#meet olive<3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[plumbewb]

all the girls are girling, girling 💞

[spotaus]

Eyy, King Reaper and his beloved Mage Geno designs <3

[t1oui]

muggle au ron who takes his friends to one of oliver's football matches after percy gets him tickets + oliver who takes an immediate liking to hermione, who didn't even want to be there

[inafieldofdaisies]

WIP Whenever | Tagged by @stacispratt and @adelaidedrubman ❤️

A snippet from Chapter 1 of John's misadventures as a lawyer. Leslie and other familiar faces are in this universe too, baby.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into Portland. Please turn off all portable electronic devices and stow them until we have arrived at the gate. In preparation for landing, be certain your seat back is straight up and your seat belt is fastened.  Please secure your carry-on items, stow your tray table, and pass any remaining service items and unwanted reading materials to the flight attendants. Thank you.", the long-awaited announcement was music to John's ears as he looked through the window at the city and its twinkling lights below. 5 hours had passed in what he could only describe as torture. His day before that hadn't gone too well either, it felt like anything that could go wrong had, in one way or the other. His alarm not going off and almost making him late. Showing up at the firm only to find out Preston Manning, his second chair on the case, had called in sick and wasn't going to be making the trip with him. Penny slipping him her number for heaven knows what time and offering him a "quickie" in the bathroom for "good luck". More like a quick and proven way to get me a meeting with HR. Traffic and a flight delay (not unsual but still absolutely nerve-grating paired with everything else). The TSO officer taking way too long fondling him, as if he could have been hiding anything under a simple suit. The airline double booking his seat and giving him another last minute, which had doomed him to sit next to a menace of a passenger. In many ways he was happy to have left Manning behind in Atlanta, but he also couldn't deny the fact despite all his flaws he would have been more tolerable than the man that was currently using his shoulder as a pillow. He had lost count how many times he had shifted in his seat, tried to shake off the pesky passenger, hoped eventually he would stir up and move away, giving back his personal space. He better not have drooled all over my suit, or I'd be meeting with my client in jail sooner than anticipated. And we'd be wearing matching outfits.

It's all he could think about as he nudged the man away yet again and absolutely not-so-gently with his patience worn completely thin. "We're landing.", John muttered under his breath when an annoyed look was sent his way, like he was the one being out of line. He brushed off his dark gray pinstripe suit before crossing his arms over his chest, and focused his gaze outside once more, refusing to pay further attention to the crude individual next to him. Deep down, he didn't mind having to fly over to meet with the people he would be representing, he found a certain type of thrill in being up in the sky, had dreamt of becoming a pilot for as long he could remember, but being forced to share such a tight space with others was definitely testing his limits and making him deal with not so pleasant thoughts. "Ladies and gentlemen, our crew welcomes you to Portland. The local time is 10:22 pm. For your safety and the safety of those around you, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened and keep the aisles clear until we are parked at the gate. The Captain will then turn off the “Fasten Seat Belt” sign, indicating it is safe to stand. Please use caution when opening the overhead compartments and removing items, since articles may have shifted during flight." The man next to him yawned over the voice of the flight attendant, his hand almost smacking John in the face as he went to stretch after his long nap. Don't do anything. Don't say anything. The mantra played on repeat in his mind and he could already imagine himself in his hotel room. The promise of a shower and soft bed was the only thing that got him through the loud clapping from "Naptime Sam" and each slow step that led him off the plane and into the airport. John clutched the strap of his leather bag he always used as carry-on, ignoring the excited chatter around him, his eyes darting from suitcase to suitcase in anticipation of his own finally showing up on the baggage carousel. Just as he spotted it and moved ahead to grab it, a child rushed past, bumping into him in the process. "Ah, I'm so sorry, Mister.", the redheaded girl said quickly, sending a apologetic toothy grin his way as she clutched a small rainbow duffelbag. He waited for the annoyance that usually came from every human interraction to swoop in, instead he ended up returning the smile while he heaved his suitcase off the line and headed for the exit. "Savannah Mae.", the girl breezed past, running towards a sharp dressed woman and grabbing her outstretched hand.

Cool air hit his face as he stepped past the sliding doors of the airport, gaze shifting between the cars parked out front and his phone that for some reason refused to turn on. Goddamn it. I charged you, I know I did. Penny had sent him a message with the details of the driver that was supposed to pick him up, as well as his hotel reservation, and he had no way of accessing either. "Welcome to Portland, sir.", an older gentleman reached for his luggage, and he breathed out a sigh of relief, telling himself his night was starting to look up. The man hoisted his suitcase into the trunk of the black SUV and swifly jumped into the driver seat, peeling off down the road just as John reached out for the door handle. "What the-" "Mr. Duncan?", a voice came behind him, partly drowned out by the shock that coursed through his body and rooted him to the spot to watch the vehicle disappear out of view and take his suitcase with all his belongings along with it. "Mr. Duncan. I'm sorry I'm late, there was a traffic accident…", John swiveled around, doing his hardest to keep his temper in check. He breathed in deeply, his tone taking a dangerous note and making the man in front of him wince, "What did you say?" "I-I- I'm here to pick you up.", the driver gestured to his own car behind him and forced a smile, "You're Mr. Duncan, correct? You're traveling light." "FUCK.", the word broke free before he could stop it while a hand ran over his face. This isn't happening. No. Not to me. No. "Mr. Duncan?" He opened his eyes again, fingernails digging into his palm, grounding him as he spat out, "I was robbed." The man blinked in surprise, "Robbed? Here? Now? How?" "My suitcase.", he shook his head, letting out a bitter laugh, "My damned suitcase." "Someone stole your luggage?" "Yes.", it was all he could muster, already feeling done with the conversation, with the day itself, with Portland, with the onlookers staring his way, with "Naptime Sam" that chose the moment to walk through the doors.

"Oh my god, I-" John brushed past the driver, throwing his small bag into the backseat and slipping after it with a growl. Shitstorm. Ah, Clive? He watched the man scramble around the front of the vehicle in confusion, the car door slamming shut after him putting a stop to his line of thought. "Mr. Duncan,-" "Do you have a phone charger?", he asked impatiently, making it his priority to figure out which hotel he was supposed to be staying at without having to deal with Penny. Shaky hand reached for the glovebox, pulling out a charging cord and passing it over, "Shouldn't you talk to someone at the airport? Report the theft?" And watch them flail around and tell me I was technically on the street, find a damn loophole so it's not their problem? "Mr. Duncan?" "Drive me to a police station, I don't care which one, uh, I didn't catch your name…", he finally replied as he stared down at the device in his hand, waiting for it to turn on. The screen refused to light up no matter how long it stayed plugged into the car's port, making him release a sigh of defeat. You're dead, aren't you? "Robert. And are you certain, sir?" "Yes." The man nodded, turning the key in the ignition, "May I ask, how did your luggage-" "I don't want to talk about it.", John trained his gaze out of the window, pocketing his phone as the realization that his night was far from over set in. The idea he no change of clothes for his first in-person visit with Mooney in the morning and was probably going to get no rest before it, felt like the final straw. And knowing his luck since being handed over his newest case, he was about to deal with an incompetent police officer next.

The scenery outside passed in a blur, making him zone out while fatigue fough to take over his body. No matter how many hurdles life threw his way, he refused to give up, promising himself he was going to win the court battle, prove Clive he had made the right choice by naming him partner at "Westbrook, Harrison and Jones". "and Duncan", now. Robert cleared his throat to draw his attention, announcing, "We're here, sir." "Thank you.", John muttered as his fingers wrapped around the door handle, the man's next words giving him a pause. "I won't be able to wait around… I have another pick-up arranged and it's on the other side of town. Would you be okay on your own?" "Sure.", he would have been lying if he was to say had expected anything else as outcome. "Have a good night, Mr. Duncan.", Robert called out and drove off, leaving him in front of an off-white building, the silver letters above its entrance spelling "City of Portland Police Bureau" confirming he was at least at the right place. He muttered a silent prayer as he pushed past a set of double glass doors and stepped inside the precinct. One win. Give me one win tonight. No more tests. No run-ins with inadequate officers of the law.

He took in the beige and dark blue interior, noting the dead quiet ruling over the lobby as the doors shut behind him. His feet carried him over to the front desk, the human shaped silhouette behind its protective glass giving him hope despite the lack of greeting upon his entry. Any hope he harbored died a horrible death the second he reached it, and an unmistakable muffled snore carried over from the officer that was reclining back in his chair. "Excuse me,", John gritted out, frowning at his name tag, "Officer Bradley.", but the curt words failed to wake the man up. "Excuse me.", he tried again, louder this time around, yet the officer was as unresponsive as his phone. Just when his hand rose, ready to bang against the glass in another attempt to grab his attention, quick footsteps sounded behind him followed by a melodic voice calling out a simple, "Hello." that made him spin around. His narrowed gaze was met by the most expresive pair of hazel eyes he had ever seen, and he blamed the exhaustion for how they almost knocked the wind out of him for second. A wave of familiarity washed over his system as he scanned the woman standing in front of him, his baby blues running over the gray streaks framing her face then down to the freckles scattered across her nose until they stopped at her lips just as they parted, "Can I-" You... Detective Donovan.

He didn't know if he wanted to laugh or curse at fate and its idea for a joke. He'd read over the information on potential witnesses for the upcoming trial for weeks, had stared at her picture enough times to memorize her features, yet the grainy image he was presented with paled in comparison to seeing her in person. He'd expected to meet the detective in court, looked forward to it, in fact, especially after everything her personnel file had revealed. He wasn't supposed to come face to face with her when he was having an unarguably awful night and on the verge of cracking. Close to grabbing one of the lovely chairs you have for visitors and throwing it at your welcome desk. Because I'm not feeling very welcomed, currently. "Your colleague is sleeping on the job.", John interrupted whatever she was about to ask him, but her smile didn't waiver at his sharp tone and the demeaning way he had used the word "colleague". Like Bradley was beneath him. And she was too, just by assosiation. If it wasn't for the spark of defiance in her eyes, he would have guessed she was completely unbothered. "It's the first quiet night we've had in a long while, Mr-" "Duncan." Anticipation coursed through his system as he waited for her to say his name back, and he refused to think too much about what her presence alone was doing to him. How it was threatening to unravel his already fragile composure. And how much he wanted to hear his name again the second she uttered it out. "Mr. Duncan, what can I help you with?", she continued smoothly, biting down on her lip as she regained him. John crossed his arms, nodding to the messenger bag she had hanging over her shoulder, her attire hinting at the fact she was headed out, "Shouldn't that be Officer Bradley's job? Are you even on the clock?" "He'd point you to a division, just as I would."

