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mothandpidgeon · 1 month

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Making Out to Pablo Honey (virgin!Dieter Bravo x f!reader)

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

pairing: virgin!Dieter Bravo x f!reader

rating: E MDNI

summary: Dieter’s always tried to be cool. The thing about being cool, though, the more he tries, the less it works. You, on the other hand, you’re cool.

contents: virgin!Dieter, young!Dieter, lots of 90s references, cannabis, mentions of masturbation, fingering, premature ejaculating, one ferris bueller reference, reader is able bodied and not described physically moth never uses y/n.

This fic is about horny teens doing horny teen things. It's not too late to not read this if that's not ok with you.

wc: 2.5k

a/n: I'm thinking of this as a Dieter origin story. I really enjoyed thinking about him before he was the DIETER BRAVO. Anyway, this was kind of healing I wish I knew him back when I was in high school. Thanks @moonlitbirdie and @whocaresstillthelouvre for betaing and cheering me on!

“Sweet or salty?” you ask. Your head is buried in one of the kitchen cabinets, rummaging through a selection of snacks.

Dieter sits on the counter opposite, watching you with a lazy smile.

“Sweet,” he says. “No, wait. Salty.”

You look at him over your shoulder, your eyes bloodshot under heavy lids.

“You’re so stoned,” you giggle.

Dieter blushes. Despite the fact that he coughs after every hit, getting high with you after school has become his favorite past time. You never tease him for it, just put the joint between your lips while Dieter wonders if you can feel the warmth from his there. You’re both well and truly blazed at this point after smoking up in the dugout of the school's baseball field.

Dieter gazes over your body as you stand on tip toe, reaching for the top shelf. It’s like he can’t control his eyes from wandering to you when he’s like this. Sometimes you notice.

“What?” you’ll say. “You’re staring at me.”

“You’re paranoid,” he’ll lie.

He wishes he was brave enough to tell you that he’s staring because he thinks you’re beautiful.

It’s hard to believe that the two of you are actually friends now. He still remembers when you were assigned as his lab partner, a girl that he was equally drawn to and intimidated by.

Now he’s in your house after school almost every day.

“Honey?” your mother’s voice calls from the front door.

“Shit.” Dieter hops onto the floor before she enters the kitchen in a smart business outfit.

“Oh, hi, Dieter,” she says, smoothing the bottom of her hair.

“Hello, ma’am,” Dieter says.

You stifle a laugh.

“Dieter, you don’t have to call me ma’am,” your mother says.

“Um okay,” he replies. He can’t remember her first name. She’s told him before. Does he seem stoned? Oh, god, he definitely does.

She scrunches her nose.

“What’s that smell?” she asks.

Dieter’s stomach plummets. The two of you must reek of pot. He’s grown to like the scent– an earthy tang that now reminds him of you. He braces himself, trying to clear his foggy mind for a moment so he can’t act sober.

“Somebody must’ve run over a skunk,” you say. “What’re you doing home so early?”

You change the subject so seamlessly. Of course. Nothing ever seems to scare you.

“I’ve got a meeting with the Vermont people but I left the damn file here,” she says, picking a folder up from the kitchen table. “I’ll be back late if we close the deal.”

“Good luck,” you say.

Dieter bursts with laughter as your mother goes out the front door. You join him, nearly doubling over with your giggles.

“I was freaking out!” he tells you. “A skunk! I can’t believe she bought that.”

“I know, right? She’s clueless,” you chuckle. “Look.”

You hold up your creation— a plate bursting with flavor and texture. It’s organized into little piles of treats— potato chips, Oreos, a handful of glistening strawberries. Chocolate covered pretzels rest beside dried cranberries and several ropes of licorice separate honey roasted peanuts from fun sized Kit Kats in glossy red wrappers. It’s a feast, every bite he could ever want just when he wants it the most.

“Fuck,” he whispers as he takes in this offering.

Maybe it’s the pot buzzing around in his head but he can feel himself falling head over heels for you. He wants to kiss you but what if you don’t want to be kissed? What if you reject him? He could play it off as a joke like the one he told in the biology lab that got you to notice him for the first time. Humiliation he can handle but he’s not sure he could take that heartbreak.

The cookies are calling his name so he abandons any dreams of filling his mouth with your tongue in favor of a Nutter Butter.

There’s a big, L shaped couch in the basement that Dieter sprawls out on while he munches on the fruit. They might be the best strawberries he’s ever eaten. Everything tastes so good when he’s high. He wonders what you taste like.

“Do you like Radiohead?” you ask sorting through a pile of cassettes.

“Yeah. I love them,” he says. He’s only heard one of their songs on the radio but if you like them, he wants to like them, too.

Dieter’s always tried to be cool. He has a lot working against him— built like a string bean, a goofy personality. His own fucking name has betrayed him. He got the same haircut as Leonardo DiCaprio, he saved up to buy a pair of fancy sneakers, he spends hours in the mirror carefully choosing his outfits. The thing about being cool, though, the more he tries, the less it works.

You, on the other hand, you’re cool. Effortlessly so in your black boots and chipped nail polish. It’s not just the music you listen to or the clothes you wear. There’s something in your attitude, an aloof confidence that he’s never been able to replicate.

Despite his anxieties, you never make him feel judged. It seems like you enjoy introducing him to new things. You offered to make him a mixtape and it sent his heart fluttering. He’s shared a thing or two with you, too— leading you through the aisles of the local video store handing you his favorite obscure movies. Sometimes you laugh at his enthusiasm but it’s never mean spirited.

You pop the tape in and climb up onto the sofa as rough guitar strums seep through the speakers. There’s something psychedelic in the music that has Dieter sinking deeper into his seat.

Although there’s plenty of space, you sit alongside him, propping your feet up on the chaise beside his. Dieter’s pulse picks up. He’s so aware of you so close to him, each move of your muscles as you get comfortable. He can smell the pot tangled up in your hair and the fresh scent of cotton that always lingers on your clothes.

“I like being high,” Dieter sighs.

You laugh. He fucking loves the sound of it, wants to be a little clown to keep you giggling away.

“Give me a Kit Kat,” you say.

The snack plate is balanced on Dieter’s lap so when you fish through it for the candy, he can feel the pressure of your touch right on his dick. He stifles a groan, trying to focus his attention on the crinkle of the wrapper in your hands.

He’s touched himself to the thought of you more times than he’d like to admit. There was an incident when you unexpectedly brushed your ass against him at your locker and he popped a boner. He had to take care of it in the bathroom, one hand cupping the tip of his cock as he came so he didn’t make a mess.

“Dieter,” you say. His name sounds so sweet when you say it softly like that.

“Yeah,” he replies.

Some time in the last fifteen minutes, his mind wandered away and he got lost in the haze of his high. He can’t remember what he was thinking about before you got his attention or how long he’s been out of it. There’s just a warm feeling in his head and every once in a while he remembers that you’re sitting right next to him and he smiles to himself and then he floats away again.

“You’re staring at me,” you say.

You’re close, laying on the same couch cushion, your face just inches from his own. You have pretty eyes. Maybe that’s what he’s been looking at. Or your hair. He likes your hair.

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. There’s no denying it this time.

Your lips curl into a smile and your eyes dance over his features. He feels himself leaning towards you like his head is too heavy to fight your magnetic pull.

Your noses brush, that’s when he realizes that you’re moving towards him, too. Both of you hesitate there, an acknowledgement of this point of no return— your friendship will never be the same.

You kiss him. At first it’s a cautious meeting of lips and, suddenly, a crash of passion and excitement. It’s sloppy and unchoreographed but the two of you find a rhythm. He can taste the chocolate in your kiss.

You climb onto his lap, sliding your hands beneath his shirt. Having all of you there, straddling him like he’s in his own wet dream, is overwhelming. Blood rushes to his cock. There’s so much of you to explore— soft places to touch and hold and taste. He wants all of you all at once and you seem just as eager.

Your mouth roams his neck and teeth rake against his earlobe as you rock over the bulge in his jeans. He’s so sensitive from the weed, he can practically feel the hot drag of your pussy even through the layers between you.

Dieter fumbles with the clasp of your bra and you knock his hands away to do it for him, then unbutton your pants and do the same for him. He keeps his mouth on yours as you pull off his shirt with eager kisses.

He slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties. He’s met with the slick lips of your pussy giving him a delicious shiver. You gasp and sink your teeth into his bottom lip.

Now your hand finds him, coating his length with precum and tugging.

“Oh god,” he chokes. He wills himself not to finish right there in your hand.

Dieter presses a finger into your entrance, slow and cautious, watching your expression for any signs of discomfort. You’re so tight, he can’t imagine the crush of it around him. The strokes on his cock stutter and slow as he thrusts deeper until eventually your limp hand simply holds him. He doesn’t care. The feeling of you is addicting, all slippery and inviting.

“Ow,” you complain.

“Is this ok?” Dieter asks.

“Don’t just finger me,” you complain.

He blanches, unsure of how to correct himself. If you want more, he’s more than willing to give it to you but it has nerves churning in his belly.

“I’ve never done it,” Dieter says.

He immediately wishes he could take the words and swallow them back down. His neck burns with embarrassment. The coolest girl he’s ever met is letting him in her pants and he just spoiled it all by admitting he’s a virgin.

You stare at him with big, round eyes, your lips swollen from kissing. Your adam’s apple bobs in your throat.

“Me either,” you tell him.

It’s Dieter’s turn to stare. He’s shocked. It seems like you’ve done everything already. At least, everything a high school senior would aspire to do.

If you were embarrassed to tell him that, you don’t let it linger for long. “That wasn’t what I meant,” you say. “It just— I don't think I can come that way.”

Dieter nods in awe. This isn’t the first time he’s gone to third base but he hadn’t felt very sure of his technique during those few encounters. You look a little nervous, maybe for the first time ever, but he’s so impressed you’re confident enough to tell him what you want, to even know. He wants to give you exactly what you need.

“Show me,” he says. “Show me what you like.”

Your pupils blow out and Dieter’s not sure which one of you is more aroused. Eventually you regain yourself, nodding quickly and climbing off of his lap so you can shimmy your pants all the way off.

Dieter can’t help but stare at all the parts of you that are exposed. You’re so pretty he can hardly believe he gets to touch you. His cock throbs at the sight and he fists himself before realizing that he’d better stop if he wants to last more than half a minute.

You lay back on the couch, parting your bent legs for Dieter. He sits up for a good view as you explain the secrets of the universe. You take his hand and guide his fingers to your pussy, carefully sliding them along the side of your clit. It’s velvety soft and warm and slick and you take in a sharp breath. His cock jumps. Again, a wet stroke over you. You set a pace, your hand around his as he makes you melt.

“Woah,” he whispers to himself as he watches your body respond.

He’s not sure where to look; at the glistening lips of your pussy, a rare glimpse at the opposite sex in real life or at your face, eyes closed and brow knit as you float in ecstasy. It’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

He forgets the throbbing between his own legs, entranced by your pleasure. Your grip around his hand slackens and Dieter experiments with slightly faster strokes, kissing your neck. Your pulse thrums under his lips, your whines vibrating.

As he gathers more slick from your entrance, you grind your clit into the heel of his hand. Your hips lift from the wet patch that’s growing beneath you. Dieter keeps his hand planted on you, giving you all the friction you need.

He tries to find a way to tell you to use him, to take what you need, but he’s speechless. Watching a girl get off on him, and not just any girl but you, feels like witnessing a miracle.

Your muscles tighten, every single tendon in your body wrapped up like a rubber band about to snap. He can’t help himself. Dieter slides a finger inside of you. It feels even better than before, now that your walls are coated in that sweet release.

That’s when it crashes over you. You lock up, your arms and thighs straining. He can feel your core tensing around him desperately and he thinks he might cum just from the sight of you like this. It’s not like he’s seen in porn. You’re quiet, focused, somewhere else and he wants to go there, wherever that planet of pleasure might be.

He wants to kiss you, to taste your release and bury his face in your tits but he doesn’t dare move and ruin this exquisite moment for you. So he keeps moving with the same steady tempo as you flutter around him.

You groan out his name, long and slow and it sounds like music.

Dieter feels his hips jerk and, oh fuck, he’s cumming. He tears his hand away from you to squeeze it over his spasming cock. It’s too late and the wet press of you coated on his fingers doesn’t help. He paints his torso with his own warm, sticky spend.

You stare, eyes wildly surveying the mess on his belly, still dazed as you come down.

He should be mortified that he just blew his load all over himself the very first time he’s gotten physical with you but his veins are coursing with bliss. His head falls back, chest heaving as he catches his breath.

“I really like you,” he says.

