#consider that the met gala is a charity event

[jaskierx]

people posting about the met gala are not ‘literally complicit in genocide’. they’re not ‘personally murdering civilians’. equating reblogging a picture of a celebrity in an outfit to killing another person with your own hands as part of a genocide is fucking harmful. people are being murdered and you’re choosing to throw around accusations in their name so you can feel like a big guy on the internet? wobble your fucking head

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

The Spotlight She Never Noticed

Word Count: 878

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader

Summary: Y/n, unaware of her beauty, finds herself attracting newfound attention after being with Toto Wolff, leading her to slowly see herself through his adoring eyes.

________________________________________________________

Y/n L/n always considered herself an average woman. Sure, she had her moments when she caught a glance in the mirror and thought, Not bad, but she never considered herself striking. She grew up surrounded by friends and family who treated her with love and warmth but weren’t the type to dwell on physical appearances. Compliments on her looks were rare, and when they did come, she brushed them off as politeness rather than genuine admiration.

Life took an unexpected turn when she fell for Toto Wolff, the towering, charismatic team principal of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula 1 team. Toto, with his Austrian charm, sharp intellect, and undeniable presence, was a man who could command attention in any room he entered. Yet, he only had eyes for Y/n.

Their relationship was a whirlwind. She’d met him during a charity gala in Monaco, where she had been invited as a plus-one by a friend. Y/n spent most of the evening blending into the background, nursing a glass of champagne, and admiring the glamour from afar. When Toto approached her, she’d thought at first he must have mistaken her for someone else. Why would he want to talk to her?

But Toto saw something in Y/n that she couldn’t see herself. Her natural beauty, wit, and kindness captivated him. He was persistent, charming her with his quick humor and genuine interest in her life. Slowly, Y/n let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, she was special in his eyes.

Months into their relationship, Toto began introducing Y/n to his world. The glamorous paddocks, VIP events, and high-profile parties became a part of her life. She felt out of place at first, standing next to models, celebrities, and executives who radiated confidence. But Toto’s unwavering support helped her adjust.

What Y/n didn’t notice—at least at first—was how other men began to look at her differently.

The Shift

At a private dinner in London, Y/n was chatting with one of Toto’s colleagues when she felt an unfamiliar gaze lingering on her. She glanced up to find a young marketing executive staring at her with an intensity that made her cheeks flush.

“Sorry, I—uh—didn’t catch what you said,” he stammered, clearly caught off guard.

Y/n blinked. Was he… flustered? She laughed it off and repeated herself, but the encounter left her puzzled.

Over the next few weeks, similar incidents began to pile up. At a race weekend, a journalist held her hand a little too long while introducing himself. A barista at her favorite café gave her a drink on the house, insisting it was “on him.” Even a waiter at a restaurant Toto had taken her to seemed to pay her more attention than necessary, addressing her with compliments and a lingering smile.

Y/n brushed it off, assuming people were simply being polite or trying to impress Toto through her. But then she noticed something else: the compliments were directed at her, not Toto.

“You look stunning tonight,” the waiter had said.

“Absolutely breathtaking,” murmured the journalist.

At first, she mentioned it to Toto with a laugh. “I think people are just nice because I’m with you.”

Toto frowned slightly, his protective side surfacing. “That’s not it, Y/n. You’re beautiful. They’re noticing what I’ve always seen.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re biased.”

“I’m not,” Toto insisted, taking her hand. “But I’m starting to think I need to keep an eye on you. These men clearly have no shame.”

Y/n laughed, dismissing his concern. But deep down, she began to wonder.

The Realization

It wasn’t until a sponsor’s gala in Monaco that everything clicked for her. She wore a sleek, emerald-green gown that Toto had picked out for her, claiming it matched her eyes perfectly. When she walked into the ballroom on his arm, heads turned.

Throughout the evening, men approached her with compliments and subtle flirtations, even when Toto was only a few feet away. One particularly bold individual—a young driver from a rival team—brazenly asked her to dance.

Before Y/n could respond, Toto stepped in, his arm tightening around her waist. “She’s taken,” he said firmly, his voice low and commanding. The driver quickly retreated, but Toto’s jaw remained tense for the rest of the evening.

On the drive home, Y/n finally voiced her confusion. “Why is this happening? None of this ever happened before you.”

Toto glanced at her, his expression softening. “Because you didn’t see yourself the way others see you. And now, they’ve finally noticed what I knew all along.”

“But why now?”

“Confidence, Schatz.” He smiled, taking her hand. “You carry yourself differently now. You’re with me, yes, but it’s not about my status. You’ve always been beautiful, but now you believe in yourself a little more, and people can see it.”

Y/n frowned, trying to process his words. “I don’t know… I still feel like the same person.”

“You are,” Toto reassured her. “But you’re starting to see yourself through my eyes. And that’s a good thing. Just don’t let it go to your head,” he teased, leaning over to kiss her temple.

Y/n laughed, her heart swelling with love. She still wasn’t sure if she believed him, but maybe, just maybe, she was starting to see herself a little differently.

[frownyalfred]

Do you have any Thomas Wayne headcanons ? <3

has the unique ability to curl up and nap anywhere despite being 6 foot+ (it’s where Bruce gets the ability to sleep in the field from)

played rugby in college

recruited Alfred himself when Alfred, in the employ of another family as a valet, herded Thomas politely away from a car with the employer’s children waiting inside (Martha was pregnant or about to be and Thomas was impressed)

would box with Alfred on slow nights, yes shirtless (Martha pretended not to watch but she’d peek)

Bruce slept more in his arms than the crib or anywhere else for his first few weeks of life

brilliant but spacey at times. Martha gave up trying to help/remind him so sometimes he’d show up to fundraisers/galas/events sans tie, socks, etc

hated being in those social circles and considered his medical peers and the staff at WE (Lucius Fox, etc) as his real social circle

the definition of quiet wealth, if you saw him on the street you wouldn’t guess he was so extravagantly wealthy

worked the ER for a long time, and saw the worst of Gotham (via its victims) which led to increased donations and the establishment of several additional charities

met Martha on a beer crawl and was entranced when she turned him down 3-4 times before finally agreeing to date him

was a bit of a womanizer before he got married, but after he met Martha his eyes never strayed, not even once

if Martha kicked him out of bed he would whine and sleep at the foot of the bed on the floor instead of literally any of the 24 bedrooms in the Manor or like, the couch

defended his choice to marry Martha to both his family and hers (no one liked the match)

it took him longer to die in that alley than people realized. Alfred, when reading the autopsy report, believed it was due to his need to ensure Bruce was safe. Martha died nearly instantly.

[jukeboxsweethearttt]

for older sugar daddy rafe and reader would you write their first argument or something like that

Book of Love

Oldersugardaddyboyfriend!Rafe Cameron x Fem Reader

cw:angst:( but has a fluffy ending, talks of pregnancy, Rafe’s oldest daughter Claire is older than you, Victoria is the same age as you and Hannah is younger than you. no use of y/n I think

inspired by @starfxkr sugar daddy Rafe ofc

The sprawling lawn of Rafe’s Hamptons estate basked in the glow of the setting sun, creating a picturesque scene that starkly contrasted with the storm brewing inside.

The dining room, typically a place of warmth and laughter, was now tense with an unfamiliar strain. You sat at the end of the long, gleaming table, your hands clasped tightly in your lap. Rafe stood across from you, his stance rigid and his eyes filled with frustration.

His three daughters, Claire , Victoria, and Hannah, watched the scene unfold with a mix of concern and unease.

This was the first serious argument you and Rafe had ever had. It had started over the charity gala—a high-profile event you had been working on tirelessly.

“Rafe, I just want to make this event something special, something that showcases what we can achieve together,” you said, your voice trembling slightly.

Rafe, his expression hard, replied, “This isn’t about showcasing us, Bunny. This is about making strategic decisions. You need to understand the stakes involved.”

Claire, the eldest, shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She shared a look with her sisters, Victoria, and Hannah, the youngest of the bunch.

Claire finally spoke up, her tone gentle yet firm. “Dad, she’s trying to help. She’s put a lot of effort into this.”

Rafe’s eyes softened momentarily as he looked at his daughter, but his frustration remained palpable. “I know, Claire, but this is more complicated than just putting in effort. Experience matters here.”

You felt a lump form in your throat. “Rafe, I’m not just some inexperienced kid. I’m trying to contribute, to be a part of this.”

Rafe’s gaze turned steely. “You are young and inexperienced. You don’t get how high the stakes are. This isn’t some game.”

Your heart sank at his words. Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to hold back your emotions.

“I can’t believe you see me that way,” you whispered, standing up abruptly. “I thought we were in this together.”

Victoria stood, her face a mix of anger and disappointment. “Dad, you’re being unfair. She’s doing her best.”

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, his frustration boiling over. “Life isn’t fair, Victoria. I’m trying to protect her from making mistakes that could cost us.”

You couldn’t bear it any longer. Tears streaming down your face, you rushed out of the room, the sound of the door slamming echoing through the house.

Claire glanced at her father, shaking her head in disappointment before following you outside.

Rafe stood there, his anger giving way to a heavy silence. Hannah finally spoke up, her voice quiet but firm. “Dad, you really hurt her.”

Outside, Claire found you sitting on a garden bench, your shoulders shaking with sobs. She sat down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Hey, it’s okay. He didn’t mean it he’s just stressed,” she said softly.

You wiped at your tears, shaking your head. “It’s not okay, Claire. He thinks I’m just some naive child.”

Claire sighed, her heart aching for you. “He’s scared, that’s all. He doesn’t know how to handle this.”

You took a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t handle all of this stress. There’s something I need to tell you,” you said, your voice barely a whisper.

She looked at you, concern etched on her face. “What is it?”

You met her gaze, your eyes filled with a mix of fear and hope. “I’m pregnant. I just found out a few days ago.”

Claire’s eyes widened in surprise she knows you’ve wanted children of your own but was shocked at the news considering her dad’s age.

Deep down she’s kind of indifferent but pushes those feelings to the side quickly as you started to cry again from her silence.

She quickly pulled you into a tight hug. “Oh my God, that’s news. Have you told him yet?”

You shook your head. “No, I was waiting for the right moment. But now... I don’t know if there ever will be one.”

She pulled back, holding your shoulders. “You need to tell him. It might be exactly what he needs to hear.”

Back inside, Rafe was pacing the living room, his frustration giving way to a deep sense of guilt. Victoria and Hannah watched him, their expressions stern.

“Dad, don’t you think you were a bit harsh?” Victoria asked, her voice steady but reproachful. “She’s part of our family.”

Rafe stopped, his shoulders slumping. “I know, I just... I don’t know how to handle this.”

“You handle it by respecting her,” Hannah said softly. “She’s not a child, Dad. She’s your partner.”

Just then, Claire walked back in with you, your face still streaked with tears but your resolve stronger. Rafe looked up, his heart aching at the sight of you so upset.

“I’m sorry,” Rafe began, but you held up a hand to stop him.

“Before you say anything, there’s something I need to tell you,” you said, your voice steady. “I’m pregnant, Rafe.”

The room fell silent, Rafe’s eyes widening in shock. He took a step towards you, his expression softening. “You’re... you’re pregnant?”

You nodded, tears spilling over once more. “I found out a few days ago. I wanted to tell you in a special way, but...”

Rafe closed the distance between you, pulling you into his arms. “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m just... scared. Scared of not being good enough.”

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with love and determination. “We’re in this together, Rafe. We can make it work, but you have to trust me. Trust us.”

Rafe nodded, his eyes brimming with tears. “I promise. I’ll do better. I’ll trust you, and I’ll be there for you and our baby.”

Claire, Victoria, and Hannah watched the exchange, their expressions softening with relief but making a mental note to discuss this sudden pregnancy announcement later.

The tension in the room began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of hope and renewed commitment.

Later that evening, you found yourself in the kitchen, helping Victoria prepare dinner.

Victoria glanced over at you, offering a small smile. “I’m so happy that you stood up to him,” she said softly. “Dad needed a wake-up call.”

You returned her smile, feeling a warm sense of acceptance. “Thanks, Victoria. It means a lot that you understand.”

Meanwhile, in the living room, Rafe sat with Claire and Hannah. Claire leaned forward, her expression serious but kind.

“Dad, she’s good for you. We see how happy she makes you, but you have to let her grow up. She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

Rafe nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “I know, Claire. I just… I’ve spent so much time trying to protect everyone that sometimes I forget to let go. I’ll work on it.”

Hannah, who had been quiet until now, chimed in. “We all want the best for you, Dad. And for her. Just remember, she chose to be with you because she loves you, not because she needs a protector.”

Their words resonated with Rafe, who realized just how much he had to learn about balancing his protective instincts with respecting your independence.

He stood up, feeling a mixture of gratitude and determination. “You’re right. All of you. I’m lucky to have you four looking out for me.”

Back in the kitchen, Victoria was dishing up the last of the pasta when Rafe entered. He walked over to you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I’ve been talking with the girls,” he said, his voice soft and earnest. “And they’ve made me see things more clearly. I need to let you live your life, make your own choices. I’m so proud of you for standing up to me.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with love and relief. “Thank you, Rafe. That means a lot to me.”

Dinner was a warm, lively affair. The five of you sat around the table, sharing stories and laughter. The earlier argument seemed like a distant memory, replaced by a stronger sense of family and mutual respect.

Claire and Victoria teased Hannah about her latest crush, while Rafe kept his hand on yours under the table, a silent promise of his commitment to change.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself sitting on the balcony with Rafe, the moon twinkling above. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close.

“You know, Bunny, I’ve never felt this way before. You’ve brought so much joy into my life.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling content and secure. “And you’ve given me a life I never dreamed possible, Rafe. I’m so grateful for you.”

Rafe tilted your chin up, looking deeply into your eyes. “I promise to always support you, to let you be your own person. We’re partners in this, equal partners.”

You kissed him softly, the love between you palpable. “Thank you, Daddy. That’s all I ever wanted.”

As you both sat there, you felt a deep sense of peace. The argument had brought you closer, teaching you both valuable lessons about trust and love. And as Rafe held you close, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

The next morning, Rafe surprised you with breakfast in bed, a gesture that made your heart flutter. He sat beside you, watching you eat with a content smile.

“I thought we could spend the day together, just the two of us. How does that sound, Princess?”

You grinned, feeling the excitement bubble up inside you.

[burning-omen]

Kinktober Day 1: Breeding + Jason Todd

Jason Todd x male reader

Kinktober 2023 list | Day 2 | Ao3

(a/n; “hey it's September 30th, right? Tf you mean ‘it's october 1st’ no the fuck it no- AHHHHHH” me about three hours ago realizing that I never finished THE FIRST DAY of kinktober )

Summary: You’re a photographer at the Wayne Family events, after meeting Jason by chance they start growing closer

Warning: Horny Jason, horny reader, top!reader, bottom!jason, Jason moans like a bitch, rude rich people, pillow princess + brat Jason Todd, unprotected sex, breeding, not beta read lol.

Word count: 3.4k

To the shock of everyone involved, Jason Todd attended all of the Wayne Galas, not because he liked them- obviously. No, these things were horrible and stuffy and he hated every last person in attendance. Well, almost every last person. Bruce had hired a photographer a few months back, the first few events that you photographed you were mostly in the background, taking wide shots of the entire party, only recently did you start to mingle with the crowd more.

