#I still got a lot of work to do on my model but hopefully I can finish it during June

[quesoarts]

i got a new haircut.

[comics-and-fanworks]

ML Career Choice Part 2!

@marsrize 

Is this how you tag people I have no idea what I’m doing.

~~~~~~~~

Turns out when you yell at someone in a café demanding they fix a mess they didn’t cause people are likely to record it. Especially if you happen to be a model who just fell from grace and are yelling at a soon-to-be Mrs. Todd-Wayne. Gotham was a mix of emotions, mostly elated that their power couple would be getting married, surprise that the woman who’s helped redesign and rebuild major cities is a major force of fashion, and fury at just what she had to go through. Adrien made the mistake of messing with someone who Gothamites considered one of their own, and Gotham was determined to make sure Marinette would get a chance to tell her side of the story. Vicky Vale had her booked on her talk show that very night, under the guise of discussing a way for the city to reduce its smog levels. 

Marinette and Jason were sitting next to each other smiling as Marinette proudly discussed ways to make Gotham’s air cleaner, Vicky began her real interview. “Marinette, I hate to spring this on you so suddenly, but I’m sure you’ve seen the video of ex-model Adrien Agreste harassing you and your fiancé- congratulations by the way- He mentioned something about fashion?” Marinette sighed, and Jason squeezed her hand in comfort, “When I was younger, it was my dream to be a fashion designer. I had, and still have a few big name clients like Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and the Wayne family now that I’m marrying into it. I had even caught the attention of some big names like Gabriel Agreste and the Style Queen, I thought everything was going so well, until Lila Rossi came along.” Jason leaned over and pulled Marinette into a side hug, gently rubbing her shoulder. Mari took a deep breath and continued, “She began lying about anything and everything, and I didn’t believe her, she somehow got into Gabriel’s good graces and began spreading all these lies about me. Saying I stole my designs, I had other people do the work for me, all kinds of things that didn’t really make sense. It was one of the many things she did to me. I don’t know how she convinced him, but she got Adrien to back her up. The worst part is, he knew all along that she was lying, but helped her ruin my reputation and get me blacklisted from something I loved!” 

At this point, Marinette was in tears, so Vicky cut to a commercial break while Jason tried to comfort his fiancee. Eventually they both agreed it would be best if Jason handled the rest of the interview. When the live feed returned, Vicky decided to lighten the mood by asking about his engagement, “So Jason, is there anything you can tell me about your upcoming wedding?”

“Well Vicky, can I start off with saying how excited I am? I met Marinette when she had just moved to Gotham. It sounds crazy, but we were actually in a hostage situation and I got to watch Little Ms. Magic macgyver her way out of it, and that was the moment I knew she was the one. I won’t say much about our wedding, the ceremony’s going to be a private affair, but the reception is going to be quite the party. Everyone who’s Anyone will be there, Mari did make a lot of connections through her work as an engineer. Name a country and I promise she knows someone there.”

Needless to say Marinette’s former tormenters were shocked when they did not recieve an invitation, mostly because Adrien had assured Lila and his father that Marinette would definitely invite them. Even though Lila still despised Marinette, but she admitted that her rival was well connected and with her reentry into the fashion world, her empire was only growing. If Lila could make a show of apologizing to Marinette, she could potentially save her career, and hopefully eventually worm her way into the multi-talented woman’s good graces. Gabriel wanted to attend in order to try and save his company’s reputation and smooth things over. It looked bad enough when he blacklisted a child, but now that it was exposed that he did so on lies and didn’t even attempt to confirm them it looked even worse. He hoped that by the end of the evening he could make a few new famous clients (who were fighting tooth and nail for the very limited commission spots Marinette opened) and announcing a partnership between himself and Marinette.

Adrien wanted to go because he was convinced he could convince Marinette to leave Gotham to return to France and restore the status quo. None of his old friends were speaking to him, after finding out that he knew Lila was lying and helped ruin Marinette’s future. Many of them reached out to her to apologize, and in the months leading up to the wedding were able to repair their bonds with her. Adrien was confused, why should they apologize when in his mind Marinette was in the wrong for attempting to expose Lila as a liar? It didn’t help that Ladybug was giving him the cold shoulder as well, he thought she would see it how he wanted her to, but apparently not. To add insult to injury, she got an invitation while Chat Noir did not. 

The three of them decided to crash the reception, mostly because they were confident that they wouldn’t get kicked out. They still remembered Marinette as a people-pleasing pushover, so they figured that even if they did get caught they’d be fine. What they didn’t know, is that the Wayne family runs a secret side business, in which they teach future family members confidence, raise their self-esteem, and other healthy life skills, and Marinette had happily taken those classes. When they arrive, Adrien darts off to find Marinette, Lila and Gabriel try to do damage control. It’s not long before they’re being thrown out by security and a VERY pissed preteen with a katana. The Wayne lawyers were truly in a different level of their own, because by the time the terrible trio got back to their hotel, they were served with restraining orders.

Life was going well for Marinette, it was great actually. She was head of Wayne Engineering and working on starting up Wayne Fashions. Marinette was even asked to join a board of engineers, architects, and designers on ways to further protect people and buildings from magical and nonmagical threats, when her phone began to ring.

“Mari! An earthquake just hit Gotham! The government is withdrawing all aid! They’re not going to rebuild the City. Little Ms. Magic I don’t know what-”

“I’m coming! Tell your dad he better be ready to reach deep into his pockets. They may have abandoned Gotham, but we haven’t, and we never will.”

[sakuimpact]

what is art? like a declaration of love

character: albedo 

genre: fluff !!

notes: this is based on my prev. released hcs/scenarios for ‘how they express love’. i had lots of fun writing this! lol i kinda pressured myself to write as descriptively as my *other* published wks for other fandoms, but i paused and realized that this is being written for personal fulfillment and as a hobby! i hope this wk makes u smile :) thank u for supporting me,,

© sakuimpact 2022 

. . .

“You don’t have inspiration this time around?”

“It’s not that actually. . .” Albedo responds, eyeing the empty vial in his hand.

“This is 5 milliliters. . .hm.”

“Should I leave?” You half-smile. When Albedo got in ‘the zone’, it was usually best to leave and let him focus. Alchemy was a field that required the utmost thoroughness and dedication, which you believed suited him just fine. Not that he needed anyone to tell him otherwise.

“No, no. I apologize for being quite out of it today. I’m just conflicted. My behavior must reflect that.”

You nudge his shoulder. “There’s no need to be sorry.”

He sighs. “Still, I should be more aware of my surroundings.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Albedo. You’re always finding something new, right? You notice so many different things.”

“But they feel inadequate when it counts.” Albedo confesses.

You perked up suddenly. “You know, I read something recently that might help.”

“Oh?”

“In the olden days, famous poets like Homer and would invoke the Muses in their work. Before the prologue or any other stanzas, a prayer or plea of some sort would be said. Inspiration was always seen as divine recognition and a blessing from above, so those who boasted or didn’t give credit would often be cursed or end up suffering. Maybe what you need is. . .a random object to draw inspiration from?”

He seems to consider it for a moment. “That does sound intriguing. But what could possibly be something I haven’t already studied?”

“I think that’s for you to figure out.” You gently place both of your hands in his. He looks up hopefully at your face, letting the smallest hint of a smile break his default expression.

“You have a point, Y/N. Still, I can’t help but feel like the answers I seek are right in front of me. . .” He crosses his arms.

You laugh lightly. It’s becoming crystal-clear that the whole advice column isn’t your forte.  “Maybe. Listen, I have to get going–finishing up commissions and all. . .but I’ll see you later? If you still want to eat together, that is.”

“Of course I do. Please take care, Y/N. I’ll meet you at Good Hunter later tonight.”

“Sounds like a plan!” You tip your head in his direction before exiting the lab, making sure to shut the door all the way.

Albedo waves his hand at you, his lips pressed in a tight line. No sooner was the door shut, did he collapse into his chair. The sudden, knotted feeling in his chest was something he couldn’t quite understand.

. . .

During your meal, he finally breaks the silence.

“I’d like you to model for me.” His monotone voice almost makes it seem like he’s reporting the weather or results of an alchemy experiment.

You were working through the remains of your Sweet Madame, picking at the sides you didn’t like–and completely caught off guard.

“Model for you? Oh of cour–wait. . .what?!”

“I’d like you to be the model for my next painting, Y/N.”

It was an odd request, you admit. You clear your throat, chugging down your drink and washing down the food that had somehow lodged itself in your throat. Honestly, you should know how to react better. It’s a simple request! One that you might have been the catalyst for, seeing as you decided to give advice on a field you’re not very well-versed in. Heck, you can’t even draw a stick figure!

But, witnessing Albedo’s earnest expression (as earnest as you can get when it comes to him) and simple query was endearing in some of the best ways. Maybe you could help him after all. Even though you’re certain that you are the farthest thing from runway-ready, Albedo probably doesn’t care. He’s asking for help, not demanding you solve his problems. Still, why would you want to say no to an opportunity like this?

“I’ll do my best to model for your next painting, Albedo!”

“Great.”

. . .

“What do you even wear to a modeling. . .er painting session?” You wonder aloud, sifting through your closet. There was always your favorite outfit, but even that seemed too ‘meh’ for today. Wasn’t there anything that wasn’t rumpled or neon-colored in Teyvat’s clothing industry? You debated asking one of your friends for a spare jacket or hat, but it was already 10 minutes before your appointment. Everyone was probably already at work.

You slip on a black shirt and pinafore combo, tugging the hem downwards and doing a quick spin in front of the mirror.

“Time to go!”

. . .

The art room smells like a mix of paint, wooden pencils, charcoal and clay. Basically, it’s heaven (as long as you don’t sniff the brush cleaner or eat the art paste used for paper mache).

“Sooo. . .I just have to sit down and smile?” You take a seat on a lone wooden tripod, probably forgotten from last night’s art class.

“Or wait, maybe I should frown? Or just stare blankly ahead? What vibe are we going for today? Do artists even try to capture ‘vibes’?”

Albedo runs a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at his blank canvas that is staring him down. “I appreciate your ‘vibes’ and enthusiasm, Y/N. Though I’m not sure if I can capture this–”

“Nuh-uh. I’m not going to model for you if you keep going on this Albedo-bashing train of self-doubt. I don’t know how many times you need to hear this, but you’ve created and discovered so many beautiful things. I just know that whatever you paint today is going to be spectacular. Even if you decide to draw my nose backwards or. . .something. Just try. Isn’t that all we can do? No one’s perfect.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Let’s get on with this then!”

“Alright.”

. . .

“Can I blink now?”

“Naturally.”

. . .

“How long has it been? The sun is going down.” You point out. Your legs are numb from being stuck in one position for the past hours.

“I’m almost finished, Y/N.”

“You’ve said that 5 times already!”

. . .

“You’re art.”

Albedo stops mid-stroke, setting his paintbrush down to dry. The purple line he swept across the canvas appears more jagged than he would like. Still, he picks your voice out of the soft whispers and ideas that cloud his mind. He can’t help but listen.

“What did you say?” His voice rings out in the quiet of the room.

“You’re art.”

Albedo is taken aback by those two words. He tentatively peeks out from behind his current project to glance at your face.

“What about my art?”

You half-smile, folding one hand over the other. You’re not entirely sure if this is the best thing to share right now. He might not understand. No, it’s not that he won’t understand--it’s that you’re afraid to come to terms with something you’ve known all along. Confessing your feelings--to Albedo’s face (you might add) might change everything.  

“Y/N, if there’s anything you want to know about my art–you can just ask.”

It was bound to be said anyway. Once you start speaking, you can’t stop. The words you’ve saved up in your heart just overflow and spill themselves at the artist’s feet. Maybe he’ll accept them.  

“Your art is an extension of yourself, Albedo. And I. . .think that what you create is beautiful. But not just that. What I really think, is that you’re beautiful. You’re art. And I hope that I can be a muse and reach you.”

His breath catches in his throat. He never expected something like that. All the planning and carefully executed experiments he’s laid out have never quite reached this type of outcome. The room is charged in an almost electrifying tension and the seconds turn to minutes. The flecks of dust in the lab stand out in the almost pristine lab, catching the sunbeams that filter through the windows.

Albedo kneels at your feet, keeping his head facing downward. He gently clutches your hand and lifts it to his lips.  

“You know, in some ways the subject of the art is more important than the actual artist.” He says softly.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Albedo.” You chide him.

“It takes two.”

You nudge his shoulder, prompting him to stand up. He falls into your embrace, holding you with unimaginable tenderness. 

[feralpoodles]

Just pasting this from patreon in case anyone missed it over there, I will stop talking about this now adfslk:

Hey guys! I'm sure most of you are aware of the early access drama happening now that EA updated their TOS, but here's a link for those who aren't.

The hairs for this month won't be released early access. I apologize to all the people who paid for the month specifically for the early access, you can send me a message if you want a refund. You can also just leave your pledge as a donation to me to support my work, which is still fine under the TOS (and highly appreciated!! :))

I'll be doing some thinking this month about the future of my content (not just cus of this, but it sure doesn't help ahkfs). I'm in school for character modeling and just got a job as a 3D artist (which I can hopefully tell you guys about soon), so I usually don't have a lot of time/creative energy to dedicate to Sims CC anymore. It makes me sad because I do love you guys and the community, so I'm not making any decisions about it right now, but I just wanted to let you know where my head's at.

Let me know if you have any questions! Thank you guys for being great, I love yall!! :) ❤

[atlabeth]

everything happens for a reason part 14 - zuko x fem!reader

How could you be so reckless with my heart?

part 13 | masterlist | part 15

a/n: okay so this starts off in fluff but then. yk. we crossroads of destiny that shit. sorry this took almost a month but hopefully this chapter makes up for it!! it's one of my faves so far

wc: 8.5k i am so sorry??? wtf

warning(s): angst, fighting, arguments and yelling, betrayal, a whole lot of hurt without any comfort starting a 7 chapter avalanche of angst

chapter title comes from 'reckless' by madison beer!

“I can’t believe it,” Aang muttered as he read through the scroll for the fifth time. “There’s a man living at the Eastern Air Temple. He says he’s a guru.”

“What’s a guru?” Sokka asked. “Some kind of poisonous blowfish?”

Aang chuckled. “No. It’s a spiritual expert. He wants to help me take the next step in the Avatar journey — he says he can help me master the Avatar state!”

“That’s huge, Aang!” Y/N couldn’t help a smile of her own forming as she read over her own letter once more. A slightly tattered scroll containing the looped cursive of her grandmother told her all about what had been happening in the North since she had left and how much they missed her. As a way to feel closer to home, she had also enclosed decorative Water Tribe beads that had belonged to Y/N’s mother when she was a child, and she couldn’t wait to show them to the original owner. Katara had immediately offered to braid the beads into her hair, and now she wore the blue stones with pride.

“And I can’t believe we know where our dad is now,” Katara sighed happily.

“I know what you mean,” Toph said, a similar joy in her voice. “My mom’s in the city, and from her letter it sounds like she finally understands me!”

“This is such big news!” Sokka exclaimed. “I mean, where do we even start?”

“I think this is where we have to split up, actually.” They all looked at Y/N as she spoke and she sighed. “We’re still working on a timeline, guys. We can’t afford to go place to place as one big group; it’d take too long.”

“Split up?” Aang asked, bewildered. “We just found Appa and got the family back together, now you want us to separate?”

Katara bit her lip. “I hate to say it, but she’s right. Aang, you have to meet this guru. You have to be ready by the time we invade the Fire Nation.”

“Well, if I’m going to the Eastern Air Temple then I can drop you two off at Chameleon Bay to see your dad.”

“I guess that leaves me in charge of the Earth King, huh?” Y/N laughed and stood up, modeling a ridiculous pose. “How do you think I’ll look in green?”

“You’ll look great, obviously, but…” Katara trailed off as she also got off the floor. “I think I’m going to stay behind too.”

“What?” Y/N frowned, her eyes narrowing in on her friend. “Katara, are you crazy? You’ve been away from your dad for Tui knows how long, and now you have the chance to see him, and you want to do politics with me instead?”

“She’s right, Katara,” Sokka said. “Dad would love to see you. I think it would be a lot better of a reunion if we were together.”

“Trust me, I do want to see him. I just…” she let out an airy laugh. “This sounds crazy, but I have this feeling. Like, if I leave you alone here then I’ll regret it. So I’m staying.”

“That does sound crazy,” Toph supplied helpfully.

Y/N shrugged. “Welcome to the party, I guess. But for the record, I hope your feeling is wrong. I don’t want anything bad happening, not when we’re so close to the end.”

“It’ll all be fine!” Sokka exclaimed. “We’ve got the whole plan laid out and we finally have the Earth King on our side. Now, we all gotta go pack if we’re gonna get to where we need to be in time. I’ll meet you all outside the palace.”

While Aang, Toph, and Sokka all went their separate ways to get ready for their trips, Y/N and Katara decided to take advantage of the solo time between them, time that was growing ever more valuable.

“So… what is it about this feeling?” Y/N asked as they walked through the palace halls, very slowly making their way outside. “Something calling to you so badly that you miss out on an opportunity like this?”

Katara chuckled. “I told you, I don’t really know. But I’ve always been told to follow my intuition, and right now it’s telling me that I should stay in the city with you. So that’s what I’m going to do.”

“I’m honored that your intuition cares about me.” She allowed herself a small smile, but it was one that faded slightly when something popped into her head. Y/N contemplated it for a moment, her mental conversation only visible in the slight twitch of her eyebrows, but she decided to go ahead with it.

“And… I guess since we’re gonna be spending a while together, and we have the Dai Li out of the way, I can finally tell you something I’ve been wanting to tell you since I found out about it.” Katara raised her eyebrows and the corners of Y/N’s lips curved upwards. “I, uh… I found my mom. She’s here in the city.”

“What?” Katara’s exclamation was far louder than she would’ve liked as she all but screeched to a halt in the middle of the hallway, and Y/N gestured towards the ground with her hand to get her to lower her voice. She obliged but not without an exasperated sigh. “Your mom— she’s alive, and she’s here?”

“Yeah.” Her nervousness at breaking the news found an out in a shaky laugh and she strung her hands together. “The day after the party at the palace, I found her when I went out into the city. I… I didn’t really want to get her involved with anything that we were going through, so I kept her a secret. Every time that I went out for fresh air or something, and I came back hours later… I was with my mom.”

Katara’s eyes widened. “You’re actually serious?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t really believe it either when I found out.”

She grabbed Y/N’s arm, her blue irises now bright with excitement. “Well— you have to introduce me to her! You— you have to introduce all of us to her!”

“Slow down!” She chuckled as an adamant tug from Katara got them back up to their pace from before. “Aang, Sokka, and Toph are all leaving in like, ten minutes, a-and I’m not even supposed to meet my mother today.”

“You at least have to take me! We can make a surprise visit.” Katara gave her some serious side eye. “I really doubt that she’ll be opposed to another visit from her daughter, missing for four years, and one of her closest friends.”

“Okay,” she said, laughing slightly. “I’m actually really excited for you to meet her. I know you’re going to love her.”

This time, Katara’s eyes were slightly wistful as they met her own and she nodded. It wasn’t hard for Y/N to guess what she was thinking about, and it made her instinctively reach for her friend’s hand. Katara took it without hesitation and squeezed it, giving her a smile. “I think I will too.”

~~~~~~~~

After they said their goodbyes to the rest of their group, Y/N barely had time to politely excuse them from the Earth King’s company before Katara practically dragged them off in the direction of the Middle Ring. With her determination and Y/N’s directions, they made it to their destination in record time.

“I still can’t believe your mother’s alive,” Katara murmured, the two of them gazing at the modest home in front of them. “How long have you known about her again?”

“A couple weeks,” she said. “Since the night of the party.”

Y/N swore she could see a flicker of something in Katara’s eyes as they met hers again, but anything that might’ve been there was quickly covered up by her smile and a gesture with her head towards the door. “Well? Are you gonna introduce me to your mom?”

“Right!” She pushed forward in front of Katara and knocked on the door, two long hits followed by two short ones. It was their way of easy identification, and something that Y/N started out of fear for the Dai Li — that way, Kura would always know when it was her. Her paranoia over the whole situation might’ve been a little too much, but she had learned over the years that it was better safe than sorry.

A few seconds later, the door opened and she was met with the familiar sight of her mother. Y/N’s lips parted in a grin and she all but lunged forward into a hug — she would never get tired of her mother’s embraces, especially all those years.

“Hi mom,” she said, letting out a breathy laugh as she looked back at Katara. “I know this is a little off-schedule, but I um— I brought a friend, and some good news.”

When she looked back to her mother she had on her usual fond smile, blue eyes twinkling with that hint of mischief. “Oh? Please, introduce me.”

“This is Katara,” Y/N explained, stepping out of the hug so she could gesture to her. “She’s one of the friends that I’ve been travelling with for the past couple months.”

But Katara seemed frozen in place, eyes wide as she stared at Kura. It took a small nudge from Y/N to finally snap out of it, and she blinked rapidly in an attempt to recover.

“I—” Katara swallowed, her smile thin. “I’m sorry. It’s just… you look so much like my mother.”

“Oh, honey…” Kura understood immediately as her features melted into the sympathy only a mother could give, and gestured inside as she stepped aside from the doorway. “I’m so sorry. Please, come in.”

Katara nodded gratefully and Y/N gave her an encouraging smile when she looked back at her, and the two girls walked inside together. Kura closed the door behind them then sat down on a cushion across from Katara and Y/N, giving the former a welcoming smile.

“Welcome to my home, Katara. Thank you for taking care of my daughter during her journey.” Y/N groaned and shook her head, but she couldn’t help her own smile.

“Mother, she hasn’t been taking care of me. And— and I’m older than her!”

Kura gave her an amused look. “Age doesn’t mean anything.”

Katara chuckled, and Y/N was thankful the atmosphere inside was helping her warm up so quickly. “I assure you ma’am, your daughter is an amazing person. She’s an incredible waterbender, and one of my best friends. I’m glad she’s by our side.”

She nodded, pleased. “You two are very fortunate to have each other.”

The two girls looked at each other, and Y/N smiled. “We are.”

“So,” Kura clasped her hands together and smiled. “Y/N, your beads — they look beautiful on you, Better than they did me. How did you get them?”

She reached up and touched one of them, albeit slightly self-consciously, and offered a shy smile. “Grandmother. She sent them in a package along with a letter, and I was finally able to get them after we took down Long Feng.”

Kura raised her eyebrows. “Is that your good news?”

Y/N let out a breathy laugh and nodded. “Yeah. It is. Part of it — it’s actually amazing news.”

“Oh?”

She glanced at Katara again to see if she wanted to be the one to deliver it, but Katara gestured with her hand as if to say ‘go ahead’, so she did.

“You know how I told you about the whole conspiracy, and how I didn’t want to get you involved with the mess we had gotten stuck in?” Kura nodded, and Y/N couldn’t hold back her grin. “Well… We won. We beat the Dai Li, and we got the Earth King on our side. We have a way to end the war.”

It looked as if it took Kura a moment to process it, the full weight hitting her as her eyes widened slightly. “A… A way to end the war? For good?”

“For good,” Katara repeated. “The Earth King’s supplying his army for the invasion that we’ve got planned in the Fire Nation. If everything goes well, we’ll be able to take down the Fire Lord and end this.”

Y/N swore that her mother was about to cry as she smiled at the two of them and pressed her hand to her heart. “I can’t believe it. I don’t even know what to say — you children are truly amazing. I’m so unbelievably proud of you — of both of you.”

