#exercises for lower neck and upper back

[fitnessmantram]

Upper and Lower Back Exercise at Home #shoulderexercise #fitnessgirl #fi...

Upper and Lower Back Exercise for Women at Home

 This workout is designed to strengthen your upper and lower back muscles. It can be done at home with no equipment, or you can use light dumbbells or resistance bands to make it more challenging.

The exercises included in this workout are:

Superman

Bird dog

Glute bridge

Forearm plank

Dumbbell-free renegade rows

Cat cow

Resistance band pull-apart

Lat pulldown

Back extension

Each exercise should be done for 10-12 repetitions. You can do 2-3 sets of each exercise, or you can do a circuit of all the exercises, resting for 1 minute between each exercise.

 This workout is a great way to strengthen your back muscles and improve your posture. It can also help to prevent back pain.

 Here are some tips for doing these exercises safely:

Keep your core engaged throughout the exercises.

Don't arch your back too much.

If you feel any pain, stop the exercise immediately.

Here are some variations of these exercises that you can try:

For the Superman, you can raise your arms and legs higher off the ground.

For the Bird dog, you can extend your opposite arm and leg at the same time.

For the Glute bridge, you can lift your hips higher off the ground.

For the Forearm plank, you can place your forearms on a stability ball.

For the Dumbbell-free renegade rows, you can use dumbbells or resistance bands.

For the Cat cow, you can make the movements more exaggerated.

For the Resistance band pull-apart, you can use a resistance band with a higher resistance level.

For the Lat pulldown, you can use a weight machine or a resistance band.

For the Back extension, you can use a back extension machine or a stability ball.

I hope you will enjoy this workout!

Read More : The Amazing Benefits of Flat Belly Tea

[moonastrogirl]

Signs and Body parts related to them + attributes

Aries = head (brain, hair, face, eyes), adrenals, blood pressure

Taurus = neck, shoulders, throat (and voice), ears

Gemini = arms, fingers, heads, hands, lungs

Cancer = chest wall, breasts, some body fluids (uterus)

Leo = heart (blood, veins), spine, upper back, spleen.

Virgo = abdomen, intestines, gallbladder, pancreas, liver, digestive system (stomach)

Libra = lower back (butt/nyash), hips, kidneys, endocrines

Scorpio = reproductive organs (vagina, penis), pelvis, urinary bladder, rectum

Sagittarius = thighs, hips, upper legs, liver, pelvic floor

Capricorn = knees, bones, skin

Aquarius = calves, ankles (Archiles heel), blood vessels

Pisces = feet, some body fluids (lymphatic system)

If you have any health issues look at where they are located in your body then start healing yourself by using the energy of the sign related to it. Exercise also that part of the body to strengthen it and make it heal naturally.

Work also on what the sign means to heal the sign.

Aries = Authenticity (True self)

Taurus = Self support

Gemini = Self thinking

Cancer = Self feeling

Leo = Self love (Courage)

Virgo = Self analysis

Libra = Balance of self (Confidence)

Scorpio = Self desire (Sexual energy)

Sagittarius = Vision of self (Self protection)

Capricorn = Usage of self

Aquarius = Knowledge of self

Pisces = Self belief

[httpknjoon]

the art of bargaining | ksj

plot | jin knows that he should not be jealous when one of his best friends in the industry is filming an intimate scene with another actor.

word count | 1750

genres | fluff, actors!au

pairing | actor!jin x actress!reader

note | live laugh love the a listers

main masterlist | the a-listers: confidential masterlist

He shouldn’t be feeling this way. It’s unprofessional.

“Okay, folks. Stop goofing around.”

Lena, the production’s intimacy coordinator, spoke softly as you and Seb stopped laughing at something Jin badly wanted to know. You two were already in your characters’ clothes. Considering that the scene is right after your characters’ date night, you are in a silky, slip-dress, while Sebastian is in an all-black button-down and slacks outfit.

But why does he feel like this? He should not even be here. He was asked to show up at four in the afternoon but came at nine in the morning because he knew you had been shooting your scenes. When asked by other staff members why he arrived too early, he claimed he just wanted to watch others’ scenes, which is not unusual since you also do that sometimes.

Jin remembered arriving earlier, just when you and Seb were rehearsing for this physical scene. Your knees are on each side of your co-star’s lap and you are sitting on him, arms around his neck, while the director– along with the intimacy director– talked about the camera and blocking. You two were intently listening, nodding at her directions, to make sure no boundaries will be crossed. Jin stood behind the light, jaw clenching when he spotted Seb’s hand resting on the small of your back.

“Okay, let’s start off with soft kisses and giggles. Then, it builds up...” 

Filming these kinds of scenes is the least exciting one to film. Every actor and director knows it, even Jin. It can be awkward with so many people around you while acting in a supposedly intimate scene. That’s why trust between actors is important and Jin can see that you are comfortable with Seb. You once told Jin that you find it better to shoot intimate and kissing scenes with female directors since they don’t oversexualize everything and you feel more secure.

“Is it okay to hold you here?” your on-screen partner asked, pertaining to where his hands would land on your body.

Personally, Seokjin will not advise the other actor to touch your upper thighs, lower back, or upper stomach, and maybe kiss your neck too. But who is he to decide? Because you softly smiled, nodding to Sebastian, 

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

“YN, honey, just give Seb a tap or pinch if you feel uncomfortable. Okay?” Lena instructed before turning to Seb. “Seb, be alert with YN’s signals. Just do the things we agreed on earlier.”

As per your director’s order, every unnecessary staff member was asked to leave the set to lessen the live spectators of the intimate scene. There are only less than ten people left in the studio, including him.

“Are you not going?” Haley, who stayed on set per your request, whispered to Jin as he was standing next to her. 

“Why?” Jin asked while his eyes remained focused on you.

“I don’t know… I just think you would not enjoy YN being that close to another man.” your manager replied with her tone being something on the scale of teasing to unsure. Jin turned his head to her. She smirked, “Oh, stop with the daggers, Kim Seokjin.”

His hardened expression, which he didn't even realize he was doing, softened. He looked away, trying to exhale the heaviness he had been feeling in his chest. Hailey watched him 'release his stress' with a quick breathing exercise. She knows something you don't about Jin, but she won't tell anyone about it.

Jin worries that he looks like a tomato right now. He hopes— prays— it is not obvious on his face as it feels. It's embarrassing, the warm flush on his face won't go away. Because he can still feel it from watching your scene earlier with Sebastian.

It's stupid. It's stupid because he never feels this way. He is not the jealous type— he used to be so proud that he was never the jealous type! His ex-girlfriend once joked about how she wished he had a little bit of jealous bone in him, so they could have something immature to argue about. But she was happy he was always mature... and cool-headed.

Well, there's nothing cool with what Jin is feeling right now. There is a tight and heavy feeling in his chest and it's suffocating him. He doesn't know when it started. Oh, wait. Maybe he does. Maybe when he watched Sebastian kiss you so passionately— Wait, it wasn't just that kiss. It was when he trailed his lips from your lips to your chest then down to your exposed collarbone.

He wanted to look at something else. Well, he did. He looked down at his white shoes, on the blazer that was thrown on the ground of the set, and maybe at the director too, waiting for her to cut the whole thing and say that maybe the scene was not fitting for the movie, they should remove it in the script. But she didn't. Jin looked at everything else, but he always came back looking at you.

You, who's in character, were making little sounds of relief and pleasure. It's scripted, he knows. But he felt like it was too loud for his hearing. It's so loud that he feels like the soft sounds you're making are ringing his ears. Then, your hands. He watched them smoothly unbutton your co-actor's shirt and his throat officially ran dry, making him gulp countless times. My God, he can only hope no one noticed.

Did Hailey notice? She was standing next to him. Hopefully, she didn't. He was gulping too many times. Fidgeting too many times. Fuck.

But you are an actor and that's what you do. You act professionally. It's only work for you. And also, for Sebastian. And he's an actor himself too. He should understand. But what he cannot understand is why was he feeling like this to who's supposedly his friend. The image of your last scene is not burned in his brain, he thinks.

Jin let out a heavy sigh, running a hand in his unstyled hair. Maybe he should go outside. Maybe to a bar. Order something strong that will obviously wash the scene out of his brain and will slap some senses into him. But he hates day drinking. And it's dumb to do that today just because of this. He should just distract himself.

"Oh, god. You almost killed me!”

Jin was so deep in his thoughts, that he didn't where his feet led him after your scene. He doesn't how and why, but he ended up opening the door to your trailer, which was right next to his. His eyes widened as you seemed to be in the middle of changing. You still have the same dress on but your hands are reaching for the lock of your necklace.

“I-I’m sorry– I didn't mean to– I should just–” Jin stuttered, about to turn around and leave when you stopped him.

“No, no, no. I actually need help and Haley is out, buying something. I need someone to unclasp this stupid thing." you told him.

You turned your back to him, gathering your hair up and away from your neck. Jin licked his lips, hesitating for a second before taking a step closer to you.

He gulped once again when his eyes fell on the exposed nape of your neck. Smooth and delicate. His hands felt too clumsy when he reached out to your thin, gold necklace. He tried to stabilize his breathing, hoping you didn't head the tiny hitch in his breath when his fingertips slightly touch your skin like a ghost.

Almost instantly, your chest heaved when you felt his light touch brushing on your skin. You bit your lower lip, not wanting to react obviously. But he felt warm and you think you shivered the moment his fingers brushed on the back of your neck.

"Almost... there."

Fuck. His voice was deeper than usual when he murmured, focusing on the lock. He probably didn't mean it to sound like that, but it still made you feel something in your stomach. You felt like the world is spinning, not aware that you were making him dizzy as well.

"Got it."

Finally, he unlocked the clasp, sliding off the jewelry on your neck. He took a step back before handing you the necklace.

You turned around and almost instantly, you noticed his ears. Red as a tomato. You cannot help but smile as you whisper a soft,

"Thank you."

You're a goddess. He thought, looking at you a little more up close than earlier when you were doing your scene. He wanted to tuck that loose hair behind your ear, but he didn't want to make things more awkward.

“No problem,” he replied, forcing a smile on his lips.

Suddenly, the temperature in the trailer is rising and both of you can feel it in your skin. There is some tension in the air, it feels heavy on your chest and tightens your stomachs. But some things are maybe better left unsaid. So Jin nodded his head and was about to turn around when you held his arm and tiptoed, planting a peck on his cheek before whispering something that sent a shiver down his spine.

"Can you stay a little longer?"

taglist rules

THE A-LISTERS: CONFIDENTIAL TAGLIST

@xiumo @joonsbvtch @firesighgirl @qualityjoonie @lojocas @txtlyn @yoontaethings @zwiehe

PERMANENT TAGLIST (closed)

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21 @marblemoonstones

[theambitiouswoman]

Align Your Chakras: How to Spot Blockages & Restore Your Energy ✨

Chakras are like energy hubs in your body, each one linked to different aspects of your physical, emotional, and spiritual well being. When they’re balanced, you feel great—confident, creative and connected. But life happens—stress, negative emotions, or even physical habits can block or unbalance them. When that happens, you feel off. Keeping your chakras flowing is all about staying aligned, so your energy can support you in living your best life 🫶

✨Root Chakra (Muladhara)

Signs it’s blocked:

• You feel insecure, ungrounded, or anxious.

• Financial struggles or instability.

• Physical issues like lower back pain or digestive problems.

How to fix it:

• Spend time in nature (walk barefoot if you can).

• Practice grounding yoga poses like Mountain or Child’s Pose.

• Wear red or meditate while visualizing a glowing red light at the base of your spine.

✨Sacral Chakra (Svadhisthana)

Signs it’s blocked:

• Low creativity or feeling emotionally numb.

• Trouble enjoying pleasure or intimacy.

• Reproductive or lower abdominal issues.

How to fix it:

• Dance or do any creative activity you love!

• Eat orange foods (like oranges or carrots) and drink lots of water.

• Meditate while imagining a warm orange light in your lower abdomen.

✨Solar Plexus Chakra (Manipura)

Signs it’s blocked:

• Lack of confidence or self-doubt.

• Feeling stuck or powerless in life.

• Digestive issues like bloating or stomachaches.

How to fix it:

• Practice affirmations like “I am powerful and in control of my life.”

• Do core-strengthening exercises like planks.

• Visualize a bright yellow light radiating from your stomach.

✨Heart Chakra (Anahata)

Signs it’s blocked:

• Struggles with forgiveness, love, or trust.

• Feeling lonely or holding onto grudges.

• Physical tightness in your chest or upper back pain.

How to fix it:

• Practice gratitude and acts of kindness.

• Wear green or surround yourself with nature.

• Meditate on a glowing green light in your chest.

✨Throat Chakra (Vishuddha)

Signs it’s blocked:

• Difficulty expressing yourself or speaking your truth.

• Fear of judgment or being misunderstood.

• Sore throat, neck pain, or jaw tension.

How to fix it:

• Sing, chant, or journal to get your thoughts out.

• Sip warm herbal teas and practice deep breathing.

• Imagine a bright blue light glowing in your throat.

✨Third Eye Chakra (Ajna)

Signs it’s blocked:

• Difficulty trusting your intuition or feeling mentally foggy.

• Trouble focusing or making decisions.

• Frequent headaches or tension in your brow.

How to fix it:

• Meditate in silence to connect with your inner wisdom.

• Practice mindfulness to clear mental clutter.

• Visualize an indigo (deep blue-purple) light between your eyebrows.

✨ Crown Chakra (Sahasrara)

Signs it’s blocked:

• Feeling disconnected from your purpose or the universe.

• Lack of inspiration or a sense of hopelessness.

• Physical symptoms like headaches or dizziness.

How to fix it:

• Meditate on universal connection and gratitude.

• Spend time in quiet contemplation or prayer.

• Visualize a bright violet or white light at the top of your head.

[leviathanleva]

Cujo

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Supersoldier!FemReader

Description: A monster in human skin, a weapon disguised as a person, no thoughts, no emotion, as per design. He despises you and everything you stand for. He’s tried to kick you out of his squad and failed, he’s made it his mission to break you no matter the cost.

It comes as a surprise when he asks you to lie and say you love him.

[5.5k words]

[Angst, Light NSFW]

Chapter 2 "Chocolate Mousse"

A rainy day among the desert summer heat was a welcome sight.

The only drawback was that if anyone wanted to exercise they’d be confined to the closed-off gym instead of the dusty freedom of the training field.

So that’s where you currently were, sparring with your Lieutenant while the rain pattered away at the flat roof of the spacious facility, tucked away in one of the rooms. And by sparring, you understood dodging every curved fist and grabby hands flung your way while doing nothing to reciprocate. Your hands hung placidly by your sides, shoulders slack and face relaxed in neutrality as you pounced back every time Ghost lunged.

Why he insisted on hand-to-hand combat with you in particular, was beyond your comprehension, why anyone at base would want such a match – even less so. It was factually unfair, your advantage over the Lieutenant was a laughing matter, both your speed and strength far outmatched his. You were built to win, always, so why on Earth was he so hell-bent on fighting a battle already lost?

It made no sense, but you were a good dog, you didn’t question his antics, his drive, only bent your head in submission when he’d ordered you to the training facility.

The fluorescent lamps buzz leisurely above your head, a comforting white noise for your ears. Droplets of sweat plink against the rubber matting of the floor, your Lieutenant leaving a trail behind you both as he deliberately works you into a corner. His grunts strained, suppressed behind bared teeth hidden under the sheet of his mask, his eyes creased, shadowed by his lowered brows. He’s becoming frustrated, and you’re well aware of it, but despite his irritation with your passive ways, you stick to them.

You won’t risk him ending up injured because you misjudged just what force his body can withstand, you aren’t keen on finding out today how much you can batter him before he collapses. A punch flung astray accompanied by a sliver of carelessness could lead to you carrying him to the med bay with a broken ribcage.

No, that won’t do at all, not with your deployment coming up.

But he doesn’t want your gentle handling, he doesn’t want your merciful pity and pacifism. He wants a fight, to stir some vigor in your devoid eyes, to see a spark in them because on the battlefield you look the most alive and he needs you as such always.

You dodge another swing, upper body leaning back and knees bending to support your shift of weight. You watch the large fist swish past you almost in slow motion because to you Ghost is slow, everyone is slow. Having keen reflexes and awareness far surpassing those of the average person was a blessing and a curse, you picked up too much from your surroundings, and often times it became oppressive in your day-to-day. But during combat, it was good, needed even if it made the whole encounter disinteresting and plain bland.

He stumbles and you instinctively reach forward to cushion his fall, arms outstretched and ready to catch him. With a curse under his breath and a jerk of his leg, he steadies himself before reaching the floor. You step back to give him space, your baby hairs led astray from their neatness against your forehead by your abrupt motions.

“You miss the memo, Cadet?”

