaks out across Noah's face.

"Yeah, oh. Now take a seat. We're going to try this again." He gestures you back to the couch, gripping you by your shoulders as he guides you backwards towards it and once dropping down into it, he uses his foot to gently spread apart your legs and grabs the nearby desk chair, pulling towards him and sitting there before rolling himself close to you.

"You understand how important this is, don't you?" He asks, pushing his knees between your legs to prevent you from closing them as he leans forward and lays his hands on your thighs, stroking slowly up along them.

"Of course, baby." You reach out to lay your hands on his arms, giving them a reassuring squeeze. Your intention hadn't been to disturb him.

"So you'll understand that we have to keep going until we get this take right, won't you?"

"Yes!"

"Good, because I'm going to need your help."

You feel his hands slipping further up your thighs until they're pushing beneath your Bad Omens hoodie that you wear at home out of comfort and warmth, and he's undoing your jeans, quick to tug them down. Any words you were about to say are cut off as he pulls your jeans off and tosses them aside, leaving you in just your panties from the waist down, but they're soon slipped from you too as he grips your legs and spreads them, pushing you further down into the couch so you're fully on display for him.

"Good girl." You hear him utter under your breath, and it makes you gasp as you feel yourself growing wetter from just the soft praise alone.

Noah's fingers idly stroke along your inner thighs while he hums softly, the melody sounding familiar to the one which had been playing during his recording session. "Now, I need you to be good and hold your legs like this for me, okay?"

"O..okay." You nod and follow his gentle guidance as he takes your hands and brings them beneath your thighs, making you keep yourself spread out for him.

When he stands up, he leans down and captures your mouth in a heated kiss, and you can't help the whimper which slips out from you. You easily submit to him like this, whether intentionally or not, you can't help but feel yourself easily and willingly becoming his plaything.

"Such a sweet girl." He whispers against your lips, as his fingers gently hold your chin, and his dark gaze briefly locks onto your own lustful eyes. You can see the heat in them, the want which is coursing through him, and that just makes you want and need him more.

"Noah." You breathe out, and he shushes you before planting a softer, lighter kiss to your lips.

Pulling himself away, he crosses the studio space towards the computer, and you hear a few clicks being carried out before he returns back over to you, carrying over a portable microphone and placing it just on the edge of the couch.

"Now, what do I have planned for you, you ask?" You search his face for a sign of anything, but he's holding his cards close to his chest, even his smirk not giving anything away as he takes a seat back down on the chair opposite you. "You wanted to be loud, baby. You obviously wanted to be part of the song, so here we are."

You offer him a slight confused expression, your brows furrowing while waiting for him to elaborate.

He doesn't.

Instead, he retrieves a familiar bullet vibrator from his pocket and switches it on, rotating through the numerous settings before turning it back off and bringing it towards his mouth to wet it.

Bringing the bullet down towards your inner thigh, he turns it back on and as you feel the vibration against your skin, it travels up and between your thighs, causing you to tremble as you feel the low vibrations spread closer to your pussy with its slow travel along your inner thigh. You can't help the moan that falls from your lips and you watch Noah's expression brighten as he hears you.

"That's my girl." He praises and as he inches higher, the sounds you let free become a little louder. He hasn't even touched you yet, not properly, but the vibration which travels along your thigh and straight towards your clit already has you feeling more worked up. "Now, we'll keep going and you'll keep making those pretty noises until I feel like we've gotten the best take, understand?"

Your eyes widen with the explanation he gives, finally putting together the pieces of an obvious puzzle; telling Matt and Jolly to leave, stripping you halfway down, the microphone and now the bullet.

Right as you go to open your mouth and respond, he meets the bullet against your pussy, feeling the vibration against your folds before he pushes it between and teases it against your clit. All words slip away from your mind, all but one as you begin moaning his name, instinctively raising your hips to meet the bullet.

"Listen to that. Listen to how pretty you sound. This was what you wanted, right? To be loud for me?"

Every word he says coaxes you further as he holds the bullet to your clit, making you tremble in place before he drags it away, teasing down towards your cunt, only to trace back up and tease circles around your clit once more. With his free hand, he strokes along your thigh, gently praising you and guiding you towards the climax he knows is building.

You almost hate how in tune with your body he is because anyone else could fake it, you could easily argue back, but Noah knew every way you sounded or moved when an orgasm was near.

"Are you going to cum for me, pretty girl? Are you going to finally be a good girl for me?"

You hear that bite in ‘finally,' and if your head wasn't being made dizzy by the sensation of his voice, touch, and the bullet alone, you'd have sniped back. You know he does it on purpose, drags you up high just to make his own playful jabs because that's when you lose all senses and have none to snipe back.

"Yes! Noah, yes!" You call out as your moans grow louder and higher, almost losing sound at all as they become caught in your throat with the sudden tremble of your climax. Throwing your head back against the couch, your legs begin to shake, digging your fingers into your thighs as you attempt to hold yourself up for him. The entire time, you can hear him talking you through it, and when the wave of pleasure washes over you, his hand is on your thigh while he pushes the bullet firmly against your aching clit, feeling it throb against the cool plastic while your hips buck as you ride the wave out.

