#women lifting weights benefits

[juliesque04]

A unique form of misogyny i've witnessed is the push in fitness communities for women to stop running and weight lifting and start doing pilates/barre/yoga bc it's "soooo much better for your hormones and makes you look so dainty and petite🥺 Wouldn't wanna look big and bulky like lifters!!"

I genuinely don't understand why the people who claim this don't understand that that's not the gold standard for all women and entirely neglect the benefits of high-intensity training, as well as perpetuate the idea that women somehow aren't fit for such activities. It gives the same vibes as when women weren't allowed to run marathons because they thought our uterus would fall out.

Additionally, the fear in fitness communities of women being "bulky" and actually strong is genuinely insane. Like yes, I AM bulky, fuck you. I personally love having shoulders wider than the average man's and being able to throw around my body weight, i would never give it up.

It's especially awful since I'm a cross country runner who just happens to love lifting as well, and the standard for us is to basically look like malnourished ballerinas. I don't give a fuck if I "don't look like a runner," race me rn

[trickphotography2]

good to come home to (but not to stay)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x unnamed female!reader

Word count: 11.4k (sorry, it's a really long one)

Synopsis: "It doesn't mean anything." It was just a fling. A friends with benefits situation. Sleeping with Jake was never meant to be more than that. But when you start to catch feelings and have a new assignment, the 10 month hook up had to end. Deploying on the USS Theodore Roosevelt would give you enough time to get him out of your system. Or so you thought.

Written for @mjisbby who requested a cryptic pregnancy fic.

Warning: This fic does include angst, mutual pining/believed unrequited love, a cryptic pregnancy, and the panic of finding that out.

18+, minors DNI

Crossposted on Ao3 | My Masterlist

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“Nat!”

The weight lifted from your shoulders as your knee hit the ground, the clink of metal on metal nearly drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears. “Alright, you’re done,” Natasha hissed, crouching to meet your gaze. Breathing through the cramps, you nodded. When she’d suggested working out, you certainly hadn’t anticipated your uterus's betrayal, nearly making you collapse during a squat.

“Agreed,” you grunted, resisting the urge to press a hand to your lower stomach. Feeling eyes on you, you took her outstretched hand and let the pilot pull you to your feet. Pain made you sway, and her other arm quickly steadied you. 

“Shit - you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” Forcing a smile, you shrugged as the pain started to fade. “My uterus is just hating me today.” The other woman winced in sympathy. Glancing over her shoulder, you caught Jake watching you, paused in the middle of a set of bicep curls. He raised his eyebrow, and you quickly looked away. 

It'd been awkward since ending your friends-with-benefits agreement. And, while you sometimes regretted that night when you told him it was over - replaying that flash of confusion on his face that quickly disappeared under a mask of indifference - you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. When you started your arrangement, you agreed it was casual and had no expectations. The moment you realized you were falling for the arrogant aviator, you’d ended it in a much-needed moment of self-preservation. It was better to cut things off before you got hurt, trying to pretend that you didn’t wish that Jake was open to a relationship. 

You could have had a clean break if it hadn’t been for the deployment. San Diego was a big enough city, and you weren’t even stationed on the same base - while he was on North Island, you were stationed at NAS San Diego. You’d only crossed paths because Nat had decided to join the women’s softball team and invited you to the Hard Deck after practice. While you had some exposure to pilots after participating in briefings, being surrounded by them in a bar was overwhelming - at one point, you leaned over and whispered to Nat, “So when are they going to just whip their dicks out and measure? Jesus Christ, the egos.” 

And Jake was the worst. You’d watched him prowl the bar, flirting with women who giggled and batted their eyes whenever he smirked at them. Wearing a pair of your PT shorts as a raspberry bloomed on your thigh from sliding into home plate, you weren’t a match for the women in sundresses and perfect makeup. After finishing your beer, you bid your teammate and her crew goodbye and headed home for a hot shower. 

It wasn’t until the third time you joined Nat at the bar that you talked to the guy everyone called Hangman. Still wearing your khakis, you’d come straight from work, ready to forget the week. While you enjoyed working with newly enlisted sailors, training them to do daily briefings for higher-ups was always a nightmare. You’d spent most of the day reviewing a report and triple-checking the work of a kid straight out of basic. Realistically, he should have had more time to observe briefings, but your boss liked to throw the new guys into the mix to get their feet wet. Remembering the anxiety you’d had the first time you’d briefed an admiral after commissioning, you always offered your help to anyone who wanted an extra set of eyes and ears.

So when a song by a country artist you liked came on the jukebox, you hummed along, beer bottle resting against your lower lip as you watched Nat’s pool game with her friends and tried to push thoughts of telemetry out of your head. “You like country?” A drawl came from beside you. Startled, your gaze met a pair of sea-green eyes. 

“It’s not my favorite, but I like some of it,” you shrugged. Jake nodded, gaze flitting to your name tag. 

“You’re Phoenix’s friend, right?” After a few weeks, you recognized your friend’s callsign and nodded. “You the college softball player she’s on the MWR league with?”

“Yeah.”

“You play for a team I’d know?”

“Do you watch a lot of college softball?” you smirked. Amusement flickered in his gaze, and you shrugged. “It wasn’t a D-1 school, so probably not.”

“What position do you play?”

“Second base and backup pitcher.” 

He nodded, leaning against the wall beside you. “You’re in intel, right?”

“Yup.” 

His gaze darted to your beer, and he tilted his head toward the bar. “Want another one?”

At practice the next day, Nat warned you about Jake’s reputation. You shrugged it off. Having a beer with a guy in a crowded bar didn’t mean anything, even if some of that time was spent at the jukebox picking out the soundtrack for the night. 

When the season's first game came around, you were somewhat surprised by the cheering section in the stands. You spotted Nat chatting with her coworkers through the fence as you warmed up with a teammate. Only reflex kept you from taking the neon softball to the face when Jake turned. Even wearing sunglasses, you could feel his gaze trained on you. 

The game went smoothly, and you and Nat worked like a well-oiled machine. In the fourth inning, she fielded a ball with a wicked bounce hit straight at her at shortstop, flicking it to you to get the out on second before you turned and fired it at first. The double play ended the inning, and you slapped gloves together before returning to the dugout, listening to the hoots and hollers of your team’s cheering section.

“The pitch just looks weird,” Rooster huffed. “The wind-up is off.”

“It’s just different,” you argued. “You guys pitch overhand while we do it underhand.” 

“And you’re closer to the plate, so it’s easier to hit,” Fanboy added. Raising an eyebrow, you turned toward the man, folding your arms over your chest and cocking your hip.

“Ever seen the video of Jennie Finch striking out MLB players?” When they shook their heads, you pulled out your phone and made them watch a Cardinals player get struck out in four pitches. 

Which was why you found yourself on the mound the following weekend. You were rusty, but after a few pitches, you felt yourself slipping back into the competitor mindset, switching your grip to throw fastballs, curveballs, and drops. It was satisfying when Rooster ducked out of the way when you threw an inside rise, the ball smacking into Nat’s glove with a satisfying ‘thud.’ Smirking, you caught the toss back and returned to the mound, trying not to laugh as the other aviators shit-talked. 

Eventually, they got a couple of foul balls and grounders. It took you much less time to adjust to the baseball pitch when it was Rooster’s turn to take the mound. “You forget,” you said, settling into your stance after hitting another line drive to third base, “most batting cages are set up for baseball.”  

You could never quite figure out how you and Jake ended up alone on the field. Everyone else had left to shower and head to the bar, but you couldn’t forget the way he pinned you to the dugout fence. Your fingers ran down his chest, shirt long since abandoned, and traced his abs as he smirked against your mouth, gloves dropped at your feet. When your arms rose to wrap around his neck, knocking off his backward baseball cap, he lifted you off your feet and guided your legs around his hips, grinding his hard cock against you.

“Is that your cup, or are you happy to see me?” you teased, and he barked a laugh while squeezing your ass, rocking you against him. 

“Smart ass,” he huffed. But when his hand slipped under your shirt, fingers sneaking under the cup of your sports bra, you shoved him away, feet slamming back onto the ground. Looking over his shoulder, you watched the military police vehicle drive past the field. 

Alone again, you retrieved both gloves and his hat. After shoving his glove into his chest, you smirked and put his hat on your head before winking. “See you around, Jake.”

His fingers caught yours as you brushed past him. “You coming to the Hard Deck tonight?” 

“That’s the plan.” 

He grinned, stealing back his hat. “See you there.”

Lukewarm water washed over you as you braced against the shower wall and bit your lip against groaning.

The days before your period arrived fucking sucked.

Thankfully, you didn’t have them often. Irregular since you started, you never were able to track when Aunt Flo would arrive. Even birth control did little to help you regulate, other than having a little spotting throughout the month. But in the days leading up to her appearance, you suffered.

Turning off the water, you took the momentary reprieve from the cramps that had plagued you for a day and a half to slip on a comfy pair of sweats and a baggy shirt before crawling into your rack. Facing the steel grey wall, you curled into a ball and cradled your stomach, willing away the pain and wishing the outlet worked so you could plug in your heating pad. You already felt gross from being bloated and putting on a little bit of weight over the deployment. Stress wreaked havoc with your body, and you had acne breakouts again and noticed that your uniform was just a smidge tighter than usual. 

The next cramp knocked the breath from your lungs, pain radiating down your legs and into your back as you clutched the blanket. Tensing, you curled into a tighter ball, black dots dancing in the corners of your vision as you held your breath to avoid the pain. 

The mattress shifted, and you cracked one eye open. Jake stood by your bed, tugging on his boxer briefs and searching for his jeans. Light peeked beneath the blackout curtains as you watched him dress before tiptoeing from the room. When the door closed, you opened your eyes and rolled onto your back, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. 

Nat had warned you.

You’d played it cool at the Hard Deck, keeping a friendly distance between yourself and Jake for most of the night. While he shot pool, you chatted with the other pilots and nursed your drink. But you’d felt sea-green eyes on you throughout the night and fingers trailing your waist when you stood by the bar together. After saying goodnight to everyone, you’d sat behind the steering wheel, scrolling for music, and nearly jumped out of your skin when there was a tapping on the car window. Jake’s grin was cocky as he motioned for you to roll it down. “You wanna get a nightcap?” he asked, leaning a forearm against the door and crowding into your space. 

He’d followed you to your apartment and shared a beer while making out on the couch. Your shirt hit the floor as he rocked you against his hard cock. But when you’d reached for his straining zipper, he’d batted your hands away and maneuvered you to sit on the couch. Kneeling in front of you, he undid your jeans button and encouraged you to lift your hips so he could pull them off with your panties. “Fuck, baby,” he breathed, guiding your bare legs over his shoulder as you shrugged off your bra. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous.” Tugging you closer, he devoured you. Your head fell back against the cushions as you moaned, feeling his chuckle against your core. He gave no quarter, chasing your pleasure with a ruthless determination. When fingers joined his tongue, you dug your fingers in his hair and tugged, his groan an echo of your own. And after you came, he kissed you hard, forcing you to taste yourself. 

“Bedroom. Now,” he murmured against your mouth. You twined your fingers together, walking backward toward your room, where he continued to demonstrate precisely why his reputation was well-earned.

You’d hidden your face in the pillow as he took care of the condom afterward. And while you’d expected him to dress and leave while you took your turn cleaning up, Jake had surprised you by sliding back under the covers. He gathered you in his arms when you joined him, fingers running through your hair and skating down your back as you were lulled to sleep by the steady thumping of his heart. 

Which was why his sneaking out in the morning hurt. But you’d known his reputation, and there hadn’t been any promises made past last night. After a few minutes, you forced yourself out of bed and locked the front door behind him before retreating to the bathroom and washing all traces of Hangman off you. Laundry was the first order of business when you emerged, skin raw from scrubbing.

It had been relatively easy to avoid him after that. You had no reason to be on North Island; your only connection was Nat. When he showed up in the bleachers at games, you ignored him. When he lingered like he wanted to talk to you, you volunteered to help pack the equipment and walked to your car with your teammates. Drinks at the Hard Deck were turned down, and you invited Nat to hang out with some of the officers you worked with. 

But you couldn't say no when she asked you to meet her at the bar for her birthday. Pulling into the Hard Deck felt like returning to the scene of the crime, and you took a few deep breaths before getting out of the car, adjusting your jeans and tank top. Promising to get in and out after an hour, you forced yourself into the sea of flight suits and khakis. Per usual, the Daggers had taken up their post by the pool tables, and you grabbed a beer before heading their way. 

The clacking of pool balls met your ears as you neared, and you felt him before seeing him. Ignoring the weight of his gaze, you brushed past Payback to hug Nat and wish her a happy birthday. Thankfully, a handful of women from the team also came, making it easier to avoid a certain aviator. Seeming to catch your intention, he also kept his distance.

Seeing Hangman flirt with a woman by the dartboard just solidified your decision to forget that night happened. You were just another hookup - no need to read more into it than necessary. When you caught him watching you dance, you forced yourself not to look away, an unwelcome flush rising in your cheeks. You could have sworn you saw the slightest flinch when the woman he was talking to touched his arm, drawing his attention away. 

You told yourself the jolt of irritation you felt had nothing to do with seeing another woman’s hands on him. The smooth way he smiled at her, or the bob of his Adam’s apple when he drank. The way he leaned against the jukebox while picking out a song, beer bottle dangling from his strong fingers that had made you see stars. 

A country song played as you closed your tab after saying your goodnights. Cocking your hip, you ignored the stranger beside you while signing your receipt, listening to the lyrics - “And that night we left our hearts on our sleeves and the clothes all over the floor. We both know we can't open that door no more. But she kept the hotel key.” 

No one followed you into the parking lot this time.

That didn’t stop you from opening your door an hour later. You didn’t tell Jake to leave when he asked if he could come in. 

“This doesn’t…mean anything,” you panted, bowing off the mattress as his hips slammed into yours. Fingers twisted in the sheets, you promised yourself that it was the last time as he lurched forward to capture your mouth. 

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you repeated after walking him to the door on shaking legs and flicking the lock into place early in the morning.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you told yourself, washing away Jake’s taste with a swig of his mouthwash. 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you thought on a different night while dressing in the dark as he sprawled across the bed, arm outstretched toward where you'd been

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you hissed through clenched teeth while leaning over your bathroom sink to study your split lip. Pain throbbed in your outer thigh, and your knee socks were stained with blood. The slide into second had been textbook until the baseman obstructed the bag. Her shoulder hit your mouth, knocking you back so hard the helmet flew off your head when you hit the ground. The knee to the chest as the other player tried not to fall onto you wasn’t particularly fun, either. The immediate ‘oooh!’ from the spectators hadn’t helped as you rolled to your side, trying to catch your breath. 

It took a minute to get up, and you felt embarrassed at the scattered applause as Nat and Mel helped you off the field. And there, waiting at the dugout as you limped in, was Jake. Brows pinched and fist clenched at his sides, he studied you as you swiped the blood from your mouth. “What do you need?” 

“Water, some ice, and bandages,” Mel answered for you. She was a nurse at the base hospital when not playing on the team. Jake’s eyes shot to you before he nodded curtly and hurried to his truck. You winced as Mel checked you out for a concussion and used the old first aid kit to do her best to clean you up. Within 15 minutes, Jake returned with a bag and a cup full of ice from the NEX. You could feel Nat watching as he stood behind you, separated by the fence, Mel cleaning the abrasion on your thigh while you held the makeshift ice pack - the ice dumped into a t-shirt you recognized as his - to your mouth. 

Reluctantly, you’d sat out the rest of the game and declined Nat’s offer to drive you home. After promising Mel and the rest of the team that you’d go to the hospital if you felt worse, Nat walked you to your car with your bag slung over her shoulder. “Is something going on with you and Hangman?” she asked. Your face gave you away because she shook her head. “It’s not a good idea.”

“It doesn’t mean anything.” The mantra slipped out without thought. 

It played through your head when you noticed a familiar truck a few cars behind you as you drove home. When Jake took your bag from the trunk and followed you up to your apartment. Again when he appeared behind you in the bathroom, something akin to worry in his eyes as he slowly turned you around, thumb lightly stroking your swollen mouth before placing a featherlight kiss on the hurt. 