Your face breaks out in a smile and you bashfully bite your lip. He feels your fingers intertwine with his own.

“Yeah. I like you too,” you say.

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and my asks are always open!

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x f!reader #young!dieter bravo #dieter bravo fic #virgin!dieter bravo

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

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smut for carmen berzatto with “i don’t deserve you?” please and thank you xo

Carmen.

6. "You're my best friend." + 14. "I don't deserve you."

Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here if you're interested. combined 2 requests here - thank you sweet anons!! adore adore adore mr berzatto x

Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut!! + cursing, angry carmen

Word Count - 950

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

Admittedly, he's easier to overwhelm than he should be.

The smallest thing goes wrong, and all of a sudden he's spiralling. He panics, and he takes it out on whoever is closest.

Today is no different.

You're wiping down tables out front when you hear him yelling. He's cursing, screaming at his kitchen staff. He's got that sharp edge in his tone, so you know it must be bad.

You drop your cloth and stride towards the back of the restaurant, determined to see what all the fuss is about. You're met with the sight of 4 terrified chefs and Carmen, stood in the middle of the kitchen, shouting at Sydney.

"Are you incompetent, chef? Are you?"

Sydney doesn't often flinch, but even she looks scared this time. She doesn't answer, and it angers him further. He goes to insult her again, but your voice cuts through the room.

"Carmen!"

Everyone stops to look at you. You're notoriously calm, the most collected person in the establishment. If you're yelling, it must be serious.

Carmy locks eyes with you, and you see the immediate regret written all over his face.

"Okay, everyone go home," you demand. No one protests, all of them filing out silently. When they're gone, you speak again.

"What the hell was that?"

When he doesn't answer, you take a step closer to him.

"Carmen, you can't scream at your staff every time something goes wrong. If you're not careful, you're gonna end up running this place by yourself."

He's looking at you with his puppy dog eyes, running his hands through his hair repeatedly. You can see he's clearly struggling with something internally.

"Hey, hey. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he replies too quickly. "I'm fine."

"Carmen, you're my best friend. I've known you since elementary school - I can read you like a book," you laugh. "Just be honest with me. What's wrong?"

"I just -" he sighs, and starts again. "I think I'm doing all of this wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm trying to do everything the way my brother did it, and it isn't working."

He leans back against the counter, stress plaguing his shoulders.

"You kind of just solved your own problem," you explain, stepping forward so you're practically standing in between his legs. "You're trying to do everything the way your brother did it. But you're not him. You're Carmen."

"No one calls me Carmen but you," he chuckles.

"That's because you're my Carmen. No one else's," you wink.

He smiles at you and your heart skips a beat.

You lean forward and press your forehead to his, exhaling when you feel the tension leave his muscles temporarily.

"I don't deserve you," he whispers.

You pull back and cradle his face in your hands, looking at him intently.

"Deserve or not, you have me," you reassure. "You have me. I'm not going anywhere."

Carmy surges forward and smashes his lips against yours. You gasp in shock, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, hands going to your hips to hold you to him.

This isn't the first time the two of you have kissed. In high school, you'd kiss at parties, occasionally makeout in his car, that one time after prom. But this is different. This kiss is charged.

You're tangling your fingers in his hair while he's grabbing at your ass, trying to pull you as close as he can. You break away for air and he kisses your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes.

"Not here, Carmen," you pant. "Office. Office, Carmen."

He picks you up around your middle and carries you, laughing when you squeal loudly, kicking your feet. As soon as you're through the office door, he's crowding you against the wall, desperately attempting to get your chefs jacket off. His fingers are shaking with want, and he's struggling with the buttons.

"Forget about me," you mutter against this lips. "This is about you. Call it stress relief."

You wink before dropping to your knees in front of him. He throws his head back at the sight, overwhelmed.

You untie his trousers and pull them down, pulling him out of his underwear. He's hot and hard and heavy in your hand, and you're realising you've thought about this more times than you'd care to admit.

"Let me take care of you, Carmen," you whisper, before taking him in your mouth.

You set a steady pace, head bobbing and hand moving in tandem. He's groaning, practically writhing, clearly trying not to move his hips.

"Don't hold back on me now," you say sternly, looking up at him with tear stained cheeks. He thinks you've never looked prettier.

"I don't - are you sure? I just - I need to -"

You cut him off by taking him back in your mouth, one hand gripping at the flesh of his thigh. He slowly starts to move his hips, gently and carefully. After a while, he learns your limits, and begins to thrust a little harder.

"Yeah, baby - fuck," he groans. "Just like that. Shit-"

You can tell he's close when his hips begin to stutter. One of his hands moves to grip your hair, and you moan when he tugs. The vibrations of the sound are his undoing, and he spills into your mouth, shuddering and groaning.

"Fuck, I don't deserve you," he mutters, pulling you up so he can slip his tongue past your lips to taste himself.

"Deserve or not, you have me," you echo from earlier. He laughs, and it's like you can see the tension melting from his body.

"My Carmen," you whisper against his lips. "My Carmen."

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seat-safety-switch · 5 months

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All around you, businesses are suffering because they neglected the cybers. That's right. Cybersecurity is more important than ever, because Russians will send you an email attachment that you open, and then your whole network gets all fucked up. And the experts are run off their feet trying to clean all this mess up. In fact, they're so busy, that I decided to step into the breach and help them out a little.

First, some background: yes, before I went "freelance" by way of living a cash-heavy, odd-jobs, hand-to-mouth, criminal-record squatter lifestyle, I too had a regular office job. Perhaps you have one like it. Let me give you some keywords and you let me know if they trigger any deep-seated trauma: Microsoft Excel. Microsoft PowerPoint. Microsoft Project. Now that we've established our mutual bona fides, it's time for your employer to become my employer: by hiring me to clean up the next time that Bob Dipshit, CFO, decides he's going to double-click the wrong icon and hoses the entire Eastern Seaboard.

Do I have expertise in this kind of thing? No. Will I get your files back intact? Probably not. Will anyone else get your files back? About the same chance, if I'm honest. At least this way, we both – that's right, we're partners now – get to rack up some billable hours while we "study the problem" and "look for vulnerabilities" in the meantime. And you never know. Maybe once we send a photo of the car I used to get here, the Russians will realize you don't actually have any money and turn the whole thing off. Rust scares them, you see. Their cars are all made out of exotic compressed resins that goats occasionally eat if you park in the wrong place.

So the next time your office gets all screwed up, don't waste time calling the pros. Waste time calling a complete amateur, and together we can loot the company of a bunch of money before they resign themselves to having to restore from a backup. My rates are entirely reasonable, unless you're the one paying them.

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pluto-supremacy · 7 months

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YOUR VI JAIL FIC WAS SO GOOD AND THE HEADCANONS WERE SO SO ACCURATE. :'( IF POSSIBLE, CAN YOU MAKE A P2 TO HOW THEIR LIFE IS OUTSIDE OF PRISON WHEN THEY MAKE IT OUT? or an angst with caitlyn being blackmailed by the warden to only let one prisoner out? :3 said one being vi, and vi having to abandon reader?

Vi Fic: Bye Bye Bun

➼ Aaaah thank you so much! I'm so glad so many people liked the Stillwater headcanons^^ I was afraid my Vi was going to be soooo out of character. I decided to write some angst first >:) if this fic does well or I get another ask I'll also work on life after Stillwater, give you guys some fluff after this

➼ Continuation of Vi Headcanons: dating f!reader at Stillwater

➼ No beta we die like Claggor (I'm running out of people who die in the series-)

➼ Warnings: None! Bit of a longer fic for you guys today, enjoy!

GIF does not belong to me! All credits to the owner

The sound of knuckles meeting hard concrete echoed throughout the cell block, small grunts following close behind. "You know we don't get clean bandages for another two weeks Vi, your knuckles are going to get infected at this rate." you called out. Suddenly the pounding stopped and a small chuckle was heard. "Don't worry about me bun, just trying to blow off some steam," she said, pacing around her cell instead of beating up a wall. "You should really get some sleep. Long day tomorrow"

"No such thing as a short day here." you groaned. Carefully you laid down on the ground of the cell. Vi's was only a few doors down, close enough to talk just above a whisper but way too far away to see each other. Both of you always slept against the walls that faced each other. It was the closest thing to sleeping next to each other in this shithole. Aside from whenever you two napped during free time of course. Even then Vi stayed wide awake to ensure you were okay.

"Goodnight Vi, wake me up if anything happens, okay?" "I will Y/N, I promise"

That was nearly two hours ago. You were sound asleep by now, the cold, hard floor no longer keeping you up. It was something every prisoner in Stillwater had to get used to. Mattresses weren't provided. The few that did get a thin mat to sleep on at night only got one after a lot of medical visits and several notes stating they needed one for medical reasons. You and Vi weren't so lucky to have any notes. Still, there were worse things here. Like the food. That's why any food or snacks that were smuggled in were high value items. Currently you had a packet of chips hidden under a loose brick right where you slept. You scored them a few days ago and wanted to surprise Vi by sharing them tomorrow.

The elevator dinged as the doors opened, the clack of heels filling the halls. Caitlyn stopped in front of Vi's sell, her hood still up. "What the hell do you want?" Vi asked, glancing over at the taller woman. "Your help. You beat up an inmate, I needed to question him about a crime scene from yesterday. Why did you break his jaw?" "Because I wanted to." She responded with a small shrug, disinterested in whoever this enforcer was. "Why are you in here?" Caitlyn tried again, looking over the file in her hands. "For my sunny personality." Vi shot back immediately.

Caitlyn shook her head, sighing. "This was a waste of time." she closed the file and her journal, starting to walk off. Maybe she could find away around a broken jaw, pen and paper perhaps. "Couldn't have said it better myself. Give Silco a kiss for me on that winning eye of his." that was what caught the enforcer's attention. Turning around she walked back to Vi's cell, getting a bit closer to the bars. "Silco? The industrialist?" "Hardly what I'd call an industrialist." She scoffed, leaning against the bars. That's when the other woman held up something that caught her eye.

In Caitlyn's journal was a picture of a spray-painted monkey. Just like the ones Powder used to make. "Where did you get this?" Vi asked, desperation creeping into her voice. "My question first. The inmate worked for Silco?" "Everyone in here does. You of all people should know that. Now where did you find that?" "It was at the crime scene, this is evidence" Caitlyn responded. She had the upper hand here now. "If I'm to believe you about Silco, I'm going to need proof."

A way out. Vi could get both of you out of here. "I can provide you proof. Just, not from in here" she gestured to the bars around her. "And," she began to add on "I need another inmate. Inmate 381. I'm not leaving without her." Caitlyn seemed to consider this for a moment. Then she turn and left without a word. What that meant, Vi had no clue.

Caitlyn had ran off back to the warden, forging papers along the way for the release of two inmates. She needed Vi's help to track whoever this person was down, so if someone else had to come along, so be it. As she put the papers down on the warden's desk, he seemed to lazily look over them. "I have orders to release inmates 381 and 516." she spoke up. He hummed in thought before shaking his head. "I can only release one." "What? It says right there-" "I can read. But I'm only releasing one. Pick." "..inmate 516."

So when Caitlyn returned and opened Vi's cell, she immediately ran to your cell. Or at least tried to. The enforcer stopped her a few steps in. "The warden only let me release one of you. You understand that-" "No I don't! This wasn't part of the deal!" Vi went to grab the collar of Caitlyn's dress, the other wrapping her hands around Vi's wrists as she was pressed against the wall. "You will-" "If you try anything I will make sure you're put back behind bars and you never see that other inmate again." Cait rushed out. It wasn't what she wanted to resort to, threats, but it seemed to work.

Almost instantly Vi's grip loosened, slowly setting Caitlyn back down on the ground. Leaving you...

"Once we're done, you let her out. Immediately. No excuses, exceptions, or delays. And I get to say goodbye." Vi demanded. That was fair, anyone could agree to that. Thankfully Caitlyn began nodding, dusting her dress off. "Go ahead then. Afterwards we need to get going to the Undercity."

This was going to hurt.

Vi walked over to your cell, kneeling down at the bars. You were still all curled up, dead asleep. She gently knocked on the bars. "Bun..bun you gotta wake up." That was odd. Vi's voice sounded so close...as you opened up your eyes you saw your girlfriend just on the other side of the bars. There was no quicker way to wake up than seeing your lover free from her cell. "Vi! You escaped! How-" you were cut off by seeing Caitlyn standing behind Vi.