Your brows raise at his growl and the nasty look he tosses at you over his shoulder as he slowly straightens from his bent-over pose. He turns to face you fully, rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck with one palm under his chin. The muscles beneath his compression shirt ripple and shift like coy fish under a still pond.

A hand reaches to slick the stray strands from your eyes back into your crown, ghost over the braided hair at the back of your head, left to grow too long because you couldn’t be bothered visiting the barber at base. Your lips part to speak, but the Lieutenant has more on his mind, predicts your question before it rolls off your tongue.

“We’re sparring, yeah? Not playin’ tag. Gotta hit me.” He steps forward, surging through the air with arms spread wide to try to grab and tackle you, his entire body thrust towards you by his powerful thighs. When you step out of his way and flatten yourself against the wall to avoid his deadly hug, his temper spills over. “Fight back, damn it!”

When you move away from the wall he takes his chance, swinging an iron calf at your knees to set you off balance. Again you manage to escape, jump out of his range as if you were simply avoiding a splash of paint on the ground, unbothered, silent, bored.

“Fight back.” He snarls venomously, his glare piercing cold and demanding. “That’s an order!”

And like a good dog, you obey.

You jerk forward and grasp his ankle in a painful hold, tight enough to make him falter. Sometimes he forgets you’re a monster, mistakes you for a cowardly runt until he forces you to remind him.

His bulky arms are wrapped around his head protectively as you bend down and fling him over your shoulder without much excretion, face first into the floor. His eyes widen for only a second as he flies through the air like a feather, then squeeze shut as the rubber matting hastens into his sight. He buries his nose into the crook of his elbow to soften the impact as much as possible. The air is knocked out of his lungs, a choppy gasp forced out of him as he’s planted against the floor with firm force.

“Fuckin’ hell…”

When he unfurls to look back, he sees you standing above him like a predator, unwavering, stoic, bloody majestic even. Each of your feet is planted firmly on either side of his waist, head tilted to the side and an unimpressed expression carving at least something into your blank features, your hands crossed behind your back. You look almost cocky, he likes it.

“I win.”

He barks out a laugh at your words, at how absolutely defeated they sound leaving your lips. Of course, you’re not satisfied, this is child’s play to you, most enemies don’t even reach this close to you before they’re ripped apart. Ghost takes it upon himself to make your experience more engaging despite the threat of looking like a flailing child in your eyes. It’s a risk he’s willing to take if only to see something shine in those crystalline orbs of yours.

“Not over yet.” He barks through his protesting lungs and rolls around in a flash, wrapping his arms around your knees and pushing back with all his might.

Now you end up on the floor, stumbling briefly, not expecting him to keep his zest for sparring going after your humiliating toss. Your legs are bent back into your chest, spread apart, and folded between the two of you as he hovers above you, locking you in place. There’s a twinkle in his eye, beads of sweat tracing his brow and even through the mask you can see him smirking.

You press your hands against his shoulders, watching him pant above you, shifting on his haunches, his chest puffed out in male pride. The position does something to him and you’re too blissfully unaware to pick up the subtle shift. He already reeks of sweat and testosterone, he’s already pleasantly riled up by finally getting the upper hand albeit briefly.

An ember is kindles deep in his belly and his vice grip on you falters as he silently gazes down at you. Salty droplets drip onto your cheeks and trace patterns over your skin, you take a mental note to shower after this fiasco is over.

He softens, leans down slowly. It’s when he’s unguarded and his nose gently bumps against yours that you act.

The biggest mistake you make is flip the two of you over and sit on his face like a throne, squishing him between your thighs with the intent of cutting off his oxygen, crotch to his mouth so plushly pressed you can feel his stubble through both mask and leggings.

The whole point was to make him tap out and end this so you can finally get your afternoon snack, but unfortunately for you, not everything goes as planned. Something muffled and unintelligible comes from him as he grabs at your hips. He chokes on a moan and then you finally understand your predicament. You recoil in an instant and he pushes you off him the rest of the way with a gruff “get off”.

 “I…” You begin, then falter, reaching a hand for him with your best apologetic look. “Apologies, Lieutenant. It was not my intention.”

He’s on his feet already, back turned to you and palming his hard cock in place.

“Ain’t your fault, Hound.”

You stand and walk to one of the windows to let some fresh air in, hoping the chill the rain has brought will ease the stirring in his grey sweats. The storm still wages war outside, the lightning has subsided and all you can hear and smell is the downpour. It’s calm, pleasant, it dissipates the musky stench in the small training room, the cool air caresses your cheeks and you take in a deep breath.

You sit on the matting before the window, gaze outside at the deserted grounds dotted with only a handful of passersby, military staff rushing to their offices with briefcases over their heads in an attempt to stay somewhat dry. Resting your chin on one knee and wringing your arms around your leg, you invite Ghost silently to join you in the moment once he’s made himself decent and shaken away the fickle embarrassment.

You don’t expect him to relent considering the incident in his office a few days prior. There had been no word spoken regarding your kiss, you liked it as such, it was simple this way and you can discard the memory as a moment of weakness. You’re not one to pry or delve into matters that do not impact you physically in any way. Being devoid of a heart has its perks, you’re not weighed down by feeble emotions such as lust or regret, love or hate. You could care less if you never kissed him again, it’s just his mouth against yours, it changes nothing in your life.

And you can only hope he shares your sentiment and that his awkward boner was spurred on by your brawl and not you specifically.

Contrary to your speculations, he does join you.

Back to back, you sit together, him staring into nothingness, his eyes latched to the patterns painted over the walls while you gaze mindlessly out the window. The heat radiating off his body is intense, it brings a flush to your face, makes the cold air sting against the tip of your nose. It’s delightful really, if only he could be this approachable and calm all the time.

But he was, unfortunately, a man burdened heavily and you didn’t ease his woes in any way. If anything, you made his days more difficult despite being a thorn in his eye unwittingly.

You lean back into him, as comrades do when sharing a small serene moment. His body tenses behind you. Your protruding spine slots in the crevice of his, between the two hills of muscle on either side of his back. It’s a perfect fit, funny how such physical formations align, how the right man and woman fit together like puzzle pieces.

“Are you calm, Lieutenant?”

He leaves the question to hang in the air for a few minutes before giving out a somber reply.

“Ye…”

A gust of cold air can do wonders for the body.

“Why do you keep me around when you detest me so?” You ask next and crane your neck just a bit to catch a glimpse of his mask as your cheek is pressed against his shoulder. “Do you love me? Hate me?”

A lonesome sigh, it makes his skin crawl at how real and packed it sounds. But he knows better than to believe in it. Your voice is lukewarm, a meek lull, almost normal.

“It’s confusing. You’re a complicated man.”

Whichever he picks, whatever he answers, he knows you don’t care. It’s just curiosity, there’s no hidden agenda, no fluttering of the heart be it from spite or repressed affections.

So he doesn’t answer right away, partly because it doesn’t matter what he says, partly because he can’t, it’s a haze to him as much as it is to you. It used to be that you were too dangerous to let loose in anyone else’s care, he’d rather do the job of being your zookeeper by himself and properly. As time went on though, his compass started to shift in a different direction and now he wasn’t sure which way it was pointing.

He sticks to what he knows clearly, decides that’s a suitable reply and it will sate whatever boredom caused you to bring up the topic, at least for the time being.

“Would rather you stay in my hands over the enemy’s.”

“Is that all there is to it?” You ponder out loud, then hum softly and slack against him as if he were your pillow. With both legs stretched out and your hands lifelessly left to rest in your lap, you breathe him in, the smell of pine and cigarettes, a heavy and hearty odor. You’ve grown to subconsciously seek it out when he’s not within eyesight, grown to cherish it because it’s the closest thing you have to a home.

With your eyes lifted to the grey, cloud-riddled sky you give him your name, the one blotted out of every document and identification file, the one scratched out of existence, the one before Hound, and the made-up one in your reports. He freezes, nearly wheezes, you hear his breath hitch and he turns back to look over his shoulder.

“What?”

“You entrust your life to me on the field.” You say gently, the words barely above a whisper, soft as cotton. “I entrust my life to you now…But do keep it to yourself, please. Sergeant MacTavish will not take well to your advantage in my personal life.”

His raspy chuckle is your given vow of secrecy. After that, all is silence.

The spec of intimacy, the sharing of vulnerable information, the feeling of your back pressed against his, it makes his head spin, like a cigarette after a good training session. He basks in the feeling, imagining himself as someone special enough to you to deserve the precious knowledge you’ve bestowed upon him. There’s a lump in his throat at the possibility of searching you up and finding more information about you, maybe even seeing your visage before the augmentations.

But does he want to invade your privacy after you’ve trusted him?

No, he wants the information to come from you. He wants to earn it, whether in the fire of an argument or the tenderness of a lover’s embrace, it doesn’t matter.

You stay as such until the hairs on your arms prickle and your skin is littered with goosebumps. There’s a numbness to your fingers and your nose has become stuffy, suits you right for dressing in only a flimsy top with a storm on the horizon.

“You like to eat, yeah?”

The question comes out of the blue and your first reaction is to nod. You glance at him, find his chocolate iris trained on you in the corner of his eye. You listen to his steady breaths, the sound of his stubble scratching against the confine of his mask as he strains to look back at you.

“I have to rebuild my muscle mass. It’s nice when the food is good, but it doesn’t make a difference in the end. I eat to live, not live to eat.”

“Got a favorite dish?” He inquires lightheartedly as if he were speaking to a child or a dear friend.

The answer comes automatically, you don’t even need to think.

“No.”

“Pick something then.” He’s fast to quip back and you’re left with a task that you’re not used to undertaking – making a choice.

It stiffens you up in a way, he feels you go rigid behind him and lean your head away from his shoulder, the tender eye contact suddenly broken and the wavering scene of intimacy buried alive by the dark shadow of intrusive thoughts. You’re left with a whirling mind that somehow is completely blank and nothing comes out of your mouth when you try to speak.

How long has it been since you had the privilege of choice? How many years since you had been brainwashed into the obedient, nearly android-like state of today? It had been a necessary change added for the safety of your superiors, being stripped of feeling anything was to prevent rebellion and individuality. You’d willingly undergone the procedures knowing the sacrifice you were making and yet, it had never bothered you, it felt liberating not to be weighed down by personality or emotion.

That was until two minutes ago.

The rain is deafened by a strange shrieking in your ears.

“Hound?” The weight of his upper body is rested on one palm firmly planted against the floor as he turns halfway to get a better look at you. There’s a grimness to your face, a distance in your eyes stretching miles and for a moment Ghost believes he’s royally fucked up in some way.

“Hound.” He tries again and grabs you by the shoulder to try and make you focus on him. He knows that look, the expression, it resembles his when he looks in the mirror late at night after one too many drinks that fail to numb his demons.

“Pup, look at – ”

“ – Pizza.”

He blinks once, twice, then arches a brow and you see the mask tighten with a smirk.

“Pizza?”

“Yeah.” You nod and face him fully, a hint of a smile cracking your apathetic demeanor and reeling his heart.

He plays it off as if it’s nothing, blazes inside like a bonfire at the spec of humanity finally, finally creeping through an otherwise vacant canvas. He pretends not to see it because he doesn’t want to scare it away, stands up and dusts himself off.

“I’ll come get you at eighteen hundred.” He doesn’t even spare you a glance as he speaks and a moment later he’s out of the training room and down the hall, leaving you behind in blissful silence.

You watch him leave wordlessly from your position on the floor, his pace is languid, too unbothered and uncanny for him. He’s masking something, what exactly you’re unsure of, but if it correlates with you earning yourself a slice of pizza, then you’re not fussed about the ordeal.

You return to your small quarters for a thorough, long shower to warm your chilled bones and frosted flesh. A veil of steam accompanies you once you step out on squishy feet.

The room was by no means cozy, the furniture stopped at the bare necessities, and decorations were non-existent. It was bland, devoid of a personality and it perfectly reflected you as an individual, if you could even call yourself that.

Judging by the clock on your nightstand, you’d been soaking for nearly an hour, a small luxury you were permitted every once in a while, one of very few. Your limbs feel heavy with relaxation as you collapse onto your bed, letting the sheets aid your plain white towel in soaking the droplets off your body.

Thoughts delicately dance around the confines of your mind, materializing before your eyes in the cream-yellow ceiling like a picture book. Time-passers, random jumbles to help the minutes tick by because you have no other occupation outside of exercise and paperwork, no phone to play a game on, no book to read. Most of the time, that’s not a problem, you’re always busied with orders and instructions and barely have a moment to sit down for a meal, but on rare occasions such as today, the pleasantry of free time is a burden.

An eternity passes before there’s a knock on your door, you’re already dressed and good to go, sitting on the edge of your bed, hunched over and still as a statue, locked within your head until you’re ripped back to reality. Your eyes snap at the sound and you nearly lunge, spurred on by hunger, purposefully choosing to skip dinner for the prospect of something better than another dry steak and overcooked vegetables.

“Let’s go.” Ghost motions for you to follow once you’ve appeared from behind the door and you follow along the muddy field and bustling barracks.

The rain has stopped and the base is lively again, soldiers are speeding left and right, zipping past you in a rush with either gear or papers in hand. You walk behind the stoic Lieutenant, using him as a shield to avoid the annoyance of anyone bumping into you. Despite your uncanny looks, compared to the rest of your military establishment’s occupants, you’re small enough to neglect and trample over.

Your boots sink into the squishy soil, and the sheen of water sloshes around your soles and makes them sticky. You’re careful, make sure no mud comes to stain the tips of your jeans. The lights at the base flicker on to illuminate the grounds as the sun sets prematurely today, choked in a sea of clouds, the glare twinkling brightly against the trembling surface of puddles. When a Humvee nears you step to Ghost’s side to avoid being potentially splashed and stay there as he guides you to the vehicle storage unit.

His bike is waiting there, freshly waxed and glossy, nearly sparkling.

“Where are we going, Lieutenant?” You ask and glide your hand over the smooth leather of the seat, in awe at how preserved it is coupled with a keen interest in having your first bike ride.

“To grab a bite to eat.�� He responds as if you should have reached that conclusion by yourself, and tosses a helmet at you he retrieves from the display on the wall. “Put it on.”

He secures his own helmet and lifts the visor, the black plastic contrasting with the pearly white skull painted over it – his signature you presume, even when off duty he sticks to skulls. Sometimes you wonder what truly drives his love for the peculiar markings, a skull on every mask, skeleton hands on the majority of his gloves.

“Ever been on one o’ these before?”

“No.” You answer as you nestle on the seat behind him.

He turns to look you over and reaches back to grab your wrists before pulling them around his thick waist.

“Hold onto me, Backpack.”

You tilt your head at the new nickname but refrain from questioning him, preferring to keep his mood light for as long as possible. Instead, you follow his instructions and cling to him, scoot a little closer until you’re pressed flush against him and your thighs rub against each other’s. He nods at your adjustment and with a grunt of warning lifts his knees and plants his feet on the pegs.

You’re off after that, slowly to the entrance of the base and then smoothly sailing down the highway towards the city.

The rumbling of the engine is a constant tune in your ears, the wind beating against your arms and legs, creeping past your clothes and nipping at your skin, cool and refreshing, you can smell it even through the helmet. In combination with the world passing by you, it’s like a drug, lamp post after lamp post passes in a blur and it makes your heart race at how fast you’re moving, it feels the same as skydiving, you feel like you’re flying, free.

You don’t even realize when your hands slip beneath Ghost’s jacket to palm at the thin layer of fat over his strong stomach, not until the flesh beneath your fingers shudders. You’re too preoccupied with your bliss, lost in another moment of pure tranquility even if you felt underdressed for the occasion.

If you’d known, you would have taken a thicker top, but the Lieutenant wasn’t one to acknowledge the comfort of others or comfort’s existence in general.

Cars pass you by, the breeze whisks the tips of your hair peeking from beneath the helmet.

The plains of the vast yellow grass hills, devoid of water for most of the summer and burnt, give way to a concrete jungle. There is no easing into the metropolis, it’s all busy streets and tall buildings from the outskirts to the very core. People going home after a long day of work, the chatter of civilization, the honking of traffic the scent of sewage and overflowing garbage bins. Flashing lights, illuminated windows in every building and neon signs, the sizzling of street food being prepared and the clinking of glasses from the outdoor tables of restaurants. It wasn’t your favorite occupation on the planet, far from it even, but once upon a time you resided in a place much similar to this city. It used to be home and that nostalgic feeling still lingers in present times.

Ghost’s driving switches from fast and exciting to gentle and mindful as he guides you through the streets, he knows the place unlike you, and there’s not an ounce of hesitancy as he traverses around. He pulls to a stop at the corner of a small boulevard heavy with a cluster of shops.

When he straightens and stretches you release your vice grip on his upper body and unclasp the helmet from your head before carding through your matted hair. Nighttime is the perfect time for you to be out and about among the general population, the dusk hides your distinct eyes well and you can easily blend in with a crowd if only you avoid sharp direct light.

