#I'm the only manager who keeps being put on all three weekend days

[chimielie]

hold ‘em up (above my heart)

summary: Atsumu x Physical Therapist!F!Reader. the sun rises and sets over and over as your relationship progresses from friends to pro yearners to more.

wc: 4.3k

cw: friends with benefits subplot and all that entails; not explicit, just suggestive, reader is fighting for her LIFE in her brain, atsumu is just chilling (not really)

a/n: hi i didn’t die :3

“Hands up,” you say, voice low so as not to disturb the peace of the morning.

Atsumu raises his arms, elbows bent, making a frame of his face. His blond hair is pale, almost white because his little kitchen window faces east and he wakes before it rises above the upper pane. You sidle past him, back to his front, ignoring the weight of his hand as it settles on your hip while you reach up for the granola you keep in the cabinet next to the fridge.

He likes traditional Japanese breakfasts, the savory and umami flavors of natto and rice and miso. You have a sweet tooth and a craving for crunchy food, like a wild animal that needs to grind down its molars. On the days he has work, he settles for an omelette (or scrambled eggs if he fucks it up). You eat the same thing every morning or you'll be sick.

Growing up, Atsumu was never a morning person, but he sleeps better on the nights you're next to him. He doesn't get angry when you slosh milk over the side of his bowl onto his dining table, doesn't snap when you ask him what his plans for the day are. Maybe this is what being an adult is, these steady waters and calm skies.

You don't speak much as you chew, staring into space and thinking the slow thoughts of the exhausted, and he busies himself scrolling through his group messages and social media accounts.

There's a request from a verified account, a retired athlete-turned-model. He knows her name, has seen her in ads, bumped into her at the last Olympics. He clicks on it.

Hey, handsome. I'll be in Osaka this upcoming weekend - let's get a drink!

"I'm gonna shower," you're patting your hair, looking irritated. It always sticks up in the morning, no matter how you sleep on it, a few particular strands defying gravity.

"You should go to work like that," he says, voice still rough even if his mind's woken up. His accent is thicker in the morning, you've told him, but he can't hear it.

"Hell no," you say. "You're the only one who gets to see this morning glory for now."

"I better be," his grin is roguish, running his hand through his own bird's nest. "C'mon, you gonna let me shower with you or what?"

"No, you'll use up all my nice shampoo again!" You fake running to the bathroom, keeping your pace slow enough for him to wrap his arms around your waist and tackle you down, careful to fold himself so that you land on top of him, body between his legs, face cushioned on his chest.

He leaves his phone face up, forgotten on the table.

He's toweling off his hair, dressed in his practice uniform, while you're packing your bag for the day in the kitchen. His apartment is small, way smaller than some of the other guys' on the team, but he grew up crammed into a room with his mom and his brother. He'd toured one penthouse and decided he couldn't live with all that space strangling him.

He'd tried to get Samu to bunk with him like old times, but his brother had just said I'll sleep three meters from your dirty laundry in hell, and that was the end of the argument.

Besides, he has a lot of car bills to pay. He managed to fold another Mazda last month and you've been carpooling in your ancient Toyota while he waits to get license privileges again ever since.

"You got a text, by the way," you say casually, digging through your purse with your lips twisted to the side. "Aha!" You pull out a tube of lipstick triumphantly. "You should respond before you forget."

"Ah, was it Samu?" He asks, crossing back into the bedroom to put away his damp towel.

"Nah, the model," you call. "Sorry, I read your texts."

You're fighting the growing bitterness of the words, trying to sound jaunty and uncaring and casual. The admission of invading his privacy weighs heavily on your shoulders; you can't make yourself look up into his face when he comes into the kitchen.

"I don't care," he shrugs. "You can read whatever you want."

"You shouldn't say that," you try to laugh and wince instead. He just grunts and picks up the phone, swiping away from the conversation and leaving her on read. "I don't have the right, don't I? I shouldn't have—"

"I really don't care," he cuts across your strained attempt at an apology again.

"You should!" You sound like you're about to stamp your foot at him. He doesn't understand why you're so angry; he doesn't bite. "Aren't you gonna get mad? Shouldn't we be fighting?"

"I don't wanna fight," he rubs his large, calloused hand over your shoulder, your upper trapezius, to cup the back of your and pull you into a loose embrace. You stand, dumbfounded, chin pushed into his shoulder, hands at your sides. "Do you? We can if you want to."

"No," you whisper. "Sorry, I—sorry."

"'S okay," he says, digging his thumbs into the tight knots of muscle. "No big deal. Here, you dropped your thingy."

The thingy is the tube of lipstick, a deep berry color, rolling towards the edge of the table. He steps back and squeezes your cheeks in one hands, prompting you to part your lips slightly. He does it how he knows you do, a soft smear on the lower lip and two dabs made sharp by a swipe of his thumbnail on the outer creases, all blended together at the end for a subtle touch of color.

"You look like a frog about to burp," he says when he's done. You laugh so hard you cry.

On the car ride to work, you keep chewing on your lip. He frowns when he notices, all his work bitten off.

You wait for him to get out of the car first, a holdover from the days when you would wait five minutes so no one would notice that you were coming from the same place. In some ways, it's easier that he crashed his car; so convenient that you volunteered to be his chauffeur. He comes to your side, opens your door. You squint at him, jutting your chin out like you're bracing yourself for something.

"I wasn't gonna go out with her," he tells you, a secret between you, him, and the hard asphalt of the MSBY gym's employee parking lot. "Ain't nobody else seein' this in the mornings either. That's all."

He turns around and strides off, leaving you blinking in the morning light.

"Can you move it?" You say, your brows knit together. Hinata grimaces.

"I can bend it, like this—" he curls the injured finger inward. "But it won't stretch out, like this. Ah!"

You release his hand, where you'd applied pressure to the digit. "It's sprained. You're sitting out the rest of practice."

"Aw, but it really doesn't hurt that bad," he protests. You give him a look. "Okay, okay. Can I least do some running and stuff?"

"Do you want to come to practice tomorrow?" You say evenly. He gives you big brown puppydog eyes and you fold like wet paper. "I'll give you some stretches and exercises for your legs that you probably can't fuck up."

"Yay!" He cheers. "Thank you!" He uses an affectionate diminutive of your name with -chan tacked on the end. You laugh and wave him off, walking out of the main gym area toward your office, where you can print him the exercises.

You lean against your desk while the printer huffs temperamentally, taking a long sip of coffee. You should really stop going over to Atsumu's on weeknights, but you've been telling yourself that for well over a year, and it's a lot more convenient since all your clothes and your toothbrush live at his place.

You tell yourself a lot of things when it comes to your blond coworker.

The door to your office slams open and you make an involuntary, high-pitched noise in the back of your throat, focusing hard on keeping the cardboard cup in your hand from jumping with you.

"Sorry, sorry," Bokuto says, his hair drooping dramatically. "It's just really important—Tsumu's hurt!"

You take an inhale so quickly it hurts and burst your coffee cup all over your coat and work pants. Luckily, you take it mostly milk and sugar, so it doesn't burn you, but you don't even really notice it, just shedding the coat and rolling up your sleeves as you stride out the door without hesitation.

Behind you, Bokuto follows, making garbled promises you hear as through water to buy you a house to make up for startling you and ruining your outfit.

You try to take three deep breaths before you enter the gym, knowing you'll be much more helpful calm rather than battling the wall of panic that threatens to overtake you. Atsumu is blocked from your vision by a crowd of his teammates, fluttering around him like a herd of bumblebees.

Iwaizumi is already there, you see with an exhale of relief, ordering everyone around him to stay calm. You motion to the players around him to give him space, hoping your terror doesn't show untowardly on your face, hoping he can feel your singleminded prayer: please be okay.

"Eh?" He has a dopey expression on his face, dopier than usual, anyway. He says your name gleefully, but you're too busy scanning him for visible blood or bone to respond right away. "Nice shirt. Hey, why's your coat off? Were you taking off your clothes in there? Without me?"

"He collided with Sakusa," Iwaizumi tells you. Atsumu reaches for your hand and you stroke your fingertips lightly over the back of it, along the bones and tendons, each touch saying you'll be okay, it's going to be okay.

I'll make it okay.

"Sakusa's shoulder got banged up, you should probably put him on reserve for a couple days," Iwaizumi says. You glance over at the black-haired spiker, who gives you a thumbs-up though his expression is characteristically flat. "Atsumu, though... he fell pretty hard."

You can see that. There's a bruise blooming along the side of his face, like the sloppy trail of your lipstick after a night out. His ankle is swollen, too; the disorientation of the head injury must have impaired the grace of his landing.

You kneel and shift into clinical mode, receding into the comfortable space of your training. You feel along his leg, asking him over and over does it hurt, can you move this, does it hurt when I do this.

"Okay, doc?" His beautiful honey eyes are unfocused. You want to cry. You want to squeeze his hand tighter, but you don't want to hurt him more. "S all good. I'm fine."

You shake your head, grateful it's not worse. Afraid of what you have to say to him.

"That's right, you'll be fine. But the concussion paired with the ankle injury... I don't think it's a good idea for you to return to practice for a month at least."

You squeeze your eyes shut and pull your hands away from him. He probably doesn't want to be touched. He might hate you for this.

What's the point of sleeping with the doc if I don't get special privileges, you imagine him saying, if you're gonna take my life away from me like this. A month of recovery doesn't sound like so much to other people, but you've been working around these volleyball freaks since high school. You know that it's everything to them.

"Okay," Atsumu simply says. You look at him. "You gonna drive me home?"

"If you don't mind," you say softly.

"Yeah, then it's okay," he says, and scoots around, hissing when he forgets and puts pressure on the injured ankle. He leans back, and you catch his head in your lap.

"I'm gonna break my leg," Barnes says from somewhere behind you. "I want the doc to hold me like that."

You hear a thwack and then Iwaizumi's voice: "Sakusa, stop concussing your teammates. L/N only has so much room in her car."

Atsumu recovers more quickly than you expect. You should have known, though; he's always had a strong ability to heal. He rarely gets sick and though he's brash and reckless and sometimes outright stupid, he's lucky. In almost all the inadvisable endeavors you've seen him pull, he almost never gets hurt.

You're not actually a doctor, not that the team believes that. You've been trying to explain that you're a sports medicine physical therapist for the three years you've been working for MSBY and not once has it deterred anyone from calling you doc.

Atsumu was signed six months after you started, and you had only been friends until a year after that. In all that time, you've been the consummate professional at work, never letting your touches linger, never stretching him too deeply, trying not to stare at him like he's just any other player. When he first propositioned you, you tried not to say yes too quickly, as businesslike as possible.

You went into sports medicine because of your sister. She had been a superstar from the moment she stepped foot on a tennis court; even at a young age you saw that she wielded the racket like it was an extension of herself. As the two of you grew in age, you also saw the ways she overextended herself: the swollen knobs of her knees, hidden under frozen packs of peas, the frequent doctor's visits for hyperextension, the tear tracks when she tore her ACL.

You had spent so much of your childhood waiting for her during practice, doing your homework in the bleachers, fielding questions about her play to the uninitiated relatives who came to support her matches that it felt like the most natural course of action to go into a career field that meant you could help her and others like her chase their dreams.

You had also almost exclusively dated athletes as a result. While you were attending university and chasing your certifications, you had been surrounded by two types of people: students and athletes. You had barely any time in your schedule, much less the ability to align it with a similarly crammed med student. Athletes, on the other hand, didn't have an obsession with comparing your knowledge, liked that you were too busy to monitor them all day long, and loved that you had to attend every one of their games because it was literally your job.

By the time you got the position in Osaka, you were beyond over the routine of dating the people in your care. You swore to yourself that you wouldn't mess around with the team and entered a yearlong celibate streak, which Atsumu blew up into a million pieces and never allowed to recover.

