#how was i supposed to be normal about that

[ghoustmiller]

This is the GM’s dilemma. Spoil the plot and ruin the impact cause you’re so excited or hold off in suffering until your players can see it.

when something cool happens but you cant say anything to anyone so youre just

[lizardho]

I was like 11-12 years old when I figured out at a boring-ass church activity that you could put rocks into little plastic spoons and then pelt people who annoyed me with them. I did this for the rest of the activity, and at Sunday dinner the next night was bragging about my victory (cornering the mean kid who picked on my youngest brother and pelting him with rocks). One of my cousins was like “no way, that sounds SO fun! Let’s do that RIGHT NOW!” So we grabbed spoons and went and got pebbles from the back yard and launched them at each other.

The problem was my grandma sold her soul for the world’s most resilient plastic spoons so we could launch those fuckers HARD. I gave out welts like candy on Halloween, and I got them back in kind.

So we resorted to taking cover and giggling until we got whacked, then yelping, then returning fire.

My cousin hid in my grandpa’s little fishing boat. It was a good boat, but simple and honestly underused. We didn’t know the little windows on it, meant to keep the wind out of my grandpa’s face while he drove, were cracking. However, they were definitely cracking. Eventually it became obvious and we realized we had been being dumb.

This was NOT the first time in my life I’d been dumb roughhousing and broken something, and I had developed a reputation in my family as being “suicidally honest” so I was the one to deliver the bad news. My grandpa let out a pretty good chuckle and said it was OK, tousled my hair, and asked my grandma to bring me cake. I am not kidding. I learned later he hated his boat and only bought it for his kids’ sakes, since he thought everyone needed to know how to fish. At the time though I was just bewildered and pleased at my good fortune. FINALLY, at long last, being honest and telling the truth about breaking something expensive was getting me cake. I knew if I kept trying it would eventually serve me, and now so had CAKE. I was pleased as could be.

My dad, on the other hand, was livid. He LOVED that boat. He spent several weeks each summer recovering from breaking ribs in that boat every year for about 7 years prior to this incident. He had great memories and memories that boat. So he told my Grandma NO cake for me AND that I’d be coming by this weekend to fix stuff around the house and pay for the broken window with my babysitting/lawn mowing money.

Obviously I was devastated, but that felt more in-line with the way things normally went when I broke something expensive so I just figured it was OK. My grandpa gave my grandma a look and sadly said “Ok, have her here on Saturday to help me with some yard work.”

That Saturday my dad woke me up at 6:00 sharp and drove me, sleepy and bewildered, to my grandpa’s house. He was mumbling under his breath the whole time but he thought he was teaching me consequences for my actions so he was ultimately OK with it.

We get to my grandpa’s house at 6:15. My grandpa is outside with a ladder hanging Christmas lights. The lawn is freshly mowed, the trees and garden are weeded and well-tended to, the carnations in the front yard look immaculate, and my grandpa has this giddy mischievous look on his face. He tells me he was so excited that I was coming over that he couldn’t sleep, so he did all the yard work himself. He asked me to help him put up Christmas lights and decorate the Christmas tree, which I did, then said that because I was such a good helper I could have some pancakes for breakfast. I was sent home with the slice of cake I had been denied the week before, wrapped to keep it as fresh as possible.

The whole way home my dad looked a little miffed, but told me that he was glad I had been honest and was proud of me for helping grandpa. I know he wanted me to Learn a Lesson™️the cowboy way, like he had as a kid, but didn’t have much room to complain since I’d still been Put To Work.

I think that was a lesson for both of us, although I’m not totally sure what it was supposed to show me. I think it was my grandpa’s way of showing my dad that discipline without tenderness doesn’t count as much. He died last year and I miss him terribly, as does my dad. I hope that my story of victory, drama, punishment, and ultimately a secret second victory is meaningful to someone else out there, but if not it still means a lot to me ❤️

[pocket-solas]

😭😭 how have I never fully noticed before his little head shake, his tiny smile, before the "oh no you don't" grab, and then he utterly devours her.

And we're supposed to be normal about him?

[glitteredrry]

maneater

summary: Harry feels inspired by the woman who is holding his heart in her hands. Harry’s true feelings come out during a recording session, and his heart is on the line.

warning: angst & fluff

wc: 2.4k

I haven’t written in so long, and I was feeling inspired. Please let me know how you like it. I own no rights to this song (just in case lol). I hope you enjoy!!

Harry looked at his Rolex for the fifth time in an hour. He checked the time, awaiting the arrival of his…well, he was not sure what to call her. His girl? Well, no, that’s not the correct title. His lover? That’s not even close to what he was to her. Harry didn’t know the correct title to give her, but he did know that she wasn’t his, yet he was all hers. Luna Gray was her name, it was her stage name. Her birthname was for him only; regardless, her name was on the tip of everyone’s tongue.

Harry and Luna were signed to Columbia Records, and both were some of the biggest stars in the world. Harry met Luna when she signed to the label in 1981, and the first time they met, Harry was electrified to his core. All she had to do was look at him, and Harry mentally fell to his knees.  To Harry, she was perfection; the only problem was that he wasn’t the only person who thought this. Let’s just say that Luna was loved by many, and for Harry, it started out not being a problem but slowly developed into one a year later. Luna would explain to all the men she got involved with that she is not someone who could be tied down. She had one goal, which was to be a star. No one or nothing could get in the way of that dream. Harry understood this the first time they slept together, yet as their sexual relationship began to grow, it was somewhat difficult for Harry to hear about the endless men she was caught up with. 

Harry could admit he fell in love with her, yet Luna had no idea about Harry’s feelings towards her. Luna continued with her life as normal, while Harry continued to suffer in silence. He knew how Luna was and that her motto was to cut off men once they fell in love. She told the world she enjoyed her life as a single lady in Hollywood. So, as Harry spent the time drowning in his feelings, he caught inspiration to write a song when a picture in the tabloids was released of her with a star athlete. He couldn’t control his jealousy, which was feasting inside him. He was angry, saddened, and felt like an idiot for being in love with someone who told him she wasn’t going to be tied down. Harry continued to pour his emotions on paper, letting go of everything he felt. What he forgot about, though, is that Luna was coming to listen in on his studio session, and this was the only song he was going to record today. This is Luna and Harry’s thing. They were both artists, so it wasn’t out of the norm for them to listen in on their studio sessions and provide notes. 

Harry genuinely didn’t want to record this infront of her, but he couldn’t waste paid studio time either. Instead of consistently checking the time, he decided to leave the studio for a smoke break. With each inhale, he felt the stress leave his body until he watched her sleek red Mercedes Convertible pull into the parking lot. Her curly hair was all over the place as she pulled in; her eyes were on Harry’s immediately as she parked. She stepped out of the car with a smile, hoping Harry would forgive her for running a little late. Harry watched as the Los Angeles sunset dipping below the valley illuminated her skin. Harry kept his eyes on her, continuing to smoke and soak in the sound of her heels hitting the pavement. She looked beautiful as she approached Harry; without a word, she grabbed the cigarette from his hands, taking a hit of it.

“You mad at me?” Luna said, exhaling the smoke as it brushed across Harry’s face. 

He shook his head ‘no’ because he truly wasn’t mad. Even if he were, she would never know it. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago.” He said, eying her up and down. Lust and anxiety coursing through his veins.

“I got caught up in something. Forgive me, sweetheart,” she said with puppy eyes. Her eyes still held this twinkle in them as if she was playing a game with him.

“Something or someone,” Harry said, letting the jealousy slip. He hated when his mouth would speak before his brain could. Luna smiled at his words, throwing the finished cigarette on the ground and crushing it under her heel.

“Are you sure you want to know?” she smirked, moving past him to enter the studio. Harry felt a slight pang in his chest as he followed her inside. As Luna entered, she sat on the couch and said hello to the sound engineer. Harry nervously picked up the paper and headed to the booth. Just before he got in, Luna called out to him.

“I’m excited to hear the song, Harry.” Her eyes were glowing, and Harry could tell that she was being genuine. Harry and Luna shared a deep connection when it came to music. They both had the utmost respect for each other as artists. Harry smiled at her, briefly looking at her before entering the booth. Harry put on his headphones and signaled that he was ready. Once the beat of the song kicked in, Harry watched as Luna bobbed her head to the music and waited for Harry to start singing. Harry felt his throat swell up in trepidation. Instead of focusing on Luna, he closes his eyes and sings from his heart. 

Oh-oh, here she comes

Watch out, boy, she'll chew you up

Oh-oh, here she comes

She's a man-eater

Harry finally opened his eyes when he got to the middle of the song. He looked through the glass as he watched Luna on the couch with an unreadable expression. Her legs were crossed as he watched her hanging leg bounce. As the song faded out, they kept eye contact with each other. The song engineer cleared Harry to remove his headphones, and He watched as Luna stood on her feet, waiting for him to come out. Harry apprehensively stepped out of the booth, feeling the immediate tension filling the room. Harry could see her facial expression had morphed into clear anger, so he decided to have the room for himself for a while. When they were both alone, Harry chose to speak up. 

“How did you like the song,”

“How did I like it?” She asked, irritation coursing through her body. “Let me think of how I feel,” she laughed mockingly. 

“Listen, I know how it sounds, but hear what I have to say first.”

“Why should I listen to you right now? You brought me here to shame me. All because your feelings are a little hurt, suddenly I should come with a warning label. Well, newsflash, Harry, I told you everything upfront from the beginning.” 

“I know that, but trust me when I say none of what you said matters now. Not when I feel like this, not when you know I feel like this about you.”

“Don’t do that. You’ve never told me anything, Harry you-”

“Cut the shit, just because I haven’t verbally mentioned it, I know you know. You know it in the way I kiss you, in the way I touch you, and when I make love to you. That’s on me that I never said anything, and I hate that it had to come out in this way, but don’t act oblivious. I never told you because I know you’ll run away like you have with others.”

“Then why are you telling me now?”

“Because if that’s the risk I must take, then so be it. I can’t live with this inside me anymore. If you decide to run off, that’s on you. Yes, I will admit my feelings were upset seeing you with someone else. I wrote a song about it. That’s what I do. When I can’t speak my feelings, I sing them. This is the only song I was going to record today. I promise it wasn’t to hurt you in any way.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t hurt getting called a maneater.” She rolled her eyes and folded her arms around each other as she turned her back to Harry.

Harry watched her and decided to step closer to her, “I apologize if I hurt you; that’s never what I want. You have to believe me on that. I’m saying it now: I want you to be mine, and I want to be yours,” Harry pleaded with her. Luna soaked in his words, hearing the sincerity in his voice. She couldn’t face him. Yes, Luna believed him and knew that Harry wasn’t lying at all when he said she secretly knew. She did. She enjoyed feeling like Harry would always be there. It was this feeling of security she didn’t have with any of the other men she would casually date. This sense of security was something that she was scared to have pulled away. She didn’t want to commit out of fear of relationships, yet she knew she didn’t want Harry to be gone forever. Even though she knew Harry loved her, she thought she had a longer time to decide whether to commit. It felt like she was now faced with an ultimatum. Instead of answering him, she deflected. “Harry, you’ve seen girls to-.” She was once again cut off with Harry’s words.

“No, don’t do that. You know, every single girl is PR. I stopped doing that altogether once I felt more serious about you. Don’t divert this back to me. Do you want me at all? Or is this where this ends.” Harry said with a deep breath, finally asking the question. He would be lying if he didn’t feel like 100 pounds were sitting on his heart, waiting to be lifted off. All it would take for this anxiety to lift is her uttering the word, ‘Yes, Harry, I want you.’ Yet, what he heard come out of her mouth next left him shocked where he stood. Luna turned to face him with a stone-cold expression, “I can’t do this, Harry.” Luna walked past him to exit the studio, brushing his shoulder as she passed. As her hand touched the cold door handle to leave, Harry muttered what he thought would be his last word to her. 

“This is what you do, Luna. You run away, and I don’t know why I thought it would be any different for me.” Harry said, feeling himself getting more emotional that he wanted to be infront of her. Without another word, Luna slammed the door behind her.

As she walked down the long hallway, her heart and mind raced. ‘What did I do?’ She thought to herself. She knows she has a connection with Harry. Without a doubt, she knows that. Yet, she was still scared to commit. Past relationships had driven her to live this bachelorette lifestyle. Luna stopped in her tracks, leaning against a wall. “Fuck,” she muttered to herself. Luna had a real decision to make right now. She could either run off to her car and avoid Harry forever. Or go back into that studio to be with the only man who has ever treated her right. Luna finally knew she could listen to her heart, saying just to trust. She had spent years listening to her brain and severed many lovers because of her mind. Her heart was saying to her don’t let this one go, Luna turned on her heels and headed back in the same direction she left. Harry was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, soaking in everything that had just happened. He heard the door open and, without looking, thought it was the sound engineer returning.