"Who is that?" "Y/N, I can explain." "Vi, who is that!" you were shouting now. You didn't even fully realize it. "She's the one that got me out-" "So now you're going to get me out?" you interrupted. Seeing the pain flash on Vi's face told you everything that you needed to know. "You're leaving me.." your voice was barely audible, but Vi caught every word. She could feel her heart shattering as she saw the tears form in your eyes. "It's only for a little bit. The warden wouldn't let us both out, once I'm done helping Caitlyn we're coming right back for you, I promise."

You wanted to believe her. Vi had never lied to you before, why would she start now? Maybe it was the fear of never seeing her again. Or maybe it had to do with the enforcer standing behind her. Caitlyn was beautiful, you had to admit, so what if...

"No, no this isn't right. Vi you can't leave me here!" you shouted, crawling up to the bars and reaching out to grab Vi's wrist. "Vi you can't leave me! Please don't leave me!" the tears finally began rolling down your cheeks faster than you could wipe them away. Vi's own eyes were starting to gloss over with tears. "I'm coming back for you, Y/N. I swear on my life I'm not leaving you. It'll be a few days tops." "What does she," you nodded your head towards Caitlyn "even need help with, huh? What are you going to do for her?"

That cut deep. Vi tried not to take it to heart as she stood up, pressing one last kiss to the back of your hand. "I'm coming back for you." she repeated, steeling herself to actually leave. To not fall to her knees and tell Caitlyn to find someone else. This was your guy's chance of freedom. Even if this hurt you now, it was better in the long run. Everything would be better when you two could be together outside of Stillwater. "Bye bye, bun. I'll be back for you" and with that she turned around and started walking away. Vi knew if she turned around to look at you one last time, she'd never leave.

That's when the shouting started.

"Vi! Vi turn around right now! You can't leave me here!" you were standing up now, having an iron grip on the bars. Almost trying to bend them out of the way so you could run to Vi. Unfortunately you weren't that strong and the bars weren't that weak. "Violet don't leave me!"

Vi quickened her pace, rushing towards the elevator. Your voice was starting to blend with Powder's the day they were separated. It was all too much. She was going to find Powder and come back for you. Everything would be okay, everything would be right. As the elevator doors closed, she heard one last thing. Yours and Powder's voice were nearly indistinguishable from one another as you yelled out:

"TRAITOR!"

#arcane #vi arcane #vi x fem reader #fem reader #vi x reader #vi x you #vi x y/n

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lineffability · 7 months

Text

The Serpent Files 🐍

chapters: 5/5 rating: M/E wordcount: 13.9k au: human, the magnus archives

summary: Aziraphale works as the head archivist at Eden Institute. Crowley has been supplying them with potentially cursed artifacts over the years -- until he himself gets entangled in a case that turns him from associate to client...

[ art credit and support credit and 1000 hugs to: @chernozemm my beloved ]

start reading:

“Ouroboros. Yes. The introductory statement is meant to be concise, though, akin to a title. You can describe the necklace in detail in your statement, Crowley. Also, I need you to state your name. It occurs to me I don't actually know it. I mean. I'm not saying I want to know your full name, or anything. Just, all these years– erm. You'd have to state it anyway. For formality's sake. We have a system.”

“Sure. So. Name's Crowley.”

“I… know that part. [sighs] Full names, please, throughout.”

“Ah. Anthony J Crowley.”

“I said full names, please. What's the J stand for?”

“Erm. Uh. Just a J, really. Thought it added a certain gravitas, y’know, flair. Je ne sais quoi. Makes people treat you serious, a J like that.”

“Uh. Alright. Well. Anthony J. Crowley, then. I suppose. Seriously? [clears throat] So. Please start from the beginning.”

“Mmmmhhhh wellll. I’ve been coming to Eden for, what, now, six years maybe?”

“I believe so. Yes.”

“Anyway, not like I go here often. We’ve met a handful of times, you and me, maybe nine, ten? I mean, it was ten times. I know. Uh. Not like I counted or anything. Just, coming here, it stays with you a bit, doesn’t it? All that occult shit. Which is why I come here, of course. I’m – what should I call it? A… supplier. Of sorts. I work with – this is confidential, right?”

“Yes. Internal use only. We don’t give out those files. Your words are safe with me. Erm. Us.”

“Good. Right. I work with the Doomsday Group. Can’t really talk about it much, but you’ve heard of them. Shady stuff, crime, theft, trade, religious artifacts, apocalyptic jazz, all that. Supernatural stuff, too, sometimes. Or claimed supernatural. You know I don’t believe in all that. Well. Didn’t. I didn’t believe in it. Now… uh, anyway. Sometimes we get those weird artifacts, right, apparently cursed, so I bring them to you, to, to check, or verify, or call bullshit. Or to lock them away, or whatever you do with them when you buy them off our lot. That’s how we met. Best part of this shit job, really, if I’m being honest. I didn’t ask to be– hm. Wish I could just– ngh. Confidential, right? Wish I could just be done with them. Run off. Can’t, though. But erm. Forget I said that, alright? Please.”

[pause] “You're rambling a bit, de- Crowley. Or should I, should I call you Anthony now?”

“Hell no. I mean – Crowley's fine. You've called me Crowley for years, haven't you? What, now you don't like it?”

“No, no, I do in fact quite – well, for propriety’s sake, the official documentation, I thought – nevermind. So, Crowley, while the background information on your…job is reasonable, might I politely remind you why you’re here? Please talk less about our personal relationship, or at least only insofar as it pertains to the case, and more about what happened to you since… since you put on that necklace.”

“Right. Righty-oh. S’ just, never been in this room before. The tape recorder, all that. I’ve only ever been here as a sort of… co-worker? Nah. You’re not my co-worker, you’re better than that. As a tradesman. So to be here as a client , it feels… surreal.”

“That is understandable. I trust you will muddle through, though.”

“Hey – remember the first thing I said when I came here? Today, I mean.”

[continue reading]

#good omens #ineffable husbands #azcrow #good omens fanfiction #my writing #inefficable #the serpent files

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lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks · 6 months

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when I took a month off work I was lowkey worried I'd come back and find everyone had been fine without me and I wasn't needed at all (because being terrible at every previous job I've had did some ✨damage✨ to my self confidence)

but that is not what happened

I have never encountered someone so fucking happy to see me as my boss' wife was on my first day back, her face lit up like it was christmas, she was practically jumping for joy because now that I'm back she doesn't have to do the ops team's fucking timesheets anymore

I have been told by one of the ops guys that my leave of absence had caused a genuine rift in the boss' marriage because his wife hated doing my job so much they were actively fighting about it

to be clear, his wife is lovely, she doesn't usually throw a shit fit about just anything, it was just that my job is just so fucking annoying that she hated every second of it, and that was the most validating shit I have ever experienced in my LIFE

and the reason she was pissed off at my boss/her husband about it is because he's too soft on his crew and doesn't make them all report their hours for the week

which, as you can imagine, makes building their timesheets extremely fucking difficult

it basically turns the whole process into a puzzle that I have to solve using roughly three different sources of information, one of which is the boss himself who isn't always easy to get ahold of when he's on a site

this puzzle is made even more difficult by the fact that a glitch in our form system keeps messing up the dates on the timecards, so I have to cross reference the time cards from the two (2) ops team members, who actually DO fill out their forms, with the roster, but my boss often changes the roster at the last minute without telling me or noting it down, so then I have to cross reference with the reports they have to submit for certain ongoing jobs because they'll have correct dates and also a list of who was present (if they were doing one off smalltime jobs that week I'll have no physical records and will rely entirely on the boss' memory to confirm dates and staff numbers, unless I can get ahold of one of the ops team members themselves and there's only one who will reliably communicate with me but only when he's not currently on a site)

I tried to explain this process to boss' wife before I left and, looking horrified, she asked me 'is there no way to streamline this?' I replied 'this is streamlined'

as far as I'm aware, as long as I've worked there, there has only been a handful of times people were paid incorrectly, and it was because I was not given correct information by the boss, in the time I was gone, his wife told me that she had incorrectly logged several pays because of this broken ass system

so, as you could imagine, my ego is through the fucking roof right now, I am GOOD at this bullshit job, I took an impossible system and made it work, I am playing on hard mode and killing it, in a field I had zero experience in before taking this job other than a natural inclination for organising and scheduling

and to be clear, I love this job, the boss is too soft on his staff but he's a good guy, he makes us all feel valued and appreciated, he paid me above my award rate, he's absurdly accommodating, and I have an insane amount of freedom to do what I want with company files

I may be working with a bullshit system but I can take naps in the office whenever I want and tell my boss off when he's being too soft (one time his wife literally started clapping when I told him off for sending clients their reports before they'd paid for them) and I get to control when I work, and whether I work from home or the office (which is GREAT when my back flares up)

I might not get many hours (only 16 hours per week) because the company is so small and I run out of things to do because I've streamlined everything (boss literally called me TOO EFFICIENT), but he'll give me those 16 even if I spend half of it playing solitaire and watching youtube

so just, yeah, it feels so good to be confident in my work, to feel valued and appreciated and like I'm actually successful at something after being handed dud jobs for years that I wasn't cut out for, and now knowing that what I'm doing is actually genuinely hard but I've been doing it anyway without fail, makes me feel good!

so tldr; taking a month off work taught me I have phenomenal job security because if my boss ever fires me his wife might actually fucking kill him

#lula's life #I have genuinely hit a point in my life I never thought I'd reach #I'm happy with my job #I'm not in constant pain #and I am living very comfortably with a friend I love dearly #I don't make a lot of money and still rely on government benefits but that's okay because I make enough to be comfortable #life is actually good I can't believe I made it

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greenhorn-art · 8 months

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World Champions | Artwork for World Champions by TheDefenestrator by TheDefenestrator, art by Blurb_brain

Fandom: The King's Avatar | 全职高手

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: Gen

Words: 71 944

At the end of season 4 of the Glory Pro Alliance, the government finally receives the information it has been waiting for: The other players have caught up. Or, In which Glory has been a government recruitment ploy for remote-piloted mecha operators all along.

About the Book

FONTS: Mundo Serif, Azonix [dafont], Segoe UI Symbol

IMAGES: Illustration by Blurb_brain [AO3]; cover image by NASA ID: 440611 [Rawpixel]; Planet Earth background ID: 6331593 [Rawpixel]; Circuit lines background ID: 3117935 [Rawpixel]; endpapers' image by Eric Eastman [Unsplash]; Swoksaar, Desert Dust, Lord Grim, Vaccaria, and Cloud Piercer [The King's Avatar Wikia]

MATERIALS: regular printer paper (8.5"x11", 96 bright, 20lb), 80pt bookboard, Iris Bookcloth (colour: Black Pearl), Neenah cardstock (8.5"x11", bright white, 65lb), waxed linen thread (white, 30/3 size), embroidery floss (shades 3750, 350, 3845, 370), leather cording (1.9mm diameter), Reeves’ acrylic paint (Mars Black, Phthalo Blue, Titanum White), Americana acrylic paint (glow in the dark), ph neutral pva glue (Books by Hand)

PROGRAMS USED: Typeset in Affinity Publisher, cover/title page/endpapers designed in Affinity Designer/Photo, QR codes generated with LibreOffice Writer, PDF arranged for printing with Bookbinder-JS

BINDING STYLE: quarto, case bound (slightly rounded, with oxford hollow, forgot to use tapes)

Fenes' "Glory's tech isn't handwaved" AU. This was great! Funny and creative, and I'm both amazed and full of admiration for Fenes' ability to juggle so many characters.

I was feeling excited and ambitious with this one. Tried some new fun things (double core endbands, painted edges) and used some new equipment (a lying press).

The Text

TITLE/HEADINGS FONT: Azonix says 'SciFi' to me, it's a bold, non-serif, sleek font.

BODY FONT: Mundo Serif, it's a decent serif body font I haven't used before. Felt like it worked with Azonix.

SCENE BREAKS: a special character in Segoe UI Symbol of a black & white icon of Earth, the globe showing Asia.

TYPESETTING: Finished typesetting the fic, left document open on my laptop, laptop's battery failed, file now crashes immediately upon reopening, issue persists with copied versions of file (；￣Д￣) . Thankfully I had a backup file for the typeset with the barebones of the text, so I didn't have to restart from scratch...

Title Page

My thinking: it takes place in space, the world's at stake, and it's the dawn of a new horizon for Earth. Glory and the titular champions are represented by Swoksaar, Desert Dust, Lord Grim, Vaccaria, and Cloud Piercer – the captains of what I'd call the 'big 5' teams. A circuitry board background element hints at the tech/mecha nature of the story's competition. It may not match Blurb's art, but I hope I was able to convey some of what the story is about.

