#✦ || ‘trust me they don’t know it yet but they are going to love you.’ ( muse; gwydion)

[maudie-duan]

First Series!!!

Series Summary: For nearly two years, Harry has been fighting to keep his relationship with Olivia afloat. At what point does he make the choice to either endure or let the stain of the world defeat his ambitious hopes of a lasting relationship? Or will a single night and a fleeting encounter be enough to change the projection of Harry’s path? Maybe our ‘Mystery Girl,’ Shiloh, will just happen to be in the right place at the right time. 

A/N: You guys, this is my first series; bear with me. In no way, shape, or form is this meant to follow Harry’s actual life, nor are the facts or timelines real. This story will be from Harry and Shiloh’s POVs. I like switching between them. I’m nosy, and you get more details this way. So, if you like details, you’re in the right place. This story will be a slow burn, so hold tight. I’m glad you’re here!!! ENJOY!!!!

Word Count: 2K

Warning: Strong language, minor angst, eventual smut, emotional.

Harry’s (POV) Part 1- Mystery Girl

***

I don’t usually think of how my relationships will end, but I’ve been thinking about our ending—the consequence of our beginning looming over our heads as if it were a pleading prayer whispered into the night. When “I love you” no longer sufficed, the emptiness stretched between us and how fickle we were. How we continued seeking tiny moments, desperate to fill that void—A revolving door of new faces and places where we lay tucked away, pressing our bodies together like puzzle pieces, hoping that one day they would fit together—indefinitely.

Surely, we knew this wasn’t going to work, right? From the beginning, we’ve been on two different parallels, trying to make this work, trying to force a path through murky water when neither one of us knew when or how the tide would roll in—and here I am, miserable out of my fucking mind. In a shit headspace just waiting for this evening to end because there’s nothing worse than getting into a massive blowout right before an event. I can’t figure out what’s worse, the fight or the forced niceties. The last place I wanted to be was in public, but this is my life.

Olivia was on about something—actually, I don’t even remember what the fight was about this time, and that’s what it’s been lately. These bullshit fights about petty, senseless matters that take more energy to create than they do to fix. It’s just that she’s gotten so jealous and paranoid that I’m growing distant, that she’s the only one fighting to be in this relationship, and maybe she’s right.

—Side note: Before tonight, I really hadn’t been interested in anyone. Honest to god, I was truly in this wholeheartedly.

Anyone who knows me knows I’m constantly in the public eye, even if I think I’m lying low. There’s always a chance that someone will recognize me. The chances of someone taking a picture are even greater because everyone needs proof, or it didn’t happen, right? I personally don’t believe in this—but to each their own—If you know me and who I am, that’s precisely what you get. She knew this when we met, yet she insists that every move I make is for the world, like I can’t comprehend all of the sacrifices that she has made to be with me. Trust me, I know, and as of late, she’s taken every opportunity to throw it back in my face. 

In all honesty, I know that relationships take work, but isn’t there supposed to be balance? Somewhere along the way, we’ve lost that. We both jumped in feet first and now life seems to be catching up even faster—the constant push and pull in every direction is getting old. Everyone wants something, and she wants the most. It’s like she doesn’t understand the sacrifices that I’ve made. It’s not easy being the world’s biggest pop star and falling in love, but I felt she was worth it at the time.

And now she wants more—Roots that I can’t seem to give her. It’s like I’ve only just begun to find my own footing, stepping into the skin that finally feels right, that’s mine, and she wants nothing to do with it—She wants the control. She wants me to align with whatever she thinks our life should be.

I mean, I get it. I understand wanting the security of always knowing your next move or having a better grasp, but surely Olivia knew what she was getting herself into. It can’t be this big surprise that our life together isn’t panning out into what she had imagined, and the shittest part about it is that I don’t even want to try anymore. I don’t want the things that Olivia is trying to project onto me with every fight that ends with her begging me to choose her—is that not what I’ve been doing this whole time?

I’m lost in thought when Olivia whispers something into my ear. She had gone on and on about this Gucci Cruise show and was pissed when I decided I didn’t want to sit front row. I didn’t want to distract from the show or draw unwanted attention. Especially after that fight—God, that stupid fucking fight that left her in tears, her makeup a wet smear all over her face, almost making us late. 

Tonight was supposed to be memorable. How many people get the chance to attend a Gucci show? This was my first. It’s an honor that I wanted to appreciate and take in with the gratitude I feel not only for the brand but also for the friends I’ve grown quite close to.

“I just feel like the whole point of coming to a fashion show is to sit in with the audience and have a genuine experience of the clothes and the people—” Her comment is pointed and sets me off, so I do the asshole thing and walk toward someone I know leaving her alone with her underhanded comment.

Eventually, I walk over to the edge of the curtain, peering out into the crowd, trying to pinpoint faces I’ll see later, making a list of people I want to see or possibly avoid. As I skim the front row, my eyes land on a woman who looks vaguely familiar. Still, I can’t put a finger on it. She sticks out like a sore thumb. For instance, she is one of the few wearing dark sunglasses in a dimly lit room. Making her stand out in all black, except for the few accents that set her apart from everyone else around her, who are dripping with vibrant colors, something you would expect at a Gucci show—wild statement pieces, different patterns, and textures that ebb and flow amongst each other.

