#fanfic: what you gave me

[originalhybridloverfics-backup]

Ch6 What You Gave Me

It was almost a week before Oliver went to see Laurel again. He had every intention of telling her nothing more was going to happen between them again. 

Her smile was bright when she answered the door and she hugged him as if she hadn’t seen him in months and proceeded to pull him inside. 

A weight settled in his stomach as she went straight to ordering takeout for two. 

Oliver swallowed tightly. He would give her a little time before telling her that they were over romantically. 

He would be there for her as a friend, but nothing more. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Oliver was coming to regret not saying what he came to say the moment Laurel opened her door. 

Laurel went on treating the night like they were on a date. Candles, Chinese food, recalling old memories with Tommy, him and her in highschool while flipping through a photo album, sharing a glass of wine in front of the fireplace. 

“This is good, isn’t it?” Laurel leaned her body into him, her head against his shoulder. “Us?” 

Oliver’s stomach twisted. “Laurel-” 

She pulled back to smile at him. “The city is on the road to recovery. CNRI is already talking about rebuilding. We’re together.” She gripped his hand in hers. “I’m so excited for the future, Ollie. The possibilities are endless for us.” 

Oliver’s stomach rolled, and he pulled his hand from hers. “Laurel, stop.” 

However, Laurel continued as if he hadn’t spoken, as if he didn’t pull away. “We can find a place together.” 

“Enough, Laurel.” Oliver stood, putting some much needed space between them. “This isn’t why I came here.” 

Laurel stood and smiled slowly. “I know why you came here, same old Ollie.” She reached for the button on his jeans. 

Oliver caught her hand and stepped back. “No, I am not the same person. Laurel, this is not going to work.” 

Laurel frowned. “Ollie, I don’t understand.” 

“I didn’t come over here tonight to rekindle things with you. I came here to end it.” 

Shocked covered Laurel’s features. “You don’t mean that.” 

“When we had sex, it was a mistake.” Oliver continued, needing to get it all out. 

“We made love.” Laurel protested, trying and failing to close the space between them. 

“You have to be in love to make love.” Oliver’s eyes looked remorseful. “I’m sorry, Laurel, but I’m not in love with you.” 

Oliver wasn’t sure if he ever was, but he chose to keep that bit of honesty to himself. He didn’t want to be cruel. 

He watched as Laurel’s eyes filled with anger. “You are unbelievable. If you didn’t love me, why did you sleep with me? Why do you keep coming back to me?” 

“Because with you, it’s a sure thing.” Oliver answered. “I get lonely and being with you helps for a little while until it doesn’t. The truth is, you’re safe, predictable. I’m not risking anything. I’m not putting myself out there. My heart isn’t on the line.” 

“When you come to me, you know I won’t turn you away.” Laurel’s frowned deepened into a scowl. “You are still the same Ollie you were when you left with my sister, ruining everything you touch. You need to grow up, Ollie, before it’s too late. I won’t always wait for you.” 

Oliver grabbed his jacket, stepping toward the door. “I don’t want you to wait for me.” 

Her words hurt and were a knife in his chest. He was not Ollie. He was not the same man who left with Sara Lance. 

He knew that, but there was some truth to her words, too. 

Everyone whose life he’s touched is left in ruins, or worse.  

Tommy was dead, and Felicity was doing everything she could to keep going. His mom was in jail. Over 500 people were dead because he failed to do the one thing he came back home to do. Protect his city. He failed it. 

He was like a cancer. 

The city, his sister, John, Felicity they would all be better off if he just disappeared again. 

He couldn’t ruin their lives if he was no longer a part of it. 

No one needed him. It would be better if he was just gone. 

It really should’ve been him that died instead of Tommy. 

“Ollie, you’re a real sonofabitch, you know that?” Laurel called after him angrily. “I said it before and I’ll say it again. You should have died on that island. I wish it had been you that had died instead of Tommy.” 

Oliver opened her door and paused to look back at her. Her skin was flushed and her eyes showed anger, her words like venom imbedding into his heart and most inner thoughts. 

“Sometimes,” his voice was soft with honesty and acceptance. “I wish I did too.” 

Oliver closed the door behind him and heard a glass shatter after smashing into it. 

He put one foot in front of the other. 

He needed to leave. Not just Laurel but Starling City. 

He needed to go somewhere he couldn’t hurt anyone else he cared about. 

Not John. Not Thea. And not Felicity. 

He promised Tommy he would look after Felicity but the best thing he could do for her was remove himself from her life and so with a heavy heart he made the decision to return to Lian Yu. 

His nightmare. His punishment. His Purgatory. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Felicity walked down the green path littered with head stones, her steps slow and measured. 

It had taken her time to work up the nerve to come here. It was just so hard. Especially now. 

In a few minutes, she stopped at Tommy’s grave and placed pink roses on his grave. 

It was the first kind of flower he had given her, claiming they had made him think of that one shade of lipstick she wore and never failed to steal his focus. 

Now the pink color roses made her think of him. She thought he would appreciate the significance of the gesture. 

“Hi.” she said softly. “I wish I didn’t have to be standing here right now. You have no idea how much I miss you.” Felicity’s voice broke, her eyes burning with unshed tears. “I knew I loved you, but I didn’t realize just how much until you were taken from me.” 

She pulled the coat she wore around her tighter. Tommy’s coat. It still smelled just like him. His scent was another push into her grief. 

A ball formed in her throat, making it hard to swallow, to breathe. Silent tears slipped down her cheeks. 

“It’s the little things I missed most. The touch of your hand, the way you would hold me, the press of your lips against my skin. The feel of your arms around me. Your smile and the way your eyes shined when you looked at me and your voice.” 

Felicity exhaled shakily. “God, I miss the sound of your voice so much.” 

Felicity wiped at her tears. 

“I really wished I would’ve listened to you and stay in bed that day. I know a lot more people would have died, but you would still be here. That may make me selfish and an awful person, but I can’t bring myself to care because at least you would be alive.” 

Felicity took a deep breath. 

“There was so much we talked about doing together. But one of the things we never talked about was kids.”

Her hand drifted to her stomach, her palm laying flat against her abdomen. 

“I wish I could’ve known if you would be happy about this. I think you would’ve been, but I can’t know for sure. That kills me a little on the inside and honestly doing this without you, alone, it scares me and that’s me putting it mildly.” 

The wind rustle, feeling the wind against her skin. 

If she closed her eyes and pictured his face, his eyes, his smile, she could almost pretend it was his hand caressing her skin and not the wind. 

“Regardless, I promise our child will know who you are and how much I love you, even if you didn’t know yourself.” She ran her hand over his headstone. “I’ll always love you.”

[sylkhi]

“You already left kudos here” and the passive agressive “ :) ” like okay??? Yeah and so what about it? What if I want to leave 2 more? Or 5???

[anonymouscheeses]

I'm gonna be shitting and screaming and starting fights if Sera becomes a villain. I can't take sibling angst, Sera loves Emily I swear guys believe meeee.

