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sanguineterrain · 3 days

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Sanne can we get a part 2 for reporter!reader?? Picking up where it first left off their first night in the same home - and there's only 1 bed! - and reader shares the bed with him with the promise of not looking at his unmasked face in the middle of the night? And like them realizing over the next few days that they have very similar habits like tendencies to work throughout the night once they've got a lead and not having a set sleep schedule/unconventional sleeping hours.

OKAY HERE WE GO! be fed my lovelies <3 didn't exactly do one bed but hopefully you like it anyway ;) pt 2 of this

jason todd x gn!reporter!reader. nightmares, hurt/comfort, jason sexy mf todd being a domestic dreamboat. 2.4k. pls enjoy

****

The Red Hood's apartment is... not at all what you expected.

It looks lived in. It, as awful a thought as it is, looks like an actual person lives here.

And it's not that you didn't know that Hood has a life outside of shooting and scaring, but the giant ficus and the overstuffed bookshelf seem paradoxical to everything you know about Hood.

You're realizing that you don't know him at all.

"So, uh." Hood awkwardly gestures to the apartment. "This is it. Welcome."

"It's nice," you say, stepping over the threshold. "Really nice. I'm a little jealous, Red."

"What can I say? Being public enemy number one is surprisingly lucrative."

You wander to the kitchen. There's a picture of him and a red-headed masked man who looks vaguely familiar. The man is smiling, his arm around Hood. There's a city skyline behind them you don't recognize.

"Where's that?" you ask. You don't expect him to answer.

"Morocco."

"I didn't know you had friends," you say, studying the Welcome to Vegas! magnet that's holding up the picture.

"Ouch."

"No, I—" You turn, shaking your head. "Sorry, no. I meant, like, people you do fun things with."

"Mm, yeah, I know what a friend is."

"Red, you know what I mean. I didn't know you took selfies and kept plants and read."

"Thought I was friendless and illiterate, huh?" He leans against the kitchen table, fist tucked under his helmet. "Y'wouldn't be the first."

"Hood—"

He snorts, shoulders shaking. You stop.

"That's not funny," you say, rolling your eyes. "Jerk."

"It's a little funny. You're always so sharp with your words, smartypants. No, while I'm very literate, friends are admittedly far and few. Arsenal's my closest friend."

"Is he also a crime lord?"

"Nah. Way better guy than me."

You look back at the picture and wonder how often Hood gets to experience joy. And when was the last time he had a vacation?

You feel a gentle tug at the back of your jacket.

"C'mon. You can snoop more later, promise. Lemme show you your room."

Hood takes your suitcase before you can protest. You follow him down the hall. There's one door to the bathroom—the other is to a single bedroom.

The bedroom is nice, bigger than yours at home. It's sort of what you expected (i.e., the mounted katanas on the wall) but also not (a giant framed poster of the 2005 Pride and Prejudice film).

Holy hell. You're in the Red Hood's bedroom.

"Hood, I can't sleep here," you say, watching as he puts your suitcase in the corner.

The bed has been made, sheets tucked in without a single wrinkle. They're in various shades of red. You're sure Hood thinks he's hilarious.

"Why? If the swords are putting you off, I can move 'em."

"No, it's—I can't take your room, Hood. There's no way I'm doing that."

He shakes his head. "No, trust me, it's for the best. That couch is only comfortable to sleep on after a dose of painkillers."

"Dude, I am not making you sleep on the couch in your own house."

"Well, dude, I'm the host, and I'm the big and scary Red Hood, so what I say goes."

"Like either one of us actually believes that," you say, brushing past him to grab your suitcase. "I'm not kicking you out of your bed. It's–it's very sweet of you to offer. But you physically exert yourself every day. You need a comfortable bed more than I do. Besides, it's not like I'll be here for long."

Hood steps in front of you, casually blocking your exit.

"Well, try this on for size: my room is more secure than my living room," he says. "If someone were to break in, they'd have to get through me out there first."

That... is, unfortunately, a good point. You're still extremely paranoid after the assassination attempt two nights ago.

"You're so manipulative, y'know that?" you grumble, leaving your suitcase where it is.

"I know. I come from a real fucked up family." He doesn't sound too put out by it.

"But if you get injured on patrol, I'm sleeping on the couch."

He pats your shoulder. "'S cute you think you can bargain in my house, smarty."

****

Dinner goes well. Hood makes beef bolognese and it's delicious. You take an extra long time in the bathroom before bed so Hood has enough time to eat, considering his refusal to remove his helmet. You'd offered to blindfold yourself—he'd just laughed.

"Sure you don't want your room? It is, after all, yours," you say when you come out, fresh from your shower.

Hood glances at you briefly from where he's washing dishes. He's out of his jacket and suit, now only in jeans and a white t-shirt. Your face feels hot for some reason.

"I'm sure. Cute robe."

"Oh." You look down at the Wonder Woman robe your friend gave you. "Thanks. Got it for my birthday."

"I'll have to get myself one too," Hood says, drying a glass with a polka dot tea towel. "Big Wonder Woman fan."

"Yeah? We solve this case, and I'll get you all the robes you want, Red."

"Tempting."

You chew your lip as you watch him clean up. "Want any help?"

"Go to sleep, star reporter." He sounds amused.

"You try to be a polite guest only to get shot down..." you mumble, heading to your room.

On your way there, you get distracted by a pile of documents on the coffee table. You stop, picking up the corner to read one. They're about the case, about all the labs that might be involved in the experiments.

Well... you can read just one. It seems like Hood's compiled a lot of information on his own.

You stand for a bit until your legs grow tired. Then you sit on the couch, making notes of what you do and don't know on a nearby writing pad.

"Did you get lost on your way to the bedroom?"

Hood's watching you, leaning against the wall. It's weird to see his bare arms. His very sculpted, muscled arms. You think you peek a tattoo on his bicep.

"My attention was caught," you say, unrepentant. "Anyway, there's a lot of stuff I haven't seen. You've been holding out on me, Red."

"'S just theories, mostly. Didn't feel it was relevant to mention without hard proof."

"Ever hear of a work-life balance?" you ask.

Hood walks over and joins you on the couch, making the cushion dip. You bump shoulders briefly, before you move.

"Look who's talking, Pulitzer prize," he says.

"That's a very reasonable goal, and I'm not obsessed with it. You're just a workaholic. I have activities outside of wo—oh my God, work!"

You shoot up from the couch, panicked. "Fuck. Fuck! I haven't shown up in two days! I'm—"

"Hey, easy," Hood says, propping his socked feet up on the coffee table. "I called you out. Said you had the flu. No biggie."

"How did you call me out?"

He shrugs. "Pretended to be your boyfriend. Girl on the line was kinda rude about it. Didn't believe me at first."

"Red, I believe we've talked about these invasions of privacy."

"I'm just fulfilling my host duties. Is it true you haven't taken a day off in two years?"

You sigh. "Yes, okay? Fine. I'm a workaholic, too. That's why Jane, the secretary you spoke to, was so sassy about my having a boyfriend. It's pretty unbelievable."

"That's ridiculous. You could totally get a boyfriend. Some guys don't mind that."

"Like you?"

Hood tilts his head in acknowledgment. "Sure. Like me."

"Yeah, well, you're not exactly most men."

"And thank God for that."

You look at each other for another moment. Hood's tattoo is in clear view now: it's a bird surrounded by flowers. You can't tell the species of either one.

"Cool tattoo," you say, your tongue feeling too big for your mouth.

Hood turns his arm so the ink is hidden. "Thanks."

"Right." You start to walk backwards. "I think... I'm gonna go to bed."

"Sure," he says. "If y'need anything, holler."

"'Kay. Thank you for dinner. You're a great cook."

"You flatterer."

You smile. "Gotta stay in the Red Hood's good graces."

You start to walk away.

"Do you—waffles?"

You stop and turn. "Sorry?"

"I, uh... do you like waffles? For breakfast," he says. He rubs his thumb and forefinger together. Nervous habit.

"I love waffles for breakfast."

Hood nods. "Great. Good. Then I'll... we'll have those."

"Please don't wake up early just to make breakfast, Red."

"You're my guest. I'll do whatever I want."

You don't recall the prospect of waffles ever making your heart hammer in your chest. Weird.

"Well, goodnight," you say.

"G'night, smarty."

****

You turn the case details in your mind over and over. It's better than thinking about beef bolognese and peeks of skin you shouldn't see and how Hood's sheets smell like lavender.

But you fall asleep thinking about robins. You don't know why. You can't recall ever seeing a robin in Gotham.

You're on a rooftop. It's the roof you met Hood on, all those months ago. There's a robin nesting with its babies on the crumbling bricks.

The sky is a sick shade of green. You see horrible faces in the shadows on the roof.

That face from the night of the attack returns. He's hideous. You remember the stench of his breath, the way his eyes bulged. He grins at you across the roof.

