#my kidney is packing up again

[eye-scream-girls]

I should probably get over that creeping intrusive thought that if I take too long between posting art or fic that I'll fade (away? From relevance? Who knows.)

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 54 (12.1)

part 1 | part 53 | ao3

cw: angst

Chapter 12

Steve drives to Chicago.

He wakes up to an empty bed and a sticky note by the kitchen phone, words scribbled over so the only legible thing left is the word sorry underlined in jagged black, and his breath sticks in his chest and he can't be here anymore. Epiphany ringing like a gong, sending ripples through his marrow, because the walls are closing in and Eddie decorated those walls — splattered himself over every inch of this place, and now he's just the newest haunt in a line of ghosts that Steve can't shake. He thought he’d gotten rid of them, but now he hears them louder than ever. In the hiss of the faucet, in the buzz of the fridge; they’re moaning in his bad ear and rattling his bones, and he can't be here alone with them he can't be here he can't—

So he drives.

Gets in his car with nothing but a spare jacket and a crumpled pack of cigs. If ever there was a time to pick the habit up in earnest. Eddie’s van is gone, and Steve’s heart is bruised; it's bleeding out inside him, pumping fresh hurt with every beat, so he lights a cigarette with shaking hands and heads north. Takes the back roads to the on-ramp of I-65, drives for hours; drives for years, speeding down empty stretches of highway with nothing but roadkill for company.

At some point he rolls the windows down until the icy wind makes his cheeks burn, but he can't really feel them. Can't feel his face, or his fingers, or his heart.

All the world is snow and asphalt, and Steve Harrington is alone.

He tries to drown it out with music. The radio mocks him with swooning quartets love songs — 'put your head on my shoulder' and 'life could be a dream' — and all the tapes he can reach belong to Eddie, so he pulls over on the narrow shoulder of an overpass bridge and screams and screams and screams while he chucks the cassettes over the edge.

Fuck Eddie.

Fuck him.

"FUCK YOU!!" he shouts to the foggy nothingness.

The words dig in sharp; pocket knife twisting in the space below his kidneys.

The fog doesn't respond.

Back in the car, his thoughts turn to his mom. Because he's driving to her, he knows — knew it in his splintering bones and haunted blood the moment he left town. He's driving back to his first ghost, as if confronting the original will somehow exorcise the rest.

Miles pass in silence, and Steve paints over the canvas of what-ifs again and again, oily streaks in the underpainting as he tries to set the scenes just right: quiet, tearful confrontations in his aunt's formal living room, graceless screaming matches out on the front lawn. In one version he never makes it past the guard at the front gate, and in another he just eggs the stupid lion statues leading up to the house while his mom silently weeps from the top of the stairs.

He doesn't know if his mom would laugh at that.

He doesn't know her much at all.

And that fucking hurts; that sits like acid in his lungs, because his mom was his first friend. When he was little — before the housekeepers and nannies, before his mom started tailing his dad on business trips like a trained dog on a leash — they spent so much time together. Trips to the playground, to the library, to the pool. He'd perch himself on her vanity when she got ready in the mornings, use her hairbrush as a microphone to sing along to 50s doo-wop, and she'd giggle and call him her little superstar, so he'd come up with stupid dance moves just to make her smile more.

He misses that. The script, the routine. How he'd spin around in his socks on the slippery bathroom tile and look up at her with her big hair full of rollers and her big eyes full of stars, and he'd say, "Hey! How come your eyes are all twinkly?"

And she'd grin and pinch his cheek and give the same answer every time: "Because you're the light of my life."

"I wish I knew what you'd say now," he whispers to the empty car.

For a moment he envisions that she's sitting there with him, that she's filling the blank space where the boy who broke his heart should be, but he can't remember her cadence well enough to mimic it; can't put words in her mouth when he no longer knows her lines, and with something a bit like horror and a lot like despair it occurs to him that he can't remember what she looks like. There's an apparition in his blind spot, but it's formless and unstable. The shade of its hair keeps changing; the texture, the length.

When he tries to make it speak, it shrugs and dissipates.

—

part 55

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[rewh0re]

─JULY RAINS ; NAGI SEISHIRO

-fluff fluff FLUFF, nagi realising he might have a lil crush, just nagi falling for you. REBLOGS + FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED!!

Nagi was not the resident lover boy. Everyone knew that, he made sure of it. He garnered interest in a few things, video games and football being some examples. The latter, if not for his best friend Reo introducing it to him, maybe wouldn't even have made it in the list. Nagi found most of the things to be a hassle. It was a hassle to get up in the morning, a hassle to brush his teeth, a hassle to get ready and come to school and get through the day. The biggest hassle of all was falling in love and high school relationships. Nagi didn't really get the logic behind all that jazz but he did get confessions in the form of little notes and homemade chocolates. He hated it, all he wanted to do was ignore them and sleep and that's what he did.

But then Nagi met you. Standing under the shelter provided by the bus stop in the pouring rain, a wet umbrella in your hands. He ran there to take shelter from the rain as well and in the process got wet. Swatting away the water from his hair, he felt your eyes on him.

"This is why you should carry an umbrella," you said, nodding your head at him. You were clearly joking as there was a little mischievous smile on your lips.

"It's a hassle to pack an umbrella," he said looking straight, voice as flat as ever.

"It’s a hassle to pack an umbrella?" Your head rolled back in laughter as you repeated his words in a question. Your reaction achieved a pout from Nagi and you thought he looked absolutely adorable in all his puffed out cheek glory.

"My bag becomes too heavy," his explanation was dry, not providing much information.

You smiled in reply, not really understanding this strange boy who found carrying an umbrella during the rainy seasons a hassle. You let it be, deciding that it wasn't really your concern.

"You go to my school?" He looked at the uniform you were wearing and then at his as if to check if they were the same. They were.

"Yes Nagi Seishiro I do go to your school," you chuckled in amusement before continuing "we shared a class last year. I won't blame you for forgetting though. You mostly slept and I never actively socialized with any of my classmates."

"I'm sorry," he rubbed the back of his neck, as embarrassment slowly took over him. A pink hue slowly creeped up his ears. You went to his school, were in the same year as him infact and he didn't even know you existed before this.

You laughed again. You laugh a lot, he noticed.

"No, don't be. I wouldn't have remembered either if you hadn't confidently said the definition of socialism when the question was about the functions of the kidney and still topped the class anyway," you grinned at him and he muttered curses at himself as the probably unwanted memory creeped its way up to the top.

"I'm l/n y/n by the way. You know, a formal introduction since we never really met properly," you stretched your hands towards him.

"Nagi Seishiro but you know that already," he took your hand and shook it gently.

Sitting at a bench provided by the bus stop together, you did not realize when the rain had stopped, the gray clouds slowly drifting by to reveal a clear sky. Nagi told you about his cactus, choki and about how Reo dragged him into football. You learnt that most things were actually a hassle for Nagi and when he said that, you laughed again.

Nagi felt a sense of pride wash over him as he made you laugh. He realized that you actually cracked very lame jokes but he found himself breaking into a small smile when you shared them anyway. It was a jolly scenario. Something in Nagi's heart bloomed when you smiled, beating a bit faster than usual.

Nagi was not your resident lover boy and in all honesty, he never wanted to be but seeing your exuberant personality made something in him glow. He found people to be a hassle, but you, with all your energy, didn't count as one, even if you officially met that day itself. Nagi didn't want to admit it was a crush just yet, he was willing to wait but when your bus came in sight, some sort of dejection took over him.

"Well that's me!" You got up from your seat waving at him as you made your way to the bus.

Just as you were about to get on the vehicle, you turned over your shoulder to look at the white haired male, who's gaze widened at the action.

"Hey Nagi, talk to me in school, yea? I'll be waiting!" You gave him a grin that stretched from ear to ear before getting up on the bus as it soon disappeared out of sight.

Your beaming smile was etched inside Nagi's mind as it sent some kind of fluttering sensation inside him. It wasn't long before he found himself smiling like an idiot while sitting on a bench in the bus stop thinking about you. He got up, his smile still intact, as he began walking towards the metro station.

"Fuck."

That was all Nagi Seishiro could think on a rainy July evening after you left, making a mental note to definitely approach you in school.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I Knew Your Were Trouble When You Walked In 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, medical procedures including dialysis and chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Pete Brenner, short!reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The clanging is enough to drive you crazy. You snap shut your laptop and let out a huff. A day where you can just stay home and get your work done and the landlord is doing maintenance. It has to be that day.

You check the time and rub your eyes. You look down at your pajama pants mournfully. You’re going to have to wear real clothes. You change into a pair of cords and a gray button up. You pack up your bag and shrug on a jacket as you step into your shoes.

You jingle out with your keys, locking the door behind you before quickly fleeing the echoing metalling thrums. You take the stairs down and tuck your chin down against the crisp autumn air. A tea will help with that, maybe something with a kick of caffeine to wake you up.

The cafe is only a block away. You order some ginger tea and take it to a table in the corner. You set up and hunker down to get through the last of your emails. You cup your chin as you lean your elbow on the table, entranced by the screen.

The rush of the cafe is almost soothing. The white noise helps you get through the overstuffed email sent by your supervisor. Check, check, got that done. You sip your tea as it cools and sit up to type your reply.

“You can have coffee?” The voice interrupts your frantic typing. You look up with brows furrowed. How on earth? “Genuinely curious,” Pete sits across from you, setting his paper cup down on the other end of the table, “with dialysis and everything.”

You blink at him and refocus on your laptop. You don’t want to know how he found you. Whether it’s cruel fate or something more sinister, you have more important things going on.

“You pack a real blow, you know that? I had a bruise and everything,” he complains, “not very nice and I’ll say I’ve been really nice to you.”

You continue to ignore him as you resume your response to Caroline. In hindsight, you would rather sit through the clanking of wrenches and pipes. You swallow your agitation, tuning out the silhouette just on the other side of your screen.

Suddenly, your laptop crushes your hands and your eyes pop up. Pete’s hand lingers on the cover as you snatch your fingers out from under it. You tilt your head in frustration.

“You look like a sweet girl,” he says, “but you’re not, are you?”

“Excuse me?” You hiss.

“Ah, come on, loosen up," he winks.

You shake your head and contemplate your options. You could pack up and go but you risk leading him back to your building. Telling him to go away isn't going to do too much and ignoring him only seems to encourage him.

"You like sweets? They got a great chocolate croissant."

"I'm not hungry," you insist and go back to typing. "I'm busy."

"Lonely too, by the looks of it," he leans forward, "let me buy you something, sweetheart."

Your eyes flick up and you give him a glare. You don't understand this man and he surely doesn't understand you. You're less than interested in any guy but especially not him. Your life has order and you value that. What little you can control, you hold close.

"You don't just come down to the cafe looking like you do and not want attention," he pushes on your laptop again and you stop it from closing. "I mean… how many dudes are gonna hit on a sick girl anyway? I accept you, babe, kidneys and all–"

"That's it," you snap, "get away from me. Now."

"Hey, it's a compliment–"

"Leave. Me. Alone."

"It's fine, we can move past this, I like a little fire–"

You flutter your lashes at him as your chest burns. You want to scream and cry at the same time. You look around, reminding yourself of your audience and take a deep breath.

"I'm asking you nicely…" your voice cracks, betraying you, "to go."

"I didn't do anything wrong–"

"There a problem here?" A deep growl has you shrinking further as Pete turns in his chair to look defiantly up at the man in the black apron.