And this time she knew she saw tears brimming in Katara’s eyes as she nodded, a smile of her own parting her lips. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

~~~~~~~~

The two girls had spent the rest of the night at Kura’s home, talking through their time in Ba Sing Se and what the past couple of months had been like. Kura had warmed up to Katara immediately, and when Y/N took a moment to look around at it all it almost felt like they were at home. Being here, with her mother and with Katara — it all felt right.

They conversed late into the night, so late that Kura insisted they stay the night. “The Middle Ring is mostly safe, but I don’t trust the men of this city no matter the status.” Y/N wasn’t ashamed to admit that the night spent next to her mother and Katara was the best that she had slept in months, and she was almost sad when they had to leave the next morning.

But duty called, and their duty for the next while would be aiding the Earth King and his men with war plans. The five of them were the only ones who knew about the Day of Black Sun, so Y/N and Katara’s expertise would be invaluable throughout the entire process. They had made a stop back at their home in the Upper Ring to freshen up, and then the two girls were on their way.

War council ended up being a lot more boring than she imagined.

Y/N never thought that it would be interesting, obviously, and war was in no way ‘fun’ — she had lived through enough of it to know it ten times over. But she thought that having a plan to end it would at least brighten things up a little bit.

She was wrong. Maybe the Five had learned not to count their possum chickens before they hatched, or maybe they just didn’t approve of two kids being part of their decisions — either way, Y/N swore the mood was more morose than usual.

Council finally ended when she and Katara were given the scrolls detailing their plan with the mission of getting the Earth’s King’s seal of approval, and so once again they set off to do their job. As they walked along the streets together, things felt a whole lot lighter.

“I can’t believe we actually did it,” Y/N chuckled. “Our whole journey has been leading up to this, and now we finally have everything we need to execute it. It almost doesn’t feel real.”

Katara smiled. “It does feel pretty great. Just don’t get too confident — things never really turn out too well for us when we get confident.”

“I think we’re allowed to be a little confident,” Y/N defended. “I mean, how many times have we done what nobody else in the world has done? Things are finally turning up Team Avatar, Katara — you’re allowed to be happy about it.”

“Okay,” she laughed, jabbing her lightly in the side with her elbow. “But if everything starts to go downhill, I’m blaming it on you.”

“Spirits, Katara,” Y/N complained, though the quirk of her lips showed she was joking. “That kind of paranoia is what’s going to make everything fall apart. You and your intuition.”

“You won’t be saying that the next time I’m right,” Katara said, rolling her eyes goodnaturedly. “But fine. If you want to celebrate, then I think we can do that with some tea. If you wanna head up to the palace, then I can stop by and get enough for the both of us, and Suki and her warriors.”

Y/N sighed in content and placed a hand to her heart. “You know me so well. Gimme those scrolls.”

Katara laughed and handed the plans over, and with waves at each other, they parted ways.

As Y/N walked, she couldn’t help but put a little skip in her step. Because spirits be damned, what she had said with Katara was right. The five of them had all struggled and suffered so much, before and after becoming a part of Team Avatar, and they deserved this. They deserved for things to finally go their way.

With her mother alive, the Earth King on their side, and her relationship with Zuko steadily mending — everything was turning out for her. And maybe her daydreaming caused her pace to speed up, because she was at the palace before she knew it. The guards knew her by now — after all, they had defeated their entire brigade on their way to talk to the Earth King — so she was let in without trouble, and she found herself almost running to the throne room to meet the Kyoshi Warriors.

“Suki!” she called, not particularly caring about her ill manners in the palace. When she reached the throne room and saw the three girls kneeling, she lowered her voice to a normal level. “It’s Y/N! Sokka’s not here, but he says hi—”

She stopped in her tracks when the warrior in front looked up, pinning her with a golden gaze. She wore Suki’s headdress, but the girl in front of her was not her friend.

“Oh?” The corners of her lips quirked up in a smile as she tilted her head to the side. “Did he?”

Y/N instinctively stumbled back, the combination of that all too familiar voice and eyes forged in fire leaving her mouth dry. She didn’t know how they could possibly be here, but she was sure of their identity.

They weren’t the Kyoshi Warriors. It was Azula and her crew.

Oh, she was so screwed.

Ty Lee seemed to be a step ahead of her, because the second Y/N flipped her water skin open and backpedaled away to put distance between them, she lunged into the air. She was only able to form a water whip before she felt Ty Lee’s fingers pound into her shoulder, and she fell to the ground, immobile.

It was like her body was trying to break out of its self-imposed bonds as the three girls stood over her, and when the liquid drained from her waterskin a sickening feeling stabbed at her chest. She was trapped — Y/N knew it, and Azula knew it.

“It’s lovely to see you again,” Azula said, her lips curling up into a dangerous smirk. “Especially in such a great city.” She looked off to the side and gestured with her head towards Y/N, and seemingly out of nowhere Dai Li agents appeared. Two of them hauled her up from the ground and restrained her arms, but she suspected it was mostly for keeping her on her feet.

“What are you doing here?” she growled. “What did you do to Suki?”

Azula rolled her eyes, taking a moment to look at her nails. “You really do have no manners. Your friend is enjoying a nice little vacation in prison — don’t worry, though. You’ll get to experience it all the same.”

“This isn’t going to work,” Y/N threatened, trying to keep her voice as steady as she could in the face of terror. “Whatever you’re planning, it’s not going to work. ”

She laughed, a grating sound against her skull. “Oh, but it will. Just be thankful that you’re fortunate enough to witness the fall of Ba Sing Se.” Azula shifted her gaze to the agents restraining her. “Search her for weapons, imprison her in the catacombs, and then report back to me. We’ve got work to do.”

As Y/N was dragged away against her will, she tried to tamp down on the growing sickness in her chest. All she could think of was Katara, hoping that there was some impossible way for her to find out what awaited her at the palace.

She knew deep down though, that there was only so much intuition could do for someone.

~~~~~~~~

Y/N supposed that there were worse places to be imprisoned in than the crystal caves below Ba Sing Se. She hadn’t even known they existed, but they were beautiful. She was sure if she had ended up there in different circumstances, she would have enjoyed them more.

But unfortunately, she was there as a prisoner, and unfortunately, the entire city above her was in a danger that they weren’t even aware of. Y/N was hoping that if she wandered around enough, that she would somehow find a way out or at least some water to bend, but after a solid ten minutes she was still empty handed.

In a feat of pure frustration, she kicked her foot into the side of the crystal wall — at first all she was met with was pain, but when she heard a rumble she grew confused. Y/N looked up to the source of the sound and saw a hole opening up in the earth above, similar to the one she was thrown into. She squinted and saw familiar shades of green worn by the Dai Li, and as they tossed someone forward she instinctively stepped back. But Y/N felt her heart sink as the earth was mended again and she got a clear look at her new room mate.

“Katara,” she muttered. “I was hoping I wouldn’t see you down here.”

She took the hand that Y/N offered, hauling herself up with a small grunt. As she brushed her tunic dress off, she met her eyes with a slightly wild look in her own. “When I figured out it was Azula, I was hoping you somehow got away, but… I guess we weren’t that lucky.”

“I guess you were right about overconfidence,” she joked weakly, taking the chance to look at their surroundings once more. Their situation seemed a whole lot more dire now that the two of them were stuck down here with their friends completely separated. “I didn’t really think that Azula showing up as a Kyoshi Warrior was something that could happen, though.”

Katara sighed and raked her fingers through her scalp, strands of hair sticking out of her usually neat braid. “I have some more bad news.” When Y/N raised her eyebrows, she met her eyes with a sympathetic expression. “Zuko is here in the city — no doubt to cause even more trouble. We’re lucky that Aang’s not here right now, because with the two of them…” Katara sighed once more, already starting to pace in a circle. “This is bad, Y/N. We have to get out of here before they team up and destroy this whole city.”

But Y/N had basically stopped listening once she mentioned Zuko, her own wide eyes trained on Katara. “Wait— wait, does Azula know that Zuko is here?”

“Yeah, but it’s basically by accident. I was so panicked on the way here that I just blurted it out to Azula before I realized she wasn’t Suki.” But then her eyes narrowed in at her lack of surprise, and she froze in place, her eyes narrowing in on Y/N. “Wait. Did you already know Zuko was here?”

Y/N didn’t have an answer for her, choosing to avert her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look the culmination of her lies in the face. Hindsight told her that she should’ve expected it to blow up in a way like this, but common sense said that there was no way she could’ve known the truth would’ve come out in this kind of situation.

Katara huffed a laugh, devoid of mirth. “Wow. So you’ve known that one of our biggest enemies has been here, right under our noses and probably looking for Aang, but you didn’t think that was information you had to tell us?”

“Katara, you know that he’s never been my enemy!” She probably sounded frantic, desperate, trying to defend Zuko, mind moving with so many thoughts at once that she never even had the idea that, maybe, fighting with the one person she should’ve been working with was a bad idea. “A—and he hasn’t done anything! He hasn’t tried to hurt me, and he hasn’t gone after Aang— I’m telling you Katara, he’s changed.”

“You really think a person like that can change? Even after all he’s done to us — to you?”

“Yes!” she cried, gesturing with both her hands. “I do!”

Katara shook her head in disbelief. “How can you forget it all so easily? His family is the reason this war has started, why half our parents are dead and the other half are separated from us— if you think Zuko won’t jump at the first opportunity to get that kind of power, then you’re too blinded by him to see the truth.”

“How can you just say that?” Y/N asked, hurt clear in her words as she took another step back.

“Because it’s true,” Katara said. “I care about you, Y/N — you’re one of my best friends, and one of the only people that I think truly understands me. It’s because I care about you that I won’t let you get hurt by Zuko again and again. He can’t change, and he won’t. You have to accept that.”

She shook her head, wrapping her arms around her midsection. “I don’t even know what to say to you,” she whispered.

“Then don’t say anything.” Katara swallowed thickly and walked over to a corner of the caves, sitting down against the crystalline walls as she tried to get comfortable. “I recommend you try and get some sleep. We’re gonna need our energy if we want to get out of here.”

Y/N stared at her for another moment, Katara very pointedly not meeting her eyes, before she set off to find her own corner. Katara’s words cut her to her core; they hurt more than they had any right to.

But maybe they hurt so much because she was right.

She wiped away a tear before it could trail down her cheek and took a deep breath. She’d heard once, from one of the elders in the Northern tribe, that insanity was doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result.

She wanted Zuko to have changed more than anything, for his words in the tea shop to be truthful, for the two of them to become some semblance of what they were before the world turned against them.

A sudden chill ran down her spine as she laid her head down against the ground. She hoped to any spirit that would listen that Katara was wrong. She didn’t know what she would do if Zuko took the other side once again.

-

She didn’t sleep at all, the combination of Katara’s decree, the humidity of the caverns, and the hard ground not helping her in any form. Neither she nor Katara had exchanged a word since their argument, and it made her heart hurt more than anything.

Hours might’ve passed between their arrival, but she couldn’t tell. Everything blended together down there.

Her restlessness was interrupted by the grumbling of the earth above them. Both their gazes shifted up and were met with the sight of two Dai Li agents and a small figure with them. “You’ve got company.”

Apparently, it was a very popular day for prisoners.

By his grunts as he was tossed into the caves Y/N could tell it was a boy, but her eyes widened slightly once he fully came into view. And then she was silently cursing, because there couldn’t have been a worse time.

Katara laughed sharply, brushing the dirt off of her tunic as she stood up, Y/N following soon after her. “What a time for you to show up, fire boy. You’re just what we needed.”

He pulled himself to his feet and frowned at Y/N. “What are you two doing down here?”

“Your sister threw us down here,” Y/N muttered, wrapping her arms around herself in an attempt to ward off the sudden chill she felt.

“He probably already knows!” Katara exclaimed, steely eyes staring daggers at Zuko. “I bet they’re working together — he’s down here so that when Aang comes to rescue us, he can just capture him.”

“Katara—” Y/N started, but she was almost instantly cut off.

“And don’t try and say that’s not what he’s going to do!” Katara threw her hands up in exasperation. “It’s what he’s always done, Y/N, and he’s not going to stop now.”

“You don’t know anything about us,” Zuko said, voice low.

Katara laughed mirthlessly. “Y/N and I have been through more than enough together for me to know that she is a better person than you will ever be. I’m not going to let you take her down with you.” This time she looked at Y/N, her expression unreadable. “He will always care about the Fire Nation more than you. I think he’s done a fine job of showing you that.”

Y/N staggered back as if she had been shot, and in turn Zuko pushed forward. “I’m not here to do anything! Not to you, or Aang, and especially not Y/N. I’ve been here in the city with my uncle trying to make a new life away from all of this, but then my sister showed up.”

She shook her head. “You really expect me to believe that? You’re a terrible person! All you’ve done is chase after us and hurt people — I don’t know why I’m surprised though. You’re the Fire Lord’s son. It’s in your blood.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” he snapped.

“I know plenty,” she retorted. “Your family is the reason this whole war started — they’re the reason for Y/N being captured, they’re the reason for what happened to Aang, they’re the reason for the thousands of refugees in this city, and they’re the reason my mother is dead!”

Katara’s voice cracked on the last word and she swallowed, the fire dying out as her eyes shimmered with tears. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “So don’t you dare tell me that I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Zuko’s eyes widened slightly and he looked to Y/N for support. She answered with a nod and a gesture towards Katara with her head.

“I— I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat and though he kept his distance, the tension in the air had lessened considerably. “That’s something we have in common.”

Katara looked up at him in surprise and he shifted, uncomfortable with the attention. “She disappeared when I was young. I don’t know what really happened to her, but…” He trailed off, the implication obvious.

“Oh.”

By now, the anger that struck the three of them had drained out of the air, leaving them in a slightly tense silence. It wasn’t until Katara sighed that it was broken.

“I’m sorry for yelling.” Her eyes flicked to Y/N, and the blues of her irises were no longer that of a stormy sea. “At both of you.” And then her gaze was back on Zuko, her arms wrapped around herself like it took physical effort to apologize to him. “It’s just… for so long, whenever I imagined the face of the enemy, it was your face.”

“My face?” Zuko looked confused for a moment, and then his fingers found their way to his scar. “...Oh. I see.”

“No, that— that’s not what I meant.”

Zuko shook his head. “It's okay. I used to think this scar marked me. The mark of the banished prince, cursed to chase the Avatar forever. But lately…” He looked at Y/N, and as she smiled at him he returned the sentiment. “I've realized I'm free to determine my own destiny, even if I'll never be free of my mark.”

Katara offered a smile of her own, then her eyes widened. “Maybe you can be.”

“It’s a scar,” he said dryly. “It’s not going to go away.”

“That’s not what she means, Zuko.” Y/N watched as Katara pulled a vial out of her pocket, and she raised her eyebrows in recognition. “Do you think that could work?”

Katara shrugged and she took a few steps closer to Zuko. “This is water from the Spirit Oasis in the North. It has special properties so I’ve been saving it for something important, but… it might be able to heal your scar.”

Zuko stared at the two of them for a moment that seemed to last forever, but it was interrupted by a huge explosion of crystals, and Y/N’s head snapped towards the source. She didn’t think she had ever been more relieved to see orange and yellow, and she let out the biggest sigh of relief when the smoke cleared to show Aang’s smiling face. Someone less expected was Iroh, but he gave the two of them a polite nod and a smile before he went over to Zuko, where he started to talk with him quietly.

“Aang!” Katara tucked the vial back into a pocket in her tunic and ran over to the boy, embracing him in a tight hug she was sure he couldn’t breathe in.

“It’s good to see you,” Y/N breathed, eyes softening.

“You too,” he said with a nod. “I’m glad we got here in time. Sokka and Toph are up above waiting, we just have to get back to them.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Katara asked.

Aang looked over at Iroh, and he nodded. “Go help your friends. We’ll catch up with you.”

