Fuck Buddies With Ghost Who Tells You It Means Nothing, Doesn’t Want Anything More Than Sex, But When

all about mobility

what is mobility & how is it different from flexibility?

mobility is the ability of the joints to move through their full range of motion, while flexibility is the ability of the muscles to temporarily stretch.

why do mobility training?

there are many different benefits of mobility training, including:

increased flexibility

reduced risk of injury

improving joint & muscle health

improving range of motion

improving posture

gaining muscle strength

balance & stability

reducing pain & stiffness in the body

when should i start?

now! there’s a common misconception that you shouldn’t need mobility training until you are in your later years and your mobility starts to decline, but mobility training is useful no matter your age. in fact, the sooner you start, the less mobility & joint problems you will experience as you age.

how often should i train mobility?

mobility training is safe and beneficial to do daily, but ideally, you should try to train mobility at least 5 times per week for at least 5-10 minutes each time.

routines:

10 minute mobility workout by growingannanas

10 minute mobility for neglected joints by julia.reppel

15 minute daily mobility routine by julia.reppel

15 minute mobility stretch by growingannanas

20 minute slow mobility & stretch by julia.reppel

20 minute full body mobility warm up by leanbeefpatty

20 minute spinal mobility by julia.reppel

20 minute mobility workout by julia.reppel

20 minute rest day mobility flow by julia.reppel

20 minute pilates x mobility by julia.reppel

20 minute full body mobility by julia.reppel

25 minute full body stretch & mobility by madfit

25 minute mobility workout by julia.reppel

25 minute yoga for mobility by jess yoga

25 minute rest day mobility by julia.reppel

25 minute low impact mobility workout by julia.reppel

25 minute mobility workout by marie steffen

30 minute full body primal mobility by julia.reppel

30 minute primal mobility workout by julia.reppel

30 minute mobility yoga for athletes by charlie follows

30 minute beginner-friendly mobility flow by julia.reppel

30 minute mobility workout by fitness__kaykay

30 minute active recovery workout by heather robertson

30 minute core strength & shoulder mobility by heather robertson

35 minute yoga fusion workout by heather robertson

40 minute mobility & dynamic stretching by heather robertson

40 minute abs & hip mobility by heather robertson

40 minute core strength & back mobility by heather robertson

40 minute core strength & mobility by heather robertson

40 minute core & shoulder mobility by heather robertson

40 minute abs & mobility by heather robertson

44 minute core & full body mobility by heather robertson

Please I’m literally at work and this thought would NOT go away

Roommate!Simon Riley who sits in the bathroom while you’re in the shower.

The first time it happened he’d been so lost in his head he hadn’t even noticed the water was running. It was after work, late at night. When he walked in and heard your shriek, he was quick to cover his eyes, despite the shower curtain, fumbling for the door while a constant stream of apologies fell from his lips.

“Simon! Is that you?” Your voice was shaky, and he realized, just by the simple sound of your tone, that you weren’t screaming because he’d walked in, you simply just hadn’t known he was home.

“Yeah love, ‘m sorry, I didn’t know you were in here.” His fingers nervously fiddled with the door handle, squeaking hinges reminding him to take his weight off of the old wood.

“No it’s okay, you just scared me is all.” You peeked your head out of the shower, dripping loose droplets of water all over the rug. “You can stay in here ya know. I wouldn’t mind the company.” Didn’t have to tell him twice. He was sat.

He listened to you ramble as he cleaned his bloody knuckles, inhaling the familiar scent of your shampoo with every breath. He found comfort in it, even found himself longing for the lingering smell of your hair when he was away. That’d never happened to him before, not since you came along.

He liked how the smells weren’t harsh, they were just you.

“Hey Riley! Hand me my towel please?” He turned his gaze from the crimson sink to face you, quirking a smile when he saw the way you clenched your eyes shut, soap suds dripping down your forehead. “Got soap in my eyes.”

An amused huff came from his nose. “I can tell.” Instead of handing it to you, he grabbed your jaw with one hand, bandaged fingers careful as they wiped from the corner of your eyes to the outer part and back again. It wasn’t necessary of course, but you didn’t need to get a perfectly clean towel soaking wet before you needed it. That would be silly.

“Thanks,” You couldn’t help how breathless you sounded, eyelashes fluttering open to see his stern ones focused on making sure the rest of your face was dry.

“Welcome,” It was gruff and short, but he meant it, truly.

After that, it didn’t necessarily become routine, but if you got home from work, and he was there, it was bound to happen. You just had so many things to tell him. Stories of rude coworkers- about how they tried to steal the cookies he’d bought you, but how you were determined to eat every single one of them.

He’d follow you around like a lost puppy, finding solace on the toilet seat when you finally managed to get your ass in the shower. He made fun of you once for how distracted you got, and after seeing the fake pout on your lips he couldn’t stop. Picking on you was his favorite past time after all.

He loves how you sing softly, and he queues away the songs your the loudest to in his head, storing them away to discreetly surprise you with later. The sound of your voice just soothes him, even if it’s not always on key.

