#frozen shoulder pain relief

[roshni99]

जब से फ्रोजन शोल्डर से परेशान हैं? डॉ. खुशबू मत्तू लाएंगी आपके लिए विशेष व्यायाम टिप्स, जो की स्टिफनेस को कम करने और आपकी मोबिलिटी को पुनः प्राप्त करने में मदद करेंगे! 💪✨ 🔍 फ्रोजन शोल्डर एक्सरसाइज़ क्यों? फ्रोजन शोल्डर आपकी दिनचर्या को प्रभावित कर सकता है। डॉ. खुशबू मत्तू के विशेषज्ञ व्यायाम से आपको आराम, लचीलापन और शक्ति वापस करने में मदद मिलेगी। 👩‍⚕️ डॉ. खुशबू मत्तू से मिलिए: वर्षों के अनुभव के साथ, डॉ. खुशबू मत्तू एक प्रमुख फिजिओथेरेपिस्ट हैं जो आंगनवाद के माध्यम से जीवन को सुधारने के लिए समर्पित हैं। उनके सुझाव आपको दर्दमुक्त, सक्रिय जीवन की ओर मार्गदर्शन कर सकते हैं। 🌈 अपने कंट्रोल में लें शोल्डर स्वास्थ्य! 👉 *देखें और सीखें*: डॉ. खुशबू मत्तू के अनन्य व्यायाम शिक्षण का लाभ उठाएं। 📚 *खुद को शिक्षित करें*: फ्रोजन शोल्डर के पीछे विज्ञान को समझें और सार्वभौमिक स्वास्थ्य सुझावों की खोज करें। 🔄 *ज्ञान को बाँटें*: दूसरों को बढ़ावा देकर समृद्धि की ओर बढ़ें। हम शोल्डर के स्वास्थ्य की समृद्धि का समुदाय बना सकते हैं! 🔥 कॉल टू एक्शन: फ्रोजन शोल्डर की सीमाओं से मुक्त होने के लिए तैयार हैं? अब ही डॉ. खुशबू मत्तू के आंदोलन में शामिल हों! 📌 उनके पृष्ठ को नियमित रूप से संपर्क करें: khushboomattoo@raphacure.com 🚀 अभ्यासों में समाहित हों और शोल्डर के मुक्ति की ओर अपनी यात्रा शुरू करें! 💡 **जो इसकी आवश्यकता है, उसे टैग करें! मिलकर, चलिए हम फ्रोजन शोल्डर से मुक्त होकर और गति और शक्ति के जीवन का स्वागत करें। �� #शोल्डरस्वास्थ्य #DrMattooकेसाथस्वतंत्रता #शोल्डरमुक्ति" 🌟"व्यावसायिक समर्थन और आवश्यक साधनों के लिए हमारे मोबाइल ऐप को डाउनलोड करें: 📲 Android: http://bit.ly/3JACQOb 🍏 Apple: https://apple.co/3I0QKbe हमारी वेबसाइट: www.raphacure.com यहां से ऐप डाउनलोड करें और अपने व्यावसायिक और स्वास्थ्य आवश्यकताओं का समर्थन प्राप्त करें। एक सुरक्षित और सुचना-पूर्ण अनुभव के लिए हमारे ऐप का उपयोग करें।" frozen shoulder exercises,frozen shoulder treatment,frozen shoulder exercises at home,frozen shoulder exercise,frozen shoulder physiotherapy,shoulder frozen treatment,shoulder pain relief exercises,frozen shoulder recovery,how to treat frozen shoulder,sukoon physical therapy,dr varun wasil,frozen shoulder pain relief,shoulder pain relief,shoulder mobilization techniques,frozen shoulder stretches,swami ramdev,baba ramdev,ramdev,yog guru,yog,yoga

[doctorenzoyeh]

3 Stretches You Need to Know for Frozen Shoulder

If you have constant burning pain that came out of nowhere and it just doesn’t go away, you might have frozen shoulder (adhesive capsulitis)! Today I’m going to show you three simple stretches that are appropriate for all stages of frozen shoulder rehabilitation!

[disabled-dragoon]

Developed a sudden stiff shoulder while I was out today and I'm really, really hoping it's not the onset of a frozen shoulder

[painflame]

https://www.painflame.com/say-goodbye-to-shoulder-pain-with-physiotherapy-in-gurgaon/

Advanced Shoulder Rehabilitation for Lasting Relief

Struggling with shoulder pain? Achieve lasting relief with specialized effective shoulder pain physiotherapy treatment in Gurgaon. Combined with expert care at a Gurgaon physiotherapy clinic for frozen shoulder recovery, we design personalized therapy plans for improved mobility, pain reduction, and better joint health. Whether it’s a rotator cuff injury or frozen shoulder, our proven techniques will help you recover faster and live pain-free.

[shailendr]

Understanding Frozen Shoulder: Causes, Symptoms, and Treatment Options

: Frozen shoulder, or adhesive capsulitis, is a condition that causes stiffness, pain, and limited range of motion in the shoulder joint. This comprehensive guide explores the causes of frozen shoulder, its stages, common symptoms, and effective treatment options, including physical therapy, medications, and in some cases, surgery. Whether you're looking to manage your symptoms or seeking long-term solutions, learn everything you need to know about this painful shoulder condition.

4o mini

[proactivechiropracticpa]

Frozen shoulder, or adhesive capsulitis, is a painful condition that can severely limit your range of motion. The Active Release Technique (ART) is an innovative approach that targets the root cause of this issue, providing relief and improved mobility. As part of chiropractic care in Matthews, North Carolina, ART offers a solution to this debilitating condition.

[kateschi]

through the cold, with you

synopsis: amid the biting cold of patrol, katsuki finds his own way to keep you warm.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: was listening to a song and it went "i would burn my words to warm you up" and i want that kinda devotion tbh

the night air is sharp, biting at your skin as you walk through the quiet streets on patrol. the chill settles into your bones, making your fingers stiff and your nose go numb.

you pull your jacket tighter, but it feels like the cold is winning, no matter what you do.

beside you, katsuki strides ahead, his steps purposeful and his posture as commanding as ever. he doesn’t seem bothered by the weather at all.

you try to shake off the discomfort, but the cold is relentless, seeping through your clothes and making it harder to focus.

you force your steps to keep in line with his, but your movements are slower now. every breath feels like it could be your last.

he doesn’t even notice. or so you think.

another few minutes pass, and you feel your teeth start to chatter.

you glance over at katsuki, his fiery gaze locked straight ahead, his usual scowl firmly in place. h

e’s always been the type to push through anything—cold, pain, exhaustion—and now, it feels like the wind is just another enemy to him.

you, on the other hand, are starting to feel the weight of it all.

just as you’re about to speak up, to mention that you’re starting to freeze, katsuki stops walking without warning. his shoulders tense, and you can hear his breath cut through the air.

you blink in confusion as he turns to face you, his eyes narrowing slightly as they sweep over your figure, taking in the subtle signs of discomfort you hadn’t voiced aloud.

“you good?” he asks, voice still rough but softer than usual. his eyes linger on you for a moment, like he’s waiting for you to admit something, to ask for help.

but he doesn’t push.

you hesitate. he’s been protective of you since you first got together, but there’s a difference between that and actually asking for help.

you try to brush it off, giving him a small smile. “yeah, just a little cold. I’ll be fine.”

katsuki eyes you skeptically. “bullshit.”

you don’t have time to react before he steps toward you. before you even realize what’s happening, his hand is reaching for the collar of your coat.

his fingers brush against your skin as he unzips your jacket without a word, then pulls off the heavy scarf wrapped around his neck.

you open your mouth to protest, but before you can say anything, katsuki is already wrapping it around you, tightening it just enough to offer some protection against the cold.

you blink at him, confused. “katsuki, what—”

“shut up,” he mutters, cutting you off. he adjusts the scarf so it fits snugly around your neck, tucking the ends in carefully. “you’re freezing, and I’m not having you catch a cold.”

he steps back, his hand brushing against your shoulder as he assesses his work.

then, without another word, he reaches into his bag and pulls out a thermos—when the hell did he put that in? “here,” he says gruffly, holding it out toward you.

you take it from him, still caught in the bewilderment of what just happened. the warm liquid inside is a welcome relief to your frozen fingers as you take a sip.

katsuki watches you for a moment, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. it’s like he’s silently making sure you’re okay, his watchful eyes never leaving you.

“better?” he asks, his tone a bit soft. there’s something protective in his voice, the kind of thing you never used to hear from him. you take another sip of the drink, nodding.

“yeah, much better. thanks.”

he huffs, his lips twitching in that small, familiar smirk that only you get to see. “you better be, or I’ll drag you back home and shove you under a heater myself.”

you laugh, the sound warmer than it’s been in the last hour. his eyes soften for a second, and for a moment, you swear you catch a flicker of something affectionate in them before it’s gone.

it’s like he doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but there’s no mistaking the care he’s showing.

you glance up at him as the silence stretches, a little unsure of what to say next. but he’s already taking a step forward again, his body language a silent invitation for you to follow.

“come on,” he says, his voice commanding as ever. “let’s get this patrol over with.”

you start walking beside him again, feeling the warmth of the scarf wrap around your neck like a promise.

the cold is still there, but it’s manageable now. it’s bearable. and, somehow, his presence seems to push it away, too.

you can feel the heat from his side, the way his body radiates strength, and the knowledge that he’s always looking out for you, even when he doesn’t say it out loud.

as you walk beside him, you try to ignore the soft smile that’s tugging at the corners of your lips.

he might act like he doesn’t care much for these things—gestures of affection, quiet acts of love—but he shows it in his own way. and, in the end, that’s all that matters.

katsuki steps forward again, his arm sliding around your waist and pulling you into his chest with surprising force.

“stop shivering, damn it,” he mutters, the rough edge in his voice doing nothing to hide the concern underneath. his body heat surrounds you as he keeps you pressed close, his hand firm against your back.

you stiffen for a moment, unsure of how to respond to the sudden proximity, but his warmth is undeniable. your body relaxes against his, letting the heat from him seep into you.

there’s something comforting in the way he holds you, like he’s willing to bear all the cold, so you don’t have to.

you tilt your head up slightly, just enough to meet his gaze, which is softer than usual. his face is still serious, but you can see the care in his eyes, the way he’s watching you closely.

for a second, the two of you just stand there, his arms wrapped around you, your body pressed against his.

“and—uh you’re welcome,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear him.

his gaze softens, just slightly, before he turns back and starts walking again, already heading toward the next stretch of their patrol.

a grin makes its way up your face, and it makes your husband blush furiously and press a firm kiss on the top of your head. he is trying to hide—you know that much.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When They Call You Clingy So You Distance Yourself| Maknaeline Pt3

Warnings: Mentioning of needles in a medical sense, Cursing, Mentioning of death

Pt1 Pt2 Hyungline  (xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

JISUNG|

The room was bright, and everyone of Jisung's senses were clouded slightly when he woke up.

"Where-"

He looked up to see Chan looking at him concerned.

"You passed out and hit your head. You've been out for a minute. You worried us."

Jisung's face scrunched as he looked at Chan. "I didn't mean to...why did I..." The events of right before his fainting spell came to him at once and Chan watched as his face slowly crumpled.

"N-No no! Jisung don't cry please! She's okay! She's okay!"

Jisung's heart rate monitor kept hiking up. "St-Stop ly-lying to me! Sh-She's gone!" He wailed- his heart rate reaching extreme levels that spurred the appearance of three nurses.

They tried to calm him down and Chan talked to a nurse about giving him something to calm him down.

A subtle sedative was injected into one of Jisung's flailing limbs and within a few minutes he was calmed down enough to be considered safe.

Chris sat by Jisung's bed as he fell in and out of sleep, the exhaustion of the past day hit him.

He looked at his phone as Minho was calling him. He looked at the boba eyes boy, who's eyes were closed in what he was assumed was sleep.

"Hello...hey...yeah we're still here, Jisung passed out...yeah...she's okay...I've been splitting my time between his room and her's...both of her femurs are fractured and she's cut up and bruised, and her arm is broken but she'll be okay...I'm trying to wait until he's calm enough to bring him over...he won't even listen to me he's that distraught..." Chris sounded tired. "I hate to them both hurting...I'm going to cancel to schedules...no one should have to work after this...maybe apply for hiatus of Jisung..." Chan stood up and looked at Jisung who was staring back at him with wide eyes. "Minho I'll call you back."

Han sat up and looked at his elder. "Y/N...Y/N? Where is she-" He swung his feet over the bed, not even flinching at the frozen floor as they connected with his bare feet.

Chris guided Jisung by the shoulder and brought him to room a few halls down, nodding politely at the ladies at the desk; silently praying they wouldn't point out that it was past the time for any types of visitors. He led him in front of your door, and knocked lightly. "She might be asleep...I have to run back to the dorms real quick to grab you a change of clothes and update the boys they're worried sick."