"No problem. None of your business, bus boy."

The man with the black apron crosses his arms and scoffs, "big problem. I own this place so if you don't leave in the next fifteen seconds, I'll have you trespassed."

"Whatever, bro, me and the lady are having a chat–"

"He bothering you?" The man in the apron asks. You nod, breathless. "On your feet before I throw you on your ass," he growls at Pete.

"Like to see you try," Pete stands and puffs out his chest, "you're getting a one-star, bud." He crushes his cup into the man's apron, spilling the coffee down it, "coffee tastes like dirt anyway."

"Have a good day," the owner sneers, staring until Pete finally retreats, not without sending you a lecherous leer.

You watch after him and swallow, "I'm sorry–"

"You okay?" The man holds the dripping cup, foam on his name tag that reads 'Curtis'.

"Yeah, thanks," you murmur, "I didn't mean to make a scene."

"No worries, you need anything, just ask for Curt," he gives a curt bow and backs away, leaving your to wallow in a stormy rush of nerves.

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

The Grand A-Z List of Whump 2/3

This list contains ~174 items listed I to Q

As always, I heavily encourage people to research topics thoroughly when writing. Whump is generally a 'dead dove' sort of topic, however it is important to avoid stereotypes/misinformation. This lists intention is to not glorify/romanticise sensitive topics in any way.

This is a comprehensive list of injuries, Illnesses and tropes - including those from the Whumptober 2023 trope vote!

All submissions are listed in italics, and those who wanted to be tagged will be included at the end. If you have any more submissions: please send them via DM/my ask box.

[A-H] [R-Z] [NSFW List]

List below the cut:

I

ICU

Identity reveal

Ignorance is Bliss

Ignoring an Injury

Immersion foot syndromes (Prolonged exposure to damp and cold)

Immobilization

Immortal healed wrong

Immunodeficiency

Impalement

Improvised medicine/treatment

Indigestion

Infected (Blood, Wound, Tattoo etc)

Infested

Injured caretaker carrying an even more injured whumpee.

Injured whumpee instructs caretaker how to treat them.

Injury Discovery

Injury Revelation

Insecurity

Insomnia

Insults

Internal Bleeding

Interrogation

Interventions

Intimate whumper

Intubation

Involuntary whumper

Isolation

Isolation/Quarantine

Itching

J

Jailed

Jamais vu (The experience of being unfamiliar with a person or situation that is actually very familiar.)

Jealousy

Jet Lag

Jumping (to safety, forced to jump)

Just dying in general.

K

Keeping quiet because the enemy is nearby

Keeping the whumpee awake

Ketosis (body burning fat for energy)

Kidnapped by the opposing team

Kidnapping

Kidney Stones

Killed! (Again and again and again for the lovely immortal whumpees<;3)

Kneeling

Knife through hand and into wall/floor

Knocked Out

L

Lab Rat

Laryngitis

Late realisation

Left for dead

Leprosy

Lichenberg scars/Lightning strike

Limited Medical Supplies

Live-Streamed/Broadcast torture

Lobotomy

Locked Up and Left Behind

Losing a Bet

Loss of appetite

Loss of reality

Lost (In the woods, city etc)

Lost voice

Low Blood Pressure

Lumbago (lower back pain)

Lupus

Lured into a trap

Lying

Lyme's disease

Lymphoma

M

Magical exhaustion

Magical healing

Magic whump (using spells to harm someone)

Manhandling

Major Character Death

Makeshift Splints

Malaria

Malnutrition

Manhandling

Mauled

Measles

Medical trauma

Medieval Torture

Memory Loss

Meningitis

Menstrual Cramps

Mental illness after being kidnapping (and addressing it)

Migraine

Military lovers

Military whump

Mind control/Manipulation

Miscommunication

Missing

Missing Person

Mistaken Identity

Misunderstanding

Mono

Mopping a sweaty brow with a cool cloth

Mudslides

Muffled Scream

Mugging

Multiple Sclerosis

Multiple Whumpees

Multiple Whumpers

Mumps

Muscular Atrophy

Mute

Muzzled

N

Nailed to a wall or floor

Nails digging into palms

Nail marks left in the whumpees skin

Natural Disasters

Nausea

Near-Death Experience

Necrosis

Neglect

Nerve damage

Nerve pain

Nightmares

No anesthesia

No goodbyes

Non-responsiveness

Nonhuman whumpee

Not allowed to die

Not Realizing They’re Injured

Nowhere else to go

Noxious (gas/fumes)

Numb

Numbness/Paralysis

O

Obsession (with finishing the mission, the whumper obsessed with the whumpee etc)

Open Fracture

Orthostatic hypotension (low blood pressure when standing)

Osteogenesis Imperfecta (brittle bone disease)

Outnumbered

Overdose

Overworked

Oxygen Deprivation

Oxygen Mask

P

Packing a wound

Panic attacks

Paralysis (this could be temporary or permanent)

Paranoia

Parent caring for sick child

Parkinson's

Passing out from pain

Passing out in arms

Permanent injuries that affect them long term

Phantom pain

Phobias (could lead to character stumbling and hurting themselves in an attempt to escape their fear)

Photographs/Polaroids ( Especially if they're of the kidnapped whumpee)

Physical Therapy

Piercing ripped out

Pinched nerve

Pinned Down/To The Wall

Plague

PMS

Pneumonia

Pneumothorax

Poisoning

Polio

Possession/possession recovery

Post-exertional malaise

Post-ictal confusion/any other symptoms (after a seizure)

POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome)

Power Fatigue

Praise (especially if it's from the whumper)

Pregnancy (morning sickness, self-conscious, hot flushes, tired and sleepy, general malaise, swollen feet, weird cravings...)

Presumed dead

Prisoner Exchange

Protecting friend from the whumpees own team (bonus points if doing it while injured)

Psychological Torture

Psychological Whump

Psychosis

PTSD

Pulled Muscles

Puncture Wounds

Q

Q-Fever

TAG LIST: Thank you very much to the following people for submitting ideas! (I apologise if some tags did not work, I'm not sure why tumblrs not letting me tag you!)

@I-eat-worlds | @greygullhaven | @letsgowhump | @cyberwhumper @firapolemos05 | @originaldeerhottub | @whumpilicious | @drawing-dinos82 | @carenrose | @stellarinuscronicles | @gottheseasonalblues | @marvelflame2010 | @sowhumpful | @avamcu | @courtneygacha | @lordofthewhumps | @autismmydearwatson | @kuddelmuddell | @the-most-handsome-ginger | @whirls-and-swirls | @painsandconfusion

[seikkoi]

𝗥𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗘𝗙 | tony stark x f!reader​

18+ minors dni

warnings: rough intercourse, shower s*x, explicit s*xual content

genre: theres no plot here just debauchery

word count: 1,329

a/n: i am bad at requests omg, sparsely proofread

Tony needs some stress relief- and he's far beyond waiting for you to finish your shower.

Tony reached a new limit for bullshit today. Actually, he was pushed much, much further.

The day had been jammed packed full of meetings, zoom calls, and annoying people. By five o’clock, he was one more redundant question away from breaking something. 

The tiring hours passed like kidney stones, but they passed regardless. Tony’s mind was set on relieving the headaches of the day before it was even over. The only thing that pulled him through was knowing that his favorite person was mere twenty minutes away- blissfully unaware of his plans.

To his credit, he does try to at least call you when he leaves the office to avoid showing up unannounced. You’re two miles in on the treadmill, music and footsteps drowning out the incessant vibrating. When Tony pulls into the driveway, you’re heading for the shower, still singing along. 

He’s only slightly worried something might be wrong when he calls out for you to not respond. Despite his eagerness and overwhelming need to put something else on his mind besides work, Tony tries to call you once more. Your phone buzzes absently on your bed as you rake shampoo through your hair. 

It’s nothing short of startling when you see a figure appear in your bathroom mirror. Your eyes focus, letting out a breath when you realize it’s just Tony. You realize how loud your music must be as you couldn’t hear him coming upstairs. The shower didn’t help either, water flowing loudly in the tiled chamber. 

Tony’s quicker than you, turning down the speaker with a light grin. 

“What’s with all the stealth?”, you ask playfully, pouring more soap onto your hands. You weren’t too put off by Tony’s sudden presence. He was normally home around this time, but then again, you normally answered when he called to tell you he was on the way. 

“Easy to sneak up on you when you’re having a private concert.”, he retorts, stepping into the bathroom. You notice his eyes in the reflection only stay on you for a moment, before slipping down to admire your figure in the foggy glass. 

Tony wants to thank any god watching for the sight in front of him. He figures someone must be looking out for him since he has you. Everything he needed from life, right there. Not to mention how damn good you looked. 

“You’re just jealous of my performance abilities.”, you chuckle, turning a bit to face him. Tony can’t help staring through the wet glass at the soap cascading down your body.

“Rough day?”, you ask, thinking he zoned out. Tony’s hands move to unbutton his wrinkled shirt, kicking off his shoes. He really wanted to be patient and wait, but you made it more than impossible. 

“Something like that.” Tony mutters, pants falling to his ankles. It’s then that you notice the swell growing in his boxers as his watch clatters on the counter. 

“Most people would just wait their turn.”, you tease, keeping your body facing him. It never took much to get Tony worked up, and you should have known his motives for watching you shower in the first place. 

“You are the one thing I’ve needed all day”, he answers, removing the last of his clothing and pulling the shower door open. The glass quietly closes behind him, giving you only a second before his arms wrap around your waist, capturing your lips in a slow, desperate kiss. 

Your fingers thread their way into dark, dampening curls, Tony’s member twitching against your thigh. He groans at the taste of your lips, feeling like he’s spent the last eight hours in a desert. His tongue swirls at the soft flesh before enveloping your mouth completely. 

Tony caresses every bit of skin he can get his hands on, running along your wet, silky skin. Just as the sight of you can easily turn him into a desperate, impatient mess- the same is true for his touch. You gasp as his fingertips tease your hardened nipples, arousal building between your legs. 

The kiss becomes hungrier, teeth scraping swollen lips. Tony’s hand abandons your chest to grip your thighs and pull you up. You don’t dare release his mouth from yours as you wrap your legs around your waist. Tony holds you with ease, taking a few steps to pin you at the shower wall. You’re right below the shower head, water raining down between your bodies. 

“Missed me that much, huh?” you say panting, pulling away when you feel Tony lining his hard member up to your slick entrance. 

Tony moans overtake the sound of the shower as the tip of his cock pushes into you. “You have no idea how badly I needed this.” 

“Fuck,’ he hisses in a drawn-out swear. Tony sank into the soft, wet heat of your cunt. With each moan that fell from your lips, the annoyance of the day got further behind him. 

You can barely care about the sting of pain from the warm tile digging into your back, tightening your lips around Tony’s waist. He keeps an iron grip on your legs, fingertips surely leaving bruises. Around you, the heat and steam billow above your head. 

Your back arches into his deep, steady thrusts as Tony’s head rests against your shoulder. You know you’re not going to last long like this, the angle letting Tony graze the perfect spot that makes your hips shudder. His neediness only makes it worse, hearing the desperation in his groans. Still, you can tell that he’s holding back. 

“Not made of glass,” you manage between gasping moans, humidity and steam dripping along your face. “Take what you need.”

It’s more than Tony needed to hear, pressing your body flush to the wall and thrusting into you hard. 