The pleasure is near high, and you're barely down from it before you feel Noah kissing along your jaw and meeting your lips. You reciprocate, though it's half-hearted and sloppy from still in your dazed state, and you practically purr as you hear the offerings of praise being whispered against your lips.

"Such a good girl for me, but I think that we can get a better take than that."

You barely have time to register his words before you feel his fingers sinking into your wet cunt, making you moan even louder as he purposely drags them slowly within you, listening to the sounds you make as he quickens and slows them. You squirm beneath his touch, the added pressure of the bullet against your sensitive clit making you whine, and you can hear the taunt in his tone as he tsk-tsks at you.

Opening your eyes, you meet his gaze, his smirk still plastered fully across his face as he assures you.

"Just one more take, I promise."

Something you hear him repeating again and again for at least five more times as he takes pleasure in dragging you up just to push you over the edge and work you around again, overstimulating you beyond your own comprehension.

[texas-gothic]

Dracula Daily Prep: Gather Your Paprikash!

It's that time of year again. Even as we speak, Jonathan Harker has departed for Transylvania, and the unhallowed halls of Castle Dracula. And as he makes his way towards that foreboding country, he will encounter a singular, most enticing of dishes: Paprika Hendl, or as we might know it better, Chicken Paprikash!

This traditional Central European dish explodes in popularity each May as we all gather around our virtual mess hall to enjoy the spirit of this most influential of gothic novels. Perhaps you yourself are considering throwing together a pot this year? Well, if you are, let this be your guide.

So, first, let's discuss the most important of the ingredients here: authentic hungarian paprika. Now, the recipe I first used last year called only for Sweet Paprika, but I personally found that version to be a little bland. I'm remedying this by adding some Hot Paprika as well. However, this is just my personal experimentation. Hungarian Hot Paprika can in fact be very hot, so if you're not comfortable with anything too spicy, feel free to opt only for the Sweet Paprika.

(Both of these I had to order online.)

Next, is another very important addition. As youre gathering your basic cornerstones of cooking (namely yellow onion, roma tomato, and garlic for this recipe) you may find yourself passing up on something that could vastly improve your dish. I'm talking, of course, about Hungarian Wax Peppers. These peppers range in heat, from meak and mild to slightly hotter than you'd average jalapeño. As per instruction, you should only use one. But on my end, I found the single pepper to be a little underwhelming, and I had trouble picking out it's flavor. So, this year, I'll be using two of them.

I got these from Central Market, an upmarket gorcer on Westheimer. They're a cousin of HEB, and you can find one or two in every major city in Texas. If you're elsewhere, try an alternative like Whole Foods, or try to find a European or International food market in your area.

Next, let's talk chicken. You can't have Chicken Paprkiash without the chicken, after all.

You're going to want to go with dark meat cuts for this. Traditionally the dish would use a mix of legs and thighs. Personally, I suggest using only the thighs, which you'll want to get bone-in and skin-on. The thigh provides a flater surface for browning than the leg, as well as more meat.

(A note on food safety, raw chicken will usually only last 2-3 days in the fridge. So you'll want to grab that fairly close to the day you're actually cooking this. If not, you can do what I'll be doing, and sticking it in the freezer until about 24 hours before I start cooking.)

So, as you gather your meat, produce, and spice you're probably asking yourself, "what on Earth am I going to be eating this with?" And the answer to that is spaetzle! A popular dumpling present in lots of Central European cooking, this is exactly what you need to tie this all together.

Now, while you should be able to find some in the international isle of most major grocers, you might also have to visit an international food store, or perhaps something more upmarket. If none of these options work, then there are a variety of other side dishes that work just as well. Egg noodles are a very popular choice, and in my very American attempt last year, I found that mashed potatoes work especially well.

Now that you've got all these things together, you're very nearly done. All that's left is the thickener. Paprikash is thickened using a blend of flour, heavy whipping cream, and sour cream. We'll get onto preparing this mixture in my post on actually cooking the paprikash, but until then, acquiring them should be a cake walk at any place food items are sold.

Now that will conclude the actual grocery list for just the Paprikash itself, but I do have one more pointer on how to really liven up this meal. Now, if you're under 21 or if perhaps you take after our dear, depraved, beloathed Count

Then you can skip this next bit. As a wine professional myself, I find that a well paired glass can add a tremendous flare to nearly any already great dinner. In the case of something like Chicken Paprkiash, and keeping with the Central European theme, I could hardly think of a better match than a good German Pinot Noir, also known as a Spatburgunder. Pinot from Germany typically has a very light body and a refreshing acidity that plays very well with the rich and creamy sauce of Chicken Paprikash. The palate of earth and red fruit should always pair nicely with the smoke of the paprika, as well as being a general good partner for any chicken. I myself am going with this 2020 Rheingau from August Kesseler.

