#sports massage kent

[agosteopathy]

Angus Gould's Osteopathy & Sports Clinic Service in Edenbridge

AG Osteopathy & Sports Clinic is a healthcare center located in Tunbridge Wells, Kent, UK. They offer a range of services including Osteopathy, Acupuncture, Shockwave Therapy and Sports Massage. Their treatments are designed to help with pain relief, stress reduction, and overall well-being.

[daydreamgoddess14]

Hot Water

MASTERLIST

Roy Kent xF!Reader

5 Times Roy Kent ends up on your doorstep even though you know it can't keep happening.

~~~

I feel like this was dragged from me kicking and screaming. It started out just a little smutty one shot and now it's a slightly longer one. I do hope you like it, I'm not sure I do but hey ho, there's always the next one! 🙃

~~~

Well. This was really fucking inconvenient. 

You’re literally laying on the bathroom floor. Underneath the fucking bath. Something, somewhere, somehow has sprung a leak and you’re resolved to fix it. You’ve even got your dad’s old toolkit out in the hope that wielding a tool might help. It hasn’t so far. It doesn’t help that you know approximately zero about plumbing. This is all just capping off a pretty fantastically awful couple of months to be honest. And although it’s a work day, and therefore your biggest problem is at the forefront of your mind, you’re going to have to forget the main reason behind your shitty time recently. Because this leak ain’t going to fix itself. You’re doing a masterful job so far - real professional. You’ve remembered to turn the stopcock off which is a big bonus. You nearly broke your hand doing it, but it’s done. You give your spanner an experimental jiggle over what looks like a loose nut, but as you do so, a spider runs over your hand. That little fucker is the catalyst for everything else. You squeal and pull your hand back, whacking first the pipe and then dropping the spanner onto your forehead. Whacking the pipe leads to the spider's little spider buddies coming out to find him, and you soon have one on its way up your arm and one in your hair. All limbs and spanner and spiders, you’re dragging yourself out from under the bath and shaking the little bastards off. Crying, of course, because what else are you meant to do when there are 3 spiders on you and you’ve just hit yourself in the face with a metal tool? 

It’s already 7am, you need to be getting ready for work so there’s nothing else for it, you can shower at work. Luckily, luckily , if you head out now you should be early enough that you’d be alone there. The lads won’t be there til 9am anyway, so it’s only the staff and possibly coaches who might be there any earlier. The showers should be free. You try and give yourself a spider once over, throw on a pair of joggers and a jumper over your PJ shorts set and shove half your life in a bag. You’re only a 10 minute walk from Nelson Road so you don’t bother driving. You head straight in through the side door and shout hello to the cleaner who’s at the top of the stairs to Rebecca’s office. Passed the locker room, and into the depths between the gym and the training pitch are the showers. You put your bag on the bench and pull out a towel and some Richmond kit to wear afterwards. As one of two sports massage therapists for the team, you live in joggers and Richmond vests. Boring but functional. You’ve seen no one, heard no one, but you’re still not keen on the idea of stripping off in a men's shower room so you’re absolutely keeping the knickers on. One less area to have to cover up. You hang up the stuff you need, put away the under bath grimy stuff you’ve just taken off, and switch the shower on. Colin was not wrong about that water pressure. You’re OK. It's OK. This was the right thing to do. A scalding shower with pressure hard enough to feel like you’re being clapped on the back by The Rock sounds like bliss. While the shower heats up, you strip off (except the knickers, of course) and grab your shampoo. That little bastard spider is not leaving babies in your hair. No fucking way. As a second thought just before you get under the water spray, you switch Spotify on your phone so you can drown to the angry sounds of Olivia Rodrigo. You’re getting pretty good at the speed on Good 4 U, though sometimes scream singing it does leave you feeling like you’ve run a marathon. You’re better at the unhinged wail you can really give to ‘bloodsucker, famefucker’ on Vampire, it just hits different at the moment. The hot water hits your body and you finally relax. 

 

~~~~~~

 

You wish you weren’t so outwardly affected. It was always going to go this way, you could have done more to protect your heart though - it would have saved you looking so foolish, and it would have saved a ruined friendship. That was the hardest part to deal with. You’d joined the staff under Ted Lasso and had built a great rapport with the players and the coaching staff. You considered them friends - all of them. Sure, you harboured a pretty big crush on Roy Kent, but it didn’t affect your work. You ignored those feelings, trampled over them and focused on getting on with your job. Notoriously slow to win over, he eventually became as good a friend as everyone else. The night of the West Ham game was insane. Ted was leaving, everyone was bouncing between elation over finishing second in the league and the prospects that would bring, and losing Ted. There were tears of joy and laughter one minute and tears of devastation the next. Ola’s could barely contain the emotion everyone was feeling. You’d decided to hit the road, everything was winding down anyway and the players were going on to an exclusive club which they’d invited you to as well - and you knew full well you wouldn’t have to buy a drink all night, they’d never let you do that when it was £25 for a double gin, but you didn’t want to carry the party on. You’d kissed whoever you could reach, hugged as many as you could see and air high-fived Sam from across the way. You stepped out into the late May night, it was still warm so you lingered outside with your drink while you waited for the taxi. 

“Oi, how come I didn’t fucking get one?” Roy asked, stepping out to join you by the window.

“Hey, you going to the club? Get what?” 

“A hug.” He nudged your shoulder.

“That’s my taxi. You always get a hug.” You slipped your arm across his back and leaned up a little to reach him better. “See you Monday.”

“You can’t go back in a taxi on your own?”

“Course I can, I always do.” You laughed, pulling open the door. He held it open while you sat in the backseat and slipped in after you.

“C’mon, I’ll make sure it gets you back ok.” You haven’t moved quite far enough along the seat so as the taxi driver rounds each corner, you're pushed further into Roy. “So everyone else gets hugs and kisses eh?”

“Only the people I could reach. Also, you just had a hug, stop complaining.” Another corner taken at a higher speed than necessary smushed you into his side. “Jesus, is this guy ready to finish or something.” He put a hand on your thigh,

“You ok?”

“Yeah fine.” The heat of his hand lit up your skin, the addition of far too many drinks made you feel flushed. You both looked at his hand on your leg and then back to each other, the streetlights illuminating you both and then sending you into darkness again. You didn’t know if it was an unconscious move or deliberate, but his thumb brushed gently in small circles on your bare skin. You’re sure he must be able to see your heart pounding through your dress. As he leans forward into you, his hand moves up just another inch and as you gasp at the sensation, he lightly kisses you.

“Here we are. That's a tenner please, love.” Roy goes for his wallet but you push his hand out of the way and hand the driver a note from your bag. He has to open the door to let you out, “you coming back in, fella?” the driver asks. He looks down at the hand which he held out to help you from the taxi to find he’s still holding it.

“No thanks, mate.” You’ve barely got the front door closed behind you before he’s pushed you up against it and kissing you with a fierceness you hadn't realised you were so desperate for. Your hands worked fast, pushing his jacket down his arms and onto the floor with a thud, and pulling him back to you by his t-shirt. The dress Keeley suggested for you is flattering, but a little more revealing than you’d usually wear. Shorter than you’d normally go for and with a low neckline too. He’s got one hand up in your hair and the other is back on your leg, halfway up the skirt while he kisses your jawline. His body presses against you and you can feel him, hard through his jeans. You bring up the leg he’s got a hand on and he hooks it over his hip, it tilts your lower body further into his and he is so close to where you need him it sends you dizzy. It's impossible to disguise the neediness of your moans and the hand that's up your skirt is moving further up to grip the fleshy soft spot between your hip and thigh. 

"God, Roy -," you whine, you rock your hips towards his,

"Sure you want this?" You nod against his shoulder, "Talk to me, babe," he asks. 

"Yes, yeah I'm sure," you're pulling at his t-shirt, dragging it over his head.

When he mutters "good girl," against your collarbone, you're certain you could come there and then. He traces the line of your knickers with his fingers, feeling just how ready you are for him, "fucking hell," he says, wrecked. He slips his fingers inside you and presses his thumb to your clit. He seems to know exactly what you need and just when you're at the brink, grasping for the release that's just out of reach, he kisses you. It's hot and rough and sends you right over the edge. He gives you a minute, a slightly softer kiss, but you don't need it, you only want him. Your shaking hands fumble with the button of his jeans until he takes over and does it himself, he's dug out a condom from his wallet. You're still fully clothed, still wearing the high heels that, with his help, have you at exactly the right height for him to push into you. It's everything. Everything you've fantasised about since the day you were introduced, he's the only thing that stands out from your first day at the club. In a room full of high-profile, well-paid, gorgeous footballers, he's the only one you see. He thrusts into you using your hips as leverage, the spike of your heel grazing the back of his thigh. Your hands hold fast to the back of his neck and his shoulder, 

"Roy, fuck, you feel so good." Your name is reverent on his lips as he comes and on hearing, you're there too. His pace slows as his hips stutter, and your head rests in the crook of his neck while you catch your breath. All at once, he's gentle again, carefully bringing your leg back down and making sure you're steady on your feet. He looks a little sheepish as he steps back away from you, taking you hands to help you stand up away from the back of the door, 

"You ok?" He asks, while you straighten your dress and pull it back down into place. 

"Yep, all good. You?"

"Yeah, yeah fine." He looked like he couldn't get out of there fast enough, his hesitation and unease rubbing off on you. "I should go though,"

"Yeah, no I figured as much."

"It's just been a fucking long day, y'know?"

"I know. Lots of crazy emotions." He must have seen the look of hurt cross your face, 

"Not that it was a mistake… but maybe, probably shouldn't have happened? Fuck, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a fucking dick-,"

"I get it Roy. It was fun but it didn't mean anything." It didn't mean anything . Probably the biggest lie you've ever told and it's out of your mouth like you knew it had to be said all along. 

 

~~~~~~~~

 

On Monday morning, you were all notified that Roy would be named as the new head coach for Richmond. He obviously knew beforehand, so within 36 hours you'd gone from sleeping with a colleague to sleeping with your boss, and the sudden distance and desperation to get out of your flat became clear. Along with the knowledge that it definitely could not happen again. Not that he gave the impression that he wanted it to. The following week, you took yourself on holiday for a week with some of the team and friends, just a big villa and a private beach in southern Spain. You'd relaxed, eaten your weight in fresh seafood, and consumed more sangria than you should have. All week, Instagram was full of you and your sunkissed friends having a whale of a time. You returned feeling better about yourself and ready for a few easy admin weeks before the start of the season. And then Roy had shown up at your door. 

"Nice holiday?"

"Not bad… can I help you?" You're on your guard, holding the door closed against you. 

"Right. Thought I should check in, see how you are?" 

"As my boss, or?"

"Can I fucking come in or not?" You hold the door open but keep your arm in the way, childishly making him duck to get through. "Did the lads behave?" He asked from your kitchen. 

"Oh yeah. I slept with Jan in the pool, Richard on the beach and shared a bed with Moe and Tommy all week."

"Fucking funny," he didn't look amused. 

"Do I look like I'm laughing?" He did a momentary double take. "Course I'm joking. Bad enough that I've fucked the boss, isn't it? Jesus if word got around I might as well quit."

"Don't say that." He growled. 

"True though isn't it? You knew, and that's why you left in such a hurry. Quick and dirty. What was it? You'd wondered what it would be like, so thought you might as well give it a go before you started the top job?" He didn't say anything. "And now you're worried that I've been off having too much fun with one of the lads? Like you have any say whatsoever?"

"No. Fuck no. You can do whatever you want."

"I know."

"See whoever you want."

"I know."

"Will you stop arguing with me on this?"

"I'm agreeing with you. Boss." Somehow, you'd managed to square up to each other like you were about to hit him. It was still a reasonably high possibility until he closed the gap and kissed you. Horny traitor that it is, your body gives in immediately. "We shouldn't do this again," you hiss as he bites your shoulder. 

"So tell me to fucking stop." He grabs at your loose sleep vest and pulls it off, surprised to find you don't wear anything underneath. "And if you really do want me to stop, then you'd better tell me right fucking now." Instead, you walk him back a step to the sofa and push him to sit down. As soon as he does, you straddle him. 

"Do not fucking stop." You warn him, pulling off his t-shirt. It's the same needy, desperate and hot sex that you'd both craved last time, at least this time you already know that it shouldn't be happening. The difference is that it makes it even more intense. He does the same disappearing act as last time, leaving you doubting your life choices and questioning your sanity. 