[pastafossa]

Charlie Cox experience at Philly Fan Expo 2023

So LET”S TALK ABOUT ME MEETING CHARLIE. I’m actually going to make two posts - this one just about my experiences with Charlie, because they were incredibly meaningful and deserve their own post, and then another one about the rest of the con!

I’m going to talk about Charlie first, because of how amazing the experience was, one of the best I’ve had, especially at the autograph table. I’ve done photos, gotten autographs and such before from other celebs - from niche voice actors I loved to people like David Tennant - but this felt Really Really Big. Obviously, I was nervous as all hell because holy shit Charlie Cox, my favorite actor whose work altered the course of my life. I won’t lie - I’d been practicing what to say to him in case I freaked out, but I’m happy to say that everyone who reassured me it would go great, because he was so, so genuine and kind, were right.

The photo op happened first (and thank you to everyone on tumblr guiding me where to go, cause I was LOST about where that was happening), and that went fast. By that point in the con hall, I’d already ditched my Jessica Jones jacket and gloves cause holy shit it’s hot and I am a creature of snow and ice, and my hair was a mess, but honestly I didn’t care, cause there he is. You don’t get long, but he made the most of it and he was SO sweet. Ya’ll, he asked my name, said my name as he shook my hand, and called me ‘my dear’ in that beautiful voice.

I was literally on the moon, but it was time for the big question:

Will he hold the red thread from TRT?

So in a quiet, nervous, soft author voice, I asked, ‘would you be ok with holding this end of the thread?’

HE FUCKING DID.

HE HELD IT.

HE HELD. THE. RED. THREAD.

I’m fairly certain he doesn’t know about the fic at this point - he wasn’t sure where to hold it until I told him, but he loved that it lit up! AND THEN HE PUT HIS ARM AROUND ME AND I GOT TO PUT MY ARM AROUND HIM BACK.

I’m fairly certain I’m dead in the photo. My soul had left my body. I had ascended. I saw Jesus and he looked like Charlie. I had achieved fic author heights never imagined. My brain filled with enough serotonin and dopamine to sink a ship. I didn’t care that I was hot and sweaty or that my hair was messy or that my cosplay didn’t work out like I’d planned. I had been blessed.

also look at that forearm holy shit

I floated outta that gd room ya’ll. I’m pretty sure @wonderlandmind4​ did the same. WE FROLICKED OUT OF THAT HALL LIKE

But things got even better at the autograph table, and I had one of the most touching experiences ever.

not me tearing up thinking about it.

That line was long, but I kept getting glimpses of him and I could already tell he was enjoying interacting with people, and he was making sure everyone got their bit of time with him instead of letting anyone rush people through. He was so happy looking, laughing and grinning, high fives and fist bumps for kids, chatting with fans. Which made me feel a little more confident.

I know some people wondered if I’d tell him about TRT, and I’d already decided I wasn’t going to. Instead, I really, really wanted just a second to tell him what his work as Daredevil had meant for me, as someone who became disabled around the same time Matt did as a kid, and who related to... a lot of what Matt went through in the show. I’d practiced it over and over again, and there was only a fifty percent chance I wouldn’t start crying while telling him, and I wasn’t even sure I’d have time to tell him depending on how much time we had.

He made time.

I got up to him with my art print holy shit he’s even more beautiful in person and his eyes are STUNNING. He said hi, and asked my name so he could personalize the autograph if I wanted (DUH, YES PLEASE), and he apologized about the line after we shook hands. I jokingly told him it was fine since I’d driven hours to get here. A little time in line wasn’t a bother. He even loved one of the buttons on my lanyard - the button of Matt wearing a heart crown specifically! And as he was writing, I knew this was my chance to tell him. He was still signing, so I just decided to go for it in case I ran out of time.

“I just wanted to tell you,” I said quietly, “as someone who became disabled as a kid around the same age as Matt did—”

And then he did something I didn’t expect, something I’d rarely seen anyone do, famous or not, and something I’d never had an actor or artist do for me.

He immediately set down the pen, leaned in close over the table, and made direct eye contact, while giving me the most genuine, gentle, encouraging smile I’d ever seen.

In that moment, I knew everything in him was listening, that he cared about what I was about to say and recognized that this was important to me, and that he’d closed the distance to make this conversation just... us. It felt personal in a way I’ve never experienced at a con or signing.  

Just like that, I wasn’t afraid to tell him what I’d wanted to.

“And as someone who related to... a lot of what Matt went through, his struggles in the show, and especially the dark parts of season 3,” I said, more confidently now, “I wanted you to know that all the work you put in, the way you played it, the way you played Matt and treated it seriously, seeing that helped me process and heal from a lot of my own trauma and pain over what I’ve gone through with my illnesses. What you did was important and it really helped me. So I wanted you to know that, how much that meant to me, and to say thank you.”

The whole time I spoke to him, he kept direct eye contact, and didn’t look away once. He didn’t get antsy, or look like he wanted me to hurry up (which I’d have understood, cause damn, these are long days for him). He listened, fully engaged and leaning in, his eyes warm and soft and kind but incredibly serious. I’m not sure how often he’s been told something like this—a lot, I expect; his portrayal was just that good, and I know it was important to a lot of fans—but what I was trying to tell him clearly meant something to him. I felt heard, seen, and understood.

Charlie really does care about his fans. It isn’t an act. I’m sure of it now.

“Thank you, truly,” he said, just as quietly but with that honest smile, eye crinkles and all, and seeing it in person, that close up, I swear the room felt ten times brighter. “Thank you for coming to tell me that. It means a lot, the idea that something I did meant so much and that it could help you. I’m so grateful that you were able to come visit and tell me.”

We shook hands after that. He wished me a good day and I told him thank you again, and that was that. The interaction only lasted maybe a minute, but it meant the absolute world to me, as did what he’s done as Daredevil. And now he knows that.

[xhanisai]

I was discussing this in the server but I feel like sharing it here too.

I don’t feel like we talk about the umbrella scene enough regarding Adrien’s point of view and that’s a crime! People argue about whether the feelings he develops for Marinette are romantic or platonic in this moment but I believe that isn’t important.

What’s important is how he’s opened his heart to this stranger who assumed the worst of him and in return created a unique, unbreakable connection that he’s always dreamed of having. A friend! It was at this moment that he opened up his heart to Marinette and kept it open, evident in how he’s always tried to initiate conversation with her or interact with her with baby steps. The admiration he has of her starts from the umbrella scene and hasn’t stopped growing since that day.

I feel like it’s really beautiful. 

And I wish more people in the fandom appreciated it too.

[steveandbuckysdaughter]

Personal review regarding what if…? season 2 episode 8 (spoilers)

No ok, I must admit, the episode was good in some aspects.

Wanda was majestic. Loki and Scott were hilarious and I loved every single moment with them.

Thor was amazing, dark and serious out of loss but still enjoyable, and the crumbs of his relationship with Hela were very nice.

I’ve actually liked Tony for the very first time in my life, probably because I tend to like him a lot more in AUs and fanfictions than I do in the normal timeline.

And then… there were those two.

I will never comprehend why marvel wants Steve to be so dependent on Peggy. And I will never comprehend why, to make him interact with her, they have to destroy or sideline every other relationship he has built, or make his character flat.

