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diazsdimples · 3 months

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Several Sentence Sunday!

Tagged by @steadfastsaturnsrings @theotherbuckley and @daffi-990, thanks my loves!!

So I've been informed that the snippets of zoo fic I've been sharing have made it seem like a cute, wholesome trip to the zoo, which it is in part. But it's also just a whole load of Eddie Feeling Things (8k of it so far) as he comes to terms with Christopher growing up and his feelings for Buck. So, having said that, please enjoy a slightly more angsty section of this.

Christopher is growing up. It’s a natural part of life, but a part Eddie has been dreading for years, probably since the day Christopher was born if he’s being honest with himself. His breathing is becoming more difficult, chest tightening as he tries to steady his inhales. “I-I’m gonna go down to the underwater area for a sec, be right back. Make sure Buck doesn’t get into trouble, Chris,” Eddie stammers as he gets up, pushing past Buck and Christopher, and he all but runs down the sloping path, stopping only when he’s in the cool, dark cave under the seating area. The water behind the big, glass windows cast an eerie light, rippling and dancing with the small wavelets of the pool, and it calms Eddie a little, away from the hustle and bustle of the above area. From where he’s standing, he can watch as the mama and baby hippos both wade into the water before the mama hippo tips herself forward, sinking gracefully to the bottom. The baby follows suit, her little legs kicking about as she gets used to the sensation of weightlessness, and she settles on her mother’s back, watching as a shoal of fish swirl around them. Eddie walks forwards and places a hand on the cool glass. Watching the mama and baby interact, the way the baby keeps looking back at her mother for reassurance and the way the mama hippo gazes at her child with a look that could only be love, Eddie flips through all his memories of Christopher, as though watching his past through a Viewfinder. He’s so busy reminiscing that he doesn’t hear the footsteps as someone else enters the cave, until a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around his middle. “You okay?” Buck’s voice murmurs in his ear, lips brushing against the shell and Eddie sinks back with a sigh, letting his whole body relax in Buck’s arms.

tagging @hippolotamus @watchyourbuck @disasterbuckdiaz @puppyboybuckley @bucksbackwardcap @fortheloveofbuddie @spotsandsocks @aroeddiediaz @jesuisici33 @tizniz @wikiangela @buckbuckgoose @exhuastedpigeon @cal-daisies-and-briars @wildlife4life @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @evanbegins @nmcggg @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @rainbow-nerdss @kitteneddiediaz @elvensorceress @epicbuddieficrecs @smilingbuckley @actuallyitsellie @thekristen999

#eddie's going through it #took one look at a mother and baby hippo and dissolved into a ball of feels #also this is so close to finished!#they just gotta have The Confession and then we're done!#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 abc #911 buddie #911verse #911 fanfic #911 #eddie x buck #zoo fic

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yander-city · 4 months

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Loading resident information…

Yandere cult leader

Lazarus Seltzar

————————

Proceed…?

—————————————————————————————————————

Name:

Lazarus Seltzar

Appearance:

F9E0CE (HAIR)

61A994 (EYES)

FDECE5 (SKIN)

Occupation:

Cult Leader Mayor

Age:

23 years old

Known family:

Thomas Seltzar (FATHER)

Lyra Seltzar (MOTHER)

Edmond Seltzar (GRANDFATHER)

Dorothy Seltzar (GRANDMOTHER)

Personality [Host’s experience]:

“He certainly presents himself as normal to others, it can be quite difficult for people to tell if he really is crazy or not. Hell, I wouldn’t have known if no background check was executed before we admitted him. I have caught notice of Lazarus’ frequent grinning, nobody has ever seen him falter, leaving some residents disturbed. He’s quite the optimistic and extroverted sir, unfortunately you never know what’s below the surface…”

Found background:

Lazarus originates from the very same cult he presently leads. His parents, Lyra and Thomas Seltzar forcefully settled down together during the construction of the cult’s town, built by Edmond Seltzar.

Lazarus had a healthy childhood aside from the cult’s views being projected onto him, his father’s sudden disappearance, and Dorothy Seltzar’s passing. Once the bad passed for young Lazarus, Edmond took Lazarus under his wing, showing him how to be a leader for the town.

Unfortunately, Lazarus’s mother had also suddenly disappeared in his late teens, leaving him in the hands of his grandfather for good until his eventual passing. Presently leaving Lazarus as the cult’s mayor.

Trivia:

Lazarus’ little source of (now forgotten) morality was from his mother

A nickname Lazarus has earned from the elderly women in town is “Lonely Lazarus” as a result of his longing for romance.

Lazarus frequently gets visions, little snippets of the future. And you.

More information will be implemented…

Feel free to ask questions…

#yandere x you #yandere #lazarus seltzar #yander city #yandere x y/n #yandere oc #yandere x female reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #yandere prompts #sincerely-host #yanblr #yandere cult leader

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lullabyes22-blog · 7 months

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Snippet - Fairytales - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Jinx soliloquizes.

Or philosophizes.

Or something.

Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

"Perfect," she mutters. "That's what he says."

Except it's not about her. Well, yeah. It is about her. But it's really about Silco. His hopeless, relentless, bottomless thirst to win. To prove the world wrong. To show them all. He's always been the man with the big plan, and the empty pockets. He's come up the hard way, only to have Topside's snobs laugh him off the block. He's never been enough, never had enough, and the fierceness of it, that low-down burning grudge in the pit of his gut, has fed him like nothing else.

It's become his sustenance. His lifeblood. The heart of Zaun's revolution.

Jinx knows Silco's story. She was there for every page.

Same way she knows Vi's story. The girl with too much on her shoulders, who carried her burdens till they broke her, and left her better self to rot in a cell. Same way she knows Vander's story, the man who gave too much, and lost too many. Same way she knows Claggor's story, and Mylo's, and all the rest whose deaths were as quick as their lives were short.

And Ekko, who's still alive. Alive and kicking.

And that, Jinx thinks, is the kicker.

The Boy Savior's lost his way. And—boo hoo—it's all because of her. She's the one who let the Big Bad Wolf inside their home. And with a huff and a puff, he blew their world down. Never mind that it was made of sticks, and sticks are for burning. Never mind that Little Blue Riding Hood was only playing with matches, and the world had been waiting, hungry, to go up in smoke. Never mind that, if she hadn't gone a-knocking, the Big Bad Wolf would have, and the whole place would have burned anyway.

Silco was always gonna get what he wanted, come hell or high water. And in the end, hell won, and the high waters rose, and they all drowned. Burned.

Boom.

Jinx nearly laughs, but stops. It tastes too stoppered-up with salt, and she's not here to cry. Since the Deadlands, she doesn't have a single tear left for them.

Not a single drop.

"In fairytales," she tells Billy, "tears are magic."

Billy's head tilts, listening. He understands nothing. But he's a good listener.