“It doesn't mean anything,” you repeated when he stayed the rest of the day, sharing a shower and ordering dinner. When you watched TV and he made sure you iced your mouth. As you climbed into bed and he curled around you, his big hand spanning your stomach and lips brushing your shoulder. 

You didn’t have sex at all that day. 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you murmured while falling asleep. 

And you dreamed of a whisper as you drifted off. “Lie to yourself more convincingly, sweetheart.”  

Sweat beaded your forehead as you clutched the desk, tears clouding your vision. Pain radiated from your stomach and back. Using the desk to lower yourself to the floor, you leaned against the cabinet and curled around the heating pad. Wrapping your arms around your knees, you attempted to force the heat deeper against your revolting uterus, swallowing against the acid rising in your throat. 

You weren’t sure how long you stayed there, trying to breathe through the pain. It came in waves, worsening no matter what you did. With every break, you promised to get up and go to medical for some relief. You had duty in a few hours and needed to move. With only a few days left until the end of the deployment, your team was working on getting things wrapped up and ready to transition back to working on dry land. 

When the next cramp hit, you let out a low moan and clenched around the pain. Without realizing it, you held your breath, pain making your ears ring. A hand clamped on your shoulder, and you started, pulling in a deep breath and looking up at Nat’s worried gaze. You saw her lips move but were distracted by a warmth between your thighs. Unfurling slightly, you looked down and saw your sweatpants were dark and wet, the material clinging to your skin. 

“I think I pissed myself,” you said in a daze before tilting your head back against the cabinet, clinging to consciousness as the pain ramped up again. 

The phone lit up again, but you ignored it. Jake had already texted, asking what you were doing after work and hinting that he wanted to come over. But your period had finally shown up, and you felt like shit. With meds onboard and a heating pad on your stomach, you had no plans other than maybe Doordashing a crappy dinner and ice cream. Seeing your fuck buddy was out of the question. 

With a reality show on TV, you dozed on the couch under a blanket. The plot line wasn’t catching your attention, and you mentally ran through your morning briefing. A knock on the door startled you. Reluctantly, you untangled yourself from the cocoon and went to answer it. “What are you doing here?” you demanded, opening the door to find Jake. A confusing swirl of emotions crossed his face before a smirk teased his lips. 

“You didn’t answer my texts.” Annoyance surged through you. 

“So you figured you’d come over? Jesus, Jake, are you that hard up for sex that you can’t go a few - ”

“What?”

“It’s not happening. Not tonight,” you snapped, attempting to shut the door. His hand shot out to catch it. You quickly stepped back when he forced his way in.

“I’m not here to fuck,” he snapped, green eyes blazing. “You didn’t answer, and I got worried. Sorry for giving a shit and checking on you.” 

Crossing your arms under your aching breasts, you blinked away unbidden tears and bit your lip to keep it from wobbling as Jake scowled at you. Slowly, you blew a shuddering breath and dropped your gaze, wincing slightly as your back ached. “Sorry. I just… I don’t feel good.”

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” You watched him step closer and saw his hand lift as though to touch you before falling back to his side. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Which is it - you don’t feel good, or it’s nothing?”

“I’m on my period,” you snapped, glaring up at him. “That’s why I don’t feel good and why we can’t have sex, okay? Happy?” While you’d expected him to recoil with disgust like every other guy you’d been with, he just shrugged. 

“Okay, do you need anything?”

“Why, are you gonna go get me tampons?” you mocked.

“If you need some, yeah.” It was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “I have a sister. It wouldn’t be the first time I bought ‘em.” You ignored your fluttering heart and shook your head.

“Just go, Jake. I’m fine.” Turning away from him, you retreated to the couch. But instead of leaving, he walked to your bedroom. Squawking in irritation, you followed, hearing the shower turn on, “What the hell are you - ” When you stormed in, Jake was testing the water temperature. “What are you doing?”

All traces of irritation were gone from his expression as he closed the shower curtain and moved closer. His damp hand went to your hair, gently tugging so you tilted your head back. The kiss was soft and almost hesitant. He said your name tenderly, thumb gently stroking the curve of your ear, “You bled through your pants.”

“What?” you groaned, face flushing and tears of embarrassment wetting your eyes. But he held you still when you tried to step away.  

“It’s okay. Jump in the shower and get cleaned up. Do you need anything?” You shook your head. “Have you eaten dinner?”

“I’ll order something.” 

“What d’ya want?” 

“A burger. And fries. And a chocolate milkshake.” He chuckled and kissed your forehead. 

“Alright. Anything else?” You shook your head. “Text me if you think of anything.”

“I’ll give you my card.” Rather than fight, he followed you out of the bathroom and took the credit card you handed him and a spare key so he could lock up behind him.

Once you’d increased the temperature, the shower felt magical. You stood under the spray for a long time, letting the hot water ease your sore body. By the time Jake was back, you had enough time to dry off, get dressed, and toss your clothes in the wash. He’d left your card on the kitchen counter. 

The moan you let out at the first bite of the burger made him choke on his shake. “Thought only I made you make that noise,” he said after coughing to clear his throat.

“This is the only meat going anywhere near my mouth tonight, Hangman.” Shaking his head, he wisely stayed silent as you devoured dinner. But when you expected him to leave after, he cleaned up and gently rolled you onto your side on the couch, slipping behind you and tugging the blanket over both of you. His hand slid around your front, covering yours, which held the heating pad. 

“Are they freaking out about a guy eating his wife’s pussy?” he asked as the reality show continued. You sighed sleepily. 

“Remind me to tell you about when I dated a Morman guy in high school and why his family still hates me.” 

After the episode ended, Jake forced you to get up and followed you into the bedroom, stripping off his jeans and t-shirt. You fell asleep, wrapped in his comforting scent, his warm hand pressed to your belly.

The next morning, you woke to Jake’s alarm going off and felt his lips brush your cheek before he carefully slid out of bed. Again, you stayed silent as he dressed, quickly closing your eyes when he got close. His fingers brushed the hair from your face, and you tilted into his lingering touch. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he whispered.  

When your alarm went off an hour later, you forced yourself out of bed and got ready for work. And when you went to grab your coffee creamer, there was a bag of chocolates you hadn’t purchased in the fridge.

The front door was locked, and your spare key was nowhere to be found.

You dug your nails into Jake’s back, face buried in his neck. Another wave of pain crashed over you, and you bit your tongue to keep from screaming. When Nat said she would get help, you’d expected Rooster or Bob. Instead, Jake had shouldered his way into your room and scooped you off the floor. While your general sense of direction was scrambled, you had a pretty good idea of where you were heading.

Everyone avoided medical if they could. And, as much as you wanted to keep whatever was happening off your records, something was wrong. In the recesses of your memory, you recalled when your mother’s appendix burst, and she’d been taken to emergency surgery. Would they be able to do surgery on the carrier? You were halfway between Hawaii and reaching the port in California. If they MEDEVAC’d you, would the helo get you to a hospital in time? What would happen if you didn’t get surgery fast enough?

Through the haze of pain, you heard Jake barking demands as soon as you entered the sick bay. But his touch was gentle as he laid you on the bed the corpsman directed him to. Nat spoke for you as pain froze your vocal cords, Jake’s calloused fingers brushing the sweaty hair from your forehead. Nausea gripped you, and the cramps migrated to your lower back. 

And then they were gone, strangers crowding your field of vision. Unfamiliar hands tugged at your clothes and touched you as you tried to look past them. An oxygen mask was slipped over your face when you started to hyperventilate. Without thinking, you threw out an arm and felt strong fingers close around yours, squeezing tightly. Over the shoulders of the corpsman, you saw worry pinch Jake’s face, green eyes darting across your features. 

Then the room seemed quiet, broken only by a nurse ordering, “Go get the doc.” Someone moved enough for him to reclaim the spot at your side. The ultrasound wand pressed into your stomach continued to move, but you focused on your breathing and the grounding feeling of Jake’s thumb stroking your cheek above the mask’s elastic band. 

Someone else entered the room, and you tracked the woman as she took over the ultrasound, moving the wand across your stomach. Her brows were furrowed as she studied the image before shaking her head. When her piercing gaze lifted to meet yours, you felt the world disappear. “Lieutenant, did you know you’re pregnant?” 

Exiting the LT Colonel’s office, you forced yourself to breathe. You’d known this upcoming deployment would be rough but now there was the additional stress of cross-training as an analyst. Since starting your career, your job was briefing what the analysts provided. But now? Now, your boss wanted you to start working on learning the basics of geospatial intel (GEOINT). 

The carrier was the best place to start, the Colonel had explained. You would be able to see the real-time results of the analysis and the shift of assets and personnel to support the mission. “You need to do this if you’re going to advance. You’ve got the briefing down, Lieutenant, but if you want to get to Maryland, you’ll need a better understanding of what’s going on from the ground up,” he’d said.

You’d never expressed an interest in going to the Office of Naval Intelligence, but he thought you had what it took to work at the heart of Navy intel. 

The rest of the day passed in a daze, and you drove home on autopilot. Nat texted, inviting you to the Hard Deck, but you declined. Standing under the shower spray, you closed your eyes and swallowed hard.

GEOINT was directly connected to missions. Its data interpretations were central to planning operations, including determining where to send assets. 

Like F18s.

Pilots.

Your friends.

Nat.

Jake.

The thought of sending them into harm's way made your heart race. Delivering the information to higher-ups to allow them to determine what happened was one thing, but it was a whole other to be the one getting the raw data and interpreting it. One small decision could mean the difference between success and failure - life or death. 

Could you maintain objectivity, knowing that your work might send people you lov… cared about into harm’s way? 

Green eyes flashed in your vision. The phantom feeling of lips on your shoulders. Arms encircling your waist. A chuckle rang in your ears. 

No. If you had to do this - if it was your career or a man - you would choose your career. It mattered more than a fling that you’d let go on too long. You’d known from the beginning that the clock was ticking on your… whatever… with Jake. Nat had warned you from the start that he didn’t do relationships. And you weren’t looking for one. “It doesn’t mean anything,” you told yourself again. Sex didn’t mean anything. You enjoyed each other, and you were guaranteed an orgasm or three every time he came over. 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you said, ignoring the extra toothbrush in the cabinet.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you repeated, pushing aside his t-shirt that had somehow ended up in your drawer.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you snapped, swiping away the picture he’d texted of his bed, the covers pulled back on the side you usually slept on with an invitation to come over. 

“Pregnant?” Jake’s voice cut through your shock. “She’s not pregnant - I mean, look at her!” 

“I am,” the doctor said coolly, pushing the ultrasound wand into your stomach and turning the screen. And there, for everyone to see, was a baby.

“That’s not - ” you forced out before grunting as another cramp hit. Gasping, you clutched Jake’s hand tightly, feeling his shaking. The doctor quickly cleared the room of unnecessary personnel and stood at your feet.

“Lieutenant, I need to check, but I believe you're in labor.” You shook your head, tears blurring your vision. “I’ll wait until the contraction ends, but I need to see how far along you are. How long have you been in pain?” 

The USS Theodore Roosevelt should have been your refuge. Nine months at sea was precisely what you needed to get Jake Seresin out of your system.

But fate was cruel, and a few members of the Dagger Squad were assigned to the carrier for the deployment. Nat shared the news when you went out for dinner, your counter for her asking to meet for drinks at the Hard Deck. If you never went to the pilot bar again, it would be too soon. And you were sure Jake would welcome your staying away.

It would be a long time before you forgot his look of surprise as you tumbled out of his bed and dressed quickly. Having sex one last time had been a mistake, especially when you’d gone over with the express purpose of ending it. After almost a year of messing around, he deserved more than a text, but your resolve faltered when he crowded you against the kitchen counter and stole kisses as he made dinner.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you said, tugging on your shirt, unable to meet his gaze. 

“What?” 

“This. I can’t…” From the corner of your eye, you saw him sit up, sheets pooling in his lap. “I don’t think we should.” While you’d tried to make yourself sound confident, your statement came out as a question.

“Why?”

“It’s not a good idea,” you stated. Your treacherous heart fractured when you forced yourself to look up. Confusion was etched across his face, hair a mess from your fingers running through it. Taking a deep breath, you forced a smile onto your wobbling lips. “It’s been fun.” 

“‘It’s been fun’,” he echoed. And then, between one blink and the next, his expression smoothed into a mask of indifference. “It didn’t mean anything.” 

“It didn’t mean anything.” You rolled your lips together to hide your wobbling chin. 

Preparing to deploy kept you busy over the next few weeks. In addition to packing, you had to meet with your property management to renew your lease and make sure they would check on your apartment while you were gone. Bills needed to be put on autopay, and your credit card company notified that you would be out of the country. You had an appointment to get a Power of Attorney set up for your parents and Will updated. A few days before you were to leave, they were planning to fly out to see you off at the port and drive your car back home so they could maintain it for you. Then, you had to complete the medical and dental clearances. 

The night before your parents arrived, Nat invited you to the Hard Deck to have drinks with everyone for an impromptu farewell party. It sounded more fun than cleaning out your pantry for anything that would expire while you were gone, but the odds of Jake being there were too high. When you texted to decline, her response made you pause.

Look, I know whatever was happening between you and Hangman ended. He’s been a depressing asshole. But he’s not gonna be there tonight. Think about coming?

The idea of Jake being sad made your stomach sink, reinforcing your decision to end it. Your arrangement was just supposed to be sex, and somewhere along the way, you’d started to fall for him. Which you couldn’t do. Not if you wanted to advance your career and protect your stupid heart. 

So, against your better judgment, you stripped off your clothes, dirty from cleaning the house, and stepped into the shower. The whole way to the bar, you toyed with the hem of your dress, promising to be in and out in an hour. Just enough time to have a drink and say bye to everyone before returning to your tasks. It was a surprise to see Nat waiting in the parking lot, and she hurried over to your car as you parked. “Okay, don’t hate me,” she said as soon as you opened the door.

“He’s here,” you guessed, resisting the urge to start the engine.

“He got here a minute ago. I swear, he said he wasn’t coming.” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you took a deep breath.

“It’s fine.” Lie. “We’re gonna see each other on the carrier. Might as well get used to it.” 

You felt his gaze as soon as you walked in and forced yourself not to look for him. With a beer in hand, you followed Nat to the - thankfully Jake-free - pool table and greeted the other aviators. While you’d planned on having just the one drink, shots were quickly pressed into your hand as everyone wanted to buy for the poor suckers facing months without alcohol. Your attempts to turn them down were ignored. But no amount of alcohol could numb the jolt of pain when you saw Jake casually toss his arm over another woman’s shoulders, pulling her close to whisper in her ear. 

A surge of hate shot through you like a lightning bolt. Hate for him touching her. For her flirty giggle and fingers toying with his flight suit zipper. For your letting yourself have feelings for him. For coming out tonight and getting tipsy enough that you couldn’t drive for a little while.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you told Nat, giving her a fake smile. 

“Want me to come with?” she asked, concern furrowing her brow. 

“Nah, finish your game with the guys. I’ll be back in a bit.” Dropping your empty beer bottle on the bar, you pushed through the late evening crowd to get to the patio. The cool night air was a welcomed counterpoint to your flushed cheeks as you brushed past the people mingling to get to the stairs. Your feet slid in the sand as you walked to the shore after kicking off your shoes. Moving away from the lights and noise from the Hard Deck, you walked along the waterline, waves crashing over your feet. Tears pricked your eyes, and you swallowed the scream that threatened to choke you.

Two and a half weeks. That’s all it took for him to find your replacement in his bed. It was good that you’d swallowed those three words that had threatened to spill from your lips every time he left. When he did something so sweet, you could pretend he cared about more than sex. When you fell asleep with his heartbeat under your cheek or his breath on the back of your neck, fingers drawing nonsensical patterns on your skin. 

The sound of footsteps drew you from your thoughts, and you looked over your shoulder, spotting the person you didn’t want to see jogging toward you. Quickly dashing away the tears on your cheeks, you kept walking, ignoring his calls for you to stop. And then he was there, planting himself in front of you and blocking your way. You itched to throw your shoes at him and took some satisfaction when the next wave washed over his boots and soaked the legs of his suit. “What?” you demanded.