Jisung nodded and looked at the bags under Chris's eyes and saw how dark and droopy they were. He looked like a tired dad, and that only hurt Jisung more.

Chris gave him a hug and gave him a peck on the head. "I'll be back soon, Jisung." As he walked away Jisung immediately walked into the room. His heart dropped when he saw you laying there on the bed- legs elevate and your arms as well, your eyes closed.

He almost couldn't recognize your face at first, with the purplish bruise and large cut on your cheek.

He walked over quietly and sat down in the chair next yo your bed, just quietly weeping next to you.

Tears of joy, relief, praise, sadness, pain, and heartbreak.

God thank you. Thank you. Thanl you.

He continued to weep quietly, as he reached for your hand on your uninjured arm to hold it.

He felt calloused and scabbed skin when he put his hand in it and looked down through his tear.

His index finger traced the dark scabbed that decorated your palm, and he felt a hollow pain in his heart. Despite all the other injuries this one hurt him the most, knowing that he was the direct cause for this specific one.

You fluttered your eyes open and looked over to see the love of your life crying over you hand.

"JiJi?" Your voice was raspy, and he instead of saying anything he started placing kisses on your palm in a silent apology.

"It's okay, love. I'm okay."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Y/N...it's my fault."

You shook your head viciously and winced with the neck pain; mentally kicking yourself for moving at all.

"Its not your fault Jisung. You weren't the one drunk driving. Nor were to the one distracted behind the wheel. Things like this happen in life; you just have to be grateful to be the ones that get through it." You swallowed and started blinking back tears. "I'm sorry I worried you so much-" You croaked. "Channie said you fainted and hit your head? Are you okay?" Your voice was heartbreakingly warm, and Jisung couldn't fathom why you were so kind to him at a time like this. When you were hurting so much physically, mentally and emotionally; you were still concerned about him.

He kissed your palm again and let out a shaky breath. "Stay with me."

You give out a small chuckle, but it hurts your chest so you decide just to smile.

"Sungie...I can't even walk." You joked. "My femurs are pretty messed up right now." Jisung continued to gently hold your hand as if it was something priceless; something extremely fragile and breakable. He rested his forehead against is and murmured.

"Then when you can walk again, don't leave. Stay. Cling to me. Walk towards me instead of away."

You smile. "Walk towards you dressed in white?" You joked.

"Yes." He said with 1000% seriousness in his voice. "I thought I lost you. That was a pain that I couldn't even begin to comprehend. If I ever lose you again...I don't know how I would deal with it...if I could...especially if I knew you left by choice..."

You felt your heart thump at a faster rate and cursed it quietly since it would bring the inevitable visit of a concerned nurse.

"I'm sorry. I truly am." He said, his eyes looking at you. They softly traced all the injuries, all though none of them compared to what he was feeling in his heart, what you were feeling in yours.

"I love you." You said quietly, those three simple words filled with so much that it quelled the negative feelings that were churning in his heart.

And even though he knew it wouldn't be something he could ever truly forgive himself for - even if you did - he was selfish enough to push that aside if it meant that he could be with you.

If it meant you would stay with him.

He kissed your palm once more, before laying his head near yours. His nose gently nuzzling your face.

"I love you more."

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

FELIX|

When Felix walked into your home, he wasn't expecting you to be there.

But what he defintely was not expecting at all was you struggling to put together a new gaming station for him, looking at a super complicated instruction sheet for a chair and while sitting next to a bag filled with other electronics.

"Y/N? What are you doing?"

You turned as the rich and deep voice you loved so much reached your ears. It had been days since you had gotten to hear it.

"It-It was supposed to be a surprise." You said standing up, bracing yourself for him to yell at you, or scold you. "I'm sor-"

You almost had the wind knocked out of you as Felix threw himself into your arms, inhaling deeply.

You hugged him back, feeling just how much he needed it.

His breathing was shaking as you heard him apologize quietly.

He reached for your hands to see if they were red from cleaning so much.

"I'm sorry baby. But sorry doesn't fix it. So what can I do-"

"I love you." You said. "I understand you were angry...it's understandable. So I went to go fix it!"

You pulled away and Felix was in disbelief of how positive and sunshiny you were. He would consider you even more like sunshine than he was.

And with that he felt and overwhelming sense of love and appreciation to the one in front of him, as he watched you explain to him what you had been doing the past few days (odd freelance work for extra money) and how you had went to buy him replacements for all the things you had ruined by accident.

"I thought you'd like this one cause it was blue but I'm not sure..." You mumbled. "It wasn't as expensive as you last one so I'm sorry if it-"

You looked up to see Felix crying with a smile on his face as he bent down to look at you while you knelt on the ground organizing pieces.

"Lix, are you okay?"

He nodded, his freckles scrunching up as he smiled even more, reaching to cup you face with his cool hands.

"I'm more than okay, Y/N." He said. "More than okay."

You looked at him with wide eyes and he couldn't help but plant a bunch of kisses on your face as a musical giggle escaped the lips he soon captured in his own.

You looked up at him as he rolled over onto the ground next to you, grasping your hand in his.

"I bought replacements angel..." He said, a smile playing on his face. "So now that we have two... we can take my old PC from storage and I can teach you how to play...?"

You looked at him. "But isn't gaming time your you time? I thought thats why you were so upset, since I had ruined something that was giving you detox time..."

He shook his head. "I had gotten into an argument with Hyunjin..." He said rubbing his thumb across your hand. "And I didn't manage my anger well towards you. I'm sorry, again."

He turned to face you while resting on his elbow.

"You're too good you know?" He murmured quietly, moving a few strands of hair out of your face.

"Lixxie...you're entire fandom call you sunshine..." You say, feeling your face heat up.

"Well that's because they don't know you well enough. But once they do they'll realize that you're the true sunshine in the Stray Kids world. Since you're my world..." He said leaning over again, resting his elbows on either side of you as he connected his lips to yours again; both sets upturned into a smile.

"I could never be mad you love...how would it even be possible?" He asked as he continued to press his lips against your face in a cute, but chaste manner. "It is impossible."

You giggled as he blew raspberries on you and you got up and looked at the boy you loved so much, knowing that you meant just as much to him as he did to you.

And you knew that you could rest assured that you would be okay no matter what.

"Do you want to play games...or cuddle?" Felix asked, pulling you up, already reaching for the blanket you kept draped over your desk chair; knowing your answer would be exactly what he was hoping it would be.

"Cuddles." You said clinging to him. Intending to do that for the rest of the night.

And Felix intended to make sure you kept true to that promise.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

SEUNGMIN|

The crowd was static with a murmured excitement. The result of hundred of Stays conversing just before the group walked on stage.

You made your way to the front of the arena. After selling the ticket you had intended to use to get back at Seungmin; you had made quite a bit of money from the upsale and the desire of some crazed stan.

And you put that money towards flying across the world, to come to this concert, and surprise him.

Hopefully easing the growing rumors but mostly easing his heart.

You called the Kids manager, asking to get you in closer to the front, and was praying that Seungmin would be able to spot you. Or a fan would spot you and it would spark the little "Where's Waldo" game that would get back to him - or more importantly the camera men.

You just wanted Seungmin to be assured you weren't leaving him.

Rather you hoped after tonight it would be the complete opposite.

As security pushed their way through the crowd with you encircled in them people tried to peak through to see you.

When a few curious eyes met yours you waved, and those eyes widened in the ones who recognized you.

It was almost like they were relieved.

And just with that you could tell how much the fandom cared about the boy.

Almost as much as you cared about them while knowing all of them on a personal friend level. And an even more intimate level with Seungmin.

The crowd buzzed with energy up until the moments to boys ran out on stage. You were close enough to see just how tired Seungmin was; but he still put on a smile.

There was almost know build up as they immediately started performing, Seungmin on the complete opposite side of the stage. The crowd was extremely loud- so yelling out to the closet member to you - Hyunjin - wasn't going to do you any good, even if he could easily recognize the voice of one of his closest friends' significant others; he wouldn't be able to hear it over the sea of others voices and screams.

So you decided to head back towards the dressing room.

Seungmin returned to his dressing room after the show, his heart racing with excitement after the show. But he still had that underlying hurt.

Should I call her? I miss her so much I'm imagining her perfume...

He stopped and turned his nose upwards. Y/N?

He rushed into his dressing room and saw you standing up, folding one of his shirts.

He immediately ran into your arms, burying his head into your hair, a wet spot forming on the crown of your head.

"Baby...are you really here?" He whispered, the vibration of his voice tickling you slightly.

You nod and pull back; feeling a bit proud to straight out apologize so instead get to what you came here for.

He looked at you as you squared your shoulders and adjusted your dress so it covered you properly as you knelt down onto the ground.

"Jagiya...?" He said instinctively kneeling down with you reaching for you, but instead you motioned for him to stay standing.

He looked at you with confusion, a bead of sweat dripping down his neck to his exposed collar bone, making you even more nervous than you were a second ago.

You pulled a small box out of the pocket in your dress and noticed Seungmin's puppy eyes widening as you held it out to him with a shaky hand.

"Marry me, MinMin?"

His jaw twitched and he just stared at you in shock and you fumbled to open up the box, a simple deep gray colored band laying in there.

"Um...I mean will you marry me? Please...?" You rubbed your forehead feeling your face get warm at Seungmin's extended silence.

"No." You felt your heart nearly crumple in embarrassment until he corrected himself.

"I mean yes- like no as is in you - like - yes I want to marry you but- just get up from the floor Jagiya..."

You stood up and you held the box in your hands, and they were still trembling, and he wrapped his large hands around yours.

"I meant no as a reaction to you proposing instead of me. I wanted propose to you. I mean...I'm the man in the relationship and-"

"I'm breaking societal norms, Minnie. If we both love each other why does it matter?" You ask bluntly, earning a laugh from Seungmin.

"And I'm proud of you for that, even if it'll earn me relentless teasing from the guys." He laughed out, a few tears falling from his face in happiness, as he rested his forehead onto yours.

"These past few weeks," Seungmin started, "Have made me realize that it's me who is clingy to you." He says, kissing your nose, lightly. "I felt that I lost myself when the prospect of losing you was in front of me."

You looked at him and knew this was his apology.

"I don't want to leave you. And I don't ever want you to leave me. That's why I got this for you." You said taking the ring out. Seungmin pulled back and stepped into character, placing a hand over his mouth in mock shock and daintily putting his hand out for you to slide the ring onto his finger.

He couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face as he watched your face be completely painted in a blinding happiness. He couldn't help but kiss the lips that were stretched so wide.

"Do I have permission to break the news to Stay via instagram post?" He hums. "They've been suspecting we broke up due to your concert absences..." He looked at you, his eyes wide and bright.

"Yes of course, as long as you tell the guys in person. I want to see their reaction. I'm sure both Stay and the guys will be amused that I proposed." You winked.

"Yeah," Seungmin chuckled as he looked at the ring with a deep admiration and love. "They will be...speaking of this though. You must have paid an unecessary fortune for flying here, buying the ticket, hotel stay...and you request off work during concert season so you aren't getting paid. Where did you get the money? If it was from your saving let me fill it up again." His top lip curled in as he waited for your answer.

"Uh...you could say I made a profit of sorts..." You mumbled, thinking about the slightly illegal act of scalping the ticket price.

Your fiancé tilted his head to the side, waiting for an explanation, but the deciding to forgo it with a chuckle and just kiss the woman he loved and missed so much. The one he'd spend the rest of his life clinging to.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

JEONGIN|

You stood there the needle in your hand as Jeongin slowly walked towards you.

"Y/N? What are you...?"

You disposed the needle and adjusted your shorts to cover up your thigh.

"I was taking insulin." You said walking past him out of the bathroom, to go grab a paper towel since the towel in your bathroom was in the wash.

You felt the presence of your boyfriend behind you.

And you could instantly tell he felt bad, so you turned to him, his dark eyes wandering over you as his lips turned into his recognizable pout.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, Innie..." You said standing there. "It wasn't right for me to ignore your calls. Or blow up your phone in the first pla-"

"Stop." His voice was firm and missing the playful undertone it almost always had. "You didn't do anything wrong. It was me."

He swallowed. "I was embarrassed because of the guys and their teasing. And I called you childish when it was really me who was being childish for caring so much about people recognizing how much we love each other. How much you love me..." He's within arms length and you can feel his cool breath hit your face. "How much I love you. I'm sorry."

For the rest of the day you and Jeongin lounged around your house, him taking a nap on you lap at one point due to the pent-up exhaustion of the previous week.

You had shake him awake gently when you realized it was time for you to inject youself once more since you had finished eating a while ago but pushed off medicating yourself so Jeongin could get some rest.