"But fairytales—they're all warnings, see? Tales of what happens when girls do bad things. Like not listening when your big sister says 'Stay at home.' Like not running when the brave boy says 'Come with me.' Like not screaming when the wolf opens his big, bloody maw, and says, 'Dinnertime.'" A clammy shiver flutters over her skin. "You're not supposed to get happy endings when you break the rules. You're supposed to die. Just like the monsters."

Because that's what bad girls are. Monsters in marzipan shells. Hungry to break out; born to be slain. That's the way fairytales work, too. If you're a good girl, you get a happy ending. If you're a bad girl, you get a dead end.

There's no other way, and if there was, someone would've written it by now.

But this is Zaun. And no one writes fairytales here. The story's lived, not written. It's passed down from generation to generation. Mother to son. Father to daughter. Sister to sister. That's why Jinx knows Silco's story. Why she knows Vi's, and Vander's. And every story she's ever heard, true or not.

That's how the city lives. How it survives. Through living and suffering and dying, and having others remember, so there's always someone to tell the tale.

To never forget.

Jinx, though? Jinx has already died. Died, and come back. Destroyed, beheaded, cried; destroyed, deadheaded, survived. A phoenix, Silco calls her. Born the bones of her enemies, and destined to rule over a city reborn.

That's pure Silly talk, though. Him and his Silcoisms. He could fill a whole book. A heavy tome, penned by the man himself. She'd read it, cover to cover. Hell, maybe she'd have a starring role!

The Blue Herring. The Chekhov's Loaded Gun. The Unjinxed Jinx.

She nods. "Yeah. I'd be in Silly's book."

Billy chirps. He's a curious little thing. He'd make a great detective, if he was less bird-brained.

"I'd be the heroine. Well—the anti-heroine. One of those film noir dames. The—the—" She snaps her fingers. "—the femme fatale. Yeah. Silco loooooves a good femme fatale. Says they're the ones who write history. With their wiles and wits and weapons hidden in naughty places. And they've got a whole lotta naughty places." She tips Billy a wink. "Get it?"

Billy's beady eye slits. The little prude.

"I'd be his muse," she goes on, "and he'd name a cocktail after me. A strong drink, with a bite. And he'd call it: Blue Lightning. Or maybe Pink Suckerpunch. Or, no, no! Jinx. Just Jinx." She giggles, and Billy squawks in scandal. "And he'd tell the bartender: A tall cool Jinx, Chuck, with a cherry on top. And he'd sip, and make a solo toast, and say: Here's to lookin' at you, kid. And I'd be a portrait on his wall. A big one. I'd be in a slinky gown. Something glammed-up and glittery. And my hair, all curled. And my face, all made up." She sweeps her short hair up over her head in mimicry of a lush chignon, sucking in her cheeks and pouting her lips. "And then there'd be a flashback. And the room would go smoky, and full of music, and there'd be a spotlight shining down on me. And I'd have a cigarette in one hand, and a gun in the other. And then I'd turn around, and shoot the cameraman."

She doubles over with laughter. Billy is less impressed.

Crows are many things. Comedians, they ain't.

"That'd be the last shot. Of the film. Get it? Because I'd shoot him!" Wiping her eyes, she grins. "The femme fatale with firepower. That's me. Waaaay better than a fairytale. Silco says so, too. He says the femmes Haunt the narrative. That's one of his words, too. Narrative. It's all about how you tell the story. Who gets to tell it, and what they've got to say." She juts her chin at Piltover's skyline, all glitz and glory. "Topside's stories? They're all the same." Her tone deepens: the bombast of a newsreel narrator. "'Piltover! Home to the Hexgates, the marvel of the century. An endless horizon of progress.'" She blows a raspberry. "Blah, blah, blah. Their story's just: Look how shiny we are. And how rich. And how pretty. What? That dark sooty hole down there? It's just the dirt. Ignore it. It's not real."

And just like that, the anger comes, bubbling up like lava. Her jaw grits.

"Their stories aren't real. They're lies. As hollow as their hearts. Hollow as fairytales. And fairytales, they're only stories for kids. Keep 'em soft, and sweet, and dumb. The real stories—the hard truth—they're down here. In Zaun. We're the city of dreams. Not Piltover. Because we know what it takes to make our dreams come true."

Not a wish upon a star. A fist to the jaw, and a knife in the back, and a graveyard's worth of corpses.

Vi couldn't see that. She took one look at Zaun's acid-green skies and thought, Who would want to live here? And that's all it took for her to turn her back. She chose Piltover, where her fists have no place, and her spine is a straight arrow, and her voice is a muted murmur. Where her story is: Yes ma'am. No sir. I'm a good girl. I know my place.

She'd rather have a boot on her neck than live free. Rather make kissy-kissy with a Piltie princess than fight for what's hers. What's theirs. What's all of Zaun's.

The place Jinx was born to defend.

And Ekko?

He's a turncoat, too. Just a different stripe. Like Vi, he fell for the fairytales. Instead of fighting, he flew off to Neverland. No Boy Savior, but a regular Peter Pan. He saw a little girl, and thought: Save her. He saw the Big Bad Wolf, and thought: Slay him. It never occurred to him that the Big Bad Wolf had a history, and a heart, just like hers. Never occurred to him that the little girl was a witch, a weapon, a walking timebomb.

Never occurred to him that maybe she liked being bad. Being blue.

Being Jinx.

"A gal's got a right to choose," Jinx tells Billy. "That's what Zaun's about."

Free will, not fairytales. No rules but the ones you break. No chains but the bling you flash. You can be anything. Be anybody. And if that means cutting a throat or two along the way, so be it. That's survival, baby.

Silco understands that. He understands her. He took Powder by the hand, and said: Your choices don't make you. You make your choices. And: You, too, can change the world. And: You, too, can be more than you think

Be bigger. Better. Be the best.

Be my perfect girl.

Be Jinx.

Jinx knows Silco's story. And Silco knows Jinx's. Vi wrote the first chapter. But Silco's the one who rewrote the ending. Who gave her a new page, and a second chance.

A perfect beginning.

Jinx gusts a gloomy sigh.

"Perfect," she repeats, softer. "That's me."

She scritches Billy's skull. He thrums like a little engine.

"But sometimes I want to ask him..."

Her caress falters.

"Ask him..."

Billy opens his eyes. Red and black and déjà vu.

"I know," she whispers. "Stupid question. If I was just even a liiiiiittle less perfect: poof. It's curtains."

So: perfect.

Because Zaun needs her. Because she needs Zaun.

Because Silco needs both.

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betabravo · 17 days

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Snippet: Homeroom Miruko x Red Flag (Deus MHA AU) Part 7

Rumi stayed near the wall, typing into the group chat about what everyone was planning to do. Not murder or anything illegal like that, of course. They are all still Pro Heroes after all.