Y/N gave Zuko an encouraging smile, but all he could do was stare at her, his gaze still trained on her even as she ran off with Aang and Katara.

~~~~~~~~

As they ran through the caves, they ended up with a change of scenery. A much more open part of the crystal caverns that thankfully had pools and waterfalls. Y/N flexed her fingers — it was nice to have some kind of power back.

“How did you even find us?” she asked Aang.

“I don’t know, to be honest,” he said. “I just had a feeling. I’m glad I followed it.”

She chuckled. “Guess that’s something you and Katara have in common.” Y/N cast a glance at Katara. “I’m glad you listened to your intuition.”

“Me too,” she smiled. “Now, we need to find Sokka and Toph.”

Aang nodded, but the sound of fire rushing at them caused the three of them to turn. With a grunt, Aang pulled a barrier of rock up from the ground, but the impact explosion knocked him back a few feet.

The source was none other than Azula, and Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves.

This was it.

They either won this battle, or Ba Sing Se fell.

Katara sprang into action, rushing forward as she bent up a huge stream of water from the pool beside her, then sent it in a giant wave at Azula. She extinguished it all with a wall of blue flames, and she disappeared into the resulting mist. Y/N took a cautionary step back, but looked up just in time to see the princess sending more blasts at them from atop a crystal formation.

The three of them bent up a stream of water in tandem, blocking the attack just in time. Aang sent a ripple of earthbending towards the pillar Azula had landed on, and as it fell apart beneath her she jumped back to the ground. She landed in between the three of them, and her slightly harried breathing along with the rushing of the waterfall was the only sound between them.

Y/N shifted into a bending position, and when Azula’s eyes met hers they narrowed. They maintained contact until a blast of orange fire exploded in the middle of the triangle. Her head snapped over to the source of the attack and her lips quirked up in a smile when she saw it was Zuko.

He met her eyes for just a moment, but didn’t return it.

The expression slowly faded as the realization dawned on her.

No.

With a cry, Zuko firebent at Aang, an attack he just managed to fend off with airbending. Azula smirked as she shifted her foot and shot fire at Y/N and Katara, and they blocked it together using a stream of water. Y/N took a step back to get extra distance between her and Katara as she drew up more water from the pool next to her, and she shot a series of sharp icicles at Azula.

She managed to dodge all of them except for one, which just barely snagged a corner of her tunic and tore a piece off. As Azula regained her balance she shot a blast of fire towards them, which Katara countered with a wave of water that she then sent barreling towards Azula. She turned out of the way just in time, and her dangerous glare turned on them.

“Go help Aang!” Katara yelled, quickly glancing back at Y/N. “I can handle Azula!”

“But—”

“Please!” Katara drew up water from the pool and formed water whips, except this time they surrounded her arms so she could move with the attack.

Y/N finally nodded and backpedaled away from the two girls, and as she ran into the other battle she drew up a wave of water and threw it towards the flames Zuko had shot at Aang. She hit her mark, and when Zuko saw her his eyes widened slightly. All hers held was anger.

“What are you doing?” she yelled. “What about everything you said back there? What about us?” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she bit the inside of her cheek as she felt the familiar pricks of tears. For the love of Tui, not now. “You said you had changed. I know you’ve changed!”

“I have changed,” he retorted.

She shook her head, barely holding herself together. It was the North all over again, but this time it hurt so much worse. She was reminded of Katara’s words that day, that if he was going to fight then she had to fight back. She swallowed the lump in her throat and pushed down on everything she was feeling, and got into the action.

Y/N bent water out of the pond, bringing it up high before letting it crash to the ground. Zuko countered it with his flames, but the water that he didn’t extinguish froze beneath him, throwing him off balance. With perfect timing, Aang dropped a stalactite and fell down with it, using his earthbending to increase its speed. Y/N froze her feet to the ground to brace for the impact, but Zuko wasn’t ready — when the rock hit the ground, he was sent flying across the cave into a mound of crystals.

Y/N unfroze her feet and wiped a bead of sweat off of her forehead, then ran over to help Aang out of the pit he had created.

“Thanks,” he groaned, taking a second to recover from the fight. “I’m sorry about Zuko.”

“Me too,” she murmured. Y/N bent some water up and molded it around a nasty gash that had formed when he collided with the earth, but just as the water started to glow his eyes widened.

“Look out!” Aang pushed in front of her and brought up a wall of earth, blocking a blast from Azula just in time. She let the water fall to the ground and backed away from Aang, eyes cautiously moving between him and Azula.

“Go!” he yelled. “I’ll hold her off!”

She nodded and Aang sent a ripple of earthbending through the ground at Azula, keeping her attention off of her as she sprinted over and jumped back into action. With a waterbender on both sides, the cards should’ve been stacked against him, but even with their bending in perfect tandem, Zuko was still managing to hold his own.

But then she heard a huge crash, and when her head snapped towards the sound she saw Azula flying over with the use of her firebending. There was no sign of Aang anywhere, but the fact that Azula wasn’t focused on him anymore told Y/N all she needed to know. As Azula landed, she sent a blast of fire at her, and another fight began.

Y/N traded hits with Azula for a while, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Katara falter one of her moves. She was getting tired from Zuko’s onslaught, and when Azula shifted her focus from her to Katara, she knew the princess was aware.

All it took was two of their strongest fire blasts at the same time for Katara to be overwhelmed, and she let out a cry as she was sent flying back from the impact into a crystal formation. Zuko and Azula turned to Y/N, and despite her heart pounding out of her chest, she eased into her bending stance.

But neither of them had time to attack her, loud rumbling in the distance taking their focus off of her for a moment. Y/N took the distraction to run over to Katara, who looked just on the edge of consciousness.

“Katara, get up!” she whisper-yelled, eyes constantly flicking between her friend and the battle between the Fire Nation siblings and Aang. When her eyes opened, Y/N let out a sigh of relief. She stood up and helped pull Katara to her feet, then she started to move forward to get a gauge on how Aang was doing.

But the second she had made enough distance from Katara, flashes of green hopped down from above. She stumbled backwards and spun around, before Y/N knew it, she was surrounded by Dai Li agents on every side. They had truly come out of nowhere, and as her eyes darted around the battlefield she was almost overwhelmed by their ranks. They were outnumbered ten to one, but as she met Katara’s eyes from where she was dealing with her own special delivery of the Dai Li, something unsaid passed between them.

They were going to fight until they no longer could. It was the only choice they had.

And then one of the agents stomped his foot, shooting a mound of rock at her that she barely managed to avoid. She drew water from the pool next to her, bending it into a swirling ring around her like she remembered Katara doing against Pakku. Y/N traded shots with all of them, constantly shifting her stance so she could block their earthbending from wherever it came. Once she had an opening, she bent the water into a whip and swept all the men around her off their feet, then took the brief reprieve to retreat.

Her breathing was heavy as her paranoid eyes darted around the cavern. Now that her adrenaline was fading the full weight of her exhaustion hit her — Y/N wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep going at this pace. And with her, Aang, and Katara facing off against Zuko, Azula, and the entire Dai Li…

It didn’t look good.

But then a blinding light shone from the other side, coming from a crystal tent in the ground that only could’ve been made by Aang. She partially turned away to shield herself as the crystals exploded outward, but the arm that was protecting her eyes fell slack in pure shock as Aang rose into the air, his eyes and tattoos glowing similar to the way they did in the desert but a whole lot brighter.

She almost forgot about the Avatar State, about the reason that Aang had left Ba Sing Se in the first place. But with his power, they might actually stand a chance against their growing list of enemies.

And then the lightning struck.

His body convulsed in the air, the electricity coursing through him before he began his unconscious descent to the ground. He looked so small, so broken, and when she saw Azula with her fingers pointed at him, she felt sick.

A blood-curdling scream was ripped from Katara’s throat and she immediately launched into action to save him, but the same could not be said for Y/N. She was frozen, eyes locked onto the fallen boy and features contorted in horror. She was only snapped out of her dazed state as a blast of fire was sent at her, a pained gasp the result of a festering burn on her arm. Something broke inside of her when she looked up and saw that Zuko was the source.

The inside of her cheek fell victim to her teeth, the action the only thing keeping her from spouting curses. Y/N cradled her injured arm as she staggered back, managing to bend up a small stream of water from a pool near her. Relief flowed through her as her healing worked its magic, but she had stayed still for too long.

Once again, she found the Dai Li around her, but she wasn’t so lucky this time. She brought up her hands to bend, but they were faster than her in her dishevelment, and before she knew it she was trapped. One of them bent up a crystal behind her and another shot rock gloves at her arms, effectively leaving her defenseless when they hit their mark.

Her first instinct was to look for Katara and Aang, and she found Katara on the other side of the caves holding the boy. It was a horrific sight, his crumpled body lying dormant in her arms as tears ran down her cheeks. Zuko and Azula advanced on her, but they were stopped by a wall of fire rushing between them.

General Iroh — Zuko’s uncle, who was a kinder man that she realized, she had to keep reminding herself — jumped down from the wall of the cave and landed in front of them.

Their eyes met for just a moment, and Y/N shook her head. “Get out of here!” she yelled, echoing Iroh’s words. “Save Aang!”

Katara looked like she wanted to protest, the way her eyes darted around the battlefield frantically to gauge her chances, but Y/N knew what she was thinking.

They had lost this battle. Azula had struck Aang in the Avatar State, and their only priority was finding a way to somehow save the boy. If Katara tried to help her, she would be captured as well, and they couldn’t afford that. Right now, Y/N didn’t matter — she knew it, she just hoped Katara could accept it as well.

Katara stood up with Aang’s arm around her neck and ran over to the rushing waterfall. Their eyes met again for one fleeting, heartbreaking moment, Katara’s welling with tears and her whole body shaking, before she harnessed the power of the waterfall behind her and propelled them up out of the caves. With the two of them safe, Y/N let out a relieved sigh. She might’ve been trapped, but she knew that Aang would be okay with Katara there. That was all that mattered.

The moment that her friends got away, Iroh ceased his attack and the Dai Li encased him in crystals. The caverns were almost completely quiet now that the fighting was over, but the blood pounding in her ears was louder than anything.

“How heartwarming,” Azula crooned, the Dai Li separating to form an open path as she walked over to Y/N. “But being a hero won’t help you now. Your friends left you, and you’re all alone.” She glanced over at Zuko, and when she turned back to Y/N she put her hand on her chest. “What, did you think that he was really going to side with you over his future? You don’t know him at all.”

She bit back her insults, her face a mess of barely restrained emotions. She forced herself to revert back to who she was all those years ago, the quiet servant girl that did what she had to do to survive.

It was starting to sink in now, the reality of it all. Iroh being trapped as well brought her a sick sort of relief knowing that she wasn’t alone, something she immediately felt bad for thinking. But then her gaze fell on Zuko, and white-hot rage stabbed at her.

She felt her jaw tick, and she hoped that her eyes could convey the pure, unbridled anger festering inside of her. He turned away before she did, and she could’ve laughed. He was a coward. He betrayed her but he couldn’t even look her in the eye.

Not even the sight of Zuko in the North compared to the burning inside her chest, the nausea threatening to take over. He should’ve considered himself lucky that she was restrained — Y/N wasn’t sure what she would have done, but she knew nothing would be held back. Not after what happened to Aang.

“Take the prisoners to the palace cells,” Azula ordered, directing her words to the Dai Li agents before her eyes fell on Zuko. “We have some things to discuss.”

Terror threatened to overtake her as she was forced up, the strong hands restraining her arms the only things keeping her knees from buckling once the cuffs around her wrists disintegrated. Y/N could feel Zuko’s gaze on her as she was led past him, and she dug her heels into the ground to force the Dai Li to stop for a moment so she could meet his eyes, her voice low and cold.

“You’ll pay for this.”

It was all she was able to get out before the agent holding onto her arms tugged her forward again, pulling her off balance and continuing on the path to her demise. His grip tightened to that of a vice around her wrists, but it didn’t even hurt. Y/N realized that she was almost numb in the aftermath of it all.

She trusted Zuko like a fool, believing more in memories than the truth that constantly threatened her. She thought that she had actually got through to him, that all of the talks in the tea shop and the time spent together made him realize how important she was to him, that what he was doing was wrong after his time in the cave with Katara.

But she was wrong.

And now she was going to pay the price.

-

ahahah. good times right. we have fun here

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77 @simonsbluee @kwyloz

atla tags: @marianne1806 @brown-eyed-thang @akiris

ehfar tags: @chandies-sideblog @zacatecanaaaa @anzanity @randomthingssss @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @shanksfav @shephard17895 @ilovespideyyy @carisi-sonny @selfship-mishaps @ilistentotayswifttocope @i-make-questionable-choices @3leni @thatobsessedreader

[copperbadge]

also, I wanted to specially thank you for, like, noticing and out loud acknowledging online antisemitism. most of the time it feels like people either think it's deserved or just that it doesn't count or. iunno. these past few years it feels like I've gotten used to jews being the boogeyman to both political wings in fairly equal measure. like whatever the enemy is, jews are that, you know? there's some famous quote to the effect; like. to communists we are the ultra-capitalists, to the capitalists we are the ultra-communists, etc. etc. I can never remember it properly. it was never really something I felt myself before a few years ago, but these days I find myself thinking it real often.

I do my best! It's something I try to be careful about, especially as a gentile, even if I'm edging ever closer to conversion (it's slow, but Judaism's been around for thousands of years, it'll be there when I get there). I’m fortunate to have a number of Jewish friends who have been willing to speak openly about their experience, and gently correct me when I mis-step.  

Dara Horn talks about what you’re saying in the intro to her book People Love Dead Jews, about how anti-Semitism was a soft background radiation to her young life -- unpleasant, disheartening, but ultimately not of high relevance most of the time -- until it ramped up extremely suddenly, and now it's everywhere all the time, from all sides.

But it's also complex to negotiate because like...I was raised Christian in a Christian culture, so institutionally I got a lot of it, but I also wasn't raised with the same level of anti-Semitism as a lot of my peers (holy shit was I not, some of the things I found out about as an adult are mindblowing). So sometimes I just straight up don't see the dogwhistles that even other non-Jewish people see. And I still make mistakes myself when talking about Judaism and anti-Semitism too.

But, well, everyone's a work in progress, after all, and I try to operate on a "speak up when you see it" model for lots of forms of *ism, especially since I do carry a lot of privilege in the world in general and a significant amount of specific privilege in fandom. So one does one's best. I'm glad at least that people find it heartening when I do! And seeing that hopefully encourages other people to do the same. 

[hereforhalstead]

“Tell me a story”

*GIF NOT MINE, full credit to the owner*

• Requested: yaaas! Finally she’s doing a Request y’all

“can you write a Jay Halstead imagine where him and his short/shy girlfriend have to go undercover in the mountains and they get stuck in the snow for awhile. When they come back to the cabin his girlfriend is freezing and they cuddle for a bit but she is still cold, so he makes a half serious/half joking comment that they should cuddle without clothes on. She eventually says yes after some convincing and he gets a bit cheeky and rests his hands on her bum. She blushes a lot and cuddles into him further under the blanket in front of the fire until they fall asleep. Thanks 😊 “

• Warnings: Swearing

• Summary: After being stranded in a snow storm and Jay eventually propositioning you to cuddle naked with him to warn you up, you ask him to tell you a story but aren’t prepared for what comes next.

Words: 3,926

• A/N : me, it will be posted this weekend! Also me, posting a week later..

Thank you so much for this prompt and I’m so sorry for how long this request took me to get to and re reading I’m not sure I really wrote what you asked as I mean for starters I don’t think there are trees in the mountains lol ..I got so carried away so I’m not gonna lie this is mainly one big ramble and who’s shocked that I don’t really love it but I’ve had this idea in my mind for ages and felt it worked well with this request.

Hope you enjoy🥰

***

“Hey, remind me to not sign up for this next year” you groan, wrapping your arms tightly around your body as you shiver. Earning a quick glance from Jay as he scans your body with concern “No one forced you”

You snap your head to him, feeling like an ice lolly freshly pulled from the freezer as you scold “Oh, is that so?”

He innocently shrugs, clearly not feeling the cold as much as you are but still keeping his hands tucked firmly in his pockets. Not catching onto the hint that you want them wrapped around you instead of uselessly tucked into his sides.

“I believe your exact words were ‘Come on baby it will be fun, it’ll be like a romantic retreat for us’” He averts your gaze as you continue your ramble.

“In fact I think the thing that convinced me the most was the promises of picturesque scenery with breakfast in bed and dinner by the fire but uh”

He struggles to contain a slight grin as you stick your finger in the air to test for wind “doesn’t look like any of that is happening”

Jay leans back against the tree, pulling you with him as he stands you between the knee he had bent against the bark and the other keeping his balance.

“So it hasn’t been as romantic as I thought” he admits, shiver running through your spine as you feel his cold hand push into your back “but hopefully tomorrow will be better”

“Tomorrow!?” You harshly whisper, becoming aware of your surroundings and the mission you were currently undertaking.

“Tomorrow I’ll be at home in my own bed in some fluffy pyjamas and the heating on full blast. You cannot seriously think we’ll have to stay here”

You prod your finger into his chest, feeling the vibrations of laughter as he huffs “We’ll stay until we get him”

“It’s funny” you scoff, retracting yourself from his grip as you take a step back “it sounds like you just said we’re staying here”

He shrugs his shoulders as a silent response, effortlessly looking like some form of magazine model as he looks off into the distance as he remains leaning against the tree.

“You hear that?” He whispers, still avoiding your eye contact as he looks around

You stop in your tracks as the feeling of fear creeps up inside of you, the mixture of cold and anticipation making the simple task of glancing around easier said that done.

“I don’t hear anything Jay?” You turn back but hit his chest with a thud as he creeps up behind you, suddenly towering over you as he greets you with the toothy grin.

“Sounds like my girlfriend moaning about a nice romantic weekend in a nice remote and secluded location”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the effect that simple smile had over you.

“Remote and secluded would be nice if it hadn’t been snowing non stop since we got here and we also weren’t on the lookout for a known murderer and potential arsonist” you offer a sarcastic grin which luckily he received well. Knowing it was best in this situation to not push his luck and give in to the attention you were craving.

Within seconds ‘Detective Jay Halstead’ was no where to be seen as his boyfriend instincts took over. Removing the beanie from his pocket and pulling it onto your head, sliding the extra wind breaker he had draped over his frame and placing it around your shoulders with a satisfied hum and kiss to your temple.

“Do I look like an idiot?” You challenge, watching as he stands back to observe you bundled in extra layers with a exhale of amusement.

“You look like a ball of fluff” he comments, immediately reassuring you as you widen your eyes at his remark “a very cute ball of fluff”

***

“There’s no chance in hell, Halstead”

“Come on” he chuckles silently “it’s a known fact body heat is more effective when it’s skin on skin”

You simply raise your eyebrows in response as he makes his way over to you “would I lie to you?”

With your head tilted in a ponder you huff “Do I really wanna know the answer to that?”

“Okay” He drops his head with a tut as a smirk spreads across his grinning face “would I lie about something as serious as keeping my girlfriend warm?”

“You would if it involves her being naked” you challenge, his arms becoming unfolded as he rests his hands on your hips to pull you into him

“It’s for your benefit more than mine” he defends, glint behind his eye giving away the lies that fall from his lips as he continues to speak “I just thought it was a good suggestion but hey, if you wanna keep being cold. You enjoy that”

Feeling the shivers begin to intensify you roll your eyes in defeat, kicking off your shoes in his direction as he chuckles “Oh, she actually listens”

Shooting him a narrowed glance as you slowly remove your socks one by one and continuing to throw them at your now riddled with glee boyfriend who has his eyes glued to you like his life depended on it.

“Take ‘em off Halstead” you instruct, peeling the material from your legs as he widens his eyes.

“You’re the one who’s cold, I’m pretty warm thanks” he scoffs, corners of his lips lifted in a smile whilst you strip down to your underwear in front of him. Eyes roaming your body in more of a concerned manner than for hunger, the red marks from the tightness of your many layers and veins popping through from the subzero temperatures.

You let out an overly dramatic sigh, taking a step towards him as he towers over you “Guess I’ll just put my cold, wet, uncomfortable clothes back on then as I don’t seem to have any pyjamas to wear and god forbid I’ll be the only naked one here”

The room falls silent for a second as his gaze flicks over your face to deliberate his decision before throwing his head back with a huff “If you’re not under that blanket in the next 10 seconds, deals off”

You manically scan the near empty room for a blanket as he begins to count down from 10. Humour in his voice evident as you still try to cover yourself whilst hunting for the comforter.

“3,2..”

“Found it!” You exclaim, pulling the neatly folded thin blanket from the basket and turning your nose up at the feel of it “I have cheese graters that are softer than this”

He lets out a chuckle, beginning to follow suit and slowly undo the buttons on his shirt. Eyes not leaving yours as he slides the material from his exposed arms and chest before stopping abruptly.

“I don’t see you under the blanket like I asked so I guess I’ll just put this back on” he teases, unable to reclasp any of the buttons due to the speed in which you jump onto the sofa and throw the blanket over your tucked up frame.

“If you’re not with me under here in the next 10 seconds, I’ll -“ you begin to threaten but that was enough to get him to speed. Kicking his shoes to the other side of the room as he unbuckles his belt and allowing it to drop to the floor with a clang.

“It’s cute when you try to be threatening, especially when you’re sitting naked in front of me” he cocks an eyebrow as he looks down on you, stepping towards you to lean and press a kiss to your temple “Move over, baby”

***

To your dismay, Jay was unsurprisingly right as even with the pathetic excuse for a blanket, the tightness in which he was holding you had warmed you up more than you’d ever imagined.

Hand pressed into your back whilst the other lays gently on on the back of your head to keep you against his chest. Small talk was used to fill the gaps but other than that, you laid in a comfortable silence with the faint sounds of birds and dogs barking in the background occasionally echoing through the room.

Your eyes were feeling heavy, unaware of the time but knowing it must be around the early hours of the morning due to the pitch black sky and the way your body was telling you you needed sleep.

You lightly jolted as you feel Jay slide his hand down to your lower back, resting your chin on his chest to look up at him as you scowl from his hand travelling lower and lower under the blanket “Watch it, Halstead”

His eyes were closed but he let out a light chuckle which told you he was still awake, head laid back on the edge of the sofa but slightly opening his eyes to peer down at you.

“I’m just trying to warm you up” his sleep deprived laced voice cracks as he mocks “Just want what’s best for you, baby”

You shake your head in laughter before nestling back into his chest, tracing circles in his exposed skin as his other hand drops to round your hips. Eyes still closed as he pulls you on top of him, tight grip keeping you in place as you naturally find comfort in burying your head into the crook of his neck.

“Tell me a story”

“What?” He croaks, his deep voice bringing you a sense of comfort which you now craved and selfishly wanted to hear more of to lull you to sleep.

“Tell me a story”

“Okay” he obliges, putting his own tiredness aside as he clears his throat. Thinking to himself before beginning the first thing to springs to his mind.

“There was this one time I was chasing a guy down this super dark alley an-

“Nope” you cut him off, nuzzling into him as he pauses the motion of running his hands over your hair at your interruption

“I want a story about you, not about work”

“I didn’t know you were gonna be so picky” he jokes, slight smile forming as he keeps his eyes closed but lifting his head to place a kiss to the top of your head.

“Right, fine”

“When I was younger, I’d be in the playground or the mall or sometimes even just walking down the street and I’d see these couples together. Always laughing, smiling at something or another as they swing their hands together as they walk. Even though I knew I was too young, I still wanted someone like that for myself as it just looked fun and these people would be living without a care in the world as they almost skipped along with their happiness.”

“As I grew up I made the mistake of throwing myself at girls as I thought that was the way it worked. You had to put in the hard work at trying to get them to get the reward and outcome of the happy relationship on the other side. Heartbreak after heartbreak I soon realised all this work wasn’t worth it unless you really felt you deserved that person and always wanted to strive and prove to them how much you needed them in your life”

“I would lay in bed at night, clock ticking to remind me how long I’d laid there staring at the ceiling and think back to all the couples I used to see. Were they really happy? Or was I just seeing the side to them they wanted others to see. I didn’t see the jealousy the other would feel when their partner gets approached in a bar or the sleepless nights of worry when they’d notice the slightest dip in their girlfriends mood.”

“To me all relationships were perfect, there was no bad just constant lovey dovey strolls through meadow happiness and nothing would ever change that”