He opened his eyes and whined as he shut them again, burrowing further into you.

"Baby, I have to get up and take my medicine."

He immediately shot up and the expectant yet worried look on his faced caused you to grin.

"Do you wanna help?" His head bobbed up and down as you got up, pulling the mischievous eyed boy with you towards the bathroom.

As you got everything, he observed with a bubbling anxiety.

"You won't like...die from this or anything right?" His voice was soft, lacking the confidence it usually carried.

"No, Jeongin, I won't die from my diabetes." You laugh. "Do you think I would let it take me before I get married and have kids, and grandkids and live." You say this purposefully to hint to Jeongin that it was him you imagined this with. Hoping it solidified his assurance in your forgiveness; since he had been asking all day if he was truly forgiven.

As if its his fault I have diabetes... You laughed to yourself.

You placed the glucometer in his hand and held out the container of strips.

"Just place that in there." You instruct softly, and he does so showing it to you to double check.

"Okay, so now we have to put the lancet in...here..." You say, your boyfriend focusing on placing it in correctly.

He takes your hand in his and when he presses the button to prick you he winces rather than you.

"Are you okay?!" He frets, looking at the extremely miniscule - too miniscule - drop of blood on your ring finger.

"Mm. Squeeze a little more out?"

He gently squuezed enough blood out of your hand and tested you blood sugar - then measuring out the appropriate amount of insulin and pulling your shorts up slightly to give you your injection with gentle hands after cleaning the area.

You watched him focus on the task at hand so seriously; his brows furrowed, and tongue sticking out of his lip slightly. He was so close you could smell his shampoos and count his eyelashes if you wanted to. You felt a strange longing for him even though he was right here. You missed him even if his body was right here next to, gently making sure he didn't leave any marks.

And you couldn't deny how much you loved him. So much that you had to express it.

"I love you forever, Innie..." Through his lashes he studied your expression. Feeling the love exude from you.

"I love you, forever and even longer." He said, his face breaking out into a smile. "My beautiful princess."

You laugh and that causes Innie to laugh as well.

"You're too sweet, love." You said placing a kiss under his eye.

"Does that mean I need to get you another dose of insulin?" He asked, looking up at you with a devilish grin.

This time you place the kiss on his lips his eyelashes fluttering shut as he sighed with contenment.

"I think I can manage."

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

@sleeping143 @artist2181 @abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin @whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun @ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael @skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

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[painted-flag]

PROTECTION - geta and caracalla

₊˚⊹♡ with an attempt on your life, the emperors become increasingly paranoid and protective. ₊˚⊹ emperor geta x fem!reader x emperor caracalla ₊˚⊹ masterlist. ₊˚⊹ based on this request. (3.8k words)

The tremors in your hands had almost entirely subsided, only flinching slightly with each loud movement. To say the atmosphere in your room was tense would be an understatement. The entire palace was frozen with uncertainty and fear. You sat in a chair with one of your arms resting on the table next to you. The only other people in the room were the healer tending to the gash on your arm and a few guards, including the head of security for the palace. 

There was not a sound other than the healer muttering to himself as he stitched up your wound. Your other hand reached for poppy milk and took another swig of it to distract from the pain of a needle closing your wound. It seemed as though no amount of pain relief would help with your predicament. 

Only a short hour ago had you fended off an assailant. For whatever reason, as you were spending a portion of the afternoon in your chambers, a cloaked figure snuck in and tried to kill you. You had been raking your brain for any possible answer, but the only definitive one would be the simple fact: you were both the emperor’s lover. You could remember Geta and Caracalla speaking to you about safety regarding your relationship with them, but never for a moment did you ever think it would come close to this. 

It was terrifying and everywhere you looked you would think a threat would be there. Geta and Caracalla were at the senate for some proceedings that were scheduled to take place for the whole afternoon. They had only been gone for a little over an hour when the assassin had snuck into your chambers. 

Your eyes scanned back to the five guards. One on the end, a lower guard, was the only one who had blood on him. He had been the one to hear your shouts as you fended off the attacker and had come to your rescue. You did not know his name, but wanted to thank him for his efforts. 

Another drive of the needle had you flinching in pain. However, you could hear the sound of thundering footsteps through the hall outside your door. The doors were pushed open furiously, both reeling back and hitting the wall; any harder and you were sure they would have broken. Geta and Caracalla stood before you, chests heaving equally and eyes with the same reflection of worry as they scanned the room. Seeing you off to the side, they surged forward. The guards and healer kept silent, aware of the coming storm. 

Yet, there seemed to be nothing loud. No, the emperors came beside your chair with a simmering rage. Geta knelt and took your free hand in his while his eyes scanned your body for other injuries. Caracalla stood with a free hand holding your jaw, his thumb swiping soothing back and forth across your chin. 

“Are you alright?” Geta’s soft voice broke the tension. He was unusually calm, simmering with something dark under the surface. Caracalla was the same, straight posture and calm. 

It somehow unsettled you more than if they were lashing out. 

“I’m okay, truly,” You gave them both a faint smile, “Only a little scratched up.” 

“A little scratched up?” Caracalla spoke. His shoulders rose up and down with each restrained breath. His vision cast down to the healer who was stitching the large gash on your arm. “This is a little scratched up?”  

“Brother.” Geta sent a warning glance his way, but it went ignored. 

Caracalla turned to the guards before him. You could hear him take in a large inhale of air as if trying to cool the burning fire that crackled within. You exchanged a wary look with Geta, unsure if something would trigger another one of his episodes. It hurt to see him in such a state.

“You,” Caracalla addressed the head palace guard, “You have a few seconds to explain why our lady was hurt under your watch or I will gut you right here.” 

The guard's face contorted into both confusion and terror, but he choked it back, “The assassin has been subdued and is locked up, Caesar.”

“Locked up? Good… good. He is not dead yet.” Caracalla turned back to you, or more precisely, your wounded arm laid out on the table, “But you have not explained to me why she is sitting there with a needle piercing her arm.”

“Yes,” Geta chimed in. He stood up but still held your hand, “Do tell us how she was harmed under your watch,” 

The head guard looked from emperor to emperor. A bead of sweat was visible on his temple next to a prominent vein. The healer tied off the stitching and you hissed under your breath. The sudden movement pulled you away from the tension in the room. The healer began to wipe the last of the dried blood around the wound. 

“Caesars, the guard does not account for the protection of palace maids and–”

“What did you say?” Geta interrupted. The brothers exchanged glances. You knew immediately that this situation was quickly becoming dire. The guard had called you a maid. While that was your previous job, you had been relieved of your duties many moons ago after the emperors became enamoured with you. 

“Caesar, I–” The man gulped. 

“Give me your sword.” Caracalla’s tone was one you knew well. It was the same level of cadence that would come over him before he lashed out. Geta sensed the same thing and moved to stand beside his brother. 

“Caesar?” The man questioned. 

“Give me your sword so I may gut you with it!” Caracalla lunged forward, attempting to beat the guard with nothing but his bare hands, but was caught at the waist by Geta who held him back. 

“Say that about her again! I’ll fucking crucify you!” Geta struggled to hold his brother back. Caracalla was inconsolable, only intending to exact what he thought was just by gutting the man who uttered a single word against you. Geta secretly wished to unleash his brother on the guard but knew it would only cause more of a scene of distress in front of you which was not needed. 

The healer made quick work of wrapping your arm in bandages. You thanked him quickly and dismissed him from the room. Caracalla was still fighting back against his brother’s hold when you decided that it was all enough. 

“Stop! Do not hurt him.” You yelled as you stood from your chair. Almost instantly, Caracalla’s body went limp and the twins turned to you like you had said something utterly insane. 

“This man’s negligence has led to your near death. You cannot possibly think that we will let him get away with it.” Geta spoke. You let out a long breath and walked up to them. 

Lowering your voice, you spoke again, “I am aware, but I no longer wish to see any more violence for today.” 

“But–” Caracalla moved to argue, but you silenced him with a look. You turned back to the five guards and hoped that they would listen to your instruction, given that you were technically not a ranking member of the palace. 

“You three, escort him to the dungeons so he may wait out proper punishment for his negligence. He may not have thought of the safety of the maids, but an assassin got in here regardless and could have very well gone for our emperors.” Your words were met with action. They followed your instructions and seized the head guard. He tried to plead and beg his case, but you ignored it as he was dragged out of the room. There was one final guard who stood standing in front of you and the twins. 

“What is your name?” You asked the man. He was older than the other guards, coming up on the precipice of life if the white hairs he sported were any indication. 

“Theocles, my lady.” He answered. 

“I thank you, Theocles. Without your quick acting to come to my aid I would likely be dead.” At the mention of your possible death, the twins that stood at both of your sides tensed. 

“I am happy to be of service, my lady,” He smiled gently and for a brief moment it reminded you of the warm welcoming face of a grandfather. 

“We thank you as well, Theocles, for saving our lady,” Geta spoke up. Caracalla was still nerved beside you, unable to speak as he recovered from his outburst. His hands gripped your right hand as if clinging to your presence. The weight of what nearly happened to you was only now completely sinking in. 

“I am simply a servant of the empire, Caesar. I humbly apologize for our negligence. The intruder should have never made it past the gates.” He seemed genuinely upset at this incident, having taken pride in his work. 

“Yes, it never should have happened,” Caracalla muttered angrily. His gaze stayed locked on your hand as he drew shapes onto your palm. 

“You are dismissed for the day to recuperate from your efforts,” Geta said. Theocles nodded and bowed before walking out of the room and shutting the doors after him. It left the three of you alone. Caracalla looked over your face again before moving closer and burying his head in your chest. Geta stood behind you with his chin on your shoulder. 

There was nothing but silence for a few minutes. The weight of tension in the room slowly lowered. You could hear nothing but their calm and steady breaths. 

“You will be guarded every hour,” Geta mumbled as his lips brushed over your neck, “No less than ten praetorians.”

“Ten?” You were shocked by the proposition. Geta’s arms that were wrapped around your waist, just above Caracalla’s arms, tightened. 

“A whole legion,” Caracalla mumbled into the skin of your chest. 

“Surely they have more duties in the city,” You reasoned, “Ten is too much.” 

Geta scoffed, “Ten is the minimum.” You felt that there may be an argument brewing. Ten guards was far too much and you could already feel how stifling that would be. You had gone your whole life without a single guard, not even when traversing the streets of Rome. Yet, your change of position has altered your life significantly. Still, you did not wish to be suffocated by protection. 

“Five,” You proposed. While five still felt extreme to you, it would be enough to calm their worries about your safety. 

“Ten.” Caracalla backed up his brother. 

“Five.” You were not willing to go up any further. 

“Nine,” Geta lifted his chin from your shoulder to rest his forehead against your temple. Caracalla’s hands moved under a slip in the fabric of your clothing, his hands trailing over the bare skin of your side. You could already tell that they were trying to distract you to get their way – a tactic they often employed. 

You would not back down. 

“Five.” You repeated. Geta let out a small huff. 

“Seven.” Caracalla reasoned. His hands moved to brush just above your ass. You grabbed them and moved them up further, unwilling to compromise. 

“Five.” The tone of finality in your voice made them halt their movements. It was a tense standoff, but one you knew you would win. If there was one thing that challenged their selfish tendencies, it would be their need for validation from you. 

After a few moments, they both relented. 

“Five it is then,” Geta answered.

You should have known that Geta and Caracalla would become more paranoid. It was inevitable. What started as five guards gradually morphed into twenty over two months. Five surrounded you at all times, escorting you wherever you wished to go. The other fifteen blended in the background. They were at a distance, acting as though they were not watching over you, but they were and you could tell. 

Other measures were drawn up to protect you. On your trips to the market, there would be a collective of guards patrolling the streets more heavily than normal – all under the guise of collecting taxes from stall owners. You knew it was specific instructions from Geta and Caracalla, but chose to not say anything. You thought it would end eventually, but had been wrong. 

It all came to a head one afternoon as you walked about the gardens. The heavy clanging of Theocles’ armour disturbed the gentle chatter of birds that flew from fruit tree to fruit tree. It was a grating sound, but it compounded more when you were able to tune into the sounds of other guards a few paces behind Theocles. The day after your attack, he had been named as your personal guard. 

It was the only benefit to your situation that was starting to feel more like imprisonment. Theocles was like a grandfather, protective but funny. He took the job seriously but still relaxed when he needed to in order to cheer you up. However, on this day, you had become particularly irritated. 

You halted, which was met by the guards behind you also stopping. You took large breaths to calm yourself before turning around. 

“Theocles,” You spoke, “Do you know where the emperors are?” 

“To my knowledge, they are in their study, my lady,” He answered. You nodded gratefully and changed directions from where you had originally been walking. 