But that’s only if it could be proven, and they’d need Nezu's help with the plan anyways.

That’s when she hears it. The almost silent shuffle of shoes on the ground, the splash of something being fished out of water, and the mumble about how if anyone had recorded the conversation SOMEONE is going to jail.

Rumi peeks over the wall (barely), to see the green bush-like hair of Izuku Midoriya. He was wringing the notebook dry, continuing to mumble about a new hero that debuted today and her Quirk. Apparently, he likes to write down stuff about Quirks and such, judging from the sheer amount of quirk-babble coming out of his mouth.

And here is where she makes her third mistake: Letting her emotions take over her reasoning.

But how could anyone NOT! Especially after knowing what she knows about that cute kid and what he’s been through… wait, where did that come from?

She peeks past the corner and sees the boy exit the front gate. He seems completely lost in thought, looking downcast and continuing to mumble away. He’s out of hearing range now, but if she takes off the headgear now, she’d be swarmed by fans and the vultures. (She loves Eraserhead’s term for them, it’s accurate. Apparently it started as a codeword for the media, but it fit so well that it stuck.)

She wants to confront the kit about the other hot-headed kid, but she couldn’t do it in such a public place. It’ll attract attention, and not the good kind either. Not to mention she plans on keeping her ‘employment’ as a UA staff secret from the HPSC as much as possible. (Not to mention her side gig.)

Staying a safe distance behind Izuku, Rumi basically stalked him. She re-read the file the school sent UA about Izuku Midoriya.

Name: Izuku Midoriya (15, M) Quirk: Quirkless Family: Mother – Inko Midoriya (40) Father – Unknown (Left home when Izuku was 4, no contact after, wife has officially filed for divorce) GodMother – Unknown (Not married to Inko, basically an aunt. No information given by Inko or Izuku besides her gender.)

After that was a load of crap saying how Izuku was a bad kid, but Rumi recognizes bullshit when she sees it. Especially after she saw Izuku with her own eyes.

Izuku then turns the corner to a secluded area, heading towards an underpass. He then does something she didn’t expect.

He stuffs his right hand into his pocket and turns around, facing her. “Who are you and why are you following me?”

///

Here's part 7. I don't have a plan for Izuku's father to appear in this series. (At least not yet)

Let's see how far I can take this.

First/Last/Next

#homeroom teacher miruko au #au fic #writing practice #red flag au

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restesdelune · 13 days

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*A Richonne Content Rant*

> Comin' Soon on Restes de Lune ?

Hi TWD fam, Richonners, gals, guys and theys

I've been editing like crazy but the youtube algorithm won't let me post my 20min edit of HRWB #3 - Next World Lovin' (A day in the life of Rick Grimes) without butchering my work. Looks like I won't be able to finish this series with a bang like I hoped.

So here's a load of stills to give you an idea since for now, all my hours on it just went down the drain. I still want to share something though, as I know others are just like me :) Maybe I'll share snippets, bits by bits... :(

Here's the first part

Idk, looks sexy and funny to me! ^^

I still don't understand why so many channels can host whole scenes of the show online, HD scene packs and longer edits and seem unbothered (good for them!) but I can't ?

Whyyy Ô Whyyy ?

My Richonne rabbit hole originally started with an Ultimate Edit From the prison to Alexandria. It was right after watching The Ones Who Live as it was released and I needed to go back and re-experience Richonne all over again. Unfortunately, it was too long of an edit and my hardware could not keep up...

That's when I took on smaller endeavours, exploring the origins of Richonne further from behind the scenes. I love listening to Danai talking about her work. So many actors tend to respond quite superficially to questions about their characters, Danai has such a profound understanding of Michonne, it shows both on and off screen and I'm here for all of it.

Then, I've explored more behind the scenes with Andrew and Danai's chemistry, and how it showed and still shows up on screen years later, and have many of us hooked, locked in a love chokehold everytime we see Rick and Michonne gazing into each others' eyes. That's how HRWB #2 came to become Dandy On Set and Off.

Yes, I'm fluffy like that and have no shame about it :)

Anyway...

I'll still try to edit further HRWB#3 and share it with you what I can, but I need to cut back my Richonne hours and find new ways to engage with the fandom if I can't find a better solution.

My series How Richonne Was Born was supposedly a lighter prelude to the deeper and more interesting work I want to share (see The Ones Who Love Live On teaser). Might take a while though, as I work too slow for the algo, so don't hesitate to sub to check me out here, on youtube and twitter to follow the work.

And yes, I'm gonna get even fluffier with these ones, and a lot more political too. Fingers crossed!

I still plan to share everything I wrote (essays and fanfic), it will only take yet a lot more time and creativity. Maybe I should just forget video and do a podcast? Just brainstorming in the tumblr open...

If you're into any of it let me know, feedbacks and advice are welcome! I may have started this on a whim but I found people along the way, and it's always easier when we're not alone and have support, right?

My posts about

"The Last Grimes"

The Michonne effect

Mother Michonne

**** See You around and Happy Shipping ****

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saintmeghanmarkle · 2 months

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DM: Meghan Markle hands out signed Polaroids to young patients at children's hospital in Los Angeles. Narcissist much? by u/Von_und_zu_

DM: Meghan Markle hands out signed Polaroids to young patients at children's hospital in Los Angeles. Narcissist much? Because, after all, it is all about her.

A few snippets with comments by me:

The mother-of-two held onto a Sharpie - ready to autograph the snaps - and leaned down to talk with the children, as well as giving many of them hugs. [When is the last time anyone actually asked for her autograph? And don't forget she is a hugger!]

In a royal-style visit in California, photos saw Meghan leading a 'Literally Healing' session. [don't forget she can royal like you would not believe!]

The former Suits star was seen showing off her acting skills while reading to kids. [not a star and with de minimis skill]

The Duchess was effortlessly stylish in a floral ensemble. [Always so effortless! And stylish! With a hole in the seam!][The following, in my opinion, is apparently a key point of the article. It serves no purpose other than her ego and her merching.]

She added a touch of springtime joy to her outfit and donned a chic flowery $3,490 (£2,776) Oscar De La Renta silk-chiffon landscape shirt dress with long cuffed sleeves and a sash belt.The outing marked the second occasion [She rewears too! that Meghan has donned the piece, having previously worn the dress in photographs displayed in the Sussexes' Netflix docuseries in 2022, Harry & Meghan.

Get a load of this "narrative." "holding court" "royally reading" "rare public appearance?" What!?!?! post link: https://ift.tt/HIe3MCS author: Von_und_zu_ submitted: April 03, 2024 at 01:18PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

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oldfashionedmorphine · 7 months

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hi! happy sunday everyone! here’s more snippets of:

on the same frequency

-.-. .... .- .--. - . .-. / ....-

December 25, 1995

“But… ten years is a long time—I… I haven’t even known you for ten years yet.”