You lay in silence as he reels off his thoughts, not taking you long to realise he wasn’t even aware of what he was saying as it all sounded so natural. Like he had been thinking of this for years and it was only now just coming to the surface.

“In the past, If there was a hint of concern or jealousy I’d bail. I didn’t have it in me to fight for the girl as she just didn’t seem worth it, I know that sounds horrible but I just constantly had the gut feeling to flight rather than fight. Again, I’d lay in bed thinking of how bad I’d messed up and I’d never find someone to have that lovey dovey walking through the field relationship with”

You feel a harsh gulp fall through his throat as he lets out a light sigh “until I met you”

You wanted to turn and face him but knew he’d still be laying with his eyes shut as this seemed so personal to him and something he needed to get off his chest. This was his moment and you didn’t want to interrupt, instead you silently dropped a kiss to how jawline before nestling back into him as he continues.

“I was in the worst mood, Voight was on my ass for no reason, the case I’d been working on fell apart because some idiot didn’t file evidence right and the subway shop down the road had run out of my favourite pick me up sub. This girl walks into the station, Trudy surprisingly glued to her side as they walk up the stairs. She trips on the last one and stumbles into Kim’s desk before making a joke about how she wanted to make an entrance.”

“I looked at her with envy, she looked like this happy little soul that just radiated joy. She wouldn’t have a care in the world. She seemed shy but also like her biggest issue was whether Starbucks would finally get her coffee order right despite going there every morning for years. She’d never want to correct them so instead had grown to enjoy whatever concoction they’d throw together.”

“I looked at her for all of 10 seconds and yet I’d sussed her out. I’d predicted how her apartment would be spotless, her phone full of unbeat songs that she would listen to whilst getting ready in the morning before heading off to work. She intrigued me and I needed to know more.”

It yet again falls silent for a brief second, unsure whether he was pausing to let you speak but you’d decided to keep quiet to let him have his time. It was only a matter of moments before his grip on you had tightened as he lets out a held breath before continuing.

“She kind of agitated me at first, nothing seemed to bother her. She always had a smile on her face and would say please and thank you which I wasn’t used to. She even made an effort to come and speak to me which I ignored, pushing her to one side as I buried myself in paperwork.”

“She kept trying, leaving me a coffee and pastry on my desk without saying a word. Helping me out with boring duties despite me never even asking her. Putting up with my miserable ass and letting my harsh words bounce off her like it was nothing when I was in one of my bad moods”

“In all honesty, I wanted to dislike her”

Your chest feels heavy, like a weight had been dropped on you from a great height as you begin to worry about where his story was going. Slight regret of asking but letting him get out these thoughts that seemed so effortless for him to pour out.

“I tried to push her away, there was something in me that told me I wasn’t good enough. That it would just be another heartbreak and not a happy go lucky cuddled up in front of a fire kind of deal as those kinds of things didn’t happen to me. I constantly had this jealousy when another guy even looked at her, I’d feel sick if she had to go and face a suspect out of pure worry and even though I knew I didn’t need to as she could handle herself. It was a natural instinct for me to think the worst”

“I’d picture her not walking back up those stairs ever again, not being able to hear the laugh that would turn any bad day into good and not having her to bring me the happiness I’d grown to not want to live without”

“I finally had this person who I wanted to fight for, the jealousy and worry was different as it was coming from a good place. It wasn’t coming from feelings of spite or frustration, it was because I cared about her so damn much that I couldn’t stop the thoughts if I tried”

“She became something I needed in my life, I couldn’t go a day without her being my main priority. I’d want to do good to prove how much I wanted her, determined to be a better person so she wouldn’t realise how she was too good for me.”

He trails off, the soft circles being traced into your skin stopping almost as if everything he’s just said came from a subconscious and he’s now only just realising what he was pouring out.

You turn your head, looking up at him as he now lays awake with his gaze firmly locked on the ceiling above. Taking a moment to just observe as you see the look of panic flash across his face before looking down at you with doting eyes.

Running his thumb over your cheekbone and the outline of your jaw to rest his hand on the back of your neck.

“I finally had someone who I wanted to walk hand in hand with and show the people like little ole me that even if you think it won’t work out, there will always be someone that makes it worth it”

You were clinging onto his every word as he finally stops to take a breath. Bringing his lips down onto yours to linger before pulling back and simply allowing his eyes to flicker over your face in adoration.

“I’ll never be able to thank you for what you’ve taught me but I promise to be the best version of myself to show you I’m worth it”

His tone was almost sad as his words soften, opening your mouth to speak but being swiftly cut off by another kiss to stop you from what you were about to say.

“You don’t need to say anything, I just need to know you know how much you mean to me” he pleaded, desperation in his voice taking you by surprise as you nod.

“Jay, I wouldn’t be laying naked under a shitty blanket in the middle of no where in a freezing log cabin if I didn’t love you” you joke to lift the mood, relief stricken as he softly laughs “I bet you regret asking me to tell you a story now”

“Never, I’d make you tell it all again if I wasn’t able to tell you’re about to fall asleep”

He finally seems to relax, pressing his cheek into the top of your head as he encircles his arms around you to keep you as close to him as physically possible with a content hum.

“goodnight baby”

***

TAG LIST

@halsteadlover • @musicismyescape27 • @i-like-sparkly-things • @stephanie708 • @upsteadlovingheart • @nevaehstreater18 • @kellykidd • @secondaryjob • @youngblood199456 • @soph0864 • @13shadesofanni • @shikshinkwon • @mrspeacem1nusone • @slytherinambitious • @loki-halstead • @morganupstead • @moni-serrano11 • @sophiatellerrhodes • @dedlund82 • @jay-girl-stilnski • @jaiboomer11 • @waywardhunter95 • @euphoria257 • @lolalee24 • @vamp-army • @lookatme-23 • @lucyysthings • @ephemeral3 • @waywardhunter95 • @panaitbeatrice • @atarmychick007 • @drakelover78 •

Click here to be added to my tag list💖

[shurisneakers]

harmless (ix)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, sex jokes, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: a lot of requests came in last week, so cool and thank you for sending them in!! i’ll try my best to write them if they weren’t originally what i had planned for this series bc they’re so cute kfjdghdf. also hey shoutout to @i-reblog-fics-i-like​ for suggesting the backstory thing! 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Additional Scene   || Previous Part  || Series Masterlist

Hot single in your area! ���  Find your solemate! 

Somehow it bypasses Bucky’s spam folder and is in his primary email. SHIELD tech is too advanced to let fake mails like this reach him and this doesn’t make sense. Unless it was one of the stupid dating websites he signed up for.

Leaving aside the obvious typo in the subject, he clicks on it, hoping it doesn’t unleash a virus onto his computer. 

He’s instead greeted with a poorly Photoshopped picture of you at a bar with a martini in your hand. He doesn’t have to look too hard to see that the martini is, in fact, an emoji. Off to a terrible start already. 

Right beside it is an even worse image, an imitation of an early Internet chat box.

Harbinger of Doom just sent you a message! 

Come to the empty lot near lair. Bring goggles. 😩💦

Decline/Accept

He wants to strangle you. 

______

“Why did you curse my eyes so early in the morning?” He spots you at the top of the lair, speaking loudly so that it hopefully reached you. 

“What?” you yell back down instead. “If you’re saying something, I can’t hear you.”

He rolls his eyes. He pulls his phone from his pocket and presses on your contact. 

He watches the look of confusion morph into one of slight surprise when you reach into your pocket and pull out your call.

“Don’t ever send an image like that to me again,” he says directly.

“If that one image is too much for you, how will we ever make our sex tape?”

His mouth opens and shuts like goddamn fish.

He can hear your laughter even without the phone.

“First of all- stop laughing- first of all, a sex tape is never going to happen. Second of all, I have a debriefing to go to, we need to make this quick.”

He holds up a finger when he sees you begin to say something. By the look of trouble painted all over your face, he knows it’s going to be a dumb innuendo. 

“Thirdly, why are you standing there?”

“I watched The Last Airbender,” you say once your cackling dies down.

“I like that show.” He did. Peter sometimes watched it when he came over and Bucky more often than not joined in.

“I know, you told me.”

Oh.��

“Okay, what now?” 

“Put your goggles on.” You take one step towards the ledge. 

“What are you doing?” The goggles don’t do anything to shield him from the sun, considering that they’re not tinted. Maybe he could invest in those.

You send him a smile, taking a step further. His walk towards the building turns into a jog, then a sprint when you’re basically standing on the edge.

You spread your arms out like Jesus Christ himself before flinging yourself off the building. His stomach drops.

His phone falls to the ground, discarded to the side as he sprints to break your landing. 

It never comes. 

Instead, a gust of wind smacks him in the face, forcing him a few steps backwards. 

“I am now an air bender.” your eyes shone. “Kind of.”

Just like that, the show was ruined.

He wipes the dust on from his glasses that he now understands why you made him wear. Considerate, for a person who nearly just gave him a heart attack. 

“Why.” It’s not even a question, just a statement. 

“You know how the Tower has a giant ‘A’ on the side?” 

He stares at you. 

“I‘m gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of it.”

Pepper would not like that. 

“That’s not even evil.”

“Yeah, but it’d annoy your super friends,” You do a flip midair, testing out the repulsors that were tied around your palms, “and I’m the voice of the people.”

You’re too high for him to reach. He doesn’t have his tools, or anything useful on him considering that he never had to use them before. He couldn’t even launch himself at you from the side of the building because you’d just move out of the way. He could jump really high but it would just have the same consequence.

He could talk and keep you distracted but that worked once, it wouldn’t again. At least not for long. 

Fuck, he really had only one option. 

He leaves you to do your somersaults and turns, walking over to where he dropped his phone. It’s an upgrade from the brick he was using a while ago, but not a high end Stark model. A smartphone, but barely.

He sighs, punching in the number and holding it up to his ear.

“Who are you calling?” you yell from above him. 

“Go back to your shitty aerobics,” he yells back.

You pause for a second. “Was that a fucking pun, James Bar-”

The dial tone ends when someone picks up. He diverts his attention back to the call.

“Hey man, I-

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

“It’s probably something stupid,” Sam doesn’t even sound annoyed, just uninterested.

“I need your wings.”

“I was right. Bye.”

It was a long shot anyway.

“Fuckin’ hold on a second.” He sees you disintegrate a concrete block by having it drop from the air. “You come here and fix this, then. She’s air bending now.”

“...like Avatar?” Sam unsurprisingly got the reference. 

Peter’s interests were usually shared by everyone in the Tower, just because they had to compensate for the teasing he had to endure. It led to a lot of geeky documentaries and occasional musicals. Bucky wouldn’t be caught dead humming songs from Thoroughly Modern Millie under his breath. 

“Yeah.”

“You want me to come and fight your girlfriend,” he says slowly. 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Bucky urges, “and yes, I need help. Can’t exactly reach her when she’s twenty feet above me.”

“We have a briefing in 30 minutes. Why did you even go there today?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that. Just looks up at you smacking one of the repulsors against your thigh when it sputters for a second. It’s tradition. 

“Well?” Bucky ignores his question.

“Fine,” Sam’s voice is distant for a second as he agrees. “Clint’s asking if he can come too.”

“Fuck no.” One of them was more than enough and Sam was way better at negotiation. 

He hears a faint profanity from who he assumed was Clint before the call cuts.

He takes a seat on the ground and waits.

“You’re not going to make any effort to stop me?” You have your arms pressed to your side, palms pointed downwards to keep you afloat.

 “I could just throw things at you again.” He makes a mention towards the small pebbles.

“I will fuck you up if you even try,” you warn. He lifts his arms in surrender. “So that’s it. You’re just going to sit there.”

“To be honest, I couldn’t care less if you painted the building,” he says with the least amount of interest he could muster, not that that was very hard.

“Do you not like your team?” 

“I do.” He isn’t lying. “But they’re little shits.”

“I can draw a couple of dicks on their window, no problem,” you say offhandedly.

He looks up at you through his fingers. “That won’t be required.”

Although it was appreciated. 

“Cool, so then I’m gonna go.” You make a mention of the utility belt on your waist. He looks at the many spray cans that decorate it. 

“What colour are you going with?” he interrupts quickly. Fuckin’ Sam. What was the point of wings if he couldn’t get here in 2 minutes?

“Red, probably.” You look down. “I got purple and white just in case.”

“Building’s dark, red is good.”

“You really don’t care, do you?” You lower yourself down to the ground, a few feet ahead of him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” For fucks’ sake, Sam. “You really don’t like superheroes, do you?”

“I don’t have anything against them.”

“Then why do you do this every week?”

This was wading into personal territory and he did not like it. 

“Well.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Because I want to. It’s fun.”

“No other reason?”

“Do I need to have another reason?” You push your palm downwards, sending you back up into the air. “Can’t I just be evil because I want to?”

“Sure,” he says. He’s heard worse reasons. “Why not?”

“Besides, if you think I don’t like superheroes then you should meet Jake.”

“Who’s Jake?” He hadn’t ever heard you mention him before because he’d remember if you had.

“My roommate.” 

“I didn’t see him when I came over.”

“That’s because we’re not conjoined at the hip.” It takes you a second to stabilise. “Besides, he grabbed the water while I got the bracelet but he refused to come say hi.”

Bucky looked down at his wrist. It was still there. He found himself fidgeting with it more often than not.

“He hates superheroes?”

“He has a valid reason.” Your eyes widen in worry when your head suddenly dips. 

“What is it?” He knows the height at which you’re at isn’t very dangerous but if need be, he’s close by. 

“Come find out.” Your eyes shone mischievously. “But yeah, no reason for me to be evil.”

“Not even a tragic backstory?” 

“None. But if you want it, I can give you one, Barnes.” You test the waters, seeing how long you can lie horizontally. “Can’t promise you’ll like it though.”

“Try me.” He has time to kill. He’s a good listener.

“Well, it all started with my family- a troop of gorillas.” You flip over to lie on your back. “They practically raised me, they did. Until my gorilla mother died and I was all but consumed by grief and-”

“Your mother was a gorilla?” He entertains the notion. 

“Or was it my father?” you ask thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I don’t remember. Anyway, I met a-”

“Just to clarify, none of this is real, right?” he interjects. 

You stare at him. He stares at you.

“Bucky, that’s the plot of Tarzan,” you say slowly, “or at least whatever I remember of it... which I’m beginning to realise isn’t much.”

“Just clarifying.” He leans back again.

“Anyway so then when my mother, the deer-”

“Gorilla.”

“Whatever. Was killed, I escaped to some place-”

“Where?”

“Somewhere. And I stayed with these seven men-”

“Why seven?” He actually remembers watching this movie with his sister when it came out. An early memory, a bit faded. He remembers how long he saved up for the ticket.

“Because character development. And then I realised the reason my life was so weird was because there was a rat controlling me by pulling on my hair-”

“What the fuc-”

“If you ask any more questions, I’m going to stop.”

Bucky blinks at you. “So that’s your backstory.” 

“Raw and uncut, baby.”

“Just to get this straight, your mother, the gorilla deer-”

“Witch.”

“Huh?”

“She was a witch who stole my hair.”

“Wha-”

He’s interrupted by the giant shadow cast by something that flies overhead. 

Fucking finally. 

He doesn’t even have to look up. Sam does a small glide to the ground, landing gracefully beside him.

Bucky finds you speechless but straightened up from your earlier posture.

“Buck,” Sam greets him.

“Sam,” he says in return, getting up from his place. 

A grin spreads across your face. “Mr. Sam Wilson. No way.”

“You’re Y/N, I’m assuming?” Sam offers, posture relaxed. He clearly wasn’t here to fight. 

“The one and only.” You tear your eyes away from Sam to glare at Bucky. “Barnes, if you had told me we were expecting guests, I would have dressed better.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows in suspicion at you. You’d dress up for Sam. 

You dressed up like a suburban tourist dad for him. He was feeling the offence incoming. 

“Can’t count on him to be useful in any situation.” Alright, he did not call Sam just to have the both of you team up against him. 

“Normally I’d agree with you but he did just invite you here, so...” you trail off, looking at Sam expectantly. 

What the shit.

Sam smirks. Bucky switches rapidly back and forth between the both of you.

“I see why Buck keeps coming back every week.” It doesn’t take long for him to catch on, enlisting a feeling of triumph from you. 

“I can’t see why he doesn’t just stay at home everyday if this is the view.” You gesture to him.

This is not what Bucky wanted.

“Okay,” Bucky interrupts, “what is going on here?”

“Pure chemistry, I’d say.” You’re half tempted to bite your lip to seal the deal.

“I agree.” Sam just nods, completely and utterly serious. 

You think that you’ll give him a gift basket just for playing along despite meeting you for the first time at that moment. 

“Get a room.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Maybe we will.” You tap your finger against your lip in thought. “How do you feel about Indian food, Sam?”

“Very positively.” 

Bucky grits his teeth. “If you’re not planning to spray paint the Tower, can you just hand over the repulsers so we can go home for the day?”

You let out a small tsk in disapproval. “See what I have to deal with?”

“Can’t imagine how you do it every weekend,” Sam says dryly, not wasting a second in replying. 

“Hello?” Bucky waves his arm around. “She’s the villain here.”

“Your face is the villain here.” You tear your eyes away from Sam only to glare at him. “He won’t even wear a cape. Why am I the only one who brings their A-Game every week?”

“Sam just get the damn-”

“You should wear a cape, man.” Bucky’s absolutely sure that even Sam knows it’s a ridiculous idea.

“I’m not wearing a fuckin’ cape,” he grumbles. 

“What are your thoughts on swords, then?” Your finger finds a place under your chin in deep contemplation. “You’d look great with a sword.”

Bucky buries his face in his palms. “Sam, for the love of God.” 

“Okay, alright.” Sam finally gives in with a small chuckle. He runs a few steps to get a small head start before launching himself into the air, whizzing past your levitating figure. He does a neat little flip midair before matching your height.

Showoff.

“How difficult are you gonna make this, Wilson?” you ask, a smirk on your face.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky exhales, looking at the both of you through his goggles. 

“What’s your play here?” Sam calls out loudly.

“Was gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of the Tower.”

“After the ‘A’?”

“After the ‘A’,” you confirm. 

“Now that’s too small,” Sam tutted. “You gotta think bigger. Paint the whole Tower.” 

“Sam!” Bucky looks horrified. 

“Hmm.” You look like you’re considering it. “Don’t have enough paint for that though.”

“You’re an evil genius, right?” Sam casts a small glance at Bucky. “At least that’s what he tells me.”

“You talk about me?” You grin at the disgruntled man on the ground. 

“I don’t,” he mutters, shaking his head. A lie.

“Yeah, so build something,” Sam points out. “Get some more paint. I’ll even tell you the best vantage points to spill it.”

“No, he won’t,” Bucky shouts from below. 

“He’s just cranky because he didn’t get his prune juice this morning, ignore him,” Sam dismisses him.

Prune juice? He was a young 100, not ancient. 

“What’s your favourite colour, Falcon?”

“I like red.”

As annoyed as Bucky is right now, he stores that away in his memory for later. He also knows Sam loves seafood and a good pair of shoes. 

“A couple of gallons of red paint it is, then.” You lower yourself to the ground, Sam slowly follows suit until he lands beside Bucky.

“You know we can’t let you go without taking those, right?” Bucky tilts his head towards your invention.

You narrow your eyes at him. He doesn’t budge.

“I’ll tell ya what,” Sam pipes in instead. “I’ll keep them until you finish getting the paint and once you’re done, we’ll make an evening out of vandalising the Tower.” 

Bucky may not enjoy his company all that much but he admires Sam’s diplomacy. Of course, you would never make it this easy while reasoning with him.

“That a promise, Mr. Wilson?” You raise your eyebrow at him questioningly but are already in the process of removing the things from your hand. 

“Wouldn’t ever lie to you, doll.” He holds up his hand in a mock swear.

You walk towards Bucky and him, rotating your wrists to get rid of the soreness. “Bold claim for a man who met me ten minutes ago.”

“Feels like it’s been longer.” He sends you a wink and you can’t stop the laugh the escapes from you finally. 

Bucky holds his hand out for the gadgets. You shrink away from him with a click of your tongue.

“Technically, he takes this round.” You send a nod towards Sam, dropping off the repulsors into his hand. “So he gets it.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“You gonna keep ‘em safe?” you ask Sam, this time a little more earnestly. 

“Guard it with my life,” he says seriously, pressing his lips together in a line to avoid smiling. 

“You’re both ridiculous,” Bucky cuts in.

“You’re going to be late.” Sam tucks the devices into his pocket safely. “You know how Steve gets when people walk in on his speeches. Do you even have a ride?”

“Got the motorcycle.” 

“See you there.” Sam nods. 

“Save me a place,” Bucky says to him.

“No.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “Y/N. It was a pleasure.”

“Still holding you to that evening, Sam.” You send him a smile.

“I’m countin’ on it.” He gives you a small three finger salute before taking off, leaving you staring after his retracting figure. 

When the dust settles, Bucky awkwardly clears his throat. “Right. So that was that.”

“Dude,” you let out an exhale. “he’s so hot.”

He murmurs something unintelligible. It vaguely sounds like a series of threats but mostly a list of complaints.

“Don’t you have a meeting to get to?” You turn your attention back to him.

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you going to be late?” You glance at the clock on your phone.

“I’ll just tell them I was on a mission.” Well, sort of. “Besides, what are they gonna do? Kick me out?”

“Fair enough.” You shrug. “Have a safe ride back.”

From what he knows of you and Sam, the both of you were kidding around. But he could never be too sure. He can’t even ask if you were serious about the entire thing because it’s none of his business. 

Were the implications of having his mortal nemesis and other mortal nemesis date important enough to overrule that? 

“Are you planning to skip your meeting, or?” you ask when he remains freezes in his spot, eyes glazed over like he’s thinking about something. “Because if you are, I know this great Thai place-”

“Don’t do that again,” he says instead, shaking his head to jolt him out of his thoughts. 

“What?”

“Flinging yourself off roofs like that.”

“Why?” Because it scared the hell out of him, for one.

“Just don’t.”

“Oh please, like you’ve never done dangerous shit like that before.” You narrow your eyes at him, reading his face. “Are you telling me you care about me?”

“No.” His nose twitches. “Just don’t throw yourself off buildings when I’m around.”

“What about when you’re not?”

“As long as I’m not there to witness it.” He shrugs, spinning on his heel to leave. Technically he preferred if you didn’t do things like that at all. 

“Fine. I’ll just have my clone try out all the dangerous stuff for me.”

 He stops in his tracks. “You have a clone?”

“Well,” You squint, “no. But I’m working on it.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Bye Y/N.”

“You know, it sounds an awful lot like you’re saying we’re friends.” Your whole demeanour changes and he already knows what’s coming.

“I never said that,” he argues vehemently. “All I said was that I can’t have your murder on my hands.”

“Thus implying that we’re friends. In a fucked up, enemies kind of way.” You positively beam at him. “Aw, Barnes, that’s adorable.”

Adorable? Adorable?

“I hate you.”

“I love you, too, bestie,” you gush, dumb grin on your face. “I’ll make us friendship rings next time. What are your thoughts on matching tattoos?”

He wants to cry. 

______

By the time Sam walks into the meeting room, the session’s already begun. He shoots an apologetic look to a monologuing Steve before taking his place at the nearest chair available. 

Something sharp pokes his thigh. His wings are off and in the backpack beside him, but then he remembers your little inventions that were still in his pocket.

He tries not to make much of a noise while he pulls them out, giving them a look over to make sure they’re not broken.

“Watcha got there, Big Bird?” Tony asks lowly from beside him.

“Something that Barnes’ enemy made.” Sam holds it up slightly. 

“The one he’s been rendezvousing around town with every weekend?” 

“That’s her.” He’s about to put it in his backpack when Tony stops him.

“Pass that here for a second.” He recognises it immediately for what it is, interest piqued. 

Sam hands one of them over while he puts the other back in the bag. It’s a metallic circle, not bigger than Tony’s palm, with a thick leather strap to tie it around your palm.

“She made this?” 

“Why don’t you ask him?” Sam mentions towards Bucky who silently slips into the conference room, standing in the corner near the potted plant since there were no more chairs left.

“The balance has gotta be off on this thing,” he mutters to himself, wholly ignoring the brooding man standing in the corner like a Christmas tree.

“She seemed to be manoeuvring it fine,” Sam catches the eye of a lower ranking agent who makes the mistake of glaring at him for talking while the meeting was going on. A few seconds later the agent hastily looks away and doesn’t turn around for the rest of the hour. 

“Could be better.” He uses a much more intricate model for his suits, although this isn’t even half-bad for a homemade version. “Do you know how long she took to make this?”

“Buck says she comes up with a new one every week, so I’m guessing that long.” 

It had a few glitches but it was incredibly refined for a week’s worth of work.

“Interesting.” He gives it a quick overlook before handing it back to Sam who drops it into the bag.

He casts a swift glance at Bucky, noting how he wasn’t even paying attention to the meeting but rather to whatever he had tied around his metal wrist, fidgeting with it with his thumb. 

Tony has an idea. 

And that was generally bad news.

Next part

[jxthics]

howd you get started with commissions? i’m starting college soon and need the extra income but i don’t know how to start building a “presence” online

hi! this is a really good question but it requires a very, very long answer. i will do my best to split it up into sections and break it down to the best of my ability, but i am not a very articulate person. so if anyone reads this and has any further (specific) questions please feel free to ask!! thank you!!

to answer the question directly: i got into commissions in a really stupid way and no one should get started with commissions the way i did. i'm not going to go into detail, but i was in a really bad situation and i had to pick up work so that i would stop doing different things for money. i was underprepared, and i made a lot of mistakes, some of which i'm still trying to unlearn to this day. i didn't have any better options, but damn.