You moved with a purpose through the halls of the palace, your anger brewing. This place was once a paradise for you, where you could spend your days relaxing and relishing in the company of your lovers. Now, it had become nothing but a gilded cage that shrunk each day, moving to suffocate you. 

The doors to their study came into view and you stopped to speak to your guards. 

“You are to stay out here.” You instructed. 

“My lady, we are instructed to never let you leave from our sight,” Theocles answered. 

“Believe me, with my anger right now, nobody should wish to cross me. Despite that, the emperors would protect me from anything. Now, do you wish to be present in what will likely be a very uncomfortable conversation for you to witness?” You crossed your arms and tapped your right foot against the stone flooring as you waited for an answer. 

After a momentary pause, Theocles answered, “We shall wait for you, my lady.” 

You nodded before he opened the door for you to walk in, closing it when you got in. The emperor's study was an open room with floor-to-ceiling shelves full of carved bronze records, waxed tablets, and sheets of papyrus. There were two desks placed a few feet away from the other with Geta and Caracalla staring down at their work. Geta’s desk was clean and organized, while Caracalla’s represented the whirlwind of his personality. 

When you walked in, they did not look up at you. Dondas, who was perched on Caracalla’s desk eating some pieces of fruit spotted you and chittered in delight. He jumped off of the desk and ran to you, crawling up your leg and torso to perch on your shoulder. For a brief moment, his presence cheered your angered thoughts. 

Caracalla looked up when his friend left and his face lit up upon seeing you. 

“My love,” He spoke, which gained Geta’s attention and he too looked up to see you. However, both their smiles faltered slightly upon seeing the grim look on your face. You scratched Dondas’ chin and placed him on a cushy chair so he would not have to be near you when you inevitably started to shout. 

“I’ve had enough.” You said. 

“Enough?” Geta asked. 

“Enough of the constant watch. I know you wish to protect me but there is a limit to what a person can endure.” You walked up to stand in front of their desks. 

“It is for your own good–” Caracalla began to reason but you scoffed to interrupt him. 

“My own good? It has been two months, yet every day there is something new. Another guard, more patrols, you have even gotten a fourth poison tester for my food! As if one was not enough!” You threw your arms out as if that would help to enunciate your words. The frustration you had been feeling for weeks had boiled over into an explosive reactive mess. 

“All to keep you safe,” Geta stood from his chair, moved to you and reached out to wrap you in his arms. You backed away from his hold. You would not allow any of them to try and sugar their words to get you to accept the situation. 

“Do you not think I haven’t noticed the other fifteen guards that are secretly following me? One does not need to be a master of arithmetic to see that is well above the ten you tried to enforce in the first place!” You argued. Caracalla and Geta exchanged a look, finally understanding that you caught on to their attempt to secretly go against their word on the original agreement of five guards. 

“Darling, we are sorry for going behind your back, but your safety is our priority. Do you think that assassin was only a one-time event?” Geta asked. Your mouth closed at that and you mulled over his words. It had been a brewing fear that you refused to admit. 

If you were to admit it to yourself, to even say it aloud, it would be real. You were no fool. You understood the threat of this city, especially towards the emperors, but you thought that you would not matter. In the eyes of the court, you were just a lover to them and nothing more. 

“I just thought that I would not matter. I do not come from a known family or the level of society you were raised in. Why bother with me?” 

Caracalla let out a giggle as he rose from his chair to approach where you stood. He was not laughing at you, but rather the absurdity of your words. 

“Why bother with you?” He mimicked your question, “You are our most precious jewel. That is why you must be protected at all costs.” His hands tugged at the loose sleeve of your dress. 

“But to the extent that you have gone to…” Your voice trailed off. 

“There can be no threats to our empress,” Geta spoke as he wrapped an arm around your waist. You could feel the cold of his rings through the thin silk fabric. That did not shock you nearly as much as how he addressed you. 

Empress…

“Empress?” You scolded, “This is not a joking conversation. I am being serious.” 

“We are as well,” Caracalla answered. His face lost all the traces of his previous amusement. You turned to Geta and saw nothing but sincerity. It felt… odd. 

“What?” You questioned. 

The two men exchanged a glance. In it, you could see they were communicating as if they had already had this conversation. Geta guided you towards his chair and had you sit down. He began to rifle through the drawers of his desk while Caracalla perched on one of the armrests. His fingers moved through your hair, brushing loose strands to go behind your ear. 

“Now may not be the most appropriate time, but we realize that it cannot be held off any longer,” Caracalla spoke to you in a hushed, calm tone. 

Geta finally found whatever he was looking for and pulled out a gold box from the desk. He turned to you and leaned against the desk. He carefully opened the box, exposing a large, intricately made gold ring adorned with large jewels. You stared at it for a moment, fully understanding what they were speaking about. Your body felt like it shut down, unable to comprehend it. 

Your mouth opened and closed multiple times as your mind was unable to come up with any response. You could not help but feel as though it was not real. 

“Is this your way of distracting from the reason I originally came here? If so, I must admit it is undeniably cruel.” You shifted in the chair as if you were going to move, but Caracalla gently pushed back on your shoulders to keep you in place. 

“My love,” Geta got down on both knees in front of you, followed by his brother, “We are serious.” 

“Be our empress?” Caracalla questioned. Your chest tightened, completely transfixed by looking back and forth between their eyes. 

“The senate… the people… they already whisper things…” There had been much disapproval of your relationship with the emperors. When the court saw that it became more serious than a concubine relationship, whispers spread of negativity – especially due to your lack of privileged upbringing. 

“Let them talk. They do not exist now. It matters what you want.” Geta reassured you. His grip on the box tightened as if he was losing control of the situation; losing hope for a positive answer. 

“I shall have more freedom and go back to five guards.” You negotiated. Both of their eyes lit up; you had given them an answer. 

“You are agreeing?” Caracalla asked. 

“I also wish for more opportunities to traverse the merchant stalls.” You added. 

“It is a yes?” Geta asked. 

Your face broke into a large grin and you nodded excitedly, “Of course, it is a yes.” Both of them seemed to let out the breaths they were holding. Caracalla instantly moved up, cupping your face with both of his hands and capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His eagerness and excitement shot through his body, being expressed through giddy jolts of his movement. 

You could feel Geta put the ring on your finger, his hands incredibly warm compared to the coolness of the metal. When Caracalla pulled away, you were met with equal fervour of a kiss from Geta. It was possessive but also gentle in a strange, uniquely his, way. 

When he pulled back, you spoke, “Do not forget the conditions I have set. I am tired of feeling like a prisoner here.” 

“No more then. You will not be a caged bird in your own home.” Geta reasoned. His brother agreed, nodding his head feverishly. Both of them were caught up in the moment, too happy to particularly care about anything but you. 

The atmosphere in the room had changed from an intense standoff to a joyous mood. You had not ever expected this outcome given your initial plan, but it was more than welcome. 

It was with great surprise to Theocles, your other guards, and servants, that you later walked out of that room with both of the emperors and a rather large ring adorning your finger.

I love these freaky gingers.

[roshni99]

इस रोमांचक दूसरे हिस्से में, डॉ. खुशबू मत्तू के साथ कंधों की मोबिलिटी के दुनिया में डूबें! इस विशेषज्ञ व्यायाम टिप्स से फ्रोजन शोल्डर की समस्या को दूर करें और लचीलापन और बल को बढ़ाने के लिए डिज़ाइन किए गए व्यायाम योजना का पता लगाएं। इसमें से उन चर्चात्मक व्यायामों का अन्वेषण करें जो फ्रोजन शोल्डर को प्रभावी ढीला करने के लिए तैयार किए गए हैं। इस अवसर को न छोड़ें, गति के साथ चलने की स्वतंत्रता को पुनः प्राप्त करने और बिना दर्द के जीने की दिशा में इस यात्रा में हमारे साथ शामिल हों! 💪✨ #स्वास्थ्यऔरकल्याण #विशेषज्ञसलाह 💡 **जो इसकी आवश्यकता है, उसे टैग करें! मिलकर, चलिए हम फ्रोजन शोल्डर से मुक्त होकर और गति और शक्ति के जीवन का स्वागत करें। 💪 #शोल्डरस्वास्थ्य #DrMattooकेसाथस्वतंत्रता #शोल्डरमुक्ति" 🌟"व्यावसायिक समर्थन और आवश्यक साधनों के लिए हमारे मोबाइल ऐप को डाउनलोड करें: 📲 Android: http://bit.ly/3JACQOb 🍏 Apple: https://apple.co/3I0QKbe हमारी वेबसाइट: www.raphacure.com यहां से ऐप डाउनलोड करें और अपने व्यावसायिक और स्वास्थ्य आवश्यकताओं का समर्थन प्राप्त करें। एक सुरक्षित और सुचना-पूर्ण अनुभव के लिए हमारे ऐप का उपयोग करें।" frozen shoulder exercises,frozen shoulder treatment,frozen shoulder exercises at home,frozen shoulder exercise,frozen shoulder physiotherapy,shoulder frozen treatment,shoulder pain relief exercises,frozen shoulder recovery,how to treat frozen shoulder,sukoon physical therapy,dr varun wasil,frozen shoulder pain relief,shoulder pain relief,shoulder mobilization techniques,frozen shoulder stretches,swami ramdev,baba ramdev,ramdev,yog guru,yog,yoga

[crunchystarz]

"Nightmare"

Leona Kingscholar x GN!Reader

Summary: In which Leona has a terrible nightmare regarding you but no worries you're there to comfort him

Cw- mentions of death in nightmare, angst, fluff, established relationship, One shot

Word count: 887

A.N: Wowza first non creepypasta work on this acc spare me (I'm still figuring this whole Tumblr thing out lol), also this is imported from my Google docs so the spacing might be a little weird

His heart pounded in his chest, like the crash of waves. The sound of blood rushing through his veins loud in his ears, drowning out all else. His body refused to move, as if something rooted him to the ground.

He stared at your lifeless body, his breath hitching in uneven gasps. Helplessness consumed him. He wanted to scream until he couldn't anymore , but the cry caught in his throat. He was frozen ,completely immobilized like a statue.

He had failed you. The thought tore through him sharp. Why hadn’t he been faster? Stronger? Smarter? His mind replayed every moment, every decision, desperately searching for the one that would have ended differently.

If only he’d been better, you’d still be here. You’d still be breathing, your chest rising and falling with life, those eyes he loved so dearly looking back at him.

His hands trembled as he reached for you, cradling your cold, unresponsive body. He hadn’t even realized he’d moved. Tears blurred his vision,throat tightened. It didn’t matter anymore not the pain in his knees, not the ache in his arms from holding you so tightly. Nothing mattered.

Why hadn’t it been him instead? He’d trade everything, it didn't matter what as long as he could hear your laugh one more time, to feel your warmth, to see you smile.

Leona jolted awake with a sharp gasp, his blankets tangled. Green eyes wide and darting around the room. His heart was racing. A hand dragged over his face, trying to ground himself as reality slowly bled back in.

It was a dream. Only a dream.

Just a dream Leona…

Yet the vividness of it lingered. He turned his gaze to the empty space beside him on the bed, and his breath hitched again.

“[Name]?” His voice, rough and strained, cracked as he called out. His ears twitched, and relief washed over him as he heard the soft sound of approaching footsteps.

Your footsteps

The door creaked open, and there you were, bathed in the faint morning light spilling through the window. "You're finally awake, morning sleepyhead," you said with a smile. Your voice was warm and laced with affection as you walked over to him.

Sevens did he love your voice.

Leona exhaled shakily, the weight on his chest easing slightly. But his body remained tense, his hands gripping the sheets.

You noticed how off he was immediately. “Leona?” Concern filled your voice as you sat down on the edge of the bed, your hands resting gently on his shoulders grounding him.

Before you could even say anything else, Leona moved. His arms shot out, wrapping around you and pulling you down onto the mattress with a forceful yet desperate urgency. You let out a yelp in surprise.

His grip was firm, almost crushing, as though he feared you’d disappear if he let go. You could feel the faint tremble in his frame, it made your heart ache.

“Leona?” you repeated softly, tilting your head to look at him. He didn’t answer, only burying his face in the crook of your neck. The steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his ear was the only thing he could focus on.

You were alive.

"What's going on?" you asked gently, your fingers threading through his hair and brushing behind his ears in a soothing gesture. "This isn't like you."

“Bad dream,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. But the unease in his tone betrayed him. You frowned, concern deepening as you pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head.

"I'm here now," you whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."

You lay back against the pillow, letting him cling to you. Slowly, you matched your breathing to his, your chest rising and falling in a rhythm until his ragged breaths began to even out. Your hand moved in slow, comforting strokes along his back, and eventually, he calmed

You felt a vibration against your chest, followed by a deep, purring. It brought a small smile to your face. "You know," you teased lightly, "purring like that? Not very nonchalant housewarden of you."