 

~~~~~~~~

 

It happens again the next week. With so many people on holiday, Keeley organises a karaoke night for those who are around. It's lairy and a lot of fun, you sing a few songs including a duet with Nate. Soon, the challenge becomes choosing songs for other people. You can't even place the song Keeley has picked for you until the music kicks in, it's not until you're singing it and reading the lyrics that you realise how apt they are. 

"I'm yours to keep

And I'm yours to lose

You know I'm not a bad girl

But I do bad things with you

So it goes

Come here, dressed in black now

So, so, so it goes

Scratches down your back now

So, so, so it goes"

 

You catch his eye as you're singing without meaning to, and it's like lighting a fire in your belly. You know it's going to happen again. You still don't make it to a bedroom. Instead, you get to your knees for him just inside your flat and this time he's the one sounding needy and desperate. You've never heard Roy Kent of all people sound so wrecked and affected. Ever giving, he's utterly confused when you reject him afterwards and send him home without letting him touch you at all. 

 

It's this which brought him back to your door the last time, just over a month ago. You've been in a bit of a downward spiral ever since. It had been over a week since the karaoke night. Pre season training was due to start and you knew you'd be busy with rusty footballers who tried to rush their first decent stretch in weeks. You were exhausted after the first day back, your hands ached and you'd half forgotten what it was like to be on your feet all day. You're yawning your way through a takeout menu when the door goes. Once again, Roy is on your doorstep, but this time he has a bag of food with him. He brushes straight past you and into the kitchen where he manages to plate up two meals despite not knowing where anything is kept and you becoming mute. 

"Why are you here?" You mumble.

"I saw the appointment list for today. Thought you'd be fucking knackered." Once you’ve finished eating, he leads you to your own bedroom where he sits you on the bed. "This ok," he asks. 

You nod first, then follow up with a hushed, "Yes." He undresses you slowly, taking his time in a way he hasn't any of the other times before. He lays you back on the bed and settles between your thighs, you're in pieces even before you feel the wet slide of his tongue against your clit. He holds you down with one hand as you cant your hips towards him with a whispered "fuckkk," he gives your thigh a bite,

"Hold fucking still," you can feel him smirk against you. It doesn't take much for him to have your legs shaking, your hands are in his hair, dragging through the curls that have grown out over the summer break. You practically wail his name as you come, and if you've learned anything from the hurried, rough trysts you've had so far with Roy, it's that you definitely weren't prepared for the time he actually gets to take his time with you. He's watching you come down, boneless from your first orgasm, letting you think he's done with you before he goes back for more. By the time he's crawling back up the bed to you, the need to have his skin against yours is sinful. You can barely form full sentences, speaking only in single word requests, "clothes, more, now". He laughs, a low rumble that you feel against your ribs. He's equally as eloquent, but out to take an agonisingly long time with you. He pushes into you in long, slow strokes, his whole body weighted against yours. The closeness is both intense and intimate, and when he kisses you it feels so much like a promise your heart could break. Unlike the previous times, you don't part immediately while you both catch your breath. He shifts off you slightly but stays with his nose against your jaw and his hands coveting your body. He's the first one to say it. 

"This can't keep happening."

"We both keep saying that and yet here we are again." You sit up against the headboard, mindful to cover yourself up. 

"I know."

"But, you're right, we can't." You decide you need to be firmer, "I can't keep doing this." He nods and gets up to dress. 

"I'm sorry." He mutters as he leaves. 

 

~~~~~~~~

 

Roy is always consistently early for work. A byproduct of being awake at stupid o’clock to train Jamie, yes, but before that, he’s just always been early. Now he’s head coach, he uses the time to get the coffee going or makes sure Will is on top of everything in the boot room. Has a wander around and checks the gym or the showers for lonely socks, earbud boxes, or hats. More recently, he's just sat at his desk and moped for an extra half hour before anyone arrives and calls him out on it. Today, though, he puts the coffee on and starts in the gym where he straight away finds Isaac’s favourite sweatbands, Moe’s sunglasses, and one of Dani’s socks. It’s like picking up after a bunch of fucking kids. He dumps the loot in the middle of the locker room and carries on. He can hear singing as he gets closer to the showers and assumes that Jamie must have chosen food over cleanliness and has decided to save time by coming straight to Nelson Road after breakfast. 

 

“Well, good for you, you look happy and healthy

Not me, if you ever cared to ask

Good for you, you're doing great out there without me, baby

Like a damn sociopath!

I've lost my mind, I've spent the night crying on the floor of my bathroom

But you're so unaffected, I really don't get it

But I guess good for you”

 

Yeah. That's not Jamie. But it's already too late, he'd been rounding the corner as he'd heard the singing and now, well… thank fuck you've got your back to him. He tries to back out of the room, but manages to crash into the bench and sends your phone crashing to the tiles, the music stopping abruptly. The noise has you covering as much of your body with your hands as you can while you scream like a banshee, the sound echoes off the tiles, and what the hell is the lump on your head?! 

"Roy! Fuck me, turn around!" His brain manages to click into gear enough to let him do that at least, but then it goes manic on what he's just seen. Or not seen really, his memory fills in the blanks though. "Fucksake what the hell are you doing?” You’re shaking, he can hear it in your voice. He truly scared the shit out of you. “I need to finish washing my hair, can you be trusted for 5 fucking minutes if I move my hands?" You ask, a little calmer.

"I heard singing, thought it was one of the lads."

"Oh so jumping them in the shower is also fine? Don't move. I'm nearly done. Ouch, cocking shitting fuck." Your voice catches and he thinks you might be crying.

"Jesus, are you alright? I've never heard you swear like that."

"I'm fine," you reply quietly. "Hit my head." He turned quickly, too quickly for you to cover back up, "Oi!" His eyes initially went exactly where you’d expect, then they flew up to yours and didn't move, but it didn’t stop you covering yourself up with your hands again.

"Sorry, sorry, I-" he crossed the room and brought a hand up to your temple which was sporting a painful looking purple bruise. “Was it me, did you hit your head when I came in?” You shake your head with a grimace,

“No, it’s been a fucking awful morning. I just-,” he’s close enough now that he’s going to be right under the shower head in a minute, and he can see that you are close to tears. “You’re gonna get soaked. Could you just go away please?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he goes back to the bench and retrieves your phone from the floor. He has the good grace to look ashamed that the screen is smashed to bits. “Fuck, sorry.” he kicks off his sneakers and turns back to you, “turn around.”

“No, I want to be left alone. Let’s not pretend you give a shit, Roy. Just go.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. This is getting stupid.

“Of course I fucking give a shit. Please. Turn. Around. You’ve hit your head, you’re freezing cold, you-”

“Fine.” You glare, “fine.” You turn to face the wall, no idea why. It becomes clear as he comes to stand right behind you, under the stream of water.

“Head back.” You lean your head back as he asks. His height over you means he has a direct line of sight down your body so you keep your hands in place as he washes the shampoo out of your hair. He avoids the lump in your hairline far better than you did, and now you’re back under the water, you’re warming up a bit. He takes his time, and as you close your eyes, his are drawn to the path the droplets of water follow over your skin, like memories of where his mouth had been. “Did you need to do anything else?” he asks softly. You shake your head, moving your hands and arms so you can still cover yourself but also bring a hand to cover your face, trying not to cry. He reaches past you to turn the shower off. He moves away but he’s only gone long enough to get your towel from the hook. He holds it out for you and turns his head so you can move your arms and step into it. Then he leads you to the bench and pushes your shoulders gently to sit you down. He disappears and comes back a couple of minutes later with a towel for himself and another smaller one which he passes you for your hair. You use it to blot the majority of the water out of your hair, breathing in the soothing lavender softeners Will uses. He’s busy watching you but you’re staring at the floor. With your hair a little dryer, he brushes his fingers through it to move it away from the bruise and take a better look. “That looks really fucking nasty. What did you do?”

“Spanner.” You mumble. He’s not speaking so you know he’s waiting for you to elaborate. “I have a leak under the bath I was trying to fix. A spider scared me so I hit the spanner off my head while I was trying to get out and then there were like three other spiders all over me and I fucking hate spiders and… I just feel like shit.” Saying it all out loud, you realise it all sounds a bit feeble, that you’ve overreacted. 

“Get dressed before you get a cold. I’ll be back in a minute. I’ll shout this time before I come in.”

 

~~~~~~

 

You don’t rush. You sit for a minute and try to gather your thoughts. Of all the people in the entire club, he was the one you’d least want to see you half naked in the shower. He’d have probably been top of the list only a month ago. You’re not even sure by this point what he actually did see, but it’s also too late to care now. It’s done so there’s no undoing it. And it's not like he hasn’t seen it all before anyway. You dry off and pull on your sweats, you’re just reaching for your Richmond t-shirt when he calls out to let you know he’s on his way back. He’s been to get changed, 

“I’m fine, you might as well get back to work. Everyone will be here in a minute.” He goes to challenge you again but you just don’t have the energy. You haven’t even had a coffee yet this morning, let alone breakfast. “Please, Roy. I’m fine.” You throw your wet towel in your bag and check you’ve got everything before squeezing past him and back up to the treatment room. You avoid everyone all morning, Katie offers to go outside for training so you can stay in. She goes out just before 10am, meeting Nate in the corridor. You have to pop to the main office to sign for a delivery and when you get back, there’s a mug of coffee and a paper bag with a pastry inside on your desk, along with some painkillers. The rest of the day seems to settle down. You work your way through the list of players who need some time with you. Jan Maas is last on the list with a niggle he picked up in training that morning. You’ve got your hands high up on the back of his thigh when Roy taps on the door,

“Hey coach.” Jan mumbles from face down on the treatment bench. You manage to get your thumb right where he needs it and he lets out a low groan. Roy raises an eyebrow,

“Alright Jan. You good?”

“Yes, she’s a genius” He hops up from the bench with a big smile. “You should let me buy you a drink, to say thank you.” 

“I’m fine thanks, Jan. Take it easy on your leg.” When he leaves, Roy moves to sit on the bench. He takes your wrist as you walk by him, pulling you to stand in front of him where he can check your forehead again. 

"How's it feel?"

"Like I hit myself in the head with a spanner."

"Are you done?"

"For the day or generally? Because the answer is yes to both. I'm going home. I need to… not be here." Not be around you . Is the follow up you'd like to add. I can't ignore it like you can, can't just pretend I don't feel the way I do. It’s getting harder every day. 

"I think you have a concussion. I'm pretty fucking sure you didn't want to vocalise those thoughts?" You go to slap your hand to your head, but he stops you just in time. "Don't make it any fucking worse." He rolls his eyes when you glare at him. The off season was so much easier. The need for contact between you both has steadily increased over the last month with the team returning. Daily meetings and progress reports on injuries old and new, the only saving grace is that he's stopped coming to you for his own recovery sessions.

"I'm going home." 

"Let me drive you."

"I'd really rather you didn't. Look, I'll be fine. I'll get over it, I just need to do it in my own time." You don't wait for a response. You take your bag and leave him sitting on the treatment bench alone. 

 

The first thing you do is fix the leak. It would be much easier if you were in the right frame of mind, which you're not, but you manage. There are no more spiders, but you end up soaked from the water left in the pipe which bursts out when you loosen rather than tighten the nut. You really don't know whether to laugh or cry from the calamity of it all. You're about to go for cry, but the doorbell goes and you're surprisingly unsurprised to see Roy. Again. 

"You know, it would be a lot easier for me to get over whatever this," you motion between the two of you, "is, if you could just fuck off and leave me to it?"

"Can I come in?" You turn to let him in, looking expectantly for him to continue. His hand rubs his beard and up through his hair, cut shorter since the last time he was in your flat - the curls gone. "Fucksake. You act like this is easy for me."

"Well you make it seem like it is." 

"It's not. It never fucking has been. Why do you think I kept coming back even though I knew, I knew it was a bad fucking idea?"

"You tell me? You're the one who walks out of here without a care in the world once you've got what you want?" A look of hurt flashed across his face, you knew it was a low blow, you had no idea why you'd even said it. 

"Is that really what you think?" He asked quietly. You shook your head. "All this coaching job has done so far is make me fucking miserable."

"It's only been a couple of months. You'll figure it out."

"It's making me miserable because I lost you in the process. You said earlier that I shouldn't pretend to care, but I don't need to pretend. I do care. Too much, that's the fucking problem." He sighed heavily.

" We can't keep happening, you're my boss now."

"Well, I've been feeling like this a lot longer than I've been your fucking boss, and I don't regret any of it."

"Feeling what, exactly? Because if you're about to fuck up your future-"

"I love you." You close your eyes. Your head is pounding again.

"Roy, think about what you're doing -"

"Tell me you don't feel the same, and I'll go." You shake your head,

"I can't," you whisper. "I can't. I'm in love with you too." He crosses the room and cups your cheek, checking the bruise on your forehead again before he kisses you. You sigh into him, "What are we going to do?"

"I'm the boss. As long as I'm not fucking you in the treatment room, I think it'll be OK." 

"That's a shame. Not even after hours?"

"Don't tempt me. Any objections to me waking you up every couple of hours to check you really don't have a concussion?"

"Depends how you plan to wake me?"

"I'm sure I'll think of something." He smiles, letting you lead him to the bedroom. 

 

