#What is The Best Workout Program for Home?

[freeonlineworkouts]

Full Body Workout: What is The Best Workout Program for Home?

[the-ace-with-spades]

Carole liked aerobic like all the popular girls in the 80s

She had Jane Fonda's workout tapes and the one special tape with Cher and a couple of tapes with jazzercise with Judi Sheppard Missett and Kathy Smith's sculpturing programs.

She used to go to classes as well, just for the sake of socializing and getting some girl friends whenever they moved, but she stopped for a few years after Goose passed away.

And then she started again. And Bradley was still in his clingy phase and wouldn't let her have five minutes alone at home, so she would tell him to try and 'exercise' with her to distract him

Once she went back to going to group classes, she often didn't have anyone to leave Bradley with for the time being so she'd just take him with her - the ladies all loved him and he'd stay in the front close to the instructor and try to follow as best as he could at the age of six

Now, what Jake discovers twenty or so years later, is that there's a reason Bradley only does strength workouts at the base gym and the cardio at home.

Bradley kept all the tapes

[jungkoode]

OFF-LABELS | O4

→ PAIRING : Med Student!Hoseok x F!Reader (Brother’s Best Friend AU)

→ RATING: Mature, 18+, suggestive tones.

→ DATE POSTED: February 16th, 2025.

→ SUMMARY: You’ve spent four years convincing yourself that your brother’s best friend is just being nice when he remembers your coffee order, quizzes you on neuroanatomy, or lets his touch linger a second too long. Because there’s no way that the golden boy of Seoul National’s medical program might actually be flirting with you. Especially when he keeps saying things that could be perfectly innocent… if only he didn’t say them in that voice.

→ TAGS: second person perspective, female reader, medical school au, brother’s best friend trope, age gap (4 years), pining, touch starved, overthinking reader, confident hoseok, gentle dom hoseok, medical terminology as flirting (lmao), study sessions, domestic moments, innocent (but not really), plausible deniability king hoseok, anxiety, internal monologue, guilty crushes, subtle teasing, emotional edging, gentle manipulation, praise kink undertones, intellectual attraction, competency kink, hand fixation, voice kink, medical intern hoseok, first year med student reader, home setting, casual intimacy, unresolved sexual tension (for now), secret attraction, nervous rambling, self-doubt, intrusive thoughts, anatomy lessons with ulterior motives, competent hoseok, flustered reader, close proximity, accidental touches that aren’t accidents, virgin!reader.

→ CONTENT in this chapter: Hoseok being dangerously thorough with medical demonstrations, vagus nerve "research" that's definitely just for science, medical terminology as foreplay, tongue depressors used for educational purposes (obviously), running into him at home after avoiding him for weeks, and getting cornered with the softest threats imaginable. | medical examination kink, medical equipment, tongue depressors, medical demonstrations, oral fixation, authority kink, power dynamics, educational roleplay, avoidance to attraction, running clothes, post-workout tension, soft threats, vadal nerve stimulation, clinical setting, hospital scenes, medical authority, vagus nerve, autonomic responses.

→ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQ | WORDCOUNT: 2k

→ MINI SERIES: NEXT | PREVIOUS

→ A/N: You ever write something and think "maybe I should go to church"? Yeah. So. This happened. Apparently my brain decided "what if we took medical equipment and made it unholy?" Dedicated to everyone who's ever had an attractive medical professional tell them to "open wide" and died a little inside. Also thanks to my one (1) med student friend who had to answer way too many questions about vagus nerve testing without knowing why I was asking. I'm so sorry.

PLAYLIST

The fluorescent lights hum overhead as you hover outside Room 317, clutching the neurology textbook to your chest like armor. 

You shouldn’t be here.  

Caleb’s text still glows on your phone screen:  

𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝙷𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚘𝚔 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚟𝚊𝚐𝚞𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚛. 𝙶𝚘 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚝 𝚂𝙽𝚄𝙷.

You count the ceiling tiles (twelve) before knocking.   

The room smells like antiseptic and the bergamot tea he drinks during night shifts.  

“Chip.” Hoseok doesn’t look up from the EKG strip he’s analyzing, surgical penlight tucked behind his ear. “You’re blocking the light.”  

You sidestep the portable otoscope charging by the door. The space is all sharp edges—stainless steel cabinets, framed diplomas, his white coat draped over the back of a chair still warm from his body.  

“Page 214,” he says, sliding your marked-up paper across the desk. Red ink bleeds through the margins. Insufficient clinical correlation circles your thesis on autonomic nervous system responses.  

Your throat tightens. “I cited six studies—”  

“Case studies aren’t lived experience.” He finally meets your eyes, thumb brushing the penlight. “You can’t quantify a gag reflex through PubMed.”   

The air shifts when he stands.  

“Sit.” He nods to the exam table, its crinkled paper sheet protesting as you perch on the edge.  

“I’m not your patient,” you say too quickly.  

His laugh is all teeth. “Would you prefer I bill your insurance?”  

The overhead exam light clicks on. You flinch at the sudden brightness.  

“Relax.” His knuckle grazes your jawline as he adjusts the lamp. “Just demonstrating research methodology.”  

He rolls the stool closer, knees bracketing yours.

“Let’s say…” His penlight traces the column of your throat, the cool beam skimming over your pulse point. “You wanted empirical data on vagus nerve stimulation.”

Your traitorous pulse jumps under the light.

“Theoretical,” you rasp.

“Mm.” The stool creaks as he leans in. “Hypothetically—if a patient claimed nausea—” A flicker of movement, then the glint of polished steel between his fingers. A tongue depressor. “—would you take their word for it? Or verify with a hands-on assessment?”

His meaning is clinical. Technically. In medical exams, the vagus nerve can be tested by pressing a tongue depressor against the back of the throat, triggering the gag reflex. A strong response might suggest hypersensitivity. A weak or absent one? Neurological impairment.

But that’s not what he’s asking. Not really.

The textbook slides from your lap, thudding against the floor.

His thumb finds the hinge of your jaw, applying just enough pressure to tilt your head back.

“You need proper mentorship,” he murmurs.

“Mentorship.” The word barely forms.

“Mm. Palatal anatomy. Gag reflex modulation.” His nail scrapes the tender skin behind your earlobe, where the auricular branch of the vagus nerve lies—just another pressure point, another test. “Essential for any aspiring neurologist.”

Overhead, the Code Blue alarm blares—a real emergency, somewhere beyond this room. Neither of you move.

“This is—”

“Academic?” He tilts your chin up with the tongue depressor, just shy of pressure. “Ethically sanctioned? Necessary for your… what was it? Comprehensive understanding of brain-gut axis pathways?”

Your own citation, thrown back at you, laced with velvet implication.

His pager vibrates against the desk. 

A reminder. A warning.

“Well, Chip?” He pockets the device, but his eyes never leave your mouth. “D’you want to practice?”

Somewhere down the hall, a defibrillator charges. The crash cart rattles past the door. And you—

You’re already nodding, fingers curling in the paper sheet as he snaps fresh gloves over those surgeon’s hands.

“For science,” you whisper.

His smile cuts through the antiseptic air. “Naturally.”

"Open." His voice is clinically detached as he positions the tongue depressor. "Wider."

You comply, heart thundering as he leans closer to examine your oral cavity. The exam light catches his glasses, making his expression unreadable.

"Good girl. Now stick your tongue out—just like that." His free hand steadies your chin. "Interesting. Your tongue control is quite developed."

Heat floods your face. You try to respond but can't with your mouth open.

"Shh. Focus on breathing through your nose." His thumb traces your jawline. "We'll start shallow. See how much you can take before the reflex triggers."

The metal slides deeper.

"Swallow for me."

You do, fighting the urge to gag.

"Again." His voice stays perfectly level. "Notice how your throat accommodates the intrusion? That's neuroplasticity at work."

Your thighs press together involuntarily. He continues as if he hasn't noticed.

"Most people choke at this depth. But you..." The depressor ventures further. "Remarkable control. Have you practiced this before?"

You make a strangled sound of denial.

"Breathing's irregular," he notes. "Try to relax your throat. Yes—just like that. Let it slide deeper."

Your hands grip the hem of your shirt as saliva pools in your mouth.

"Fascinating response." His tone remains purely academic. "The stimulation is triggering excess secretion. Perfectly natural biological reaction."

Your face burns hotter. There's no way he doesn't notice how you're squirming.

He glances down—just once—at where your thighs are clenched together. A gentle smile curves his lips.

"Tell me, Chip..." The words float soft as gauze. "Do you always get this wet during medical examinations?"

Your eyes go wide.

"Excess salivation," he clarifies, innocent as morning. "It's a common autonomic response to oral stimulation. Though yours seems... particularly robust."

The paper crinkles beneath you as you shift.

"We should document this," he muses. "For research purposes, of course."

The depressor glints under clinical light as he presses it deeper.  

“Don’t fight it,” he murmurs, thumb settling at the corner of your mouth. “Relax your epiglottis.”  

You try. You try. But all you taste is sterile metal and the faint salt of his skin where his thumbprint ghosts your lower lip. His thighs tighten imperceptibly against yours, a human vise steadying your traitorous tremors.  

“There we go.” His voice drops to a velvet hush, the kind nurses use with combative dementia patients. “Good girl.”  

Your pulse thrums where his thumb rests—so close to slipping past your teeth, so close to feeling the heat of your tongue. 

His nail catches on the swell of your lip, dragging downward as if testing pliancy.  

“Fascinating,” he murmurs, though you’re not sure what he’s referring to anymore—the depressor sinking another fraction of an inch, or the way your throat flutters around it. “Your vagal response is… delayed.”  

You whimper.  

He cocks his head, penlight sweeping across your uvula. “Pain?”  

You shake your head minutely, terrified to dislodge his thumb.  

“Discomfort?”  

Another shake.  

“Then what?”  

The question hangs between you, syrupy and dangerous. 

His thumb presses harder, blanching the pink of your lip white. You can’t tell if he’s pushing the depressor or if your body is pulling it deeper, some primal part of you craving the stretch.  

His exhale ghosts your cheek. “Saliva production’s increased thirty percent since we began.”  

You’re drowning in it—a slick, shameful pool gathering under your tongue, threatening to spill.  

“Swallow.”  

You obey, throat working around cold steel.  

“Again.”  

The third time, a bead escapes the corner of your mouth. His thumb swipes it away before it can fall, the pad rough against your chin.  

“Remarkable,” he breathes, rotating the depressor slowly. “No gag yet. How far do you think—”  

His glasses slip.  

It’s barely noticeable—a millimeter descent along the bridge of his nose—but his whole body stills. 

For one fractured second, you swear his demeanor falters: pupils blown black behind smudged lenses, lips pressed into a bloodless line, tendons standing rigid in his neck.  

Then he’s back—gentle, smiling, Hoseok—retracting the depressor with a soft click.  

“Clumsy me,” he chuckles, adjusting his frames. “Should’ve used the head strap.”  

You don’t mention how his hand shakes. You don’t mention the splintered wood where he gripped the depressor too hard.  

You must be imagining things.

You must be making correlations where there’s none.

He checks his pager, all brisk professionalism. “Duty calls. You did well today, Chip.”  

Chip. The nickname now lands between your thighs.  

You nod, swiping at your damp chin. His gaze follows the movement, lingering on your glistening fingers.  

“Here.” He offers a tissue—crisp, folded—with a smile that crinkles his eyes. “For the salivation.”  

You take it. He doesn’t let go immediately, fingertips brushing yours.  

“We’ll continue next week,” he says, and it’s not a question.  

The door sighs shut behind him.  

Left alone, you stare at the ruined depressor. The wood’s fractured where his grip faltered, grooves carved by clenched fingers. You press a thumb into the deepest dent, imagining the force required—the control overridden.   