Shit. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him—that Will had already been gone for longer than the years they had together. And it makes him sick to think about it—how little time they had. Especially when some of his earliest memories of Will were so fuzzy now. And then thinking about just how young Will was when he died—only three months shy from turning fifteen. It just wasn’t fair.

December 26, 1985

And with that thought, Will sets his half eaten bowl of cereal down on the counter and without hesitation he runs out back to the shed where his mother kept a rifle—grabbing it off the wall and then sets it on the workbench while he searches around for a box of ammunition. Once he finds it, he loads it up with a pair of shaky hands, and then cautiously returns to the house. Will locks the back door and then double checks the front door too, and for good measure he ensures that all the windows are locked with the curtains drawn as well. To say he was paranoid was an understatement. But even though everything was secured and he was now armed, he still felt vulnerable. Maybe it was just his anxiety talking, but there was an eeriness in being all alone. And if not for the ticking of the clock on the wall in the living room, the house would be dead silent, which didn’t help his nerves at all.

Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick…

🎶 a song from chapter four 🎶

rating: mature

tags: alternate universe, not canon compliant, major character death, grief/mourning, ptsd, blood and injury, supernatural elements, time shenanigans, butterfly effect, thriller, angst with a happy ending

release date: 11/26/2023

✨ previous chapter previews ✨

ch1 | ch2 | ch3

tagging:

@kaiminluu @greenfiend @total-serene560 @across-thestars @boahey @magentamee @daydreams-in-the-moonlight @soyboystan @foodiewithdahoodie @booksandpaperss @likegoldintheair @mandycantdecide @hazmatazz @sparks-olivarpente @1-tehe-1 @lucasvenkman @rebellius @maru-chu @septembr-moon @kamomillatea

(if you’d like to be tagged/untagged for the next preview, please let me know!)

#chapter 4 preview #possibly my favorite chapter for a few reasons 😇😈#4 down 3 to go!! see you next week! ;)#on the same frequency: a byler fic #byler fanfic #byler fanfiction #byler big bang 2023 #byler big bang #bbb23

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camaro-and-smokes · 1 month

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The Family Values Program

The first chapter of a dystopian au we've been writing together with @aggressiveviking is finally online!

Warnings: None. Tags: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, Arranged Marriage, Developing Relationship, Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn, Developing Friendships, Denial of Feelings, Internalized Homophobia, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Domestic Fluff, Forced Cohabitation, Mutual Pining Misunderstanding, Sexual Tension, Unrequited Crush, or so they both think, Closeted Gay Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington Has a Bisexual Awakening, Other tags to be added

Summary: When society started to decline, morals deteriorate and disease wiped almost one fourth of the population in the United States, The Family Values Program (TFV) was launched—the last beacon of hope for the betterment of the American people.

Steve had thought he wouldn't need to join TFV thanks to his dad's riches, whereas Billy had done all he could to ensure he would be one of the few accepted to it, for his father's sake—hoping desperately to turn twenty-five before being matched and thus age out of the program.

So, when they got the message from the Matchmaking Service of a successful match, neither of them knew what to expect—and how badly wrong it had gone.

To Steve, finding out that he was matched with a man by mistake was just one problem. The more pressing one was his upcoming twenty-fifth birthday a week from now, effectively aging him out of the program. If their match was revoked, Steve would be cast out of the TFV zone, with a promise from his father for no financial support. Steve couldn't let that happen.

Read in full on AO3 >> (snippet under the cut)

:::::::::::

Billy Hargrove had one simple goal in his life - to age out of the Matchmaking Service. He only had one more year to go before he could be officially free and there was nothing his father could do about it, not even blame him because it wouldn’t be Billy’s fault. It was just dumb luck.

Being part of the TFV program had been the singular goal and regret that his father held. The Family Value program - a government-enforced and regulated family life. A man and a woman. A family. Idyllic, the way they showed it in movies, the way it was supposed to be before society had started to crumble. At least that's how they said it was.

It happened more than 30 years ago - the decline of culture and the end of moral values. The concept of marriage had lost its meaning, and it led to broken families, broken people, and broken values. It had been the catalyst for more than just personal tragedies. Billy’s father had been a victim of it as Neil Hargrove wouldn’t forget to remind everyone. An upstanding man, who wanted nothing more than to lead a good upstanding life, and take care of his wife and kids. He had been betrayed by his wife, who broke their family like it meant nothing.

Billy knew it was a load of bullshit, the bruises on his ribs proved it even now. His father was far from the person he pretended to be, who he imagined himself to be. It was true that his mother was a bitch for leaving, but it wasn’t because she left Neil, it was because she left Billy with Neil. How hard would it have been to just take him with her when she packed her bags and ran out? How much more would it have cost her? Billy doubted that she had even thought about that - she had only thought about herself. Because that’s what people were conditioned to do in those times.

Crime rates had been steadily increasing, so much so that law enforcement couldn’t keep up. With the increase in crime, death followed shortly. Diseases became rampant, a modern plague had wiped nearly one-fourth of the population of the United States. It was said that it was a biological weapon, meant to be sold - a simple exchange of death for money - but it spread without control, without a way to stop it.

At the peak of the horrors and tragedies, The Family Value program was launched - the last beacon of hope for the betterment of the American people. All efforts and resources were poured into making that campaign a success. Whole cities and towns were confiscated, and all citizens evacuated elsewhere as the program was established, as the walls were built, as the TFV centers were built of solid concrete in the center of it all, to last for centuries ahead as the beacon of light to the people, as the first step to order and prosperity.

The Matchmaking Service was the tool, the weapon that the government built to fight against the decay of society. The concept of the program was simple - to preserve and nurture the value of a healthy family, and the Matchmaking Service was what made it possible. Every person was encouraged to sign into the program with the promise of a good easy life - a home provided by the government, steady jobs - but not many were able to pass the heavy vetting process. Only the people who could prove they held family values close to their heart were qualified to be accepted into the program - the people who had a passion for living a good, honest life, who stayed in school, followed the law, and most important of all, had never had a marriage that had been broken.

Neil Hargrove did not qualify. And neither did his new wife Susan Mayfield. She had a broken marriage of her own - a messy divorce. Their kids however still had a chance, and while Susan simply wished a better life for her daughter Max, Billy’s father had steadily developed an obsession fueled by anger and bitterness. He was simultaneously doing his best to push Billy into being the perfect candidate for the TFV program, while at the same time, he was furious that he never had been given that chance himself. He didn’t forget to remind Billy of it.