“‘What?’” he echoed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re the one who stormed out.”

“I didn’t ‘storm out,’” you snapped. “I needed some air.”

“Why?” 

“Because!” He stepped closer, and you tried to step back, but your feet had sunk into the sand, and you stumbled. Jake’s hand shot out to steady you, and you quickly shook it off. “Don’t touch me.”

“Don’t touch you. Don’t talk to you. Can I look at you, or is that against your rules?” Sarcasm colored his voice, and you bristled.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

A huff of disbelief burst from him, and he ran through his hair. “Why the hell are you mad at me?” 

“I’m not mad.”

“Coulda fooled me.” 

“Leave me alone, Jake.” Your shoulders knocked when you pushed past him.

“You don’t get to be pissed when you’re the one who ended it.” 

“And I can tell you’re real torn up about that. I’m sure that tag chaser is more than happy to kiss you all better.” 

His laugh was cruel. “Oh, so that’s what this is about. You’re jealous.” 

“I’m not jealous!” 

“Lie to yourself more convincingly, sweetheart.” Those taunting words were like a dagger to the heart. Gritting your teeth, you stormed toward him, lifted your hands, and shoved. Jake stumbled but managed to stay on his feet. You shoved again, and he caught your hands, using them to pull you closer. Trapping both of your wrists in one hand against his chest, he tossed your shoes further up the beach before clamping an arm around your waist, holding you tightly. “You didn’t like seeing me touch her, did you? Only want me to touch you? Fuck you and make you feel good?” 

“No,” you said through clenched teeth. The arm around your waist disappeared as he gently wiped the tears from your cheek.

“‘No’ you didn’t care, or ‘no’ you only want me touching you?”

“No.” 

Jake’s eyes narrowed, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “It didn’t mean anything.” 

“It didn’t mean anything,” you reminded yourself. His eyes roamed your face, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. 

“You know… you might be the worst thing that ever happened to me,” he said, shaking his head. Your breath caught as he released your hands and stepped back. Turning away, he moved up the beach and retrieved your shoes. You followed in a daze, trying to process his words. The worst thing that ever happened to him? You?

Your fingers grazed when he handed you the shoes. The weak moonlight cast shadows over his features, giving you a false sense of safety when you admitted, “I was jealous.” Jake lifted a hand before letting it drop back to his side. Pushing aside your rational self, you stepped into his space and pushed onto your toes, hand splayed on his chest. When you kissed him, he didn’t respond, and mortification washed through you as you fell back onto your heels. “I-I’m sorry,” you stuttered, stepping away from him and turning toward the Hard Deck. You needed to leave. You needed to get away from him. Space to clear your - 

A hand tugged you backward. Jake’s mouth crashed into yours, tongue tracing the seam of your lips and demanding entry. Your shoes hit the sand again, one hand tangling in his hair while the other felt his heart pounding under your palm. His hand slid under the hem of your dress, cupping your ass, hauling you against him. You moaned into his kiss, fingers flumbling with his flight suit zipper, needing to erase everywhere that woman had touched him. 

The sand was cool under your knees when he lowered you both to the ground before pulling you into his lap. He shrugged off his flight suit and let you pull off his shirt before slipping the thin straps of your dress from your shoulders and tugging it down, stroking your nipples through your bra before lifting your breast from the cups. Trailing kisses from your mouth down your chest, Jake lavished your breasts with attention as you ground down on his hard cock. Groaning, his fingers slipped under your dress to brush your damp panties. He swallowed your choked moan when he tugged them to the side and ran his thumb over your clit. 

“No time,” you breathed, lifting yourself onto your knees and tugging his zipper further down. Reaching into his briefs, you stroked his cock before drawing it out. Your head fell back as you sank down onto him, the stretch tiptoeing the line of pain and pleasure. Jake cursed under his breath, hands on your hips to help guide you. Once seated, you buried your face in his neck, panting as his fingers flexed around you.

“Need ta move, sweetheart,” he breathed. “Please.” Not shifting from your spot, you nodded and felt his tentative thrusts. Moaning into his skin, you let him set the pace for a minute before taking control. Jake pinched your nipples, smirking against your chest as you rode him until you tugged his head back and kissed him. Those three words were on the tip of your tongue as you chased your pleasure, shattering around him as the waves crashed on the shore. Jake came moments later, teeth digging into the curve of your breast as he grunted and whimpered. 

You traded lazy kisses while catching your breath. When the ocean breeze made you shiver, Jake helped you dress, sitting still when you used his shoulders to steady yourself as you stood. He tucked himself away, and you helped brush the sand from each other after he dressed. His fingers tangled in yours as you made your way back to the bar, your thighs sticky with his cum.

His lips brushed your as you separated before hitting the patio. Once inside, you beelined for the bathroom to clean up. While washing your hands, you studied your reflection, noting the flush on your cheeks and the irritation spots on your throat and chest where Jake’s stubble had scratched you. It wouldn’t be hard for anyone to figure out what you’d been doing. 

Exiting the bathroom, your gaze swept the room. You froze in the hallway, eyes snagging on where Jake stood at the bar, the woman from before beside him. He nodded at something she said while flagging down a bartender. And when he turned to glance at her, she reached up and kissed him. Nausea gripped your stomach, and you looked away. You were an idiot. Hurrying to the pool table, you grabbed your purse and said goodnight. 

As you pulled out of the parking spot, you saw Jake standing in the doorway, watching you leave. 

“I can’t be p-pregnant,” you gasped, ripping the oxygen mask from your face. “I-I would have known.” Pain flickered across your face, and your grip on Jake’s hand tightened as the doctor inserted her fingers, her face a mask of concentration.

“Well, you are,” she said after a moment. “And the baby’s coming. You’re almost fully dilated.”

“What?” Your voice melded with Jake’s. You shook your head, panic gripping your throat. “No. No, no, no, no.” As soon as the doctor’s hand left your body, you tried to get off the exam table. Your knees buckled, and Jake caught you before you hit the floor. You buried your face in his neck. “No. This is a nightmare, I’m not - I can’t - ”

“Lieutenant,” the doc said, crouching beside you. “I know this is scary and not something you were prepared for, but I need you to listen to everything I tell you, alright? You’re too far along for us to MEDEVAC you off the ship. You’re gonna have your little one right here. Alright?”

“No.” 

“I need to let the captain know. We’ll move you to where we have a little more room to navigate this, okay? I’ll send one of the corpsmen in to help you get as comfortable as we can make you for this. Please work with us so we can ensure you and your baby deliver safely.” When you groaned, Jake’s fingers raked through your hair and then lightly squeezed the back of your neck. Pain gripped you, and your hands twisted in his t-shirt as you tensed. 

He drew away, hands on either side of your face as green eyes bore into yours. “I need you to breathe, sweetheart. Don’t hold your breath on me. Breathe.” 

Even while sharing a stateroom with Nat, you were able to avoid Jake for the most part. But even though there were 6,000 people on board, you still ran into one another occasionally. In the wardroom, you shook off Nat’s waves to join their table and sat with your team instead. The few times you went to the gym at the same time, you used the equipment furthest away from him and kept your headphones on. 

Your new assignment kept you busy. In addition to preparing and delivering briefings, you started working with the analysts to learn how to process the raw data you usually received in a polished format. It didn’t help that, as usual, for your first few weeks underway, you felt gross. Being in close quarters with so many people made common illnesses run rampant, and your stomach always took a little while to get used to the food in the wardroom. You fell into bed exhausted at night, stressing about what you would face the next day. 

The first time your data was used for the pilot’s briefing, you were invited into the classroom to listen to the admiral brief the aviators. And, while you nodded to Nat when she smiled at you, you kept your expression blank as you followed the admiral to the front of the room, ignoring the eyes boring into you. 

The carrier hit rough seas around Australia five months into the deployment. In the lower decks, you could feel the ship rolling and knew that topside had to be worse. The constant rocking made you nauseous, but you stayed at your desk. It wasn’t until you went to the coffee shop that you heard what was happening with the aviators. They’d been ordered out for pitching deck training. Takeoff and landing were dangerous at the best of times, but now they had to do it as the ground rolled beneath them. “Gonna have a shit ton of bolters,” the sailor ahead of you said to his buddy. You remembered Nat using that term - it was when the pilot missed the wire and had to circle to try and land again. 

Later that afternoon, you heard the tankers were deploying to aid the planes in the air. Your team was tasked with finding the nearest divert field if conditions worsened and the pilots couldn’t land. But you were more than 700 miles from land. There were no options.

Dinner in the wardroom was a tense affair, the officers sharing what they could about their friends stuck in the air. Rumor had it that they’d scrubbed the mission, grounding all aircraft except the tankers to refuel the jets. As night fell, you knew it would only get worse for your friends as they tried to get back onto the ship. After forcing down a few bites of dinner, you went to the gym, where the bay doors were usually open, and you could see the aircraft line up before landing. Everyone else seemed to have the same idea, as you were told it was useless before you got close. “They close the doors - waves are too high,” another officer said. 

You could feel the carrier rocking side to side the higher you got. Unsure of where else to go, you went to the Ready Room. Pilots watched the radar, commenting on their colleague's attempts and laughing at the jets overhead. “Sorry,” you said, tapping one of the men on the shoulder. “Any updates on Phoenix, Rooster, and Hangman?”

The pilot gave you a look, clearly indicating you weren’t welcome into their inner sanctuary. “Still in the air,” he said after a beat. “Nine jets and three tankers are up.” You nodded your thanks, jumping as there was a thud overhead followed by the roar of an engine. 

“Thanks, I-I appreciate it.” Hurrying out of the room, you debated your next move. There was no way they’d be letting anybody up on deck to watch, and your normal vantage point was closed. There was a chance you could hear what was going on if you returned to your desk - if anyone had to ditch their jet and search and rescue was deployed, that would be announced. Waiting in your room for Nat to come back was out of the question.

With no good options, you paced the hallway outside of the Ready Room. All of the jet pilots would eventually make their way there to debrief or join the watch with their colleagues. As the ship rocked, you found yourself catching the walls. Typically, on a ship this big, you didn’t feel the waves, so the swells had to be massive. 

After chewing your nails down to the quick, you looked up when someone called your name. Nat and Bob were there, looking tired but no worse for the wear. Without thinking, you hurried toward them, throwing your arms around Nat and hugging her tightly before pulling away and doing the same with Bob. “Fuck, I’ve been so worried.” 

“We’re good,” Bob assured you, patting your back before pulling away. “Ready for somethin’ to eat and a shower, but other than that, completely fine.”

“What about J - Rooster and Hangman?” you demanded, catching yourself. 

“Still circling. I’d say they’ve got another few passes before it gets desperate,” Nat shrugged. At your look of alarm, she shook her head. “They’re gonna be fine. They’ll refuel if they need to - the tankers are gonna be staggered for landing to make sure that there’s support in the air if they need it.” 

“Okay,” you nodded, forcing a smile. “Alright. Do you need anything? Can I get you anything?” 

“I’d kill for something to drink,” Nat said. 

“Yeah, okay,” you nodded. “I-I’ll run to the store. Bob?” 

“Jerky’d be good.” 

“You got it. Meet you back here?” 

“We’ll be in there. Just come on in,” Nat said before you hugged them both quickly and walk-ran to the Ship’s Store. The line outside moved agonizingly slow, and you tapped your foot and looked at your watch more than once. This far below deck, you couldn’t hear anything overhead. When you finally got inside, you filled the basket to the brim with snacks and sodas, glad you’d grabbed your wallet with your Navy Cash card before leaving the room.

By the time you returned to the Ready Room, Rooster had landed. His curls were damp with sweat, and he accepted your hug before grabbing some chips from the bags you’d dropped on the table. The snacks had bought your way into the room, as the pilots didn’t say anything as you clung to the wall, listening to them analyze every approach. 

Another pilot entered and grabbed a soda. “Dude, what the fuck?” he laughed while hugging a friend. “I thought I was gonna hit the back of the ship. I looked down, and then WHOOP - I’m wavin’ down at them cause the ship dropped.” He held up his hand to show how much it trembled, which worried you more than anything else. 

Bile rose in your throat as you watched the radar, listening as they laughed as someone hit the deck too hard and bounced, missing the wires and taking off to circle again. “Hangman’s approaching,” Bob told you, his eyes glued to the television. You crossed your arms over your chest and chewed on your thumbnail again as you watched the approach. 

A thud overhead followed by a quick “Hell yes!” let you know he’d caught the wire. Unwelcome tears of relief flooded your eyes, and you quickly blinked them away. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you let yourself sag against the wall. He was safe onboard, and that’s all that mattered. “I-I’m gonna head back to the room,” you said, pushing through the small crowd to Nat. 

“Alright. I’m gonna watch everyone else land and then grab some food.” Nodding, you pulled your friend in for a tight hug, biting back a sob before fleeing the room. 

You must have lingered longer than you thought because, when you stepped into the hallway, you spotted Jake walking toward the Ready Room. He was looking at the floor, scrubbing a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, helmet swinging from his hand. You stopped dead in your tracks and watched as he registered your presence. Something flickered in his eyes, and his long legs ate the distance between you. The helmet clattered on the floor as he reached for you, cupping your face in his gloved hand and kissing you hard. Your arms went around him, clutching as tightly as you could in his g-suit, needing the reassurance that he was fine. His tongue swept into your mouth, a moan rumbling in his throat. 

When you broke apart to breathe, his forehead rested on yours, his breath washing over your face. “You’re okay?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” he said, throat bobbing before kissing you more gently this time. His thumb stroked your cheek, wiping away the tears you hadn’t realized had fallen. “I’m alright, sweetheart. Tired and hungry, but okay.”

“Good,” you nodded before repeating yourself. “Good. There’s soda and sn-snacks in the R-Ready Room.” Nodding again, you forced a smile while stepping out of his arms. 

“Sweet - ”

“Don’t.” Your voice cracked as you held out a shaking hand. “Please don’t. Just…just leave it.” 

That didn’t keep him from reaching for you as you brushed past, his fingers trailing down your arm before you shook him off.

The next hour passed in a blur of pain and confusion, ending in a surge of pain and then relief as they placed a squalling baby on your chest. Jake held your hand throughout the ordeal, encouraging you to breathe and push, ignoring the way you hissed, “I hate you so much,” through the worst of it. When the nurse snapped that you needed to breathe normally, not like a pilot, he quickly adjusted his coaching, afraid of getting kicked out of the room.  

Staring into your son’s eyes, you felt a sense of utter disbelief in his existence. You’d carried him for months, oblivious to his presence as he grew inside you. But you cried when they took him, tracking the little stranger as he was moved around the room until he was safely back in your arms, wrapped in a rough Navy standard-issue blanket. 

“He’s small but healthy - 5 pounds, 4 ounces, and 17 inches long,” the doc said, smiling tiredly. “There’s a helo inbound with supplies, but we’ll make due for now. Congrats, Mom.” Unable to speak around the lump in your throat, you nodded, cradling the boy to your chest and laughing at the small grunts he made as he nuzzled your breast. Jake stroked the baby’s whispy hair before running his thumb over the tiny shell of his ear. 

“He’s so small,” he breathed. “Fuck - ”

“Don’t,” you said, cutting him off. “Don’t cuss around my s-” Clapping a hand to your mouth, you tried to stifle your sob as tears streamed down your face. “My son,” you forced out, trailing the tip of your finger down his button nose. He scrunched his face, tiny fists waving in the air. You caught one, unfurling his fingers and letting them close around your fingertip. You were enraptured by his tiny fingernails and lines in his palm, gently guiding it to your mouth to kiss his knuckles. His eyes opened, meeting yours. “Hi, baby,” you whispered, “I’m your mama.” 

Later, Jake sat in the chair beside your bed as you slept. His shirt was off as he cradled the baby to his chest, staring at the impossible little boy. There was a knock at the door, and he looked up to see the Captain peek in. Jake moved as though to stand, but the older man held up a hand to stop him. “At ease, Lieutenant. Just wanted to stop in and see how the little stowaway was doing.” 

“Great,” he replied, flushing slightly at being shirtless in front of his commanding officer. “Sleeping now.” 

“Good. And Mom?” the Captain asked, his eyes darting toward where you slept. 