Despite your words a moment ago, his cock rams against your walls with enough force to make your hips sting as you cry out. 

The delicious spot he was simply grazing earlier takes every rough stroke. Your eyes roll at the overwhelming pleasure. 

You secretly hoped that Tony needed you every time he had a rough day at work. This needy, frustrated mood looked painfully good on him- bearded jaw clenched with furrowed brows. 

You feel your cunt grow wetter around him, sliding down your drenched bodies with the flow of the water. It’s not long until all your mind can focus on is the heavy air and Tony throbbing inside of you. The knot in your core surges each time he bottoms out and groans against your shoulder. 

“Better?”, he taunts, feeling your body shudder against him. 

You are much too fucked-out at this point tell Tony how good he feels. You can feel your legs weakened around his waist as Tony keeps you upright. Your fingers tighten in his hair, causing him to moan out your name in response.

The ache in your core starts to become unbearable, the soft walls of your spasming. Tony’s not far behind you, rough strokes turning unsteady as more curses escape him. His cock finds that sensitive spot twice more before you’re clamping around him, back arching against wet tile. Pleas of Tony’s name fall in rapid order as he reaches his own end. While your high finishes, he buries himself inside you, relishing in your shaky breaths. 

Eventually, Tony lets you stand, looking a thousand times more relaxed than when he walked in. Although you technically just did him a favor, he wears a smug grin on his face. 

Before you can give him shit for it, Tony cups your face in his hands to kiss you again, stroking your cheek. 

It’s a brief kiss, the sweet, heart-melting kind that reminds you why you (happily) tolerate him in the first place. Not to your surprise, he quickly ruins the moment.

Tony’s hand leaves your face to gesture at the walls around you, eyes inspecting gridded corners with impunity.  

“You ever think about getting a bigger shower?” 

[hoedamn-eron]

baby, please - part 17

It's your first Christmas without your family, but Santiago makes it up to you.

Warnings: Mega heavy on Christmas talk. Mentions of pregnancy complications from the previous chapter. Mentions of shitty in-laws. Gabrielle isn't actually in it, but she's being a bit distant but you know. It's fine. Lot's of dialogue, again. Not proofread whatsoever. Santi and Frankie have an argument we're not privvy to. Word count: 4,724 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Apologies this is late, but here is Christmas with Santi! I did mention it in a post, but I'll mention it again here: please be aware that part 18 won't be posted until 11/01 (11th January) due to a busy Christmas period. I need to catch up with myself, and I start a new job in the New Year, so I won't be to write as much as I was able to before.

Edited because Gabs isn't married to Andy, she's married to Matthew 😂 it's Courtney who is married to Andy! Now I'm going to have to double check all of my chapters to see if everyone is married to the correct person 😂

Part 16 ● Series Masterlist ● Part 18

You’d been taking it easy since your stay at the hospital a few weeks ago.

You took less responsibilities at work (your friends wanted you to cut down on your hours, but you just couldn’t do that), and you begrudgingly accepted the help of others to help you pack for your move next month. Speaking of your friends, they’d been checking in on you multiple times a week, and every time, you tell them you’re fine. Really.

The twins were fine. You were fine. Everyone was fine.

“You have a case of placenta previa.”

You look at Dr Montgomery, confused, from your place on the ultrasound table. “What’s that?”

“Your placenta is low, and covering the cervix,” she replied, looking at the screen as she pressed a few keys on the keyboard, then moving the wand over your bump. “Usually, it’s detected at your 20-week ultrasound, but it must have been missed, especially since you’re having twins.”

“Is it...is everyone okay, is it dangerous?”

“It can be risky, but we’ll keep an eye on you,” Dr Montgomery said. “The bleeding was caused by this, and stress. You’ll need to come back for another ultrasound at 32 to 33 weeks. It may have moved on its own by then, but otherwise, we may have to look at a caesarean birth at 37 weeks.”

“What? No! I wanted to go as natural as possible,” you say, your eyes widening. You had a plan! “I can’t be out of commission for 6 weeks with twins!”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not what you wanted, but I strongly advise you look into it,” she replies, giving you a sympathetic look before turning off the machine. “I also recommend you take it easy if you can. I’m not saying strict bed rest, but just...relax a bit more.”

So that’s what you’ve done...you’ve relaxed. You’ve downloaded a kick counting app, something you should have done a while ago, so you could count the kicks from the babies, just in case. So far, they’d been back to normal – and by ‘normal’, you mean they were using your bladder as a soccer ball, with a shot to the kidneys every now and then.

Santi had arrived in the hospital just as Dr Montgomery had given you the okay to go home. Beth had left just after the results of your ultrasound (at your insistence), so you were packing your bag as Santi ran into your room, breathless and eyes wide. You’d looked at him with equally as wide eyes, before you hurriedly caught him up, telling him everything was okay, that you just needed to take it easy.

You introduced him to Dr Montgomery, who explained the situation a little better. It calmed Santi down a little, but you still noticed him tapping his foot as he nodded along, his hands resting on his hips as he listened intently. He kept glancing at you, as if you would collapse or suddenly disappear.

He gave you a lift home (in his truck) and insisted he stay for dinner. He cooked some food for the both of you, and you both ate on your couch, Santi wanting to know every detail to what happened. He apologised again and again for not being there, but you told him it was Thanksgiving weekend, you don’t blame him for not being there. No-one could predict what would have happened.

Dr Montgomery had booked you in for another scan a few days before Christmas. Santi insisted on going with you, which you were grateful for, of course. Unfortunately, your placenta hadn’t moved much, and you were booked in for a c-section for the end of January.

You sulked as you walked out of the hospital, pouting.

Santi gave you a small nudge, walking beside you. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.”

“I wanted to give birth naturally,” you mumble, as you both approach the truck.

Santi grabs your arm gently, stopping you as you stop at the bed of the truck. “I know it’s not what you wanted, and that does suck for you. I’m sorry. But Dr Montgomery said it was the safest option for you and them.”

You sighed. “I feel like it’s...it’s like I’m not...like I’ve already failed as a mother, by bringing them into the world that way.”

Santi looks at you, his eyes filled with empathy. He places a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Listen to me," he says, his voice soft but firm. "Having a c-section doesn't make you any less of a mother. What matters is that you and the babies are safe. That's the priority."

You lean against the truck, staring at the ground as a mix of emotions wash over you. "I just wanted everything to be perfect, you know? A beautiful, natural birth story to tell them when they're older."

Santi gently lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Life never goes according to plan, especially when it comes to something as unpredictable as having kids. We should know.” he grins at you, wiggling his eyebrows a little.

You give a small laugh at his quip.

He continues. “But that doesn't lessen the love you have for them or the strength it takes to do what's best for their well-being." He pauses, before giving you a reassuring smile. "You're not failing as a mom. If anything, you're making the tough decisions now because you love them so much."

You take a deep breath, absorbing his words, before nodding. “Okay.”

Santi studies you for a moment. “C’mere.” He pulls you into a comforting hug, and you melt into him, allowing the warmth of his embrace to provide a momentary escape from the overwhelming emotions of your appointment with Dr Montgomery. "We'll get through this together.”

You nod against him, just holding him a little longer than necessary before pulling away. “Thank you.”

He gives another laugh. “Don’t thank me for speaking the truth, querida.”

You wipe away at the few stray tears in your eyes before turning to him. “Come on, I gotta get home. Help me get in this junk heap.”

“Hey, don’t insult my truck,” Santi says in mock offence, before he smirks and opens the door for you, and helps you climb in.

He drives you in silence as you talk to him about work, how you’ve taken a step back and you hate it but you’re willing to do it for less stress. Harriet was a little apprehensive when you told her, that she needed you on board for this newest client, that the product was about to launch but you didn’t back down. You told her that you weren’t backing away, but just taking on less of the load. Emily and Kelsie were happy to take some of the tasks; Hell, Kelsie was practically frothing at the mouth for the opportunity to add on some more responsibility than she already had. She told you herself she wanted most of the glory since this was her first big client.

“Bit of a shitty thing for Harriet to do, guilt trip you like that.”

You shrug. “That’s just Harriet. I’ve grown used to it,” you say. “Been there long enough.”

“Since graduation, right?”

You nod. “Yup.”

“Ever thought about leaving?”

Your eyes widened as you turn to look at him. “Why would I do that? I’ve built myself up, I have a relationship and reputation with clients.”

Santi shrugged nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on the road. “I dunno. Seems like you’re underappreciated and overworked, from what you’ve told me. Is there no other marketing firm in Florida?”

“There is - “

“Shop around,” Santi said, as if he wasn’t asking you to consider leaving the only current stability you had in your life right now. “See if anyone is hiring, for a better position or just to be treated a little better.”

“I think it’ll be the same everywhere,” you say, laughing a little.

Santi shrugged. “Just putting it out there.���

You nod. “I mean...I’ll think about it. Maybe after Christmas. Or after I’m back from maternity leave.”

It goes quiet again for a few minutes before Santi asks, “What are you doing for Christmas?”

You shrug. “I have no plans. Beth offered to have me over again, but I feel like I can’t keep intruding on their time.”

“If they’ve asked you to join them, I don’t think you’ll be intruding.”

Your family had still not contacted you. You had messaged the group chat again, accepting that there would probably be no reply still (and there wasn’t). You had another episode, alone this time, sitting on your couch late at night, stereotypically sobbing into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food ice cream as you watched Home Alone. It had been your favourite as a child, and something you had watched together with your family, after you’d put the decorations up. This year, you had no tree, no decorations, and you watched it alone.

It had been a sad night.

“You could always...” Santi said a little awkwardly, before clearing his throat. “You could always spend it with me. If you wanted. You don’t have to.”

You look at him with wide eyes, but Santi keeps his gaze on the road, an air of nervousness surrounding him. “You...want to spend Christmas with me?”

“I would have asked you to Thanksgiving but I didn’t...my sisters...”

“I wasn’t expecting you to invite me,” you said, sensing his anxiousness. “Please don’t think over on that.”

“I should have invited you - “

“Santiago,” you say, firmly, causing him to give a quick glance at you before looking back at the road, turning to your apartment’s street. “I am okay. We are okay. You were visiting your family for the first time in years. I didn’t need to be there.”

He goes silent, his jaw tensing like he wants to say something else, but he just sighs through his nose and gives a tight nod.

You reach over to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I would love to spend Christmas with you.”

“Have you spoken to Gabs recently?”

You look at Courtney with a confused look on your face as you reach for your water. “I mean, I spoke to her last week about the kids’ Christmas presents. Why?”

You and Courtney had met up for some last-minute Christmas shopping, and you stopped for some dinner before heading home. You had to admit, Gabrielle had been a little off when you spoke to her last week and you had asked if everything was okay, but she had just told you it was Christmas stress. It wasn’t so farfetched, Gabrielle hosted every year for her and Matthew’s families, so of course there was no reason to not believe her.

“Hm,” said Courtney, her brow furrowing. “She’s been a little…weird.”

You shrug. “I mean…she seemed off when I spoke to her, and I asked her about it but she said it was Christmas stress.”

Courtney shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s just…bugging me.”

“We could talk to her about it,” you say. “But you know Gabs, she’ll come to us eventually when she’s ready to let us know what’s going on.”

Courtney shook her head for a moment before giving you a look. “You’re right. You’re right! I’m just worried about her.”

“She’ll be fine,” you say. “You know what she gets like at Christmas, she’s hosting for everyone. And you know Matthew’s family.” You give Courtney a pointed look.