Billy wanted nothing more to be done with all of it. 25. That was the age of the cutoff from the program. All legal adults could apply for the Matchmaking Service as soon as they turned 18. Once they had been approved into the program they only needed to wait to be matched at random with the person of the opposite gender who was going to be their life partner. No backing out, no second attempts - it was very simple, fail to do so and you were out of the program, permanently. But while the process wasn’t that complicated, the random matching of people had one little flaw. Some people ended up aging out of the system before they were given a match.

Neil Hargrove had made Billy sign up as soon as he could with no regard for what Billy wanted to do with his life. Not that Billy ever shared that with his father. He also didn’t share the fact that he harbored no attraction to the opposite sex… Something that Billy had no way of exploring living under his father’s roof and which he would never get to explore if he got matched with a partner in TFV program.

At the very start, Billy had been living in dread, every day waiting for that horrible message that marked the culmination of his father’s efforts and the end of Billy’s freedom for good. But then… the years were passing by and no message came through. A calm washed over him as the time grew near. He had been in the system for almost 7 years and there had been no match. For the first time in his life, Billy dared to dream. Perhaps life wasn’t as unfair as he had thought it was. Perhaps he would finally be given the freedom he deserved after almost 25 years of hiding, of pain, of fear… Maybe things were going to work out—

And as if in a cruel twist of fate the message came right when he had stopped expecting it.

Billy’s stomach dropped as he read the words written bold and bright on the screen of his com device while his hand shook.

Congratulations, it’s a MATCH!

He felt like he was going to throw up, his heart sinking into his stomach. Billy had hoped never to see the official message from the Matchmaking Service… but here it was. Mocking him, like a bad punchline to a joke, like everything else in Billy’s life.

He tried to take a deep breath but he only managed to choke as he pressed the button to read the rest of the message. The content of it was like a prison sentence. Not only had he been matched, but he was being relocated — Billy had known that could happen but he had been sure it could never happen to him. The location marked on the top read a town named Hawkins… in fucking Hickville Indiana .

Billy wanted to cry.

“Sign up to the program, Steve, or live outside your very privileged comfort zone for a very painful ten years. I am tired of trying to help you.”

Yeah. Those were Steve's father's last words before he had given Steve his ultimatum: time until Steve's twenty-fifth birthday to find a place of his own to live in and his trust fund locked for an extra ten years, only to be released to Steve's control when he turned thirty-five. He'd be stuck with the low life of society for the next ten years, trying to get along on a minimum wage from some shitty job.

Unless he got with the piece-of-shit program his parents held in such high regard.

If he did as his father told him to and signed up for The Family Value program, allowing the Matchmaking Service to choose him a wife by his twenty-fifth birthday, the trust fund would be released in his control on his twenty-sixth birthday. Which would be more tolerable to live with, considering his spending habits. And okay, other habits too...

He didn't shy away from living a full bachelor's life. Women lining up in front of him, allowing him to pick the cherries from on top. Since he'd been trusting in having all the money he'd ever need at twenty-five, he hadn't really thought on commitment . He would've bought a nice condo somewhere, lived on his own fund, and then chosen a life partner at his own pace. As late as possible, preferably.

Steve was a few months shy of twenty-five, the cut-off age for the program. He was sure that given some more time, he wouldn't have had any issues finding a match for himself. He could've just picked the prettiest one in sight. But the only one he'd really liked had been Nancy. She would've been nice to have a family with. He'd actually considered having kids with her. They would've had a nice life... Yeah. Until she broke up with him and swore never to come back.

And in all honestly he really didn't want to go with some one-night stand.

So, he was bitter. “You need to grow up, Steve. I am doing this for your own good.” Yeah, blah blah, as if. It wasn't like the money in the fund was his dad's. It was all basically interest on interest on the 5000 dollars he'd invested in the fund when Steve was born. Steve could've paid that back to him on the first day he would've controlled the fund.

But now he really didn't have any choice. Maybe he could live with a woman who he didn't get along for one year. Hopefully. And at least he'd have some control over the location and the style of the house, amenities, and so on. He would go with the largest available, his father could pull some strings to ensure that. He wouldn't have to move out of his home town and he could stay close to all his already matched friends and so on. If he had to tolerate a stranger, he might as well do it in style. And he'd have someone to cook and keep the house clean for him and decent pay to get along for a year. Maybe they could agree with the missus that when he had the fund, they could live separate lives while still married and she'd be as free to do whatever she wanted and see whoever she wanted and he'd cover her expenses from the trust fund.

Steve shook his head as he lay down on his bed and stared at the popcorn ceiling of his room. “Fuck the values,” he grumbled to himself the same night he signed up and hoped that the service would work quickly.

And it did, just a few weeks before his birthday.

Congratulations, it’s a MATCH!

Steve let out a sigh as he read the full message on his com device. Yes, his dad had come through with his promise to help with the living arrangements. A house with three bedrooms, four baths, and a swimming pool. It was a tolerable price for one year of... something. Not utter misery, hopefully.

Steve moved his most important stuff to the house the following day. The rest could be hauled over later. Not that he really had that much though, just a wardrobe full of tailor-made suits and shirts for his new job, ironically, at the management of the Matchmaking Service, and some other things for daily life.

He strolled around the already decorated and furnished house, nodding agreeably at the chosen materials, plush couches, and the large dinner table with a glass chandelier above it. On the second floor, he inspected the room that had been transformed into his home office, the junior bedroom, and finally the master bedroom. He took in the view that spread under the hill the house was on from the floor-to-ceiling windows. Closer were other houses like his and further, a busy city center and the concrete fences that kept the area separated from the second-class society somewhere in the distance.

Yes, he could live with this.

On the second day, he had pretty much settled in and was all the more content with the surroundings. He'd spend his last free day before the start of his new job just taking it easy and getting to know his match. He'd been informed that she was on her way and would arrive right about… now.

He was having a late breakfast at the dinner table when he heard the front door opening. He got up, took the bunch of roses he'd bought just for this moment in his hand, and walked to the foyer.

And he stopped dead in his tracks, very much not happy and very, very confused.

Read on AO3 >>

#harringrove fic #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #steve x billy #suometar writes #aggressiveviking #The Family Values Program

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meadow-roses · 1 month

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Untitled Document

Julia

Felix

!!!!

Thank you for the ask!!

"Untitled Document" is a character exploration scene for Kate, and a rough first draft of when she finds out the identity of Dauntless.

Here's a snippet:

There was something in the air about this conversation that was not setting right in Felix’s gut. He swallowed against the sudden dryness in his mouth and attempted to continue the conversation like normal. It was probably nothing, just his nerves fritzing out like they had been doing a lot lately.

“Uh-hu, well- as good as I was expecting, in a- new place and all. Um.”

Kate seemed to have picked up on his nerves and gave him a quizzical stare. He tried to smile back but was really unsure how well that reassured her.

She sighed and adjusted her stance against the counter, fixing him with her sharp gaze.