"Shuddup," he muttered, his voice muffled as he pressed himself closer to you. You giggled softly, the sound making his heart leap. This time, the pounding in his chest wasn’t fear, it was just love.

He nuzzled his face deeper into the crook of your neck, inhaling the comforting scent of you. The memory of the nightmare still lingered, but it was dulled now, by your presence. You were here, alive and breathing, and that was enough for him.

After a moment, he pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you. His green eyes, usually half-lidded, were wide and searching, drinking in every detail of your face. He couldn't get enough.

Everything you. He loved each of your features,

everything. Because it was yours.

“I love you,” he said, the words escaping him before he could even registr what he was saying.

You smiled, the kind of smile that he'd do anything for just to see.

“I love you too.”

Leona pulled you closer, his arms tightening around you as his tail snaked in between your legs. For now, that was all he needed, just you, safe in his arms, your warmth calming him.

He was at peace. Calm and tangled in one another.

MASTERLIST

[daryltwdixon]

Daryl Dixon x Reader blurb

Daryl arrives to Hilltop after escaping Negan's prison and sees you x

Content: fluff, emoshie af

author's note: sorry to make you the victim of my emotional wreckage today

gifs are mine

The ache of missing him would never truly leave you. It was always sitting heavy in your chest, sharp and unyielding, no matter how hard you tried to smother it. You’d carried it through endless nights, through mornings that felt emptier than the last, and through those small moments when you’ve turned, expecting to see him, wanting to tell him something... only to be met with silence.

So today, you made yourself get up and finally get on with it. You had to pull your weight at Hilltop, that much was made clear by Gregory. So, you're heading out with a steaming mug of tea in hand, ready to head over to the gardens when the gates creak open, but you don’t even glance up at first. It’s just another moment in the blur of endless survival. You step down from the trailer, boots hitting the dirt, your hand wrapped around the warm ceramic in your hand.

But when your eyes instinctively look for the source of the sound of footsteps, and you look up to see Jesus.

And then... then, you see him and the only noise is the rush of blood in your ears and the shattering of the mug on the ground beneath your feet. You freeze, your breath hitching, disbelief anchoring your feet in place.

Daryl.

He stands just inside the gate, still and silent, his body thin and battered, his hair hanging in messy, greasy strands over his face. He looks like a ghost, like a man you’ve been mourning for months but never truly buried. His arms hang limply at his sides, and his shoulders slump under some unbearable weight. His eyes—shadowed by his bangs—stay fixed on the ground.

Your heart lurches, and before you know it, your feet move on their own, carrying you toward him in a stumbling, desperate rush. Tears are filling your eyes, heavy and blurring, and you blink them away frantically, desperate to keep him in your sight. You don’t care about the people around you, the noise--anything. All you care about is him. Your breath comes in gasps, sobs building in your chest, but just as you’re about to reach him, you stop.

It’s like hitting an invisible wall.

You hover just a few steps away, your chest heaving, the reality of him so close it threatens to break you. He’s alive. He’s here. He’s here. Your lips tremble, your tears slipping freely down your face as you stand frozen, staring at him.

He lifts his head slowly, his bangs shifting just enough to reveal his eyes. The hollowness in them makes you ache, but it’s the slight quiver of his chin when he sees you that is your undoing. His lips press into a tight line, and for a moment, he just looks at you, his face a mask of pain that’s barely holding together.

Then his head drops, his bangs falling back over his eyes, shielding them from you as if he can’t let you see what’s underneath. But before you can close the distance, he moves. His head bows further, and he takes the last step himself, pushing into you with a quiet, desperate motion.

You catch him, your arms wrapping around him as his weight collapses into you. He’s shaking, his breaths coming in uneven gasps against your shoulder. You press your hand to the back of his head, your fingers slipping into his hair, gripping it gently.

A sob bursts from your chest, ragged and raw, and you clutch him tighter, burying your face into the curve of his neck. The relief you feel is so strong it's nearly painful. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a sound, but you can feel the way his shoulders tremble, the way his fists curl weakly into the fabric of your shirt.

But then his knees start to give out, and you feel him sag against you. Your arms tighten instinctively, trying to keep him standing, but it’s no use. Your legs can’t hold the weight of both your griefs, and together, you sink to the ground.

Your knees hit the dirt, and he falls with you, his arms still locked around you as his head bows against your shoulder. You cradle him, pulling him even closer, and he lets out a sound—a broken, muffled gasp that’s somewhere between a sob and a breath. It shatters something inside you.

Your free hand slides to his back, your palm pressing firmly against the ridge of his spine. His shoulders shake harder now, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, and you can feel his tears dampening the curve of your neck.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, grounding him, grounding yourself. You sob into the silence, your face buried in his shoulder, your body trembling against his. The dirt beneath your knees feels sharp, cold, but you barely notice it. All you know is the heat of him, the way he clings to you like you’re his only tether to the world.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, kneeling in the dirt with him wrapped in your arms. Time seems to stop, the weight of everything you’ve lost, everything you thought you’d never have again, pouring out of both of you in broken breaths and quiet tears.

And for the first time in months, you let yourself feel it all—the pain, the relief, the love. He’s here, and so are you, and in this moment, that’s enough.

[painflame]

https://www.painflame.com/pain-relief-with-chiropractic-therapy/

No.1 chiropractic therapy in Gurgaon at Painflame offers top pain relief services. Our top chiropractors specialize in advanced techniques to treat back, neck, and joint pain. Experience personalized, holistic care and long-lasting results with the best chiropractic services in Gurgaon.

[ode2rin]

It's painfully evident to anyone with two working eyes that Reo likes you.

Reo excels in almost anything, except hiding his devastatingly pathetic pining towards you. It's etched across his face, woven into his body language, and discernible even in his speech. It's embarrassing to the point that even someone as detached and inattentive as Nagi can discern it from a mile away.

Well, it’s not that hard to tell when Reo looks at you as though you've adorned the night sky with every sparkling star.

Nagi sometimes wonders if Reo even knows it himself. You weren’t any better too, always so oblivious of the lovesick fool fawning at everything you do — yet stealing glances when you’re certain the purple-haired isn’t looking.

Nagi had become an inadvertent witness to countless moments, each one screaming of the unspoken connection between you and Reo. From stolen glances across the classroom, where your eyes would meet, sparking a silent understanding, to the subtle brush of hands as you passed each other notes.

Watching you both tiptoe around your feelings is painful, especially considering that the two of you are the closest things Nagi has to friends. 

Maybe some minor intervention wouldn’t be a hassle, Nagi reasoned. 

“I like you, Y/N,” and so, he falsely confesses, purposely doing so while Reo stands just a few steps behind you.

Nagi observes your frozen reaction to his declaration, your bag hanging mid-air, frozen before settling on your shoulders. He notices the widened eyes and slightly agape mouth. Above all, he sees the color drain from Reo's face and the slight twitch of his eye in shock. At least he knows his plan is working.

A moment lingers, and you recover from the shock of his confession, still blissfully oblivious to Reo's presence in the room. “Sei... I-I'm sorry. I like someone else.”

I know, he says in his mind. He doesn’t say anything, prompting you to say more. 

“I’m sorry, Sei. I like Reo.”

And there it goes. 

Realization, relief, and everything in between coloring Reo’s face behind you. Reo has always worn his feelings in his sleeves— too transparent and too obvious.

“I know. I don’t like you,” Nagi admits to you, “I said it because he’s behind you.”

For the second time, you freeze at his words. The urge to turn and confirm or deny his statement tugs at you, but the fear of confronting Nagi's unerring honesty prevails.

Nagi Seishiro never lies unless he admits he does. Lying is too much of an effort, honesty is easier, he reasons.

You weigh your choices. Honestly, you'd rather be the butt of Nagi’s jokes than to face Reo if he’s really behind you. And so, you make your decision. Instead of turning to confront the embodiment of your unrequited feelings, you bolt for the door, leaving the two men to exchange silent glances.

“It's a lie?” Reo's voice breaks the silence.

“Yeah,” Nagi confirms. “Why aren't you going after them—”

Reo interrupts him with a confession, “I wouldn't know what to do if you liked them, too.”

I know, Nagi thinks again, staring at Reo before shrugging and collecting his belongings from the table.

“It will be a pain, I guess.” he shrugs again before finally turning his back to Reo to leave the classroom.

Suppose it's a good thing— it's a good thing Nagi doesn't wear his feelings on his face like you do, Reo.

Because it will really be a pain, indeed.

note. idk what this is but i present to you: pining reo written in nagi's pov or... i guess it could be more than that 🤷🏻‍♀️ (wrote this back in september pls throw the tomatoes gently)

[maybankswhore]

“𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄.” “𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃.”

PAIRING: jj maybank x reader.

SUMMARY: you’re always there when he needs you.

jj hadn’t talked to you in weeks. he knew it was wrong. to just , disappear the way he did. but he couldn’t keep doing it. the whole ‘relationship’ thing. it wasn’t that he didn’t love you , because , fuck , did he love you. but he loved you too much.

he loved you in the way he searched for your face in everyone he came across. always scanning for the familiarity of you in crowds. he loved you in the way that his heart would race when you held his hand , dragging him along the shore of the beach rambling about your special interests. holding on to every word , storing it in a part of his brain that he specifically reserved for you and everything you loved or didn’t.

he loved you so much to the point that it fucking petrified him.

and so jj did was jj was the best at— ignoring the problem and hope it goes away.

he thought he could just ignore you , forget you. erase the mere memory of ever coming across you.

he didn’t want to. he knew he didn’t. and if he thought about it too long he’d cry and cry like a little boy , clutching onto himself to help self sooth the pain he had inflicted onto himself.

it was better this way. he told himself over and over. that’s what he told john b when he was confronted about your absence. that’s what he told pope who could tell he missed you dearly. he repeated it to kiara who’d scold him about ghosting you.

this way he was in control of when it ended. you didn’t have the chance to leave him , to hurt him.

to abandon him.

and maybe that’s why he was so angry.

so angry to the point that all of that sadness and hurt mixed together and blinded him from the matter at hand.

so angry he’d get into a fight at the country club and earn himself a cell to sit and think about what he did.

jj was leaning against the wall , eyes closed as he hummed some tune to distract him from what was happening all around him.

“maybank!”

his eyes shot up at the officer who looked at him in a way that made his skin crawl and eyes roll. eyebrows up , he cocked his head to the side. “yes?”

the officer unlocked the cell door and moved back , glaring at the young troublemaker. “you’re free to go. ride’s here.”

jj jumped up triumphantly , saluting him in the process. he had expected john b or pope waiting for him outside , anyone really. anyone but you.

as he walked outside and saw you leaning against your car with your eyes wide with worry , he froze in his spot. immediately his heart thumped in his chest. looking around , there was nobody else around.

“y/n?” he said lowly , cheeks flushing in embarrassment. one because he hadn’t spoken to you in weeks and two because the first time he’d speak to you after those weeks were from him being thrown in jail for fighting.

your head perked up at your name , relief flashing over you. you practically ran towards him , throwing arms around his shoulders instinctively. “jj! i was so worried about you. i-i heard about what happened and they called me because i was on your emergency list and everyone else was busy when i called so—”

“you came?” jj’s hands were frozen at his side , his chest hammering into his head. “but-”

“you called.” you pulled away and gave him a small smile. “and i’ll always answer when it’s you.”

the weight of your words hit him harder than he had ever felt before. he had always been so used of being alone , or falling into john b and pope’s arms because the pogue’s were all he had— but maybe he did have you. maybe. . . maybe you wouldn’t leave.

jj held back the tears he felt begging to flow , and his arms felt like jelly as he wrapped them around your waist and held him to you tightly. your hair still smelled the same , you still scrunched the fabric of his shirt in your hands when you hugged him.

“i’m sorry , y/n.” jj mumbled into your hair , sniffling just a bit— holding onto his composure. “i didn’t want you to leave me.” he choked back a sob as he confessed all what he had been feeling , all what he was too scared to say then. “and i know that it was selfish and i know i don’t deserve for you to be here right now but i’m so fucking scared and i hate being scared.”

you sighed. you couldn’t say you weren’t mad or upset that jj hadn’t talked to you sooner , that he just stopped answering your calls and messages.

but jj was different. and he was special. and you knew he had never been loved the right way. and you couldn’t blame him for wanting to protect himself.

you rubbed your hand down his back soothingly , fisting the fabric of shirt. “it’s okay.” you assured him. “i’m not mad at you anymore.”

jj pulled away and wiped his cheek with the back of his hand quickly. “you should be. you should hate me.”

“i could never hate you.” you shook your head , cupping his cheek gently to avoid touching the bruised parts. “i missed you.”

jj held onto your hand that held his cheek , kissing the palm of it softly. “i missed you. . .”

you looked into his eyes and saw how he looked at you. and he didn’t need to say it.

you could be patient.