To his (and your) credit, the both of you became close friends before ever crossing the boundary of inappropriate conduct. Just because you were strictly business during work hours didn't mean that you, lonely and shy in a new city, were going to turn down your coworkers' offer to go out after practice. You'd gotten to know Meian well and considered Bokuto to be something of a little brother. Then they had traded a couple of players for Atsumu, and the moment he gripped your hand and slapped your shoulder instead of shaking it or bowing like a normal person, you knew that he was going to mean much more to you than any other of your team.

You had fallen quickly into a deep friendship, and his apartment was much closer to the team's favored bars than yours was, so it was just easier for you to go home and crash on his couch. And his couch was gross, because it belonged to a bachelor who had never heard of a steam cleaner, so one night you insisted on sharing the bed, and you had become good friends who cuddled weekly.

It happened like this:

You were the last two left in the booth that had once contained the extremely compressed bodies of several of the largest men in Japan, probably, but they had practice early the next morning and had trickled out, one by one. Atsumu had his head down on the table while you desperately tried to convince him to come home (already you were referring to his apartment as your home without thinking, though only a spare toothbrush and a coat were kept there at the time).

"Please," you said, "I'm so tired. I'm not even drunk anymore."

"I am," Atsumu said, turning his face toward you. "Very."

"I know," you groaned. "Let's go home."

"I can't," he said despondently.

"Why not?"

"Not with you," his words slurred together. "I gotta problem."

"What?" You suddenly felt very, very sick. Maybe you were more drunk than you'd thought.

"Mhm. I gotta apologize, I think."

Oh, you thought. This is it. He knows.

"I've been having," he hiccuped and turned his face into his arms again so that you couldn't hear the next thing he mumbled.

"I can't hear you like that," you say softly. "Please, Atsumu, you can tell me anything."

You've been seeing someone, and she wants me to stop sleeping over. She wants you to stop being friends with me. You need the apartment to yourself to have her over.

"No," he says, turning back to you again, his eyes glossy with drink, his lips pink and just the slightest bit open. "I have been having manly thoughts about you. Unmanly thoughts. Whatever."

"What do you mean?" You'd asked, heart beating fast.

"I wanna have sex with you," he said, and then slammed his forehead against the table until it left a red mark. "I'm sorry, women! It's wrong to dream about kissing your girl friends, I know!"

You ignored his nonsensical shouting and put your hand under his face so he wouldn't injure it.

"Then let's go home so we can have sex," you said. He whipped his head up so fast you worried for his spinal discs.

"You promise?"

You actually didn't have sex that night because he fell asleep as soon as you coerced him into the bed. The next morning, he'd been hungover and ashamed, stuttering and afraid to look you in the eye. You had given him a handful of painkiller pills and waited until he was washing it down with a glass of green juice before you said "I think about having sex with you, too," so that he spewed it all over the floor.

Maybe it was petty, but you needed vengeance for his forcing you to drag him bodily out of that bar the previous night.

After your first time, he said, awkwardly, something about not being able to commit to a relationship at the moment, something about difficulty expressing his feelings, about being too immature to settle. A script you were as familiar with as the back of your hands. You turned to him, swiping sweaty strands of hair out of your face, glowing with a smile as he stuttered his way through it, and said I know the game. We don't have to talk about it.

He insisted that it wasn't a game, that you deserved transparency and to be treated well, and you rolled over on top of him and kissed him until he forgot his own name.

During the month-long recovery period, you had resumed the friendship you had had in the early months of knowing each other, refusing adamantly to do anything strenuous or even unsportsmanly while you had to work much more closely together than ever before. You insist on sleeping at your own apartment for the first week, afraid of aggravating his injuries further, until he threatens to walk to you with his pillow and sleepover bag. You bring him food near-daily and call his brother when your schedule prevents you from doing so.

He's diligent about doing the exercises and stretches you assign him to bring him back to full functionality. Towards the end of his detention (you pinch him for using such a dramatic word), you start taking walks together, in the evenings on work days and the mornings on days off.

You keep expecting him to ask for space, to push you out of his daily routine, to realize that he's bored because he knows everything about you; there's nothing left to hide. Nothing except the one unspoken thing, the one you're sure he knows but you can't acknowledge.

New growth is beginning to sprout on the trees, grey wood dotted with little specks of bright green. Atsumu walks without a limp, now, his posture straight but relaxed, his hands shoved into his pockets.

His body is healed, but his heart aches. You're wearing casual clothes, big soft pants that billow around your legs and a black shirt with his name in yellow letters, and you look far away, worried. No matter how many times he smooths the pinch between your brows away with his thumb, no matter how many times he asks what's wrong, you refuse him a straight answer.

He wonders if he's pulled you too close, in this month dying of boredom, forbidden from running and setting and anything that could damage his brain. He still gets to see you in the morning, your back arching as you stretch and yawn, the crinkle of your nose when your feet touch the cold floor outside of bed, which is probably slowly draining all the function from his grey matter.

You're wearing gloves, your extremities sensitive to the cold. He takes your left hand, tugs it off. When he tangles your fingers together, you look up at him, questioningly, that knot between your brows back again.

"What, woman, now I can't hold your hand?"

You stop walking. He curses his big, fat mouth. He always chooses the wrong thing to say, always has.

Osamu used to ask him what he was supposed to say to girls. Atsumu, proud big brother that he wanted to be, would puff out his chest and give him paragraphs of advice, and Osamu almost never used it. There were so few opportunities for him to advise Samu, though; he was so self-sufficient, maybe more than Atsumu had ever been. He was more introverted, less brash and crass and rude. Sometimes, when Atsumu ceded his insistence on being the wiser one with six more minutes of life experience, he wished he could be more like his twin.

"Do you love me like that, Atsumu?" You ask, mouth pressed into an unhappy line, already pulling away from him like you were expecting him to say something completely insane. "Because I understood fucking, and being friends with benefits, but I don't know if I get going out for food and holding hands and—"

"Like?" He says, refusing to let your hand slip from his. "I love you. That's it."

"Oh," you say, and your mouth is twisted up like you're searching for something he can't see again, but the crease in your forehead is gone.

"You gonna go out with me?" He says, and it comes out way easier than he ever thought it would, and if choosing the rest of his life is as simple a decision as chasing volleyball and you has been, growing up sounds way better than he thought. "'Cause I wanna do it all with you."

Once Atsumu's allowed to drink again, it's time for the real volleyball season to start, and his diet becomes much stricter and your schedule much longer, but eventually the two of you find yourselves back at the same old bar with the rest of the team.

"You're a scrub with no hope of survival in the zombie apocalypse," sneers Atsumu. This is a common topic of conversation among them; each one vying to be the leader of your hypothetical ragged survivors' team.

"I could win a fight against you with one hand tied behind my back," snits Tomas, who usually is oblivious to Atsumu's provocations but gets a lot feistier when he's drunk, to the setter's delight.

"Please don't," says Bokuto, his hair deflating in fear of his friends fighting.

"Haven't you had enough dick measuring," says Sakusa, holding a mug in front of his face like it'll prevent him from seeing Atsumu's and thus pretending he's not there.

"Have you guys ever done that?" You perk up, looking around. "Isn't that supposed to be a locker room ritual?"

"In high school, maybe," snorts Barnes. "We're way too old for that now."

"Yeah, we're real mature," insists Bokuto, his hair bouncing back up into its familiar two-pronged shape. You’ve long wondered how it does that, but if working with MSBY has taught you anything, it’s that science can’t explain everything.

You nod, taking another sip of your beer.

“So how big is it?” Atsumu addresses Sakusa and you squeeze your eyes shut. You just got him to start attending team bonding nights.

“Small. Leave me alone.” You choke on your drink, spluttering as you make eye contact with Sakusa and the tiny, prideful smirk on his face.

The rest of the team dissolves into laughter.

"What about you?" Hinata, his cheeks rosy, says to Atsumu. Before you can think, your drunken mouth speaks for you.

"You can’t have it, I called dibs!”

You slap a hand over your mouth, mortified. You can’t even begin to think about the rest of your coworker’s reactions. You haven’t even disclosed your relationship yet! Atsumu guffaws.

“I don’t think anyone’s trying to take it from ya, doll.”

[steddieonbigboy]

ugh i need to talk to one of my managers about these damn rotas

[pickingupmymercedes]

Nervous - Lewis Hamilton

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: Nervous - John Legend

pairing: Dad!Lewis Hamilton x Mom!Reader!

genre: fluff (tooth rotting one)

a/n: Finally managed to write something again, hopefully this writer's block thing is leaving.

wordcount: +1k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

“Lewis, I love you, but that is not a star. That’s a lumpy potato.”

“It’s abstract!” Lewis defends, holding up his cookie dough creation with a proud grin. “And who says stars have to look a certain way? It’s unique—just like you, babe.”

I roll my eyes, but the corners of my mouth betray me, tugging up into a smile. “Nice save, Picasso. Put it on the tray before your daughter starts her cookie critique.”

“Too late!” comes a tiny, sing-song voice from beside him. Our five-year-old daughter, perched on her step stool, leans over to inspect her dad’s handiwork.

She tilts her head, squinting. “This one looks funny. Like... like one of Mommy’s squished pancakes.”

Lewis gasps, clutching his chest as if she’s fatally wounded him. “Not you too” he mutters, ruffling her curls as she giggles.

“That’s a clever one” I add, nudging him with my elbow. “Squished pancake vibes, 100%.”

“My daughter you said…” he groans dramatically, slumping against the counter like he’s given up on life.

“Smart like that? Could only be mine” I say, grinning at our daughter.

Lewis grunts. “Sassy as well.”

At the kitchen island, our toddler son, securely trapped into his bumbo chair, babbles loudly and waves a wooden spoon in solidarity.

He has no idea what’s happening, but he’s firmly Team Mommy. Lewis squints at him, narrowing his eyes.

“Even you little man?” he asks, dramatically clutching the spoon from our son’s chubby hands. The baby giggles, smacking his hands around like he’s won something.

“Lewis, just admit you’re outnumbered and start shaping actual stars” I tease, wiping flour off my hands.

“Just you three wait. Michelin star chefs will be copying this in no time.” he mutters.

“Michelin star chefs don’t make cookies shaped like alien potatoes.”

Before he can retort, our daughter tugs on the hem of my shirt, her big brown eyes blinking up at me with mischief. “Momma” she whispers loudly, “you’re making Daddy nervous”

I blink. “Oh, am I?”

She nods solemnly. “Yup. Look at him! He keeps doing that thing with his mouth.” She scrunches up her little face, mimicking him so accurately that I burst out laughing.

Lewis freezes mid-cookie-cutting, his mouth hanging open. “I do not do that” he protests weakly, though he’s clearly aware he was caught off guard.

I walk over, leaning against the counter beside him. “What’s this about me making you nervous, huh?” I ask, folding my arms and cocking my head playfully.

“I’ll always get like that.” he mumbles, focusing intently on pressing his dough into the cutter as if he couldn’t look up.

“I know” I tease, reaching up to stroke his cheek. Sure enough, his skin’s warm under my finger.

He glares at me, but the corner of his mouth twitches, betraying the smile he’s trying to hide.

“I love you” he mutters, shaking his head like he’s just realized something he shouldn’t ever forget.

“And we love you, half a star Michelin chef” I counter, using a kiss to the corner of his lips to steal a piece of dough and pop it into my mouth before he gets the chance to protest with that silly smile on his features.

And just like that, I’m thinking about all the other times he’s gotten that same nervous energy, like he’s still figuring out how he landed me.

Our first weekend getaway together. Two days at his cabin in Colorado, just the two of us, before his family arrived.

I hadn’t realized how much he’d planned, how much he wanted it to be perfect.

But from the moment we stepped off the plane, I could see it—the little glances, the subtle fidgeting with his watch, the way he’d ask, “You okay?” every ten minutes.

At first, I thought it was just him being polite. It wasn’t until we were standing in the grocery store, loading up on supplies for the weekend, that it clicked.

“Are you seriously checking the list again?” I asked, leaning against the cart as he meticulously went over his phone.

“Just making sure we didn’t miss anything,” he said, his voice a little too serious for someone debating between two brands of olive oil.

I couldn’t help but tease. “Lewis, it’s olive oil, not rocket science.”