You met Jason a few weeks back as you tried to navigate through a pushy crowd of rich people who, to no one surprise, all thought they were the most important person there. You got pushed into Jason by a man who looked like he could have been British royalty in the 1800s, he sneered at you like a cartoon villain before walking away. You'd been overly apologetic that day, having nearly knocked the drink out of his hand. He was fine though, if not slightly enamored, you looked nice, but out of place, your clothes weren't quite up to Wayne Gala standards, before he could ask what you were doing here, he noticed the camera hanging from your neck, and offered to be your guide.

He ended up sticking with you for the rest of the night, talking as you took pictures of various people and decor around the event. It made your job a hell of a lot easier, people were quick to bump into you, you weren't rich and therefore weren't fully human to these people, but Jason was one of them, well, he was close enough, and even if he wasn't, if he was just as out of place as you, nobody was going to disrespect the host's son.

By the end of the night, you and Jason were on one of the balconies looking over all the photos from that night, and eventually some of your other work.

Eventually, you did have to leave, Bruce was paying for your ride and you really didn't want him to have to wait any longer.

You only got closer after that, every event that the Waynes hosted, you were there, and on your tail- as always- was Jason.

Your relationship didn't take a turn until the last party the Wayne threw, this one wasn't a charity but a birthday party for Bruce's friend, Oliver Queen, who insisted he needed to have it in Gotham. And even though Bruce gave a perfect speech regarding their friendship, you couldn't help but hear the irritation behind it. The night went on as usual, with Jason acting as your shadow as you weed through the crowd.

Your end of the night ritual is the only thing that changed, as you were showing Jason the pictures from tonight, he leaned over and rested his head on your shoulder, an odd act from the man, considering the most he'd touched you at this point was him putting a hand on your shoulder or tapping you to get your attention.

“Tired?” you asked jokingly.

“No,” he said but didn't elaborate.

As you continued to shuffle through the pictures you could feel him nuzzling into your neck. You let out a short, nervous laugh.

“Are you drunk?”

He hummed quietly, then laughed, “No, I'm just…”

He didn't continue, just pressing further into you, you gave up on showing him the photos for now, instead carding your fingers through his hair. Feeling just how different the white streak felt from the rest of his hair, most of his hair was thick and smooth, running through your fingers with ease. The white part was thick too, but it just felt like air, so light and delicate that you could barely feel it against your fingers.

You didn't stop until you felt his lips press against your neck, again and again as he hummed in contempt.

“Jason…” you muttered but didn't move to stop him.

He eventually moved up to your face- your cheeks, your jaw, your lips- with his kisses. It was only when you made a move and kissed him back did things escalate.

You ended up fumbling around on the floor with him, then in the hall, and on the wall next to his bedroom wall, and eventually in his bedroom. Which resulted in the most embarrassing walk of shame you've ever experienced as you had to run past your literal boss having breakfast with the rest of his family- he looked just as shocked as you imagined he would. Jason's older brother, Dick, made a comment that made Jason shout at him, you couldn't hear it with how hard your heart was beating in your ears.

You expected everything to end after that, your friendship with Jason, your job, your reputation as a photographer.

But to your surprise, the moment the front door closed behind you, Jason grabbed your face and pulled you in for a kiss, sweet and slow, nowhere near as frantic and lust-filled as they were the night before.

You started getting together outside of events after that, he stayed at your apartment most days, because ‘he liked being surrounded by you’. You learned a few things about him too, a big one being that he was a bottom, not just a bottom. A total pillow princess as well. He’ll flirt and tease all day and night long, but the moment you turn around to do the same to him, he becomes so pliant, letting you move him how you like, touch him how you liked, and fuck him how you liked.

Considering how close you'd become with his son, you figured you'd never get a call from Bruce to do another job. But you did, and despite feeling a bit out of place at first you eventually got back into it. Jason was your shadow as always, whispering things he definitely shouldn't in your ear, making it hard to focus.

“When was the last time we fucked, honestly?”

“Babe, I'm working,” you said calmly.

“It’s a genuine question.”

You sighed, “about a week ago, when the power went out.”

He only chuckled, still leaning down in you ear.

“There’s gotta be a broom closet somewhere around here-”

“Jason, stop it-”

“I want you to fuck me right up against the door, let everybody hear me while you-”

“Jason-”

“Jason!”

Looking over you saw Dick, who was probably the most outwardly supportive of your relationship with Jason out of everyone in his family. The presence of his brother shut him up quickly, his face turning a bit red. You and Jason wandered around the party with Dick for a while, you were having a great time, taking photos as Dick told to funny little stories about Jason.

Jason, however, wasn't having a great time. He’d planned to flirt with you all night then get fucked so hard that his brain stopped working, then getting pampered by you for the rest of the night, unfortunately, Dick had taken an interest in you for the night, purely platonic of course, but it was constant, and even though Dick has definitely seen Jason at his worst, it'd be really fucking weird if he begged you to fuck him within earshot of his brother. So he held out, frustrated and horny as the party droned on.

By the time guests started leaving you'd been informed of every little embarrassing thing Jason has ever done- including stealing the wheels off Bruce's car, some stories had to be left out or changed for obvious reasons, but outside of that, you were caught up on Jason's embarrassment timeline. You could practically feel Jason stewing behind you, horny, frustrated, and, embarrassed all at once.

“I think it's time for us to go, if we stay any longer Jason's brain is going to start leaking out of his ears.”

You said your goodbyes to Dick and turned to Jason, who was glaring after the man as he walked away.

“We can go now.”

The fumble up to his bedroom was exactly that, a fumble as you clumsily avoided the lingering guest, and as you took a few minutes to worship the exposed pieces of his body on the stairs with your hands and mouth, only moving when you heard footsteps.

You didn't carry Jason into the room, but you might as well have with the way you controlled his every move. He fell back onto his bed, spreading his legs subconsciously even though he was still fully dressed. The smile on his face only grew wider when you yanked him by his now loose tie, pulling him back up to you, pressing a kiss on his lips that only got more heated with every passing second. Kneeling on the bed, his legs wrapped around your waist almost instantly, you could feel the heels of the balmorals Bruce had bought him digging into the back of your thigh.

He pulled back, flopping down on the bed. Jason's hands, however steady they were before, became utterly useless in a matter of seconds as he failed to unbutton his pants several times before giving up, wordlessly resting his hands above his head, staring up at you expectantly. The term ‘pillow princess’ came to mind for a brief second as you unbuttoned them for him. Purposefully ignoring the tight bulge in his pants that was nearly demanding your attention.

“Come on, y/n,” he muttered, his voice as deep as ever.

Slowly rocking his hips against yours in a desperate, yet short lived, attempt at getting you to act. You were by no means cruel, and considering his little plan for the night hadn't fallen through, you indulged him. Lifting his still-clothed thigh up to your shoulder, you had to do a bit of maneuvering to get his pants down to his ankles, Jason was entirely unhelpful, you'd be convinced he was a rag doll if it weren't for his inability to stop fucking squirming.

The way his cock twitched in his pants showed you just how desperate he was, thrusting up against nothing, a short whine coming from somewhere deep in his throat as he started up at you with those pretty blue eyes.

You ran your hands over the exposed skin of his thigh, leaning down and kissing them, leaving little bruises and bites before switching to the next. His gaze was intense, almost glaring, but the whines and whimpers he let out told you that he was just desperate.

Then, unexpectedly, you slid your hand all the way down the inside of his thigh, feeling goosebumps rise in your wake, Jason figured you'd stop just before his cock, you liked teasing him like that, liked taking him apart slowly. But that's apparently not what you had in mind tonight, he only realized that when you wrapped your fingers around his cock, the fabric of his boxers tightened along with your grip. He whined, bucking up into your hand.

Far faster than he expected, you stroked him through his pants, the texture of them and the squeezing pressure your hand provided sending shivers up and down his spine. He gripped the bed sheets as you settled into a pleasant rhythm, fast and tight around his sensitive cock.

His eyes hung low, squeezing shut when you brushed over the tip.

Jason came quickly, hips sputtering and muttering incoherently as he did, cum sleeping through black fabric, drenching your hand and the boxers.

You pulled back, putting your hands back on his thighs, watching his chest rise and fall rapidly as he came down.

Hands still gripping the sheets, he sat there and waited, waiting for you to do something, you were in control after all. But you didn't, you just watched him, his chest rising and falling, cum splattered on his underwear and just under his belly button, the bruises and bites littering his thighs.

“Y/n..” he muttered, hard and horny all over again.

You laughed, “yes?”

He scooted closer to you until you hips were firmly pressed against his ass. Even then, you could here him muttering ‘come on’ over and over against under his breath.

“Speak up, you have to tell me what you want.”

He glared, a real harsh glare that you knew was born out of frustration. He should have known you'd be like this, for a moment he thought he'd really gotten off the hook, but you never just let him cum, you never just fucked him, no, he had to beg for it, as though him presenting himself to you wasn't begging enough.

“Just,” suddenly unable to find his words, Jason groaned, “do something!”

You let out another short laugh, then asked, “Something like what?”

The urge to kick you suddenly emereged.

“Anything, please I-” his hands went from the bed sheets to his face, covering his eyes as his brain once again failed to produce the right words.

You leaned down, pressing kisses down his throat and the pieces of his chest that we're exposed.

After a moment you asked, “How about you tell me what you wanted earlier, you seemed to have a lot of ideas then.”

He shifted, his hands finding the bed again, seems like his mind was racing, as his eyes were almost completely unfocused and blush rose on his cheeks with every second that passed, you gave him a moment to sort himself out.

He spoke suddenly, his voice coming out with some force, “I need you to fuck me until I can’t take it anymore, like you did when the power went out and we didn’t have anything else to do but fuck over and over again, I need you to fuck me like that again, I want you to cum in me so many times that it drips out of my ass and ruins the bed- ah- and I- I can’t- I can’t fucking think with you grinding against me like that so can you please just hurry up and do something!”

A wide grin spread out on your face, even though you barely comprehended that you were grinding your bulge into his ass, it was good to see how a bit of gentle pressure was already making him writhe.

You pulled back, before he could stop complaining you flipped the giant of a man onto his stomach with a hard shove. You heard him moan as he bounced against the bed, he liked being manhandled, but you figured that one out a while ago.

Pulling his boxers down to his knees, fully ready to prep him, only to see the familiar shiny glint of lube covering his hole. Without thinking, you pressed a finger in, feeling just how easily he took it you almost laughed.

“You take all the fun out of prepping you..”

“Shut up and fuck me!”

His desperate, panting tone was enough for you to cave, even as he glared back at you. It took you a second to get out of your clothes, well really just your pants, belt, and boxers, but it still took longer than Jason would have ever liked, again, bratty pillow princess of the century.

By the time you let your cock prod against his hole, he'd grabbed a pillow and rested it under his head, still turning to face you as you slowly pushed in. His resolve didn't last long, broken by a long moan as the head of your cock slipped into his hole, already about to thrust a hole into the bed sheets.

You grabbed his hips, pressing them hard into the bed, he stopped moving, an undeniable whimper coming from him.

You pressed further, barely even half way in and you could feel him squeezing around you, you pressed down until your hips were pressed together.

He panted and moaned, his body flexing, then relaxing. You waited for him to give you a sign that he was okay, and when he did you waited more, just to tease him. He realized this a couple of seconds later, dropping his head into the pillow with a frustrated groan, you're surprised he didn't turn around and cuss you out at that exact moment.

Even though you probably shouldn't have, you pulled out slow, and slammed back into him with more force than you meant to, the bed dipped beneath you both and Jason let put a wild moan. You probably should have gone slow with him, made him cum over and over again before filling him yourself, but you didn't, you had a bit of an epiphany while you had Jason fully wrapped around your cock. You were really, really fucking horny. With someone as pretty as Jason it was always so tempting to take him about the slow way, teasing, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of him, but with some that felt as good as Jason does, it's pretty easy to let that idea fly out the window in turn of pounding him into the mattress.

So you did.

Watching him claw and bite at the pillow beneath him in an attempt to bring some stability back. His whole body getting forced forward with every thrust.

Loud, almost pained, moans and the sound of skin hitting skin filled the room. Even with the pillow shoved into his mouth he was still impossibly loud. You could feel just how warm he’d gotten, his skin was hot and sweaty, and in your mind, you'd hardly even done anything to him yet.

Little tears prickled in his eyes, he squeezed them closed tightly. Taking your cock wasn't anything new to him but fuck, sometimes you could be rough. Not that he didn't enjoy it, no, if he had less pride he’d be screaming at the top of his lungs how good it felt.

He could already tell where bruises were going to form, he'd have burning red hand prints on his waist for sure, and an odd one on his ass and inner thighs, hickies and smaller bruises would litter practically every surface his body offered for sure.

Leaning down, you thrust hitting deeper and deeper, you kissed along his shoulders and back, trying to soothe at least a little of the hurt you were causing. You didn't but it felt nice anyways.

Jason's vision went a little spotty when he came again, you never stopped fucking him and he really didn't want you to. His cum soaked into the sheets beneath him, he could feel the sticky sheets cling to his stomach.

You followed soon after, shooting cum deep inside of him, just like he wanted. He whimpered quietly at the feeling, he could still feel you fucking him with your softened cock, trusting much slower, much to his dismay. He knew you were just waiting to get hard again but he really didn't like waiting.

It didn't take long for you to get hard again, you were still fully inside your beautiful boyfriend's beautiful ass so it definitely wasn't difficult. You continued pounding into him like nothing happened, he didn't say anything either, other than incoherent word between moans. Even though he didn't have to wait long, he missed you fucking him already.

You slammed into him hard and he went cross-eyed for a moment, letting his moans flow freely, louder and more satisfied than before.

“Right there-” he panted, “again, please-”

You couldn't deny him, not when he begged like that, you angled you hips so you'd slam against that spot again and again until he was staining the sheets for a second, then third time.

He made it too easy to want to fuck him.

His body was nearly limp by his fourth orgasm, you pulled out, he let out a little noise, unable to do much about it. You flipped him onto his back, seeing the mess covering his cock and stomach, his eyes tracked your every move, but not many where made, you ran your hands down his thighs just like you'd found before, then shoved your cock back into his mess of a hole.

You chased your own pleasure, dragging an exhausted Jason along with you for the ride. His hands gripped onto you, pulling you down and holding you tight, letting his airy moans fill your ears.

You came soon after, with him clawing at your back and clinging to you like a damn koala. You stayed inside him for a long moment, waiting for him to remember that he had to let you go.

When he did, you leaned back, watching yourself pull out of him, your cock covered in cum and lube. Cum dripped out of his hole rapidly, a puddle forming and growing on the bed, you laughed, still a bit winded.

“Hey, looks like you got your wish, these sheets are defiantly ruined.”

He laughed tiredly before pulling you back down into his arms.

[rafesbabygirlx]

Denied Love - Rafe x Prosecutor Daughter

✰Masterlist✰

Summary: Elena is the kook daughter of a high profile prosecutor on the island. One who happened to be close to Sheriff Peterkin. When her father found out the details of how the Cameron’s had a part in her death he had set out to bring them down, Rafe included. What he didn’t expect was for his daughter to fall in love with the Cameron boy. 

A/N: trying a story with names this time. Enjoy :)

Warnings: angst, smut (brief description of missionary)

The night was heavy with tension as Rafe Cameron walked under the flickering streetlight, scanning the empty alley before slipping into the small café where she waited. She was seated in the far corner, her gaze lingering nervously on the doorway until he arrived. She was Elena, the one girl he couldn’t afford to love – the daughter of the prosecutor with a single-minded mission to bring down the Cameron family.

They had met by chance at a charity gala a few months earlier, drawn together by a strange mix of chemistry and defiance. He’d been surprised by her kindness, her sharp wit, her refusal to buy into the caricatures the media painted of the Camerons. And somewhere between her carefully guarded smiles and the quiet strength in her eyes, he found himself helplessly drawn in. He dreaded how Ward still made them go to these events, trying to act like everything was normal after what he had done, but meeting her made him forget all his troubles. 