“Hey man, I need a few more minutes.”

“I love you, Harry Styles. I’m sorry it took this long for me to admit it.” Harry’s head shot up in shock, looking at the door. He watched Luna close the door behind her as he rose.

“Say it again,” he said breathlessly as she approached him. As she reached him, her hands went on opposite sides of his face, and she looked him in the eyes. 

“I love you, and I want you. I want this. There are no promises for how fast we will go, though. I haven’t been in a relationship in a long time.”

“I don’t care if we take one inch a day. That’s all I needed you to say.” Harry towered over her, pressing his lips on her. Luna leaned in the kiss, soaking up all of Harry’s love. Her heart felt something it hadn't in a while, true peace. It felt as if all the walls she had spent so hard creating came crumbling down all at once. Harry picked her up, sitting on the couch with her in his arms. Harry deepened the kiss, tangling his hands in her hair. Luna relaxed in his lap as her body felt like it was on fire. Harry broke the kiss as they both panted against each other's lips. Both of their mouths curved up into a smile.

“Sloane, I love you. I think I always have. It’s impossible not to be. I promise I want this.” Luna’s cheeks beamed at her real name slipping from his lips. She couldn’t begin to explain this feeling in her body. 

“I’m excited about this, Harry. And you’re doing a real civil duty keeping me from eating more men.” She said, teasing him about the song.

“Baby, If the song upset you, I’ll scrap it.” Her index finger lightly brushed over his lips to shush him. 

“To say it upset me is an understatement. I would be a complete fool if I watched you let go of that song. It’s a great song and can be our little secret that it’s about me.”

“Deal, baby.” Harry smiled at her, happy that she was okay with him putting the song out.

“Now you have to make it up to me, though,” she said seductively. That’s all it took for Harry to feel that similar yearning. 

“I’m going to spend all night making it up to you, I promise.” Luna kissed Harry again, and she let Harry express his love for her. Both of them decided to use the studio for the night so that Harry’s promise could be kept. Luna and Harry couldn’t be more in love than they already felt. It made the wait that Harry had to endure all worth it. 

[itneverendshere]

Hii i love the bitchy!pogue!reader series and i would love to know how they first hooked up again, like what led them to keep going after their first night together. That's all, thx in a advance if you do it, i love your writing

the way i ran to write this lmao, thank you for the request ❤️ let's just say it wasn't planned at alll....it was fate👀

in spite of myself - drabble

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

you swore the first time was the last.

you were simply… curious. you wanted to figure out just how far you could push his buttons without him taking it out on you.

you got your answer. you went to that party with the sole intent of pissing him off, but you hadn’t planned on ending up in his bed—not that you’d ever complain. but that was it.

you’d gotten your taste, of course you weren't expecting to run into him so...soon.

you’d learned to play along for these little trips into kookland. your cheap dress, bought solely to get you through the gates, hugged you a little too close—but that was the point, wasn’t it? you made a show of adjusting the neckline, scanning the room with that perfected boredom.

the moment you spotted him across the room, you nearly snorted, because of course he was here.

rafe, in all his buttoned-up glory. hair slicked back like he’d asked his barber for the "douchebag deluxe," wearing a shirt that probably cost as much as your entire car. he looked so at ease among his kind, you wanted to pat him on the head and give him a treat.

bingo.

he was pretending not to see you, standing there with some stuffy old kook in khakis so aggressively white they probably had a staff meeting dedicated to their upkeep.

but you could spot it: the clench in his jaw, his fingers twitching around his glass.

honestly, it was too easy. you’d barely taken a few steps in his direction, and his grip tightened like he was trying not to crush the glass just at the sight of you.

aww. you hadn’t come here for him, but the opportunity was irresistible, how could you say no to that face?

you took your time, internally giddy at how his stiff he looked the closer you got. you let out a soft, exaggerated sigh as you finally slid up next to him at the bar, taking your time, letting your eyes glide over his shoulders and back down to those broad, broad arms.

god, look at those arms, you thought.

this idiot must curl yachts for fun. absolutely absurd.

his gaze snapped to you, “what the hell are you doing here?” he gritted out, sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

poor thing, always so snappy.

you brought a hand to your chest, going for maximum innocence.

“who, me?” you blinked, leaning in with a soft, honey-dripping sigh. “just networking with the local elite. isn’t that what i’m supposed to do if i want to ‘rise above my station’?” you savored the horror flashing across his face.

rafe looked personally offended, like you’d just announced you were taking up golf, while you let your eyes drop to the line of his shoulders, lingering just a little too long on his chest before dropping.

slowly, slowly.

his face twisted like he was in pain, and he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, protecting himself from the way you were very clearly undressing him with your eyes.

“cut that shit out,” he ground out, “i know what you’re doing.”

you raised an eyebrow, “doing what?” you shot him a wide-eyed, who, me? look, letting your gaze dip again. “i’m not doing anything.”

his face flushed as he hissed, “you’re doing it right now! act normal for once.”

he pulled away from you as if your pogue germs might rub off on him, but you’d seen that look on his face before.

“honestly, if you didn’t want attention cameron, maybe don’t wear that. kind of a slutty choice, don’t you think?”

his neck flushed deep red as he scowled. “excuse me?”

you shrugged, “just saying. last time, you had a lot to say about my outfit, didn’t you?”

“you’re fucking insane. leave me alone.”

you smirked, leaning closer, “oh, baby, i’ve already got what i wanted from you,” you purred. “unless, of course, you’re offering again?”

his jaw tensed, and he looked away as if even looking at you would ruin his day. but he was still here, wasn’t he?

“don’t flatter yourself. i’m done with you,” he muttered.

you shot him a wicked grin, “flatter myself?” you let out an exaggerated laugh, turning heads nearby. “i’m here on a date.”

rafe’s smirk dropped, and he cast a quick, possessive look around the room before moving his attention back to you.

“a date?” he repeated as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth.

you nodded as you pointed toward the back, where your “date”—some poor kook with a summer tan and daddy’s credit card—stood waiting near the hors d’oeuvres table, oblivious.

“did you think i came here just for you?” you tilted your head, letting the words sting. “i don’t do repeats, country club. got what i wanted, remember?”

he looked like he was about to set the place on fire, blue eyes narrowing as he glared at your so-called date. you could sense the gears turning in his head. god, this was just too easy.

“maybe you should run along, hmm?” you said, your voice light and mocking. “can’t imagine what your country club buddies would think, seeing you all worked up over a pogue.” you flashed him a dazzling smile before tossing a wink, then spun on your heel, leaving him there seething.

you could feel his stare burning into your back as you sashayed over to your “date.” this was way too fun.

lunch was mind-numbing, but free, so you were perfectly okay tolerating the “date”—or, as you preferred to call it, the idiot with a wallet—while he droned on about his family’s fleet of yachts or some bullshit about generational wealth. you nodded along, not listening as he bragged. as if you even gave a fuck.

when he finally paused to shove more overpriced pasta into his mouth, you decided you needed a break from the snooze-fest.

“excuse me, i’ll just pop to the ladies’ room,” you murmured, batting your lashes like the good, sweet little pogue he thought he’d bagged for the afternoon. as soon as you were clear of him, you rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck.

the second you got into the quiet of the bathroom, you let out a dramatic sigh of relief, shaking your head.

what a fucking bore.

you’d honestly rather be anywhere else—well, except maybe with rafe, since he’d probably drag you back to the ninth circle of pogue-hating hell.

as you were checking your lipstick in the mirror, the door swung open, and you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.

“um, excuse you?” you snapped, eyebrows shooting up. “i know you have a thing for following me around, but the ladies’ room? have you lost your fuckin’ mind?”

rafe didn’t answer.

he stalked forward, looking pissed as he backed you up against the sink, boxing you in without so much as a second thought. there was something about the way his forearms flexed when he did that.

ridiculous, he most likely got pumped up just pouring a glass of water.

“what the hell do you think you’re doing here?” he growled, his voice dripping with disdain.

a laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. oh my god.

you clamped a hand over your mouth, but the sound came anyway, echoing off the fancy-ass tiles. “oh my god, what the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

he leaned in even closer. “you think this is funny?”

“funny?” you snorted, crossing your arms. “it’s hilarious. i’m here for lunch. you know, food? the stuff people eat? he offered, and i like free shit. it’s that simple.”

“you’re doing this just to piss me off,” he accused.

“oh, get over yourself,” you scoffed. “you think i’m obsessed with you or something? i wasn’t even thinking about you until you came barging in here like a lunatic.” you leaned back, giving him a brazen, challenging look. “can you move, by the way? i was enjoying the break.”

his nostrils flared, but you didn’t even care. if he wanted to lose his shit, fine—he was the one who walked in here. you stared him down, totally unfazed, holding his gaze until he broke it.

“careful,” you added, your voice mocking and low. “if i didn’t know better, i’d say you were jealous. because, i gotta be honest, you look like you’re about two seconds away from—”

“shut up,” he growled, his face inches from yours, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “you show up here, flaunting yourself like you don’t remember exactly how last week ended, like you weren’t begging me to—”

“oh please,” you interrupted, ignoring the pleasure that traveled up your spine. “let’s not rewrite history.”

his hand gripped your cheeks, blunt nails pressing in from either side as he pulled you close, capturing your jaw to hold you still. the pressure of the squeeze pulled your pouty lips together, forcing you to look up with wide eyes.

“stop talking."

you tried to smirk around his grip, feeling the bite of his fingers, but your words came out muffled.

“what’s wrong, country club? can’t handle a little conversation?”

“just can’t help yourself, can you?”

you could hardly nod, your eyes gleaming with defiance as you let out a small, mocking hum of agreement.

his hands slid down from your cheeks to cradle your jaw, fingers firm as his mouth pushed against yours. you giggled into the kiss, entirely too pleased with yourself as you tangled your fingers into his hair, pulling until he groaned.

“this is the last time,” his voice was ragged against your lips, but the words sounded half-hearted, he was trying to convince himself.

you smirked, pulling back just enough to catch your breath, tilting your head to test him, see if he’d let you go. instead, his hand was already sliding up your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your lips, holding you right there.

“you think you’re so clever, don’t you?” he whispered, breathless. “think you can just look at me like that, say whatever you want…”

“who says i can’t?” you purred, lips brushing against his as you taunted, “if you don't want this, maybe you should go.”

his grip tightened, a curse slipping past his pretty lips, streaked with the deep red of your lipstick, glossy with both your spit.

and fuck, did he look good like that—disheveled, unguarded, his face painted with your lipstick like a silent confession of just how far he’d let himself go with you despite his fucked morals.

rafe let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours as he muttered, “last time, swear to god.”

[scoopsahoy]

alr i have kind of a wild request so ignore me if you dont wanna write it. you and eddie go to a house party thrown by steve (before they really knew each other) and you're dressed really provacatively. yall argue, he calls you a whore/slut, and you slap him and that awakens a new kink he didn't know he had, and yall fuck

ぺ  word count ⋰ 2.4k

✰  tw ⋰ none :)

❍  cw ⋰ possessive eddie, swearing, sex + fingering, handjob, face sitting, masturbation, oral (female receiving), top!reader, dirty talk

៚  a/n ⋰ i am ✨ovulating✨ at the moment so i'm a bit feral and horny rn, maybe this will quench that thirst

✐  masterlist

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

The second Eddie laid his eyes on you tonight, he felt rage bubble up in his chest. He wasn't a jealous guy by any means, but this... He couldn't help it. Seeing you in that short, tight dress with heels that accentuated your calves — your tits on full display, smushed together and jiggling with every step. It was too much for him to handle.

You wore the dress for him, knowing it would drive him up the wall with desire. But when you looked over at him, all you saw was angry jealousy. You were talking to Steve Harrington, who had a reputation of sleeping around at his parties.

You had zero intention of being the next notch on his belt, but you decided to play into Eddie's jealousy and make it worth your while.

He was protective of you. After all, you were the only girl in Hawkins who loved the Freak. And after finding you, he never intended on letting you go.

Just then, another guy with a reputation of being a bit of a man whore walked up and started a conversation with both of you. When you went to take another sip of the god-awful keg beer in your solo cup, you must've tipped it back too far and a few drops of it landed on your chest. You wiped them up, licking the beer off of your hand.