He glanced up at me, his brows furrowed. “This stuff matters” he said earnestly. “You’ll see. The wrong olive oil can ruin the entire dish.”

I bit back a smile. “Didn’t take you for such a perfectionist. Makes me wonder if you’re this detailed about everything.”

He almost chocked with his own breath and quickly dropped one of the bottles into the cart. “Let’s just get everything on the list” mumbling, steering us toward the pasta aisle.

I tried to let it go, but my brain couldn’t stop replaying the scene.

Lewis Hamilton, the coolest man on the planet, nervous about olive oil? It was adorable—almost too adorable.

And it didn’t stop there.

In the car, he kept glancing at me like he wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out how to start. When I cracked a joke about him gripping the steering wheel like he was on a final lap, he just laughed nervously and turned up the radio.

I decided to let him off the hook, figuring he’d relax once we got to the cabin.

Except, he didn’t.

That night, as he took charge in the kitchen, it was like watching a man on a mission. He insisted on making penne all’arrabbiata from scratch, rattling off facts about the dish like a culinary professor.

And I was seriously content to just sit back and watch.

But then the pasta started sticking, the sauce splattered on his shirt, and he cursed under his breath when he accidentally added too much chili.

“You okay over there, Chef Ramsay?” I teased, leaning against the counter.

He shot me a sheepish look. “I’m fine. Just... give me a minute.”

And that’s when it hit me.

He wasn’t just trying to cook me dinner. He was trying to prove something—to show me he could do this, that he could impress me.

I remember my chest aching with how sweet it was.

“Hey,” I said softly, stepping closer. “You don’t have to try so hard, you know.”

He froze, his hand hovering over the pot. “I’m not ” he said, though his voice lacked conviction.

I reached out, placing my hand over his. “Lewis, it’s just me. I don’t need perfect pasta or the right olive oil. You’re enough. More than enough.”

His shoulders relaxed a bit as he took a step away from the stove.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice quiet, but the tension in his muscles still visibly there as I caught him glance back at the pan, as if the pasta might spontaneously combust.

I stepped a little closer, resting my hand on his arm. “Hey” I said, keeping my voice soft but firm. “I’ve survived worse culinary disasters. I set my toaster on fire trying to make a bagel.”

That earned a small chuckle, but he was still watching me carefully, like he was waiting for a catch.

“And you know what?” I continued, nudging him playfully. “It doesn’t matter if the pasta’s a little crunchy or the sauce has a mind of its own. What matters is that we’re here, together, with you overthinking pasta like it’s stock market.”

His lips twitched at that, a reluctant smile breaking through. “It’s not overthinking though” he mumbled, though there was even less conviction now.

I leaned in closer, lowering my voice conspiratorially. “I’ve had Michelin-starred meals and meals straight out of a drive-thru. Guess which ones I remember most?”

He raised an eyebrow, finally meeting my eyes.

“Trust me, Mr. Hamilton, you matter a hell of a lot more to me than a perfect pasta.” I stated, my hand squeezing his arm gently.

“But if you burn the garlic one more time, I’m ordering pizza.” I smiled as I took the edge off, at least for the moment.

We ended up eating slightly overcooked penne with sauce that was spicier than intended, but it was perfect because it was us.

I turned to look at Lewis, who was now wrestling our toddler into his high chair while our daughter clambered onto the table to grab a slice of apple.

The chaos of our little family felt worlds away from that quiet cabin in Colorado, but the feeling—the one where I couldn’t believe I got this man nervous about being perfect—was exactly the same.

Without thinking, I reached for him, tugging gently at his arm. He turned, eyebrows lifting in question just as I leaned up to kiss him again.

It was soft and unhurried, a moment stolen in the middle of a wonderfully messy afternoon.

When I pulled back, he blinked at me. “What was that for?”

I smiled, letting my fingers trail down his arm. “Just to show you I still get butterflies too.”

His expression softened, the corner of his mouth tilting up in that way that still made my heart skip. “Yeah?” he asked, voice low, before leaning in for another kiss.

And for a moment, everything else faded away.

“Ewwwwww!” our daughter groaned, dramatically covering her eyes. “Gross! Stop kissing!”

Lewis laughed against my lips, pulling back just as our son let out an excited string of babbles, waving a piece of toast triumphantly in the air.

I shook my head, grinning at the pure chaos. “We’re not as romantic as we used to be, huh?”

Lewis smiled, brushing flour from my cheek before reaching for our toddler again. “Nah, babe. But this is way better.”

_____________________________________________________________

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[dereks-husband]

Part 2 of my DEREK X GN!READER fic because I'm in love

Ok here's Part 2! It was going to be longer, but what I wrote is already longer than Part 1 so I had to cut it in half, or maybe turn it into three parts, I have ideas lmaooo Thank you so much to anyone who reads this, and let me know what you think!!

Also does anyone have a title idea? My general idea was that they were all going to be little snapshots as you age with Derek, so I wanted to utilize the game's word of Moments, but can't get anywhere past that. Help??? Additionally, would anyone like me to share the playlist I've been listening to while writing these? It's songs inspiring the story at large, like this Part was influenced by "Teenage Dream" if anyone cares lol

Whatever Derek wanted to ask you about the weekend he came home from camp died on his lips when his coach blew that whistle. In his defense, his texts reflected the toll the rest of his training camp took on him, both physically and mentally. The amount of times he messaged you after his shower, and then very clearly fell asleep with his phone in his hand was almost comical. You were able to message him during his entire ride home, though! He didn’t want to call because he “didn’t want to disturb his teammates” which is very him, but secretly you knew it was because he didn’t want you to hear them making fun of him again. 

The most fortunate outcome of the whole situation was that, though you didn’t get to see him when he got home, his first home game was only the following Friday, so you weren’t kept in suspense long. You started classes the Thursday before he came home, and he was thrown right into the fire by starting the Monday after camp, so while you were sad about the weekend, you were able to keep yourself busy. Between the classes you decided to take that were a bit harder than what you were used to taking, and your various club responsibilities you were able to stay distracted, until you got to Friday. 

That day you couldn’t sit still to save your life. Luckily, you had some teachers that you’ve been in class with before who were generally chill, so they didn’t mind you pacing back and forth in the back of the classroom as you needed. When the final bell rang, you were out the door and on the road to his family’s home before anyone else even managed to get out of the building, you were just that ready to get to him.

Despite the fact that you were definitely driving over the speed limit, belting every song on the radio, and overall just not being as safe as you usually were, you made it to the Suarez home in one piece and without a ticket. Jorge was sitting in the lobby when you walked in and he jumped up, a little wide-eyed, quickly glancing at your overnight bag.

“Jorge! How’s my favorite middle Suarez?!” you exclaimed as you wrapped him up in a familial embrace.

He couldn’t stop the blush burning his entire face. He mumbled something incoherent into your shoulder, but at least this time he didn’t hesitate to return your hug immediately. You broke off the hug and put your hands on his shoulders, looking him over, “wow Jorge! You’re almost as tall as Derek is now, yeah?”

Bashfully he avoids eye contact, “I grew almost a foot this summer…”

“Oh wow! Well that explains it!” you beam at him, happy to see the young teen, not much older than you were when you met him for the first time, looking like he’s doing well. “So tell me, how was your first week of high school? Was it as intimidating as you thought it would be?” You added, simply because you knew that of all the Suarez boys, Jorge is by far the most timid, and you can’t help but worry that people aren’t giving him the chance he deserves. 

“It was fine. You beat Nico home.” He added quickly, finally looking you in the eye.

You took a moment to blink away the shock that must have been evident on your face, given the way his eyes widened in surprise over your reaction. “I did? So you weren’t my welcoming party at all then?” you add, pretending to wipe a tear away.

“No! I was waiting for both of you, I just was expecting Nico to be the one here first,” he says, doing his best to reassure you.

“Well okay then, glad to hear it,” you smile at him again. “I didn’t realize that I had gotten here so early, but I can wait with you for Nico if you’d like?”

“If you want,” he replies, and then sits back in the chair he was in when you arrived. 

The two of you sat together for a bit, chatting about different things, clubs, how many puzzles he’s done since you last saw him, how his summer was, if there’s anyone in school he might be interested in, which earned you another full face blush and a slack-jawed look. Eventually Nico’s bus dropped him off and after a brief greeting the three of you headed up to the apartment. 

When you got there you found the Suarez parents geared up for the game, fully painted faces, and wearing the school colors in just about everything they were wearing, jerseys, big sunglasses, feather boas, hats, this family is truly full of all-or-nothing people. Laughing, you greet them before quickly running your bag down to Derek’s room, and changing into your own fan outfit, including the extra jersey Derek left laying on his bed for you to wear. You grab your poster and beaded necklaces out of your bag. You’ve bought one for every game you’ve been to. You’re aiming to get to 50 this year, and with tonight and Halloween being a lock for attending you would only have to go to three other games. However, the goal is only to reach 50, you would have absolutely no problem with going over. 

Walking back into the hall, you find that Nico has already finished changing, including changing his signature hair clips to be ones that fit the color scheme. The two of you head back to the living room together, all the while he’s cracking jokes about the amount of necklaces you have adorning your body, way too many to just put around your neck anymore. You have many wrapping up your arms, a couple that you put around your ankles, and the rest are just clipped together and hanging down your back, almost like a cape. The one for tonight’s game is in your pocket, because at some point it became tradition that Derek adds it to your ever-growing pile.

Once in the living room, you find that Jorge got his face painted while you and Nico were occupied, so the two of you take a seat at the counter and the Suarez parents, each armed with a different color, make quick work of the two of you, and then you’re all quickly moving out the door.

Luckily, the trip to the field is short, so while you’re all filled with nervous energy, you’re able to start moving around again quickly, before any of you can get too antsy. When you arrive, you find the teams already on the field, doing stretches and last minute drills. Looking at the scoreboard you see that there’s still about 20 minutes until the game is actually going to start, which also means they’ll head back to the locker rooms soon. Mrs. Suarez gives you a knowing look, and says they’ll make sure to save you a seat and nods towards the concession stand. You give a quick “thanks” and run off, trying to give yourself as much time as you can. At the concession stand you order a lemonade and a bottle of water, and then run back to the fence, next to the gate where the team will pass on their way back to the locker room. You check the scoreboard again, 15 minutes until the game starts.

You hear whistles being blown, both by coaches and the refs, alerting the players that it’s time to head back for last minute play changes and pep talks. Standing on your tiptoes, you search for him in the crowd of players making their way toward you. Within seconds you spot him, towards the back of the crowd, looking out at the stands, a warm smile on his face, so you know he spotted his family. In what feels like slow motion, you watch as he turns his head in your direction, and you can tell the moment he sees you. He freezes, shocked, even though you always do this so why is he surprised? Your face hurts from the smile splitting it in half.and suddenly he’s beaming, smiling so big it feels like you’re staring directly into the sun, but you couldn’t make yourself look anywhere else if you tried. He breaks into a sprint directly at you, passing his teammates so fast they have no idea what happened to cause the gust of wind now whipping around them.

Before the first of them can even reach the gate, he’s through and lifting you off the ground in an embrace, even spinning you to stop his momentum from throwing you both down. After you’re done spinning you both just pause there for a few beats, him still lifting you, you wrapping yourself around him, both of you breathless and giddy. After a few more beats, definitely more than you would expect from just a friend, you hear him gasp in your ear “hey you,” and he finally puts you down. 

“Hey yourself,” you reply, a blush covering both of your faces. You hold out your offerings to him and he lights up. 

“You know what I like!” he yelps, grabbing the lemonade and taking only one, long, drink from it, before handing it back to you and taking the water. He can’t take the lemonade with him, so you’ll make sure to run down before the game is over and get him his own for after, but he can take the water so you’ve never failed to make sure you get one for him when you come to his games. “They’re lucky” he told you once, and knowing that you have your own superstitions when it comes to your games you’re not about to stop doing it for him. 