“Hey,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. He reached out, his fingers brushing hers as they exchanged a fleeting, electric glance.

 “God, how I’ve missed you.” Rafe whispers back as he fully grasps her hand bringing it in for a quick kiss.

Their meetings were risky. If anyone knew about them, her family would never forgive her, and his father would see it as a betrayal. Yet the thrill of the secrecy and the safety they found in each other’s presence was too irresistible. They shared whispered promises and stories that belonged only to them. In these stolen moments, Rafe began to show a side of himself he’d long buried – a version untouched by the violence and chaos his family expected of him. 

She saw the side of him that was vulnerable, just a broken boy who was strained by the need to find approval in his father. He had confided in Elena about everything. It was risky considering who her father was but he felt he had her heart. She also understood how it felt to be put under a microscope by her father and how much pressure came with being the perfect child. She didn’t care about Rafe’s faults when Ward is only to blame. She was falling more in love with the boy every day. 

But the storm was brewing. Each day, Elena’s father inched closer to exposing the secrets of the Cameron family empire, unaware that his daughter was entangled in a secret affair that threatened to unravel his plans. She became good at lying to her overbearing father at a young age about where she’d go. He always set out to make sure Elena would follow in his footsteps, despite her constantly telling him that would never happen. She would make her own path in life and he would have to deal with it. She listened to him in every aspect of her life, except for a future career and apparently keeping away from the Cameron family. 

Every minute that she wasn't at school, she was spending time with Rafe. Getting to know more about him. Getting to know more about the inside of his mouth and how his tongue tasted. She was completely in love with him. They spent countless hours driving around the island, spent nights on her boat. Her dad never showed any interest in her friends, even as a prosecutor, he’d never bombard her with questions about who she was with. 

Late one night, Rafe and Elena lay tangled in the quiet intimacy of her bed, the moonlight casting soft silver streaks across her room and her parents were out for the night. His arm was draped over her waist, her head resting against his chest as their breaths fell into a rhythm, as if their hearts beat as one. The world outside her window was silent, but inside, the weight of unspoken truths pressed heavily between them.  

“Elena,” Rafe murmured, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her arm, “tell me you want this as much as I do.”  

She tilted her face up to look at him, her eyes dark and filled with the mix of love and anguish that had become all too familiar. “I do,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “But at what cost?” Her words lingered in the air, and he felt the ache of them deep in his chest. He tightened his hold on her as if the simple act could shield them from the storm that was waiting to tear them apart.  

“We can figure this out,” he said, his voice firm but laced with desperation. “We just have to hold on to each other. That has to be enough.”  

She let out a soft, bitter laugh, the sound muffled against his chest. “You think love is enough to fix everything? To make our families forget the years of resentment? To make my father let go of his plans for me? Or yours for you?”  

Rafe turned onto his side, cupping her face in his hand, forcing her to meet his gaze. “It is enough, Elena. Because it has to be. I don’t know how to exist without you anymore.”  

Her lip trembled, and she tried to look away, but he held her steady. “You’ll have to,” she said, though the words cracked as she spoke them. “You know what happens if they find out. Your family… my father…”  

“I’ve already made my choice,” he said softly. “I choose you, Elena. Every time.”  

Her breath hitched, and tears welled in her eyes and she sat up, Rafe following. “You say that now, but what happens when they make you choose for real? What happens when it’s not just you and me in this bed, but the whole world waiting to rip us apart?”  

“I’ll still choose you,” he said without hesitation. “Over and over. Forever.”  

Her hand found his, her fingers lacing tightly with his. “Forever sounds like a dream,” she murmured.  

“It’s not a dream,” he said. “It’s a promise.”  

She closed her eyes, her forehead pressing against his as the tears slipped free. “And what if it costs us everything?”  

He kissed her, slow and deep, pouring every ounce of his love into the gesture. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers. “Then let it. Because you are my everything, Elena.”  

As their lips separated, Elena's eyes locked onto Rafe's, her gaze filled with a mixture of tears and desire. The moonlight streaming through the window illuminated the tears that clung to her lashes, making them sparkle like diamonds. "You're really going to choose me, no matter what?" she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Rafe nodded, his eyes burning with intensity. The shadows cast by the flickering candlelight danced across his face, highlighting the determination etched onto his features. "I am," he said, his voice low and firm. "I already have. And I'll choose you again and again, until the end of time."

Elena's lips curled into a weak smile, her eyes shining with tears as she traced the contours of his face with her fingertips. "You're crazy, you know that?"

Rafe's lips quirked into a half-smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Maybe," he said, his voice laced with humor. "But I'm your crazy."

Their lips met again, the kiss deepening as their passion surged to the surface. Elena's hands tangled in Rafe's hair, pulling him closer as she arched her back, her body begging for his touch. The soft fabric of her nightgown rubbed against his skin, the sensation sending shivers down his spine.

Rafe complied, his hands sliding under her nightgown, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin as he explored every inch of her. Elena's moans of pleasure filled the air, her body responding to his touch with an intensity that left them both breathless. The sound of their passion echoed through the room, the air thick with the scent of their desire.

Rafe never made love before. Quick hookups don’t usually entail that type of detail. But this was different. Elena was different. He wanted to take his time with her and he desired to make her feel good. She slowly pulled off her nightgown, revealing her naked body as she laid back down on the bed. Rafe, mirroring her actions, pulled off his sweatpants and climbed on top of her, their bodies now aligned.

 He took a deep breath, savoring the moment, and began to make love to her. With deliberate care, he moved his hips slowly, giving her time to adjust to his size and intensity. He wanted to make sure she felt comfortable and enjoyed every second of their intimate encounter.

As their passion reached its peak, Rafe's hands moved lower, his fingers seeking out the spot that made her tremble, rubbing slow circles to match the pace of his hips.. Elena's body convulsed with her orgasm, her screams of pleasure echoing through the room as her nails dug into his skin. Rafe followed, his own release washing over him as he whispered filthy, dirty words into her ear. 

"I'll choose you, Elena. Always."

As they caught their breath, Rafe's hands continued to explore Elena's body, his fingers tracing the curves of her hips, the dip of her waist, and the swell of her breasts. Elena's skin was warm to the touch, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of their passion.

Their lips met again, the kiss slower and more tender this time. Rafe's tongue traced the contours of Elena's mouth, his hands cradling her face as he deepened the kiss. Elena's body responded to his touch, her breasts pressing against his chest, her hips rocking gently against his.

As they lay entwined in each other's arms, Rafe whispered words of love and devotion into Elena's ear. The shadows cast by the moonlight danced across her face, highlighting the soft curves of her cheeks and the curve of her smile. "You are my everything, Elena. And nothing will ever change that."

Elena's eyes met his, her gaze filled with a mixture of love and anguish. Her fingers traced the contours of his face, her touch gentle and reassuring. "And you are mine," she whispered back. "Forever."

The room was silent except for the sound of their breaths, the world outside forgotten for this one fragile moment. They both knew the risks, the sacrifices that lay ahead. But for now, they clung to each other, hoping against hope that love could truly conquer all.

Rafe had also acted out something he’s never done before by helping Elena clean herself up and get back dressed. He pulled back on his sweatpants and they cuddled once again. He usually leaves the same night out her window but the intimate moments that just transpired had caused them to become sleepy and they fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms. 

You were startled awake by your father’s voice.  

“What the hell is this?!” he roared, his booming voice shaking the walls as he stormed into your room.  

You scrambled upright, the sheets tangling around you as you leaped out of bed. Rafe sat up quickly, his face pale but defiant as your father’s piercing glare bore into him.  

“Daddy, please, let me explain,” you begged, your voice trembling as you stepped between them.  

“Explain?” your father thundered, his face a deep shade of red. “What is *he* doing in your room? In your *bed*?” His eyes flicked to Rafe, narrowing with fury. “Do you have any idea what this means? What you’ve done?”  

“Sir, I—” Rafe began, his voice calm but steady.  

“Don’t you dare speak!” your father snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You think you can just waltz into my house, into my daughter’s room, and—”  

“Stop!” you cried, your voice breaking as you grabbed your father’s arm. “You don’t understand! It’s not what you think.”  

He turned to you, his expression a mixture of anger and betrayal. “Then explain it to me, Elena. Because right now, it looks like you’ve decided to throw away everything we’ve worked for—everything—for *him.*”  

“I love him, Daddy,” you said, the words spilling out before you could stop them.  

The room fell into a stunned silence. Rafe’s eyes widened slightly, and your father froze, his expression darkening further.  

“Love?” he repeated, his tone dripping with disbelief. “You think this is love? This… betrayal?”  

“It’s not a betrayal!” you shot back, your voice trembling but firm. “I didn’t choose to fall in love with him. It just… happened. And I won’t apologize for it.”  

“Then you’re a fool,” your father said coldly, his words cutting like a knife. “Do you have any idea what you’re risking? What he’s risking? Do you think his family will stand for this? Do you think your mother and I will?”  

Rafe finally spoke, his voice measured but resolute. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t care what anyone thinks. I love your daughter, and I’ll do whatever it takes to be with her.”  

Your father’s laugh was bitter and sharp. “Is that so? And how long do you think this will last once the reality of your choices comes crashing down? Love doesn’t pay debts, doesn’t mend bridges. It destroys them.”  

“Daddy, stop,” you pleaded, tears brimming in your eyes. “Please. Just listen to me.”  

He turned to you, his expression softening for a brief moment as he saw the pain in your eyes. “Elena,” he said, his tone quieter but no less intense. “You don’t understand what you’re getting into. This will destroy us. Our family, our future—it’s all at stake.”  

“I know what’s at stake,” you said, your voice steady now. “But I’m not a little girl anymore, Daddy. You can’t control who I love.”  

He stared at you, his jaw tight as he struggled to find the words. Finally, he shook his head, his voice heavy with resignation. “You’re making a mistake. And when it all falls apart, don’t come to me looking for help.”  

He turned and stormed out, leaving the door wide open behind him. You stood there, trembling, as the sound of his footsteps faded down the hall.  

Rafe stepped off the bed and came to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Are you okay?”  

You shook your head, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over. “No,” you whispered. “But I don’t regret choosing you.”  

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as you cried into his chest. The storm was far from over, but in that moment, you knew you’d face it together.

The wind picked up outside, almost like it sensed the energy radiating from Elena’s room, carrying the scent of salt and the promise of an incoming storm. They stood there, two souls tethered together, caught in a battle between their love and the lives they’d always known. Neither spoke, but their hearts screamed the same question into the night: Was love worth losing everything?

[alewritesfics]

Shadows of us

Pairing: Modern!Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word count: 3.7k

Warning: unedited, mention of sex, idk what else

Masterlist

The first time you met Anthony Bridgerton was at a charity gala. The event was suffocating—an extravagant show of wealth and power where you felt like you didn’t belong. You’d only gone because your best friend insisted, claiming it would be a good place to make connections. You hadn’t expected that connection to be Anthony.

He found you lingering by the bar, drinking a glass of champagne and trying to avoid eye contact with the socialites surrounding you, when he approached.

“You don’t seem like you want to be here,” he said smoothly, his deep voice somehow managing to drown out the chatter around you.

You raised an eyebrow, offering a small smile. “Was it that obvious?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “To someone who feels the same way? Yes.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly after that. Anthony was charming in a way that didn’t feel forced. He was intelligent, funny, and far too handsome for his own good, as well as witty, and surprisingly down-to-earth for someone with his reputation. God, you already sound like a lovesick woman. By the end of the night, he asked for your number, and you, despite your better judgment and the warning bells ringing in the back of your mind, telling you that it was too good to be true and he would only end up breaking your heart, you gave it to him.

You knew who he was, a powerful CEO from a family of wealth and influence that dated back to the 1900s, old money. Was there even a person on earth who didn’t know who Anthony Bridgerton was?

One of the youngest CEO’s to exist at only 29 years old, as well as the youngest person ever to inherit his family’s company when his father died when he was 18. He was also considered one of the most eligible bachelors, considering he was as handsome as he was rich, meaning, a lot.

And you’d be stupid to turn him down.

The first few months with Anthony were intoxicating. He was attentive, passionate, and impossibly romantic. He whisked you away to exclusive restaurants, sent you flowers for no reason, and made you feel like the only woman in the world.

(And the sex was amazing but nobody needed to know that.)

But there were also rules.

Anthony never took you to public places where you might be photographed. He avoided introducing you to his family. Seriously! You both even came across his mother and brother, Colin, on a trip to Paris, and acted like you were his new secretary and you just brushed it off, thinking he wanted the relationship to be private, not wanting his family to smother him with questions.

The soft hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses filled the elegant Parisian restaurant, creating a warm and intimate atmosphere. You and Anthony sat at a secluded table by the window, the Eiffel Tower shimmering in the distance. The city of love had never felt more fitting. 

Anthony reached across the table, his fingers brushing against yours. “I’ve always wanted to bring you here,” he said, his voice low and filled with affection. “Paris suits you.” 

You smiled, feeling your cheeks warm. “How so?” 

“Because it’s beautiful, enchanting, and impossible to forget,” he replied smoothly, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand.  “Just like you” he grinned

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “That’s a line if I’ve ever heard one.” 

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t make it any less true.” 

Moments like this made everything feel worth it—the stolen kisses, the late-night rendezvous, the quiet moments where it was just the two of you. In Paris, the world seemed to shrink, leaving only the two of you in your little bubble of happiness. 

The waiter arrived with your desserts, a delicate crème brûlée for you and a rich chocolate mousse for Anthony. You picked up your spoon, ready to dive in, when Anthony suddenly stiffened in his seat. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked, noticing the change in his demeanor. 

His eyes darted to the entrance of the restaurant, his grip tightening on the tablecloth. “It’s… my mother and Colin.” 

You froze, your spoon hovering over your dessert. “What?” 

“They just walked in,” he said, his voice low and tense. He leaned forward, his expression urgent. “Y/n, they can’t know about us.” 

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably. “Anthony—” 

“Please,” he interrupted, his voice almost pleading. “Not here. Not now. Just… follow my lead, okay?”  you nodded, thinking that he just still wanted to keep the relationship private.

Before you could respond, Anthony stood abruptly, pulling his chair closer to yours so you were sitting side by side. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, leaning in as if he were pointing out something outside the window. 

You stiffened under his arm, your heart pounding in your chest. You hadn’t expected this. But as much as you hated it, you nodded, forcing a smile onto your face as if nothing was amiss. 

“Anthony!” Violet’s warm voice cut through the restaurant, and you turned to see her approaching with Colin in tow. She was radiant as always, her eyes lighting up when she spotted her eldest son. 

“Mother,” Anthony greeted her with a smile, though you could feel the tension radiating from him. “What a surprise. I didn’t know you and Colin would be stopping by Paris on your tour."

“It’s wonderful to see you,” she said, giving him a quick hug before turning her attention to you. “And who is this lovely young woman?” 

“This is Y/n,” Anthony said smoothly, his hand slipping from your shoulders to rest on the back of your chair. “A… friend of mine. We met through mutual acquaintances.” 

“A pleasure to meet you, Y/n,” Violet said warmly, extending her hand. 

“The pleasure is mine,” you replied, shaking her hand and forcing a polite smile. You’ve always dreamed of meeting your mother in law, dreaming of how sweet she would be. But now that you are, you just feel horrible.

Colin stepped forward, his boyish grin making you feel slightly at ease. “Anthony’s friends are usually dull business types, but you seem much more interesting.” 