"He should've killed me when he had the chance," he says, voice distorted.

You look around. The robin is gone. Blood drips from your stomach.

You turn and your attacker is there, inches away. He plunges the knife into you again and again. You can't move. This is it. You will die.

You wake up to wet cheeks. You're hot, and you're screaming. You've died.

A cool, rough hand grabs your arm and you fight because you can't die, you won't die. Not today.

"Hey. Hey, hey! It's me, 's J—Hood. It's Hood."

The room is almost entirely dark, save for a sliver of light from the cracked curtains. You can't make out his face. His voice is different. Clearer. He's without his helmet.

You reach out and feel soft hair. The curve of a neck. A bicep. A warm, bare chest.

"Sure, honey. Cop a feel if that makes you feel better," he murmurs.

Your face screws up and you start to cry.

"Shit," Hood whispers. "Shit, shit. Can't get the comforting thing right, can I?"

The bed dips with his weight. Arms wrap around you. You launch yourself into those arms, that solid chest.

"He g-got me in the dream," you choke out. "He killed us, Red. I'm so scared."

"Nobody's getting me or you. I promise."

Hood's jaw is smooth. His hands are big on your back, rubbing circles. His bare knee bumps yours.

You clutch him tighter. He hums.

"'S okay," he says. "It's alright. I got ya. He can't hurt you. I'd tear apart anyone who tries."

He lets you cry for several minutes, petting you all the while. Hood's body is warm, almost unnaturally so, but his hands are cool. He engulfs you completely.

You wonder what color his hair is. His eyes. What shape his nose is. His... lips.

"God, I'm a terrible guest," you mumble after you've caught your breath. "Fuck. I'm so sorry to wake you."

He hums, the sound going through your chest. "Don't worry. I don't sleep much. And you're not the worst guest I've had. My brother stayed with me for a few days last month. That was hell."

"You have a brother?"

"Four, actually. And a sister."

"Wow. Do they know you're...?"

"Yeah. It was a whole thing. They're over it now."

"Cool family."

Hood grunts. "They're... something."

You smile and close your eyes. "You're not who I thought you were, Red."

"Yes, I know. Friendless and illiterate."

You pinch his side. He clucks his tongue in response.

"Cheeky," he says, the gravel in his voice shooting down your spine like lightning.

You pull back, suddenly aware of how long you've been touching him. Hood lets you have your space, scooting to the edge of the bed.

"You know what I mean," you say, glad it's dark and Hood can't see your wide eyes. "Not like that."

"I know. You thought I was a monster, ugly and alone, sleeping in a cave."

Blindly, you reach for his face, feel the shape of his jaw, his chin.

"Doesn't feel like an ugly face to me," you say quietly.

He exhales like you punched the air out of him.

"Trust me," he says. "The dark hides a lot."

You frown and pull away. "I didn't think any of those things, Red. I thought... I thought you were one-track minded. Now I realize that you're probably better adjusted than I am."

"Oh no, I got issues. Believe me. Definitely more than you. Not that it's a competition. 'Cept if it was, I'd win."

You smile. "Title is all yours, big guy. Gotta be a little crazy to do what we do."

"Sure. But you're the bravest soul I know. 'Cause you weren't forced into this. You hunted down the story yourself."

"Brave or stupid?" you ask.

"Brave. But it's a fine line."

Nope. It's definitely more stupid than not, clinging to the Red Hood in his own bed in the name of a case.

What are you doing?

"Ah, anyway." The bed shifts as Hood stands. You can just barely make out the shape of him. "You probably won't be going back to sleep any time soon, huh?"

You sigh. "No, probably not. Please feel free to take back your bed."

"Nice try. You, uh... like hot chocolate?"

"Oh. Yes, I do. But you don't have to do that."

"I've been awake," he says. "No trouble. C'mon."

Hood walks to the door and opens it. Light spills out and for a moment, you have a clear view of his back.

His hair is dark and wavy. His back is covered in silver scars and fresh bruises, broad and muscled. You can see the tendons shift as he walks out.

The Red Hood is a man. Made of flesh and blood. Carved, more like.

Your belly flutters. Fuck.

This is no longer just you working a case. And you're about as far from an informant as anyone can be.

#Jason todd x reader #Jason todd x you #Red Hood x reader #Red Hood fanfiction #red Hood x you #Jason todd fanfiction #Jason todd imagine #red Hood imagine #batman fanfiction #batman imagine #jason todd x yn #red Hood x yn #gender neutral reader #inbox #blurb

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smilingbuckley · 2 days

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Tease Tidbit Tuesday

who am I kidding. This is no tidbit. Right now I'm working full time on the fake dating fic - hopefully until I finish writing it. I think I only have one chapter left after this one. Though this chapter is getting loooongg. Anyways, enjoy!

“There are Mexican wedding traditions?” Buck asks him, surprised. He never really looked into that. He should.

“Well, you’ve got los padros y los madros, who are basically like godparents and sponsor the wedding. The well known mariachis, that perform religious songs. A lot of weddings take place during a mass. You’ve got wedding coins, el lazo… lots of things, really.”

Buck blinks a few times, “Did you di all that?”

Eddie laughs, “God, no. Shannon and I had a small and quick ceremony – Shannon’s family wasn’t religious. Or Mexican.”

Buck hums, “But… if you ever got married again, would you… want that?”

Eddie thinks about it for a moment and then shrugs, “I don’t know. I’ve never really felt as in touch with that part of me as others did, you know? And most traditions are religious, which I… don’t know if I am. I’m still questioning that. But… I don’t know. Maybe some? Or like, just hints of them? Obviously I would include the food. And some music, look at those people swinging. Wouldn’t mind showing some salsa moves either,” Eddie laughs. “I don’t know. I’d probably just want the classic traditions, not really anything religious. Just close friends and family, not so big as this. And outside at a beautiful place. We’ve been to too many calls where floors collapsed.”

“True,” Buck nods. Someone offers them champagne and he takes it.

“What about you?” Eddie asks him.

“Well, I’m not Mexican, so I doubt it would be appropriate,” Buck answers.

Eddie snorts, covering his mouth and nose with his hand. He shakes his head as he laughs, “No, smartass. What kind of wedding would you want?”

“Oh. Right. That makes more sense,” Buck answers, his cheeks blushing again. “Uh, I don’t know. I guess if I just have the people I love with me, anything would be great. But I agree on the outside part… maybe in a garden with a lot of flowers… though I don’t know if that’s such a great idea for people with allergies. Could be a beach. In the spring, so people aren’t too miserable from the heat yet. And when flowers are blooming and still brightly colored. I’d maybe want some clichés, Maddie walking me down, Jee as a flower girl. Bobby my best man.”

“Bobby? Not me?” Eddie asks.

Buck had just taken a sip of champagne and starts coughing.

Hell no would Eddie be his best man! He’d be his groom. But he can’t say that right now.

Taglist:

@buddieswhvre @diazsdimples @tizniz @steadfastsaturnsrings @watchyourbuck

@theotherbuckley @jesuiscenseedormir @loveyouanyway @chaosandwolves @mattsire

@mel-vaz @inkmortal-trash389 @princess-of-the-snake-pit @nilletellsstories @laundryandtaxesworld

@specialbrownieeater @m1kayu @trustme-imnormal @darkrose6578 @mage8

Let me know if you want to be added or removed!

#911 #evan buckley #buddie #911 fanfic #eddie diaz #fanfiction #buddie fanfiction #writing #911 abc #911 on abc #snippet

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exaltedfuzz · 2 days

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Hi! Do you have some personal HCs regarding how Lana dealt with the grief of losing her parents? She'd known them her whole life compared to Ema, and I love to think about (read: make myself sad about) how she managed to balance that and trying to do the best by her only remaining family.

Hello! Honestly, if a question contains “do you have some personal HCs regarding [...] Lana”, the answer is almost definitely yes, and this is no exception! Thanks for the ask. I’ve got a couple scripts in early stages around this very topic, so I don’t want to spoil too many of my thoughts in case I ever want to make a comic about them, or something. (Honestly, I should just write fanfic at this point… I have a rough piece of prose writing in the works that I'll attach part of under the cut... A little teaser.)

Around the time Lana would have had to start taking care of Ema, I think I’ve settled on it being most likely between 16 and 18, since I think if she hadn’t had to stay put for Ema, she’d have moved away to go to uni. So she’d be in a pretty tense time in her life anyway, with exams coming up, and whatever teenage stuff she was dealing with. I imagine that when she got the call saying that her parents were dead, she didn’t have much time to grieve alone before Ema was asking what was wrong, and her focus had to very quickly switch right onto making sure that her sister was ok. In general, I think the thing with Lana is that she’s massively self sacrificial, so her coping mechanism became doing the best possible job she could for Ema, and in that, there wouldn’t be much time for grief between making sure Ema was fed, making sure she was getting good grades so she’d manage to get onto a law course (so she could earn good money to put Ema through college), making sure she could drive, so they could shop and get places…

Here she is...