And you could've sworn you saw smoke blow out of both of Eddie's ears at this. This was the final straw, and he charged over to you, grabbing your bicep.

"Hey, babe," you said innocently.

"Can I talk to you? Alone?"

"Sure." You handed your cup to Steve. "Want the rest?"

Before he could respond, you were being dragged away by Eddie, who pulled you all the way upstairs to Steve's room (unintentionally) and shut the door behind you.

"What's up?" You kept the innocent tone.

"What's up? What's up? Seriously?"

"What? What's wrong, babe?"

"You know what's wrong."

"Enlighten me." You did know what was wrong. You knew completely. He let his jealousy get the better of him and couldn't handle the thought of other men lusting over you. He walked over to you, getting in your face.

In a low, deep voice, he said, "You show up to this party in that... dress. Showing every possible square inch of yourself."

"For you."

"No, no, no. Not for me. Not just for me."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Your tone was coy, fighting back a grin. "I think I'm actually dressed pretty modestly."

"Drop the act, Y/N." You rolled your eyes.

"What, I thought you liked public teasing."

"Yeah, when you're not surrounded by guys who would fuck the living daylights out of you."

"I think you're overestimating their abilities."

"You know both Steve and that other guy would fuck anything that moves, and you sit there, dripping beer on your tits and fake flirting with them."

"God, Eddie, I'm sorry. You normally go for this shit. How was I supposed to know it was any different?"

You turned to walk away from him.

"Because you're not usually dressed like a whore."

Without even a second to let that simmer, you were turning back around to face him, and your hand smacked him across the face so hard he froze, his head turned to the side.

You didn't even realize you were doing that before you could stop yourself. It was like instinct took over and you couldn't control yourself.

Neither of you moved for a few seconds. You were breathing heavily, both with rage and surprise.

He raised a hand to his cheek, flexing his jaw. His skin was red and hot, and the look in his eyes changed.

"Well, I guess... I probably deserved that."

"You think?"

Something out of the bottom corner of your vision caught your eye. You looked down to see a quickly growing tent in his pants.

"Eddie-"

"That was, uh... kinda hot."

"What?"

"I think... I liked that."

"What, getting slapped?"

He nodded. "It felt kind of good."

"You're joking."

A few seconds of silence passed before he grabbed your face and slammed your lips together. You immediately kissed back and he began backing you up towards the bed, dropping you down onto it.

"What's the word?" he asked, beckoning your safe word out of you.

"Zeppelin."

He smiled. "Good girl. Want me to fuck you on Harrington's bed, hm?"

"Yes," you moaned, his fingers wrapping lightly around your throat.

Without another word, he dropped to his knees on the floor, grabbing you by the thighs and yanking you towards him. Your ass was practically hanging off the bed, the only thing separating his mouth and your pussy being your underwear.

That didn't last long though, as they slid off your legs easily. He shoved them into his pocket, not intending to give them back for the night. The thought of you going commando at a party right after sex only made him harder, if that was even possible.

"What do you want?" he asked, his breath on your wet skin making you squirm.

"Eddie, please," you muttered, looking down at him.

"Uh-uh, you have to say it. 'Please' won't get you what you want."

"God, Eddie. I want your face buried in me."

"In where?"

"In my pussy. Please."

He didn't comply. He loved to tease you. Make you crumble under him. Instead of doing what you were asking for, he decided to finger you as slowly as humanly possible.

The initial touch was a bit of a relief, but his lack of speed could've made you cry.

"I don't think so."

"Ugh, please."

"I already told you, please isn't gonna get you anything. We're gonna try something new."

Admittedly, this is not where you'd prefer to branch out and try new things. But he moved you off the bed, instead taking your place laying down. He was on his back, his head on the pillow. He motioned for you to come over to him and mount him.

You complied, but he moved you up even further. You were straddling his face, looking down at him.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

Without answering you, he wrapped his arms around your hips from behind and pulled your body down, finally latching onto your clit with his mouth.

You gripped the headboard and gasped, immediate relief from the teasing making you feel warm.

"Fuck," you whispered, one hand reaching down to place itself on top of his. As you ground into his face, you couldn't help but feel like you were suffocating him. You tried to move backwards a little bit and give his nose more room, but his grip on you was strong, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

You reached behind you and cupped his crotch with your hand and he groaned into you. Your head was thrown back, your back arched and your hips desperately swaying into his tongue.

"Fuck, Eddie, I'm not gonna last much longer."

He tried his damndest to hold you still, but for some reason this position was much more intense than normal oral. So when you finally came — hard — you were glad there was music blasting outside.

You tried to cover your mouth with your hand, but he reached up and pulled it away, wanting to hear your whines and moans. Watching you from this angle was driving him insane. He'd never seen how much you really move when you cum, as you were normally on your back. But right now you could move freely, and you couldn't control yourself.

When he finally stopped his tongue, he scooched you down to sit in his lap. He sat up and wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close.

He kissed you roughly, smearing your lipgloss all over your faces.

"Baby," he whispered, looking up at you.

"Hm?"

"I want you to be on top tonight."

"But I'm never on top."

"I know. But I want you to be dominant this time."

"Eddie, I'm not dominant. You know that."

"When you slapped me... I liked it. I want you to do it again."

You furrowed your brows. "You... want me to hurt you?" He nodded. "That was in the heat of the moment. I don't think I could do it again if I tried."

"Then I want you to choke me, like I do to you." You gently placed your fingers around his neck, your fingertips pressing lightly. "Just like that. But harder." You squeezed the sides of his throat. His eyes lit up and he smiled. "There you go."

You also smiled a bit and pushed him down so he was laying on his back again. You crawled down between his legs, unbuckling his belt. Seeing you on top of him, undoing his clothes for him almost made him want to flip you over and fuck you as hard as he could. But the idea of you on top of him, fucking him, almost made him feel like he was going to combust.

Your hand around his girth broke him out of his imagination, a soft moan slipping out of his mouth.

"Y'know, the tables have turned a bit, here," you said seductively.

"Mhm."

"I'm used to you teasing me. But I don't usually get to do the teasing." You swiped your thumb over his swollen tip, which made him jump. "You like to go slow when you tease me. Painfully slow." You calmly and casually stroked him, keeping your speed at a minimum. "Now you get to see how it feels."

He was a puddle under you. Normally when you gave him handjobs, you would use both hands, as that's what it took to completely engulf him. But right now, you were only using one. And it was driving him insane. You could see his stomach muscles tensing, rippling at the lack of motion.

"Y/N, please."

"Ah-ah-ah. What was it you said to me earlier? 'Please' won't get you what you want." He chuckled at this, silently cursing himself for saying that. "You want me to fuck you?"

You weren't sure where you mustered up this confidence. Maybe it was seeing him writhing under you, you finally understood what it was like from his perspective.

Having someone whimpering and begging at your actions, pleading for more. Needing more from you.

"Yes."

"How bad?"

"So fucking bad."

You slowly licked a single stripe up from the base to the tip of his cock, making him thrust his hips gently.

You giggled to yourself, adjusting your position again so your hips were on top of his. His dick was pinned between his stomach and your wet pussy. You ground against it, sliding him through your folds.

His hands were on your thighs, his nails slightly digging into your skin.

"Tell me how much you want it," you whispered, reaching down and pushing his hair off his face.

"I need it so bad, baby."

"How bad?"

"So bad that if you don't fuck me right now I'm gonna flip you over and do it myself."

Without another word, you sunk down onto him, both of you sighing of relief. You threw your head back and got used to him inside of you, not used to having to make the next move.

You braced yourself on his abdomen, your hands pressing into his skin.

You got your rhythm down pretty quickly, figuring out how to maneuver your hips and not your whole body. And not long after, your hand found his throat, pressing against the sides.

His eyes rolled back into his head, the slight lack of oxygen at your control feeling ridiculously good. He couldn't believe he hadn't asked you to do this before.

He was beginning to give into the urge of thrusting, and when you noticed, you stopped your movements and stopped choking you.

"What happened?" he whined. That tone was an insane turn-on, how desperately, frantically he needed you.

"No moving," you commanded, which was something he would say to you when he would eat you out. "Keep your hips completely still or I stop."

"God, you're good at this."

You began moving again, and it didn't take long for him to get close. Normally he lasted for a while, but being dominated made him feel like he was going to bust after only about three minutes.

"Y/N, I'm getting close."

"Not yet."

"What?"

"No cumming yet. You have to wait."

The roles were reversed. He loved edging you, forcing you to hold off your orgasm until he said you could cum. And you understood why. Holding someone's orgasm in your hands, forbidding them to reach it until you allowed it was doing something to you.

"I can't- I can't wait," he choked, really squeezing your skin.

"Too bad, you have to." You reached down and began masturbating, getting yourself there so he could too. You squeezed his neck as you felt the familiar sensation building in your belly. "I'm getting close too, I'll tell you when."

He screwed his eyes shut tightly, throwing his head back. He looked heavenly in this position, putty in your hands. He was mumbling 'fuck, fuck, fuck' to himself, taking everything in him to hold his cum in.

"Eddie," you squealed. "Cum."

You'd never heard him scream when he came, but this ripped through him. He was incapable of being quiet like he normally was. His grunts and groans were animalistic and caveman-like. You'd never heard sounds like this come from him. Maybe it was the oxygen being cut off, or the position.

He couldn't resist thrusting his hips up as you came, which worked out perfectly because you could barely move as you trembled.

Tears fell down your cheeks and you moaned so loudly it hurt your throat.

When he stopped moving, you laid your chest against him, his cock still inside of you. You breathed in sync, neither of you opening your eyes. Eventually, he wrapped his hands around your back and held you close.

He planted a kiss to the top of your head and smirked.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N. We should've done this forever ago."

"Yeah," was all you could muster.

It took you guys a moment to move, but when you finally did, you pulled your dress back down to cover your thighs.

"Can I have my underwear back?" you asked.

"I think I'll keep 'em. Make it a reminder not to flirt with other guys."

"But if I never teased you, this would've never happened."

He laughed. "Very true. Maybe I'll allow it sometimes."

[obiusperson]

well, the fucking thing about Trump is that, if you could justify anyone needing to be locked away from society, he would be it. Because the idea behind prisons is that there are some people so dangerous that they just cannot be left within normal society.

Now, this means that for prisoners to function at their best, the criminal in question needs to have willingly chosen the crime under the best of circumstances, and to be an individual that's singularly responsible for the crimes (IE: the corporation can't really go to jail for crimes).

So most crimes? Don't fit into either of those categories because every individual wants to be a lawful citizen and while corporations are amoral they're not affected by prisons. But Trump? Trump absolutely choose to commit those crimes under the best of circumstances, and is individually response for them! He absolutely should be locked up because that's exactly what prisons are SUPPOSED to do! They're supposed to keep the most dangerous individuals away from the general populace so more people don't get hurt.

Now, I'm not saying we should keep prisons as an institution. They are, ultimately, a horrible waste of everyone's time energy and resources for a solution that causes more problems. What I am saying is that, if prisons worked how they're supposed to, Trump would not be a free man

this isn't going to happen but it WOULD be very funny

[shybluebirdninja]

Sleep Striker

Summary: You discover that Bucky sleepwalks—and it’s not the calm, peaceful kind of sleepwalking. You wake up to find him in full-on combat mode with the couch.

Pairing            : Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Note                : fluff

The night was supposed to be peaceful. You’d spent the entire evening watching Netflix with Bucky, eating popcorn, and joking around like any normal couple. By the time you both hit the sack, you were expecting nothing but a quiet night’s sleep, maybe punctuated by Bucky’s usual snores.

But no.

Around 2 AM, you woke up to the sound of something crashing in the living room. Your heart leapt into your throat, thinking for a second that maybe someone had broken in. Instinctively, you reached for the baseball bat you kept beside the bed (Bucky insisted on keeping a knife there, but you’d settled on a less dramatic weapon). Slowly, you tiptoed toward the door, already mentally preparing yourself for some horror-movie showdown with a burglar.

But what you found was so much worse.

There, in the dim glow of the living room lamp, was Bucky Barnes—your sweet, grumpy, 100-year-old boyfriend—throwing punches at thin air like he was in the middle of a battle.

“What the hell…” you whispered, blinking in disbelief.

Bucky, still completely asleep, ducked and weaved as if he were dodging invisible enemies, his fists flying through the air with lethal precision. His face was set in that intense, focused expression he wore when he was in full-on Winter Soldier mode, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of fear and… laughter? This was ridiculous. Your boyfriend was sleep-fighting in the living room.