His lips quirked up at her blunt reply, "I've come to report a crime." All he got this time around was a nod. She was expecting him to continue, to give her more than stating the obvious. "I landed at PDX and,", he paused, hating the idea he had to admit he had fallen victim to such ridiculous con, "a man blindsided me by pretending to be my driver and stole my luggage." "That's-" "Awful?" He was too keen on how he was drinking in every little mannerism she displayed, like how she pursed her lips in displeasure at the news, before saying, "Follow me." "And what about your colleague?", he remarked as he fell into step behind her. His gaze was drawn in by the belt of her black oversized coat tied in a loose bow swaying with every movement she made, and he couldn't help but scowl at how her body was almost completely covered by the garment and then at himself for even entertaining the thought, when he had more important matters to deal with. "Lenny's wife just gave birth recently.", she explained quietly, "Letting him catch some rest is the least I can do." A bleeding heart. It's what you have, Detective. On paper and in person.

Detective Donovan led him down a long hallway, moving past multiple doors that seemed to open up to offices for different divisions until she came to a halt and knocked on a door marked with "Robbery". Seconds passed without a reply from the other side, instead of rapping again, she grabbed the door handle and pushed it open, revealing a series of empty desks. Of course. She turned around with an apologetic look, "I think they're out on a case." John raised an eyebrow, "All of them?" "Understaffed. It's what happens when you get people retiring and on sick leave all at once." He exhaled in frustration, but aside from that kept his silence. "I can check who is on duty and call them…" "And you?", he ignored her suggestion, suspecting he wouldn't get anywhere at that late hour, especially with an offence that would be considered "low priority" in comparison to other cases. "Me?" "You didn't tell me your name or division." Another smile. He was becoming addicted to those. Why didn't you smile in your photo, Detective? That right there, is a robbery on its own. Then, a hand was offered to him, and he wasted no time, enveloping it in his. "Sabrina Donovan. I'm a Detective at Missing Persons. So I fear I won't be of much help with your case, Mr. Duncan." The handshake was getting past the line of socially acceptable, but he couldn't bring himself to let go, "I see, tracking down missing belongings isn't really among your duties."

Sabrina pulled her hand out of his grasp, walking into the office ahead of them and aiming for a large bulletin board at the far end. Her index finger traced over a sheet of paper pinned there before she was on the move again. "Give me a second.", she said as she stopped at the desks, picking up the phone receiver and dialing whoever was supposed to be reachable from the team. "Stockton. You or any of the others planning on heading back soon?", she was back to chewing on her lip while she listened to the man on the other end of the line, "And some kind of ETA for me?", there was a pause, "At PDX. A suitcase. No, and no as far as I'm aware. Vic came straight to the precinct." After what felt like forever where she listened intently about his potential options, she wrapped up the phone call with a quick thank you and walked back to where John was leaning against the door. Her face told it all - she wasn't bearing exceptionally good news. "They're unsure when they would be back, but a couple of hours at the very least." His eyes darted to his watch, "It's almost midnight." Sabrina winced, "I know. The suggestion was you either wait up for them here, return in the morning or-" "Or what, Detective?" "I can jot down notes for them, anything you can provide right now, take down the report and pass it along, to get your case moving as soon as possible…" He frowned, "Basically, do their job for them and deal with something below your paygrade? Weren't you headed home?" He hadn't missed the way she had avoided his question prior, how she had stayed behind when she appeared to be leaving in the first place.

"Won't be my first time of working overtime or helping a fellow detective. The sooner we have an official case started, the quicker they can locate the guy. I'm sure after flying, the last thing on your mind would be to sit around at a police station for hours, when you could be getting some rest." It was obvious she was prioritizing his wellbeing and that of the front desk officer before her own, and knowing her records by heart at that point, he suspected she wouldn't give up on the idea easily, so all he could do was agree, "Okay." She pushed past him at that, her scent teasing him at the closeness in the doorway and haunting his senses as he followed her further into the building and towards an elevator. "We're on the second floor.", Sabrina stated and pressed the call button, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The doors opened promptly with a ding, and they both stepped on, the ride feeling disappointingly short for his liking. "I suspect my stolen suitcase wouldn't be much of a priority?", John guessed as she followed a similar path to the one on the first floor. "I didn't say that." "But simple larceny wouldn't be as serious as whatever case the on duty officers are following at that time of the day." "Ah, I'm not really at liberty to discuss that." "Naturally."

"And you, Mr. Duncan?" "Me?", he mimicked her earlier question. "What do you do for a living?" He could sense even the smallest amount of curiosity in her words, making him smirk, "I'm a defense attorney." She laughed, and he couldn't decide which was better - her smiles or her laughter, "That explains it. And judging by your attire, well, would have been my first guess." "Oh? Should I feel offended?" He was flirting. With, no doubt, a future witness. Clive would ask what had taken over him and why he'd even entertain things further. Good thing he's not here. And I'm not really someone to do things by the book. "No.", she shrugged as she stopped in front of her own division's sector, "You certainly have that aura about you." With that, she pushed the door, open, drawing the attention of a fellow detective inside. "Rina,", the man called out, "Didn't you go home already? Should I push you out the door?" "Ollie. Behave." The man's eyes stopped on John finally, noticing his appearance for the first time as he moved his feet off his desk, "Do we have a case?" "No, no, I'm doing Stockton a tiny favor." "Again?" The word piqued his interest, same for the strange looks "Ollie" kept sending his way. "Don't start, Oliver."

John paid the man no mind and took a seat in one of the chairs across Sabrina's desk as she removed her coat until she was down to a simple gray shirt that was unbuttoned halfway to reveal a dark turtleneck underneat it. His eyes shifted from her to her work space, noting how tidy it was, especially compared to her colleague's, and had a couple of framed pictures he wished he could see. "Fine. But you know, Leslie wouldn't be that easy to silence in voicing his concerns." She ignored the warning, gaze moving back to John's, "Name." "John Duncan." He noticed how she silently mouthed his name as she typed it, and doubted it was a habit she was aware of. The next minutes consisted of marking down his basic information, and he loathed having to recall the slip up, how he had fallen for such a silly trap, especially when he was anything but incompetent. "It's good you remember a partial plate. That, paired with the car's description, and, the fact, PDX would no doubt have footage of the incident…" "You're confident they'd find my belongings." "The perp, most likely. Belongings, I can't say. At least, the things of most value." Oliver walked over, placing a cup in front of Sabrina before leaning in closer to whisper something that caused her to giggle and mutter a quiet, "Stop it, Ollie. Absolutely not." She cleared her throat as she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and took a sip of coffee when the man wandered back to his own desk, "Would you like a coffee, Mr. Duncan?" She was yet to say his first name, and he wondered how it would sound coming from her, if she would utter it out as playfully as she did Oliver's. Doubtful. "No, thank you." "Well, I think I have everything noted down. If you don't have any further questions for me…"

She was wrapping things up, sending him on his way, putting an end to whatever time he had in her presence. Then it hit him, "Can I ask to make a phone call?" "You're not under arrest, Mister.", Oliver remarked jokingly. He ignored the jab, his focus remaining completely on the woman in front of him, "My phone died, and I have no idea which hotel my reservation has been made at…" "Ah, I see.", Sabrina reached for her bag, pulling out her phone and passed it over to him after she unlocked it. At the same time he produced the little folded post-it note Penny had crammed into his pocket that morning, trying his hardest to hide the ruby red lipstick stain on it out of Sabrina's view. Her homescreen wallpaper gave him a pause. It was a candid picture of a familiar looking redheaded girl, Sabrina and a man that- What in the- If I squint I can almost convince myself he looks like me, Detective. He doubted she'd appreciate the observation, yet his curiosity about the man's identity and relation to her only festered while he punched in Penny's number. Just as he was starting to wonder if she would pick up, her voice came through, and he rushed to quickly get the needed information, trying to keep the interraction as short as possible. Sabrina pushed a notepad towards him, together with a pen to note down the address, Penny was relying in an overly excited manner despite the fact he had called her for assistance at almost 3 am. "Thank you, Penny. Have a good night.", he muttered flatly and hung up, returning the phone to Sabrina. "She must be worried." Are you fishing for information? "She's not my girlfriend, just an assistant at my firm.", he blinked at the confession that he had blurted out, despising the fact Oliver was there to witness his slip-up and laugh at it. My firm? "I, um, I wasn't really-", Sabrina shook her head, deciding against whatever she was about to say, "I sent over the report to Detective Stockton, he will be in touch soon. I will note down your hotel information since you're having phone issues, so he'd be able to call there and get a hold of you through reception for the time being…" "Thank you."

She rose up, quickly gathering her things and putting her coat back on now that she had sorted out his report, "I will see you out then." John followed suit, exiting into the hallway first as she announced to Oliver, "I'm heading home for real this time, Ollie. You better not snitch to Leslie." "We shall see about that.", he hollered back, "Good night to both of you." As they made their way down to the lobby, Officer Bradley was finally awake and staring at John with a similar to Oliver's expression, "Staying late again, Rina?" Sabrina only laughed as she passed his post, "Bye, Lenny. Hope things stay quiet." She pushed open the doors before John could do it, wrapping her hands around herself as they stepped out into the chilly night. "Thank you again.", his voice was even, perfectly hiding the disappointment he felt on the inside because they were parting ways. "Of course." He expected her to leave at that, especially with the hint of awkwardness that remained in the air after he had mentioned Penny. Seconds passed by in silence where he clutched his only bag and wondered if she'd look at him the same way and be so eager to help him if she knew he was representing one of the most hated men in Oregon. Someone she herself had a run-in with. You wouldn't, would you? You'd probably curse at me. Call what happened to me premature karma.

Instead of wishing him a cheery goodbye and leaving him to his own devices to watch her disappear like the car of the man that had stolen from him, Sabrina gave him another small smile as she stuck her hands in her coat's pockets in an attempt to warm up, "If you don't mind me asking… you do have a way to get to your hotel, right?" John quirked an eyebrow, taking his time to respond and enjoying every moment of where she shifted in place as she waited for him to reassure her he would be alright. It was too bad he wasn't about to do that. Not when it meant she would feel content to head home. Not when the alternative was stealing a few more minutes with her. And he liked his second option more. Field work. You'd call it a "stakeout", wouldn't you? Getting to know my future oppponent. The promising young detective that had apprehended Mooney and was bound to make defending him a challenge. There was no doubt the jury would love her. Feed on her genuity and charm.