I think one of the biggest struggles in the early days was learning how to drive. She would have probably been about to start lessons, or just started, (if we assume she was 16 or so) and her parents just died in a car crash. But she’d just have to get on with it, because it was necessary. (She doesn’t have the best record with cars, does she?)

Since Ema says she “used to be so gentle, always smiling”, I think that this was the image of her that Ema experienced most often, so it’s safe to say that she was really patient with her. Ema was probably the only thing that kept her going at a lot of different points in her life.

I expect there would have been some really rough moments though, once Ema was off to sleep and she was alone in a house much too big for a teenage girl and a baby. I like to think that they at least got to inherit a house. (They deserve a little bit of a break, don't they?)

Here's a doodle of her in the first few seconds of having to acknowledge the fact that she's on her own. This is based on a line from the thing under the cut.

And, as promised, here's a little bit of writing. Rough and underdeveloped, I think, but hopefully enjoyable.

The landline didn’t usually go. If it was important, her parents would call her cell. But it did go. Three times, consecutively. She could recall it all. Ema, sitting up at the table with her, eating her pot of yoghurt and drawing in the back of Lana’s notebook. Lana’s textbook laid out in front of her - this was the one thing she didn’t remember. It was physics, that much she knew, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care about whatever was on that page after the rest of what she learned that night. She was smiling, Ema was too. She couldn’t keep her sticky little hands off of Lana’s pens and pencils. It was achingly normal. So familiar. Her parents would have a conference, or a party, or a theatre trip planned, and she was old enough to look after Ema, so she did. She was good with her.

So when they told her to not wait up, to make sure Ema got a little snack if she was hungry, to call them if she needed anything, it was normal. Another night in, another night of making sure Ema didn’t get too curious about what all the fun things under the sink were, another night of studying, another quiet night. She liked them. Sure, it was hard to be saddled with looking after the most curious baby to ever have little hands to grab with, and it was hard to not feel like she was missing out whenever her friends would go out, while she was here, eating carrot sticks and cucumber to try to encourage Ema to follow suit - those days still tasted like hummus in her mind. But it was a labour of love, and Lana was happy to sacrifice her time for her baby sister.

She tried not to be bitter. She didn’t want to be, because Ema was such a joy. But when she’d sit up at the table, nose in her books as always, and she’d hear all the fawning over the youngest Skye, she did feel left out. When Ema was born, Lana stopped getting so many little treats. Her parents used to take her out with them to these excursions. It was a lot of fun to get to talk to the scientists who worked with her mum, she loved seeing the crappy plays that the amateur dramatic society put on, she’d always end up getting sweets and snacks when her dad took her to the shops, and it just kind of stopped when Ema was born. It was a hard time for Lana, but she couldn’t resent Ema. She had a silly smile, and little hands which wanted nothing more than to squeeze Lana’s fingers, and poke around at her face. Holding Ema in her arms while she conducted her first scientific experiments on the elastic potential of Lana’s nose almost made her cry.

She told her parents then that she wasn’t ever going to let anyone hurt Ema, and she’d done her best to make good on that promise until her life was once again torn out from under her feet with the SL-9 incident, and she found herself constantly hurting Ema all on her own in her self absorption. She never forgave herself for that. Ema did, though. She was always so excited to come and see her on the other side of that visitation room, and she still told her everything, like Lana made sure she knew she could. Her eyes looked sad, though. Lana had watched those eyes as they changed from barely betraying any conscious thought, to when they quirked half closed with Ema’s newfound sarcastic smirk. Lana wasn’t quite sure she liked that. Her baby sister was older than she was that night by now, and she definitely didn’t seem like she could handle looking after a kid. What must Lana have looked like?

She knew what she felt like, that’s for sure. Of course, she stood up, with a sigh, on the third repetition of that irritating ringing, and held up the phone to her ear. She was so ready to tell whoever was on the other side that they didn’t need double glazed windows.

“Hello?”

“Is this the Skye residence?”

It was cold. Maybe they did need double glazed windows. Lana hesitated before she responded.

“Ah, yes?”

“Am I speaking to Miss Lana Skye?”

“...Who is this?”

There was too much blood rushing through Lana’s head for her to really hear what the response was.

“Sorry, could you repeat that last bit?”

“There’s been an incident involving a Mr. and Dr. Skye.”

She didn’t care about the rest of whatever he said. Something about investigation being open, something about intensive care, something about an escort car to the hospital being arranged. She could not speak, and her eyes failed. She leant forward, one hand white knuckled around the phone, the other now beginning to bleed with how Lana was chewing at her thumbnail. Ema was still babbling on the other side of the kitchen-diner. She never wished Ema would shut up, but she didn’t want to hear her making these silly noises as if their lives weren’t about to become impossible.

Lana was about to put Ema to bed. It was late. She didn’t remember the time. It was easier that way. She was supposed to be giving a presentation tomorrow at school, and she wanted to be sharp and awake for it. She wasn’t really planning on staying up much longer herself. Certainly not to wait for her parents to get back. She supposed they never would, now. She recognised the way this officer spoke from all the stupid cop shows she watched. She didn’t need it spelled out for her. She mumbled out a thanks, and hung up.

She always hated crying. She couldn’t stand it. The way her breath sounded as it shuddered out of her made her feel weak, and she wasn’t weak. She couldn’t ever afford to be, and that was all she could think of. Lana didn’t notice Ema getting out of the chair and unsteadily walking over to her, and her little grasping hands reaching for the hem of her jumper managed to ground her again. She looked over her shoulder at her sister. Eyes so wide and full of questions, all of which Lana realised, in that moment, she would have to answer. She must have scared her with the way her eyebrows furrowed and the way she grit her teeth, because Ema pulled a little sad face at her.

“Why are you crying?”

Ema wasn’t really that helpful sometimes. Lana swallowed, and looked for an answer. She tilted her head up, closed her eyes, and covered them with her hand, before breathing.

All she could manage to choke out was confirmation: “I’m very upset.”

What a useless statement.

Ema wasn’t ever satisfied with one answer. She just kept asking why. Lana knew that you had to be honest with kids when they had complex questions, so she picked Ema up in her skinny arms and held her while she explained. Usually, she was delighted to explain everything about the world to her sister, but this was hard. Not as hard as seeing Ema’s little pout as she tried to comprehend, though.

As she sat in the escort car on her way to the hospital, as if their presence would miraculously bring their parents to life, she kept holding Ema. She kissed the top of her head and tried not to cry on her soft hair. Her stomach turned as she thought about what the last thing her mum had said to her was. It had escaped her mind until now, and she wished she could let it escape her mind forever.

"No boyfriends over, alright? Be good. Love you. See you in the morning."

She supposed she'd never get to tell them now that there never would be any boyfriends. It was selfish of her to care about something so trivial, so she tried her best to push it to the side. Ema never had to know, either. It wasn't important.

She didn't end up giving her presentation. Or going to school, for the next few days. Ema was at home, so Lana was at home.

#art #my art #ace attorney #ema skye #lana skye #writing #exaltedfuzz #skye sisters

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lisbeth-kk · 3 days

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May Prompts

Today's prompt is: cold. (Apologies in advance for waving a cheery goodbye to the cold for a while, before it was brought back)

The Luckies Girl in the World (chapter six)

Summary: A visit to Sherlock's parents bestows Rosie with a pet name.

Six Years Old

I never found it weird that Papa called me Watson. It was his name for me, but some of my friends, teachers and apparently Sally Donovan, found it to be heartless and cold.

They all failed to discern the amount of affection and warmth in his voice when he addressed me as such. There was nothing cold about it.

Papa also used endearments like my heart and my precious girl, but only in private, which made them feel even more special. I never heard him call Dad anything but John, though he had a dozen different ways of saying Dad’s name.

***

Papa gave me a new name a warm summer day when I was six. We were visiting his parents, which I adored, he not so much. That’s what he claimed, anyway, but I saw how fond he was of them. They didn’t have that strong bond I had with my parents, but it more than sufficed, and Dad made up for it by being his wonderful self. Natural, friendly, helping in the kitchen and doing some of the heavier gardening for my grandmother.

Papa and his father had one particular interest in common. Bees. My grandfather had several beehives, and the first thing Papa did when we arrived, was to pester his father about the creatures he found so endlessly fascinating. Papa’s father was a patient man and answered all his questions meticulously.

Until then, I hadn’t been allowed near the hives, but this time, Pops, as I called him, had a surprise for me. My very own beekeeper suit, long gloves and a gigantic hat with a protective veil.

Papa was just as excited as me when I’d dressed myself, and the three of us walked into the garden to inspect the beehives. Not after Dad had taken endless pictures, though.