The aroma of baking dough and freshly cut flowers mixes in your nostrils and once the helmet is off you sniff the air like a hound. Guided by your keen sense, your head snaps to the flower shop closing up some distance away from you. A tiny pizza place on wheels stationed right next to it.

“You like flowers, eh?”

Ghost’s orbs followed the direction of your gaze, finding the source of your attention in the colorful display of plants being ushered inside the glass-paneled shop. He secures the bike and gets off before removing his helmet and glancing at you in question.

“I don’t care for them.” Is your first blip of words before you’ve properly processed the question, then you add as you lazily blink at him. “But they smell nice.”

“Which ones smell the best?”

You tilt your chin at the handful of orchids stuffed inside a large vase and the Lieutenant takes a quick memory note. Maybe one day he might buy you some.

“C’me on.” He rears his nose at the pizza place, apparently just as starved as you for a hot slice after a day of rain and stiff fingers.

Soon enough, your hands are full and while steam is coming off the fresh food, beads of water are gathering over the non-alcoholic beer cans. You’re led to a small park with a fountain in the middle, the mix of stone and vegetation is welcoming and you take in the sight as you sit down on one of the benches. A part of you had forgotten what civilization looked like, it’s marvelous when in small doses.

“You like it?” There’s a pinch of something in his voice, a fond spark. He watches you wolf down the pizza with vigor before licking the grease off your lips and opening the beer cans. One is handed to him and he takes it with a simple “thanks”.

“Yes.” You nod curtly through your last mouthful before washing it all down with a few sips. You lean back into the bench with a sigh, satisfied and sated, and look up at the peaks of the towering buildings. “What I don’t understand is why you took me here.”

There’s a silence after your question slips out as Ghost mimics your posture, leans back, and rests one arm on the backrest of the bench as his other holds his beer on his knee. He follows your eyes, stares outward at the bustling city, and muses over his answer. The lights twinkle in his eyes, he slackens and his leather jacket squeaks and creases at the crooks of his elbows, then he lets loose a breath.

“Tryin’a court you, love.”

You hum at that and avert your snowy orbs to him, a small frown tugging at your lips before you take a swig from your can and clear the fizz out of your throat.

“Why?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs, takes a sip and the beer is thrice as bitter on his tongue now, it makes him grimace subtly and leave the can by his feet. “I like you. Want you to like me too.”

In a way, you pity him. Harboring affection for you is a dead-end to a doomed mission, but you were sure he knew this already and it was blinding emotion that drove him into having faith that something might change. You’d give him your heart if you could, he was a good man after all, but there was no heart to give. There was no spark to flourish, you were a void, as per design, and you couldn’t reciprocate even if you desperately wanted to.

“There’s no point to that.” You murmur and dust the crumbs off your lap with distinct displeasure, as if you’re trying to push away his advances.

“There often ain’t.” He scoffs at your remark, the sound deep and guttural with a twinge of hoarseness from the cold beer. He glances at you with a fond albeit bitter smile. You’re a golden comedian at times, should get a medal for your bluntness, but you aren’t wrong, never are and if he wasn’t plagued by the sting of rejection and apathy, he’d be irked. “You kissed me, gave me your name. Thought there was a chance you saw me differently than the rest.”

“I indulge you because your interest in me burdens you. My devotion to you as my Lieutenant and Squad mate is not the same as affection.”

Dry facts and an unbothered expression. One day he’ll grow tired of your indifference and finally let go of whatever obsession has possessed him, but until then he’s stuck fighting a losing battle. It’s a blow to his masculinity, how uncaring you are of him considering he’s gotten his fair share of lustful stares and wanton touches both at base and outside. But you also never outright reject him and so he’s kept in a never-ending loop of what-ifs, motivated by the little jewels of softness and tender moments you wind up sharing with him.

Still, sometimes, your straight-to-the-point demeanor catches him off guard and he responds with emotion before reason can take over. Now is no different.

“Bloody hell, Hound, you really know how to ruin a moment.” He gruffs and shifts in his seat. His resting hand hangs over your shoulder, his fingertips brushing against the cotton of your collar and relishing the heat emanating from your neck.

He’s stubborn, you’ll give him that.

And it’s a laughable thing, the situation you’re in. He could simply order you to sleep with him because he knows the extent of your loyalties and your denial of morals. However, that won’t be enough. He needs you to relent, wants you to crumble in his hands. It’s a rather dark scenario – pursuing you until you eventually tire and give in, but you’re no normal rabbit to make a hunt out of. Maybe that was why he was so devoted.

His hardest catch would be the biggest prize in his mind. The fool…

“The only thing I’ve ruined is your delusion.”

The temperature was low before, with the utter fall of night, it falls even more and you’re forced to move closer to him in order to preserve some heat. It’s a contradicting action to your words, and it’s what he lives for and you’re inclined to believe that this was his idea all along. Get you close because you have no choice despite your verbal refusal to his affections.

“Indulging, huh?” He sneers, you heart it heavy in his words as he looks down at you like you’re a dame in distress. He wraps his arm around you, pulls you tight against his side and you don’t gather enough zest to protest. “Keep indulging me then.”

After a long pause, you find your voice long enough to question his alluding taunt. If he thought you were tucked under his armpit out of your own volition, he was dead wrong. It was only natural in such cold weather, had nothing to do with you suddenly becoming reciprocating, and had no hidden meaning.

“Sir?”

“Kiss me.” He orders softly and curls his forefinger under your chin, tilting it up so you’re forced to lock eyes. “That’s an order.”

And like a good dog, you obey.

<<< Chapter 1

Chapter 3 >>>

Masterlist

[burningembers91]

Aches and Pains - Park Gyeong-Won x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Driving You Crazy

After Hours

Synopsis: When you offer your Physiotherapy services, Park Gyeong-Won is forced to face his feelings for you head on.

It was busier than normal in the gym today, the machines and weights occupied by patients. Park Gyeong-Won had been itching to exercise, a stressful shift leaving him on edge. He wanted to sweat out his frustrations, had been looking forward to putting his headphones in and blocking out the bullshit he’d had to endure from the other anaesthetists. He’d never seen it this busy before and for a moment he thought he’d have to actually use the membership he paid for and head to the gym across the street. But he didn’t want to go next door, he wanted to workout where you could see him. Ever since that night he’d seen you on the treadmill, he’d been finding it harder to get you out of his head. The attraction was now entirely undeniable, but Gyeong-Won had never been good with people, or words, and he was struggling with how to approach his feelings.

He was snappy with people, more withdrawn and he was finding it more difficult to talk to you. Now that he’d finally admitted to himself that he liked you, he felt more pressure to act a certain way around you. He suddenly became all too aware of how he sounded when he spoke to you, how his cheeks felt flushed whenever he saw you. He started taking a little longer to get ready in the mornings, spraying a little extra cologne before he left the house. He wasn’t sure he’d ever had a crush before, and it made Gyeong-Won feel ridiculous.

As he stood surveying the gym, half looking for a spare bench and half looking for you, he rubbed absentmindedly at the pain in his trapezius muscle. It had been bugging him for a few days now, but he’d been too busy to do anything about it. The niggling pain was started to make his neck feel stiff, but the idea of skipping a workout entirely was completely out of the question.

Spying a free bench, Gyeong-Won snapped it up before anyone else could, grabbing a few sets of weights before warming up. He spied you towards the back of the gym with one of your regular patients, working through a series of gentle shoulder exercises. You look beautiful today, your hair pulled back from your face, your makeup glowing, even under the fluorescent LED lights. You were smiling, encouraging your patient to give you one more repetition. Your eyes met, and Gyeong-Won felt the butterflies in his stomach start to dance. He was being ridiculous, acting like a teenage girl, but you had such a hold on him.

He tried to put you out of his mind, tried to focus on the workout, but he kept catching glimpses of you in the mirror. You were so beautiful, so kind and so compassionate when it came to your patients, and Gyeong-Won found himself unable to tear his eyes away.

The pain in his aching muscle was starting to get worse, hampering his ability to finish his sets. He only had a few more get through, so he’d push through and deal with the pain later.

“You look like you’re in pain.” Your voice behind him made him jump, twinging his already painful muscle even more.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled through gritted teeth, but the pain was starting to make his eyes water.

“Do you want me to take a look?” You’d seen him wincing his way through his workout, had noticed he wasn’t lifting as heavy as he normally did.

“It’s ok,” he said, but as he spoke another wave of pain hit him.

“Come on, step into my office,” you smiled. “I’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

Gyeong-Won followed you in, sitting down on the massage chair in the corner of your cozy office. The office smelled like you, faint hints of vanilla and fresh laundry and he committed this smell to memory. It was like a warm hug, one that he didn’t want to let go of.

You pulled the sleeve of his gym tank top aside, biting your lower lip as you took in the defined muscles of his upper back and shoulders. You pressed gently down on one of the muscles, feeling for a knot of any evidence of a trapped nerve. Your hands on his body felt good, the soft, your soft, warm skin caressing his aching body.

You found the problem, a small knot in his shoulder muscle, and began to gently massage it away. The sensation was exquisite, like every muscle in his shoulder was being wrapped up in warm, liquid silk. Gyeong-Won’s body tingled, his posture relaxing as you worked the pain away.

You felt the knot release, heard the satisfied sigh he emitted as his pain seeped away.

“All better,” you smiled, “just make sure to keep stretching, and go easy on those weights for a few days.”

Gyeong-Won couldn’t move, his body having responded to your touch in a way he wished it hadn’t. His erection was visible through his shorts, pushing against the thin fabric. He prayed you hadn’t noticed, scrunching his eyes up as he desperately tried to think of anything that would make his arousal less obvious. He thought of all the gruesome surgeries he’d been a part of, but nothing would quell the rising heat in the pit of his stomach.

“Are you ok?” You asked, noticing the pained look on his face, “are you still hurting?”

“No!” Gyeong-Won shot up, turning his body away from you to hide his arousal. “I’m fine! I… I have to go.”

He shot out of your office and down the hall, his face burning with embarrassment. He’d never felt so flustered before, so out of control of his own body.

You didn’t leave his mind for the rest of his shift, the feeling of your hands against his skin playing on repeat. That night, he replayed the memory of your touch again and again, pleasuring himself as he imagined your hands trailing down his body, picturing you pinned against his sheets as he fucked you.

You somehow never ceased to drive him crazy, whether it was through your bickering matches, or the feel of your hands against his skin. Gyeong-Won was hooked, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to hide his feelings.

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"I GOT YOU, SWEETHEART"

I wrote another smut fic with Tangerine ☺

I hope you like it! 🍊😌👍

WARNING: EXPLICIT SMUT UNDER THE CUT

Tangerine was there again.

Your father had gone on a business trip, from which he wouldn't be back for a couple of weeks, so he had asked his best friend to take care of you while he was gone.

You didn't need a babysitter, but when the man showed up at your door, it was impossible for you to refuse.

You didn't know what it was that captivated you first about him, whether it was his huge, beautiful blue eyes that watched you intently, his imposing height, or the mustache that rested on his upper lip, giving him an even more masculine appearance than he already had.

So the days passed, and with each one you felt like you couldn't take your eyes off him.

You knew it was wrong, but you couldn't help it, that man was too handsome for his own good.

Of course you wouldn't admit anything you were thinking in front of him. That day it was unbearably hot, so you went down to the kitchen to get a glass of cold water.

You walked past the garage, where you heard several metallic noises. Intrigued, you walked over to it and poked your head through the gap in the door.

You almost choked on your own saliva at the sight before you. The dark-haired man had decided that today was the perfect day to work out, so he was lying on the exercise bench, lifting weights.

He was wearing a white tank top, which didn't help matters any.

You knew you should leave, but for some reason you didn't.

You just watched the way his muscles contracted and relaxed every time he lifted the weights, sweat running down them. The gold chain around his neck jingled with each movement.

Then, unintentionally, the tip of your shoe collided with the door. You froze, praying that he hadn't heard it, but of course he did.

He stopped his movements and slowly stood up from the bench, resting his hands on his knees at the same time, making the veins in his arms tense.

You tried not to look at them too much, but he caught you red-handed.

-What’s wrong, honey? -he asked, his hoarse voice at the name making your toes curl inside the slippers you were wearing- Can I help you with something?

-God, why does everything he says have to sound so sexual?-you thought, before clearing your throat to answer him-

-No, I was just… w-passing by – you murmured making him smile- -We both know that's not true – he whispered softly – I've caught you watching me several times, darling – he explained-

-It's not true – you repeated, he stared at you-

-Your eyes say otherwise, and the way you're looking at my muscles doesn't help me change my mind – he said making you blush- My God, you're adorable – he laughed- every time you walk past the garage I see you poke your head in – he said- don't try to deny it, you always have a good excuse to justify it: going for food, picking up the dishes and so on – he explained- but the way you look at me gives you away, honey

-I don't know what you're talking about – you defended yourself-

-You're seducing me little by little, and you're not even realizing it – he laughed tilting his head for a moment, before focusing on you again- every time you come in here you're Those damn short shorts,” he growled, making you shiver from head to toe, “and you made sure to lean down far enough on purpose for him to look at you,” he whispered, “I may be bad at relationships, but I’m not immune to lust,” he said, looking for you with his eyes, “Princess, I know what that expression means,” he whispered, getting up from the bench and slowly approaching you.

You tried not to stare at his chest, since it was the only thing left at eye level with you. You swallowed nervously at the feeling of him being so close. His hoarse voice brought you out of your thoughts.

“Look at me,” he ordered slowly, and you obeyed, meeting his powerful blue eyes again. “Do you see how small you are compared to me?” -He whispered having to lower his head to look at you, you nodded slowly- okay, just keep looking at me, baby- he whispered gently- your eyes are telling me to fuck you- he said making you tremble under his gaze- Is that what you want?- he asked- You want your father's best friend to wrap you in his arms and take care of you, right?

You nodded again unable to say a word. He slid his strong hands down your back, before resting them on the small of your waist to bring you a little closer to him.

-You are my little girl now- he declared- and you will do exactly what I tell you. Have I made myself clear, princess? If so, I want you to nod like the good girl I know you are," he asked, and you nodded. "Good," he murmured in satisfaction. "So good for daddy." He laughed. "Turn around and place your hands on the bench."

You did so, you felt his powerful presence behind you and you wondered what his next move would be. You bit your lower lip when you felt his long fingers tighten pulling the elastic of the garment.

-These pants… -he murmured- this ass… -he added letting out a hoarse laugh- you really know how to seduce a man, don't you, honey? -he questioned between laughs- and now you're seducing your father's best friend -he whispered in your ear- you are a very, very bad girl

You felt his hand slip under the white top you were wearing to hold your breasts. His long fingers covered it completely in just a few seconds, enough for you to be a mess of moans when he squeezed your nipples with his thumbs.

-My God, so sensitive -he said while leaving kisses on your neck from behind before making you turn to rest his lips on yours-

He covered your mouth with delicacy and intensity in equal parts, until he separated in search of air and you took advantage to do the same.

-What does my little girl want from daddy? Mhmm? -he questioned, staring at you-

-Please… -you begged, making him smile-

-Use your words, darling –he ordered authoritatively-

-I want… I need… -you swallowed hard- I need your fingers inside me –you confessed, he smiled-

-How do you ask? –he scolded you, pinching your hip for a moment-

-Please –you gasped, feeling his fingers slip into your pants-

-See, princess? It wasn't that hard –he whispered as he slid them inside you-

A broken moan came out from between your lips, noticing how his fingers masterfully brushed your clitoris.

-Good girl –he murmured, stimulating you with his fingers- look how wet you are for me, fuck –he growled- oh baby, you needed this desperately, didn't you? I'm sorry you had to wait so long, you're clenching against my fingers, princess. Do you want daddy to continue? Do you want daddy to make his little girl cum?

-Yes! Please Tan, fuck me – you squealed holding onto his shoulders-

-Cum sweetheart, I got you – he whispered – be a good girl for daddy

That's what you did, you held onto his shoulders tightly as he held you against his chest, wondering how something you felt was wrong could feel so good

[sehtoast]

A Good Punishment is its Own Reward (Homelander x Reader Smut)

18+

Word count: 2k

Fic Directory

Summary: Homelander doesn't take too kindly to being smacked on the ass- in public, at least.

Warnings: Vaginal sex, oral sex, fingering, semi-public sex, getting weird with the web holes again, spit

Reader is written as a trans man but is kept gender neutral save for two or so gendered terms. Reader is written in the spirit of my spidersona oc

You knew not to tease.

After all, it was like dangling meat in front of a tiger that’d been starved. But, in the end, could you really complain? Once the aches had faded and he settled against you, could you really complain?

Not at all.

That’s why, as the meeting of The Seven adjourned and Homelander walked past, you took a quick swat at his ass.