“Well, Felix, I wanted to ask you something while it’s just the two of us. And I want you to answer honestly”

“Of course,” Felix replied. He did not like the direction this seemed to be going in.

“You’re a terrible liar.” She stated simply.

Felix squinted at her, cringing internally. “And?”

“And I know you’re keeping secrets from me. You seem like a nice guy who wouldn’t want to hurt anyone, so instead I’m just going to ask you. Whatever it is, it's safe for you to tell me. We can help you.”

"Julia" is kinda similar to the previous. Written from Felix's mother's pov, it's kinda her musing about how she figured out Dauntless' identity, but dramatic✨✨

It wasn’t hard to figure out. Really the hardest part had been accepting the truth that was blatantly obvious from the very beginning. She knew who Dauntless was.

The fact that only someone close to him could put the pieces together was what was keeping his secret safe in the council halls, but still, the fragility of the situation was unnerving. Somehow, she had to sit in meetings and keep her face straight and her demeanor calm as officers and politicians discussed ways to find and put an end to the man who was her son. It was terrifying.

She knew it was only a matter of time before the charade would come to an end, and she couldn’t imagine that end being a happy one.

"Felix" is the first doc I made when I started working on his backstory!! :D I'll share the opening to the first scene I wrote in there. XD

Harley, Andrea, and Scott have slightly shifted personality-wise as the story developed, and also the scenario is entirely not canon BUT first dialogue from Felix :D

“Well. We’re stuck here,” Andrea said, sliding down from the mountainous pile of trash and rubble she had been standing on. “I can’t catch a signal, the ship is trashed, and I can’t get the map to load up so we’re just lost behind enemy lines.”

She huffed as she sat down next to Scott on an ancient upside-down pickup truck, both legs stuck straight out in front of her. Scott grunted, arms crossed across his chest.

“Hey, can I see the PD?” Harley asked, looking up from where she was kneeled wrapping Marco‘s leg. “I might be able to get it to work when I’m done here.”

Andrea shrugged. “Catch.”

The device arched through the air headed in decisively the wrong direction. Harley lunged to catch it, her body moving fast enough it became a blur to the others. She caught it neatly and gave Andrea a curt look before crawling back to where she had been sitting.

“You two should be more careful with that,” Marco said, wincing.

Andrea shugged again. “It’s not like she can miss.”

Harley patted Marco's leg and settled into the rubble beside him, flicking the screen on and scrunching her face in concentration as she messed with settings. Marco laid back and closed his eyes.

“Say, were’d the little guy go?” Andrea said suddenly, straightening from her slouch.

Scott gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “Ran off that way. Said he was looking for ideas.”

“Huh. Guess we could use a few of those."

The junkyard became quiet except for the occasional grunt from Harley, and Marco's labored breathing. Somewhere off in the landfill wasteland something large dislodged from the side of a trash mountain and crashed into the valley below. Andrea shifted her position on the truck and crossed her arms. Scott continued staring at the disfigured rubble at his feet, lost in thought.

Harley glowered at the unresponsive device in her hands. No connection, no way to send for help. It seemed the only way out of this one would be to walk, but what to do with Marco? Carry him? It didn't seem like a good idea to just leave him here, but carrying him into further danger?

She was broken from her thoughts by the sound of rattling cans, and looked up just in time to see the ginger-topped head pop up from behind a nearby trashed vehicle.

“Does anyone have a hairclip I could borrow?”

Andrea spun around, still seated. “A what? Buddy we’re lost in a junkyard not a hair salon.”

“I've got one, Felix,” Harley said, pulling the pin from her bang and holding it up for him to see. Without the hairpin her electric-blue bang fell into her face and over her eye.

Felix scrambled over the rubble and accepted it with a grin. “Perfect, thank you.”

#thank you for the ask!#:DDD #text #ask game #dauntless wip #oc #meadowrosewrites

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oh-no-another-idea · 3 months

Text

7 Snippets 7 People VIII

Tagged here by the amazing @indecentpause--thank you, friend! To spice things up a little, let's have 7 scenes of my new Peter-Pan-inspired WIP! 💚

Her bed was a small thing tucked beneath the third window in its own corner of the nursery, and she wasted no time remaking it shipshape. A maid delivered her breakfast to the door, and carefully, Gwendolyn carried the tray back to the first window.

If she was careful and didn’t let her skirts catch on anything, she could drink her morning tea with her legs swinging out the window, five stories above Kensington Gardens.

Gwendolyn rolled her eyes, far from worried. It would be many years before Michael’s mother, Belle, wanted him alone at night. The good lady had heard all kinds of stories before Michael’s birth of babes crying all alone at night, left to the whims of rats and passing burglars, suffocated by their own pillows.

That last was likely pure fiction, but Belle worried. And Gwendolyn had worked with young children before—Michael wasn’t going to be totally self sufficient by the age of four.

“Come on, Michael,” she told the baby who was nearly done with his milk. “Today I think we shall go for a walk through the park.”

He was handsome, her rescuer, with deep black hair ruffling in the wind and a strong slim face. His eyes were indecipherably dark, surrounded by soft crinkly lines like the sort Belle had—he smiled a lot, this boy.

She spared a glance to his clothes; was he a sailor, perhaps? But no, the plainness of his linin shirt and the scarlet kerchief around his neck was the uniform of a porter—hired as extra hands to load cargo, paid, and sent off to search for more work on another ship.

Gwendolyn bounced Michael on her hip. She didn’t dare take him too close to the rail, but made sure he could appreciate the view nonetheless. He seemed all together more fascinated with nearby crew, blowing bubbles into Gwendolyn’s collar.

“Don’t be indecent, Prosper,” said a voice from behind Gwendolyn, causing her to whirl. Two more young men peered out at her interestedly.

“He only means to point out what a novelty visitors are,” Prosper’s companion was quick to add. He was tall with bronze skin and black curls. “Are you lost? Perhaps we can direct you.”

“Don’t give her directions, she’ll leave,” Prosper complained. “And then all I’ll have to entertain myself is your stench.”

One of the other boys called out, “Don’t get anyone started on Edward’s stench!”

“We’re common criminals,” Nicholas announced. “From her majesty’s jail.”

“God save the queen,” the others said as one.

“God save the queen,” Nicholas echoed sardonically. “We’re to be shipped to the Americas, they say.”

“Wendy,” he said, recognition flooding his voice with warmth.

“You’re the one who pushed me out of the way of the luggage,” Gwendolyn realized. Without a strong feeling, her emotions drifted. Anger? Betrayal? Confusion?

He was still as handsome as ever, unfortunately. “I hope you’ll not hold it against me.”

Tags for @lavender-laney @catchingbigfish @inkstaindusk @dogmomwrites @toribookworm22 @did-i-do-this-write @vacantgodling and anyone else who'd like to join!