“Colin,” Anthony warned, shooting his brother a sharp look. 

“What?” Colin said innocently, shrugging. “I’m just making an observation.” 

 Violet chuckled, patting Colin’s arm. “Oh, don’t mind him. He’s always been incorrigible.” She turned back to you with a curious smile. “So, Y/n, what brings you to Paris?” 

You hesitated, glancing at Anthony for guidance. 

“She’s here for work,” Anthony answered quickly, cutting in before you could speak. “We happened to cross paths and decided to catch up.” 

Your stomach sank at his words. Catch up? You weren’t just someone he was catching up with—you were supposed to be someone he loved. 

Violet nodded, seemingly satisfied with his explanation. “Well, it’s lovely to see Anthony with someone so charming. I do hope you’re enjoying Paris.” 

“I am,” you said, your smile feeling more forced by the second. 

After a few more pleasantries, Violet and Colin excused themselves, leaving you and Anthony alone once more. 

As soon as they were out of earshot, Anthony exhaled a shaky breath, leaning back in his chair. “That was close.” 

You stared at him, your chest tightening with a mix of anger and hurt. “Close? Is that all you have to say?” 

He frowned, his brow furrowing. “Y/n, what’s wrong?” 

“What’s wrong?” you repeated, your voice low and trembling with emotion. “I just had to pretend to be a random acquaintance in front of your mother and brother, and you’re asking me what’s wrong?” 

“Y/n, you know the situation,” he said, his tone defensive. “I can’t just tell them—” 

“Why not?” you interrupted, your voice rising slightly. “Why can’t you tell them? Why can’t you tell anyone? You said you wanted to keep it private but this is just excessive! Just tell me why.” 

“ It’s complicated,” he said, his tone firm. “You knew that when we started this.” 

You looked away, blinking back the tears threatening to form. “I didn’t know it would feel like this. Like I’m some dirty little secret you’re ashamed of.” 

“Y/n, that’s not fair,” he said, his voice softening. “You know I care about you.”

“Do you?” you asked, your voice cracking. “Because right now, it feels like I’m just a convenient distraction. Someone you're with just as a passing time.” 

Anthony reached for your hand, but you pulled it back, shaking your head. The atmosphere had shifted, the warmth of the evening replaced by an icy tension that left you questioning everything. 

The Eiffel Tower sparkled in the distance, but for the first time, it felt hollow—like a promise unfulfilled.

You later forgot that encounter, opting to ignore the signs, convincing yourself that he was just a very, very private man. But eventually, the truth came out.

It happened during a heated argument after you’d pressed him on why he was so secretive. Again.

“You want to know why?” he snapped, pacing the length of your small living room. His frustration was palpable, and it became harder and harder to hide the truth.

“Yes, Anthony! I deserve to know why you’re hiding me like some dirty little secret!” You exclaimed

He stopped pacing, running a hand through his hair before turning to face you. “Because I’m engaged.”

The words hit you like a physical blow. You stared at him, your mind struggling to process what he’d just said. “You’re… engaged?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart beating faster.

“It’s not what you think,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “It’s an arrangement—an expectation from our families. It’s not about love.”

You took a step back, shaking your head. “And you didn’t think to tell me this before?”

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “Y/n, you’re the only thing in my life that feels real.”

He approached you “I don’t love her, baby” he grabbed your hands, looking you in the eyes, desperate. “please, believe me”

You swallowed, before you nodded. He sighed in relief, pulling you into a tight hug, burying his face on your hair, breathing in deeply.

Despite your better judgment, you stayed. You told yourself it was temporary, that he’d leave her for you eventually. But as days turned into weeks and then turned into months, the reality of your situation became harder to ignore.

The heavy silence In Anthony’s bedroom pressed against your chest, suffocating in its intensity. You stood by the window, staring out at the sprawling estate before you. Anthony’s ancestral home was beautiful—timeless in its elegance, the kind of place you could see yourself calling home one day. But that dream, like so many others, was slipping further and further out of reach.

You turned to face him, your heart pounding as the words you’d been rehearsing all day threatened to spill out. Anthony was seated on the edge of the bed, his sleeves rolled up, his tie undone, exuding a kind of effortless charm that had once made you feel special. Now, it only hurt.

“How much longer will this go on for?” you asked, your voice quiet but firm.

Anthony looked up at you, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

You gestured toward the bedside table, where a photo of Kate Sharma sat in a delicate silver frame. It was a picture of her smiling, radiant and confident. The kind of woman who belonged in this world. The kind of woman Anthony was expected to marry.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and met his gaze. “End it with her.”

His eyes softened with something you could only describe as regret, but he didn’t move. He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “Y/n… you know I can’t do that. It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” you repeated, your voice rising despite your efforts to stay calm. “What’s so complicated about choosing the person you love? Or do you not love me?”

“You know I love you,” he said, standing up, his tone laced with frustration. “This isn’t about love. It’s about family, business—things that are bigger than you and me.”

“Bigger than us?” you echoed, taking a step closer to him. “Nothing should be bigger than us, Anthony. Not if you love me the way you say you do.”

He exhaled sharply, turning away from you. “It’s not that simple, Y/n.”

“It is that simple!” you snapped, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over. “You’re choosing her, Anthony. Every single day that you stay with her, you’re choosing her over me.”

He turned back to you, his expression pained. “I’m not choosing her. I’m trying to do what’s right for everyone.”

“What about what’s right for me?” you demanded, your voice breaking. “What about what’s right for you? Or are we just collateral damage in your quest to keep the company above everything else?” He didn’t respond, and the silence was deafening.

You took a shaky breath, your hands trembling as you wiped at your cheeks. “If you won’t leave her… then let me go.”

“No,” he said immediately, stepping closer to you. His voice was firm, almost panicked. “You’re not leaving me, Y/n. I can’t lose you.”

“You already have,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of your words.

“Don’t say that,” he pleaded, reaching for your hands. “Don’t do this.”

You pulled away from him, shaking your head. “I won’t be your mistress, Anthony. I can’t keep pretending that this is enough when it’s killing me inside.”

“You know how the situation is, you’ve known since we started whatever we’re doing” Anthony stated, his eyes flickering between yours desperately, looking for a sign that you’re lying, that you don’t want to leave him “Ever since we I told you the truth, I can’t help but feel like you’re trying to find every reason possible to leave me…..Are you tired of me now? You don’t love me anymore?”

You shook your head as you sniffled “I love you Anthony. I am completely in love with you but I can’t keep on hurting myself anymore” you pulled your hands out of his, you swallowed the lump forming in your throat, your tears threatening to spill over. “I can’t do this anymore, Anthony. I love you. But I can’t, and I won’t, keep on waiting for you to love me back.”

“You want to know why I’m leaving?” you asked, your voice trembling. “It’s not because I don’t love you. God, Anthony, I love you so much it hurts. But I can’t keep breaking my own heart waiting for you to love me back the way I need you to -”

“I do!” Anthony cut you off “I do love you, I do need you. I need you more than anything”

“Then why won’t you leave her?” you cried. “Why didn’t you introduce me to your family when we ran into them in Paris? Why do you keep hiding me?” Anthony didn’t answer but his silence was louder than any words he could have spoken.

“It’s over, Anthony” you sniffled as you wiped your eyes “ I can’t bear to stand in the sidelines and watch as you form a family with her, as you love her-“

Anthony’s head snapped up, panic flashing in his eyes. “Y/n—”

You shook your head, stepping back from him. “It’s over, Anthony. I can’t keep doing this to myself.”

His hand shot out to grab yours, holding on tightly as if he could stop you from leaving. “Please, don’t do this. I’ll fix it. I’ll figure something out.”

“You had three years to figure it out,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “And you didn’t.”

Anthony stayed silent

After a few moments of agonizing silence, you pursued your lips before sighing. Without waiting for a response, you pressed a trembling kiss to his cheek and walked out of the room.

 

The weeks that followed were some of the hardest of your life. Anthony called you incessantly, leaving voicemails that you couldn’t bring yourself to listen to. He even showed up at your apartment once, but you refused to let him in.

You tried to move on, throwing yourself into work and spending time with friends. But nothing could fill the void he’d left behind.

For Anthony, life was equally unbearable. The engagement with Kate continued, but his heart wasn’t in it. He couldn’t stop thinking about you—your laugh, your smile, the way you’d looked at him with tears in your eyes that night.

It was a rainy afternoon when you saw him again. You were tucked into the corner of your favorite café, a steaming cup of tea in front of you and a book open in your lap. The sound of the door chime barely registered until someone approached your table. 

“Y/n.” 

Your head snapped up, and there he was. Anthony. Soaked from the rain, his suit clinging to his broad frame, his hair disheveled in a way you’d never seen before. He looked… desperate. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended, you sat up, closing your book and crossing your arms, as if to protect yourself from the inevitable heartbreak you know he will bring again

“I had to see you,” he said, his voice rough. He sank into the chair across from you before you could tell him to leave. 

You stiffened, your hands gripping the edge of your book. “Anthony, You shouldn’t be here.”  You looked away, knowing that if you looked at him any longer, you would cave in.

“I ended it,” he blurted out, leaning forward, his dark eyes locking onto yours. 

Your stomach dropped, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “What?” 

“I ended the engagement,” he repeated, his voice firmer this time. “It’s over. Kate and I are done.” 

You blinked, your mind struggling to process his words. “Why?” 

“Because I couldn’t marry her,” he said, his tone filled with conviction. “Not when my heart belongs to you.” 

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. You shook your head, leaning back in your chair. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“Y/n, I’m serious,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve thought of nothing else since you left. I can’t—I won’t lose you again.” 

“You already lost me, Anthony,” you shot back, your voice colder than you felt. “You made your choice when you stayed with her for three years. You don’t get to come here now and think a few words will fix this.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I mean it,” he said, desperation creeping into his tone. “I’ll beg if I have to.” 

You scoffed, looking away. “Begging won’t change what happened. Do you have any idea what you put me through? Do you know how many nights I stayed up wondering why I wasn’t enough for you? Why you always hid me from the world?” 

“You were always enough,” he said, his voice soft and raw. “You were more than enough, Y/n. I was the one who wasn’t enough. I was a coward.” 

You clenched your jaw, refusing to let the tears threatening to form fall. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to waltz in here, expecting me to forgive you just because you decided to grow a conscience.” 

“I don’t expect forgiveness,” he said, his voice trembling. “I just… I couldn’t let you think for one second that I didn’t love you. That I don’t love you.” You froze, his words cutting through your defenses like a knife. 

“I love you, Y/n,” he continued. “I’ve loved you from the moment I met you, I’ve loved you ever since I saw you in that beautiful navy blue dress at the gala. I’ve loved you ever since you told me your name. I’ve loved you ever since I first kissed you underneath the moon on that rainy night, and I will spend every day proving it to you if you’ll let me. Please, just give me a chance to make this right.” 

You looked away, your heart hammering in your chest. You wanted to believe him, to let yourself hope, but the memory of the pain he caused was too fresh. 

“Why now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why did it take losing me for you to finally do the right thing?” 

“Because I was an idiot,” he admitted, his hands gripping the edge of the table as if he were holding on for dear life. “I thought I could have both— I don’t mean that I’ve ever loved Kate, I just– I thought I could keep you without giving up everything else. Have you and evolve my company. But when you walked out that door, I realized nothing else mattered. Not the company, not my family’s expectations, nothing. None of it means anything without you.” 

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to stay firm. “Words aren’t enough, Anthony. You hurt me.” 

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking. “And I will never forgive myself for that. But I can’t let you go without trying. I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust again. Anything.” 

You stared at him, your walls cracking under the weight of his sincerity. For the first time, you saw the man beneath the polished exterior—the man who was terrified of losing you, who was willing to fight for you. 

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you said honestly, your voice trembling. 

“Then let me show you,” he said, leaning forward, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Please, Y/n. Let me prove to you that I’m worth the risk.” 

You hesitated, your heart and mind warring with each other. Finally, you let out a shaky breath. “This is your last chance, Anthony. If you hurt me again, I’m gone for good.” 

Relief washed over his face, and he reached across the table to take your hand. “I won’t hurt you again. I swear it.” 

You let him hold your hand, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through you. Deep down, you wanted to believe him. Maybe, just maybe, this time would be different. 

 

[mynicosensesaretingling]

One glance, A Second Chance

Nico Rosberg x fem! reader

Summary: Nico and (Y/N) unexpectedly cross paths at a charity event in Monaco. Old feelings resurface and they wonder if they might be able to give love a second chance.

Warnings: none

Note: Just a little thing that came to mind. I hope my fellow Nico enthusiasts enjoy this <3

————-

The Monaco Charity Gala was in full swing, the grand hall filled with the glittering elite of the racing world and beyond. Chandeliers cast a golden glow across the room, while the soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses blended with the sound of an orchestra playing softly in the background. Amidst the glitz and glamour, (Y/N) stood confidently, her black gown hugging her figure as she scanned the room with ease.

She was no stranger to events like these. Her success in the business world had made her a regular at high-profile galas, but tonight carried an extra layer of significance. It had been years since she’d been in the same room as Nico Rosberg. Their paths had diverged sharply after their brief, intense relationship years ago, back when his racing career was in full swing and her career was just taking off.

"Still can’t believe you got me to come here," (Y/N) murmured to her friend beside her, holding a champagne flute in hand. "I thought I was done with these types of events."

Her friend laughed lightheartedly. "Oh, come on. It's Monaco! And you look like you own the place."

With a small subtle smirk forming on her lips, (Y/N) clinked her glass with hers. "Fine, you win this one."

As they chatted, (Y/N)'s gaze drifted across the room—until her eyes came to an abrupt stop. There he was. Nico Rosberg. He hadn’t changed much since she’d last seen him: still the same confident, relaxed demeanour, his blonde hair swept back, and those striking blue eyes that had always drawn attention, were still holding the same sparkle that she remembered so fondly. He was deep in conversation with someone, but almost as if sensing her gaze, his eyes found hers across the room.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Nico’s expression shifted, surprise flickering across his face, quickly replaced by something more unreadable. His lips curved into a small smile as he excused himself from his conversation and made his way toward her.

(Y/N) took a steadying breath, not out of nerves, but to prepare herself for the inevitable conversation. She wasn’t the starry-eyed girl she had been when they first met. She had changed, and so had he. But there was a history between them, a spark that never fully faded, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it.

"Surreal. But seeing a friendly face makes it a bit more real," Nico said as he approached her, his smile soft but genuine.

"Oh, really?" (Y/N) teased, raising an eyebrow. "Just a friendly face? I’m wounded, Rosberg."

Nico chuckled, his eyes lighting up with amusement. "Okay, maybe a little more than just a friendly face." He paused, letting his gaze linger on her for a moment. "You look stunning, by the way."

(Y/N) smirked. "I always do."

There it was—the banter that had always come so naturally between them. Nico's grin widened, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. "Fair enough. But you still surprised me. I didn’t think I’d see you here in Monaco of all places."

"Surprised myself, honestly," she admitted, taking a sip of her champagne. "But it’s Monaco, as you said. And it’s always fun to see old friends."

"Is that what we are now? Old friends?" Nico leaned in slightly, his tone low, playful even.

(Y/N) met his gaze head-on, her smile unwavering. "Well, considering you haven’t spoken to me in what… three years? Yeah, I'd say old friends is a good place to start."

Nico laughed, clearly not fazed by her confidence. "Touché. But to be fair, you’ve been busy conquering the world, and I’ve been—"

"Retired?" she finished, her eyes sparkling. "Yes, I noticed."