Courtney pulled a face. “Yeah. They’re assholes to her. But she keeps hosting!”

“Look, we tell her this every year and you know what she says – “

“’It’s only once a year’,” you both say in unison.

“Exactly,” you say. “So she’ll probably be back to normal after Christmas.”

“Fine. Fine,” said Courtney. “Let’s talk about something else. Like how you’re spending Christmas with Santiago!”

“I am,” you say, feeling your cheeks warming slightly.

“I think that’s nice,” Courtney says. “You’re like...starting your family. Getting the traditions in.”

You nod. “Yeah, I think so too. If this is something we do every year, then best start now, right?”

“You going to his place?” Courtney asked, before thanking the waitress for bringing your food over.

You nod, also thanking the waitress. “It’ll be easier since most of my stuff is packed up now. Thanks again for that, by the way.”

“No problem,” Courtney said, digging into her food. She gives you a grin. “It’s exciting, but also a little sad. It’s the end of an era, but the start of a new one.”

“In a month’s time, I’m going to be a mom,” you say, your eyes wide as if you don’t quite believe it yourself. “How weird is that?”

“Stop it,” said Courtney. “Who knew you would be the next one to have a kid?”

You snort, tucking into your own food. “I don’t think anyone thought I would have a kid, full stop.”

“No,” said Courtney, shaking her head. “I think you would have. Just in ten years.”

“Well, life didn’t work out how I’d planned,” you said, laughing. “But it’s good. Life is good.”

“And you’re happy?” Courtney asked.

Were you? Happy? You go quiet as you think. Obviously, you hadn’t planned to get pregnant, and with twins for that matter, in your tiny one-bedroom apartment, or not be speaking to your parents, or be questioning your job. But here you were, about to finish the year with a new house, amazing friends, new babies, and Santi.

Oh, Santi.

You never thought you would have met someone like Santi, even though you both weren’t together-together. You were lucky to have him; most men after one-night-stands would have left by now, but not Santi. He was sticking around, and in it for the long run. And honestly, you know he wouldn’t feel the same way about you than you felt about him, but he loved you as a friend and the mother of his kids, and you adored that he wanted to help you raise these babies together.

You slowly smile and look at Courtney. “Yeah…yeah, I’m happy.”

You pull up outside Santi’s apartment, taking a deep breath before climbing out of the car. You'd been simultaneously looking forward to Christmas with Santi, and dreading Christmas with Santi. He told you that it was his first year spending it in Florida since returning from Colombia and warned you that his Christmas dinner would probably be something he could quickly rustle up and wasn’t too much hassle - ‘very non-traditional’ was what he said. You didn’t mind; the year had been incredibly ‘non-traditional’ for you anyway.

You make your way up to his apartment, a large bag of presents in your hand. You knock, biting your lip nervously as you waited for Santi to open the door. You look up as the door opens, and you give a laugh at Santi. He was wearing an obnoxiously bright red jumper with a Santa knitted into it, and a Santa hat, and was wearing his usual jeans. He had a bottle of beer in his hand.

He holds his arms out wide as he grins at you. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” you say as you step inside, still laughing at his outfit.

Santi closes the door behind you before he brings you into a quick hug. “I don’t have much of an itinerary today, but Frankie and Sarah might stop by later with Sofía.”

You nod, pulling back from him. “That works out, actually, because I got something for Sofía,” you say, motioning to your bag.

Santi gives you a small, closed-lipped smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know I didn’t,” you say. “I wanted to. They’re a big part of your life, therefore, they’ll be a big part of our kids’ lives.”

Santiago doesn’t say anything as you make your way into his living room, where he had a small Christmas tree in the corner, overly decorated. You hear Santi make his way into the kitchen as you took the presents out of bag and placed them underneath, smiling as the pile grew. You look up as Santi makes his way into the living room. “Some of these from your sisters?”

He nodded, handing you a can of Diet Coke. “Yeah. I saw them last week, dropped off gifts then. I just got off the phone with them, since my nieces had just opened their Barbie dolls, with their cars, and pets, and accessories...”

You giggled, opening the can. “There’s an awful lot of girls in your family.”

He nodded, grinning. “I have a few cousins who are guys, who had a few boys. I'm not totally overruled.”

You give a small laugh as you sip at your drink. “So, do you want to do presents now? Or later? We could eat first, if you wanted.”

“The empanadas are resting in the fridge, and I have mac and cheese in the slow cooker,” said Santi, taking a gulp at his almost forgotten beer. “Got all sorts of vegetables and potatoes roasting in my oven too.”

“Sounds like a feast,” you say. You could feel your mouth watering. “Maybe we could eat soon?” you give Santi a big smile.

He chuckles at you before nodding. “I’ll put the empanadas in.”

You nod as Santi disappeared back through the kitchen. You look at the presents, and the small tree, and the fact that his living room was bare of any other decorations. Your mind wandered to the fact that this was his first Christmas since settling down, that he was in an actual home and not in a shack or seedy motel somewhere in South America. You really appreciated that he offered you his place for the day, that he’d gone out of his way – and his comfort zone – to bring you into his space again.

“Are you okay? Did something happen?”

You look up at him, blinking in confusion before you realise you were crying. You give a small laugh of slight embarrassment. “I didn’t realise I was crying, I'm sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, cariño,” he said, taking a seat next to you on the floor, giving you a concerned look as he rested his hand in the middle of your back. “Is there anything I can do for you? I knew today would be difficult, I don’t want you to be here if you don’t want to be - “

“No, Santi, really, I'm fine,” you say, cutting him off. “I’m just hormonal. I cry at everything.”

He hesitated for a moment before asking, “I don’t want you to feel obligated to be here, just because I asked - “

“I want to be here, Santi,” you say, reaching over and squeezing his hand that was still wrapped around a beer. “Really, I’m fine. I just...I like that I'm here, you know? I like that you want me here.”

Santi paused for a moment, looking at you before he gives a grin. “Of course, I want you here.”

You give another weak laugh. “Okay then.”

You help him in the kitchen with the food, and of course as soon as you sit down to eat, Frankie and Sarah make their way through with Sofía, profusely apologising for interrupting for not texting beforehand. Santi told them it was fine, and after a few hugs and a quick catch up between you and the Morales’, you all sit to have something to eat.

You get to know the Morales’ a little more intimately than you did on Halloween; you were in a smaller setting with fewer people, and Sarah wasn’t so distracted by the other guests. She was fun, and loud, and someone you could see getting along with for a long time. Frankie was the opposite; quiet, and observant, but you could see how much he opened up to Santi. He wasn’t rude to you at all, including you in the conversation when he could, and you could see why Santi loved him so much.

And then there was Sofía, who giggled at everything you said, and kept trying to steal the mac and cheese on your plate, even though Sarah kept adding more to her plate. You didn’t mind, but Sarah insisted she stop doing it (“It’s becoming a whole thing, we’re trying to nip it in the bud now, while we can!”). When you all finished dinner, you offered to do the dishes, but you were rebuffed when you were lead into the living room, Santi quickly clearing up the plates, saying he’d ‘deal with them later’.

Sarah plonks you down in the armchair by the tree before she hands you an envelope. “This is more for when the babies are here than right now, but it’s valid for three years.”

You look at her in confusion before you open the envelope, mouth falling open as you take a look at the expensive gift voucher. “Sarah, I can’t accept this!”

“Oh sure you can,” she says, waving you off.

You thank her profusely, before you lean down and grab a few boxes from under the tree. “I got some things for Sofía – “

“You didn’t have to do that!” cried Sarah.

“Don’t be silly, here,” you say, handing the toddler the boxes, who took more interest in the wrapping paper than the actual present.

As you and Sarah sit, you look up for Santi and Frankie, who were strangely quiet. You’re taken aback to find them stood close together, quietly arguing with one another. Frankie was pointing at Santi’s chest and saying something too quiet for you to hear, but it was filled with anger, nonetheless. Santi merely argued back.

You look away, putting a mental note in it. You’ll ask Santi about it later.

As Sofía played with the wooden doctor’s set, and the baby doll that you’d gotten along with it, you chatted to Sarah before Frankie finally made his way over. “I think we oughta go.”

Sarah nodded. “Shoot, you’re right, we promised we’d see your mom like, an hour ago.”

As they gather their things and say their goodbyes (Santi and Frankie were still tense), you and Santi were left alone. You look around and sigh, before looking back at him. “What was that about?”

“What?” Santi asked, going around the living room and collecting wrapping paper, avoiding eye contact.

“You and Frankie, what were you arguing about?”

“Oh, nothing,” said Santi, shaking his head. “Something stupid with Benny, you know how it is.”

You don’t feel like he’s telling you the truth, but you know if you pry, Santi is more likely to close up. You slowly nod at him. “Okay. Sure, yeah.”

He finally looks at you and gives you a tight smile. “Everything is okay, hermosa.”

You hesitate before nodding then glancing at the presents under the tree. “I think we should do our gifts now.”

“Okay,” Santi said, before patting you on the back as he passed you to go back into the kitchen, tossing the papers away.

You settle on the floor by the tree, and lean over and grab a few gifts, placing them by Santi as he joined you moments later. “I didn’t go overboard - “

“I don’t believe that,” Santi said from his own place under the tree before he pulled out a small box, wrapped somewhat neatly, and placing it in front of you. “Now, this doesn’t look like a lot but - “

“Stop, Santi, it’s fine,” you say. “It’s about the sentiment.”

Santi nodded, before going quiet, glancing at you at the present. You grin and nod to him. “You go first.”

He gives a small laugh before nodding at the boxes in front of him. “Any particular order?”

“Nope,” you reply.

Like a child, Santi didn’t have to be told twice. He immediately tore into the gifts, smiling widely at the new shirts you’d bought him, and a nice watch. He immediately put it on, before admiring it.

“This is nice,” he said, still admiring it.

“I know you like swimming, so it’s waterproof too,” you say. “And it tracks your exercise. Since you refuse to get an Apple Watch, I went for the next best thing.”

“Thank you, hermosa,” he says, before opening his last gift. He pauses as he looks down at the strap for a guitar.

“I know you’ve been trying to get back into it, and I know your current strap is falling apart,” you say, smiling. “I thought you could do with an upgrade. And look!” you pull the strap from the wrapping before finding the end and pointing. “I have it engraved with your initials.”

“This is…this is great, cariño. Thank you,” he said, before he stands quickly and leaves the room. He comes back a few moments later, guitar in hand as he settles back on the floor with you, practically ripping off the old strap. He puts on the new one, and why he was fiddling with it, he pushed the small box towards you. “Like I said, it’s not a lot…”

“Santi, please,” you say as you open the gift. You pause at the sight of the Tiffany box, glancing up at Santi who was now looking at your nervously.

You open the Tiffany box, to find a silver chain-link bracelet, with a charm of a Christmas tree hanging off it. You gingerly take it out the box, looking at it more closely.

“I have more charms, but I can’t give them to you yet,” he said. “I got the tree because it’s…it’s our first Christmas together.”

Oh my God, you might burst into tears.

No, actually, you’re already crying.

“Santiago,” you say, in a high-pitched cry, looking at the bracelet, at the delicate green charm of the Christmas tree.

“Oh, no,” he said, scootching over to you and bringing you into his arms, where you sobbed into shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry. If you don’t like it – “

“Don’t like it!?” you cry, pushing away from him, looking between him and the bracelet. “I love it. Put it on me!” you shove it at him before presenting your wrist to him.