that's why i'm going to split up some things i wish i knew at the start of taking commissions For You! i've been taking them steadily for a little over 5 years now, a little over a year and a half fulltime if my math is right, and it's been a long series of trial and error. hopefully some of these tips will help you avoid those same mistakes and prepare you for starting commissions!

-

SOME HARD QUESTIONS: so commissions are a really great way to make money off of your art but it is a job. especially in the current hustle culture model and the way that art is undervalued, i feel like this gets really overlooked. it's not a side gig, it's a full job with a ton of demands, and a really, really taxing one at times. i've seen a lot of people - myself included - underestimate the amount of work that comms take and end up eating the cost later. a lot of the "scams" you see online are genuine people who are just insanely overwhelmed and unable to fulfill the demands of the job, and end up just taking money and ghosting people. you don't want to be that person, i don't want to be that person. so don't be that person.

but like pretty much any job it has requirements. especially because you're self-managing, it has a lot of very unique ones. i am not listing these to discourage anyone from taking commissions; this list is to make sure you are actually ready for this job. note that art skill is not on this list - anyone at any level of ability can take commissions. these are soft skills you need for this job, how good you draw is not one of them.

some questions for you, before you start commissions. these are for you to think about and answer to yourself honestly: - can i make myself available to people? i consistently reply to messages? will i avoid messages, or hide from people when overwhelmed? am i able to make my work schedule and turnaround time known to people (i.e. a visible queue), and stick to that? can i send messages regularly enough for progress check-ins, wips? if people ask me unexpected questions, will i be willing to answer them? can i respond to messages in a sober and clear-headed way that will make sense to other people? will i resent people for contacting me, especially when i'm overwhelmed? if i have delays or unexpected hiccups, will i be able to communicate those without shame? - can i maintain a professional relationship with clients? what about if they're pushy, or verbally abusive? what if someone develops a parasocial relationship with me and will pay me for friendship via commissions? (this happens a lot.) if someone breaks my rules, can i tell people "no" without being aggressive to them? am i able to enforce boundaries to be respected, or am i a bit of a doormat? can i keep up boundaries when money is involved? what if i really, really need that money?* *i will admit this gets.... really hard, especially if you need to pay bills, but it's easier after you've taken commissions for a while. sometimes you don't know the answer to this question until you're in this situation. - can i manage a reasonable workload? you are setting your own hours. can i organize, and be aware of how much work i have? can i keep a slow and steady pace without eating into my other responsibilities? do i have enough time to set aside for this amount of work? if i do commissions, can i still find enough time for college/work/sleep/chores? can i consistently set aside that amount of time without overworking myself or burning out? are commissions going to be a strain on my body (i.e. wrist issues)? can i pace myself while still getting commissions done within a reasonable timeframe? again, what if i really, really need the money? - is my art consistent? if i'm having art block, will i still be able to fulfill commissions? am i comfortable at my skill level to produce art that may be somewhat out of my creative comfort zone, or is the type of work i can do severely limited? (note that i mean things that may be challenging to draw, not things that make you actually uncomfortable. do not take a commission that makes you uncomfortable.) does my style change a lot, or will people generally know what they're getting from me? can i make my work around the same quality almost every time? will things like frustration with clients, overworking, stress, etc make my work worse?

think of this as a list of challenges that you need to be able to overcome - if you take a good, honest look at this list and realize you can't do one or more of these things, try to figure out ways around it! for example, i have pretty severe ADHD and i didn't start getting medicated for that ADHD until this month, which means i struggled with meeting deadlines without burning out. when i started taking commissions seriously, i had to learn how to manage my workload through a shit ton of scheduling and planners so that i don't do too much. i would not take commissions if you can't meet the requirements for these questions - you're going to run into glaring problems fulfilling commissions if you can't do the things on that list, because that is what doing commissions requires of you, every time.

if you can't do these things yet, but you still want to do commissions, that's ok! that just means that's not for you right now. i'd heavily encourage you to save this ask for when you know you're ready. all of the things above are things that can be worked around - like i said, i jumped into this unprepared. i have failed in some way or another at almost all of these, or seen people i'm close to who are also artists fail at these. these are obstacles that can be accommodated or worked around. come back to this later!

if you're good to do commissions though, let's move onto actually getting commissions.

-

TRACTION: i'm using this as a catchall term for getting people to see your work, getting people who will buy commissions from you, advertising. these are different things! sometimes really good advertising doesn't hit your target audience, sometimes people with tons of social media traction who get tons of attention on their art do not get many buyers, sometimes people with very few followers get a lot of buyers. ideally you'd have all of these things going really well for you, but especially if you're starting out with no online presence, you probably do not have any of these things. i'll try to break them into the three different things and what works for me.

social media traction (getting people to see your work): i'm gonna be honest, this part does not matter. don't worry about algorithms, don't worry about posting times, do not pander to an audience. DON'T WORRY ABOUT NUMBERS. if you're putting out work that is only for the sake of getting seen and getting money, other people will be able to tell. the only thing i'd say that matters is posting finished work consistently and frequently - if people can see that you can complete a lot of work, people will be more likely to commission you. but like... i make enough off of commissions to pay my bills, and i post whateverthefuck whenever i want, which is usually "shirtless guys that i find hot because i'm gay." most of what i do right now is OC art that i straight up refuse to explain, and i post as soon as i finish stuff, which is pretty often in the middle of the night. i also don't have a lot of followers - as i post this i'm hovering right around the 2,000 mark on tumblr, around 1,900 on instagram, and 2,500 on twitter. most of my recent art doesn't break 200 notes, and i can count on two hands how many times i've broken 1,000 notes on a post this year despite posting near daily. like... i am not someone you'd probably look at and think "damn this guy has enough of a following to pay his bills with his art" and that is because it means So little. when it comes to social media attention, fall in love with your art and then make a lot of it. do things that you're passionate about. be extremely self-indulgent. you WILL find your niche of people so long as you are doing it consistently and authentically. trust me.

advertising: this comes down to the advertising posts themselves. you need the posts to be clear and legible - avoid handwritten things, find a good font that is clear and stick to it. i heavily recommend fonts that video games use for their text because it's made to be readable while usually adhering to a certain aesthetic. you can have the prettiest post in the world but if it's hard to IMMEDIATELY read, you're going to lose people's attention - think about how long you actually spend looking at posts if they don't immediately draw you in, especially with current social media. you are trying to be a very loud voice in a lot of other loud voices and you need to make sure yours makes sense. inversely, you want your posts to reflect the type of work you do in a way that is nice to look at - this isn't a resume! make it look good, clean it up, make it clear that you are an artist. trying to strike this balance is really hard and it took me a while to hit a point where i was happy with it. contact friends to look at it who will give you honest feedback, especially if you know any graphic designers. if you have a specific style you tend towards in your art (like gritty or gloomy or soft), having the colors and text kind of reflect that also helps in my opinion and looks more like you have your shit together. i make my commission posts generally reflect my carrd info so that it feels cohesive. don't overload too much information in your post - make an extended page with do's and don'ts and any other important information, and link back to that. this is just a blurb to get people to Look at it.

client traction (getting people who will buy commissions from you): so i'm putting this one as a different bubble from advertising and social media traction because even though both of those things HELP, you need some other stuff. like i said earlier, having a lot of attention doesn't mean you're getting comms, and having your advertisements take off doesn't mean you're getting comms either! in my experience at least, something like 1/4-1/3 of your commissions are going to be from people who come back and repeatedly commission you, and the other 3/4-2/3 are people who haven't commissioned you before. sometimes these people don't even follow you and just thought your art was cool! these come up a lot especially if you're doing stuff like flash sales. so with this in mind, client traction is partially showing that you are a reliable and consistent person through social media, and partially showing that you can do good work through doing the work for them! good commission work is usually ones where you have clear communication, you're flexible to the client's needs, maintain a professional relationship, and the work you give them is good! when it comes to reliability and consistency through social media, having easy to find commission information is going to help. try to keep your social media usernames the same across all of your platforms - that way when youre on something like insta or tiktok where advertising is discouraged, they can find your twt/tumblr/whatever and look into your commission information there! also, keep your prices posted. my prices are readily available on my extended commission information -- its the same image i post when i'm advertising commissions! -- so that when i put up advertisements, people already know what they're getting. this is important especially if you want people to buy higher priced commissions from you, as people aren't going to drop $100+ on your work on a whim. posting times when you're going to open commissions also helps a ton! basically just being easy to find and easy to anticipate. s'professional.

-

PRICING

i swear i'm almost done but a lot of people underprice their work. not only is this awful for your health and time, but it's also going to make it harder for you to sell comms. even if you don't have a large following, if your work is too underpriced, people will not buy it from you. it's a concept known as paradoxical value or the paradox of value - when it comes to things that are luxury items (fancy food, arts, crafts), if it doesn't cost a certain amount, MOST* people won't buy it. think of it like $2 gas station sushi -- even if you do buy and eat it, you're probably not going to be surprised if it's not quality, and you're probably going to at least buy it from the grocery store for $12+ if you're looking for something quality.

*i say most because you will get clients because you're underpriced but a lot of them aren't going to be good ones. people who are attracted to work just for it being low are most often really pushy or difficult people. this is where you end up with bad clients who are hard to work with. i used to get treated like shit by people who commed me whenever i posted cheap commissions and ever since i raised my prices people have been treating me better. bad self worth attracts people who will take advantage of it.

so like.... you need to be pricing for reasonable wage. look up what retail jobs are paying hourly in your area (because the minimum wage is usually less, we're ignoring min wage) and use that as your basis. for every type of commission you take (flat bust, flat half, flat full.... etc etc etc), draw about three of that one type by varying complexity, minimum, and time them. take the average time of all of those three and multiply it by your minimum wage. that's your minimum price.

formula is:

(minimum wage) x ([ {commission type one} + {commission type 2} + {commission type 3} ]/3) = your minimum price

that minimum price might seem like a lot, but it is the amount you would make at an hourly retail job. if you price under this you are making less than in a standard job for something that is a specialized luxury field. that's bad.

adjust your prices every 6 months based on your ability, your experience, your demand! i had to bump my prices recently because i have to work slower due to an arm injury, which means my average time is way longer.

-

i tried to keep this as short as possible and ended up writing for almost two hours i'm so sorry.

if y'all have any specific questions related to this, want solutions for better ways to manage commission problems, or just want to know something about the commission side of things, don't hesitate to ask! i'll get back to it as soon as i've got a minute. i actually need to go back to doing comms right now lmao.

stay safe, take care of yourself!

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

howard stern

I'M BACK BESTIES!!!!! i'm not totally back to my normal writing, but I finally got through a whole piece! anyways I really liked this and i hope you do too :)

warnings: howard stern being a bitch, talk of weight & body image

word count: 2.1k

"Hello Harry, how are you doing today?"

"I'm well, thank you," Harry answered with a smile. He was on the Howard Stern Show, his first interview since Stevie had been born. He hadn't really wanted to; Howard was kind of a prick. Everyone knew this, but Jeff was convinced this was the right move. He said it would be good for Harry to get back into the swing of things, and no one else was available on short notice. In the end, Harry only agreed because you had pushed him to, reminding him it wouldn't be a very long interview and then he wouldn't have to interact with the abrasive man again for a long time.

"That's good to hear," Howard said. "How have you been these past couple months? Have you been getting anything done?"

"Not much that's music related, honestly," Harry laughed. "I've been busy with family things."

"Yeah, you've kind of been hiding away from the world for a while here, what's that about?"

"Well, as I'm sure you already know, my wonderful wife had a baby recently, so I've been pretty busy... just navigating the world of fatherhood." A smile crept onto his face at the mention of Stevie.

"That's a lot, isn't it? Babies are awful at that age," Howard chuckled.

"Uh- I wouldn't say awful," Harry's smile dropped a little and he sighed internally. He already knew how the rest of this interview would go: thinly veiled insults, questions that were way too personal, and having to pretend he didn't want to get up and walk out of the room. But he knew that wouldn't be a very good look for him, so he gritted his teeth and tried to think of happy things. Specifically, the fact that he would get to go home to his wife and baby in less than two hours. "She's a very sweet baby, we're completely in love with her."

"Yeah, sometimes they're cute, but mostly they just cry and wake you up in the night, don't they?" Howard asked smugly, as if he knew Harry's baby better than Harry did.

"Well, of course she wakes up in the night sometimes. She's hungry, can't blame her for wanting food, can I?" Harry asked, trying to speak lightly and with a smile, but he could feel his patience slipping. He was ready to go home and he was not in the mood to pretend to be happy when this man was clearly insulting his child.

"Sure, I just wish babies could be a bit less annoying when they want something."

Harry nodded, plastering a smile that hopefully looked real on his face.

"So, besides the annoying baby, how's the family? Everybody healthy over there?"

Harry nodded. "Everybody's happy and healthy. A little sleep deprived, of course, but we're managing well, i think. And by we, I mean Y/N. She's truly... just amazing. I have no idea how she does it- she's the one keeping everything together. There's no way I could do any of this without her."

"Yeah, she seems pretty great! I remember though, at first we were all a little uncertain about her. She's not exactly like the other women you have a history with, is she?"

"She's-" Harry started talking, but Howard cut him off.

"I just mean, we were used to seeing you with models and actresses and the like, so it was a bit of a shock to see you with one of us commoners, you know?"

Harry huffed a small laugh, still trying to sound polite. "When you love someone, that's all that matters."

"Right, of course, but don't you get bored sometimes? You stopped going out so much when you got with her, almost like she was keeping you captive or something," He laughed.

"Are you asking me if my wife forced me to stop hanging out with my friends?" Harry squinted at the man.

"No, of course not, but..." He leaned closer with a malicious gleam in his eye, like he was about to hear some big secret. "Did she?"

"No," Harry said firmly. "She did not."

"Okay, okay, if you say so," Howard put his hands up, but then he leaned in again and spoke in an exaggerated whisper. "Blink twice if you need help."

Harry played it off with a laugh, crossing his arms over his chest.

"He's good," Howard laughed loudly. "Anyways, let's move on. Since you two are supposedly so happy-" He paused again, as if he expected Harry to cut it and give some dramatic confession about how terrible his relationship was behind closed doors. Harry only raised his eyebrows, signaling him to continue talking. "Tell us about that. When did you two get married again?"

"Almost 2 years ago," Harry said with a smile. "Our anniversary is coming up, actually, it's in 3 weeks."

"Oh wow, you guys moved fast with the whole kid thing, huh?"

Harry nodded. "We both knew we wanted kids and were ready to have them, so... yeah."

"Yeah, no point wasting time, right? How was Y/N after having the baby- Stevie, right?"

"Yeah, her name is Stevie," Harry smiled. "She was good. Again, she's amazing for going through that. She's- i'm just so lucky to have her."

"Did she bounce back right away?"

"I'm sorry?" Harry's brow furrowed.

"You know, did she get her figure back fast? I know that's a big issue for some women," He laughed again.

"Are you-" All traces of Harry's smile were gone now.

"I just mean, I hope she's working to get rid of the baby weight," Howard said casually, as if his words weren't extremely rude. "Just to make sure she can fit into her old clothes!"

Harry cleared his throat. He knew he had to speak very carefully, since this was something you had been very self conscious about. "Well, the two of us are concerned with the new life she brought into the world, not some old clothes, but she looks as beautiful as ever. The amount of pressure women face to live up to certain standards is disgusting to me, and it's especially bad for new mothers. My wife just went through an incredible process, she grew an entire human being in 9 months, then went through labor and the delivery, and she's being told to worry about her figure? That's wrong."

"Right, right, of course," Howard smiled, but Harry could tell he was annoyed at how he couldn't be tricked into speaking badly about his wife.

"I'm really over the whole thing, honestly," Harry said. "And I'm not even the one going through it."

Howard laughed nervously, seeming to finally take the hint that Harry was uncomfortable and annoyed with the topic. "Let's talk about your latest movie, why don't we?"

Harry was closed off through the rest of the interview; anyone could see that. He laughed less, his arms stayed crossed, and his answers were short. He was professional, but it went no farther than that. There was no more playful joking or easy conversation, just Harry trying to get through the interview as fast as he could. When it finally came to a close after his final song, Harry couldn't pack up fast enough. He made sure to say a polite thanks and goodbye before he hurried out to his car.

He sighed deeply before picking up his phone to call you.

"Hi baby!" your happy voice came from the other end. That was good, he assumed that meant you hadn't listened to the interview yet.

"Hi love," he smiled, his mood already improving just from hearing your voice. "Did you listen to the interview?"

"I have been- I couldn't right at the beginning, Stevie was crying, but I caught the end. Why?"

"Why was she crying?" Harry ignored your question, instantly worrying about his baby.

"Sometimes babies cry for no reason, Harry. She's okay, I promise. Anyways, what's up with the interview?"

Harry sighed. "Just the normal for a Howard Stern interview- he asked some very personal and rude questions. Just prepare for that."

"What else is new?" You laughed. "Are you coming right home?"

"Yeah, unless you need anything?"

"Nope, I think I'm good. See you soon!"

"Love you, bye," Harry said, ending the call and starting the car to begin the drive home.

-----

"I'm home," Harry called, removing his coat as he walked in the door.

"We're in here," you responded, not moving from your spot on the couch where you were nursing Stevie.

Harry walked in, a small smile on his face as he looked at the two of you.

"Hi," He sighed, plopping down on the couch next to you.

"That bad, huh?" You asked, taking in his dejected tone.

He hummed in response, leaning his head on your shoulder. "Those interviews are... always something."

"Yeah, I only caught the end, but you sounded pretty upset. What did he say?"

"He just..." Harry shook his head. "I don't think you should listen to it."

You turned your head to look at him. "Why not?"

"He's just very rude and pushy, as always."

"Yeah, i figured, but I wanted to hear your songs," you argued with a small frown. "Did he say something really bad, or...?"

"He just makes some very impolite comments about you and our family."

"Oh," You nodded lightly. "I think I'll be okay, baby. I appreciate you trying to protect my feelings, but I'm used to it at this point, and I really couldn't care less about his opinion of me."

"Alright," he sighed. "If you're sure." He pulled out his phone, checking his email and going through some messages while you started the interview from the beginning. You could hear him grumbling under his breath and huffing every time Howard said something rude, but you ignored it, just laying a hand on his leg to calm him down.

By the time it was over, Harry was clearly not too happy. "I can't believe I went back on that show," he shook his head. "I'm never doing that again. I'm so sorry about what he said about you, I honestly should have just left-"

"It's okay," you cut him off with a smile. "Also, it was kind of hot to hear you get mad at him."

"Yeah?" He smiled back. "I thought I was very tame, actually. I wanted to say some other things, but I figured that wouldn't be a very good look for me."

"Right, but the way you attacked him but stayed professional... very hot," you laughed, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," He smiled, turning his head to kiss your cheek in return. "Is she done? I really need to hold her after the day I've had," He sighed dramatically, throwing his head back.

"I'm sure," you laughed, handing Stevie over to him and pulling your shirt back into place. "She's all yours."

"Hi baby," he cooed, holding her close to his chest. "I missed you so much."

Stevie yawned in response, cuddling into him.

"Oh, you missed me too?" He grinned. "See that? She missed me."

"She did," You agreed. "She was looking around when she heard your voice on the interview, she wanted to know where you were."

"I'm sorry," he pouted down at her. "I'll never go away again, and I'll never let the bad man be mean to you again."

"I don't think she's too upset about it, Harry," you laughed. "She is only 3 months old. She didn't exactly understand anything that went on."

"Excuse me," he said, looking very offended. "She may only be 3 months old, but she's very smart."

"Right, she's a genius baby, how could I forget?"

"I don't know," Harry shook his head at Stevie. "How could she forget how smart you are, hmm?"

Stevie yawned again, stretching her arms above her head.

"She's ready to take a nap," you said.

"Can I just hold her? I know it's not a good habit, to let her be held to sleep, but I don't want to put her down yet," Harry said, looking up with such pleading eyes, you couldn't possibly say no. Not like you would have said no anyways, but he didn't need to know that.

"Of course you can," you stood up, kissing his forehead before you turned away. "I'm gonna do the dishes, then we can watch something if you want."

"No, let me do those," he immediately protested.

"Harry, it's okay, I haven't done anything around the house since she was born-"

"And I'm not about to let you start now," he cut you off. "Come back here, please? Let's start that new show we were looking at the other night."

"Fine, but later I'm going to help you with the dishes."

"Fine," he smiled, agreeing with your compromise, even though you both knew he would argue later. "Now come back here."

[lovetorn]

homework help [roommate!dream au]

pairing: dream x reader

summary: wilbur helps you with homework and dream is angy >:(

w/c: 1.2k+

a/n: thank u for your request, anon! i hope this is good enough ahhah i made it into an actual one shot instead of replying to the ask because it ended up a lot longer than i thought.

warnings: swearing

roommate!dream masterlist

request: omg hi!! can i request more of r!dream being jealous of wilbur? thank you so much :)) —

Dream had asked you an hour ago whether or not you were coming for lunch with him and the boys, and you had said no. Instead, you sit at your desk, your fingers typing away answers for a handful of questions your professor gave you for one of your classes.

Glaring at the screen, you struggle with the last question. Your phone sits idly next to you and you stop yourself from messaging Wilbur for help—you’re sure he’s had enough of you asking him for the answers. But as you sit there for 10 more minutes, your stomach growling, the urge to text him grows and soon your thumbs are flying across your phone screen asking him.

Wilbur replies almost instantly and tells you he’s close to your apartment, so he may as well come over—you are ecstatic. You smile at your texts and feel a sense of relief; hopefully, after he’s helped you, you can go and see if the boys are still at lunch and get something before they leave.

Minutes later, there’s a soft knock on the apartment door and you rush to open it, grinning when you see the tall man coming to save you.

“Thank you,” You close the door behind him. “I’m stuck on the last question and I literally can’t do it.”

Wilbur laughs. “Well, luckily you’ve got the smartest guy in Psych 3 to help you,” He winks. You shove his shoulder and lead him to your room. He throws himself onto your bed and eyes the word document on your laptop. You close your bedroom door and sit down in your spinny chair, looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Okay, so basically, you just need to research a model that would fit the situation given. I used the Bioecological Systems Model, if that helps,” Wilbur explains, staring at your ceiling. “I suggest either the Normative and Non-Normative Development Model or the Dynamic Systems Perspective if you wanted to go a different route to mine.”

You nod and watch as he lolls his head to look at you. You sigh deeply and spin around to your laptop. “Okay. Please keep your thinking cap on if I ask you questions,” You giggle.

Starting your research, you hear Wilbur start humming an unfamiliar tune and the sound calms your brain that seems to be going a million miles a minute. Your eyes dart around the screen, looking at graphs and key elements within the different models and then you’re ready to answer the question.

The sound of the front door closing catches your attention as you type the last word of the long answer question. Your mood deflates when you realise you’ve missed the opportunity for lunch with Dream and the boys and you groan.

Wilbur catches on to your disappointment. “What’s up?”

You spin around to face him. “I was hoping I could still get lunch with Dream after I finished this. But he’s back already,” Wilbur nods.

A sudden knock at your bedroom door turns your attention from your concern on your hunger to the sound. “Come in!”