And with that, we are done! Hit those checkout isles and make sure to get home before dark. Terrible things have sway over the world once the sun has gone down. So if the crowd does keep you locked up until nightfall, make sure to graciously accept any crucifixes given to you by kindly, elderly grandmothers and inn keepers. But whatever you do, make sure to pop in on Friday, when I'll be sharing a step by step guide on taking these ingredients and turning them into a dinner that will make our good friend Jonathan go red as a fire truck!

Happy Dracula Week everybody!

[deeplyshalllow]

Glinda gets what she deserves at the end of Wicked

I don’t necessarily mean this in an all negative light either, Glinda’s ending is bittersweet – sad, but hopeful. But she does not deserve an all out happy ending at the end of the musical.

I don’t know if I’m gonna be crucified for this, but here goes.

Glinda in Act 2 is a key part of a fascist regime. She doesn’t just live in it, she isn’t forced to take part in it and she’s not working as a double agent (like Fiyero). She knows what they are doing to the Animals (which includes separating infants from their mothers and putting them in cages, and making Animals so afraid they literally forget how to speak), she knows and loves people it is hurting and yet she continues to actively promote it.

(I won’t point out the connections to real world situations, but I’m sure you guys can all think of examples and think of how you feel about people who are active participants in helping such regimes.)

We see she knows all this too. We see she excuses it for her ego and the power:

Glinda: Do you think I like to hear them say those awful things about her? I hate it!

Fiyero: Then what are we doing here? Let's go, let's get out of here!

Glinda: We can't leave now, not when people are looking to us to raise their spirits.

Fiyero: You can't leave, because you can't resist this. And that is the truth.

Glinda: Maybe I can't. Is that so wrong? Who could?

Elphaba: No, of course you never! You're too busy telling everyone how wonderful everything is!

Glinda: I'm a public figure, now. People expect me to...

Elphaba: Lie?

Glinda: Be encouraging!

And if one could possibly argue (weakly) that, given she’s not actually doing any of the regime’s actual violence, just keeping people’s hopes up she’s not as bad as those who are, she gets worse:

Morrible: Well, we'll just flush her out and force her to show herself.

Wizard: But how?

Glinda: Her sister

Morrible: What? What did she say?

Glinda: Use her sister. Spread a rumour. Make her think her sister is in trouble and she will fly to her side... and you'll have her.

Even if one argues that Glinda is somehow not clever enough to realise that they’ll end up killing Nessa, she sure as hell knows it will get Elphaba captured. And there’s no way that Elphaba being captured won’t lead to the execution of her best friend. Yes, she’s heartbroken, yes, she might not have said this when emotions weren’t running high, but it doesn’t make her terrible words less deadly (and bear in mind Elphaba hadn’t even done anything to hurt Glinda! It was Fiyero who chose to go with her).

Glinda only really starts realising what she has done in March of the Witch hunters, when Nessa is dead, Fiyero is tortured and presumed dead and Elphaba has descended into madness – all because of her own action. And, kudos to her, this is when she decides to change, she immediately goes to Elphaba and tries to warn her about the Witch Hunters, apologises and ultimately Elphaba trusts her with the Grimmorie and to continue her legacy (which she immediately does by overthrowing the Wizard). She has started down the track to good but she still has a long way to go.

I am not the first, nor will I be the last to point this out but “Goodness knows the wicked’s lives are lonely, goodness knows the wicked die alone”, sung by Glinda,is clearly not about Elphaba. Elphaba was not wicked, nor did she die alone (literally Dorothy was in the room and metaphorically Glinda supported and loved her). Glinda is singing about herself, Glinda knows she has been wicked, Glinda knows that it is her own actions that have lead to the “death” of her friends.

So what Glinda is left with is a chance to do good. A chance to live up to her name and make up for what she’s done. A chance to use what she’s most talented at, making people like her, to continue the legacy of her best friend. Despite everything, Elphaba does trust her, if she didn’t she wouldn’t have left her with this responsibility.

Glinda: Fellow Ozians, friends, we have been through a frightening time. There will be other times and other things that frighten us. But if you let me, I'd like to try to help. I'd like to try to be... Glinda the Good.

This is why she is going to “try” to be Glinda the Good, because she hasn’t been good yet. She has learnt a lot of very hard lessons through the narrative, been dragged kicking and screaming out of her selfishness, ego and giving into her worst impulses and is grateful for a chance to repent. And honestly, I’m sure she will suceed.

And one last thing:

Elphaba: I only wish...

Fiyero: What?

Elphaba: Glinda could know that we're alive.

Fiyero: She can't know, not if we want to be safe. No one can ever know.

I know a lot of people take ire with this line. But Fiyero, always the best strategist of the group, is right. The last time Glinda was trusted with important information it led to a death and two more people nearly dying. She has not earned that trust yet.

But, remember, Glinda isn’t stupid, Glinda is in a position where she’s going to have to think more and more. Glinda has presumably seen her roommate get wet before, she saw Fiyero’s reaction to the rumour, no matter how much searching happens Fiyero’s body never turns up, how long is it really going to take for her to connect the dots? Sure “Glinda can never know” for sure, but she sure as hell can be comforted by the fact she’s almost certain her best friend did not melt from a bucket of water.