#tag games #7 snippets tag #marinating wips

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diazsdimples · 5 months

Text

WIP Wednesday

Good afternoon friends! Back with some more Single Dads AU, this one is a little longer and sadder than usual and I imagine the next snippet will be a follow up of this because I apparently can't write this fic in order of timeline.

Tagged by @daffi-990 @spotsandsocks @aspecbuddie @cal-daisies-and-briars @hippolotamus @callmenewbie @wikiangela @steadfastsaturnsrings and @smilingbuckley thank you my friends and go read their works RIGHT NOW

Snippet below the cut cause it's lengthy

Buck gets the text just as he’s loading the girls into his truck.

“Your phone pinged, Daddy” Lily says helpfully, booting the back of his seat to get his attention.

Buck knows. He’s been waiting for a text ever since he’d had to leave the hospital to pick the girls up from school. He’d wanted to stay but Hen had made him leave, saying there were enough people waiting around. If she didn’t pull through, Eddie wouldn’t want an audience for his grief.

Buck didn’t want Eddie to have an audience either. He wanted to help Eddie grieve, privately, where he knew he was safe. Where he knew Chris would be looked after.

But Hen had pushed him out the door and told him to collect his daughters, so that’s what he was doing. She’d texted him just as he’d arrive at the school to say that Bobby was there, which made him feel a little bit better.

“Thanks baby,” he replies, flicking Lily a tight smile over the headrest as he pulls out his phone. The text is from Eddie.

Eddie:

Shannon’s gone.

Fuck.

Buck blinks, swallowing thickly.

“Is everything okay, Dad?” Carrie asks, peering at Buck with concern. And that’s the other thing, somehow Buck has to tell his daughters, his sweet, precious girls who lost their own mother when Lily was only a few hours old, that their best friend, their Christopher, has lost his mother too.

But he’s not going to tell them here, in the parking lot of their school. So he nods, reassures Carrie that everything is fine, he even drives them past their favourite donut shop on the way home and buys them a donut of their choice.

It’s when they’re both sitting on the couch, Lily swinging her little legs because they’re not quite long enough to touch the floor, that Buck perches on the edge of the coffee table, pausing briefly to wipe a dusting of powdered sugar off Carries chin, and tells them what’s happened.

He takes a deep breath, not sure where to begin.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he begins tentatively.

“Did something bad happen?” Lily asks, her face falling.

Buck reaches out and squeezes her knee, rubbing the sparkly fabric of her tights. “Yeah a little.”

When neither girl moves to say anything, both looking up at him with big, worried eyes, he ploughs on.

“We went to an accident at work today. A really bad one. It was a car accident and – well it wasn’t good. Uncle Chim and Aunty Hen tried really hard to save the lady, but she didn’t make it.”

He takes a deep breath, reaching out to brush a stray curl from Carrie’s forehead, before continuing.

“It was Christopher’s mom. Shannon’s –“ his voice breaks and he hangs his head.

“Christopher’s mommy died?”

Carrie’s voice is so small it breaks Buck’s heart. It’s the same voice he heard when he came home from the hospital, Lily wrapped up in a tiny bundle in her carrier and his wife’s wedding ring on a chain around his neck, as he’d knelt in front of his two-year-old daughter and told her her Momma wasn’t coming home.

“Yeah baby,” Buck swallows hard and grabs each girl, pulling them against his chest. “Chris’s mommy died. So, we’re going to need to be super strong for them, okay? They’re gonna need a lot of love and support, like we did when Sar- when Momma died.”

He sniffles, jolting a little when he feels little hands on his face as Lily wipes away his tears, just like he wipes hers when she scuffs her knee or Carrie says something mean to her.

“Do we need to make them food?” she asks, climbing up onto Buck’s knee.

“We can make them Mac and Cheese, that’s Chris’s favourite” Carrie pipes up and Buck lets out a watery chuckle, cupping the back of Carrie’s head as he kisses her forehead.

“You two are both such sweet girls. I think they’d really like that.”

His phone dings again and he fishes it out of his pocket.

Eddie:

Can we come over? I can’t be alone right now

Buck flicks off a quick response.

“Should we get it started then?”

Buck:

Of course. Stay as long as you need

Carrie perks up and Lily pushes herself off his knee, running for the kitchen.

“Right now?” Carrie asks, slipping her hand in Buck’s as they cross the room. “Are they gonna come over?”

“Yeah, I think Eddie and Chris need some friends right now.”

Carri nods resolutely. “They’re our best friends,” she says, looking up at Buck with big, determined, blue eyes. “We can make the hurt go away.”

Tagging @theotherbuckley @disasterbuckdiaz @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @fionaswhvre @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @jesuisici33 @transboybuckley @rainbow-nerdss @wildlife4life @fortheloveofbuddie @nmcggg @watchyourbuck @bucksbackwardcap

#the scene after this is going to make me cry so hard #I promise I'm going to have Eddie's POV of this #I just couldnt do it right now because it's DEPRESSING

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lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit · 1 year

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Hi👋♡.

May I request one-shots Serafine Savoy and Nico Savoy with teen fem!Reader (Platonic) the Reader is a delivery girl she helps them all the time and of course they have to get her something for her hard work she do for them.

[ money maybe?]

{Love your blog by the way♡}.

Don't know how this turned into a spin-off, cat episode of something that feels straight out of Peaky Blinders, but here you go!

Get a job, Mother said. The world is changing and girls need to pull their weight, just how I did during the Great War.

However, when Y/N finally got one of course she wasn't too happy.

"An unpaid delivery girl? You could have aimed slightly higher, especially with that mind of yours."

Well, perhaps she wouldn't have been so picky if she realized her daughter didn't have much of a choice in the matter. No one accidentally ran into a criminals hunting ground and got out completely unscathed, in reputation or otherwise. Her own price to pay was becoming an uncompensated errand girl for a couple of no good kitties with sharp gazes, smiles and knives. A lot of knives, and guns too.

The option to refuse wasn't really on the table. That was a couple of months ago now.

Maybe Y/N should have realized sooner something about her job was shadier than she first thought. At first there seem to be nothing amiss. Y/N was asked to post letters, carry tattered and lightly but suspiciously stained clothes to and from the tailors. Small things she had no problem doing for free. They weren't too out of the way either; most of the shops and post boxes were on her way to school.

Her suspicions only really started when she was sent to pick up a suspicious-looking package from a derelict riverside cafe. It was just the one, and she delivered it without a hitch. Looking back she probably should have failed to do so; it would have certainly avoided the fear and stress that came when she was sent on a similar errand the week after.

Then it became every three days and sometimes even twice in one.

Mother was right: Y/N had a good head on her shoulders. She didn't need to peek into the boxes to know what she was carrying was less than legal. She was also well aware that if anything happened to the cargo inside she'd be dead, but she was also smart enough to know she could hand it over to the cops at any time. Who knows, she could end up taking down a major crime ring in St. Louis. She could become a hero!