Down the hall, his laughter floats through an open doorway, warm and easy as he chats with a colleague. 

Normal. Harmless.  

You bite the tissue between your teeth, tasting bergamot and salt and lies.  

Your lungs burn as you push through the apartment door, endorphins still singing through your veins. 

The run helped—three miles of pavement pounding your inappropriate thoughts into submission. Three miles of not thinking about surgical hands or tongue depressors or—

"Morning, Chip."

You freeze.

The water bottle slips from your grip, hitting the floor with a hollow thud. 

Because there he is—Hoseok—lounging on your couch like he belongs there, like he hasn't been haunting your dreams for weeks, like you haven't been actively fleeing every time you catch a glimpse of his white coat in hospital corridors.

"I—" Your voice cracks. "Caleb didn't say..."

"He's in the shower." Hoseok's smile is gentle. Always gentle. "You've been busy lately."

It's not an accusation. His tone is light, conversational. But something in the way he says it—in the careful way he watches you over the rim of his coffee mug—makes your stomach drop.

"Yeah, I..." You scramble for an excuse. "Classes."

"Mm." He sets his mug down with deliberate care. "Interesting. Because I asked about your attendance."

Your heart stops.

"Just checking in," he continues, voice honey-sweet. "Since you missed three anatomy labs."

The air feels too thick. 

You're suddenly aware of how you must look—flushed from running, hair escaping your ponytail, compression leggings clinging to every curve. 

His eyes track a bead of sweat rolling down your neck.

"I—had other commitments."

"Did you?" He tilts his head, expression perfectly concerned. "Because Dr. Park mentioned you've been switching sections. Always picking labs when I'm not assisting."

Fuck.

"That's not—" You swallow hard. "It's not like that."

"No?" He stands, and you realize with dawning horror that he's blocking your escape route to the hallway. "Then what's it like, Chip?"

The nickname lands like a physical touch. You back up until your spine hits the door.

"Because it seems," he continues, voice impossibly soft, "like you're avoiding me."

"I'm not—"

"Three weeks." He takes a step closer. "Three weeks of missed labs. Declined study sessions. Running away every time I visit your brother."

Your chest feels tight. "I haven't been—"

"Nice outfit, by the way."

The compliment throws you off-balance. 

He's still smiling, still gentle, but there's something else there—something that makes your thighs press together unconsciously.

"The color suits you." His eyes drift lower. "Though I wonder if you're getting enough circulation. You're flushed."

You're not flushed from running anymore.

"I should—" You gesture vaguely toward your room. "Shower."

"Of course." He steps aside, ever-courteous. "Wouldn't want you catching cold."

You bolt past him, careful not to brush against his chest. But his voice follows you down the hall:

"Oh, and Chip?"

You freeze, hand on your doorknob.

"Next time you skip labs?" The smile is audible in his voice. "I'll have to schedule a private make-up session. For your academic benefit, of course."

The door closes behind you with a click that sounds like a threat.

You slide down against it, pressing your thighs together as your hand creeps beneath the waistband of your leggings. Because you're weak. Because you're stupid. Because even his threats sound like kindness, and you're going to hell for the way that makes you feel.

In the living room, you hear him laugh at something Caleb says. Normal. Friendly. Like he didn't just pin you to a wall with words alone.

Your fingers slip through embarrassing wetness as you bite your lip to stay quiet.

→ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @just-reading-dany @sanarin @billy-jeans23 @stuti2904 @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7

© 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓.

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[littlemissstel]

Manager!Shiu x Idol!Reader

That's it. That's the ask.

Now this is what dreams are made of, I shed a tear.

divider by @saradika-graphics

As a trainee you were terrified of Shiu. The stern, stoic man who held a big part of your dreams in his hands...yeah, you didn't want to disappoint him. You and your group, consisting of three other members, worked yourself to the bone daily- rising early and going to bed late, skipping even more sleep to practice, sticking to intense workout routines, the program was all consuming and sometimes you honestly couldn't help but wonder if it was worth it. It was a feeling you all shared but could never say out loud and in turn brought you closer together. Being so far away from home it was important to find a new support system, a family, and while you wish much of your bonding hadn't been through shed tears, none of you would change it for the world.

Unfortunately, sometimes a hug couldn't quite do the trick. It was a long day, one of those days where you wake up knowing it's going to be a long day but have no choice but to get on with it. You tried to do everything as normal but from the coffee maker breaking, running late after misplacing your security key and tripping up the stairs in a rush, you were already over it before the clock hit twelve. Your last straw though was during dance practice. Normally, you only train with the groups specified choreographer but since filming was coming up of an unreleased teaser, Shiu decided to spectate. Just to make sure things were up to scratch.

Maybe it was his presence, or the glaring light that seemed brighter than usual, or the way the music blasted but you just couldn't focus. Being the one to make movements 10 seconds ahead or completely forgetting where you're supposed to be, you just couldn't get it right and with the frustration of your errors -especially with a guest in the room- your once lovely choreographer turned into an unrestrained attacker.

"NO! For the last time (y/n)! You're supposed to be in the centre-"

"I don't know why you're suddenly incapable-"

"Does that even make sense to you? Are you even trying?"

"You know what? maybe you should just sit out."

And sit out you did, the embarrassment and shame of it following you out of the studio and into your dorm where you got a head start on cleaning up before vocal practice. Never done. It just never quits. You stayed in the shower for far longer than necessary, sitting on the small ledge watching as the water filtered down into the drain with the forgotten about loofa tossed to the other side. You were wrestling with yourself, trying to find excuses as to why you weren't going to be able to make the rest of the days appointments but you knew any attempt would be futile and eventually got up, preparing yourself to once again interact with any other being.

Sitting on the bed, you were brought out of your daze by a soft knock and the prolonged creaking of the opening door to your shared room.

"Hey...can I come in?"

Utahime Iori, a beautiful and elegant girl, a little older than you peeked her head through the gap with soft eyes that made you want to turn away and hide. She was the best and worst person to see right now. You knew she was endlessly reliable and kind, always offering an non-judgmental ear but the pitiful intonation of her voice only reminded you of what felt like your worst fault yet.

"yeah, of course."

"Are you okay?" She started, calmly making her way over to you and sitting on the edge of the bed, just close enough to feel the warmth coming off her.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine just- having a rough day."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Ahah," you chuckle blandly, "no, but thank you Iori, I appreciate it"

She copies the small smile on your face and plays with her fingers.

"Well, you know we've all had those days, it's really not as bad as it seems in the moment." She hesitates for a second before quirking up again with a carefully calm voice. "And I don't want you to freak out, but Mr Kong wants to meet with you in his office before we head out."

Great. Just great. You were going to be fired. He's going to tell his boss. Dropped from the group just like that before you even got the chance to film your debut, maybe some other lucky girl will transfer to fill your place-- if they even bother to rearrange with another group. And your reputation, God, would you even be able to live it down? Maybe people will forget about you. The promising new girl group that's now turned to three. You tried to steady yourself but to no avail as you approach Shiu's office, lifting your hand to deliver a feeble knock in hopes he wouldn't hear and you could move swiftly on. Unfortunately fate wasn't so kind, and you were met with a deep voice instructing you to come in.

Shius office was of decent size. Filled with organised and stacked papers, an air diffuser, plant, coffee machine and one of those cups that come in an easter egg box, with the windows open and a half filled ash-tray you were sure was against the rules. You made your way to the seat opposite him, moving slowly and tensing when he looked up at you with an expression you couldn't decipher between sympathy or judgement. Probably the latter.

He laid back with a large exhale, planting his arms on the sides on his chair and eyes boring into yours.

"What's wrong?"

And that's when the floodgates flew open. You're not quite sure how it started, or if your red-faced apologies were halfway intelligible but all the months worth of built up stress and fraying determination were released at once, sloppily, in front of the very man you were sure already held very little courage in you.

"Oh- uh, hey, hey-" he stutters, leaning forward over the desk to grab a box of tissues and pushing it towards you.

You try again to apologies but now even you know it sounds absolutely ridiculous and blow your nose comically into the tissue, before rubbing your eyes furiously only to be stopped with a gentle hand pulling yours away. It takes a few blinks before you can see Shiu kneeling next to you, on the floor with one hand still on your wrist and the other rubbing your arm with such a softness you didn't know how to respond to, only staring at him like a caught deer.

"Look, it's okay, okay? You gotta tell me when things are wrong, it's my job to know."

"Mr Kong-"

"Shiu."

"...Shiu," you hiccup, "I'm just- I'm really tired, there's," --sniffle--" so much to do. Today was such a bad day and after the...I was overwhelmed. That's it."

"Right, well..." he starts, shifting to stand up and lean on the desk (you're sure you heard a crack from his knee) "maybe we can start with missing your final workout session today, gives you more time for yourself, relax a bit."

You respond with a small nod.

"I've already spoken to your instructor about how she talked to you today, turns out she's just as stressed as you but it won't happen again."

You nod again.

"And it was pre-planned anyway, but this weekend is one of the last you'll have before you really get busy. I can take you and the girls out to the bowling alley arcade or arrange for you to go with supervision-- either way you'll get the chance to enjoy yourselves for a bit before things get more intense." He finishes with an attentive look, watching for some sign of your approval.

Standing up and collecting yourself with one last wipe of your eyes a small laugh escapes from your upturned lips as you look up at him which he tries to naturally return.

"Thank you, Shiu. Thank you so much. Really."

"Don't worry about it. Just spend the rest of the day preparing for tomorrow. We've got a meeting to confirm progress with the big boss."

"Right." Watching as he walks back around to lay in the chair. You take this as a sign to thank him again and make your exit, stopping with your hand on the handle at the sound of his voice.

"(y/n)."

"Yes?"

"Please come to me with any worries in the future."

...

"Yes, of course"

And after that things really did seem to get better. Well, certainly not easier, but definitely bearable. It turned out the man who you thought was your biggest critic is truly only there for your wellbeing...amongst other technical things. Over the following two years the groups relationship with your manager became stronger, learning to work and compromise with each other only brought you closer and you each were able to make your own personal friendships with the man who still at times seemed incredibly reserved.

You made a particular effort to get to know Shiu. At first it was some kind of way to pay back his thoughtfulness in your time of need but after a while you became drawn to him and his stoic persona. Inviting him to join you for lunch became expected daily meetings held without prior communication and there you found the time to indulge in each other, forming a connection a little too deep for anyone to call professional. You figured he didn't mind though, not when you found a small polaroid of you too laying hidden in one of his draws.

Your fans seemed to notice your unexpected friendship with him too, making compilations of all the times he appeared completed done with the groups antics or the rare times he smiled. He ended up having a little fan base of his own, something he only acknowledged once by saying, "I guess it's only natural."

In all that, there was still some negativity. People believing there was favoritism within the group, over-analyzing interactions and counting assigned song lyrics. You seemed to be a main target of this and you couldn't help but laugh. They couldn't see all the times Shiu sneaked your favourite sweets despite your diet or the times he'd wordlessly give you a stiff hug after sensing your low mood. They didn't see the banners and balloons he secretly strung the night of your birthday for you to wake up to or know your staple bracelet they loved oh-so-much was a gift from your 'neglectful' manager. Oh! And they certainly wouldn't believe that the first time you found out about rumours of a dating scandal with a male friend from another group, you were huddled up in Shiu's bed. But you guess you could play the victim a little while longer, if it meant they wouldn't question your sly touches too much.

There definitely was favoritism within the group. But you weren't complaining one bit.