“Some might say I’m an expert on you,” you grin, grabbing his free hand with yours and taking your own sip from your lemonade. “I don’t want to keep you though,” you add, bashfully avoiding the eyes of his teammates passing behind him who are just openly staring at the two of you.

“Oh, er, yeah, thanks,” he replies, pretending like the two of you don’t have an audience exclusively made of his peers. 

“God, could you two get a room?!” You hear one of the other players shout, before he’s muzzled by some of the other players who are all trying their best to not burst into laughter, but you can tell they want to by the way their shoulders are shaking.

You look back to Derek and he’s standing there, mouth agape, frozen, his face more red than you’ve ever seen it before. With one hand already occupied, and not willing to let go until you have to, you reach the lemonade cup up and touch it to his cheek. He practically jumps out of his skin, causing you to get into a quick lapse of giggles. When you face him again, he’s looking at you through lidded eyes and wearing his smirkiest smirk, the one that comes from needing to compete with your challenges, “so it’s like that then?”

“I don’t know what you could be talking about!” You feign innocence and bat your eyelashes at him, giving him your best doe eyes.

“Alright Casanova, you and your friend here have had long enough, let’s go,” one of his coaches calls behind him. 

You look up at the scoreboard and see that, yes, you’ve been here for almost 5 minutes. There’s only 10 minutes and a handful of seconds left before the game starts. You give his hand one last squeeze before letting go, because if it were up to him he might just drag you around the field all night. “Go get ‘em,” you say, giving him one more warm smile which he returns with a dopey-looking grin of his own, before you both turn away and head to your respective teams.

9 minutes to kickoff, you squeeze your way through the stands full of fans until you make your way to the cluster of Suarezs. Luckily they managed to get a spot in the very front, though it seemed like they found a space meant for two people and were trying to squeeze the five of you in it. Even though Nicolas and Jorge were standing on the seats and were generally smaller, it still made for a bit of a squeeze, but you already counted them as family, your future in-laws ideally, so you had no problem being a little close. The five of you chatted with each other and the other people around you for the next 5 minutes, but eventually you couldn’t help yourself from staring at the scoreboard as it counted down.

At 4 minutes to kickoff music started playing from the speakers, “Centuries” by Fall Out Boy, and you couldn’t help but give a quick laugh at the song choice before quickly getting swept up in the change of energy in the crowd, noting that this song was actually pretty perfect for getting the crowd excited.

2 minutes to go, and suddenly confetti cannons go off by the locker rooms and the teams take to the field. People in the crowd start yelling as players take the field, but knowing that he’s captain and would probably be towards the back you save your voice until you’re absolutely sure he’ll be able to hear you. “Let’s go Suarez!” You scream louder than you ever have before. And while he doesn’t look in your direction, the grin that cracks through his more serious game face would be impossible to miss. The starters take their places on the field, and after a quick handshake between the captains the coin is tossed and the game officially begins.

The first half flies by in a daze. You’ve never seen Derek so determined and fast on his feet. His teammates were even keeping up with him, which was an unusual sight, so clearly the extra effort they put into training is paying off. However, the other team, their school’s rival that they always play first, weren’t just letting them run away with the game. By the time the first half ends the score is 2-1 Derek’s team. As they head off toward the locker room, you can see the fatigue settling in the bodies of the players from both sides, even Derek. Though he tried to seem peppy and still full of energy, he was still obviously exhausted.

During halftime you finished your lemonade and threw the cup away, but other than that nothing of note happened. Everyone around you buzzed with excitement about how your team was in the lead, but there was an underlying nervousness to it. Seems like everyone else was just as aware as you were about how the other team was putting up extra effort and that they wouldn’t let the second half be any easier.

Before you know it the music winds down and the teams are running out of the locker room and taking the field once again as the game resumes. The second half is in no way easier than the first, with each passing minute wearing more and more on the players. At one point the score is tied, and then in what feels like a blink the other team pulls ahead by one point. Derek doesn’t let that slide and quickly ties it up again. From there it remained in a deadlock for most of the half. With about 5 minutes left in the intense game you run back down to the concession stand, knowing that they close before the game is over. Lemonade secured, you head back over to the fence nearest to the gate, giving you easier access to the field when his team pulls through. However, the last few minutes wind down to only 15 seconds and you actually start to worry. It’s not that they can’t still win in overtime, but you also know how Derek feels when he can’t secure the win during the actual game. 

Suddenly, your side’s stands erupt, snapping you out of your worry, and you see Derek making a charge for the net. One swift-footed kick sends the ball flying towards the upper corner of the net, and in a breath holding moment where time seems to slow, it goes in! He won with the game-winning shot! The buzzer goes off signaling the end of the game and the stands erupt in cheers. You stand there for a minute, bouncing on the balls of your feet while the teams shake hands and “good game” each other before they separate and you’re free to rush the field with the other spectators. 

Running as fast as you can without spilling his drink you rush straight at him. He’s talking to his teammates, but must sense your presence, because he turns to you, beaming, and standing there in a stance like he’s ready to catch you. Feeling secure in him, you leap off the ground and into his arms, where he catches you easily, spinning you both around while you’re yelling your congratulations. After you’re finished spinning, he just stands there again, holding you up, head buried in the crook of your neck. You bury your face in his, and just for a second, pretend that it’s just the two of you. Until suddenly he whispers in your ear, “thank you so much for being here.”

Shocked, you pull back, breaking apart your moment. “Derek, why wouldn’t I be? I would have NEVER missed tonight,” you reply, laughing a little uncomfortably, unsure how to feel. 

“I know, I just wanted you to know that it means so much to me that you came,” he says, cheeks flushing and not meeting your eyes.

Before you can reply the rest of the Suarez crew shows up and he has to set you down to give them hugs. Once he’s done though, you hand him his lemonade and take his free hand in yours again, fitting together like that’s where they belong. While you all chat you’re occasionally interrupted by other parents and players congratulating Derek and complimenting his playing, which he takes in stride. Despite the playful competitive side he has with you he’s usually really humble, taking pride in the fact that his hard work is being acknowledged, but not basking in it or gloating. Though sometimes when people mention a specific play he made that didn’t go well, or how they almost went into overtime, you feel him tense up, and a darkness coats his eyes, but only for a moment, small enough that you aren’t sure if anyone else would even notice, if you even would if you weren’t hold his hand. He never lets it dwell long enough for you to try and say anything though. 

Slowly, the field starts to clear out so you walk with him back to the locker room for him to grab his bag while his family heads to the van. Once he re-emerges he finds you standing there holding out the new necklace, “Okay, time to decide where this one goes!” You say, laughing at his face, shocked even though he knew this was coming. With a smirk, he takes the necklace from your hand and tells you to close your eyes. You do, and when he has you reopen them you find that he put it on himself! “Now wait a second-” you start, but he puts a hand up to stop you.

“I’ve always wanted one, and I think it’s fair that after, what, 40 something? It finally gets to be my turn,” he explains, eyeing you with that fake smugness that is his way of challenging you.

“Yeah,” you start, “but they’re for me to wear during the game, so even though that one can be yours, you can’t just leave it in your bag all game, that’s bad luck,” you respond, fully committing to appeal to his superstitious side.

“That’s fine, it’ll just give me a reason to find you before the game so you can hold on to it during, and then return it after,” he adds cooly, clearly having already thought this through.

“Fineeeee,” you groan, knowing full well you’re going to give him what he wants, “but you don’t get to keep any of the future ones, because then my pockets will start getting too full,” you laugh. “Deal?” You ask, while sticking your hand out to shake on it.

“Us and our deals,” he chuckles, and then looks at your hand. He pauses for a moment, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking about sealing this deal the way you sealed your marriage deal at 13, with a kiss. Before you can think too hard about it though, he takes your hand and shakes it. Without saying much else he turns to go towards the parking lot, offering his hand for you to take. You do, and as you stroll towards the van and make idle chat with him about the game, you can’t help but smile, getting excited over how the rest of the night is going to go, or maybe you were thinking about how he was considering kissing you.

[bunnytalksf1]

BUNNYY i need your opinion on the Brazil GP right nOWWWW

well. i've been behind on talking about races in general but Brasil was a doozy

Interlagos is a track that always gives us brilliant racing, because it's so good for overtakes in the dry, and then in the wet it's about surviving.

I'm actually going to start with Alpine, because they clinched, somewhat incredibly, a double podium that leapfrogged them up the standings. Anyone who pays any attention to that team knows that Gasly and Ocon hate each other, and somehow this race was so insane that it managed to end the French Civil War. What the hell. Heartwarming narrative to end the triple header with. Two boys from France, from poorer families than most, on the podium together with a French works team. I'm gutted Renault is stopping its engine production, man. The passion lost is going to be so upsetting.

With all the chaos, Sergio Perez flew slightly under the radar, but I will be shocked if he keeps his seat next season. He's just not delivering, and hasn't been for a while. I truly believe that RBR were going to replace him pre-summer break, before the intervention of Carlos Slim and supposedly Liberty Media to protect merch sales etc.

Max Verstappen, what a way to silence the criticism. It truly wasn't going to be anyone else on race day. RBR played the strategy right, too. Those conditions were always going to be red flag worthy, so coming in was ultimately the wrong call. 133 days after his last win, a lucky break saw him go from p17 to P1, to take a win that just looked so truly inevitable.

Leclerc had a good race, too, despite only finishing P5. He got fucked over by Ferrari Strategy(tm), asking for a pit if they could pit him into clean air, but they pitted him into traffic. He was sort of saved by the VSC and everyone around him pitting under it, putting him up a few places before the actual safety car and the ensuing red flag. He made some really good moves on the starts, making up places both times. Got stuck behind Alpine a bit but ultimately did what he could. Held off Verstappen whilst they were alongside.

McLaren. Jesus. So we started the weekend with swapping Piastri and Norris in the sprint, despite Norris not having superior pace or being able to overtake and having to be helped with DRS to fend off Leclerc/Verstappen. They swapped positions again in the GP, which is fair, but Norris made two or three BIG mistakes in that race which cost him even when taking strategy into account. The first on the actual start, allowing Russell through, and then losing places on the safety car restart. The strategy is annoying: a hindsight thing, but-- oh well. I think Norris' comments post-race were rude, too, considering when he got a lucky SC win, Verstappen was there defending it, but that's by the by, ultimately.

The stewarding was SO questionable this weekend. I might do a seperate post about it, because theres a lot that went wrong, and some of it is more worrying than others.