Santi chuckled as he shook his head in disbelief, carefully fastening the bracelet around your wrist before he gave a soft kiss to the warmth of your skin. Your heartbeat loudly in your ears as Santi gave your wrist a squeeze and he looked at you with a warm smile on his face. You look at the bracelet, the charm sitting pretty. You smiled widely at it, tears still falling down your cheeks.

“Please, stop crying,” laughed Santi, reaching up to wipe your years away.

“I can’t,” you say, laughing back as you look at him. “I’m pregnant, and hormonal, and you got me a really nice, sappy gift. I love it.”

“Good. I’m glad.” He goes quiet for a moment before he swallows nervously. “I…”

You look at him as he goes quiet. “Yeah?”

The two of you just staring at each other. Eyes locked onto his, you search for the words that seem to linger unspoken on his lips. There's a certain vulnerability in his silence, a hesitance that hangs in the air like the delicate balance before a confession.

"What is it?" you prompt again gently, your heart quickening in anticipation.

His eyes flicker nervously, and you can almost sense the internal struggle within him. It's as if he's wavering on the edge of an abyss, grappling with emotions that have finally found their way to the surface. Could he…could he be trying to say what you think he…

He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling in tandem with the weight of his unspoken words. You can feel the gravity of the moment, the tension building between you two, as if the universe itself is holding its breath in anticipation of what he's about to say.

“The next charm you’ll get is in a few weeks, at the baby shower,” Santi finally said, after a long pause.

Oh. That wasn’t what you expected at all. You were –

Wait.

You pause, your brow furrowing as you look at him, tears finally stilling. “The what?”

Santi freezes, his face falling as he looks at you. “Oh, shit.”

Tagged - @khonsulockley, @bluenredndeath, @superficialfeelings, @othersideoftheparadise, @beezusvreeland, @itsmytimetoodream

[peachshadows]

SD C3

MK: dude-

Peng: you absolute fool. How dare you speak so inelegantly in front of the Empress who has such delicate ears they may bleed with your ugly words

Mac: insult me ONE more time you mother-

—-

Servants: ohh, he’s adorable

MK: *pulls out staff*

Servants: oh shit. He’s packing heat!

SWK: how the hell

—-

MK: I’m in a living nightmare-

MK: *sees potential family members*

MK: *starts vibrating*

MK: I’m going to call you Uncle

Azure: wha- I can use this. Go ahead. *smirking at macaque*

Mac: *glaring back* try it bitch. I dare you. *shifts closer to the ‘baby’*

SWK: *radiating anger*

—-

MK: oh my gosh I remember thi- *watches shadowplay play out* yeah no. Nope. This ain’t it fam. Need to get home. Now.

—-

Servant: have a drink

MK: *flashback to when Mei got him drunk and sent him videos of breaking into canon Mac’s dojo and sobbing about he forgives him just don’t leave him again* Eh- *more flashbacks to clinging to Mei and promising her a kidney, and his firstborn child if she remains his BFF even though she and Red Son had a whole training montage and how he knows Red is prettier with his huge biceps and no he’s not in love with Red. Shut up Mei* best if I don’t

Servant: PROOF

MK: now how the hell did you draw that conclusion?!

—-

Mac: I just want a kid. This kid could be our kid.

SWK: I do NOT want a kid

Mac: fine. He’s MY kid. But no take backs when you realize how awesome MY kid is.

MK: I feel a sudden sense of dread

—-

MK: I just wanna go home

Mac: you are home

SWK: de heck he is! >:(

YEAHHH I LOVE THESE!!

[2hot444this]

Skin care 101

Know that you don't need a 10-step, expensive skincare routine for a good skin. But, you can do the bare minimum like--

#1 Stop touching your face. I don't get why people complain about acne and skin problems when they keep picking on their face, rubbing their nasty hands all over their face.

#2 Wash your face if you get sweaty. Don't wipe it with napkins/hand kerchiefs.

#3 Never pop/pick on your pimples. And there's nothing to hide either.

#4 Stay hydrated! Don't overdo it though. Drink a litre of water (on an empty stomach) right after you wake up. Your blood will actually be filtered by your kidneys more efficiently because it's more diluted. Then drink water as per your requirement in small instalments throughout the day. And after you come back from school/work drink a litre again. Do not over do it-- people have actually died. Never restrain from using the rest room.

#5 Off topic but never drink water right after your meal. Your stomach's pH value will be lowered and leads to indigestion.

#6 Consult a dermatologist. Don't self diagnose by these home-made DIY creams, face packs etc.

#6 Exfoliate 2x a week. You can take a handful of sugar and rub it along w/ your soap on your body.

#7 Invest in a gua sha tool if you can or just do face massage w/ your hands. It really works !

#8 Ain't nothing beats a good diet. Eat them fruits and veggies. I fixed my diet and it fixed everything in my life, not even kidding.

[geminiwritten]

game night ; bones

fandom: star trek

pairing: bones x reader

summary: after accidentally injuring yourself, you refuse to go to MedBay before attending a games night with the crew and your favourite grumpy (and very jealous) doctor

notes: this is bad!!! i am very sorry!!! i didn’t want to abandon it, so i forced myself to finish and it took several days, it is very disjointed, but i hope readable? let me know what you think!

important -

in this fic, the crew play pool (or billiard) but i am australian and to avoid confusion (because we probably play it differently / wrong, and i am not a professional lol) here are some notes:

the balls with the band of colour (more white) are called ‘bigs’ and the full colour balls are called ‘smalls’

you get a second shot if you sink one of your own balls

your opponent gets two shots if you sink the white ball

word count: 5363 (oops)

“Shit,” you snatch your hand away from the machinery in front of you, shaking it as if the movement would rid you of the hot stinging sensation spreading through your fingers. You look at your gloves and curse again, finding all four of the material fingertips burnt through.

“Are you okay?” Clarke, one of the newer lieutenants on board, asks as he approaches your workbench. He’s very handsome, with sandy blond hair and bright green eyes, there were five people in this room alone that would sell a kidney for just one date with him. You, on the other hand, had forgotten about his existence less than ten seconds after he handed you the tool you’d asked for this morning.

You snatch the gloves off and stare at the hot pink flesh of your fingers, “Fine, just frustrated.”

He gingerly grabs your hand, turning it toward himself, “come over here, you need cold water.”

He tows you toward the large trough across the lab, where a spread of tools and parts were waiting to be washed or drying out on the nearby benchtops. You spot a small square contained with several labels reading ‘KEENSER’S LUNCH – DO NOT EAT’ in a variety of languages, and you can’t help but giggle. The little alien was yet to find out that it was best friend Mr. Scott always stealing his food.

Clarke turns on the faucet and checks that the water is cool before pulling your hand under it. You only realise then how close you are to him, and that his eyes aren’t just green but have little flecks of gold in them, and that there are several sets of eyes glaring at you from across the room.

“Thanks,” you say, though you can’t help acknowledging the fact that you were more than capable of doing this by yourself.

“I’m no doctor,” he chuckles softly, “but you should probably go to MedBay.”

Your heart feels like it flips in your chest, sending a woozy amount of blood to your head and undoubtedly turning your cheeks pink. “I-I think I’m good, but thanks again.” You pull your hand away and dry it gently on the front of your uniform.

“What’ve ya done now’?” Scotty asks, walking toward you with a comical amount of greasy fluid smeared across his face.

“Nothing, just accidentally-”

“Touched a soldering iron,” Clarke interrupts, and though you know it’s out of concern you can’t help the indignant scowl that settles between your brows.

“I’m fine,” you say.

Scotty glances at your hand, and instead of expressing concern his lips curl into a cheeky grin, “think ya need to go to MedBay, angel.”

From the corner of your eye, you see Clarke do double-take at the affectionate nickname.

“No, I’m fine,” you repeat.

“I can take her?” the lieutenant offers, at which your frown deepens.

“Can I just go back to my quarters?” you ask Scotty, “I just need a plaster.”

Scotty nods, “it’s well past ya finish time anyway.”

You smile politely at Clarke before turning back to your workstation and haphazardly untying your apron with one hand. Scotty begins packing up your tools before you can, and you know it’s his way of showing concern, but you still frown.

“I’ll see ya later, then?” he says as you turn to exit.

“Tonight?”

“Game night,” he replies, “the capt’n got that old pool table in workin’ order, remember?”

You vaguely remember being cornered by Jim yesterday afternoon after yet another lengthy shift, and being ordered to attend a night of drinks and shenanigans since the ship was going to be in friendly space for the next few days.

“Right, uh, do you know who else is coming?” you ask.

Scotty’s grin returns, “the usual.”

You narrow your eyes and open your mouth to demand he elaborate when Clarke cuts you off, “did you say a pool table? I love that game, my dad had one when I was little.”

“Oh, then you should come along lieutenant,” Scotty says, “the more the merrier.”

Your head aches with the effort that it takes not to roll your eyes. “Great,” you say, “then I’ll see you both later, now if you’ll excuse me, I need to shower.”

You reach the turbolift and step inside, thanking the universe for its speed when you arrive on the upper-most floor containing crew quarters in less than a few seconds. The familiar corridor leads you to your room, where you sigh dramatically as you kick off your shoes and wrestle out of your red shirt. Your hand stings when you step under the hot water of the shower, so you have to hold it out while you awkwardly wash your hair and body. Sitting on your bed in only a towel, you rummage through your personal medical kit for some plasters to wrap your fingers. You try desperately to recall even an ounce of your first aid training but unfortunately, there was always one huge distraction that prevented you from ever learning anything when it came to medical training. A distraction that happened to be the very doctor who was attempting to teach you.

You lay in your towel for longer than necessary, flipping through data on your PADD and absently watching the time until you decide to get dressed. Eventually you pull on a pair of denim shorts and an old Starfleet Academy shirt before snatching a hair tie from the table beside your bed and slipping into your sneakers. The crew commons are located only two floors above you, where the rec rooms resides behind the huge cafeteria and kitchen. You can hear the sounds of laughter and conversation before you even reach the end of the corridor.

“Look who finally decided to join us!” Jim exclaims the second he spots you; his steps are unsteady and his grin is wide, he’s already very tipsy.

“Hey Captain,” you giggle, “you look merry.”

Nyota bounds toward you and wraps her arms around your neck, “oh, thank goodness you’re here, I’m losing.”

Behind her you can see the pool table situated between the bar and a cluster of low, blue sofas. “Nyota Uhura losing a game? That’s unheard of.”

“I know,” she gasps, handing you a drink, “now catch up and let’s kick some butt.”

Before you can take a sip, Jim hands you a small glass of clear liquid, “first, you have to do a shot, it’s a rule.”

You roll your eyes before swigging from the little glass. It burns your tongue and the back of your throat, spreading a fire through your chest as it descends to your stomach. “Holy shit, what is that?”

He chuckles, “no idea, something Chekov picked up a few planets ago.”

You cringe and down half the bottle of your drink in an attempt to quell the burn.

“Y/N!”

You tip the bottle back down and find Clarke standing right where Nyota had been. “Hey,” your voice is raspy, still recovering from the shot.

He chuckles, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, that was just-”

“I know, the captain made us all do one when we got here.”

Jim grins and smacks a hand on Clarke’s shoulder, “you didn’t tell me you were making friends down in the engine room, angel.”