This was actually so fun, I LOOVVEE your ideas!!! Was tempted to make this a 'Back Street Girls: Gokudols' feature (heavily rec if you haven't watched, it has the same random slice of life vibes as Saiki K)

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Therapy

Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader

TW: hurt/comfort & cursing

F1 Masterlist

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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Logan's been so focused on working out that he hasn't noticed that his phone has been ringing the past minute and a half, not at least until there's a banging on his home gyms door.

Logan's head snaps towards the door at the sudden noise, taking long but cautious strides to see who's there, opening it only to reveal a less than pleased Y/N standing there.

"Hey," Logan says breathless as he wipes sweat from his forehead "You could've called first"

a scoff leaves Y/N's mouth "I just did, you've blowing me off this past week. I need you to talk to me"

Logan's first season in Formula 1 wasn't the best, he was a bit underweight, not following the diet his trainer gave him and he wasn't managing his energy well in the car which would burn him out and either made him DNF or finish last, which was really getting to him.

"I'm working out, Y/N, I'm busy." he pants, going right back into the exercise he briefly put on hold.

"You're gonna make their weight requirement in the next 10 minutes?" Y/N spat, a little harsher then she intended it to come out but she still stood her ground, making Logan stop and stare at her.

"Thanks you for being so supportive of my work" Logan said with sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Because you've been such a champion of mine?" Y/N scoffed. It's true, Y/N just recently signed a contract with WWE's developmental program NXT and not even a single congratulation from her boyfriend.

Logan turned around, fire burning in his eyes "What's that supposed to mean?"

Y/N looks back with an icy stare "What do you think it means?"

Logan just stares at her dumbfounded which causes Y/N to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration before she continues, "I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to talk about my needs? What needs?"

"Did I say that?" His eyebrows knit in confusion as he stares at her urging her to explain.

"You didn't have to say it, it's implied." She rubs her forehead in anger

Logan whips around in utter confusion "How is it implied?"

"You're the athlete and I'm the girlfriend. That's how you feel right?" That causes Logan's hands to cover his eyes and roughly rub his temples as he senses an argument brewing.

Logan absolutely hated arguing with his girlfriend, but ever since his first season started that's all they ever seemed to do. Logan left the TV on all night? Argument. Logan ate something he shouldn't have? Argument. Y/N left her shower towel on top of Logans beach towel? Argument. Y/N forgot to lock the ferret in the cage and now Logan's keys are missing and he's late to a very important William's meeting (he wasn't making it anyway, he took too long acting like Taylor Swift during the ERAS tour in the shower)? Argument.

"Can we talk about this later, please" Logan tries to change the subject so he can finish his workout

"When Logan? When is later?" Y/N raises her voice an octave higher than she intended.

"Not tonight," Logan said, tears of frustration forming on the brims of his eyes threatening to spill.

His response made Y/N's face contort with anger in a way he's never seen before that he made a mental note of never to make her that mad again because he was scared.

"I have been working out all day. I have up since 4 this morning. I have tried to make their weight requirement for a week, and I am nowhere!" Logan yells, those tears of frustration once threatening to spill have now poured out his eyes with more following in pursuit.

"I've been telling you how unhappy I am for months!" tears have now also started flowing out Y/N's eyes as they argue.

"Everyone's unhappy in Miami! That's what Miami is!" Logan screamed has he throws a 5 pound dumbbell on the floor by the bench

"I don't know how to get through to you anymore. You keep shutting me out! You keep putting up these fences!" Y/N's hands tremble in anger as she throws them up, running her fingers through her hair

"I'm not, I'm not shutting you out" Logan states as he wipes the tears from his face but to no avail as more tears spill from his green eyes

"You're a million miles away all the time" Y/N's voice trembles as she lets the tears free flow.

"Actually, I'm right here." Logan says with the straightest face you can have as a crying arguing mess of a man

"Are you Logan? Actually? Cause I know you" Y/N says as the tears slowly stop falling.

"You're right. I've been distracted, but I promise you, after I make this requirement-" before Logan could finish his statement, he gets cut off

"After the requirement?" Y/N whispers in disbelief

"After the requirement!" Logan confirms in a harsh tone

"Everything is after the requirement!" Y/N screams

"Yeah"

"What if you make the requirement and nothing happens? No William's contract extension? You don't go straight to point positions? You're still a bad driver, You still DNF, You don't get signed with anyone else? What then, Logan? What about me?!" The tears that briefly stopped streaming down her face started back up and flowed faster than this time.

"I can't move with you to Orlando. I can't leave my career behind" Logan ripped off the band-aid, he couldn't put off the real reason he's been avoiding this topic, why he's been avoiding Y/N.

"You think I don't know that?" she trembled.

"What," Logan stops, unsure of what she means and what he wants to say next, a million thought in his mind at what his girlfriend just said to him, but not one of those questions are coming out of his mouth right now "What are you...? What is this? What do you want?" he finally manages to choke out

"I guess I just, I wanted you to tell me not to go" Y/N finally lets out and that's when all the emotion she's been bottling up for months comes out, unable to stop the sobs she chokes out. She's a shaking sobbing mess on the floor and all Logan could do was just stare. He knew she'd been hurting at his cold shoulder treatment but he didn't think it hurt her this bad. He couldn't believe that he was watching her hurt this bad because of him and there was only one question floating in the back of his mind...

why don't I feel bad?

[lisupandowntown]

Sick for Science III - Dr TikTok

A/N: This is for everyone who voted for Jeremiah accidentally getting sick making a medical video. Totally not related to the plot or timeline. It will go into the minific masterlist. It is also completely unedited.

Jeremiah adjusted his white coat so it hung smoothly and smiled at the camera mounted near the door.  Drew gave him a silent countdown, and as soon as the red light went on, he took a deep breath and began. 

“Hello, I’m Dr. Gable, cardiac surgery resident at Massachusetts General, and here with another episode of Health 101.”  He leaned casually against the corner of his desk and gestured to a table full of cans in front of him.  “Today I’m going to be talking about energy drinks. Everyone seems to be drinking them these days - to help get through an all-night study session for school, to be more sharp and focused at the office, to enhance your workout.   But do they really help?  And more importantly, can they hurt?”  

He stopped and cleared his throat, waving at Drew to keep the camera running.  After almost a dozen of these videos he’d become more comfortable at speaking and working through mistakes.  Most could be fixed later with editing and retakes.  

“Energy drinks like these have a lot of caffeine, sugar, and other additives, which means they can quickly affect your heart rate, blood pressure, and blood sugar.”  Jeremiah cracked one open and held the can up to the microphone to catch the sound of the carbonation. “And that can lead to jitteriness and loss of concentration, no matter how much their marketing departments say about improving your focus.  But don’t just take my word for it.”  He grinned into the camera and delivered what had become his signature line.  

“Let’s test the medical science, shall we?” 

Jeremiah glanced across his home office.  While he filmed some content at the hospital, he and Drew had turned this space in their home into a studio that looked like a medical examination room. It had a big ring light and a couple of mounted holders for the cameras and phones.  And he’d opened up the portable exam table for a touch of authenticity, even though he didn’t really need it for this video. 

“Right then. Before we get started, I need to take a baseline reading of my physiology, which means it’s time to bring in everyone’s favorite nurse, Drew Thorton!”  

Drew rolled his eyes right before walking into the frame and standing next to Jeremiah.  He didn’t join in the videos too often, but he’d already gained a following of his own, as well as the nickname “the IV King” after he’d successfully inserted one on camera for a patient who’d pronounced his technique “top notch”. 

“Sit down and give me your arm,” he commanded.  Swiftly and efficiently, he checked Jeremiah’s blood pressure, pulse and heart rate, and finally his blood sugar with a tiny jab to his index finger.  

“All your results are completely average,” Drew proclaimed.  His lips twitched. There were too many opportunities for jokes and innuendo, and both of them had to be careful to keep these official videos entirely professional.  Their private stash of “personal content” was saved in an entirely different place, firmly off the cloud.  

“Last thing before I drink the first can, I’m going to do this online brain puzzle to test my reflexes and response times." Jeremiah shared his screen and quickly rushed through the program - matching shapes, completing pictures, putting numbers and words in order. “Done,” he announced.  “Twenty-four seconds.” 

“A personal best,” commented Drew.  “Let’s see how you do after your first can.”

“It’s 12 ounces, which comes with 122 mg of caffeine and 29 grams of sugar. For reference, an ordinary cup of black coffee has 95 mg of caffeine.”  Out of the corner of his eye, Jeremiah saw Drew shudder at the mention of black coffee. The drink upset his stomach, and the couple of times he’d had too much it had kept in the bathroom for hours.  

“Bottoms up!”  Jeremiah chugged the can of energy drink, stopping twice to take a breath and let himself burp.  Most of those would be edited out later - he had no interest in fueling anyone’s online emeto fantasies. 

Jeremiah turned off the camera during the ten minutes he needed to wait before doing the medical tests again.  Drew fussed over him the entire time. “Exactly how many cans do you plan to drink, love?  I don’t like you putting so much of that crap into your body, even for science.”   

Jeremiah rolled his eyes at his boyfriend. “That’s the point; I want to explain that these types of energy drinks aren’t as innocent as a lot of people believe.” He burped into his fist.  “Maybe I’ll convince someone to cut down or even stop drinking them, and that will be worth it.”  

“Hmmm.” Drew looked unconvinced.  “If I start seeing really concerning test results I’m calling this off right away.”

“Yes nurse,” Jeremiah teased.  “So far I feel fine.  Ready to turn the camera back on?”

All of Jeremiah’s labs were slightly elevated and it took him 27 seconds to complete the computer games.  “I’m not really feeling anything yet,” he told his audience once Drew was finished taking his pulse. “Caffeine takes 10 minutes to enter the bloodstream and with the amount of sugar in the drink, it will be about 30 to reach peak effects.  I’m going to drink a can every ten minutes or so, so by the time I’ve had three we should be getting some interesting results.”

Drew’s lips tightened with disapproval but he had to tact to turn his head away first, on the pretense of putting away the blood pressure cuff. “Here you go, another 122 mg of caffeine and 29 grams of sugar, doctor,” he said formally, handing Jeremiah the second can as if he was passing him a scalpel in the middle of surgery.  

Jeremiah managed to finish this can in one try, smacking his lips at the end and holding down the need to burp while he spoke to the camera. “I can definitely taste all the sugar,” he reported. “Maybe next time I’ll try this with the sugar free varieties.”  He gave a little salute to the unseen audience.  “See you all in ten.”

“You’re absolutely not doing this again,” Drew scolded as soon as the camera was off.  “Sugar free or not.”  

“Hold on, yell at me after I . . . UrruRP . . . burp.  Phew.”  Jeremiah sagged in his seat.  “I was holding it in that time; easier not to have to edit so many out later.”  He leaned over and squeezed Drew’s hand.  “You were saying?”

“You’re an idiot,” the man said fondly.  “And did you eat anything today?”  

Jeremiah let up another soft burp before answering.  “Toast and eggs for breakfast this morning but nothing since then; I didn’t want to be too full or dilute the effects of the drinks.”  

“Of course you didn’t,” sighed Drew.  “How are you feeling?’  

“A little hyped up but otherwise fine,” Jeremiah answered honestly.  “I hope I start showing more results soon; it would be embarrassing to actually prove these drinks don’t do all the terrible things I said.”

“I’ll remind you that you said that two drinks from now,” Drew said dryly. 

Twenty-five minutes later, Jeremiah had to admit that his boyfriend might have been right.  He’d just finished his fourth can and was now leaning over his lap forcing up as many small burps as he could to try to clear the heaviness in his belly before it was time to go back on camera.

“It’s sloshing,” he complained, palming his side.  “I’m going to be up peeing all night.”  

“Do you want me to say I told you so?” asked Drew pointedly.  He was carefully charting Jeremiah’s latest results on a bar graph.  “Your blood pressure and heart rate are definitely elevated,” he commented.  “We’ll do another finger prick after your next can; maybe that can be the last one?  You’re looking sweaty.”  