Sorry for not saying more this race was genuinely so insane that i cant rly cover everything

[sparrow-in-boots]

i'm inspired so as a cont to this post, Clay headcanons that only make sense to me part 2:

Clay had several instances of carpal tunnel syndrome and other hand tendon issues. Some of it was from biting more than he could chew when working for his father, others from simply overworking himself during college;

His mother had a penchant for outdoorsy activities, particularly hiking and nature preservation efforts, and they would often go on trips to camp out and just spend time together. His father would accompany them when he was younger but with time it became a son-and-mother activity even as things grew tenser at home;

As a child he struggled with retaining spoken requests which made helping his father a bit of a struggle since he needed to memorize measurements and the right tools to bring him, so he got the habit of writing things on his hands and arms which followed him to adulthood. He used to get bullied about the ink stains on his skin and his parents even got a bit of a chiding about it at a parent-teacher meeting once, because the ink might make him sick;

Before that he once went around naming each tool on his father's toolshed, even writing them down on the handles. To his credit, Harold did his best to recall the names and use them so Clay could find them more easily. Even as an adult, in his head certain pliers are Julie or Thomas, and each size of torques are a different B name like Bob, Billie, Bernard, Bart, etc;

He'd rather die than ever, ever admitting to that particular habit to another human being, though;

One of the things he truly misses from when he was a kid and things between his parents were still nice, was their movie nights on weekends. Without failure, his father would drive them all after breakfast to the nearest Blockbuster or cinema, and they'd pick out a movie to watch together. Even when things got hard financially and in his parent's marriage, that was the one thing they kept trying to keep alive, though it often ended up in arguments and tense awkward silent drives back home;

Once he began to explore his sexuality, he started to use a clip-on earring on his right ear but never around his family. HHe never got it pierced so he didn't have to raise questions with a hole in his ear but also because his phobia of being stung in general;

As anyone who works with machines of any kind, he developed his own rituals for his computer as well as for when he started to study the Animus software. One of those is tapping a camera lens before using it, or rubbing the logo of whatever computer he's using;

While he's not exactly a fan of tea himself, he really dislikes straight black coffee. It's either lattes or several spoons of sugar for him, and if he's drinking black coffee then you know it's a Bad Day;

He has opioid tolerance, which majorly sucked when he needed to have a corrective surgery for a hernia, and doubly sucked during his time at Abstergo since the Animus may require drugs to induce an altered level of consciousness;

He has a drawer containing all the extra bits and leftovers from projects. From extra screws and caps from furniture kits to chips and boards that aren't obsolte or broken to bits that he meant to put back eventually but always forget to. Over time the drawer evolved into a shelf and then to a considerable corner of his childhood room at his father's house. Both men refuse to do a cleanup of it just in case they need those at some point;

Speaking of, he had a small period of job hopping fresh out of college, mostly out of HR mismanagement and trying to juggle more than one job at once. Long story short, he ended up with three different work laptops that he never managed to return and are now way obsolete for much use. He keeps meaning to get rid of them but they always make him laugh, so he gives them a pass;

He's a tense and fussy sleeper, so he has a tendency to get tension migranes sometimes and they leave him with a very sour mood;

While he always nurtured an interest for space, he had a more complex curiosity for the sea and ocean life. He found it fascinating but it always left him feeling morose and ill at ease, while space always put an idealistic twinkle in his eyes. The ocean was just too close to be so full of mysteries and unknowns, while the final frontier seemed too far to give him any sense of foreboding;

Even so, he never met the sea. Only lakes and rivers, or seen it from above when he flew on planes, but he's never stood on an ocean beach proper.

[darling-archeron]

Ho Ho Hello! I’m back with another snippet!😌

We’re only one week out until the posting window opens, but I’m probably going to begin posting it closer to the 23rd or 24th, when I finally get to head home bc work ends for the holidays. The gift is still coming along nicely, though right now it’s looking like it won’t be completely finished, so I’ll be posting chapters probably once or twice a week to allow for final edits (unless I manage to actually get it done in the next week! 🤞🏻)

Any holiday plans this year? Other than me going home I won’t be doing much, probably just a lot of reading and trying to hit my book goal for the year (I’m 11 short right now😳)

Also what if I told you meet me in the woods is Also on the playlist? 😂 I was choosing between the two for the last message and was so glad to see you also think that mmitw is a Rhys song!!!

That’s so exciting you have hozier tickets!!! I’ve been putting off getting them bc I’d be going alone (and I also need a paycheck first 😅) luckily I live in an area where I could theoretically go to one of three concerts without being too far out of the way, so there’s still plenty of single seats available, hopefully it stays that way🤞🏻

And I’m trying not to pressure myself over word count but it’s def a long fic and around 30k now😅 (which is around twice the length of my next longest fic😬)

And for the snippet:

Rhys was slouching on a chair, one leg thrown over an armrest, the other flat on the ground to keep him from sliding right out of the seat. He had a full glass of wine in his hand, but there were two discarded bottles laying flat on the plush rug, so he’d obviously been drinking for a while.

And, on the couch next to him, sat the most beautiful woman Feyre had ever seen in her life. She had golden hair and brown eyes that seemed to draw Feyre in, despite the fact that the woman couldn’t see her.

“You can fix things,” the woman said, and Rhys groaned like he’d heard it before and didn’t believe it.

“No I can’t,” he whined, bringing the goblet up to his lips.

💜,🧑🏻‍🎄

Omg Santa, this snippet has me so excited!! Rhys being a drama queen?? Drunk Rhys?? I'm absolutely here for it. These snippets have me so excited!!

Not going to lie, hearing that we're only a week out from posting was like a bucket of cold water because I still have some major work to do for my giftee, but I'm also super excited for reveals! I feel like we're definitely going to have to exchange playlists because it seems like we have very similar tastes in music. :)

I'm also super short on my book goal, I'm currently trying to read Fourth Wing before my ebook is due back at the library but I don't know that I'll be able to finish it....I miss being 16 and being able to consume a 900 page book in like 3 days haha.

I don't have any crazy plans for the holidays either! Just some time with close family. It sounds like you have a cozy time ahead of you.

I really hope you're able to get Hozier tickets! It sounds like it's going to be a great show.

Absolutely don't pressure yourself over word count! I'm someone who does this all the time so I completely understand, but it also sounds like you're having fun writing it and I'm so glad!

I can't wait to find out who you are, Santa, you have me very curious!

Have a great weekend <3333

[enekorre]

Tagged by @morganathewitch. Sorry for being 2 months late xD

Tagging: @solostinmysea, @hapalopus, @punalippulaiva, @nathleeng, @weirdthoughtsandideas

Last song: Lost in the cosmos by the mechanisms. "All alone and lonely" broke into my brain and I had to put it on.

Currently watching: I was going to watch all of prehistoric planet bc the little owl raptor is just *chefs kiss* but I've only made it like 2 episodes so far. Finished reservation dogs recently tho.

Currently reading: I've gotten so bad at reading. The books that I've technically started with is a series I think is called Tvåhjärtattriologin? The first book is called Tvåhjärtat and (similar to the tv series) I'm only like 2 chapters in and I haven't touched it for a month 💀 But there is hope, the last series I read I got stuck in a similar way but as soon as I got going again I finished all three books in like a week. So I just have to get going probably.

Current obsession: Can I say my niece? It's so weird, I used to have so many things, but right now it feels like time is speeding past so quickly that all I can do is hold on for dear life. Work takes up around 13 hours a day (😭) and when I get home I'm too exhausted to do anything but watch random youtube videos about who know what. And on my weekends I hang out with friends and family, especially my sister/niece (she turns one and a half years in like 2 days!). I did manage to repot some plants today, and start clearing out this small aquarium for keeping water plants in (and maybe shrimp depending on how well the plants manage). I also found out that my quail love pears (I put a whole pear in and it's slowly being disintegrated).

I guess I did have some things haha, but nothing that I am experiencing like the fandoms of yore.

[norcalbruja]

Laptop issues averted, thanks to... Tony Stark?

My laptop got fixed in half an hour yesterday, so I didn't have to drop it off at the store or pay anything!

This folds into my delayed updates, because you know how Loki keeps telling me he has "Marvel connections" because HE is a character in Marvel? Iron Man / Tony Stark showed up around the first week of March and he's just... hanging out with Mythical-Loki.

Either Tony was called up by me listening to "Iron Man" by Black Sabbath for a while (because I don't mind pop music in general, but there's only so many times I can listen to THE SAME FIFTY pop songs from some CEO's nightclub playlist for eight hours a day), or Loki intentionally called him over.

--

I have met Tony and the other Avengers before, but I haven't actually asked them for HELP before (what with... being normal and not needing any life-threatening emergencies). But around the 10th, I was just REALLY fed up with work and its inconsistencies, so I was like "Oh mannnnn, I hate this place really bad today. Tony or whoever has the necessary skills, do you think you can get me off work ON TIME instead of 30-40 minutes late?"

He was like "SWEET, you're asking for things!"

GUESS WHAT, I was only about fifteen minutes late when I left work! Considering my workplace can never figure out whether I'm actually supposed to help close or not, 15 minutes is extremely quick.

Unfortunately the next day, my cash register at work started glitching out and rebooted for no reason.

I can put the cash register down to "the workplace computers are ancient, and it's not a secret that they don't work right half the time," but then MY electronics started getting buggy.

My laptop wouldn't turn off until I held down the power button, and then it wouldn't turn back on properly. My phone was also lagging a lot and tended to freeze sometimes.

I was like "Tony!!! If this is you, please stop messing with my electronics!!! If this is someone ELSE, same thing--please don't wreck my stuff JUST YET! I paid $700 for the laptop!"

--

The next day was Monday, and the bowling alley was basically a ghost town, since weekends and holidays are our busiest times. I was doing unnecessary checks on the lanes just to WALK AROUND because I only made about three transactions that weren't paying for my own lunch, so I was like "Fucking hell, they don't even need me here. ...Tony? Can you get me off EARLY this time?"

So Tony went, "Ohhhhhhh yeah, time to turn up the juice!"

In the most Iron Man way of getting me out of work, the managers had me finish my ALCOHOL SERVING TRAINING after lunch. So I officially got off an hour early, but I also spent the hour before that just legally stuck in the office. I love wasting company time, lol.

So I was like "Thanks Tony, you alcoholic motherfucker. But now I’m done with all my employee training!"

He went, "Honey, you know I’m a SMART alcoholic, right? This place is a mess! The possibilities for getting you out of this joint are endless!" And now I need to make a note to BE VERY SPECIFIC about those possibilities. Eek.

While I was panicking about my laptop on Facebook, I wrote "Tony Stark, please make sure I don’t need to get a new laptop JUST yet."

I make a lot of sarcastic pop-culture "prayers" on social media, so I don't think more than like, two people who already know about my pop-culture paganism would realize that I have ACTUALLY been talking to Tony Stark (or "a spirit who identifies as him," for my followers who might find pop-culture paganism weird).

And uhhhhhh... yesterday, my laptop got fixed in half an hour for free.

Granted, my original Windows OS got corrupted somehow, so they had to wipe everything and re-install a new OS, but my important stuff is backed up to Dropbox and Microsoft! All I really need to do is log back into my main websites and re-upload my games and programs. I'll definitely take needing a few days to "refurnish" the laptop in exchange for not buying a new laptop, or paying for repairs.

THE KICKER: While I was driving home with my Fixed Laptop, I saw some huge graffiti on a billboard with MY FIRST NAME ON IT. It is specifically only visible when I'm driving HOME that way, so that gave me a small heart attack.

Tony and Loki thought it was hilarious.

Now, aside from the snarkiness, Tony is actually pretty fatherly towards me and like... he HAS been asking me to ask him for help since he came around.

I think part of it's because he knows I'm ALSO depressed, and I have a complicated relationship with alcohol/drugs because... you know, I'm depressed AND anxious. I don't want to end up self-medicating, especially since I REALLY like the taste of cider and mead and wine.

This one time, Tony told me, "Look honey, I am NOT a god. I am a person. When someone asks for help, I help them. More importantly, I try to help them in the WAY THEY ASK. You asked the gods for help a million times already! DEAD PEOPLE hear it! The FOREST hears it! Sure, the gods tried their best, but it was not the help you need. And most of your own people's gods just aren't showing up. All you want is a house and an art career, and I'M FUCKING RICH. If I can't help you myself, I can find someone who does!"

And then he was like "New laptop, new year, new life! As His Highness keeps telling you."

Anyway: Thank you again for helping with my laptop, Iron Man. I shall keep away from spiders for the near future.

[yapposrantcafe]

Grab a chair, a beverage, and get ready to either love or hate me.

This blog is a place for me to be honest about how I feel about many things I find disturbing in the world or society these days. You see I'm a disabled middle-aged woman with a grown daughter and eldery mother living with me.

Stress, conflict, and different ways of seeing the world prevail daily here. I'll let you guess which one of our residences likes to stir the proverbial pot and cause the other two to be miserable. This person finds it fun apparently. It's not a happy place to live. Simply being family doesn't automatically equal happiness when amongst each other. It's simply a roof over our heads and a place to survive.

We are not rich but we manage to never miss a meal. Two of Three of us have college degrees that aren't being used. One on social securitiy, one on disability, and one working part time paying only for gas my car.

I should mention that my daughters father died 3 yrs ago and left her financially well off. Not like Trump, Bill Gates, or other stupidly rich people. But enough to put a roof on my house before it became serious, level garage before it collapsed, new fence in backyard to stop dogs from escaping after losing one on the road, and some of the property cleared so we could expand yard. Some invested for her senior years means it's one less thing I need to worry about.

I don't charge my daughter rent because of the money she spent to save the house, I forgot windows and gutters she had replaced, but I would appreciate some help with the housework.