Bucky being friends with Scott was amazing, but the fact that him and Steve interacted like two times was extremely disappointing. You’d expect “best friends in every universe”, if you dislike the romantic pairing so much, to acknowledge themselves for more than a few scenes, in only one of which they’re in frame together (Bucky was literally 😐 while his best friend disappeared, come on now).

And the storyline about Peggy coming from another world to save the universe was just… Mbah. It could’ve been executed in another way without including her and it still would have made sense. It really feels like a Y/N insert.

Seeing literally any other character was so good, so fun, and they had to ruin it this way, making Peggy once again the self insert and girlboss she didn’t need to be.

Plus, forgive my constant complaining, but it’s extremely infuriating how all of Steve’s friends were eliminated to put the focus solely on Peggy. Where’s Sam? Where’s Nat? Where’s Clint? It’s not an underrated friendship we’re talking about, a big chunk of the fandom loves the cap quartet or team cap, and after civil war it would have been nice to see them interact, especially after its popularity and popular demand. Outlaw team cap would have been glorious, a good chance to bring back many characters who aren’t here anymore in the right way, and involve characters that are rarely involved in What if in the storyline, for a change.

The treatment of Sam in this series particularly angers me, and even more so in this episode. I understand not involving him in other storylines, but Sam was a big part of CATWS and he wasn’t even in the episode centered on that film. What, because Steve met him while running he can’t be introduced in any other way? And oh, there’s no excuse for this episode. If there was one episode they could have placed Sam in, it was this one. Sam was there in infinity war, where the mess happened, and he should have been with the other avengers in this one.

If marvel wanted to involve someone from another universe so bad, it should have been a Captain America Sam from another universe. Can you imagine the poetry of seeing Steve and Nat again after endgame? Can you imagine having closure with them both, and having fun in the process? It would have been so great.

Another great storyline without involving characters from other universes would have been one where Steve, who touched the time stone, accidentally brought everyone in the past, and he was the only one to remember it. And to go back and prevent everyone’s distraction, he had to recruit the avengers, who don’t know him and don’t trust him but that in the end become his friends and companions. It would have been so interesting to see the original avengers involved in something different from being some side characters or extras in the one woman show that seems to be What if, constantly centered around the same bland, one dimensional reimagined side character. Peggy’s blandness is so obvious in these episodes (aside for some random remarks that made me smile) that literally everyone who’s involved directly with her must be bland like her, otherwise risking to overshadow her.

I don’t think I was supposed to cringe and look away as much as I did during Steggy’s forced scenes, but I did. If they had to force Steggy and Peggy down our throats, at least they could have done something different from the same bland and boring storyline as always. I wouldn’t be as mad as I am now if Peggy and Steve’s relationship wasn’t as bland. I would have preferred an enemies to lovers type of twist or change, where Steve doesn’t trust Peggy and struggles with her because he sees in her a different version of the Peggy that died in that universe. But noooo, god forbid, let’s go with the same old song.

An episode five or ten minutes longer with a better, avengers-centric or Steve-centric storyline would have been much better than what we got.

And given that this was my most anticipated episode, I was very disappointed by it. I hope for the next seasons, if there’s other ones, Marvel will listen to the general complaint regarding Peggy and will give her a break. I don’t think any of the original avengers or relevant MCU characters made as much appearances as Peggy, and being a main focus in four episodes out of nine is ridiculous.

[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlights prompt enemies to lovers/opposite sides of a conflict? Depending on how serious the conflict is, it can be fluffy or angsty :)

The lights flicker above his head. Danny swallows roughly, trying to quiet his breathing as much as possible. It would be so much easier if he could just stop breathing completely, to use his powers to disappear from sight, slip around the rest of them and take them all out. 

His palms are sweating. Taking another steadying breath, Danny tightens his grip on the gun, shifting just slightly where he’s crouched, hidden out of sight. 

He can’t hear anything beyond his own rapid heartbeat, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe. The Bats thrive in silence and darkness, and this messy warehouse with its stacked shelving units is full of places for them to hide, waiting for him to cross their sights. 

There’s no one left to help him.

Danny’s on his own. 

No powers, he tells himself firmly. He has to do this as a regular human. The Bats will know otherwise, and he can’t risk it. Just remember what Mom taught you.

The lights flicker again, then go out completely. 

Now! 

Danny springs away from his hiding spot, searching the darkness for any movement. The Bats like to go up high, so he follows suit, sticking close to a wall as he scales his way up a shelving unit. Every moment sounds so loud, like a clap of thunder in the dead of night, and the back of his neck prickles with the feeling of being watched. 

He was never going to out run them. He can’t hide from them. The least he can do is take out as many of them as he can before they shoot him down.

His only saving grace is that Black Bat isn’t here. Last he saw, she was heading down a different street, chasing someone else. As long as he makes his move before she returns, there’s still a chance he can get out of the warehouse and try to escape them again. 

The clouds above Gotham drift apart, allowing the pale moonlight to shine down on the city. Moonlight streams in through the large windows and Danny moves to stay in the shadows, as out of sight as he can manage. He keeps moving, refusing to stay still; if they want to get him, then he’s going to do all he can to make it as difficult as possible. 

The top of the shelving unit is steady. Danny keeps one hand out, close to the wall, as he creeps across it, looking out over the entire warehouse. 

He’s close to the entrance now. All he has to do is drop down and run, and then he’s back out in the streets, no longer trapped in an enclosed space with some Bats. 

Danny reaches the edge of the shelving unit and prepares to jump when he sees a movement in the corner of his eye. Reacting instinctively, he throws himself out into the air, twisting to aim his gun at the flash of purple tucked against the side of a shelf. 

He shoots, one shot after the other, until he lands on the ground in a messy roll. 

Spoiler curses as she ducks away, sending a few return shots of her own, but with her hiding behind the shelf, taking cover. “Just give up!” she shouts at him, “We’ll get you sooner or later!”

“You were supposed to be on my side!” he returns, firing another shot before turning on his heel to sprint away.

“Plans change! Now I have a reason to take you down.”

Which means Black Bat got a hold of Spoiler earlier and got her to change allegiances. It must have been right before he reached the warehouse, still believing Spoiler to be on his side and frantically having to dodge her attacks before they lost each other in the labyrinth of the warehouse. 

So, that’s another person after his head. 

The streets are quiet, a rare treat in Gotham. He’s the only one out, running through the streets like his life depends on it. No doubt Spoiler is right behind him, determined to take him down. He hasn’t seen any of the others for a while, but they have to be somewhere in the area. 

Danny ducks into an alley and scrambles up a fire escape. At least out in the open air, he can pass off a few impossible jumps as being really good at free running. 

He runs, crossing a few streets, and throws himself into a roll, hiding behind an AC unit when he hears more gunshots. 

From the cursing accompanying it, Red Hood must be near.

That’s good. That’s someone who is (presumably) still on his side. 

He follows the noise to the top of a bakery, where he catches a glimpse of a disgruntled looking woman scowling from the window. He offers her a sheepish grin as he climbs by the window, her startled jump turning into rolled eyes as she closes the blinds.  