"I do not.", he muttered out slowly, watching her face closely, memorizing how the street light above them picked up the gray strands in her hair, "I assumed I could grab a cab, despite my lackluster luck tonight." She nodded along to the idea, but made no move to leave, "You certainly could." John could sense an in, and he took it shamelessly, a step bringing him closer to her until her sweet scent invaded him again, "Were you about to suggest something else?" Cross the line. Offer your help again. "I-", a shake of her head cut off her words as she frowned. She was putting up a wall once more, guarding her thoughts just like she had on his oversharing about Penny. "Yes?", his hand reached out to tuck a piece of her hair that the wind had picked up behind her ear, voice growing huskier when he added, "Tell me." Her breath hitched the second his fingers grazed her cheek, probably feeling the same current that passed over his skin at the contact and still clutched him even when his arm dropped by his side. Sabrina blinked away the haze they seemed to be sharing, "I was going to offer you a ride, Mr. Duncan." "John. Call me John, Sabrina." Something flashed across her face at his correction, "Hm?" "It's my name after all." It was as if all the background noise ceased to exist as he waited for her lips to form the word and he suspected even if the detective he was supposed to wait on or the criminal himself that had wronged him showed up right there and then, he wouldn't care. She was the sole holder of his attention. "I was going to offer you a ride,", she paused, "John. But I'm not-" "Yes.", the word rushed out, cutting off whatever excuse she was about to make about it being a bad idea, probably thinking of the grinning man on her homescreen. Doesn't matter who he is, Detective. I can recognize interest when I see it. And damn, if I don't want to hear you say my name again. His eagerness seemed to be obvious and… amusing to her, "You sure?" "Are you planning on driving off with my carry-on, Sabrina?" "Cross my heart. I won't.", she gestured to the street behind her, hiking her bag further up her shoulder, "I'm parked over there." A smirk appeared at the fact he was winning, "Lead the way then, before you freeze."

Tagging, @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @strafethesesinners @strangefable @voidika @aceghosts @nightbloodbix @madparadoxum @jillvalentinesday @euryalex @corvosattano @poisonedtruth @purplehairsecretlair @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @g0dspeeed @trench-rot @cassietrn @chazz-anova @clicheantagonist @dumbassdep @thesingularityseries @theelderhazelnut @florbelles @simplegenius042 @shegetsburned @v0idbuggy and anyone that would like to share a little something this week

[crickwater]

I don't know if this is a hot take but halsin is hands down the worst companion and that could be easily solved by having him join you at the beginning of act 2 and giving him literally anything to do in act 3 except hit on you

[you-see-something-strange-here]

my standards for sonic 3 will be met if there’s a joke about olive garden guy NOT meeting team sonic at an olive garden -

[wcvensouls]

kaede had gotten caught up again with... whatever it was that she was always doing in her laptop, which meant that oliver was once again left without company. having already bought tickets for the performance beforehand, it felt like a waste to simply not use it, which is what had him approaching the young woman that was seemingly alone in the first place. " i hope this doesn't sound strange, but... i have a spare ticket, you wanna come in with me? "

@silkcode : closed starter .

[wolfyeevee]

Hi, I'm Wolfyeevee!

I don't think i ever introduced myself to tumblr, so here I am!

Hi! My name is Wolfyeevee/Wolfy! She/They. I love drawing and just relaxing! I also love it when people comment stuff on my post, so, pliz make my day by doing that! I do digital art, but also like to sketch on paper or doodle on homework and stuff, so yeah!

I am also really into pokemon! My favorite mons are: Eevee (duh), Rockruff, Lycanrock, Poocheyena and all of the eeveelutions! If you like pokemon, please coment (whatever they call the comment-thingy) your favorites!

I am in school, so most hours of my day are studding and school-ing. But, weekends I give myself a break from studding, so I am on, an hour earlier, I suppose.

On the search for a new drawing platform! Please leave sugestions! If you need more info, just look at my post and click on the one titled "Hoya!".

I plan on making a webcomic soon (soon as in it is going to take FOREVER!)! So, if you want to know more about it, ask me! (Note that I am not going to tell you the whole entire plot, it spoils it!)

So, yeah! Thats me! Please feel free to ask questions!

Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

<3

[hearthtales]

" would you believe me if i said i got all these injuries by slipping in the rain? " (meanwhile Wendell's stumbling into the flower shop with multiple stab wounds)

༄ ‘In an hour of need’ prompts

Blood and rainwater dripped onto the floor of the flower shop. Olive, a mop still clutched in her hands, looked more irritated than surprised at the other’s abrupt entry. She glared daggers at him and gripped the mop tighter. “No,” she replied flatly. Then, half-tired and half-accusatory: “I just cleaned there.”

The Florist’s head popped out from behind a corner, curiosity bright in their eyes. A laugh spilled from their lips. “Oh, goodness. Must’ve been quite the tumble.” Lightness colored their tone; it wasn’t entirely clear whether they believed him or not.

They wiped their soil-stained hands on their apron and bustled toward him, grabbing something metallic and flat from behind a shelf. They unfolded it and placed it on the floor before the guest with a clatter. A small stepladder. “Sit, sit,” they urged him. “Can’t have you bleeding out in here. Bad for business, that. Then you can tell me how you got those nasty wounds from slipping in the rain.” They flashed a smile at their assistant. “Olive, be a dear and lock the door. Better close the blinds as well.”

With a heavy sigh, Olive propped the mop against the wall and followed their instructions. She hung a ‘CLOSED’ sign on the door for good measure. Business had been slow from the storm, so the bloody guest was the only one in the shop aside from them. Heavy rainfall continued to patter outside.

[tonycries]

Madam Zenin - T.F.

Synopsis. There’s nothing that rouses Toji, the infamous head of the Zenin clan, nothing that will make him lose control - until they take what’s most important to him. You.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, arranged marriage, clan leader! Toji, kídnapping, the elders súck, Toji goes INSANE, BRÉEDING, talks of an heir, oraI (fem), fíngering, Toji’s powers, FÉRAL Toji, créampie, spítting, overstím, AU if Toji didn’t leave the clan, slight misogyny from Naoya, slight bIood, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.2k

A/N. Didn’t realize how much clan leader!Toji made me quake so…Hope y’all have a good day <3

“Who took her?”

“M-master?”

There wasn’t a single individual in the Zenin Estate that didn’t think Toji Zenin wouldn’t kill them in the blink of an eye. Happily, at that. 

It was rumored he was cursed, ruthless. And out of everyone - elders, servants, children - not one didn’t look over their shoulder behind every corner of the sprawling Zenin house, flinching at his mere shadow. Broad, towering, wrenching out nothing but hushed apologies and deep bows - they never dared to look into his devastating eyes. 

And right now, that pale-faced attendant of yours could only tremble - pray - she won’t be next on Toji’s long, long list of victims when the looming man himself bends to meet her lowered gaze. And oh-

Fuck. 

No one ever saw the vicious head of the Zenin clan smile - no one. 

Except you.

And here he had the most dangerous grin gracing his features, darkened olive eyes wide - crazed, when they halt on that slightest drop of red sinking into the tatami mats.

“My wife.” The other woman jumps when he loudly kicks your chamber door open. Abruptly barking out a deep, humorless laugh at the disheveled emptiness inside, “Who took my wife?”

---

Young master Zenin - Toji Zenin. Your husband.

It’s only been a few months since your stiff, lavish wedding ceremony to him - part of an arranged deal made between his clan and your own. Your parents practically leapt at the chance to marry into such an esteemed jujutsu name, forgetting all those dark rumors swirling around the young head at the first golden glint of the Zenin family’s massive treasury.  

Sure, they promised to treat you well, to prime you into becoming the new madam of their distinguished household. But you knew better - it wasn’t your upbringing or your cursed technique that brought you here, they couldn’t care less - no, it was because of an heir. 

The one thing that the Zenin family didn’t have. 

And the one thing Toji Zenin refused to give them.

That much was obvious when just minutes after exchanging vows and the ceremonial sake, a group of todgering elders had thrust a heady antidote for conception into your hands, smiling smugly as if they’d just given you the wedding gift of the century. Of course, your all-new husband didn’t even look at you properly on your wedding night - opting instead for a short, husky goodnight and to sleep in a separate bedroom down the hall from the newly-weds’ chamber. 

He wasn’t a cruel husband, you think, and he was attractive - painfully so - and felt more like a gruff acquaintance than anything. But the only problem was that he didn’t embrace you, not even a fleeting kiss.

Even when you really wanted Toji to.

“-T-Toji?” you’re breathing shallowly, eyes blinking up hazily at the dim lighting. It comes out small, cracking so pathetically at the end.

“---Toji--even----”

“No use--- had--months---”

“---keep her to myself--”

Instantly, you’re sitting upright in a cold, wooden chair. Heart thumping wildly against the ribs of your body, it bangs at the thickly digging rope wrapping around your body.

Shit shit shit - where were you? The last thing you remembered was chatting with your attendant in your room, and she’d handed you a brand-new perfume to smell- Fuck. Where was-

“Ah, you’re awake.” There’s a high, sing-song voice from somewhere on your right, and your blood runs chillingly cold when you recognize that voice. “Honestly, I hoped you wouldn’t be around for this part but-” Naoya Zenin claps his hands to get the attention of every other elder hunched around the traditional Japanese room. “-that just makes it all the more fun, right?”

With the one tiny lantern being lit overhead, you could make out those scraggly smiles, the sharp glint of the Zenin Clan’s famed katanas. A tear stumbles down your trembling cheek, tasting salty on your lips.

“Aww, not the tears.” Naoya guffaws, “You know m’not good with the tears.” Those ropes pinning your hands behind your back rub raw with your frantic movement, creaking and unstirring despite your best efforts. “Try and try all you want, sweetcheeks, but a failure of the Zenin clan will only be met with the appropriate consequences.”

A failure.

The words would’ve cut deep had they not been the very same ones spat at you at every clan meeting - the exact reason you didn’t accompany Toji to the one today. Toji, you think. Fuck, how you wished you’d have gone just this one time. 

Straightening your spine the best you could in this binding chair, you ask - firm, pretending for all the world to be as confident as you’re not. “What do you want from me?”

It’s as if your question is the biggest joke that every scowling man in this room had heard, and they all burst into wheezing, riotous laughter. Some even slapping their knees - even Naoya gives you a cold, leeringly gleeful grin, “Just as mouthy as he is, huh?” He turns back to the elders, “She’s asking what we want!”

You bristle at another bout of cackles, struggling to hiss out a strangled, “Well- well if you bastards just fucking told me-”

“An heir.” 

Fuck, you had a feeling it was this.