~~~~~~

FIN

[light-yaers]

Take Care: Chapter Five TEASER

emphasis on TEASER again, people! you’re in for a treat with this one. you get both a chapter teaser, and an article teaser... who’s excited yet? this one’s for chapter five!

After Bumbercatch had performed Sex on Fire, you went back to chatting with Keeley, but that was promptly interrupted by an abrupt “Oi!” from yours truly. You twisted yourself on the sofa to meet his gaze above. Roy peered down at you, empty beer glass in hand, and a small smile on his tipsy face. “Need a refill?” he asked, and you smiled immediately.

“Yes, please,” you said, as you stood up and followed him to the bar. You slalomed through other people enjoying their night out, until you both ended up at the main bar. The music was loud, and the place was packed, but you felt at ease next to Roy. “I’ll get these!” you yelled over the noise, but if Roy heard you at all then he chose to ignore it.

He ordered two more pints and tapped his card against the machine without hesitation. You pouted as you zipped up your bag again, looking at him sternly as he passed you your pint. “One of these days you have to let me buy you a drink, Roy.”

He shrugged. “I don’t fucking mind. Not when it’s you.”

You looked at him quizzically. “Why?”

“Because you don’t expect it. Everyone else does when you’re a footballer. They expect the drinks and food and the fucking bill sorted, but you never have,” he explained.

You scoffed. “Yeah, because my mother raised me with manners.”

“Good woman,” he said, before he clinked his full glass against yours. All you could do was laugh, as the two of you took generous sips of your drinks together.

You took a moment to glance around the main room of the club. It was bustling to the brim. People danced and drank joyously, and a few managed to scramble onto a small stage and use the pole that was there. You hadn’t been out to a club like this in a long time, and it made you even happier to think about the people you were with. A stellar team, a kind group of guys. You couldn’t believe how much you’d lucked out with them all.

Roy gently leaned to your ear, his beard skimming your cheek softly. “Need some air?” he asked, and as much as you wanted to say yes, you knew you had a song queued in the karaoke room.

You leaned into his ear in return, savouring being close to him like this, even if it was brief. “Keeley queued a karaoke song for me!” you said, and the mischievous face that Roy sent you was one that you added to his expression bank in your mind.

“Come on, then!” he yelled over the noise, before he offered you his arm.

chapter five coming soon! until then, enjoy this snippet from the article (that will be posted alongside this chapter, or chapter six)

Since arriving at Richmond, I’ve heard a phrase within the walls of the Dogtrack; the Roy Kent Effect. His teammates say it when they nail a play in training. Lasso and Beard say it when Roy makes things easier for their NFL suited brains to understand. His hamstrings say it when he withstands another sports massage from the club physio.

The Roy Kent Effect is a household name at AFC Richmond, only becoming so alongside Roy’s arrival at the club two years prior. When I mention it to him, Roy leans back in his chair and smiles. Yes, he can smile! ‘They’re good lads, the Richmond lot. I see myself in a lot of them. Obisanya, McAdoo, they all work so hard. It’s an honour to be their Captain, but I don’t steer the ship on my own.’

‘I don’t think that’s what the Roy Kent Effect means. It’s not about you leading them.’ I say, and this is the only time I’ve ever felt smart when it comes to football, especially next to the likes of Roy.

Roy leans forward. He likes to show people when he’s listening to them. It only elevates the notion that he knows there’s always something for him to learn. ‘The Roy Kent Effect isn’t anything you do, it’s simply having you around. You’ve been a role model, a leader, a staple of the game, for more than ten years. There’s admiration there, and that’s what they want to show you. That’s why they perform, and overachieve, and kick the ball like their life depends on it. It’s for them to show you how much you mean to the sport.’

[kiwispasltd]

Top Five Benefits of Owning A Hot Tub In Surrey

kiwispas.co.uk

Kiwi spas can supply, service and maintain hot tubs all over the county of Surrey.

Here we are looking at the many proven benefits of owning a hot tub in your Surrey home.

Muscle Relaxation & Recovery

A benefit of soaking in the warm water in your hot tub is the relaxation of our muscles as it improves circulation, which in turn, soothes aches and pains as well as eases soreness from sporting activities. A study from scientists highlights the benefits of heating and cooling after exercise and found in their study that heat offers some advantages over cool recovery methods.

Stress Relief

In the modern world that constantly puts us under pressure, stress relief is of huge importance to look after our mental wellbeing. Your hot tub can become your escape zone from your hectic life. Whether it is the hydrotherapy massage from the jets or just sitting in the warm still water and relaxing, stargazing, or admiring ones garden, a hot tub can become your very own oasis, proving that hydrotherapy has a physical and emotional benefit on our bodies.

Improved Cardiovascular Health

Soaking in a hot tub can cause your blood vessels to dilate, which reduces blood pressure. It also enhances blood circulation and boosts blood flow, which elevates the levels of oxygenation throughout its systems. This enhanced oxygen supply not only alleviates fatigue but also expels toxins from the body.

kiwispas.co.uk

Improved Sleep

Sleep is important to rest and repair our mind and body and is one of the most important parts of living a healthy lifestyle for good physical and mental health and wellbeing. People who soak in warm water about an hour before going to bed tend to go to sleep quicker, have reduced nocturnal restlessness, and enter deeper stages of REM sleep. In addition, reduced stress levels and muscle relaxation from soaking in your hot tub will also help improve the quality of your sleep. This makes owning a hot tub in Surrey not just a luxury, but a beneficial addition to your daily routine. Experience the comfort and tranquility that comes with your very own hot tub and transform your home into a sanctuary for well-being. Whether it’s unwinding after a long day or enjoying a peaceful evening under the stars, your hot tub is your personal retreat for relaxation and rejuvenation.

Social Interaction / Family Time

And finally, apart from benefits that hot tubbing could bring, listed above, there are more direct benefits from social interaction without the distraction of modern life (mobile phones, laptops, game stations etc). Hot tub time with family and friends will stimulate the brain as conversations develop and help your mental wellbeing, reduce feelings of loneliness and provide emotional support. So invite your loved ones to head to the hot tub and share some drinks while having a good old chat.

The modern World has brought us amazing advancements in technology but sometimes we just want to turn it all off and escape. Well with a hot tub, you can! Leave your device indoors and head out to the hot tub with your loved ones for focused conversation away from the distractions of our devices. Reducing time on devices is not just a huge benefit for our mental health but it can also have a positive impact on our cognitive functions.

#hot tub hampshire#hot tub kent#hot tubs direct#hot tub surrey#hot tubs worthing#hot tub insulation#hot tubs for sale sussex

Blaze

0 notes

[williamsanderson123-blog]

Osteopathy Treatment in kent

Osteopathy Treatment in Sheerness: A Holistic Approach to Healing

Introduction

Osteopathy is a form of alternative medicine that focuses on the musculoskeletal system to promote overall health and well-being. It is a non-invasive and drug-free approach that aims to restore the body's natural balance and optimize its self-healing abilities. Sheerness, a beautiful town located on the Isle of Sheppey in Kent, offers a range of osteopathy treatments to help individuals overcome various musculoskeletal conditions. In this article, we will explore the benefits of osteopathy treatment in Sheerness and how it can enhance your overall quality of life.

Understanding Osteopathy

Osteopathy is based on the principle that the body functions as a whole, with each part interrelated and affecting the others. It focuses on the structure and function of the body, particularly the musculoskeletal system, including the bones, muscles, ligaments, and connective tissues. Osteopaths believe that any disruption or imbalance in this system can lead to a variety of health issues.

Osteopathic treatment involves manual techniques, such as stretching, manipulation, and massage, to address musculoskeletal problems and promote healing. Osteopaths are highly skilled healthcare professionals who undergo extensive training to develop their diagnostic and treatment skills. They assess the patient's condition, taking into account their medical history, lifestyle, and overall health, before devising a personalized treatment plan.

Benefits of Osteopathy Treatment

Pain Relief: Osteopathy treatment can provide effective pain relief for various musculoskeletal conditions, such as back pain, neck pain, joint pain, and sports injuries. By addressing the underlying causes of pain and restoring proper function, osteopathy aims to alleviate discomfort and improve mobility.

Improved Posture: Poor posture can contribute to a range of musculoskeletal issues. Osteopathy can help correct postural imbalances, relieve strain on the muscles and joints, and enhance overall posture. This can lead to increased comfort, reduced pain, and improved body alignment.

Enhanced Mobility: Osteopathy treatment can improve joint mobility and flexibility by targeting areas of stiffness or restriction. Through gentle manipulation and mobilization techniques, osteopaths can help restore normal range of motion and reduce limitations in movement.

Stress Reduction: Osteopathy not only focuses on physical health but also takes into consideration the impact of emotional and mental stress on the body. Osteopathic techniques, such as craniosacral therapy, can help relax the nervous system, reduce tension, and promote a sense of overall well-being.

Prevention and Maintenance: Osteopathy is not only beneficial for treating existing conditions but also for preventing future injuries and maintaining optimal health. By addressing imbalances and dysfunctions in the body, osteopathy treatment can help individuals achieve long-term wellness and prevent the recurrence of musculoskeletal issues.

Osteopathy Treatment in Sheerness

Sheerness offers a variety of osteopathy clinics and practitioners who provide professional and personalized care. These clinics are equipped with state-of-the-art facilities and staffed by experienced osteopaths who are committed to helping patients achieve their health goals.

During your first visit, the osteopath will conduct a thorough assessment, which may include a discussion of your symptoms, medical history, and lifestyle factors. They will then perform a physical examination to identify any areas of dysfunction or imbalance. Based on this assessment, the osteopath will create a tailored treatment plan that may include a combination of manual techniques, exercise prescription, and lifestyle advice.

The treatment sessions will involve hands-on techniques, such as soft tissue manipulation, joint mobilization, and gentle stretching. Osteopathic treatment is typically gentle and non-invasive, ensuring minimal discomfort for the patient. The number of sessions required may vary depending on the individual and the. Read More

[freeworldallahexecutivembaclass]

Lebron James to sports center " I like what we're building " 4 / 2 / 2023

Are you the one meaning that fashion designer to present next year's hottest brands on the market sparkling sizzling hot season 1 can anyone spell a comeback where's morpheus when you need him it's out and about trying to save the world I did a great job in that lane being superman now I want to be Clark Kent a dweeb nerd and a regular good guy I can feel it and I got great expectations I always said women are the most beautiful 😍 human beings ever and it has been and will be my pleasure to be apart of their world and get to know them collaborate with them and just chill with them and creating many new adventures together , that is going to be great and good for the people . I love Meg Ryan and her look and style and the nittted sweaters Joel Osteen pastors like Nicky Cruz and my brothers and sisters all from block 17 and the movie Sleepless in Seattle and You've got mail both with Tom Hanks great 👍😃 movies for a beautiful Sunday morning in New York City and don't forget to stop at the Joel Osteen store on 40th street New York City and 6th Avenue that is right that is what I said their is a store named after Joel Osteen in New York City it's because I watch him and post his show they was inspired and named the store after him I how he breaks everything down he dissects every subject of pain and insecurities and remake the human being into a better person 🤣😂 I love him and his show and don't forget to get some ☕ coffee and pastries and enjoy the city of New York .

Some of the patterns I'm using for the H.O.N. short for Honey House of Nicki collection and Cardi ♦️B band brand collection my designs is sick I have it all drawn out how I'm doing it like I said I won the preliminary contracts from those women they both said yes to me truth to me presenting 💝 those brands to the public of course the ladies is a brand themselves you know them from the music world their great one from Trinidad and Queens 👑 New York and the other from the Bronx New York shout out to them . Now my question to the public would you rather this take over in the industry or the drama we been noising over I thought so I rather these two ladies extending their brands with me here are some other stuff that is emphasis that is going to be happening I say about 2024 it would be hot out there .