He raised a brow, clearly amused by her boldness. "I prefer 'champion-turned-entrepreneur,' thank you very much."

(Y/N) gave him a slow, approving nod. "That does indeed sound better."

Nico flashed a smile, clearly enjoying the subtle praise, but there was something more behind his eyes. “So, what about you? I remember you always had a million things going on. What’s kept you busy lately?”

(Y/N) leaned against the bar, turning her body slightly toward him. “Busy would be an understatement. Expanding the company, travelling... you know how it is.”

Nico tilted his head, curiosity piqued. “You always were ambitious. But what brought you to Monaco? I mean, it’s not just for the racing, right?”

She chuckled, swirling the champagne in her glass. “You’d be surprised. I’ve always had a soft spot for Monaco, and not just for the obvious reasons. It’s got charm, a pace I can appreciate now.”

“Now?” Nico raised a brow. “Has something changed?”

“More like I’ve changed,” (Y/N) replied, her gaze briefly meeting his, her expression softening. “Life moves fast. Sometimes you have to slow down and appreciate what’s right in front of you.”

Nico’s smile widened. “You sound like someone who’s finally found balance.”

“Maybe I have.” Her eyes flicked toward the stage where guests were mingling. “But enough about me. Tell me, does retired life suit you?”

Nico leaned in slightly, his voice lowering in a conspiratorial whisper. “Retired isn’t the word I’d use. More like… strategically exited.”

(Y/N) laughed, the sound drawing a few glances from the nearby tables. “Strategically exited? Wow, that sounds like something you’d put on a résumé.”

“Hey, if I’m going to leave on a high, might as well make it sound good, right?” Nico grinned, clearly amused by their back-and-forth. But then his tone softened, and he glanced at her with a more genuine expression. “But seriously… life after racing, it’s different. Calmer. But I can’t lie—I do miss it sometimes.”

(Y/N) nodded, understanding more than he knew. “It must be hard to step away from something that’s been your entire life for so long. But you seem to have transitioned well.”

“I’m doing my best.” Nico shrugged, his eyes never leaving hers. “And honestly, moments like this—seeing old friends again—they make it a little easier.”

There was a pause, the weight of his words settling between them. (Y/N) felt the familiar spark, the one that had been there years ago, flickering again.

“You know,” she said, breaking the silence with a smirk, “you’ve become quite the charmer since your ‘strategic exit.’ Was it part of your post-racing training?”

Nico laughed, shaking his head. “No, no training required. I just remember how to keep up with you.”

Before (Y/N) could respond, a voice interrupted the moment. "Nico!" A fellow guest had come up to greet him, and Nico gave them a polite smile before turning back to her.

“Duty calls,” he said, a hint of reluctance in his tone. “But don’t disappear on me, okay?”

(Y/N) gave him a playful smile. “I’ll try not to, but no promises.”

Nico’s grin widened as he stood, but before he walked away, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. “I’ll hold you to that.”

As he moved back into the crowd, (Y/N) watched him go, feeling the undeniable pull of their connection. It had been years, but something about tonight felt different—more electric, more certain.

The night continued, with flashes of conversation and laughter, but her mind kept drifting back to Nico. They hadn’t crossed paths in so long, but now that they had, the chemistry between them was undeniable.

Later, as the event began to wind down, (Y/N) stepped outside to get some fresh air. The cool night breeze was refreshing against her skin, a welcome reprieve from the warmth of the crowded gala hall.

She heard footsteps behind her and wasn’t surprised when Nico appeared at her side, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. “Escaping the madness too?”

“Just needed a moment,” she replied with a smile. “It’s been quite the night.”

Nico nodded, standing close enough that their shoulders almost touched. “It really has.”

They stood there for a few moments in comfortable silence, gazing out at the city lights twinkling over Monaco’s famous harbour. The night felt peaceful, but there was an undeniable tension between them—one that neither of them seemed eager to break.

Eventually, Nico spoke, his voice softer than before. “You know, I’ve been thinking about something.”

(Y/N) turned to look at him, curiosity in her eyes. “Oh? What’s that?”

He hesitated for a second as if weighing his words. “We’ve both changed. A lot. But standing here with you, it feels… easy. Like no time has passed.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt the pull again—stronger this time. “It does,” she agreed, her voice just above a whisper.

Nico turned to face her fully, his blue eyes locking onto hers. “I don’t want to miss the chance to reconnect. To see where this goes.”

(Y/N)’s breath caught in her throat, the weight of his words sinking in. She had always been confident, in control, but right now, with him, she felt the stirrings of something more—something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

She smiled softly, her heart pounding in her chest. “I’d like that, Nico.”

The smile that spread across Nico’s face was genuine, full of warmth and something more—something hopeful. He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. “Sunday, after the race. Let me take you out. No galas, no crowds—just us.”

(Y/N) didn’t hesitate this time. “It’s a date.”

Nico’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction, and he took a step closer, his presence intoxicating, as he repeated his words from earlier, “I’ll hold you to that.”

As the night wrapped around them, the moment between them lingered—filled with the promise of something new, something that had been waiting to be reignited all along.

[atlasthegreatest]

The Super’s Bats / Stephanie Brown x Male Reader x Cassandra Cain

Headcanons about reader being in relationship with Stephanie and Cassandra aka The Sun and Moon duo.

A/n: This was requested by @fenrir-wolf-of-gotham I hope you like this, and sorry for the delay.

— How did they meet? —

They met at a charity gala in Metropolis, hosted by the Daily Planet. And this gala was attended by those considered to be of the highest profile and elite. And Bruce Wayne was one of them who showed up.

Bruce being Batman, uses this as an opportunity to gather information about the new criminal syndicate operating between Metropolis and Gotham and he brings Stephanie and Cassandra along with him as “associates” under the guise of being his new protégés to help with the reconnaissance.

Meanwhile, Clark Kent was there as Superman, keeping an eye out for any potential threats. And because he had caused such tremendous destruction while fighting a villain, Y/n was forced to be at that event by his father.

As she mingled, Stephanie noticed Y/n sneaking away from the crowd, looking rather lost and uncomfortable. Being naturally curious (and a bit mischievous), she followed him, thinking he might be up to something interesting. But then she found him on a balcony, staring up at the stars.

And Stephanie, ever the social butterfly, starts chatting with Y/n, making some light jokes to break the ice with the guy. And Y/n surprised but charmed by her energy, starts to relax and chat back.

Meanwhile, Cassandra, always on high alert, spots Stephanie sneaking out and follows her. She stays in the shadows, watching the interaction. As time passes, she quickly realizes that Y/n is not a threat, but she is curious as to why Stephanie seems to be so interested in him. But she keeps her distance from her, camouflaged among the shadows, until she notices a suspicious figure lurking nearby.

But just as Y/n and Stephanie begin to get comfortable, they hear a commotion inside. A group of armed men interrupts the party, clearly aiming to make a statement and attack the high-profile guests. Y/n's instinct is to spring into action, but he hesitates, unsure if he should reveal his powers in front of everyone. Stephanie, ever the impulsive one, is already thinking of how to take them down without blowing her cover.

Cassandra, sensing the threat, immediately disarms two of the intruders before they even realize what's going on. Stephanie joins in, coordinating attacks with Cassandra in a way that demonstrates the strong teamwork they've had over the years fighting together. Y/n, still in awe of their skills, realizes he needs to step it up as well. So he subtly uses his super breath to blow up a few weapons without drawing too much attention.

The three quickly found themselves fighting side-by-side, with Stephanie cracking jokes and telling wisecracks to keep the mood light, Cassandra moving like a silent shadow, and Y/n using his powers strategically without revealing his disguise. They made a surprisingly effective team.

After the whole situation was resolved, they found themselves on a rooftop, catching their breath. Y/n was impressed by Stephanie's quick thinking and Cassandra's incredible combat skills. He then formally introduced himself, a little shyly, as Y/n Kent.

Stephanie, recognizing the name, couldn't help but make a joke. "Ah, son of Superman. I knew you seemed too wholesome for Gotham." And Cassandra, who usually remains silent, surprised Y/n by offering a rare smile.

Y/n was intrigued by the two girls. Charmed by Stephanie’s bright energy and fascinated by Cassandra’s quiet intensity. He could feel a unique connection to them—something unlike anyone he had ever met before.

Stephanie quickly decided that Y/n wasn’t just “Superman’s son,” but someone worth getting to know. Cassandra, with her skilled instinct for reading people, sensed Y/n’s genuine kindness and curiosity, and she was drawn to the young man’s sincerity.

Before they parted ways, Y/n invited them to visit Metropolis for a while, saying he could show them the city from a different perspective. Stephanie, always enthusiastic, immediately accepted, while Cassandra gave a slight nod of agreement, already thinking about how their friendship could grow. And Y/n left with a new sense of excitement, realizing that this might be the start of something special.

From that day on, they began to see more of each other, meeting up in Metropolis or Gotham, occasionally teaming up on missions, and gradually building a deep connection that blossoms into romance over time.

— When did you start liking each other? —

Y/n first felt a spark for Cassandra. During their first meeting at the gala, Y/n was captivated by her skills and grace in battle. He is immediately drawn to her quiet strength and the way she communicates so much with just a look or a movement.

Over the next few weeks, he finds himself thinking about her more than often—her intense eyes, her precise movements, and the mysterious aura that surrounds her. He admires her from a distance, respecting her space and hoping to understand her better.

Cassandra has begun to notice Y/n’s interest in her, but she’s unsure of what to do. She’s not used to people being so open and genuine, and she finds his honesty and kindness disarming.

Over time, Y/n’s attempts to connect with her��showing interest in her passions, respecting her silence, and never pressuring her to talk when she’s not comfortable—begin to warm her heart. She appreciates that he’s never tried to change her and accepts her for who she is, quirks and all.

Stephanie, on the other hand, starts to warm to Y/n more gradually. Initially, she just sees him as a friend—someone fun to hang out with who brings a fresh perspective. She loves to tease him and make him blush, and she appreciates how he balances her out.

But as they continue to form a team, she begins to see more of his personality—his quiet strength, his empathy, and his willingness to go above and beyond for his friends and family. She finds herself increasingly charmed by his youthful innocence and unwavering optimism.

— Who fell in love first? —

Y/n is the next to fall for Stephanie. Her infectious energy, her ability to find the light in any situation, and her determination to be a hero despite her difficult past are all things he deeply admires. Stephanie makes him laugh, brings out his playful side, and helps him see the world in a new way. Y/n begins to realize that he likes her more than he initially thought—her warmth and resilience slowly win his heart.

Cassandra is the last to realize her feelings for Stephanie, but when she does, they hit her hard. Stephanie was everything Cassandra was not; expressive, outgoing, unapologetically herself. Cassandra found herself drawn to that bright energy, fascinated by how Stephanie could so effortlessly navigate social situations and connect with people.

More than that, she appreciates how Stephanie never treated her like she was broken; she always believed in her without hesitation, lifting her in ways Cassandra never expected. And over time, Cassandra realized that she wanted to be close to Stephanie, to protect her, and to be a part of her world.

Y/n was the first to fall in love first, though he didn’t realize it at first. His initial admiration for Cassandra quickly deepened into something more. He found himself doing little things to make her smile, going out of his way to learn more about the things she likes, and feeling a protective instinct around her. But he’s a little shy about it and worries that she might not feel the same way, and he didn’t say anything at first.

Cassandra is the second to realize her feelings. First for Y/n, and then more strongly, for Stephanie. She felt the two of them growing closer to her, and while at first, it was confusing and even a little overwhelming for her, she found herself enjoying their company more and more.

She became aware of her feelings when she noticed how her heart would beat whenever they were near and how she would instinctively move closer to them during fights or even in casual situations. Cassandra doesn’t realize these emotions right now, but she knows she wants them to stay.

Stephanie is the last to realize that she’s fallen in love. She sees Y/n as a great friend and a great older brother figure and Cassandra as a fellow warrior with whom she shares an endless bond.

However, as she spends more time with them, she begins to realize that her feelings go deeper than just friendship. One day, she finds herself feeling jealous when Y/n and Cassandra are training together, laughing and smiling, and then it hits her—she is in love with both of them. It comes as a surprise, but once she knows, she fully embraces her feelings.

— Who confesses first? —

All three.

During a particularly intense mission, the three are forced to confront their feelings. They had been working together so seamlessly, relying on each other without hesitation, that they could no longer deny their bond.

When Y/n is injured while protecting Cassandra, she and Stephanie realize how much they share with him, and when Cassandra silently expresses her concern, Y/n and Stephanie together understand just how deeply they have fallen for each other.

They finally talk about it—awkwardly at first, with a lot of stuttered words—but it ends with a mutual understanding that what they have is something special and worth exploring together. They decide to give their relationship a chance, knowing it’s not conventional, but it feels right for them all.

— What makes them argue? —

Most arguments stem from misunderstandings or differing approaches to situations.

For example, Y/n might suggest a more diplomatic or hopeful solution to a problem, while Cassandra prefers a direct, action-oriented approach. Stephanie often finds herself caught in the middle, trying to mediate but also having her own opinion about what should be done.

The other common trigger is when one of them takes a significant risk without consulting the other. Cassandra is often willing to put herself in harm’s way to protect her loved ones, which can anger Y/n and Stephanie, who hate to see her in danger.



Similarly, Stephanie's impulsive decisions might worry Y/n and Cassandra, while Y/n's tendency to hold on to his power for fear of causing collateral damage might frustrate his more pragmatic partners.

— What do they do when they fight? —

Cassandra tends to withdraw into herself when she’s upset. She is not used to verbal arguments and finds them too tiring. She withdraws from others, seeking solitude to clear her mind. She does not want to lash out in anger, so she chooses to just stay silent.

Stephanie is more vocal. She is used to arguing and having to stand her ground. She may say things in the heat of the moment that she never thought she would. However, she is also the one most likely to go after Cassandra when she withdraws, not wanting the distance to grow too large.

Y/n, on the other hand, hates conflict. Especially in their relationship. He tries to resolve things quickly, often wanting to talk right away. He is the first to apologize, even if he does not fully understand why the argument happened. He tends to overthink things, wondering if he did something wrong or if he failed to understand Cassandra and Stephanie's perspective.

— What do they do after a fight? —

After a fight, the three of them need some time to process their emotions. Y/n would often retreat to the skies or an open field to think and regain his calm.

Cassandra might train in solitude or disappear into the shadows of Gotham, using physical activity to ground herself.

Stephanie tends to space out, mumbling to herself or venting to an understanding friend like Barbara or even Alfred.

Cassandra is usually the first to initiate reconciliation, but not in words. She will do something small but meaningful—like leaving Y/n’s favorite comic book on his doorstep or bringing Stephanie her favorite coffee. She doesn’t know how to articulate her feelings, but she knows how to show them through her actions.

Y/n usually makes the first verbal attempt at reconciliation. He approaches Cassandra and Stephanie with an open heart, apologizing if he’s been too pushy or not understanding enough. He will try to express how much he values ​​their perspectives, even if he doesn’t always agree with them.

Stephanie, on the other hand, is the one who lightens the mood. After some time of calming down, she will tell a joke, or something stupid to break the tension. She is good at reading the room and knowing when it is appropriate to make a joke. She would say something like, “Are we done brooding, or should I officially call a Bat-Family Brood-Off?”

After resolving their fight, they often end up cuddling together. Cassandra, who usually doesn’t initiate any contact, might take Y/n’s hand or lean on Stephanie’s shoulder, letting them know she is there, always there for them.

Y/n, who loved being around them, felt relaxed once he knew they were on the same page again. And Stephanie, the one who often keeps them together, felt content knowing they could work through anything.