She was magnetic in a way that made it hard for me to look away. The light played off her features, creating a soft aura. A delicate ray of pink traced a faint glow around her. I couldn’t tell if it was an illusion or a trick of the mind in my rose-colored glasses. When I lowered my frames to get a clearer view, I found that she was just as stunning without them—and still, to this day, I can’t explain the feeling; it was like my soul took the lead, reaching out, hoping to find a tether. A single piece of thread that could tie me to her.

And there I stood, my mind spinning out of control. I don’t even know how long I stood there. How long I continued watching her, captivated by how the light which seemed to dance with the shadows every time a model passed in front of her. Another thing I noticed was her ruby-red lip. How they spread into a shy smile, the light catching the gleam of her white teeth—a sight I imagined could be seen from anywhere in the room if you were fortunate enough to catch it. I observed her as she straightened upright and crossed her legs, almost as if she had suddenly become aware of her surroundings. Was she nervous? 

Her hair was slicked back into a sleek bun, tight against her scalp, making her features more pronounced and giving her a tidier appearance than everyone else. This timeless look could set anyone apart from the crowd, but what really caught my eye was the gilded chain dress that hugged her all-black attire underneath. I wanted to see her stand up. I wanted to know how the light played off the delicate beads draped from the woven metal. I wondered if it was uncomfortable for her or if she realized she stood out more than the celebrities around her. She had to be someone important, right? Not just anyone can sit front row at a Gucci show—Who is she?

As if she sensed my gaze, her head abruptly turned toward the curtains, causing me to jump back and bump into Olivia. “What the hell?” I hissed. 

Olivia stepped back, eyes wide, my words landing with a bite. I thought, “fuck is she about to make a scene?”—and yes, the bitterness was unnecessary, but it came more from defense than anger. I didn’t want to be found out. What was I doing anyway? How long had she been standing there? Could she see what I was looking at? Or could I pretend that I was trying to get a better view of the show, which was technically true, right?

“Can we please start over tonight?” she asks, almost pleading. “I know tonight is special for you.” Olivia runs her hands up my chest and cups my face.

“Okay…” I exhale. I want to have a good time, but a part of me knows I would enjoy myself more without her here, and it’s this very feeling that will haunt me all night, my thoughts like demons filling the room—unwanted guests that I’m no longer sure I want to keep at bay, and I know this isn’t fair. 

I couldn’t tell if it was the afterparty or the drinks that came with it, but eventually, the mind fog that plagued me throughout the evening began to lift. It was like a breath of fresh air, each drink diluting the pressure; the animosity threaded into every conversation Olivia and I had was evaporating. I could let go of the stress and relax into the theme of the night—and that was to have fun and fucking enjoy myself because I work hard, dammit.

It was getting easier to play into Olivia’s game of putting on for the coward. This was the part she liked; she loved putting on in a room full of people. She fucking thrived on the attention—she loved wearing me like a glove she could take on and off whenever she pleased. 

I was already three drinks in when I spotted my “mystery girl.” It surprised me—she was much shorter than I had imagined, but something was compelling about her presence. When she finally looked my way, I instinctively put my arm around Olivia, feeding into the lie, feeling like a fool when her eyes flitted over me with no recognition, piercing my ego in one swift look. I didn’t know what I thought would happen…actually, I’ll tell you exactly what I thought would happen. I thought my presence alone would be enough to garner her attention. Instead, I stood there stunned when her eyes lingered on Olivia, sending her a friendly smile as she mouthed the words, “I love your dress.” pulling at the strap of her dress to drive her compliment home.

Astonished, I stood by, holding my breath as the transaction morphed into Olivia mouthing a returned compliment, making ‘Mystery Girl’ beam and my chest swell with jealousy as she turned away, not even sparing me a second glance. She moved through the room effortlessly, like a hummingbird, moving from flower to flower fast yet graceful, donning that beautiful smile that had me begging her to look my way—just one more time. That’s all I would need. 

Was she a journalist? It seemed like everyone knew who she was. She spoke to everyone she encountered with such ease that each conversation I noticed flowed as if they were friends—though perhaps they were, but how was I to know? At some point, I lost her in the night, or maybe I knew I had to release her from my thoughts. I wanted to end the night on a high note, not go home with a suspecting partner to whom I would have to explain myself later. 

So, by drink five, I was being pulled onto the stage with Stevie, duetting a few songs, and as I closed my eyes, singing out the lines:

Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?

Can the child within my heart rise above? 

Can I sail through the changin’ ocean tides?

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

I opened my eyes as we swayed into the chorus, browsing the crowd. My gaze locked with Olivia’s, who was crying, tears streaming down her face, a pained look of grief stealing her features. We shared a look of understanding. Maybe even realization, but it hit me hard, the sadness creeping up my spine as she turned and moved away from the crowd, and I noticed her bump into Alessandro, who caught her by the arm with a concerned look on his face. I pulled away from the microphone, my voice choking up, and I let Stevie take over. We both knew that our world was crumbling right before our eyes and when I glanced back over, searching for Olivia, she was gone. 

A/N: Ya'll let me know in the comments what you think. I'd love to get your feedback. If you think I should continue?? Hope you guys enjoyed!

[aerequets]

Ur art is such an inspiration and motivation for me, as a fellow artist. I’ve been following ur stuff for a bit now and I was wondering how you decided to draw loid, yor, and anya the way you do. I say this bc I really want to start making my own fan arts, but i struggle to take this anime style and have these character read as [insert character] without it being in a “anime style.”