The look he gave you sent a chill down your spine, tingling in your core. It wasn’t like you did it when the team would see.

“Hehe,” you chuckle. “Sorry babe, it’s just looking extra smackable today.”

He approaches you in a slow gait, hands behind his back, leather gloves creaking with the restraint he was so carefully exercising. Despite your own superpowered strength, he has you at his mercy in a fraction of a moment. A gloved hand gripping your neck, tilting your gaze up to meet his.

Those beautiful blue eyes that took you back to the clear, summer skies of your youth– that warmed you all the same.

“What, exactly, made you so bold today, hm?” John purrs, teeth bared as though he meant to threaten his prey.

You’ve nothing to say as his free hand snakes down the length of your spandex covered body, moving to press his palm against your heat.

“I could smell how fucking wet you were during the entire meeting…” Homelander murmurs in your ear, breath hot against your flesh as he blows on it. His hand remains at your neck, squeezing to punctuate his words. “Do I really work you up so much? You want me so badly that even corporate bullshit gets you soaked? So long as it’s coming out of my mouth?”

He relishes the way the emotive lenses of your mask mimic the way your eyes widen, though he finds it infinitely more delightful to utilize his x-ray vision to peer through to your reddened cheeks, the way you bite your lower lip in anticipation. You nod breathlessly, and he’s upon you immediately, tearing the mask from your head, tongue parting your lips, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit through your suit.

You moan into his mouth, hips bucking toward him for more.

“John…” you whine, and you feel his lips curl into a devilish grin.

He nibbles at your lip, and suddenly you’re being manhandled onto the conference table, his hands splaying across your upper body, thumbing at the spider emblem on your chest.

“I think you owe me, now…” He growls. “For taking without asking.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” You bite your lip, cunt clenching around nothing as his words settle deep in your core.

He stands expectantly, hands on his hips as he waits for you to pay what you owe.

Your hands are at his belt immediately, dropping the metallic article to the floor without care– for you’re far more invested in stripping his pants away. You slip your hand between the band of his red briefs, simply taking him in a hold for a moment as you wrap your arm around his neck to tug him in for a kiss.

Your tongues dance as you begin to stroke, his cock twitching in tandem with his little moans. It’s enough to drive you insane, but you’ll find your sanity once more when he’s had you in every way he wants– every way you want.

"You like that, don't you baby?" You whisper in his ear teasingly.

His hand is at your neck again, and your breath catches.

“Maybe we should put your mouth to good use,” he rasps, tongue darting out to lick the shell of your ear. “On your knees, little spider…”

You obey, hopping off the table to kneel before him as he shimmies his pants and underwear to his ankles.

“That’s it…” he groans as you grasp him, tongue darting out to swirl the bead of moisture from the head of his cock.

Your free hand strokes at his thigh, the softness of your touch mixing with the heat of your mouth as you take him in, dragging your tongue along the underside of his shaft as you swallow every inch of him. He hisses, and your pride swells.

As does your audacity.

You trail your hand along the curve of his ass, then swat it down in a sharp smack, gripping a handful of the soft flesh to knead.

Your hands are trapped in his grip in seconds, and a leather glove has you snatched by the hair, pulling your head impossibly closer until your nose is buried in the thatch of hair at the base of his cock and you’re gagging around him.

“Thought you’d be fucking cute with that, huh?” He snarls, hips snapping forward to fuck your throat. The hand in your hair jerks your head back and forth, using you to his heart’s content, groaning with each deep stroke.

“Gonna make you regret it,” he promises with a sly smile, ripping you off his cock to stare at him with your lidded eyes, drool dripping off your chin. “Look how fucking messy you are for me. Can’t get enough, can you?”

He grips his cock with the hand that previously held yours captive, and he smacks the length of it on your cheek, dragging it across your lips to paint your face with your own spit.

Your tongue darts out, desperate for his taste once more, but he pulls your head back, cock just out of reach of your wet muscle.

“Bad boys don’t get what they want. Only I get what I want.”

Suddenly, he’s dragging you up from where you knelt, hands seeking out the zippers to your suit– somehow patient enough to strip you properly. He took you in another kiss, strings of your saliva connecting you as you parted.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he commands.

So you do, and he’s using his grip in your hair to tilt your head back to spit in your mouth.

“Swallow it.”

You obey, gulping loudly, and the devious look on his face only becomes more wicked.

“Such a fucking slut,” he praises as he works your suit down your body. “Look how fucking wet you are.”

He’s right, too. As he pulls your underwear down, your arousal clings to your clothes.

You want to say something quippy, to tease him, but your thoughts melt away as his leather clad fingers swipe through your folds, dragging your wetness up to your engorged clit. Your head falls back, and he’s nibbling at your neck, licking and sucking marks onto you– claiming you.

“All for me,” he lilts, tongue dragging up the column of your neck. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you whimper, hands gripping in his hair, tongue painting your flesh like a brush on canvas. “Yours…”

As the word leaves your mouth, his fingers sink into you, curving right away to find that spot that drives you fucking wild. His fingers squelch each time he drags them out and slams them back in, fingerfucking you with delight as he watches how your face contorts in bliss.

“Johnny!” You cry out as the pressure builds, hips bucking to chase the sensation, almost there, almost–

“N-No!” You whimper as his fingers leave you, and he’s chuckling.

“Didn’t I tell you? Bad boys don’t get what they want.” He shoves you back to lay on the table, hands gripping your wrists to thumb at your spinnerets.

You yelp at the sensation, still infinitely grateful for his fascination with your previously undiscovered erogenous zone.

“Do you deserve to cum?” Homelander asks, leaning over you with predatory eyes and mussed hair. You swear you see a flash of red in his pupils as he licks the tip of one of his sharp teeth. “Do you deserve to have me fuck you?”

You nod furiously, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him in against his own strength.

“Please…”

He brings one of your wrists to his mouth, dipping the tip of his tongue into your widened spinneret, making you howl, your back arching as the sensation shot straight down to your cunt.

“I could take you apart so fucking easily,” he proclaims proudly. “I could have you any way I want.”

Homelander rocks his hips, sliding the length of his cock up and down your slit. You can see the way his control falters for a moment, pleasure clouding his focus. His brow furrows and his expression softens, and you seize your chance.

“C'mere…” You coo.

As he leans down, you nudge your forehead against his.

“I love you so much, y’know…” Your eyes shut, and you plead through your needy haze. “I need you, baby. I need to feel you in me."

Always so brittle when it comes to affirmations of love, Homelander presses a kiss to your forehead and grips himself, the head of his cock nudging at your sopping entrance.

"Mm," you hum, leaning up to kiss him properly. "Please, Johnny. Please take care of me…"

You can practically see the nickname push him over the edge, and he sinks inside in one push. You swear you can feel him throbbing between your walls, his little moans quivering in the air.

"Damnit," he groans as he bottoms out, gritting his teeth to stave off his release. As he takes a moment, you reach for his hands, slipping the gloves off, exposing him to the world.

To you.

He moves to lean over you, peering down with something utterly carnal in his eyes as he starts to move.

His thrusts start slow, mind still addled from your declaration of love. It always was the most perfect way to pull him back to earth.

You grip at his forearms, his hands grabbing you firmly by the waist as he lets loose, pace increasing by the second until he's driving into you like a madman.

"Fuck!" you hiss, your body jostling with every thrust. Your mind hazes, and you submit to however he wants to use you– pleased that you got what you wanted.

His grip leaves your waist, slender fingers wrapping around your throat, a palm over your mouth to quiet you.

He doesn’t quite know why he stifled your noises, only that the sick sense of control he got from it brought him to the brink. To know he could control you, down to even the sounds you made, was nothing short of fucking ecstacy.

“The only thing,” he pants, “I want to hear out of that fucking mouth is my name. Do you hear me?”

You nod, eager to please him. As he lets go, you make sure the first thing you do is moan his name into the air like a prayer.

“Mmm, fuck!” He pounds into you, fingers traveling down to toy with your clit. He spits on it, using his saliva as lube to glide across that tender bud, relief coming to him as you throw your head back.

“John, oh f– I’m gonna–”

You clench around him, vision tunneling as he keeps the pace with both his hips and fingers. You cry out, each breath spent on his name as you crest higher and higher, bliss overtaking every molecule of your body.

You feel him coming deep inside of you before anything else. Before the whimpers of your own name meet your ears, before his head falls down to rest in the crook of your neck as he ruts through the waves of his orgasm. He’s warm, his breath is hot, and the cock twitching and spurting inside you is delicious.

You come down from your haze first, and you take the time to press a kiss to the side of his head.

“Heh,” you breathe a laugh. “Maybe I should smack your ass more often…”

Despite his groan, you feel him smile against your neck. “Keep it up, and you’ll get much worse.”

You pull him impossibly closer, limbs wrapped around him as his body lays limp against you. Above, Homelander finally cracks, and a lighthearted laugh leaves him. His fingers card through your hair, and he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Babe, if that’s your threat, I’m gonna do it as soon as we stand up!”

He can hardly wait until you get the bright idea to spank him again.

[wowbright]

Anderson’s Guide to the Birds of North America, Chapter 3: Heat Wave

Summary: Fourteen scenes from the lives of Blaine Anderson, grad student and avid birder, and Kurt Hummel, clothing designer and Vogue writer, from before their first meeting during the COVID lockdowns of spring of 2020 through falling in love. Written for the Klaine Valentine’s Challenge 2025.

Both our boys appear in this chapter!

Chapter 3: Heat Wave (AO3)

The day was unseasonably warm for April. Rachel was calling it a heat wave. It wasn’t. It was only in the upper sixties, or maybe the lower seventies. But Rachel had kept the oven on all morning while baking, turning the kitchen and living room into a virtual furnace. Even with the windows open, the heat hadn't cleared out yet.

“It’s too hot to think straight!” she complained, throwing her script across the living room from where she lay on the couch, sprawled out dramatically like an overly corseted nineteenth-century young noblewomen who had only recently recovered from fainting on her divan.

“Don't think, then,” Kurt said impatiently. “Go outside. Put a fan in the window. Or go to your room and do your vocal exercises. It should be cooler in there.”

She perked up. “That's actually a great idea. Warmth is good for the vocal cords.” She shuffled off to her room and shut the door.

Thank goodness. Some peace and quiet. Yes, Rachel would soon begin her yodeling, but ever since they’d ordered acoustic panels for the walls of her room, it had become much easier to ignore.

Kurt set down his laptop, where he’d been outlining an article about COVID fashion for Vogue.com, and went to the refrigerator to pull out the extra slice of cheesecake from their takeout earlier that week. He crawled out of the window to enjoy it on the fire escape.

The street scenery was lacking compared to what it had been prior to lockdown. There were fewer people out walking: fewer fashion faux pas to analyze, fewer conversations to eavesdrop on, fewer harried workers rushing to and from the job. But there were also fewer cars, and that was nice. Kurt could smell the tiny white flowers breaking out on a nearby tree, a far better scent than car exhaust.

As for people, Kurt saw only one on the block below him. It was a guy, pleasantly compact and smartly dressed in pink chinos, a madras plaid shirt with turquoise bowtie, and coordinating pink-and-turquoise striped mask. He looked, Kurt thought, very gay—though it was harder to judge without seeing the face, and Rachel always warned Kurt that preppy straight guys often wore pink.

Now, Kurt noticed something else. The man had a pair of binoculars around his neck.

That didn’t seem particularly gay. It just seemed weird.

The man turned away, his back toward Kurt as he looked up the side of the building across from Kurt. Or maybe he was looking at the tree? Or the sky? Kurt couldn't tell, and he didn't care, because he was distracted by the excellent view he now had of the back of the guy’s chinos.

His ass filled it perfectly, like two freshly baked buns that sprung back when you touched their surface and melted in your mouth when you bit into them.

Oh, Kurt hoped this weirdo stranger was gay.

[adamvital]

What is Ankylosing Spondylitis and How Does It Impact Your Well-being?

Did you ever ask yourself why some individuals suffer from ongoing stiffness and pain in their lower back? Ankylosing spondylitis is an illness that mainly targets the spine and may affect mobility over time. It is an inflammatory disease that affects the joints within the spine, causing heightened stiffness, less flexibility, and eventual changes in posture. Although it is a chronic condition, early recognition and good management can enable a more active and pain-free life.

Understanding Ankylosing Spondylitis

Ankylosing spondylitis is a form of inflammatory arthritis that occurs primarily in the sacroiliac joints, where the lower spine and pelvis are joined together. Gradually, inflammation within these joints causes the vertebrae to fuse, limiting flexibility. Unlike other types of arthritis, ankylosing spondylitis involves younger adults more, typically occurring in late adolescence or early adulthood.

The condition is often linked to genetic causes, with the HLA-B27 gene being a major contributor. Although not all individuals with this gene develop the condition, having it raises susceptibility. Immune system reactions and environmental factors could be other contributing causes.

Identifying the Symptoms

Ankylosing spondylitis tends to begin with minor stiffness in the hips and lower back, which is usually worse in the morning or after rest. With time, some people will develop pain radiating to the upper part of the back, shoulders, and neck. Others may have mild fatigue and stiffness that gets better with activity.

As the condition advances, postural changes can take place, influencing how an individual walks or stands. The normal curve of the spine can eventually change, influencing movement and activities. Although each person's condition progresses differently, being responsive to these symptoms ensures early medical intervention.

The Importance of Early Diagnosis

An early diagnosis enables patients to make lifestyle changes that can facilitate mobility and comfort. Symptoms are determined by doctors using physical tests, imaging studies, and blood examinations that identify inflammation markers. Proper evaluation guarantees that patients get appropriate information according to their individual needs.

How Lifestyle Choices Can Make a Difference

Although ankylosing spondylitis is a chronic condition, there are some lifestyle changes that bring all around well-being. Regular exercise with gentle movements keeps the spine flexible and minimizes stiffness. Swimming and yoga are often suggested, as they are gentle forms of movement that do not overstrain the body.

Awareness of posture is another important factor. Maintaining good sitting and standing posture aids in spinal alignment and helps to minimize stress in the affected joint. Such little changes as employing supportive seating and keeping oneself upright help ensure long-term comfort.

Nutrition also aids in maintaining joint health. Eating a balanced diet of anti-inflammatory foods such as fruits, vegetables, and fats can aid general well-being. Staying well-hydrated and staying at an ideal weight also help with mobility and comfort.

Medical Approaches to Managing Ankylosing Spondylitis

Medical practitioners offer different solutions to enable individuals to cope with ankylosing spondylitis effectively. Treatments tend to address the inflammation and maintenance of spinal flexibility. Doctors may prescribe drugs that promote joint comfort and alleviate stiffness.

Physical therapy is also vital in maintaining posture and movement. Customized exercise regimens enable individuals to build muscle strength and improve mobility. Therapy sessions at regular intervals advise individuals on methods that suit their lifestyle requirements.

For those needing extra assistance, more advanced medical treatments can be used. These methods are used to maintain mobility and improve comfort, allowing patients to continue normal activities without issues.

The Role of Supportive Care

Aside from medical therapies, supportive care is also very important in treating ankylosing spondylitis. Participation in support groups and interaction with other people with the same condition gives a feeling of understanding and encouragement. Listening to others and learning from their experiences can offer a lot of ideas on alternative means of maintaining mobility.

Mental health is just as significant. Practicing relaxation methods, including meditation or breathing exercises, can assist one in coping with daily stressors. A healthy balance of physical and mental well-being guarantees a good attitude and an enjoyable way of life.

Conclusion

It is possible to live a healthy and productive life despite living with ankylosing spondylitis. With good treatment, one may still enjoy everyday activities without letting spinal health impair one's happiness. A proper approach with exercises, nutritious balanced diet, and medical consultation would help a patient live the active life of choice.

Adam Vital Hospital can deliver professional support to assist a person in dealing effectively with ankylosing spondylitis.

Adam Vital Hospital Garhoud, Dubai 800 AVH(284)

[dontnoticemelol]

Neteyam x Reader– Angsty Oneshot

Warnings: Mentions of death, does not follow the movie's plot. Majority of this is angst with a sprinkle of fluff only✨.

Word Count : 7, 8k words, oops

____________________________________

He had never liked the future awaiting him. From his childhood, he knew exactly what was expected of him in the near future : three simple things.

Become Olo'eyktan, lead the village– these, he had come to terms with. As long as it made his family happy, he was also happy to go along with it.

The third and final however, warranted quite the opposite reaction from him. Finding a mate.

It was not in his interests to settle down and build a family. Since, he had basically sworn his life to serving as a warrior in his village. He often felt as though it was his whole life, his only identity. A sad identity, at that.

On that fateful night he stood guard, not far out the village. Although his body wanted to plunge into a deep slumber, he stayed put unwilling to let it overcome him.

He adjusted his given rifle, the cold metal brushed up against his chest. His hands firmly held the gun and his finger hovered over the trigger, instinctively.