“What? You pussies get your rocks off by wondering about mine and Toji’s sex life?” you let out shrill laughter, mouth moving before your brain because fuck, if it was all going to end now, might as well spew out everything you’ve wanted to since you walked in here. You shake your woozy head, “Oh fuckin’ grow up, if the man himself wanted an heir then you’d know-”

Eyes enraged, he takes a heated step towards you, “You little-”

“Naoya.” The strained drawl of an elder you’d seen around the corridors stops him straight in his tracks, and Naoya gives the man a hasty, reluctant bow. “Finish it. Before he gets back.”

Those last few words splatter a few drops of panic into your words, and a few more exhausted tears stream down your face. 

“Heh, whatever.” he’s taking one last greedy lookover down your rattling figure. “Would’ve taken y’for myself if I didn’t think he’d kill me, sweetcheeks. What a shame.” Trailing off airily, he turns back towards where you spot another spiking glisten in the dark, a metallic twang! rings through the thick, musty atmosphere. “Who knows, maybe his next wife will actually listen to a thing or two.”

Next wife. 

You’re not sure why but the thought made your heart clench. And you’re gasping when he turns back around - silver katana in hand - trying to scream, yell, anything for help. But no sound comes out. 

Instead, all you can do is gape when Naoya crowds in menacingly closer, you can just hear the smile in his voice when he coos mockingly, “You’re much better when you shut up, doll.” You press your lips tightly together at the same, sullied use of Toji’s nickname for you - wondering how he would react to all of this. Wincing at the cutting whoosh! of the katana being raised up, up, up- “Any last wo-”

BANG!

You’re grimacing at the loud crashing of wood and panels, sliding doors ripped to shreds. And in the hazy cloud of dust you could make out the outline of a tall, heaving figure. Big arms swaying with his choppy breaths, he’s standing still - dangerous.

And even in the soft darkness, your unblinking gaze caught on his gleaming, feral smile, sharp canines bared like some beast. Eyes carnivorous, widened as he assesses the room like a predator lurking in on its prey.

The drop of fear hits you before the realization - Toji.

Letting out a strangled yelp, “T-Toj- mmpf!” Before cold, wrinkly fingers come up from behind to cover your mouth. But even the slightest sound of your voice has Toji’s form jolting - fingers twitching on the handle of his blade, like electricity zapped through his entire body, and you can hear the elder behind you take in an obvious gasp when his eyes lock onto the two of you. 

Finally. 

Toji’s lips part silently, and abruptly, you’re being let go of as if you burned. “You.” 

It happens so fast that you’re not even sure you imagined it, in a split-second, the long, jagged dagger in Toji’s hand is being flung right at his shivering target. . 

And you knew he won’t miss - he never will, because you’re not even blinking when a drawn-out groan of pain echoes from behind you. Followed by an echoing thud!

“My wife.” Toji’s rasping baritone sends goosebumps racing down your spine, you’re puffing in a quick inhale at just how close he sounds. Sure enough, when you look up, you’re met with softened sage eyes, and crooked beginnings of a smile. “My wife.” he breathes out, as if he still couldn’t really believe it. But any and all tenderness in his body bleeds away when Toji abruptly looks over his shoulder at the men crowding around the entrance with a thunderous glare, “Next.”

Naoya is the first to dare to speak - to even move. Yelling, “Y-y- do you even know who that- the crime it is to kill one of the elders-”

Fuck, you swear Toji looked elated at that, that savage grin still plastered on his face, he grits through clenched teeth, “Next.” 

Next. Next. Next. Next. 

It’s all that kept being laughed - laughed - out when Naoya activated his own cursed technique, absolutely nothing against Toji’s rampant ravaging. The thrum of jujutsu makes your head throb, and Toji’s steps sound deafening. Pressurized lunges towards the man himself, and before he can think - before he can even breathe - Naoya’s being pinned face-down on the tatami floor. Face stinging with the force of the stronger man’s foot on his head, pressing it underneath his wooden sandals. He speaks softly - as if talking down to a child - over the strained pop! pop! pop! of joints. “For taking my wife, for insulting the very soul of my soul.”

Toji wasn’t done, he wasn’t even stopping. He was out of control. Ready to kill. To break. 

And none of the elders could do anything - in fact, they fall fatally still onto their knees at Toji’s growing smile, the slow turn of his head. All knowing they were on the very brink of death himself. “Who’s next?”

Fatigue and relief hits you like a semi-truck - five of them, in fact. And you can feel your body drooping lower, vision tinging with black at the corners. Over the grotesque crunching of limbs, you think you could hear a faint, gruff laughter of, “Yeah, ya might wanna sleep this one out, doll.”

---

Toji never wanted to let you out of his sight. Never. 

And with you so vulnerable like this - dozing off gently on his silken bedsheets, body curling subconsciously into his benevolent hold - he thinks he never will.

Mellow, rounded tips of his thick fingers glide down your skin, sensitive from the hot water and the way he’d washed away every evidence of the blood and pain from just a few hours before. 

“I’m sorry.” Toji breathes, hushed, a thumb gliding away a stray droplet of water on the apple of your cheek. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” He connects his forehead with your damp one, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t come to see you early from the meeting- just knew something felt wrong.”

“Sorry for what, Toji?”

Your teasing tone of voice shocks him to his very core, and yet he can’t find it in himself to pull away - fuck, he can’t even dare open his eyes to look. “All of it.” he’s spitting out, tormentingly.

It takes you a while to find the words, “It’s- it’s not your fault.” you nod, a wet hand coming up to comb through Toji’s soft black tresses. “It’s neither of ours.”

There’s a few seconds of silence, in which he’s scrubbing non-existent beads of water off of you. Long strokes - slow, and purposeful - and you have to hold back your sudden yelp when it hits you that this was the first time that he saw you naked.

“But-” he falters, shaking his head - before thinking better of it. And you take the moment to appreciate just how gorgeous he is up close, every spike of pink in his worried lips, dark lashes kissing his high cheekbones. “But it’s over now, you can- you can go back to your clan.” he grimaces, still looking like he wanted to rip something - someone - apart. “The Zenin family is done.”

Done. 

“Toji.” you exhale, luring in your face so close to your husband’s. Too close. “Come with me. Fuck this Estate, fuck having an heir- and fuck the elders, if they’re not dead by now anyway.” They were - every single one - bodies piled high in the same room you were carried tenderly out of, you find out later. You steady onto your elbows on that unfamiliar mattress - Toji’s, you distinctly realize. And his brows crinkle upwards into an expression you’ve never seen on him before.

“I…”

“And-” A hand of yours wraps around his throat, nails digging into the racing pulse of his at the side of his milky neck. “-kiss me.”

Then he’s raising his eyes to look at you and fuck-

You were fucked. 

You might as well have just signed away your own will because here was the man that was covered in blood not too long ago, here he was with his lids hooded, pupils blown. “My wife.” he repeats that same mantra from before, lips parting like something so dark, visceral, was poked dangerously awake. Like he couldn’t quite believe it. His eyes flicker in a lingering triangle across both of your eyes, your lips. Just a hair’s breadth away. Straining out a raspy, “Oh fuck.”

Depraved - Toji’s lips are so depraved . And he’s drinking you in like all his bloodthirst from before had liquidated into pure need. 

You’re mewling when a large palm brushes over to cup your cheek, tilting that pretty head of yours to deepen the kiss. “Toji.”

You shouldn’t have done that - oh, you shouldn’t have done that. Because the sound of his own name in your syrupy sweet tone makes him jolt. Jolt. His entire body rumbles with a deep, wrenched-out growl, followed very closely by a loud slam! of Toji’s fist banging down on the nearby bedside table. Only later will you find that perfectly indented hole in the shape of his hand, splinters scattered across the floor. 

Like wanted to keep in control - needed to keep in control. But was failing - miserably. 

“F-fuuuuck-” he draws out huskily into your mouth, that tiny scar always at the corner of his mouth catching on your lower lip when he takes it between his. Sucking on that slick-glossed seam harshly, it almost hurt - but it hurt so good. “You have no idea- absolutely no fuckin’ idea how much I’ve wanted to do this.”

And suddenly you’re so painfully aware of the way your robe hadn’t been tied up properly, feeling the cinch of your sensitive nipples against his rich yukata, the warmth of all five of his long fingers splaying out just below the curve of your tits. 

You can feel his needy hips rutting into yours - such raw strength in the way he holds your own still so easily. Pushing right into the bullseye between your legs with the outline of his massive, heated bulge. Languid, delicious drags.

“Fuck we shouldn’t-” he cries out when you’re reeling him back in with his plump lip tucked beneath your teeth. “You need to-” Before he’s being tugged back in again. And again. And again and again like one taste of your candied lips and he was addicted. Barely able to choke out a single syllable before mashing them back onto yours. Gruffing out a deep rumble from the depths of his sculpted chest, “Shit- y’know why I didn’t do this sooner? Why I didn’t just fuck you right then and there in front of hngh- everyone whenever I wanted to? Because I knew-”

He cuts himself off with a convulsing shudder, pulling away just enough that you whine disappointedly. “I was gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

“Couldn’t- hngh-” you’re mewling at the delicate little strings of syrupy spit snapping. Spying down at the way his yukata was disheveled now, displaying such delicious panes of warm skin for you. “Couldn’t have guessed.”

Toji’s brows raise at your slightly bratty tone, lips curling into such a sinful smirk that it makes your cunt throb so hotly, despite the slowly cooling water. His eyes darken - as if something snapped. “Oh- you’re gonna fucking regret that, ma.”

And something did -  maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this.

In an instant, you’re seeing a flash of that man- that monster from before. Baring you the most vicious grin inhumanly possible, if you didn’t know any better you’d have wondered how high the death count would be. The hundreds? The thousands?

He’s worshiping down your body like an apology for all that transpired before, hot, wet brandings of his mouth across each and every inch of skin he could reach. It made you whimper, it made you feel the powerful hum of his strength at his fingertips, it made you need more more more-

All you can let out is a drawling moan when he unapologetically snaps! the hem of your panties onto your heated skin, “Don’t be such a t-tease.”

Oh, you were so weak against the dark head of the Zenin clan, against the way he circles his two hands around your ankles. Easily pulling - hauling you across the plush mattress like some ragdoll. 

Not even hesitating before ripping your poor yukata off your body, until you’re left spread so shamefully underneath him, Toji knocking down hard onto his knees before you. 

“Well- whatever my wife wants…” the same dangerous grin grows along his face, glinting white teeth bared where they held your flimsy excuse of panties between honed canines. He murmurs the final few words hovering over where you needed him the most,  “...no elder or god themself could stop me from giving you.” 

RIP—! 