And I guess this applies to any character you want take from a media, and translate it into your style. Bc i don’t necessarily think ur art style is considered “anime” i kinda just see it as an abstraction ig. But even if it is, it isn’t in the style of anime show is yk? Yet the characters read as who they’re supposed to be.

And I think a while back you u mentioned that you were struggling on decided how to draw loid. ig i wanna know How did you come to the decision that “yes, this looks correct and I wanna draw him like this.”

Is it finding defining feature and proportions? Just messing around until you figure something out? And I assume you make a character sheet to keep it consistent?

Like i literally go to art school but cant draw anything without a reference photo and it killing me 😔💀💀

Sorry for the yapp i’m just down bad rn and really love ur work. Please help be get out of the reference photo trap😭

Also sorry if this reads weird and has errors i’m sleep deprived and can’t bring myself to go back and reread

WHAIUGOUGH???? UR TOO KIND??? THANK U

i will try my best to answer below, but i dont think it is anything profound or super secret lmao

so i think that artists get really caught up with finding/establishing a style when they are first starting out. i say this because i was no different. to me it was like 'oh if i have a style then i am a Real artist instead of just a copier'

but like, i think that order is backwards. like the more that you draw things you enjoy, the more those drawings will become your own and in your 'style' if that makes sense. heavy emphasis on the quantity here. you just gotta go really at it. and the best way to do this is through sheer quantity tbh.

however at the same time, i dont really agree with the whole 'draw x things per day every day' thing cuz sometimes thats just hard man. i mean you mentioned you were in art school so you're probably drawing every day anyways, but for a hobbyist or fanartist (me lol) its mostly based on whether u feel like drawing or not. Which is why its rlly cool when you have a show/book/movie/anything you're really into which makes you want to draw more! it becomes something fun rather than a chore.

so basically, dont view a style as something you have to develop right away, or turn drawing into a chore, because that will be very counteractive trust me.

another important thing i wanted to mention, you said "reference photo trap" but ITS NOT A TRAP! USE REFERENCES!!! REFERENCES ARE IMPORTANT AND GOOD (i am assuming you already know this, but using references is not the same as tracing. just to make it clear)

this is another thing common with newer artists (and of course how i used to be), where you feel like you have to draw 'from your mind' for it to be an indicator of any skill. NOT TRUE!! you need to use references to get better!

lastly, to answer your question (as best i can lol) there was never any point when i decided 'yes this is it' when drawing. you just draw and draw and keep changing and growing. it is a little of everything you said (defining features, proportions, messing around) but it is also just drawing a lot and having fun! :D oh and i definitely do not have a character sheet. i am not anywhere near that organized LMAO

[springgirlshowers]

Inked Doodles

Summary: Joost loves to draw on you, you love to surprise him.

WC: 1210

A/N: this was caused by this video lmao

Joost loved drawing, it became one of his favorite hobbies. It helped him calm down and relax whenever he was stressed.

He also had a tendency to use you as his canvas. Picking up a small habit of leaving little doodles on your skin.

If you were next to him and he had a pen or marker in his hand, you were at risk of a small doodle being left on your arm, hand, or even your legs sometimes.

The marks ranged from stars and smiley faces to full drawings. Dogs, cats, flowers music notes, a little figure of you or him. Anything he was thinking of at the moment.

It was cuter when he’d leave a small J right under the doodle, watermarking it as his.

Sitting on the couch, body opposite from his with your legs draped over his lap as you read a book. Joost pulled a sharpie out of thin air, you had no idea where he got it from.

You felt the cool drag of the marker along your lower leg. You peeked up from behind your book, seeing him focused as he drew a new figure, the tip of his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth.

“Joost, you’re gonna give me ink poisoning.” You joked, moving away your leg, accidentally having him draw a line on your leg.

“Aw man now it’s messed up.” He groaned, dramatically pouting.

“It’s fine I can just wash it off later.”

“I wish you wouldn’t wash them off.” He leaned his head back on the couch.

“You know I don’t usually, I love your doodles, but I don’t want a random stripe of sharpie left on my leg.” You giggled, then going back to your book.

Soon however, Joosts last thing he said rung in your mind.

I wish you wouldn’t wash them off.

So what if you didn’t? What if you couldn’t wash one off?

That’s when you began your plan, the next appropriate spot on your arm or leg Joost would draw on, whatever he doodled. You’d go to the tattoo parlor as soon as possible, not telling him about it.

The next time he drew on you was when he was writing down song lyrics for a song he hadn’t named yet, he had to go over to the studio in a few hours.

You laid against him your arms wrapped around his torso while he had one wrapped around your shoulder and the other wrote down lyrics in a spiral notebook.

Soon you watched him stop, removing the marker from the paper and moving it to your arm. Drawing a cartoonish but cute looking dog head with its tongue sticking out on your upper arm. Thankfully not in an awkward spot. The placement was perfect.

“Schweinhund.” You smiled and mumbled when you saw the doodle. He looked at you and you saw how his eyes lit up and the gears start turning in his head.

He crossed a line through the question marks he put as the title above the lyrics, writing schweinhund right next to it.

“There we go, that will be the song title! Thanks liefje.” He pressed a grateful kiss to the top of your head.