Tense shoulders slightly bobbing up and down, following his breathing pace. He rolled them backwards, neck tilting to the right to relieve the ever-growing tension.

The dark forest was unusually silent– too silent, the exact words he had previously radioed over to his father. His concerns were brushed over by Jake, who accused him of lying to abandon his post.

Even the animals within a radius could not be heard. Not. One. Sound.

Suddenly, a rustling of leaves alerted him. He charged into the appropriate stance and aimed his gun at the bush. With squinted focused eyes, his heart beat picked up its pace.

His face frowned as a drop of sweat was pulled by gravity. It slid in between his eyebrows and kept going. Seconds passed, until, the source sprung out of the foliage in one swift movement.

An arrowdeer– a harmless arrowdeer. A sigh of relief left his lips and he eased up, braids swaying about when he retracted from the stance.

The animal's glossy orbs stared him down and he stared back. With his upper lip curled in annoyance from the false alarm. Strangely enough he thought it was mocking him, but his thoughts were rationalized upon thinking of how exhausted he was.

It blinked and slowly turned its head to the forestry, before trotting away. He had to admit– he was slowly succumbing to the nerves. Whether it was the deafening silence or the humans threatening to ambush at any moment. It was making him skittish.

His lips pursed and his chest rose up and down in slow deep breaths. A calming exercise to convince himself that nothing bad would come of tonight.

What he didn't know, was that in the same moment his fellow warriors lay unconscious on the ground. All with fresh wounds of impact on the back of their heads.

You silently treaded closer behind the guard. At once, the barrel of your gun struck his head. You moved quickly to catch him and prevent him from hitting the floor. This was the last of them– the twelve guards positioned around the village.

You got out of your crouch, after lowering him to the ground. Inspecting your good work, you saw his braids splayed out around his head.

You breathed in a shallow pace with your arms by your sides. Unfortunately, the gun accidentally touched your black cargo pants. This action left a trace of blood behind. 'Bummer' You thought to yourself. You actually liked these pants.

You made your way over to recheck the guard points, your gun now tucked deeply into your holster. This mission was proving to be easier than you had expected it to be.

You took large strides around the dark forest with a confused expression, recalling the information from the briefing.

They had informed you of the natives' otherworldly senses and fighting skills– yet, you had knocked out the entire guard team. Their "otherworldly" senses had not once picked up your dangerous presence.

His ears twitched when they caught the approaching footsteps. Only, they sounded loud enough to be one of his own kind. Yet, soft enough to ensure that he wouldn't be aware as they advanced towards him.

He thought he was surely paranoid– it could have only been another warrior coming to take over the next shift. Or it could have been his father.

He shifted slightly with the intention to turn around, half-expecting Jake. Perhaps trying to teaching him a lesson on using his senses to his best ability.

"Don't move." The voice pulsated throughout his eardrums, stopping him in his tracks.

'A female voice?' He thought himself. He felt a gun's muzzle touch the back of his head, alerting him of the inevitable danger he was in.

He swallowed hard but to no avail, his throat becoming dry shortly after. He had to make sure not to panic– or this would end badly.

Behind him, her breath and hands were both shaky. She had to improvise with her mission now ruined. Taking a life was something she had never done before, so she silently wished it wouldn't have to come down to that.

With his assault rifle still in hand, he thought of a plan. A risky plan— but a plan nevertheless. He moved as slowly as he could almost at a tortoise's pace. Completely unbeknownst to the female.

Your hands secured tightly around the gun and your frantic eyes took in as many features of him, as they could. That's when you noticed the beads on one of his braids. You thought back to the images shown during the briefing. The target displayed the very same beads– toruk makto's son.

'Improvise' The colonel's voice rang through your mind. 'If a mission does not go as planned– you improvise.'

This actually made your job easier because the target was brought straight to you, but still, the mission had gone wrong. The original plan wouldn't work anymore. Therefore, you had to improvise.

"Drop your weapon, and put your hands up!" You ordered harshly. The last thing you needed was his loud rifle alerting the rest of the clan.

His head turned slightly to the left and he got a small glance at your face. His features were visibly defiant, you thought perhaps he was contemplating. However, he obliged fairly quickly to your command and looked back in front.

The gun fell to the forest floor with a small thud, no more than a few centimeters from his feet. His arms raised slowly next to his head.

With your target now defenseless, you moved closer. Gun still pointed at him, you reached into the belt bag with your left hand. The sedative came out with no resistance and you pushed the cap off with your thumb.

You took note of his ears twitching insistently in the midst of lowering your hand. Before you could jab the needle into his neck, he turned around earning a gasp of surprise from you.

Your left arm was yanked towards the ground by his right one. You fired the silenced gun in your right hand. A muffled gun shot sounded, aimed at his chest. He hissed at the sound which clearly caused his eardrums pain.

Your eyes widened when you realised he dodged it, as he came to stand behind you. Your left arm was pulled behind your back and painfully twisted. You thought of firing again, but obviously, he also knew you would try this.

A small yelp escaped your lips when he punched the gun out of your hand, injuring your wrist in the process.

A deep groan of pain left your throat as both arms were subdued behind your back, twisted by his strong hands. A sore, stinging sensation coursed through your shoulders. You were almost certain your left shoulder was dislocated, but the pain wasn't harsh due to the overwhelming adrenaline.

Without a moment to catch your breath, his knee collided with your lower back and you fell to the floor. amount of pain. Your lip was bruised upon impact with the ground and the metallic scent filled your nostrils.

Your fast heartbeat sounded throughout your ears. His breathy pants reached your ears as he moved around you, also tired from this encounter.

You squirmed in pain when your upper body was lifted by your arms. Your wrists forced together over your lower back.

You were in shock. He was all but too good in combat, even better than most of your colleagues. Your wrists came into contact with a rough texture. You figured it was rope of some kind, once he started twisting it around your bruised joints.

Face contorting in discomfort as your shoulders pulled backwards more. He worked fast, but apprehensively and not quite rough once he noticed the amount of pain you were in. You found yourself in a rare predicament– captured by the one you had been sent to abduct.

Out of the corner of your eye, the guns lay atop the dirt– mocking you. You huffed in mild annoyance. The grip of the rope tightened as he finished tying a tight knot.

Suddenly, you felt a sharp prick on your arm, your eyebrows raised in alarm. You recognized this as the same sedative you were going to give him. Your body began feeling limp, dark swirls filling your eyesight and thought process turning muddy.

You saw his presence crouching down next to you through your eyelashes. He was inspecting you and assessing the effect of the liquid. His head tilted to one side slowly.

Your eyelids became heavy. They fought with all their might to stay open, but alas, they couldn't hold any longer.

A high-pitched beep attacked your sensitive ears, followed by a short static. "Sir, we have a problem." His voice reached your ears. Eventually turning into an incoherent speech as it too, faded into the darkness.

As you came to, your eyes slowly fluttered. Struggling in a fight against exhaustion and gravity. A sliver of light burned your retinas, passing through the barely open eyelids. Senses came back into focus, your hearing was graced by a smooth hum. Lulling you back to sleep and covering you as a shield of comfort.

'Am I dead?' You thought. Expecting a response, but what you only got from yourself was silence. Your mind was simply too tired to deliver your inside voice.

Next, came your sense of touch and feeling. Arms laid peacefully over your stomach, you felt a cold sensation around your wrists that extended towards your slightly exposed belly. Your nostrils flared impulsively after picking up a scent of herbs and spices. Although it wasn't the time, the aromas reminded you of food, making you feel hungry.

Barely audible crunching filled your left ear. Sounding in a tedious rhythm of 'on then off' . It wasn't like something being chewed. More like... gravel being crushed under boots.

A small sting passed over your left shoulder, you jolted upwards slightly at the uncomfortable sensation. The humming seemed to be moving around from behind you.

Confusion filled you. 'What happened? Where am I? How did I get here? ' This was the final nail in the coffin that tempted you to open your eyes.

You scrunched your face in the process of peeling your eyelids open, the muscles stung. Possibly indicating that you had been out for a while. At first– yellow blinding light was all you saw.

As a few seconds went by the light was replaced with blurry colours of dark red, brown and deep orange. With squinted eyes, your eyebrows raised upward, as if to dial the focus into your eyeballs.

A small groan of mild pain left your mouth once your eyes slowly focused.

'How long was I out?'

Fabric hung far over your head, held up by a large log. Your neck turned slowly to the right, a plethora of pots and baskets filled to the brim with herbs. 'Well that accounts for the smell.' The same fabric stretched from the ground to the log which you had previously seen.

You turned your gaze down your body and noticed the rug laid under you, intricately woven with arrays of warm toned colours. You looked past your chest moving up and down, and saw chains around your wrists. A small glint of light reflected into your eyes as they continued trailing ahead of your body.

There was an opening in the tent. Outside, soft sunlight glazed over the ground and casted tree shadows onto the tent's fabric. Unfortunately, you couldn't see more in the position you were in.

You turned your head to the left. Of course, as you had expected more pots came into view. What was unexpected, however– was the na'vi crouched with a mortar in hand, grinding something with a pestle. Their dark red coat moving about on each minor movement.

'The mission...' You thought, as the memories came rushing back to you. Remembering the instructions, the target, knocking out the guards, the mission going wrong, until finally– the sedative jabbed into your arm.

They must have heard your moment of panic because their movement stopped and they turned to you. She eyed you for mere seconds before she stood up, and came to kneel down next to you.

Your body tried to move away on instinct, from uncertainty of their character. Your eyes a tad wider than usual. Their observant eyes followed you.

"I see you are awake... And confused?" She spoke up, her voice laced with a sense of care yet, refined.

You stared at her, until it clicked that she was waiting for a response. You gave a small nod. It only seemed like the safer option in this situation.

"I am Mo'at, healer of this clan—" Her words were filled with grace and knowledge of her importance. Unsure of what to reply with, you nodded again. "You were brought to my tent during the night, with a broken shoulder. I healed you." She said, relishing in her good work.

Another memory came to mind. The moment your face was pushed towards the ground and the most excruciating pain you've ever felt engulfed your shoulder.

With a scratchy throat, you managed to push out barely audible words, "Thank you." You swallowed hard after.

You moved your arms to your lap and were reminded of the strong chain trapping your painful joints.

She looked at you in silence, then replied with a firm nod. You watched her, thinking she would address the attack you had carried out the previous night. Not another word came from her mouth though, instead she stood up and exited the tent. Leaving you with furrowed brows and confusion written over your face.

Her voice was slightly incoherent from outside, but you could have sworn you heard her call out the name 'Jake'. You didn't worry about it, preferring to relax your exhausted mind.

'Why did she help me? Surely she knows about what happened...' Your eyes closed slowly, tiredness pulling you back into the dreamworld.

Minutes later, the tent's fabric was thrown to the side in an aggressive manner. The sound it made alerted you and your eyes flew open. Walking in, was Jake Sully.

Panic overrode you. You knew of his disdain for the RDA and as luck goes— you happened to be one of them. To make matters worse, you also attacked his son. You sat up, ignoring the stinging and reached for something. Anything to get the upper hand on him. Your fast assassin instincts came in handy when your body lurched upwards with a high velocity.

You got into an attack stance with a sharp stick in hand as he walked closer. 'Why on earth, would they leave a sharp stick right next to me.' You thought to yourself.

His face was etched with a mixture of seriousness and hardness. He slowly raised his arms, his hands flat in the air facing your form. "Hey, woah!" He called out calmly, but loudly. "There's no need for that." His eyebrows raised up.

In response, you ignored his small protest. Unwilling to let your guard down. You face was complemented with ferociousness and downcast eyebrows with pursed lips. The stick shook in your weak hand, afterall you were still weak from being unconscious for... however long.

He took an apprehensive small step closer, knees slightly bent to reach your eye level. "Look— I'm not gonna hurt you." He held his calm exterior, as opposed to your noticeable panic. Your stance had turned sloppy, sure to be ineffective if he were to attack . Your wobbly legs shook like jello.

Your breathing got more riled up with slight dizziness and nausea clouding your senses. "I'm not an idiot! I know you will attack as soon as I drop this stick! " You spit back. Holding the weapon as if your life depended on it. Well, technically– it did.

You heard him let out a small frustrated sigh, "I won't. I promise." He placed his palm over his chest.

"No! You're lying. I attacked your guards and your son." You shook your head denyingly. Your eyes felt as though they were going to pop out of your skull from how wide they were. Too cautious to blink, they were increasingly turning more bloodshot by the second.

He took another small step. At this, you jabbed the stick into the air. Aimed at nothing in particular, more as a warning. Or as you had hoped–a telling threat that you were not playing around.

"I know what you did, but– I just wanna talk." He countered, tilting his head a bit.

You didn't know what you were thinking, but in your ears it sounded like a true statement. You lowered the stick and stepped back to stand up straight. It remained enclosed in your hand though, just as a safety measure. He stood back to his full height as well, looking intimidating and determined.

He huffed loudly, "Okay, now that the situation has been deescalated. Who are you?" He stared dead straight at you.

Silence. You weren't in the mood to face the repercussions of giving away vital information.

He glanced to the side for a brief moment, annoyance visible. "You know, this is gonna go a lot faster if you actually cooperate– " He remarked and crossed his arms. You looked challengingly ahead at him. "So, I'll ask again. Who the hell are you?"

You contemplated, but gave in. "My name is Y/N L/N, I'm from the RDA." You practically forced the words out of your throat.

He nodded before speaking, "Okay. See, now we're getting somewhere." You twisted the stick in your hand. "Why did you attack us last night?" He continued. You knew this question was coming. Furthermore, you also knew if you revealed the RDA's master plan– they would torture you until you died.

"I can't tell you that. It's classified." You kept your voice as hard as you could and your face as cold. Not keen on getting your face read. A deep fear resonated inside you for the organization you were forced to work for.

He sighed. "Fine. At least tell me if there were more of you last night. Is it possible they're already looking for you?"

You thought for a second. As protocol, if an agent didn't check in after a mission, they are assumed as dead or captured. In such a case, if a report of their livelihood is known then a special team is sent out to assassinate them. A precaution taken to stop the spread of crucial information.

You shifted uncomfortably on your heels, an action surely not missed by Jake. "No. It was only me last night." You blurted out, and looked to the side. "I'm not too sure about today though. Another team could've been sent here already." You looked back ahead.

He nodded, about to open his mouth to say something. "So— am I free to go?" You interjected, unsure of their future plans with you. Kill you? Keep you locked up for more information? You didn't have a clue and it was killing you inside.

He had an 'are you serious' face as he debating on whether or not you were joking. "No. Not until you tell me why you were going to sedate Neteyam." He pestered on, motioning with his hands.

You brought you palm up to your forehead, already tired of this interrogation. "I already told you, I can't. It's— " You let out in exasperation and threw your arms in the air.

"Classified. Yeah, I heard you loud and clear the first damn time." He sneered and lodged his arms on his hips. "Better get used to being in this village then."

He was about say something else, but was interrupted by another voice. One which you oddly recognised. Which, made no sense to you.

"Sir!" They called out. You both looked towards the opening in search of the voice. The light reached inside as the fabric was thrown to the side. In walked your target with confident strides.

He frowned at you before continuing his speech, you could sworn a look of curiosity was in his eyes. You turned your sight downwards.

"There's a disturbance at the East guard post. It could be a serious threat– I'm not sure." He blurted out as he panted softly. Indicating that he was out of breath. Most likely from running, you guessed.

Jake nodded at his son. "Okay, I'll go check it out." He turned around and spared a look of distrust towards you. "Make sure she doesn't escape."

You crossed your arms over your chest at this statement. Neteyam glanced at you then back at his father, "Yes sir."

At that, he walked out in a hurried pace. The fabric sent a slight breeze your way.

It was now the two of you left alone. As expected, an awkwardness fell. You stared at him with squinted eyes and he did the same. With different intentions though, since— he was studying you. Trying to see under your false layer of fearlessness. His expression of scrutiny made a cold chill run down your spine in a tingly motion.

A bead of sweat fell down your forehead as you felt judged under his gaze. You had found Jake Sully to be intimidating, but Neteyam was intimidating on a whole other level.

Tired of his watchful gaze, you cleared your throat and looked away. "Are you... going to stare at me this whole time?" You looked back up and raised one eyebrow. All he did was stay silent.

Relief filled your senses when you finally, got a reaction out of him. Only– it wasn't one you had expected.

He chuckled softly. "I'm trying to see under your fake exterior." He taunted you. "You're obviously scared. I can tell since your hands are shaking and your forehead is sweating." He took a step forward.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You challenged back. Closing in on the distance in between, you also took a step forward.

The sound of him sucking air through his teeth made its way to your ears. "Sure you don't." He replied with complete sarcasm.

Your teeth clenched together in anger. Mostly from... being captured— but also his extensive reading of you. His eyes flicked over your face with the ghost of a smirk tracing over his lips. You knew he was aware about the fact that his assessment on you, was correct.