You set the bat down carefully, still trying to process the situation, when Bucky suddenly spun around and landed a full-force punch on the couch.

The couch.

It made a sad thud as the cushions absorbed the blow, but Bucky didn’t stop. He kicked out at the coffee table next, sending it skidding a few inches across the floor.

“Bucky!” you hissed, trying to keep your voice low but urgent. “Hey, babe, wake up!”

He didn’t hear you. Instead, he crouched low, as if he were avoiding gunfire, and rolled behind the armchair, his metal arm glinting faintly in the darkness. You bit your lip, trying so hard not to laugh, but it was impossible. This was like watching an overgrown toddler reenact an action movie in his sleep.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “how the hell do I handle this?”

You’d heard about sleepwalkers before, and you were pretty sure you weren’t supposed to wake them up. But you couldn’t just let Bucky wage war against your furniture all night. The man had already drop-kicked the coffee table, and at this rate, he’d be suplexing the bookshelf by sunrise.

You crept a little closer, careful not to startle him. “Bucky, babe, it’s just me. You’re, uh, safe. There’s no Hydra agents in the apartment, I promise.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he launched himself toward the couch again, this time pulling off a move that looked like it came straight out of a Captain America fight scene. He tackled the poor couch as if it had personally offended him, his arms wrapping around the back cushions in a chokehold.

“Bucky, stop! The couch isn’t the enemy!” you half-whispered, half-yelled, trying to stifle your laughter. “Oh my god, you’re gonna kill the couch…”

He grunted, still deep in his dream, and threw a wild punch that just barely missed the coffee table. You winced at the near miss. That could’ve been bad. Like, broken furniture and a pissed-off Bucky kind of bad.

At this point, you realized you had to do something before your apartment looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Slowly, cautiously, you approached Bucky like you were approaching a wild animal—because, let’s be real, that’s kind of what he was right now.

“Bucky…” you said softly, reaching out a hand. “Come back to bed, babe. You don’t have to fight the couch anymore. You won. It’s dead.”

He hesitated for a moment, his muscles twitching like he was on the verge of launching another attack. But instead of another round of couch-punching, he slowly stood up, blinking groggily as if he was coming out of a fog.

You let out a breath of relief. “Thank God.”

But your relief was short-lived. Because as soon as Bucky turned around, he spotted the kitchen chairs—lined up perfectly in a row by the table—and apparently, in his half-asleep mind, they were the next Hydra targets.

“No,” you groaned, as Bucky lunged toward the chairs. “Not the chairs! I like those chairs!”

He grabbed one, flipping it over like it was an enemy combatant, and before you could stop him, he had another chair in a headlock. You stood there, watching in sheer disbelief as Bucky Barnes—the most feared assassin in the world—battled a set of IKEA furniture like it was the final boss fight of his life.

“Bucky, babe, please!” you shouted, a mix of panic and laughter bubbling out. “I can’t explain this to the landlord!”

Finally, in a last-ditch effort, you ran over and grabbed his arm—his metal arm, because that seemed like the safer bet. “Bucky, it’s me! You’re sleepwalking!”

At first, he didn’t respond. His eyes were still glazed over, lost in whatever dream battlefield he was trapped in. But then, slowly, he blinked. His metal arm relaxed under your grip, and he looked down at you, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“...What the hell?” he muttered, blinking again.

You let out the biggest sigh of relief. “Oh my god, thank you. I thought you were gonna destroy the whole apartment.”

Bucky glanced around, still looking dazed. “What… what happened?”

“You, uh… kinda went to war with the furniture,” you said, biting your lip to keep from laughing again. “You were sleepwalking.”

His eyes widened. “I did what?”

“You attacked the couch. And the coffee table. And, um, the chairs,” you explained, gesturing to the wreckage around the living room. “It was… a lot.”

Bucky groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Shit. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, no,” you reassured him quickly. “I’m fine. But the couch… not so much.”

He looked over at the couch, which was now sagging slightly from the multiple punches it had taken. “Damn,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Guess I really went at it, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Babe, you suplexed the couch. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Bucky winced. “Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, grinning up at him. “It was kind of… impressive, honestly. I mean, you took out an entire living room while asleep. That’s some next-level stuff.”

He gave you a sheepish look, still clearly embarrassed. “I’ll fix it in the morning.”

“You better,” you teased. “But for now, can we please go back to bed before you decide to fight the fridge or something?”

Bucky let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll… I’ll stay away from the appliances.”

You wrapped an arm around his waist, guiding him back toward the bedroom. “Good idea, soldier. Let’s just stick to sleeping from now on.”

As you both crawled back into bed, you couldn’t help but steal one last glance at the wrecked living room, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Bucky?” you whispered, snuggling up next to him.

“Yeah?”

“If you ever get the urge to fight the couch again, maybe, like, wake me up first?”

He groaned, pulling the covers over his head. “Don’t remind me.”

You giggled, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Goodnight, Super Soldier Sleepwalker.”

“Goodnight,” he muttered, already halfway back to sleep.

But this time, thankfully, without the couch-wrestling.

[sparkleofpizza]

The Alchemy

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Norris and Button traveling around the world together.

THE 2021 SEASON

PRE SEASON TESTING  Sakhir, Bahrein, 2021 

The McLaren office is silent as I scan over the list of reporters that will be present for the pre-season testing. This is my first time at a testing of Formula 1 and also my first day at the job as not an intern, but as a junior PR assistant. 

I’m nervous, again, just like I was the first day as an intern two years ago. Sophie isn’t here this week, she told me she wanted to see how I’d deal with this by myself, considering pre-season is supposed to be a bit more chill, as I only have to deal with the press and not the fans as well. 

As I finally finish jolting down the necessary notes, I get my phone and smooth down my skirt. I’m trying to appear more professional, wearing a skirt and a button down shirt. 

I walk out of McLaren and onto the eerily quiet paddock. I spot Lando talking to Daniel Ricciardo, his new teammate. The fellow brit waves me over and I smile walking to them. 

“Hey guys.” I smile, standing beside Lando who grins at me. 

Once again I have the same thought as I did earlier this week when I saw Lando for the first time since my five week vacation with my family. What the fuck. 

There was something different about him, I don’t know what it is, but he’s different. I don’t know if he changed something in his hair routine, or is trying out a new workout with his personal trainer. Or if he had an attitude change. There is something different about him, and I can’t get my heart to beat normally around him. 

The two McLaren drivers include me in their conversation and we carry on talking normally. There’s a new dynamic here, Daniel and Lando, the new duo, but they get along well and I can’t help but think that it’s because it’s humanly impossible to dislike Lando. He’s just so… Wow. 

“Mick!” I squeal in delight once I spot the new Haas driver walking side by side with Sebastian. 

Mick Shumacher smiles big once he sees me and I run to him, tackling him with a hug. He catches me with ease and spins me around before putting my feet back on the ground. 

“Oh, I’m so happy to see you here!” 

“I’m happy to see you here, as well!” He says back, matching grin on his face. 

Our eyes are wide and we look like hyperactive children. 

Sebastian sighs dramatically “Will we have to keep you both separated again?” 

Daniel smirks, piping into the conversation. 

“Again?”

Sebastian nods, looking as if he’s in pain. 

“They once set a car on fire.” 

Mick and I yell in protest. 

Daniel’s eyes are wide and Lando arches an eyebrow at me. 

“It was a plastic car.” I explain. 

“And someone who was supposed to be baby sitting us let us loose at the Red Bull garage” Mick complements. 

Daniel laughed delighted, throwing his head back and Lando cracks a small smile, which is extremely unsual of him.

“Hey, don’t put this on me.” Sebastian defends himself “She was an angel and you were an overall well behaved child. How would I know you’d corrupt her sweetness in such a short amount of time?” 

Mick grins as he shrugs “We weren’t that bad.” 

“Didn’t you call Kimi once because you two got drunk and he would be the nicest of the bunch to pick you up?” 

I smile at the memory “Yeah, we called Kimi and he took care of me and then yelled at Mick for being a bad influence.” 

Mick shudders as he recalls the night Kimi Raikonnen yelled at him as he scolded the Shumacher young boy. 

“Oh damn, the iceman went all out on you.” Daniel laughes again. 

This time Lando joins in on the laugher, but his eyes are focused on me and he has his arms crossed. 

Imola, Italy, 2021 

Lando has been a bit weird for past few weeks, ever since Bahrein, which is confusing. Pre season testing went great, the first race of the season he managed to get p4. Still, he was in a kind of bad mood. 

I’ve been watching the race intensely from the McLaren garage, once there are only four laps left, I go wait for him at parc fermé. Lando’s gonna get a podium, the first podium of the season and his second podium of his career. 

I try to keep a professional appearance as I stand at parc ferme. He parks his car at p3. He hasn’t taken off his helmet yet, but I can tell from his body language that he is buzzing with excitement. 

Lewis and Max clap him on the back and he runs to his team. I try to keep a smile at bay, I know there are lots of cameras on me right now, wanting to get the attention of the girl who only got the job because of her daddy. 

He takes off his helmet and balaclava after he weighs down and his eyes lock on me. 

Lando grins, placing his helmet at the table and takes large steps to where I am. Before I can even process he scoops me up in his arms and squishes my body. 

“I got p3.” He mumbled onto my neck. 

“You did. It was amazing.” I smile as I let him continue to squeeze me in a tight hug “Congratulations Lan.” 

“I did that.” He says, emphatically on the I. “You saw what I did, right? You were paying attention to me at the race, weren’t you?” 

I’m a bit confused at what he means by that, but nod. 

“Yes, of course, Lan.” 

“Good.” He mumbled, finally letting go of me, but his hands continued on my body “You’re here with me, Norris and Button traveling the world. No one else is part of that.” 

I nod, still not following what he means by that. Lando stares at me with those beautiful eyes and smiles. 

What is going on? 

Barcelona, Spain, 2021 

The Sainz family, as sweet and welcoming as ever, invited me and Lando to have dinner with them. It's Carlos' home race, but we all still keep our friendship up and his father loves to have us around, mostly Lando who shares his love for golf and I’m pretty sure became an honorary son to him. 

As we sit in a restaurant I take on the opportunity that Lando, who’s across from me, is engaged in a conversation with Caco, so I turn to Carlos. 

“Hey… have you also noticed that Lando has been acting a bit weird this year?” I ask him in a low tone so no one else but me, him and his girlfriend Isa can hear. 

Carlos’ tilt his head to the side a bit confused while Isa smiles fondly at me. 

“No, not really. He’s been normal.” 

Isa lightly taps his arm and they seem to have a silent conversation before Carlos turns to me again, a smile on his face and a glint in his eyes. 

“Oh, pequeñita. You haven’t noticed yet, have you?” 

“Notice what?” I question him, even more confused than before. 

“It’s because of Shumacher.” 

I frown “Mick? What does Mick have to do with Lando’s weird behavior?” 

Isa laughs softly as she leans closer to me. 

“You know what that means, he’s jealous of Mick.” 

I widened my eyes incredulously. 

“Jealous? But why?!” 

The couple share another glance before Carlos pats my head in a sweet but annoying gesture. 

I grow a bit annoyed with the fact that they won’t tell me why, but I decide to keep quiet and not say anything else. I’ll just have to figure it out on my own. 

Le Castellet, France, 2021 

Daniel flanked me through the paddock, a frown on his usual smiley face. He was pissed, I had never seen him pissed off before. 

I had arrived at the paddock with him, Lando had arrived earlier as he rode with Carlos. 

When we got out of the van there were fans waiting for Daniel and he stopped for pictures and autographs. There was a small child with their parents who gushed me over, as they had been Jenson Button’s fans. They asked for a picture and I couldn’t say no when they were so sweet. And that’s when the shit show went down. 

Some fans, overhearing our conversation, started to shout bad words at me. They called me an opportunist, said I didn’t deserve my job, they called me a whore, accused me of sleeping with the drivers so I’d keep my job. 

I was frozen in place, I didn’t know how to react. I had never been publicly hated before, it was already horrible to read those things online, but hearing them being shouted to my face, it was much much worse. 

Daniel snapped the minute he heard those words. He told the fans off, called security and took me inside the paddock and quickly to the McLaren hospitality. 

Lando was lounging on the couch when Daniel slammed the door open, he was on his feet the minute he saw our body language. 

“What happened?” He rushed over to me. When I didn’t say anything he turned to Daniel “What happened?” 

“Some fucking assholes saying fucking bullshit to her.” Daniel answered angrily. 

And it’s like things finally clicked in place and I realized what happened. The tears came out in waves. 