They often make lighthearted references to their past fights, using them as inside jokes to show that they’ve moved on from them. Stephanie might say, “Remember the time Y/n almost flew into space just because we couldn’t agree on pizza toppings?” and they laugh, knowing that they’ve grown stronger.

— Bonus —

Since Cassandra is most comfortable with body language, she bonds with Y/n over their mutual love for physical training and martial arts. Y/n, being half Kryptonian, has a natural strength advantage, but Casandra is far more skilled.

Their sparred sessions are a form of communicating and trust-building; Cassandra appreciates Y/n's gentleness, and Y/n loves how Cassy pushes him to new limits.

Stephanie brings out Y/n's adventurous side. She loves to drag him along on spontaneous dates, like late-night city rooftop hooping, breaking into abandoned places just for fun, or sneaking into Gotham's weirdest events.

Y/n provides a sense of calm and comfort to both Stephanie and Cassandra. He's the one they turn to when they need a listening ear or a shoulder to lean on. He helps Cassandra with her social anxiety and encourages her to express herself in whatever way feels right, while he's always ready to help Stephanie unwind after a rough day with quiet moments of support and understanding.

They all share a love for stargazing, particularly Y/n. He often takes Cassandra and Stephanie to secluded spots away from the city lights ( or even up in the sky, using his powers) to watch the stars.

He tells them stories about constellations, Krypton, and his father's adventures, which both girls find fascinating. It's their shared moment of peace and connection, away from the chaos of hero life.

They respect each other's need for quiet time, especially Cassandra, who often enjoys sitting by the window with a book or meditating in a quiet corner. Y/n might read alongside her, enjoying the peace, while Stephanie could be on her laptop, working on a project, or catching up on social media. Sometimes, they just sit together in comfortable silence, each doing their own thing but feeling connected by their shared space.

[cassiachales]

Journal Entry One [And A Hot Grayson Hawthorne And Xander Being A Good Friend]

Saturday– Listen. I am not someone who hates people as soon as I have one conversation with them. (Or maybe I am, but that’s not the point.) I have never met someone as infuriatingly calm and poised as Grayson Motherfucking Hawthorne. He’s too perfect, too cold. I imagine his mom gave birth to him after having sex with a very handsome statue. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Charity galas were oftentimes the most boring events.

Though, if you’re being honest, most of these events are boring. It’s just people trying to either one-up each other, or trying to kiss ass.

Or, a secret third option, applicable only if you’re Grayson Hawthorne: watch the show with a cold look and avoid small talk.

Basically, be a statue.

When everyone’s dancing, he’s just standing there, his lips smiling whenever someone comes and talks to him and his eyes bored.

It’s no surprise that you don’t really like him, seeing how there’s no life in that six foot frame covered by the most expensive suits and a glass of whiskey in his hand which he doesn’t sip from. 

And meanwhile, you’re dancing. You’re enjoying yourself because you, ma’am, are not a statue.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── I thought, well, maybe he’s lonely and has no friends, how about I talk to him?! Mistake of the year.  He is hot. But he is also the only guy in the gala, in every gala I’ve attended, who’s made me want to strangle him. Fuck him. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

So you walked towards him, because maybe, just maybe, he’s lonely, and maybe, just maybe, he has no friends. A rude assumption, but hey, isn’t that how you’re supposed to roll?

You stand beside him, looking at him stare down a couple on the dance floor. 

You knew them, yes, but not personally. Just a few quick google searches and a few tabloids and newspapers.

The girl was a living Cinderella story and the boy was her Prince Charming.

Avery Kylie Grambs, and Jameson Hawthorne.

“So…” You began, nudging his side. Your dress is a bit too loose and threatens to slip, but you quickly adjust it with your other hand.

Curse the world. Why were you about to have a wardrobe malfunction while talking to a hot guy?

“Do I know you?” Grayson asked, his eyebrow raised. 

Oh gods, his voice. It sounded so seductive that if you were hearing his voice on a movie screen, you would’ve swooned along with every girl (and a few boys) in the theatre.

“Well, not really.” You tell him your name and his eyes gleam in recognition after listening to your last name, and to be honest, you’re a little annoyed that your first name isn’t that “well-known”.

“Is there anything you wanted to speak about?” He asks, and you can see his patience wearing thin.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Like, okay man, you’re hot as fuck. So hot, that I’d kiss you if I was drunk enough. And trust me, I’m a lightweight. But seriously? You’re so goddamn emotionless that it makes me feel like I’m talking to character ai instead of a living, breathing billionaire. Maybe you should like, consider buying a nice personality the next time you buy another suit. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Oh, nothing important.” You wave a dismissive hand, and, you assume, if he was less of a statue and more of a person, he would’ve rolled his eyes.

“Then, if you’ll excuse me.” He flashes you a polite smile, before pausing and adjoining a ‘miss’ to your last name as an afterthought.

And then, he walks away.

You don’t know what to make of this. Your dress is threatening to expose your cleavage with how loose it is, and it’s strapless on top of that, and the guy who you wanted to talk to, to maybe help throw a little life in his life, just walked away as though being lively is an afterthought, just like how he said your last name.

You feel someone tap your shoulder and when you turn around to see who it is, a flute of champagne is pushed into your hands.

Xander Hawthorne smiles that smile of his, the kind you can’t describe. You’re sort of like good friends with Xander, seeing how he’s the least stuck-up Hawthorne you’ve met.

The only other one was Grayson Hawthorne, but it’s not like there’s any life in his body.

“I saw you talking to Gray, came over to save you from a dull conversation, then saw how annoyed you looked after he left, and got you some champagne. Man, I deserve a friend-of-the-year award. So, what were you two talking about?”

He has nothing in his hands, but you trust him enough to take a sip of the bubbly champagne before you inevitably fall into a rant about how annoyingly maddening Grayson is.

“Does your brother even live? Like yes, maybe he doesn’t like small talk, and yes, maybe he’s a bad dancer–”

“He’s actually a pro at the tango and the waltz.”

You stare at Xander. “He does not strike me as the type to tango.”

He shrugged. “I don’t look like I make random things on Saturdays, but here I am, making random things on Saturdays.” He frowns, and corrects himself. “Unless I’m at an event, obviously.”

“Obviously. Anyway, does he even wear anything other than custom suits? I get that suits are hot, and your brother is hot–”

“You find my brother hot?” Xander says, a laugh threatening to escape him.

You groan. “Forget I said that.”

“Oh, no. We are not moving past that.”

“Xander, you will shut up, or–”

“Or, what?”

You’re silent.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── I might have also accidentally told Xander that I find Grayson hot. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You see Xander’s face shift, and gods, do you know that look.

“Xander, no. Whatever you’re planning, no.” You say, but you fear it’s too late.

He taps your shoulder twice, your sign for ‘don’t worry, I got this’, and you have a fair idea of what, exactly, Xander Hawthorne is planning.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── If I was smart, I’d never befriend a Hawthorne and call his brother hot. Unfortunately, I am not smart. Now, I don’t know what Xander’s planning, and honestly? I’m scared it has something to do with a certain Grayson Hawthorne. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Journal Entry Two

[pastelwitchling]

Ok so funny thought/ prompt whatever

Imagine Michael finding out that on one of the trips Alex and Kyle have done (deep sky, season 1 whatever) they shared a bed

It's totally innocent but not to Michael

And isobel would love it cause come on Alex and Kyle that close together is just visually so pleasing

@brittz-2123

***

Michael loved his bed. That wasn’t something he’d ever considered before he’d met Alex, but now his bed was a safe haven, a place of comfort and warmth and love. It was his favorite part of their home because going to bed meant falling into his husband’s embrace, his arms around Alex as he was either soothed into sleep, or soothing Alex into sleep – both of which he loved.

He loved knowing that no one could comfort Alex like he could, that when he tugged on Alex’s arm and led him to their bedroom, Alex relented like he did for no one else.

“Okay, okay,” he’d sigh and smile in that way that he did whenever he couldn’t resist giving Michael what he wanted, and he would nuzzle Michael’s neck and curl in close and everything would be okay because they were both there and together and safe and warm.

It was on such a morning, their chests pressed together, Alex breathing softly against Michael’s collarbone and Michael’s fingers trailing lazily up and down his spine, that their peace was interrupted with a knock at the door.

Michael groaned, and Alex chuckled sleepily.

“Stay here, baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing Michael’s neck, “I’ll get it.”

“Don’t you dare move,” he argued, squeezing Alex close until he stopped squirming. When Alex gave up with giggles, Michael smiled and gently kissed his brow. He unwillingly let go, and grabbed Alex’s Air Force T-shirt and pulled it on. “I’ll go get rid of ‘em.”

“You don’t even know who it is yet,” Alex grinned into his pillow.

“It’s seven in the morning, babe,” he said, running a hand through his curls. “I don’t need to know who it is.”

Michael’s body was already cold from the loss of his husband’s touch, the knock coming again. He opened the door, and his groan turned up in full force.

Kyle rolled his eyes, shouldering his way past Michael, a takeout bag in his hands. “Is Alex awake? We have to hit the road soon and I got us breakfast.”

Michael’s eye twitched. It had been doing that since Alex had first told him that he would be accompanying Kyle in Isobel’s place to the doctors’ convention in Albuquerque. Damn his sister for her emergency fundraising gala problems. Of course her biggest event of the year had to have an issue that only she could fix, and since it was for charity, what was Michael supposed to say? ‘No, you have to go with your fiancé to his convention so my husband doesn’t’? He couldn’t whine like that. Out loud.

“He actually changed his mind,” Michael smirked, crossing his arms and leaning his hip against the couch. “Just forgot to tell you. Sorry.”

“Mhm,” Kyle set the bag down, giving Michael a dry smile, and called down the hall, “Alex, it’s me!”

“Okay, give me a minute and we can go!” Alex called back, and Michael’s shoulders fell.

“I hate you so much,” he told Kyle.

“I disagree,” Kyle said, opening the bag and pulling out a few cinnamon rolls, triple-chocolate fudge muffins, and bottles of lemonade. “I think you’re secretly warming up to me.”

“I think you’re as delusional as always,” Michael said. “I don’t know how much you’d appreciate the guy who takes you out of bed with your spouse, but –”

“Ah,” he nodded, busy with the food. “Well, I can see why you’re so pissy, Alex gets very sweet in bed.”

Michael opened his mouth to retort when his brain caught up with his ears. He stared. “Say that again?”

“I said you’re right,” he shrugged a shoulder and sniffed. “Alex gets all cuddly and warm and rosy-cheeked when you get into bed with him –”

“And how the hell do you know how my husband gets in bed?”

“We used to be on the road a lot for Project Shepherd?” Kyle said like it was obvious, and if he could sense Michael’s gradually increased seething, he didn’t show it. “We shared a few beds, Guerin.”

Michael’s eye started twitching and didn’t stop. “You what?”

“Oh come on,” he rolled his eyes. “You know how bad his nightmares get, should I have left him alone?”

“You shouldn’t have gotten into bed with him!”

Kyle gave a long-suffering sigh, and looked back into the hall. “Alex, your husband’s about to blow, can you hurry it up?”

“Blow about what?” came Alex’s muffled voice.

Michael growled and stomped back to their bedroom. “YOU AND VALENTI SHARED A BED?!”

“Ohhh,” Alex, in the middle of buttoning his shirt in their bathroom mirror, nodded. “That.”

“THAT?!”

“Michael,” Alex said calmly, “the cabinet.”

Michael realized he was making the cabinet levitate off the ground, and with a jerk of his wrist, it fell back to the ground with a heavy thud. “Why didn’t you tell me you and Kyle shared a freaking bed?”

“We weren’t even together then,” Alex shrugged, and Michael thought he wasn’t nearly as abashed about this as he should’ve been.

“If you really think there was ever a time you didn’t belong to me,” Michael argued, “then you’re seriously underestimating my attachment to you.”

Alex smiled and blushed, still fixing his hair. “Aww, baby . . .”

“STOP TALKING TO ME LIKE I’M JUST BEING CUTE!”

“You’re always cute.”

Traitorous, unwanted warmth rose up the back of his neck and tried to deter his anger. “The bed, Alex,” he tried desperately to cling to his fury. “The bed. Is nothing sacred?!”

Alex bit his lower lip in an attempt to keep his smile from widening. It wasn’t working. Curse Michael’s love for that smile because the more amused Alex became, the deeper his blush, the harder it was to be angry.

“Just tell me one thing,” Michael said with as much solemnity as he could manage in the face of Alex’s giddiness. Taking a shuddering breath, he braced himself and asked, “Did you guys cuddle?”

Alex burst into laughter. “I might’ve cuddled up to him while I was asleep, I’m not going to lie –”

“Alex!”

“— only because I was imagining that it was you.”

Michael fell silent, but Alex was still smiling at him like he was the most adorable thing in the world.

“For my scariest nightmares,” he said softly, “nothing calmed me down like the idea of you holding me. And Kyle knew that. Every time he held me, he told me to just pretend it was you. That you were there with your arms around me, keeping me safe. Nothing else would help, Michael. Nothing.”

Michael stared, heart pounding and his thoughts muddled. Alex finished dressing, took Michael’s hands in his, and kissed his fingers like he revered every inch of the cowboy that he could get. “And now I’m with the real you in bed every night. I’m living the dream.”

Michael’s shoulders fell, and he swallowed. “Baby . . .”

Alex tilted his head. “Are you going to be okay here for a few days? If it really makes you uncomfortable, I won’t go. Kyle will understand.”

“I’m never comfortable when you’re out of my sight,” he said instinctively, and sighed, “but . . . I guess . . . I can . . . make an exception, just this once.”

Alex chuckled, undoubtedly sensing Michael’s hesitance behind every word. “You’re sure?”

Michael groaned and folded Alex into his arms. “Yeah, baby, I’m sure. Just . . .” he squeezed Alex tighter and grumbled, “if you have a nightmare, call me, okay? You don’t need anyone else to pretend anymore.”

He felt Alex’s smile against the crook of his neck. “Good. Nothing compares anyway.”

***

Happy Belated Malex Monday ❤️ It's good to be back 🥰

[a-very-tired-jew]

You want celebrities to do what? You overestimate their power.

One of the common things we've seen in this conflict is the conspiracy that Israel plans its actions around events in the USA. We saw this back during the Super Bowl, and we're now seeing it again regarding the Met Gala. It's such a USA centric point of view that anyone prescribing to this notion can honestly be disregarded. However, one of the things I have seen from these activists is that they want to celebrities who attended the Met to use their vast fortunes and celebrity status/power for the sake of Gaza. It goes without saying that they have far more donation potential than a lot of us. But that's not what I've been seeing in these spaces... I have seen activists call for these celebrities to evacuate Gazans through use of their money and status, and I have to ask: How? Do you seriously think Cardi B can negotiate with Israel, Hamas, Egypt, Qatar, and all the other political powers involved to evacuate the civilians caught up in this war? Do you think Taylor Swift can organize evacuation corridors? Do you think any of these Met Gala attending celebrities in their New York high fashion outfits has the ability to enter into geopolitics on their own as a separate entity, organize some sort of action, and not garner the attention of the government who they may or may not have worked with to do so? Seriously, consider what you're asking for just a second. Celebrities can use their platforms to bring attention to issues, assist charities in some capacity, and get involved with various organizations. But if you think they have the ability to wade into the realm of geopolitics and impact them as a serious party? Then you're living in a fantasy and are a very unserious person.

[permafrown]

"essays" in question btw in regards to Irene + Irene/Jonathan 👇 they're very informal bc I just copied and pasted my own messages LMAO

ABOUT IRENE:

SO THIS IS MY SILLY BILLY IRENE CHURCHILL aka "The Undertaker" !!