Sometimes he’ll even tell you about his day too. It’s not often, but when it happens, you remind yourself to stay dead silent. He was like a baby deer, one wrong move and you’d lose him.

When he inevitably goes quiet mid conversation, you always urge him to continue. “C’mon Riley, I’m listenin’” He melts right then and there every time.

The towel is always in his hands once he hears the shower turn off, ready for you to grab whenever you’re ready. You always insist on doing the rest of your routine behind the safety of the curtain.

“I don’t mind leaving love,”

Another peek of your head and another puddle of water.“Simon Riley, finish telling me your story or I’ll murder you.” It was a pretty convincing argument. He’d obviously listen so he didn’t die. Not because the cute little angry crease between your brows drove him crazy or the way your eyes were stormy with determination made him feel a little horny.

It was always the small things with you.

“Alright you sassy lass, I’ll talk.” And so he’d finish his story, handing you whatever products you asked for every now and then before you reached your hand out for fresh clothes.

As he turned around to get them he’d hear a loud slam, the sound of bottles clattering and your quiet hiss making him alert. Before he could even say anything though, you’d counteract his concern.

“I’m fine. Just slipped on my fucking conditioner.” And oh if he didn’t belly laugh.

Now, sometimes, you’d follow him to the bathroom, and he’d let you. Those these were the moments where he wouldn’t get a second to speak. Because you’d talk, and talk, and talk some more, and he’d eat it all up like it was his last meal.

He’d go to bed thinking about the sound of your voice, bottle it up and take it with him when he had to be away for to long. Because a minute without the sweet sound of your presence was a minute to damn long.

i asked someone to do this for me once and they looked at me like i was crazy and said no :( (is this only cute in my head???????)

is there anything more boring than watching golf? like fuck.

afab!reader

thinking about simon who’s watching you get another drink from the bar, counting the minutes until you return to the booth your team is currently occupying. he swirls the ice in his glass, glancing over every other second just to make sure you’re still within eyesight while he half listens to johnny talk about the most recent Manchester match. it’s already been 3 minutes. what is taking so bloody long?

“I’m pretty sure you’re burning a hole in the back of her head with that stare mate,” kyle says, lightly nudging simon’s shoulder. simon turns to face him, eyebrows knitting together. “m’just making sure she’s alright.”

the corner of kyle’s mouth twitches. “she’s a big girl, isn’t she? seems to be handling herself just fine.”

prick. simon takes a sip of his drink, glaring at him over the glass. he’s fully aware you can handle yourself, he’s seen you drop full grown men to their knees in the field without breaking a sweat. so why does it feel more dangerous to leave you alone in a stupid bar? another quick glance back to the bar reveals you laughing with the bartender, complimenting her hair and enjoying some small talk.

“and simon wants to handle her.” johnny’s words came out slow and a bit slurred, proof that he’d probably had one too many. if he’d been a little less intoxicated simon would’ve shoved him out of the booth. “looks like someone else does too,” kyle mumbled, lifting his glass and looking back in the direction of the bar. simon swears he feels his neck crack at the speed he turns to look.

who the fuck is that?

there's a tall blonde man standing close – too close – to you at the bar. toothpaste commercial smile, wavy hair…and hands that are way too antsy for simon’s taste. the way they move back and forth in the space between the two of you, resting on the bar next to your arm. there’s no need for him to get so close. simon ignores the bubbling pit of annoyance growing in his stomach – and johnny’s childish ‘oooh’ as he turns back to the table. “good for him.”

kyle lets out a bark of laughter, shaking his head as he looks down at the empty glass in his hands. “you're one stubborn git, I’ll tell ya.” placing the glass back down on the table, he looks back up at his masked friend. “you know, if I felt the way you do about her, she would’ve been mine a long time ago.”

simon’s eyes narrow into a glare. “what is that supposed to mean?”

“means exactly what I said.” he shrugs. “you want her so fucking bad, go get her. I wouldn’t let anything stop me if I was you.”

simon scoffs. if only it was that simple. there was no room for error with you. letting you in was a gamble in itself, and now…losing you was simply not an option. he’d managed to convince himself that it wouldn’t be possible to get attached, that being friendly was for the team’s sake. it definitely wasn’t because he was tired of only seeing you in flashes during dreams. and it absolutely was not because he found himself leaving every interaction with you feeling lighter. happier, almost.

“things are best as they are.” his answer was low, but kyle didn’t miss the tinge of sadness to his words.