He gets to the top of the bakery just in time to watch Red Hood pick up Robin and throw him at Nightwing, who drops his gun in order to catch the kid. Taking his chance, Danny crouches on the edge of the roof and aims.

Nightwing falls to the side to avoid it, but he doesn’t manage it in time. Robin takes the hit, still held by Nightwing and unintentionally used as a shield.

“Oops,” Nightwing says as Robin scowls and brings out a shuriken, trying to stab Nightwing in retaliation.

“Nice one, kid,” Red Hood says. He offers Danny a high five, which he happily returns.

The moment lasts for only a second before another shot rings out and Red Hood stumbles forward with a curse, a splatter of yellow paint on his back. 

The Signal swings by, scooping Danny up with an arm around his waist. Red Hood moves to follow, but Nightwing is on him again, their fight beginning again as Robin hops off the roof and disappears from sight.

“Let go!” Danny demands, trying to wiggle out of the Signal’s grip.

“No can do. I’m winning this. My share of Alfred’s cake depends on this.”

Unfortunately for the Signal, Danny’s share of Alfred’s cake also depends on his victory. He’s already got a few points by getting shots in on the other team, small splatters of white paint decorating their costumes, but not as much as the others. He’s also got paint all over him, mostly black and blue, but the game doesn’t end until the Point Person (Danny for his team, Damian for the other) is taken to the other team’s base.

Danny’s team set up their base on the thrift store at the end of their designated game area. He has no idea where Duke’s team has their base, and he doesn’t intend to find out any time soon.

“Sorry,” he says, then shoves a foot between Duke’s legs to slam his heel against a pressure point just below the knee. 

The Signal bites back a pained yell and hits the roof hard. They both go rolling across it, carried by the momentum of his swing. To add insult to injury, Danny gets back to his feet and shoots Duke point blank in the chest, then makes another run for it.

“No you don’t!” he hears Signal yell from behind him, followed by the heavy thud of footsteps. 

Danny jumps, making it onto the next roof, adrenaline rushing through him. He tries to find a way back to his team’s base, but the Signal doesn’t let him past, trapping him in. They dodge paint bullets from each other, moving back and forth as if dancing.

And because Danny has abysmal luck, he trips over his own feet when the Signal lunges at him and he tries to spin away from him. 

“Woah!” 

The Signal drops his gun to catch Danny, pulling him close and steadying him. Danny clutches to the Signal’s arms, his own gun pointed off to the side awkwardly. They end up pressed together, barely any space between their faces. 

They’re frozen there for a moment, staring at each other. This close, Danny can see through the visor of the Signal’s helmet, and Duke’s eyes are just as wide as his. 

“Caught you,” Signal breathes, and Danny’s gaze drops down to his lips. 

He’s sure his own feelings are clear and on display in the moment, but he can’t help it. They may be on opposing teams, but a hero is a hero and being saved by the Signal never fails to make danny’s heart skip a beat. 

He really needs to get his head in the game. He needs to push the Signal away and try to get back to his own team. He needs to win so he can steal Duke’s share of Alfred’s cake. 

The Signal tightens his grip on Danny’s waist and leans in just a little, barely noticeable.

But Danny notices.

Fuck it, he thinks. 

Before he can overthink it, before his nerve get the better of him, before anyone swings by and interrupts, Danny closes the distance between them and kisses Duke. 

It’s just a soft, small peck. He pulls back almost immediately, cheeks flushed red, but doesn’t go far before Duke is kissing him again and again and again.

“Now is not the time, lover birds!” Spoiler shouts. They startle apart, giddy grin on their faces. Danny turns to see her land on the roof with her hands on her hips, waggling her eyebrows suggestively, and knows that neither of them are going to live this down any time soon. Nightwing and Red Hood follow soon after, trying to tackle each other, and almost bowl over Spoiler as Red Robin takes the opportunity to pop up out of nowhere, Black Bat on his tail, to shoot at Spoiler.

With all of them distracted, Danny shares a smile with Duke then darts back in for another kiss. 

Then he pulls back, shoots Signal again, and takes off with a laugh.

The game’s not over yet, but that’s not going to stop him from feeling like a winner anyways.

He is going to get that cake, though. Losing is not an option with Alfred’s baking on the line. Crush or not, Duke is going down.

[stoshasaurus]

i still cannot fucking draw feet and refuse to learn.

anyway, more work with poses and an experiment with cell shading and some half-tone brushes i have. this one actually turned out decent, the hands most of all.

[hear-that-music-in-the-air]

Helping Hand

My first RD fic! I haven't written proper fanfic in a hot minute but the little pixel people grabbed me by the throat and opened my google docs

Also shoutout to @nightmun for helping me visualize Ian's silly little mug

Summary: After seeing Ada struggle with the rhythm treatments, Ian comes up with a way to help her out.

Fic under the read-more :)

—

Dr. Edega loomed over her, his eyes boring into her back over the top of his clipboard.

"I expect better from you, Dr. Paige. Times are changing. If you can't keep up, then maybe you're not cut out for this job after all,” he said lowly.

Ada couldn't meet his gaze. Instead she stared down at her hands, balled into trembling fists, as her heart pounded in her ears. Burning tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she immediately felt ashamed, like a child being scolded.

She had messed up. She had been treating a patient with the rhythm defibrillator and started to panic as soon as she lost track of the tempo. Ian had frantically swooped in to take over and finished the treatment smoothly, while Ada had watched, feeling numb.

She was distantly aware of Ian pushing past her, positioning himself between her and Edega.

"D-Dr. Edega, sir—this is a very new, experimental treatment method. We're still working out the kinks and—and no one's going to be perfect at it right away."

"That's no excuse. There's no room for mistakes when lives are on the line. You both know that."

"N–Not every case we get is life-threatening," Ian said, and she was faintly surprised at the edge of anger creeping into his tone. "And she'll practice. She can—"

Edega pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"I don't care what she does as long as her performance improves. See to it that she receives more training as soon as possible. And keep looking for any bugs in the program in the meantime."

Ian opened his mouth to say something else, but was silenced by a single look from Edega. He shrunk into himself.

"Y–Yes, sir. Of course."

Edega turned on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving a heavy silence behind him. Ada didn't realize that she was still shaking until Ian placed a tentative hand on her shoulder.

"Ada?" His voice sounded so far away, as though he were speaking to her from underwater. She attempted to pull herself back, focusing on the warmth of his hand as a grounding point. She placed her own fingers unsteadily over his and gave him a tremulous smile.

“I’m…okay.”

Ian watched her face, brow furrowed in concern.

"He—he shouldn't speak to you like that. I—I hate it."

She sniffled and quickly swiped at the tears that were threatening to spill under her glasses. She took a deep breath and straightened, attempting to look professional instead of pathetic.

"No. He's right. We can't afford to make stupid mistakes in this line of work. And it’s not…it’s not just him.” She remembered the way the patient’s heart rate had spiked on the monitor when she missed a beat, and let out a shaky sigh. “I just...can't stop thinking about what might have happened if you weren't here."

Ian frowned.