Their whole thing is that they moved to Gotham, right.. initially being from the Midwest and so they're there as an Embalmer for the GCPD. They end up picking up a side gig as a body disposal service for Gotham's criminal underbelly just like. Completely by accident. They did it once for Penguin but after that it's what they became Known For and like they'd get shady mfs at their door like. 🕴️ we got a job for ya and they're like. 😔 I guess this is what I do now ⚰

They don't kill anybody they just take care of a deed that's already been done, in exchange for money and favors they can cash in. They consider themselves a "Modern-Day Charon" bc of the morbid but neutral role they play.

EVENTUALLY they decide they want to do a little more with themselves and one thing leads to another and . . . they get into experimenting w/ reanimating corpses specifically after modifying a sample of Jonathan's fear toxin into what they call Vie (short for Vie a la Mort bc they're fake french). It bites them in the ass and they die and then are brought back with their own creation and now they're The Cooler Irene

ABOUT IRENE AND JONATHAN:

if I were to like generalize instead of basing it around pre-existing comics .. I'd say Irene and Jonathan probably met at something like a gala/charity event that Gotham University was hosting and members of the GCPD were invited to including Irene bc Jim Gordon was like. We have got to get you out of that morgue and socializing spending all that time around dead bodies isn't good for you. And they're just like. Ok 😗👍

SO THEY MEET JON AT THIS PARTY that they're both like half-heartedly attending for one reason or another. and they're like wowww.. this guy's weird (twirling hair). Theyre talking to eachother getting along well. And well since Irene doesn't know abt Scarecrow and (at this point) Jon doesn't know about Undertaker they're both just kinda thinking to themselves - this guy's definitely hiding something.

SO IT'S THIS STUPID LIKE. ROMCOM ASS DEVELOPMENT of them gradually spending more and more time around eachother falling in-love in the process being in denial about it ETC

and then one Halloween. Irene's first Halloween in Gotham there's a fall festival that Jonathan had invited Irene to and they're like oh hell yeah. They dress as a plague doctor with a small twist that ends up saving their ass (the mask actually functions as a mask) so they go and they're waiting for Jonathan just chillin and then BOOM there's a scarecrow attack and everything's in shambles around 'em there's people screaming and what not. Except for Irene who like in the midst of it all sees Scarecrow and their ass FALLS IN-LOVE thinking he's just a scare actor

They just kinda go home after like wow what a wild night lol. and then they hear police sirens outside at where the festival was and they're like . I'm starting to think that whole ordeal wasn't part of the festivities.

SO they see a news segment talking about a scarecrow attack and they're like scarecrow.... AND they rmbr how they hadn't seen Jonathan that night and it's not like him to no-show esp not when he made the plans so they're connecting the dots like . . . Uh oh 😨 ( <- experiencing heart palpitations but brother it's not fear)

SO THEY JUST. HAVE TO GO ON PRETENDING THEY DONT KNOW SHIT LIKE ahh damn jonathan shame I didnt see you last night. Yeah no I wasn't even there I had to feed my fish.

AND THENNNNN as Undertaker they have scarecrow as a client once and they're normal about it. like maybe he doesn't know. and then it happens again shortly after but this time they're like 🤨 this body you want gone isn't even fresh man the rove beetles are getting to it it's been out for atleast a week and Scarecrow's like. How would you know that if you weren't involved in the forensics or perhaps even mortuary field. Irene. and they're like FUUUUCK 😭

SO THAT'S HOW HE FINDS OUT BC HE SET THEM UP and then they take off eachother's masks/veil and it's all tense and they kiss sloppy style THE END

[devilrosola]

Book Bound

This was inspired from a scene of RP I've been doing with Ja'far from the Magi Madness discord server. When I got the prompt "Library" I thought of this cute scene of them reading a book together on a couch, so here's a bit of that Modern Day Corporation AU~

~*~

It was a chance meeting: a Gala raising funds for charities. His brother had instructed him to network while there, but Kouen didn’t imagine he’d find someone so appealing while attempting to mingle. Something about Ja’far caught his eye and the more he learned of him, the more interested he became. They met up after the event, grabbed a bite at a cafe, worked side by side on their laptops at the park in the dark, and eventually ended up with Ja’far taking Kouen to his home so they could spar for a bit.

After spending the night, he had woken up to a delicious breakfast. Things were so pleasant, he proposed they start dating, which Ja’far accepted. This was new territory for both and Kouen still had a few hours until he needed to be at the airport.

“Let’s do something fun before I go.” As they cleaned up breakfast, Kouen eagerly waited to learn what his new boyfriend considered fun.

But then the question was turned right back at him. “Fun? What did you have in mind?”

“Oh…um…read a book together?” Kouen fumbled as his mind raced over what he enjoyed, and the hours he could spend reading history was the first thing that popped into his head. “...or…we could hit a museum or any of your favorite local places. There’s also the workout room and pool back at my hotel…” the one he was originally going to stay in before meeting Ja’far. “Or we can stay here and spar some more…” He smiled at his perceived smooth recovery and even managed to end his sentence with a coy wink.

Ja’far stared at Kouen for a moment before a chuckle parted from his lips. “I wouldn’t mind enjoying a book together. That sounds rather nice.”

The visitor’s crimson eyes darted to where he recalled seeing the living room before in this quaint abode. He imagined a couch or recliner for them to get comfortable on. “A book it is then. Do you have any recommendations?”

“Kouen, first I just need to tell you something. The moments we have shared…it is unlike anything I’ve experienced. I appreciate that it was with you.” Ja’far smiled gently as he took Kouen’s hand to lead him to his personal collection of books.

It was reciprocated with a firm but gentle grasp by a man hoping the fluster wasn’t so visible on his face. Kouen was at a loss of words from this confession, even though he felt the same way. “T-th…I…ahem…” He curled the fingers of his free hand around his mouth as he cleared his throat with solemnly closed eyes. “To have many more such experiences with you in the future would bring me great joy.”

Arriving at the home library, Kouen opened his eyes to see the selection of books. Many various non-fiction filled the shelves, indicating someone who valued facts. There were also some historical fictions that Kouen’s eyes zeroed in on. Many familiar titles and renowned authors.

His finger rubbed along the top of one, tempted to pull it out. “Oh. I’ve been meaning to read this one…”

Ja’far gently pulled the book out as soon as he heard Kouen’s interest. Silver strands of the calligraphed title contrasted beautifully against the dark brown canvas cover.

“This one it is then. I’ve never had the pleasure to actually finish it.” 

“Try not to give any spoilers,” Kouen hummed.

Ja’far directed him to a comfortable two cushion sofa in the living room. “Is here okay?”

Kouen’s hand ran along the green plaid blanket draped over the couch before sitting down to test it. Then with a smirk, he grabbed Ja’far’s wrist and pulled him onto his lap. Sideways at first, but Ja’far opted to turn and lean his back against Kouen’s chest.

He sat the book on his lap and delicately fingered the edge of the cover, savoring the moment before starting an adventure together. It would be easy to lose track of the outside world once started, so Ja’far checked, “Did you leave anything at your hotel room last night? You have time to read, but did you want to check back at the hotel?”

He had only brought the essentials for this short trip, so it was easy to gather all his things the night before. He was pretty sure everything was accounted for. Confidently, Kouen rested a hand on the slender shoulder as the book opened to the preface. “If I forgot anything, I could just buy another.” He nuzzled his chin into Ja’far’s neck. “I’d rather spend this time holding you.”

This made Ja’far’s body quiver, the closeness and attentiveness was endearing. “Of course…” Subtly, he bit his lower lip as he turned the pages to the beginning of the story.

Their height difference was perfect to allow both of them a view of the pages in this position. Ja’far started reading out loud until Kouen cut him off after a few paragraphs, giving them alternating turns to read and listen to the dulcet tones of the other’s voice. Occasionally there were side comments, with them sharing their thoughts or knowledge together. They were swept away by the contents within this magical book. It was all so comfortable and at the same time, mentally stimulating.

Every brush of one’s fingers against the other’s while turning pages sent tingling sensations up their backs. Their breaths wavered at each little squeeze, wondering how things could have gone so right for them. How unexpectedly they found their perfect match and came together as cozily as two jigsaw puzzle pieces.

Surely there must be a way to prolong their time together? Maybe Kouen could get to the airport later and V.I.P. his way through security? Or maybe his plane would be delayed? His eyes scanned across the words as Ja’far read them aloud, but his mind kept going back to the earlier confession: A unique experience, and was glad it was with him. As he wanted more, less awkward words formulated in his mind. When Ja’far finished to allow Kouen a turn, the latter squeezed his arms around the former’s waist and rested his chin on the other’s shoulder.

“These past dozen or so hours have been incredible, Thank you,” Kouen purred sincerely.

The hairs on the back of Ja’far’s neck stood upon the words that graced his ears while his entire face went red. Trying to calm his own nerves of excitement, Ja’far cleared his throat and humbly stated, “You…need not thank me for anything…”

Kouen hummed encouragingly, insisting Ja’far was worth the praise. Still, he settled back into reading out loud: such dramatic authority in his voice to compliment the author’s tone in the current scene.

After some time, they arrived at the last page of the third chapter. Upon finishing the page, the way Kouen’s hand glided over Ja’far’s was more of a caress. Seeing as it was getting late and a convenient stopping point arrived, he gently pushed the book down.

His other hand slid up Ja’far’s arm as he teased amusingly into his ear, “You should fly back with me. If nothing else, so we can finish this story together.”

Ja’far’s breath hitches, those words nothing but enticing to him. He placed a mark in the book before closing it with the intention to keep his focus strictly on Kouen. “As…amazing as that would be…I am needed here…”

“Of course,” a disappointed sigh escaped Kouen’s lips, temporarily easing his hold on the other. “Your company is lucky to have such a dedicated employee.” His arm snaked up Ja’far’s side and fingers stroked under the pale chin, urging them to make eye contact.

“You think so, hm?” Ja’far’s gaze fixated on Kouen, his pale cheeks tinted crimson.

It would be a lie if he said he did not desire someone so dedicated. “I know so.” Kouen then urged Ja’far closer for a kiss.

Ja’far indulged by pressing his lips to Kouen’s. Setting the book on the empty cusion, he shifted to more fully embrace this affection as one kiss became two and then more.  The pale fingers started twirling the red locks around them. Kouen’s arms supported the body on his lap. Every caressing touch was electrifying.

Amid the pleasant smiles, Ja’far breathed, “Kouen…”

“Ja’far?” Kouen breathed as he pulled the other closer into him.

“We shouldn’t get carried away. I don’t want to be the reason you’re late…” His dark green eyes gazed at Kouen with a hint of sadness. “It’s time to go.”

Longingly, Kouen gave one last caress on that freckled cheek. “Of course.” Sad as it was, he couldn’t help but admire the other’s responsibility.

[smkkbert]

Time for a story - Tougher than the rest

“Felicity, can you help me with my-“

Stepping into the door between their bedroom and the adjacent bathroom, Oliver stopped dead in his tracks. All thoughts about his bowtie that just refused to look as perfect as it should be, faded away instantly. Actually, he felt like he should be undressing instead of getting dressed now. His fingertips were itching with the need to unbutton his shirt and pants and just toss the clothes to the floor.

Felicity was standing in front of the mirror, trying to zip the back of her dark green velvet dress. It was an off-shoulder dress with a shoulder volant and a tight-fitting cut. The hem reached down to her knees. With the pinned updo that left only some loose curls of her hair to fall down on her shoulders, her delicate neck was accentuated.

All of her – from the color of her dress, his color, to the strained expression on her face at her inability to zip the back of her dress – made him want to take off his clothes. Before he could do so, Felicity’s eyes met his in the mirror, and she cocked her head in that scolding manner that made the corners of his lips twitch mischievously.

“Don’t even think about doing anything but zipping my dress,” Felicity told him stern voice despite the sparkle of humor in her eyes, “because we are already running late it is.”

Oliver pushed the tongue against the inside of his cheek, crossed the distance towards Felicity and zipped her dress as slowly as possible. His fingertips grazed against the soft skin of her back as he did so. His eyes were locked with hers in the mirror.

“I could think about better things to do than going to that charity gala,” he whispered into her ear, his breath eliciting goosebumps on her skin, “can’t you?”

Felicity turned around, cocked her head and perked up her eyebrows. “Can I think about anything better than going to that charity event, a charity event we are hosting by the way, and meet Chris Evans? Hell no.”

Oliver scrunched up his nose. He considered reminding her that the city was hosting this event, but the thought of meeting Chris Evans tonight just outweighed everything else. For a moment, he had suppressed that fact after he had thought about barely anything else since he had been informed that actor Chris Evans was actually coming to that gala tonight. Thinking about it again now, he felt his vexation growing back again.

“I still think that this entire thing is stupid.” He pushed his hands into the pockets of his pants and turned around to Felicity, who was sitting on the edge of the bed and putting on her shoes. “A Green Arrow movie? It’s-“

“-inspiring.”

“I was going to go with ridiculous or stupid or dangerous.”

Felicity smiled softly, but Oliver just frowned and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Two weeks ago, he was called by a production company that wanted to work with him to make a movie about the Green Arrow. His first answer had been a hard no because he really wasn’t interested in a movie like that. His family was already too much in the interest of the media and the public as it was.

When he had told John about rejecting the production company, he had warned him that they might make a movie about it anyway and that movie could be entirely wrong and even let the viewers get wrong ideas. Vigilantism and heroism was a sensitive topic, especially with how newly accepted they were.

Oliver had gone back and forth with the idea. Eventually, he had called the production company and made an appointment to meet the producer. His ideas hadn’t sounded too bad, so Oliver had agreed to work out a deal that he could actually agree with. Laurel had helped with the legal stuff and Thea had decided to actively work in the production team, so they would get the important stuff right.

Although he had ultimately agreed to the movie, Oliver couldn’t say that he was entirely convinced of it. He had his doubts even now because seeing his life on a big screen felt wrong. Besides, even though the production team had committed itself to true storytelling with Thea having the right to interpose her veto, Oliver doubted that his story, the team’s story or his family’s story could be told in a movie. Even with excess length, how long could the movie be? Three hours?

With her shoes on her feet, Felicity got up, strolled over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She rested her chin on his chest and looked at his face.

“Everything will be fine. We will go to this event to celebrate the new Green Arrow Law where I will be flirting with Chris Evans for a bit before we will go home. And in a couple of months, we will go to the premier of the movie together.”

Oliver puckered his lips, wrapping his arms around Felicity’s shoulders and dipping his head down, so his forehead touched hers. He let her presence calm him down and relax him. He could almost feel the tension leaving his shoulders when he let out a long sigh.

“You forgot something.”

“Really?” Felicity asked, closing her eyes and letting out a sigh of her own. “What did I forget?”

“The hot sex we will have on our way home.”

“On our way home?” Felicity chuckled, throwing her head back. “Someone is feeling very honeymoon-y today.”

“I don’t remember us having sex in the back of a limousine on our honeymoon.”

“True.” Felicity grinned. “It might be the only place we didn’t have sex in our-“

“Gross.”

Snapping his head around, Oliver found William standing in the door with his nose scrunched up and an expression of disgust on his face. Oliver bit his tongue, while Felicity blushed.

“William,” he hurried to say then, clearing his throat, “I didn’t hear you.”

“Which you should have,” Felicity whispered, “or are you too old for ninja senses?”

Oliver pinched Felicity’s side playfully. She giggled under her breath before she stepped out of his arms and turned back to the mirror, so she could put on her earrings.