“Good. In shock, but good.” 

“I can imagine. May I?” He motioned toward the baby. Reluctant to let him go, Jake handed him over, ensuring the Captain supported his head. “He’s a tiny one, isn’t he?” 

“Yeah.” Jake nodded. 

“Doc told me that everyone was doing well, but I’ll feel better once the Lieutenant and this little guy are on their way back to shore. The helo just landed with diapers, an incubator, and formula, so we’ll get them fueled up and ready to head out in the next few hours.” 

“Right.” The word was strangled, and Jake reached out for the baby. The Captain handed him back with a practiced ease. 

“We’re due in port in three days. Just a temporary separation, Lieutenant,” he said, clapping Jake on the shoulder. “Little man’s gonna need to get used to it, with two parents in the Navy.” Jake cleared his throat, regretting it the instant the baby flailed, tiny fists raising and resting on his cheek. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. They’ll let you know when it’s time.”

“Sir.” With a nod and handshake, the Captain walked toward the door, pausing at the threshold.

“Does he have a name?”

“Not yet.” He smiled, tapping his fist against the wall.

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something. Maybe a nod to where he was born?”

Jake thought that watching you being loaded into the helo with the baby in a plastic box and flying away was the hardest thing he’d done. But the next three days at sea were a test of his patience. He fantasized about stealing his jet and flying after you, ignoring the logistics of loading it onto the catapult and that his plane wouldn’t reach California without a refuel. Knowing that you and the baby weren’t on the carrier felt like a hole in his heart.

It was difficult to explain what happened to Bradley and Bob, and he was thankful Nat was there to help. 

The Captain announced the birth over the intercom before you were loaded onto the helo, explaining that the carrier was one heavy and your son the first baby born on the ship. It was all anyone could talk about for the rest of the deployment. Hell, the Navy Times even wrote an article that was picked up by other news agencies. Everyone wondered how you didn’t know you were pregnant. Those who worked closest with you defended you, pointing out that no one would have guessed you were pregnant. And when it came out that you weren’t married, they questioned who the father was.

It wasn’t a surprise when Nat cornered him, demanding an answer to that question. His response was a definitive “Me.” Jake knew in his gut that the baby was his. He’d looked into his eyes and felt a connection he’d never experienced.

Besides, the window of time for you to have gotten pregnant between your pre-deployment exam and getting on the carrier was narrow. There was no one else. 

Calling his family and explaining everything that happened had been hard. While his parents were excited by the idea of a grandchild with the woman they’d heard so much about, his sister cautioned him against claiming the baby without confirmation of paternity. He knew she was a bit suspicious of you, especially after he made the mistake of calling one morning after you’d left, and he’d heard you mutter those four words he despised - “It doesn’t mean anything.” 

“You can’t make her want something more than casual if that’s what you started with,” she’d cautioned, reminding him that you’d locked him out of your apartment that first morning when he left to pick up breakfast and hadn’t opened the door when he knocked. “She’s being upfront with you, at least.” But her advice didn’t stop him from trying to show you how much more he wanted, afraid that if he said the words aloud that he'd whispered when you slept in his arms, you’d run for the hills.  

Launch day couldn’t come soon enough. After nine months on the Roosevelt, Jake was ready to get home. Three days without his son was torture, and he was ready to get home to both of you. Flying in formation back to North Island tested his patience, and he pushed past the families rushing the flight line to greet their loved ones. Nat had argued with him about taking your things, but they were quickly unloaded from his cargo pod. Coyote had dropped off his truck earlier, leaving the keys hidden under the fuel door. While his friend had offered to pick him up, Jake didn’t want to waste time. Besides, he’d see him later - rather than keeping his place during the deployment, he’d broken his apartment lease and put everything into storage. Rather than pay rent, he’d saved the money and planned to sleep on Coyote’s couch until he got a new place. 

Standing in front of a wall of diapers at the store confused the shit out of him, so Jake grabbed a premie and newborn box before detouring to the flowers. The bouquets weren’t the best, but he didn’t have time to visit an actual florist. Picking the best of the options, he checked out and headed to your place.

A strange woman answered the door. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of him in his flight suit and messy hair, flowers in hand, and two boxes of diapers at his feet. “Can I help you?” 

“Ma’am,” Jake said, clearing his throat. “I’m, um, I’m here to see - ” 

An angry squawk drew his attention, and he looked over the woman’s shoulder to see you walking out of the bedroom. “I can’t get him to bur…” you trailed off, catching sight of Jake in your doorway. You breathed his name, hand pausing on your son’s back as he howled. 

“Excuse me,” Jake said, brushing past your mother and striding across your living room. He hesitated in front of you before lifting a hand and covering yours, his thumb lightly stroking the back of your hand. “Can I?” Stunned, you nodded, accepting the roses he handed you in exchange for the baby. You watched as Jake held him to his shoulder, his big hand spanning the baby’s back and patting. “Hey, little man, are you giving Mama a hard time?” 

“I’m gonna take the trash out,” your mother said after stacking the diaper boxes beside the TV stand. You nodded wordlessly, unable to look away from Jake as he walked around your living room, patting the baby’s back and cooing until he let out a loud belch.

“Good man,” Jake chuckled, kissing his cheek. 

“I didn’t realize what day it was. We just got out of the hospital yesterday,” you rambled. “The pediatrician said he’s perfect. I-I didn’t screw him up too much.” Tears clouded your vision, and you bit your lower lip when it wobbled. 

“Hey, sweetheart - it’s okay. C’mere.” Jake held out an arm for you, and you allowed yourself to be pulled into his embrace, feeling his lips on the top of your head. “It’s alright, I’ve gotcha. Both of you.” 

“He’s yours,” you sobbed. “I swear. W-we can d-do a paternity t-test - ”

“I know he is.” 

“He has my last n-name, but I got the paperwork to c-change that if - if that’s what y-you want.” 

“We’ll start with that one,” Jake said, tugging closer. “Won’t we, Teddy?” 

There were so many things you needed to talk about. So much that needed to be done - including introducing himself to who he suspected was Teddy’s other grandmother, and preparing for his family visit with his niece and nephew. But that didn’t matter, as Jake felt his son’s fingers curl into the collar of his flight suit, and you sagged against him. 

Jake had everything he needed.

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Author's Note: I really thought this one wasn't gonna be this long BUT I managed to cut it down about 800 words from the first draft, so success! Thank you to @mjisbby for the prompt, and I apologize for it taking so long... I know you sent in in October and wanted comedy, but the angst just came pouring out 😅

Basic the fic at sea was drawn from this inspiration, where a sailor had her baby at sea during a deployment. And the pitching deck bit came from watching this video on how dangerous it can be. All the stuff on cryptic pregnancies comes from Googling and reading Reddit boards about women not realizing their pregnancy symptoms until later in their pregnancy. All medical and military inaccuracies are being blamed on ✨fanfic logic✨

Thank you for taking the time to read this very long fic! Title comes from Nothing / Sad N Stuff from Lizzy McAlpine.

Got an ask about what happens next with this little family, so here are my thoughts.

Thank you so much for reading this. If you would like to be added to my tag list, please fill out my tag list form (hyperlinked).

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[sunni-stuff]

I've been thinking about pirate!Ghost for the past couple weeks. I needed to get this out now.

-🌤! Tags: Afab, Uncontrollable Horniness, nsfw, age-gap. (early to mid 20s.)

The Sea Dogs were an entire ship full of ragtag men, each with his own story and reasons for joining the crusade across countless seas. Captain John Price, the leader of this crew, was a renowned figure known for his leadership and countless achievements. He had led his crew through years of wear and tear on the unforgiving waves, making their name heard far and wide.

None were as infamous as Ghost, his trusted gunner, known for his quick dagger throws and even quicker shots. A hulking man with a standoffish demeanor and unwavering cautiousness, Ghost never fully showed his face. He wore a black bandana tied around the lower half of his face, with black paint smudged around his eyes, revealing nothing yet leaving his harsh brown orbs to pierce the soul of anyone who stared too long.

To those who did not know him, Ghost was intimidating, deadly, and most of all, someone to avoid. He was fine with this. He relished the benefits his appearance gave him, how people shrank away at the mere sight of him, even from a distance. It made sense–who in their right mind would want to be near a man who had put a bullet through so many men that he couldn't count them all on his fingers?

Ghost was ruthless.

A silent marauder who took what he wanted without a second thought, plundering from men and women alike. Wherever he walked, the bodies and blood of the lives he took at sea seemed to follow. The culprit, his calloused hands bore the weight of his trusted flintlock, a companion who would even accompany him to his very grave.

A dirty bastard indeed.

Too dirty for the likes of you.

You.

You, who he sees, enter the blacksmith's forge. You, who wore a simple white dress with a black corset tied tightly around your waist. You, who smiled so innocently to the islanders as you carried out your chores. Running errands for your father all around the quaint island, carrying a simple woven basket filled with bread and biscuits in your delicate arms.

His mouth runs dry.

Ghost can't take his eyes off you as you walk past him, saying, “hello.” to a nearby merchant. Your sweet voice renders him speechless, drowning out everything else around him. He can’t hear Price bartering anymore. He can’t hear Gaz and Soap ribbing on who can pull in the most lasses. All he can hear is the sound of his heart beating and your brief yet lovely hello. He watches the sway of your hips beneath the fabric of your dress, how your stays lifts your delectable bosom with each breath.

He wants—needs to sink his teeth in you.

Ghost is desperate to touch you, to possess you completely. He craves the feeling of his hands on your skin, his lips ravishing yours as he listens to the sweet moans in his head. He wants nothing more than to thrust himself inside you and claim you as his own, burying his thick cock deep within your weeping pussy.

You’re a real peach. All smiles and fluttering lashes. A young thing, he assumes, based on the way the people dote on you so as you pass by shops, making your way back to your father’s bakery.

He’s an older man, one weathered by storms and battles, which do nothing to deter him from his new conquest. After all, the older the berry, the sweeter the juice.

And Ghost believes himself sweet enough.

Ghost discreetly adjusts the growing bulge in his pants and conceals any weapons he may be carrying.

He couldn't afford to scare off his darling pet.

And with that, Ghost followed after you, a maiden worth more than any treasure.

🌤 I had really bad writers blocked and was unable to write for a while, but this has been floating around in my pea brain for so long, so please enjoy.

P.S. This wasn't proofread.

[imyourbratzdoll]

May i request a fic with a plus size reader and beefy beefy ari.

back story :So tr has always been made fun of because of their weight so as tr got older they got self conscious about their body.

One day the reader was sitting on like the couch and ari had dropped his phone under and he need to move the couch to grab it so he didn’t and while he was pushing it tr thought it sounded like he was struggling punching the couch because they were on it. (you can add more to this part or whatever you’d like suga) so as the week go one tr always hurry to like move when are drops stuff under couches or they always refuse ari to push their chair in or stuff like picking them up to grab something off the counter. ari start to realize and confront tr , tr tell ari and maybe add smut or soft smut or cuddling up to you.

( this was kinda just like the spine of the request you can added anything or remove anything. ps ily and you blog 😘🫶🏼)

hey baby, I love you too! I hope you like this. this is my second plus size fic, I hope I did a good job at it, and also, remember you are all beautiful, no matter what size, shape, look, etc.

summary - you become self-conscious after your boyfriend does something, causing him to let you know how much he loves you.

warning - angst, self-doubt, body shaming.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You didn’t know how the day would turn out. When your boyfriend dropped his phone, you had thought he’d ask you to move or get on his hands and knees to try and get it. You weren’t expecting him to lift the whole couch with you still on it, and tears are brought to your eyes as he grunts. You would’ve moved if he had asked. You didn’t want to cause him harm. When Ari gently drops the couch to the ground, he tucks his phone into his pants and smiles at you softly. His hand comes up, and he brushes his hair back, sits next to you and gets a movie ready.

Days went by, and every time Ari would try and move something that you were on top of or push you in. You’d quickly jump up and move out of his way or pull the seat in yourself. You knew you were pushing it when Ari asked you on a date and then asked you to be his girlfriend. Ari was out of your league. You knew it. Everyone knew it. It was only a matter of time before he realised he could get someone better, someone thinner. You didn’t miss how his coworkers hung off of him and how he didn’t push them away, or the women that lived on your street, or any female in the world that you came across. They all looked at you like you were a problem, wondering how someone like him could want someone like you.

You had begun to pull away from Ari, hiding your body more, not wanting to get in his way or become a burden. Now, Ari wasn’t small. He was practically a giant, and he was bigger than you. But still, you were sure he would benefit from having someone better than you, someone who could do the things he does without having to feel self-conscious or hide their body. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t notice Ari starting to put the pieces together and realise something was wrong. He watched you, catching that you had been covering up more, distancing yourself from him. 

Ari walks over, clearing his throat. “Baby, why are you avoiding me?” You wouldn’t expect a man his size to have the saddest eyes or the softest expression as he stares down at you. He missed when you’d let him hold you, missed you.

You blink and squirm in your seat. Opening and closing your mouth as you try and come up with an explanation, not expecting Ari to notice, but then again. Ari was very observant and caring, and he wouldn’t let you be upset by yourself. “I, uh… I just don’t want to be a burden… Especially when it comes to you lifting things or pushing things in while I’m on it.” You squeak as Ari tackles you into the couch, gripping your face in his hands.

“Baby, you know I don’t care about your weight, and you aren’t even heavy! I’m guessing you’re referring to the day I lifted the couch to grab my phone?” You nod, trying to avoid his eyes until he squeezes your cheeks. “I didn’t grunt because you were on it. I grunted 'cause I saw up your dress while I was doing it and realised I had to be careful not to drop the damn thing.” You stare at him with wide eyes. “That’s not the only thing, is it? There’s more.” 

You whimper, feeling tears form as you shake your head. “I–I… Why are you with me, Ari? Why me and not the women who want you? I’ve seen how you enjoy their attention. Why me?” Ari can feel his heartbreak and tears well in his eyes at your words, wondering what he had done wrong for you to think that. 

“Oh, baby.” He buries his face into your neck, holding you close. “You’re so special, so much better than any other woman. I barely pay attention to them, trust me. My mind is always on you. I love you too much to want someone else.” He presses a bruising kiss to your lips, a few tears slipping.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[auras-moonstone]

Hello! May I request an Ethan x reader, Hogwarts AU? The details don't really matter, but I just thought it'd be a cool idea. You're seriously my go-to acc when it comes to anything Ethan/Jack related, so I couldn't think of anyone better to request this to <3

hii, oh my god you don’t even know how excited i was while writing this! i’ve been wanting to write about hogwarts so i’m really glad you requested this! thank you so so much, i hope you enjoy it! 🤍

let the games begin — ethan landry

word count: 2,973

pairing: slytherin!ethan landry x hufflepuff!fem!reader

summary: when y/n, captain of the hufflepuff quidditch team, hears ethan, slytherin’s team captain, underestimating her team’s ability, they make a bet.

author’s note: i made the reader a hufflepuff bc that’s my house, not gonna lie.

WHEN Y/N RECEIVED THE LETTER FROM HER HEAD OF HOUSE informing she had been chosen to be Hufflepuff’s team Quidditch captain, she was absolutely appalled. Girls, sadly and unfairly, weren’t often given such positions, so she hadn’t expected it at all, no matter how skilled of a seeker she was.

Her stomach turned upside down as she skimmed through the words inked on the parchment over and over again. Of course she was happy to have been selected, but she couldn’t help but feel scared. It was twice the weight a normal captain had on their shoulders—not only she had to be a great captain because of the thrill of winning the Quidditch Cup, but she also had to prove women could do as well as men. If she failed, she knew that the chauvinistic assholes around the school would take the opportunity to state once more that women weren’t competent enough to hold such title.

Y/N was not going to let that happen, so she spent the remaining days of summer scheming tactics and a training routine. When she got back to Hogwarts, she felt more confident than ever, feeling she hoped she could transfer to her teammates.

The Hufflepuffs were beyond happy and excited to have her as their captain, especially her best friend Cedric, who had always told her she would be a fearless leader. The rest of the houses, though, the majority of the people in it didn’t have an ounce of faith on her and threw funny glances her way.