Again, I'm disabled. Seizures, Daily migraines causing my brain to eat it's white matter like MS but in different areas, random weakness of limbs, Central Nervous System (CNS) that short circuits and throws my motor skills out of sorts, anxiety, panic attacks, and depression, all that to be topped off by a pretty much non-existent immune system that's kept me on antibiotics for the last 6 months.

Now you know my situation. I live with people whom I seem to annoy by my mere presence and I'm starting to feel the same way about them. I can't open my mouth without being wrong even if the dog I'm petting is blond, and I call him blondie. I'm not sure how this is wrong but wow does it set off my daughter. Now my mother just says what she thinks is wrong with my daughter, and myself, and how we should act and what we should be doing that we're not.

I feel stuck. I'd sign this house over to my daughter in a heartbeat and rent a tiny apartment somewhere but I'd have to take my mother and both pomskies so it'd not be much of an improvement since I can't drive, and neither can my mother who has bad sight.

Now you know a bit of my situation and the reason I want, no need, to write this blog. You see i keep a journal for my personal stuff to try and help me stay sane but there's another problem that involves the people around me, even those who aren't related. If I have an opinion or thought on a topic they become aggressively upset and it starts a conflict.

I don't do conflict unless absolutely needed. It stresses me out and causes my health to deteriorate rapidly. So, I try to avoid it when possible. This would be the reason I'm sitting in my room with the dogs napping on my bed writing this someplace no one will likely find it or give a damn if they do run across it.

This, my personal journal, meditation, and other stress management techniques in my room are my only solace these days. I'm fighting to correct my health and waiting to find out if I qualify for IVIg therapy to boost my immune system. It's expensive so if insurance doesn't ok it I will live on antibiotics till I build a resistance and finally pass from some respiratory something.

Everything is so full of stress I will take any outlet to depressurize it and wait till I've hopefully saved enough for another long weekend just by myself in 6 months if I don't have another seizure.

[bronanlynch]

managed to keep most of the categories fairly concise this week, please clap (this is partially bc I was busy and not doing as much ~media consumption as usual but shhh)

listening (podcast): as usual I am keeping up with Palisade, which really does just keep being So Much. you would think things might calm down after disarming every single sun-destroying bomb and assassinating a god-emperor but no things have not calmed down and it's great

also continuing to make my way through the Great Gundam Project episodes on 0079, which is making me miss those characters and especially Sayla :( I miss my girl :(

listening (music): did a lot of driving this past weekend which means listening to car CDs which means no new music. shout out to classic staples like Animal I Have Become by Three Days Grace and All Signs Point to Lauderdale by A Day to Remember, which is a genuinely good song but also the first line is literally "I hate this town" so adjust your opinion of my music taste accordingly

reading: once again reading The Death I Gave Him (sci-fi Hamlet retelling by Em X. Liu) which continues to fucking rule. I'm enjoying that the Ophelia figure is getting a little bit of a Laertes arc, which is fun, love it when Ophelia gets to be a bit vengeful as a treat

also, I've started reading The Imperial Uncle, a court intrigue danmei novel by Da Feng Gua Guo (published in English by the same people who published/translated Golden Terrace/Golden Stage, which is how I found out about it). I'm having a lot of fun with it so far, I'm always a fan of political intrigue, especially political intrigue that is also a family drama, and the premise of it is that the main character has a reputation as scheming & untrustworthy that he's leaning into in order to prevent a coup that his friends are planning, all of which is catnip to me personally. also I enjoy that not only is the main character married, as someone in his position in this context would have been expected to be, but he's also textually slept with people who aren't the love interest. I think that's fun! I like when characters have histories and exist in contexts! and also I sometimes get bored when the main couple have never had a single relationship other than each other sorry

watching: still keeping up with Bakeoff. I'm sad that Rowan & Nicky are gone because I really liked both of them, even if I think it was fair that they're the ones who left two weeks ago. I was a bit surprised that is was Dana this past week though, like I get why she was in the running to leave but I didn't think she did that badly, y'know? anyway, absolutely loved the theme. as a guy who loves desserts that aren't too sweet and also floral flavors, I enjoyed that they were doing botanicals. although I think more of them could've afforded to be a little more daring tbh like come on, hibiscus is a flavor that plenty of them already use in other challenges, get weirder with it. I don't blame people for shying away from rose because the judges are always talking about how they hate it when someone puts "too much" rose in something, but I love rose flavor so I think they're all cowards

we have also been watching more ZZ Gundam. we've gotten to the new opening, and I've gotta say, the first one was a lot more of a bop, but alas. I don't have a whole lot that's new to say because it's mostly like, I'm having fun, I like Judau and his friends, I miss Kamille and Char, I wish there weren't so much weird misogyny sometimes, I love to see Haman, etc. actually the main new thing I have to say is that the set of episodes where they're lost in the desert is like, it feels like they're trying to make a point about how it's bad that these people trying to live their lives have gotten caught up in the fighting between two imperial powers neither of whom care about the collateral damage because they're too busy trying to kill each other in giant death machines, but the show doesn't let the characters or the audience sit with that or allow much interiority for the people living in the village (other than the woman who was in love with one of the soldiers and wants to die while vindicating his choice to also pilot a giant death machine which. we don't have time to unpack all that) so Imo it falls flat as a critique and ends up wrapping back around to being kinda orientalist

also saw a play that was a comedy retelling of Dracula which was. well. overall it was mostly fun, it was campy, the costuming was delightful, I mostly had a good time despite a couple of pretty odd adaptational choices. however. there were parts of it that I did not enjoy and those parts were the transmisogyny. I wish I could say I was surprised that something that was billed as "gender-bending" and "for the gays and the theys" had some pretty uhhh blatant transmisogyny in it but. unfortunately here we are, and unfortunately marketing yourself as queer-friendly doesn't prevent you from having a running "joke" about how a female character played by a man is ugly & unlovable. it's uncomfortable and bad and kinda soured me on the play as a whole which is a shame because it could have been so good otherwise. what if we as a society decided to tell jokes that are actually funny instead of relying on transmisogynistic caricatures. what if.

playing: still on Ace Attorney 5, and now that Pearl is back it really feels like the people making this game were not confident that people would be invested in the new characters so they have to keep bringing back the old ones. I like Pearl! but we've had multiple games with Pearl already and Trucy has barely been in AA5 at all, so why can't we have Trucy as the assistant for the rest of this case? tbh I think this case especially would be stronger if the points of view you got were Athena and Apollo like, you can investigate as Apollo, Trucy tags along and then gives information to Athena even though he doesn't want her to, and then you play as Athena for the trial with Phoenix there for moral support. please Capcom. please I love Phoenix but it doesn't really feel like they're doing much with him here so I would rather focus on the new characters who haven't gotten as a much screentime instead

making: we've gotten to back to assembling Miorine. she has two eyebrows and a torso now (picture taken before we did the torso)

alas, poor Mi-Yorick

drinking: according to the internet some recipes for an aviation leave out the creme de violette which I think is a crime. that's the whole point. anyway. had a very good aviation which did in fact include the violette and it fucked. shout out to gin drinks that don't include tonic water

writing: worked on a fic for a zine check-in, got rejected from a different zine that I was really interested in. the epic highs and lows of trying to get your writing read by more people than your roommate and maybe a mutual or two

[what-if-nct]

hi hi today's reminder is… heavy. i think I might be heading very towards burnout but I don't think there's anything I can take off my plate. when my mom got sick, my manager kind of took me off work for a bit but now it's picking back up because, yknow, it's a job and I'm glad they were considerate enough to basically give me three months off, but I can't expect that forever. and so work is a lot and both my teammates are out of town so it falls on me but I can't complain about it being unfair because they did all my work while I was running around hospitals with my mom. and the second i come back home, I'm on nurse duty because we're all exhausted and cancer is awful even on the good days. it's physically exhausting to help her with everything: she can't get stuff for herself, she gets tired eating most days so I have to feed her, i have to support her whenever she walks or even sits up, i have to cook and clean and help her change and give her messages every night because everything hurts, i have to keep track of meds and symptoms and chemo doses and who do I have to cover for today because everyone's exhausted but all of this needs to be done. and again: i can't complain. she's going through something unimaginably difficult. i have to hold her when she cries even though I'm barely hanging in there emotionally. i can't go out on weekends because then I'm "out" working on weekdays and that apparently is time off. I've taken to lying to my family and telling them I'm at work and going to my boyfriend's once a week just to have some time where I'm wanted, not needed. a couple weeks ago we were cuddling and he told me he was proud of how I'm dealing with all this and i cried for about fifteen minutes straight. today he made me lunch and he bought me cheesecake and we watched an old movie together and I had such a nice day until the second i stepped on the train to go home and it hit me how much I dreaded the thought of being at home. every night I stay up til like 3 because if I don't get those few hours of alone time, i don't think I can make it through this, even if I still have to wake up early and go to work on four hours of sleep.

and. i knew this would be difficult. i knew this was never going to be easy. but I'm just so drained and I'm having to dig so deep to find my empathy and i feel like a horrible person. i just want to get away from it all, and i know how selfish that would be, but I just want to go away and not be needed for a few days. to just be taken care of, for more than a few hours once a week.

Honey, When I say I know where you're coming from. I completely know where you're coming from. And I want to tell you that it is amazing that you do everything you do. It isn't easy, it's quite possibly the most difficult moment of your life. And I'm happy you do get those hours of solace you need to recooperate, cause it's so important. And I understand it's a time in your life where it's how much bending is it going to take before you break. Because you are only human and you should not feel bad about wanting to get away from it all to have time just for yourself. It's a normal feeling.

When taking care of others you put yourself on the back burner but your own responsibilities just catch up and your burning the candle at both ends and it's overwhelming. You're not selfish. You're human. I know I share my own experiences a lot but it's just my way of relating so I'll keep it short. So about five years ago my aunt had her legs amputatated and because im the only woman in the house and I'm the youngest it fell on my shoulders to take care of her. She only has a son. Only I can bathe and change her. I couldn't leave the house except after she slept and right now i can only get a couple of hours out of a day to do what i need.

But in the beginning I had to do everything on top of cleaning the house and laundry and cooking. I was only used to cleaning after myself, I can barely feed myself. I had no time to do anything for myself. It got to the point I would do anything and everything to get away from the house, things I'm not proud of but it was still better than being home and I lied so much. I hated my life so much I had no time for myself I grew to never want children cause after she goes to a facility I'm not taking care of anyone but myself. And now that I'm 30 I do genuinely feel like I wasted my 20s taking care of her. Now, it's not as bad I have more free time but I know the beginning is so hard, it's really hard.

I want you to know you are not alone in what you're feeling, you're not selfish for wanting to get away. And I can't really provide any solutions at this time, when I figure it out I'll tell you. But I can say that you are strong, so loving because it takes a lot of love to do what you're doing. And it may not seem like it but eventually things will get better. You're mom will beat this and be strong and healthy and you both will be able to live life to the fullest together. But in the meantime be kind to yourself, give yourself the grace of being human, take advantage of all the free time and love and care you can with your boyfriend and don't feel guilty about it. It's something you need. And I send you the biggest hug ever. It will get better okay. Trust me it will. I send you so much love, support and encouragement 🌸🩷🩷🌸🌸🩷🩷🌸

[gattmammon]

I'm like 75% sure my manager ignored my request to not work this afternoon because they were understaffed and then tried to make it look like I was the one who remembered it wrong

Not 100% but 75%

Me sherlocking my own manager under the cut

Facts are as follows:

- these specific Sunday afternoon work hours are extra w/r/t my regular work hours. With this Sunday morning my hours were like beyond done. Super done. I have literally worked like two extra days on top of a week that is already six days. I even woke up at 6 this morning!!!! I endured the agony of being the only fucking person awake on Sunday at 6 in AUGUST in probably like the entire fuckijg city specifically to be done faster and get out earlier!!!

- said extra hours are on a completely voluntary basis. They have to ask at the end of each month if and when we would like to do them in the following month. I have specifically said and decided that I take on way too many extra hours and I'd rather do less.