Cruise line - Trinidad - Tobago party cruises 🚢🛥 Cards and boating cruises - Gymnasium Restaurants

Nail salons

Shopping stores Hair salons Dance clubs Pool hall Cafe Auditorium - Broadway on the sea , Broadway plays out on the water Lounge Bar Major heavyweight fights and lightweight boxing matches Restaurants

Fitness Centers - Spa with welcome to the Queen hotel robes and towels .Shopping center Atrium - Stores , Nail salons and hair salons Nightclub

Roof top parties Studios News center And casino Massage Hair salons Nail salons Casino hotel features - Queen casino hotel franchise 🏝🏙🏖🏘🏩🌃🌆🌉🎢🚲🌟⭐🌞🌝☀🚕🚕🚕🚕🚕🚖🚕🚕🚕Booking and lodging - Internet service Car rental service - Cab delivery service Queen casino hotel limousine and cab service Travel arrangements - With airports and cab service from there and to the airport Customer point programs .

Graphic artists with his or her software I want to hire firms that leave apartments decorated and furnished prior to sale .Architecture and interior designer .Hire a business manager - financial oversight , investor relations , property sales and leasing , management of concierge services . Luxury home fixtures and furnishing companies .Europe and its regions ( Nordic region ) Europe leading firm in building materials , craftsmanship and interior design . Europe's leading brokers and agents . Property selection ( Location ) supplies , construction and fixture materials and interior design / exterior design .Initial locations and then multiple number of projects in those locations . Building and apartment designers The initial target market in the Nordic region of Northern Europe . These nations - Norway , Denmark , Finland , Sweden , and Iceland - with a combined total population of approximately 28 million have traditionally had economically vibrant middle class with low levels of both poverty and wealth at the extremes . As such , these countries have long been characterized by their relatively narrow distribution of wealth among citizens - that is , there is not a sizeable difference between rich and poor as is found in all of the other advanced economies of the world . Turn key basis - Apartments , hotel rooms and condominiumsInterior goods - Furniture , lamps , textiles , art , accessories everything is included with the sale or rental there of . Hire property developers .Accordingly , the firms leadership team has decided to work only on a turn key basis because it is the way Suite 7 can differentiate itself from their competitors . Hotel rooms and condominiums at market prices .Assessment of costs for building and then a project budget will then be determined . Reason why to do business with me : As the occasion calls for it , Key suite C7 partners and clients will also be invited to attend , to lend their own specialized knowledge and perspective to critical issues and events . Prominent members provide beneficial guidance and also allow the firm to further grow its professional and social network and thus quickly expand its current contacts into new markets . This will contribute to the firms competitive advantage relative to its rivals in the industry . $ 375 a night$ 267 - $ 346 a night for 3 to 4 day stay at hotel With deluxe cruise trip included with that package for $ 990 dollars for a 4 day cruise to exotic locations . I wanted to say something is that don't like interact with ratchet people like I helped these neighborhoods I boosted the economy and even legalized weed for people in the streets but living in these neighborhoods is dangerous and no one respects any one and their is no order like it is just over between me and people from my past and not to say street people because most of my fashion that I'm making is going to be urban but mostly for luxury and that type of crowd but I don't mix with that dangerous criminal crowd the criminal element or even demographics where that behavior is prevalent I actually hate so my old job was to help change it and then I moved from other artists in the music game we just need to back off each other meaning from Harlem and Brooklyn their music is hot but I moved on from them and the women in their entourage or that think like that about me you know the hating on me women are deadly too they mostly try to get me city or assaulted in these neighborhoods and then try to talk to me like we co nah that is my crowd these ladies and these businesses is what I'm about like go away with extremist of any kind I got my own everything I'm into and yes I legalized marijuana and got permanent jobs for people now it is time for me to move on to something else that is business music business fashion business and every other lane I choose to get into and I said no to the harassment the filming me and recording me in my private living area and I said no to the mind control and the media and NYPD and the public working with police against me .

[isabellaarchie]

A Guide To Choosing The Right Physical Therapist

It’s necessary to evaluate all of these aspects when making your decision. Don’t settle for anything less than the best such as going for sports massage Dover Kent.

[compassmuscletherapy-blog]

Exciting news. This week our boss Gemma has been appointed the South East Regional Director of The Sports Massage Association. Don’t worry you will still be able to book in with her in clinic. #massage #massagetherapy #sportsmassage #thesma #portsmouth #southeast #hampshire #kent #sussex #director #sport #relax #achesandpains #fitness #recovery #injury

[pluckyredhead]

Thad and Match?

who hogs the duvet

Neither, Thad sleeps like a hurricane and kicks it off the bed. It's really annoying.

who texts/rings to check how their day is going

Match sends thirst trap pics, does that count?

who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts

Thad. He has planned many elaborate robberies out of love.

who gets up first in the morning

Match. If there's a Kryptonian in the ship, they're always going to be the answer to this question.

who suggests new things in bed

Match. Thad is scandalized every time (but also on board).

who cries at movies

Neither.

who gives unprompted massages

Match.

who fusses over the other when they’re sick

Both of them. They're not used to having someone to fuss over! It's a luxury!

who gets jealous easiest

Thad, 100%.

who has the most embarrassing taste in music

Everything Match listens to is like 200% synth. I...don't think Thad listens to music? He's never seen the tactical advantage.

who collects something unusual

Match. It's just random shit he stole. There's, like, a massive emerald next to a dashboard hula girl. He loves it.

who takes the longest to get ready

Match. He gets it from Kon.

who is the most tidy and organised

Thad, aggressively so.

who gets most excited about the holidays

Match. Twenty-first century holidays are still baffling to Thad.

who is the big spoon/little spoon

Match is definitely the big spoon, he's twice Thad's body mass.

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports

Thad. It's probably not a good idea to play a game with him. He doesn't really get the whole "it's just supposed to be fun" concept.

who starts the most arguments

Dumb arguments, Match. Real arguments, Thad.

who suggests that they buy a pet

Match. He reeeeeally wants to clone Krypto but so far Clark, Kon, and Thad have all refused. (Bart is on board, actually, he is strongly in the "more puppies = better" camp.)

what couple traditions they have

what tv shows they watch together

Skipping these as usual.

what other couple they hang out with

Uh. I think this depends entirely on how much crime they're willing to stop doing. Bart would be delighted to go on double dates with them and Kara but all of Thad and Match's "dates" are bank robberies.

how they spend time together as a couple

See above re: bank robberies.

who made the first move

Match.

who brings flowers home

Aw. Match.

who is the best cook

They steal all their food. Or go to Smallville and submit to a mild lecture from Ma Kent in exchange for all the food they can eat (which is a lot, they are a speedster and a Kryptonian).

[thewhumperinwhite]

Just for fun: Soulmate AU

I was reading a fanfic about an au where you’re born with a mark representing your soulmate somewhere on your body and i was feeling sappy, and this uhhh.... got WELL out of hand;;; So I’m gonna post it in two parts because otherwise it’s longer than I’m comfy putting in one tumblr post. (i’ll put it as one complete piece in ao3 when it’s complete, though.) Also, i wasn’t even sure this would be that whumpy when i first had the idea but UH

Please note!! This oneshot contains a fairly graphic suicide attempt. I’m tagging it accordingly, but please err on the side of caution and be safe.

TW for: suicide attempt, gore, implied parental abuse, drowning, mild internalized ableism, underage whumpee (at this point Kent is 17, Sol is 19 and Pax is about 21).

@whumpitywhumpwhump

----

Sol Michaelis has two soulmate marks instead of one—an eye with a slash through it sits just under his collarbone from the day he’s born, and then when he’s two a second one slowly filters in, twin patterns of three lines around each of his wrists, just above the veins, in delicate summer-sky blue.

To be honest, Sol doesn’t think about it that much. He’s got too much to do, always—he’s in every sports club where they’ll let him play on the right team, and he always has to force himself to study if he wants to do good in school; he doesn’t tell anyone because his dad’s a genius so he can’t let anyone know he’s stupid, but it takes him three times as long to do anything as he knows its supposed to, always. It doesn’t leave any time to think.

About three times a month, he has nightmares about drowning, where he braces his hands and tries to push up out of the water but there’s a big hand around the back of his head and it holds him under, and he wakes up gasping for breath, pinned down against his sweaty pillow by the feeling that it’s his fault, that he deserves it somehow, that it’s only justice.

He honestly believes they’re just normal stress dreams, and they usually don’t stick in his head that long. And he’s always so busy. He’s busy in high school and then all of a sudden he’s busy surviving instead, busy finding jobs he hates and doing them as many hours as he can, and just barely making rent and food money, and he really doesn’t have time to think about soulmates.

And then in the middle of a workday he drops an entire tray of dishes because his wrists are on fire.

----

With the caveat that they have never met, Pax Field sometimes resents their future soulmates.

There’s a specific flavor to feelings when they aren’t yours—you’re not quite feeling them, you just know they’re happening, in some room and brain you aren’t actually a part of. But you can’t ignore them, either, no matter how much you try. And Pax always tries. Their own feelings are plenty without worrying about the feelings of absolute strangers, thank you very much. And they’re never good feelings, or at least hardly ever; always cold prickly sorrow-embarrassment-shame around their wrists and hot itchy anxiety-fear-loneliness over their heart.

Occasionally at night, when Vic is out doing unethical science or whatever and they’re alone, they put their hand over their heart and rub the skin there, or they massage their wrists as softly as they can, and try to—feel outward, which they’re not sure is even possible; whisper into the skin of their wrists that this stranger should fucking relax, fucking lighten up a little. Once they woke up from a nightmare—unrelated to soulmates, presumably, since it prominently featured Vic—and rolled over onto their stomach so they could press both wrists against their heart and bury their face in their pillow and cried, hard, because they didn’t know what was happening but they knew it wasn’t fair and they also knew there wasn’t anything they could do about it. Then they woke up in the morning and did their absolute best to forget about it, because they don’t know these people and anyway they aren’t going to waste their time on things they can’t change.

But they’ve never felt anything like this.

It’s a Friday evening and they are, by the grace of god, alone in their apartment, which means no one has to see them stagger and then fall hard onto their knees in the middle of the hallway, staring at their wrists.

The little blue marks there don’t look any different, which seems insane, because they have never ever been more sure that something is wrong.

It isn’t like being in pain—it isn’t like being in their own pain. It’s like seeing a car accident on the news and hearing your phone ring at the same time and knowing you can’t get there fast enough, but you run out the door anyway, because you can’t do anything else, you can’t do this, you can’t lose him, he can’t do this.

Even though Pax knows while they run into the bathroom, slipping and sliding on nothing and having to catch themself against walls and doors, that whoever “he” is, he already has.

They saw this in a movie once, where someone had to warn their soulmate about a murderer or some fucking dumb thing. So it probably doesn’t even work, and their soulmate’s going to bleed to death on expensive bathroom tiles before Pax even gets to meet him.

But they can’t not do anything. They turn the shower all the way to hot, and the sink all the way hot too, and they close the bathroom door behind them and stuff a towel underneath—and the bathroom mirror still isn’t fogging up quick enough, so they breath on it, hard, too, even though that’s objectively dumb. Then they stand at the sink, staring at their own wild-eyed reflection as it fogs out, one hand clamped white-knuckled around the opposite wrist, which burns with pain that’s so much worse for not being theirs.

 ----

It doesn’t even hurt that much anymore, actually.

Well, it does—it stings like a really terrible papercut, except much deeper and almost the whole length of his forearm. But it’s getting easier to ignore, even when he makes fists and squeezes to make the blood come out faster.

Kent kind of thinks, at least based on the movies he’s seen, that you’re supposed to strip naked before you do this, and he knows that would make the least mess. But he’s in the bathtub, and he’s stripped down to his boxers and a t-shirt, so it shouldn’t be too hard to clean up, anyway. And the maids are mostly older ladies, or young ones working through college, and stuff, and he’s too embarrassed to let them see him naked, even if he never has to know about it. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor of the bathtub, with his hands in his lap, so the bottom of his boxers are getting wet and sticky, but that’s getting easier to ignore, too. The blood is bright against the white porcelain, by far the most he’s ever seen, and it’s hard to look away from. Kind of pretty, even.

His heart is going a little faster, now, and he thinks he might be sweating. He squeezes his fists again. It’s taking longer than he thought it would.

Maybe he should make another—

People are looking at him.

Kent sits bolt upright, looking around the empty bathroom. He has a sudden urge to hide his arms behind his back, and he thinks he can feel an embarrassed flush in his cheeks.

“I-I,” he says, like he’s going to try to explain, even though he has no idea what he would say.