You were excited to see how amazed he would get at the sight of the dog being tattooed onto you. You knew he wouldn’t be opposed to it. He loves dogs and tattoos, his arms being littered with silly patchwork tattoos.

Once he left for the studio, you made sure he was nowhere near your shared apartment before you left to go to a local trusted tattoo parlor.

You explained your idea and plan to the tattoo artist and they thought it was adorable. They cleaned up and made the line work a bit more neater on the drawing. You kept the tattoo uncolored, just keeping the simple outline on your skin.

The process didn’t take long and once you saw the finished product in the mirror, you were grinning ear to ear. It looked perfect, just like how Joost drew it, just the way you wanted it to.

Nearly skipping down the street in eagerness as you went back to your apartment, hoping Joost would be home soon.

You were a bundle of nervous yet excited nerves as you waited for Joost to come back. You tried to occupy yourself and your mind.

You watched TV, scrolled on your phone, even washed some of the dishes, doing anything to pass the time.

It was 7PM and you were scrolling through instagram on the couch by the time Joost got home, immediately you sat up once you heard the lock on the door click.

The anticipation began again even though you were seconds away from seeing him.

He opened and walked through the door, eyes looking a bit tired and giving you a lazy smile once he saw you.

You waited anxiously on the couch for him to kick off his shoes and walk over.

Soon as he sunk down into the spot next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and laying his head on your shoulder.

“Mmm, studio was so tiring today.” He mumbled tiredly. Placing his chin on your shoulder to look at your face, a confused small smile took over his face at your expression.

“What’s got you so excited looking?” He sat up, arms still around you.

“I got a tattoo.” You smiled and bit down on your bottom lip.

“Really? You never told me you were planning to get one in the past, let me see!” He said happily, straightening up.

You turned a bit, revealing the doodle he made that was now inked permanently into your skin and covered by clingwrap.

His jaw dropped slightly, your expression faltered and you became worried.

Oh no, he doesn’t like it?

He brought a hand up to hold your arm, careful to not apply to much pressure.

“You got my drawing from this morning tattooed?” He looked at you with starry eyes, you nodded.

“You actually got my silly doodle tattooed?” He asked again after darting his eyes between your face and the tattoo. You nodded at his question once again, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Yeah, you said you wished I would never wash off your doodles.” You laughed nervously, “So, do you like it?” You spoke softly, extremely nervous.

He quickly cupped his hands over the sides of your head, pulling you in to peck kisses all over your face. You scrunched your eyes shut as you giggled.

You had your answer now.

He stopped after placing one sweet passionate one on your lips. He moved his hands from the sides of your head to your cheeks.

“I love it! How could I not? Why didn’t you tell me about it?” He let out a breathy laugh.

“I wanted to surprise you.” You shrugged and looked away.

“Of course.” He said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re unpredictable.” He chuckled and shook his head as he looked at your arm again.

“Thank you, liefje. You’re amazing.” He whispered before bringing you in for another sweet kiss, then pulling away to speak again.

“I think it’s time for me to get one for you now.”

[arixella]

A Recipe for Love

pairing: Sanji x pregnant fem! reader

a/n: none

wc: 630

contains: fluff

The scent of something delicious wafts through the air as you sit at the table in the galley, gently rubbing your swollen belly. It’s been a long day, and the constant little kicks from the baby have you feeling both exhausted and incredibly happy at the same time. You glance over at Sanji, who’s busy at the stove, humming a little tune as he stirs something in a pot. The kitchen has always been his domain, but lately, it feels like it’s become his sanctuary for taking care of you too.

He’s been so attentive—probably more than usual, if that’s even possible. You can’t help but smile as you watch him move around the kitchen, his movements graceful and precise, like every dish is an art project.

“Everything alright, my darling?” Sanji’s voice breaks through your thoughts, and you look up to find him glancing over at you with a concerned expression. The way he always watches you with those big, kind eyes makes your heart melt a little.

“Mm, yeah,” you respond softly, stretching slightly in your chair. “Just a little tired today, I guess.”

Sanji’s brows furrow in concern, and he quickly rushes over to you, setting down the wooden spoon he’d been using. He kneels down beside your chair, his hands gently cupping your face as he gazes at you with a worried expression. “You’ve been working hard all day. You should be resting, not overdoing it.”

“I’m fine, really,” you reassure him, though your words come out more tired than you intended. “I just—”

Before you can finish, he cuts you off, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “No ‘buts,’ my love. I know you. You try to do everything yourself, but that’s not going to fly while you’re carrying our little one.” His tone is soft, yet firm in that caring way he always has. “You need to rest. Let me take care of everything.”

A little flutter of warmth spreads through your chest as you look down at him. There’s something about the way Sanji is so protective, so tender, that makes you feel like the most cherished person in the world. “I don’t mind helping out,” you say, though it’s obvious by the way you yawn that you could use a break.

“I know you don’t,” he says with a playful grin, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. “But right now, your only job is to relax and let me spoil you. Understand?”

You can’t help but laugh at the way he says it, the mixture of gentle affection and his usual over-the-top chivalry. “Spoil me, huh?”

“Of course!” Sanji stands up and offers you his hand, helping you out of your chair. “I’m going to cook you something special tonight. You deserve a proper meal, and I’m not talking about the usual food either.” He grins at you mischievously, which only makes you laugh more.

“Something special?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “What are you making?”

He gives you a wink, his usual flirtatious charm coming through, but this time there’s something softer about it, more intimate. “It’s a surprise. But it’s your favorite. Trust me.”