Lando was quick to wrap his arms around me, cradling my head on the crock of his neck. 

Daniel explained to him what the fans had been saying outside the paddock and Lando only held me tighter as I cried. 

“Come on, let’s go to my driver's room.” He mumbled once he realized some of the McLaren staff had been looking at us. “You’ll be much more comfortable there, love.” 

Still keeping me in his arms, he walked me to his driver's room, closing the door shut behind us. He guides me to the couch, sitting me in between his legs and still holding me close. 

Lando caressed my hair as he whispered reassuring words into my ear. 

“I’ll never be good enough for them.” I sob onto his neck “No matter what I do, I will never be able to prove myself. I should just give up… yeah, yeah… I’m gonna quit my job.” 

“Hey, no!” Lando says sternly. He pulls my face off his neck and cups it in his hands, forcing me to look into his eyes. “You’re not quitting. I’m not letting you give up, that’s not happening. Not now, not ever.” 

He wipes away my tears with his thumbs. 

“You are good enough. You’re more than good enough.” He tells me. “You have been doing an amazing job. You’re not here because of your father.” 

“But my dad helped me get this job.” I protest, still softly crying. 

“Yes, he did help you get the job and you never denied it, you’ve been vocal about getting this jump start.” He nods “But it wasn’t your dad that made you keep the job. It wasn’t your dad that made you get the promotion from intern to junior assistant. It was all you. It was your talent, your professionalism, your hard work. It was you, only you.” 

I stare at him, processing his words. 

“And those assholes that said those things to you? They are nothing but pathetic people who need to put others down to feel good about themselves. You don’t owe them anything. “ 

I nod slowly, my tears finally slowing down as he still has my face in between his hands. Lando smiles softly at me. 

“You are incredible, love, I wish you could see how amazing you are.” 

He leans in, placing a soft tender kiss on my forehead. I close my eyes, enjoining his affection. 

Lando lets go of my face, wrapping an arm around my shoulder as he leans back on the couch, making me lie on his chest. One of his hands rests on my hip, holding me close. 

I take a deep breath, snuggling against him and keeping my eyes closed. 

Silverstone, England, 2021 

“And then, he refuses to let her buy her own records!” I exclaim to Lando. “So she didn’t own her own music anymore. The music she worked her whole life on!” 

We were sitting at the McLaren hospitality together. It was way too hot outside at the Silverstone circuit so the two of us were sitting inside, where there was air conditioning, and we were having ice cream. 

“But, Taylor is really smart, and she decided to re-record her albums. So if there is a Taylor’s version after it it means she owns it. And she releases songs from the vault that are songs she wrote originally for that album but that got cut off.” 

Lando nods along to what I’m saying, a small smile on his lips. 

“And she’s releasing… purple Taylor’s version in November?” He asks me. 

I chuckle, “It’s red Taylor’s version.” 

“Oh, I see…” he hums “Why red?” 

“It’s her favorite color. Oh, I can’t wait to dress in full red on the release album date.” 

“That’s a no.” He shakes his head. 

I tilt my head to the side confused “What do you mean that’s a no?” 

“I’m not letting you dress in red! Red is Ferrari’s color and you're a McLaren girl.” 

I place a spoonful of chocolate ice cream in my mouth, letting it melt on my tongue before smiling mischievously at him. 

“Everybody is a Ferrari fan.” I tease him.

“No! No! You’re not quoting Sebastian Vettel to me!” He exclaims dramatically “I already lost my best friend to Ferrari, I can’t lose my girl too!” 

I felt the blush taking control of my cheeks when he called me his girl. 

“Not happening. Doesn’t she have a papaya album?” 

I shake my head, still a bit dazed with his words. 

“The closest she has to an orange tone is her evermore album that is more of a terracota.” 

Lando nods “That works for me, it’s better than a red themed one.” 

I giggle at him, poking his side.

“I can’t believe you’re mad over an album color theme.” 

He rolls his eyes, but he has an affectionate smile on his face. 

Magyórod, Hungry, 2021 

The knocking on the door startled me awake. I jump in bed, rubbing my eyes as I click on the screen of my phone. It’s midnight. I frown wondering who it could be at this time of night. 

I throw the blankets to the side as I pad quietly to the door. I open just a tiny bit to see who it is. 

Lando smiles big when he sees my face. I sigh in relief that it’s a familiar person, I open the door wider and there he is. Standing in a hoodie and sweatpants and holding a birthday cake. 

“Happy birthday!” He exclaims.

I widen my eyes, having completely forgotten it is my birthday. 

“Thank you, Lan!” I smile, stepping to the side to let him into the room. 

Lando walks to the table and places the cake there. I follow him close behind as I look at the beautifully decorated cake. In a cursive letter it’s written I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling 22! 

“Oh my god, you got me a Taylor Swift birthday cake!” 

Lando grins before wrapping his arms around me and kissing the top of my head. 

“Of course, how couldn’t I get a 22 birthday themed cake for the 22 year old girl who’s obsessed with Taylor Swift?” 

I smile as I squeeze him in the hug. 

“You’re the best of the best of the best!” I squeak happily. 

He smiles before kissing my temple.

“You only deserve the best.” 

We stayed hugging for a few more minutes, enjoying the hug before pulling away. I smile at him again, that’s all I do when I’m around him, and I grab his hand pulling him towards the bed. 

“Sleep over?” I ask softly as he sits together in the fluffy bed. 

“Yes.” He nods. 

Lando looks nervous for a moment and I get concerned I might have crossed a boundary of asking him to stay over, although it won’t be the first time we slept on the same bed. 

He sighs before putting his hand inside his hoodie pocket and pulling out a velvet box from inside of it. He smiles nervously before handing it to me. 

“Your birthday present.” He mumbled 

I gasp as I open the box. Inside of it there’s a beautiful gold necklace, the pendant is a heart with its outside full of tiny pink swarovskis. I take the delicate jewelry in my hands as I turn it around, on the back of the heart it’s written LN. 

“Lando…” I murmur 

“I-I wanted to have my… my initials on it so you ’d… so you’d always have me close to you.” He mumbled awkardly, his cheeks pink.

“It’s beautiful.” I smile “I love it. Thank you.” 

I turn back to him and pull my hair to the side “Can you put it on me, please?”

“Y-yeah.” 

Lando’s hands are a bit shaky as he places the necklace around my neck, his fingertips bringing goosebumps to my skin. 

I turn around again and his eyes fall to my neck and chest, where the heart necklace he gave me rests. He smiles proudly. 

“It looks beautiful on you.” He said, lifting his eyes to look at me “You’re beautiful.” 

I smile, leaning over and placing a kiss on his cheek. 

“Thank you, Lan. I’m never taking this off.” 

He grins harder, leaning over and placing a kiss on my cheek as well. 

SUMMER BREAK 

Mallorca, Spain, 2021 

“Retirement huh?” I ask Kimi Raikkonen as we’re enjoining the beach in Mallorca 

It’s not usual for the Raikkonen family to join us during summer break, along with the Rosbergs and Vettels. Lewis used to come along with Roscoe but since his fallout with Nico he never joined us again - even after when I was seventeen and I called him crying asking him to join us because my dad was retiring and we should all spend one last summer together. He came, after Nico left. Those dramatic middle aged men. 

Kimi gives me a lazy smile, which also isn’t usual contrary to popular belief. He has his sunglasses on and is building a sandcastle with me and his two children, Robin and Rianna. 

“Eh, racing is a hobby and I got tired of it.” He shrugs “Now I’m more into dirty bike riding.” 

I chuckle, shaking my head “Somehow that sounds even worse than driving cars in circles.” 

Robin gives me a bright smile as he says “Don’ wowwy, I race car soon in Formula 1 and you cheer I!” 

I smile at him, ruffling his blonde hair “Of course, Rob! I wouldn’t dare to cheer for anyone else but you!” 

The little boy seems content as he goes back to building the sandcastle. Rianna actually grew bored of it a few minutes ago and is now busy with playing, tugging, at my hair. 

“Who’s he?” Kimi asks suddenly. 

“What?” I frown confused. 

“The boy who gave you the necklace.” 

“Oh.” I feel my cheeks warm up, truth to my words I have indeed been wearing the necklace Lando gave me all the time. “Lando gave me as a birthday gift.” 

I can see the furrow on Kimi’s eyebrows even if he’s wearing sunglasses. 

“That thing made a move on you?!” He exclaims “I’m running him off track when we’re back from summer break.” 

“What? No!” I shake my head “It’s just a necklace.” 

“A custom heart shaped necklace! It’s like he has a death wish or something.” He whips his head to the side “Sebastian! Come here! Now!” 

Seb, who was peacefully napping under the umbrella, sits startled at Kimi’s urgent call. He runs to us. 

“Norris made a move on her!” 

“What?” Sebastian asks scandalized “He did what? That little asshole!” 

“He didn’t do anything, Seb.” I explain as I point to my necklace “Kimi is just freaking out over the birthday gift Lando gave me.” 

Seb sits on the sand beside me, leaning closer to scan the necklace. 

“Yeah, I’m running him off track when the summer break is over.” 

“That’s what I said!” Kimi smiles big “We’re running him off track together so he doesn’t have anywhere to escape to.” 

Seb hums, nodding his head “That’s a good plan.” 

I look at them in exasperation “No one is running anyone off track.” 

They ignore me as they keep plotting. 

“Hey!” I snap at them and the two grown men finally look at me “Lando and I are just friends, stop this. And even if we weren’t, I’m 22, I’m allowed to date.” 

They share a look before laughing. 

“No, you’re not allowed to date.” Seb says, still chuckling “You’re funny, prinzessin.” 

I glare at them but they only continue to laugh at me. 

“You’re still the first pieni vauva, you always will be.” Kimi grins at me “And that means you’re only allowed to date when you’re… fifty.” 

“You’re both ridiculous.” I scoff but I have a small smile on my lips. 

Deep down I know they don’t actually mean it. But I have to keep an eye out so that they won’t threaten Lando or something like that. 

Monza, Italy, 2021 

“You’re here!” Lando yelled over the loud music, arms open wide and a drink in his hand. He was for sure already drunk. 

Daniel had won the Monza Grand Prix and Lando came just in second, it was the first time in his F1 career he had gotten p2. The team had decided to go out to celebrate at a club and some other drivers joined in - Max Verstappen, who had a terrible race and dnf, was there drinking the night away to celebrate his best friend and also drown his feelings. 

I stepped up to where Lando stood and smiled at him. 

“Yeah, sorry it took me too long.” I let him hug me “I couldn’t decide what to wear.” 

Lando grabbed my hand, twirling me around and whistling as my sparkly short blue dress shone under the club lights. 

“You certainly made a great choice.” He smirked at me “You look incredible.” 

I feel my cheeks grow warm. 

“Thank you.” 

I went over to the bar to order myself a drink and Lando followed me close behind. As I stood leaning over the bar to order my drink, I could feel his warm chest against my back. 

I stood up straight as I waited for the bartender, and I tilted my head to the side to look at Lando who was already looking down on me. 

He's wearing a simple white shirt and jeans, but he’s wearing his damn cap backwards. He always looks fucking good when he wears it backwards and it actually makes me weak in the knees seeing him so up close like this, his chest pressed against my back.

I’m snapped out of it when the bartender hands me my drink. I thank him before letting Lando lead me back to where the rest of our group is. I sip on my drink, letting the alcohol flow through me and relax me. 

Carlos is dancing with Charles while Max laughs at their terrible moves. Daniel is screaming the music as he hugs Zac and they both sway side to side. 

I can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous they look. 

Lando grins at me as he’s sitting on a stool, his left arm resting on top of the table. 

“Come here.” He says as he wiggles two of his fingers for me to get closer. 

When I’m at reach distance, he turns me around and pulls me to stand in between his legs. My back hits his chest and he wraps an arm around my waist, keeping me close. 

My breath hitches as he does this so effortlessly and as if it’s normal to hug me from behind. 

“They’re gonna be all over Instagram and Twitter tomorrow.” Lando whispers in my ear “They look ridiculous.” 

I chuckle “They really do.” I sip my drink “Aren’t you gonna join them?” 

I feel his laugh against the side of my face. 

“Are you calling me ridiculous?” He asks in feign hurt. 

I giggle, craning my neck a bit to the side so I can see his face. He has a smug smile on his lips. 

“You ridiculous? Never!” I giggle harder when he squeezes my waist in a playful warning “It’s just that usually you’re the life of the party and right now you’re sitting on a stool drinking peacefully.” 

Lando smiles, his dimples even more evident as the pulsing lights of the club shine on his face. 