He took a few steps around the tent and stopped infront of some pots or jars- you weren't quite sure what to call them. He reached for some herbs, and grabbed the mortar and pestle.

You watched him in anticipation over what he was doing. A wave of dizziness caught up to you again. You neared the rug and lowered yourself down, your now adrenaline-dry body getting the best of you.

Your arms wrapped around your knees and you buried your face in them after. The stick now discarded on the floor.

A slow grinding sound began flooding into your ears. Your eyes were closing slowly, about to drift you off to sleep.

"Why exactly were you planning to kidnap me?" He asked daringly.

You took your head out from your knees, eyes instantly snapping towards him . He sat not far from you, which you found odd. You had tried to abduct him just the previous night. Yet, here he was acting all nonchalant as though you were acquaintances.

Your eyes wandered over him as he calmly ground up the herbs. His signature braids swaying about– just as they did, the previous night. You were sure his braids had a mind of their own, always moving elegantly and... enticingly?

The gravel-like sound stopped when he peeked up at you. "Did you not hear me?" His voice took you out of a trance you weren't aware of.

You thought back to the question. "I can't tell you. " You stated simply. His acknowledgement was a small tut, barely loud enough to spot. The gravel sound picked up again.

You returned to your protective position, but a thought was still lingering in your mind. It itched to make itself known. "What's going happen to me?" You asked. He stopped again and looked up at you. "Am I about to be killed?" You sighed in mild frustration at the level of vulnerability you had displayed to him.

His eyes showed a tinge of pity, it carefully peeled out from under his cold demeanor. "No." All at once, it vanished. Quickly replaced by the usual coldness. He turned his attention back to the grinding and added in some liquid. 

Your eyes stared him over, studying his hardworking figure. You were left confused at the pity he had shown you and the swift change he exihibited.

"They'll torture me if I tell you any more information." He ignored your statement. "I didn't want to do any of this— I was forced to work for them." You said with glossy eyes. He looked up at you and kept his thoughts hidden, but his face displayed some sympathy. That, he couldn't keep hidden.

You turned your head towards the outside when you heard two voices approaching. The flap opened with such fierceness and speed that you couldn't stop the chill that ran down your spine. In walked Neytiri and Jake.

She glared at you with a hard intensity. If this was a cartoon, she would have been boiling red with steam escaping her ears. "How dare you!" She lunged at you.

Jake's hand immediately pulled her arm and held her back. Neteyam carefully watched the scene as it unfolded. Your reaction not only shocked him– but it shocked you as well when you recoiled back in fear. This was the first time you felt unprecedented fear since you had been apprehended. Out of all the Na'vi you had encountered, Neytiri was the most threatening of all.

Of course, back at the base you had read her profile and learnt of her disdain towards humans. In your opinion it was completely justified, but being on the receiving end of it was spine-chilling.

"Neytiri, calm down. We won't get any info outta her if she's dead." Jake's hands wrapped comfortingly around her own pair.

A few tears fell from her eyes. Neteyam looked worringly at his mother. He had never seen her this emotional– her usually brave personality had chipped away leaving behind the rage and hurt of a mother.

You felt strange inside. Though, you weren't sure what the feeling was. Guilt? Remorse? Empathy? You figured it was all three nestling deeply inside your heart. Amongst all the people you had hurt, this was the only time you had felt these emotions.

"Maybe you should go lay down– cool off a bit." Jake guided his mate out of the tent with an arm around her shoulders. "I'll come tell you once..." His voice faded as they furthered.

Your hand flew to your chest to bestill your pounding heart. It didn't go unnoticed by Neteyam. Tears stinged the corners of your eyes as the emotions threatened to emerge.

He wanted to say something but he stopped himself. Why should he care whether you're crying? Afterall, you had tried to abduct him— and you were part of the RDA. Essentially, their mortal enemies. Still, he felt conflicted after what you had confessed to him. It's not like you had a choice– it was kill or be killed for you.

The toruk makto returned shortly after. He informed you about what was to happen to you. You would stay with the na'vi, under two conditions– you would inform them of everything you knew about the RDA and not hurt anyone else. Otherwise, your life would be taken, wasted as just another "bad guy" who got what they deserved.

This was a no brainer. On one hand, you were terrified of what the RDA would do to you once they knew of your loyalty shift. However, this was the best opportunity to finally be able to leave the organization.

Besides, you knew that a team would be sent after you anyways. So, why not?

You had felt no guilt about this job, yet a part of you still knew that it was wrong. You were like a puppet always following orders. Unable to make decisions as your own being.

A chance to escape had never once presented itself to you, but this— this was it.

—Few Months Later—

"How about this one?" His voice pierced through the silent night's air. You smiled back at him.

"Yeah, it looks good. It's beautiful..." You looked at him tenderly. You tried to seem focused, but he could sense your facade. The flower returned to its natural position when he let go of it.

He sighed softly and came closer. "I can feel your sadness. A perk of being mates– remember?" He teased you slightly and smiled.

His arms instinctively came to rest around your waist. Your fake display fell immediately, "What if something goes wrong at tomorrow's ceremony?"

"Like what?" His eyes glossed over your face. Solicitude splayed out on his features.

"What if they ambush us or something?" You replied as you shrugged defeatedly.

His soft hand caressed your cheek reassuringly. "That won't happen. But, if does– I know you will kick their asses."

You snickered at his humour. Despite the worst of situations, your mate always found a way to make it much better.

There was something bothering you though. 'What are they waiting for?' Certainly, they had sent agents to spy on you. So, the question at hand— why had they not assassinated you yet? You did your best to subside your anxiety and buried the thoughts in the depths of your mind.

You pushed yourself up and pecked his lips softly. To which, he returned the endearing action. Your hands became soft touches on his shoulder and torso.

"I love you." His soft breath fanned over your lips.

"I love you too, Neteyam."

Not in your wildest dreams did you predict this of ever happening— falling in love with an alien and one you had once tried to abduct. He also never predicted this of happening.

—Flashback—

The clan had given you a second chance, to learn their ways, to love like one of them, and to become one of them.

Your initial reaction to this was bewilderment. Why would they give you a second chance after hurting so many of their brethren on that night? Nevertheless though, you had no choice but to do this.

The first few weeks were full of hardship, adjusting to this new lifestyle was not easy. Everything was different: the food, the societal expectations, and the people. Most especially– the people. The looks they gave you were full of judgment and wariness.

It didn't take a genius to see that. You were used to noticing all of it, until one day they faded into the background. Long forgotten and replaced with your new interest. Beforehand, one of the clan's warriors had been assigned to show you their ways, and accompany you to the forest. But, on that day she had an emergency to attend to– so, Neytiri and Jake were forced to find another.

Only problem being, no other clan members had volunteered, they were far too afraid to even come near you. All but one— their son. Against Neytiri's better judgement, he offered to do it. Initially, Jake was also adamant on Neytiri's opinion. However, his hand was forced by his son's reassuring that nothing would go wrong.

You were shocked when he told you that he would be the one helping you that day.

Henceforth, there you were, walking alongside Neteyam in a drawn-out silence on the forest pathway. You couldn't quite make out what emotion was etched onto his face this time.

He wasn't sure why he had even offered to do it. It felt like a gut feeling that wouldn't go away, he felt compelled to talk to you. Regardless of your previous failed attempt to attack him.

The day was going quite smoothly. The sun's rays shined brightly over the trees, some managing to spill onto the grass. The lesson for that day was hunting, one of his specialities. Your first few tries at the bow were pathetic to say the least. It was seeming to be futile, accompanied by your frustrated sighs that you unconsciously released each time.

He could feel the annoyance radiating off you, so, he suggested you took a break. With this, a conversation about the art of firing an arrow began. Slowly it delved into other topics, such as your childhoods and what your personalities were truly like. Each speaking with lingering curiosity about the other.

"You know, you're not that bad actually." He chuckled after. You stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to say.

You scoffed softly, "Aside from the fact I was literally an assassin?" You shook your head slightly. "I've done horrible things to a lot of people, Neteyam." The grass beneath you tickled the undersides of your thighs.

He responded with a faint 'hm'. Seconds later, he spoke. "I know but, it was against your will and you have been given a second chance."

You stared down at your lap in shame of your previous actions. "At first, my parents were planning on keeping you locked up." At this reveal, you looked up at him with wide eyes.

He nodded and continued, "Yeah, but I managed to convince them not to. I told them the truth— that you were forced into the organization."

You huffed quietly in disbelief. He helped you.

"I..." You tried to speak but was at a loss for words. A sigh came out followed by words of pure gratefulness. "Thank you."

As the day came to an end, you successfully hit the target courtesy to his useful advice. Your chest was filled with rejoice, such was his. Not only had you learned how to use a bow, but also the fact that you enjoyed each other's company.

The walk back wasn't a stranger to a conversation either.

Something you would never forget was the look of utter disbelief on his parents' faces. He had asked for permission to fully take over and show you their ways.

This time they argued back, reminding him of what you intended to do to him. "Neteyam, she is dangerous!"His mother's voice shouted authoritatively.

She shook her head in an angry manner. "Son, why would you even want to be near her?" Jake asked him confused, but with a less angry tone than Neytiri.

Though— Neteyam held on strong. He was very persuasive and made up a silly excuse of how he had better knowledge of the forest. It was true, but it didn't come from a place of wanting to help.

He wanted to get to know you better, he almost felt intrigued by you. You weren't any better either and shared the same sentiment.

You could only stand near them awkwardly as they argued back and forth. Unsure of what to do in that situation.

Alas, with his persistence they came to somewhat of an agreement. He would help you navigate the na'vi lifestyle, but you had to swear that you wouldn't hurt him in any way.

Over the next few weeks, you enjoyed each other's company, delightfully indulging in deep conversations. You also learnt many things about the way of the forest.

Whilst your guide was patrolling and performing other tasks expected of him, you got busy with other business. You would learn about herbs and healing remedies with Mo'at in her tent. It was beautiful how their remedies of herbs were able to fix such dire injuries. A change of heart began taking place within you. Your assassin nature was still present, but you now saw the beauty in the foliage and animals– and the beauty of life on Pandora.

He found it interesting talking to someone who was technically an outsider. It felt new, refreshing— exciting, and hearing about your stories on Earth peaked his interest. Soon enough, talking to you became the highlight of his day after he finished his patrolling.

On one particular night, you laid next each other staring at the stars. Your conversations were light, simply enjoying each other's presence. It was a beautiful night and as you took his features you saw the beauty in them. His personality also being as lovable as his exterior.

You were dangerous— he knew this all too well. Yet, he was attracted to it. It brought a certain thrill he had never felt before.

The conversations brought forth a blossoming friendship that continued to grow, as the weeks went on. A few sparks of requited romance lay hidden beneath said friendship.

The clan's attitude towards you changed quite drastically. Most of them eased up as they saw your dedication to becoming one of them. More so, as they began seeing your empathy for others make an appearance and develop.

This helped greatly in speaking to them and forming friendships. You spoke to Neteyam's siblings on a regular basis, finding solace in their fun speeches and jokes. With you and Kiri even becoming close friends, during the occasions of spending the day in Mo'at's tent.

His parents mostly remained wary of you. Though, you couldn't blame them. You were glad that Neytiri's grudge against you dissipated overtime, but she still kept her cold shoulder. Jake would greet you when he saw you walking about, since he understood your situation with the RDA. He wasn't as cold as his mate, however. Perhaps because he was once human too.

Thankfully, they learned to trust you overtime. Evident as you were sometimes invited over for supper sometimes. You were beginning to feel comfortable in this clan as one of them.

Time seemed to pass quickly and before you knew it, you and Neteyam stood before one another confessing your love. Your unbridled love for each other was full of tenderness and understanding. There was this... unspoken connection.

It only amplified on the night your souls became intertwined together. Under beautiful trees of purples and pinks, glistening in the light of bioluminescent insects. The air was chilly, yet full of love that overpowered all senses.

—End of Flashback—

The day was finally here, you were nervous to say the least. A ceremony was being held to officially welcome Neteyam and you as mates. It was a tradition for all na'vi who would become the future Olo'eyktan and Tsa'hik.

The revealing part of your bodies were painted in stripes of white and black. You remember Mo'at telling you that it signified something important. You just couldn't remember her exact words.

Wanting a moment to yourself to gather your thoughts, you told him to go ahead and you'd follow. He left shortly after a loving hug and kiss.

Your nerves were rising by the second but you did your best to calm them. You sat in your shared tent, astonished with the amount of change which had taken place in only a few months.

Your old life almost forgotten, except for the lingering fear that they would capture you again. Fortunately, you mate's previously spoken words sounded in your head 'That won't happen–'

And so, you sauntered on. You were met with different expressions, some excited and curious, a few were indifferent as they looked at you.

However, you cared not as you had built a resilience to the judgement. The clearing was adorned with green grass and vibrant trees that provided shade. There were flowers decorating the ground in many colours.

You locked your arm over his and together, made your way to the center of the gathering. You looked over at Neteyam' s family. His siblings waved and smiled at you. Their loud cheers made it apparent they were  happy for their older brother.

Neytiri and Jake on the other hand were smiling, but not too ecstatic. They didn't exactly flat out deny your relationship, but they also weren't the happiest about their son's choice for a mate. Still– it was his life, therefore they did their best to support his decision.

You both turned to face each other, a slight blush was on his face accompanied by a shy smile. He knew you'd tease him later as soon as he saw your sly smirk and teasing gaze.

Your hands were holding onto each other's as watchful eyes stared at the two of you in anticipation. With the bowl in your hand, you scooped up a bit of black paste and smeared it over his cheek. He did the same with his own paste.

The ritual was almost complete, all that was left was for him to smear it over your forehead. His hand reached into his bowl and raised up towards your head. You shut your eyes as true joy bubbled inside of you.

Before he could make contact with your skin, he gasped suddenly with hitched breathing. You opened your eyes in confusion. Nothing could have prepared you for what you saw.

The dark red liquid seeped out of his mouth as he slowly looked down. You mirrored his action and followed his gaze to his lower abomen. He removed his hand from his skin and underneath was a patch of blood. The source being a small hole in his abdomen.

It dripped insistently onto the grass.

Your mouth was ajar as you tried to process what you saw. A scream of pure terror sounded through the air. It was one of the clan members, having just seen the blood.

More screaming could be heard as they too witnessed the scene unfolding. The Sully's were confused as they hadn't seen anything yet.

Jake and Neytiri came closer to investigate and what they saw made them stop in their tracks. You were frozen in place, unable to do anything to help their bleeding son. His breathing picked up its pace, swiftly turning laboured.

His falling figure alerted you and you held out your arms to lower him, with the help of Jake. Neytiri fell to her knees next to her son as she cried out hysterically. His body trembled under your hands when you brought them to his abdomen.

You felt another presence besides his parents, next to you. "N– Neteyam..."

Your heart stung painfully as you registered the soft voice as tuk'tu'rey's. Your vision now blurry, you looked up at her getting whisked away by a distraught Kiri.

Lo'ak took his place next to his father, with his braids flying at high speed. Their pained faces could only watch as your mate struggled to breathe.

The effort to stop the bleeding was useless as it continued seeping from the spaces in between your fingers. By this time, majority of the clan had dispersed as soon as they saw the blood. They were afraid of becoming the next one to lie on the floor.

Loak and Jake's cries became muffled by the pounding in your ears. You watched in heartbreak as he tried to speak, but the blood only choked him further. It only shortened his time left on this plane of existence.

His skin felt warm under your touch, hand cupped over his cheek as you leaned in to his chest. You couldn't do anything to stop this– nor to stop the tears and wails that escaped you. The one person you had truly loved in your life was dying, and there was nothing you could do. Absolutely nothing.

You knew exactly who had done this— Colonel Quaritch. His intention to hurt Jake Sully had finally been enacted. Quaritch had been dreaming of killing Jake Sully's first born son, as he watched.

You were under the false presumption that they wouldn't be able to kill him if he wasn't their hostage. However, you were wrong, terribly wrong.

You pressed a feather kiss to his cheek, salty tears staining his beautiful skin. "I love you–" You reassured him and caressed his skin. This was the only thing you could have done for him in this moment. His death was imminent.

"No— No. No..." Jake final words to his son pained him further. He felt as though he had failed his son. The tears that came from him were uncontrollable at this point. He removed his hands from under Neteyam's head.

"Come on— do something!" Lo'ak screamed out to his father. His usually humorous character had fallen away to be replaced by a desperate brother.

A tear fell from your mate's eye and you saw his hand reaching for yours— but before he could hold you. His eyes closed.

His last breath tickled the side of your face. You looked at his now lifeless body, the feeling of emptiness soon filling you.

You sat back on your knees, feeling utterly hopeless. "He's...gone." You whispered loud enough for the two males to hear. Jake held his youngest son, this being one of the only affections they had shared since he was a child.

It's strange how such terror can bring people together.