“Fascinating, aren’t they?” Papa murmured in my ear when Pops lifted out one of the frames where bees crawled around and buzzed.

I could only nod in agreement, because I couldn’t get my eyes off them. The hexagon pattern, the delicious honey they produced, their colour, how organised it all was.

At dinner that night, I told Dad all about my bee adventure, helped by Papa and Pops. When Granny served her famous honey cake with toasted almond flakes on top and vanilla ice cream for dessert, my day was complete.

“Is the honey from Pops’ bees?” I asked hopefully.

“Oh, yes, Rosie,” Granny answered. “Your Pops wouldn’t allow any other honey inside this house. Besides, it’s the best honey for miles.”

Pops squeezed her hand, and I sighed happily when I was granted a second slice of cake.

***

After that day, Papa started to call me by another name. Not that he discarded Watson altogether, but it was mostly limited to when he reprimanded me, so I guess it turned out to have a chillier effect on me in the end.

When he first used the new name in Dad’s presence, I could see tears form in his eyes.

“Bee,” Dad whispered. “What a beautiful and fitting name.”

“Indeed. You like it, don’t you?” Papa asked me.

“I love it,” I stated. “I’ve never had a pet name before, have I, Dad?”

“Not as such, love,” Dad agreed. “Do you want me to come up with something too?”

“Only if you want to. You call me love and sweetheart all the time in addition to my name, so it’s fine,” I told him.

“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” Papa recited.

“You and your Shakespeare,” Dad teased.

“Well, it is a nice quote, though I think an originally Danish saying, also used in Norway as far as I know, describes what I’m thinking about even better,” Papa retorted.

“Can you translate it into English?” I asked expectantly.

“Of course, Bee,” Papa replied. “A dear child has many names.”

Also available on AO3

(@s in the replies)

#may prompts 2024 #day 6: cold #sherlock fandom #rosie watson #sherlock #john watson #grandparents #johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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lightlycareless · 2 days

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Hellooooo I hope u are doing well !! I found ur blog a couple weeks ago I love ur posts😙

I was wondering what it would be like for Y/N and Naoya going thru their first baby's pregnancy. I think it's cute how for the first child they have to get used to mood swings, cravings, baby shopping and all those couple stuff haha. But of course only if u want to !!

Hello!!

Aww, thank you so much!! Welcome to the club, we have only naoya. Enjoy your stay 😏

I'm sorry it took me a while to get back to you, I was quite overwhelmed by other requests, I still am lol, but I manage to write a little something I hope you like!

I kind of went through all of those things, but I do feel like writing more about y/n's first pregnancy with Naoya :> there's just so much agnjakshgjakshgjaghjia

Anyways, here are the warnings: fluff. you're pregnant with your first baby. naoya is super happy. indulgent. you know hehe. but maybe a tiny bit of angst at the end.

happy reading!!

Their first pregnancy would have to be the most special, loving, adorable, spoiled moment of their life!!!

Not to say that the others weren't, but this was the first time… experiencing everything, you know? So obviously, they couldn’t just sit back and not enjoy this moment to the fullest, taking it to the extreme, as they always did.

It is for granted that whatever Naoya does it will always be to please you; whatever request, no matter how big or small, he is at your command and you should take advantage of that, as he’d frequently insist.

Starting with your cravings, not that he didn’t do that before, but now he’s just a bit more cautious, taking an extra step just to be sure.

“Honey, I think I want something—”

“Sweet, sour? Or spicy perhaps? Maybe a combination of all? I got all kinds of snack for you to choose from, but if that doesn’t work, I can go out and get —”

“I haven't said anything yet, Naoya!” You chuckle. “I think I just want something sweet, that's all.”

“Chocolate? Cake? Cookies? Gummies? Ice cream? Mochi?” He goes on, and you remain silent, thinking…

“...maybe a bit of everything?” you pout. “And perhaps something else too…”

“And something else too.” he repeats with a smirk before placing his hand over your belly. “Sounds like a plan for my princesses’”

“Stop saying that, it sounds like you already know their gender!”

“I don’t, I promise.” Naoya kisses your cheek. “I’m just guessing, that’s all.”

“Well, if our baby ends up being a girl I’ll take it as if you did know, and I’ll be very angry with you…” you frown, he chuckles.

“Hopefully not too angry to eat.” Obviously, you don’t mean any of those words as seen in the way you quickly hug him, pressing kisses across his face as you declare that regardless of the baby’s gender, you’re very happy to be forming a family with him, as well as how eager you were to finally welcome your little dumpling in your arms.

Followed by dates, outings, or however you want to call them: those are definitely Naoya's favorite of all.

From making the most of the little time he has with you between missions and clan responsibilities, to wanting to show off how happy he can make the future mother of his children, once again there is no doubt that whatever you set your eyes on, it's yours, no questions asked—clothes, furniture, food, pastimes, anything; don't worry your pretty little head about anything, he’ll make it work.

“Oh, that crib is so cute…” you’d say once stopping before a furniture store, the two strolling around the mall right after getting ice cream from that one place you wanted to try out for the longest, but haven’t been able to due to Naoya’s… unwanted commitments.

Your hand is tightly holding his because of that, almost as if you were afraid of letting go and losing him. Moments like this make you all warm, keeping them close to your heart.

“...But we already have one.”

“And who said we couldn't have two?” Naoya responds, more than ready to step into the store and buy the crib—he doesn’t care if the bedroom is fully decorated at that point, you want it, you’ll have it.

“No, Naoya! We can't take it!” You’d tug at his arm immediately after. “We can't just have two cribs because we want to!”

“Who says so?” He raises an eyebrow. “If anything, it’s only necessary—the estate is too big to just have one bedroom; I can’t have you walking from one edge to the other just to put our dumpling to bed, nor will I allow it.”

“Don’t be silly… that’s not even a real issue…”

…

“... but if we get another, does that mean we’ll have more rooms to decorate?”

“Naturally.”Naoya smiles. “Oooh, then can we get that other crib as well?” you cheer, gesturing at the one right beside it. “I’ve been wanting to do something with yellow, I feel like it could fit in nicely! I got so many ideas too, aahh I can’t wait to show you!!”

The Zen’in and your family would eventually come to think that maybe Naoya’s bottomless spending when it comes to doting you, as well as your willingness to enable his behavior might not be the best approach…

But unfortunately, your husband doesn’t care, quickly shutting down any unrequited comments before they came your way, focusing instead on nurturing the happy, safe family he always dreamed of having with you.

If you wanted to have matching outfits for you and the baby every day, then Naoya would take you to every store necessary, indifferent if it was on the other side of the country, or give you his credit card to order online, all depending on your mood, since pregnancy made you far more exhausted, as expected.

Which of course, Naoya was dutifully prepared for, showing how serious he was in preserving your wellbeing by arranging weekly, if not daily spa days for you to simply relax and unwind, only the best masseurs were allowed to tend to his wife—the slightest mistake would be met by his reproach, which thankfully rarely occurred since he mostly liked to be involved himself (jealous, perhaps?)

Your absolutely favorite moment had to be when he stood behind you, placing his hands just beneath your belly to relieve pressure from the baby by carefully lifting it, a gesture that while simple, made you just about the happiest woman in the world.

As well as the most miserable when he had to stop.

“You’re the worst husband!” you’d cry, pouting as he eventually retreated. Naoya tries his best to not laugh at the adorable way you complained, but he could only do so much when it came to you. “Why would you even do that if you’re going to leave?”

“I didn’t mean to, princess. But I gotta do things too, you know?”

“...Like what?” You frown. “What could possibly be more important than me??”

“Nothing, ever.” He smiles, carefully wrapping his arms around you and resting them over your stomach. “But you do know you can go to the bedroom to rest, right? You don't have to worry about any duties or such, our baby comes first. And if anyone dares bother you, just let me know—they’ll get what’s coming to them…”

“... I know, I know, but… I just wanted to be with you the most I could before you left.” you eventually admit, looking up to him with those teary, round eyes that always made him putty. “You’re leaving soon, aren’t you?”

Naoya feels his heart clench with regret, sorrowful when reminded of the truth.

“Yes, I have a mission.”

“Why do you even go on so many missions?” you protest. “I mean, I get it but—but you’ve been working so much this year, and we’re expecting a baby too! Shouldn’t you… shouldn't you have some time for your family as well? You deserve it—I deserve it!”

“Yes, I do. And you’re not the only one that thinks that, but as the heir and sorcerer, I also have—”

“It’s almost like you’re married to them, and not me.” you frown, looking away; he doesn’t need to hear more to know that you’re very upset (and even then, that might be an underestimation) by his frequent absence, but also, perhaps mainly, anxious for the arrival of the baby.

It was only natural that you’d feel that way, after all, your little dumpling was set to come in just a few weeks, introducing you to the last, most crucial moments of your pregnancy.