The circuitry image is used as decoration throughout the book. I only used the avatars of the top five teams' captains because too many silhouettes would lessen their impact and readability. (Removing the backgrounds was tedious, but worth it.)

Here's what it should have looked like. The test prints for this and the BB art were fine, but I think my inkjet started running out of ink just when I printed the final copies and I didn't reprint them. (Too impatient, really wanted to finish up and read the book)

The Cover

World Champions is another Big Bang fic, and once again I based some of my design choices off of the accompanying artwork. The dominant colours of Blurb_brain's illustration are red and blue-green.

COVER PAPER: For the decorative cover material I used NASA's ASTER image of Poyang Lake. NASA has some really interesting photography some of which remind me of marbled paper, thought it could be interesting. I chose this image of Poyang Lake because 1) it's in China, 2) the colours were similar to Blurb's awesome illustration (fate strikes again, dropping matching images and artwork into my lap!), and 3) NASA is tangentially relevant to the fic, which takes place in space.

BOOKCLOTH: Verona bookcloth in the shade Black Pearl, a lovely dark navy blue colour. Thought it suited the cover paper and title page. (Bought it for this fic specifically, but the colour goes well with almost all of my decorative papers so it should see a lot of use in the future!)

Endpapers

The final decision that held this project at a standstill for two months. In the end I drew inspiration from the matchups against the final opponent in the story. The image I used is a little chaotic and a little too unrelated to identify why I picked it without an explanation, but this book is for me and I know why, so there. (Note that I played around with the colours and cropped the photo.)

Endpaper inspiration: the maps for the matches against the Infilhites

"a long bridge through an enormous tube-like hall, where light seem to come from every side through stained glass windows. It was visually confusing, limited lateral motion" "a warehouse, crates stacked on and beside metal racks that went all the way to the ceiling." "a house of mirrors, fully enclosed to be sure the Infhillte couldn’t fly out of it." "like a volcano, rivers of lava moving sluggishly down a slope, occasional vents of overheated air nearby." "a series of overlapping bridges between halls and stairways, level after level layered over an open abyss."

Trimming & Painting the Edges

Going all out, a 2-for1 deal: the opportunity to use my lying press for the first time and learn a new technique!

TRIMMING: Used a paring chisel and lying press.

CHISEL: The 1.25" wide paring chisel I used was form a modern manufacturer. (Vintage paring chisels are very thin, enough so that you can bend/flex the blade. But don't do that.) It's long and wide blade made it easier to register against the surface of the press for consistent cuts. Looks like this one below from Lee Valley.

LYING PRESS: My dad's project. Solid black walnut, hand carved screws and internal threads — he even made the tools to make the threads too! The jaws of the press are each 3 7/8" wide. It's big and heavy (though much smaller than full-sized professional ones omg), but there's enough of a flat surface to register the chisel against. A thicc boi, much like this one below from Bookbinding Supplies.

PAINTED EDGES: The idea was to have dark navy edges, speckled with white stars. I used acrylic from a tube to paint the edges — tutorials recommended it over liquid bottled acrylic, and I had an old set hanging around. Had to water it down because otherwise the paint just flaked off.

My test of trimming and painting went well. Then the trimmed book itself came out slightly crooked, the paint required significantly more watering-down than before, and the white paint did not want to be both opaque and speckle-able. Unfortunate, but still book-shaped! And now I have an idea of what to do differently next time.

Also, did not like the glow-in-the-dark paint. Looked too translucent in the light when compared to the white acrylic, and needed a thicker coat to be visible in the dark. (The thickness combined with the translucence and base colour kinda reminded me of boogers... Ended up scrapping most of it off, so there's not much left to glow.)

Endbands

Still in the mood to have fun and go all-out, I attempted double-core endbands for the first time.

TUTORIAL: YouTube @ BookbindersChronicle: Bookbinding 101 Sewing Headbands Session 2. Also watched @ DAS Bookbinding's Double-Core Endband // Adventures in Bookbinding, but I personally found Chronicle's closeup video easier to follow.

I used embroidery floss from a 100pk of assorted colours off Amazon, wrapped around a core of 1.9mm leather cording from Michaels. I drew from Blurb_brain's art for the general colours, choosing a dark base, with red, blue-green, and gold. The specific shades were picked to go with the cover.

#World Champions #TheDefenestrator #Blurb_brain #qzgs #tka #the king's avatar #fanfiction #bookbinding #fanbinding

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ask-the-meteor-crew · 2 months

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FAQ Behind The Curtain

How do you draw so fast?

I'm currently double majoring in Animation and Creative Writing. I'm built different and also just, not trying very hard on most of these drawings. Drawing fast is kind of the backbone of animation and I've noticed coloring everything makes most people assume whatever line quality or level of finish on the outlines is a stylistic choice rather than laziness. What program do you use? I used Clip Studio Paint until about #021 when I picked up after haitus and used Procreate out of comfort and convenience. Do you use stock backgrounds or make them as you go? Every time I decide a scene needs a new background I draw it out in it's entirety and save it to my collection of backgrounds to use. So yeah, I'm not redrawing the background every single time it appears, I'm basically building out the meteor one room at a time in hopes of one day not having to draw backgrounds anymore. Where do you get the space photos? NASA's Hubble Space Telescope team has politely made all of the telescopes published photographs public domain, I imagine as a service to the planet as the intersection between photographers and people able to go that far into space is understandably zero. Font/Handwriting questions I stopped handwriting for most panels as I realized my best handwriting is all caps and it would be a shame if Karkat was the only character anyone could understand. I still use handwritten text for "special speech" which is whispers, and shouting, anything that's supposed to feel or sound radically different from the rest of the yapping. It did take me a while to settle on a font, I found a really good one for Dave that didn't have apostrophes and gave everyone else a typewriter font for a while, until I found the alternate version of the font I used for Dave that had all the special grammar symbols and numbers I could ever need. It's called the Atari font in the actual file but I have no idea if Atari ever actually used this version of it. Does the ask box ever close? When will my question be answered? It doesn't close and I have more questions than I'll probably ever answer. Some are confused about canon, others have had the core idea of their question asked multiple times already and I just didn't feel like collecting them all as screen shots. And some I just don't have answers for. Some get deleted because I don't like the tone, don't get the joke or found a typo particularly difficult to parse. No biggie. Questions will be answered if and when I feel like drawing a comic for it. Some questions are a better starting point for a comic than others, don't take it personally. Can the characters still talk to John and Jade? Can they run into them in the dream bubbles? According to canon, no. According to this blog, also no. Do you take magic anons? No. While I've gotten flimsy on the vlog framing device in order to make a more entertaining comic overall, the truth still remains that anything beyond messages in a digital inbox from some far off unspecified rift in paradox space would have some pretty immersion breaking implications on the setting overall. I know I answered a question offering Dave some clothes but the clothes were not given to him, I used it more as a prompt for him to take the clothes he already had out of the dryer. Is this blog safe for minors? This blog contains canon typical violence and themes, however when it comes to sexual content (the one thing minors absolutely CANNOT legally interact with) this blog is rated T for teen. Think like The Big Bang Theory or How I Met Your Mother. Sex can be implied and a frequent topic of conversation but never occurs on screen. Ultimately it's up to you and maybe your parents to decide if you can handle the blogs contents as you are responsible for curating your own online experience. TLDR if you're old enough to be on tumblr you should be fine.

How do I address the author?

My name is Sky, she/her pronouns exclusively. Please don’t try to hold conversations via the ask box. Just DM me.

Where do I send questions and comments for the author?

@meteor-crew-after-dark

#sky speaks #faq

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prettyboybuckley · 5 months

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

tagged by @saybiwithme @bi-buckrights @zainclaw

How many works do you have on ao3?

160

What's your total ao3 word count?

1,070,239

What fandoms do you write for?

I've mostly written for 9-1-1, though I started off with Shameless (6 fics) and I have written some for Teen Wolf (5 fics). There's one 9-1-1 crossover with Schitt's Creek.

Top five fics by kudos:

parents always yelling (telling us to get our acts together)

i just want something to hold on to (and a little of that human touch)

I will come to you (even in my sleep)

open up again (i believe in second chances)

exes and the oh's

Do you respond to comments?

Always, even if it takes me months. I actually just caught up again (there's still a bunch to go, but right now the oldest is 17 days ago instead of 250 days...). It's just a rule I have for myself, and even with the backlog I've kept it up so far, so I'm not going to stop doing it now.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I'm not a big fan of angsty endings, I generally try to at least make it a hopeful ending or, in the case of the college au, use an epilogue to fix things.

But I guess sunny skies & summer highs qualifies as an angsty ending simply because of the cliffhanger (and yes, there is still going to be a continuation, I'm working on it 🙈).

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Choosing one out of 160 is really hard, but I think tell me, will you stay or will you run away is definitely one that deserves a mention here, because it already has a happy ending and then the epilogue just makes it even better 🥰

Do you get hate on fics?

Not commented on the fic itself, no. I've had some people talk shit about my fics on twitter, though, and not even vaguely but calling me by (user)name.

Do you write smut?

Is grass green? Yeah, I write smut 🤭 Thanks to two times kinktober, I have 95 explicit fics, by far the most used rating for my fics.

Craziest crossover:

let's have some fun tonight is my 9-1-1/Schitt's Creek crossover fic for 9-1-1 Rarepair Week, and my only crossover fic

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

My head over feet Buddie valentine's two-parter got posted as one chapter in Wattpad work with over 30 fics once. Filed a DMCA and Wattpad took it down within two hours.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Two of my fics have been translated into Russian afaik, one on ao3 and one on Ficbook

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Nope. It may be a nice challenge for the future? Not sure who I'd do it with.

All time favourite ship?

Gotta go for Buddie on that one, lol. Especially if you look at my writing history. But I often tend to hyperfixate on one ship at a time (current reading obsession is McDanno)

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Buck's POV of if love is art then you might be my masterpiece. I really want to, but at this point it's been two years since the original so I don't know if it'd be worth it either. (I know not everyone was happy about how I ended it, but I doubt any of them are still waiting for more). Writing a different POV of the same fic takes an amount of planning that my brain just really struggles with. And I could pick up where the last chapter (before the epilogue) picks up, but I think that way there would be some crucial information about Buck missing.

What are your writing strengths?

I've been told quite a lot of times that I am good at keeping characters, well, in character, even when putting them in partial or complete AU's. Of course, what is in character or not is subjective, but I do always challenge myself to work as much of the canon backstory and personality into who they are in the AU as possible.

And I like to think I'm pretty good at writing smut.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm terrible at pacing, which multiple of my long fics prove. It'll be drawn out first and then suddenly rushing. And being ESL I do struggle with things like sentence structure and grammar pretty regularly still.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

As long as there is some kind of translation provided somewhere I like it, but I'm not so quick to use it myself. Not beyond a few Spanish words here and there (generally pet names between Eddie and his family we've seen on the show or the occasional curse word when I feel it fits better than an English one, but I usually need to employ help from Spanish-speaking friends for those).

First fandom you wrote in?

Shameless! I binged that right before I started 9-1-1 and combined with the creative writing minor I was doing, it was actually what got me back into writing in general and what made me write my first ever fic.

Favorite fic you've written?

My in your arms i feel safe-series (which I always lovingly refer to as the ace kink fic) is definitely one of my favorites simply because of how personal it is to me and for the reason behind me writing it in the first place.

Other strong contenders are i would've loved you forever (it's never enough but i wanted it to be) and i'm begging you, come home to me (Teen Wolf, Thiam)

tagging @monsterrae1 @rogerzsteven @loserdiaz @watchyourbuck

#gary writes #buddie fic #thiam fic

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exosmutfactory · 1 year

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Wanna Be Yours 001

Originally posted by tipannies

Maybe not all good girls are good, and not all bad boys are bad. It’s all about perspective and experience, for not everything in life is a clear black or white. Sometimes you will find gray, brown, or silver… Possibilities are endless. And Byun Baekhyun is too god damn fine to resist.

◤“Stop smoking, it isn’t attractive.” “Stop swearing, it isn’t either.” “Fuck you.” “When.”◢

Main Masterlist | Bookclub zone | Chapter 1✓

networks — @/superm-net @/bbh-net

pairing — Baekhyun x Monica (OC)

word count — 3.8k

genre — biker! baekhyun, bad boy! baekhyun, enemies to lovers! romance, slight angst, fluff, smut (one chap - eventually)

[ This chapter contains: an introduction 🚲 ]

A/N: Hello! I'm introducing one of my AFF-exclusive, BBH stories to Tumblr! I'm posting this chapter to see if readers on here want to read it 🥰 This story doesn't have a tag list, so let me know if you wanna be tagged for future chapters either in my ask box or the comment section! 🌸 I'll continue writing this when I finish my other story: Only Forever 🌊

Chapter 1

Look around, lovely

I’ve been through many things in my life. From my ex leaving me for a “slim thick” girl who lived three blocks away to my best friend, making it their goal to break my spirit from the inside out. I had to cut ties with my treacherous family. I had to change my name, eye color, and wear a purple wig to flee from another crazy ex to Hawaii. I almost had to file for bankruptcy when my twin sister bought three foreign sports cars in my name.