The day professor Hooch posted the upcoming matches, the funny glances turned into ones of pity. The first game of the season would be Hufflepuff vs. Slytherin, and the thoughts were loud around the castle—poor Y/N, Slytherin will sweep the air with her on her very first game as a captain; hope the Slytherins have some mercy on her. It was clear that pretty much everyone was confident on the outcome of the game. Especially the Slytherins.

“That game will be as easy as taking a candy from a baby.” the Slytherin captain’s voice ricocheted on the hallway Y/N was passing by. “We got the first match of the season on our bag, boys.”

Y/N clenched her jaw and marched towards them. “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, Landry.”

The tall, curly-haired boy tuned around with a smirk on his handsome face and looked down at her. “Oh, come on, Y/L/N. You don’t stand a chance, and everyone knows that.”

The corner of Y/N’s lips lifted up. “You know, everyone’s been throwing shit at me and my team without giving me the benefit of the doubt, and yeah it sucks a bit, but you know what I realized?”

“Nope, enlighten me” he said amused.

“Victory is going to taste much sweeter. And when you have to shake my hand after I kicked your ass, I hope you remember how you spoke too soon. And if you don’t, I’ll be there to remind you.”

A wave of respect passed through Ethan’s body. The way Y/N stood up for herself and her team made him feel some kind of way, though he very much liked to push her buttons so he continued with a playful smirk. “You seem pretty confident, Y/L/N. Wanna make a bet?”

“I’m listening” she held his glance.

“If I win, you’ll do my Potions homework for the rest of the season, if you win-”

“When” she corrected confidently. “And what can you offer me? Unlike you, I have a brain that is pretty capable of doing homework.”

He tried not to smile “If you win, I’ll buy you all the books you want each time we go to Hogsmade during this season.”

The Hufflepuff’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “Deal! Oh my god, I have a list of books I want and it’s very large, Landry”

“It’s very large, Landry. Can’t say I haven’t been told that before” he said with a mischievous smile and laughed at her disgusted expression.

“Poor soul, I’m afraid to inform you have been lied to.”

“Nah, you want proof? I’m very happy to show you”

“You’re repulsing” she scrunched her nose.

Ethan chuckled, she was adorable. “Do we have a deal, little badger?”

Y/N stretched out her hand “Deal.”

Y/N’S CONFIDENT SMILE LINGERED ON ETHAN’S MIND AND THERE WAS NOTHING THE BOY COULD DO TO ERASE THAT IMAGE. The girl was simply too perfect—gorgeous, smart, funny, brave, kind, confident and so adorable that everytime Ethan saw her on the hallways he wanted to wrap his arms around her tiny frame and squish her to death. He also loved how she didn’t take shit from anyone. Y/N was the exact personification of a badger—cute and friendly-looking, but if you poked her, the claws came out and she would not hesitate to scratch you with them.

Ethan didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed her before, but now that he did he couldn’t get her off his mind. Every glance and smirk Y/N sent his way felt like some sort of prize for him, and now that the day of the match had arrived, the feeling of uneasiness took over his chest. Would he still have her attention once their little bet was over? He guessed no, and so he made it his goal to ensure Y/N kept looking at him after it.

When the teams entered the pitch, the stands roared in excitement. While most of the people didn’t have faith on Y/N, they still rooted for Hufflepuff, because their hatred towards the house of serpents was stronger than the lack of faith on the female leader.

“Time to lose, are you ready for it?” Ethan smirked, holding out his hand for Y/N to take it.

Madame Hootch blew the whistle, and Y/N smirked back at the boy in front of her. “Let the games begin, Landry.”

When Y/N was in the air, the concept of time disappeared. She didn’t know if the game lasted 20 seconds or 20 years—what she did know, was that it ended as soon as the palm of her hand surrounded the golden snitch. Hufflepuff had beaten the Slytherin by 250 points, it’s been years since the last time the house of badgers won by so many points.

“Congratulations, Y/L/N. You were amazing” Ethan said with a, surprisingly for Y/N, genuine smile. As captains, they were the ones in charge of putting everything back in the supply closet, so they were now all alone.

“Thank you, Landry” she replied contently. She was beaming, and Ethan thought she couldn’t have looked more beautiful, even when covered in sweat and with her hair all messy from the wind. “You played amazing, too. Though, don’t think that your compliments are saving you from spending your money on me.”

“Wouldn’t dream on it” Ethan laughed. He couldn’t wait to spend his time with her, to get to know her better.

“Good. Now, let’s go back to the castle. I think you have Potions homework to do… on your own” she smirked playfully.

“You’re kinda mean for a Hufflepuff” he played back.

“Well, if we are stereotyping, you’re kinda nice for a Slytherin” Y/N bumped his forearm with her shoulder. The guy was super tall—and probably the most attractive human she had ever met.

“Kinda?!” he raised his voice, acting offended.

“Well, no matter how nice you are now, I didn’t forget the little scene at the hallway. You underestimated me and my team. The fact that I’m a girl doesn’t make me less capable, you know?”

Ethan frowned. “Wait, wait, wait” he stopped her by the shoulders, and she had to tilt her head up to look him in the face. “Yes, I thought your team would suck, but not because you’re a girl. Hufflepuff has come out in last place for years, that’s the only reason I said it. It has absolutely nothing to do with you.”

Y/N’s eyes softened a bit and nodded slowly “Okay”

“I’m serious. In fact, last year you were the only good player the team had. If Hufflepuff had points, it was all because of you. Because you never failed to catch that snitch. If you had had great players supporting you, you would’ve won that cup.”

“You think so?” Y/N asked, feeling the heat creep up from her neck right to her face. His face was so close, his eyes so bright and voice so soft and sincere that her heart went crazy.

“I know so, Y/N” he squeezed her waist. When did his hands get there and why did it feel so good? And why did her name sounded so much better coming from his lips?

“Thank you, Ethan”

Her smile was so shiny that could light up the whole castle “Just telling the truth. And hey, don’t tell this to my team but I’m not completely sad you won that game. I heard what they have been saying on the hallways, about you not good enough for the position just for being a girl. I’m glad you proved them wrong.”

Was it normal for her heart to be beating this fast? “Well, thank you for saying that. But the talking won’t stop, they are going to find another excuse to keep saying the same thing.”

“Then you’ll have to keep winning. Not that it will be a problem, because your team is very good this year”

“You shouldn’t say those things about the rival team, Ethan. I think you have a soft spot for me” she teased him.

“I have known that since that day at the hallway, Y/N. You aren’t saying anything I didn’t already know” he answered truthfully, catching her off guard. “Since that day, I knew you were special. And I’d like to know you better, if you let me.”

Y/N nodded with enthusiasm “Yes, I’d really really like that, Ethan”

“Would you like to go to Hogsmade with me? I know we kinda were already, because of the bet. But I mean, be with me the whole day” he said nervously.

“I would love to, Eth”

“Great, it’s a date” he said, and the blood rushed into her cheeks. “Awe, are you blushing for me? How cute”

“Shut up, asshole.” she pushed him away playfully.

“Let’s go, little badger” he felt a little bold, so he grabbed her hand and intertwined their fingers. Thankfully, she didn’t push him away, instead she squeezed his hand.

TURNS OUT, Y/N WAS RIGHT. Their victory wasn’t enough, people still weren’t aware of her talent as a captain and still found excuses to justify their win. Even after the following matches the Hufflepuff team won. People said it was beginners luck, that the teams took pity on her, or Ethan’s personal favourite: the Slytherin captain was so smitten with her that he let her win that first match and was helping her with tactics.

“That’s such bullshit! I mean, I am smitten with you but I would never let you win. The win is all on you” Ethan rambled as they made their way towards Hogsmade.

“I know, Eth. You don’t have to assure me, I know” Y/N laughed. “I have to say, it’s really cute that you are so mad about what they have been saying about me.”

“How are you not mad? It doesn’t make any sense. If you were a men, they would be kissing the floor you walked on”

“I know that too. But I have reached the point in where I’m just so sick of them coming at me that I just ignore it. If I react, they’ll say I’m overreacting and it’s just going to get worse”

“Today I almost punched a Gryffindor who was talking shit about you” he admitted.

“Please don’t punch anyone for me. It’s not worth it”

“Agree to disagree. If anyone is worthy, it’s you”

“You’re so sweet” she kissed his knuckles. “But really, don’t do it. Just imagine you punching him, that’s what I do”

“Fine” he scoffed. “Now, let’s get your books and see how much it hurts my wallet”

Y/N laughed. “You don’t have to buy me books, Eth. I only wanted to prove I’m good at being captain, and I did”

“Nope, I am buying you all the books you want.” Ethan said, opening the door of the book store. “Don’t hold back.”

Y/N didn’t hold back. Ethan exited the little bookshop with a bag full of romance books and a happy Y/N on his arm.

“Bet you regret that bet now” Y/N laughed.

“If there is something in my life I don’t regret is making that bet, Y/N” Ethan said in a serious tone. “Besides, I would’ve bought every single book in that shop if it meant you would keep smiling at me like that.”

Y/N couldn’t take it anymore, if she didn’t kiss Ethan she might die. So she carefully set one hand on the back of his neck while the other cupped his jaw and she stood on her tip-toes.

“I want to kiss you, Eth. Really really bad, is that okay?” she whispered.

Okay? It was more than okay. And instead of answering with words, he lowered his head and their freezing lips met. Suddenly the warm in their hearts nullified the icy feeling that the December snow had been putting on them. The air was extremely cold, but nothing seemed to matter other than the kiss they had been wanting since their small confrontation in the hallway at the beginning of the year.

THE REST OF THE SEASON WENT THE SAME WAY. Hufflepuff won almost every match, yet people still had doubts when it came to the captain—no matter how much she hustled and put in the work, they wouldn’t give her any credit and still questioned if she deserved the title. No matter how fast she ran, she couldn’t get there, she couldn’t earn their respect.

True to his word, Ethan never got physical with anyone who talked shit about his girl (which didn’t mean he wouldn’t call them out) and would instead reassure her countless time how capable and amazing she was. Which lifted her spirits more than he realized.

The final match was coming and Y/N could barely eat from nervousness—it would be Hufflepuff vs. Gryffindor and she knew it was going to be tough. Oliver Wood was a force to be reckoned with and so was his team.

The pressure was drowning her, it’s been years since she had seen the Hufflepuff house so hopeful, and if the victory slipped from her fingers it was really going to crush her. At least she had Ethan now, if she didn’t, she was pretty sure she would’ve already drowned—he was her life jacket. Cheesy, but true.

“Are you going to wear something yellow for me?” she asked in a teasing tone, straddling his lap. They were on the locker room, sitting on a bench as the girl waited for her team to arrive. Ethan was there for emotional support, because in only a few hours they would know who the cup will belong to this year.

“I’m always wearing something yellow when you play. Discreetly, of course. But not today, today everyone’s going to see me fully rooting for my girl” he said pressing kisses on her neck.

“Theres no way you’re going to do that in the middle of the Slytherin bleachers” Y/N laughed shaking her head. They had been keeping their relationship low-key, but now that the season was almost over they decided they didn’t want to hide it anymore.

“You wanna bet?” he smirked, making her laugh harder.

“Okay. If you win, I’ll let you use the Prefects bathroom” she said.

“Fuck, yes” he said excited. He had been begging her to let him use it, but like the good girl she was, she refused. She took the Prefect position as seriously as her captain position. “It’s almost time. Kick asses, babe”

“You bet I will”

“No matter what the outcome is, I want you to know I’m very proud of you. For being an amazing captain and for putting up with the shade everyone’s been throwing at you” Ethan said cupping her cheeks.

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears. “You don’t know how much it means to me, Eth. Thank you”

“You got this, babe. See you in a couple of hours, I’ll shower you with kisses. Everywhere” his eyes turned a little darker when he said the last word.

“Give me a preview?” she looked at him in the eyes.

“God, you can’t give me bed eyes when I’m supposed to leave” he groaned.

Y/N giggled and kissed his cheek “I love teasing you”

THE BATTLE FOR THE WIN HAD BEEN LONG, BUT THE HUFFLEPUFFS STOOD CHAMPIONS THAT AFTERNOON. They gave their blood, sweat and tears for that, and their karma came in form of a gold shiny cup.

Y/N’s karma was also her boyfriend, who sprinted towards her in a yellow shirt with the number 13 and her last name on the back. Ethan spun her in his arms as they both laughed and cried.

“You did it, babe. Holy shit” he said happily.

“And you wore a Hufflepuff shirt. My shirt! Oh my god” she laughed. “I love you”

Ethan stood still for a moment, but then he smiled widely. “I love you too. So much”

“Then kiss me for Merlin’s sake”

“I love you” he repeated when they pulled away. “Go celebrate with your team, Cap. Meet me at midnight at the bathroom?”

“I love you too. And yes, meet you there” she replied breathlessly.

“Underwear is optional, by the way” he whispered in her ear, making a rush of electricity run through her body.

“If it’s not necessary, then why wear it, right?” she smirked.

He kissed her once more. “Can’t wait”

[radmullethaver]

i don’t think working out for aesthetics is even that bad, i don’t think it should be the forefront of your reason for working out, but i’d be lying if i said that i didn’t like the fact that i have calves of steel.

anyways, weightlifting has definitely gotten more popular in the last ten years or so, especially for women, i’d say (at least the united states) were culturally past the “weight lifting will make you look like a man” thing.

however, and maybe it’s just me, but i feel like i know so many women in weight lifting spheres who can lift crazy heavy on leg machines with no issues, but can barely carry in all their groceries. like every day is leg day for them, obviously good for them, and women do in fact carry more strength in their legs anyways, but it’s like a full fledged phenomenon that i’ve noticed.

my point is, don’t be so focused on aesthetics that it causes you to not reap the benefits of exercise in a practical sense. i don’t care about your aesthetics, i care about you being able to get all your groceries in one trip and being able to carry a case of plastic water bottles without fighting for your life.

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 411: Double Trouble, p1

Fred sat at the bar nursing his third - no, wait, fourth? - beer. It had been a long day, and he knew sooner or later this little respite would have to come to an end. Eventually he would have to go home on this Thursday night and face the music. Things had been bad for him lately. He couldn’t seem to do anything right anymore. His new boss at the company had just demoted him and put him back to part time. That meant no more salary and no more benefits. When he complained, earlier today, after having finally summoned the courage to step into her office? She fired him.

What was he going to tell Alicia?

He took another swig of beer and glanced around the nearly empty bar. A few regulars were still around standing by the pool table for their weekly game, but otherwise the place looked deserted.

Man, this bar used to be packed, every night. He would come here with his buddies all the time to sit and watch a game, shoot darts or just shoot the shit and have a good time. What happened? Less than a year ago some new  megacorp had  come in and bought up almost the whole city block. This place was one of the few remaining holdouts, which honestly meant trouble for their business. These days they could barely even pull in the drunkards off the street, let alone anyone with actual money.

Not that I’m doing much better than them, now, he privately scoffed, spending what little money he had left on drinks just so he could avoid going home to her.

Alicia had been particularly hard on him lately and it was really starting to gnaw at him. She seemed to be enjoying pushing all her recent successes in his face, and she loved to point out all his failures - comparing what was going on in his life to what she was doing with hers. It was like a game to her, showing him how her recent successes pulled him more and more into her ever-growing shadow. At first he was happy for her wins at work, he really was. For one thing, she owned her own business now. She was a personal trainer that spent time at Big Body Fitness and a couple other women’s gyms downtown. She was pulling in a huge amount of clients, had just hired four other trainers to help with the workload, and had plans to make her business massive. And, honestly, she was starting to get pretty massive herself. She - like so many women these days - had wanted to bulk up; Alicia had started doing that in spades. Lots of food, lots of training, lots of weight. And the bigger she got, the more successful her business became, the more she seemed to like making him feel small. And, if he was honest with himself, he did feel small. Small, weak and pathetic, but he refused to let it show, he refused to give up like that.

They’d had a massive argument last night. Alicia had said she was sick of his ‘games’, his avoiding the truth. She wanted him to admit it to her, to everyone, that he just wasn’t enough anymore. That really pissed him off. Well fuck her right? I’ll show her! he thought, taking another gulp of beer, I’ll show her by…by…

By getting fired from my fucking job. Dammit…

Fred slouched down and laid his head on the bar. He felt pathetic. She had completely ignored him at breakfast. Nothing he ever did seemed good enough for her and it was starting to get him down.