"Ada. You can't go beating yourself up over what might have happened."

"Sure I can," she joked weakly. Ian didn't laugh.

"We're—we're all trying our best here," he continued. "And Edega doesn't see how much you do for the patients every day. He barely comes out of his office, and when he does it's only to—to reprimand us for something or other. Everyone else in this hospital loves you. You—you're a good doctor, Ada."

As she stared at him, all of the tears that she had swallowed came rising back up in her throat. She let her head fall against his shoulder with a soft thump, and a quiet sob escaped her. She felt Ian freeze for a moment, uncertain, before he awkwardly wrapped an arm around her. She leaned into the warmth.

"Sorry," he whispered. "Not really a hugger."

Ada let out a watery laugh.

"I know, doofus. Thank you."

She pulled back and tried in vain to wipe the tear stains from his coat.

“Ugh, I’m sorry. I’m crying all over you. This is gross.”

“Yeah, a little bit,” Ian said. “But that’s okay.”

Ada collapsed into a nearby chair, suddenly feeling indescribably exhausted. She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes before letting out another long sigh. Ian sat down next to her, awkwardly rubbing the back of his hand.

"Personalized care, comforting patients, that's what I'm good at,” Ada said. “You're the one who’s amazing at all the technical stuff.” 

She stared up into the harsh light of the overhead fluorescents, letting her vision go blurry. 

“All Edega seems to care about is getting people in and out of treatment as quickly as possible. Seems like if he has his way, pretty soon everything will be done remotely. I guess I just feel kind of useless,” she muttered.

“You’re not useless,” Ian said quietly.

Ada made a noncommittal sound.

“Like you said, there’s so many other things you’re good at. Trust me, Ada, we—we’ll always need you. You’re everyone’s favorite doctor. Otherwise, they’d all be stuck with me,” he joked.

She attempted to muster a smile, but she knew it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Ian frowned again and fell silent for a long moment, seemingly lost in thought. Then he stood abruptly, nearly startling her out of her seat.

“Oh! I—I might actually know a way to help you!” he cried, pacing excitedly. “M–Meet me in the basement when you come in tomorrow.”

Ada blinked up at him, baffled. “Oh…um…okay? What—?”

Ian was already gone, scurrying down the hallway towards the door that led to the basement. Ada shook her head bemusedly, before scooping up her clipboard from the nearby table to see which patient she needed to check on next. She took a moment and closed her eyes, mentally preparing for the rest of her shift. 

Deep breaths.

She heaved herself onto her feet, and set off in the other direction towards Cole’s room.

—

When she came down to the basement the next morning, Ian looked haggard, yawning and rubbing at his eyes under his glasses. When he saw her, however, he lit up in a smile and eagerly waved her over.

“Ada! Hey! C-Come here, I have something to show you.”

On his desk was the rhythm defibrillator device, and attached to it was a new button that she didn’t recognize.

“...What’s this?” she asked as she slowly descended the stairs.

Ian spun around in his chair to face her, gesturing enthusiastically.

“I was up all night testing this, but it—it works! Basically, it modulates the detected heartbeats to—to simplify them on our end, and then it translates the button input back to the original complexity to match the patient’s heart pattern. S-So you’ll still be administering the same treatment, but it should be easier to—”

Tears welled in her eyes all over again, and Ada practically fell forward to pull him into a hug, grinning from ear to ear. Ian stiffened uncomfortably, and she suddenly remembered herself.

She stepped back and laughed sheepishly as she wiped away the tears.

“Right. Not a hugger. Sorry, I really need to be better about that.”

Ian looked at her for a moment, sighed, and then smiled. He stood from his chair and wrapped her in another hug, tighter than before.

“I’m willing to make exceptions,” he mumbled into her shoulder. Ada’s heart swelled, and she squeezed him back just as tightly. Then Ian let out a yelp as she lifted him off his feet in her excitement, and she quickly set him back down. 

“Too much?”

Ian laughed weakly, smoothing down his rumpled coat.

“Too much.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

She returned her attention to the new button, running her fingers over the smooth surface. It looked fairly similar to the standard one, though slightly bigger. She gently pressed it down and it made a satisfying click.

“Thank you, Ian, seriously. This is…incredible.”

Ian scratched the back of his neck bashfully.

“It’s the least I could do. You already work so hard. H–Hopefully, this’ll make your job a little easier.”

Ada suddenly remembered his words from yesterday. You’re everyone’s favorite doctor. Otherwise, they’d all be stuck with me.

“You’re doing a good job, too, by the way,” she said softly. “Edega’s an idiot if he doesn’t see that. I know that a lot of your work is behind the scenes, but it’s just as important.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Ian looked away, embarrassed. “Y-You don’t have to say that.”

Ada smiled fondly.

“Just want you to know that you’ll always be my favorite radiologist.”

“I’m quite literally th–the only radiologist that we have.”

“Still.”

Ian finally broke into a smile, too. “Okay, okay. H-How about we test this thing?”

—

A week later, Ada told him that she had a gift for him, and produced a small white coffee mug from her coat pocket. Ian burst out laughing when he saw it.

“Wait, d-does that say ‘number one radiologist?’”

It was a “Number One Dad” mug from the dollar store that Ada had drawn over with a permanent marker. She had added two lines under the first D to turn it into an R, and had scribbled “-iologist” underneath, along with a little smiley face at the end. The mug soon became a permanent fixture on Ian’s desk, and she grinned to herself every time she passed by it.

[graveyardgremlins]

OK OK I JUST HAD THE FUNNIEST FUCKING IDEA FOR THE FANFIC

SO TALIA IS A GOOD MOM RIGHT? ("oh, gray, what about when she-" SHUT UP) GOOD MOM, RICH, SMART, POWERFUL, STRONG, WOULD BEAT ANYBODY UP NO MATTER WHAT. RIGHT?!

AND THEN WE HAVE VLAD. I can't say much about him, because it would be a spoiler, BUT HE IS SINGLE!

NOW IMAGINE TALIA AL GHUL, THE PRICESS OF 'ETH ALTH'EBAN, IN A DATE WITH VLAD MASTERS, THE IDIOT??????????? THAT IS SO FUCKING FUNNY

[princess-of-purple-prose]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: 전지적 독자 시점 - 싱숑 | Omniscient Reader - Sing-Shong

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Kim Dokja/Yoo Joonghyuk

Characters: Kim Dokja, Yoo Joonghyuk

Additional Tags: Minor Han Sooyoung/Kim Dokja/Yoo Joonghyuk, sorry hsy is fully offscreen because these two are so very unemployed, Post-Canon, post-epilogue, by a solid few years!, Novel Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, you think this is going to be funny bisexual shenanigans and then BOOM, contemplations on mortality and grief, ... hence the rating it's a mild fic otherwise, Embedded Images, (With Alt Text)

Yoo Joonghyuk gets glasses. Kim Dokja does not take it well.

[originalhybridloverfics-backup]

Ch 5 What You Gave Me

A mouth watering smelled coasted Felicity from sleep slowly. She is confused at first. 