—I’ve been through a lot, but I never expected to find myself in the middle of this shitstorm.

“Yo, Chen, move your ass!”

“I’m almost there!” This so-called Chen hisses into his phone, tugging me behind him by my arm. He glares back at me when I stumble over a recycling bin. “Shut it.” His grip turns painful when I slow down my pace. He stomps hurriedly down shaded alleyways and dimly lit streets. I'd scoff at his audacity if I wasn’t so busy trying to form a plan to escape and not fall flat on my face in the process.

“Yo bitch.” He throws another nasty look over his shoulder, “keep up, will ya?”

My eyes narrow as I purposely stomp on the back of his foot. “Oops,” I chirp when he yelps, hiding my smirk while he curses and hobbles on one leg. “Guess that’s too close, eh?”

He bares his teeth at me. The smirk quickly falls off my lips when the ground is suddenly approaching my face at an alarming rate.

I brace my hands against the pavement at the last second, but my right arm buckles under my weight, sliding my frantic hands across the rugged surface, scraping against the sidewalk with a painful burn. I groan at the fire hot pain shooting up my forearm.

“Oops,” he mocks, his leather boots stepping into view. He bends down in front of me with a tilt of his head. “Guess that was too soon, huh?” His victory smirk on his curled lips would have been sexy if I didn’t have the urge to punch him in his pretty face.

I keep my eyes on him, slowly bringing myself back to my feet. It takes everything in me to ignore the pulsing pain in my knees and the warm liquid running down my elbow as he stands back to his full height. His unimpressive 5’8 stature seems intimidating while I’m poorly hiding my injured arm behind my back. It doesn't help that he has a tattoo of a snake on his bicep, the green ink peeking out from under the sleeve of his black t-shirt. He’s not tall, but he is buff, and that is enough for me to keep my mouth shut... for now.

He runs his eyes over my quiet defensive stance, his smirk turning even more cruel before he yanks me forward by my injured arm. “If we’re late, that’s your ass.”

I roll my eyes to distract myself from the tears threatening to fall, biting my tongue. My hands and arm throb painfully in sync. That hurt like a bitch and he’s two seconds away from being smacked like one.

After walking a few more empty blocks, the rev of an engine reaches my ears—and it’s not from a car. My heart plummets when the realization sets in and the beaming headlights of shiny black vehicles come into view. Two motorcycles stop a few feet away from us in a deserted parking lot. The riders are wearing black helmets with matching clothes, blending in with the night. Their faces are shaded under the dim light of the moon when they take their helmets off.

Dusk is on the rise, concealing the moon behind thick clouds as the world waits for the sun to peek over the horizon. The darkest hour of the night… Looking around at the buff asshole and two newcomers, I can only hope that I’ll make it to see the sunrise. I swallow my nerves while Chen impatiently drags me over to the others.

The guy on the left is the first one to notice us. He shakes his hair, the brunette strands catching light before he switches off the headlights. He’s tall with beautifully toned skin, whistling when we step off of the sidewalk. “Damn hyung, took you long enough.”

Chen shrugs. “Catching the prize was a bit of a struggle.” He rattles my arm for emphasis, his smirk visible under a flickering streetlight.

“Oh?” The brunette’s eyes trail over me, focusing on my pulsing arm before shifting back to the prick next to me. “Looks a bit like damaged goods, hyung.”

“That wouldn’t be the case if it had acted accordingly.” He shrugs, nonchalantly looking me over.

My eyes and mouth twitch. It is really taking everything in me not to say something.

“Hopefully hyung doesn’t mind,” The other tall guy speaks up, eyeing me warily while I stare at his unnaturally orange hair.

“Byun won’t do shit,” Chen waves him off, pulling me closer to a parked bike three parking spaces away. “He hasn’t before and he won’t start now.”

The orange-top guy starts to reply until a loudly revved engine fills the air, announcing the arrival of more motorcycles entering the deserted parking lot. I glare at the biker driving in front, from his laid back posture alone he must be the leader.

“Baekhyun!” Chen yells into the still night with a cocky grin, laughing gleefully. “So happy for you to finally join us. I feared we’d start without you.”

The leader calmly parks his bike a couple of feet away, pulling off his helmet while the other five bikers join him. I bite my cheek to hold back my gasp when his face is revealed. What I expected was some forty-year-old gang member with a huge tattoo, crooked beard, and salt/pepper hair. Not a twenty-something-year-old with one of the most attractive faces I’ve ever seen in my life.

His light brown hair ruffles in the wind, the salty scent of the sea rolling in. He shakes his bangs out of his eyes, looking at the man next to me with a blank expression on his face. Baekhyun’s eyes slowly follow Chen’s arm down to my own in his tight grasp. His eyes linger on my injured arm, the clench of his jaw and flare of his nostrils has my eyes shooting down to look at it myself.

The sight of blood steadily dripping from my ripped sleeve has me wincing. I bite my lip hard to hold back a pain-filled whimper.

Baekhyun cuts his eyes back to Chen with a murderous glare, “Jongdae.” He hisses venomously.

Chen stiffens, his grip loosening on my arm, “Byun?” He’s caught off guard, the confusion rings loudly in his uncertain voice.

“What the fuck is this?” Baekhyun looks at my arm then at him again, his voice growing louder by the minute. “Why the hell is she bleeding?”

“She wasn’t…” Willing to come? Willing to follow a stranger? Willing to get pulled out of a store for nothing? “Very compliant.”

“And you brought her here anyway?” Baekhyun gives him an incredulous look, his eyes narrowed at the latter’s silence. “What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Do.”

I shift on my feet, highly uncomfortable just witnessing this exchange. The other bikers watching them quietly doesn’t calm my nerves in the slightest. I know one thing for certain—the tension can be cut with a knife, and I’m not about to be in the middle of this hell much longer.

“I was walking with her down the street, and she fell.” Chen chooses to say.

I crack my neck when I whip it around to face him. “Really?” I snap. “You purposely yanked me forward and let go, yet dare say I fucking fell?!”

Chen scowls at me. “Well if you weren’t being such a bi‒” He pales when I sense a dark aura behind me.

I turn around to a furious Baekhyun. His brown eyes blaze brightly in anger amongst the pitch darkness of the night, the wind tousling his hair across his forehead. The urge to take a step back is high until I remember who is right behind me. Baekhyun takes one look at me then turns his fire-filled gaze to the fearful man behind me. “I’ll deal with you later.”

I look down at the sudden hand gently grabbing my uninjured arm, meeting Baekhyun’s eyes before he takes a step back. And for some reason; I follow. He keeps his eyes steady on mine before turning to address the others. “I’m calling it off.” His gaze meets every individual one of theirs. “Any objections?”

No one even so much as moves.

Baekhyun firmly nods, peering down at me with a raised brow. “Come with me?” Even while he asks, I’m already being led over to his bike. He grabs his helmet and pauses, turning to me, the dim street lights reflecting the mysterious glint in his brown eyes. “Have you ridden a motorcycle before?”

I look at the bike then back at him, narrowing my eyes. “Are you planning to kill me with it?”

The corner of his lips twitch up, “that’s a no then. May I?”

Eyeing the helmet in his hands, I nod, quickly muttering, “if I die, I’m suing you,” when he starts to place it on my head.

Baekhyun chuckles. “Don’t worry.” He adjusts the helmet with a teasing little grin, his voice low enough for only me to hear. “You’re in good hands.”

“Uh huh—oof!” I yelp when he suddenly lifts me up and sets me on the back of his vehicle—that seems one hundred times more intimidating now that I’m sitting on it. “I swear, Byun, if I fall‒”

“You won’t.” Baekhyun affirms. He throws his leg over the motorcycle and climbs onto it with grace, throwing one last look back at me before starting the engine. It purrs in a way I’ve never heard before. The low, crispy sound vibrates through my entire body when his deep voice reaches my ears. “Hold on tight.”

When he revs the engine, I wrap my arms tightly around his waist. The fear of death is greater than the pulsing of my bleeding arm. We speed out into the street, the others becoming mere specks of shadowy figures in the distance as we go further down the dirt road.

My eyes stay partially closed until I remember that I’m wearing a helmet, and if anyone has to do that its Baekhyun. Which is fucking scary considering the fact that he is the one driving! Steering this two-wheeled vehicle that tilts side to side depending on the gravitational pull of the earth and the wind.

I flinch when we roll over a bump in the road, gripping the front of Baekhyun’s shirt. I can’t tell if it’s the motorcycle or his chuckles causing the vibrations in his chest when I rest my head on his back. The sun is slowly rising, pale light peeking over the horizon. It bounces off of the calm ocean water in the distance. It’s fascinating, how the ocean and the cloudy sky meet, like a snowglobe full of cascading sparkles.

The blur of buildings comes into focus when we slow down, Baekhyun resting his feet on the ground when we reach a red light. Recognizing the slightly run-down buildings, my heart rate picks up. “Baekhyun? Where are we going?” I ask warily. Instead of replying, he pats my clenched fist in a pacifying manner and takes off once the light switches to green.

Gulping down my nerves, I make sure to take note of every street we go down in case I have to hightail my ass out of wherever we are headed. The sight of small brick houses and wide front porches brings a wave of nostalgia over me—and not in a good way. All I can do is hold onto him and hope I stay in one piece until we reach our destination. The weight of my knife concealed in my left boot gives me little reassurance.

We start to slow down on a street that welcomes us with the largest maple tree that I’ve ever seen, followed by small but surprisingly well-kept homes. It’s pretty for the infamous neighborhood that we are in, and the house we stop in front of in particular is the nicest one.

Baekhyun drives up the driveway and parks, getting off the motorcycle with grace before helping me down as well. I flinch when I try to straighten my injured arm. It hurts worse than it did earlier, burning every time my denim jacket sways in the wind and brushes against it. I keep my arm bent at the elbow while clutching it to my chest.

Baekhyun notices but doesn’t say anything. He walks up to the house while I linger behind, taking in the flower-filled yard. Pretty pink roses and beautifully bloomed dandelions take up most of the land. Growing steadily alongside the driveway and sidewalk, their healthy petals awaiting the sunlight.

“Hey.”

Turning back to Baekhyun, he crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe of the open door. The sun shines down on his caramel-colored coat, black graphic tee shirt, and leather pants. The more I look at him, the more confused I get. How on earth is he in a bike gang? He has no visible tattoos, no piercings. The only things “gangsta” about him are his sharp brown eyes, confident stance, and authoritative aura.

Baekhyun clears his throat, jolting me from my thoughts. He raises a brow with a tilt of his head, the corner of his lips twitching. “Come in.” He disappears into the house before I can give any sort of reply.

Pulling my phone out of my bra, I snap a picture of the street sign and send it to my friend so they know my whereabouts—just in case. I tuck it back under my shirt and take one last look at the quiet neighborhood before entering the house.

The only way I can describe the interior is warm. With light brown walls and darker carpeted floors. The living room alone is full of worn-in couches with pretty throw blankets. When I start to take off my shoes, Baekhyun pops up, shaking his head, “there’s more dirt on this floor than out in the yard.”

He walks off into another part of the house with his heeled boots and loud footsteps. I spot a bright orange crumpled leaf and a patch of dried grass in the center of the room. Heeding his advice, I take a wary glance at the unlocked door before going to look for him. Walking to the other side of the living room, I’m met with a doorway to the kitchen on my left and a hallway to my right. Finding no sign of Baekhyun in the tidy room, I venture down the hall.

“In here,” he calls out just as I pass the first door on the left.

Backtracking a few steps, I look inside the bathroom while he rummages in the cabinet under the sink. My eyes move back to him when he swears.

“I know I left it somewhere,” he mumbles just as his eyes caught sight of something. With a tug, he pulls back to close the doors, standing up with a familiar red box in his hands. “Have a seat,” he beckons me over, gesturing to the closed toilet lid with his chin.

I settle myself on the cold surface, the white porcelain chilling my skin through my jeans. Watching him carefully while he sets the first-aid kit beside the sink and takes out antibacterial wipes. When he reaches for my arm I flinch back.

Baekhyun gives me a look. “May I?”