Jeremiah rubbed a towel roughly over his face.  “I think I can finish two more,” he said stubbornly. “I want to make my point.”  

“That six energy drinks in an hour will make you feel sick?  I’m pretty sure you’ll prove that point.” Drew looked at his watch.  “Time to turn the camera back on; if your heart rate stays above 100 resting, I’m ending this.”  He scowled at Jeremiah. “I’m not risking tachycardia.”

“I’m fine,” Jeremiah protested.  Truth was, he was feeling a little bit queasy now.  But it wasn’t bad enough that he couldn’t hide it.  It was only two more cans; and the educational value for his viewers would be huge.

“And we’re back.”  Jeremiah injected as much enthusiasm as possible into his voice.  “Four cans down and now Nurse Thorton’s going to . . . urp . . .’scuse me . . . He’s going to do his nursing magic.”  Jeremiah touched his fingers lightly to his lips.  Maybe he’d keep that one little burp in the video; in the interest of medical accuracy.  The point of this was to show how bad energy drinks were, after all.

Drew put on a show too, announcing Jeremiah’s increasingly elevated heart rate and blood pressure in an upbeat and professional voice.  Only Jeremiah could hear the disapproval underneath.  Now it was time to do the computer tests, and he squinted at the screen so he could start completing the puzzles.  His head was swimming from all the sugar and it was definitely hard to focus on the small shapes and numbers dancing across the screen.

“Forty-five seconds,” Drew pronounced.  “That’s a decrease of almost 50 percent since your baseline.”  

“Energy drinks inhibit your concentration,” Jeremiah told the camera.  He rubbed his face.  “I’m even feeling a bit dizzy now, and my blood sugar is skyrocketing.  Shall we see what happens after a fifth can?”  Before Drew could try to protest, Jeremiah cracked it open.  If he was being honest, he really didn’t want to drink it, but this was for science.  He’d seen teens in the ER with symptoms that mimicked heart attacks from drinking too many energy drinks and he wanted to make his point.

The fifth can took longer to get down.  Jeremiah knew he’d have to do some heavier editing to cut out all the times he had to stop to burp or catch his breath, but finally the can was empty.  He gave the camera a jaunty salute.  

“See . . . see you in ten,” he promised, choking down a small gag.  

As soon as the camera was off, Drew turned to him.  “Can we be done now?” he asked testily.  “There’s no way I’m going to let you drink another one of these.  You’ve made your point, Jer - you look terrible.” 

“I feel terrible,” Jeremiah groaned, easily giving up the act.  “I’m so full I don’t even think I can burp anymore.”  Even so he pressed his fingers into his side, trying to work up some air.

“Let me do that.”  Drew impatiently pushed his hands away.  “I’m known all over the hospital for my magic fingers.”  

“All over our bedroom too,” Jeremiah joked with a queasy chuckle.  It was true though; Drew was regularly called to other parts of the hospital to help patients manage their nausea.  The man seemed to have a knack for it and right now Jeremiah was especially glad for his careful ministrations.  He leaned back in his chair and let Drew’s hands roam over his bloated belly until he was finally able to work up a few thin burps.  “Definitely not going to drink another can.”  

“I’d smack you if you even tried,” agreed Drew.  “Sixty ounces is almost two liters of liquid.”  

“My mouth feels coated in sugar.”  Jeremiah gulped as Drew hit a sensitive spot and everything inside of him sloshed uncomfortably.  “Is it time yet?  I need to get this done so I can go lie down.”  

“Yep, time to put on your movie star face, Dr. TikTok.”  Drew picked up the blood pressure cuff.  “Ready for the show?”

“Kill me now,” groaned Jeremiah.  

He didn’t completely hide his discomfort for the last segment, although he kept quiet about exactly how sick he was feeling.

“I’m definitely dizzy,” he told his audience, biting back the urge to gag.  “And I’m starting to feel slightly nauseated.  So keep that in mind the next time you want to grab an energy drink.”  He swallowed hard and sat very still, relieved not to talk while Drew briskly took his blood pressure and then pricked his finger for the final blood sugar count.  

“All your levels are well above the normal range,” he announced.  “I suggest you drink a big glass of water to flush out your system.”  

“Good idea. . . nurse.  I’ll do that.”  Jeremiah didn’t bother telling his viewers that there was no way he’d be able to keep a cup of water down right now.  But he had to finish strong, so he choked down another bubble of air and smiled into the camera.

“If my body reacted this poorly to only five . . . hic . . . drinks, imagine what a couple of day would do to you over the long run.”  He rubbed unabashedly at his chest.  “I’m Dr. Gable and thank you for joining me while I tested the medical science.  See you next time.”  

As soon as Drew switched off the camera Jeremiah groaned and dropped his head into his hands.  “Fuck.  It’s all catching up to me.”  He looked up to gaze mournfully at his boyfriend.  “I don’t feel well.”  

“No shit,” laughed Drew.  “Let’s take your energized belly back to our bedroom where I can take care of you properly, okay?”  

Jeremiah let himself be slowly hauled to his feet. “I hope all the shots turned out, because there is no way I’m going to be able to re-record any of that.”  His stomach whined and he choked back a retch.  “I feel like the liquid is climbing up my throat.” 

Drew stopped walking and took Jeremiah’s face in his hands.  “I don’t like the way your face looks,” he decided. “Should we go sit in the bathroom?”

“Gee, thanks,” said Jeremiah with half-hearted sarcasm.  “I thought you liked my face.”

“Not when it’s this nauseated because of poor decisions,” said Drew primly.  “You may be able to empty your belly but I’m afraid you’ll be feeling the effects of all the caffeine and sugar for a while longer.”  He shook his head.  “Can’t you make videos about things like the proper way to perform a neurological exam?”

“That’s next,” groaned Jeremiah.  In the bedroom he grabbed Drew’s hand and pressed it to his middle. “Feel how much it’s churning?” 

“I do; and I can hear it too.”  Drew disappeared into their walk-in closet and returned with a pair of Jeremiah’s baggiest sweatpants - the one he didn’t let anyone but Drew see him wear.  “I assume tonight calls for your maternity bottoms?” he asked with a grin.

“Fuck you.”  Jeremiah fell back onto the bed.  “Can you pull off my pants?  If I bend over I’m going to throw up all over the floor.”

“Ooh, sexy,” Drew teased.  Once he’d pulled off Jeremiah’s shoes and pants he climbed up onto the bed next to him.  “What can I do to help?”  

Jeremiah was relieved Drew wasn’t teasing him more, even though he’d be completely justified in doing so.  He slowly sat up. “Wait . . .urrurp . . . wait here while I go pee.” 

“Drink some water in there,” Drew instructed.  “I meant it about needing to flush your system.”  

Jeremiah didn’t bother answering.  He peed for what felt like a full minute and was disappointed that he felt just as bloated and gross and jittery after he was done.  He slowly filled a cup with water and leaned against the sink, staring at it and trying to convince himself to take a sip.

“Are you coming back to bed?”  Drew appeared at the door to their bedroom.  You’re staring at that water like it’s personally offended you. “

Jeremiah slowly put the cup back on the counter.  “I’m about to personally offend it, you mean.” He swallowed hard.  “I’m going to drink it and then throw it back up.” 

“And then we can finally get in bed,” Drew finished.  He picked up the cup. “Get down and put your head close to the bowl,” he ordered.  “So you don’t get too much splashback.”

Jeremiah chuckled weakly as he lowered himself to the ground.  “Spoken like someone who’s been puked on more than once, nurse.”  

“The number of people who don’t know how to vomit properly,” he agreed.  “Let’s not you be one of them.” 

Jeremiah cradled his belly.  “It feels like a waterbed in there." As soon as he leaned over and braced his hands on the sides of the seat he belched, deep and wet.  “Maybe . . . maybe I don’t need the water.”  

Drew began rubbing his back.  “Either way I’m giving you water after you vomit.  You’ll feel much better later; I promise.” 

Jeremiah spit into the bowl.  “It’s almost like being drunk,” he groaned.  “I feel so woozy.”  He spit again, cloudy and thick. His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest, a reaction, no doubt, from the 600 mg of caffeine and almost 150 grams of sugar.  “This was really stupid.”  Against his better judgment he began panting, trying to force something up.  

“That’s only going to make you more dizzy,” Drew chided.  “Here.” He thrust the cup of water into Jeremiah’s line of sight.  

“Ugh, okay,” he groaned.  Without stopping, he tilted the cup back and drained in in three big gulps.  His stomach gurgled with the influx of more liquid and then flipped.

“Yep,” he gagged, dropping the cup onto the floor and leaning further into the bowl.  “Coming back up.”  

Without warning Drew thumped him on his back and Jeremiah belched up a fountain of liquid.  He barely had time to catch his breath before his stomach spasmed even more violently and he threw up even more violently, gasping and burping between heaves.  Drew had been right; all the liquid would have splashed everywhere if Jeremiah had been sitting up higher.  He tried to catch his breath and ended up choking instead when more energy drink rushed up his throat.  

Drew patted his back.  “Slow breaths, that’s it,” he commanded, helping Jeremiah lean forward to gag up another mouthful.  “Almost done.”  

“I forgot . . . to mention the crash,” Jeremiah mumbled when he’d finally stopped heaving.  His hands were shaking so much that Drew had to hold a fresh cup of water for him to carefully sip.  “I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.”

“You can include that in the comments after you edit,” promised Drew.  “Now stand up slowly so you don’t pass out. I’m not interested in making a video showing everyone how I treat Dr. TikTok for a concussion.”

“That’ll be next time,” mumbled Jeremiah.

[iskratempestmadness]

If you take request, what would the Baki men do with a significant other that did a different sport? Like ice skating, softball, volleyball, or maybe gymnastics, something like that. (I also really love your work so far❤️)

Okay, let's go

Baki:

- he's happy for you. I think he would like someone who is as passionate about his business as he is.

- if you study at home (if possible ) One minute he's training, the next he's training with you. He makes the most of it. He learns from you, despite the discipline you practice.

- regarding training outside the home... He won't be present at all (sometimes for good reasons, sometimes he's just too lazy to go), but he will periodically bring you a snack.

- HOWEVER, HE IS PRESENT AT ALL YOUR PERFORMANCES (unless of course he has a fight at this time)

- despite the fact that Baki is quite gentle in nature, however, he will make sure that you are more disciplined. Training at a set time, diet, early risers.

- in case of failure at the competition, he will find the strength to motivate you to give you the strength to continue training (he knows how important it is)

Hanayama:

- neutral... Well , like OK , he just took this information into account and that 's it

- but he will buy you gifts related to your hobby. If you play basketball, he'll buy you new sneakers or something... In general, he will express his interest financially

- he will watch programs about your sports, performances at tournaments. In general, this boy will try to ensure that you have something to chat about with him

- from the previous paragraph, it can be concluded that Hana immerses himself in your activities when he has time. He can even practice with you if you want.

- He really supports you, it's just that his support is on another level, it's a little deeper than words

- he may attend training several times, but don't get him wrong, as I said before, he is a busy person, but he really tries to be present

- it's the same story with competitions, he's present at some, but just look at him. He doesn't show himself clearly, but he literally exudes pride when you win.

- he is not the best at comforting you in case of loss, but he definitely feels your emotions and will try to give you a motivational speech, but he will be better able to calm you down with touches

Katsumi:

- Oh, he's interested

- he would like your dynamics, like he

- tell him about what you do. Tell him everything from the important things to the little things. (unlike Hanayama, who tries to find out everything himself, Katsumi prefers to find out everything from your mouth)

- and he's super supportive of you. Right at 100%

- he will study with you at home. He will also maintain discipline, as will Baki. (But Katsumi is more forgiving)

- he rarely attends training sessions (he is also a busy person), but he comes to all matches.