“Can you blame me for wanting to stay here with the prettiest girl in the club?” 

Once again I feel my cheeks grow warm, but since I’ve already had drunk, my mind is a bit dazed so I smile at him. 

“Really? And where is this pretty girl?” I ask him in a tease. 

He smirks, squeezing my waist again and relishing in me squirming against his chest. 

“She’s right here… in my arms.” He mumbled before placing a long lasting kiss on my cheek. “The prettiest girl in the club.” He moves his lips a bit down and kisses my jaw “The prettiest girl I have ever seen.” 

I feel my heart flutter in my chest at his words and at his touch. I know he’s drunk and doesn’t mean any of it, but for a night I can pretend he does mean it, so I let him hold me close. 

Cidade do México, México, 2021 

“Oh, Mick…” I whisper as I hug him, softly rubbing his back “It’s okay… this kind of thing happens.” 

Mick huffs annoyed against my shoulder. He crashed into Yuki Tsnuoda during the race today and they both had a DNF. 

“You’re both rookies… that’s normal to happen.” 

I apparently said the wrong thing because the German boy lifted his head from my shoulder, our face millimeters apart as he glared at me. 

“Don’t say things that aren’t true.” He mumbled angrily “You’re not even a driver.” 

I narrowed my eyes at him “There’s no need to take out your frustration on me, I’m not the one who crashed your car.” 

We keep staring at each other, waiting for the other to back down. Eventually Mick sighs and goes back to burying his head on my shoulder as he continues to complain about it being unfair. 

I don’t say anything, knowing that if I do we will end up having a fight, just like it happened when we were younger and he crashed into Formula 3 - he kept whining about the crash that had been his own fault and I called him out on it. We didn’t speak for three weeks. 

“There you are!” Lando’s voice cut through the silence of one of the cool down rooms of the paddock. 

He gave Mick an unimpressed look and a glare. 

“Hi, Lan.” I smile at him. 

Ever since our little encounter at the club right after the Monza Grand Prix things between us have been different. He certainly kept touching me every chance he got and I wasn’t going to complain about it when in reality I loved to be wrapped in his arms. 

“I need you for something.” He said, and I tilt my head confused as I was off the clock “It’s important. Please.” 

“Sure.” I nod as Mick lifts his head from my shoulder and away from me “Take care, Mick.” 

The Shumacher boy looks at me with a slight pout of being deprived of comfort after his DNF, but didn’t say anything as Lando grabbed my hand and got me out of the cooldown room. 

We walked in silence for a moment before we entered the paddock’ parking garage. Lando opened the back door of the van and helped me up inside before sitting beside me and taping the driver on the shoulder to signal we’re ready to go. 

“So… burritos?” He asked. 

“What?” I blink at him 

“Do you want burritos for dinner? And some tacos? And nachos?” 

“I… you…” I’m at a loss of words for a moment as I catch up to what he’s done “You called me here to help you because you want dinner?” 

Lando nods, a sly smile on his face as he shifts his body on the back seat to take a better look at me. 

“Yes, I’m hungry. That’s why I need your help, to have dinner with me.” 

I can’t help but laugh at his audacity and then a memory comes up to my brain. Back in Spain, at the beginning of the season when I asked Carlos about Lando acting weird and Isa told me he was jealous. Jealous of Mick. 

“Why don’t you like Mick?” I ask, catching him off guard. 

Lando is momentarily stunned before he shakes his head. 

“I do not not like him.” 

“Yes, you do.” I say, a slight frown on my forehead “Whenever I’m with him you’re either glaring, snappy or you find excuses to drag me away.” 

He avoids my eyes for a moment, looking at the rooftop of the car before finally looking at me again. 

“It’s not that I don’t like him, it’s just that…” he trails off and is quiet again for a moment before he grumbles “He hogs all your attention.” 

“Oh God, he’s my childhood friend and I don’t even spend that much of a time with him.” 

“Do you like him?” He asks me. 

I look at him stunned “What?” 

Lando rolls his eyes “Do you like Shumacher? Like, do you have a crush on him or something?” 

“No. He’s my childhood friend.” I repeat my words from earlier. “Why?”

He shrugs and won’t look at me. 

I huff “Don’t do this, Lando.” 

He looks at me from the corner of his eyes “Don’t do what?” 

“You know very well what I’m talking about.” I cross my arms over my chest. 

He doesn’t say anything and neither do I. We both look at the opposite windows of the car, watching as Mexico City passes by in a blur. 

Doha, Qatar, 2021 

Lando and I weren’t talking. Well, mostly he wasn’t talking to me after Mexico. During the Brazilian Grand Prix and his 22nd birthday, I snuck into his hotel room and left this gift there. 

It was a small golden bracelet, it had his full name and race number on it. I left a sweet message alongside it, hoping he would get the hint of what I meant. I guess he did get the hint and didn’t like it because I woke up after the Brazilian Grand Prix to see Instagram and Twitter flooded with pictures of him making out with some girl at a club in São Paulo. 

And now I was the one not talking to him because he has been texting me and calling me non stop on the two week break in between races. 

I asked Sophie to take care of this scandal of him as I had never dealt something like that before and didn’t know where to start, so I just stayed on the sidelines watching her do her job and learning - in all honesty I just didn’t want to have to deal with him after seeing him kiss some random girl. 

I was heartbroken and I didn’t want to let anyone know about it because if Kimi or Seb caught wind of this… I might be sad, but I’d like to keep Lando alive. 

“Stop looking so sad…” Daniel pokes my arm “Those big sad eyes of yours… I can’t handle it.” 

We were sitting together as we were waiting for the press conference to begin. 

“I’m not sad.” I lied, “I’m just tired.” 

“C’mon!” He all but whines “We’ve been working together for almost a year now, I know you’re lying.” 

I don’t say anything so Daniel keeps talking “He’s sad too, you know.” 

I give him a side eyed glance as I mumble “I don’t know who is this he you’re referring to.” 

He sighs exasperated. 

“You should talk to him.” He says after a few minutes of silence “Lando misses you.” 

“No. I got his message loud and clear.” I shake my head, feeling the stupid tears gather in my eyes once again “I don’t need him to say it to my face. From now on we’re just… work colleagues.” 

“But you’re not just work colleagues, you’re way more than that and you know it. Also, you both are dumb asses who got this all wrong.” 

I turn to look at Daniel, the stubborn tears ready to spill out onto my cheeks. 

“How did I get it wrong, Daniel? I wrote him a note basically saying he’s the best thing that has ever happened in my life and that he meant so much more to me than just a friendship that blossomed because of work.” I say wobbly as I refused to let the tears roll down from my eyes “And he went out and kissed someone else. Things have never been more clear to me. I was just a fool and stupid.” 

Daniel says my name softly, but I shake my head. 

“The press conference is about to start, get in the room. I’ll be waiting for you here.” 

The Australian man sighs before nodding and following my instructions. He gives me one more look over the shoulder and I hate how he seems to pity me right now. 

Abu Dhabi, Saudi Arabia, 2021 

I didn’t go to the anual Abu Dhabi McLaren end of season party. Instead I went out to dinner with the Raikkonen family. 

Tonight has been Kimi’s last race of his Formula 1 career and I wanted to be there with him for his last night. I’ve known him my whole life, I was the flower girl at his wedding and I had been the first baby in his life. Right now being with family seems better. I need this. 

I decided not to be secretive about my motives of not being at the McLaren party as I posted a picture hugging Kimi on Instagram. 

Old man retired. Now that you’re out of f1 I can finally say it: you’ve always been my favorite. Love you Setä Kimi 🥺💙

After dinner, Sebastian drove me back to the hotel. He had been quiet most of the night and I can tell he is sad. All of his friends have retired, now it’s just him, Lewis and Fernando who have decided to come back. 

Once we’re out of the car and entering the elevator I turn to him. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to leave as well.” I whisper. 

He chuckles softly “I can’t say I’m not considering it. I’m getting old.” 

“No, you’re not old.” I shake my head. “You’re not even forty yet!” 

“But I’m not at my prime anymore. I only got one podium this year.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything.” I argued back. “You switched teams, you’re still getting used to the car! You can’t leave!” 

Suddenly it was like it had all hit me at once, the changes of it all. Kimi was leaving, he isn’t coming back next year. I’m not talking to Lando, who has been by my side since I started this job. And now Seb wants to leave as well. 

“Hey, prinzessin, no, please don’t cry.” 

I didn’t even notice the tears falling down my face as Sebastian hugged me tight. He caressed my hair in a soothing manner, like he used to do when I was a child. 

We were standing in the middle of the hallway of the hotel. He rocked me gently in his arms, shushing me. 

When I finally calmed down, Sebastian spoke again, his voice gentle. 

“You need to talk to Lando.” 

Before I could protest he continued to talk. “I know you’re not only crying because Kimi is leaving and I’m considering retirement. You need to talk to help, fix things between you two before it’s too late.” 

“There’s nothing to fix…” I whisper sadly “He… I… I really like him, Seb. But he doesn’t feel the same way.” 

“You’re kidding right?” He chuckled amused “That boy is head over heels for you.” 

I open my mouth, but once again he cuts me off “I know what he did. He told me.” 

“He… told you?” I question with a frown “And you’re still telling me to go talk to him?” 

Sebastian nodded “Yes. He was desperate, he misses you so much and doesn’t know what to do anymore to get you to talk to him. He’s… hopeless, but he likes you too.” 

When Sebastian left me in my hotel room, tucked into bed warm and safe with a kiss on the forehead, I kept replaying his words in my mind. 

Lando likes me. That sounds weird. But I also know Sebastian would never ever lie to me about something like that. 

I text Daniel asking him if Lando has already left the party. Daniel answers me with a yes in big bold letters and lots of exclamation marks. 

I pace back and forth in my hotel room before slipping on my shoes. I open the mini fridge and get to mini liquor bottles. I dart out of my room and soon enough I’m standing in front of Lando’s room. 

I take a deep breath before I knock on the door. 

There are a few moments of silence, I can hear my heartbeat thumping in my ears. I hear the lock turn and soon enough Lando is standing in front of me. His green eyes are rimmed red and he looks like he has been crying. 

He whispers my name, a slight tone of disbelief. 

“We didn’t toast to another year of Norris and Button traveling the world together.” I say. 

We stare at each other before he smiles and ushers me inside. 

[sw1ftf33t]

this makes my wonder about how my inventory on the different servers I played on says about me..

like one of them I kept soulsand and wither skulls in my inventory, tnt and god apples (who would’ve guess that barely a week later there was a world ending doomsday event)

another one I had no armour or tools (I had admin and it was supposed to be a causal server) kept my inventory filled with stupid shit, but kept hidden chests of tools, and important things (and guess what happened, hint; my base got blown up, my stuff was saved by *one* block)

the other one I had my normal tools and an enderchest that held stupid items that were important to me because I learned that normal chest werent safe, I carried as much tnt as I could (without it being weird), I kept myself geared more then everyone else, and I did constant PvP practice, I even built myself a shooting range (this server got shut down because the owner missed a payment 😔)

And the final one, with new people, we have keep inventory on, I don’t have anything better then stone tools, and cobble, I don’t even think I wear armour, but I’m not hiding my stuff, or hoarding tnt (as much, it’s a hard habit to break) I think this is like healing or something, sure we fight and kill each other, but there’s no stakes anymore

Anyways that’s all on me talking about how the servers I played on effected how I played with people

everyone in mcyt fandom talks about bad inventories but i feel like we don't talk enough about the different types of bad inventory & the ways that inventories can be characterizing. i took most of these screenshots but one or two of them aren't by me and i've just had them saved for a few months sorry. i'm taking inventories from various people across various servers (wild life, dream smp, hermitcraft, lifesteal, and 2b2t) to illustrate my point here

like there are inventories that are bad because they're empty:

but then there's also inventories that are bad because they're full:

and, like-- the different ways an inventory can be bad are also characterizing? an inventory can be bad because the items aren't stacked; or because it's empty of anything useful; or because it's so full of building/fight supplies that there's no slots left for doing anything else; or because it's full of random junk. it speaks to a character's position (compare tubbo's diamond sword and empty inventory to ranboo's netherite sword or zam's full inventory of potions) and the rules of the server they're on (tubbo's not wearing elytra because elytra aren't allowed on the dsmp; zam's inventory has chorus fruit and wind charges but no ender pearls because ender pearls aren't allowed this season on lifesteal) and what their priorities are (building, pvp, lore) and how organized vs scattered they are and so much more. another inventory i like:

like!!! that's so instantly characterizing, for both the character and the server!!!! 5 stacks of end crystals + obsidian. 6 stacks of tnt. 3 stacks of god apples and a stack of chorus fruit as your only food. the bucket of lava and bucket of water for lavacasting. the fact that the flint and steel is enchanted with unbreaking. that's a STORY--of the character but also of the server! this is not the sort of inventory you have on most servers! it's so focused around griefing--explosions, lavacasts--and pvp, and the stacks of god apples as primary food source are an instant warning sign for widespread duping. the chorus fruit not for fights--ender pearls are strictly better, and he's got some so he clearly has access to them--which means it's for escaping traps, which means that's a live concern. it's got a lot of pvp supplies but it's so wildly different from the lifesteal inventory in ways that speak to the differences in server rules and cultures. like, horrendous inventory in many ways. also, very good inventory in some ways. also also, delightful inventory! fascinating inventory!!! inventories are such a delightful source of instant characterization i love them so so much

[velvetvexations]

Ngl i feel like, to a certain degree, it would do everyone good to actually engage with bigoted groups (ie, radfems) and their beliefs more deeply.