You roll your eyes once again and swap your now empty bottle with the full one in Jim’s hand, “maybe you should stop talking before I stick a pool cue up your ass, Captain.”

His eyes narrow at your sweet smile, “we’ll see who ends up with a pool cue up their ass tonight.”

“Gross,” you giggle as he turns around, and you follow him toward the pool table with Clarke in tow.

Sulu, Scotty, and Keenser are surrounding the table, arguing about whether or not Keenser was cheating while a couple of Nyota’s friends watch in amusement. Chekov is seated on one of the low sofas along with three other young lieutenants you’d only met once or twice, and Spock is standing alone by the back wall, no doubt assessing the physics of the game in front of him. Your heart practically leaps into your throat when you spot the doctor, sat on a barstool beside Spock with his arms crossed over his chest and the usual frown set between his brows.

Your feet forget how to move in coordination and you stumble forward, but Clarke is quick to catch you. His arms wrap around your shoulders and steady you before helping you upright. “Thanks,” you say, as you look up to find his green eyes much too close for the second time today.

He smiles boyishly, “you’re a little accident prone, aren’t you?”

You nod and brush yourself off, glancing over his shoulder at the stool beside Spock, now empty.

“Come on, angel, stop flirting and let’s play,” Jim calls, now in possession of the pool cue Sulu had been holding.

Keenser hands you the other cue when you reach the table, before turning back to Scotty and launching right back into their argument.

“Hey,” Clarke says, still beside you, “I’ve been meaning to ask, why does everyone keep calling you angel?”

Sulu stops in his pursuit to the bar, with a wide grin stretched across his lips “because have you ever seen anyone who looks more like they fell from heaven? She’s gorgeous.” He stops to kiss your cheek and take the empty bottle from your hand. “Another?”

You nod, “thanks, Sulu.”

“Well, that is true,” Clarke’s cheeks turn a pale shade of pink, “you are gorgeous.”

Unsure of what to say you simply smile and step up to the table, watching Jim arrange the balls inside the plastic triangle. “Are you sure you know how to play, angel?” he smirks.

“Are you sure you know how to play, Captain?”

He lines the white ball up with the chalk marker and gestures to you, “ladies first.”

You poke your tongue out at him before taking your stance and leaning over the table. As you place your hand on the felt to line up the cue, pain ripples through your fingers and you can’t help but cringe.

“Are you okay?” Clarke asks again, and you begin to wonder if those were his first words.

“I’m fine.” You regain your focus and bite your cheek to ignore the pain in your fingers, and when you draw the cue back to take the shot, you notice blood seeping through the plasters. Oops.

Despite your injury, you break the triangle perfectly and the balls scatter across the table. One finds its way into the corner pocket, eliciting a cheer from your audience of crewmates and a little squeal from yourself.

“Suck it, Kirk,” you move around the table, “smalls are mine.”

You position yourself for the next shot, stretching onto your toes and leaning halfway across the table in order to properly reach the white ball. You draw the cue back just as a figure steps into view on the other side of the table, your heart leaps once again and your aim falters. The cue hits the ball way off centre and sends it wobbling across the green felt. “Damn it.”

Jim chuckles, “what happened, angel? Your first shot was so good!” His eyes dart from you, to the doctor, and back.

“You suck,” you say, stepping back and holding the cue upright.

With everyone watching Jim’s move intently, you take the chance to glance at your fingers. Pain is pulsing steadily through your hand, nothing excruciating but certainly uncomfortable, and blood blots the white plasters.

Clarke moves to your side once again, “do you need to go to MedBay, or we can ask Dr-”

“Seriously, Clarke, I’m fine,” you say, “I don’t want to bug Dr. McCoy on his night off.” You look over at the man in question, his expression grumpier than usual as his eyes bore into you, but the moment you meet his gaze he looks away. In fact, he turns his entire body and moves toward Spock, who is standing quietly beside Nyota.

“You’re up,” Jim says, drawing your attention back to the game.

You struggle to focus on your shot, your mind replaying the doctor’s face over and over, and wondering why he could possibly be angry with you. It was strange that he hadn’t come to see you yet, to talk to you, it has been a while since you’ve all hung out together like this and you miss him.

You take your shot and somehow sink a ball, and on your second shot you manage to position the white ball in the most inconvenient place for Jim. “I think I may have underestimated you,” he says as he steps forward, wearing a smirk.

After offering Jim a brief but cheeky grin, you decide to make the first move with Leonard. Not in that way, though you did wish you could, but you decide to approach him first and find out if he really is angry with you and if so, what the hell did you do.

You first retrieve two drinks from the bar before sliding up beside him, once again seated in the bar stool beside Spock. “Hey McCoy, thirsty?”

Relief washes over you in a big hot wave when he looks up and his expression breaks into a grin. You’re positive your cheeks have turned beet red, but you don’t care, Leonard McCoy is grinning at you as if you’re the sole reason for his happiness and that’s enough to make you dizzy. Could you imagine if you actually did kiss this man, or sleep with him? You’d probably going into cardiac arrest. Good thing he’s a doctor.

“Hey, angel,” the nickname from his lips is so different than from anyone else’s, and it makes your heart thump even louder in your ears. He takes the drink from your hand and his fingers brush yours, making you wince. His face falls, immediately wondering if he had done something more than take an offered drink or if you were just uncomfortable with his touch – which hurts to think –, but then he notices your plaster-wrapped fingers.

“Y/N,” his voice is a warning, and the fact that he’s using your real name is enough to make you cower... and turn you on a little bit, but that’s something to unpack later.

You hide your injured hand behind your back, “Doctor.”

He stands from the stool and easily towers over you as you begin retreating toward the pool table. “What did you do to your hand?”

At that moment you hear your name called from behind and thank the universe for its timing. “Nothing, Doctor,” you reply, “now if you’ll excuse me.”

You turn quickly and begin hurriedly assessing the arrangement on the table before electing to stay on the side of the table with your back to the grumpy doctor. You bend over and try not to cringe when you position your injured hand on the felt, but the pain is only brief before you realise that you’re fully bent over right in front of Leonard. You’ve dreamt about this more times than you care to admit.

Deciding that you’ve already dug your grave, you might as well lie in it too, you arch your back and stretch a little further, feeling your shorts ride up your thighs. You draw the cue back and take the shot, sending one of your balls and one of Jim’s sailing into opposite corner pockets.

Jim chuckles, “thanks for that, angel.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, as you step around the table.

You can see Leonard now, and his face is a mask of practiced calm, but you know him too well to believe it. That man is undoubtedly flustered. You try not to giggle audibly as you lean down to take your second shot, but the distracting doctor clouds your mind and your aim is completely ruined. The white ball sails across the table without hitting a single other ball.

“Fuck!” you exclaim, at which everyone laughs.

Jim smirks, “what’s wrong, Y/N? Distracted?”

It takes all of your self-control not to throw the pool cue javelin-style across the table. “Get on with it, Kirk.”

You want to talk to Leonard again, but you can feel the plasters on your fingers growing damp with blood.  He was always weird when you got injured, almost panicky despite being a doctor who deals with literal catastrophes on almost a daily basis. You didn’t doubt he would shred you for hurting yourself and not going straight to MedBay, though in your defence you definitely didn’t think the burns were bad enough to blister and bleed.

“Did you want a few pointers?” Clarke asks, almost startling you with how suddenly he’d appeared beside you.

You frown, “with what?”

“The game,” he gestures toward the pool table.

“Oh, uh,” the lieutenant looks like a puppy dog, with wide eyes and a small pout, practically begging you to find him attractive. There are two women across the room wearing matching piercing glares, and you can’t help feeling obliged to accept his help. “Sure.”

He beams with self-confidence and follows you around the table as Jim announces that it’s once again your turn. Thankfully, most of the group has begun to lose interest in the game, settling back into the sofas or going to retrieve more drinks. You can even see Chekov and Sulu playing an intense game of Jenga at the bar.

“Okay, so you want to get a little lower, get your eyes in line with the shot,” Clarke says in your ear, and you start to wonder if this man has any sense of personal space. “Relax a little, you shouldn’t have to arch your back so much.”

You can’t stop yourself from giggling as it bubbles up, but Clarke pays no mind as he practically smothers you with his body to ‘help’ your game.

“Come on, angel,” Jim chuckles, “stop flirting and get on with it.”

Your head snaps toward him and if looks could kill, Jim would be a pile of ash on the ground. At the same time you look toward your captain, Clarke moves your arm to take the shot, since he’s practically controlling your body right now. The aim is way off with you once again distracted, and the white ball haphazardly knocks into a few other balls before sinking into a pocket itself.

You stand abruptly and take several steps away from Clarke. “Damn you, Jim, that’s completely your fault,” you say, pointing at the table.

“Hey,” he puts one hand up in surrender while the other holds his drink, “there were two people controlling that shot and neither of them were me.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Clarke says, “I didn’t realise you weren’t ready, that’s totally my fault.”

You wave a hand, “don’t worry about it.”

Eager to shake the lieutenant you rush to the bar to get another drink, where you coincidentally find your favourite doctor. “Bones,” you greet him again, holding your injured hand behind your back.

He nods, handing you a bottle before taking an unnecessarily large step back, “so- uh, you and that lieutenant, huh? Jim didn’t tell me you were seeing someone.”

You begin shaking your head before he’s even finished his sentence, “no, no, I- um, I’m not dating that guy, at all. Actually, I barely know him, he just started kind of following me around today, and it’s really weird but I’m too polite to tell him to leave me alone, that’s it.”

Bones frowns, “oh, well- I mean, it’s not really any of my business, so you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“Oh,” you nod once, “noted, sorry.”

His words weren’t cruel but you couldn’t help from hearing a bitter undertone. Something about the way he spoke made you feel stupid, and almost irrelevant, like he asked you a question just to be polite and there you were ranting and raving like an oversharing child.

“Wait, Y/N, I didn’t-” his words are cut short, but by what you don’t know as you were already halfway back to the pool table and halfway through the drink you’d only just received.

Jim quickly notices your frown and stops you before you can get to where the white ball is. “Are you okay? What did he say to you?” he asks.

“Nothing, I was just rambling,” you reply, “and I could tell he was getting annoyed so I left him alone.” You wave your hand dismissively, which somehow actually gets Jim to shut up, because he freezes mid-thought and doesn’t move to stop you from walking past.

You drain the rest of the bottle in your hand and discard it on a nearby table before getting ready for your shot. You lean over the table and rest the cue on your hand, the slight amount of alcohol you’ve consumed is only making your aim a little wonky, but you confidently draw the cue and strike the white ball. Shockingly, two of your own balls manage to find the same pocket and sink with a satisfying clunk.

“Did you see that?” you exclaim, turning to Jim only to find him staring blankly at the tabletop. “Are you absolutely stunned at my incredibly skills?”

“Damnit, Y/N,” Leonard says, startling you as he appears beside you and grabs your hand.

You wince as the sting from the pressure and movement ripples up your arm, and only then do you notice that the plasters are completely soaked with blood. “Oh,” you frown and inspect your hand, “that’s weird.”

“What the hell have you done?” he pulls your hand closer to his face and gently prods your middle finger.

You gasp, “ouch!”

The doctor’s frown deepens, and he turns to his best friend, “game’s over, she’s coming with me.”

Despite the situation, Jim still smirks, “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He winks as Bones rolls his eyes and tows you out of the room.