Dream peaks his head into your room, a smile on his face when he sees you. His eyes move to Wilbur on your bed and you see his smile falter. You pay no mind to it, though, choosing to look at the paper bag that Dream holds.

“I brought you lunch.”

You could cry at the sheer warmth that spreads across your chest at his gesture. You stand from your chair and walk over to him, grinning widely and taking the bag in your hands. You open the bag to see your favourite sandwich from the cafe down the road sitting wrapped in a piece of parchment paper.

“Dream,” You mumble, reaching your arm out to give him a side hug. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.”

The blonde laughs, his chest vibrating against your cheek. His arm wraps around your shoulder and hugs you tightly. “As your roommate, I am obliged to buy you lunch when you can’t get it.”

You giggle and pull away from him to see him eyeing Wilbur, whose thumbs dart around his phone screen.

“I owe you one,” You say, smiling up at him. Dream’s gaze comes back to you and you melt at his generosity. His green eyes swim with something close to admiration and you’re sure yours are doing the same.

“I better get going then,” A voice calls from behind you. You turn to see Wilbur standing from your bed and your head tilts.

“But I need you to read over my answer!” You complain, pointing at your laptop.

Wilbur shakes his head. “It’s fine, you’re smart.” You throw your head back in exasperation and step forward to hug him.

“Bye,” You murmur, your face pressed against his sternum.

Wilbur laughs. “Just edit it before you submit it and I’m sure you’ll get full marks.” You nod and let him go.

You place the bag with your sandwich in it on your desk and watch as Wilbur brushes past Dream on his way out. “See ya, man!” He calls.

Dream’s expression is sour as he replies. “Bye!” The front door closes after Wilbur and Dream sighs. You turn towards your desk, pull out your lunch, and be careful not to spill any lettuce onto your floor.

“Why was Wilbur here?” Dream’s voice startles you for a moment, you didn’t expect him to still be in your room.

“He was helping me with the homework questions for Psych 3,” You reply, taking a bite of your sandwich. Dream walks further into your room and settles in your desk chair. He pulls your laptop towards him and his eyes pour over your words.

“It’s not very good, but Wilbur gave me some advice, so I hope it’s good enough,” You speak with your mouth full and Dream throws you an amused look.

You sit on the edge of your bed and chew on your lunch nervously. You’re never this anxious when Wilbur reads over your work, so what makes Dream any different?

After you’ve finished your sandwich and gulped down a bottle of water, Dream’s finished.

“It’s good!” He says, pushing off your desk to roll along the floor in your chair. You gnaw on your fingernail.

“Just good?” You ask, meeting his eyes. His gaze is hard and you fear it’s because he’s trying not to laugh at how bad it’s written.

“No, it’s good. I mean good in a good way, obviously,” Dream utters. “Fuck, it’s better than anything I’ve submitted for homework, I usually reserve my brain for assignments.”

His laugh allows you to ease up. “Yeah, that’s because you’re way smarter than me,” You admit, cheeks heating up. "Plus, Wilbur helped me, so that's the only reason it's good."

Dream’s eyebrows raise and then he’s looking at his hands, scoffing lightly. You don’t hear what he says.

“Huh?” You push, standing from your bed and walking to the trash can behind the door. Dream shakes his head.

“Nothing. Anyway…” He trails off before he, too, stands. “I got an assignment to work on…” He throws his thumb over his shoulder. “I better—”

“Yeah! Of course, go do your assignment,” You smile, opening the door wider to usher him out. Dream nods, his lips rolled between his teeth, and then he slides out of your room.

[ficsandgiggles]

First Day At the 99

Finally, my first of hopefully many Brooklyn 99 fics! This is a fluffy Rosa x Reader fic, please feel free to send any B99 prompts as I loved writing this, enjoy! ❤️

TW: Brief mention of s*****e

It was 7am, and you were just getting ready to leave your moms to go to the NYPD, you were lucky enough to get a months work experience in the 99th precinct. Today was your very first day and you were terrified and excited at the same time.

You wanted to be a detective when you left school and you heard that this precinct had some of the best detectives in the NYPD, you were determined to make a good impression on everyone, especially Captain Holt.

You left the house around half an hour later, your leg bouncing anxiously on the subway as you waited to get to your destination. The ride was long, and the wait was not helping your nerves.

Eventually, you got to your stop, you got out the station and headed to the precinct, beginning to play with your hands nervously as you did so.

You took in a deep breath as you looked up at the huge building in front of you, knowing it was going to be your second home for the next month, and that thought overwhelmed you quite a lot, but you also knew that the first day was always the most terrifying.

‘Right, the email said to go up to the fourth floor, I’ll take the lift.’ You thought to yourself as you pressed the button to call the lift, still playing with your fingers when you got in.

The lift ride took forever, and the wait just made your nerves a million times worse.

Eventually, the doors opened, and you braced yourself for the sight of your the 99th precinct.

You were greeted by a guy who looked very reluctant to wear a tie, you wasn’t too sure if he was actually a detective in all honesty. As well as a rather intimidating woman with black hair and leather jacket.

“Aw Rosa! You can’t go hard on them, they’re so cute!” The sort of scruffy looking man smirked as you stepped out of the lift. You bit your lip, was he talking about you?

“Try me, I could be harsh on a two year old, so a 16 year old is no problem.” The woman replied with a shrug, folding her arms as a smarter looking woman shoved gently past them, almost as if she knew how terrified you were.

“Y/N, right? Ignore these two, I’ll take you to meet Captain Holt.” The smart woman said with a gentle smile. You nodded silently, clutching your notebook and pen as you followed her into an office. She knocked on the door.

“Captain? Our student is here, I saved them from Diaz and Peralta.” She said after she poked her head in.

“Thank you, Santiago. Please send them in.” Holt replied, and with that, the detective opened the door wider to allow you to step in.

“Could you send Diaz in too? She’s going to be their mentor.” Holt added, that comment making Santiago frown a little, perhaps with jealousy, but she followed her Captains orders and sent the intimidating detective in.

“Take a seat, Y/N, I’d like to welcome you to the 99th precinct, we are pleased to have you here.” Holt greeted as you saw your new mentor come into the room and sit next to you.

“This is Rosa Diaz, I thought it would be good to put the two of you together so you can shadow her.” Holt explained, you looked and gave Rosa a polite smile.

“Why couldn’t you get Amy to mentor the kid?” Rosa asked, looking at you briefly. “No offence.”

Your face dropped, you were terrified of her and you had to spend at least the first week with her, you didn’t know what to say or do.

“Detective Santiago is going on a stakeout with Sargent Jeffords. I thought you were the best role model.” Holt told her, he seemed certain about his decision. “You can start by showing Y/N around the precinct.”

“Fine, come with me, kid.” Rosa told you, standing up and heading out of the office, you went to stand up too before Holt caught your attention.

“I know Diaz seems scary, but I think she will have a soft spot for you by the end of the day, so try not to seem too intimidated by her.” Holt told you in a somewhat gentle voice.

You nodded. “Alright, thank you sir.” You replied, trying to seem confident before following Rosa.

You got shown the evidence room and briefly the holding cell, as well as where various files were around the main office, before finally taking you into the interrogation room. You’ve always been curious by the two way mirror that you’ve seen in police shows. The two of you were currently on the side where the interrogation takes place, and Rosa seemed to have decided to have a little break, as she sat on the cop side of the table, encouraging you to sit opposite her.

“So what made you decide to come here?” Rosa asked you, you were slightly surprised, since this was the first time she seemed to willingly make conversation with you.

“The NYPD saved my brothers life after he tried to… end it. It made me realise that I want to help people, whether if it’s finding their personal items or saving someone’s life.” You explain, your face dropping a little from remembering the event.

Rosa nodded in understanding. “That’s one of the best answers I’ve heard, most people say that they want to carry a weapon and skip traffic lights. They soon pull out after they see all the paperwork they have to do.” She explained. “I’m sorry that happened with your brother though.”

You nod silently, not knowing how to respond as you tensed up and played with your fingers. Rosa noticed, and immediately changed the subject.

“How’s it feel to be sitting where the suspect is? Can’t be nice, huh? Especially when I’m sat here opposite you in uniform.”

You looked up at her, and briefly behind her at yourself in the mirror, it wasn’t comfortable. You couldn’t imagine sitting here for hours whilst someone like Rosa was trying to get a confession out of you.

“Yeah it’s… uncomfortable.” You replied with an awkward chuckle. “I can imagine it would be a million times worse if I was actually guilty of something.”

Rosa raised her eyebrow, already beginning to grow fond of you. She decided to lighten up the situation a bit.

“I have evidence that says otherwise.”

Your eyes widen unexpectedly, clearly surprised at her words. Your anxiety suddenly shot through the roof, your leg once again bouncing.

Rosa playfully leaned in towards you. “Well, your application to work here was well written, you’re passionate, and seem to have a positive work attitude. I’m no expert, but I would say you’re guilty of being a bright young kid with a great future ahead of them.” She winked.

You let out a sigh, she was just joking around. You couldn’t believe how sweet she was all of a sudden, but you wish you could believe her. Your grades weren’t the best and you felt like you messed everything up, so you just looked down and shook your head.

“Hmm…” Rosa started, and then surprisingly squeezed your knee, making you flinch and hit your knee against the table. “Well, in the interrogations you see in the movies, there’s a lot of violence involved to get suspects to talk. We don’t do that here, we either play guitar very badly whilst screaming, or let them stir. However with you, I’m going to do things a little differently.” She told you, standing up and slowly walking behind you, leaning in close to your ear. “So Y/N, what kind of person are you?”

You bit your lip, leaning away from Rosa as you simply shrugged in response. “Well, I’m kind of a dumbass, with a bit of stupid.” You explained, trying to play along, but you were clearly still nervous.

“Wrong, you’re a bright kid, aren’t you?” She asked, before suddenly digging into your ribs, smirking evilly.

You yelped and shrieked with giggles, falling back into your chair as you thrashed from side to side. “WHAHAHAHAT THE FUHUHUHUCK?!” You yelled out.

“Ah, no swearing on the job, Y/N, that is very unprofessional.” Rosa told you casually as if she wasn’t attacking you, she moved down and squeezed rapidly into your sides, causing you to blush and squeal with giggles.

“Buhuhuhut I am duhuhuhumb!” You replied, not knowing whether to fight Rosa off or tough it out. You heard her chuckle as she moved to dig under your arms.

“Detectives aren’t usually this sensitive either.” Rosa commented, scribbling in gently since it seemed to get the biggest reaction from you.

You couldn’t do anything but squeeze your arms against your sides as you cackled with giggles. How on earth did it go from feeling intimidated by Rosa to being wrecked by her?!

“Oh man, imagine if you were handcuffed right now, you’d be dead!” She grinned evilly, shaking her hands into your belly now.

You squealed once again and kicked out as much as possible. She was right, if your movements were restricted any more, then you wouldn’t cope, being trapped to a chair was bad enough.

“DIHIHIHIAZ!” You screeched out, trying to stand up, but you were so sensitive you just fell back down into the chair, this really was torture.

“So, what kinda kiddo are you?” She asked, scribbling her fingers wherever they could go in an attempt to get the correct answer out of you.

“A BRIHIHIHIGHT OHOHOHONE!” You replied, giving in as you kept giggling hysterically whilst attempting to maintain your so called toughness.

Rosa grinned proudly and let you go, patting your shoulder reassuringly. “Correct, you’re guilty of being a bright kid, but if you confess incorrectly whilst you’re with me, you’ll go straight back in the chair.” Rosa told you with a wink. “Now come on, I’ll show you a case I’m working on.”

The two of you got up to leave the room, but not before you heard muffled cheering, then the flip of a switch. The two of you turned around to see Peralta on the other side of the two way mirror.

“I knew you’d end up getting a soft spot from them Rosa! I have all the proof I need!” He said enthusiastically, making Rosa roll her eyes.

“Whatever Jake.” She replied, looking at you with a fond smile.

“They’re alright.”

[alkalinefrog]

Hello~! How’ve you been? Hopefully well and not overly stressed? ☺️

So, a mildly personal question in regards to art: do you ever struggle with consistency in your drawing? For me, it feels like I’m drawing characters differently every time, and I’m never sure if the changes are positive. It’s a minor annoyance for me, especially when I’m working on a comic, big or small (the quirk worsens slightly if I come back to it after a few days). Got any advice? I honestly have no idea if you’ve already answered a similar question before, so sorry for being redundant. I’m a very neglectful follower, I know lol. 😗

SUNNY HI HELLO!! I’m doing well, thank you!! Just really busy with work! I miss having more time to do fanart :’’D. Tell me how you’ve been too! Also you’re the opposite of a neglectful follower, every time I see you in my notifications perusing I smile <3 <3 <3

In answer to your question--- yeah all the time! L and Light never look consistent when I draw them lol, especially in my comics! I typically don’t sweat it when I’m drawing for fun since it’s pretty freeing not having to worry. But I totally understand how frustrating it can be!

I recommend trying your hand at making model sheets for your characters! Expression sheets, character turn-arounds, pose sheets, etc.--- then use those as reference whenever you go to draw the character again. You don’t necessarily have to use them when you’re done, but it’s a helpful exercise! It’ll also give you a greater understanding on what makes or breaks the design (ie: how far you can push features before it doesn’t look like the same person anymore). You can find plenty of examples from different shows online.

My personal piece of advice is try not to conflate consistency with your personal “style.” It’s good to remember not to limit yourself into only one method of doing things! I think drawing mileage counts for a lot more than staying consistent in the end of the day.

I suggest that out of experience! I’ll put some examples from a project I’m doing with a friend under the cut. We’re going for a semi-realistic style, so I wanted to ground the specifics of the character designs.

Character turn:

Expression sheet (that’s a clarinet he’s holding lol):

And sometimes you just gotta sit there and hammer it out. Here’s a page from when I was trying to figure out a character’s facial features (still a wip lol):

Hope this helps!!

-Alka

[discopig]

That other girl (Thomas Shelby x Reader) [Part 2/3]

Okay so I’ve made a few improvements, first one being I won’t be writing at 2 AM after 4 hours of sleep because I read back part one and honestly wanted to shoot myself, I also added paragraph/scene dividers because the first part was very messy and I kept fucking up the tenses! My imagination has been going wild for this fic so I need to calm myself. I don’t intend for this to be a long story, I hope to finish it by the next part. Hope you guys enjoy :))

Part 1 | Part 3

Warnings: implied family abuse, swearing (doesn’t even need to be a warning)

Word Count: 1,452

You stared at the woman at the door, what seemed like millions of thoughts rushing through your mind at once. She was beautiful. Not to say you weren’t beautiful yourself, but insecurity seemed to be the main component of the blood flowing through your veins at the sight of her. She looked like the models you would see at the fashion shows your mother would take you to as a kid, and she made the plain barmaid’s uniform look like the most expensive piece Chanel could offer.

The woman’s eyes darted between you and harry as she spotted the two of you together.

“Thanks for the help” Harry said, taking the glasses from the basket the woman carried them in. As though he forgot something, he quickly turned around after placing them on the counter behind the bar. 

“Grace” he acknowledged the woman, “this is Y/N, your co-barmaid” he said, turning to you.

You were secretly hoping she was just here on delivery for the shop Harry had bought the glasses from, and wished so deeply she wasn’t the barmaid he had mentioned earlier, but alas, she had to be. 

“Oh, it’s very nice to meet you” she smiled extending her hand towards you

“Likewise” you gave her a small smile, taking her hand and shaking it

“Harry’s told me a lot about you, about how you help him around the bar and whatnot, how good you are at dealing with the rowdy customers” You picked up on her Irish accent

"Well, that’s nice to hear. Are you not from Birmingham?” you questioned

“Oh no, I’m not. I only got here about a week ago. I used to work at a bar in Galway, so I got quite lucky to be able to get a job at a bar here” she replied.

Quite lucky I sprained my fuckin’ ankle you mean. You mentally scoffed at her

“That is quite lucky” you laughed

By now Harry had left to sort out the glasses in storage, so you figured you might as well pry for something out of her

“So Harry tells me you’ve been serving the Shelby boys while I’ve been gone, you know they’re trouble?” You asked, staring into her eyes, trying to gauge any sort of reaction you could receive. She seemed unfazed.

“Well, they’ve been quite nice to me, given me lots of tips” 

“Is that so? Who’s been giving you tips?” They never gave you tips, even on the busiest of nights when you were running back and forth serving their requests for beer which seemed to come through ever 10 fucking seconds

“Uh, the tall one” John. Damn him.

“Ah, I see, hopefully it was good money” you ‘beamed’ at her, trying to be friendly 

“Good enough” she laughed back

“So what brings you to Birmingham?” 

“My father passed away and I just needed a change of scenery” she replied, her eyes showed sadness, so you figured her father passing couldn’t be a lie, but a change of scenery in Birmingham? Yeah right. Maybe on some farm surrounded by chickens and mosquitoes, or in some tropical American city, but not in Birmingham. Most people want out, not in, unless they have good reason to favour the latter.

“I’m sorry to hear that” 

“It’s okay, he was quite old anyways, I had expected it at some point” she replied with a half smile, eyes still sad.

You both sat in silence for a moment until you spoke “I’ll be back next week to help out” you looked towards the door, more customers starting to pile in, Harry back from the storage room, rushing to get their orders, and back at Grace “things are starting to get busy, I won’t hold you any longer. It was nice meeting you” you smiled at her, getting up from your seat and heading  out of the Garrison, trudging to the betting shop.

The Shelby family were in the midst of a family meeting, discussing business you honestly didn’t care much about, thoughts racing with how you were going to have Thomas’ head on a stake. 

“That copper, is going to try and bring this family down with every fuckin’ cell in his body” Thomas exclaimed

“What copper?” you asked. Thomas looked at you like you had just asked him if the sun was a rock

“Campbell. We’ve been talking about him this whole meeting Y/N” you could tell he was annoyed, but you didn’t care

“When did he get here? When did this start?” you asked

“Why does that-” Thomas started

“Answer the fucking question Thomas Shelby” you interrupted

“About a week ago, he worked as a copper in Ireland, and has come with his troops to Birmingham to try and ruin all of my fucking plans. Keep up please!” He replied, clearly frustrated.

Ireland?

You knocked on the door to Thomas’ office and waited before you heard a low “Come in”

You walked into his office, Thomas looking down at some papers, and sat down on one of the chairs at his desk

“How are you liking the new barmaid?” You asked, staring him down.

At the mention of the barmaid he looked up at you, a mix of panic and annoyance flashing in his eyes

“She does her job Y/N. What else can I think of her? He replied with a sigh at the end

“Oh I’m sure she does her job well enough for you to be having secret meetings with her” you replied, venom laced in your voice. You were starting to get angry, and him behaving as though he was annoyed by your presence wasn’t making it any easier

“Y/N what are you-” 

“Don’t fucking what me Thomas Shelby! Harry told me all about the lovely interest you’ve taken to her, enough so to meet with her every fucking day! Did you fuck her?! If you did you better tell me because so help me God if I find out from-”

“I did not fucking sleep with her Y/N will you PLEASE calm down?” Thomas yelled, his voice booming through the office

“If you didn’t sleep with her then what did you do?”

“We just talked” he answered, as though everything was normal

“Just talked?! Have you forgotten that you have a girlfriend Thomas, a girlfriend who had a sprained fucking ankle and couldn’t walk, who you could’ve come to any time to just talk?! You think I’m supposed to believe that’s all you did? Why would you just talk to her and not me?!” You were screaming again, your anger reaching a tipping point

“Because she isn’t like you Y/N!” 

You looked at him, visibly confused

“She didn’t grow up with daddy’s loaded bank account in some posh city, she’s genuine, like a breath of fresh fucking air in this place! She gets me, and I get her, and she happened to be there when I needed someone to talk to! Is that so bad?!” You stared at him dumbfounded, not only had he implied that he could not come to you -his girlfriend- when he needed someone to talk to, he also brought up your family and history, knowing damn well the riches your family had, meant nothing to you, constantly overshadowed by the yelling, bruises and loneliness.

The true weight of his words seemed to register with him as regret flashed in his eyes under your dumbfounded, yet angry gaze

“Fuck you Thomas Shelby. Fuck you. She’s working with that fucking copper”

He moved to say something but you quickly interrupted him

“I know you did your stupid background checks, I asked Arthur about it. She’s not from fucking Galway, she never worked in any bars, meaning she lied about everything, and she, your lovely Irish angel shows up at the same time that copper does, and you still willingly walk into her presence every damn day while your girlfriend is alone, to talk?! To fucking talk?!”

Thomas was visibly getting angrier as you accused her of working with Campbell, moving to defend her

“Don’t you think you’re going too far?! I get you’re jealous but you can’t just make shit up!”

You scoffed 

“Polly was right about men only being able to think with their cocks. Even you, the oh so smart Thomas Shelby, are a blind fucking idiot. Fuck you, I never want to see you again, you hear me? You can go talk to that fucking barmaid as much as you want” You spat, leaving his office with a loud slam of his door, catching John’s worried eyes as you stormed out of the shop. Your ankle was radiating with pain, but you ignored it as you stormed home.

Fucking Shelbys.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Try Everything

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader enemies to lovers!

Read the series here!

Masterlist

You weren’t his girlfriend.

He knew you weren’t his girlfriend. In fact, it was entirely his fault that you weren’t his girlfriend.

And yet, he saw you leaning towards Bucky every time he closed his eyes.

He had no right to get mad about what you did with Bucky. He knew he had broken up with you, and that meant you could do whatever you wanted. But no matter how many times he told himself that, he still felt a searing hot jealousy when he thought of it.

Despite his jealousy about the Bucky situation, Peter was still determined to get you back. He knew he messed up by breaking up with you, and now he had to fix things.

When he saw you on Monday morning at your locker, he put his plan in getting you back into motion.

“Hey.” Peter greeted you with a shy smile. You stayed silent, which is what he feared would happen.

“Are you still giving me the silent treatment?” Peter asked you.

“Are you still giving me the silent treatment.” You mimicked his voice while moving your hand like a puppet.

“Okay. That’s good.” Peter nodded. “We’re making progress.”

You glared at him before shutting your locker and walked away.

“Y/n.” Peter whined and followed you. “Don’t walk away.”

He was able to catch up to you before you went into your next class. He didn’t want to touch you, so he stood in front of you to stop you.

“You know you’re gonna have to talk to me at some point, right?” He asked. “Our lockers are right next to each other and we have multiple classes together. And summer is coming. These next few weeks are the last we’ll have together. Don’t you want to hug me once you cross the stage at graduation? Or do you want to spend these next few weeks pretending the longest relationship you ever had never happened?”

You stayed silent, knowing Peter was right. You didn’t want to leave for college knowing the two of you were enemies again.

“Please.” Peter said quietly. “You can’t just act like I’m not here.”

You looked at him for a long time, sparking hope inside him that you were going to forgive him. Finally, you cracked a smile and shook your head at him.

“Watch me.” You said before bumping his shoulder to move past him. Peter felt his heart break all over again as your footsteps sounded further and further away.

~

The next morning, Peter was back at it again with trying to talk to you. He saw you at your locker and immediately went to his.

“Good morning.” Peter smiled at you, but got no answer.

“Please, Y/n. It’s been weeks.” He frowned. “And I’m not particularly thrilled with you right now either but we need to talk.”

You wondered why he was mad at you, but you didn’t say anything.

“I fucked up.” He admitted. “I shouldn’t have broken up with you like that.”

You shut your locker and looked at him for a moment. He fought the urge to take your books from you the way he used to and act like everything was fine.

“You know how I said you’re right about once a month?” You asked him, reminding Peter of when you were first trying out the relationship.

“Yeah?” He said hopefully.

“You just hit your quota for the month.” You patted his chest and walked away from him. Peter let out a huff and walked to his first class, which of course, he had with you.

“Good morning, class.” The teacher greeted as you took your seats. “Since summer is coming, I’ve decided to give you a final project instead of a final. I’ll be picking your partners again.”

Your heart stopped for a moment when you heard the announcement. The first time she assigned partners, you ended up with a boyfriend. You could only imagine what would happen this time. Peter shifted in his seat behind you, telling you he was thinking the exact same thing.

Your teacher began to list off the partners and your anxiety built every time your name wasn’t called. The number of available students that weren’t Peter was getting lower and lower.

“Ned, Eugene, you’ll be working together.” She read off her list. You shut your eyes and prayed that you and Peter wouldn’t be matched.

“Oh no.” Ned gulped and looked at Flash.

“Oh yes.” Flash winked at Ned.

“Peter, Y/n, you’ll be working together again.” Your teacher read, knocking the wind right out of you. Peter smiled a little, happy that he’d have an excuse to talk to you.

You, on the other hand, were less than pleased. Your hand immediately shot up and you spoke before being called on.

“Can I please have a different partner?” You asked. Peter let out a sigh and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. The class, who had just gotten used to the fact that you and Peter were a couple, looked at each other in confusion.

“Why?” The teacher asked. “I thought you two had worked out your differences?”

“I thought so too.” You said sweetly. “But since my current partner has proven to be unreliable and a major A-hole, I don’t think I can trust him.”

Peter’s jaw dropped, feeling that dormant feeling of competition with you returning. If you were going to act like that, he was too.

“I also want a new partner,” Peter said as he raised his hand. “Apparently my current partner ran around to others partners when our project ended.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You asked as you whipped around in your seat.