<ring-a-ling!>

The little bell at the bar's front door had tinkled, signaling a new entry.

“Whoah, this place is like a dump?”

“I know right?”

Fred lifted his gaze, turned a bit in his seat to see who it was...

Two tall, young, dark-haired beauties had just walked in. One of them was on the phone with someone. Their entry was loud, their voices ringing over the bar’s typical, wan hush, but Fred was too distracted by their looks and a bit far away to really hear what they were saying. Both girls were wearing low cut scoop neck sweaters, each showing healthy amounts of boob flesh, along with short skirts and knee high boots. Their outfits left little to the imagination; these two were built. Plus, they looked similar to one another, like they could be sisters…or maybe even twins? From his perch at the bar Fred swallowed hard, unable to avert his gaze when suddenly one of the girls looked up directly at him.

“Yeah…is that the guy? The dork at the bar?” said the one girl, into her phone.

The one not on a call took a picture of him.

“Alright…you know you like so totally owe us right?” said the phone girl.

“Yeah we need to get in shape like, yesterday?” the other said.

“We do this for you and…? Good. We’ll bring him back when we’re done with him?” The one on the phone hung up and focused on Fred.  He was, in his four-beer stupor, blankly staring back at them. “Okay, Bee, you ready to show him a good time?”

“Yeah like that guy in the club last week? Do you think he remembers his name yet?”

“I don't know Bee, but do you think he remembers us?”

“Not if we did our job right?”

“Haha right?? Ready to do it again?”

“Blehh..I mean I guess?” replied the other, “Why couldn’t it be him instead? I want to try it on, like, him?”

“We can pretend?”

The two had just gotten off work. He hadn’t been in today and they hadn’t liked that.

“Yeah I guess? But I guess I am kinda excited to do it again, even on this guy, aren’t you?”

“See what we can really do? Yeah I guess?”

Fred had finally got a hold of himself, blushing as he turned back in his seat to look away. He tried his best to play it cool, but he couldn’t help but sneak another glance over his shoulder to look at them. Jesus those tits I-

They’d both fixed him with a piercing gaze, which spooked him and caused him to immediately turn back to his beer. His face flushed. He took another drink, tried to settle himself but he could feel their eyes burning into his back. He glanced over his shoulder again and they each curled a long manicured finger in his direction beckoning him over.

What the fuck?

He couldn’t believe it. At first he turned this way and that, looking around foolishly and figuring that they were perhaps indicating someone else, someone in this otherwise empty bar. But, no. They were, in fact, looking at him, and he felt his face redden even further. They both frowned with identical expressions and repeated the gesture, calling him over to them with curled fingers. It didn’t really feel like a request.

Grabbing his bottle, he rapidly downed the last dregs of beer for a final bit of liquid courage before getting, shakily, to his feet. He could feel their eyes on him, and he became suddenly aware of how quickly his heart was beating.

This is like a dream! He couldn’t help but marvel, Two beautiful girls - twins even?- and they want to talk to me. Maybe it’s a good thing I got fired after all, found myself here on a Thursday night haha…

Before he knew what he was doing, Fred found his legs carrying him across the bar and towards the two buxom strangers. He realized he was shaking like a nervous schoolboy.

“Hello sweetie,” one of them said, boldly reaching out to cup his chin in her hand, “aren’t you just..?”

“…the cutest little guy?” finished the other.

“I’m Brittni,” spoke the first, “and this is Bobbi. What’s your name?”

“I’m .. I’m Fred,” he answered, trying his best not to glance down at the two sets of huge, firm breasts that seemed to be put on prominent display for him.

“Hiiiiii Fred ♡♡” they both sang out in perfect unison.

“H-h-hi,” he stammered.

“Why don’t you join us Fred?” began Brittni, “Aren’t you-”

“Lonely?” finished Bobbi, both of their faces pouting in mock sadness.

“Yeah c’mon, we’re, like, the prettiest girls here, right?”

“We’re, like, the only girls here?”

The two of them giggled.

Fred was a deer caught in the headlights as they led him by the chin over to a booth. Bobbi sat first, scooching all the way down along the seat and making sure there was room for both him and her friend on her right. She patted the seat as Brittni guided him down to sit, finally letting go of his chin and scooching him in too. She gave him a dimpled, heartwarming smile.

God she’s stunning, he thought, They both are.

Brittni then sat down on the same bench and he immediately found himself sandwiched, his hips between two thick pairs of thighs pressing up against him. Wow these girls are built, he thought, feeling the casual strength in their legs as they rubbed and squeezed up against him from both sides. He could already feel their warmth through his jeans. Their strong perfume filled his senses, making him feel heady, almost overwhelming him.

“There isn’t that better?” asked Brittni, smiling brightly at him on his right.

“Y-yes but-“

“But what?” Bobbi cut in from his left, “Wouldn’t you like to get to know each other?”

“Wh-what .. what do you want to know?” asked Fred, his speech patterns falling into their rhythm - they asked a lot of questions - as he turned to one girl and then the other..

“Well, for starters-” began Brittni.

“What’s a cute little guy like you doing out all alone on a Thursday night ?” finished Brittni, as they both twirled locks of  hair between long, slim fingers.

Fred looked down at the table. ‘Little guy’? He wasn’t that short, just shorter than them. They must be each - what?   - five-nine? Five-ten? So, like, an inch or two? Taller by quite a bit more, certainly, in their heels, and sitting higher than him here in the booth. So, yeah, okay, he felt smaller than them. Little.

He was unsure of what to say, how to answer. Why am I here? He’d never been good at lying and something about these girls, their confidence and stunning good looks, their physical presence, made him want to be truthful.

“I .. I had an argument ..” he began, eyes still cast downwards, “a big one .. with my girlfriend.”

“Awww you poor thing,” Brittni immediately cooed, “Girls can be so demanding nowadays can’t they?” As she’d spoke, she pushed her breasts into his right side and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Yes they can, can’t they? Those nasty big, mean girls?” Bobbi continued, mirroring her friend’s movements on his left. They both now had their heads on his slumped shoulders, both with a knowing smile across their lips.

Fred found himself nodding in solemn agreement. Something about being around these girls just made him so passive…so comfortable. He continued. “Nothing I do lately seems to be good enough for her. She blows up at the slightest thing. I don’t know what to do, I feel like I’m walking on eggshells all the time.”

“Awwwww…” they both cooed.

Bobbi ran her fingernail lightly up his arm, causing him to shiver. “Are you a good listener, Fred?” she asked.

“You seem like a good listener?” Brittni added.

“I…I think so?” he replied, suddenly doubting himself. Was he really listening, when Alicia and he talked? Or was he just being stubborn like Alicia always said? Was he what girls wanted these days, or was he really behind the times? Maybe he was a loser.

“Because don’t girls really want a boy who listens to them?” Brittni said.

“Yeah I think they do, Bee?” Bobbi replied, both she and her friend’s attention laser focused on the smaller man between them, “Can you be that boy, Fred?”

Being called a ‘boy’? That made him shiver, the girls noticed. Okay this was getting fun, they both thought in unison. They felt a little tingle, almost electric, between them.

“Can you be the good, attentive boy who really listens to what a girl is saying?” said the girl on his right. Brittni, correct? “Because…when you think about it, Freddie-”

“-don’t girls know best?” the other one finished, “...Freddie?”

“I … I … guess so? I don’t know?” he said, questioning in this moment, if it was Alicia that was really the problem. Maybe it was him? He was having trouble thinking straight, probably from all the beer, but it kinda made sense? After all he was the one who was having all the problems - job, money, everything - and Alicia…she just seemed to have everything figured out. He should really be appreciative of these girls. Despite their obvious youth they really seemed remarkably perceptive.

“So - are you two…sisters?” he asked.

“Um, kinda?” said the one on his right

“No not really?” followed the one on his left.

“Yes for sure…sorta?”

Uh, okay. “Do you…have boyfriends?” he asked, which he saw made them pause.

They both blinked.

Visions of Dr J.

YES.

YES.

“No not really?” they both said, at the same time.

“But we wish we did, right Bee?” said Bobbi.

“Absolutely?” answered Britt.

“And Freddie’s cute, right?” one girl asked the other.

“Oh for sure, huh?” came the answer.

“If you were our boyfriend, we’d have to keep you on a pretty tight leash, wouldn’t we?” Bobbi said, her minty fresh breath washing over him.

“Omigod Bobbi?!” Brittni giggled, but then leaned in closer with her own waft of breath, “A leash haha?? But yeah who knows when another girl might try to snatch you away?”

Fred felt the two pairs of firm heavy breasts suddenly weighing him down, from either side. They were trapping him, pinning his arms to his sides as their strong perfume came flooding into his nostrils.

“Does your girlfriend keep you on a leash, hm Freddie?” asked one, causing the other to giggle.

“Ahh!…What?” he blurted. What did she just ask?

Now they both giggled.

This was getting heavy, quick, and he knew it was not a conversation he should be in, if he was going to stay true to Alicia…but he found himself answering them.  “She…she does like to know what I’m doing…” he stammered, feeling their breasts squashing against him. “And..so...what should I do???” Fred asked in a sudden panic, genuinely seeking answers. “Alicia will be so mad if she finds out I’m at a bar…about my job…I’ve had a few drinks too,” he said ashamedly, looking to the girls for guidance. I hope they tell me I shouldn’t worry…

The girls giggled again, squashed into him tighter.

“How about…?” Brittni began.

“You come home with us?” Bobbi finished, linking her right arm through his left one as Brittni did the same on his other side.

“We can let you relax?” Brittni offered, “At our place?”

“Yeah aren’t things always better when you sleep with them?”  Bobbi asked.

"Oh, Bobbi,” Brittini corrected, “don’t you mean sleep ‘on’ them?”

“If that’s how he likes it, yeah?”

Both girls giggled.

“What ? No…no I couldn’t .. she would know .. she always knows,” he whined. Suddenly, he was struck with the reality of this situation; it had just gone past any innocent flirting. Fueled by his drive to stay true to the woman he loved, he had a sudden burst of willpower. “I’ve…I’ve got to go”, he said, trying to stand up but the girls - with a giggle -  held him down and pressed into him more firmly, easily keeping him in place. His slight frame remained wedged snugly between their thick thighs and heavy breasts.

“Where are you trying to go?”

“Yeah shhh, Freddie, shhh…try to breathe?”

After a pathetic whine and another brief and equally futile struggle, Fred seemed to settle down. He wasn’t going anywhere unless they let him, and he did calm down as he accepted that, and the more he took nice deep breaths. The girls’ perfume, now stronger and sweeter than before, had filled the space of their booth and fully seeped into him. It began to make him feel more drunk than the beers he’d had.

Fred’s skull lolled until he found himself staring at the ceiling, his mouth agape as Brittni and Bobbi casually continued to chat among themselves. They, found, though, as they sat there with this guy between them, that their connection grew stronger and stronger by the moment, that they needed fewer and fewer words to say what they meant. Getting him excited, turning him on together, was giving them a collective focus, syncing them up, increasing their abilities. It made them both giggle, and it became a little bit of a game, as they began to push the boundaries of what they could do.

Cool, huh?

Very cool.

They continued on as if he wasn’t there, wedged tightly between their firm, strong bodies. They ordered drinks, finished them at a leisurely pace as they talked over Fred’s head. Finally, though, they were-

“Ready?” Brittni asked.

“Ready,” replied Bobbi. They both stood, arms again linked with the smaller man, pushing their seat bench backwards and lifting him effortlessly out of his seat and up, up, up into the air. With them in their high heeled boots, Fred’s feet dangled a good half-foot off the ground.

“Let’s go then?” Brittni said, as they walked arm-in-arm out of the bar with Fred held securely suspended between them.

“Where .. w-where are you taking me?” Fred asked woozily. He hadn’t had that much to drink tonight, had he?

“Back to our place?”

“Didn’t we tell you? You're ours for tonight?”

“Or for however long it takes you to sleep off all those silly little thoughts in your head?”

“Or..?”

“Or maybe we’ll have to keep you?”

==========================================

big thanks to Frag592 for this one, and allowing RiF and myself our heavy-handed edits. Part 2 still in the works, coming soon.

[penisbutterjellytime]

Got bored n made anotha RDR oc, a few months or so ago, for funsies

The border Collie is one of the few she kept from the family dogs litter.

text in the first pic ⬇️

Minerva "Minnie" Acherman A small farm girl. Worked a lot in the fields and did a lot of physical chores when she was younger (field work, milking cows, digging, churning butter, washing / laundry, some building, etc.) so she can lift a considerably large amount of weight with no sweat. Picking people up bridal style or by piggy back, man or women for a few minutes is a party trick she does often. When in camp, she is often seen doing chores like cutting firewood or helping Pearson skin animals or pick up bags, and other such physically laborious tasks as that's what's shes used to and lets her go on autopilot. Joined Van Der Gang through a series of shitty events. Her Grandparents dying, Then her dad, The farm being confiscated, She hopped from working farm to farm, maybe a factory job or two, building, etc. Any job that needed muscles and would take her, she took it. With her farming background blood, guts, and gore, isn't that unsettling for her as her father showed her the the slaughtering process as well as how to protect the cattle from predators, animal or human. Loves to talk, can't shut up when she starts, but tends too keep her mouth shut as she can be a bit blunt for the average person. She may look busy and hyper-focused on a task when attempting to talk to her, but I promise that she is as equally attentive, maybe more, to the conversation as she would be if she was sitting down. May be a negative to her social skills but a benefit for the gang as she can easily eaves drop on conversations, who don't believe anyone's listening. friends/friendly with: The girls; Tilly, Mary-Beth, Karen (Around the same ages + She's enjoys the gossip, theorizing, and shit talk, also enjoys seeing Mary-Beth get excited and explain the plots and twists in the stories she's reading / writing herself ), Kieran (The camps horsegirl ... self explanatory. For some reason reminds her of a kitten the families Barn cat had, would be picking him up by the scruff if she could), Pearson (reminds her of a mix of her dad and grandpa, even if it's just a little bit), oh yeah and the chickens (self explanatory).

[multbasa]

Can I just...the rapier and fencing is not more feminine than a broadsword...

I have no idea where these ideas of "feminine" combat came from including fencing and archery. Neither of those things were historically a woman's weapon so the idea that these are the feminine alternative to a broadsword or great sword is very odd to me. If anyone knows where these ideas originated, I'd be curious to know. The excuse I see is "women are weaker than men" which suggests that fencing and archery use less muscle which is absolutely hilarious.

Weapons are not male or female because anyone can learn how to fight—including fencing and archery. Fencing and archery doesn't require less strength than a broadsword, so they are not suitable for those who lack muscle. Anyone who uses these weapons regardless of gender needs to build muscle in the right areas to fight. Neither weapon can be given to anyone to simply pick up and fight with for the first time.

If you want a weapon that anyone could pick up, an axe is a better bet because it's easier to use (as many people have used one before) and can be a two handed weapon as well which allows someone to use twice as much strength than any one handed weapon.

There are also polearms that give someone a lot of reach as well as being a two handed weapon which, again, benefits those with less strength in their arms compared to single handed swords and especially archery (archers of either gender are absolutely BUILT). Wooden polearms are very sturdy, have a reach advantage and can be used to deflect blows which is all very advantageous for people who are less experienced.

I'll be real: I'm really tired of this idea of gendered weapons. A weapon is a weapon in the hands of a man or a woman; one weapon is not more masculine or more feminine and all of them require some sort of skill and the right built muscles. If someone is looking for a weapon suitable for an untrained and weaker fighter regardless of gender, then there are some options but they aren't archery nor fencing.

Anyway, if Echoes or Wisdom Zelda were to use a weapon, polearm Zelda or two-handed axe Zelda for the win.

...I don't think there's anything wrong or shameful for this Zelda to be a caster. If anything, the difference in playstyle means that we could see more playable princess Zelda games or see Zelda as a playable duo with Link rather than her just being Link but a girl. I don't think a female character has to prove herself to be "just as strong as a man" by wielding a sword because not being a swordfighter doesn't make her less capable.