You’re a little too scared to speak as he rushes you down the hall and into the turbolift, but as the doors slide closed you realise that he’s basically been holding your hand this whole time. You try desperately to rationalise with yourself and remind yourself that he’s a doctor and your friend, and he’s just doing his job, but the stupid butterflies in your stomach continue to flutter restlessly.

“How did you do it?” he asks, his frown finally softening.

He’s standing right beside you, touching you in several places and your brain struggles to function. “When I fell from heaven?” you ask, and you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or nerves, but you start giggling.

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, but you can still see a tiny smirk underneath his hand. “No, angel, I’m not hitting on you right now, I need to know how you hurt your hand.”

“You’re not hitting on me right now, but you will later?”

Bones freezes, his expression torn between frustration and amusement as he considers whether or not the alcohol is influencing your words or not. “If you tell me how you hurt yourself,” he says, “I’ll flirt with you later.”

You grin, and it almost knocks all the air out of his lungs, “promise?”

“I promise.”

The lift’s doors ease open and you recognise the familiar MedBay as Doctor McCoy leads you toward it. It’s quieter than usual and you realise then that it’s actually been a while since anything had gone wrong or blown up. Jim really is getting good and being captain.

Leonard sits you on an empty bed, a hand on each shoulder, as he drags one of the medical carts over with his foot. “Do you want anaesthetic?” he asks.

You scoff, “it’s just a burn, Doctor, I’m not going into labour.”

He chuckles as he begins to unwrap the blood soaked plasters, “so it’s a burn?”

“Yep, soldering iron.”

“Why weren’t you wearing gloves?” his frown returns, “I’m going to kill Scotty, if he-”

In your lightheaded stupor, you press your free hand to his cheek and whisper, “I was wearing gloves.”

“What? Then how did you-”

“Don’t know,” you shrug, “this stupid part has been breaking every a week for almost three months, and every time I have to fix it, it just gets more and more stubborn. It doesn’t want to fuse together.”

“What part?” he asks as he sets the bloody wraps aside.

You glance down at your hand and see nothing but swollen pink flesh and blood; if you were sober, you’d probably have passed out by now. “One of the little filtering chambers from the main deuterium pipeline.”

“Deuterium?” he repeats, angrier than before, “Damnit, Y/N.”

The next thing you know, he’s pressing you back until you’re lying on the bed. A nurse hurries over at his call and then there’s a hypo in your neck. The room starts to blur, but the doctor remains in perfect focus as you fight your heavy eyelids, willing yourself to stay awake.

“It’s okay, angel, you’ll only be out for a minute,” he brushes your hair off your face as you finally lose the fight with the anaesthesia.

Your hand still hurts when you wake up, and you have to blink a few times to get your eyes to focus. The spinning in your head hasn’t stopped and when you sit up to see the grumpy doctor, you still want to giggle. “Hey Bones,” you emphasise his nickname, and you can swear you saw his scowl falter.

“You practically poisoned yourself,” he shakes his head as he carefully packs his equipment away, “deuterium is deadly in the best of cases, but in the bloodstream? You’d have been dead in a day if you didn’t bleed out first. Did it not concern you that the blisters were bleeding? I mean, sure blisters bleed occasionally but not that much, angel.”

Your desire to giggle is dampened and you swing your legs over the side of the bed so you can shuffle closer to the doctor. “I’m sorry,” you say, “I honestly didn’t think about the deuterium contamination, which makes a lot of sense because the filtering chambers are usually one solid piece, not two halves, so whoever installed that is going to get their asshole rip-”

Bones’ laughter stops your rant, and you’re forced to marvel at just how gorgeous this man really is.

“If I knew it was serious, I would have come straight to you,” you say as he helps you off the bed. Your feet are only a little unsteady and your head still dizzy, but that you blame on the ridiculously handsome man in front of you.

“I told you it was serious,” a voice calls from the corridor, and you turn to find Clarke entering the MedBay.

“Great,” Bones mutters, dropping something metal onto the metal tray and making a loud clang before wheeling the cart away.

Clarke walks right up to you and grabs your hand, “how are you feeling?”

“Fine,” you pull your hand back, “like I’ve been telling you all night.”

He chuckles, but it’s awkward, “you’re lucky Dr. McCoy is so good at his job.”

You don’t see it, but you hear Bones scoff, and that’s when your foggy brain finally manages to put two and two together. You almost gasp, but quickly mask it with a deep breath. He’s… jealous.

“He is the single best person aboard this ship,” you say, trying to ignore the warmth pooling in your cheeks. If it wasn’t for the alcohol still coursing through your blood and probably a little of the anaesthetic, you know you’d never have the guts to be so forward.

“The single best?” Clarke asks. You almost feel sorry for the guy, attempting to remain light-hearted as if he could convince himself that the way he saw you looking at the doctor was something platonic.

“Single best,” you repeat, at which Bones can’t help but smirk.

Clarke chuckles awkwardly again before gesturing toward the turbolift, “did you want to go back? The others are still playing and I’m sure they’ll be excited to see you’ve survived.”

“I guess,” you look back at Bones, “are you coming?”

He nods, “yeah, I’ll just finish packing up here. You two go ahead.”

Clarke tugs on your hand and you reluctantly follow him into the corridor and toward the lift. The doors open and you step inside, subtly pulling your hand out of his and trying to create more of a distance between the two of you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again.

You sigh, “yes, I am. I just-” he looks like a puppy dog, and you almost feel ungrateful for what you’re about to say. “Clarke, you’re really cool, and I’m sorry if I have completely misread the situation and if what I’m about to say is totally wrong, but I’m just not into you the way you want me to be.”

His face falls, and guilt washes over you, but then the doors of the lift begin to beep angrily as you stand between them preventing them from closing.

“Y/N, I-”

“I’m sorry,” you interrupt him and step back into the corridor, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The doors close and the lift begins its ascent. You take half a second to swallow your guilt before turning around and practically running back to the MedBay. Bones is almost exactly where you left him, though instead of cleaning up the mess he’d made while helping you, he was leaning against the bench with his face in his hands and letting out a long sigh.

“Am I that exhausting?” you ask.

He startles, but a smile quickly breaks across his face when he sees you, “you scared me, angel.”

“Sorry,” you cross the room as you speak, “I just couldn’t leave you to clean up after me, it didn’t seem fair.”

He chuckles, but its short, “what about your boyfriend? I don’t want to ruin-”

“Gross, no.”

“No?” he frowns.

You shake your head, “seriously, no, he’s not my type.”

“You have a type?” his lips quirk into a smirk.

“Yep,” you’re standing beside him now, facing him and leaning your hip on the bench, “I prefer brunettes.”

He rubs a hand down his face, as if trying to wipe away his grin, “well, I’m sure there are plenty of willing brunette lieutenants down in engineering.”

“Not my type either,” you say, unabashedly studying the doctor’s profile as you stand so close.

He chuckles, properly, and it makes your stomach flip, “so lieutenants aren’t your type?”

“Not that part,” you reply, “you said ‘willing’ but my type is more unwilling. You know, the avoidant, sarcastic, grumpy type.”

He sighs again, as if it’s taking all of his strength to remain composed, but he finally turns to you and you can feel his breath on your neck as he speaks. “Is that so?”

You nod, “yep, and you know what else?”

You’re both leaning in, and the air between you is electric. “What else, angel?”

“I’m a sucker for doctors.”

That’s enough for Leonard. He closes the distance before you can take a breath and presses his mouth against yours. It’s rushed, but sweet, and your bodies snap together like two magnets. Your arms wrap around his neck as his circle your waist and squeeze, making your heart race impossibly fast. When you pull apart, reluctantly, your vision blurs and your head spins, and you realise that the only reason your still standing is thanks to Leonard.

“I’m a sucker for accident prone engineers,” he whispers.

You giggle, “is that so?”

He kisses you again, several times, before kissing each of your cheeks and moving your bodies so that he is trapping you against the bench, turning your giggles into almost uncontrollable laughter.

“Did you still want to go back to the others?” he asks, pressing his body against yours in the most delicious way.

“I can think of about ten other things we could do,” you bite your lip.

“Really?” he kisses you again, “because I can think of about a hundred.”

END.

[creepypastasomethingsomething]

Could you write some x fem!reader with nurse Ann? Just little headcannons or (even better) your interpretation of her

I like her as a character and I'm quite curious to see your version of her :D

That sounds good 👍 I'll do both

Also, sorry it took so long to do this

Nurse Ann x Fem! Reader Headcanons

TW: mentions of Death and murder

Okay, let's first start off with my interpretation of Nurse Ann

I see Ann rather quiet and reserved, and pretty observant (with her surroundings and with people around her)

She keeps to herself most of the time and has trust issues (I mean, after what she went through, who wouldn't?), and only really trusts Jane, Dr. Smiley, E.J, Hobo Heart, and Liu

It did take some time for to warm up to the four guys since she didn't really like men ever since she came back to life

When she does speak, usually to scold E.J or Dr. Smiley for whatever reasons, her voice is a bit raspy

Jeff has a habit of making fun of her voice, which is pretty hypocritical of him since he sounds like he smokes several packs a day

He always regrets making fun of her after getting his ass kicked and getting chased around the forest by an angry undead nurse with a chainsaw

Doesn't stop him from doing it again, though

Since Ann is like Frankenstein's creature, being made out of different body parts and other people's skin, her limbs sometimes come loose or just full on come off

Everytime this happens, which isn't often, but isn't rare, she has to carefully sew her body back together and make not one mistake

Sometimes Liu has to get involved because he's pretty good with sewing

Ann takes really good care of her chainsaw

She cleans it from blood everytime she uses it and keeps it enclosed in a case when she's not using it to keep it safe

If anyone dares to touch the glass, Ann might have kneecaps to breaks and hands to cut off

When Ann's killing, she's usually quick with the death and saves the body for E.J so he can save the body's organs

Though there are times when, depending on the person, she's extremely brutal with them and gives them a slow and painful death

Most of her victims are men, but that doesn't mean women are safe from her rage

Whenever any of the Creeps who reside in the forest gets hurt or sick, Ann is usually where they go to so they can get fixed up

Though it is pretty hard to convince her to patch them up, especially if she hates that person *cough* Jeff *cough*

Giving her new sewing supplies to sew herself back together usually works, but not all the time

And this is mostly an idea, but I really like the thought of her wearing a vintage nurses outfit

Like from the 40s-60s

It would still be black and red like her canonical outfit she's always seen in

I also like the idea of her keeping her hair up when killing

Alright, now onto the X reader headcanons

Because Ann has trust issues, she's not close to a lot of people, and has never once dated after being brought back from the dead

But you must have done something, other than being a woman, to gain a lot of her trust if the two of you are dating

Maybe you're a human who somehow weaseled yourself into her heart by somehow surviving the forest, and somehow didn't die from her chainsaw

If that's the case, Ann protects you greatly from the dangers of the forest

She makes sure to let everyone know that if they hurt you in any way shape or form, she can and will kill them

Ann berates Smiley, E.J and Jeff the most and threatens to chop them into bits if they do anything stupid around you

She doesn't trust E.J or Dr. Smiley around you alone, because doesn't trust them to not try and eat your kidneys, and do some weird and messed up experiments on you

E.J isn't to scared since he's literally some sort of weird demon creature who could probably kill Ann, but he is just a tad bit scared if her

Ann probably makes some sort of deal with the Slender Man and his workers to make sure he doesn't get you

The Slender Man prefers kids for meals, but there's still a chance of him wanting you dead and sendng his proxies out to kill you

If you're some sort of other non-human or other-worldy creature, she'll be less protective of you, but that doesn't matter

She'll treat you practically the same as if you were a human, but less worried

Ann isn't a very touchy or words person, but wants to let you know she loves you

She gives little notes and affirmations of kindness and love to you, and probably gifts you wildflowers

You might get a small and quick hug or headpat when she feels more comfortable around you

Or even better, a small kiss

She will hold your hand the most though

If you love her back, you should probably give her compliments and let her know she's beautiful inside and out

Ever since dying, Ann hasn't really felt all that pretty anymore since she's know literally made out of other people's skin and limbs

Telling her she's pretty will boost her confidence

And she'll give you compliments back

The two of you, for fun, will, most likely than not, make flower crowns and sew different articles of clothing for eachother

You'll also read in silence together when nothing is happening

If you get sick or hurt in anyway, she's there for you to make sure you get better

Overall, Ann is a good lover who'll protect you no matter what, and make sure your safe from any monsters in the forest, and she'll show her love for you in small and sweet ways

[raelynnteam]

Trans woman prisoner no longer on hunger strike

Update 9/21/23: Jaina has been moved back to her old cell, with her friends. Thank you all who helped! The nature of this blog will change to allow for Jaina, Ashley, and Pharaoh to share their writing, but this post will remained tagged for a while longer.