Your hand covered your mouth as the tears fell one after another, relentlessly. Mo'at embraced her daughter in her arms to keep her calm, but nothing could stop the wails of a mother's loss.

You could see Kiri crying while she hugged her younger sister, careful to hide her away from the traumatizing sight. They stood a meter away, but the weight of what had happened still followed them.

You felt numb. Empty. Hopeless. Heartbroken. The only being you had ever loved with all your mind, heart and soul was gone.

No longer would you hear his beautiful voice and laugh again, or pepper him in kisses when he felt sad. His kind soul would be long forgotten as a thing of the past. The memories of you together would never feel like safe place anymore. They would only remind you of his painful death.

The leaves shook in the breeze, blissfully unaware of the tragedy that had befallen this enchanting forest. It made you think— perhaps being sentient was the problem in life.

____________________________________

If you actually made it to the end, then wowwww I'm honoured🤭. Thank you for reading! ❤️❤️

[awkward-fink]

It is the middle of the night, moon having risen to its zenith, shining its cold white light through the glass of your window, illuminating the small glass globe with a night sky depicted in it. You couldn’t sleep. Something kept you awake, kept you from closing your eyes for more than a few minutes. Your body can’t relax. The day had been stressful, and it had frayed your nerves. You needed something to relax yourself, something to get rid of all the stress and pressure. Training always helped you the most, the working of your muscles, sweat dripping down your brow and neck, the loosening of muscles.

This was exactly what you needed.

The way to the training rooms is not far, it’s only out of the barracks and once over the outside sport track to the hall. And the door to the training rooms is thankfully always open, for when other soldiers and coworkers have shift change and need some exercise. So, it’s not surprising that the door to the rooms is open, green light shining at the side of the number pad lock at the side of the main door. A main door that is already a bit opened, letting a shine of yellow and whitish light out into the night, illuminating your path.

What is surprising is the sound that has you stopping in your tracks. Your hand is outstretched to open the door fully, your fingers brushing the edge of the door, your foot lifted to take the next step, lips parted to call out a greeting to whoever is inside, when you freeze.

The sound reaching your ears is a deep and low moan, echoing through the training room and outside. And it doesn’t stay with one, its followed by another, longer and louder moan and the sounds of a hand slapping the training mats repeatedly.

You creep closer, can’t help yourself, can’t help the curiosity eating you, wanting to know who is making this sounds. And what you see, has your eyes widen and your teeth sinking into the meat of your palm to stay quiet.

You can see two of your coworkers, two of the Taskforce under Captain Price. You know them by the names of Ghost and Soap, a duo of men that are barely apart for a longer length of time for as long as you are on base now. And you hadn’t given the rumors much thought, but, by everything holy, this… - This!

Ghost is standing on top of the training mat, his back towards you, slightly leaned over, his legs spread out for a firmer stance. His pants are hanging low on his hip, lopsided and barely covering his ass as his boxershorts is also pulled down slightly and in an angle, indicating that its probably lower in front than what you can see. There is sweat glistening at the small of his back and you can hear him grunting. One of his hands is out of view but the other -

“Oh God! Dinnae pull it oot." -the other is holding up a hairy leg belonging to the Scotsman laying on the mat from what you can see in between Ghosts spread legs. Soaps foot is pressing into Ghost’s hand, the other naked and bare leg hooked around the Lieutenants hip tightly. Soap is only laying with his upper body on the mat, his hands scrambling over the rough surface as he curses, searching for something to hold on to, his lower body is up and probably against the hips of Ghost, you think. A pile of cloth, unidentifiable for you, lays beside the mat, but the Scottish flag can be seen on the cloth.

“English, MacTavish.” Ghost growls lowly, his hand holding the foot changing its grip to pull the other man even closer, his hips pressing forwards as Soap moans out aloud again, eyes closed, and head thrown backwards onto the mat. "Ye're splitten me apart!" the Scotsman groans, hips bucking, his legs twitching. “Push against me, just a little bit more, you can take it, can’t you?” Ghost growls, head tilting to the side, mask slightly rolling upwards to show the sweat slick side of his neck in the overhead lights.

“Good lad, just a bit more, trust me, you can take it, its not the first time.” Soap’s mouth falls open, a heavy and lewd sounding moan falling from his glistening lips. "God, it feels amazing, dinnae hold back!" – „Never.“

You can’t help the whimper as you watch Ghosts hips twitch forward and the sudden moan of the Scot has you blushing furiously. You can’t watch this! You shouldn’t be watching this!

With a soft mewl, hidden under another of the Scotsman’s curses and groans, you suddenly turn and run. A cold shower would do you wonders now! You won’t be able to look them into the eyes in the coming days! ------------------------------------------

...................................................................

Extra: “I told you to stretch before the workout, you Idiot.” "Ah reckoned Ah wis supple enough fur a wee bit o' exercise wi ye." “Entglish, Soap.” “…. Noted and not doing this again, my leg is killing me.” “Eat more bananas, helps with the cramps.”

[spenjelly]

Joint pain tips from someone “too young to have chronic pain”:

[I’m not a doc or a medical professional, take with a grain of salt]

- NSAIDs like ibuprofen/aleve are hard on the stomach and liver. If u take it consistently, consider lidocaine pain patches, tiger balm, or topical NSAIDs. (Still bad for liver with consistent use, but not on the stomach obv)

-foam rollers are real nice for thigh or back/neck pain. If you need it for shoulder stretching, make sure to get one long enough to lay ur whole spine and head on.

-rly good shoe inserts are stupid expensive but getting properly sized for one at a place like REI can rly save you a lot of foot, ankle, and knee pain.

-speaking of shoes plz find ones that have enough room for the tootsies. We’re talking abt bone health here.

-you can use KT or other athletic tape to give minor support, compression for medium, and splints/braces for more serious support. Don’t let braces take over keeping ur body in shape tho.

-in my experience, tube/sock-like braces stay in place the best. I’ve tried the kind that Velcro and they slipped constantly.

-if u overwork a tendon, muscle, or joint, it can take a lot longer for it to heal then when it just stops hurting. Be careful to reintegrate activities slowly after an injury.

-while it kinda makes ya feel silly, walking “like a robot” can help hypermobile/ligament laxity folks to keep proper motion in mind

-upside down criss-cross and w-sitting are horrendous for your knees and make your PTs sad

-if you are doing arm exercises, try not to extend your arms back beyond the line of your shoulder

-to my ND folks: try to rest your arms sometimes, Trex arms are comfy but bad for circulation and joints

-if it feels like your eyes are trying to burst outta ur skull sometimes it means you need to lower inflammation in your sinus.

-for my bra-wearing folks: racer-backed bras hurt the upper traps less and distribute weight better

-drink water my dudes. Ur body hates life w/o it

[sagesilentfire]

Septarian Speculative Biology Headcanons

Note that though this concentrates on septarians, there are plenty of monsters this describes too, because septarians are related to most of them. They are most closely related to Kappas and Tecoixin, but there are plenty of branches in the tree of life of Cítalaoléy.

Septarians are overall more barrel-chested than Mewmans, to accommodate larger, birdlike lungs. The lungs have more surface area than a human's, but because their blood isn't as good at carrying oxygen, their respiratory rate is about the same. 

Septarians have two hearts, both attached to their substantial sternum. Their sternum is so thick and long it could almost be considered a second spine. (It starts in their neck and is incredibly flexible, and also acts as a hub for red blood cell production and the immune/lymphatic system.) The upper heart is called the body-heart and receives blood from the body and sends it to the lungs. In monster culture, this heart usually (not always! Some cultures represent it differently) represents bodily desires and "gut" feelings or intuition. The lower heart, the soul-heart, receives blood from the lungs and sends it to the body. In culture, it usually represents reason, knowledge, and logic. This is because there is a slight delay in the top heart during exercise or strong emotions, and the lower heart has to "catch up" to pump blood back to the body. 

Monster digestive systems vary, but septarian digestive systems are very short and tucked into the back. They are carnivores, and as such don't need a long digestive system like omnivores or herbivores. The digestive system is closer to the back than it is in humans. Their kidney-analogues are round and are embedded among the lungs.

Septarian's chests are different to humans. The "breasts" are diagonal, and much smaller. They are a bit more agile than humans.

Septarians are almost tripedal – their tails are used for balance and coordination. They rely on their tails for stability while walking. It's not true tripedality, as they still don't technically "walk" on their tails – they just balance. They are extremely bewildered by animals that walk without their tails – such as humans or frogs – because how do they balance? How do they not topple over constantly? How do they walk downhill if they don't have a tail to stop them from falling backwards and sliding down? What the heck is going on with them?

The sensory system is next. Their long snouts aren't for smelling – their sense of smell is no better than a human, in fact. It's for sensing ambient magic. Demons use their eyes, but they are almost completely different trees of life from septarians and most surface monsters. Before demons learned rock and soil magic and made contact with the surface, the two clades had very little in common. But septarians sense magic like a snake uses heat sensing. The wand coming to Mewni means that that sense is difficult to use now, since everything smells extremely hot all the time, but before the wand, they were adept at judging the strength of opponents and potential spots to gain magic by using this sense. Toffee came up with a dampening spell that would allow them to still use their magic sense, but not everyone knows it or even knows how to use magic, so most of the septarian population, especially those outside the mountains, is disabled. 

Their jaw muscles are very strong, as befitting a large carnivore, and their arms are also very strong. Their hunting strategy is primarily to grasp and injure with their clawed arms and then deliver a killing bite. Even if they don't kill, their venom compels their prey to itch their wound, keeping it open and allowing the septarian to find and catch them again – or for the next septarian they encounter to take the prey down.  This doesn't work very well on sapient creatures that know their tricks, as there are plenty of plants and tactics to counteract their venom, but it does work on species not covered by the Sapient Rights Accord, who the septarians are allowed to hunt. Septarians are not considered true persistence predators, as they lack a method of cooling down quickly – they cannot sweat, and their panting isn't very effective due to less of saliva. Instead they ally with the sweating sizeshifters. The sizeshifters lead the prey into a septarian's ambush, and they work together to take them down. And of course they work in groups, as befitting a social species. This dynamic changed dramatically since the conflict with the Mewmans started and Sílthéy blessed as many monsters as possible with superpowers. Now the sizeshifters are better ambush hunters with their size-shifting, and the septarians are better persistence hunters with their ability to heal from things like overheating. They've kind of met in the middle.

Their large jaw muscles mean there isn't as much room for a brain as there is in animals like humans, and thus their brains are smaller. Mewmans could make fun of this if Mewmans knew an iota of biology, but they don't, so they don't. But septarians have magic on their side, as Cítalaoléy has had magic for as long as the planet has existed. And Magic likes people to be able to comprehend it, so a lot of creatures on Cítalaoléy that otherwise wouldn't have been sapient are. 

Then there's sex and reproduction. That's really complicated, as any human might guess. Septarian sexes are temperature-dependent (or used to be!). Septarian eggs incubated at 28-30 degrees Celsius are usually male, while temperatures above that are usually female. Eggs incubated below that are intersex, or "null" gendered, with undeveloped sexual traits. They are typically weaker, but with modern medicine they're very likely to survive. The septarian depicted at the top of this post is null gendered, and it's considered the "average" by most groups.

From there, reproduction is very different than in humans. Once adults, females are expected to leave the nest and join another group or colony. Pregnancy and egg laying is very, very difficult for egg-laying females, even more than the notoriously difficult humans, because septarian females shed their entire uterus-analog and some specialized fat stores along with around 10-20 eggs. The uterus uses the fat stores to generate heat to keep the eggs warm during incubation. Non-septarian ancestor females would usually die after that, but with the advent of sapience, it became advantageous for the females to survive egg-laying and raise their children and grandchildren once they recovered. After all, no one wanted their children to die in egg-laying, and social bonds were very important to septarians. 

But while the female sexed were recovering from shedding an entire organ, who was to defend the nest and the recovering egg-layers? Well, here the males are divided into two sub-sexes, the "true" males, who mate with the females and defend them afterwards, and the nest-carers, who defend the nest. The nest-carers are the ones who care for the hatched young, and are actually the ones who produce milk, from glands on their neck. Their necks are thicker to accommodate this, since they're feeding a lot of kids at once. Typically a lot of the children die, but with the advent of modern medicine, more and more are living. 

Yes baby septarians are tiny. Yes they're adorable. Here is a picture of Toffee as a baby:

they have feathers.

So... what happened in Toffee and Necahua's case? Both Chia and Tecoloa had kids, so why aren't there a million Toffee siblings running around? Well, it's Cayeto's fault, and bad luck. Cayeto was part demon, and those guys have a more large mammal-like reproductive system, including having fewer kids at a time. He also apparently has really shit genetics. So both Chia and Tecoloa had around five eggs each, some of which didn't hatch, and some of which hatched but failed to thrive, which is normal in septarian hatchings, and why the ones that do hatch are all the more precious. In the end, Toffee and Necahua were the only ones in each of their hatchings to survive childhood. Necahua was old enough to remember Toffee's hatching, and remembers a lot of stress as their parents tried to save what hatchlings they could. 

While it is best for parents in their situation to adopt, to ensure their kids had the right social development, there aren't many parents in Septarsis who would give up their kids. Because of the nature of septarian pregnancy, one of Sílthéy's first spells upon showing up in Cítalaoléy was to give septarian parent(s) the option to terminate any pregnancy before egg sacs were laid. And education on pregnancy and egg-laying was widely available, which resulted in very few adoptable children, none of whom were the right age. And considering Tecoloa was a schoolteacher, it was expected that she be able to account for her kids' abnormal development. As a result of this, Necahua and Toffee were extremely close. 

Yes, septarian pregnancy is hell. But have you considered:

But there's one more big, important question: what is gender like in septarian society? Well, there are four sexes. Clearly. Male, female, nest carer, and null. And it turns out it's really easy to cast sex change spells on nulls. So most eggs are incubated as nulls, and when they reach ten(Cítalaoléan years)/fourteen-ish (Earthen years), they become the gender they want to be and (at least in the culture Toffee is part of) pick a permanent name. This doesn't mean there aren't some issues with gender, as some septarians don't think that one can be a gender that doesn't already exist, or think that there's already enough to chose from, why do you need more? Sílthéy tries to make young genderweird septarians feel respected, but there's only so much she can do. Gendered words exist in the Septarian language, but it's considered very formal and old-fashioned to use them, as most words can function without indicators of gender.

Toffee is a null, and never picked another gender, or got a name, as in their specific culture names are traditionally suggested by parents and other family members. Their entire family is dead. 

Huh, that would be a really downer place to end this, right? Uh... let's talk affection. Septarians have long snouts, which makes kissing awkward. But they can express love by... snuggling.

Toffee's ethnic group, the Teco-Aikziki'ni, shows affection in different ways depending on who they're being affectionate to. This varies by ethnic group across the continent, but the Teco-Aikziki'ni are fairly typical for how they express these things.

(1) Family members will place one head on top of the other

(2) Casual friends or acquaintances will place their heads on each other's shoulders, side-to-side

(3) Romantic partners in public and committed platonic relationships will touch foreheads

(4) Sexual partners will touch throats. It's considered a bit rude to do it in public, like two people making out

[bathic]

2. And yet, they were here...

Word Count: 3.4k

The recreation room sat divided into three sectioned off areas.

The art space— three medium sized circular tables with five plastic chairs per table. Varying blank canvases and sketch pads differing in paper quality and type stacked atop a wooden shelf holding cups of paintbrushes and bottles of paint.

The gaming area— a single flat screen television bolstered to a wall with a couple gaming systems atop of a wooden stand. Several beanbags littered the area in front of the television with a large ‘L’ shaped couch positioned near the back.

The weight room— essentially a gym with a small, mirrored wall, several treadmills, elliptical machines, rack with weights, and a couple of bench presses.

It wasn’t advised for those in pre-heat and pre-rut to use the gym area, but Hongjoong found himself plastered to the black leather of the bench rack, a barbell in hand and his uniform shirt hanging off of Yeosang’s shoulder. The omega stood at the head of the bench, arms crossed over his chest and eyes watching closely at each lift and drop of the weight. Beside them, slumped over on one of the other benches was San, dumbbell in hand. His own uniform shirt unbuttoned and hanging loosely from his shoulders. Jongho was on the opposite side of the room, directly across from San on a treadmill.

The view of the youngest pack member with his white scrub pants rolled up to his knees and the top few buttons on his shirt popped open to reveal the bare skin of his upper chest peaking from the neckline of the white cotton tank top usually worn beneath the uniforms served as eye candy for San who kept his gaze forward and directed at Jongho’s tan legs.

Yeosang would have teased him if he wasn’t more focused on the slight tremble of Hongjoong’s arms and as continued to lift the barbell.

“Want to take a break?”

Hongjoong huffed, brows furrowed and eyes zoning in on a spot on the ceiling. “Yeah, think I’m done.”