Or…

She could beat her generously-loaded employers at their own game.

Y/N burst into the hotel suite, waving the letter high in her hand. "Delivery!"

The cloud of smoke hanging around the divans parted, and a carefully manicured, clawed hand beckoned her closer. "Merci, now give it here, cher."

For once, Y/N stayed put. "No."

"No?" The hand cleared the rest of the fog, and Miss Savoy's amber eye watched her, widening.

Those stares didn't scare Y/N anymore, not after working for them for months. She even took a step back. "No."

"Elle se prend pour qui?" Miss Savoy's brother growled, raising himself up from his seat. His cigarette hung limply from the corner of his mouth.

"Nico, laisse-la," Miss Savoy tutted. "Elle a du culot, c'est presque impressionnant."

"I'd like it if you didn't talk behind my back," Y/N bit out.

"And we'd like it if you hand over the letter like the good girl we know you can be."

Again, Y/N held it out of reach. "And I'd like to be compensated."

"Your compensation is us not killin' you for messin' up our gig," Nico pointed out.

"You gangstas might want to think of marking your territory better so a teenager doesn't fuck you up."

"She swears too."

They seemed almost surprised. Y/N decided to skip the rest of the pleasantries.

"Money."

"What?"

"I want money."

Nico and Serafine looked at each other. Then, he smirked. She grinned. They both fell about laughing, leaving a confused Y/N to ping-pong between them and scowl.

"What's so funny?"

They only replied to each other in quick snippets of French she couldn't understand.

"What is it?" she repeated.

"T'as perdu, c'est toi qui paye," Serafine smirked to her brother, again ignoring Y/N's questions.

Nico rolled his eyes and rummaged around in a nearby tin. "Bien joué…"

He held out a wad of cash—and by god it was more than she had ever seen in her life! He was essentially offering her her own small fortune, most of it likely made of blood money.

She didn't take it right away. "What's all this about?"

Nico shook the money in front of her eyes. "Bettin' to see how long it'd take you to man up and ask."

Y/N was dumbfounded. "Ask?"

"For payment."

So, they were saying everything she had done for free, every risk and every broken law…

"All I had to do was ask?!"

Nico cracked a sickening grin. "Yes, cher."

Yes. That was all he said, the only confirmation. She wanted to scream, she wanted to shout, she wanted to take that rifle off the wall and—

She snatched up the money with a frown, shooting daggers from her eyes. She handed over the letter. "I hate you both."

Nico's grin softened. "Hate you too," he said with no real conviction or the previous bit she knew he could give.

Almost as if he was trying to be her friend.

They could try all they liked, but they wouldn't get far.

Not now.

#🦉mod iphiko #lackadaisy #lackadaisy reader insert #lackadaisy & reader #nicodeme savoy #lackadaisy nico #nicodeme lackadaisy #serafine savoy #lackadaisy serafine #oneshot on the rocks #oneshot #aaaaah I'm burning myself out #let's gooo... :')

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atonalginger · 4 months

Text

Thank you for the tag and reminder @therealgchu!

I have something (sort of) different for today: a snippet of my Rokov fic! This isn't as spicy like the little sneak peeks I've been sharing in the discord but there is a brief mention of nudity so you've been warned. pg-13 here atm the fic itself will be explicit.

anyway...

---

“So how conservative is the TPS?” Bella asked from the small bathroom as she adjusted her long dark golden brown wig. It made her look like her tia Maria and reminded her that many on her mother’s side said she looked like a blonde version of her abuela when she was young. She bit her lip and got to work tacking the wig down.

“Depends on the guest,” Rokov said from his small desk, “members come from all sorts of backgrounds, the common thread between them all is their love for tax write-offs.”

“Well that should make things easier,” Bella mused as she stepped back, flipping her hair back and looking over her make-up, checking her teeth, searching for anything out of place.

“How do you figure?” Rokov asked.

Bella came out of the bathroom, pulling the belt of the robe she’d slipped into before doing her makeup and installing her wig, exposing her bare midriff and cleavage, “you said I’d need to work the floor for gossip on Dumbrosky? Easier to get people to open up when they’re distracted, don’t you think, tovarich?”

Rokov let out a deep, husky laugh, trying his best to hold her gaze but she could see him struggling, “I couldn’t agree more.”

She leaned over to pull a dress from her bag, the robe falling open and exposing her breasts. She heard him let out a loud breath and his chair squeaked as he turned to the side, “you aren’t shy, are you?”

“Shy doesn’t get you far in the kind of work I do,” Bella said without looking up, “am I bothering you, captain?”

“Did that sound like complaining?” he asked.

She looked up and saw him appearing to look through paperwork on a tablet but she could see her reflection in the glass. She smirked and flipped the bird in his direction, just in front of her breasts.

Another husky laugh rumbled out of him, “okay, you caught me,” he turned back around to face her fully, “happy?”

“Da,” she shook out the slinky red number she’ll pulled from her bag, letting the robe fall off her shoulders. She glanced over at the captain to see him more admiring her face than oogling her body like she’d expected. She continued speaking using a subtle Russian accent, “if I didn’t want your attention, I would have had you wait outside.”

“That so?” he said softly.

Bella let the robe drop to the floor and pulled on the red dress, hooking the neck strap and smoothing the silky fabric, adjusting the neckline to properly cover her chest and untwisting the skirt. She was so busy getting everything situated she didn’t notice the captain had stood up, or was now standing in front of her.

“You are certainly going to get attention in that,” he lifted her chin, “you sure that’s safe?”

“For now,” she winked, “when it comes time to get the goods no one will realize it was Yeva.”

“So what’s the plan, tovarich?” he asked, his finger rubbing under her chin before letting go.

Bella started to pack everything back into her bag, “Tonight is the big opening night, right?”

“Da.”

“I’ll mingle, get a feel for the guests, the hosts of the event, and Dumbrosky. Find out when the award is given away so we can plan around that. I assume that will be a few days in so we’ll have time.”

“You’d be right,” He picked up her bag and carried it to the bathroom so she could load her tools and makeup case inside, “award ceremony is later this week. When you get on the main floor I can direct you toward the one managing the event.” He zipped the bag closed and added in a sarcastic tone, “she’s a delightful woman.”

“Fun,” Bella said with a bounce of her brows, “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Let’s get you to the docking bay so you can get checked in,” Rokov said, his eyes taking Bella in again, “then the fun can start.”

#starfield #starfield fanfiction #crimson fleet #atonalginger writes #wip wednesday #starfield spoilers #Evgeny Rokov #Bella Cherise #the coemancer crew #This Rokov fic is taking long to finish because He and Bella have a lot to do...*wink wink*

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