As he leads you over to the couch, helping you sit down with a little more care than usual, you can’t help but feel incredibly lucky. He’s been so attentive throughout the pregnancy—sometimes, it feels like he’s the one carrying the baby instead of you. And it’s not just his cooking that’s become even more perfect; it’s everything. The way he takes care of you, the way he talks to you, the way he shows you just how much he loves you and this little life you’re both bringing into the world.

“You spoil me too much, Sanji,” you say softly, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Sanji kneels in front of you again, this time taking both of your hands in his. “I’ll spoil you for the rest of my life, Y/N. You’re carrying the most precious thing in the world. You deserve nothing less.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your heart swell. You feel the baby kick gently at that moment, and you can’t help but laugh softly.

“Looks like they agree,” you say, looking down at your belly with a tender smile.

Sanji chuckles and leans forward to gently place his hand on your stomach, his eyes softening as he whispers, “You’re going to be the best little one. I promise you.”

And as you lean back into the cushions, feeling the warmth of Sanji’s love wrap around you, you realize just how blessed you are. No matter how tough the days might get, you know that together, the three of you are going to be more than ready for whatever comes next.

[itsanerdlife]

Love & War

Pairing: Mafia!Peter Parker x Reade

Random one shot that I found on my server. So here you go.

Stepping out of the shop you sip the drink you’d ordered. You chew the straw in your cup slightly. Mauling over your issues in your head. Break up struggles, fresh. The need to move on, strong. Yet you knew the burn deep down was the sting, the hurt. You just kept shoving it down, it was just too messy to cry over.

What was it really going to fix?

Besides your makeup was far to expensive for crying.

Lost in the world of your own, wondering what’s next.

What next happens when you’re not paying attention.

A hand closes around your upper arm. Not harsh, but stern like. Your head snaps over.

Peter.

Your lips curl, anger pulsed through you.

Your ex.

Tall, built, perfect brown eyes, wild brown hair, and the vein of your existence currently.

Oh did you mention, he’s the son of the God Father himself? You know, just the cherry on top, right?

“Don’t.” You warn him, pulling away.

Peter would never really hurt you, at least not physically. You try to walk away, but a fit body blocks you off. Sam Wilson stands in your way. A smirk on his face.

“Get in.” Peter nods towards the SUV.

“No.” You scoff. Sam pulls the door open, waiting.

“Get in!” Peter grinds out.

“No!” You snap at him.

“Now!”

Both of you seething.

“Make m-” his hand slips over your mouth, cutting you off. He leans in close to your ear.

“Trust me, babe. That’s not a sentence you want to finish.” He warns you.

You bite down on his finger. He growls, yanking his hand away.

“Drop dead Stark.” You bite at him.

Peter and Sam exchange a look. Your cup disappears from your hand. Peter scoops you up. He’s sliding across the backseat with you in his lap.

“Peter!” You yell.

“I gave you the chance.” He rolls his eyes, taking your cup from Sam who shoves the door shut a second later. You attempt to scramble out of his lap, but his arm locks down around you.

“Don’t even.” He warns you.

You growl.

“Doors are child locked. You can’t get out.” An annoyed chuckle follows.

“You know this is fucking kidnapping!” You huff, glaring from Peter to Sam.

“We’re aware.” Sam nods.

“It wasn’t my first option.” Peter shrugs. You pinch his arm, he finally removes it, with another growl. You slip into the seat, out of his lap, away from him. You turn your head, looking out the window. You couldn’t escape, but you could give him the silent treatment.

A moment passes, before your cup is held out to you. You glance at it. Peter shakes it softly, waiting for you take it. He shakes it once more, rattling the ice in the cup. You snatch it away from him, turning your body away from him. Chewing on your straw once more.

“Don’t pout, it’s not a good look.” He sighs.

Your head snaps over, glaring at him. Hating how good he looks, dressed in dress pants, and a pale blue button down. The sleeves rolled; top button undone. If you had to guess this was a spur of the moment kidnapping.

“Yeah cause kidnapping is such a good look.” You retort, looking away again. You catch the grin on Sam’s lips as he drives. You return to chewing on the straw.

His fingers grip your chin, turning your head to look at him once again. He’s leaned in on the opening between the two of you.

“Stop that, it’s bad for your teeth.” He reminds you.

“Stop that, you don’t really care about me.” You remind him.

His jaw clenches, you were pretty sure you could hear his teeth grind together.

“Stop saying that.” He orders.

“No, if you cared, you’d have respected what I wanted, and stayed the fuck away from me.” You tug your chin away. Ignoring his burning glare at you.

“You knew that wasn’t going to happen.” He mutters, pissed off.

Good that makes two of you.

Several silent minutes later, the vehicle comes to a stop.

“We’re here.” Peter grumbles. Sam opens the door for him. He steps out, with a deep breathe he turns waiting for you. His hand out for you.

Sliding to the edge, you put your cup in his hand, stepping out on your own with a dirty look at him. Sam just grins, watching the two of you.

Peter drops the cup to the ground, once again taking hold of your arm. He stalks into the building with you along. Sam strolls along behind the two of you, clearly enjoying this.

Stalking through the once abandoned warehouse, turned into a trade house. Illegal activity and products. Peter pulls you into the meeting room.

“Sit.” Peter nudges you towards a chair.