“Oh, god,” the brown-skinned boy with the round face and black hair says. He’s on the floor in the middle of a big kitchen. There are people around him but Kent can’t see them as well. It isn’t like looking through a window, or like the boy is here with him; it’s simply the new experience of seeing clearly into a room he is not in.

“Call for help,” the darker-skinned person says. Their hair is long and lose around their shoulders in tight waves. It’s dyed a violent pink. They’re staring into their bathroom mirror with more intensity than Kent has ever been looked at with, and they must be mad at him; he grabs one of his wrists and squeezes it with his other hand, makes blood bubble out and gush over his hand and onto his leg.

“Fuck,” the black-haired boy screams. He’s kneeling in front of a metal dishwasher with a foggy reflective surface and he throws himself towards it, grabs the sides of the dishwasher with both hands. “Don’t!”

Kent loosens his grip, panting. He’s staring straight ahead, seeing the blank tile wall of his own bathroom and the industrial kitchen behind the black-haired boy and the bathroom behind the person with pink hair. His heart is pounding now, rabbit-fast, in a way that’s starting to feel scary.

“Don’t do that, baby,” the black-haired boy says, and his voice is shaking like he’s in pain, even though Kent knows, somehow, that he can’t be, that Kent would know if he was hurting.

“Who’s in the house with you?” the pink-hair-person barks, and Kent shakes his head, because his father is home but his father can’t see him like this, he can’t, he’ll make sure Kent doesn’t die so he can drown him himself. “Call for help!”

Kent shakes his head again, harder, trying to scoot back away from them, except they aren’t really here so there’s nowhere to go.

He’s lifted his arms, now, holding one wrist in the hand, and now there’s blood down both his forearms and slick on his legs, soaking into his boxers and the bottom of his t-shirt, and he’s—beyond embarrassed, scared, doesn’t want them to see this, doesn’t want anyone to see it.

Kent doesn’t think of the golden sun that’s always sat on his chest, over his heart, and he doesn’t think of the smaller slashed eye beside it, because he is not thinking of much at all, but he’s always been glad they were easy to hide under his clothes. Not because he was ashamed of them, but because if no one else saw them they were his and nobody else’s. Sometimes those marks are the only parts of his body he likes, the only parts he never wants to hurt.

Both marks are warm, now, but the rest of him is becoming cold so fast that Kent doesn’t notice.

“Oh, god,” the black-haired boy’s voice says again. He hits his fist lightly against the dishwasher, like he wishes he could come through it, and Kent stares at him, because he’s lovely, and he’s sad, and it’s Kent’s fault.

“I-I—” he says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“God damn it,” the pink-haired person says, and their voice is wild, almost a roar. Then they say, “Where are you?”

Kent shakes his head. “I—I don’t—”

“Are you in the city?” they snap. Their hands are braced on the bathroom sink, and they’re lovely too, and Kent didn’t mean—he didn’t think— “Hey!” they snap their fingers, eyes blazing, and Kent crashes back to earth with a start. “Are you in the city?”

Kent nods helplessly.

“Where?”

Kent blinks rapidly. Their eyes are so bright that he mumbles an answer before he’s even decided if he wants them to know or not.

“I’m calling an ambulance,” they say, diving for the pocket of their sweatpants.

“That’s near me,” the black-haired boy whispers. “That’s near me, that’s near me, I’m coming to get you!”

Kent balks, scooting back in the blood along the bottom of the bathtub, shaking his head rapidly. “You—you can’t,” he says, and then his mind goes blank with terror, because more than not wanting to be seen in bloody boxer shorts, “My father is home!”

 ----

Sol only kind of hears this, because he’s already scrambling to his feet and wrestling his apron off over his head.

“You can’t just run off in the middle of your shift—” his boss starts, and then cuts off because Sol’s apron has just hit him in the chest.

“Then fire me,” Sol says, and he takes off across the restaurant floor at a dead run.

The address is ten or eleven blocks away—the restaurant where Sol works is right at the edge of the fancy part of town, and the blue-eyed boy’s house is in the heart of it. Sol doesn’t have a car, but it makes objective sense to wait for a bus or run to the train station. He does not consider this for even a second.

Sol runs, hard, his work shoes pounding on the pavement in time with his breath, and it doesn’t occur to him that it’s a summer night, still hot, or that he’s wearing his binder, or that the sidewalk is crowded with strangers who yell and dart out of his way. He doesn’t see any of them, doesn’t feel his ribs aching, doesn’t feel anything except that the blue lines on his wrist are pulsing—warm one second, like he’s going the right way, and cold the next, because his soulmate is dying.

Sol is drenched in sweat by the time he grinds to a stop in front of the tall fancy apartment building—and he knows immediately which one it is, because there’s an ambulance parked out front with it’s lights flashing.

Sol rounds the side of the ambulance and the stretcher is halfway in, and he stumbles sideways and almost falls—but he can feel the warm pulse in his mark and the boy on the stretcher gasps and moves, arching his back slightly.

The EMT about to shut the ambulance door turns at the sound of Sol’s pounding footsteps, looking alarmed, and Sol raises his arm and waves it over his head.

“He’s my soulmate!” He pants, holding his arm out so the EMT can see the mark, pulsing and flickering in a way that makes panic burn the back of Sol’s neck, but definitely giving off a soft glow. “He’s my soulmate. We’re soulmates.”

The EMT frowns, and then opens the door back up and lets him clamber inside.

Sol’s never been inside an ambulance before; it’s cramped, with two EMTs hovering on either side of the stretcher, now staring at Sol, but Sol barely sees them because the boy on the stretcher is looking at him too, and there’s blood everywhere—they’ve put tourniquets around his arms, but only just now—and Sol loves him.

Sol holds up his arm, still panting, hard. The paramedic on the boy’s left frowns at him, then down at the boy, and then tugs the collar of his t-shirt down.

There’s a big yellow sun over the boy’s chest, glowing bright and steady, like it’s mocking the weak stutter-pulse of the glow at Sol’s wrists. Sol flushes, feeling almost embarrassed, like his mark is showing off.

The EMT sighs and gestures for Sol to sit down.

The boy on the stretcher gives a little gasp. His eyes follow Sol when he awkwardly arranges himself on the little bench next to the stretcher, bright blue and reflective as glass. The EMT on his right leans over to scribble something across the boy’s forehead with a black marker—“TK” and the time—and the boy blinks at Sol around the EMT’s arm, his lips slightly parted.

“Hey,” Sol says softly. He wants badly to take the boy’s hand, but it’s covered in blood and he’s worried he’ll hut him. He pats his knee awkwardly instead, and the boy gasps again, sounding punched-out and rough but not pained, exactly. “My name’s Sol. I’m one of your soulmates.”

“I’m sorry,” the boy whispers, staring at Sol, and it sinks into Sol’s belly like a punch, and he gasps, hard, because he can feel it, not like it’s his own but still so strong he can taste it: shame and guilt and heart-fluttering panic.

Sol folds forward, the wind knocked out of him, and lowers his head to touch his forehead, as gently as he can, to the back of his soulmate’s bloody hand.

“I’m not mad at you,” Sol whispers, and he hears the boy gasp again, his breath starting to come in hard quiet sobs. “I’m not mad, baby, I’m not mad, I’m not mad, I’m not mad.”

[isitgintimeyet]

Road To The Aisles

AO3

Previous

Thank you for the response to the first chapter of this story. It’s so gratifying to know that it is being enjoyed.

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge @happytoobserve @wickedgoodbooks for their support.

Warning: Gets NSFW quite quickly! (under the cut)

Chapter 2: A Detailed Preparation

“After all, perhaps dirt isn't really so unhealthy as one is brought up to believe.”

― Agatha Christie, Murder in Mesopotamia

“Sassenach, I dinna ken why we have tae spend all day cleaning the house. Nobody will be looking fer bits of dust. It’s only ma family tomorrow and they will be more interested in the bairn.”  

Jamie got to his feet and wiped a hand across his forehead.

“And do ye think Murtagh will be sitting here tomorrow wondering if we’ve hoovered under this sofa?” He continued. “This verra heavy sofa… that ye made me move all by myself.”

“I just want it all to be right, Jamie. This is the first time that your dad, Murtagh, Jenny, Ian and the kids will have met William. It’s a momentous occasion. The least we can do is a spot of cleaning.”

Claire watched as Jamie gathered up the dusters and furniture polish. A perk of this necessary but uninspiring activity was Jamie’s chosen cleaning attire. While she herself was modestly dressed in old faded leggings and an extra large t-shirt of Jamie’s, he preferred to try to keep cool in very old running shorts, no longer in a suitable condition for public viewing, and a sleeveless t-shirt.

Unaware of her scrutiny, he turned and stretched his arms above his head, his t-shirt riding up with the sudden movement. Beads of sweat glistened on the trail of hairs leading down into his shorts.

Claire thought that, with the housework finished, they could maybe…

Jamie interrupted her thinking. “I’ll jes’ go and finish up cleaning in the bathroom, aye?”

Not waiting for her response, he made for the stairs.

“I just cleaned that bloody bathroom…” Claire muttered under her breath as she stomped to the utility room to put away the cleaning kit. “Does he not think I’d do it to his liking? Well, he can clean that bloody bathroom himself from now on… and the toilet… or does he just have to inspect what I’ve done…”

She didn’t hear Jamie calling from upstairs at first as she clattered around the kitchen. Eventually he raised his voice enough.

“Sassenach, come and see what I’ve done.”

Claire climbed the stairs still complaining under her breath about Jamie’s need to clean her already spotless bathroom. “...And if he’s changed the direction of the toilet roll, there’ll be words...”

The bathroom was dominated by a large, white bathtub. A large white bathtub currently filling with bubbles and a very tall ginger Scot reclining at one end. Steam rose from the taps in the centre of the tub. Jamie leant forward and added some cold water.

“I thought you’d come up here to inspect my cleaning.” Claire grinned.

“Och no, ye’ve, weel, we’ve done a grand job with all that.” Jamie reached a hand out to Claire. “There’s jes’ a wee bit more cleaning up tae do. I kent I smelt awfa bad and I’m guessing ye smell the same. So I decided tae fix us a nice bath. Sassenach, will ye join me, or are ye going tae stand there stinking?”

Quickly, Claire stripped off her clothes and threw them at the laundry basket. Gingerly, she stepped into the bath, wincing slightly as the hot water stung her cold skin.

“Come sit down here and I’ll give ye a wash.”

As Claire bent over to settle between Jamie’s legs, her bottom momentarily passed close to his face. Automatically he felt himself becoming aroused… a fact which was not lost on Claire as she nestled in close to Jamie, her back resting against his chest.

“And I thought this was an innocent bath, James Fraser.”

“With a wet, naked lady in it… not so innocent at all, Sassenach.”

Claire sighed and relaxed against Jamie, stretching her legs in front and wiggling her toes through the bubbles.

“It’s so nice having a bath large enough to stretch out in.” She sighed.

“Aye, it’s a nice large tub, right enough. But I dinna think we’ll be able tae make love in here. At least, no’ without causing a tsunami tae wreck the bathroom. Still, let me wash ye.”

Jamie worked the soap into a lather and began to massage his soapy hands over Claire’s shoulders, gently running up and down her arm, his fingers tracing circles on her skin. She could feel his breath -- warm against her neck -- as his teeth lightly nipped her earlobe, sending shivers down her spine. Any tension began to drift away.

Relaxing her head against Jamie’s shoulder, Claire closed her eyes and let her mind wander. Cocooned in the steamy lavender warmth of the bath, his fingers massaged her skin with a hypnotic rhythm. The only noises were their breathing and the random drip of a tap. She sighed, the sound oddly loud to her ears.

Jamie shifted as his hands left her arms. He chuckled as Claire gave a slight moan of disappointment and raised her head, the trance-like state broken.

“Dinna fash,” he whispered. “Jes’ after more soap.”

Swiftly his hands returned to her body, stroking across her shoulders and collarbone as she relaxed against his chest once more. Gradually, he moved down her body, his fingertips grazing her nipples with a featherlight touch. Claire sighed and instinctively ground her hips against Jamie, pressing deeper against his erection.

His hands continued on their downward journey, dipping under the water, pushing Claire’s thighs apart. She readily complied, positioning her legs on top of Jamie’s as he opened her up. The warm water and his fingers gently caressed her very centre.

Claire felt the longed for electricity begin to spark in her muscles, growing stronger with each stroke. But Jamie’s rhythm was not enough, she moved her hand to lie on top of his, guiding it, pushing it faster and faster as her climax built until it reached its zenith. Her hips bucked out of the water as her cry echoed off the tiled walls.

He kissed her neck as she relaxed back into him. They lay still for a moment.