“Y/n. Language.” The teacher reprimanded you.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized. “I just don’t think this partner is right for me. I’d rather be on my own.”

Peter let out a humorless laugh when you used the very words he said to break up with you.

“Right. Like you were on your own in the kitchen the other night?” He shot back.

“What?” You whipped around again. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Peter hissed.

“No, dingus, I don’t.” You taunted. “That’s why I’m asking.”

“I’m talking about you filling yourself up with fossil fuel the second we break up”. Peter snapped.

“Fossil fuel?” You asked. Your eyes widened when you realized he meant Bucky. “Oh my God. You watched the security tapes? Are you stalking me?”

“I wouldn’t have to if you were mature enough to answer my calls.” Peter shot back.

“If you two are so inclined to have this conversation, you can continue it outside of my class.” The teacher cut in. You suddenly remembered that you were in class and had an audience watching your fight.

“Fine. I’ll leave.” Peter said as he picked up his backpack.

“Yeah.” You laughed. “He’s good at that.”

“You’re both leaving.” The teacher said. “Now.”

You grabbed your backpack and marched out of the classroom with Peter close behind him. You never turned to look at him, but you could hear his heavy footsteps behind you.

“We need to talk.” Peter called after you.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You grumbled.

“Then how are we supposed to work together?” Peter asked, stopping in his tracks. You stopped too and whipped around to see him.

“We’ll do it on Einstein’s photoelectric effect model.” You stated. “You can do the research and I’ll write the paper. We won’t have to see each other anymore than we have to.”

“But I want to see you.” Peter said quietly.

“Oh, you do?” You folded your arms. “Is that why you broke up with me?”

“I didn’t think it would be like this.” Peter sighed. “I knew you’d be mad, but you’re acting like I don’t even exist. I know I broke your heart, and I’m really sorry about that, but we have a lot of history, Y/n. You can’t just pretend I’m not here.”

“Yes, I can.” You shrugged. “It’s easier when you don’t talk to me, though.”

Peter folded his arms as well, staring at you with fuming anger as he thought of what to say. To him, you were being unreasonably and immature. He knew you were upset, but he couldn’t fix things if you didn’t give him a chance to.

“Did you sleep with Bucky?” He blurted. It wasn’t the way he wanted to ask you, but he was at a loss for any other words.

“Oh my God.” You groaned and started walking again. “We are absolutely not having this conversation.”

“Could you please stop walking away?” Peter’s asked as he followed you. “I’m trying to talk to you.”

“I don’t care.” You said as you sped up. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Y/n.” Peter whined and began to jog to catch up. “Since when did you walk this fast?”

“Fuck off, Peter.” You called back.

“Let me talk to you.” He ran and stood in front of you again. “What were you doing with Bucky?”

“None of your business. You’re not my boyfriend, remember?” You raised your voice. “You forfeited any right to have an opinion on my life when you broke up with me and couldn’t be bothered to give me a reason why. Do you honestly think you’re allowed to be mad about Bucky? Because you’re not. I moved on, Peter. You should too.”

You tried to move past him but he blocked you.

“But with him?” He asked sadly. “You knew I was insecure about him.”

“And you knew I needed communication in a relationship.” You shot back. “And yet, we ended up on completely different pages. I don’t like being caught off guard, Peter. You knew you were gonna break up with me at lunch, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I did.” He admitted.

“That’s what I thought.” You nodded. “But instead of talking to me then, you lied to me and told me everything was fine. You’re such a dick. I can’t believe I ever loved you.”

Your words cut into Peter like a dagger. He physically stumbled back from you as your words sunk in. His eyes fell to the ground and for a moment, you felt guilty. You almost reached out and pulled him into a hug, craving his touch after three weeks without it. Instead, you shifted your backpack on your shoulder as you fought the urge to forgive him.

“Email me your research by next week.” You said before you thought it through. “And do me a favor?”

“Yeah. Anything.” Peter nodded hopefully.

“Don’t talk to me.” You smiled tightly. “Thanks.”

You turned and walked away from Peter, tears falling from your eyes the second he couldn’t see you anymore.

When his efforts to talk to you in school failed, Peter went to plan b. He went to your house right after school and knocked on your door, impatiently waiting for you to open up. Soon enough, he heard the door click and was met with your unimpressed gaze.

“Oh my God.” You groaned when you saw who it was. “You can’t just show up here.”

“And you can’t open the door if you didn’t look through the peephole first.” Peter shrugged. “What if I had a gun?”

“Do you?” You asked sarcastically.

“No.” He answered. “But you wouldn’t know that because you didn’t look through the-“

“What do you want?” You cut him off. Peter shut his mouth and let out a sigh. He knew you won’t any excuses, so he got right to it.

“I was lying.”

“Oh, great.” You smiled sarcastically and tried to close your door.

“I never fell out of love.” He continued as he held your door open. “My feelings never changed. I love you just as much now as I always have. I promise.”

You took your hand off your door when you heard this. This information changed everything for you but left you even more confused than before.

“Then why did you break up with me?” You asked quietly.

“I couldn’t sleep the night you came to my apartment after that man attacked you.” Peter began. “Or the night before. I couldn’t stop thinking that being with me meant you’d never be safe again. I broke up with you to prevent people going after you for being my girlfriend.”

“That’s ridiculous.” You scoffed. “I can protect myself.”

“That’s exactly what Ned said you would say.” Peter realized.

“So you talked to Ned about it and still broke up with me?”

“I wasn’t thinking straight.” Peter shook his head. “I just needed to know you were safe.”

“Well, I think that’s stupid.” You said simply. “And slightly narcissistic to think people care about Spiderman enough to go after his girlfriend. It’s not like you’re Iron Man or anything.”

“Are you kidding me? How is that-“ Peter cut himself off when he noticed the slight smile on your face.

“You’re teasing me.” He realized.

“Sorry.” You said unapologetically. “Habit.”

“It’s okay. I deserved that.”

You nodded in agreement and pursed your lips. Peter knew you well enough to know when you were trying to come to terms with something. He could only hope the fact that you hadn’t shut the door yet meant he was forgiven.

“Whats wrong?” He asked you.

“I’m angry that you broke up with me and lied about why.” You told him.

“I know.”

“But I’m less angry because I would have done the exact same thing.” You continued, making Peter lit up with newfound hope.

“You would have?” He asked as his lips twitched into a smile.

“You’re Spiderman. And I love that. But I love Peter Parker more.” You told him. “And if the roles were reversed, I would’ve done everything in my power to keep you safe. I’d probably do something more than what you did, but that’s just because I’m a better person than you.”

Peter laughed at your joke, missing your dry sense of humor after three weeks of silence.

“You’re not that good of a person. You fucked my coworker.” He reminded you.

“I tried to fuck your coworker.” You corrected. “But I failed so I’m basically a saint.”

“You failed?” Peter lit up. “You didn’t sleep with Bucky?”

“No.” You admitted. “He turned me down.”

Peter’s cheeks puffed up at his tried his hardest to fight a smile.

“Don’t laugh.” You pointed a finger at him.

“I’m sorry.” He burst into laughter. “But you were rejected by a terrorist. That’s so embarrassing.”

“Shut up.” You smacked his arm. “He didn’t reject me. He was being a gentleman.”

“He’s also a hundred years old, you grandpa fucker.” Peter mumbled.

“Leave me alone.” You whined. “I’m still mad at you.”

“I know.” Peter’s laughter died down. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I was really feeling. I should’ve communicated better. I know how important that is to you.”

“And I’m sorry I told my friends you had a micropenis.” You mumbled.

“That’s okay.” He nodded. “I deserved that.”

“And that I had to fake it every time.” You continued.

“Okay.” He liked that one a little less.

“And that you’re on steroids.” You mumbled.

“You’re pushing it.”

“Sorry.” You chuckled, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

“I’m sorry too. And I meant everything I said. I never stopped loving you.” Peter told you. “Did you stop loving me?”

“I tried to.” You admitted. “But even when I hated you, I always loved you more.”

“So are we okay?” Peter hoped. Your smile dropped suddenly, and Peter’s heart went with it.

“No, Peter.” You said quietly. “I don’t think we are.”

“Why not?”

“How do I know this isn’t gonna happen again? It’s a valid concern, to think that people will go after me because of you.” You told him. “How do I know you won’t break up with me every time you think I’m in danger?

“I won’t do that.” Peter promised you.

“You just did.” You reminded him. “What makes you think you won’t do it again?”

Peter grimaced, knowing his answer was not what you were looking to hear.

“I hate to say this, but I don’t know.” He confessed. “I just think I won’t.”

“Well I don’t know if I can be in a relationship with someone who “just thinks” he won’t break up with me.” You said as you folded your arms.

“I think you should.” Peter pouted. “I think it would be fun.”

“Or how about this? Maybe I agree with you.” You shrugged. “Maybe I don’t want to date you anymore because I don’t want to be in danger.”

“What?” Peter sputtered. “Since when do you ever agree with me?”

“Since now.” You decided.

“Then we’ll make a compromise.” Peter suggested. “We just won’t be seen together while I’m in the suit. And I’ll get Mr. Stark to make you some travel sizes weapons so you can protect yourself. And he can put a tracker on you like he has a tracker on me. And we can figure out-“

“Hm.” You cut Peter off and took your time looking him up and down.

“What’s wrong?” He panicked. “Is that not enough?”

“I’ve just decided that I don’t like you anymore.” You said simply. Peter let out a sigh of relief when he realized you were joking.

“Don’t even start.” He warned.

“I can’t be with you.” You shrugged. “I’ve fallen in love with Bucky. Its the criminal record. I just can’t help myself.”

“Yes you can”. Peter insisted.

“No. His thunder thighs are calling me.” You tried to shut the door again. “I can hear them now.”

You stepped back into your apartment, and Peter took a step in. He cupped your face in his hands and spun you around, pinning you against your front door.

“If you want to get rid of me, you’re gonna have to try harder than that.” He mumbled as he brushed your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Well I do love a challenge.” You smiled under his thumb. “I bet I could-“

Peter didn’t let you finish as he pressed his body into yours and shut you up with a kiss.

“You talk too much.” He mumbled against your lips before going in for another kiss. You gripped the lapels of his flannel to pull him closer, but pushed him away suddenly with your eyebrows furrowed.

“Fuck.” You exclaimed with an angry huff.

“What’s wrong?” Peter worried as he took his hands off of you.

“I just remembered we have another fucking project to do.” You grumbled.

“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” He laughed in disbelief. “Our school project?”

“You’re laughing because you weren’t the one who did most of the work last time.” You pointed out.

“Can you please stop talking so I can kiss you?” Peter whined. “We can worry about that later.”

“But we have to at least start-“ Your sentence was once again cut off by Peter’s lips, and this time, you were glad he shut you up. You were finally back together and you had deeply missed his touch.

The project could wait.

THE END 

Tag list 🏷

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @weirdr-artiest @serendipitous-amor @dummiesshort

@foreverxholland @lavender-writer @michaela072796 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101 @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 @maryjanee23 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland @flixndchill @sovereignparker @thisisthebiplace @spideydobrik @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @itscaminow @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @smilexcaptainx @quaksonhehe @kelieah @kickingn-ames @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @love-sick-blues @electraheart-3174 @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @spideyanakin @horanxholland @thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @tomshufflepuff @cookiemonstermusic258

@maybemona @alexxcorona113​ @lethal-wisdom​ @xo-spidey​ @big-galaxy-chaos @pandaxnienke​ @theincredibledeadlyviper​  @thestylestour​  @officialsimppage @mrvelscaptains​ @peterbenjiparker​ @itsemohours​ @okkulta​ @parkerlovebot @jungkxxkk​ @friendlyneighborhood-mendes​ @whatthefuckimbisexual @olixerwxxd​ @starkbrain​ @creatorofthegalaxy​ @f-hollands @ilovefrogs1000​ @itstaskeen​ @itmatteredatthetime​ @wrendermeuseless @amazinggracy​ @iprobablyshipit91​ @magicalxdaydream​ @whereismytelephone @theonly1outof-a-billion​ @leilanixx​ @namoreno​ @bi-lmg​ @dracoswhore007 @tomhollandloml​ @avengers-hamiltrash @sunshinepeterparkr @gh0stgurl​ @so-very-asleep​ @veryholland​ @white-wolf1940 @spideycheles @firwproof​ @fanficaddict13125​ @pinklxmonade​ @thebestqueenoftheworld @nowayhomeparker​ @willowestelle​ @imobsessedzs​ @spideyspeaches​ @bookfrog242​ @hihiweezing​ @mathletemadison​  @chipot-lol @mackenziejanine​ @dhtomholland​ @peterstommy​ @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr​ @aayaissaa​ @loudthoughts-softspoken​ @starknik22​ @hollandprkr​ @kennedywxlsh​ @janell-r​  @jedi-jesi​ @avengerstanforlife​ @t-hollanderr​  @singerintheshower​ @idkatee​ @tomhollyland​ @juliannaamonroe​ @kitykatnumber​ @hallecarey1​

[iliveiloveiwrite]

winged cupid painted blind // Anthony Bridgerton

Request: I’d really love something based on love story by Taylor Swift. The lines “We keep quite cuz we’re dead if they knew” and “take me somewhere we can be alone” stick out to me //  I was thinking that the reader could be from a family that isn’t well off and her and Anthony meet at a ball somehow. They create a ruse that she’s from a well known family so that the gossips in the ton don’t attack her because Anthony has fallen in love with a “commoner.” All the Bridgertons are in on the ruse and at the end of the story Anthony proposes - @whovianwholikesgirls

A/N: Why is it that every Bridgerton fic I write, I end up writing thousands and thousands of words? This is long and I am sorry for that! As always, I hope I have done your request justice and that I hope you like!

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: she/her pronouns, female reader, class divides, pining, mutual pining, lots of fluff, dancing, kissing, happy ending, Anthony in love.

Word count: 7.7k

Madame Delacroix’s took up the central property on the most prosperous street coming just off of Grosvenor Square. The most popular modiste in London, many of society’s richest families flocked to her door in order to claim their own dress made by the talented seamstress.

Anthony sighs as he climbs down from the carriage. His mother must be in a particular benevolent mood to send him to pick up her newest dress from the modiste. Anthony would much rather be spending his day at his club, but he finds himself ringing the modiste’s bell for service.

“Monsieur Bridgerton!” Madame Delacroix smiles, delighted at the sight of the Viscount. “How can I help you?” She asks, her smile turning flirtatious.

Anthony responds with his own flirtatious smile. “I’m here to pick up a dress for my mother.”

“Of course, of course,” Madame Delacroix sings, “I have it over here. I finished it last night. It is divine!”

“My mother will surely thank you,” Anthony states earnestly, his gaze dancing around the room filled to the brim with fabrics and ribbons, models and hoops.

“No need,” Madame Delacroix, “The Bridgertons are my best customers.”

Anthony takes the offered box, marvelling at the lightness of its weight. For all the skirts, for all the numerous pieces of fabric that go into making a dress, Anthony will always remain shocked at the featherlight weight of it.

“Will Lady Bridgerton be wearing this to the Hastings’ ball tonight?” The modiste asks, her tone light as she tries her best to keep the burning curiosity out of her voice.

“Most likely,” Anthony smiles, tipping his head in goodbye.

The modiste calls out her goodbyes as Anthony walks out the door. He doesn’t pay much attention to where he is going; only knowing that he needs to turn left in order to reach his carriage. The very thought has him rushing, safe in the knowledge that the quicker he got his done, the quicker he would be at his club.

It’s that self-indulgent thought that had Anthony distracted enough to walk into something hard.

“Oh!” A feminine voice gasps as Anthony catches her elbow whilst keeping a tight hold on the dress box.

“My apologies,” Anthony offers, steadying the unknown woman.

“You’re forgiven,” She murmurs dryly, turning her attention back to the seamstresses window.

“You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“No, I’m perfectly fine. Thank you for your concern, Lord Bridgerton.”

“My pleasure, Miss…”

“(Y/L/N).”

“My pleasure, Miss (Y/L/N),” Anthony repeats, adjusting the dress box in his hands. He goes to say something else but notices her slyly counting the money in her purse, watching her frown when she realises she cannot afford the prices set by Madame Delacroix.

“Have a nice day, Lord Bridgerton,” Miss (Y/L/N) remarks, stepping away from the Viscount to begin her walk home. She didn’t need a Viscount to be witness to her money troubles; she had thought she had enough, but the prices must have been increased since the last time she had wandered past the window. It would be another two weeks of saving before she could afford a new set of ribbons; it wasn’t worth it at this point, she sighed to herself.

“You too!” Anthony shouts to her retreating figure, feeling upset on her behalf that she could not afford the ribbons she was so dazedly admiring. Shaking off the uncomfortable feeling, Anthony climbs into the carriage, thinking of the young woman all the way home.

-----

“Jayne!” (Y/N) laughs, “Slow down! I’m going to lose a shoe.”

“Alright, Cinderella,” Jayne snickers, slowing her pace as she climbs the winding staircase to the home of the Duke and Duchess of Hastings.

“Have you ever seen such a home?” (Y/N) gasps; eyes widening as she takes in the grand structure. The brickwork is immaculate; many red bricks painted black to give the impression of a crosshatch pattern spreading across the building. This is only highlighted by the many windows; all seemingly lit by a countless number of candles and sconces.

“(Y/N)!” Jayne shouts, “Stop admiring the building! We have a dance to get to.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” (Y/N) laughs, hurrying after her friend who has already handed over their invitation.

Jayne grips (Y/N)’s hand tightly as they enter the ballroom together. The event is in full swing; the dancefloor already full with couples dancing a quadrille.

“Would you dance with me?” The handsome brunette asks of Jayne, staring at her hopefully. Jayne casts her gaze to (Y/N), not wanting to leave her friend, but wanting very much to dance with the handsome man.

(Y/N) nudges Jayne forward, answering for her. “She would be delighted.”

Jayne sends her a thankful smile as she joins more and more couples on the dancefloor.

The drinks table isn’t busy at all as (Y/N) wanders over. She makes sure to keep an eye on Jayne, watching her dance with what looks to be a Rokesby. (Y/N) shakes her head fondly at her friend; ten minutes into a ball and she’s already caught the attention of a member of one of the richest families in England.

Turning her attention away from her friend, (Y/N) reaches for a glass of lemonade when her hand brushes with a man clearly wanting the same glass. (Y/N) pulls her hand away, not wanting to cause any trouble at a ball she wasn’t even invited to.

“My apologies,” She murmurs, grabbing another glass from the many.

“You’re forgiven,” A voice drawls. (Y/N) glances upwards through her lashes to find Anthony Bridgerton watching her with a confused expression.

“Lord Bridgerton,” (Y/N) greets, curtseying lightly at the sight of her superior.

Anthony nods. He remains silent as he stands next to her; it’s not an awkward silence, rather, one where (Y/N) can practically hear the cogs and gears winding in Anthony’s mind, trying to figure out where he knows her from. If he knows her at all.

“I met you this morning,” Anthony recalls suddenly, snapping his fingers together when he remembers why he recognises the woman standing next to him.

“You almost knocked me over,” She states wryly, lifting her glass to her lips to take a tentative sip of the lukewarm lemonade.

“I believe I apologised for that, Miss (Y/L/N).”

“Call me (Y/N). And I forgave you,” She states simply, “But It doesn’t mean I’m going to let you forget it, however.”

“I’d be disappointed in you, if you did.”

(Y/N) laughs. The very sound music to Anthony’s ears and he briefly wonders whether he could have the sound imprinted on his brain; to hear her laughter for an eternity.

“What are you doing here?” Anthony asks, taking a pull of his lemonade before wrinkling his nose. Too sweet, not sour enough. “Are you here with your parents?”

“I wasn’t technically invited,” She confesses to the Viscount in a conspiratorial whisper. Anthony’s eyes widen when her words land, “What?”

“I came to chaperone my friend, Jayne. You may know her, she’s Lord Dorchester’s daughter.”

Anthony nods; he knew the man well, drank with him a few times at his club – dreadfully dull with a fascination for military history. Much like many of the men of his father’s generation.

“Anyway,” (Y/N) continues, “Jayne wanted to go, but needed a chaperone as her mother has taken ill – nothing serious thankfully. I was the next best option so here I am.”

“Here you are,” Anthony parrots, enunciating every syllable as his eyes pour over her figure. “If you weren’t invited, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a governess for Lord and Lady Saville,” She answers proudly; a happy smile on her face as she thinks of her students.

“I hated my governess,” Anthony confesses with a laugh. “I don’t care much for Latin which she knew so she would make me do double the work.”

(Y/N) snorts. “Latin is a very useful language; it’s a good skill to have.”

“I know that now,” Anthony gripes, “I just didn’t know that at ten years old.”

Silence descends between them. Again, not uncomfortable, but a natural stopping point in their conversation. After all, titled gentleman such as the man stood beside her didn’t speak to her occupation outside of a brief conversation about their child’s progress in their education.

(Y/N) places her finished glass of lemonade back on the table before smoothing out the deep blue skirts of her borrowed dress. She clears her throat, ready to make her excuses and check on Jayne when Anthony speaks first.

“Would you care to dance?”

“Pardon?”

“Would you like to dance with me?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why not?”

“I’m a governess, Lord Bridgerton.”

“Call me Anthony, please.”

“That still doesn’t change the fact that you’re supposed to dance with someone of your own class, Anthony.”

“I don’t want to dance with them. I want to dance with you.”

His argument is straight to the point; no beating around the bush that (Y/N) finds it hard to find fault with it. Instead, she sighs, “One dance.”

“One dance,” Anthony promises, holding out his hand for her to grasp.

She didn’t expect to find herself the centre of the Viscount’s attention, but she cannot bring herself to mind much. Not as he holds out a hand for her to take; not as he leads to her to the dancefloor and not as he settles a palm against her lower back. The feel of his hand feeling so right that she loses the power of speech.

The music begins and (Y/N) travels to a new place entirely. The room melts away; the couples, the families. They all disappear. The only two people in the room are her and Anthony; his blue eyes fixed on her as they start to circle the room in waltz. There’s no need for conversation; all words passed by looks alone.

When the music dies and the room fades back into view, (Y/N) only wonders whether she would feel like this again, whether they would be anyone to make her feel like this again. As Anthony bows and kisses her hand, (Y/N) has her answer.

----------

He doesn’t stop thinking about her. She left soon after they finished dancing; her friend finding her and asking whether she was ready to leave. Anthony wanted to argue; wanted to reach for (Y/N) and pull her back to his embrace where they could dance the night away.

Anthony returned home and went straight to his room. He undressed mechanically; still thinking of her as he slipped between his sheets and tried to fall asleep only to find that sleep was a fickle friend that would not be granting him a visit tonight.

He remains awake; thinking of every aspect of her. He didn’t think he would see her again after the modiste; it was a shock to find her at the ball, but he took the opportunity with both hands to find that he had quickly become infatuated with her.

Could this be called love? Anthony rolls over in bed; tangling himself up in the sheets as he runs a hand up and down his bare chest, thinking the question over and over.

He felt as if he had hit by the arrow of Cupid; as if he had handed himself over voluntarily to be pricked with one of the god’s arrows. He’s never felt like this; no woman had ever kept him awake at night in such a manner.

Groaning, Anthony reaches for the pillow on the other side of the bed, hugging it to his chest. All the while, he dreams it was her body he was pressing close to.

The day after the Ball, Anthony strides from his study to his mother’s drawing room. There, he sits next to his beloved mother, and asks her to gather his siblings for a family meeting.

They arrive one by one. The youngest arriving first; a simple call from the bottom of the stairs has Gregory and Hyacinth rushing to the drawing room, each one adamant that they didn’t do it, but rather their sibling. Anthony shakes his head in exasperation, not wanting to know what they were referring to and instead, asks them to take a seat on the pale blue couch in front of the window.

Over the course of an hour, Anthony’s family arrive. Each one just as curious as the last, each one just as questioning as the last. “Why have you gathered us here, Anthony?” Daphne sighs, her hand resting on Simon’s knee.

“I’ve met someone,” Anthony announces. He frowns at the shocked gasps from Daphne and Eloise; was he really so incapable of finding himself a wife? He ignores the jibes from them both, turning to face his dear mother.

Violet Bridgerton sits in her favourite chair; the one next to it empty as it has been for the last decade. Edmund Bridgerton died so suddenly, and their love was so strong, Anthony knew that there was no recovery from it. “Do we know her?” She asks; her face showing the happiness she feels for her eldest son.

“No,” Anthony sighs, settling down next to his youngest sister, Hyacinth. She offers him a sweet smile as he sits; Anthony cannot help but return the smile and ruffle her hair. When the moment is over, Anthony focuses his attention back onto his family who he finds is watching him intently. “She’s a governess,” He admits, straightening in his seat.

“A respectable profession,” Eloise states with a smile. Anthony feels a rush of affection for his sister; he had always been wary for her outspokenness, but right now, he could thank her heartily.

“What’s the problem, Anthony?” Eloise continues, crossing her ankles, leaning forward in interest.

“I think she may have feelings for me as well, but she’s hesitant to act on them because of our differences.”

“Differences?” Hyacinth questions curiously; unaware of such class differences at such a young age.

“(Y/N) is a governess. I am a Viscount,” Anthony explains, “It would be the subject of gossip for years to come should anything happen between us.”

“So we come up with another story,” Francesca suggests, shrugging her shoulders as if her suggestion was always the answer.

“Another story?” Daphne wonders, eyes glancing between her husband and her family.

“We create a ruse,” Francesca explains to her elder sister. “A story for (Y/N) and Anthony to follow when out in public.”

“Do you think she would go along with this?” Benedict asks; his tone wary as he thinks of the possible implications this could have for his family.

Anthony remains silent, tapping a finger against his cheek as he thinks of whether (Y/N) would follow such a ruse. “Why don’t we ask her? I can send a summons.”

Violet, who had been watching the whole exchange in silence, nods. “Send her a message asking her to come as quick as she can. Tell her it isn’t an emergency, but that you would like to talk to her.”

Anthony nods; rushing from the drawing room to his study to pen such a message. After that, he calls on one of the footmen, handing them the letter and the strict duty of delivering this to (Y/N) personally. The footman nods; his face serious as he takes the letter from his employer’s hand, all but sprinting out of the door.