The doctors asked you to be cautious, reduce stress to the bare minimum and continue having a healthy routine, but that was always easier said than done, and though you’ve done your best thanks to the constant comfort and reassurance of those you loved, such as your family…

They could never compare your husband, whom you only missed more and more with each passing day as he was forced to undergo missions after missions, after missions.

You might not lack anything at home, and was greatly appreciative of it too, but all the things in the world could never replace his company, no matter how much you tried to tell yourself otherwise.

And thus, he takes one of the many decisions that not only proves his commitment to you, but the depth of his feelings, how excited he was for this new stage in his life, setting an example to his future as a husband and father.

“I'll stay home from now on.” Naoya promises, taking you in his arms and kissing the top of your head, before gently cupping your face, swiping away the tears on your cheeks and sealing his words with another kiss on your lips. “I'll arrange someone to take my missions, I won't leave you alone, I swear.”

The two couldn’t care less if the whole world was against both, as long as you had each other, everything would be alright.

Exactly what he intended to do, from the very moment his heart became yours, he vowed to do whatever it took to be by your side whenever you needed him, in the good and in the bad, for better or for worse…

Until one day, unfortunately, he couldn't.

hahaha well I decided to connect this one thing with another thing I have planned in the future... detailing more of naomi's relationship with her dad and y/n's second pregnancy...

BUT ANYWAYS I WANT TO GO INTO MORE DETAIL WITH THE SHOPPING PART IT'S SOOOO CCCUUUUUUTTTTTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Also Naoya is like super detached (acts like it, he's not) when it comes to your decisions about getting stuff for Naomi, but if you buy matching outfits for the two he will die of cuteness. Test it. :) he loves it.

Well, I hope you liked this little something!!! Omg keep them coming I love domestic stuff between our two lovebirds 🥺especially when y/n is still pregnant hehe Naoya becomes an even more overprotective man aghjkahsjgasghasjgk or when Naomi is eventually born..........................

ugh thank you so much for sending this!!! I LOVED WRITING IT if there's anything else you want me to write be sure to let me know!!!! 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️

Now take care, and hope to see you soon!!!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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bigtreefest · 3 days

Text

Chapter 2: Cooks in the Kitchen

From: The Rainmaker Series

Pairing: Mob! Steve x Forensic Scientist! Reader

Summary: Everyone hates a backseat driver. And a surprise guest when you’re not at your best.

Word count: 3,234

Content/warnings: TW: dead body and all you would expect in forensic science, I tried to make this not graphic, mentions of bruising, mentions of torture and abuse, sassy and borderline mean reader, awkward Steve who overthinks, reluctant? flirting, allusions to and mentions of murder

Author’s Note: For my dearly beloved @krirebr please know that you’re loved and appreciated by us all. I hope this helps, just a little bit. (Extra angsty, hopefully to your tastes)😘

What I’m gonna say is Decks seems very on edge compared to how she was before. Her guard came up out of ‘nowhere?’ Hm, that’s weird… or is it?

Anyway, these are Loupe glasses, if you’re wondering. They let you see tiny things up close and at a better angle.

Comments, reblogs, asks, and any feedback is so welcome and appreciated. Thank you for reading!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

< Prev | Series Masterlist | Next >

After your weekend at the farm, Steve drove you home to return to your normal life. As much as you loved being out in the country, city life was definitely more your speed. You immediately went back to work and were happy to keep your busy routine going. Sure, a weekend away from screens and solvents was a breath of fresh air, but this was where you thrived.

Despite the way there were new, more outlandish cases to deal with, the days were surprisingly routine. Come in, visit a crime scene, run some tests, go home, do it again. You lived for that sort of zen. The detachment of simply putting your head down and getting to work was what you were used to, and then once you were home, it was like a sanctuary. You could lounge, pick up another hobby out of the thousand you’d already started, and crawl into your fresh sheets.

It’s not like you were entirely a hermit, though. You got along with your coworkers and would commonly joke around with them, but first and foremost, you were a proper worker, doing your job. When something really needed done, you’d lock down in the lab, music blasting, and crank out results.

Steve was the same way. He tried to keep his days as routine as possible, despite the way work brought something new everyday. Rival gangs needed monitored and law people needed bribed. Shipments and production needed to be kept on a tight schedule and up to pace with increasing demand.

There wasn’t much time for it, but he’d found certain images and memories start to take hold in his mind. They were different from the grade school ones of Bucky, or his times learning the ropes of his trade, or the first suit he’d ever worn. They were new, they were…warm? Lacked that same rigidity? They were of you. Driving his car effortlessly, petting a baby goat as it bleated happily, teaching him to dance…small, little moments that he couldn’t let go of, but he didn’t have time to replay enough.

He did his best to stay proper in his business dealings. Steve was known for his gentlemanly demeanor, truly a golden boy of the underground, or…at least as much of one as an individual could be given the legality loopholes he was constantly trying to jump through.

On the outside, he was smooth as a beach. Fluid with the crashes of waves this industry threw at him. He’d gotten good at rolling with the punches without a single blond hair out of place. But inside? It was a hurricane. The wind raged and echoed in his ears, putting him on edge. It was sensory overload.

Everyday, he found his attention wanting to wander more and more to that simpler time, not romanticizing it for the lack of pressing responsibility, but for the fact he spent genuine moments with someone who was unlike those in his world. Unlike the men so obsessed with maintaining their place on top or squashing others to get there. They were all about the money, but you were working for the people, and for the betterment of the city. To solve cases and give peace to families. And Steve knew he was all too often on the other side of that, even if he prided himself on only taking out the worst of the worst. The ones who deserved it. They were the ones endangering women and children, who to him, were the distastefully vulnerable and undeserving of wrath, despite the fates they were met with from the awful men Steve rid the world of. He wasn’t breaking his set of morals and rules, he was just breaking the law sometimes. Steve was a good man, he just happened to make his living doing bad things.

He didn’t have time to reflect on that right now, though. Things had seriously picked up in recent weeks. Bucky was soon to return, but it didn’t help that Steve felt like Lloyd was unrelentingly on their asses. Leading the organization when it came to the normal stuff was fine, but the extra protections Bucky was making him run, along with the extensive research and monitoring was already taking its toll. Steve was used to a lack of sleep, he basically lived on adrenaline and black coffee, but another night where he was fielding calls and sending out directives without a wink was causing his emotional guard to fall.

It was early morning as Steve sat at his desk. He’d ordered Sam to head out hours ago, but as the sun was cresting over the horizon, not even that searing glow could keep Steve’s tired mind at bay. The levees against the flood were weakened beyond belief. The hurricane was about to make landfall.

Just then, the phone rang. It was one of his contacts down at the police station. That wasn’t new, but the specific news was and Steve wanted to be there in person to get every bit of information he could... and perhaps catch a glimpse at the one person who could scratch that new itch in his brain. Maybe, finally, at least he could catch a nap in the car, as Steve called Gio to drive him over.

Over the couple weeks you’ve been back, you couldn’t help the way your mind wandered constantly, either. Even your favorite playlist couldn’t keep you on track, so you opted for silence, the scenes replaying of your time on the farm doing plenty to help you block out your surroundings.

You were working on a particularly difficult case currently. There was no time for distractions. The overcast sky just added to the ambiance of the feeling that something unusual was looming over you. You pulled yourself out of your thoughts, along with the keys from the ignition, and took a deep breath, letting it out sharply to get yourself ready. When you’d gotten out of the SUV and to the crime scene, Detective Lang greeted you.

“So I’ve got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

He guided you along the River walk and down the rocky shore where a victim laid, waves still lapping over her feet as photographers and cops gathered around the scene, surveying it for evidence. A small crowd had gathered along the pathway, held back by barricades and uniformed officers. At least you were here before the news crews.

“Bad news first, always. You know that.” You spoke with a purpose, slipping on your gloves after pushing up the sleeves of your department-issued windbreaker and cuffing your pants so they wouldn’t get wet.

“So far, looks like it was blunt force trauma with a side of torture. Very little evidence to go off of, especially considering there are no open wounds and the tools used for this kinda thing could be in any household.”

You crouched down by the body and immediately took note of the bruising. You hummed in acknowledgement and looked back up at the detective, his head framed by the cloudy, gray sky, the rising sun now hidden. Fitting for a tragedy like this. A woman your age subjected to that sort of an ending…

“And the good news?”

He sighed, looking up at the sky, hands on his hips, before he dropped his head back down towards you.

He winced. “Body’s fresh? Disposal doesn’t appear very well thought-out.”

You nodded and looked around for any piece of evidence that hadn’t washed away. He was right, it was gonna be difficult to pull many testable elements.

“Well, I’ll do the usual work-up, then, and let you know when you’re good to get everything over to the medical examiner.”