“Best be getting out in a minute,” Jamie said

“But what about you?”

Claire turned to face Jamie and knelt. He watched her breasts, the nipples just above the water and felt his groin twitch in response as she leant forward to touch him.

“I dinna think I can last,” he whispered.

“That’s fine,” Claire answered. “Don’t hold back, Jamie.”

Jamie watched as, under the water, Claire ran her finger from root to tip and back before cupping his balls in one hand and curling her other hand around his cock.

"God, that's it." Jamie moaned as Claire set up a steady action.

Claire watched his face, looking for those familiar tell-tale signs that his orgasm was near: head back, eyes closed, breathing loud and ragged, his teeth biting his lower lip. His hands gripped the sides of the bath. Jamie lifted his head to look into Claire’s eyes, as with a cry, he came.

Claire shuffled closer to Jamie and put her arms around his neck before giving him a kiss.

“Water’s starting tae get cold now,” Jamie commented. “Why don’t we take this tae the bedroom?”

“Really, James Fraser? Ready for round two?”

“Aye, weel, I’m getting a crick in ma neck here now. Let me have a wee rest on the bed and I’ll see what I can do.”

***********

Jamie snuggled close into Claire’s back, trying to fit the contours of her body, ensuring as much skin to skin contact as possible.  

She wiggled her bottom helpfully against his hips and laughed. “I’m not surprised you’re tired. Round two was just as good as round one.”

Jamie stroked her hair away from the side of her neck and kissed her, sending little shivers down her spine.

“Sassenach, can I ask ye…” his breath was warm on her neck. “Ye are ok? About tomorrow I mean? Bringing William home? A new part of our lives...”

Claire shifted around to face Jamie and stroke his cheek. “Jamie, it is a new chapter. But I’m ready to be there for you. Just as long as I don’t have to deal with Geneva… or her bloody mother.”

*****************

Jamie pulled the Volvo up outside Geneva’s house, switched off the engine and sat quietly for a moment. This would be his first day with William and he wanted to make sure that nothing was missing, that there was nothing Geneva could become annoyed about.

He didn’t actually care anymore what she thought of him, but he really didn’t want her to find ways to make this arrangement more complicated, or try to claim that it was unworkable and accuse him of unreasonable behaviour. And so Jamie felt that he would just have to grit his teeth and let some of the ‘Geneva-isms’ go without challenge.

He took a deep breath and headed for the front door.

Geneva answered the door at Jamie’s second knock. She greeted him without a smile and thrust a laminated sheet into his hands.

“Good morn -“ Jamie started to talk, before looking at the sheet. “What’s this?”

“On one side, it’s William’s regular schedule. On the other, it’s a checklist of everything I’m sending him with. I would be grateful if you return everything on the list when you come back this evening.”

Geneva picked up a couple of bags and passed them to Jamie. “I’m glad you got rid of the sports car. Did you get the car seat like I told you? Is it fitted properly? You didn’t try and do it yourself?"

Jamie sighed. “No, I didna do it meself, the garage did it when I picked the car up.”

It took Jamie three trips to the car to ensure that all the equipment Geneva deemed necessary for William’s seven hour stay with his father was loaded in the spacious boot.  Finally, the baby himself was carried out and ‘loaded’ into the car by Geneva.

“Bye William, be a good boy for your father.” Her voice softened as she spoke to the baby, before kissing his cheek.

Geneva stood up, discreetly trying to wipe her glistening eyes, and turned to Jamie. Her voice returned to its usual cold tone.

“So, you got the email I sent you? I trust you have everything on that list now at your house?”

Jamie nodded, now anxious to get away and finally be on his own with his son. He moved over to the car door.

“Oh, one final thing…”

He sighed.

“That outfit is Gucci. I would appreciate no nasty stains on it.”

“Geneva,” Jamie spoke through gritted teeth. “He isna even three months yet. He canna move around on his own. What do ye think I’m going tae do? Sit him in a puddle?”

“No, but I know your father and sister will be meeting him. Please check their hands before they hold him. That is all. Goodbye. Five o’clock sharp, please.”

***********

It took all Jamie’s willpower to stay focussed on the road and not to keep turning around to see William. There were times, he could admit now, when he doubted that this day would ever arrive, or that it would take months spent in lawyers’ offices and courtrooms.

After fifteen minutes or so, with Jamie snatching quick glimpses of William while stationary at red traffic lights, he could stand it no longer. He pulled off the main road onto a quiet side street and parked the car. He opened the rear passenger door and crouched down.

William stirred as Jamie took his hand, marvelling at how tiny it was in comparison with his. Jamie stroked William’s head, the soft down seemed much redder now. He still couldn’t quite believe that something so perfect could have come from something as disastrous as his relationship with Geneva.

This was, Jamie realised, his first time alone with his son. There was no one hovering disapprovingly in the background. Just father and son together.

“So, William, ye’re off tae yer other home now,” Jamie whispered. “Off tae meet the rest of yer family, the Scottish part of yer family… weel… and Claire, who may be a Sassenach, but we’ll forgive her fer that, shan’t we? She’s our special Sassenach.”

Jamie carried on talking quietly and softly stroked his son’s cheek. William stirred again and yawned slightly before opening his eyes. Slowly, he gave his father a wide gummy smile, a trail of drool escaping from a corner of his mouth.

Jamie gasped and then grinned in response. “Ye’re a bonny lad, William and ye ken yer Da. Come on, we’d best be heading home otherwise that Sassenach of ours will be having our guts for garters.”

[bonnie-barstow-of-flag]

The Not So Lonesome Knight Part 16:

Parts 1 X, 2 X , 3 X , 4 X, 5 X , 6 X , 7 X, 8 X, 9 X 10 X, 11 X , 12 X, 13 X ,14 X, 15 X  

Michael’s azure hues dazzle, vibrant in their appearance, as he contemplates the idea of Bonnie being turned into a robot. The imaginings were largely inspired by Rc3′s earlier commentary. If he tried hard enough, he could picture the wires, cords, and computer chips strung expertly together to make up her perfect body. Maybe, Rc3 wasn’t that far off? What else could account for Dr. Barstow’s expansive intelligence? Knight humorously considers, lathering the motel’s conditioner through the dark coils of his hair.

Helios and the Foundation both knew that Bonnie possessed an elite mind. Unfortunately, the one particular section of Helios that had taken interest in her happened to be corrupt with criminals. That was entirely beside the point.  All Michael could do, was chalk the incident up to another time where he almost lost her. Internally, he was beginning to despise the word ‘almost’. It implied an inability to fully grasp what he so desired all-the-while, maintaining that she could still leave. If he waited too long, he could blink and she’d be gone again.  This thought alone causes his eyes to dull with hints of sadness.

Kitt was right to label him a coward. A coward who is constantly hiding his true feelings behind nearly impenetrable facades, Michael thinks to himself. He could blame it on the metal implant in his head, his time working in Intelligence, or even his life-times worth of trauma, and the number of losses he suffered. Heck, Michael could honestly apply just about a trillion more excuses but he doesn’t.

He lets a torrent of cold water followed by warm, rinse over all of his features, washing away his dour line of thinking. One day, he should free himself of the tethers of fear and dread that conspired to keep him and Bonnie apart forever.

Would he ever get a better opportunity to tell her than tonight? Michael ponders as he towels himself off and re-dresses. He can’t. He won’t! There has to be a better time, a better place than a motel, and a more convenient opportunity. He didn’t even have roses to assist his effort to woo her. Casting a wistful glance in the mirror, he reminds himself just how short he would always fall on the scale of measuring up to what Bonnie deserves.

In his departure of the bathroom, he finds himself greeted by the hums of the television which, was now turned on and casting it’s ethereal glow throughout the darkened room. Michael finds himself staring at Bonnie again. He can’t help it. She looked spectacular bathed in the luminosity radiating from the tv. Every one of her features seemed infinitely softened to the point of angelic glory under it’s careless caress. Even the look of determination she sported upon her countenance melted. From his observations, Michael gathers that she was multi-tasking, the way she always did when there were too many things burdening her mind.

Michael slings his towel around his neck like a decorative scarf, though neither end meets or crosses, as he strides across the room. After several minutes of silent observation, curiosity gets the better of him. “Whattacha workin’ on there, Bons?”

Turquoise hues begrudgingly lift upwards, departing from the pages of her splayed open notebook. The pages are jammed full of fresh equations, side-notes, and scribbled addendums. Bonnie had been working on adding more when he interrupted. Michael looked as shiny as a brand new penny with his damp mop of curls. The smile that accompanies his inquiry encourages her to answer. “I was...” Bonnie starts, praying he didn’t find her too nerdy to be attractive, “working on the coding mechanisms for the Foundation. Since some of the systems have been compromised, I’m working on making security-related improvements. I can’t really do too much without the computer physically in front of me, but this will give me ideas on what to try first.” She invitingly pats the opposite side of the mattress for him to sit down.

Michael can’t help but be impressed and his eyebrows elevate as he listens to her. “Ya mean all that jibberish is the code that will protect the Foundation?” He can hardly mask the surprise in his own inquiry as he seats himself beside her.

The brunette cocks her head casually to the side, stifling a soft laugh. Her eyes can’t help but dance with light as they focus on him.“Well, it is really a prototype of the code.” She should have known, that to his untrained eye, it would be interpreted as the equivalent of a foreign language filled with indiscernible hieroglyphics. Never one to excessively flaunt her intelligence, Bonnie slid the notebook closed and placed it and her pencil on the nightstand beside the bed.

Chewing the corner of her lip briefly, she adds, “and I was watching this show. I hate to say it, but they’re doing the repairs on that truck wrong.” Her gaze flashes towards the motion on the screen. Realizing that this made her sound overly critical, she tacks on, “not even terrible modifications are done that way. It is not only a fire hazard, but it is a good way to lose mechanical control on the road when you hit anything above fifty miles-per-hour.” She would have delved further into the complicated explanation but she really didn’t want to right now. “Feel free to change the channel to something better. I really stopped watching it intently about ten minutes ago when he started to cross the wrong wires.” She confides, slumping back against the pillows behind her.

Normally, Michael would hazard a guess at where the show’s mechanic went wrong but he doesn’t want to appear dim-witted, in her eyes, should his assumption be incorrect. So he willingly lets her remark evaporate into the air around him. He follows her lead, flopping back against pillows that rested against the bed’s headboard. He gleefully takes up the remote as he makes himself comfortable beside her. “What do ya wanna watch?”

“Anything but that last show and the news,” she answers with a half scrunched up nose.

Those requests were easy enough to abide by. He settles for something that appears to be a romantic comedy. It was hard to tell for certain if that was exactly what he landed upon because the movie was half-way through. Most women loved the silly Hallmark romances, right? Where could he go wrong? However, Bonnie wasn’t just any woman, so he studies her in order to gauge her reaction to his selection. To his pleasant surprise, she not only smiles, she hands him the champagne bottle.

“We might as well enjoy it since it’s free,” Bonnie offers. The way she said it, felt lame as it steamrolls passed her lips. The statement felt duller than she intended. Bonnie wanted to say something more meaningful, more intimate but that would be wrong. Wouldn’t it? He remains forbidden fruit.

Michael doesn’t even seem to notice the lackluster capacity of her suggestion. He cheerfully opens the bottle and pours them both a glass. They were certainly responsible adults. “So, what are we toastin’ to?” After a thoughtful pause, he jokingly adds, “and please don’t say this room or Devon.”

As strange as it might sound when Bonnie passed him the bottle, she hadn’t considered the idea that there would be a toast worth giving. At least, not one that should be shared between co-workers. She runs her pointer-finger slowly across her lower-lip giving herself time to think of something. Work. It was the safest of all of their options given their present predicament. Although, in her heart, she would prefer toasting to this night together. “How about a toast to us?” She eagerly proposes, her turquoise orbs hesitantly floating over to examine him.

Michael chokes in astonishment.“To us?” He parrots. He isn’t going to lie, he really enjoys the sound of that. It leaves so many wonderful possibilities and it swung open far too many doors.

Shifting in her place, she affirms. “Yeah. To us.” A proud smile steals across her lips. Bonnie pauses to untangle her thoughts before finally clarifying, “to us making a great team and resolving this case together.”

Leaning in, he smoothly returns, “I think I can drink to that.”

Lifting her glass the brunette breathes, “here is to us getting Kent back and rescuing the Foundation.” Of course, they hadn’t resolved the case just yet but what harm could a premature celebration be?