Sighing deeply and gritting my teeth, I nod with a roll of my eyes, slowly taking off my ripped jacket and dropping it in the bathtub. I look away when he draws nearer with the wipe, clenching my hand into a fist. The sting brings tears to my eyes.

After what feels like hours, Baekhyun gets to work on the gauze, gently wrapping it around my arm and taping it together. I take a few deep breaths as he moves over to the sink, focusing on the sound of running water instead of the irritated skin of my scratched palms.

“You won’t need stitches,” Baekhyun murmurs thoughtfully, his voice breaking the silence, echoing across the tiled walls of the room. He dries his hands on an indigo blue towel hanging from a high bathroom rack attached to the wall. “...Are you okay?”

The hint of concern in his voice is surprising, it prompts my eyes shift over to him. “Yea—Fuck!” I hiss loudly, quickly bending my elbow back to its position. The tender wound throbs painfully in sync with my racing heartbeat.

His brows raise. He crosses his arms, leaning his hip against the counter and giving me another knowing look. I only glare back at him.

Baekhyun sighs tiredly. “I’ll get you an Advil.” He shakes his head, making his way out of the room and venturing further down the hallway. I clutch my arm to my chest, sending a quick text to my friend to come pick me up. Thankfully she’s right around the block, passing through the neighborhood on her way back home from work.

A smile curls on my lips when she sends a picture of the great maple tree at the nearest red light. The bandages crinkle when I stand up, grabbing my jacket and tentatively closing the first-aid kit before heading back towards the front of the house. Heavy footsteps have my head whipping back around to find Baekhyun in the hallway with a box of Advil in his hands. “Hey,” he cracks an awkward smile, his hair slightly disheveled.

I narrow my eyes at him.

The smile slowly falls off his face. He clears his throat, gesturing to the box in his hand. “I got you the Advil.”

“I see.” I don’t take my eyes off of him for a minute, shifting my weight so I can retrieve my knife if the need arises. His body language is off and his intentions are not clear. I make sure to keep distance between us; I’ve been in this situation a million times before. Whatever he is trying to achieve with this small talk, I am not up for sticking around to find out.

“Do you, uh‒” he runs a hand through his hair. “Do you need a ride?”

“No, I called a friend,” I smile tightly.

“Oh.” His hand falls down to his side. He shoves it into his pocket and outstretches the box in his hand towards me. “Here, half the box is left. You probably need them more than‒” his eyes catch mine and he clears his throat again, “me.”

I look him up and down and carefully take the box from his hand, avoiding making any contact. My lips twitch in a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “Thanks.”

Baekhyun nods, shoving both hands in his pockets, the velvet green underside of his coat showing when he parts his lips again. “About what happened earli‒”

The rev of a sports car engine cuts him off. “Hop in, bitch!” my best friend yells, breaking the tranquil atmosphere of this shady neighborhood in the early hours of the morning. “We’re going home!”

I glance at the open door then shoot him a forced, polite smile. “Thanks um… Baekhyun, was it? But there’s my ride. I got to go.”

Baekhyun nods while I make sure I have everything, tucking the box of medicine under my good arm. “See you around,” he speaks up when I’m halfway through the door.

Darting my eyes back to him with my hand on the screen door, I smile my fakest smile, letting it slam shut behind me. “Bye!” With a roll of my eyes, I match down the driveway to my friend’s car and hop in with a passive-aggressive smile.

“What the hell happened to your arm?” she raises a perfectly arched brow.

“A situation you never want to be in while shopping for hairspray, Alison. Now drive.”

A/N: If you would like me to continue posting this story on Tumblr, reblog or comment to let me know! (^-^)

#baekhyun smut #supermnet #bbh-net #exo x reader #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun romance #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun ff #baekhyun x oc #exo baekhyun #exo romance #Wanna Be Yours

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bleach-your-panties · 10 months

Text

Sincember Event❄️❄️

Requested By: @sacredwarrior88

Rating: Fluff/Suggestive🍥🍭

“Shit, it's cold out here..”

You brought your scarf up to cover the lower half of your face while your feet sank deeper and deeper into the freezing, wet slosh beneath them.

Head-Captain Kyouraku is undoubtedly a slovenly bastard for this.

Having you, his faithful little third seat, to deliver his contribution to the weekly Seireitei bulletin to Captain Muguruma.

In the middle of a fucking snowstorm.

And on top of that, you take after your older brother Kenpachi - you're terrible with directions!

If you had actually taken the time to check the weather before you left, you'd have known that the snowfall was only going to increase further. The chances of a blizzard happening were above 90%.

“Dammit…I can’t see a thing out here. Who knows where I could be? I could be on the way to Sōkyoku Hill right now and not even know it! I-oof.”

You fell back onto your ass in the snow after colliding with a solid wall.

Wait, a wall?

A soft grunt reached your ears before the sight of an orange-gloved hand coming towards you made you look up to see what you had run into.

Or better yet, who.

“You know, the polite thing to say when you run into someone is ‘’excuse me'.” Kensei’s gruff voice called out to you.

The snow was still getting into your eyes even though you were wearing goggles, so you could only barely see his disgruntled expression as he waited for you to accept his hand.

“Sorry. Excuse me and thank you, Captain Muguruma.”

He grunted again, irritably.

“You can drop the formalities. Kensei is just fine. You're one of Shunsui’s brats aren't you?”

Your mouth dropped open and a snowflake fell on your tongue. Wrapping your own gloved fingers around his, you used his body as leverage to pull yourself up.

“Brat?! I'm not a brat.” You huffed indignantly and crossed your arms.

The corner of Kensei's mouth turned up.

“Sure you're not. That for me?”

His stony eyes trailed from your boobs that you'd managed to push up with your previous motion to the folder tucked underneath your arm, carefully tucked away from the cold torrent of frosty snow that was swirling all around you both, more fiercely now.

“That old man sent you out here in this shit just to give that to me? What a waste of space.” Kensei rolled his eyes and getured for you to hand it to him.

“O-oh! It’s no trouble, really! Here you go!” You handed the file over with no problem.

“Well, my mission is done. I'll be going now, see ya Capt-whoah!”

Kensei had tucked the folder under his own arm and simultaneously pulled you into his side.

“You working with half your brain or what? There's a fucking blizzard coming and I don't trust you to make it back to squad one barracks by yourself.”

“Hey! You calling me dumb?!”

Your cheeks puffed out and you rolled your e/c eyes now.

He chuckled. “You said it, not me, sweetheart. Come on.”

—-

Just as Kensei said, the blizzard came in full-force.

After the two of you made it back to his place and he'd shut the door behind him, the snow began falling harder and faster.

It piled up against the front door, effectively sealing it shut and trapping the two of you inside.

“How unfortunate is that. We'll probably be stuck in here until the morning when the sun comes back out - if it even does!”

Kensei's heavy boots on the wooden floor behind you made you snap your head around to face him.

It was obviously too cold outside for shinigami robes, so instead he was dressed in a thick, gray sweater with a black puffer coat over it, black scarf, black cargo pants, and his orange gloves.

“You see something you like?” Suddenly a hot mouth was beside your ear, tickling the fine hairs inside of it as Kensei breathed his warm breath onto the side of your neck.

It was a welcome contrast to the striking cold chill that had been covering your body since you'd entered his home; with that simple gesture a fire lit inside your core and you subtly rubbed your thighs together.

With a smirk on his lips, Kensei backed up to give you some space before walking off to a fireplace that was positioned in a corner of the large living room and lighting it.

“Make yourself comfortable, sweetheart. You don't have to act shy.”

“Hmph, who’s acting…” You mumbled bashfully and began to take off your gloves and coat before joining him on a large chaise lounge situated in front of the fireplace.

Kensei had also taken off his coat and hung it on a rack close to the door. His strong arm muscles rippled beneath his sweater as he held you close to his chest.

“Captain Muguruma, is this…appropriate?”

The man behind you only hummed softly and rested his cheek in your cold hair. You felt your body shivering, prompting Kensei to lay you against his chest and cover you with his much larger body.

He laid on his side, becoming the big spoon and encasing your legs between his.

“You’re so cold, little one. Let me warm you up, yeah? It’s the least I could do for you, since you came all the way out here in a snowstorm to deliver your captain’s article to me.”

A soft smile grew on your lips and you nodded.

“Sure, Captain.”

Kensei’s smirk returned to his face and he shifted slightly so that your ass was pressed up against his pelvis. He was slowly hardening from the simple action of having you lie against him, the crackling of the fire in the hearth steadily lulling the both of you into a quick, cozy nap.

----

ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ🫶🏽

#kensei muguruma x reader #kensei muguruma smut #kensei muguruma #bleach kensei #kensei x reader #kensei muguruma x y/n #kensei muguruma x you #sincember #⋰❄︎gotta sin to win❄︎⋱#happyhornydays #💗💗🍡°my fics #💗💗🍡°bleach masterlist #byp 🌹holiday event #byp 🌹2023 events #byp🌹

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nikkeisimmer · 1 month

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Oh My God...inZOI...

"Recommended System Requirements for inZOI (Life simulator from Krafton Games, South Korea)

For those wanting to experience inZOI in all its glory with high frame rates and the most detailed visuals, aim for the following recommended specifications:

CPU: A more powerful processor like the AMD Ryzen 5 3600X or the Intel Core i5-10600K will deliver a smoother performance even in the most demanding scenarios.

RAM: Doubling the minimum requirement, 32 GB of RAM will ensure that your game runs seamlessly and enables extensive multitasking.

Video Card: Upgrading to an AMD Radeon RX 6800 or NVIDIA GeForce RTX 3080 video card will allow you to enjoy inZOI at higher resolutions and with better graphical fidelity.

Dedicated Video RAM: A hefty 10240 MB will give you the bandwidth needed for ultra-quality textures and prevent any graphical stuttering.

Pixel Shader and Vertex Shader: Remaining at version 5.0, but coupled with more robust hardware, you’ll be able to maximize the game’s visual settings.

OS: Windows 10/11 with the latest updates is again recommended for the best compatibility.

Free Disk Space: A consistent 50 GB of free space is recommended for game files, mods, and updates.

-quoted from https://inzoiresource.com/blogs/22/Minimum-and-Recommended-System-Requirements-for-inZOI

Yeah...that's my wallet finding out I'm going to have to spend at least $4,000.00 to run inZOI decently on my computer. The thing is that you can no longer play these newest games on "integrated graphics chips". You have to get a dedicated card. My wife wants to play Dragon Age 4 (The Veilguard) which is coming out on October 31, 2024. And those games are just as intense on hardware as it is with inZOI.

Minimum and RECOMMENDED requirements for Dragon Age 4 "The Veilguard"

Me, personally... I want to play Cities Skylines 2 and Microsoft Flight Simulator 2020 Recommended requirements for those two games. Cities Skylines 2

As for MSFS 2024 (due to come out in 2024?)

It's over and above what is pictured in MSFS2020. Chillblast said that the "recommended specs" for FS2024 is the following:

Microsoft Flight Simulator 2024 PC Recommended Requirements

OS: Windows 10

Processor: Intel i5-8400 | AMD Ryzen 5 1500X

Memory: 16 GB RAM

Graphics: NVIDIA GTX 970 | AMD Radeon RX 590

Storage: 150 GB available space

I'm calling HORSESHIT on that right now. I'm saying it's more in the realm of what inZOI and Dragon Age the Veilguard is putting out. You don't get that kind of gaming experience with the specs Chillblast espouses. Especially on the processor and graphics end of things. After all, on the FS forum board, the recommended specs being tossed about just for FS2020 is the following:

Intel i7-12700K CPU

Z690 motherboard

32GB DDR4 3600mhz RAM (upgrades for this on the site are very cheap, but like you said I’ve seen a couple instances where this RAM outperforms most others)

1TB SSD

Nvidia RTX 3080 Ti

Liquid cooled, nice case, 850 watt power supply, etc

Frankly as far as I'm concerned, I'm tempted to go all out and perhaps go so far as investing in:

i9-13900K CPU

64GB RAM DDR4

4TB SSD

NVidia RTX 4090

Z790 GAMING X AX

at least a 1000watt power supply so that I can run peripherals like scanners and other photographic requirements...on top of just my gaming shit.

...at minimum.

I'm sure there will be detractors going, "You don't need that kind of hardware to play Sims 3...or the current games"...well, the main thing in building a system is that you have to shell out for future proofing (as much as technology development allows at any given time) so that you don't have to spend as much money upgrading your computer system on an yearly basis as opposed to once every three to five years and that Sims 3 is not the only game that I play. And the new releases coming out are that graphics-intensive...