- he shouts at you from the stands, he will make a float... It's all about him. Of course it's great, but sometimes... Firstly, it becomes absurd, and secondly, it is sometimes a distraction.

- if you lose, he will do everything so that you do not abandon yourself and continue to train.

- a lot of gifts from knitted with your sport

Jack:

- he also easily accepted the information

- he thinks it's great that you have a hobby... And that's all, he doesn't attach much importance to it, just because everyone should have a hobby, if that's how you prefer to spend your time, then fine. And there is a benefit and you are passionate about something

-but if you ask him, he'll practice with you. At first, he treats it neutrally, but later he will get used to it. (it will probably become a ritual, you will get up at the same time, then warm up, jog, workout for about an hour and work together

- he also monitors your discipline. Jack should know how important she is.

- he also doesn't come to your training sessions. However, it happens at almost all your competitions.

- he will probably give a little motivational speech before the competition

- look at him after you win. He's proud, he's really proud of you. He won't shout about it, but a look at him will be enough to understand how he feels.

- but if you lose... Then he will give you another motivational speech, and you will have no other option but to continue studying

Retsu:

- he is also interested,

- will he train with you? Naturally. He believes that this way of spending time is more useful.

- HE WILL GIVE YOU A MASSAGE AFTER TRAINING. Trust me, you won't regret it, he was extremely good at it, and it instantly relieves tension from the muscles.

"HE'LL ALSO COOK YOU SOMETHING DELICIOUS AFTER YOUR WORKOUT." Something nutritious and delicious, the very thing after a workout, he knows exactly what you need

- there are also a lot of gifts related to your sport

- he rarely goes to training outside the house, but he is present at ALL competitions.

- and he's super supportive of you, but he's not to the point of absurdity. Perhaps he will shout out something supportive, but no more.

- and he's ABSOLUTELY proud of you.

- (in honor of winning the competition, he will cook you a festive dinner)

Shibukawa:

- I'm glad for you. Well, it's really great that you're passionate about something.

- he will train with you at home, of course. For him, this is another way to have fun while away the time

- the same will come up with a snack for you after training (probably tea and a sandwich)

- however, unlike others, he demands to repay him (not with money), like he trains with you, repay him the same, he will gladly teach you aiki

- discipline? Well, maybe he's not really watching it, but he'll make sure to put you to sleep or wake you up.

- it rarely happens outside the house during training, you can say it doesn't happen at all.

- but he comes to all competitions (he's super supportive)

- it is also possible to give you a massage after training.

[film-in-my-soul]

Art commissioned from @shaarpie for the following fic:

I Heard He's Got an 8-Pack

Fandom: Arcane (League of Legends)

Pairing: Jayce/Viktor

Rating: E

Word Count: 6,522

Summary:  "Flex."

"Excuse me?"

Caitlyn rolls her eyes and snaps her fingers. "Now, Talis. We don't have all night."

Jayce scowls. He flexes. Caitlyn raises Jayce's phone, and the shutter goes off.

Excerpt Below The Cut:

Jayce's favorite part about going to the gym is how it clears his head. For exactly one hour and thirty minutes (plus ten minutes for a cool down), there are no equations, no due dates, and no dead-end conversations with people who care more about the optics of having a Kiramman scholarship student in their intern program than the fact that it's Jayce. He loses himself in a perfectly crafted circuit of free weights and machines, and when it's time to finish, he does a final lap of the cardio equipment to intercept Caitlyn (best friend and mostly willing workout buddy) so that they can compare notes and make plans for dinner.

Caitlyn likes to say it's a competition; Jayce just likes the company.

Sometimes, though, it is for entirely nonacademic reasons that Jayce needs to break a sweat and turn off his brain. Last semester, it had been Mel Medarda and the fallout of their six-month relationship. Now, it's Viktor, a member of Jayce's pre-assigned study group, who has been a phantom in Jayce's daydreams for weeks.

Viktor is whip-sharp and cuttingly funny, a beacon of intellect. He's a canvas of distracting moles, amber eyes, with a hypnotizing accent. Jayce could spend hours listening to Viktor rip apart the very foundations of their experiment parameters, even if it meant going home to cry over wasted weekends and starting from scratch.

Caitlyn has taken to calling Jayce pathetic when he goes off on poetic tangents about his fellow undergrad. Jayce thinks she's just forgotten what it's like to hopelessly pine now that she's regularly meeting up with her bartender girlfriend.

Still, Jayce trusts Caitlyn more than he trusts pretty much anyone. So, when it's clear that burning calories and lifting heavy things hasn't done a damn thing to turn Jayce's mind away from Viktor, he doesn't question it when Caitlyn demands his cell phone and tugs him to a deserted aerobics corner by his elbow.

When she orders him to pose, he's a little more skeptical.

"Why?"

Caitlyn levels him a look that Jayce translates as 'Because I said so, you absolute dolt.' He is unfortunately fluent in Caitlyn's personal brand of facial communication.

"Just lift your shirt up, would you?"

And because Jayce has known Caitlyn for years—knows the lengths she's willing to go to get what she wants, regardless of whether they are in public or not—he lifts his shirt.

The face Caitlyn makes is one of thinly veiled disgust.

[teaseandsqueeze]

The Program: Chapter One

“Dude, I swear by it! Six months! That’s all it took to whip me into shape! Two years of Pandemic fat gone like that! Trust me, you won’t regret it!”

                Diego’s words rang in Dylan’s memory as he stared down at the little earpiece in his hand. It looked like a little white snake, curled up in his softened palm. This was his last opportunity to back out, to put the thing back in the box and return it to the software store. He could get back in shape on his own, couldn’t he? if he just committed to going to the gym four times a week, documenting his workouts, journaling his food habits…

                He looked up at his reflection in the mirror. A husk of the former man he used to be. Or rather, it looked more like the hottie-with-a-body from the past had been stuffed into a suit made of dough, which had only expanded over the course of the last three years. His face still retained his former “adorableness,” as the ladies and gays at the office put it. He still had the good looks as the fat had hardly affected his face.

                But the rest of his body…it was an entirely different story. Just the sight of himself, standing alone in his room, was enough to make him blush. Everything had filled out. Exposed in his underwear, he looked first at the thighs which pressed up against each other like rising bread. His love handles that now jutted up over his waistband. The tight briefs he had not bothered to replace were covered in the front by the gut that had just begun to descend—a major factor in his deciding to try out this new technology—covering the front of his crotch and the fabric was beginning to rip on the sides because of the size of his ass. His butt had always been big for a guy’s, but now it was absolutely ‘ridiculous,’ as his friend, Cody, had teased, grabbing one of his juicy cheeks and giving it a jiggle. And of course, his tits had grown ripe, bouncy, his arms thickened not by muscle, but by fat, and his neck was slowly starting to plump up as well, teasing just the hint of a double chin.

He knew no amount of working out, writing down his exercises, keeping track of his calories would get him any closer to the fit jock he was over three years ago. It was a tried and failed recipe for disaster that had only resulted in him ballooning even fatter every time. Of course, during the pandemic, he had simply sat on his ass like everyone else and stuffed his face until he couldn’t fit another bite…but what was his excuse for the last two years?

At the beginning of the pandemic, there was no risk of being asked to go back into the office. Who knew how long that would last? And so, Dylan had kept on growing, kept on eating. But after a few years of remote work, the company had finally started to crack down on working-from-home, requiring a slightly-to-surprisingly chubbier office to return.

On the dreaded day, Dylan, after a morning of wrestling himself into the loosest chino’s he could find and wriggling into the only button-down that would button over his tubby gut, had waddled himself back into the building. He was shocked, stunned, and dismayed to find that out of all the dozens of employees, he had put on the most weight in his time larding out at home. And his coworkers were equally-stunned to see his new status. No one, upon smiling at him and greeting his return, could seem to keep their eyes from falling to size up his sized-up belly. And a few even made comments; his rival, Luke, who only looked fitter, more muscular, going so far as to poke his tummy.

It was already a miserable day. One which resulted in Dylan trying his best to drown out the associated feelings by glutting out on the snacks he had brought back to stock his desk. But to make matters worse, as he stood there, a granola bar dangling out of his mouth, restacking the papers on his desk, he watched as Diego, suited with brand new pants, a shirt, and shiny new shoes, came strutting into the office, looking at least fifty pounds thinner than the last time Dylan had seen him.

Diego had already been a thick-bodied man. Chubby, even. He had been so even a year before the pandemic, when both he and Dylan had started. The desk job had caused him to fill out quite quickly and by the time everyone was sent home to work, his obtuse ass cheeks could barely even fit into his pants. It was, perhaps, a lucky break for Diego that he could now work from home, as Dylan could see the seams on his buttocks starting to become unraveled as his doughy coworker waddled out the door.

But the pandemic went on, and so Diego’s weight went up. Dylan could see the changes during the zoom meetings, as his flawless brown skin was stretched tighter over the young man’s plumping face. Once, even, Diego had to stand to plug his computer back in and Dylan could see his lower half, clad only in a t-shirt and the tightest sweats Dylan could imagine his office friend wearing, his gut jiggling as it “bwomped” out from beneath his shirt, smacking against the keyboard on the desk.

That’s why it was a surprise when, two years later, Diego came strutting into the office, looking thinner than when he had started. Luke had elbowed his way to the front of the cluster who had walked up to congratulate him, feeling Diego’s muscles, running a hand over his stomach to check for abs through the fabric. The whole sight made Dylan want to puke. Instead, he stuffed a muffin into his face and glowered until they were called into the conference room.

It was a tighter fit than Dylan could remember, as he wedged his widened ass between the armrests of the chair. By accident, he was right beside his friend, Cora, and Diego. They had always been on good terms, but Dylan could hardly stand to look at him.

“What’s wrong, man?” Diego had asked.

Dylan didn’t hesitate. “How the fuck did you lose all that?” he spat. It came out far more volatile than he intended.

Diego looked slightly dejected, throwing up his hands. “Just wanted to take care of myself, man.”

Dylan softened his tone. “Sorry…it’s just. You, of all people…”

Diego laughed. “Would it make you feel better if I said that you were part of the inspiration? That I wanted to look like you did…you know…before.” He laughed, elbowing Dylan in the chubby side. Dylan couldn’t help but smile.

Diego glanced around. Everyone was busy chatting and celebrating each others’ return. He lowered his voice. “There’s an app…and a device. It’s called the ‘Encour Rager!’” Dylan gave him a look. “Cheesy, I know. But hey!” He looked down at his own body.

“What does it do?” asked Dylan.

                “It’s an A.I. trainer. It encourages you to work on your goals.” Diego chuckled. “And man is it brutal! But it’s effective. Which, clearly you might want to consider,” he glanced at Dylan’s stomach. Dylan squirmed.

                “I might give it a try,” he said absently. Of course, he didn’t know how he felt about A.I., but like everyone, he used it almost daily in some way or another. But he had already tried so many apps; calorie trackers, workout calculators. None of it had helped.

                Diego leaned in closer. “Listen, dude. It’s not like anything else you’ve tried. It’s a commitment. I don’t recommend it lightly. But once you buy it and put it in, it stays in there. You don’t take it out again for a year! I mean, it’s as close to permanent as you can get!”

All that flashed through Dylan’s mind now as he looked at himself. A tubby version of the hottie he so badly wanted to be again.

A small chirping sound went off from the device in his hand. He looked down to see it glowing blue. It was fully-charged. Now was the moment of truth. He could back out now, if he wanted to. He gave his thickened body one last glance in the mirror, catching a glimpse of the pile of clothes he had set aside because he no longer fit into them.