- since I was going to be on pto at the end of July, I was asked to set my hours beforehand, in like mid-July. No problems. Since I knew I was going to work a shitton during the week the whole of August, I asked for a lighter schedule on weekends, which included not working this afternoon.

- I reiterated this request AGAIN at the start of this week, got confirmation I was not included in the staff for this Sunday afternoon.

- however, the specific manager I talked to is now on pto herself. However-however, i saw her pulling up the turn sheet (yes they use a literal sheet. ITALYYYY) and she confirmed that I was NOT supposed to work (again. This is something that is largely decided BEFOREHAND).

- this morning I do the opening (I cannot stress enough how much I fucking WOKE UP AT 6) and guess what!!!! I'm in the staff this afternoon.

- I point this out and am told that I was ALWAYS marked as working this afternoon

- the Sunday extra hours printout appears during the workday marking me as working on all three of my assigned Sundays (as opposed to only two). Worth noting that said printout usually appears on like. FRIDAY before the first Sunday of the month at the latest. Almost never so late.

- now here's the thing. I distinctly remember the first manager asking me jokingly if I had changed my mind about Sunday afternoon because they were so badly short-staffed.

My suspicion is that Second Manager simply changed the service to make it look like I was included then put out the printout so it looked more legit. The printout didn't appear beforehand because they were so understaffed they were hoping until the very last minute that someone changed they mind and then when nobody did they just were like "oh Cat always works the extra hours on Sunday right, might as well".

Like. Maybe she genuinely thought I wasn't included as a mistake or maybe First manager made some mystery fuckup but the thing that gets me is that Second Manager did not say "oh somebody somewhere must have made a mistake". She said "oh YOU must remember it wrong". Like she was immediately defensive in insisting that I had agreed to do the hours and simply didn't remember when i DISTINCTLY KNOW that I walked to the Manager and told them "Ok I can do morning on Sunday 6 but not afternoon" like. Girl. What's more probable that I keeping track of only my own turns wrote it down wrong and formed a whole false memory around it or that there was a miscommunication in the office that handles the turns of 50+ people?

But the thing is if it had been her mistake then I would've been within my rights to be like "oh well. You fuck up you solve it. Bye" (which I would NOT have done!!! I'm nice!!!! If I had been told they were THAT understaffed beforehand I might even have offered!!!! But they didn't so I made fucking plans!!! With myself, but still!!! A plan is a plan!!!) But since she quickly deflected on ME, then it becomes MY duty to keep my word. Thats why I'm so suspicious.

[figs-and-cigs]

Polyamorous Ask Game

Light and Fun Questions:

1. If you could go on a date with any fictional character, who would it be and why?

Buffy will always be my favorite show and Spike will always be my number one crush.

2. What’s your favorite group activity to do with multiple partners?

Dinners. Whether it's going to a restaurant or a potluck at someone's house. Sharing meals is just the ultimate form of connection and community imo.

3. What’s a dream vacation spot where you’d love to bring all your partners?

Not a big traveler but we're fortunate to have a lifestyle resort nearby a lot of go to every year for a weekend. A longer vacation there would be a dream.

4. What’s the most unique date you've ever been on?

We went to a speed dating event and then invited "potential dates" on our dinner date. It became a funny and awkward hangout with three extra people who were not poly.

5. If your love life had a theme song, what would it be?

Melissa McClelland's A Girl Can Dream.

6. What's the most creative way you’ve celebrated an anniversary?

Swingers resort. Not really creative for us, but to the vanillas sure.

7. What’s your ideal day spent with one or more partners?

Staying in, ordering food, cuddling and watching movies. Always.

8. Do you prefer solo dates, double dates, or group hangouts?

All of them are amazing. Depends on how I'm feeling, what types of connections I'm desiring, but typically prioritize solo dates over anything else. Group hangouts don't necessarily involve partners.

9. What’s a hobby you’d love to introduce to one or more of your partners?

Dancing. Seriously, they're going to keep getting invited to dance lessons.

10. If you and your partners were superheroes, what would your team name be?

Like our calendars could ever line up well enough for that to happen. (I'm copping out of this one because I have no idea.)

Thoughtful & Reflective Questions:

1. What does emotional intimacy mean to you in polyamory?

Open communication, about anything, without fear or judgment.

2. How do you manage jealousy when it comes up?

Reason things out with a supportive friend or therapist. Journaling. Focusing on my own hobby. Then communication with my partner if needed. Am I jealous? Fearful the relationship is changing? Am I experiencing FOMO? If I can answer these on my own, I can also find a collaborative solution.

3. How do you prefer to communicate about boundaries in your relationships?

I'm a texter. I usually start there if not on a date where it comes up. I try to be clear and direct. In my experience, boundaries are guidelines for me and don't always need communicated, but will be stated when necessary. For example, I don't answer the phone after midnight - but I will share this information if a partner calls at 1am.

4. How has polyamory changed your perspective on love and relationships?

Love is an infinite resource. There's freedom and beauty in not putting strict rules about how love and relationships evolve. Relationships are more about choosing each other rather than obligation and we each carve our own paths.

5. What’s your favorite part about being in multiple relationships?

The experiences and getting to know so many people on an intimate level.

6. What’s a challenge in polyamory that you didn’t expect but have learned to navigate?

How relationships escalate. NRE and moving too fast into integrating into each other's lives creates way more difficulties than I realized until it happened.

7. How do you balance time between multiple partners and self-care?

Prioritizing my self-care is my number one boundary. I have chronic health issues, so this was something I had to do even before entering polyamory. Mondays are my rest days, period. My schedule fluctuates and isn't always as consistent as some people would like - I find partners who can understand and respect that.

8. How do you support your partners when they’re experiencing tough emotions?

Listening. That's really the only answer. I can validate emotions, share my own experiences, things that help me - but my role is to listen and not fix.

9. What do you love most about your polycule or chosen family?

The support, watching everyone work on their self improvement and growth, getting to be a witness to everyone's journey's while I'm on my own.

10. What’s a misconception about polyamory that you wish people understood better?

It's NOT ALL TRIADS!

Spicy/More Personal (if comfort levels allow):

1. What’s your favorite way to connect physically with a partner?

Cuddling.

2. What’s your favorite memory of a shared experience with multiple partners?

Hubby and I shared a room at a resort with another couple we'd been friends with for years. While no romantic partners - the intimate friendship was there. It was a wild weekend and we all still talk and laugh about it.

3. What does compersion (happiness for a partner’s other relationships) look like for you?

Instead of feeling jealous or envy it's a literal sense of, "I want that for them!"

4. What’s something that excites you about group dynamics in polyamorous relationships?

First thought that came to mind was sitting between two partners and literally reaching up to stroke their beards simultaneously. Really, it's just the ability to show affection to multiple people at once in a variety of ways, doing what comes naturally and it not ending another relationship.

5. How do you approach intimacy in different types of relationships?

Depends on the individual and the relationship.

6. Do you have a go-to method for initiating deeper conversations with a partner?

"Hey, I want to talk about ____, do you have the spoons for that right now or can we schedule a time?"

7. What’s an act of affection that makes you feel loved and appreciated?

A message to let me know they're thinking about me and arranging for quality time, no matter how short.

8. What are your feelings on sharing space, like sleeping arrangements, with multiple partners?

My home is off limits (have a kiddo at home), but at an event, sleepover, resort etc. anything can happen. Just know that cuddle puddles get hot and uncomfortable and arrangements will change throughout the night. We're definitely more garden party poly, most of us share spaces outside of our homes.

9. What’s one boundary that’s especially important to you in your relationships?

Communication. Period. Don't assume, talk about it.

10. What’s something sexy you’d love to try in a group setting?

Nothing on my bucket list at the moment, but that could change.

This was fun. Thanks!

Polyamorous Ask Game

Light and Fun Questions:

If you could go on a date with any fictional character, who would it be and why?

What’s your favorite group activity to do with multiple partners?

What’s a dream vacation spot where you’d love to bring all your partners?

What’s the most unique date you've ever been on?

If your love life had a theme song, what would it be?

What's the most creative way you’ve celebrated an anniversary?

What’s your ideal day spent with one or more partners?

Do you prefer solo dates, double dates, or group hangouts?

What’s a hobby you’d love to introduce to one or more of your partners?

If you and your partners were superheroes, what would your team name be?

Thoughtful & Reflective Questions:

What does emotional intimacy mean to you in polyamory?

How do you manage jealousy when it comes up?

How do you prefer to communicate about boundaries in your relationships?

How has polyamory changed your perspective on love and relationships?

What’s your favorite part about being in multiple relationships?

What’s a challenge in polyamory that you didn’t expect but have learned to navigate?

How do you balance time between multiple partners and self-care?

How do you support your partners when they’re experiencing tough emotions?

What do you love most about your polycule or chosen family?

What’s a misconception about polyamory that you wish people understood better?

Spicy/More Personal (if comfort levels allow):

What’s your favorite way to connect physically with a partner?

What’s your favorite memory of a shared experience with multiple partners?

What does compersion (happiness for a partner’s other relationships) look like for you?

What’s something that excites you about group dynamics in polyamorous relationships?

How do you approach intimacy in different types of relationships?

Do you have a go-to method for initiating deeper conversations with a partner?

What’s an act of affection that makes you feel loved and appreciated?

What are your feelings on sharing space, like sleeping arrangements, with multiple partners?

What’s one boundary that’s especially important to you in your relationships?

What’s something sexy you’d love to try in a group setting?

[russellsppttemplates]

You're really here? (Mick Schumacher)

Busy bee Y/N manages to get her colleagues to get their work done quicker so she can travel to the race and surprise her boyfriend

Note: english is not my first language I added a little something so that it would have even bit more content, I hope it is okay!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share (thank you so much to everyone who did so far), feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

Tw: curse words

It was the final week of a triple header and Mick hadn't been able to come home with all the sponsorship events and meetings he had to attend to in the factory, so you resorted to videocalls in hopes of making you miss your partner a tiny bit less, "you know, Angie keeps looking at the door whenever someone walks in, and mom seems to think she's waiting for you", Mick said, "are they still keeping you for the meeting on Sunday?", he asked, a sad smile on his face. Sighing, you smiled at the dog's actions before replying "Yes, they still want to keep me for the meeting, and it's going to be really busy apparently, loads of things they want to discuss. I'm sorry, bubs", you looked at him, the expression on your face showing just how much you hated not being able to go and see the race on the garage. One day you were going to take over and decide that no such meetings should happen over the weekend, no matter how many days off they offered, you though to yourself. You knew that, if you were lucky enough, your team could get everything done by Saturday night and you would be able to fly out on Sunday morning but, not wanting to build Mick's hope up and then crash it all again, you stated the information as you knew it. "It's alright darling, it's your job. At least we get some days together, just me and you", he smiled at the prospect, Angie making her presence known as she jumped on Mick, "and you too Angie, all three of us", your boyfriend said as you all giggled. After talking a bit more about media day for Mick and what you had gotten up to at the office, waving at his mother, who had travelled to see the race, when she appeared on the screen, you bid eachother goodbye, knowing how Mick needed his rest for the next day.

.