Update 6/17/23: Jaina was moved to the unit with Ashley and Pharaoh. I understand that she has been eating. She's still not in the same pod as her people, which limits how much contact she can have with them, but we're considering this a win for now.

Thank you again to everyone who called! We still may have work ahead of us as we try to get Jaina moved back to her pod. Whatever happens, Jaina would like to continue sharing her experiences here, so there will continue to be updates.

Update as of 6/16/23 4pm PST:

I just got word that the superintendent has promised to move Jaina back to her unit if she starts eating. It's just a verbal promise, so we're cautiously optimistic, but we're about to head into a long weekend and if Jaina doesn't eat, she will probably get moved to a special offenders unit where she won't have any communication with anyone.

When I got off the call with Jaina, she was ready to start eating again.

While she's being moved to the same unit, it's not in the same "pod" as Ashley and Pharaoh. They'll be able to see each other in yard and (i think) the dayroom, though. After the investigation is officially over, then she will hopefully be moved to Ashley and Pharoah's pod.

This blog will continue to be here and update as things go. We may need help in the future. For now, if you can, please send Jaina a message or post card or letter.

Jaina would appreciate messages from folks! You can write her online, or via snail mail.

To connect online, use https://securustech.net/ and search for her DOC # 409738

To write her, address letters to:

Jaina Raelynn #409738, 191 Constantine Way, Aberdeen, WA 98520

A timeline of events.

[archived] Call to get her safely back to her support system!

Please read and be ready to call! 

CW: suicide mention

Jaina Raelynn is a trans woman incarcerated at Stafford Creek Correctional Center in Washington state.  She has consistently experienced harassment from both staff and other inmates during her time there.  She depends on a support system of other trans, GNC, and ally inmates at the prison to keep her safe and sane.

Recently, an anonymous complaint was made against her and her closest friend in prison. While the complaint was investigated, she was moved to a unit where she was not able to depend on her support system.  For days, she was afraid to leave her cell, too anxious to eat, and only holding on because she knew the complaint was false and she had been told she would be moved back to her original unit when the investigation was done.

On Friday 6/9, Jaina was told to pack up her things because she was being moved, despite being told that the investigation had concluded, and the complaint was unfounded.  Feeling hopeless, she attempted to commit suicide immediately after.

Jaina is in stable condition but has begun a hunger strike and will continue until she is moved back to her unit.  Just any unit will not provide her with the safety she needs. Please understand that a hunger strike is very serious. She is at risk of permanent damage to her kidneys, and before long, they will force a feeding tube down her throat, which is torturous.

On Wednesday 6/14,Jaina asked that people call the prison on her behalf and ask for her to be moved back to her original unit.   

Call (360) 537-1800

Superintendent Jason Bennett: dial option 3 then 6

Associate superintendent Karen Arnold dial option 3 then 5 then 1

The voicemail messages have the wrong name, but you are dialing the correct people.  

You can say,

"Hello, my name is [name] and I am a community member who is concerned for the health and safety of Jaina Raelynn, doc # 409738.  I am aware that she is on a hunger strike and won't eat again until she knows she is moved to where she feels safe.  She needs to be moved to the same pod, with access to the same dayroom, as Ashley Raelynn (896177) and Pharaoh Grayson (807868). I do not believe she will be safe anywhere else."

Bennet and Arnold will try to tell you that they have moved Jaina for her safety, but Jaina is not safe, she is at risk of serious medical complications from the hunger strike.  They will say they treat all prisoners this way when a complaint is made against them (we have heard from other prisoners that this is not true).  They may lie and say that Jaina is not on hunger strike.  You don't need to try to argue with them. Chances are, they won't answer at all and you can leave a voicemail.

Use the hashtag #helpjaina to share when you call!

Share on Twitter: https://twitter.com/enbywerewolf/status/1668808955882258432?s=20

[wutheringmights]

Hello hello hello!!! I am back with another song that makes me think of CTB, as well as a reminder to stay hydrated! Make sure to drink some water! <3<3<3

The song is 'Wolf Count' by The Mountain Goats.

Thank you and have a nice day! <3<3<3

I am the most well-hydrated person you will ever meet. I will die before I develop a kidney stone.

Anyway, the Mountain Goats deliver again! Every time I think I've gotten a good idea of what their music sounds like, there's a new song that just throws me through a loop. This is one of them.

I really like this first verse:

Live among the starving wolves Get lost inside the pack Pull at a carcass till my tooth breaks Your grown-up teeth -- They don't grow back

This is giving both Warriors and Spirit, but in opposite ways. You know what I mean, right?

[dollsonmain]

Ha I was going to say I'd mow at 10 but it's already 10:30.

Have a gripe.

So, when I got back from the hospital I started drinking the bottled water. My kidneys were really sick, I had huge stones, we have hard water of dubious clarity that I filter but it still is dubious, so I drank bottled water.

That Guy buys a big pack of bottled water every week, drinks only bottled water, and encourages Son to drink only bottled water.

Bottled Water is Better, according to him.

He did not like me drinking the bottled water. I drink between half and 3/4 a gallon of water per day because I've had kidney stones for years.

He said to me "The bottled water is only for me to take to work, really..." which was a straight up lie. He does that.

One week he bought me ONE gallon of "purified drinking water" that tasted like it came right out of the tap, thinking that would somehow last me a week.

The next time I went to the store I got 3 gallons. That's almost enough for a week if I drink things other than water like coffee made with filtered tap water and canned sparkling water, etc.

The following week, he didn't want to buy the 3 gallons of water that cost $4 total anymore.

So I ordered a $50 replacement filter for my water pitcher and am drinking filtered tap water again. The filter lasts about 60 days, so that's a little less than $1/day of water, which is more than $4/week.

This kind of thing is why I don't feel guilty about him paying my medical bills. That might not really make sense. I can't put it into words in a way that would make sense. It's kind of like he failed to care for and about me for so long and I'm finally getting something out of it.

[gildedmuse]

For anyone who donated to Diesel's bills, I want you to know I WILL be starting on those projects.

While we were not able to afford the surgery, I was able to afford a vet visit and antibiotics and I did everything they told me including holding a heating pack to the wound for 15 minutes every night and as you can see, the little angel is doing so much better!

I am deeply eternally thankful for what donations I received, and I apologize that it's taken me so long to do.... anything. Anyone who follows the blog knows I deal with my own health issues. They've caused me to lose my job (turns out throwing up at your desk is a faux pas, even if you tell them about your sickness at your interview, even if other people work from home with weak excuses but you're not allowed because "your history of getting sick". ) due to the opioid endemic and my age - I'm under 50 - they only intended the pain meds as a "temporary" fix for a chronic, genetic problem that has no cure short of getting my kidneys replaced. So I'm relearning after two years how to live in full time pain.

I hope you can stay patient with me. I am so thankful for all help and well wishes, I honestly wish I could write for everyone who even promoted my original post. When he was brought to me, I just quit my job and gave my sister all my savings for his surgery and then suddenly, from nowhere, she drove up and left two dogs with me. Turns out that's a lot of expenses, especially when one needed a second surgery. It's honestly thanks to the support I received I was able to get Diesel into a vet; I still haven't been able to take his sister in to see anyone, and my sister didn't leave any of her records, but she seems happy and healthy. According to my mom, they are happier with me now that they're not kept in crates (plus I spoil them pretty heavy with pets and walks; I can barely afford the kidney meds and food the boy needs but damn if I can't pet him for hours!)

I just want to thank everyone once again, and promise you're requests have not been forgotten.

I know it's selfish to ask, but I just need a little more time to adjust to my old pain levels and try and find a passable way to make a living while dealing with this pain (the reason I was given pain meds in the first place was because I worked; the deal was, I found a job I thought I could work so they'd give me pain meds, but without a job, obviously, there is no reason for me not to be in pain. And the pain grew bad enough that I was unable to continue work). But I am so, so thankful and I have not forgotten. I've just had to adjust to a very new lifestyle, and I am so sorry about the delay.

Thank you again, I promise I won't disappoint.

[lemme-just-oops]

Arcana Twilight and them after an argument with MC:

Alpheratz: He will forget, but the argument will leave a bad taste on his tongie for a long time. To see you at your most heated and to be the victim of each other's worst argument. Even though he may need space, he will send you messages to say that he still loves you and just needs time to calm down. It is best to not mention the event again, because it will rile him up the most. But sometimes, it is for his own good to force him to talk.

Arcturus: This man does not give up. No matter how angry you are at each other, for whatever reason, he does not allow either of you to sleep before you resolved the issue, no matter how exhausting that will be. So many apologies though. He will be at your feet the whole time afterwards and makes sure that he is sorry for getting mad.

Pollux: He cries when he gets mad. And he will also cry when he apologizes to you. Will even apologize if the situation is clearly not his fault. You might hear about his nightmare the next day, because he gets them after arguments. He flinches whenever someone raises their voice at him, so please be mindful to not shout despite your anger.

Sirius: The master or keeping a smile on his face, even whule you throw insults at one another. If he wanted to, he could gaslight you into believing it is your fault, but since he is interested in you, he wants you to be happy. His ways of making your life entertaining can be controversial though. If you expect him to verbally apologize, your disappointment will be great. But after having half a day away from you, he will bring you presents.

Spica: His pride prevents him from ever seeing his viewpoint as incorrect. Claims that he spoke facts, and that he is sorry they hurt your feelings. It takes a lot to convince him, which might have riled you up in the first place. Somehow, he will never look angry or sound like it, but the words he uses can be interpreted as insulting. When he had time to rethink the entire situation, he will apologize for how he reacted and that he will be more empathetic next time. Although he adds that he hopes there will not be a next time.

Vega: If you have siblings, you will realize that your arguments never seem too serious. It can range from "your breathing is annoying, stop it" to "You ate my leftovers, I packed your bags, you are homeless now and written out of my will." And yet, you'd still donate your kidneys to one another without a heartbeat. You do not need to apologize to one another, as you both know the softness in your rudeness. But if you do, you might have the argument repeat itself. If you two ever have a huge argument, have fun with the world war you created. Spica will lose his hair.