“let’s get you home , j.”

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode VI 

Labor of Love - Part III

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20) featuring Metkayina!Zu’té (29)

Warnings: zero smut, explicit childbirth, water birth, difficult labour, contractions, amniotic fluid, breastfeeding, family fluff, expletives, this is a bit angsty but there’s a happy ending

Word Count: 7.3k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: the following depicts a very detailed, difficult, and medically inaccurate birth. This is graphic. I am quite literally going to simulate a birthing experience in your pov and I strongly suggest opting out now if anything pregnancy or birth related could make you uncomfortable. Finally, this is most definitely not medical advice, nor should this be used as a reference for what to expect during birth. This is a fanfiction about blue aliens, after all. With that being said, let’s welcome Ralak into fatherhood!! Enjoy 😊

Synopsis: Things were moving too fast until they weren't moving fast enough. The time has come and you're starting to doubt your capabilities. But thankfully your mate is here to guide you through this.

<- Previous

“Okay, Toto. Just do it. Go in there.” Zu’té sounds breathless as he speaks to himself, turning around to face the door. He hears your whimper and his jaw tightens. “Shit. Okay. Right.” Just as he raises his hand to pull back the curtain, he hears a winded voice.  “Brother.”

Zu’té spins around to face the voice of an angel—Ralak.

“Oh, thank Eywa. Thank you great mother. Thank you.” Zu’té chants in relief despites being one of the least spiritual persons someone can meet. He knew deep down that Eywa answered his call. 

Zu’té makes eye contact with the dishevelled and worn out giant. His attention is immediately drawn to the lengthy gash on his shoulder that seems to have been stitched up in a haste. 

“Ay’ana.” Ralak growls when he sees him staring.

The colour drains from Zu’té ‘s face, but before he can respond, Ralak’s ears perk up when they hear what seems to be a low whimpering. It sounds as if you're straining and struggling to breathe. His eyes dart behind Zu’té and then quickly snap back to his brother, filled with panic. 

Zu’té just barely shakes his head, urging himself to focus on the most important thing right now. 

“Your mate is in labour, tak.”

Ralak’s eyes widen at the confirmation. He knew it. He felt it back inland. 

Without another passing second, Ralak pushes past Zu’té and enters his marui. You hear the faint flap of the door and try to shift yourself in order to keep some level of decency.  

“I said to leave.” You’re breathless, gripping relentlessly onto the wooden stilt.

Ralak’s frozen in place, taking in the sight of you labouring by yourself. One that no matter how painful, is a sight he has always longed to see. A sense of pride fills his chest, his mate is showing such great strength that it’s admirable. Bringing life to his child is something he will eternally be grateful for. 

But then he sees your fingernails. How they've gone dull from all your gripping and scraping, and his sense of pride quickly mixes with shame. Shame that he has left you alone in this. 

Your laboured breathing is audible, practically wheezing as you struggle to breathe through the last lap of this contraction. You keep holding your breath and it’s more than evident from the red tinge in your face. Breathing is no longer the thing that you’re most focused on anymore, it’s the pressure between your legs.

He doesn't want to startle you but he can’t just watch you suffer any longer. He approaches you cautiously, examining you in attempts to discern how far into your labour you are. 

You're glazed in a layer of sweat, glimmering in the faint light of the first sliver of sun. Your shoulders rise and fall rapidly as you pant faster than a viperwolf pup, and your belly is low and firm as it tightens from the contraction. 

Ears laid flat to your skull and brows tightened, you curl over and clutch your stomach. He releases his clenched jaw and lessens the distance between the two of you. He gently places his hands on your lower back, pressing into you with the ball of his palm. 

The warmth alone provides a bit of relief for you, allowing you to momentarily catch your breath.

“Zu’té.” You hiss under your breath, surprised he’s even come in, much less laid a hand on you.

You let go of the marui stilt to swat away his hand with a loud smack. The reminder of you labouring in the presence of another man that isn’t him makes him wince. 

“Muntxate [wife].” Ralak husks quietly, using his thumbs to rub circles into your back. Your ears lift from your skull and perk up when you realise it’s your mate, back home from the excursion.

Tears overflow and spill down your cheeks. Tears of pain. Tears of exhaustion. Tears of relief. 

“Ralak.” You let out a nasally sob, unable to look at him just yet due to the contraction still rippling through you. You speak between your moans, voice cracking.

“You’re back. You’re here. It’s happening, lak. He’s coming. And I—I thought you’d miss it. I thought you weren’t coming back. I thought… I thought—”

“Alright, alright. I am right here with you, tanhì. Mawey, mawey [calm, calm].” He hums steadily, already reaching behind him for his kuru. “How long have you been in labour?”

“D-Don’t know.” Your breath catches in your throat and your knees begin to tremble. “Too l-long.” 

Ralak’s heart throbs in his chest at the thought of you enduring this on your own for that long. The contraction is finally subsiding, and you're eager to find relief in your mate. You exhale shakily and grip his wrist as you try to straighten your spine. 

“Easy.” Ralak is quick to help you to your feet, holding you by your hip and arm. “Can you stand?”

You nod your head as you slump back into him regardless. “It’s happening, ‘lak.” You wheeze, resting your head on his chest. Despite the slight sting, Ralak smiles, joyful to know his son will soon be born. 

“It is, my tanhì.” Ralak hums, swaying side to side with you against his body as he brings his glowing tendrils towards the end of your braid. He’s spent but he knows the exhaustion he feels is nothing in comparison to yours. “I am so sorry I have left you alone in this.” 

“‘ts not your fault, my love.” You murmur, lulling your head against his chest. “...not your fault.”

Though your contraction has passed, the pressure in your pelvis has a steady, constant groan vibrating in your throat. It’s a feeling that won’t let up, and the further you progress the more intense it gets. It feels like your body’s at its limit, unable to accommodate your babe any longer. 

“Mmmn—tsaheylu, please.” Your plea is drawn out and low, unaware that he’s already one step ahead of you. 

When he makes the bond, the pressure is instantly lightened but is quickly replaced with a sharp pain in your shoulder and back. He sucks in a sharp breath and grimaces from the sudden pain and pressure that flows into him.

You gasp and clutch your left shoulder, whipping your head around to look behind you. Immediately, you catch sight of his wound. 

Fresh blood spurts out between the ragged stitches and globbed over herbal concoction, dribbling down his chest and back in thin streams. 

“Shit.” You curse, ripping your queue away from him, abruptly severing the bond—causing the pressure to come back tenfold. “Fuck—you’re injured.” 

“I am fine.” Ralak insists, reaching for your kuru again.

“Tsaheylu will infect it.” You insist, keeping your kuru away from him. 

“Ke tare [it doesn’t matter].” He says sharply, catching his tone and softening it. “Allow me, please.” 

Ralak reaches for your kuru again, eager to make it up to you—to take the pain for whatever time you have left. But you shake your head firmly. 

The fact that making tsaheylu caused it to rupture and bleed, a gash that size will surely worsen with the influence of your labour. Ralak respects your wish, although he’s in disagreement with it. He’d never make the bond without your consent and he feels as if he’s already missed too much of your labour to continue the argument. 

“…what happened?” You ask shakily, terrified to know the answer. “Wh-What did they do to you?” You feel yourself begin to tear up.

Seeing him so hurt always made your heart heavy. 

Your question catches him off guard, bringing him back to the moment he saw his own karyu. He swallows, having trouble keeping his calm and figuring out what to say. He has no intention of keeping it from you, but truthfully it isn’t the right time to speak of such matters. Not when you’re nearing the peak of the birth of your firstborn.

“Not now. You are labouring.” Ralak says sternly yet gently, reshifting his focus and concern back to you. 

And if it weren’t for the unbearable heavy sensation in between your legs you would’ve protested. You nod lazily as your breath hitches repeatedly, your hand finding its way to the lowest part of your abdomen to press into it. Your lengthy groans start up again, you can feel your entire body begin to tense up.

“Another? So soon?” Ralak’s voice falters, concern now evident in his tone. He steadies himself behind you, pressing his hands into your lower back once more. 

“Pressure. ‘ts too much.” You pant, leaning forward and using your free hand on the marui stilt for support. 

“Pressure?” Ralak tries his best to understand what you mean. Thinking that he’s pressing too hard into your back, he eases up and apologises. You shake your head and quickly replace your hand onto the lowest part of your abdomen with his. 

“Pressure!” You yelp the word like a plea for help, hoping he’ll get it without you needing to explain. Talking is becoming more difficult with each passing contraction. When he does finally understand, his eyes widen and brow bones jump. 

“Ah—he is moving down, tanhì.” Ralak tries to speak calmly, sliding his other hand over your stomach. His fingers smooth over your skin, taking in its heat and supple texture. He then feels it tighten even more, contracting right under the pads of his digits.

“Tewti [whoa].” 

It’s the first he’s ever felt a contraction, despite being a mandated witness to numerous first breath rituals in the clan. He begins counting under his breath, trying to gauge your progression by determining how long they’re lasting. But before he can get into the double digits your low grumble turns into a high pitched cry. 

Ralaks ears immediately go flat, hearing a cry like that rip from your throat makes his heart tighten in his chest. He shuffles closer to you upon realising that you're curling over from the pain. Moving quickly, he supports your body weight with one hand to your belly and another over your chest. 

“Ralak!” You cry out, “Please! Do something!”

With that, Ralak’s hands slip back down to your lower abdomen, cupping your belly and gently pull upward. This always helped if the baby was sitting too low, relieving some of the heaviness and pressure on your bladder.

Instantaneously, the pressure relieves. Your cry dissipates into a loud sigh, your downturned lips flipping up into a small smile of relief. 

“Thank you—” Pop. “—ugh” Gush. 

You’re silent, but your face screws into a grimace as the pain rushes back in with a vengeance. You look down in a painful daze, feeling the trickle of liquid down your thighs and legs. Through blurred vision, you watch as a pool forms at your feet, as well as Ralaks. 

“Shit.” Ralak mutters under his breath, recognizing what’s just happened. 

His head whips around to the sound of the flap of the marui door. He looks behind him, met with the panicked, bulging eyes of Zu’té, who’s staring intently at the scene unfolding before him. He's just worked up enough courage to enter the room.

Zu’té finally makes eye contact with Ralak, and Ralak nudges his chin in the direction of the village, mouthing—‘Get a healer’. Zu’té nods and takes off at full tilt. 

“…fuck‘m sorry. My waters...” You mumble, fingers digging into his arms in attempts to keep you standing, to no avail. 

Your knees buckle beneath you, and you lose all ability to keep yourself on your feet. Ralak supports you, moving down with you rather than trying to keep you standing. He slowly and gently lowers you to the floor, away from the growing puddle. 

“What for? Your water breaking? No need to be.” Ralak chuckles breathily, trying to make it obvious that it’s no big deal—he’s unbothered by it.  

“Me-messed you up.” You grunt, breath straining as you lean all your weight back into him. 

“You did no such thing.” He reassures you through a quick breath, adjusting you into a more comfortable position.

You lay on top of him, shifting onto your side and off the sharp throb in your lower back. You clutch his bicep with one hand and keep the other snug under your bump. 

He’s more so in an awkward position than not, his back now against the base of the bed and his right leg propped up to keep you from rolling back. He has no issue staying put in this position if it means some sort of relief for you. 

But your groans only deepen, lengthening and ending with small grunts.

“You alright, mama?” He checks in on you through a whisper, knowing that things move quickly once the water breaks.

You nod your head, trying to be strong, but he can see right through it. And you know it. You sputter out a sob and shake your head, finally admitting the truth—finally facing reality.

“I know, I know, tìyawn. Almost there.”

Even without tsaheylu, he is able to tell how long you have left just based on your sounds and body language. With each little grunt he notices that your face shifts to a brighter shade of pink.

He takes note of your tail, and how it’s now tightly coiled, tucked to the base of your tailbone—out the way. Your shoulders are bowed and your stomach sits low, hard as a rock. 

“Oh!—Eywa, ple-ase.” You mumble a plea, eyes squeezing shut when you come to the height of your contraction. “Mmm’fuck—fuck.” 

“A little longer.” He places a firm, comforting kiss on the temple of your head. “It will soon be over.” 

You feel Ralak’s hand firmly patting your lower back, attempting to put the fire out. But now the pressure’s released, the pain is only more intense—spreading and morphing into a new feeling altogether. 

“Ralak—Ralak!” You panic, your head rolling side to side as you strive against this new sensation. 

“Right here with you.” He hums, pressing hard into your lower back with the ball of his palm. “What do you need?” 

You begin frantically tugging at your soaked loincloth, trying your hardest to get it off of you. Ralak quickly takes over, untethering the knot and slipping it off you.