Anthony returns to the drawing room; taking his seat next to Hyacinth.

“Did you send the missive?” Violet asks. Anthony nods; doing his best to keep his heart from beating right out of his chest. “I sent it with one of the footmen,” He answers, “It shouldn’t be long now.”

His family all nod, breaking off into separate conversations whilst Anthony remains stoic and silent. His leg bounces repeatedly; the only outward sign of his anxiety. Internally, he nerves were fraught. He couldn’t help but wonder whether this was all too much; he knew from their first meeting that Anthony would do anything for her, but if (Y/N) didn’t return such feelings then it was all for nothing.

Worries and thoughts continue to plague him as Anthony catches sight of Daphne leaning into Simon. It’s a small movement, almost imperceptible, but Anthony cannot miss the devoted smile that crosses Simon’s face when he feels his wife press against him.

Longing breaks within Anthony’s chest, spreading through his body, leaving behind an ache that he doesn’t know how to heal.

“Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” introduces the Butler, breaking Anthony’s longing in half.

He stands all too fast, appearing all too eager. Anthony shoots a glare in his brother’s direction when he hears their sniggering.

(Y/N) rushes into the room; her eyes filled with panic when she finds herself in front of the whole Bridgerton clan. “Anthony?” She whispers; her eyes finally meeting his from across the room.

“(Y/N),” He breathes, “Thank you for coming.”

“You told me not to worry, but you sounded so urgent.”

“We wanted to talk to you,” He explains, gesturing to his whole family. “Why don’t you take a seat?”

(Y/N) sits; her mind running a thousand miles a minute as she finds herself being watched by every Bridgerton/Basset in the room. The room is silent; too silent – no-one dares broach the subject first. They don’t want to anger Anthony or ruin his chances with (Y/N).

“Whatever is the matter?” (Y/N) finally asks, breaking the silence.

“We’ve come to understand that you and Anthony have feelings for each other,” Violet states quite plainly.

(Y/N) fidgets, somewhat uncomfortable with this line of questioning. “I guess you could say that,” She offers, smiling smally at the aforementioned man.

“We also know that you’re worried about the differences between Anthony and yourself,” Violet continues to which Eloise huffs, crossing her arms in anger at the state of the class differences within England.

“It’s not so much worried,” (Y/N) explains, “It’s more resigned to the fact.”

Violet nods, understanding where the young governess is coming from. “Francesca,” Violet starts, nodding to the brunette sitting by one of Anthony’s brothers, “Has come up with an idea that we would like to run by you.”

“Oh?”

“It would mean that you and Anthony would be able to begin a courtship.”

(Y/N) feels herself flush; her face heating with how open the Bridgerton family were about their emotions. Their family unit so healthy and happy that everyone felt at ease to talk about whatever was on their minds.

“What did you have in mind?” (Y/N) asks, turning to face Francesca who responds with a large smile.

“We’re going to create a backstory for you. Not something terribly complicated, but something that you and Anthony can follow whilst out in public.”

“Okay…” (Y/N) whispers hesitantly, “What’s the backstory you’ve created?”

Francesca begins to look sheepish. “I haven’t thought of that part yet… I didn’t think Anthony would go for the first part.”

(Y/N) laughs; a light and airy sound that has Anthony straightening in his seat, smiling automatically. “Why don’t we come up with it together?”

“So you’re willing to go along with it?” Anthony asks; his voice unwaveringly hopeful as he refuses to look at anyone but (Y/N).

Something in his face has her nodding. “For as long as you’ll have me,” She answers earnestly, almost breathless when Anthony smiles widely in return.

“This is what I’ve thought of so far,” Colin announces, breaking the moment between Anthony and (Y/N).

The family turn to Colin to find him sat forward on his seat, an eager look across his face as he begins to lay out his plans. Anthony smiles and nods; happy with every word leaving his brother’s mouth.

(Y/N) cannot help but feel an ounce of doubt; not so much at the plan, but for longevity of it. How long would it be before Anthony realised she was not worth it? How long would it before the class difference between them became too much? She dreaded the day but knew it would be upon her before she realised.

----------

The annual picnic in Hyde Park drew in every affable family in London. After all, it was another excuse for mother’s to parade their daughters to the many eligible gentleman. For the gentlemen, it was a free lunch with whichever gazebo they chose to throw themselves upon.

The Bridgertons had been attending this picnic for many years; their station in society meaning that they were personally invited by the monarch. Violet took pride in her set up, making sure her cook’s famous biscuits were on display and that there was plenty of tea to go around. She also ensured that her family had the perfect view of the Serpentine; not too close for her children to fall in, but not too far for it to be out of sight. It was not a sorry affair.

(Y/N) had joined the family happily; talking briefly with Colin and Eloise before Hyacinth monopolised her attention. (Y/N) didn’t mind; she had taught many young girls the same age as Hyacinth and found them all a delight to educate. Hyacinth would be no different.

It wasn’t long, however, before Anthony joined her side. His hand settled comfortably on the small of her back, liking the way that she stepped closer to him, as if wanting to be in his presence all the time.  

“Did you have fun the other night?” Anthony questions, thinking back to Daphne’s ball when (Y/N) had smiled at him as he lead her across the dancefloor.

(Y/N) smiles. “I did. I had a lot of fun.”

“How are you feeling about our ruse?” Anthony queries, catching sight of Lady Featherington marching across the many blankets in the direction of the Bridgerton patch.

“Confident,” (Y/N) answers, “Why do you ask?”

Anthony smiles; shifting his position slightly so he can hear every word of the conversation about to happen. He ducks his head, his mouth close to her ear as he answers, “Because it’s about to be put to the test.”

“Lady Bridgerton,” Lady Featherington calls; her gaudy green gown shimmering in the sunlight as she teeters her way to the matriarch of the fine family.

“Lady Featherington,” Violet greets, her voice as polite as ever. “How are you?”

Lady Featherington smiles at Violet; her gaze glancing around the colourful blankets and gazebo set out for the Bridgerton family to remain comfortable as the picnic progresses. Lady Featherington smiles when her eyes find the figure she was looking for. (Y/N) stands to the side, wrapped up in a conversation with Anthony that certainly looks to be a private one.

Lady Featherington nods towards (Y/N); the fascinator attached to her threatening to slip into her eyes. “You have a new addition to your family, Lady Bridgerton,” Lady Featherington states; no infliction of a question but one inferred all the same.

“(Y/N) is a distant friend of the family,” Violet answers breezily, “She hails from a wealthy family just outside of Leeds.”

“Leeds?”

Violet nods. “Yes, Leeds. It’s just over 20 miles outside of York, perhaps you’ve been?”

Lady Featherington smiles tightly at Violet. She smooths down the green panels of her dress. “A handful of times, Lady Bridgerton. After all, my side of the family hails from Manchester. The two aren’t so far removed.”

“Of course,” Violet appeases, “How does your family fare? I’d heard your mother was ill.”

Lady Featherington continues to smile graciously at the Dowager Viscount. Her eyes are brimming with warning and curiosity, but her smile is forced. “Mother is doing much better, she travelled to the coast. The latest journals are saying sea air helps with fragile conditions.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Lady Featherington nods her thanks to Violet before making her excuses. Violet’s shoulders shake with silent laughter as she watches the notorious gossip walk away from her gazebo. Lady Featherington’s shoulders are tight with displeasure as she marches back to her own plot.

Violet returns to the stitching in her lap after a brief glance towards her youngest children. Gregory and Hyacinth occupied with Benedict and Colin as the older of the set teach their younger siblings games from their youth. Violet smiles at her children; content to return to the pattern at hand, the Dutch Tulips would not stitch themselves.

“What was Lady Featherington talking to you about?” Anthony asks. His face the very picture of innocence as he breaks his mother’s concentration and grabs two biscuits – one for him, the other he hands to (Y/N).

“She was fishing for information on our dear (Y/N),” Violet comments, observing her stitching to ensure it remains straight. “She didn’t find out a thing other than what we discussed.”

(Y/N) lets out a relieved breath. “Thank you, Lady Bridgerton.”

Violet waves away her gratitude with a dismissive hand. “You’re making my son happy; I’ll protect that and you with all that I have.”

(Y/N) flounders for a moment at the quick acceptance by Violet. She smiles at the matriarch; whispering her thanks to Violet, ducking her head as she tries to come to terms with rush of emotions coursing through her body.

Anthony returns his attention to the conversation; his mind no longer focused on way to distract Lady Featherington. He flashes a smile in (Y/N)’s direction; his heart racing when she sends her own smile back.

“(Y/N) and I are going to promenade, mother. You’ll be fine without us?”

Violet snorts. “Yes, dear. I have my seven other children to keep me company.”

Anthony rolls his eyes fondly at his mother. He presses a sweet kiss to her cheek before offering (Y/N) his arm.

They amble along the path; all the while aware of the maid sent by Violet shortly after they departed. Violet trusts (Y/N) implicitly, but she knows the reputation of her eldest son. The poor opera singer being prime evidence of his abilities to break hearts as quickly as he mends them.

“You look beautiful, by the way. In case I haven’t told you,” Anthony flirts, a handsome smile spreading across his face.

“You haven’t, but I’ll take the compliment now.”

Anthony laughs, throwing his head back in delight as they both pause their walk. “You are though,” Anthony murmurs, reaching out to brush a finger down (Y/N)’s cheek, “You’re beautiful.”

(Y/N) averts her gaze; her cheeks flushing from the unexpected compliment. Anthony glances on either side of them, catching sight of the maid only a few feet away, doing her best to nonchalantly follow them. Anthony turns his attention back to the woman in front of him, desperate for a moment alone with her. A wicked grin spreads across his face, “Follow me.”

“What?”

“Follow me,” Anthony repeats, stepping off the path and onto the grass. He gestures to a faint path; one less travelled. “Do you trust me?”

(Y/N) answers by taking his outstretched hand, letting herself be led down the lesser known path.

Their pace slows when they are certain they have lost their chaperone. (Y/N) feels a twinge of guilt as she thinks of the poor maid who was only doing what she was asked by her employer, but then she catches sight of the unbridled glee on Anthony’s face and her guilt is quickly replaced by anticipation.

“Where are we going?” She asks; her voice jostling slightly as she tries to watch Anthony and not trip over any loose twigs or stones.

“Nowhere in particular,” Anthony confesses, “I just wanted you to myself for a little bit.”

His pace slows; they’re a good distance away from the picnic party, they wouldn’t be interrupted by anyone.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Anthony wonders as he comes to a stop. His hands settle on her waist and she has do all that she can to focus on the conversation and not the fact that she can feel the heat of his skin through the fabric of her dress.  

“You can tell me anything.”

“I like spending time with you. You make me…” Anthony trails off as he thinks of the word, “Happy. Yes, you make me happy.”

“You make me happy too.”

“If you want me to stop,” Anthony whispers, bending to press a line of kisses from her cheek to the corner of her mouth, “You need to tell me now.”

“Don’t stop,” She whispers, fisting her hands in the lapels of his jacket, tugging him forward.

Anthony kissed her carefully, as if afraid he would ruin her from the very moment their lips touched. What he didn’t realise, however, was that he had ruined her from the instant they met. He might not have realised it, but she knew. She knew that from that one conversation, that one touch to her elbow, she would be ruined for other men.

His mouth is gentle, hesitant. By the way he groans low in his throat, Anthony does not expect (Y/N) to react the way she does. Gasping against his mouth, pressing herself against him as her lips open under his. The kiss becomes hurried; oxygen becoming a distant thought of the past as (Y/N) tastes the lemon biscuits Anthony had stolen from his mother’s table.

Breaking the kiss, the couple each suck in ragged breaths. Shy smiles break out across either of their faces, not having expected such a thing to happen to between them. A short laugh leaves Anthony’s lips as he keeps (Y/N) wrapped up in his embrace. Neither of them feel the need to say a word; happy to let the time pass between them in complete silence.

“We should probably get back,” (Y/N) eventually murmurs against Anthony’s cheek, the slight stubble scratching her skin.

Anthony releases a choked sound. “I don’t want to,” He confesses, “I want to stay here with you.”

(Y/N) pulls back, brushing a gloved hand against Anthony’s cheek. He leans into the touch; finding himself enraptured by the woman in front of him. “I want to stay with you too,” She whispers, “But your family will be looking for us.”

Anthony sighs, breaking the embrace entirely. He holds her hand; tangling their fingers together. If he could, he wouldn’t let go of her at all. He would keep her with him at all times; he likes to be in her presence, doesn’t want to be without it. However, society and duty calls, and he must return. However, he would be damned if he was to let go of her hand before then.

“Alright,” He concedes, beginning the walk back to the picnic.

The walk is quiet, but comfortable. Their hands remained tangled even as they arrive back to the Bridgertons. His brother’s throw Anthony a knowing glance which Anthony ignores. He knows his mother will have a strict word with him later, but he has more pressing matters on his mind – his future and the woman now sitting with his youngest siblings.

He’s found his forever; he just needs to keep it.

-----

“Miss (Y/L/N),” the Butler begins, interrupting the governess as she marks her student’s latest set of handwriting, “A Viscount Bridgerton to see you?”

“Oh!” She gasps, standing from her seat far too quickly. The inkpot on her desk spills, sapphire blue ink spreading across the multitude of papers thrown about her desk. As she watches the puddle grow, she begins to feel a deep sense of dread spread through her being.

“Shall I show him in?” The Butler asks, also watching the ink stain spread.

“Have you already made Lord and Lady Saville aware of his presence?”

“Yes, miss. They’re the ones who told me to fetch him to you.”

“Then yes, show him in please,” (Y/N) answers, staring forlornly at the ruined paper and wasted ink. The Butler makes a sympathetic noise before opening the door further for Anthony to enter.

“Darling,” Anthony greets. He goes to speak further but spies the growing blue stain. “What happened here?”

“I stood up too quickly,” (Y/N) complains. “It’s gone everywhere, and I can’t afford another bottle right now.”

“That’s no problem. I’ll get you a bottle.”

(Y/N) fixes the man with an unimpressed look. “No you won’t. I don’t want you buying things for me.”

“It won’t be bought. I have a stock of ink back at Bridgerton House due to the amount of correspondence I have. You can have a couple of pots; I will not miss it.”

“Oh… well, thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Anthony smiles. “Now that’s sorted, I came here to ask you a question.”

“You have?”

“I have. Would you attend the Shakespearean ball? With me?” His voice has a note of vulnerability in it as he voices his question.

“What?” She asks, “As in arrive with you, on your arm?”

“Yes,” Anthony states slowly, “You would come with me and my family.”

She begins to pace the room; her hands wringing together as she tries to calm the pounding of her heart and mind. “Are you sure this is the path you want to go down?” She asks Anthony; her voice begging for a truthful answer.

“What do you mean?”

“This is getting very serious very fast, Anthony. This plan isn’t going to work forever; the ton will find out that I’m a governess and the ruse will be over. This could ruin your entire family, Anthony.”

“Hey,” Anthony hushes, interrupting her pacing. He reaches for her hand with one hand whilst the other cups her cheek. She automatically leans into the touch, sending a thrill through Anthony’s aching soul. “Nothing’s going to happen,” He reassures with a gentle tone, “Should anything happen, we can do damage control.”

“I don’t want to be the ruin of your family, Anthony,” (Y/N) whispers, her eyes lined with unshed tears. She could never forgive herself if the Bridgertons were socially injured by her lack of money relating to her lack of status. (Y/N) could not help the hand of cards she was dealt at birth, but society dictates her station, and hers was so far below Anthony’s it was any wonder that he noticed her in the first place. It was a dream to be accepted by his family; she didn’t want to be the cause of their ruination.

“You aren’t going to be the ruin of my family,” Anthony assures, brushing under her eyes with his thumbs to wipe away the tears that have fallen. “You’re going to be the making of it. I want you in my life, (Y/N). I want to see where this goes.”

“You do?”

“I do. I haven’t felt like this for a long time, I want to see where this feeling takes me.”

“Okay,” She concedes, doing her best to stop the tears falling, “I’ll go to the ball with you.”

“You will?”

“I will.”

The smile that spreads across Anthony’s face makes it all worth it. He presses a kiss to her forehead, then another to her nose, to her cheek before finally kissing her in earnest. She hums against his mouth; getting lost in the feel of him.

“It’ll be worth it,” Anthony whispers. “All of this is worth it.”

“You’re worth it,” (Y/N) states quietly, pulling him back in for another kiss.

----

Lady Danbury was one of two women in London that could throw a memorable ball. The other being Violet Bridgerton. For her theme this year, Lady Danbury had chosen the works of the Elizabethan bard, William Shakespeare. For what could be more romantic than dressing as characters immortalised in his plays and sonnets?

Anthony would not tell (Y/N) one whisper of his costume; kept it a secret from her despite her barrage of questions. As revenge, she kept quiet about her costume, refusing to tell the man the colour of her dress.

The two walk into the ballroom with (Y/N)’s hand resting on Anthony’s forearm; her nerves rattle as she walks further into the room. She knew she had no reason to be nervous; Anthony and his family would protect her from whatever form of gossip falls her way, but she could not help the turning of her stomach as she walked passed many disappointed mothers who had hoped Anthony would pay their daughters the slightest bit of attention.

The music is loud; the laughter lightening the atmosphere and the dancers in full swing as (Y/N) begins to feel comfortable. Having taught many a child Shakespeare, (Y/N) spent a lot of time trying to decipher the characters in attendance tonight. She had already seen three Violas, four Benedicks, and six Olivias.  

“I have to go talk to someone,” Anthony says apologetically, interrupting her guessing game, “I won’t be long. Will you be okay without me?”

(Y/N) nods. “Go. I’m sure I’ll find someone to talk to.”

Anthony presses a lingering kiss to her cheek, whispering as he does so, “A marvel amongst women.”

“You’re nothing but a flirt,” She laughs, batting the love of her life away. “Go talk business.”

“As you wish,” Anthony laughs, mock-bowing before leaving (Y/N) to wander the ball alone. Moments pass before she finds someone she recognises. “Colin,” She greets happily, “Who have you come as?”

“Romeo Montague,” Colin answers, stretching his arms wide to show off his rather fetching garb.

“How wonderful,” She laughs, watching the Bridgerton strike a pose in his costume.

“Who knows,” Colin teases, “Maybe tonight I’ll find my Juliet.”

(Y/N) laughs once more, batting the man away when he wiggles his eyebrows at her in a suggestive manner. “Off with you,” She snorts, “I’m sure there are plenty of ladies for you to dance with.”

Colin departs with a bow of his head. (Y/N) rolls her eyes at the antics of the younger man; Colin knew full well of the line of ladies waiting for his signature of their dance cards, but something warms in (Y/N)’s chest when she watches Colin walk straight to Penelope Featherington.

“They’d make a fine pair if he would pull his head out,” A voice full of humour sounds from behind her.

(Y/N) startles. She turns to find Anthony watching her; his lips curled in a manner that suggested he was holding back the laughter he so desperately wanted to let out.

“You made me jump,” She hisses, batting his outstretched hand away.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Anthony coos, pulling (Y/N) into his embrace by pulling on one of the many skirts about her waist. (Y/N) flushes at the term of endearment, but also at the many pairs of eyes now watching the young couple.

“You’re forgiven,” She sighs. “Who have you dressed as?” She asks, changing the subject.

“Ferdinand,” Anthony answers, “From The Tempest.”

“How odd,” (Y/N) muses, “I’ve dressed as Miranda from The Tempest.”

“‘Admired Miranda!/ Indeed the top of admiration, worth/ What’s dearest to the world!’”

“Only you could quote Shakespeare from the heart,” (Y/N) states wryly.

Anthony preens, puffing out his chest slightly. “All the Bridgertons can. We would do dramatizations of the plays.”

“Of course,” (Y/N) laughs, picturing Anthony as a young boy, dressed in breeches with a make-do ruff around his neck. The very image brings a fond smile to her face.

“What are you smiling about?” Anthony questions, wanting to be privy to the thoughts running through her mind.

“You,” She flirts, hooking her arm through Anthony’s as they start to take a turn about the room.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Anthony states pompously though his heart races at her words.

Her laughter chimes as Anthony steers (Y/N) around the room, pausing only to grab two glasses of lemonade from the drinks table. She sips at it delicately, not risking a spill of a single drop on her outfit.

“I’m glad you decided to come,” Anthony murmurs into her ear. “Truly. I would have been lost without you.”

“You always know what to say, don’t you?” (Y/N) teases, enjoying the blush that begins to paint Anthony’s cheeks. She briefly touches a gloved hand to his cheek, smiling fondly at the brunette. “I’m glad I came too.”

Anthony clears his throat; clearing his throat of the emotion clogging it up. He takes her drink from her, placing it on a nearby table. As ever the gentleman he was raised to be, Anthony bows towards the women he vows is the love of his life and offers his hand. “Would you care to dance?”

“Always,” She answers with a breathtaking smile, taking his hand to be led onto the dancefloor for the start of the new song. Couples on the floor take up the position of the quadrille as upbeat music sounds through the hall.  

It’s hard not to smile as Anthony takes her hand to begin the first steps of the lead couple. The first dance figure is performed before copied by the other couples in their square.

Anthony keeps a tight hold on her as he begins the next set of dance figures; spinning (Y/N) out before drawing her back in. Laughter falls from her mouth, setting his heart alight with the love he feels for her.

She catches the eye of Lady Featherington through one of many of Anthony’s spins. The Lady smiles knowingly, raising her glass to the young woman spinning in the arms of the Viscount.

(Y/N)’s breath freezes in her chest; she makes a choked sound and her steps falter. Luckily, no-one but Anthony seems to notice, but he recovers his hold on (Y/N) fairly quickly. It’s the end of the song; couples slowing on the floor, the audience beginning to clap their approvals.

“Darling?” Anthony calls quietly, breaking her out of her reverie. His hand remains in her hold; refusing to let him take even a step without her.

“Take me somewhere we can be alone,” She pleads, suddenly overcome by the sheer amount of people milling about the hall.

Anthony doesn’t need to be told twice, leading (Y/N) away from the dancefloor with a guiding hand on the small of her back. Anthony catches Benedict’s eye as he leaves the hall; his brother offers him a single nod to which Anthony relaxes – Benedict would make sure no-one would follow or interrupt, there was something important Anthony had to do.

The night air is cold against her heated skin as she inhales hurried breaths. The stone of the railing is cool under her fingers as she grips the stone tight; needing something to tether her to this place. It feels like a dream; a total dream that she would find herself costumed as a character from a Shakespeare play brushing elbows with some of the most powerful people in the country.

At this time of night, the gardens are dark, but she can still make out their heavenly fragrance perfuming the air, providing the perfect backdrop for this night.

“Are you alright?” Anthony asks, removing his jacket and settling it over her shoulders.

(Y/N) pulls his jacket tighter around her; inhaling the comforting scent of musk and sweet orange washing over her. “I’m fine now, it got to be a bit too much in there.”

“That’s an understatement,” Anthony murmurs, “I saw Lady Featherington.”

(Y/N) cringes internally. Her face is a mask of polite interest as she murmurs, “Oh? You saw that did you?”

“She only acts as if she knows everything, darling,” Anthony reassures, settling his hands on (Y/N)’s waist, desperate to be touching her.

“I know,” She murmurs, but his words do nothing to settle the panic tying her chest into knots.

“We’re fine,” Anthony promises; hands rubbing up and down the sides of her bodice. “It’s going to be fine.”

“I know,” She repeats, sighing heavily, leaning back into his embrace. His chest is strong against her back, but she doesn’t get long to admire his strength. He turns her in his arms, peering down at the expression on her face.

“You’re who I love. I couldn’t give a damn what the rest of London society thinks.”

“I love you as well,” She answers, a small smile on her face, letting his words wash away any and all of her worries. “You do have a way with words.”

“Flatterer,” He teases, dipping his head to kiss her.

(Y/N) gasps at the first press of Anthony’s lips against hers. She had kissed him before; a hurried meeting of mouths before their chaperone caught up to them. This kiss differed from that; languid, unhurried. Anthony took his time to memorise the feel of her lips against his; the small whimpers sounding at the back of her throat.

Each brush of his lips against hers spoke of what he found it hard to put into words. He had never been a wordsmith; could never write poetry or recite the romances of the past, but with every butterfly kiss placed on her lips in time to the shuddering of her heartbeat could Anthony translate the sheer scale of what he feels for her.

She reaches up to cup the back of his neck, fingers carding through the dark brown locks. Anthony’s grip on her waist remains firm as he presses her further into the railing. The gentleness of Anthony’s kiss soon turns to a burning passion as his hands splay across the small of (Y/N)’s back, pressing her to him.

As Anthony’s kisses begin to travel the expanse of her jawline, (Y/N) is suddenly grateful for the railing behind her. If he was to let her go now, not only would she feel the keen absence of his touch, but she would surely sink to the floor. The feel of his mouth, pressed hot against her, has her knees feeling unsteady.

“(Y/N),” Anthony whispers, nuzzling the side of her neck, “(Y/N)…”

“You keep whispering my name,” She murmurs into the night air; her ragged breath leaving behind white plumes.

“Marry me,” Anthony all but pleads, pulling back from (Y/N)’s neck to gaze into her eyes. “Marry me and always be mine.”

It seemed that time had stopped and lost all of its meaning; there was no party, no gardens, no laughter of lifelong friends. No. In this moment there was only Anthony.

“Yes,” She whispers, laughter beginning to fall from her mouth as fresh as a morning rainfall. Once it starts, she cannot find it in herself to stop. Tears soon join the laughter as a smile breaks across Anthony’s handsome face. “Yes,” She repeats, “I will marry you.”

********

Bridgerton taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions​ @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown​ @janelongxox​ @aspiringsloth20​ @wallwriterstuff​ @magicalxdaydream​ @darkestbeforethedawn16​ @gryffindors-weasley​ @spideysz​ @iammirrorball​

taglists are open! drop me an ask if you would like to be added!