He curtly nodded and turned on his heel to speak with the witnesses before you began to pull out your kit, swabbing for anything of note.

After you finished collecting everything you could, you carefully slipped back through the background and away from the slew of reporters now blanketing the scene. Ugh, you hated those block heads. Especially Lucas Bell, the weird little ray of sunshine you went to school with growing up. For some reason, he thought the two of you were actually friends, despite never having even given him the signal you appreciated his presence. The worst part: you could tell he wasn’t hitting on you. He would genuinely seek you out at crime scenes, that gross happy smile on his face, calling you by the birth name almost no one used anymore in favor of your college nickname. Every time, it was, “hey, remember me, old pal? Great to see you! Any information you’re willing to share?” Who the hell was so chipper when their job was literally to report tragedies?

You bobbled your head as you mocked him to yourself and got back into your work SUV. Ugh, you hated that guy. And all the other reporters. You didn’t wanna be on camera. What if you wanted to work for the FBI one day? Huh? What then? Can’t have your face out there all willy nilly and then expect to be doing covert ops. Nope. You prepared to race back to the precinct, ready to drown yourself in an afternoon of attempting to suck evidence out of a cotton swab caked in river grime and essentially, air, if you could count that as evidence.

You drove back through the pouring rain. Another thing to be annoyed by. First, the longing for your simple weekend once again, then the intrusive thoughts about annoying little reporters, and now, the near-flooding on the roads. You could hear her in your head now, Bee saying “rain makes corn. It’s a good thing.” You rolled your eyes, to be honest, you liked the rainy atmosphere, but you know what rain also makes? Bad drivers. At this point, it was just best to get back to the lab, buckle down, and stay there, where no one could possibly bother you.

You were hours in to your intensive testing. Your spectrometry readings gave the smallest peaks, hard to say if the readings actually were something or just background noise. You were happy to put in the time, but something just felt…off. It was infuriating and not helping your mood, but you tried your best to keep it separated from work. It wasn’t perfect, but it was your best. Another small thing going wrong could push you over the edge, though.

You opted to just look at a small fabric sample, deciphering if there truly was some thread of note caught in the weave. You just needed to concentrate and you knew you could find something. You were purely focused and zoomed in, using your Loupe glasses, paired with several lamps overhead, with the highest hopes of even a shred of confirma-

“Decks? More like Specks.”

The sudden voice that echoed through the lab startled you, causing your head to shoot up and bump against one of the metal lamps.

“Ow!” At that same time, the forceps and piece of fabric flew out of your hands and onto the floor. It didn’t help that you knocked into your instrument tray on the way, sending all those onto the floor, as well.

Great, now you had to go to the stock room to find a new package of sterile ones. This was the last set left in the lab. You looked up from where you watched the evidence fall, rubbing your forehead with the back of your gloved hand, eyes narrow at the business man in a suit who was previously leaned against your doorway, now tentatively walking towards you to crouch on the ground.

“Steve, what the hell?” You trailed off for a second. “You and Bee really do have the same sense of humor. I thought she just told me that as a selling point.” It came out as an irritated growl. You rolled your eyes as you squatted down to start cleaning your mess.

Steve laughed. Selling point? Bee talked to you about him? And tried to make him appealing? He wasn’t sure why, but he felt a certain warmth in his stomach at that. He pushed it down as much as he could. Either way, he truly did get along well with her.

“Well you know what they say, birds of a feather and all.” He joined you near the floor after having grabbed a glove, picking up some stray instruments and placing them back in the metal holding tray.

You muttered lowly as you finally stood up and turned away from him, after grabbing the fabric off the floor gingerly and placing it in a plastic protective case. “More like wasps of a stinger.”

Steve disposed of his gloves and looked over the results on your computer. You quickly hit the keys to lock the screen, sure to cast him a nasty glare. The last thing you needed was to get accused of leaking evidence.

What was he doing here, anyway? With those broad shoulders and that skinny waist. What did he even need shoulders that big for? How did he even shop for clothes? You swear his waist was literally the same circumference as your thigh. They don’t carry stuff like that in department stores.

Steve looked at you with a confused glance as you removed your gloves and washed your hands. There was a hint of humor in his voice, but it was mostly filled with caution at your attitude.

“Um, I don’t really shop for clothes? I’ve got a tailor. He’s pretty good.”

After your hands were dry, you facepalmed harder than ever before. You couldn’t believe you said that out loud. Maybe you did need to interact with more people outside of work. You were too comfortable talking to yourself. You took a deep breath before turning around and looking at Steve again. His face now mostly held tentative kindness, and that was a nice change to the anger that was sitting in your belly all day today. You still couldn’t help what you spat back, though.

“You have a tailor? In this economy? Of course you do…rich prick.” The last part was grumbled under your breath, but Steve still caught it. Where was this hostility coming from? He thought the two of you had gotten along great before. What changed?

Steve’s hurt caused him to fire back, albeit much nicer than you had. “You’re calling me rich? Decks, I’ve seen your apartment, it’s nice. Especially for this city. Way nicer than my first place.”

First off, what was that supposed to mean? You were still suspicious about exactly what Steve and Bucky did for a living. You knew they made a lot of money. Steve wore designer suits, if he could help it, and you assumed Bucky did, as well, but what business did they have being this built?

You let go of that, though, wanting to just get back to work after the disturbance, but why had you been disturbed in the first place?

“Steven, what are you doing in my lab?”

He was taken aback. Woah, full names. He knew your full name, but didn’t dare to find out what would become of him if he used it. It didn’t seem like many did. He wanted to go about this the right way. He didn’t want abuse his delicate position as a friend of a friend when you were so close to the law…yet.

He stood upright and pressed his shoulders back. Right, he was here on business. He had to remember that. It wasn’t a personal call and he had to stay professional.

“I was actually meeting with Scott, er, Detective Lang. He called me about the new case that came in this morning.”

You nodded slowly. “You knew her?”

Why did that make you nervous? Of course Steve knew women, like, duh, but something burning rose in your chest in anticipation of his response. Why did you care? You didn’t even want him here. Right?

He shook his head lightly. “No…well, sort of? She was an employee of one of my businesses. A salon.”

One of his businesses, of course. A salon was…interesting… but you guessed not out of the question with how perfect his stupid perfect hair always was. Whatever, just because he was here for some questioning, doesn’t mean he had to pay you a visit.

“Okay…so why did you come in here?”

You looked up at him from the odds and ends you were shuffling around your work bench out of nervousness.

“I actually wanted to see you, maybe help out a little?”

You eyed him skeptically, ignoring the way your chest sent a tingle down towards your fingertips. “You know when someone offers to keep close to a case like that, it usually means they had something to do with it, right?”

Steve put his hands up in surrender. “I swear this wasn’t me. I just genuinely care for my employees. Did you check under the fingernails? Maybe there was some DNA there or something?”

Your gaze became even more burning towards him. “Yes, Steven. I checked under the nails. That’s like, the first thing you do in cases like this. But why would you know that, anyway? And how can you say you care so much about your employees if you didn’t even know the girl?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. He was usually much smoother than this. How did you intimidate him so much so suddenly. Oh no…Is that where the name ‘Decks’ came from? Were you gonna hit him? Deck him? Did you have a pension for beating guys up? If he made a wrong move, would you literally punch him? Give him a black eye? Sure, much worse had happened to him before, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to emotionally recover if the damage came from you.

Either way, Steve didn’t want to find out, so he continued quite cautiously and uncomfortable within your domain, lacking the confidence that came so easily to him in all his usual business dealings and the quasi-leadership role he found himself in.

“I um…I watch a lot of CSI shows?” He hoped that was believable, but he knew it came out like a squeak, almost. He may as well be a little kid losing fights in a back alley again. He cleared his throat in an attempt to get his voice back to normal. “I do care for my employees, though. And my reputation, and the ability to make sure nothing like this happens again to anyone involved with me.”

You sighed at that. You can understand the want to prevent future disasters, especially when it came to someone working so low at the bottom of the food chain for such a major company. As you slipped your Loupe glasses back on and readjusted your lamps, you gestured for Steve to take a seat in your computer chair while you moved to a stool by the lab bench.

“Okay, fine. I’ll let you hang around, but don’t tell me how to do my job.”

You couldn’t help the way the corner of your lip turned up, just out of Steve’s sight, as he strutted over and plopped down into the rolly chair, watching you with a smile and his fingers laced behind his head.

Next >

Bonus A/N: I’m very excited for what’s going to grow between Steve and Decks. She’s a lil independent thing and he’s just so “idk what to do bc I’m supposed to be in control but I’m doing everything on her terms” and I love it. Lmk what you think!!!