There will always be morons who claim women can't do "this or that" based on sexism but a female character wielding a sword in a video game won't change their mind. Those people attack women who weight lift or work in male dominated trades regardless of how accomplished we are. We don't have to prove anything to morons like that because they will always move the goalpost. You can't argue with stupid so just ignore them/block them.

[evidence-based-activism]

slightly random but what do you think of the whole corset discourse?

I'm not completely positive about what you mean by "the whole corset discourse", but here are my thoughts and some research on corsets.

So, first, I consider corsets a part of "beauty culture", which definitely negatively affects women.

To identify feminist concerns for something like this, I ask first if it is functional and comfortable. Then I ask if it requires behaviors or standards that are not required of men.

So, for example, some relevant questions are: Does it cover everything you want covered or are you constantly having to self-monitor to maintain public decency? Do you have a full range of movement? Can you run, squat, and lift objects without it causing discomfort? Are you able to refrain from wearing it without feeling distress about your appearance? Are you able to wear it without feeling the need to engage in other beauty rituals?

If the answer to (some of) these questions is no, then it's a pretty strong indicator that it's enforcing harmful standards of femininity.

----

There is frustratingly little research on the effects of wearing a corset.

There is an interesting dissertation [1] that discusses much of the historical evidence, but much of this doesn't meet modern research standards. One chapter does review more modern work, which indicates corsets impair lung function, put pressure on internal organs, weaken trunk muscles, and may have other negative effects. In particular, she notes that corset use discourages exercise, and reductions in exercise are known to have significant negative physical effects.

She later [2] confirmed the reductions in lung capacity and found participants noted skin discomfort, back pain, and a need to reduce activity.

More recent research has confirmed the decrease in lung function, discomfort, and reduced exercise capacity for non-elastic corsets [3, 4] and waist trainers [5].

Expert opinion (i.e., from doctors), also indicates that (1) many of the "benefits" being claimed about corsets/waist trainers/shapewear are myths and (2) there are substantial negative effects to wearing them [6-8].

While we do need more and stronger empirical research, expert opinion aligns with the current research.

---

In conclusion, I think corsets (and similar items) are a part of patriarchal beauty culture. They most likely have negative effects on the human body, and they contribute to a culture of inactivity and objectification.

I hope this helps!

References under the cut:

Gau, C. R. (1998). Historic medical perspectives of corseting and two physiologic studies with reenactors. Iowa State University.

Colleen Gau (1999) Physiologic Effects of Wearing Corsets: Studies withReenactors, Dress, 26:1, 63-70, DOI: 10.1179/036121199805297827

Na, Y. J., & Kim, Y. H. (2011). Changes in physiological responses by the pressure of non-elastic corset. Fashion & Textile Research Journal, 13(6), 943-951.

Na, Y. (2015). Clothing pressure and physiological responses according to boning type of non-stretchable corsets. Fibers and Polymers, 16, 471-478.

Green, T., & Roby, A. (2018, October). The effect of waist trainers on breathing. In Respiratory Care (Vol. 63, No. Suppl_10, p. 3012838). Daedalus Enterprises Inc..

Nierenberg, A. (2022, May 20). The Truth About Waist Trainers. The New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/2022/05/20/well/waist-trainers-weight-loss.html

Adams, Rebecca. “Spanx Are Literally Squeezing Your Organs.” HuffPost, 20 Jan. 2014, https://www.huffpost.com/entry/spanx-shapewear_n_4616907.

Manek, Nish. “The Hidden Health Risks Caused by Shapewear, Explained by a Doctor.” BBC Science Focus Magazine, 7 July 2024, https://www.sciencefocus.com/comment/shapewear-body.

[lemonandtheart]

Guess who only has one job now instead of two and is back! It's me!

I have made my own TMNT iteration! I'm still drawing out the comic. I've got a lot written but now I have to sketch the pages and line and color everything in. I'll hopefully keep making more fun little things to post before I'm done. The comic is going to be fully colored, so I made this reference sheet for the boys and April. I'll give some little fun facts of my iteration too.

April:

I think she should be allowed to be more girly. She's still just as brave and tenacious, she's just going to do that while wearing cutesy clothes. I also feel my April is a girls girl and as much as she loves her boys she prefers the company of other women. She's still into journalism and is going to college for it in my version, while getting a minor is computer science because 2003 April had a thing for machines just like Donnie and I want my April be able to benefit the team like that. She's also a little chubby as I am guilty of giving her my body type. April's nails are real and she paints them whenever they chip.

Leo: *Holds him gently* I am a Leo girly through and through. In my iteration he's 18 and his brothers never let him forget he's the adult but only when things are going bad so he has to take the fall. He's got very bad anxiety because he's fully aware that every action he takes could result in someone getting hurt or dying and it freaks him out and makes him very cautious and overprotective. All of the boys have fangs, but his left one is too big to fit properly in his mouth. He also has a hero complex where he feels an intense desire to be a hero and save people. He feels like he's always steps away from failure so he makes up for it by giving everything his all all of the time.

Raph: My Raph is more of a jokester than a menace. His face just looks like that by the way, he's actually in a very good mood in my reference picture haha. He enjoys sports and weight lifting, but he also enjoys working with his hands in crafting and knitting. He's knit all of Donnie's sweaters. He likes the quiet when he's home and loud exciting get-your-hands-dirty action when he's not. He's the closest to normal out of all of them, just a slightly angsty and sarcastic teenage boy who wants to throw hands and fool around. Ride his motorcycle and kick ass. He has an intense and deep love for his family, like all Raphs do. He would take a bullet for each and every one of them. He enjoys coming home bloodied if it means that no one else got hurt. His favorite way to interact with his brothers is to lovingly bully them.

Donnie: My Donnie must be wearing long sleeves, long pants, socks, and shoes at all points in time. I stole this from me as well, as I'm autistic and so is he and I have to dress like that unless it's too hot out. His feet are highly sensitive and he will cry from overstimulation if made to walk barefoot. He can feel every rock and it hurts. Sometimes he can feel the rocks through his shoes even. He wears shoes in the house, also like me (I have inside shoes and so does he). He doesn't emote much, his face naturally settling into o_o. He's very good at lying because he's so stone faced. He often throws Mikey and Raph under the bus for bad things he does and no one ever figures out it was him that did it. He's got lots of tech and spends most of his time in his lab. Mikey often bothers him, so he made an AI to respond on his behalf and add any potential activities Mikey wants them to do together into his calendar. Mikey does not know he's not actually chatting with Don.

Mikey: In my version, when they mutated they were all already different ages. Mikey was a literal baby, not even able to sit up on his own yet. He's treated with little brother privileges and he gets away with so much. He's a menace, getting away with everything because he's got a cute face and his little brother status makes it very hard for them to say no. They all speak varying degrees of Japanese because they learned it from their dad. Mikey uses Nii-chan to get whatever he wants. He is a master manipulator and can cry on command. The only way they can tell if his tears are real or not is if he throws up. If he throws up, they're real. He's needy and bratty and wants to be the center of attention at all times. If not enough eyes are on him, he causes problems and pulls pranks to get negative attention. Despite all that, he's incredibly sweet and caring. He's a bleeding heart. He thinks of April as his big sister, even though no one else does. Later, he gets matching bracelets with April and she gives him makeovers and when she paints her nails she paints his too. Like 2003 Mikey he likes to dress up and play roles and be silly.

[grungegobbler]

ngl i think half of the infighting between transmisogyny and transandrophobia is just….the name “transandrophobia”. Having a word like that invokes a feeling of systemic misandry and male oppression. But the patriarchy benefits men and women are the ones who get most of the fallback from that, therefore a term like that MUST be bullshit.

Transmisogyny is about the intersection of transphobia and misogyny but, transandrophobia is just about trans mens unique experiences. Its less systemic than transmisogyny. A lot of the discourse ive seen is a misunderstanding that transandrophobia is about systemic misandry and not trans mascs being infantilized, talked down too, fetishized, and denied medical care in TERF spaces. While also experiencing hatred in queer spaces.

Trans femmes are seen as evil beings seducing children by not just TERFS, but also by the general public. This has created a truly hard existence for them. Trans mascs, on the other hand, are seen as poor sweet summer children who cannot be allowed autonomy. We are hopeless victims who cannot speak for ourselves. Cannot advocate. Cannot have a voice. This idea has, sadly, bleed into trans spaces. Even in trans spaces, transmascs are seen as small UwU cinnamon roll children who cannot talk about our personal experiences with the OTHER trans people. We need to sit at the little kids table playing with legos and lifting weights, while we are talked over.

Thats why transandrophobia, the parts that are about misandry, focus on it being within the queer community and not within society as a whole. Many queer people hate men for being, well, men. And they take this out on the transmascs who DARED betray them with masculinity. Transmascs loose support when they transition. We go from UwU little baby soft boys named Arlo, to a big scary man who will destroy the community at the first chance he gets. For transmascs, there is no in between. We lack spaces and support from our fellow trans people because their trauma views masculinity as dangerous.

In the queer community, femininity is a celebration of self expression. Its seen as a celebration in almost every queer group. Camp, glitter, dresses, makeup. Breaking gender roles is what is not just celebrated, but expected. To be a binary transmasc in the queer community is seen as doing queerness “wrong”. Trans men are pressured to be feminine and, if we arnt, we are seen as dangerous and less queer than our trans femme counterparts.

Transandrophobia is a disleading term for many because it isn’t something “akin” to the systemic oppression of transfemms; its the infantilization we experience from TERFs mixed with the dislike and distrust from other queer people. If anything, its more about our experiences in trans/queer spaces. It definitely shouldnt take away from the experiences and harassment of transfemmes, who definitely have it worse outside of the community. But i also think its not fair for people to immediately go “WELL, thats not real because misandry isnt real”, when we actively experience misandry in our own community. We both have different experiences about different lives and those two things can exist together. In a perfect world we would advicate for both transmisogyny and transandrophobia.

[pettyprocrastination]

I turn 23 in 30 minutes

(discussion of mental health, depression, and body image/body weight).

I'm queuing this post ahead of time in hopes that by midnight I will be asleep like a responsible adult because I do in fact have work in the morning (fixing my sleep schedule is a slow and steady race I promise you all) but this is just a sort of. reflection? on my year and my thoughts on reaching another big age.

nobody needs to look at this- I'm just using this as a journal because I'm pretty sure mine is still in the trunk of my car from when I went on vacation.

anywhoo. I turn 23 in 30 minutes. And its. weird?

But still nice.

I started this year off in a horrendous spot.

I was 112 lbs, still working my shit retail job where i'd go and cry in the bathroom just about every single shift for the next two months. I didn't want to eat, sleep, shower, or interact with anybody. I hadn't felt like this since my stepfather died and even then it wasn't as severe. I hated myself and blamed myself for everything wrong in my life, I felt like a ghost in my own body.

But slowly, things began to improve.

I have a new job now, a 9 to 5 that I enjoy yet I'm unfortunately going to have to return to the job hunt soon so I can find one that gives me benefits as I can't stay on my family's health insurance forever (the joys of adulthood) but It still feels good to have that dedicate schedule where I get to work with my hands and get paid for it every Monday through Friday.

I'm spending more time with my friends. Last week I spent a week at the beach with a dear friend of mine and a collection of her own friends, none of which I had met before. I was absolutely petrified initially but had the time of my life with them all, ending the wonderful experience with going to my first ever concert and crying from the joy of it all. (it was hozier.)

I'm pushing myself to do more and go out- I'm in a coaching position for my roller derby league, I recently attended a practice scrimmage with players who have been in this sport for 8+ years and while I fully believed I didn't belong in this space, I was able to hold my own and had so much fun getting to play with all of them. I don't know if i'll be able to try out for the state league because of scheduling- but maybe some day further down the line.

I took a day trip out of state to go to an all women's gym with friends at my university before I graduated. One thing to know about me is that I go to the gym alone about 99.9% of the time. I'm not good at social situations, especially ones in new areas so the notion initially was one I was ready to dismiss- but how often do you get chances like that?

I've signed up for my first ever powerlifting meet. I'm still very new to the gym with less than a year of weight lifting under my belt, but i've told myself this is the year to push myself and become somebody I'm proud of nobody how hard it is going to be. I've always loved powerlifting and want to get into the sport so bad but I can't afford a coach nor do I want to sign up for a full competition without knowing the ins and outs of the first event. I found a local deadlifting competition for a pride foundation next month and signed up for it with the goal of increasing my deadlift by at least 10 lbs by then. I'm simply competition against myself and trying to see how much I can progress during that time, which is something I really love about the sport. I'm still a fucking lightweight loser when it comes to heavy lifting- but at least this way I'll be able to see what a meet is like and learn what to expect.

I started going to therapy beginning of February/late January. It's been a saving grace honestly. Having an unbiased professional I can sit and talk and cry to has been quite the saving outlet. I rent a private study room at the library once every week for our meetings and it's become a little ritual of my own that i'm quite fond of now. (take this as your reminder that your local public library has so many amazing resources that even if you don't read often you can still use!!) though I've only been going for a few months, it's helped me drastically in how I view myself and letting others in during moments of weakness.

I'm allowing myself to rely on my friends. It isn't easy. And honestly sometimes I fucking hate it and feel pathetic for it- but my friends have been there for me so goddamn much within the past few months I honestly don't know where I'd be without them. There are days where I'd rather curl up In my bed and not speak to a single soul about how I feel because there's nothing I fear more than being a burden to those I love- but I have to remind myself that they want to be there for me the same way I want to be there for them. If they need me to pull back they'll simply communicate that desire and I will do so, but I can't keep assuming the worst when I need to rely on somebody for love and support. It's hard to not feel like a burden in those moments, that I'm exhausting those I love- but I also know I would do the same for them any day of the week. "Shared joy is double the joy, shared sorrow is half the sorrow".

I'm back at 124 lbs. I know it may not seem like much to others but gaining back that 12 lbs over four months has been such an uphill battle not only due to my own genetics+metabolism that makes gaining weight a fucking pain in the ass, but also keeping myself accountable when my mental health is at an all time low to still eat full meals and take care of my body. The moment I stepped on the scale and saw those numbers I cried real tears. I still want to gain more weight, but seeing that improvement helped me realize I am in fact improving and not just staying in this permanent transition period of stagnation for the rest of my life as I've feared.

I'm kinder to myself. At least, I'm trying to do so. I've found that the reality of life is that it's infinitely easier to blame yourself for everything and rot in self loathing rather than take a step back to go "actually- that's not true" and find the strength to go forward while also being aware of what you can do to better yourself as a person, not just for others, but for your own sake at well.

That being said- not every day is meant for self-analysis and introspection. Some days it's okay to just cry and eat some fucking candy bars on the couch my friends.

I'm slowly finding the joy and energy to write again. It's been a hassle to do so- working a 9 to 5 while also going to the gym and then doing chores leaves very little time and energy for other passions- but I've found it's annoying but meaningful work to dedicate time for the little things that make you happy. I've started by promising myself to limit my screentime by not using my phone as much during the day- my lunch breaks at work are spent typing away on a little e-ink word processor I treated myself to instead of doom scrolling on my phone. I've written three short little stories on it, some of them fanfiction others are not- while also beginning a horror project that i've thought about for a year now and want to see where it will go in the end. It's nothing as grand at the 10k beautifully written fics you all create- but I'm finding my passion again and it feels quite nice. I'd like to create something submission worthy this summer, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.

I'd like to set myself the goal of being able to afford an apartment next year. My family plans on moving cities within a year so it will give me time to save up more money and maybe even get back to making little things on the side to help earn some extra pocket cash for that dream while also paying off my student loans.

I'm not anywhere near the woman I thought i'd at 23 when I was 18 years old. I still live at home, I'm not using my major for my career, nor am I doing anything particularly astounding in my life. But I think that it's okay- and I'm proud of the progress I have made to get myself to this position.

Tomorrow I will spend my birthday at work. Then I will go for a walk (or perhaps a skate?) listen to some music, treat myself to a little sweet drink in my budget and then go see the challengers movies. Maybe with my friends, maybe by myself. I'm not sure yet. I will likely cry at some point during the day, I always do on my birthday.