It’s the last thing breathed out of his heaving lungs before your poor underwear is being torn off of you by his very mouth, not wasting a moment before spitting them out, and burying his face between your trembly thighs. Not even taking in one last gulp of air, not even thinking because all Toji Zenin knew was that he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste your sweet sweet cunt right now. 

“Oh f-fuck-” he’s musing, sharp tongue stuttering for once in his life. “Fuck fuck fuck- fuck-” You’re yelping when your jelly-like legs are pliantly thrown over Toji’s broad shoulders, digging into the muscles of his deltoids. “Can’t believe you’ve been-” He trails off so deliriously, planting a hot, thick glob of spit on your spread pussy lips once. Twice. Smearing that glistening coat along your puffy folds with the fat of his thumb, “-been holdin’ out on me like this.”

“Shit- s’too much.” you’re whining at the slippery gloss of the mess he’s made down below leaking down your slit. Threading your fingers through his silky locks, “I wasn’t holding out on anything, y’know-”

His wide-eyed gaze was locked on your sloppily winking hole, circling the rim of that needy ring of muscle with his pointed index. “God…” his hot breath fans your dripping cunt, “You might just be my god. Didn’t wanna bring a kid into this family but you’re so- so sweet m’thinking it might not be too bad.”

Those words are barely even registered in your mind before his pretty pink lips wrap themselves around your throbbing clit. Handsome cheekbones hollowing, droopy eyes rolling to the back of his head when Toji sucks. Whirling his tongue erratically around the sensitive nub, such lewd little squelches ring in your ears. 

“T-Toji—” your purring moans only make him bury his face even deeper, nose pressing up against the edge of your sopping slit. And each thorough drag of your slobbering cunt down his face makes you knock against the end of his chin, so thirsty with the way he was making out with your cunt. Like he couldn’t get enough - never will. “Y-you were the one-” the heels of your feet move up higher to loop at his neck. “-holding out.”

And you knew that Toji the strongest of his clan - you knew it took more than a mere, barely-lucid tug to have him clashing even deeper into your pussy. 

But he does for you anyway. 

“Fuck- fuck you little-” Toji’s own heavy tongue betrays him with a throaty moan, and he looks so furious. Seething at the way he was pussydrunk already. Greedy gaze so crazed that you’re back to wondering how high the kill count would be- would they all even fit on the Zenin Estate? “-f tha’s what you fuckin’ want.”

“Wha- oh!” you yelp at the sheer burning stretch of your legs being pushed up, up, up until your knees were knocking against your tits. And Toji takes the shamefully spread opportunity to bully one rummaging finger past your swollen folds. “Oh fuck- you’re reaching so- so-”

“Finish it.”

It takes you a second to realize that Toji’s addressing you, his tone so jagged. Words muffled when he pants them out into your weeping cunt. 

He’s pulling out his finger - intentionally curving exactly against all those sweet spots mushed into your velvety walls - only to brand your poor clit with a sharp smack! “Finish that fucking sentence, ma.”

“-deep!” your hips are bucking up at another hefty intrusion, Toji’s fingers relentless inside your elastic wall. Molding out your insides to memorize every bump of his knuckles, every neat curve of his short fingernails. “So so- deep, Toji.” you whine, your shaky hands coming to rest at where you could feel him pumping in and out feverishly into hidden nooks and crannies of your sopping cunt. “C-can feel you right- here!”

This earns you another smack! gifted once again on your awaiting clit, but any and all irritation is swept away when he’s clashing his lips with yours down below in such a messy kiss. Meshing around the bulge of his own large fingers, tongue rolling placatingly over your glisteningly ravaged clit. Flicking, “Yeah- definitely my kind of fucking goddess.” His own free hand dances up to rest about midway up your stomach, pressing down. “M’gonna be in even deeper soon, y’know. Trust me.”

It’s at this moment that Toji’s exploratory fingers find their greedy way to your bulbous g-spot, immediately crashing into it - hard. 

There. There there there, you want to say - but you don’t have to, because he could tell. Could feel the vice-like grip of your slicked walls, the way it’s almost difficult to hammer back into your cunt. 

“Yeah yeah I got it-” he’s humming cockily, back to dragging his lips all over your clit senselessly all over. “All you hafta to do is- hah-” He’s being cut off by his own ravenous thirst, slurping mouth grinding even faster into your pretty pussy. And all you can hear are those syrupy squelches and the smacking of Toji’s mouth, your whining ah! ah! ah! following with every push of his fingers forming around your gummy walls. Curling deftly to massage all your sweetest spots he’s already mapped out so scarily well. “-ahh fuck- can’t get enough. Would kill them all over again just for a single taste of this. Would kill everyone- burn down this entire fuckin’ city.”

You didn’t doubt it, and Toji didn’t let you - not for a single second. 

Because he was almost violent in his approach, bruisingly pushing apart your legs further and further with each sloppy, stumbling second. Looking up at you with his wild gaze, with such a feral grin you could feel along every crevice of your overwhelmed cunt. 

“Can tell ya liked that-” he’s huffing out a surprised bout of laughter, “Ohhh- ya like that very much, huh?”

His tongue was alternating between ravaging your clit and brushing against the teasing edge of your entrance now. Over and over. And you’re gifted with another imprinting smack! onto your quivering cunt - and another and another and another until you’re all but sobbing out such a broken, “Toji- m’so close, fuck- m’gonna cum, m’gonna cum–”

“Then cum f’me, my wife.”

It only takes a few more messy rams of Toji’s fingers knuckle-deep into your eagerly swallowing pussy until you’re crashing so aggressively into your high. Wave after wave of white-hot pleasure running down, down, down your spine and into where he was relentlessly stuffing your convulsing pussy. 

Fucking you over and over through your orgasm, the pretty sight of you so splayed out and ruined makes Toji’s mouth water. He feels like a damn dog with the way his tongue lolls out, grin widening, he murmurs absent-mindedly, “Yeah- wouldn’t be bad at all. Swear you’re gonna be the end of my sanity.”

Fuck, you shamelessly ogle the way his dark robe falls down his broad shoulders, revealing so many dips and curves of muscle after muscle. He was so large - so meticulously sculpted that your restless legs fasten around Toji’s slenderly toned waist, drawing him close until your bare chests were rubbing up against one another. “Heh- you don’t get to hold out on me anymore, doll.”

It sounded almost like a threat - but your bleary, orgasm-drunk mind only has the chance to wonder what exactly he would do if you did. If you didn’t give him - the one head of the Zenin clan that didn’t get everything he wanted handed to him on a silver platter since birth - the one thing he would kill for. Die for. 

You. 

So you’re smiling drunkenly, head tilted to one side, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Toji doesn’t answer - doesn’t even bother to. And the only response you’re getting is a strained laugh - delirious almost, like the mere thought of that was enough to shred away whatever was left of his sanity.

And yours - clearly - because in that very moment, Toji lets his throbbing cock finally spring out, smacking against his abs to leave a glisteningly wet smear of precum. So so angry, his fat weeping tip lets out another wave of syrupy precum at the chill of the heady air. 

Shit - he was big. 

Long, long shaft blending so prettily from a feverish red at his tip to the tan skin behind those tufts of black at his happy trail. Veins pulsing, girthy enough that you’re wondering back to his kill count, thighs twitching nervously to a close. 

“No- no no-” you could tell his tone was trying to veer into scolding, but you caught the way it cracks with so much raw need. “Don’t you fuckin’-” His hands just wrench your knees back open, green eyes just aflame at this point. “-dare.” 

His pointed smile was so dripping wet with your sweet sweet juices from before, trickling in a sloppy trail all the way from the glossy corners of his lips, down to his chin. And his eyes follow the splattering, thick puddle on your collarbone. 

“Oh-” Toji’s mouth falls into a wicked gasp, immediately, he’s surging forward to pool the syrupy mess on his hot tongue. “Heh- guess we really are just now consummating our marriage, huh?”

The movement causes his painfully rock-hard cock to just kiss at your puffy pussy lips, just mashing the fat round tip of his length between your slit. Teasing. So fucking filthy. 

“Toji-” you’re wrenching him by his dark hair to pant into his open mouth, like a mantra. “More- need more- fuck I need-”

“More?”  His shuddering rap is barely even audible, ringing straight to your very heated core, because he sounded so wrecked. So fucking utterly ruined. Voice a few octaves higher in disbelief, “My pretty girl wants my cock? Fuckin’ want-” And then it’s like all the air is being knocked out of your lungs - literally. Feeling as if you’re being split apart so sinfully so, “more?”

You couldn’t have answered if you’d wanted to - because Toji Zenin was fucking ruthless. Just as mean as those greedily lingering juts of his hips, pushing and pushing his massively rotund length past your first snug channel of muscle. 

But that didn’t matter, because your slutty cunt was speaking more than enough for the both of you - or at least that’s what Toji mutters, over and over when he pushes in jutting, unrhythmic jabs to squeeze himself deeper inside you. 

“Oh- oh my god–” you’re batting your heavy eyelids open to take in the way your overstuffed pussy just bulges around him. Lips spread so widely it was like they were conforming to each ridge and vein down Toji’s fat cock, beading a glossy sheen down every inch by fucking inch you were being fed. “So much- fuck, don’t know if I can take it.”

Toji Zenin would rather die than not have his pretty wife all overfilled with cock if that’s what it takes him. 

And by the way your teary eyes grow wider, he suspects his pussydrunk mind might’ve just babbled that out loud. “Heh…didn’t I tell ya, ma?” His low whisper puffs hotly against your ear, tugging tensely on your earlobe. “M’gonna fucking ruin ya.”

And it’s times like this that it’s so clearly impossible to forget that Toji is inhumanly human - that you are so unfairly nothing in a match up against him.

CRACK!

Because with one, harsh ram of his sharp hip bones smacking against the globes of your ass - every solid inch of his intimidating cock is slammed against your tightly cushioning walls. It’s such a ravaging intrusion and you swear you could feel him everywhere. Feel him thrumming hotly against sweet spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Finally, buried all the way to his thick hilt, yet still nuzzling his hips upwards for more-

“S’broken.” Toji muses, and for a second you didn’t know if he was talking about you or the suspiciously sagging bed. “Plan B.” 

It takes only two seconds for his beefy arms to pick you up as if you were weightless - god, he was treating you like some object. And the only time he’s not enveloped by your heavenly cunt is when you’re being shoved down like some slut onto the cool mahogany of Toji’s work desk, his firm front pressing up against your arched back.  

“Plan C is to just fuck you into the floor until it breaks.” he snorts throatily into your ear. 

And you wondered whether it was a joke - you hoped it was a joke. You almost half-believed it until he was back to bulldozing his plump tip back into your briefly-neglected cunt. Stretching the clingy rim of muscle to bend to his round length, fully. Oh, he’ll never get used to this sight. 