“Need to—aahaa! I think he’s—haah—he’s—he’s coming!” You yell, unable to fight the new feeling. An urge you’ve never felt before. The urge to push. “Ralak—I’m scared!” 

“Listen to your body.” Your mate encourages you with a steady and calm voice. 

His gaze snaps down to witness your leg rising into the air and your hand hooking under the back of your knee. His hand cups over yours, helping you support the weight of your suspended leg. 

Ralak manoeuvres himself in a way that allows him to support you and see what’s happening. He gently tugs your leg back a little further, having a proper look. He can see just how swollen and tender the flesh between your legs is—ripe and ready. It’s time. 

“Muntxate [wife]. Bear down if you need to.” 

“I—I—urgh!” You cry out, finally giving into the urge to push, allowing your body to bear down in the way it’s been trying to. Holding your breath, you tuck your chin to your chest and sink your fingernails into Ralak’s bicep, pushing as best as you can in this position. 

“Good, good. Good push, tanhì.” His voice is hushed but steady as he watches in awe as your body flourishes. “Syeha si [breathe].”

As the urge subsides, you release your breath and gasp for air a few times. If he’s really coming, you don’t want it to be here. You had both discussed doing this in the comfort of your own lake. The lake in the cave, where your relationship with him had blossomed to begin with. 

“Not here.” You say out of breath, legs shaking terribly.

Ralak leans in closer to you, listening carefully to decipher your murmurs. You keep your eyes closed shut, unable to open them anyway. They feel as heavy as you do, weighed down with exhaustion and agony.

But as you feel your stomach tighten and the urge rush back in, you realise that time lessening. “Water—get me in the water, please!”

Ralak hesitates, scanning your body to see if moving you in this state is the right thing to do. He watches as you tense up in agony as you contract, and quickly the realisation dawns upon him, too. At this rate, the babe will be here at any moment.

And if your wishes are to give birth in the water, now is the time to fulfil them.

Ralak scoops you up into his firm clutch, rises to his feet, and rushes out the door. Taking his time down the steps, your grip around his neck tightens just as a groan rumbles in your chest. Your legs squirm in his grasp as they try to snap open. 

“Hurry! He’s coming!” You grunt, burying your face into the crease of his peck, biting down to fight the feeling. 

Ralak glances down at you a few times, brows gathered from the worry that plagues his heart. He’s holding you tight, so as not to let the wiggle of your body loosen his grip.

“Here.” He huffs out, nearing the entrance of the cave. 

Immediately immersing himself hip-deep into the water, he moves hastily, submerging you as he makes his way over to the ledge and helps you into position.

The ledge makes a smaller, more shallow pool in the lake, perfect for you to sit in with your back supported by the bank. 

Water is up to your chest, slushing and splashing against your neck as you desperately readjust yourself to get comfortable. Your head is perched on the bank of the lake, hands spread across to hold onto the rocky surface. Your toes grip the floor, rooting yourself to the ground to keep you stable, knees bobbing at the water's surface. 

“Fuck! Ralak!” You cry out, feeling your body act on its own accord.  

Ralak is already in front of you, one hand on your bump as the other slips between your thighs to feel your progression. All while he’s looking down at you with nothing but concern etched into his features, unsure of what more he can do for you without tsaheylu.

He witnesses your face turn red as you hold your breath again, using as much force as you can to push him out. 

Ralaks hand moves from your bump to cup your cheek, his fingernails raking away the streaks of sweaty hair plastered to your face and tucking them behind your ear. 

“Syeha si, tanhì [breathe].” He reminds you gently, exaggerating a breathing pattern you had rehearsed a few weeks ago, and you try to match his rhythm. 

But you’re stuttering and sobbing, unable to establish a pattern and push at the same time. Your back is on fire and it feels as if the baby isn’t moving any further down. 

The contraction finally ends with a loud wheeze and your head slumps back into the rocky bank. You shake your head as you struggle to open your heavy lidded eyes. 

Your vision is blurry and spotty. You glance down in a haze and lock eyes for a moment with the worried giant before you, and then you feel yet another contraction wash over you. They are on top of one another—back to back—with little to no break between them. 

“Fuck. Please. Please. Plea—” You weep weakly, eyes slamming shut as your chin makes contact with your chest, cutting off your pleas with a lengthy, guttural grunt. You push with what you have left, giving yourself a throbbing headache as a result. 

“Pushing so, so well.” Ralak praises you with a hushed voice, feeling something press against his fingers. 

As you strain, you feel the delirium set in. The panic of not knowing if you’re capable of doing this. Every inch of you more than ached, yet some parts of you have even gone numb from how long this has been going on.

You can barely get a proper breath in much less breathe the way you should when you’re pushing. You feel like your body may give out at any moment. 

“Keep going, y/n.” He encourages you, seeing your exhaustion and feeling you stop. 

“Ralak…lak.” You let out a sob and try to relax your body, but end up collapsing back into the rocky surface again. “‘m tired, lak.” You mumble shakily between laboured pants, “...want him out.” 

“I hear you.” Ralak tries to reassure you, now supporting both your trembling legs as they threaten to give out. “He will soon be out, tanhì. But you have to keep going.”

“No—oh, no, no.” You cry, tensing up from another agonising contraction. You didn’t think they could get any more painful. “No more. No more, please.”

“Come now, big push for me.” Ralak instructs softly, repositioning himself to help deliver his son. 

“Ugh—!” You scream, giving all you have left into this push. Beads of sweat roll down your temples at a concerning speed, and your face shifts to an even more vibrant shade of red. “Please! Please get him out of me!” 

“He’s coming out, tìyawn. Keep pushing, almost there. Almost there.” Ralaks voice is low and laced with panic, despite his greatest efforts to keep calm and collected.

This cycle repeats for some time, instilling worry into both you and Ralak. You’re having a difficult time, and it’s taxing on your body to keep this going.

Truthfully he can tell that you’re really struggling, and he’s getting a little more worried as time passes. But then he feels the baby press against his fingers and hope fills him once more. 

“That’s it. Push just like that, y/n.” 

“Fuck—” And just as last time, you collapse back into the bank, depleted with nothing left to give. You begin to think that maybe everything you’ve been hearing was right. 

Maybe you can’t do this. 

“I…I can’t.” You sputter defeated, letting your legs go limp either side of you.

“Mawey [calm]. You can. Your body is made for this.” He reaffirms for not only you but also himself, he’s too afraid to lose you. No, he can’t lose you, too. He’s experienced too much loss. 

“’s not comin’.” You shake your head lethargically, feeling faint. “He’s stuck.”

Hearing that makes his heart sink. Ronal’s words echo in his mind, putting him in a frantic state. He quickly composes himself, probing the tender flesh to help stretch it out. He feels something slimy and silken, and his ears perk up.

He’s right there. So close. 

“He’s not. I feel him, he is right there.” Ralak tries to keep calm for you, attempting to reassure you as he quickly thinks about the next best move.

Zu’té isn’t back with the healer and there's not much else he can do. He looks down at you, taking in just how uncomfortable you look as he tries to imagine just how much pain you’re in. With a position like this, no wonder your back hurts. His eyes widen. 

No wonder your progression has stalled. 

“Move with me. Easy.” Ralak croons, carefully tucking his arm under your back to sit you up slowly. He throws your limp arms around his neck, and brings you to your knees and then your feet—supporting your weight as you get there. 

“Lak, Lak!” You grimace and whimper as you try to work with your mate—your body is already so sore and weak that any movement is torturous. 

“Need to get you off your back.” Ralak huffs, holding you in position until you’ve adjusted. You hold on to him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as you settle into a squat. “A few more pushes, mama.”  

“Haa—no, no.” You squeal in desperation, feeling his head descend even further down now that gravity has come into play.

Then your belly stiffens. 

You bite the flesh of your cheek until you taste blood and bury your face into the dip of his collarbone—refusing the urge to push. But the instinct overrides you completely, leaving you in a panicked and delirious state. 

“Take h-him out! Make the cut!”

“No, no cut. No cut.” Ralak utters a throaty whisper, pushing down into your lower back. “Bear down, muntxate [wife].” 

“Ple—ase.” Your broken plea comes out as a low grunt as you shake your head frantically, driving your dulled nails into your mate. “It hurts, it hurts!” 

“I know, ma’ y/n. But you must bear down, please.” His voice trembles, filled with worry, but his words are firm—non-negotiable. You continue to shake your head, fighting with what you have left, your laboured breathing deepening as you run out of strength to resist. 

Ralak’s worry quickly turns into pure panic. Panic that you’ve really given up. Panic that you really may not make it out of this. That…he’ll lose you. He knows what he must do, despite it being against your wishes.

He gives your kuru a quick stroke, his way of warning you. It sends a shiver through you, but the pain is so excruciating that you can’t resist this, too. 

Ralak quickly makes tsaheylu, bringing a brief moment of pure, instant relief, just enough to bring you out of your delirium. His wound reopens, burning and weeping. But not even that could prepare him for your pain. 

It feels like each vertebrae in his spine instantaneously shifts out of place. It is excruciating. And strange—that urge to push. He can feel it too. It’s like an itch deep under your skin. Irresistible and uncontrollable. 

“Push!” Ralak groans loudly, prompting you to bear down with whatever strength you can muster up.

You scream at the top of your lungs, achieving a frequency and volume so high it can be heard from the village. Ralak’s fingers quickly probe the tenderness between your legs to check your progress once more. Finally, he feels the baby’s head begin to emerge. 

“Perfect push, tanhì. Keep going, keep going.” Now he’s winded, flustered and speaking breathily. 

Your scream is cut off by your vulgar tongue, “Fuck! Fuck—it burns!” You cry out, feeling a bolt of white hot fire split you in two, making you jerk back. “It’s burning!” You sob, trying to wiggle away from the flame. 

“He’s crowning. His head, shit—” He huffs, realising that the babe is coming too quickly, not giving you enough time to adjust, “Stop pushing.” His fingers probe the taut skin in attempts to prevent you from possibly tearing, “Breathe him out. Just as we practised.”

Your fingers dig even deeper into him as your head snaps up to shoot him a deadly glare. Wasn’t he just demanding that you push? To ‘listen to your body’?

You take deep, intentional breaths, eyes flicking down to search the cloudy water as you try your hardest to resist. He can feel your frustration through tshayelu, he can hear your thoughts. 

“Syeha si, syeha si [Breathe, breathe]. Let yourself adjust. Let your body push for you.” Ralak tries to explain, using the bond to his advantage and setting a steady breathing pattern. 

‘I can’t do it.’ You think to him, unsure if you’re even doing it right.

“You can. You are. Just like that.” Ralak works with you, probing the tender skin once more as he feels the head emerge. “A little longer.”

But yet, you feel yourself giving in. 

“Can't. Help. It.” You whimper, your breath stuttering as it catches in your throat. Tears roll relentlessly down your cheeks. You need him out. 

Now. 

You drop to your knees and tuck your chin to your chest. “Haah!” Your breath finally releases, and a guttural, lengthy grunt follows after. 

Ralak feels you push — hard. He readies himself, steadying his stance as he traces his fingers around the circumference of his unborn’s head to help guide him out. 

He is, too, looking down into the murky water, trying his best to see what’s going on. All he can do is rely on his sense of touch and the feeling through the bond to help him. 

“Ngh—ugh!” You feel a pop between your legs and the pressure minutely releases. 

Just then Ralak feels the rest of your baby’s head emerge. He can feel the curls of his silken hair, and how they’re laid flat to his skull. Ralak nearly breaks down right there, but fights the array of emotions bombarding him all at once to recenter his focus back on you. 

“His head is out.” He croaks, supporting the babe's head with the palm of his hand. “Hair like yours.” 

Ralak gently unlatches your grip on his shoulder and guides your hand under the water and towards his. Aside from wanting you to feel what he’s feeling, he’s hoping that this will give you the strength to keep going.

You feel the sliminess first, and then the soft, velvety texture of your son's head. You weep, slumping your head into Ralak's chest as you focus on gathering as much energy during the small break from the contractions. 

It’s incredible to know that your body created this life. 

“Oh god…it’s him.” You barely whisper.

“You are so strong, you know that? Mighty.” Ralak hums, cupping the back of your head with his hand. You lift your head to look at him and he rests his forehead against yours, searching your eyes with his. “One more push for me, okay?” 

You nod your head, bottom lip curled over to touch your chin. His hand slips from your neck to your cheek, his thumb wiping away one tear of a thousand. The tightening of your stomach has you tensing up, gripping onto him for support. You groan and moan until the contraction reaches its peak, where you begin to grunt and push against the budding pressure.  

He steadies himself once more, quickly slipping his hand off your cheek back into the water. He holds your son's head with one hand, and hooks the fingers of his other hand under his son's left shoulder. It pops out with the help of his gentle tug, and you bear down even harder. 