He clicked the button on the side of the earpiece, raised it, and inserted it into his ear.

A pleasant tune filled his brain. And then, a voice. “Hello, Dylan.” It was deeper than he had imagined. Masculine. He envisioned an attractive, muscular jock. “I’m your Coach. You can call me Coach if you like, or by my name, Coach Hermes.” ‘Hermes,’ the god of games and sports.

“Hello,’’ said Dylan awkwardly.

“Hello, Coach,” corrected the device.

“Hello, Coach,” said Dylan, smiling.

“Much better!” said the device. “Now, you are aware of my function, are you not?”

“I am,” said Dylan. “Coach Hermes,” he added, grinning.

“Very good. Just to recap, I will act as your personal fitness trainer for the next twelve months, during which time, we are going to whip your body into the shape you most desire! My function is to optimize your fitness level to suit your needs and to best-satiate your personal self-image. During our first week together, we’ll be getting to know one another quite well, and I will be observing and commenting on your lifestyle; your eating habits, your exercise routine, things like sleep schedule, how much television you consume. Does that all make sense to you, Dylan?”

“Yes, Coach,” said Dylan. He was growing placid, as if the voice was lulling him into a trance.

“Excellent, Dylan. Now, as I will be observing, I will also be curating a program which I believe will best-benefit your body…money-back guaranteed, of course. The watch that accompanies my earpiece will allow me to monitor your heart rate, your breathing, and your responses to my words. The contact lens will allow me to see the world through your eyes and will give me a customized projection which is designed to motivate you towards your fitness goals. Please go ahead and place the watch on your wrist at this time.”

Dylan did as he was told, strapping the watch onto his chubby wrist. “My, that’s a tight squeeze, isn’t it?” said Coach Hermes.

“Uh, a bit…” mumbled Dylan.

“I am reading that your pulse has been elevated. Might I suggest you do some deep breathing to calm your nerves. There is no need to be anxious. None of this is permanent until you give me the final say-so.” Dylan took some deep breaths.

“Now,” said Hermes. “Please place the contact in your eye…so I can get a good look at you.”

Again, Dylan obeyed, dropping the contact in front of the mirror, and blinking as he adjusted it into place. It was the smoothest contact he had ever worn. He could barely tell it was there!

“Very good!” said the Coach. “Oh…what a handsome dude.” Dylan was looking at his own face.

“Thanks, Coach!” said Dylan, half-forgetting he was talking to a robot.

“You’re welcome, Dylan,” said the robot. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind standing back a bit, so I can see you. You did remember to wear the minimum amount of clothing so I can see your full person, did you not?”

“Yes, Coach,” said Dylan to both question and request.

“VERY good! I can tell we’re going to whip you into shape faster than you could ever have thought imaginable! Now, please step back.”

Dylan stepped back, still put off by the quivering of his stomach as he did so. Still disturbed by the increased rubbing of his thighs.

“Oh!” said Hermes in a shocked voice. “Oh, my! You have lost control, haven’t you…big boy?”

Dylan blushed. Why he would do so in front of a robot was beyond him. But it was embarrassing nonetheless.

“No matter,” said Coach Hermes. “We can work with this. Can’t we, thiccums?”

“Uh…yes…?” stammered Dylan, questioningly. ‘thiccums?’

“Yes…?” said Hermes.

“Yes, Coach.”

“That’s better, fatty.”

Dylan nearly fell over. Diego had warned him the words of the A.I. could be harsh. But it would all worth it, when he came strutting into the office in a new suit…right?

“Well, now that I’ve gotten a good look at you, chubbs, there’s only one thing left to do. Your wristwatch will take your thumbprint as your signature.” As the app said this, Dylan felt the watch buzz, illuminating on the screen. “If you are prepared to commit for the next year, please go ahead and place your thumbprint on the screen at this time.”

Dylan hesitated. Could he really handle being called things like ‘chubbs’ and ‘fatty until this time next year?

“Or, you may decline the offer and return the app. Your one-day trial is cost-free so long as the device is returned to the nearest software provider without damage.” The voice dropped to a whisper in Dylan’s ear. “But, do you really want to look like this for the rest of your life, porker? You know that you won’t be able to do this without me, right, fatboy? You know you need my guidance. That’s what I’m here for. To help you. I’m nothing like those other apps, where you can lie to them about eating a salad before you go binge on a carton of ice cream. I’m the real deal. I see everything. I feel everything. Like how out of breath you are, just standing there. Like how I can tell by your pulse that you’re embarrassed. But you don’t want to be embarrassed for the rest of your chubby life, do you? Go on, biggums…sign the contract.”

Dylan looked down at his watch again. He raised his thumb over the screen, letting it hover.

“Sign. It,” hissed the app.

He couldn’t do it alone.

“Yes, Coach,” he said. And then he pressed his thumbprint down and held it against the screen.

“Very good, fatboy,” said the A.I. in his ear. “Now, we can begin our training!”

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

i wound up coming in at 23 hours worked this week, which was a little under my goal but not in a way i'm dissatisfied with. also i got my period which was distracting and spent much of saturday a lil hungover bc i am so so so old but sometimes i pretend i'm not quite so old. i do think reflecting on the week and how i felt that like having the option to work more than my goal without "needing" to per se but not committing to it was... not ideal in terms of stress and psychic flow so to speak. this week i'm going to once again set 25 as a goal but try out really thinking of it as a max (excepting spillover to allow for like, not stopping in the middle of a task if i can avoid it, a couple minutes of admin to keep that stuff from piling up, etc.) and see how that goes.

the other observation i have is that yesterday i kept meaning to Do Stuff and Be Productive but i was very sleepy and kind of hungover and also just broadly sort of grumpy and annoyed and then in the evening instead of doing any of the stuff i meant to do all day i said we should go out for dinner and we did and then we came home and watched o brother where art thou and i did work out but i didn't otherwise do anything productive... then i woke up today and it was very easy for me to be very productive on both necessities and personal goals (reading etc.) and i felt like a contented little busy bee all day. sooooooo perhaps there is regrettably a lesson in there somewhere about building into my week some On Purpose Don't Do Anything (Or At Least Not Anything I Don't Want To Do, Like, I Took A Walk To The Library To Drop Off/Pick Up And That Was Nice) Time as, actually, a measure that will keep things flowing the rest of the time. SIIIIIIIIIGH.

i got in four workouts this week, two upper & two lower, and the legs are coming back into themselves. the first lower body day i did was the same workout i'd done last week with higher weights (back to my usual proportion for what the youtube lady is using that day) and already after just having broken the seal once and then taken six days off i could feel how much better i felt doing it and how much less sore i was the next day. i might take a stab at starting a new program this week... didn't close my steps gap any but didn't widen it either which is p. good for a week with, again, getting my period and also a hangover. the hangover was from friday night's fundraiser which for some reason i felt weirdly grumpy and resistant to going to (possibly i have been giving myself some screen poisoning by not following my intended guidelines around use...) but i knew that going would eventually make me feel better and it did :) silliness is such an underrated part of life. the kitchen is stressing me out but my room is fine. i did not do any tasks this week, i am not sure i am even going to try this week. i gotta figure out a better system. possibly also i have to regulate my sleep cycle which, i mean, ok, we'll see. i haven't been writing at alllll and i miss it but feel indecisive and lukewarm about everything i could be working on. i do not know what to do about that. i have to get up in like five and a half hours to help my mom so that won't be the best but i'll survive!

[simslegacy5083]

Today's (10/22/2024) Episode: Making Time For Romance

Skye’s doctor and eye appointments arrived shortly after Luigi’s meetup with his old coach. Both visits had been scheduled after school, leaving his parents with the day to themselves and time to kill.

They started out in the living room, Noemi diving into a novel while Luigi fired up a game of Manic Matchums on the virtual gaming mat he’d received when he got promoted. However, it wasn’t long before he sensed her standing beside him, a pensive look on her face.

As soon as he turned off the program she lamented “The book is good, but I can’t concentrate. I’m worried about Skye. He already struggles so much with his emotions; I don’t know how he’ll react if he gets bad news tonight.”

“I know” Luigi replied “I was pretty distracted myself honestly. I think what we need is to get out of here for awhile, and I know just the place. You ready to take another trip down memory lane?” “Sure” she said “Anything is better than sitting around the house stewing. Lead the way!”

In no time the pair arrived at the gym and spa near their old apartment in the city. “Odd choice to take your mind off your worries” Noemi said, “Seeing as how the last time we were here you were having a pretty bad day.”

“Yes” Luigi agreed “but the lesson from that day was that a certain special lady helped me got over it quickly.” He pulled her into his arms and delivered a long, romantic kiss. “I’m sure she’ll do just as fine a job helping our son deal with whatever he learns tonight.”

Noemi smiled softly and ducked out from under his arms. “I always do my best for you troublesome little Lawbournes. Now we better get a move on so we have some time left after our workout to relax.” She jogged towards the entrance calling out over her shoulder: “Do try to keep up!”

“Arugh!” Luigi cried  a couple hours later, swinging his arm in a controlled arc and smacking the punching bag in front of him with a satisfying thunk. Stripping off his gloves he turned to his wife, “I don’t know about you, but that was just what I needed.”

“Agreed” Noemi said, removing her own gear “Now I’m too tired to think! Come on, let’s sit down and catch our breath, then maybe we can get in a swim or have a little fun in the sauna before heading back” she winked “just like old times…”

“… and you actually came hobbling up to me the next evening before practice with the 5 simoleons!” Noemi laughed “I couldn’t believe you thought I would take your money! That stupid dunking contest was my idea and then I had to watch you limping around campus for a week – I felt terrible!”

“Hey, a bets a bet” Luigi chuckled “and to be fair, you convinced me to give up on the game and relax. It was running around playing amateur firefighter when I got home that really did me in. Then you spent that week, I’ll never forget it, joining me for dinner and bringing me my meal so I didn’t have to stand in line. It was so sweet. By the end of it I was crazier about you than ever!”

“I should have known it was too good to last” Luigi groaned as the flash of cameras interrupted their tete a tete “how do they keep finding us!?”

“I have no idea, it’s not like we were even planning to be out” Noemi replied. “Do you think they’ll cause any trouble at the doctors office tonight?”

“I’ll call ahead and arrange a discreet exam room” he replied, rising to shoo away the paparazzi “But I do think this is our cue to get out of here.”

They were headed towards the exit when a tiny voice called out “Look mom – its Mr. Luigi!” and a small boy came running over “You’re the best scuffle player ever – I want to be just like you one day!” Luigi grinned, much happier to talk with his fans than deal with nosy paparazzi.

“I need a quick shower.” Luigi said as they got home. He spun out of his sweaty clothes, but didn’t quite reach the tub before he was ambushed.

Noemi’s strong arms spun him back into a hungry kiss; the towel she was wearing all that stood between them as he surrendered to her embrace.

“I love the way you think” he whispered, taking his eyes off her just long enough to turn on the water before pulling her into the tub with him.

They emerged, quite satisfied, just in time to hear the back door slam and Skye call out “Mom? Dad? Where are you?” “Well, I guess play time’s over” Luigi said, hollering back “We’ll be right there!” They had a big day ahead of them, and that morning had been a great start.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[gingerminx75]

Consequences. Part 1

With my new shape comes new attention. Catcalls that I never heard before. The hotter weather means shorter shorts and a minimal tank top. I am not dressing for them, I am dressing for me. It appears that the men in my neighbourhood didn’t get that memo. My schedule too tight for me to vary when I run, and not wanting to drive, where I run. It’s safe to say I have become predictable.