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive. 

“F-fuck you really are-” One hand of yours scrambles to blindly white-knuckle the smooth wood beneath you when Toji’s bludgeoning your pussy with powerful, long thrusts. Feeling every minute flex of his thick thighs behind your own, shuddering with each forceful hammer of his sweeping cock inside you. “-you really are in so deep.”

As if to confirm, the man himself glides down an open palm to your stomach. Pressing down hard with all five splayed-out fingers until Toji could feel the same incessant slam of his thumping cockhead, the cascading ripple of his heavy, cum-filled balls smacking against your ass. 

“Told ya- hah told ya so.” his cocky groans are whirling all throughout your mind, such a hot, melty mess with the sheer fucking stretch of Toji’s cock. “Y’know…I can’t help but imagine just how pretty you’d hngh- look all stretched out n’ swollen as a momma.”

You’re nodding deliriously, and the way his crashing thrusts were just bruising against your spongy cervix, bouncing off onto every sweetly hidden sensitive spot inside your elastic walls. “Shit- ya jus’ got wetter- ya like that? The thought of me fuckin a baby into ya?” he spits, long sloppy tongue coming up to taste the dredges of tears streaming down your face- shit, when did you even start crying? 

“Shh shhh- don’t cry–” he’s cooing, rewarding you with another heavy smack! right onto your poor clit. Every steady clash against your over-sensitive g-spot only sends a fresh wave of big fat tears for Toji to kiss at. “-don’t cry, don’t cry. Never f’me, m’never hah- gonna kill off anything that makes my pretty wife cry-” A soft, salty peck on your lips, “-n’ that includes me. If ya asked me to, ma. I’ll give ya anything you ever want.”

There’s a creaking slam! on the wooden surface, and a hasty look over your shoulder shows that Toji has hiked his knee up onto the desk. For a second, you wonder whether it hurt - whether the throbbing shaft of his cock wasn’t rubbed raw by now, whether his abs weren’t just burning with movement. Fucking you so recklessly into the desk.

But oh, you think Toji Zenin would care?

You think he would give a fuck about anything other than rutting riotously into your gripping cunt? Drilling into you again and again until your tip-toes don’t even reach the ground at the force of his pressurized thrusts. The change in angle has his leaky tip glide glossy lines right across the bottom of your dripping pussy and pressing down harshly onto your g-spot. So rough. So mean. You’re scrambling further and further up the desk and-

“Now now-” Toji hoists your weak hips up ever-so-slightly back to him, before pinning you to the desk with his full, heavy bodyweight. “No running away. Heh…how funny would it be if I actually did jus’ hngh- fuck a baby into ya right now?” His fingers get so sloppy on your clit, “Fill ya up- rub an heir right in everyone’s faces?”

“Shit- m’so close- again-” Your ears are popping at the pure saturated stimulation when his hand down below rolls over your clit. Desperate. Depraved. Glossing up the curve of his thick thumb with all the sweet slick beading out with each broken thrust. It’s like he was out of control - losing his fucking mind. And your delirious mind wondered whether you’d be next, that faint cracking of joints certainly not boding well for either of you. “Toji, m’gonna-”

He’s so erratic - sloppy. And so it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same - fuck, you didn’t even realize it at first.

So hard that your vision flashes red and white, breathing raggedly gasping in lungfuls as you rock your sticky hips back into Toji’s so greedily. Your voice is shot - because you’re moaning Toji’s name so loud that it almost felt disrespectful, echoing across the sex-thickened air. “Tha’s right- scream as loud as you want, ma. It’s just us in this house.”

And maybe it was that - maybe it was the feeling of your velvety walls clamping down hard around his achy length - maybe it was just the way you’re whispering out such saccharine sweet, “Cum inside.”

Because Toji’s fractured sanity can only handle a few more unkindly bullying drives into your gushing cunt before he’s cumming and cumming so much he thinks he might die. 

Doesn’t know if he can - if he wants to - stop.

“Oh- ohhh fuck- didn’t think I’d actually-” You feel a branding bite inside the crook of your neck as his sloppy white seed splatters at your inner thigh with each rummaging thrust forward. Oozing down in messy, thick dredges. “-hngh- gonna fill you up so good- until you can’t take it anymore.” You didn’t know if you already could - because you felt so full. Toji’s syrupy cum sloshing around with each ram of his hips, coating your walls in a creamy, slick-like sheen on the inside. 

“Yes–” you sigh over another splintering crack! from somewhere, “Fuck fuck fuck- need you to- hngh, wanna make you a daddy- give you an heir, To-”

It’s as if he couldn’t bear to hear your swollen lips part with his name, because Toji’s shutting you up with a sweltering kiss. Still mounted and rutting into you so animalistically, “the best- the best momma, you’re gonna be the best momma-” he hushes into your mouth. Pliantly kneading your body into a sinful arch for him, you barely even register it when he’s carrying you away. Two thick fingers pooling his glistening cum, inching them back into your stretched-out cunt - “Don’t waste a single drop now- hngh- fuck, you’ll look so pretty all full.”

Before you know it, you’re being sprawled out so easily on the clean tatami mats below, face down, your hips being propped up by one of Toji’s. And in your bleary peripheral vision, you could just about make out how ruined that desk was - how broken. How the fuck haven’t either of you broken any bones, yet?

Or maybe you have - you wouldn’t even know at this point, because Toji was still slamming into your poor, overspilling pussy again. His harsh grunt puffs out in a feverish breath against your ear, “Told ya I was gonna ruin you, doll. Better get ready-” He’s punctuating each word with a sloppy, sold thrust, pace picking up to fuck you so thoroughly into the floor. “Because I have a Plan D and a Plan E until m’sure you’re givin’ me an heir.”

A/N. Ooo what if I made a clan leader series? Thoughts?

Plagiarism not authorized.

[onlyathief]

OKAY!! here we go!!

what the fuck was the point of g.ambit vol 2 anyway

[united-as-one]

Closed starter for @r3dblccd (Oliver)

The day was finally over, autograph signings, fan meet ups and more. Mingyu was spent, for the first time in years he was finally feeling the effects of burnout and decided that a small evening to himself will fix the pallid mood that he found himself in. His favourite café was close by the residence that housed his illustrious K-pop group, and lucky for him it was always open till late. The less people that saw him there, the better. As he settled down, sipping on the iced mocha that he ordered, he couldn't help but feel the gaze of another. Perhaps it was a fan, it was just the two of them plus the two baristas after all. Small conversation wouldn't hurt. "It's rude to stare, y'know. I don't bite, I'm only a demon on the stage. Outside of it? I'm as harmless as a cherry cola."

[everythingne]

little miss wingwoman (3) - ln4

You meet the Norris family, Penelope drops by for a surprise visit, and luckily Christmas Eve goes off without a hitch. Thanks to your amazing skills in everything that comes with being a nanny.

warnings/notes: I, once again, am posting christmas after christmas and i don't care <3 happy hanukkah by the way!! also shout out to my brother who inspired the whole 'athena falling asleep' bit here bc he did this w my baby cousin on christmas eve

(prev | next)

Lando is welcoming in his siblings while you're in the process of finishing up a quick little Christmas Eve dinner. They'd requested nothing crazy, so you'd scoured the internet to find a simple chicken dish, and had Lando go out to buy some games to play with the family. His siblings had all been on the same flight, but with a little rain systems coming through Monaco, his parents flight had been delayed a few hours.

Meaning, you got to be eased into meeting your roommate of barely a weeks family, and spending the holidays with them.

As you finally set down some tin foil over the last few sides, sliding them in the oven on a preheat setting to keep everything warm until Lando's parents arrived, Oliver and Flo poke around the corner to look at you.

You don't notice them studying the way you flow through Lando's kitchen, you're too busy counting over the names Lando had told you--Oliver, Flo, and Cisca, his siblings, you think in that order with Lando ahead of Flo. Then, Savannah, Lando's sister-in-law, and his two nieces Mila and Athena. His parents, Cisca and Adam, though you can't imagine calling them anything other than Mr and Mrs. Norris.

"Oh, guys," Lando's tone is full of smiles, proudly waving an arm to you as you turn around and discard your oven mitts onto the counter, "This is my roommate, Yn."

"Ah!" Oliver smiles, Athena in his hands sraring up at you with wonder in her eyes, "This is the roommate I've heard so much about."

"Oh, god, I hope all good things?" You step around Lando to properly greet each sibling, Savannah, and the girls.

"Lando talks about you a lot." Cisca teases softly, looking over at her brother, who flushed and quickly asked what everyone wanted to drink--safely deterring the conversation. Above everyones scurrying heads into the kitchen, you meet Lando's eyes, and find you can't look away as he crinkles up in a smile before turning to find cups for everyone.

A bit later, Lando runs out to go collect his parents from Nice's airport, leaving you with the siblings. Mila and Athena have taken to exploring the living room under their parents watchful eye as you scour for a good Christmas movie for them--settling on the Grinch after a while, just to have it on in the background. You can tell Athena's getting ready for a nap, but with so much excitement and noise, she seems to be struggling to settle down. Savannah seems a bit flustered, so you take a seat with her on the couch while Flo and Cisca sneak some cookies in the kitchen and gossip.

"So," Oliver starts, "We spent so long catching up with Lando, I never had a chance to ask anything about you."

"Oh, Sorry!" Savannah calls, turning to place a hand on your knee, "Don't want you to feel left out!"

"Don't apologize, it's alright! He's your brother and you said, Savannah, the last time you saw him was Goodwood, which was--what, July?" You say, watching as Cisca and Flo come to the living room, sitting down with their nieces and their toys by the big windows. Savannah offering the girls a thankful smile for taking them off her hands for the time being.

"Yeah, it's been a while." Flo hums, "And Cis and I didn't even see him at Goodwood, we saw him at Silverstone."

"He's so busy with racing, I see why but I still worry for him. He's still just the boy he was when we were young and running amuck through the woods in the middle of nowhere. He had no friends back then, and I worry he isolates himself here too, just blames it on being busy." Oliver leans back, running a hand across his head. You can see the worry for a baby brother he's watched grow clear in his eyes, and Savannah soothes a hand across his shoulders in comfort.

You hum softly, "He's got Max. And Oscar, Charles... Carlos, Alex and George, though I guess George is in London now... a lot of the drivers live close--we actually bought them presents for Christmas. He's got all of Quadrant too."

"And you," Flo prompts, looking up from where Athena tries to grab onto her hair.

"Yeah," you breathe out, turning to Oliver, "And me."

"How'd you meet?" Savannah asks and you smile.