But I know that I am growing. Even if Its hard to see.

[innerwearsofficial]

BEST RUNNING SPORTS BRAS OF 2023, ACCORDING TO TESTING

Finding the right sports bra may be the difference between a successful and unsuccessful exercise, particularly for runners. Running sports bras need to provide the appropriate level of support, comfort, and breathability, without creating any irritation or discomfort in the wearer in any way.

Because there are so many alternatives available, it might be difficult to choose the one that is best for you. Because of this, we have put in the work to do research and put up a list of the,

Top-running sports bras that will be available in 2023

1. Women Cotton Stretch Athletic Vest Gym Fitness Plus Size Sports Bra

The Women Cotton Stretch Athletic Vest Gym Fitness Plus Size Sports Bra is a kind of sports bra designed to meet the needs of active women. The cotton and flexible fabrics used in its construction provide comfort and air circulation when you wear it.

Plus-size ladies may benefit from the extra support and a flattering, form-fitting silhouette of this women’s running sports bras plus size design. It works well for a variety of sports and exercises, from running and weightlifting to yoga and pilates.

2. Women’s Support Bounce Stretch Control Workout Plus Size Sports Bra

There is a special kind of running sports bras for women of larger sizes called the Women’s Support Bounce Stretch Control Workout Plus Size Sports Bra. During your exercise, you’ll stay comfortable and dry thanks to the wicking properties of the flexible and breathable cloth.

A wider underband and shoulder straps aid in weight distribution and minimize bounce in this sports bras for runners made specifically for ladies with a larger frame. Whether you’re jogging, doing high-intensity interval training (HIIT), or just leaping about, you can be certain that your bust will stay put thanks to the stretch control element of this bra.

3. Women Elastic Plus Size Sports Bra Top

Active women need a sports bra top that offers support and comfort, and the Women Elastic Plus Size Sports Bra Top fulfills those requirements. This sports bra top is crafted from a breathable and flexible material, ensuring unrestricted movement and keeping you dry and comfortable as you exert yourself.

With a wider underband and shoulder straps to better distribute weight and lessen bounce, this sports bra top is ideal for ladies with a larger frame. The stretchy fabric offers a close, comfortable fit that keeps your bust in place during vigorous exercises like jogging, weight lifting, and yoga.

4. Top Seamless Fitness Sports Bras Top Padded Running Push-Up Crop Top

The Top Padded Running Push-Up Crop Top is a sports bra designed to cater to the needs of active women. It consists of a seamless, flexible fabric that provides excellent comfort and mobility.

Padding in the cups of this best sports bras for running offers extra support and accentuates your figure. The push-up style will give you a more attractive profile as you work out, thanks to its ability to raise and shape your bust.

This sports bra’s crop top silhouette gives you coverage and support across your bust and shoulders without restricting your range of motion. It works well for a variety of sports and exercises, from running and weightlifting to yoga and pilates.

5. Women’s Padded Workout Tank Top for Running, Fitness Yoga, and Sports Bras

The Workout Running Padded Tank Top Fitness Yoga Sports Bra for Women combines the features of a tank top and a high-impact sports bra, providing both support and comfort for active women. During your exercise, you’ll stay comfortable and dry thanks to the wicking properties of the flexible and breathable cloth.

Padding in the cups of this sports bra top adds support and coverage, making it ideal for high-impact activities like running and jumping. Tank tops are great because they conceal your upper body while still letting you move your arms and shoulders freely.

You can utilize the sports bra top for a variety of exercise routines, including the gym, yoga, and jogging. All shapes and sizes of women will feel beautiful in this dress.

6. Sports Bras Shockproof Fixed Quick-Drying Underwear Vest Women Running Gym Zipper

You can get support, comfort, and quick-drying qualities from a sports bra like the Sports Bras Shockproof Fixed Quick-Drying Pants Vest Women Running Gym Zipper. It has a fixed cup shape for extra bust support and a shock-absorbing construction to minimize bouncing.

The zippered back makes it simple to get this sports bra for running large breasts on and off, even after strenuous exercise. The moisture-wicking properties of the fast-drying fabric ensure that you stay dry and comfortable no matter how intense your exercise.

You can use it for a variety of sports and exercises, ranging from running and weightlifting to yoga and pilates. The vest-style design gives you more protection and support in the upper torso while still letting you move your arms and shoulders freely.

7. Shockproof Sports Bra Padded Wire Free With Front Zipper Closure Adjustable Strap Fitness Tops

Supportive and comfortable, the Shockproof Sports Bra Padded Wire Free With Front Zipper Closure Adjustable Strap Fitness Tops is the kind of best sports bra for running. It has a cushioned breast for extra support and form and a shock-absorbing construction to minimize bouncing.

The front zipper fastening of this sports bra makes it easy to slip on and take off, even after strenuous exercise. The right sports bra can be adjusted to suit you perfectly, giving you the breast support you need and staying put during your activity.

It may be used for a variety of sports and exercises, from running and weightlifting to yoga and pilates. The absence of wires in the sports bra makes it more comfortable to wear and guarantees a smooth, close fit.

8. Sports Bra Top Fitness Breathable Yoga Bras Shockproof Running Vest Gym Push Up Padded Bra

When it comes to physical exercise, a Push Up Padded Bra is your best bet for support, comfort, and ventilation. It has a cushioned breast for extra support and form and a shock-absorbing construction to minimize bouncing.

This top is a sports bras for large busts with built-in push-up padding to help you look and feel your best at the gym. The moisture-wicking properties of the fabric ensure that you stay dry and comfortable no matter how strenuous your exercise.

This sports bra’s vest-like construction gives you coverage and support throughout your upper body while yet letting you move freely around the shoulders and arms. It may be used for a broad variety of exercise routines, from the gym to yoga to jogging.

9. Sports Bras Quick Drying Professional Running Vest Yoga Mesh Bra Removable Pads

The Vest Yoga Mesh Bra with Removable Pads provides support, comfort, and moisture management, meeting the needs of active women. The mesh construction promotes air circulation, reducing perspiration buildup and ensuring a dry and comfortable workout experience.

This sports bra has detachable cushions that may be worn under or over your bust for further support and shaping. The moisture-wicking properties of the fast-drying fabric ensure that you stay dry and comfortable no matter how intense your exercise.

10. Sports Bra No Steel Ring Padded Yoga Bras Vest Jogging Underwear Fitness Push Up Running

The Push Up Running sports bra is specifically designed to offer you lift, comfort, and support during your workouts. The lack of steel rings in the design makes it more comfortable to wear, even while engaging in high-impact pursuits like running and leaping.

Padding in the cups of this sports bra offers extra support and helps to define your bust. The vest-type design protects your upper torso and supports your arms and shoulders without restricting your mobility.

It may be used for a broad variety of exercise routines, from the gym to yoga to jogging. The cushioning for push-ups will make your figure seem better as you work out.

11. Sports Bra Mesh Stitching Yoga Bra Shake Fitness Gym Bra Running Top

Supportive and breathable, the Sports Bra Mesh Stitching Yoga Bra Shake Fitness Gym Bra Running Top is an excellent choice for any active woman. The mesh stitching pattern promotes airflow and aids in moisture absorption, so you can work out in comfort and dryness.

You can use this sports bra for a variety of exercise routines, including gym workouts, yoga sessions, and jogging. You may move your arms and shoulders freely while still feeling snug thanks to the cut’s design.

Conclusion

Finding the correct running sports bras to wear while running is very important for any runner. A quality sports bra will provide you with the support you need throughout your exercise while also reducing the risk of chafing, injuries, and other forms of discomfort. Because there are so many choices available, selecting the one that is best for you might be difficult.

By utilizing our ranking of the 11 best-running sports bras of 2023, you can make an informed choice and select a running sports bra that aligns perfectly with your preferences. If you want a sports bra that meets your needs in terms of compression, support, breathability, or comfort, one of the options on this list should be perfect for you. Therefore, fasten your seatbelts and get ready to run with self-assurance and ease.

FAQ’S

1. What is the difference between a sports bra and a running bra?

Active women use the term “sports bra” to describe any bra suitable for exercising, whereas the term “running sports bras” specifically denotes a bra designed with runners in mind. Manufacturers craft running bras with additional support elements like cushioned straps or adjustable bands to ensure optimal support and comfort during running sessions.

2. What is the best sports bra to run in?

Each runner has unique requirements and tastes, thus there is no one perfect sports bra for running. Runners should wear a well-fitting, high-support sports bra.

3. What kind of bra supports running?

Experts recommend choosing a high-support running sports bras for maximum support and minimal breast movement during running. Finding a bra that fits well without digging in or causing irritation is essential.

[muirneach]

loud incorrect buzzer all over this post wowwww

cant we talk about sexism in sports without being just untrue. the first post is real and true no quarrels with that. 1) tall muscle mass sports (read.. the big four sports leagues and soccer) are valued more than gymnastics not because people like tall muscle mass people (op is implying men) more than short skinny people (op is implying women) but because of the way the sports are set up. team sports will always do better (economically and culturally) than independent sports for a variety of reasons; for example people can get behind a team easier than a person (heritage, ie your parents hand down team fandom to you because a team never retires), and basic format of the sport limits oppurtunities (there just isnt a way to have as many gymnastic -or whatever- competitions as, say, basketball games per season). so when we discuss sexism in sports... the issue is not to make a boy sport vs a girl sport, but rather promote women who play big four sports + soccer. wnba can be just as prominent and well paid as nba, for example.

2) implying hockey is not a sport that you benefit greatly from being tall is crazy. i also dont think that women are.. better at balance or more flexibile than men?? secondly, and this is stupid,, but 'introduce unnecessary viciousness' is crazy like. first off womens hockey is just as rough as mens. but aside from that hockey has always been violent, and theres criticism that can be made of that, and the culture that sustains it, but the sport was based off of rugby, and that is why it has always been rough. did you know the first ever organized game ended in a brawl (to be fair, not between players, but still)?

but anyways 3) that final paragraph is like my most fundamental issue with how people talk about womens sports. i don't really think there is a sport that women are better at than men because at the end of the day you're just talking about body type, and anyone can have any body type. the reason womens sports are disrespected is because women are disrespected, there is no larger conspiracy by Big Sport to control what games we watch (there are individual ways sports organizers take down women in sport, but like. its just basic sexism). what is a 'womens sport that is considered unimportant' because i feel like we're just talking about gymnastics again which. men also do. and the fact that it doesn't make money is for the same reasons i already discussed for any individual sport, which is true for sports like track and field, weight lifting, equestrian sports, cycling, swimming, and so on. the only exception to this is ringette and softball, possibly the only traditionally womens team sports, but those are a whole other issue for another post. and you just know none of these people watch sports, mens or womens.

[tomboyfriends]

hey, do you have any advice for women trying to build muscle? I'm specifically looking to build some muscle in my chest.

Ok, so I'm going to be completely honest with you and tell you that I am less than one year into seriously weight training. I am by no means an expert nor am I a health professional. With that in mind, I'll tell you what I know. :) You are free to message me as well if there's anything more you would like to know. It's impossible to cover everything in one post but I will do my best to be helpful. There is quite frankly SO MUCH to learn about growing muscle, but it is doable. If you have a curious and open mind and love to research then those are amazing assets to have because there are always ways to refine your technique and improve diet and rest. These might seem pretty basic so maybe you already know a lot of this (I don't know your experience level so I'm gonna talk as if speaking to a total newbie) but I'll cover what I think is important. Eat lots of protein. Shoot for 0.7-0.8g of protein per pound of lean body mass. If you are already pretty lean you can use your normal weight but if you are obese then you should try to figure out how much of your weight is fat and calculate your lean body mass from there. Protein powders such as whey protein and pea protein are very helpful and can be more affordable than other sources. Some people will say 1g of protein per pound of body weight but honestly it may be a bit overkill. Try to eat your protein not all in one sitting otherwise your body will convert a bunch of it into energy instead of muscle. Have some of your daily protein with each meal instead, you can break it into snacks as well. Train hard, REST HARDER. If you don't rest your body will not be able to create more muscle. Get at least 8 hours nightly, more is probably better. After working out, do not exercise the same muscles you trained for a minimum of 48 hours. Use this time to exercise different muscle groups, or rest. Technique/form >>> lifting heavy. Form is important for safety and to also ensure you are stimulating the targeted muscles instead of inadvertently using other parts of the body to get the work done. Control the eccentric (lengthening the muscle) phase of an exercise by performing it slowly for 1-3 seconds. Concentric (shortening/contracting the muscle) phases can be done explosively and quickly but you must always be in control of the weight and not use momentum to move the weight around. Rest 1-3 minutes (some people say minimum 2 minutes, you can also rest longer if needed) between sets to make both your muscles AND nervous system enough time to recover. STOP THE WORKOUT IF YOU ARE EXPERIENCING PAIN/NAUSEA/LIGHTHEADEDNESS/FEELING FAINT/ANYTHING ELSE YOU'RE CONCERNED ABOUT. Some discomfort is okay, but as soon as you feel pain in your muscles or joints or anything else that is serious you have to stop or you may seriously harm yourself. It is important to be in contact with your primary healthcare provider and adapt your workouts to your own specific health needs. BE PATIENT. Women can expect to gain about one pound of muscle per month through weight training. You should not weight train solely for muscle gain, but also for the health benefits in improved cardiovascular health, improved mental health, increased energy and strength, better sleeping habits, and good diet (lots of proteins and veggies). Record the types of exercises you do, how many sets and reps you did, and how much weight you used for those sets and reps. Weight training is built upon the concept of progressive overload, which means increasing training volume (weights * sets * reps) over time, by increasing one (or more) of those variables (so upping the weight, sets, and/or reps). In order to utilize progressive overload effectively, you MUST record your progress so that you are not guessing how much you lifted the last session and end up potentially stunting your progress. When you're putting in this much time and effort you do not want to wing it and waste a workout session. --

Now, you want to build chest muscle. I personally work more on leg and arm muscles but I do work out my entire body. I'm saying this to convey that I am not the most experienced. However, this is what I know. You should try to get around 10 sets of chest exercises weekly to stimulate muscle growth (standard across the board for muscular hypertrophy in any muscle group). You can do more (I do bc I have a lot of free time) but don't burn yourself out, because consistency is arguably the most important factor when it comes to muscle growth. You have to commit for several months and then years. 10 sets of 5-8 reps (repetitions) weekly should cause muscular hypertrophy (muscle growth). You can do all ten sets in one session, or break it down into two sessions where you do five sets each. It all depends on your personal schedule. Start light in order to get accustomed to whichever chest exercises you choose first, and then lift the heaviest you can without breaking form/cheating the rep. It is completely possible to work out your chest muscles without doing bench presses. HOWEVER, in the event that you do bench presses, here are some safety tips. NEVER use clips to secure weights on either side of the barbell when you are performing bench presses without a spotter, otherwise you may become stuck when failing a bench press and will be unable to free yourself because the weights are unable to slide off onto the floor, lightening the bar. Bench pressing without a QUALIFIED spotter (not some gym rando you don't know) is not ideal, however it can be hard to get a spotter so that's why I'm giving you this tip in case you decide to solo bench press anyway. Personally I almost never bench press and opt to use the machines which are much safer to use solo. Personally I use pec/chest fly machines and chest press machines to work out my chest, along with shoulder presses to stimulate part of the upper chest (but of course those are mostly for my shoulders). On youtube there are a bunch of demonstration videos (including by women) so you can look at those if you need more guidance than the instructional stickers on the sides of exercise machines. Remember to get good stretches of the chest muscles under tension on chest fly machines (cable machines are good too) bc that stimulates the muscles a bunch and results in good growth. Incline chest presses are good too. You can use pushups to stimulate muscle growth in the chest, HOWEVER it is not possible to utilize progressive overload using calisthenics (exercises with (little to) no external weights/objects) unless you like... idfk wear a backpack with weight on it or something. So you can use this to grow chest muscle initially, however your growth would end up plateauing after a certain point. If you have any more questions just let me know, again I'm not a pro but I'm glad to help in any way I can. There is so much more I could have added but I hope this post has helped you at least even a little bit. Edit: This ask refused to publish a few times because of how damn long my post was lmao