The calls are becoming more difficult to ignore. Shouts of, “leave your door open, I know where you live”. Them “accidentally” blocking my path and leaving me stammering as I ask them to move. As I blush and lower my gaze, they laugh at me, reminding me that I am smaller, weaker and regardless of my running, slower.

I return home and while soaking in a nice hot salt bath a see an advertisement on my feed. Women’s self defence classes. This might be exactly what I need. An opportunity to learn how to defend myself and hopefully gain the confidence to put these guys in their place.

Unfortunately the course is not local, but there is a one week condensed program. I can take a week off work, have a mini vacation and return a who new person.

I contact the instructor, he seems a bit aloof, but that should not matter. I just need him to teach me how to defend myself. As a retired LEO, he should have a lot of experience with deviant minds and how they pick their prey.

I pack, excited for my adventure. Shoes, running shorts (but not too short), white tank top and white cotton panties. Just in case the class doesn’t wear me right out I pack a few casual clothes and my favourite little black dress.

My flight was uneventful, arriving in the south it’s a bit warmer than I am used to, but very beautiful. I’m glad I didn’t bring sweat pants, I will sweat enough as it is.

As I was travelling to attend the course, he had kindly offered to pick me up at the airport and take me to my hotel. A short cab ride in the morning and we will begin.

I was pleasantly surprised by his appearance. 6’2, piercing eyes and wonderful broad shoulders. He watched me approach, quietly confident. No smile, yet he didn’t appear displeased. His commitment to fitness was evident. I can only hope my training is as thorough.

I get to bed early, get up, quick shower and a light breakfast. Before I leave my room, I do a quick turn around and like what I see. Simple, comfortable but practical.

I go outside and have to take a few pictures, the landscape, even within the city is so pretty. I am not used to the hills, but it might help my conditioning. I turn to look back at the hotel to see if my cab has arrived, but to my surprise I see my instructor.

He explained to me that the other two participants had canceled, and I could reschedule or train one on one. I couldn’t rationalize travelling and taking time off twice, and while he was slightly intimidating, I really wanted to do this.

I hopped in his car, and after a short while we arrived at his house. With the lack of students, he explained that we would use his garage gym, rather than rent an area. Odd, but logical.

The gym was well setup, primarily free weights, with a few machines. The best part was the wide open door and quietly humming fans that kept the space fresh and comfortable. His house being set back from the road, and nicely treed, we were able to keep music playing and not disrupt the neighborhood.

We quickly got to work. Physical assessment first. Taking my measurements, testing my flexibility. Gently, but firmly assisting me to get the fullest stretch. Next came the weights. Setup so that I wasn’t working to failure, but able to complete ten good reps. Form being more important than moving a heavy load. He explained to me that if I don’t push myself and find out what I’m capable of, I will never know my limitations. That knowing what I can handle is the best way to boost my confidence.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but his “warmup” felt a lot like my workout. A quick break for water while we discussed the day’s workout.

Weights first, then an introduction to hand to hand training. The weights progressively heavier, as I grew tireder. Quickly and sharply corrected, I quickly realized that there was one right way to do things…. His way.

I appreciated the attention to detail, even as some as the criticism stung. I wanted to do well, I just didn’t know what to do. Frustrated with my failures. He didn’t appear to notice, continuing to correct me as he saw fit.

Watching me squat. Nudging my feet into proper position. Slightly wider. Toes out. Correcting the arch in my back with a firm hand. Close enough that his voice sounded like a whisper in my ear. “Yes, that’s it”. “Deeper now”.

That simple affirmation, after so many struggles, felt so good. Re-energized, I wanted more. I wanted his praise. Trying extra hard, legs starting to tremble as I descend. Him gently supporting the weight and allowing me to collect myself. Taking away his support feels like the weight doubled as I rise. The pause at the bottom ruined the momentum. I struggle to return to my start position. This time he allows me to struggle. For the first time, I see a hint of a smile.

I rack the weights and catch my breath. He leads me to the bench press. I assume the position. Feet flat, legs parted. Squared up to the bar. Standing behind me, he helps me unrack the weight. Light enough to not need a spotter yet, he stands and the end of the bench. Watching, guiding me with simple instructions. I’m concentrating on my technique, but distracted by his voice. I like it.

His whole demeanour authoritative, but confident. Self assured, with no need to be cocky. Quite obviously used to giving directions, rather than taking them. We watches me, arms crossed over his chest. Unintentionally showing off those gorgeous arms.

I don’t notice that he is watching me too. Watching both my form and my reactions. Watching my shorts ride up a bit as my back arches. Careful to stay in contact with the bench, unaware that my shorts have adjusted. The white cotton of my panties gleaming against the black silkiness of my shorts. Legs rolling outward, the damp spot on my panties that very likely isn’t sweat.

———-

I finish the set, get up and adjust my clothes. Riding up and exposing more than I’d like. Ready to wrap up for the day, I’m ready to go back to my room and relax.

My day isn’t over yet though, on the drive back to the hotel I receive a stern lecture about the importance of situational awareness. Learning to unconsciously scan my surroundings for threats. Being aware of what is present, and what can hurt me. I have been accused of being naive before. I want to believe that people are not all bad. And that kindness is not weakness.

Back in my room, I slowly strip. Enjoying the tightness of my hard worked muscles. Enjoying the sheen of sweat. Shyly wishing that someone was there to taste it. Running a bath, sipping a glass of wine. Strolling lazily around my room. Not a care in the world.

Morning arrives too early and I am outside and waiting before he arrives. Dreading the workout to come, but looking forward to it at the same time. I expect to see changes in myself by the end of the week. Wondering if anyone else will notice as well.

He picks me up, and today drives in the opposite direction of his home. I enjoy the scenery and wonder where we are off to. He pulls into a gorgeous wooded drive. Parks the car and takes two water bottles from the backseat.

I follow curiously as he walks down the path. His steps longer than mine, I have to run/walk to keep up. No small talk, no wasted energy. A man on a mission, but unwilling to share the plan with me.

We pass the free space area of the park and enter the trail system. Here he gets a bit more talkative. Asking me what I’m seeing, what I’m feeling and telling me to let him know if I get nervous. The last question seems odd. I don’t imagine anyone bothering us, not with his size and demeanour.

Today’s workout involves functional strength. Dead arm hangs from convenient overhanging branches. Some too tall for me to reach. He easily boosts me up and helps me down.

Hill climbing, wind sprints, pushups and skip rope. Oddly thrilled with the praise for something especially well done. The day is hard, but enjoyable. The sunshine, the dedicated attention of someone willing to help me grow better and stronger.

He seems very concerned for my comfort, always checking in to make sure that I am okay. Making sure that I am not afraid. As the day draws on, he seems almost frustrated with my answers. I’m not afraid, I am enjoying the adventure. I’m learning, I am growing and I am having a great time. This day is everything I wanted and more.

We stop to break a water break and sit in a lightly shaded clearing. I take a moment to rub a cramp out of my shoulder. I’m beginning to feel the effects of the past days’ efforts. He suggests that I sit up straight, back against the tree. Reaching my arms up high above my head. He stands in front of me, awkwardly close. Taking both my wrists in one hand and helping me stretch. It feels so good as the tension rises, then is released.

One more stretch he says, this time raising me to my feet. Arms up stretched above my head. Pulling me onto my tip toes. When I expected him to of release the pressure and let me down, he asked once more, “what are you feeling?”, “are you afraid?” I answer again, “I am nervous, but safe. I feel safe with you”.

Instead of reassuring him, I see a flash of anger across his face. He grips my wrists tighter and lifts me, dangling from his grip. He leans into me, pressing my body against the rough bark of the tree. Whispering in my ear, “you don’t understand, it’s me you should be afraid of”.

[liesmyth]

Hi ❤️ I was wondering, do you have some recs/advices for light cardio HIIT sessions? I follow a weight lifting program online split on 3 days, i'd like to do some type of cardio on a fourth day but online there is.. TOO MUCH infos, i'm basically a beginner still and i'm getting so confused 😭

hi hi thank you for asking I LOVE these questions ❤️ I totally get what you mean about Too Much Information, fitness internet is chockfull of info but it can and does get overwhelming (and contact story!) especially if you're a beginner.

On cardio: I'm a big cardio fan, and could yap about the benefits all day. However! I feel very strongly that the best kind of cardio is the one that you actually like doing. If you're "just" looking to add "do more cardio" to your schedule, without any specific goals, the type of cardio matters a lot less than whether it's going to be fun for you to do. It can be as simple as doing 15/20 mins on an exercise bike after you're done at the gym, or dancing to kpop videos in your bedroom, or going on a moderate hike on Saturdays. If you want to add some more structured workouts, that's also great — more on that below — but IME, finding a form of cardio that you actually enjoy is a lot more important in the long run than trying to find THE perfect cardio workout.

this is the part where I yap. sorry.

SAMPLE CARDIO ROUTINE FOR LIFTERS from this amazing (very insightful!) r/fitness post by a lifting coach who's very solid

Something like this is IMO ideal if you don't have time or inclination to do much else. If it looks good to you, stop here! No need to read on. If you want more info and resources, go on

What's HIIT anyway?

sorry to be pedantic BUT I think it's important when exploring online fitness resources to know this: "light HIIT" is a misnomer. HIIT has become kind of a buzzword that's overused in fitness circles for marketing / SEO reasons, and I understand why (visibility!) but I wanted to clarify this just so you know what to look for going forward. HIIT = "High-intensity interval training": short bursts of exercise that have your heart literally jumping in your throat, followed by recovery. You're meant to give it your absolute all and flop dead like a fish on the grass when you're done. The upside is that HIIT workouts are very short; the downside is that they're very intense, and it can be kind of mentally daunting to psyche yourself up to do it.

So maybe I don't want to do the mentally daunting workout. What else is there?

NON-HIIT WORKOUTS THAT FUCK

Just because something is branded as "HIIT" when it's not, it doesn't mean it's not a damn good workout in its own right. Here is a youtube playlist from a "follow along workouts" fitness influencer who I LOVED during the pandemic (Caroline Girvan, I've yapped about her before). I used to do one of her cardio-heavy workouts once a week as an integration to an at-home fitness routine. That playlist I linked includes 92 (NINETY TWO) workouts. Some are bodyweight, some use dumbells for resistance; pick and choose.

LIGHT CARDIO

Maybe this is what you were looking for in the first place! LISS = Low-Intensity Steady Cardio. As the name implies, instead of "high-intensity bursts + recovery" style of workout, LISS workout means that you constantly keep moving at a steady rate. The downside is that LISS workouts are much longer, and maybe more dull, and you're better off doing them multiple times a week to see benefits. The upside is that they're less taxing on your body and require less recovery time, and they can be paired up with lifting days. Something like 15 mins on an exercise bike as a cooldown after lifting + one longer session (40+ min) on a day you don't lift would be what I think of as "integrating cardio into a lifting schedule" if you don't want to do anything high intensity. Replace exercise bike with walking up an incline or jogging or swimming or dancing or whatever. You can mix and match. You can take a brisk half hour walk 3 times a week and go on a hike every other weekend. Just find something that you enjoy and can stick to ( <- personally I have an audiobook I save to listen to ONLY when I'm doing chill-ish cardio to entertain me during)

Nevermind those alternatives. I want to do HIIT anyway. What do I do?

resources: introduction to HIIT writeup from r/HIIT (not famliar with the sub but the guide looks pretty solid) + some examples of HIIT workouts that you can do anywhere depending on your preferences (bodyweight training, exercise bike or rowing machine, kettlebell swings etc)

Here's an example of a follow-along HIIT workout from an influencer I think is very solid: ONE, TWO. They're 15 minutes long and pretty much what I mean when I say that HIIT is meant to be short and deadly; you do something like this, you recover, you're done.