“No.” You glare.

“We’re not doing this again. Sit your fine ass in that chair, now. Or I will put your fine ass in it.” He stares you down. You yank away from him, dropping into the chair.

Frank, and Sam exchange a look as Peter checks his phone. His eyes snapping over to you every few seconds as if you were going to move.

You shift, brown eyes zero in on you. You slowly cross your legs, smirking at him. Knowing you were pushing his buttons, all your subtle moves, made him think you were going to run for it.

“Peter.” Frank clears his throat.

“What?” He looks up from his phone.

“I thought I’d made it clear we have a no abduction policy?” Frank smirks.

“She wasn’t cooperating. What did you expect me to do?” Peter huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Sure, demanding I get in the car with you. Was really much of an option before you resort to abducting me.” You sass.

“Is it really abducting when you’re married?” You look over at Tony strolls in. Looking smugger than all fuck.

“We wouldn’t be if he would just sign the fucking papers.” You fold your arms over your chest, rolling your eyes.

“Come on now.” Sam laughs.

“What?” You glare.

“You know that’s not how it works.” Frank chuckles.

“I got kidnapped twice! Because of him!” You throw your hand out at Peter.

“I apologized!” Peter groans.

“Sorry, doesn’t make it better!” You throw your hands up.

“How about telling him your very big secret?” Tony wonders, leaning against the table.

Your mouth puckers. Peter’s eyes slice to you, but he doesn’t say anything.

“It’s illegal to look into my records.” You hiss.

“Sweetie, everything I do is illegal. That’s how I got this position.” Tony winks at you, grinning.

“Secret?” Peter’s brow jerks up.

“I want a divorce.” You look away.

“She’s pregnant.” Tony throws you under the bus.

Your mouth pushes together, avoiding the men in the room.

“Well this got interesting quick.” Sam nods.

“Fuck off.” You mutter.

“Should you start this argument, or should I?” Peter asks.

“There is no argument, you got me kidnapped, twice.” You scoff.

“You can’t use that anymore.” He sighs.

“I can use it for the rest of my life. You didn’t get kidnapped, I did.” You remind him.

“Fine I got you kidnapped; you’re hiding your pregnancy. We’re fucking even. Moving on.” He waves his hand when you look over.

“Bullshit.”

“Divorce is off the table. Enough of that bullshit.” He gives you a pointed look.

You shift to look him straight on, a smug smirk forms on your lips as you lean forward.

“You know that’s not how it works.”

A grin slowly creeps over his lips.

---------- Everything Peaches 9/21/24 @mo320 @ml7010 @kmc1989 @babizza @coley0823 @destiel-artemis @royal-sunflower @camelliasblossom @shinycupcakebaker @purpleeclipseeggsland @daughterofthenight117 @hisredheadedgoddess28

Peter ‘Fuck Me I’m Weak’ Parker: @its-crystalli

[fyeahnix]

Hiiiiii I love your blog and your writing so much.

I know you have a hc that Sevika is bilingual, can you elaborate on that? Who taught her Spanish? Did she grow up speaking it? Does she do that thing where she forgets the English word for something and has to make up something to describe it? Does she say things in Spanish when people ask her to tell them something knowing they don’t speak Spanish so she can go “what, I told you already?”

Also I would die if she referred to me as “mi mujer” 😭😭😭

Thank you, have a great day!

Hello, anon! Thank you for the kind words 😄

So, yeah I think I mentioned this in a random throwaway Sevika headcanon post and haven't ever elaborated on this. But yes...

One of my headcanons for Sevika is that she is trilingual, and that stems from her family. First and foremost, I don't play League and I don't know shit about League lore outside of the bits of research I did to write for some Sevika stuff. I do see that League lore is incredibly detailed and expansive (which is fascinating to me) but there's still a lot that hasn't been explained from what I can tell? It looks like there are multiple languages that exist in Runeterra, which makes sense considering how many sentient races and ethnic groups there are. So let's talk about that for a second so you can understand my thought process on this. Walk with me here.

First off, this is, of course, a fantasy universe so the concept of languages and the countries they come from don't exist in that universe in the same way they do here. For example, there is no country called Spain, and therefore, there is no language called Spanish. So how does that work in my head? Easy. Use an existing language as a proxy for a fantasy one ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I mean...are the characters speaking English in Arcane? Clearly no, because Germanic languages and the countries they derive from don't exist. They're speaking whatever local language exists in that universe. I figured why not add some other IRL languages for flavor? So with that being said, this is where we get to another headcanon.

If we're going by ethnic background, I like to imagine Sevika as Afro-Latino from her father's side and South Asian through her mother. Why? Her VA, Amirah Vann, is Afro-Latina (African American father and Puerto Rican mother) and speaks fluent Spanish. Sevika's name appears to be Indian in origin and I mean...like look at her lol. She is clearly meant to be, in our world, South Asian, most likely Indian. I obviously do not know what region of Runeterra this ethnic background would translate to. Maybe Shurima???

Given that background (and the bit of trivia about her VA), that's how I came up with her being trilingual. Learned all three languages growing up in the home. "Spanish" from her father, and a third language I haven't decided yet (Hindi? Urdu? Sanskrit? Punjabi? Don't know yet, need to research) from her mother.