"Max Verstappen, his 'bonus daughter' Penelope is the girl I nanny. I've worked for Kelly since Penelope was maybe three or four months, actually. Just an extra set of hands for her, but now I'm sort of like a housekeep? I watch the apartment when they're gone, cook, clean, help them keep track of everything--the two of them are also so busy." You laugh softly, watching as Athena uses the table to toddle her way over to her parents, Savannah picking up the sleepy toddler and laying her on her chest.

"But, with their baby on the way, the room I was living in is turning into a nursery. They didn't want to move, especially with a whole baby coming, so they helped me find a new place to live. Luckily, I knew Lando... kinda... we never really spoke much before but Penelope adores him so I've been out with Penelope at races or even in Monaco, and run into him."

Savannah watches as Athena scoots out of her hold and climbs across the couch, the curious toddler now taking up space in your lap as you wrap up your explanation, and a place a hand on her back, "So, Lando let me move in. I've pretty much transformed his entire apartment in exchange for the rent he's covering for me."

"I was going to say, it looks a lot better than the last time I was here." Oliver chuckles, Savannah countering with, "Yes, it does. A woman's touch was needed for sure."

"Lando kept asking us all about how to live with a girl," Cisca looks over her shoulder, watching as Flo and Mila move to join you on the couch. Little Athena snuggling into the warm of your hold as you move back.

"I told him it was just like living with sisters," Oliver rolls his eyes, "but he was insistent there was a way to do it wrong."

You laugh softly, imaging the way that he had probably begged for some sort of advice over the phone with his siblings, gently rocking a fussy Athena--who has been refusing her nap since she'd gotten into the apartment almost two hours ago now.

You speak softly, to keep the girl from waking up as she nearly is sleeping, "There really isn't, and I've been moving around so much my whole life I don't really have a set way to live. I kinda just adapt."

Before you can say anything else, the front door opens, and Lando announces he's back. Savannah lifts Athena, who whines, clinging to your shirt, and you shake her off, "I can take her, if it's okay."

"Sure, if it's fine. I wouldn't wanna wake her so close to her falling asleep. Athena loves to cuddle, she's a clinger," Savannah laughs softly, brushing her daughters wild curly hair back. You nod, holding her the way Savannah instructs--missing when Penelope used to be this tiny in your arms.

Lando's parents--Adam and Cisca, are happily talking with their children when you round the corner into the kitchen. Everyone turns with your presence, smiling at the sight of Athena curled in your arms, Mrs. Norris audibly aweing at the scene as you smile.

"Hi, it's really lovely to meet you both," You say softly, stepping over so they can give you hugs and greet their granddaughter who refuses to come out of the comfort she'd found nestled in your chest.

"I'll get the food out," Lando says, "I imagine you're all starving,"

"God, please." Flo whines, Oliver going to help his brother. You linger with the Norris parents in the hall, smiling softly as Athena lets out little snores against the warm fabric of your sweater. Savannah long gone after being dragged off by Mila.

Mrs. Norris moves into the kitchen, laughing as she scolds her sons for stealing bits of food while they bring everything out. The stack of bags and gifts flow down the hall now, the jackets and shoes overflowing the racks, and you can't help but smile at the liveliness of the once empty apartment.

"You're a real charmer," Adam says after a second and your attention is drawn to Mr. Norris. He grins, "Haven't seen Lando this organized in years."

You laugh softly, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Athena's back, "It's the least I could do for him, considering he won't let me pay rent. He's been really kind to let me live here."

"That's Lando for ya," Adam looks at his son in the kitchen, helping Mila get seated at the table, "He'd give you the skin off his back if he could."

As if sensing you both looking at him, Lando's head perks up, scowling as he comes over. He takes his father's jacket out of his hands and urges him to go get a plate of the food you'd 'slaved over' making all day in the kitchen. You can't help but giggle as he shoos away his father's knowing smile and wave as he goes to join his wife and kids.

"Thanks for saving this whole holiday," Lando looks over at you, catching the way you're already looking at him. A soft smile gracing your lips as you sway the toddler in your arms.

"Your family is lovely," you reply softly, "I'm glad I could do something for them."

Lando's quiet for a moment, the both of you just watching eachother. Turning back when Flo and Cisca start cracking up over some teasing thing Mrs. Norris is saying as Oliver scowls and rebukes whatever she's saying.

"Do you want a plate?" Lando says, "I can get mine last."

"No no, wouldn't want to wake Athena. I can always heat it up after she wakes." You wave a hand, and Lando nods, stepping closer to wipe a crumb off your cheek and brush a piece of hair back into place before Flo calls him over. You wave him on and he goes, making a spectacle about making his way back to the group.

Slowly, you make your way back into the living room, slowly sinking down on the couch and getting comfortable with Athena still snoring in your arms. And as the Norris' carry on in the kitchen, you can help but lay your head back on the cushions, cuddling in to the comfiest position you can find.

You fall asleep around the point Martha May announces her love for the Grinch, and right before Flo brings out Uno for the group at the table to play.

Lando comes over about twenty minutes later, pausing when he sees you knocked out. The rest of the family peeking around the corner as Lando grabs a blanket from the chair in the corner and walks over to where you are--Athena still snuggling into your hold. He gently drapes the blanket over the two of you, grabbing a pillow to lay under your head so your neck isn't killing you in the morning, and just takes a pause to sit next to you.

His eyes travel down your hair, to your closed eyes, parted lips, the soft breaths that leave you. The way Athena has tucked herself against your chest like she just knows you're safety, that you know how to take care of her. He lifts the blanket a little higher, resists the urge to press a chaste kiss to your forehead, and stands.

No one moves fast enough for him to not catch them staring.

"Looked like you were gonna kiss her for a second," His father chimes. Lando feels heat rise to his cheeks as his siblings laugh and he just waves away their comments as he comes back to play the game with them.

When Athena stumbles in to cuddle her mom about thirty minutes later, he peeks out to see you still asleep on the couch and tilts his head. Oliver leaning on the wall leaning into the living room as Lando steps forward, tucks his arms underneath you and carefully lifts you. It's not graceful by any means, but when your eyes flutter and you settle in as he holds his breath, Oliver bites his lip to keep himself from laughing at Lando.

"I'll get the door." Oliver says, nodding his head to where the spare bedroom is. His whole family pretends not to see him nearly whack your head into the wall when he brings you into your room and lays you on the bed. Mrs. Norris does come to ensure her son has you tucked in properly, with the blinds lowered to block out the setting sun as you curl up in your bed.

"Poor thing, she's absolutely knackered." She hums, waving Oliver out of the room as Lando sheepishly rubs his neck, walking over to her.

"She cooked all day, and we've spent the week decorating everything," his voice is soft as he looks over at your sleeping form in the bed, before his mother pulls him out of the room to shut the door.

"Well, she did a wonderful job." She winks knowingly at him, earning a shy laugh from Lando as she brings him back over to the table to keep playing games.

You do manage to get up and freshen up around nine, after his family has left to sleep off their jetlag. Lando's sitting on the couch with--surprisingly to you, Penelope.

"Max dropped her off, he and Kelly have dinner with their parents and P was supposedly exhausted." Lando pokes the girls cheek, but you can see she's clearly wide awake, sheepishly smiling up at you as you chuckle to yourself.

"I'm sure she was," You chime, sitting down at the counter as Penelope climbs up to sit next to you, leaning on you and looking up at you through her long lashes.

"I just didn't wanna go." Penelope admits softly, "All everyone's been talking about is the baby. I don't care about the stupid baby, I wish it was just me again, and I didn't have to fight this little thing in my Mommy's belly for some attention."

You hum, rubbing a hand up and down Penelope's back. She'd been complaining to you about the baby since you'd gotten back to Monaco, and you'd brought it up to Max and Kelly already. From the time spent in their apartment with them, you knew it wasn't their fault Penelope was feeling this way--after her first complaint. They'd both apologized to her, and explained it to her, and after that Penelope had been fine for a while.

But having every single person in your extended family fawning over the unborn baby in your mothers stomach--buying him tons of gifts and clothes, things Penelope was used to be doted onto her, the shift had to feel weird.

"Max and Kelly still love you," it's Lando who chimes from the couch, groaning as he stands up and stretched out his shoulders, "It's been hard for them with the baby coming, and you know how much the baby needs."

Penelope nods and you pout. Usually, Christmas Eve was reserved for the Verstappen-Piquets to spend the entire night together. But it seemed every one of their traditions had been tossed aside.

"How about this," you say softly, "I have some stuff left over to bake. Why don't you, Lando, and I make some cookies for Santa, hm? We can leave them out at your apartment when I drop you off."

Penelope does light up at that and agrees, so as Lando helps her get supplies, you finish shoveling your dinner into your mouth before standing to help them with baking.

By the end of it, after Penelope's roped you and Lando into a flour fight you know is going to be a disaster to clean up, you and Lando end up carrying up a sleeping Penelope and a plate of cookies. Max laughs softly at the sight of the three of you covered in flour, and Kelly thanks you both for staying up later to watch her.

When you return to Lando's apartment, the two of you elect to finish watching whatever movie is playing on the tv. And the quiet moment, broken by occasionally showing each other something on your phones or asking questions about this absolutely absurd 80s christmas movie, just fills the home with a sense of warmth you aren't expecting to feel.

It almost makes you not want to go to bed, but alas, the Norris' are coming back over in the morning, so you two duck off to bed eventually--hesitating to part due to the invisible magnet that holds you close.

SEE NOTES ABOUT TAG LISTS BELOW:

general tag list (open, tagged in all my fics, will not update for this series. If you'd like to be added to my general list FOR this series, let me know and I'll tag you in the comments!

@d3kstar @justalittlejess @tvdtw4ever @llando4norris @daemyratwst @piastri-fvx @sltwins

series specific tag (closed BUT SEE BELOW!!)

@nikfigueiredo @ilovechickenwings @supertrashbread @sltwins @mwuaferrari @si1ver06 @linnygirl09 @kikiki81 @kittylolly4 @lazybot @tylerstacobell @formula1fordisaster @sheblogs @suns3treading @kqliie @jxnellat @anxiousbananna @hard4ndsoft @majasophieanna @diorbrxtz @freyathehuntress @obxstiles @cstads-blog @wierdflowerpower @delululeclerc @honethatty12 @henna006 @chlmtfilms @littlegrapejuice @piastrams @ravisinghs-wife @sturmatt @sagestack @bravo-delta-eccho @eiffel-hood @widow-cevans @ash88-yep @emryb @changetyre @raynetargaryan2 @callsignsiren @mayusaatma @sid-is-gr8  @awritingtree @urstepdaughter @4-ln4

TO BE TAGGED IN COMMENTS OF EACH NEW CHAPTER:

@celestrablack @hadids-world @keij0h @annimausi

(thank you to all the new people (and my return readers ofc), and everyone who has left such kind words!! happy holidays to you all <3)

[celestialgalaxyglow]

At the JL Watchtower

Diana: Good morning everyone and thank you for attending our biweekly meeting.