Series Taglist:

@evie-119

#Steve rogers #Steve rogers fanfiction #Steve rogers x reader #Steve rogers x you #steve rogers angst #Steve rogers fluff #the rainmaker #the rainmaker series #outta nowhere #outta nowhere AU #mob Steve x forensic scientist reader #mob! Steve x forensic scientist! reader #mob! Steve #mafia! Steve #mafia Steve #the rainmaker chapter 2: cooks in the kitchen #TW: dead body

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doomsday-dj · 3 days

Note

smut recs tho? 🥺👉👈

Okay. I've put this off long enough. By popular demand (five entire people which does seem like a lot) here are some Rizzles smut recommendations. I'm not outright tagging any authors this time because I don't need to be showing up in their activity page like "hi I enjoyed the sex you made."

Anyway, this is weirdly vulnerable. Writing smut for you? Totally fine. A blast. Love to do it. Love to hear all about how you liked it. Telling you what smut I read? Mortifying. Torture. But I'm gonna do it anyway. For the people.

I also feel like people are waiting for this like I'm going to drop a bunch of recommendations that are real graphic fuckin but the truth of the matter most of the time what I enjoy most is suspense, tension, anticipation, other words that mean mostly the same thing, and also big feelings (good and bad ones).

I'm not going to dwell too much on highly kudosed fics, but I do want to point out how insane it is that the top kudosed fic in the fandom BY A LOT (and locked to users only no less!!) was written by someone who wrote Rizzles one (1) time. They just casually crushed it while writing for like 50 different fandoms. They are a mystery and an enigma. And the fic is super hot, I love it.

Of course, we all know DanteBeatrice77 is the master of the E rated long fic. Your milage may vary on the daddy kink stuff, but it's always tagged (plus like who hasn't called/been called daddy a time or two? No? Oh okay, uh, my mistake). The only thing I'll say is that if you, like me, don't give one single shit about vampires, don't make the mistake of skipping on Cafuddàri. I was 100% ready to have my blood sucked after.

Frankly, many of the authors that I mentioned in the previous post also wrote my favourite smutty stuff. I realized this while going through my bookmarks. Turns out good writers are often good smut writers, who knew. If I mentioned them already and they have E and M fics, then read them. I recommend them. I am not singling anything out except to say that coolbyrne has a lot of highly kudosed fics but this one is woefully underrated and so intimate and perfect.

Now! On to some throwbacks from that other website. There's a surprising amount of smut on FF.net even with their puritanical rules. Plenty of it is in the category of very good but two fics that live inside me are the following: Warm Milk by YoDrDeath I almost feel bad putting this one in the smut post because I think it's exceptional way beyond that, but there's also, like, a whole lot of sex in it, so it also isn't wrong to put it here. I thought I didn't like second person POV until this fic. It's just GORGEOUSLY written. And hot. And vulnerable. And hot. I am fully obsessed with this fic. The whole point of this post is honestly to recommend this fic.

Teasers by MSonya This is billed as a collection of one shots and the first three chapters are (and they're very good) but then after that, it's a "one shot" that turns into a ten chapter story and within those chapters is some of the best hate sex I've read. You want to read about some FRAUGHT fucking? Yeah you do, don't lie. On AO3, here's some buried deeper in the kudos rankings that I think are great:

She's So Pretty (When She Goes Down On Me) by hopelesswanderer17 Just a good ol' fashioned super hot one shot.

Use Me by crackinois Butt stuff one shot.

heatwave (the nearness of you) by iamthegeneralissimo This is more build up than it is sex but it's good! Honestly it probably should have been in the other fic post but oh well. I'm going to stop there! But hopefully you enjoy.

#rizzles fanfic #rizzoli and isles fanfiction #ask doomsday

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triona-tribblescore · 1 month

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UH- UM- MY HAND SLIPPED-

Tw// suggestive material

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fumifooms · 4 months

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Chilchuck analysis speedrun: As a hardworking half-foot who grew up poor and discriminated against and had his gullibility taken advantage of multiple times in his early adventuring days, Chilchuck thinks optimism is a dangerous flaw. He’s stressed and strict all the time because his job is noticing details like traps that could get everyone killed before anyone knows it, he takes the lives of everyone to be on his shoulders, and with the way he speaks about it that probably partly reflects how he felt about taking it upon himself to provide for his family too. His life’s always been pretty centered around work and has become even moreso now that his wife left and everyone is independent, and due to past events he’s very iffy with bonding with coworkers. He thinks feelings and job are a disaster mix. Like with his wife or with parties hiring him as sacrifice, being open or having good faith is vulnerability which can get you hurt, so he processes and shows all his stress as anger instead of worry. Doing strict dieting probably isn’t helping the irritability what with hunger, and on top of being a hunger suppressant alcohol might be the main stress reliever he has.

His grey hairs are so earned

#Chilchuck tims #dungeon meshi #analysis #HAPPY CHILCHUCK DAY #You know what yeah understandable have a good day #Alcohol be a ticket straight to chilling out town I suppose #Spoilers #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #Thinking on if I should split my family masterpost into diff posts for max reach hmm #Anyways I’m def editing in the second page into that post that “I’ve got three people to think of here” sounds sooo much like that’s #How he’d think about it in a family setting as well. He works so hard for them 🥺#I could have put 100 pics on this post to justify everything I mentioned but this is a speedrun for a reason. I’m planning so many #Compilations rn i need a break from rereading lol #He’s just here to do his work!! He just wanna do his work!!!#I’m always rotating him in my brain like rotisserie chicken :( Hopefully this doesn’t sound disjointed or insane to average readers #He’s always on his guard so he has a short fuse and his type of humor & liking for snarky remarks doesn’t help #Also bc he knows nothing lasts he has a very work hard play hard mentality where ‘dying doing something you love. Like drinking’#Is nice in his opinion #This post makes it all sound so dry. Chilchuck is so messy thinking about him is thrilling I swear. This is concise but at what cost…#OH ALSO he has weird self-hate issues where he really values his skills but devalues himself on a personal level.#‘I am a coward. I only care about myself. I cheated on my wife (lying for no reason)’ etc etc #Can’t disappoint people and make them leave you if they already have no expectations and esteem of you 😏💡

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deathberi · 1 month

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FINAL FANTASY VII REBIRTH (2024)

#translator's notes at the end tags v^^#ffvii #final fantasy vii #zack fair #marlene wallace #aerith gainsborough #ffgraphics #gamingedit #gaming #*#ff7r #final fantasy vii rebirth #final fantasy #videogameedit #dailygaming #zakkura #clerith #zerith #took the liberty to retranslate this well if you know the difference then see!!! how different it is #*ひゅ〜ひゅ〜* or hyu hyu is a japanese onomatopoeia thingy #theres a lot of meanings depending on the context of course but it almost all means positive #like excitement. amazement. sound of lovebirds (loool). or hot cute aww #he's telling marin something like *thats ooohhhh sooooo loveydovey sweet information huh*#marin's response was an excited tone of hyu hyu as well. and they laughed off after #its really a big meme for teasing when finding out someone likes someone #anyway point is zack supporting his top loves of his life is finally shown in the game #and hopefully accepted as something entirely positive considering they all done it through marlene the purest of them all #i expected this much of his comeback like they touch on this #but still it was a bit lacking like bro really didnt get a catch up moment with the besties @-)

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introspectivememories · 20 days

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tim and bernard who break up and it's nothing big, no one cheated or anything. it's just their lifestyles didn't work out well together. tim cannot give up vigilantism currently and bear cannot handle the level of danger tim puts himself in. and on the other hand, tim cannot handle the fact that bear chooses to run into danger as an emt bc he already worries about everything but now he has to worry if he'll find his boyfriend convulsing from fear gas in a random alley but also bear who felt the life drain out of darla cannot stand the thought of not helping people and runs headfirst into dangerous situation after dangerous situation hoping that every person he saves can somehow make up for the fact that he could not save darla.

(he very pointedly does not think about the fact that there was nothing he could do because if he thinks about that, he'll spiral until they have to lock him in arkham too)

and so they break up but they were tim & bernard in high school and when they started dating they balanced out the worst of each other and they became tim&bernard. and everyone who knows them, knows that they're better together but they cant be together, they refuse actually because they cannot lose another person to the violence of gotham and by the time they figure out that they cant work together as long as the other is an emt or vigilante, it's too late for both them. they've already left too many pieces of themselves in each other.

tim still knows what bear means when he says "tim" in that exasperated voice. tim still goes boneless when he hears bear say "baby" in that firm tone. bear can still read tim like a book. he still knows the right way to massage tim's neck so that tim can go to sleep. everyone at the first responders gala knows not to bother ceo drake-wayne and senior emt dowd when they're talking.

(and if they're standing a little too close to each other than what is normal, who are they to judge? everyone knows that dowd and drake-wayne have history)

and if everyone on the night shift has caught red robin with his head tucked into the crook of emt dowd's neck as emt dowd runs a soothing hand up and down the vigilante's back, well then, they just quietly back away.