“A little more.” He encourages you, waiting patiently to feel his son's right shoulder emerge. He feels the bridge of his shoulder and Ralak jumps into action, carefully guiding his son's shoulder out. “Perfect, there it is.” Ralak mumbles quickly, hyperfocused on ensuring a safe delivery. 

You whimper when the burning sensation comes back, shoving your forehead into his chest. It’s hard to breathe. Every fibre in your being has you wanting to hold your breath for more leverage to get him out. Your noises fade to little choked muffles, quick and uneven. 

“Breathe.” Ralak chokes out, feeling your burning lungs through tsaheylu. He immediately establishes a somewhat steady breathing pattern for you to sync into.

“Pwah!” You let out a shaky, harsh breath of air, panting as you try to sync with him. “Urgh—ah!” you groan as you push, surprised by how long this torturous contraction is lasting. 

“Please get him out of me, please, please.” You whisper into his chest.

“Shoulders are out, tanhì” Ralak huffs next to your ear, tenderly rubbing his cheek against your temple. 

“Catch him, Lak.” You wheeze, your legs shaking uncontrollably from carrying your weight for such a long time. He wants so badly to do the rest for you, now really sensing your weariness through the bond. But he couldn’t, all he could do was support you through every second of this. 

“I have him, muntxate [wife].” He whispers, lips pressed to your ear. “Last push.”

A hoarse, empty cry evades your trembling lips as you bear down a final time. Suddenly the pressure releases entirely, and you feel your son slip out of you and into Ralaks hands. You let out a loud moan of relief, immediately pulling away from Ralak’s chest to look down into the water. 

“He’s out. He’s here, tanhì. You did it, mama. You did it.” Ralaks cracked voice is full of relief. “He—he is so small.”

You fall back onto your behind, breaking tsaheylu with your mate. Your eyes search for your newborn but you can’t make anything out of the murkiness of the water.

You look up to witness tears fill Ralak’s eyes for the first time as he holds the baby underneath the water. Your back hits the rocky bank of the lake in solace knowing your son is in safe hands. 

Then Ralak grits his teeth and lets go.

“Lak. Ralak.” Your panicked, hoarse voice calls for him, but you’re too weak to get up. “Ho-Hold him, Ralak.” 

Ralak looks like he’s fighting his own instinct to scoop up his young and cradle him in his chest. And that’s because he is. It’s taking everything in him not to do just that, but he knows that this is the way. The right way. 

“Mawey [calm]. First breath.” Ralak gently reminds you of the Metkayina ritual. He knows he must do this, especially in the absence of the Tsahik. “Let him swim.” 

You watch intently as the water slowly clears, revealing the wiggle of your newborn's body. “Help him.” You plead with trembling lungs, having a hard time watching this unfold. 

Ralak stays close to his newborn, ready to jump into action in an instant. But the babe rises to the top all on his own—swimming directly from the womb. You burst into tears, chest swelling with pride and every emotion under the moon.

Nonetheless, Ralak taps his bum softly, his other hand hovering underneath his son's feet in the case he needs to intervene. This is the first moment where your son has made you both proud.

Your son breaks the water with his face, chubby cheeks and puckered lips. You hear the sound of his little, first breath — pwah. His eyes open as he looks around, catching sight of his father scooping him into his arms. 

“You did it, my little one.” Ralak whispers with a crack in his voice, shifting his gaze over to you. “You did it. I’m so proud of you.” He repeats in absolute shock and awe, and this time you know he’s talking to you, too. 

Ralak holds his son close to his chest and away from his weeping wound, using his body heat to keep him warm as he makes his way over to you. The babe wails when he catches your scent, squirming in his fathers arms as if he were trying to get to you on his own terms. 

“She is right here, son.” He whispers, bouncing him a bit as he places him in your arms, helping you hold him for the first time. “Hold his head.”

Your arms feel like jelly and they won’t stop shaking, but you’re eager to hold your newborn. Ralak tucks himself closely at your side, keeping a precautionary hand under your arm. Immediately, he calms, gurgling and cooing as he listens to the familiar and comforting thump of your heart. It’s all he’s heard in the past ten months. 

Teary eyed, you look down through blurred vision, taking in the sight of your son. Every feature. Every stripe. Every freckle. His dark turquoise skin, golden eyes, pointed pink ears. A tail like his father, but five fingered, like his mother. He is the perfect mix, the perfect balance. 

“You’re perfect.” You whisper, admiring his little coos and floppy, soft ears that lay flat against him. His head turns towards your bosom, puckered lips brushing against your top in search of your nipple. “Hungry? Hm?” You hum shakily. 

Ralak is quick to help you, helping you position him just right. Your son shakes his head as he tries to latch for the first time, and both you and Ralak watch quietly with wobbly smiles plastered on your faces.

With two fingers, Ralak presses down onto your breast, angling your nipple in a way that makes it easier for you and him. You can’t help the grimace on your face when he does latch and suckle, but it quickly turns into a smile as you watch him feed for the first time. 

“Rak’äni.” Ralak proudly announces the name of his first born son.

You look up at him, witnessing a tear or two roll down his cheek. You’d never seen this giant cry like this before. The past two days have been too much.

“Rak’äni.” You repeat with a smile, Ralaks eyes finally meeting yours. He leans in and meets your lips with his, kissing you tenderly. He lingers there forehead to forehead as he pulls away, allowing himself to be vulnerable—to soak in his emotions. 

“I love you. I see you, y/n. For life. And beyond.” Ralak sheds a few more tears as he speaks the words.

“Nìt’iluke [neverendingly; forever].” You say wearily, heavy lidded eyes struggling to stay open. 

Snap. 

Ralak hears the sound of a branch breaking underneath the weight of a person's foot. Ralak looks behind him, hand under the water clutching the dagger on his hip, ready to protect his family. He sees the silhouette of a woman standing at the opening of the cave, basket on her hip as the last rays of sun shine through her. 

The first eclipse is starting.

Is that how long this has gone on for?

His heart skips a beat as his eyes narrow to see who it is…to see if it’s how he suspects it may be. Did she really follow us?

He then sees a taller figure emerge behind her, then another, and another…and another. And soon he counts seven heads in total and it dawns on him.

It’s your family—and his.

“We have visitors, little one.” Ralak coos quietly at his baby, his thumb just barely gliding over his cheek. “Are you alright, mama?” His voice sounds muffled and distant, as if he were at the other side of the lake. “The healer is here.” 

“Tired...Hurts.” You mumble, letting your eyes fall shut.

You feel Ralak’s gentle touch as he tucks himself behind you, supporting you with his body. His arm is under yours, keeping the babe safely above water as he feeds. You can fully relax your body now, sinking into your mate’s pillowy chest. 

“Rest.” Ralak whispers. “I have you.”

“You won’t believe, brother. The tshahik is also in labour. And I couldn’t find you…I heard y/n scream and—oh…” Zu’té lowers his voice to a whisper, catching sight of the freshly born babe in your arms. “Tak. He’s here.” His voice falters even more as he nears his blood.

His only family outside of Ralak. He’s awestruck, taking in all the different features of a new kind as he feeds. The babe's skin resembles the depth of his mother, but the tone of his father. Stripes like an omaticaya. Tail like a Metkayina. Five-fingered.

Truthfully, the length of his stare has Ralak feeling a little uneasy and a bit protective. 

“Toto.” Ralak hasn’t called him that in years, “Meet your nephew—Rak’äni.” 

“Rak’äni.” Zu’té repeats through a whisper, keeping his distance from the babe. “Fyole [beyond perfection].” 

Ralak relaxes, smiling proudly. “He is.” 

Zu’té fumbles with a small satchel on his hip, taking something out of it in a haste. He hands Ralak something small, something delicate. It's weaved to perfection, with colours of the sunset.

"For him." Zu’té says in a hushed voice, unfolding the garment to show his brother. It's a hat, an entirely new concept to the Metkayina. Ralak looks at him, a little confused, eyes bouncing between the strangely shaped item and his brother. "For the child's head."

Ralak smiles, his furrowed brows relaxing when he understands. Zu’té raises his brows and gently nudges it closer to the babe in your arms. Ralak nods, watching as Zu’té slips it on his head as gently as he can.

"Toto, that is very kind—"

"Don't flatter yourself." Zu’té cuts his brother short, pulling back to see the finished result of his hard work. It fits perfectly. "I had plenty of time."

Zu’té steps back, giving you two some space.

A sudden splash of the water makes Ralak jolt in his skin, but he calms down once he realises that it’s the healer situating herself next to you so she can tend to you. He isn’t all here right now, either.

“You did well, sa’nu.” You recognize her voice and strain to open your eyes, vaguely seeing her features.

She was at all your lessons with Ronal. The only one who didn’t look at you like some sort of alien. The only one who treated you with respect.

“All on your own. You need to be strong for a little while longer, alright? This may hurt.”

She begins gently massaging your abdomen under the water—a step that is empirical for healing. You clench your jaw and squeeze your eyes shut, shoving your head back into Ralak, who is visibly trying to withhold his look of displeasure.

“I get that look quite a bit. It’ll be over soon, sempu.”

You look down with foggy vision and see the hat on your baby's head. Immediately, you know who made it. You turn your head, looking directly at Zu’té and smile, mouthing 'thank you'. Zu’té returns the smile with a slight nod, remaining silent.

A high-pitched, excited voice has both you and Ralak turning your heads to see your little sister. 

“Woah! Mama, look!” Tuk exclaims, tugging Neytiri by the hand to get a closer look. 

“Shh, Tuk. He is asleep.” Neytiri hushes her youngest, nuzzling her into her side. The others stay quiet as they approach, crouching down at the bank of the lake to look at their new family member. 

“I am so proud of you, my daughter. He looks like you.” Neytiri whispers, raking her fingers through your knotted hair.

You exhale a shaky breath and smile weakly, leaning into your mothers comforting touch.

Jake looks down at the suckling babe in your arm, eyes burning as they gloss over with tears. “You did it, babygirl.” 

Hearing your fathers words after so many years of feeling like a failure, you can’t help the sob you sputter out. 

“D-Daddy.” You cry shakily, breath hitching. “It was s-so h-hard.” 

“I know, baby. I know. But you did it. ” He coos at his own baby, rubbing your shoulder as he looks over to Ralak. “You both did.” He smiles with his son-in-law, cupping the back of his head with his other hand. 

Neteyam and Lo’ak wait patiently at the back, not wanting to crowd you. Neteyam is particularly worried for you, he’s been beating himself up for not checking on you when he knew deep in his gut that he should have.

Lo’ak is… nervous, despite his big talk about being the best uncle. Your parents pull back, allowing some space for you, Ralak and the healer. 

“Guys.” You sniffle, craning your neck to look at them. “C-Come see your nephew.” 

They approach cautiously and kneel down next to you and Ralak. Neteyam smiles, golden eyes quivering as he takes in his features. 

“It’s uncle teytey.” Neteyam takes his nephew's tiny hand, his thumb grazing over his five fingers. Then Neteyam looks at you, his expression going from bright to glum. “I’m sorry I didn’t check on you.”

You shake your head and smile, barely keeping your eyes open. “Don’t be.” 

“Y/n. I—” To your surprise, Lo’ak is speechless. “He is beautiful.” 

“Thank you, uncle Lo’ Lo’.” You smile with another sniffle, using that god-damned nickname he wouldn’t let up on.

Lo'ak returns the smile, hearing it fall from your quivering lips makes his heart full. You finally lean back against Ralak's chest, allowing your eyes to close, heavy and swollen from all your shed tears of joy and pain.

You feel the healer’s hands leave your stomach and make their way to your chest where she ensures the babe has latched properly. “Perfect latch. You are a natural, y/n.”

You smile wobbly at her words, feeling extra proud of yourself. 

“I will leave the medicines here, ensure she takes them on time.” She’s speaking to Ralak, who is also in a daze, gazing down at his son. “I will come and check on her tonight. Until then, she needs to rest. No heavy lifting.”

Ralak finally averts his attention to the healer, a smile on his lips as he nods. He’d never let you lift a finger, anyways.   

“Ralak, your wound is open.” Neytiri speaks with concern in her voice. 

The healer looks down to see his mangled laceration. “Eywa…Now, this will hurt.” Her eyes go wide and she immediately gets her things to sew him back up. Neteyam and Lo’ak look at the bleeding gash with wide eyes. Jake grimaces. 

“D-Does that hurt?” Tuk asks shyly, peeking out from behind Neytiri to see. 

Ralak shakes his head with a smile, too overjoyed with the safe delivery of his first born son to even notice anymore.

“No pain. Only happiness.” Ralak says softly, accent heavy on his tongue as he looks back down at his now stirring babe.