BIG disclaimer: Don't start with any moves that are too fancy at first. Because HIIT = high intensity, that mostly translates into "doing some moves very fast to try and get your heart rate up within the interval window" and some people interpret that as trying to get in as many reps as possible. this goes extra hard for "follow along" workouts but also in general. If you're not very familiar with those moves, you can risk injury. Some HIIT routines are very dynamic, and if you don't have the movements nailed down, you're better off focusing on maintaining form rather than doing them really fast.

Other disclaimer: I would still pair up HIIT once a week with some more chill cardio on lifting days. If it's possible. But if you're doing HIIT in an intense way, that's already a lot!

TLDR

Summing up. Example of HIIT workouts. Follow alongs: one, two, three. I'd recommend doing one of these once a week if you like them, on a non-lifting day. If these aren't your speed, then a longer session of moderate cardio on a non-lifting day would be good, depending on what you have access to and enjoy. You can also do moderate cardio on lifting days if you're feeling extra motivated.

long-ass science-y article on benefits of cardio for weightlifters because I just really love this blogger

[pleaseeeimjustagirl]

🎀30 Day Glow Up Challenge🎀 - day twenty

♡ Mindset : Sundays are my reset days<333 I love spending Sunday mornings by myself just thinking and focusing on my daily plans. The night before I went to sleep playing lucky girl sleeping affirmations. I woke up this morning truly feeling like a lucky girl.

♡ Health : I focused on discipline today and learning to say no to myself. I have worked so hard on self control while dealing with binge eating disorder. It’s hard sometimes but I’ve definitely improved over the years. I’m focused on doing what is best for me. One of my fav Pilates YouTubers she’s dropping a Summer Boot Camp program I signed up and I’m excitedddd. It starts tomorrow and is a fully at home workout program all I need is 3lb-7lb weights for upper body and 10lb-20lb weights for lower body.

♡ Self Care : I used a foot mask today and my feet felt soooo soft after using it I loved ittt. I def will be including feet masks into my weekly self care. I love the target foot mask that helps with peeling dead skin your feet are baby soft after that.

♡ Experience : I have been slacking on my duolingo and this week I plan on practicing consistently again.

10 more days until this challenge is over I hope it has been beneficial to you .Tell me how you’re doing babes I would love to know my inbox and requests are open<33333

[activelifestyleinsights]

The Secret to Home Fitness Success: What You Need to Know

Home fitness has taken the world by storm. More and more people are ditching the crowded gyms, costly memberships, and long commutes in favor of working out in their own space. But is home fitness really as effective as hitting the gym? And how do you get started? Today, we’re diving into some key questions about home fitness, helping you get closer to making the right decision for your fitness journey.

What Makes Home Fitness So Popular?

The flexibility of home fitness is a game changer. You don’t need to adjust your life around gym hours, and you can squeeze in a workout whenever it fits your schedule—whether it’s early morning before the kids wake up, or late at night after a long day. Plus, the convenience of not having to leave the house makes it easier to stick to a routine.

For many, the gym can be intimidating—filled with complex equipment, mirrors, and other people who seem to already know what they’re doing. Home fitness eliminates this pressure. You’re in control of your workout environment, free from the distractions and insecurities that often come with a public space. No more waiting in line for machines or comparing yourself to others. It's just you, your space, and your goals.

Do You Need Expensive Equipment for Home Fitness?

One common misconception is that you need a fully equipped gym at home to see results. That couldn’t be further from the truth! While investing in a few basics like dumbbells or resistance bands can enhance your workouts, home fitness is incredibly versatile. You can start with bodyweight exercises and still build strength and burn fat effectively.

In fact, bodyweight exercises like squats, lunges, push-ups, and planks are incredibly powerful for building muscle and improving endurance. As you progress, you can incorporate more equipment based on your needs and goals. You don’t need to break the bank to get started—often, the most essential tool for home fitness is just the commitment to begin.

What Are the Benefits of Working Out at Home?

The benefits of home fitness go far beyond convenience. For starters, working out at home saves you time. There’s no travel time to factor in, which means you can dive right into your routine. It also gives you the flexibility to work out on your terms—whether that’s during your lunch break, first thing in the morning, or while catching up on your favorite show.

Additionally, home fitness allows you to tailor your workouts to your specific needs without distractions. Want to focus on bodyweight strength training or high-intensity cardio? You get to decide. With no one watching, you can explore different routines and take your time learning the movements that work best for you.

Lastly, let’s not forget the financial perks. With gym memberships getting pricier, home fitness can be a cost-effective alternative. Once you’ve set up your space with the basic equipment, the cost drops significantly compared to paying monthly gym fees. Over time, the savings really add up.

How Do You Stay Motivated?

While home fitness offers unmatched flexibility, staying motivated can sometimes be a challenge. It’s easy to get distracted by household chores, family members, or just the comfort of your couch. The key to staying on track is creating a dedicated workout space. This doesn’t need to be fancy—a corner of your living room, a spare room, or even your garage can work.

Another important factor is having a clear plan. Without a structured workout program, it’s easy to lose focus and give up. This is why having exercise plans tailored to your goals is so important. Not only does it keep you accountable, but it also ensures you’re progressing safely and efficiently.

Consistency is another cornerstone of success. Set specific workout times, create a routine, and hold yourself accountable. Track your progress by recording your reps, sets, and how you feel after each session. Celebrating small wins, like completing a full week of workouts, helps build momentum and keep you motivated.

What's the Best Workout Routine for Home Fitness?

There isn’t one answer that works for everyone. Your workout routine will depend on your personal goals, fitness level, and available equipment. A great place to start is with a balance of strength training and cardio exercises. This combination allows you to burn fat, build muscle, and improve your cardiovascular health.

Strength training can be done with or without equipment. Bodyweight exercises like squats, push-ups, and lunges target multiple muscle groups and help increase your overall strength. Meanwhile, cardio can be as simple as jumping jacks, burpees, or even jogging in place to get your heart rate up.

The key is variety. Keep your workouts interesting by mixing in different types of exercises. This not only helps you avoid burnout but also ensures you’re working all areas of your body.

So, What’s Next?

Now that you know the basics of home fitness, you’re probably ready to dive deeper into how to make the most of your workouts from home. But what equipment should you invest in first? How do you structure your workouts for maximum results? And what should your diet look like to fuel your fitness journey?

We’ve got all the answers for you in our in-depth article, Discover the Secret to Building Muscle & Losing Weight from Home – No Gym Required!

In it, you’ll learn how to set up your home gym, follow expert-designed workout plans, and reach your fitness goals faster than you ever thought possible.

Ready to take the next step? Click here to read the full article and start your home fitness transformation today!

This blog provides valuable insights while leaving some questions unanswered, guiding readers to your more detailed article for further information.

[nevermindirah]

🎁 🍬 🤔 🎨

🍬 Do you write for multiple fandoms? If yes, what is your favorite fic of yours for each fandom?

I do! Overwhelmingly TOG these past few years but I may still write more MCU here or there. My very favorite of my MCU fics is the one I'm afraid I may never write: Eartha Grit, in which Sam Wilson is a drag queen. How the hell to choose between my TOG babies I have no idea, so I'll pick one on impulse: every shutter click I wish was a kiss. We really knocked it out of the park with that one 🙏

🤔 Would you ever want to write something canon if you got the opportunity?

I have no desire to face any of the stresses of professional fiction writing, and I don't think that's where my skills are at, but I would leap at the chance to contribute to the story outlining that would result in Daisy Johnson officially returning to the MCU. They should've put her in The Marvels! She would have such interesting relationships with Monica and Kamala especially!! But since they didn't go this route I'm sure I can find other fun and exciting ways to get her on movie screens. Kevin Feige don't call me just accept my emails pls and thank <3

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

I would die of joy and come right back screaming with delight if someone made fanart of my work. Two very different scenes pop immediately to mind. One: the moment in Wouf Wouf when Nile is enjoying a gentle wake-up cuddle with her wolfy bestie and its following moment where all of a sudden a very hot very naked human man is halfway pinning her to the bed. Two: Olympic gold medalist Nile and her hockey player doing something cute, like for example trying out a pairs skating lift. ok also Three: anything from every shutter click I wish was a kiss >:)

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

saving the best for last. have TWO snippets! <333333333

(fanfic writer asks!)

Meeka/Vincent

It has now been fully three days since Meeka has had a proper workout. This trip was supposed to include at least a little light mountain climbing! Snow is still piling up and at this rate she doubts she’ll get to do more than snowshoe a few meters to the airport taxi when it’s finally safe to leave the cabin.

Her circuit between her bedroom, the kitchen, and the far side of the living room with its cozy fireplace is laughably inadequate exercise. The lack of better options is starting to make her physically itch.

The summit organizers are doing their level best to continue with the planned events over video conference, but some of the delegates aren’t showing the same commitment to the summit’s success, and some of the unplanned moments of an in-person meeting that get people to see each other’s humanity across political difference are simply impossible to recreate online. Meeka is finding each session more frustrating than the last.

She was able to keep her one-on-ones with the principals from Haiti, Brazil, Bangladesh, and Vietnam, all of which went well, and she’s going to have an exciting follow-up call when she gets home with the leaders of Vietnam’s solar program. Both Egypt and Mexico had to cancel on her due to tension headaches from all the unexpected screen time. A video call from home in a week or two is just as good as a video call from nearby cabins they can’t leave on this frozen mountain, or perhaps better, without the frustration of cabin fever.

Last night’s video happy hour with some of her friends and their friends and a handful of new allies was decently amusing! Though a good portion of it was spent ragging on France, which brought one of the largest delegations to this trainwreck and yet had not a single representative at that afternoon’s Francophone countries roundtable discussion. Extraordinarily disrespectful.

Meeka declined invitations to social events tonight. Eye strain hasn’t gotten to her, thankfully, but her temper can only take so much frustration. She needs a break from screens. She needs to move.

When she logs off after the last of the day’s sessions and leaves her bedroom, she finds Vincent on the floor with Mila.

Sugar Daddy AU

(this is a rougher draft prose-wise but the vibes are there!)

“Boys, this is my friend Nile I’ve told you about.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Nile,” says Philippe.

Jean Pierre says a quiet hi but his lip is trembling. As they move into the living room and Booker offers Nile a glass of water, JP bursts into tears. Booker scoops up JP to comfort him, murmurs all kinds of reassurances. Philippe goes and gets Nile a glass of water.

Nile’s heart melts for this kid. She was only a year older than him when her dad was wounded in action and she recognizes the turmoil behind the responsible-kid exterior.

Nile asks him about his pottery and they talk about that for a little bit while Booker sees to JP. When things are starting to calm down, she tells Philippe that he was very brave and responsible tonight, reassures him that Dad’s home now and you can relax, it’s all going to be ok. Booker of course overhears this and melts over how great Nile is.

They’d had snacks at Astra’s party but ended up leaving before eating a real dinner, and the boys hadn’t eaten yet either when Joe started having trouble breathing, so now everybody’s hungry. Before either of the adults can really think through logistics or say the should-say things like “I can call you a car to the MARC station” or “I should probably leave y’all to it”, Philippe asks if Nile is going to stay for dinner.

“Yeah, Papa, can she?” JP adds. “We could watch a movie!”

The boys egg each other on about yeah! Let’s watch a movie! Booker sets the oven to preheat then asks if he can talk to Nile for a moment in the other room.

“I’m sorry to just invite myself over like this,” Nile says. “I should—”

“If you’d rather not stay I could—”

They both trail off and look at each other.

“What’s for dinner?” Nile asks.

Booker looks down, sheepish. “Pizza casserole.”

“I bet it’s delicious. You wouldn’t mind if I stayed?”

“If you want to stay, you’re very welcome.”