Her apartment smelled like a restaurant, causing her stomach to grumble. She was tucked in with the throw blanket from the back of the couch, there was a soft pillow beneath her head. There was a weight resting on her leg, and a man’s jacket resting over her chair. 

Shifting carefully, she reached for her glasses, slipping them on her face. 

Her eyes widen in surprise when they landed on Oliver, sleeping at the end of her couch. 

She frowned as question after question filled her mind. 

What was he doing here?

Why was he not with Laurel? 

How did he even get in? 

How long has he been here? 

What time was it? 

Did he order take out? Cause the smell coming from the kitchen smelled really good. 

Felicity grabbed her phone, noting that it was a little after eight. 

She slept a few hours, but somehow she was still tired. 

She tried not to wake Oliver up as she sat up, but failed. 

He startled awake, his eyes scanning the room quickly until they stopped on her. “Hey,” his voice was soft but deep with sleep at the same time. 

“How did you get in here?” asked Felicity. 

“Your door was unlocked. I knocked, but you didn’t answer.” Oliver sat up, turning his body more toward her as she sat on the edge of the couch. 

“So you just let yourself in and ordered takeout.” Felicity stood, following the smell of food into the kitchen. 

“Not exactly.” Oliver got up and followed her. “I let myself in and cooked you dinner so you would have something to eat when you woke up.” 

“With what?” Felicity questioned. “My kitchen’s been bare.”

When she had first started seeing Tommy, he would stock her kitchen, insisting that she couldn’t live off coffee and poptarts. 

Felicity opened her fridge to retrieve a bottle of water and paused. It was restocked. 

“I got you some things..” Oliver said. “I figured with everything going on grocery shopping wasn’t on your list of priorities.” 

It was a small gesture, but it was so like Tommy that it brought tears to her eyes. 

Oliver stepped forward, his expression open. “If you want me to go, I will, but I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

“Oliver.” Felicity twisted the bottle of water in her hands. “I know you made a promise to Tommy to look out for me, but I can take care of myself.” 

“This isn’t about my promise to Tommy, and I know you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself. I am just trying to be a good friend. I want to be here.” Oliver pulled a pan out of the oven. 

The chicken casserole looked delicious and smelled mouth watering, something Felicity imagined a perfect little housewife with years of experience would have made, not Oliver. 

Felicity watch as he turned to leave. “You don’t have to go.” 

Honestly, she thought he would still be at Laurel’s. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why he wasn’t with her now, but she didn’t care about anything to do with Laurel Lance. 

“I don’t want to bother you.” Oliver said, remembering that Felicity said she wanted to be alone, and he wanted to respect her wishes. 

“Oliver, stay.” Felicity placed her water down. “Clearly, we both could use a friend right now.” 

“Are you sure?” Oliver asked, gripping her counter. 

“I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t.” Felicity got two plates out and grabbed another bottle of water. 

Oliver nodded and moved to start dishing food out onto the plates. 

“I only want a little. I’m not that hungry.” Felicity told him. 

Oliver nodded, his lips pulling into a frown. He understood her not being hungry, but he worried she was going to waste away from not eating. It wasn’t the first time since Tommy’s death that she declined food. 

“How did you sleep?” Oliver took a seat across from her. 

“As well as can be expected.” Felicity answered, taking a bite of a forkful of her food. Her eyes widening at the burst of flavor. “This is great.” 

“Thank you.” Oliver gave a barely there smile. 

Felicity’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you didn’t order this from somewhere I don’t know about?” 

Oliver laughed and shook his head. “When I was younger and bored, I would watch Raisa in the kitchen and as I got older, she began teaching me. Everything I know about cooking I learned from her.” 

“That’s sweet.” Felicity murmured. 

“When I was gone, she was one of the people I missed most.” Oliver continued. “I missed the way she cared, her warmth, how she always looked after Thea, Tommy and myself.” 

“Tommy used to talk about her all the time.” Felicity said quietly. “I never met her, but I feel like I know her. It’s the same with Rebecca.” 

Oliver’s eyes widen in surprise. “He talked to you about his mom?”

Felicity nodded. “Small things about her. Her favorite foods, her work in the Glades with the hospitals. How much he missed her. What a wonderful mom she was to him.” 

“I know Tommy loved you.” Oliver said after a moment. “And I can see that you loved him too, but it still surprises me to know how close you two became.”

Tears slipped from Felicity’s eyes. “He quickly became my favorite person. He always made me laugh no matter what was going on.” 

“Tommy was always able to find the good.” Oliver agreed. “Can I ask you something about you and Tommy?”

Felicity brushed the tears away and nodded. “I’ll do my best to answer.” 

“Why did you keep your relationship secret?” Oliver wondered. 

“At first we were simply hanging out. It wasn’t serious.” Felicity answered. 

“And when that changed?” 

“Tommy didn’t care who knew about us, but I didn’t want to be caught up in a paparazzi shit storm. I didn’t want to be labeled his flavor of the week or be compared to his previous dating history. Tommy respected my wishes.” Felicity answered. “We weren’t ashamed, we just didn’t want unnecessary drama. Keeping to ourselves was easier.” 

“I get it.” Oliver understood. He hated being in the spotlight constantly, but being who he was there was nothing he could do about it. 

They fell in a comfortable silence. When they finished their food, Oliver put away the leftovers, setting aside a takeout bowl for Thea. Felicity put their used plates in the dishwasher. 

Felicity settled back on the couch and Oliver followed her, getting comfortable next to her on the couch. 

“How’s the arm?” Oliver asked as Felicity flipped through the channels. 

“Hurts, but I can handle it.” Felicity answered. 

“What are you taking for the pain?” Oliver wondered. 

“Nothing.” Felicity thoughts went to the baby. She didn’t know what she was going to do, but she knew she didn’t want to risk hurting it. “I don’t like taking pain meds.” 

She felt a small twinge of guilt for lying, but she wasn’t ready to tell anyone about the baby. 

“If there’s anything I can do-” 

“You are,” Felicity assured him. “You’re here. That’s enough.” 

Oliver smiled softly and squeezed her hand briefly, allowing the sitcom on the tv to distract him as they fell into a companionable silence. 

Felicity notice at some point Oliver nodded off. She got up and retrieved a blanket and pillow from her linen closet. 

She realized he must have been truly exhausted because he didn’t so much as budge as she slipped the pillow beneath his head and tucked him in with the blanket. She took off her glasses, reclaimed her spot. Pulling the cover around herself, she let the sound of the tv and Oliver’s even breathing to drift over her, sleep consuming her once more.  

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Oliver woke to a weight on his shoulder. 

Felicity’s head was on his shoulder, and she was fast asleep. 

Oliver felt a tightening in his chest at the sight. Wrapping his arm around her, he pulled her to his side to rest more comfortably. 

He didn’t intend to fall back to sleep, but there was just something about Felicity that soothe something deep inside him. 

Tightening his arm around her, mindful of her injury, sleep claimed him again as he felt more at home than he has anywhere else since coming home. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Felicity returned to work a few days after Tommy’s funeral, needing the distraction. 

The company was in disarray and Walter was doing everything he could to keep it from sinking. 