I play SWTOR currently and I'm finding that the game stutters especially when there is a lot of people on a server. I want to minimize that so I'm thinking the more RAM I have and the better the video card, I'll get a little less lag out of it and that will help when I'm taking on Imp or Pub forces whichever side I'm playing against at the time. That and maybe improved graphics to the point where it looks semi-realistic. I'm also planning to get Dragon Age 1-3 and then Dragon Age 4 as well. Plus there are a few other graphics intensive games such as Digital Combat Simulator World (DCS: World) as well that are attracting my attention. I may even get into Call of Duty (depending on the feasibility of the user controls.

Mass Effect drives me absolutely friggin' nuts when it comes to controlling my character Shepard - she's a "femShep". I have to key-bind my movement keys to keys that I'm familiar with in order to keep from going bug-frickin' mental. That also messes with the shoot key too. I'll get there someday. In the words of the ever-immortal Maverick Mitchell:

So in a nutshell, these latest games if not forcing people to upgrade to a better class of gaming PC, will find that a lot of people with restrictive budgets may just drop out of the PC market and try to find it on console (if they play console games) no matter how restrictive the console games are in comparison to the PC versions as opposed to spending $4000 on a new gaming system. A standard PS5 is $499.95 CDN as opposed to spending 10X that much trying to set up a PC to be able to play these newer games. Add a couple hundred dollars buying a hard-drive for these consoles will maybe bring that amount to around $600.00 still much cheaper than buying a whole new PC. Dragon Age the Veilguard will only be released for PS5 and PC - No plans in the works for XBOX Series X as far as I know. And for now, inZOI is PC release only (with an intent to release to console later on down the road - though who knows when that will be) Why though am I looking at a new PC on a restrictive budget? Well, it's because I want to play the games in their full graphics and be unrestricted and potentially moddable states. Does it mean I'm going to have to save a lot of money while waiting on a new PC? Yes. Do I have the patience to wait? Yes...I'm in my fifties, I've waited this long...might as well.

🤣

#non-sims #inZOI #MSFS 2024 #Cities Skylines 2 #SWTOR #Sims 3 #Dragon Age The Veilguard #DA4 #da4 speculation #DA4 System Spec speculation #Inzoi Specs #MSFS2024 specs #Cities Skylines 2 specs #My wallet has just turned pale and fainted #This is what happens when a male simmer goes nuts and decides his proclivities are worth more than the size of his wallet.

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itsevanffsbutspam · 3 months

Text

one day i woke up feeling dizzy. ridiculously dizzy, for my standards, and i know my body can get real fucked up sometimes so that's saying something. breathing deeply or doing jumping jacks or running in place didn't help. biking to uni didn't help either, even though that should theoretically raise my blood pressure and heart rate. i did everything i could think of, and considering i wasn't registered with the local gp yet, after day five (!!) of persistent dizziness that was enough to make me feel like i could keel over at any moment, i finally bit the bullet and did what people were telling me to do; i went to the closest gp center for an emergency (spoed, it doesn't translate well) consultation.

the hours for those are from 17:00 onwards into the night, and during weekends; like, the hours that regular practices don't take patients. i went, waited until 17:00 exactly to go in. there was one guy in the same situation as me (had a problem (i think it was a broken leg), wasn't registered with a gp either, so he came here for a checkup). his friend was also there but that was just moral support. he was the only person aside from me in the waiting room the entire time i was there.

i told the lady at the desk what was going on, gave her my social security number, and she directed me to wait. i did, i think i got called in around 15 minutes after i sat down. went in for some tests, and everything came back fine. hemoglobin was fine, heart was fine, blood pressure was on the low end, 95 over 60 i think. something like that. they were extremely nice and understanding; the doctor attending to me was someone in training and her mentor, so i think that helped with them treating me like a person. they told me they'd talk about it and let me know if they thought i needed to see an actual gp, and i agreed, so back to the waiting room i went.

about 10ish minutes later i got called in by a gp, a man, who sat me down and asked what was going on. i explained everything again, and he told me he'd do some tests; blood pressure, hemoglobin, et cetera. at that point i thought i'd gone to the wrong doctor and misheard my name or something, so i told him i'd already had those tests done. he said 'huh' and scrolled down on his computer. turns out this guy hadn't even looked through the file they'd given him about me! great start.

he asked me some followup questions, to which my answers were all pretty much 'everything seems normal', and as we went on he got visibly annoyed. i'm autistic so it has to be visible if i can fucking see it, right, i'm shit at inferring those things. great sign. we did some neurological tests to see if my brain fucked up, and it hadn't, thank god, which made me relieved that i wasn't possibly dying or whatever. my main concern and such.

this guy sat me down, and then proceeded to tell me that i really shouldn't be there if it isn't an emergency. the implication was that i was 1. bothering him, and 2. that i was taking up the space of people who really needed it.

i can't really explain to you what i felt in that moment, but i am still really proud of myself for grinning and bearing it. but let me recap the situation i was in.

i had been feeling dizzy enough that i was having trouble standing for FIVE DAYS STRAIGHT. i had consulted the site for the nhs and friends and family, all of whom told me to go to the doctor, and so i, after five days of nonstop dizziness, mustered up the courage to go.

there was ONE person aside from me in the waiting room who was being treated already when i got called back.

the women who tested me earlier were the ones who chose to refer me to that gp. they made that decision based on what they considered necessary. if i'd been fine, they would have told me to go home and i would have gladly gone.

i was at the time not registered with a gp in the area. i told them this. i'm fairly sure my registered gp's location being on the other side of the country was visible on my file. i would have had to travel three and a half hours alone with a potential serious problem to reach a doctor, and then i would have had to wait a week or more for an appointment anyway.

i was not in the ER. there is an ER in that building but i was most decidedly not in the emergency room. i was in the off-hours gp center, which is by definition not an emergency room. for emergencies you call 112. for non-emergencies but things that can't be delayed several days you call the off-hours gp center. that is where i went. i checked. twice.

i always thought that it was a good thing to go to the doctor and find there's nothing seriously wrong with you, instead of not going and getting serious complications later. so why was it that this guy treated me like a burden and insinuated i was taking up space that, let's be real, wasn't being used anyway? all because i didn't have a real enough problem, in his mind, to warrant being there?

i could have been directed to go home twice before then; at the reception, and after the preliminary tests, but both people thought my symptoms were serious enough to warrant a further check right then and there. so why was i being told that i wasn't meant to be there?

i eventually did register with the local gp a few weeks later, and that took almost three weeks to complete. then i went and got an appointment, and on the site it takes almost two months to get one, but if you call it still takes---you guessed it---a full week. a month of delay in care when i can barely walk or stand straight is, let's be honest, time i'm not comfortable wasting. so i ask again. why the fuck was i being treated like i wasn't meant to be there?

this isn't the only time i've been dismissed out of pocket because my situation wasn't severe enough, or wasn't connected to a serious underlying problem even though it impaired my normal function, and i'm not the only person this has happened to. it's genuinely come to a point where i have to start defending myself before i go to the doctor, so i have arguments why i'm allowed to be there ready to go just in case this particular gp decides i'm not sick enough to warrant care, again.

i wait two weeks before going to a doctor, instead of going right away and inevitably being told 'come back in two weeks and see if you still have the issue'. i don't even go to the doctor that much, maybe twice a year at most (not counting follow-ups), but i've come to expect it. how fucking sad is that? i have to defend my right to get healthcare from the people giving it to me. and i pay to be able to access healthcare!

i get that this is better than some people have it, etc etc, but i'm not okay with calling this state of things acceptable. not at all.

but seriously, what was i meant to do? perform neurological exams on myself? test my own hemoglobin at home? measure my own blood pressure with a blood pressure meter i don't have? travel 100 miles by train and bus with a condition that could put me at risk of harm in the process just to see a gp who'd tell me to wait another week anyway? piss off.

#itsevanffs.txt #personal #long post #ok to rb #medical bullshit

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the-hexfiles · 1 year

Text

Grace (Crosshair x F!OC)

Chapter Two: Tooka Tattoos

Rating: Mature

Content: ANGSTY af, but also fluffy because Cross needs some softness. First Person Narrative with now-named-narrator (but could still be read as x Reader if you want) Chapter dives into narrator's tattoos, scars, and past so TW: previous DV / SA survivor. PTSD, Blood, accidental harm (It's a small section of this fic, but I don't want anyone to be unpleasantly surprised.)

But there's also (Cat)Dad!Crosshair/Domestic!Crosshair so don't hate me.

Word Count: 3,640

A/N: I'm committed to their story now so there's much more to come. But I'm not ready to post a schedule, so if you wanna know when I publish, message me to be added to the taglist? Cause that's a thing I have now thanks to @stunkbiggu

Soundtrack: Still by Daughter

Previously... Next...

Crosshair let go of my hips. His hands slid all the way up my naked back to my shoulders, thumbs running along my spine as he went. He lowered to lay himself across my body, his hands massaging my arms, working his way towards my hands which still white knuckled the bed spread. He laced his fingers with mine and kissed my shoulders then my head, both of us sweaty and breathing heavily. He shifted his hips slightly, jostling my legs, making me flinch. I felt him smile against my skin, “What’s the matter?” he asked, tapping my foot with his, making me flinch again. I started to laugh, trying to sit up with him still laying across my back, but as my feet touched the floor the tingling sensation shot up both legs into my hips. He started trailing a hand back down the side of my body.

“Cross, don’t you dare,” I said, trying to wiggle out from under him, but he pressed his entire body weight into me, hand continuing towards my legs. “Crosshair, bad, no,” I growled, trying to playfully smack his hand away from my legs.

He snickered to himself, then stood up, picked me up by my waist and tossed me fully on the bed, sending shocks through my legs as blood flow returned. I rolled onto my back laughing and he crawled between my legs, squeezing up both legs teasingly before he laid on top of me, his arms tucked under me, and I wrapped my tingling legs around his hips. I kissed his temple and he sighed into the curve of my neck.

“I’m starting to think you only like that position because my legs fall asleep,” I said, running my nails over his fuzzy scalp and back.

“Just a bonus."

A shadow moved across the window, stopping for a moment before loudly knocking on the glass.

“Five credits, it's Tech,” I said, staring up at the ceiling.

“I have tried knocking on the front door several times, this is a rather urgent matter,” Tech’s voice called through the window. I sat up under Crosshair’s weight, and my gaze immediately caught the goggled eyes looking into the window.

“We know, we’re trying to ignore you,” I shouted from the bed.

“Ah yes, you appear to be in a um – compromising position. We will wait for you by the door,” he said before his shadow moved back towards the front of the house.

“Close the curtains please,” I said, flopping back into the bed.

“He’s seen my ass before,” he said before kissing my neck a few times.

“Oh so you’re okay with him seeing my ass?”

Crosshair groaned as he got up, closing the curtains then pulling me up to walk to the refresher to get cleaned up. He threw on a set of clothes from my dresser, popped a toothpick in his mouth, and tossed me one of his shirts and some clean pants. I opened the front door and gasped in absolute giddiness when I saw what was curled up in Omega’s hands. Crosshair rushed behind me, then his eyes caught what I was reaching for.

A small, brown, neonatal tooka was sleeping, bundled up in a spare set of blacks. I rushed Omega to the loveseat, ignoring the rest of the Batch as they filed in.

“Wrecker found it when we were running a job with Phee. You were the first person we thought of,” Hunter said, sitting in the chair, looking at me and Omega doting on the small fuzzy form. Wrecker leaned on the back of the couch, while Echo and Tech each sat on an arm of the loveseat. I smiled, petting the tooka between its little ears, “Thanks for thinking of me.”

“Why is that your only color piece?” Omega asked.

“It's for my siblings,” I smiled, as I rolled up the shirt sleeve on my left arm so she could take a look at the tattoo that went from my wrist to my elbow: in a blue and purple galaxy, six, different-sized tookas played with the different planets of my home system.

Omega beamed up at me excitedly, “Do you have a picture of them?”

I hesitated and looked to Crosshair who squeezed onto the couch behind me and was petting the tooka making it purr. He gave me his it’s-up-to-you-shrug. I nodded and went into the bedroom. I took a deep breath and opened my closet. In the back corner was the backpack I brought with me to Pabu, one of the only things that didn't get washed away in the tsunami. I grabbed two flat-holos from the backpack and brought them into the living room. Omega gave Crosshair the bundled Tooka and curled up into me. I handed her the first picture. Wrecker gasped behind me, “Oh maker! Look at you!”

I was the oldest child, twelve years old at the time, and holding my two year old brother on my hip. My very pregnant mother was sitting in a chair, holding my six year old brother in her lap. My twin brothers were five, standing to her left and right, each holding a small tooka. My brothers looked more like my mother than I did, with brown hair and hazel eyes. My blonde hair was chin length and pulled back, a few curls fell in front of my face that my brother held onto with his little fist. We were all smiling, but I certainly looked the happiest.