The omega quickly grabbed the bar just as Hongjoong pushed it up and used the added help to move it over to the holder where it was lowered into place. The alpha leaned forward, huffing under both the exertion of the workout and from moving into a sitting position.

He had hoped to use the exercise as a means of keeping his mind off of his earlier thoughts, but it only seemed to dull them into a slight buzz at the back of his mind. Hongjoong knew he should voice his issues with his pack, confide in them like they do him so readily and yet he can’t help but feel like that would only confirm just how lacking he is as both their pack leader and alpha. Which was absurd. It was normal for all pack members no matter the presented role to discuss their feelings. That was what wove bonds into stronger holdings, made reliability more accessible, kept the pack healthy and knowledgeable. And yet he chose to keep everyone else in the dark. Burden his burdens while playing pretend to keep some semblance of control.

He scoffed under his breath, swiping at his forehead with a towel Yeosang had in hand.

If he had any kind of control, they wouldn’t be here in the first place.

The sound of Jongho’s steady pacing on the treadmill decreased until they completely stopped, the machine gave a beep and was powered off in the next second.

“How far did you go?” San, completely abandoning the dumbbell previously in his hand on the floor besides his foot, questioned as the younger man stepped off the treadmill and turned. Jongho’s touch cheeks were flushed, and a bit of sweat had collected along his hairline and upper lip.

“Around three miles, would have been four but my knee started hurting a bit.” He accepted the towel thrown by Yeosang, dragging the white cotton fabric over his face before draping his across the back of his neck.

“I could massage it for you, your knee.” San wagged his eyebrows from beneath the fluffy fringe hanging over his forehead.

“I’ll pass.” Jongho coolly responded, bending down to roll the legs of his shrubs down to cover his skin. San couldn’t help but pout at the lost sight of the omega’s muscular calves.

“How long has it been bothering you?” Hongjoong jerked his chin in the direction of Jongho’s knee, towel swung over his shoulder.

The omega hummed, his round eyes looking upward in thought. “A couple days, maybe four. I think I just turned it funny or displaced my weight on it at some point.” Jongho could tell that the alpha was attempting to extend some concern and if the transdermal patches on his neck weren’t there, he was sure the room would smell ripe with unease.

“If it gets too bad make sure to visit the clinic. Until then, I do think a massage could do you good.” Hongjoong rose up onto his feet, taking his shirt from Yeosang and patting the top of San’s head with a knowing look.

Jongho sputtered, his attempts at trying to deny the action coming out more or less like a jumbled mess of construed nonsense. Yeosang couldn’t help but laugh at the younger’s reaction while San beamed at the prospect of getting his grubby little hands on his fellow omega. Hongjoong took the moment of playful banter to redirect his inner turmoil, choosing to instead focus on the three omegas as San jumped up to hover around Jongho who tried to fight him off with his sweat-soaked towel and using an innocent Yeosang as a shield from any lip-puckering attacks.

The moment, however, was caught in an abrupt pause when Seonghwa suddenly rushed in with a paint-stained apron tied around his front. His eyes were wide, disbelieving and antsy all at once. He immediately zeroed in on Hongjoong, causing the alpha to freeze on the spot.

“We… someone has requested to see us. All of us, the pack. We’re being considered for release.”

If a bomb dropped at that moment somewhere outside on the street, none of them would have noticed in that moment. San was the first to stir out of his stupor, bringing a fist to his mouth while his eyebrows had ascended towards his hairline in baffled delight. “Oh! Us— we— oh!”

Jongho and Yeosang were close behind forming a circle of patting hands and excited bounces with San. Hongjoong still stood like a plank of wood, eyes focused yet unable to truly see. Nothing was catching up in his mind, rather everything in his head turned into syrup and lazily sloshed around.

“When?” Was all the alpha could muster.

“Right now. The meeting room has already been arranged. Whoever is here is just waiting for us to join them.” Seonghwa could tell Hongjoong was caught somewhere in an endless ocean, emotions encasing him from all sides to the point that he can’t properly react. But that was okay, the omega will shoulder the burden for now.

+•+

Jongho had wanted to at least break off to shower, nothing long, just a quick rinse and run down of body wash that’ll get rid of the post-workout grime. Plus, a freshly changed uniform that didn’t smell like pit sweat and musk. But Seonghwa had made it clear that they were needed urgently and whoever was waiting, made it very clear through the passing of words with the take-in coordinator that they weren’t keen on any delays.

So, the three omegas and alpha had to slip their shirts into place, pat them down as good as they could and make sure the buttons were in order while scurrying down the hall towards the meeting room. Yunho and Mingi were trying to scrub crumbs from their faces, the result of sneaking in hoarded snacks that they had stashed over the months from the cafeteria. Wooyoung took to spitting and rubbing and swiping at dried paint smears along his hands and arms, much to Jongho’s visible disgust.

“Seriously? That’s disgusting.”

“I can smell the sweat between your crack, but you don’t hear me complaining.”

Seonghwa in his haste to gather everyone into a singular group had forgotten to ditch his paint splattered apron, and while he could have just shucked it off onto the hallway floor, the omega wasn’t one to make messes especially out of public property.

Hongjoong looked everyone over, the alpha in him seeming to catch up at the last minute and the need to assess his pack made a forefront appearance. While Seonghwa took to fluffing and patting and soothing out any misplacements in everyone’s clothing and hair, the alpha stood back to eye each of them like a general would his soldiers. He knew they were ready; he’d be lying if he himself said he wasn’t. But there was always a voice of pessimism that made sure the ‘what if’ was heard loud and clear.

What if they don’t like how the packs heights ladder?

What if they find the drastic differing in visuals off-putting, undesirable?

What if they see how much he lacks as an alpha?

What if they see them as a lost cause and not worth the chance?

More biting thoughts metastasized into an amalgamation of negatively charged doubts that had Hongjoong’s nape prickling and his hands vibrating at his sides. He wasn’t aware that his breathing had up ticked into heavy pants until a gentle hand rested at the back of his neck and a nose nuzzled against a transdermal patch. Despite the act of scenting being lost, Hongjoong did feel the plug pulled and that mass of deprecation slip right down the drain. San was up against his side, nosing at the alpha’s obscured scent gland while carding soothing strokes through his hair.

Hongjoong wasn’t sure when the other had noticed him spiraling but his appreciation for the comfort, although feeling hollow without any proper scent to intake was welcomed, the heat of San’s body and the soft weight behind his hand at the back of his head was enough. Hongjoong rubbed his cheek against the omega’s temple, giving the skin and little bit of hair that grew longer and hung over a quick reassuring peck.

The exchange wasn’t lost on the others, in fact they seemed to watch on with their own antsy twitching, wanting to comfort and soothe their pack alpha as well. Hongjoong sighed, feeling the burn of embarrassment rise up the column of his throat before waving the rest over. Wooyoung practically latched his entire body onto the alpha’s other side, rubbing his entire face along his shoulder and upper arm while intertwining their fingers together. Yeosang, who had been holding hands previously with Wooyoung on the way to the meeting room had been dragged along by the younger omega and forced into position between Hongjoong’s arm and chest. Jongho plastered himself at his back, button nose rubbing random lines along the skin at his neck. Seonghwa took the space at his front, wrapping his arms loosely around the shorter man’s waist (inevitably trapping Yeosang) and dropping his forehead to connect with the other’s. Mingi saddled up behind the head omega, draping his arms foreword and around his pack mates while Yunho mirrored him right behind Jongho.

To anyone passing by, it would look like a human version of a penguin huddle.

Although with a lot more gangly limbs and awkward sizes trying to fit and form around each other.

Hongjoong let a sigh breach his lips, escaping onto Seonghwa’s chin. He felt… something. Soothed, perhaps? Not quite better but his thoughts had flatlined and his head felt better sorted.

“Can we stop now? I’m already soaked in sweat and the added body heat after a post workout session isn’t really helping it dry up.” Jongho grumbled, his voice muffled by Hongjoong’s nape.

That was enough for everyone to break apart, those who didn’t partake in the gym activities scrunching their noses while jokingly fanning their hands in front of their faces. Jongho rolled his eyes, puffing his cheeks out with a whine about how he didn’t smell that bad.

Yunho was closest to the door, beyond it being the meeting room where prospective buyers (the word felt outdated and daresay— inhumane but it wasn’t too far of a stretch) would sit and chat with candidate packs. Ateez had never, not once, been summoned to the meeting room.

It brought on a new wave of anxiety once Hongjoong gave the go-ahead, and Yunho turned the knob and eased the door open.

Inside was a couch, ordinary in style and color with a matching armchair sitting parallel from each other. In the center, dividing a line between the pack and the visitor (performer and audience) was a low-rise coffee table fitted with a glass surface. A few potted plants sat near corners and a couple landscape paintings staggered along the walls. There wasn’t anything else in the room— oh, aside from the man sitting in the armchair.

His eyes cut over; steely gaze unmoving as the eight of them shuffled into the room. San closed the door softly, his hands slightly damp.

“I was beginning to think you all didn’t exist, or maybe you took the opportunity to make a run for it. Either way would have wasted my time.”

Buzzed cut dyed a burnt orange and reflected like the beginnings of a flickering fire underneath the recess lighting, blue velvet suit which dipped low along the neckline and pointed toed boots with a chunky heel— the man looked like he jumped right off the front cover of some high-profile fashion magazine. Yeosang, from beside Seonghwa began to snuffle, nose raised a bit into the air. Admittedly, with the precautions enforced by the pack orphanage, having the ability to be able to absorb the scents of others was a rare occasion. While ruts and heats were the only opportunity for one’s pheromones to flow out naturally, it was only allowed in assigned nesting rooms and only with pack mates given authorized permission to join the incapacitated individual.

Hongjoong, although would never speak outwardly about it, enjoyed the moment his rut reared its head. Ditching the transdermal patches or scent blocking lotion and being able to finally smell not only himself but his pack made him feel like things were normal— they were normal. Living a normal life, doing normal things, having normal ruts and heats and letting the omegas build nests (although lacking in proper nesting material but the stiff sheets and bleach-soaked fabrics made do for the time).

“We didn’t mean to make you wait.” Seonghwa retorted, hand coming up to lay gently on Yeosang’s shoulder. The younger omega instantly paused his sniffing.

The man waved his hand, rings lining his fingers glittering in and out beneath the lighting. “Doesn’t matter. What does, however, is that any more of my time is wasted. Now—” He gestured a hand towards the couch on the opposite side of the coffee table. “— have a seat. You’re making me nervous by standing around like a bunch of cornered dogs.”

Each of them spared a look towards Hongjoong, considering he was their head alpha. What he said goes, the orders given are followed and the decisions made are accepted.

The alpha nodded, moving first to the couch with the rest following suit. There wasn’t enough room to fit all eight of them comfortably, Yunho and Yeosang decidedly taking the arms of the couch while Jongho (with a bit of fussy convincing) sat on Mingi’s lap. The dynamic made the stranger hum, crossing a leg to prop over his knee to further situate himself in the armchair.

Hongjoong zeroed in on the manila folder on the coffee table.

“Unfortunately for me, I can’t really pick up the first impression ‘whiff’ of your individual characters. Seems they have all of you lathered up in blocking lotion and—” His eyes narrowed slightly at the small protrusions of the transdermal patches on the alpha’s neck. “— those things. Safe to assume compliance breeds under order. And of course, the arbitrary rule of safety granted by following protocol. Such a bummer.” He pouted in mock pity before wiping the look completely off his face and instead scooping the folder into his hands.

“Anyways, guess we will have to do it the old fashion way. Nothing wrong with vintage but… well, it only looks good if it’s pearls. I am Kim Kibum, and while I do take pride in my name, the preferred way of addressing me is simply by Key. Short and simple.” Key licked the tips of his fingers, the sight of gold polish on his nails catching Hongjoong’s attention and used them to flip open the cover of the folder.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, merely scanning over whatever was in the file.

“So, a pack of eight. One alpha, two betas and five omegas. Would be better having a third beta or a second alpha to even the playing field but presenting sub-genders isn’t customizable like a lot of other things in life. Nothing that can’t be worked with, although, how territorial is your alpha?” He looked up, pinching the corner of the paper he’s reading from between his thumb and pointer finger.

Everyone seemed to turn towards Hongjoong, and the alpha felt the hair on his nape rise under the sudden attention.

Key followed their line of direction, settling his sight on Hongjoong as well.

“You must be… Kim Hongjoong, right? They should have printed pictures to go with individual profiles, I’m not a professional profiler although I am pretty pro- efficient in digging up the skeletons in anyone’s backyard— figuratively speaking.” His brows furrowed, an exasperated whine falling past his lips and suddenly the smell of sandalwood spiked into moist dirt.

That must have been what Yeosang had smelled earlier.

The man overlooking their files was a beta. For some reason, it eased the tension in Hongjoong’s shoulders. He wasn’t really sure how he would feel being in the presence of someone more— domineering.

“Yes, that would be me.”

Key fixes him with a rooted stare, like he was peeling apart the alpha without ever actually touching him. It made Hongjoong feel a bit unnerved.

“How territorial are you? Dominate, possessive, controlling— whatever the usual descriptors are used for alphas.”

This was not a conversation he wanted to be having, especially in front of his pack and with a stranger on top of that.

“I— none, I wouldn’t say I am any of those.”

Key eyed him wordlessly, lips pursing.

“I see. And why is that?”

Hongjoong chewed a bit at the dry skin peeling off his lower lip, shoulders involuntarily jumping upwards in a noncommittal shrug. “I just… have never felt the urge to act like that. Instinctually, I mean.”

“Are you at least protective? Surely you have to have some kind of authority in you. Something that stirs to life when a pack member is undergoing internal or external stress— could be the unsolicited approach of another alpha, someone insulting your pack, one of your mates questioning their purpose.” Key was fishing for something, some kind of information that proved of value and could really give him the raw insight of the alpha in front of him. The beta knew there was an underlying reason for a group that truly didn’t appear to lack the makings of a strong pack to be here. They had an alpha, betas and omegas— the full package that a majority residing in the pack home didn’t come close to having. And yet, they were here.

Being led by an alpha that didn’t seem so sure of himself.

[meg2md]

Finished Volume 41 of Berserk, the last of Miura's work before he died, and I am unwell. I can't believe I didn't know about this series before recently!!!! I'm wrecked. It got me through the first three weeks of this night block, but I'm not sure how I'm supposed to survive the last week when I'll just be perseverating on the unfinished story :(

I still have work I need to do (M&M, AROM/FSE demos, surgical skills session paperwork) but I'm just not motivated.... All I want to do is re-read Berserk, go to the gym, and roleplay Guts and Casca fucking shit up in various video games :') at least I have this weekend off, because I've worked essentially three weeks straight and I'm tired

I got my first pull-up back at the end of August but haven't been able to progress past 1-2 with "ok" form and we're mid-way through October. I pulled the trigger on a pull-up bar and am going to try and focus my gym workouts on training specific muscles used for pull-ups but not unassisted pull-ups themselves, since I think too much of my limited gym time is wasted spinning my wheels with possibly questionable form when I could just do them at home when I have a spare second. I feasibly can only make it to the gym twice per week. There's just isn't enough time in residency to get all my extracurricular work done, clean my apartment, and enjoy life/hobbies/friends if I do any more than that. Which is sad. It's like, what's the point of life? Will I look back in 10, 20 years and actually be happy with everything I've accomplished? I don't think the answer is necessarily "yes" right now because I'm lonely and overworked and not sure what the point of anything is (lol I'm doing gr8) but that's another discussion. The only thing I know is that my physique/fitness/athleticism is one of the only things even remotely in my control, even if it still feels mostly out of my control due to residency constraints (poor eating habits, no time)

And yet we struggle on (gatsu <3)

I lost my 24/7 keycard to my gym so I'm going to hit the nursing school "gym" when I get off in the morning, plan for a "pull-up supplement" routine as follows:

Elliptical warm-up x10 min

Should rolls with bar, straight arm for warm-up

Inverted rows (with rings if able, otherwise barbell)

Bench press

Seated cable row

Superset tricep dips/t-arm raise

Superset dumbbell pull-overs/y-arm raise

Straight-arm Pushdown

Wide-grip scapula pull-ups

Dead hang

Ab exercise/hollow body rocks

General things to focus on for pull-ups:

External arm rotation for scapular activation, chest up;

Generate push-up/pull-up/bench press from muscles between shoulder blades; don't pull from hands - imagine arm is upper jaw, side is lower jaw and "biting down" to close versus "pulling up" (drive from your lats)!;

Body curls - bring legs up to bar

Target wide grip because it's my weakness, can focus on lats and small shoulder blade muscles

Practice hard movements, assisted if needed, to develop neuromuscular patterns - don't break form!! Stay within ROM with good form!! High rep/volume these movements

Focus on shoulders AWAY from neck for pull-ups and push-ups; engage back