Oliver showed up on her doorstep every night, seeking a friend. Always falling asleep on her couch and leaving at the break of dawn to go home and check in on Thea. 

Every day as the city struggled to recover from the man-made disaster. Bodies of victims were still being discovered. 

The casualties continued to climb, the media coverage got worse and stocks plummeted. 

John drove Felicity to work and home. He and Oliver got together when he wasn’t with Carly or AJ. 

Both John and Oliver tried to get her to talk about Tommy, believing it would help to talk about him, but she couldn’t. 

It hurt too much. 

Focusing on QC, on John, on Oliver, on anything but Tommy, and the aftermath of everything was the only thing keeping her going right now. 

Her days only got worse as morning sickness started to hit her all the time. 

Felicity had no idea why they called it morning sickness when it came at all hours and never wanted to go away. 

Whoever dubbed it morning sickness needed to be punched in the face. Repeatedly. 

A week had passed and life was going forward as if everything hadn’t changed when in reality nothing was the same. 

Her phone buzzed with an appointment reminder. She was having her first Dr. appointment for the baby. 

Felicity took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Again, everything was about to change. After today, she was going to come to a decision about the life growing inside of her. 

Closing her work tabs on her computer, she caught a ride with a co-worker to Jitters and then walked the four blocks to Starling General. She took the elevator to the 4th floor that was dedicated to women’s health and found the office she was looking for. 

Half an hour later, she was waiting in a room in a hospital gown. Felicity was glad she asked Walter for the rest of the afternoon off because this was taking longer than she thought it would. 

When someone finally came, she had to answer several questions until it came time for the ultrasound. She was far enough along that it wasn’t an internal one. 

It wasn’t until she saw her baby on the black and white grainy screen that she realized she had still been in denial. 

Her eyes filled with tears. 

She and Tommy did that. They made a baby. He may be gone, but he gifted her with a piece of himself to protect and love beyond measure, and she did. 

She hadn’t known it was possible to love someone this much when she had yet to meet them, but she knew without a shadow of the doubt that she would do anything for her baby. 

She would give her life for her child if needed. 

Felicity knew at that moment what she was going to do. 

She was going to have a baby. She was going to love them for both Tommy and her. She would make sure her child knew who their father was and that he would’ve loved them beyond humanly possible, given half the chance. 

However, with the certainty came fear. 

How was she supposed to do this on her own? How did she keep her child safe in a world that was known for its cruelty? How did she protect her child from everyone who wanted to see Merlyn blood spill thanks to Malcolm’s genocidal actions? 

How did she care for a baby who would depend on her for everything when she was barely managing to take care of herself? 

More than the fear, she wished she wasn’t doing this alone. She wished Tommy was here. With her. 

But he wasn’t and he never would be again. 

She was on her own, and that was a terrifying notion in itself. 

[rosie-b]

🦮 fill this empty space (ask game)

(link to the summary)

This turned out to be... longer than a snippet, and like the summary, angstier than I expected. It's been that kind of week ig! But there's a promising ending because I needed one :)

It had been a warm summer day when the old Marinette died.

The new Marinette woke up surrounded by golden light, soft, green grass, and the soft murmurings of a stream in northern France. It was perhaps the best way for her rebirth to happen, in a calm, relaxing environment far from the place she somehow knew was home.

She met her family there. They already knew her, and called her "maman," or "ma femme," or "my lady."

Marinette was no one's lady. She never had been, but according to video evidence and the testimony of her husband and children and best friend, that was one of the many roles her past self had filled.

Marinette did not know how to fill any of those old roles anymore. But because of the secret, magical way she'd chosen to lose her memories, she couldn't let anyone know this fact. She had to study years worth of business lessons in mere weeks, preparing for her return to Paris and the international company she would soon be in charge of running again.

At least her past self had accounted for this new Marinette's incompetence. But no one else seemed to see that she wasn't the same woman she had been once, back when a kwami lived in her purse and villains of the day (and year) kept plaguing Paris.

Adrien, the man past-Marinette had married, professed to still be in love with her. He saw some of the differences between the new Marinette and the old one, but claimed they weren't nearly as big as Marinette thought they were. And he chose to spend most of his time around her, so maybe he was right. He whispered praises for each small thing she did, both when they were alone and in public; took the time to learn her new habits; made her fresh coffee for when she woke up two hours after he did; stayed out of her bed to help her feel comfortable.

Marinette could see why her past self had loved him. It was something both halves of her were beginning to share, a love for this man who found a way to bring joy to her life even when it had been turned upside down.

But it didn't change the fact that the new Marinette was not the same woman he'd married. That fact was written into the vows Adrien and the past Marinette had exchanged; the way they had split up their chores; the daily schedule that Adrien still remembered while the new Marinette did not.

To Marinette, this new self of hers was nothing more than a facade made to cover the void her past self had left behind. She was thirty years old and as empty inside as a newborn baby, with no memories to guide her through this unfamiliar world.

Marinette was an icon, the magazines said. A paragon of virtue in an age of corruption, one half of both Paris' favorite couples, a woman who managed to be a world-famous CEO and an attentive mother at the same time.

That wasn't the new Marinette's reality. She didn't even know her children's middle names, though she was learning their favorite desserts, sports, and hobbies.

Most days, it was like learning a foreign language, and it felt just as isolating when she got something wrong or tried to remember something she thought she knew but actually didn't. Sometimes, this new life of hers was crushing, a drain on her already empty self, taking the last bit of Marinette out of her.

But not always.

As out of place as Marinette felt in her own life, the people in it still felt right somehow. They'd been there for her when she woke up; they were there to hug and comfort her when she cried in the night, to help teach her about her own life and tell her about theirs, and to listen when she said she felt different. They loved her, that much was clear, and they promised to love her no matter which Marinette she was; the old one with all her memories or the new one just fumbling through life.

And somehow, even though she claimed not to feel anything more for them than for other strangers at first, Marinette still loved them back. Their presence soothed the ache she felt in her chest, the one she felt when she couldn't remember, and she found herself more than missing them when they weren't there. She looked forward to hearing about their day, to learning their middle names; she held on to the facts they told her about themselves like sweet gifts of gold and honey, like they were all she needed to survive, to fill the empty space her memories had left behind.

The new Marinette was not the old one, and she never would be.

But maybe that was okay. The new Marinette had her own space, too; it began here, in this remote, rural town near the seashore, and it would expand back to Paris, to the place where the old Marinette had lived.

Marinette's home had always been her family, the people she loved. That was something she knew without having to remember it, and something she was more sure of every day.

So she studied the journals her past self had written, re-learned how to design, baked bread beside Adrien, sang songs with her children and stayed by their side. If her mind was an empty slate, then she was going to fill it with love, the same love she'd chosen before and was choosing again.

And someday, this new Marinette would feel whole again.

Thanks for the ask! I hope you enjoyed <3

[musicallisto]

Hi, Clara!! I am so glad you're taking prompts, because your writing is superior!! May I please request ❛ i’m here for you. don’t forget that. ❜ with Benedict Bridgerton?