I didn't spend years picking apart the fundamental beliefs and issues of radfeminism just to have to deal with people who've never looked into what it actually is tell me radfems don't hate men and masculinity and that radfeminism is actually good and normal if you cut the transphobia out (read: be transphobic in a different way)

If you (general) think the only defining factor/issue with radfeminism is the hatred of trans woman, you've got a MASSIVE lack of knowledge on it's basic fundamentals and history, and are extremely vulnerable to falling for it.

If you wanna protect yourself against a group/falling into that pipeline you need to actually know what they're about. I've seen plenty of baby radfems, who started reasonably and supportive of trans women, slide steadily towards full blown irrational terfism. It's a foot in the door thing.

Idk I'm just rambling now but i see it as a massive issue that people don't actually engage with bigots and their movements besides "Well they're bad". Why are they? How did they get here? What foundations lead to this? How do they start? If you don't ask yourself these things you'll just end up saying how you can't be a radfem because you don't hate/you are a trans women while completely uncritically parroting their rhetoric.

It's really frustrating because they have no idea what TERFs are like so they think they love cis men, and then they call me a crypto-TERF who sucks up to them in spite of the fact that any given random page on my blog has content that would give the average TERF a seizure.

Like, hey, do you think the supposed TERFs in my audience likes all those gifs I reblog of women on leashes and in cages and getting the shit kicked out of them? If you have a semblance of rational sense rattling around in your skull, the answer is obviously no, they'd be repulsed by that and a million other things about me and my political opinions, but to the TRF it all makes perfect sense because "hates trans women" is all a TERF is to them. They literally do not know what a TERF is.

[jselorekeeper]

"The Full Jacksepticeye & Friends panel from New York Comic Con 2024" on Popverse

Both Jackie and Marvin started off as jokes, but the way the community portrayed the characters had Jack more intrigued by actually forming the story. He admits that it was harder to come up with a story for Jackie.

James stated that the genuine humor within Jackie's comics had him intrigued by the character and he fell in love with writing him.

Megan said she likes how genuine Jackie feels, in that he is a very relatable character for most. She especially likes Jackie's clear sense of anxiety about everything. She also stated that she is all for balancing the comedy and emotions within the story through coloring.

The original intent for Jackie was supposed to be the relatable style of "when I'm doing this I feel on top of the world but when I'm dealing with real life it becomes more depressing" for Jack. Such as the example of Jack recording vs him normally feels like two different stories.

Magpie brought up the fact that most of the community views Marvin as a member of the LGBTQIA+ community, and Suzi even jokingly mentions Sunspell before continuing the conversation.

Alejandro stated that when the characters were brought out to them they both were fully formed characters but Marvin was more fleshed out. He even states that he loves the fact that Marvin's magic comes to him so easily but in reality, Marvin is struggling more on terms of how to live life normally.

"What's Next? Coming in 2025"

Jack speaks about how they are at the midpoint of the story and he mentions how he wants the finale of these egos to be good.

There is a reason that Jackie and Marvin were done together at the same time, but nothing more was said.

After the IRIS game trailer was shown Jack mentions that there is no release date yet but it is heavily inspired by Observation Duty and Overnight Watch.

He stated the first game will be free and that there are plenty of more games to come in the future.

"QnA"

"Is there going to be any cameos within Jackie's story like how there is in Marvin's?" They said the story is still going and they can take it as a suggestion.

"For the writers is there any possibility of a crossover?" They said it would be difficult to do in terms of the worlds merge and such but they also stated they cannot say anything about that as of right now.

"How was it to give your ideas to the artist?" Jack admits that it was difficult at first as it started with him alone but they now speak much more frequently so he can communicate his ideas.

"What was it like bringing mental health into the egos?" Jack stated it is the most important aspect of their stories and wanted characters people could relate to.

"Are you going to expand to other egos?" Jack admits they are just focusing on Marvin and Jackie for right now as he struggles with balancing multiple ideas at once. But, he did admit that he and Magpie spoke recently about the other egos and planned out more of their stories. Then stating he isn't sure if the other egos will be in comic form.

"If you were to take Marvin and Jackie and put them together, how long would it take for them to start fighting?" Jack jokingly talks about how messed up an idea that is and then proceeds to state "Six minutes."

[gotta-winwin]

2019 debut year <> slipping into to the diamond life

word count: 2.3k TW: fatigue, one swear word, woozi being kind of mean italics are in english, bolded words are in mandarin

Cyana woke up to the sound of pots and pans clanging heavily in the kitchen. Rubbing her eyes, she got up from her spot on the bed, padding as quietly as possible past a sleeping Minghao towards the open door. She winced as she walked, her leg muscles screaming in protest and her knees aching from last night's practice.

She found that she was pleasantly surprised at how easy her transition into life with Seventeen was. The rigorous schedule was not unlike her time at Disney, and it helped that she was still shielded behind the walls of Pledis. It also helped that Seungcheol had confiscated her phone the moment she moved in, insisting that she didn't need it and looking on SNS would not help her at all. She was grateful for the little things like that that he did.

Walking into the kitchen, her eyes squinting as she adjusted to the bright lights, she could just make out a blurry figure standing at the stove. Mentally, she scolded herself for forgetting her glasses on her nightstand.

"Who's there?" She asked tentatively, hoping it was one of the members and not an intruder. She was also hoping that it wasn't Woozi, who was often absent from home but came back at odd hours.

"Dino." The blurry figure stated, and Cyana could feel his stare on her. "Breakfast?" He asked, gesturing at whatever was on the stove.

She shook her head. The staff had her on a strict diet as they prepared for her upcoming debut and comeback. "I'm going to go wash up. But thanks."

Dino grunted, clearly still half asleep as he returned his attention back on whatever he was making.

Tiptoeing back into her and Minghao's room, she quickly snatched her glasses before heading for the bathroom. She had learned pretty quickly upon arriving that it was best to wake up early, as the bathroom became messy and crowded the later it got. Splashing her face with cold water and tying her hair back, she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her stylist had died her hair blonde for the comeback, insisting that it complimented her skin tone better than brown. She didn't know how to feel about that. The girl in the mirror looked more like a stranger.

"yue liang~" Minghao knocked twice on the bathroom door. "We're all leaving soon."

She blinked. Had that much time passed already? She knew it was a terrible habit of hers to zone out and realized she had been getting ready mindlessly. She cleared her throat. "I'll be out in a second!" She called, hoping she sounded normal.

Today was a big day for her. The company had organized an interview for Seventeen to promote their new comeback, and she knew the main focus of it would inevitably land on her. Shaking her shoulders, she joined the others by the front door, pulling on her shoes and jacket.

"It's still snowing today, nana." Joshua wrapped a scarf around her neck, tucking the ends into her jacket collar. "You have to be healthy for our comeback."

She gave him a grateful smile. They'd grown close over the few weeks since she'd moved in and her Korean had begun to steadily improve thanks to his help. "Thanks, shua."

Cyana didn't expect how hectic the interview set would be, as she was ushered from station to station, foreign hands touching up her hair and makeup and outfit. The set ran in an orderly fashion compared to the sets in LA and she appreciated the speed in which everything was done. Her stomach was hurting due to the nerves and she couldn't help but feel a impending sense of doom settling on her chest. Getting mic'ed up, she took her seat next to Seungcheol, frowning a bit when she realized she was sat in the middle.

"Do I have to be in the middle?" She asked, leaning slightly towards him to whisper.

He gave her an apologetic smile. "Yes. We look the most balanced that way."

She supposed he was right. She could see them through the viewfinder of one of the biggest cameras, and they looked quite symmetrical.

"You got this!" DK tapped her shoulder from behind, smiling brightly from his place to the left. "Fighting!"

She told herself to relax. They all seemed to believe in her, and she had rehearsed many times over with Joshua while Seungcheol monitored. He must've believed she could do it if they were here now. The red light on the camera blinked to life and Cyana straightened her back. She was hyperaware of the fact that Wonwoo's knees were pressed up against her back, an unfortunate result of their seating arrangement.

"Seventeen interview - You Made My Dawn, take one."

"You did great." Joshua said to her, as the red light ceased blinking and the producer called the end of the interview. "Just like we practiced." She looked up and behind her at his happy expression.

"I think I blacked out during the whole process." She confessed, truly not remember anything that had happened.

He laughed and so did Vernon, who overheard from the very end of the line. "It gets easier. I remember our first interview. No one remembered anything until we watched the video online. It was the nerves."

"You were good." Seungcheol returned to the group, having left to speak to their manager. "They let me watch a portion of it. You did well."

Cyana smiled shyly at the praise. "Thank you. I'm glad."

Raising his voice, Seungcheol addressed everyone as a whole. "We're heading back to the company since a few members from the vocal team need to rerecord some lines for Hug. Everyone else needs to practice our performance for Getting Closer. The spin isn't coordinated perfectly yet."

Murmurs of agreement came from the group as everyone got up to leave. Returning her mic pack, Cyana hurried to catch up with Joshua, looping her arm with his as they followed the group out to the cars.

"We're rerecording things?" She asked, confused. She thought they'd all sounded pretty good.

Joshua hesitated and nodded. "Woozi wants to clean up a couple parts. I won't be going though, he said he just needed you and Jeonghan."

She paled. "Can't you-" She stopped, knowing her request was selfish. Time was precious during comeback season and Joshua was needed with the rest of the group.

He sent her an understanding smile, his eyes shining with warmth. He knew she was terrified. "Jeonghan's nice." He offered.

"I know he is, I'm just-" She paused, twisting her fingers in worry. "What if I say something wrong in Korean? Or if I mess up recording."

They had arrived in front of their cars now, needing to spilt up between three separate vehicles. "They're not scary people, Ana. Even if Woozi might seem like it, he understands that people make mistakes. And you sang beautifully last session. I'm sure he probably just wants to add more adlibs or something."

Cyana nodded, a little soothed by his explanation. "Thanks, shua."

He nodded, knowing that there was much more hidden in the simple thanks. "Anytime, Ana."

The atmosphere within the recording studio was stiff and heavy. It was Cyana's seventh time recording the same verse now, finishing each time only to receive a sharp sigh from Woozi.

"Again." He'd say over the intercom, and Cyana would go again.

She was getting a bit sick of the verse, and her skin was growing hotter by the second from both the humidity of the room and her growing annoyance. She was no stranger to producing, she'd dabbled in it before, and she knew the track already sounded extremely polished. The longer Woozi dragged it out for the more she felt like he was toying with her for the sake of it.

"Jihoon ya~" Jeonghan lounged on the couch behind Woozi, bored. "She sounds great, don't you think it's enough?"

Woozi shook his head. "She sounds great. Not perfect. We need perfect this comeback."

Jeonghan signed. "People will not hear the difference-"

"I will hear the difference." Woozi snapped. He pressed the intercom and spoke into the mic. "Again."

"At least give her some direction." Jeonghan chided. "You're only making her angry."

Woozi sighed, knowing his hyung was right. He didn't really know why he was so annoyed at the girl. Her verse was great, but there was that part of it that was missing. He pressed the intercom again once Cyana was finished. A little better, he thought. "Can you try singing with more strength?" He asked, unsure how to communicate exactly what he was envisioning. "More power, but soft."

Cyana scrunched up her eyebrows in confusion, putting the headphones back on. "Okay."

He was used to directing his members who already knew how he worked and what he needed done - what he was picturing in his mind. Cyana's next try came easier, and he could tell they were almost there.