Setting aside their empty glasses, the two FLAG agents snuggle on top of the blankets to catch the remainder of the movie. While there are heaps of pillows around them, Bonnie opts to rest her head against Michael’s nearest shoulder. Every so often, the brunette would sneak glances up at him through the tangles of her long dark lashes. He is so close. Almost too close but she doesn’t pull away and to her surprise neither does he.

“Look at them, Michael! How do they not see it?! They are so in love and they are so perfect for each other.” She dreamily exclaims, pointing in the direction of the movie.

Michael’s azure hues snapped towards the screen the very instant she pointed. He had only been half watching the movie, the rest of his attention had been on her. He chuckles a little too loudly at her remark but the sound is edged with unusual jitters. “I don’t know.” His large hand massages the back of his neck because he is well aware that he is holding back just like the unfortunate man in the fictitious premise of the movie. “You’re right, though. It is glaringly obvious that they do belong together.” Maybe, this hadn’t been the right channel selection?

“Bonnie?” He asks, her name departing his lips in an adoring sotto voce. His gaze slowly flutters back down to her.

“Yeah?” She prompts in reply, cheating and focusing half of her attention on Michael and the other half on the movie.

He angles his head downwards and to the side slightly to get a better view of her. Swallowing sharply, he knows that this wasn’t going to be easy. There was a strong likelihood that what he is about to say will have him spending the night on the floor. Yet, he feels compelled to speak. “There is somethin’ I’ve been wantin’ to tell you.” Michael starts, his brow glistening with sweat as he dares to meet her gaze.

Captivated, Bonnie concentrates fully upon him and she giddily prompts.“Oh? What is it?” Without giving him much time to impart his next statement she interjects “wait. Let me guess?” Her lips twist into a jovial grin as she speculates, “you want to tell me that your shirt is too big on me? Or I wouldn’t like a pair of your shorts because it’s got that funny hole in them?” She hardly finishes her assumptions before she falls into a fit of giggling.

“Well, yes... and no.” He starts, laughing till his chest hurt. His shirt was a little big for her. Still, Bonnie was practically killing him with the mental picture of her in more than just his shirt. However, it was ridiculous to imagine her wearing any of his pants, his shorts especially. His legs were at least a foot longer than her’s. Shaking off the useless imaginings, he tries to regain control of the more serious conversation he hoped to start. “First of all, my shirt looks it’s best when you wear it, over-sized or not. It has never looked better.” He almost suggests that she keep it, but he wonders if that is taking things a bit too far and too fast. “And unless I’m missin’ my mark here, you’ve already tried on my shorts. Haven’t you?” An air of playful accusation colors his tone. What had given away the fact she had tampered with his shorts, was the fact that they were folded differently than the way he had done them and then they were left on the bathroom sink for him when he went to take his shower.

His laughter feels like the presence of sunshine, balmy and wholly welcomed. She hadn’t been expecting his compliments and as a result, her face slowly stained red. The hilarious accusation, though it was spot-on, deepened the color to a lovely shade of plum. “Okay. So, I’m a little guilty. I was afraid you’d see too much of my legs. You don’t think I’m showing too much skin. Do you?”

Lord. Who suddenly turned the room’s temperature up a hundred degrees? So this was how it felt to be a cake in the nearly 400-degree oven. Michael’s gaze swiftly sweeps up the exposed expanse of her legs. “No.” He sharply swallows the lump of lust rising in his throat. “No, I don’t think there is too much showin’...” Heaven help him if he continued to vocalize the rest of that thought! “And I really have to tell you this or I think I just might burst.” This time his statement is firmer than he actually intended. “I...” He delicately uses his free hand to sweep some of Bonnie’s straying dark strands from her eyes before tucking them back behind her ear. He leans himself nearer until his lips are scantly a breath away from her’s. He can do this. Kitt was right! The whole fear thing was plain silly!!! He just has to rip the bandage off no matter the cost. His heart fiercely bellows out for mercy with every beat. “I....”

Bonnie smiles as he tucks her hair behind her ear, a corner of her lower-lip catches between her teeth. She has a sneaking suspicion that she knows just where this conversation is going and it terrifies her so greatly, she can feel the harsh throbbing of her heart all the way up in the hollows of her ears. The brunette can sense the lingering of his eyes upon her lips and her own gaze ventures briefly to his. If ever there were a silent, touch-less exchange of a kiss, there was one now looming in the air between them.

“I think I... lov...” He starts, his voice is huskier than he desired it to be. He was about to finish that statement when Kitt interrupts with a series of beeps.

“Michael?” Kitt innocently starts.

There is a mild explosion of exasperation in Michael’s tone when he answers, “Kitt? Can it wait? I’m in the middle of somethin’ important?!” Kitt’s timing couldn’t have been any worse not even on a bad day.

The Bostonian voice that answers holds an apologetic air, “I’m sorry, Michael. It can’t. A group of vicious-looking men are headed your way armed with guns and an battery-operated saw.”

Bonnie’s eyes round as she removes her head from Michael’s shoulder. The fact that these “armed” men were headed in their direction with guns and a saw couldn’t be a coincidence. Now could it?

The warning doesn’t come a moment too soon as a little less than a minute later their door comes crashing in, deadbolt and all.

[kcowgill]

More interviews today. Then instead of having lunch with the candidates (and the higher ups) I took a quick Uber to the sports chiropractor I saw a few times a few months ago; around the same time I was getting shockwaves shot into my right foot by the podiatrist, but before the lasers shot into both feet (again, by the podiatrist).

This guy (the chiro) has previously done a lot of soft tissue work including dry needling, manual tissue therapy (i.e. deep (and I mean DEEP) tissue massage), and my favorite - the Graston Technique.

Gosh Kent, what’s the Graston Technique? 

Well, you take one of these ridged stainless steel implements:

... and rake it across any tight spots in your muscle/fascia until it feels like your skin is being removed. Repeatedly. I didn’t get a good look because of the tears streaming from my eyes, but I’m pretty sure he used ‘GT2′ today. I think it stands for “Grievous Tribulator v2″. A few hours later and I’ve got some nasty abrasions (pictured above) that will most likely develop into some bruising (in case you don’t recall me mentioning it, I don’t generally bruise very easily).

I limped back to the office and joined in the tail end of the Code Platoon post-interview de-brief where we all shared our opinions of the candidates. It’s always interesting to see when my interview team (looking for teamwork/culture qualities) has the opposite rating of a candidate looking for other attributes (e.g. technical aptitude, integrity, or problem solving). I recall a few that I thought had a great culture fit but I suspected they wouldn’t do well on the more technical interviews. I was usually right, but one candidate proved me wrong. Good for them, but they got nixed by a different team.

Quick 1x1 meeting with my supervisor and it was about time to head home - another day without the opportunity to hit the gym. Didn’t even have time for lunch :(

Taco Tuesday with Surprise Texas Tamales*. Lifted after the kids went down, finally making use of the leg curl/leg extension part of the new bench I got last week.

* I was shopping in my usual grocery store a week or so ago and they had someone handing out samples of tamales. “I’m sure they’re terrible” I thought as I accepted the nugget of tamale in a paper cup. But sure enough it was DELICIOUS. “Surely that wasn’t frozen!” “Au contraire mon frère!” (kidding, she didn’t bust out any french). I grabbed two bags on the spot and hid them away in my freezer until tonight. I cooked up 6 black bean 9not spicy) and 6 beef (a bit spicy!) tamales in addition to the usual Taco Tuesday selection. I loved them, the wife loved them, my daughter seemed OK with them (but the beef ones were too spicy for her) and my son even agreed to eat an ENTIRE black bean tamale**. Sadly I forgot to buy corn to make elotes (or at least, the version of elotes ‘recipe’*** I cobbled together that lets everyone in the family enjoy it).

** Extremely picky eater. Likely tied to his (high functioning) autism. We gave up on “no thank you” bites/portions/food haranguing/fighting and just make sure there’s something on the table he’ll eat****. Dinnertime harmony restored. It’s a huge deal when he tries something new AND LIKES IT. But in addition to withholding negative pressure (e.g. “EAT IT OR ELSE!”) we also avoid positive pressure to hopefully sidestep developing any other “performance related” anxiety.

*** I never looked up an actual recipe but I knew approximately what ought to be in it, and just modified heavily so that 1) my wife can eat it (i.e. dairy free) and 2) my son will eat it (no visible spice particles).

**** Division of responsibilities, as recommended in a book my step-mom sent me after seeing how awful and heartbreaking dinnertime was during an extended visit. I decide what goes on the table and when it goes on the table (keeping in mind I do my best to make sure there’s at least one thing on the table he’s almost guaranteed to eat). He decides what to eat and how much. No muss, no fuss, no fighting. Backfill any nutritional concerns with a superfood/meal replacement shake, since the pediatrician has been concerned about his lack of weight gain.

[loverofoptimus]

The Less Eventful Of Days: DCAU Superman X Reader

Figured I’d make a fic to go along with the relationship headcanons I typed out   https://loverofoptimus.tumblr.com/post/183845680514/dcau-superman-x-reader-headcanons

Your sleep came to an abrupt end at the feeling of lips on your neck but just about any annoyance at the sudden interruption was gone at the wonderful sensation especially when your mind finally had time to process of the one person it could possibly be.

Turning around you saw Clark giving you just the grin you were expecting which you returned with one as well. He leaned in closer and pressed your foreheads to each other.

“Good morning, beautiful”. he said.

“Good morning, Superman”. you answered.

 The two of you brought your faces level to level and kissed deeply. He worked his great wonders on your lips with his own and pulled you tight against his chest while your hand made it’s way onto his head and started playing with the S curl of his hair.

His hands rubbed and massaged along your back and his tongue traced your lips asking for entrance which you took very little time to oblige. Your own tongue slid against his as it explored your mouth.

Breaking from the kiss, he looked you over and said. “Even with that bedhead, you’re still more alluring in life than you are in my dreams” 

“Why, thank you.” That comment though made you react by trying to fix your hair as best as your hands could manage. 

He chuckled and gave your lips a peck. Then he uncovered himself from the sheets and threw his legs over the side of the bed you two shared. 

“Well, time to start another day”

“Do we have to?” You moaned. “Can’t we just stay like this all day?”

Clark just gave you a smirk and shook his head. You sighed knowing he was right, as much as you didn’t want to leave the bed. He then wrapped his arm around your torso.

“If it helps, I’ll go make breakfast.” He said.

That did sound really good right now. With that motivation, you managed to pry yourself from the bed while he made his way to the kitchen.

After the mundane task of preparation, you headed to the kitchen taking in the lovely aroma of pancakes. Clark had just set up your spots at the table and beckoned you over. You obliged and once comfortably seated, began to eat 

There was that satisfied smile he loved so much no matter how many times he’s seen it. 

“I’ve never known a man who could whip this up so fast and efficiently before you.” You complimented.

“Well, Wally can do it quicker but he tends to leave a big mess behind.”  He answered then took a sip of his coffee.

“At least he can clean it up just as quickly.”

“But not the most efficiently.”  He then chuckled. “Bruce almost busted an artery in his head when he found signs that Wally had been going through his equipment.” 

You giggled at the thought of what Batman must have said to Flash after that. You sure didn’t envy that poor kid.

Clark stopped eating and got out of his seat then gave you a hint of what his next move was going to be.

“I don’t think Perry would like me walking around the office like this.” 

He then went upstairs to dress and tidy up. You were almost finished with your breakfast when he came back down fully dressed. His hair combed down and is face now sporting the glasses that he had no need for other than helping his facade as just an ordinary citizen.

It was strange at first how the similarities between Superman and Clark Kent didn’t click immediately to your mind. But then again, very few people knew that Superman even had a secret identity, let alone who it was.

Honestly the more you thought about it, the more surprisingly brilliant it was. 

Clark took his seat and finished up his pancakes while you did the same. He took the dishes to the sink then turned to you.

“We have a little time before we need to leave.” He walked over to you and planted a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“What do you have in mind, Clark?” You asked with a smile. Of course, you already had an idea of what it was.

 You arrived at the new Italian restaurant that you and Clark had been planning on trying for lunch that day. Standing by the entrance, you decided to pass the time with your thoughts while you waited for him and your mind started with the city around you.

Although Metropolis was always a nice place to look at, many people agree that it looks it’s best from above rather than at your current street level. But where most people would think of that from a view from one of the skyscrapers, you have something even better.

Your boyfriend.

No building or plane could ever give you the spectacle that Superman could. You love it when he takes you on his one woman flight. Any fear of falling was completely gone in the comfort of his strength and speed should anything go wrong. 

The air also felt crisper than it did down on street level with fewer people to distribute between and fewer machines giving off smog. It was all just a grand experience.