(after all, dowd's one of like, five, emts that can get the bats to receive medical treatment so if turning a blind eye to whatever the fuck they have going on is what allows them to give back to their heroes, then the night shift will do it every time)

and of course, tim and bear are practical people. they loved (love) each other sure, but when your lives are fundamentally incompatible, well, you cant get too stuck on the what-ifs, that's for sure. and so they do find love with other people and yeah, maybe it's not what they expected love to be when they first fell in love with each other. it's not the bubbly, stomach-swoopy, cant stop grinning, feeling that permeated tim&bernard's early days or the i Know you/you Know me that was their middle or the quiet despair that was their end but it is contentment. and in a life with as many losses as theirs, contentment is something they hold dearly

and they're happy! truly! but sometimes, at galas when they're making each other snort champagne out their noses or in darkened alleyways when their clothes are both stained with blood or at rallies for stricter gun regulations in gotham where they both sit too close to each other, fingers enclosed around each other in a death grip, when the presenters inevitably bring up grieves

(worst school shooting in gotham in decades, there's blood on their hands and blood in their mouths and darla is dead in between both of them and there is a chasm so wide that they are screaming to get their voices across and she will always be dead and maybe this had always been the problem that she is dead and there is no coming back from that and that there is blood on their hands and blood in their mouth and blood on their han-)

but sometimes, most especially on opposite sides of the street, as life pulls them in different directions, just sometimes, they see each other and just for a second, nothing too long, the flap of a hummingbird's wings, the time it takes to blink, an electron's orbital, they look at each other and for the briefest moment, blue on brown, a barely noticeable stutter in their steps, the space between heartbeats, because this is all they will give themselves because they do not dwell on what-ifs or what-could-have-beens, or what-should-have-beens, or delusions of a softer world, their eyes meet and they think to themselves, god, in another life, i would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with him.

#what the fuck is this #the theme was wistfulness. hopefully that came across right. and like i wanted this to be all 1 text block so you feel how it all collapses #into that 1 thought they have at they end but fuckass tumblr has a 4096??? text limit for a single paragraph???? so here's multiple paragra #anyway here is my middle of the road sad timbern hc. do i think this will happen? no? is this still a fun world to play in? yeah absolutely #also super huge fan of darla haunting the narrative. darla as this chasm they cannot cross. darla as smth they shelter each other from #but also smth like a 2 way blade. it cuts them both. it will never stop cutting them. smth smth the wound will always bleed #also i cannot stress how important it is that they are happy with other people!!! they are both satisfied with other people. it's just that #they have a very specific history and they are the only two people who really know and understand that history #and also it's not that theyre unhappy with their partners but just that smtimes they look at each other and... wonder. in a softer world #maybe i could've been a chef and you could've still been a superhero and we could've still worked out. maybe we would've gotten a boat #together and maybe we could've come home to each other. maybe i could've trusted you to come home to me. maybe you could've #understood my need to help people. maybe we could've held our love as something precious.#maybe in a softer world our love wasn't something that hurt us both.#i need to lay down. im going crazy #as always i do love reading yalls thoughts in the reblogs and replies!!!#bernard dowd #dc #tim drake #timbern #timber

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emily-e-draws · 5 months

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catventurers meowlphabet (first half) 😽✨

#catventurers #original #cat art #tabaxi #racing against the clock to see if i can finish the last few before i've posted the ones i've got done LOL #ive painted up to S so if I post one every few days.. and paint one every few days.. i should have some leeway hopefully #it does not even matter i just am overly conscious of how my instagram profile looks #I like doing one of these every other post. it looks nice #and hopefully that way people aren't getting tired of them........#well w/e people can think what they like cause i love these sm #nothing better than a silly little guy!!!#anyways if you're reading all this thank you #shocked if anyone made it this far i'm just saying nonsense to myself

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noxious-fennec · 7 months

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It's pomegranate season :)

A redraw of this piece from around a year ago

#hello guys...(:#i started school back in mid September! its hell #and my chronic pain is rly bad these days i can barely do anything #and my next break will be spent at the hospital #but love and light at least we're trucjing along and getting somewhere hopefully #this drawing isn't exactly the most finished the most effortful what have you but its all i can guve you #confession time: idk if i have it in me to keep drawing the guys #dont get me wrong still adore them. but i feel a little out of it #maybe this'll change the second i post this but whatever.#i had an amazing time being active in the fandom you guys are so sweet and you got me thru rough patches <3 #I'll still be around just even more inactive #anyway i hope you enjoy this!!!#i feel like I've improves substantially which is good #cwilbur #dsmp fanart #my art #thx to everyone that's loved my art yall hold a special place in my heart #alright bye bye xoxo #ps esteemed mutuals and lovely audience never hesitate talking to me i am always around and i love ppl I'm just socially anxious #fennec.art

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libelelle · 1 year

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you’ve been watching underground you say? i’d love to see how you’d draw the hog family 🥰

I FORGOT ABOUT ALEENA

#alas anyways im obsessed with them #i wanted to post this last night after i finished this but i got sidetracked and finished it at like 3 am. oops #the shadings funky too but idc #what really matter is im almost done my redesigns i just gotta do it digitally and all that #hopefully today but im like i just finished frontiers #OOF #ANYWYAS thank you for the ask!!!!#i loved drawing them 🥺#ask #starrjoy #sonic #sth #sonic underground #sonia the hedgehog #manic the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #sonic artventure #digital art

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sugarsnappeases · 1 month

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fnvjfnbjgnjb I really hope this isn't weird but I am actually so desperate to hear some of your rosekiller headcanons (the more fucked up the better < 3)

hello!!!! i am. actually…. would you guys murder me if i said i didn’t think about rosekiller like all that often….. when i do think about them it’s normally prompted by things that saints @foursaints (lord and saviour of the rosekillers) posts. but. just for you, my dearest futurequibblerjournalist, i’ve been racking my brain for some vaguely interesting things to say. so:

to start off, in terms of characterisations, in my mind, barty is a ‘worshipper’ and evan is an ‘investigator’ if that makes sense - like my barty (and again this is heavily influenced by my whole barty michelangelo variant thing which i never shut up about) is someone who will completely offer himself up to, in this case, evan, like he’s trying to get under evan’s skin both idiomatically and literally, there’s this whole kinda masochistic self-dispossession thing going on which is him just entirely putting himself in evan’s hands, at his disposal, a ‘whatever rosie wants, rosie gets’ kinda thing (and all the things that rosie wants are a little fucked up… like evan wants. a rib, let’s say, and barty is immediately offering his up, like take mine please take mine i have a few to spare, and they do the surgery, no anaesthetic, lots of eye contact, and it’s the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to either of them… evan likes to run his fingers over the stitches before they’re fully healed up, maybe pull a few out, just to see….)

anyway i digress but also kinda not a huge digression bc that leads me on to evan as ‘investigator’ - disclaimer!!! evan as a character is a lot more nebulous to me than barty, like i feel like i haven’t entirely grasped him yet so allow me some wiggle room please and thank you but. evan is curious, that’s his central characteristic in my mind, he just wants to like… see, to understand. i think he doesn’t care much for people in terms of them being like actual people, he cares more about. how they work i guess biologically, like how their bones connect to allow them to move in particular ways, how the neurons in their brains do things (i’m really not a steminist i’m sorry guys) to make them say things and act in particular ways. his like. life mission. or whatever. is to figure out how ‘humanity’ works if that makes sense….

and barty is a bit of an aberration in some ways bc he doesn’t interact how he’s supposed to interact and he doesn’t move how he’s supposed to move and evan is curious, bc he normally doesn’t allow anything to bother him but barty is just. a bother. like in general. and evan wants to crack barty’s head open and get a good look at his brain, prod at it, investigate it, and barty would let him. barty would genuinely actually let him and that sort of power, someone being that devoted to you, is a little heady in a way that evan has never really experienced and barty would do anything bc he sees evan and he sees someone who wants to dig deep beneath the surface of him, someone who wouldn’t flinch away from whatever ugliness their digging revealed, bc both of them are so rotten at their cores imo, and he sees a sort of ascension, a higher purpose maybe… it’s absolute body and soul devotion, it’s ‘he could physically cut my heart to pieces and put it under a microscope and that would be divinity’

#apparently i had more to say than i thought….. whoops lmao hopefully this makes sense…#also please don’t hate me… i just think im more of a rare pair girly than a rosekiller one…. like i love them a lot and they definitely wor #in my mind. but i’m always just more interested in the slightly more rogue pairs… something about bartylus… something about bartylily…#something about lilyrosekiller actually which ig does include rosekiller in it. but anyway. hope this was good and interesting and sexy #thank you so so much for asking i love getting asks and it’s not weird at all bless your socks <333 #asks <3 #rosekiller #barty crouch jr #evan rosier

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