“I just wanted to let you know that the limousine is already waiting for you.”

“Thanks.” Oliver nodded his head. “We’ll be down in a minute. Are you sure you don’t want to join us?”

“Absolutely.” William’s face told Oliver that his son had never been surer of anything. “I’ll stay here and have a fun night with my siblings. I’ll show them all the good movies of my childhood.”

“They are going to love it.” Felicity grabbed her purse, stepped to William and kissed his cheek. “We are always happy when you use your weekends to visit us rather than hang out with your friends. And your siblings love it too.”

“So do I.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I can still go partying next week or whenever. Tonight, I am happy to spend time with the kids.”

Felicity shot him another smile before she turned back to Oliver briefly. “I’ll just check on Mia once more before I go down and make sure the kids have everything.”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

While Felicity was leaving already, Oliver pushed his hands into the pockets of his pants once more and strolled over to William. Just like Felicity had told William before, Oliver was quite happy to have his oldest son home this often too. When he had chosen to study at the other end of the US, Oliver had feared that they might grow apart like most kids and their parents did at least temporarily from time to time. He was glad to know that it wasn’t like that at all.

“Are you sure you are getting along alone with the kids? Raisa offered to stay home from her-“

William shook his head. “I’ve always gotten along well with the little ones, so no need for any help. Half of them is going to be fast asleep before ten anyway.”

“True.” Oliver chuckled. “But in case anything happens or you just feel like you’ve had enough or whatever, you-“

“-will definitely not call you and cut Felicity’s time with Chris Evans short. I could never be that desperate.”

Oliver puckered his lips. “She told you about Chris Evans?”

“In all details.” William grinned. “I guess you would like for her time with him to be cut short?”

Oliver huffed. “I’m above such things. I mean why would I care about Christ Evans and – yeah, I wish she wouldn’t run into him at all.”

William chuckled. “It’s fun watching you two, you know? It’s one of the reasons I like to come here.”

“Thanks.” Oliver smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.”

A brief moment of silence passed as they seemed to be bonding without saying a word. Their relationship hadn’t started easily. They had missed out on a lot of time together, and Oliver had already had Emmy and Tommy when William had joined the family. Somehow, it had just worked out nonetheless. It had worked out even better than Oliver could have ever expected. He didn’t really understand it, but he was glad that things were just like that.

“Why don’t we go to Big Belly Burgers tomorrow for lunch before you go back to Boston?” Oliver asked. “We could… catch up…”

“Sure.” William smiled, nodding his head. “Sounds great. Besides, I-“

Oliver heard quick footsteps coming down the hallway, and a moment later, Millie appeared in the doorframe. She was already in her fleecy pajamas, her dark curls framing her heart-shaped face.

“Mommy says you need to hurry, or she’s gonna do things to you. It didn’t sound like it was going to be nice things.”

“Mom wants to see Chris Evans,” William said, wiggling his eyebrows towards Oliver, “so you should indeed hurry.”

“Chris Evans is looking yummy.”

Oliver frowned, looking at his five-year-old daughter. “Yummy?”

Millie shrugged her shoulders. “Emmy said it.”

“You have all conspired against me.”

Oliver tousled Millie’s hair before he went past her out of the bedroom. William picked up Millie and followed him downstairs where Felicity was already waiting for him.

“There you are, Mister,” she said, narrowing her eyes on him, “and I was thinking that you were trying to play for time.”

“I wouldn’t dare to.”

Oliver grabbed Felicity’s coat from the wardrobe and helped her getting into it before he grabbed his own coat and put it on. Doing so, he stepped into the doorframe towards the living room and shot a look at the kids. William and Millie had already joined Emmy, Tommy and Addie on the couch where they were tucked under blankets between bowls of snacks and a snoring Yumi as well as Hawk, who had stretched out on the couch. William had brought them to increase everyone’s enthusiasm about his favorite childhood movies.

“We will go now,” he said, “so William’s in charge. William, if anything is going on-“

“-he already know not to call us,” Felicity ended his sentence.

Oliver sighed. Why did he deserve that?

William chuckled. “I have all the security numbers, know all there is to know about the security system and it’s not the first time I am alone with all of my siblings.”

“Besides, we are not babies anymore,” Tommy added, “well, except for Millie, but she’s asleep already.”

“You have everything under control,” Felicity said, grabbing Oliver’s hand, “perfect. We will go now. Have a great night!”

“You too,” the kids replied in chorus.

“I won’t have,” Oliver mumbled.

Felicity turned around to him without stopping in her steps. She grinned mischievously.

“But I will.”

Oliver sighed. He had already feared that.

→ → → → →

Sipping at her champagne, Felicity looked around the room. Almost two hundred people had been invited to Grell Museum to celebrate the new vigilante laws and raise money for charity. There were no famous paintings covering the walls. Instead, there were amateur paintings – some by children younger than Emmy, others by teenage or adult amateur artists and even a few ones by elderlies – everywhere. They would be auctioned later tonight.

Felicity recognized most of the people. A lot of them had been to some of their charity events before. With the changes the city and therefore their family were facing, Felicity had run a security check on everyone on their guest list. It had just seemed safer this way.

Between all the faces she knew and didn’t know – there was one that she was still missing.

She knew that Chris Evans was there already. The atmosphere had shifted when he had entered the building. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who was eager to meet that actor. Since he had asked to be treated as one of many guests instead of some kind of honorary guest or special guest, Felicity had decided to not go looking for him and to just wait until she was running into him instead.

That had been half an hour ago though, so she was getting kind of impatient now.

Straightening up onto the tips of her toes slightly, Felicity tried to get a better view on the people further in the back. Since Chris Evans, despite his godlike looks, didn’t come with a halo to shine down on him like a spotlight, she didn’t catch sight of him though.

Maybe if she just…

“Don’t even think about it.”

Oliver’s voice was a low whisper in her ear. His arm wrapped around her waist possessively, pulling her back against his side after she had moved like three inches away before. His lips brushed against her temple briefly, but she could see him scanning the crowd of people. One could almost believe that Oliver was just as eager to see Chris Evans as Felicity was. Felicity knew better than to ask him about that though.

Turning around to Oliver, Felicity leaned against his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck loosely. She angled her head, looking at him with a soft smile. Occasions like these were always busy. They had arrived here more than two hours ago, and this was the first moment they had all for themselves.

“What?” Oliver asked, wrapping his arms around her waist and swaying her from side to side to the rhythm of the music playing quietly in the background. “What are you thinking about?”

“Just you.” Felicity smiled. “Always you.”

Her smile was mirrored on Oliver’s face. He touched his forehead with hers and leaned in to kiss her.

“Well, you and Chris Evans.”

Oliver released a mixture of a groan and a chuckle. He shook his head and pinched her side playfully. It was the most relaxed she had seen him these last days. She knew that the experience of feeling forced to surrender himself to the police and the feeling of helplessness that he had experienced while they had been facing one disaster after the other had left its marks on him. Unlike the scars he had gotten during his five years away, these ones couldn’t be seen easily.

Felicity, however, did see them. She knew Oliver long enough to realize when there were new scars on him. It wasn’t the only reason though. She carried the same scars, so it was even easier for her to recognize them on Oliver.

Since he had been pardoned by the president and returned to their family, he had done everything possible to take back control and fix the damages Rose Blood’s attacks had left on the city and their family. For the soul, it wasn’t that easy though.

“You know what we should do for Thanksgiving this year?” Felicity asked.

Oliver perked up his eyebrows. “Shoot.”

“We should get away for a couple of days. You, me and the kids. And Hawk.”

Oliver nodded slowly. “That’s actually a good idea. I think we could all need some time away.”

“Absolutely. And we deserve it too.”

“That,” Oliver said pointedly and raised his glass, “is something we should definitely toast to.”

They clinked their glasses. Looking into each other’s eyes, they took some sips. Felicity could almost see them doing the exact same thing on Bali or somewhere closer since they would only be able to get away for a couple of days. God, they could just lock themselves in an apartment right out of town and that would be great too. They just needed to get out of Starling for a couple of days and just be private people. A family.

“I hope I don’t interrupt.”

Oliver and Felicity both turned their heads to see Bruce approaching them slowly. He had one hand pushed into the pocket of his pants, while he was holding a glass of champaign in his other hand.

“Bruce.” Felicity smiled, stepped closer and kissed his cheek. “I am happy you’re here. I thought you couldn’t make it.”

Bruce shrugged his shoulders. “I just paid more than I was originally willing to pay and took my jet to come here. I was feeling in the right mood for a party.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Felicity smiled, stepping back at Oliver’s side. “I know you have your parties in Gotham too, but everything’s a little more friendly here. I think you should spend more time in friendly environments.”

“Are you suggesting I should move to Starling?”

“Sure.” Felicity grinned. “Close Wayne Enterprise and come work for me.”

Bruce perked up his eyebrows and shot Oliver a glance. “How much has she been drinking?”

Oliver didn’t get to answer.

Chuckling about Bruce’s question, Felicity had looked around the room. She hadn’t really been searching for anything, but she had found something – or rather someone – none the less. Gasping for breath, she grabbed Oliver’s arm.

“There he is,” she whispered almost reverently. “God, doesn’t he look good?”

Felicity could hear Oliver’s heavy sigh, but she was even too distracted to be amused about it. Chris Evan looked even hotter in person than he looked in movies or photos or whatever. She wasn’t even very close to him yet, but he looked incredibly good already. She couldn’t wait to see him.

“Who… is she looking at?” Bruce asked, audibly confused.

“Chris Evans.”

“Who?”

Tearing her eyes open, Felicity snapped her head around to look at Bruce. “Did you just honestly ask who Chris Evans is?”

Bruce shot Oliver a brief glance, but he hid his grin behind sipping at his glass of champagne and didn’t help Bruce out of the situation.

“Chris Evans is the epitome of a handsome and yet perfectly down-to-earth and utterly nice guy,” Felicity explained urgently, “and he is going to play Oliver in the movie about his life.”

“A movie about your life?” Bruce asked, looking almost a little mockingly at Oliver. “Really?”

Felicity thrusted her glass of champagne into Oliver’s hand and moved her fingers over her dress to make sure there were no visible wrinkles. Pushing her shoulders back and eying her target, she started approaching him.

“You can discuss that while I will get to meet him.”

With that, she was gone. Oliver and Bruce watched her cross the room and approach the actor she admired so much. He had his back turned towards her, but Felicity didn’t even hesitate for the beat of a second before she bumped into him slightly. The next moment, they were both laughing, shaking hands and engaging in a conversation.

Oliver shook his head, downing the rest of his own glass of champagne before lifting Felicity’s glass to his lips. This was the stuff nightmares were made off.

“I didn’t know Felicity was that good at picking up guys.” Bruce frowned. “I don’t like it.”

“The fact that she is into him like that is bad enough, but the fact that he’s on her three-list is-“

“Her what?”

“Her three-list.” Oliver rolled his eyes. “The list of people you are allowed to have sex with, and it doesn’t count as cheating.”

Bruce looked at Oliver with utter bewilderment. “What?”

Oliver frowned. “I think you knew about the existence of that kind of list.”

“Certainly not.”

“I am sure Felicity even told you that you were on hers once.”

Bruce almost choked on his champaign hearing it. The bewildered expression on his face only grew more intense.

“I was on- How- Why-?”

“You were on it, but she crossed you off the list as soon as she knew that she was going to meet you and work with you,” Oliver explained with a sigh and shrugged his shoulders. “And I am still sure that she told you about it.”

Bruce turned his head to look at Felicity once more and shook his head. The bewilderment turned into disbelief now.

“I can’t believe she just crossed me off.”

“Had she met you this far into our marriage instead of a couple of years, she definitely wouldn’t have crossed you off.”

“That’s like twisting the knife in my chest.” Bruce scrunched up his nose before he turned to look at Oliver. “Did you recognize that list? I mean is there some kind of contractual agreement that Felicity can actually sleep with Chris Evans without it being counted as cheating?”

Oliver looked at Bruce like he had lost his sanity. Given the question he had just asked, Oliver would actually be more surprised if Bruce hadn’t lost his mind.

“If she as much as breathes too closely to him, he will disappear and never be seen again.”

“Good.” Bruce nodded sinisterly. “I will help if it comes that far.”

Oliver downed his glass before he put it away on the tray of a waiter that walked past him. He shot another look towards Felicity and Chris Evans and, yes, he was sure that this was cause nightmares for a couple of weeks.

“Do you think we should be jealous?” Bruce asked, leaning a little closer. “I feel like we should be jealous.”

Oliver looked at Bruce, who was looking at Felicity and Chris Evans like he was the husband watching his wife flirting with a guy she had a crush on. Oliver just shook his head.

He had said it to Bruce once and he still felt it now – He couldn’t blame any guy for falling for Felicity. He had fallen for her too because she was just stunning.

→ → → → →

The last guests had left and Oliver had even sent the staff away, telling them to just clean up tomorrow because it was already late and the staff had done such a good job, they certainly were tired and deserved their rest. Now there was only an intimate circle left – the heroes and vigilantes or Starling, Central City and Gotham.

Oliver looked around the people that had been with him on this ride for the past fifteen years. John and Felicity had joined first were still the two people closest to him. Thea, Roy, Laurel and Curtis had become part of the team one by one, and without them Oliver would have never had the time to be the dad or the mayor that he was. Tommy, who knew him the longest, had returned from the dead and found his way into the family too. Felicity had found her brother Dominic and he had joined the team. Then there was the Central City squad – Barry, Caitlin, Cisco and Iris – who had made vigilantism more than just a Starling City-phenomenon. And of course there was Bruce, who had been through his own trauma and somehow had chosen to step on a path quite similar to Oliver’s, just that Oliver had already left that path.

Tonight might have been another celebration for his victory and Starling City’s victory, but it was also a celebrity of the bond they had formed with each other and the work all of them had done in their respective homes. At least it should be a celebration of that, so Oliver would make it that.

Getting behind the bar, Oliver grabbed some bottle of champagnes and poured some glasses that he put on a tray. He was used to drinks being served to him since he was a child. Tonight he’d be the one to serve drinks.

Once everything was ready, Oliver clinked two glasses together repeatedly until he had everyone’s attention.

“Don’t worry,” Oliver said, “I won’t bore you with a long speech. I just wanted to take the time and thank all of you. None of this would have been possible without you, and I think this isn’t just my victory. It’s all of our victory. And more importantly, all of this wouldn’t mean anything if it wasn’t for the friends I gained on the way. The mission and what it had turned into is a big thing, but us – our friendship and family – is just as big a thing. And I think we should just take a moment to toast to that.”

Oliver grabbed the tray – holding it in both hands just to be sure – and offered the champagne to his family and friends. He took the last glass for himself and put the tray away. He then raised his glass, looking at his friends.

“Here’s to all of us,” Oliver said, “and to our personal missions and our urge to protect our cities. But most importantly, here is to friendship.” They clinked their glasses and celebrated the fact that they were all here together. They had come together as people with the same vision for their city, and now they were one big family. If that wasn’t something to be celebrated, what else was?

[tau1tvec]

Apparently the Met Gala is a fundraiser for the Metropolitan Museum of Art's Costume Institute. Which explains the constant themes and creativity but it’s just to the museum which is disappointing considering the amount of money that’s spent on entrance and a table alone.

That is disappointing, and it’s a huge historic museum that draws a lotta tourism, so they’re also making bank on entrance fees, other charity events, and merch too. I’m sure they’ve done stuff to help others and the art industry, but 75k is quite literally how much my husband and I bring home in a year, jointly before taxes, and we still can’t see home ownership in our future.

The rich are riching as usual.