Thanks in advance, and I hope you have an amazing day/night! Hope you're doing well!! 🖤🖤🖤

: ̗̀➛ 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 (benedict bridgerton x f!reader)

a/n: raven dear, do you read my mind? how did you know tooth-rotting fluff with benedict was exactly what I hoped someone would request? features: mentions of illness, fluff!!!!!!!  wc: 1.3k

˚ ༘✶ NAVIGATION || MASTERLIST || TAG LIST ˚ ༘✶

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐎 admit that this impromptu dinner out under the stars was not a good idea.

Yet, on paper, it had seemed so: one night of pure bliss, alone with your beloved husband in the ink-green meadow, far from the vicissitudes of the mundane city and the bustle of the household staff - your only company the stars, delightful celestial candles, the daring deer enticed by the scent of your red berries and hams, and, of course, your husband's tireless joviality.

But both you and he too often forget that the countryside surrounding your estate is not the stifling cauldron that is the heart of London, and that your shawl, no matter how refined, can do little against the night breeze. Nor can the warm scent of wine, or Benedict vigorously rubbing your shoulders to warm you up.

One of you has caught a cold. And the other is enjoying it immensely.

“Come now, Benedict, I am not at death's door, I am perfectly capable of walking alone…”

“Is that so? I would have thought otherwise, up there on the hill.”

“As if you had seen that root! You are merely lucky I sacrificed my ankle so you would not trip yourself…”

The world teeters over his shoulder, but you can make out the forest encircling your domain, like rocks around a secret cove, and the lights of the village far in the distance, flicking out one by one, little ships on the ocean of fields. A cold draft licks your neck, and you shiver; Benedict firms his grip on your neck, and the warmth of his torso quietens your fever for a moment.

“Do you intend to carry me much longer?”

“To the ends of the earth, if it were up to me, but I reckon our room should suffice.”

With that he steps through the back door of your manor, you the shivering angel rescued from the floods in his arms… and your dangling feet hit the narrow frame of the door.

“Ben!” you admonish him with a chuckle that tinkles in his ears.

“A thousand apologies, my lady. Surely the architects of this place could have foreseen such an occurrence…”

His chest purrs against your ear with barely contained laughter, sending warm waves down your spine. He effortlessly pivots, and you prance sideways into the wide, darkened dining room, giggling senselessly like two newlyweds drunk on euphoria.

“Shh,” he chides in a mirthful breath, “we would hate to wake up the whole household…”

"Then set me down on the floor! You will knock over all the silverware before you reach the stairs.”

“Pardon me, my dear, but in this hypothesis, it would be you who would overturn our furniture. I am but the fair hand that carries you.”

Benedict yields, however, and sets you down at the foot of the dining table, where white wisps of dust dance in the moonlight. You hardly have time to miss his warmth; he wraps an arm around your shoulder and draws you into the hollow of his shoulder, brushing your temple with a gentle kiss. Then, in one fell swoop, exhausted but delighted, you both make your way through the dormant house, like teenagers trudging home after a covert night of love.

Never does he let go of your trembling body or your frozen hands, not even when your voice, all of the sudden exhausted, calls out in the stairwell.

“I am terribly sorry.”

“Why so?”

“We had planned a most perfect night, and I had to spoil it by taking ill...”

“Nonsense.” (More kisses, fleeting and burning, on your cheek, in the hollow of your neck.) “We will have all the time in the world to make up for this evening. But as lovely as you look in that dress, I would prefer you cover up more, next time. I would be remiss if I let that lovely face go cold again.”

“Are you not disappointed?”

“Why would I be disappointed?” he murmurs with sincere disbelief. “Another night of pampering the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth. I feel like the luckiest man alive.”

Hallucinatory footsteps lead you to the conjugal chamber, the creaking of the door a pounding just beneath your skull; but Benedict continues to whisper, surely saying nothing, and his tender voice lulls you into forgetting the blizzard in your body. Before you know it, you're curled up under the covers in your softest nightgown, and snow-clear eyes lovingly survey you.

“Is there anything I can get you to help? All but warm milk, please. Daphne refuses to explain to me how that machine of the devil works.”

A slight smile crosses your face, and Benedict's grin somehow becomes even more affectionate. The world outside takes on purple hues, just like his paintings hanging in the foyer. As always, however, you wouldn't dream of being anywhere but in his arms - not even in his celestial landscapes.

“Nothing, thank you. I could bear all the sorrows of the world simply by having you by my side.”

“You could bear all the sorrows of the world long before you knew me. That is one of the dozens of reasons why I love you.”

Is it the cozy feathers of the pillow that fill your body with a pleasant warmth, like a glass of amber cider, or Benedict's lovely eyes filled with sparkling tenderness, and his hand on your forehead? Perhaps it is inconsequential to know. Perhaps it would be losing the enchanting feeling to try to decipher it.

“You will be better tomorrow. But until then, I am here for you, for anything you may need. Don’t forget that.”

All too soon, he withdraws his hand, and only the icy shadow of his soft touch remains on your skin. With a voice you mean to be small, because timid or frazzled, you call out to him before he can turn around.

“Perhaps you could read me something? I would certainly fall into a better sleep...”

An amused, infinite love flutters all over his face as he raises an eyebrow and leans into your teasing figure.

“Naughty blackmail you are exhibiting there, Mrs. Bridgerton. I accept.”

As if in a delicious dream, he browses the shelves of the bed chamber, crosses the room with that sybilline grace of his, as if he were walking between storm clouds; then he sits on the edge of the bed, right up against your curled-up body, a book in his lap.

“I daresay Ivanhoe will suit you.”

Your little laugh rattles the bedclothes and makes the candlelight dance. The wind drinks in your every word behind the window.

“I've read it dozens of times.”

“Good thing that you needn't focus on the story, then.”

He begins, and soon enough his words rapture you from your blankets, from the cloudy English countryside and the wind's icy scratches against the glass; adventure, history, chivalrous romance coat you like a halo of gentle flames. On top and underneath it all, Benedict's voice hums, deep and unchanging, like a ship braving the winter storm, nursing the wrath of your fever. He reads, softly, ardently, like one who tells a legend, and each word takes you a little further away from this dimly lit world - your hand in his the last anchor before the void.

Then, like an angel embracing you, sleep takes you away. You don't hear Benedict's voice waning as the candles dim and the stars waltz by, like a sunset laid at the foot of your bed. Nor do you feel the caress of his hand on your cheek, the delicate energy of his lingering kiss on your lips, the poem he whispers into your skin.

Finally, he blows out the candle. The night, thick now, lies down all over the placid room.

tagging; @softeninglooks @alexxavicry @maybanksslut (all my writing) @retvenkos @noesapphic (bridgerton)

[brookheimer]

tell me you write RPF without telling me you write RPF……. girl you are a journalist what are you doing….

[total-ecclipse]

Wine (Ext. ending)

An extension of the “Wine” ending of the BUBO prologue.

Aku opens the freezer—And has to deal with the fallout.

{Spoilers for the BUBO prologue await you in the link—Go play the game first! (Or at least watch a playthrough!)}

Read it on AO3 -> Here!

The Bubo series belongs to @partuulla, as always. Enjoy!