Barry: So what's happening this week? Word burning down? Nuclear waste? General world ending disaster?

Diana: Not really, things have been quite these last two weeks.

Bruce: Too quite.

Oliver: Are we just going to ignore Bruse's white-haired green-eyed child.

Danny: Grandchild. My dad is his son Jason. And my name is Danny, my vigilante alias is Phantom.

Martian Manhunter: You radiate a strange aura young one.

Danny: I'm half-ghost, so I'm neither dead or alive, so it's probably that.

Martian Manhunter: I see.

Clark: Bruce where does your family find these children?

Bruce: We don't find them, they find us. Danny here broke into Jason's apartment and now he's part of the family.

Part: 3, (all parts)

[dc-comics-enjoyer]

One night, Jason and Roy, who have been married for two years, pull into the Batcave in their car. Bruce looks up, intrigued because 1) They’ve come over which is odd in and of itself, 2) They’re in a car instead of on their bikes, and 3)... Bruce blinks. Jason is getting a stroller out of the trunk? 4) Roy steps out, cradling a small baby in his arms??

Turns out they’ve finally brought home the baby they’ve been secretly trying to adopt for months. When Bruce holds his grandchild for the first time, he stares down at the little bundle, eyes misting over, and for a moment, the world feels brighter. Bruce’s voice cracks as he whispers, “She’s perfect.”

Then it hits him—he’ll have to compete with Oliver to be the best grandpa. No way I’m letting Queen win this one, he thinks. Roy notices the terrifying smile stretching across Bruce’s lips and raises an eyebrow, slightly concerned.

When Ollie meets her, he thinks the exact same thing.

Bonus : Lian is over the moon at the prospect of getting a little sister.

----

Got low-key inspired by this hc to write a fic about Jay and Roy adopting a kid !

Please let me know your thoughts on the fic !

[lorefolked]

going through the motions was just a facet of james' life. fleeting, swirled faces that never lingered for long, pressing questions from all sides ; like a thick pair of jaws fastened around him, canines sinking in until he was bled dry, thin and weak. the queries never ended, nor did the expectations. he was this kind of figure now, clad in dark shades, hair wild and untamed -- a figment of his signature. he practically bled black.

he'd become somewhat, undeniably, accustomed to the press conferences. skin thickening with each discussion, once soft-toned and demure responses edging into something more curt, abrupt and monosyllabic, as brief as james could possibly be. instead of answering he'd begun volleying back his own questions -- "how do you feel about it?" "what is there to say?" "is that how you interpret it?" seeing the looks on those journalists' faces was perhaps better than any kind of acid ( now criminalized, just like those reporters the moment their quizzes were turned back on them ). his reputation had tacked on words like jerk and evasive, headlines screeching warnings of WATCH OUT and RIVERS BACK AT IT AGAIN! without care to truly understand the intention of his words. james had never cared much for the press -- he found them to be sleazy; sell outs; only interested in one thing, and it was never the truth. they'd likened james to a petulant child in the two years he'd been an artist, so he'd turned his back on them and done the same. their faces red with embarrassment and irritation, brows furrowed and jaws clenched, fully inked pens gripped by white-tipped fingers. why won't you answer? why? why? look in the mirror.

but those moments of satisfaction had been swallowed by the other mounting feelings wedged in james' chest. sly smirks gave way to thinned lips, expressionless and cold. this was who he was now. empty, barren hotel rooms, untouched sheets. a narrow spine pushed against the wall, black collared jacket swept around his feet, legs pressed into his stomach. the tears never came. sickness churned in his belly, fingers curled around porcelain toilets as he bent over, dry heaving. platform saddle shoes digging into the dirty tile underneath. help me. he wanted to cry out, wanted to beg god for forgiveness, but the sky lay empty at night and no deity ever answered him back. hands covered his face, fingers tangled in messy black hair. he was alone.

then he met oliver noble ( and after that, he'd never felt more alone in his entire life ). sleek brunette hair, stylized and gelled ; deep brown eyes focusing in on james' face, never leaving, like they belonged there. fleas on a dog's hide, burrowed deep. he smelled of citrus and wood, a crackling hearth, sparked with amber flames. he looked like he shaved daily. for james, brushing his teeth was a chore -- jaws gnashed as bitterness ran through him. noble was older, only a little, and wore tailored suits. wrinkles pressed out and tie expertly wrapped. he held out a hand, a grin on his face. one that screamed shark. james took it anyway, felt the softness against his own callouses. backed away, intent on getting away and slipping through the crowd, but noble followed.

james expected many things. questions that he'd heard a million times, something any idiot could find in the paper. headline material. he had already begun working up a detached answer to the usual "how does it feel to be the most highly regarded artist right now?" but what came was neither what he expected nor what he wished to answer. a deep look in those sharp browns, like they saw something no one else did. "how do you handle performance anxiety, mr. rivers?"

performance anxiety. as if james didn't live in front of crowds. as if a camera wasn't always in his face. as if his hands didn't tremble before he stepped on stage. teeth clenched, adjusting his sunglasses, wanting something to do with his hands as the question speared through him. he felt protected by his shades, like his eyes couldn't be bored into. even though noble's face looked like he was staring right through him. "it's just life. how do you handle life?" he bunted back. waited for the cross look. it never came.

noble nodded slowly, like he'd come to understand something that was never there in the first place. "life is difficult. i understand what you mean. but dealing with it -- now that's the million dollar question, isn't it?" he replied, voice silky sweet with sympathy. like james was liquid putty in his hands, molded and shaped however he saw fit. i'm worth twenty thousand of you, he wanted to say. wanted to scream. how did he deflect a question when it was no longer his answer?

"people deal with life in different ways. it all comes down to what you know," james said reluctantly. you're manipulating me. was it manipulation if he knew it? or was he, at that point, just as guilty?

"and what do you know, mr. rivers?" noble positioned himself in front of james, staring at him. he wasn't even holding a pen or a notepad. like he was committing all of this to memory, as if someone of his stature cared that much. he looked more like a renowned businessman to james than anything else ; a carnivorous hound, teeth bared and jaws foaming. each word was like a clap of thunder, and if noble was a hound then james was nothing more than a house dog, shaken and frail. weak underpaw, walking a line he didn't quite know how to tread yet. trying to be delicate but feeling as though he'd just shattered fine china. but it was his life. his life. how could someone take away all he knew in such a short amount of time?

james didn't want to answer. where had that person gone, the one that fired back at journalists like this? where was that cold mask? why were his hands shaking when he should be cool and confident? noble was using him, twisting up his words in order to pad his story with interest. and yet, james couldn't help but wonder how much of what noble was twisting up was true. "i'm just a singer. i'm no scholar. if i was a scholar i wouldn't be singing, would i?"

"many would beg to differ," noble responded, quick and light, weightless. "you're a hero to so many. your words carry power." james heard the undertone of mockery, saw the veiled interest in noble's eyes. nothing he could say would ever resonate with this man. he'd already made up his mind about james -- prick. cagey. uninteresting.

that familiar resentment ran flush through him, sinking into the cores of his teeth. the marrow in his bones. who was he to change noble's mind? who was he to change anyone's mind? embracing the idea that he was this character now ( black clothed, reticent, strung out ) was what felt like the current best option. let noble have his headliner. let everyone see james for the person he put on. who would have the last laugh then? it had to be him. it had to be. they'd all be fools, because james would know what he was. he'd never lose sight of himself. and even though the empty space in his chest was an open chasm, maw wide and gaping, he wouldn't allow himself to fall in. sidestepping was easy, a dance he knew well. this was just another part of himself he'd keep from the world.

"power is only what people give it," james murmured, motioning out toward the crowd choked around them. "and if people see me as a hero, then maybe i am one. what are you doing about the state of things? writing columns about me?" hazel eyes narrowed at noble, taking in the acceptance on the other man's face. expectations had just been met. "maybe it's you who needs to think about how to handle life. i'm certainly doing a better job of it than you."

james didn't wait for an answer. he couldn't. he just saw noble's lips press into a thin line and then he was off, desperate to be away from this place and these people. returning home -- or whatever he could truly call home, living in the desolation of a hotel room. a black abyss, calling out to him. and the time passed, as it always did. that night was just a ledger in his mind. and for a moment, he'd thought, he isn't writing about me. he'd deflected, successfully. was that all it took? speaking highly of himself?

and then the magazine landed across his desk days later. the ledbetter, it read. title : IS JAMES RIVERS WORTHY OF PRAISE AFTER ALL? author, oliver noble. james felt sick as he read it. tanned hands picked up the pack of newports, bringing the cigarette to his lips. he breathed smoke, lived in it, ash in a fire. the last one standing in a burning house. hearth-dwelling noble, setting the place ablaze. james had never felt worthy of his celebrity standing, but this certainly overwhelmed any other criticism -- and to be so wrong at the same time? it was no hullabaloo magazine, but people would certainly read this. chapped lips parted as smoke puffed out, trailing thick tendrils through the empty white room, legs lifting to set his feet upon the desk. he scrubbed a hand through his hair. when was the last time he'd even bothered to wash it? it all just felt so far away, a distant echo crying out in a bottomless cave. nothing matters. nothing ever has. nothing ever will. he eyed the setlist sitting on his desk, wondered what those people thought of him. but then, did it really matter? what of oliver noble? what of mary, his own manager? if the world saw him one way, was that really who he was? maybe it only mattered what he was deep down. but if no one else saw that, was he even human at that point? or was he just a cardboard cutout, a caricature?

anger swelled inside of him, gripping the magazine and throwing it across the room, watching the gaudy pages flutter in the air. a kaleidoscope of color, planting to the ground. his chest heaved, his hands shook. he had a show tonight. there was no reason to get worked up. but oliver noble had found him, crooked and bleeding, and kicked him in the face. watched him go down, laughing, laughing, laughing. that grin haunted his mind. commensalism was so often the relationship between musician and reporter. but what of this?

james shook his head, bit down on the cigarette and closed his eyes. maybe he'd write a song about this. call it parasite. the suckling leech, oliver noble. he just hoped to never see him again. it wouldn't be far out if he didn't. but those words would continue living in his head, at least until james could let it go. but the idea of being bested stuck with him, and so it never slipped his mind.

performance anxiety. what a joke.