Why? Well...why not lol. Truthfully, I thought it'd be interesting to make up some additional reasons why she's so fit to be Silco's right hand. Piltover and Zaun are port cities, and being port cities, you're going to come across a lot of people from a lot of different cultures who speak a lot of different languages. Basically the idea here is that Silco chose her as his second because of a variety of factors:

Multilingual, helps with gaining trust and securing deals

Trusted patron at The Last Drop

Same end goal of liberating Zaun

Loyalty

Can hold her own if shit goes south

Intimidating (she's fucking huge and can beat your ass)

Good at reading people

Surprisingly good at negotiation when she does bother speaking

And now that we know that Sevika herself was the one handling the majority of the deals (she said so herself in Season 2), I like this headcanon even more lmfao. Like here's an excerpt from an unreleased piece of writing I did that mentioned it:

The downside here ofc is that I, personally, only speak one language lol. I took Japanese in high school for 4 years and can't remember much except how to read hiragana and katakana (should have studied more!). I am absolutely going to have a lot of blindspots when it comes to things that only bilingual folks or folks who speak more than one language experience, and that is something that would be worth doing a bit more research on. Quirks like the ones you mentioned are things I forget that people experience 😅

That is a bit long so sorry for that, but I hope this answers your questions well.

Keep in mind: these are just headcanons. That's it. This is for fun. If you think something different, then do you!

taglist: @gaudesstuff @archangeldyke-all @abitohoney @sexysapphicshopowner @iamaboringrattat

@ash-fall7 @the-anonmaton @peanutbutterprincess @thesevi0lentdelights @kylorey25

[itseungraps]

STRUGGLES OF LOVE ▸ p.sh

• pairing: boxer!sunghoon x ballerina!reader

• overview: she got tired of waiting, he fought back.

• published: 30.11.24

﹅ and i'm not sure i like it, i'm so tired of fighting…

• • •

y/n stood backstage, staring at her reflection in the mirror. her pointe shoes pinched her feet, but it was nothing compared to the ache in her chest.

tonight was supposed to be special—her biggest recital of the year, a performance she had spent months preparing for. and yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that, once again, park sunghoon wouldn’t be there to watch her perform.

the sound of the audience murmuring outside was drowned by her own swirling thoughts. sunghoon had promised—promised—that he would be there this time. but deep down, she knew better than to trust him anymore. the championships, the endless hours of training, the fame that seemed to draw him further and further away from her.

the stage manager knocked on the door. “you're up next.”

y/n took a deep breath and stepped onto the stage, her heart heavy with both anticipation and the fear of being alone, even in front of hundreds of eyes. the spotlight hit her, and she went through the motions, each movement sharp and precise, but the music sounded distant, as if it were coming from another world.

her mind was elsewhere, running through the conversation they had had earlier that week.

• • •

“i don't understand, sunghoon.”

her voice was tight, her fingers clenched into fists. they were sitting on the couch, the distance between them growing, despite the small space of their apartment.

“i've told you, y/n. i have to be ready for the match. it's the title fight.” sunghoon tone was soft but firm, his expression more focused on his phone than her.

“y/n? no nicknames like ‘baby’ anymore?” she exhaled disappointingly. “it's always about the next fight, the next championship. you promised i wouldn't have to perform alone.” ber voice broke on the last words, her heart pounding in her chest. “but here we are again, sunghoon.”

he finally looked up from his screen, his eyes filled with the exhaustion of a thousand matches. “it's not like i want to miss it. you know how important this is for me, too.”

“you don’t get it,” she whispered, the anger and frustration spilling out of her, “i want you to be there for me, like how i'm always at your matches. not just when it's convenient. i want you to be here, sunghoon. not just in body, but my life.”

his jaw clenched. “i am here. i just…have priorities."

“priorities? You keep choosing boxing over me! over us." Her voice cracked. “i’m tired of being second place."

the words hung in the air, suffocating them both.

sunghoon opened his mouth to speak, but y/n didn't give him the chance. she stood up, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "maybe you should go then. go fight your championships. i'll be fine here on my own."

he stood up too, the muscles in his arms tightening, but his eyes softened. “baby, don't do this. i’m sorry. i want to be there.”

“you’re never there, sunghoon!” she turned away, trying to wipe away the tears that had already started to fall. “i need you to show up. i need you to choose me."

he reached for her, but she pulled away. “you can’t just keep saying sorry and expect things to change. i’m tired of being second in your life.”

• • •

the final note of the music rang out in the theater, and y/n finished the performance, her body moving on autopilot, but her mind still anchored in the memory of the argument. the applause was deafening, however it felt hollow. she was proud of herself for finishing, but the emptiness in her heart was overwhelming.

as she walked off the stage, her stomach twisted. she pulled off her ballet shoes, her fingers trembling. where was he? she had waited, just like every other time, but he hadn’t shown up. not even a text.

her phone buzzed in her bag. she pulled it out, and the screen flashed with a message from sunghoon:

“i’m sorry, baby. i couldn’t make it. please understand. i’ll make it up to you. i love you.”

her breath hitched as her fingers hovered over the screen. she wanted to scream, to throw the phone across the room. but instead, she set it down on the vanity, the weight of his words feeling like another betrayal.

she had wanted him to be there. she had needed him to be there. and once again, he had let her down.

the door to the dressing room opened, and she turned. it was sunghoon.