“does she feel that way? did you ever bother to ask her? because I think if you did, she mi-“

“oh, shit.” johnny’s tone has considerably sobered as he looks past his friends at the bar where you stand. “she does not look happy.”

understatement of the century, simon thought as he turned back to you. hands on your hips, a scowl gracing your features. he swears he’s never seen someone look so angry and so beautiful at the same time. you’re glaring up at the prick with the pepsodent smile, spitting what looks to be venom at him while he looks down his nose at you condescendingly. if simon wasn’t overcome with irritation for whatever he’d done to piss you off, he would’ve enjoyed the sight. his little spitfire.

his. he needs to stop using that word when it comes to you. too dangerous to get used to.

she can handle it repeats in his head like a prayer. every muscle aches to run over and toss the man on the floor, not even stopping to find out what he had done to piss you off first, but he squeezes his glass to placate himself. she’s a big girl, like kyle said. a task force solider. if she needs help, she –

simon’s on his feet within seconds of your panicked gaze meeting his. there's something in your eyes, a look he’s ever seen before and is already planning on never seeing again. he barrels his way across the room as people part like the red sea, leading a path right to where you stand. the man has stepped closer to you, a slimy look on his face as he leers down at you. he may be tall, but simon towers over him as he steps up behind him, fists clenched. “oi.”

the man, who simon has decided is called dickhead, turns lazily to face him. his eyes widen slightly as he takes in the mountain of a man hovering behind him but he quickly masks it, trying his best to look bored.

“the fuck are you doing bothering my girl?”

dickhead has the balls to roll his eyes. simon imagines all the ways he could cut them out.

“i told you I have a boyfriend,” you snap. simon is pleasantly surprised by this, although what else does he expect? you obviously wanted this man to leave you alone, and that should have given him reason enough to do so. should have. he opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off.

“not so tough now that he’s not sitting all the way over there now, huh?”

simon nearly falls over. you told this guy that he was your boyfriend? he blinks once at you before he realizes that it’s not the time to digest this information. dickhead is still here and vertical, and that’s a problem. perhaps it’s the rounds of whiskey johnny kept talking him into, but something primal switches on when simon falls into the persona you’ve just created for him. the idea of you being his, needing him flooded his thoughts. dickhead must’ve seen the murderous expression slip onto his face just like one of his masks because the color drains from his face. simon’s voice lowers to a dangerous level.

“speak to her again and see how long you live. now walk away.”

a smart choice, simon hums to himself as dickhead scurries away looking slightly green. he has no idea how smart. simon snaps out of his musings as a hand softly rests on his forearm. wide, grateful eyes stare back up at him as he allows himself to take in current situation. “thank you so much simon, he was such a fucking creep. started asking me shit about my underwear and wouldn’t let me past him.”

“he’s lucky I didn’t know that before I let him go.” he’ll be less lucky later on. simon has a new errand to run, but that can wait until after you’re finished holding his arm and staring up at him like he hung the moon.

“so. when were you gonna tell me we were an item?” the joke tumbles out before he has time to think about it. by the look on your face, you're not about to take off running, so he continues. “y’should probably keep me in the loop about things like that, hm?” he braces himself for the what he thinks is the inevitable – I was only joking, simon…yeah, as if…I know, could you ever imagine that?

instead, the giggle that he receives in response makes his heart swell. laughter shouldn’t sound so musical and delicate. and it definitely shouldn’t come from a girl as beautiful as you when you're laughing. somehow, the fact that its him you're laughing at makes it sound even better. in that moment, simon’s hit with the bone chilling realization that he is fucked. so fucked it’s not even funny. the hours spent building his walls up just for you to tear them down again with a simple good morning, simon had been for nothing, because there was no running from this. and this is why he allows himself to wrap an arm around your waist as you formulate your reply.

if his show of affection takes you by surprise it doesn’t show. instead, you take a step closer to him, your hand coming to rest on his side as he pulls you to him. “seems like you were in the loop just fine, riley. after all, I'm ‘your girl’, right?” he wishes he could kiss you, press you back against the bar because yes, you are his girl, and to hear it in that teasing tone of voice is driving him to madness. he’s almost sure you know what you're doing, blinking up at him with those pretty eyes. it’s not fair to look at him like that, not if you don’t mean it. and simon isn’t 100% sure, but –

“I’m gonna put that on my resume. ‘simon riley’s girl’,” you chirp as you drag him back to your booth. simon smiles. he can settle for 99.9%.

a/n: this has been bouncing around in my head all day enjoy <33

okay so we all know that Simon acts all tough, but is secretly touch starved.

like think about it, the man has lived his life being shaped into a fighter, a man that kills with no hesitation. so he probably isn't used to being touched, at least romantically.

enter you, who holds his hand in public, squeezing softly when he starts to get paranoid. or cuddling into him on the couch when the two of you are watching a movie, wrapping your body around him to feel his warmth. holding his face in your hands late at night when he has too much on his mind to sleep, listening without judgement as he quietly whispers about the things he's done.

he might be cautious at first but the moment he realizes that you genuinely mean it and aren't going anywhere? expect him to be nuzzling into your neck at any time during the day.

who are you when nobody is watching?

i cant even finish my work because all i keep thinking about is simon

the way he loves picking you up or throwing you over his shoulders or burrowing his face on the crook of your neck, breathing you in. the way when you two cuddle, he presses his hand flat on your belly to push you closer to his body because he loves feeling the way your warmth seeps into him. the way he murmurs his words on your skin because he loves kissing you and he doesn’t wanna stop kissing you. the way he nips your shoulder or your cheek because you are just so fuckin adorable. the way he holds your hands, fingers slotting perfectly against yours, or the way he hooks his pinky with yours. the way he makes you kiss his dog tags before he leaves because that’s his damn good luck charm.

cant stop thinking about the way he loves.