“I only see five children in this photo, and you appear to only have brothers, yet you refer to them as siblings. Do you not have a picture with the youngest after she was born?” Tech asked over my shoulder.

“Keila didn’t make it,” I said plainly, “She still deserved a place on my skin.” Crosshair placed his unoccupied hand on my thigh, giving it a light squeeze. He’d seen the pictures, and he knew their stories.

Echo picked up the holo I had put on the caf table and handed it to me: “And this your father?”

My father and I looked almost exactly alike. I was eighteen, standing behind him kissing his cheek, arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders. He was holding my left hand, looking up from his workbench with a surprised smile. We both looked worse for wear in our dirty jumpsuits. My father had started to look very sick by then, thin hair, dark circles under his gray eyes, face slightly sunken in. My curls were falling from my braids, there was a bruise along my left cheekbone and jaw. My right hand was bandaged. The scars from those injuries would later be covered by tattooed vines, flowers and snakes winding their way up my arm to my neck, strategically covering other marks from various accidents and incidents.

“Who did you get into a fight with?” Wrecker asked, amused and pointing to me in the photo.

“A hyperdrive,” I said quickly. From the corner of my eye I saw Tech and Echo exchange glances.

Hunter reached over and took the holo of my father and I to look at it. “Are your parents still alive?”

“My dad died a couple months after that picture was taken. My mom, I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to anyone since I got here.” I said as I took the holo back from him and walked into the bedroom, tucking them back in the backpack. “Let’s get some supplies for the little one,” I called from the bedroom before closing the closet door.

In the market, Omega walked next to me, looking down at the fuzzy bundle in her arms, occasionally looking up at me. I waited until she found the bravery to speak:

“Cerri?” My name was a quiet mumble from her lips.

“What’s wrong, Sunpetal?” I asked, smiling down at her.

“What were your parents like?” She asked, looking like she was about to cry.

“Well, my mom loved animals. She was so compassionate towards little creatures. She was the one who took in the tookas in that picture. She just…” I had to word the next part carefully. “She had a hard time with people. She loved us, but after giving birth, she would get so sad, so detached. I got to see a happy mom for a couple years. But my brothers were all so close together in age, she had a miscarriage before the twins, then Keila…Dad and I did our best with them, but mom couldn’t connect with us. Doesn’t mean I don’t love her any less.”

“What about your dad?”

“I miss him dearly. He was a mechanic, worked on ships and speeders. When I got older I would go to work with him to help out. We made a great team, both at work and taking care of our family. Watching him love my mom so unconditionally, I knew...” I choked on the last part, rubbing my thighs as I looked around at a booth we stopped at. Crosshair walked up behind me and grabbed my hand. I continued: “Uh, he loved music too. We used to sing together in the shop, sharing all the music we found with each other. As he was dying, he asked for one last song. It’s not a happy memory, but it’s very precious.”

Omega handed Crosshair the tooka before wrapping her arms around me, holding me tight. He gave me a quick kiss on the temple before paying for the few things we needed to take care of our fuzzy new addition to the family.

I was lying between Crosshair’s legs, my back against his chest as we laid on the couch later that evening. He rested his head against mine, both of us watching the little tooka’s ears wiggle as she sucked the bottle. He ran his hands over my thighs, feeling the scars through my sweats. He moved his hands up, one under my shirt to cup my breast and one started sliding under the waistband of my pants. He started kissing my neck as he slipped his hand a little further into my panties. I giggled as I stopped his hand:

“She’s trying to eat and Hunter will be back any minute with Omega and Lyana.”

He rolled his eyes and removed his hands from under my clothes, “Why are they staying here tonight?”

“They want to cuddle the little one. Besides, this is my house. You can go back to the Marauder if it bothers you,” I said teasingly, handing him the empty bottle to put on the caf table.

“All my clothes are here,” he said “There’s not a lot of room for me there anyway.”

“Are you telling me you moved in without asking?” I said laughing, turning to look at him.

“I haven’t brought my weapons kit yet,” he said, folding the plush blanket we decided to use for the tooka so Hunter could have his blacks back. “You haven’t seemed to mind that I've been here every night for the last three weeks.”

“Not even a little bit,” I said leaning in for a kiss.

“Good. The kit should fit under–” He said as he leaned in to me.

I pulled away with a grin just before our lips touched, “Not until you actually ask me,” I said. He pulled back and narrowed his eyes at me. “We never even labeled this,” I said, gesturing between the two of us, “Now you’re moving in? I want you to at least ask.”

He picked up the tooka and held it up, “We just adopted this together,” He swaddled the whining tooka up in the blanket, put it in my arms and kissed me. “There’s your fucking label. As for–”

“I heard that!” Omega’s voice called through the door, followed by Lyana’s giggling.

Crosshair got up off the couch to open the door and let the two girls and Hunter in, arguing to Omega that ‘it doesn’t count because she heard through the door’. I put the kitten in Lyana’s hands and led the girls to the bedroom. Hunter put their things down at the foot of the bed and watched with a smile as the girls crawled up into the fresh bed sheets giggling and fawning over the little one.

“She needs a name!” Omega said excitedly.

“Kit. Her name is Kit.” I said, winking at Crosshair.

Hunter said goodnight to the girls and closed the door behind him. He stayed for a while and talked with us until it was obvious from the lack of giggles and whispers that Lyana and Omega had fallen asleep. After Hunter left, Crosshair leaned back into the sofa, feet on the table, one hand in my hair, the other holding mine. I laid awake with my head in his lap, my past replaying in my mind, and my free hand tracing the straight scars on my thigh. His soft voice broke my train of thought:

“Can I move in with you?”

***

I felt a hand on my clothed stomach and startled awake.

“Easy, cyare, it’s me,” Crosshair’s voice was gentle in the dark, as he tried to pull me closer to him by my shirt but I shifted out of his reach and got out of bed.

“Cerri?”

“Go back to sleep, Cross.” My voice was shaking.

It was the third day of broken sleep and nightmares. Crosshair woke up every so many hours to try to take care of Kit, but I had already been awake every time. He tried to get me to nap before work, but I could only sleep for an hour or two at a time before I woke up in a sweat or he startled me awake mid-dream. The last two nights I went to sleep in a shirt and shorts, and picking up on my shift, he was sleeping in his boxers. Every nightmare was bad, but that one felt too real. I tried to breathe slowly and filled a glass with water. I heard Crosshair get out of bed and start walking into the kitchen.

My nineteenth birthday: Dad died. He helped get mom and the boys settled in for the night. Then left me alone in our bedroom till morning, to go sleep with some other, happier, girl.

‘Why did you stay?’

The question everyone had asked me. I leaned over the kitchen counter and started to cry, my lungs on fire.

Screaming at each other in the kitchen: He came home to me crying, but didn’t want to come home to my ‘bullshit’. I threw a muffin pan at his head. He slapped my face.

‘It’s all my fault.’

The same words, same images repeating over and over in my head, every old feeling burrowing under my skin.

My face shoved into a pillow: I’d told him no. But that makes me a bad partner. My body is his to fuck as he pleases, I don’t get a say.

‘You asked for it.’

The sudden rush of my mother’s voice in my mind flared the old rage inside of me and I threw the glass at the lower cabinets, shattering it across the kitchen floor around me. I started to scream, curling up into myself on the kitchen floor, glass cutting into my knees as I sobbed uncontrollably. I kneeled there screaming and crying, muscles aching and gasping for breath between sobs. I felt arms around me, and I started sobbing “no” and “let me go” over and over.

“I need to get you off the floor,” Crosshair whispered in my ears as he picked me up. He carried me over to the loveseat before leaving me there, crying into my bloody knees.

As I tired myself out, I focused on the world around me again. I heard glass being swept up behind me. After hearing the clatter of glass in the trash, the bedroom door opened. Kit was crying out loudly, the crying getting louder as Crosshair carried her over to me. “You woke the baby,” he said, nudging the bundle of blanket and tooka into my arms. I started crying again, feeling overwhelmed and nauseous from my outburst, and feeling guilty for waking Crosshair and Kit. I took her and started petting her to settle her down. After a moment, the refresher light clicked on, blinding me briefly. Kit’s cries settled into purring as she fell back to sleep. Crosshair kneeled in front of me, setting a medkit on the sofa next to me.

“Can I touch you?” he asked, trying to meet my gaze. I nodded, still looking down at Kit. He gently pulled my legs down so that I was sitting normally on the sofa. He cleaned the cuts on my knees and applied bacta patches while I sat there silently crying, trying to settle down. He closed up the medkit and set it on the caf table before sitting on the opposite side of the loveseat. I looked over at him. He looked confused and pained, but kept his distance, sitting facing me with his arm stretched across the back of the sofa towards me. I cuddled Kit close and started sobbing apologies. He tugged on my shirt and I relented, curling up into him, letting him hold me close, alternating between rubbing my back and playing with my hair.

“Aurren?” He asked softly. I looked up at him, mortified. “You’ve said his name once or twice in your sleep,” he said quietly. I cried:

“I’ve never had someone make me feel so angry, so miserable, so worthless. He made sure everything was my fault. And I let it go, blaming the marks on a slip up at the shop. Every night he manipulated and guilted me into bed... I didn’t understand the disgust and violation I felt after sex with him. I always let it go because he was always there for me, like Dad was there for Mom. And I was getting so moody, I started to see myself in her. I was such a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” he whispered against my skin. Crosshair wiped my face with his thumb, “How did you get out?”

I shook at the memory of the night. He stopped wiping away my tears for a moment and looked at me with wide eyes.

“He got so angry. Then I got angry and he didn’t like that. I was pretty bloody by the end of it.” I mindlessly rubbed the fading scar along my left cheekbone. “I tried to go home that night but Mom...” I sobbed and pushed away her words. “I took the holos, cut my hair, and changed my name. Tattoos came later. I was hiding on different planets for two years before I was connected with a group of abuse survivors who helped me get to Pabu.” I looked up at him.

He kissed my forehead, letting his lips linger. I paused for a moment, enjoying the feeling of lips to my skin.

“Are you gonna leave me?” I said choking on the words.

“You haven’t left me,” He pulled his face away to look at me, “We have a child together, I’m not going anywhere.” He let a playful smile tug at his lips.

I started to laugh, looking down at Kit, wiping my tears off the top of her head, making her purr again. “It’s just a tooka, Cross, it’s not that serious.”

He kissed from my temple, down my jaw to my lips and kissed me passionately.

“It is to me,” he whispered when he pulled away so we could catch our breaths. I smiled but a yawn took me by surprise. He grinned, picked me up off the loveseat, and carried me into the bedroom. He laid me on the bed and tucked Kit into her little box next to his side of the bed before sliding in next to me. I cuddled into his side and fell asleep within a few minutes.

When I woke up, Crosshair’s side of the bed was empty and the bedroom door was closed. The sunlight around the closed curtains had a gray tint as I listened to rain patter against the glass. I laid there for a while before I got up. I opened the door and saw six faces turn to look at me. Crosshair was in the kitchen with Omega, holding Kit and feeding her, while the other Batchers occupied the few seats I had around my house. Everyone’s eyes looked down at my bare legs. Crosshair went back to feeding Kit, while the others admired the tattoos on my legs they had never seen before: The large, sketched and shaded Starbird that covered the scars on the front of my left thigh. My right thigh had a mountain range against a night sky, with three moons in different phases. The outside of my right calf had a skeleton playing a viol, flowers laced between the bones.

“Nice ink,” Hunter said, his eyes lingering on my calf.

“Good evening, Cerri!” Omega called as she ran up to give me a hug.

Echo started to ask about my knees, but Crosshair shot him a dirty look.

“Evening? What time is it?” I asked as I walked over to Tech and looked over his shoulder at his data pad. I looked at Crosshair in a panic. He and I were supposed to be at work an hour earlier.

“Cross!” I shouted, startling Kit and Tech at the sudden noise.

“It’s fine, I commed Joy. You’re off tomorrow too,” he said quietly.

I started to protest, but Crosshair just walked over and handed me Kit.

“I’m working tomorrow, don’t worry about credits.” He started to push me and Omega towards the loveseat. I started to protest again but he whispered in my ear:

“Cuddle the baby, and let me love you.”

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

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#crosshair #crosshair x oc #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x oc #bad batch x reader #bad batch x oc #bad batch crosshair #bad batch fanfic #tbb x reader #tbb crosshair #the bad batch #crosshair x reader #crosshair fanfiction

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