"Better, again-"

"I think that's enough." Jeonghan cut in, sensing Cyana's growing frustration and Woozi's annoyance. He didn't particularly want to be in the room if they both exploded at each other.

"I'm okay." Cyana spoke, surprising both of them. "Let's keep going. I want to get this right."

Woozi turned his chair around to face Jeonghan, a look of i told you so written across his face. "You can leave if you want, hyung. We're already finished with your verse." He could sense Jeonghan's hesitancy. Rolling his eyes, he added "I'll walk with her back to the practice room. And I promise I won't yell at her or whatever."

The older boy scoffed but still got up to leave. "I'm more worried you'll end up killing each other and we'll be 12 instead of 14."

It was Woozi's turn to scoff, as he turned back to the soundboard and cued Cyana to start again. He had to begrudgingly admit that he pleasantly surprised at her dedication and felt a little bad for being a bitch.

"That one was good." He spoke into the mic, signalling the end of the session. "You're done."

Cyana took a little bit to reset herself before exiting the booth. She paused, lingering near the doorway as Woozi watched her, confused. "Can I-" She breathed out sharply. "Can I listen? Just once."

He frowned, but sat back down and cued up the completed track for her. He watched as she gingerly sat down on the couch, hands bunched in her lap as she listened silently. He was proud of this particular track. It evoked a feeling of home and comfort that only translated well if done correctly, and he had somehow managed to pull it off.

Cyana stood up to leave once the track was over, hesitating again near the doorway.

"For god's sake. Just spit it out." Woozi grumbled, annoyed at her hesitancy.

"I-" She blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

Woozi sighed when he remembered she probably didn't understand. Joshua probably didn't go around teaching Cyana what for god's sake and spit it out was in Korean. "Just say it. Whatever you wanted to say."

She paused. "It's at 135 BPM right now." She said quietly. "I think it'll sound better at 138."

Woozi blinked. Cyana pushed open the studio door and dashed out, scared of what he might say. Rushing in the direction of their practice room, she sighed in relief when she saw Seungkwan and Hoshi's familiar back profile.

"Hi." She breathed out, still breathless from the rush over.

They both seemed surprised but happy to see her. "Hey," Seungkwan replied, handing her a pinny he had been holding with her name on it. "We were just about to go look for you. Put that on, we're filming a choreo video to send to the event people today."

She nodded, throwing it over her baggy tee. "Sorry. Recording took a bit long."

Hoshi gave her a smile. "That's Woozi for you."

"Go get some water," Seungkwan reminded, throwing an arm around both her and Hoshi's shoulders, leading them towards the practice room. "You aren't too tired, right?"

Cyana knew she was a bit worn out. She hadn't slept for long last night, having been up till the AMs worrying about the interview. Her limbs screamed with pain every time someone reminded her she still had to dance. The roll in Getting Closer was killing her. Each time she spun, her world spun, and she had to continue the routine with obscured vision as tv static overtook her view. She gave Seungkwan a bright smile. "I'm still doing great." She lied, feeling better once she saw the relief shining through his eyes. "We're going to kill this choreo." She said, trying to pump herself up.

Hoshi frowned. "Kill this choreo?" He asked, a little confused.

"Ah~ like 'we're going to do very well." Seungkwan deduced.

Hoshi, upon seeing Cyana nod in confirmation, grinned as they entered the practice room. He greeted the others with a loud "We gonna kill this choreo!" and Seungkwan clutched onto Cyana as they doubled over in laughter. Everyone else looked mildly confused, while Vernon and Joshua could only share smiles at the chaos.

Seungcheol clapped for everyones attention as they all gathered in the middle of the room, cameras and staff both ready. Cyana noticed that Woozi had somehow gotten here as well, his own pinny on and his hair covered with a beanie. "Okay. We're going to do this choreo well and with no accidents, okay?"

Collective words of encouragement and cheers filled the room at his words as everyone took their place. Cyana tried her best to ignore how unnaturally light her head was feeling and knelt beside DK.

"Three." The director counted down. Cyana sent a weak smile in DK's direction.

"Two." She ran through the moves desperately in her mind.

"One."

author's note: thank you so much for reading! i know it's kind of on a cliffhanger haha thank you to everyone who's shown this series love ~ ik woozi's kind of mean right now but i promise it will all pay off soon

[black--sun]

Shiro’s confidence that he’ll make that book happen brings a small smile to his lips. One he looks away to hide. He didn’t really expect to ever be making long term plans with Shiro again, but he nods with a slight motion. “Yeah. Okay. I will.” He snorts. “I can’t argue with that.” Shiro knows that's not what Ichigo was getting at, but fine. He can play that game. He shrugs. “Well, if it’s a fictional true story, I couldn’t say it’s about you. But enough people know you that they’d probably figure it out. You haven’t really kept a low profile. So if there’s any embarrassing stories you want me to omit, tell me now.” He takes a breath and looks away and adopts the most obnoxious, matter of fact tone he can find. “I’ll try to downplay how obsessed with me you are. And some of the cuddling and hand holding. I’d hate for you to lose face with the criminal population.” Until he says it, it hasn’t really dawned on him how much he’s missed the cuddling and he thinks they only really ever held hands once or twice, but he feels a harsh twinge in his chest just thinking about it.

He almost chokes on his sudden snort. “You’d say yes to a lot of people. You’re right about being the hottest guy I know though.” He sighs. “Grimmjow’s complicated. I don’t know what’s going on there. You know what it’s like after prison, sometimes you can’t find normal work anymore.” It’s not exactly what Shiro asked, but it’s how Ichigo answered.

He doesn’t answer. He’s known that for a long time. It’s also an oversimplification of a much larger issue. Shiro makes it sound like Ichigo could just brush off the price his family is paying and then they’d be together again.

Ichigo shoots Shiro a scowl. “I thought you wanted to be friends.” It’s the only excuse he has for his clingy, intrusive behavior. And maybe he’s the one that needs to make sure Shiro is safe. For himself. Because he worries more than he admits. He looks away and pushes out a breath.

“You move your own product?” That’s a lot more involved than Ichigo was expecting. And okay, if he was still working for Shiro, he could easily see himself doing it, but Shiro is the boss. Isn’t he supposed to be covering his ass? “That’s brave.”

He opens the door once they get to his car. He slides out and shuts it behind him, finding his own car exactly where he left it. He checks it the same way he checked Shiro’s then starts it, pulling out behind Shiro. With all the crawling on the ground he’s done, Shiro’s sweater might have a few extra holes. Especially after trying to wiggle under his own car.

"Oh, you were bein' a smartass?" There's a heavy dose of sarcasm in his tone while he rolls his eyes. But it's good to hear that Ichigo is still thinking of his sisters in this. Ever the protector. Has to make sure his sisters are alright, had to interrupt his own life to make sure Shiro gets through this treat.

He smirks slightly about that. "What would it be about? What it's like runnin' around the streets doin' everyone else's dirty work?" He scoffs, but it's good natured. "Whatever, I'm not that hard to figure out. How to understand a back alley drug dealer for dummies." He laughs, amusing himself.

Aiming a look at Ichigo, he arches a brow and disagrees. "I always need a bunch a' guys saying yes to me. Preferably hot ones." Not that he's sleeping with his staff. He tried that exactly twice. The first time was disastrously annoying and it was not a fluke.

It is a fair question, and he wants to argue that, but Ichigo keeps going to answer the question anyway. "I wasn't asking what you think, I was asking exactly what I asked." But he got Ichigo's option anyway and it doesn't surprise him. He notes that Ichigo didn't actually say yes or no to wanting him there, though. He's talking around the answer the same way Shiro did about the shirt. "I already plan on laying low for a while. As much as I can, at least. I think I'll stay in the penthouse for a while. It's a lot safer than the mansion but it'll seem less like hiding." And he can higher some muscle to keep around easy enough, like Ichigo's suggesting, he's stubborn about it. He has always been his own muscle. He's never needed security or guards, but this is getting bigger than he can handle on his own. It's getting bigger than he thinks he warrants, but he has made himself notoriously hard to get rid of.

He doesn't know how to feel about Ichigo trying to keep him and his maybe-boyfriend situation intact. It's good of him, it's the morally right thing to do. The only real problem with it Shiro has is that it's just further proof that he and Ichigo have no chance of being together again. "I'll figure things out with him, you don't need to worry about it." Or he wont. Maybe he'll sabotage his own building relationship and blame it on all the chaos of attempted assassination. His features even out. "All my habits?" This better not turn into a lecture. "He thinks I indulge a little too much sometimes, but otherwise he tolerates it. I doubt he expected anything less from a dealer. Most people don't know I was ever clean, only you. It was always weird for me not to use the product I was sellin'."

He slides into the driver seat and starts the car, then looks over at Ichigo and snorts. "You mean boring?" He shrugs. "I needed something with more cargo space that didn't stand out so much. It's easier to clean, too. Less work for my cleaner."

[honeybnuuy]

I still get whiplash from how censorship has become so normalized in the furry fandom especially; I remember when I was younger people didn't care about ferals vs anthros or anything like that, and they certainly didn't care about the morality of drawing nsfw of either largely.. I suppose I'm just reminiscing over things, I just miss when "weird" spaces were actually weird and people weren't trying to cater to people who wouldn't accept them anyways.

[elitesheepi]

Something something Ember Island Something something Changing Emotions

Katara coming to a horrifying realization. A terrible, no good, realization that only could've happened on Ember Island.

Zuko is attractive. A shocking realization, she knows.

Of course he is. That's just an objective fact, she reasons to herself. Even back in Ba Sing Se, she always knew he wasn't a bad looking guy. Bit of a temper, and nostrils flared to much for her taste but... He was a little handsome.

Now that things are okay between them, Katara can't help but look at him. Really look at him, and all she sees is a kind guy, who is very attractive. And that's just ruins her whole day because it's not fair. She supposed to be preparing for the comet, not oogling one of her closest friends.

He's not making it any easier on her. Does he really have to firebend with his shirt off? She doesn't waterbend in just her sarashi! ...Okay she does, but that's different.

Still, she asks him as much. Sweat is still dripping down his neck and chin. Whatever else evaporated from his heated body. She can feel his blood pumping through his body, the exertion in the pink dusting on his cheeks. Or maybe that's a normal blush cause she did just ask why does he need to be shirtless. Showing off his muscular build, toned arms and--ugh! Does he have to look at her with that puppykit look in his eye? Now he's just being unfair!

"It helps," Zuko explains like it's nothing, "It's like a grounding technique I guess. Feeling the flow of energy through your body as you bend fire. Besides, you bend in your sarashi sometimes, what's the difference?"

'It's totally different!' Katara wants to claim as she hands him a towel. She's not...him. And she'll say that as much when her own face is burning with a blush. Katara decides to leave it be for now, and heal up the small burns he did get from Aang's fire on his hands. Because she's just that mature and yes it is completely necessary to hold both his hands as she heals him. His firm, rough hands from handling his dao... It's more than a little unfair that his hands are bigger than her's too.

It's also unfair how he tucks her hair behind her ear and says "Are you okay? You're kinda warm." In that low voice only meant for her to hear. Her heart stutters in chest. He's just looking at her with a little bit of worrh, why the stupid butterflies in her stomach? And why does she not want him to move his hand away from her? Well, she knows why, but she doesn't wanna say it. Or maybe she does, but he's going to have to make it up to her somehow.

"I-"

"Hey Katara, check it out! I'm finally getting the hang of my fire bending stances!" It's like a cold splash of water over a fire. Katara shakes her head, plastering on that gentle smile. Aang is excitedly waving for her attention across the court yard.

She catches Zuko's golden eyes before turning to the Avatar, "Good job Aang! You're really improving!" She thinks anyways. Zuko kinda snatches her attention each and every time during their sessions. "I'm going to get some fruit juice inside. You want one?"

"Yes please!" Aang wants to go with her, she can sorta tell in the way his eyes keep looking between her and Zuko. He doesn't get two steps before Toph is dragging him with her now. "You had your time with Zuko, now it's time for some real fun." Katara can be concerned about the giant crash later. Another crash of rock. Waaaaayyyyy later.

She spares a glance over her shoulder, and takes a little pride in how he jumps. "Well? Shall we?"

"We shall?" He responds, confused.

"Did you think I wasn't to get a fruit juice for you too? Besides you said I was too warm so..." She slides her arm in to his. And if she stands a lot closer to him than necessary, than fine. She beams up at him with a pleasantly, sweet smile, "Let's go get some."

Now it's his turn to blush. Good, let him be flustered and dumb over a pretty person. It's his turn anyways.