The free practice sessions were over, and Mick was feeling pretty good about the car and its performance on the track, going over a few adjustments of the car before heading out of the paddock with his mother just as someone called for him, "Mick! Only now I'm catching you properly", Sebastian said as he greeted Corinna with a kiss on each cheek and then hugging the young driver, "No Y/N this weekend?", he asked. "She has meetings all weekend", Mick explained quickly. It was something that you appreciated about him, how he never wanted you to put your career or your job in the back so he could achieve his own, always supporting you in whatever your job entailed and being your biggest fan. "That is what you get when you have a strong independent woman on your side, hopefully I'll see her soon, the girls miss playing with her too!", Seb teased, knowing no one would take harm in his words given that, since he met the girl Mick had fallen head over heels for, he was happy that his friend had found someone so honest, kind and loving and that had no interest in his last name. Mentioning his kids before bidding them goodbye, Seb cycled away as Mick and Corinna got inside the car so they could drive to the hotel. "You know", Corinna started, "I know what it is to be at home while you watch the love of your life travel everywhere in the world for races, but Y/N is such an amazing woman that I always knew you two would be just fine, no matter what the world throws at you", she smiled at her son who smiled back to her briefly before keeping his eyes back on the road, "I know that the way it is hard for me to be away from her, it is also hard for her. But I also want her to know that she can br ger own person and achieve the amazing things I know she is capable of. Did she tell you that she got promoted again? It was the second time in a space of 10 months", he revealed, "she probably didn't tell you because she thinks people will think she's bragging but yeah, I never want her to feel like my career is more important than hers, or that she should be the only one making changes and sacrifices", he finished. Corinna could only smile at her son's words, knowing that herself and her husband, along with the rest of the family, had raised an attentive and considerate young man who had been lucky enough to have someone like you in his life.

.

"What if we get all of this done tonight? This looks like a 3 hours work and it's only 6pm, if we are quick enough we can even have a later dinner and we'll have tomorrow free", you tried to persuade your colleagues on the Saturday meeting. They changed looks between eachother as Anna spoke, "It would be pretty cool to have Sunday off, I could relax for once after this hellish week", and your hopes rose a bit, "Do you really think we can do this today?", the other asked, "Well, if all of us pair up and get on with different tasks I think we can, yes", you smiled while waving the papers. Everyone looked at eachother, really not wanting to have to go in the office on a Sunday, before they got up and paired up like you had suggested, yourself grabbing your own task and discussing with Anna how you were going to tackle it. Finishing it in the time frame you had set, you submitted it in the platform before deciding to go for a celebratory dinner. Arriving at a restaurant you and Mick usually get takeout from, you asked Anna if she could order for you while you went to make a phonecall outside, telling her the dish you wanted as you grabbed the tablet from your bag.

"Hello, my love", you said into your phone, "Am I bothering your rest?", you asked, nearly sure you were not but checking just in case, "Hello darling, no, no, I just got to my room from dinner. Had this really nice pasta that I know you'd love. How was your meeting?", he asked, "it was tiring, many things to go around and there's still stuff to do", you said, deciding you wanted to surprise him tomorrow, "I saw you got P9 in qualifying today, congratulations handsome, I'm so proud of you", you said, sad that you had missed the actual session but making a mental note to watch it later. "Yeah, felt pretty good in the car today actually, hopefully tomorrow we can hold on to it, maybe even get one or two positions up if we are lucky", your boyfriend replied over the phone, "I wish I could see it there, but I promise I'm going to be watching it on the TV, Haas t-shirt on and everything", you mentioned his royal blue t-shirt that you loved to steal, "you'll be the best supporter out there", you heard a faint smile before you spoke a little bit more, saying goodbye to eachother as you finished the call, your finger opening the messages app and texting Sabine, Mick's agent. As you asked her to call you when she had time, you grabbed your tablet so you could buy a plane ticket and, about ten minutes later Sabine called you, "You're coming to the race aren't you?", she said quietly after you heard shuffling on the other side of the call, "yes, but can you please not tell Mick? I want to surprise him this time", you explained, "Alright with me, I'm sure he'll be very happy to see you. So, how did you manage to do it?", Sabine spoke, "I may have pouted to get my way so we could finish the last few things so late in the day, but it also means no one is working on a Sunday, which I feel is quite nice too", you chuckled as you heard Sabine's fingers type on a screen, "I need you to get me a pass for tomorrow if that's possible, please. I already have my plane ticket", you said as she hummed on the other side, "I'm glad I have yours saved just in case otherwise someone might have taken it", she referred to the sponsors that were visiting the garage that weekend. Checking the details for the pass one last time, you thanked her again before heading inside.

"Someone is very happy", Anna smiled, knowing the main reason why you wanted a free Sunday, "I just miss him a lot and in all honesty, I have no idea why they wanted us to work on Sunday", you said as you mentioned the boss' idea, "dear, next time there is an opening, you should apply because thank to you we got some free time", one of your other colleagues raised his glass as the rest of the table toasted to it.

.

Thankfully, past Y/N has already packed a small bag with the essentials you needed if you were to be able to travel on Sunday to the race, making the daft o'clock time you had to get up at seem less harsh, even though your body still rushed at the prospect of hugging your boyfriend and your furbaby Angie.

Arriving at the airport, you got on the transport Sabine had arranged for you to get to the track. Thanking the lovely driver who wished you a good race and that you would indeed be able to surprise your boyfriend who was working there (never disclosing that he was a F1 driver), you made your way in, scanning your pass and being able to go pretty unnoticed despite the small luggage you were carrying.

Angie knew better than to run around in an environment like this so, when she saw you at the back of the garage greeting Sabine, the dog started to wave her paw at you, hoping you would finally see her and greet her, "Angie, hey, hey, calm down for a bit", Mick said gently as he watched the dog sit and wave her paw around, "She only does this when Y/N is around, what's going in with you, hm? You miss her too, don't you?", he said as he scratched her head while speaking to Gary. Since the first attempt failed, Angie decided to take matters into her paws, her snout bumping os his leg until he looked at her before she looked at you, "Y/N, you're really here?", he said as he saw your figure approaching, not quite believing it. Smiling all the way there, you hugged him as soon as you were able, feeling his lips press a kiss to the top of your head, "We managed to squeeze everything in last night's meeting, and Sabine helped me get here", you explained, looking into his blue eyes as he bent his neck to kiss you on the lips, not caring that the people he worked with were watching you and just enjoying the feeling of your lips on his. Everyone in the garage awe'd at the display of affection, Gary excusing himself as Mick returned to his usual shy self, hiding his blushed cheeks on your neck, "I missed you so much, schatz, thank you for coming here", he mumbled before he gave your neck some butterfly kisses, the tickles it caused making you nestle further into his body.

"I missed you both too, so much", you said, scratching Angie's ears as best as you could before noticing Corinna out the corner of your eye, "Y/N, dear, you're here!", she said as she hugged your, prying her son away from you, who unwillingly complied as he watched two of the most important women in his life, "you didn't know about this?", Mick asked his mum, "Sabine was the only one who knew", you said, grabbing his hand as Mick looked for his agent, mouthing her a thank you.

Already in his racesuit, Mick grabbed a pair of headphones for you so you could listen to him inside the car, placing them gently on your head before kissing you chastely, "this race is going to be for you beautiful", he said before putting on his balaclava and then his helmet, strutting out of the garage with a new confidence your presence had brought in him.

[fourseasonscomeandgo]

Test Yourself on Far Cry.

Pairing: æspa Winter x gn!reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Genre: Fluff

TW: Cursing (¿, Mentions of death in a game

There are things Minjeong always does for you.

She knows which snacks are your favorites and she always makes sure to put some in Karina's bag, along with hers, so you can eat them when you accompany her in promotions or practices. She fixes your clothes and your hair to make sure you look good and then makes sure to tell you how beautiful you are. Lets you watch your favorite shows even though she doesn't like them that much and tries to cook your favorite dishes, also pays for the food after she gives up on cooking.

Minjeong knows how much of a gamer you are so another thing she does everytime she travels overseas is bring you a new game or some collectable of your favorite games. It's not that you can't get them in Seoul, but bringing little gifts from the places she visits is her way of feeling that you went with her. It's like a souvenir, just one that you're actually interested in.

But right now she was regretting that habit of hers.

A while ago, when she came back from New York, she brought you the latest Far Cry. You like to have your physical games and collect them, so she tends to give you these kinds of gifts a lot.

You were never a fan of the franchise, still you thanked her and, as with anything your girlfriend does, you were moved and amused. However, a while passed and you never touched it, haven't even opened it.

Until you hit a gamer block, as you like to call it. Among your extensive collection there is little you haven't played, and then there are some things that just didn't seem convincing enough. Except one.

So yes, all weekend you've been running side to side through Cuba hunting dictators, so implied with Dani Rojas that you completely forgot something.

Something.

You forgot something.

Whatever, you may remember it later.

You keep playing. You really have little to finish the game since you have hardly slept at all these days, your mental capacity is at it's lowest and that lowest is already being used so you don't notice when the door of the apartment opens and closes.

"Hi, bae" a sweet voice that you could never mistake echoes through your house.

Minjeong?

"Hi, love" you greet her back, while keeping your eyes on the screen.

What is Minjeong doing in your house?

"What are you doing here? That's a nice surprise" you add without really thinking about it, but there's no answer afterwards.

"What are you talking about? You knew today is my day off"

Oh.

She's right. You knew.

When you got that damn plastic into your console you didn't think it'd take over you the way it did, definitely didn't think you'd forget about the only day off Minjeong has had in almost three months. It was the first time in a while you'd have her all to yourself without Yizhuo and Aeri pretending to throw up every time you touch, or without Jimin wanting to take a picture of you at every interaction. You can't believe how clueless…

Shit! Who shot me?

Damn, I'm so close to finish…

"Bae!" she yelled while stepping in to block your view.

"Minjeong-ah! Get off, get off, get off! They'll kill me!" you yelled while waving your hand frantically.

"I'm talking to you and you're not even listening to me" she said in a whiny tone, you looked up and saw a small pout on her lips.

"Minjeong-ie" you murmured.

Somehow you managed to pause the game even with her body still blocking the screen, you stood up and walked over to her, cupped her delicate face in your hands as your gazes locked, the pout still on her lips.

"Sorry for forgetting your day off" she rolled her eyes, and unexpectedly pinched your arm, to which you squealed, of course. "Just let me finish this mission and I'll be with you, I promise" you extended your pinky towards her.

You fucking promise-breaker. This is the longest mission in the game.

At first your girlfriend just sat and watched while she ate a sandwich, so she was distracted. But now that sandwich is over, and so is her patience.

"When is it going to end?" the whiny tone is back.

"I don't know, baby, I think it's not long from now" you tried to cool down her anger. You felt guilty, obviously, but in your defense it never crossed your mind that the mission would be this long.

"Aaaah!" she groaned, sinking into the sofa and crossing her arms. "I shouldn't have bought you this game"

For a few seconds there was peace, except for the sounds coming from the thing that kept your attention away from where it actually should be. And then you noticed your girlfriend started moving. You tried to look out of the corner of your eye and saw her move like a worm on the couch. She rubbed herself and crawled on it until she managed to get her head over your lap.

The situation was so weird that you couldn't help but pause and look down, where she was looking back at you, her expression serious, almost emotionless.

"You don't love me anymore?" She asked without any emotion, as if she was going through a thoughtful crisis.

You scoffed in a funny way, thinking about how that pretty head of hers works. You put the joystick aside and with your hands now free, used one to take hers and the other to brush her hair.

"How can you have a thought like that? Of course I love you" you affirmed looking at her with tenderness, with affection.

"Then, then-!" she bolted upright, startling you. "Then why don't you turn that damn thing off?" She pointed at the screen as she shrieked in despair, bewildered.

"I told you I'd do it after the mission is over" you remembered, feeling guilty.

"But you didn't mention the part where the mission is the whole damn game!" Minjeong took an exaggerated breath before collapsing on your lap again. "I feel outraged" she sighed as she put her hand on her forehead dramatically.

"I'm so sorry" you took the control to proceed to save the game and exit it, then you turned off the television. "It's your first day off in months and I'm killing gangsters on a fictional island" you both laughed.

She got up then sat on your legs, you wrapped your arms around her waist, pulled her closer to your body and she wrapped you in a hug. It felt good, breathing in her scent. Minjeong smells like fruits, it's not one of those intense citric scents, it's a soft and inviting fruity smell.

It had been so long since you had this, a moment that is yours, to enjoy the warmth you give each other, to hug without saying anything and simply melt into the other's presence.

"I missed you" you whispered in her ear, as if no one else was allowed to hear it, even though there was only you in the apartment.

"You ignored me for a game" she reminded.

"I'll make it up to you" you separated a little from her to be able to see her face to face, and you came back close to leave a kiss on those lips that you missed so much.

—ica.