You were suddenly pulled out of your trance when a pair of familiar arms wrapped around your torso followed by a pair of lips pressing against your cheek.

“Need an escort?” 

You giggled and replied “I don’t know. Maybe I’d like going solo.”

Clark released you from his embrace and led you into the restaurant.

The two of you spent time talking about the new ideas Clark had in mind for the Daily Planet and if Bruce and Diana were ever going to finally become a couple until your meals arrived.

“Now to satisfy my belly”. Clark said in anticipation.

“If it tastes as good as it smells, we should come here more often.” You added

 A bit way through the meal Clark decided to start up the conversation again.

“Anything exciting happened at work so far?” He asked before taking a bite of his pasta. 

“About as much excitement as calculus.”  You answered honestly. There was a good reason why you’d have rather spent the day in bed. “How about you?” 

“Well, Lois went on quite the rant and she was so furious about it I didn’t even catch what it started with.” He chuckled. “It’s usually best to just keep to the sideline until she can think straight again.” 

“Doesn’t it feel uncomfortable working in the same place as your Ex?” You asked quieter knowing this was a public place.

“I told you before, Y/N. There were no hard feelings or maliciousness. We agreed it just didn’t work out.” He then took a good look around, checking for any prying eyes or eavesdroppers before he continued in a whisper.

“Besides, as far as she still knows, Clark and Superman are two different people.”

While you and Lois weren’t enemies by any means or even had any true personal distaste for each other, you always couldn’t help but feel that she had a habit of either getting herself into a great deal of trouble all for a shot at a story or else just bring trouble to any situation.

Granted she was a reporter but she really could stand to use more caution.

Still, she kept Clark happy for a good while till he started dating you and if he’s still on good terms with her, she couldn’t be all bad.

“Did I ever tell you about the time she almost married Bruce?” Clark asked.

“No, but I’m sure it’s a story I’d like to hear.” 

You arrived home first which meant Clark was either held back a bit by the press or somewhere, something was amiss that needed the help of Superman.

Even though you went over in your mind time and time again that there was very little that can actually threaten his life, there was always that tiny hint of worry anyway.

After all, despite his great power, Clark held most of it back in the fear of hurting innocent lives, even when his own well being was at stake. He’s such a selfless soul.

You knew that this was going to be something you’d have to accept when you became his girlfriend. 

All the same though, you also settled in your mind that you’d rather take that chance than just spend your life dreaming of what could have been and you’ve never regretted it. 

You found ways to keep yourself preoccupied until it lead to checking the TV guide for a good movie. 

It was then when you heard the front door open. You made your way to the entrance of your home and standing there was indeed your one true love.

He was wearing his suit. The blue and red one with the trunks and cape. The one that just about everybody in Metropolis and most of the world would instantly recognize him in.

“What happened?” You asked concerned. 

“Nothing too serious. Just a few burglars I caught trying to ransack a jewelry shop.” 

“You’d think the non-super villains would have learned by now.”

Clark laughed and pulled you into a hug.  You nuzzled your face into his chest and embraced him back. He gave you a sweet peck on the head 

After he released you, you took the opportunity to check his spandex figure. You may have seen it countless times before but it didn’t look any less dull than it had the first time.

“I can keep it on for a while.” He said, fully knowing you loved the way it felt. Not to mention how good he looked in it.

“What can I say? I love a man in uniform.” You replied with a shrug.

He chuckled then followed you into the living room. He sat down on the sofa and pulled you into his lap. You reacted by snaking an arm around his torso. 

“Beauty and the Beast is coming on in about 10 minutes.” You said. His face lit up at that information

“I haven’t seen that movie in ages.” 

After reliving what might be the greatest animated movie of all time, your stomach (as well as the growls from Clark’s) reminded you of what it was time for. 

You got off your boyfriend letting him get up as well then you both made your way to the kitchen.

“Feel like having those chicken breasts?”  He asked while fishing through the refrigerator.

“The way you can cook and season meat, I’d be fine with spam.” 

“Thank you, sweetheart. I’ll throw in mashed potatoes and dessert for that.” He started gathering the cooking tools and ingredients.

“That’s too much work for you alone, big guy.  Let me give you a hand.”

“Too much work? Have you forgotten who I am?”

“You mean besides the man of my dreams?”

He chuckled as he placed the chicken on the oiled pan he set up. Rather than turn on the stove top itself, he let his heat vision do the work and added spices to the sizzling meat.

All the while he was whistling to the tune “Be Our Guest” 

You meanwhile set the table as that was just about all you were going to accomplish before Clark would insist he’d take over from there.

“I’m just glad that the man of my dreams was both of the men I fell in love with. I already spent too many sleepless nights trying to decide which one I was going to pick.”

“It sounds like a good foundation for an upbeat musical. Maybe we should send it to Disney.” 

You laughed as he brought the cooked chicken to the table.

With dinner finished up, you were now in the bathroom stripping down and about to take a shower. 

The door opened and in he stepped unclothing as well. It was almost funny how the big boy scout wasn’t even remotely bothered by the naked figure of the woman in the room with him or that he was exposed in front of other eyes too.

Of course, it’s certainly wasn’t like you two haven’t seen each other like this before.

Clark stepped into the shower and you followed suit as he turned the head on and adjusted the water’s temperature. You took the soap off its holder and started lathering up your body.

Halfway through your cleansing, he placed his hands on your waist.

He had a cocky smirk plastered on his face and you knew exactly where his mind was.

“Feeling amorous?” 

“Very, yeah.” 

“Good. So am I.”

It went on for a very long while even long after you both were done washing. 

As always, you were completely worn out but couldn’t be any more satisfied. With the little energy you had left along with some help from Clark, you dressed into your nightwear and crawled into bed.

He came around the other side and did the same. You then cuddled against his body warmly while he pulled you into an embrace. Now relaxed, you let out a sigh.

This had honestly been among the less eventful of days since you two started dating and it was still more pleasant than just about every day you had spent alone.

Clark made everything that much nicer. He always had. Thinking over it, you thought it was rather unfair how much effort he put into this relationship when you felt you’ve haven’t contributed the same.

“Clark?”

“Yes?”  

“I really can’t say enough how much I appreciate everything.” You said. “You’ve given me so much and I just can’t help wondering how I can ever return the favor.” 

His hand caressed your cheek and he gently turned your face towards his own. He gave you a warm smile and leaned in closer.

“Y/N, just being with me is enough to return the favor. You really think you don’t do enough for me? You lift my spirit. You reinforce my hope. You gave me love in my life when I needed it the most. You’re everything about humanity that I love.”

He pulled you closer and gently but passionately kissed you. 

“The only thing I could ever ask you for is the promise that you’ll stay with me and one day, we’ll start a family. Help me rebuild the life that my kind lost.”

“There’s nothing more I want than that.” You said, returning his warm smile.

“I’ll give you much more than that anyway. Just wait until you see what I have planned for us on the weekend.” 

You laid your head on his chest as his heartbeat soothed you to the core. His body was so comfortably warm that you wouldn’t mind if the sheets were suddenly removed. 

He ran his hands along your back and held you against his body as tight as he could without making it uncomfortable. He took a deep inhale of your scent and kissed your forehead. God, this felt so wonderful. 

“I love you, Y/N.” He muttered

“I love you too, Superman” You answered before drifting off into sleep.

You know in your heart, you couldn’t leave him if you tried.

Thanks for Reading! If you enjoyed, please like and reblog! 

[yogatoronto01-blog]

Yoga Does a Runner's Body Good!

Yoga, with its emphasis on slow, controlled movements, muscle relaxation, and deep breathing would seem to be an odd addition to a runner's cross training schedule. But these two forms of exercise are more complementary than they seem. Just ask 34-year-old Nicole Nakoneshny. Visit here The Yoga House Toronto

A fundraising consultant, Nakoneshny spends much of her leisure time running near her home in Toronto. But she is not just running. She is also meditating, a discipline that she learned from yoga. As she told Runners World, "[b]ecause running is such a repetitive activity, I find it quite meditative."

Nakoneshny is part of a growing breed of runners who have created their own yoga for runners' programs designed for enhanced running performance.

Similarities Between Yoga and Running

Although the similarities between yoga and running are not obvious to onlookers, many runners see (and experience) the synchronycities. Both running and yoga, they say, require discipline, flexibility, concentration, practice, and breatthing techniques. These similarities make yoga an obvious, albeit uncommon, choice for a runner's cross training routine.

But yoga does more than just provide runners with added variety to their training programs; indeed, there is evidence that yoga improves the running performance of these athletes. This is possible, say experts, through yoga's ability to balance the body, which prepares the athlete for the rigors of running and protects the body from injury.

Yoga Does a Runner's Body Good

While running one mile, each foot will strike the ground approximately 1,000 times, say health writers Baron Baptiste and Kathleen Finn Mendola. Moreover, with each running step, the feet, legs, and hips will absorb three to four times the runner's weight. This can, and does, lead to stiffness, pain, and injury for most runners.

But these negative bodily reactions are not the inevitable result of running. Rather, say Baptiste and Mendola, such pain and injuries occur because the high impact nature of running throws the body out of balance. But yoga for runners is beneficial because it realigns the body and posture. Indeed, yoga is used as a therapeutic tool to counteract the damage caused by musculature imbalances that often begin by muscle tightening/shortening and end with injury.

When runners devote most of their training time to running, say experts, their muscles tend to tighten and shorten due to the repetitive, high-impact nature of this sport. When this happens, the body attempts to compensate for this imbalance by shifting the stress to other muscles and joints. This can lead to pain and often leads to injury.

Moreover, because every part of the body is interconnected, an imbalance in one part (as occurs with muscle shortening and tightness) can cause pain and injury in another part of the body. For instance, a common running injury is shin splints, which results from an uneven distribution of weight on the legs while running.

The practice of yoga, with its focus on relaxing and elongating the muscles, effectively minimizes these types of injuries.

Yoga for Runners: Exercises to Improve Running Performance

Hyongok Cho Kent is a sports trainer in Montreal who knows the benefits of yoga for runners. At his fitness studio, Cho Kent instructs his students in both the art of yoga and what he calls "Chi Running." The program that he has developed is designed to stretch the muscles of the hamstrings and the calves so that soreness and running injuries are minimized. Moreover, his program strengthens the core muscles and the muscles in the arms and the back, which corrects postural misalignments and, ultimately, improves running performance.

To help the muscles to rebound, Cho Kent recommends that a runner spend 15 to 20 minutes, immediately after a run, performing these exercises. They should also be incorporated as part of a cross training schedule to improve running performance.

Wall Dog

Stand straight, facing a wall that is an arm's length away from the body. Feet should be approximately the width of the shoulders apart. /li>

Bend forward from the hips, touching the wall with both palms of the hand, fingertips pointing upward.

Slowly walk the legs backward, until the arms are fully extended, spine completely parallel to the floor.

Slowly push back and feel the stretch in the legs and the hips.

Pull the abdomen in and then relax those muscles.

Hold this pose and feel the stretch in the hamstring, calves, and lower back.

Take five to ten slow, deep breaths and then slowly stand upright.

Hamstring Stretch

Stand straight with feet shoulder width apart. Bring the arms behind the back and clasp the elbows or the forearms.

Step the right foot behind you (about two to three feet) and turn the foot 60 degrees inward for balance. (The left leg should remain in its original position.)

Slowly bend forward from the waist as far as you can, always keeping the spine and the legs straight

Hold this pose for 5 to 10 breaths. (You should feel the stretch in your calves, hamstrings, and thighs).

Release and slowly return to original position.

Repeat with the left leg.

Wide Leg Standing Forward Bend

Stand straight.

Step your right leg out until your legs are approximately 4 feet apart with feet parallel.

Turn toes inward slightly and place the hands on the hips.

Slowly contract abdominal muscles.

Slowly bend forward, keeping your legs straight, until your hands touch the floor.

Push your body weight into your palms or your fingertips

You should feel the stretch in your hamstrings, calves, ankles, thighs, and Achilles tendons (to name just a few of the running muscles positively affected by this pose.)

Hold this pose for five to ten slow breaths.

Release the pose and slowly stand upright.

Cho Kent's yoga for runners program not only elongates and massages the main muscles involved in running, but it is a relaxing change of pace from the incessant muscle pounding resulting from running.

Although yoga and running were once considered to be at opposite ends of the sports or exercise spectrum, many runners are now combining the two and finding that they are, indeed, complementary physical disciplines. Moreover, yoga is spawning a new breed of "Chi runners" who are reaping the cross- training benefits of adding yoga to their training programs.