“i’m so sorry,” he said, his voice quiet, the regret in his eyes palpable. “i didn’t want to disappoint you. i—“

“disappoint me?” she echoed, her voice cold and raw. "you always disappoint me. you keep choosing boxing over me. you keep choosing everything else over us. how many more times are you going to say ‘sorry’ before i realize you don’t actually care?"

his face fell, and for a moment, y/n saw the hurt in his eyes. but it wasn’t enough. it wasn’t enough to undo the months of broken promises, of missed recitals, of being pushed to the side for every fight that came up.

“i do care," he whispered, stepping closer. “i love you, y/n. you mean the world to me, but i just... i don’t know how to balance it all.”

her breath caught in her throat. “maybe it's too late to balance anything,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

for a long time, neither of them spoke. sunghoon’s presence filled the room, but it only made the silence heavier. y/n wiped her tears away, her heart aching in ways she didn’t know how to explain.

• • •

she stared at the heartbroken girl in front of her. two weeks had gone by since she cut off ties with him but the pain she felt made it seem like it was just yesterday everything went down.

watching the mirror as she lifted her arms, the familiar ache of her muscles grounding her. she was in the studio alone, the soft sound of her pointe shoes tapping against the floor, her reflection staring back at her, lit by the warm glow of the late afternoon sun. 

the room was silent except for her breath, steady and controlled. ballet was the one thing that always made sense. the lines, the discipline, the hours of practice—everything was exact. unlike the mess of her feelings.

“you're formation is still perfect,” there it was, the familiar voice. she hated to admit that she missed it.

not bothering to look back, she stared into his eyes from the mirror. in the span of two weeks, he managed to stay looking neat despite the bruises on his face from boxing.

“why are you here, sunghoon?” she asked, desperately searching for at least a hint of guilt which she succeeded in finding.

he sighed as he placed his bag on the wooden bench before making his way to her. “i missed you, and i want to do everything i can to take you back.” he truthfully spat out.

“i'll be honest, i missed you too. but i'm tired of listening to your empty promises,” she expressed emotionally.

he took a moment to look at her before responding, “you moved back in with your mother?”

“stop changing the topic and actually show that you care!”

without hesitation, he wrapped his muscular arms around her frame. “i'm so sorry, please forgive me, y/n. i really do love you more than anything, even boxing. i promise i'll be more present instead of shutting you out.”

• • •

cheers emerged from the surrounding crowd as they intently watched the fight. park sunghoon was in the lead, having a bigger chance of winning the championship.

everyone was pushing, trying to get to the front. y/n watched from the lounge area for special guests, equally thrilled to see the outcome although she already predicted it.

the buzzer went off as the two competitors stood up and walked over to each side of the referee. anticipation filled the atmosphere.

the referee raised sunghoon's hand, declaring him as the winner and handing him the belt. however, all he could think about was getting to his girlfriend.

he ran as fast as he could and embraced her tightly. “i won, i won for you baby. i'm going to be out of training for a while now!”

they celebrated together with a sweet but passionate kiss.

in the end, the two of them made the perfect pair.

[exnoiafork]

our interpretation of darkheart x reader (angryheart...) ?? if thats okay.. (/nf ofc!!)

-hexx & sovvka 🌀

angry!darkheart heart x reader

☆ TL;DR: the spiral stereo’s version of darkheart is just traumatized by Illumina and he was kicked out lol

☆ also this is the response to the other 2 people who asked for a darkheart req.

….

☆ 2/23/2020

☆ today I was exploring an.. ancient ruin of some sorts! apparently it belonged to the sfoth deity named.. darkheart. that’s from history class, i’ll admit..

☆ I’ve always been interested in the sfoth deities! like, they’re pretty majestic but, yet some of them interact with us .. mortals.

☆ oh, i’m getting ahead of myself! the ruins had a lot of weird .. drawings. specifically those like ancient-drawings that you see on caves? yeah, those!

☆ it looked.. really worn down too. I tried to imagine what it looked like before , but I think it’s beyond repair. I kinda wish to see it in its full glory! imagine that..

….

☆ 2/24/2020

☆ so.. I’ve been seeing a few weird shadows following me whenever I go outside? it only lasts for a few minutes so , definitely not stalking!

☆ but.. I’m not sure how to feel about this. yeah, it’s only when i go outside but.. someone’s definitely watching me.

☆ i just want.. actually. maybe they care for me! or whatever pronouns they go by , but.. I’ll need to keep my guard up for a while.

☆ 2/25/2020

☆ okay! um.. the shadows are starting to talk to me! they’re.. very friendly, so I can’t really complain.. but, it’s kinda creepy? maybe — .. maybe ghosts are real? orr maybe not?? actually, ghosts ARE real! there’s evidence they’ve existed for a while now!

☆ ghosts aside.. they introduced us as.. darkheart? the sword deity that was.. missing! for a while! their followers have been on their knees praying for them to come back but— I’ve figured that ruin was haunted in some way. it was… creepy.

☆ but .. dark as I like to call them.. they didn’t trust me as first, as all people do but.. they were more.. distraught.. than normal people! like, I don’t wanna offend them and all but.. i just wonder what happened to them. i can’t help but feel worried, even though I’ve met them once.

….

☆ 8/14/2024

☆ oh. Dark opened up. it’s because of.. Illumina? i thought she was lowkey just a chill guy! but.. ugh.. is that why they’re so angry? i mean.. i can’t blame them at all. considering what they told me is true.. i can see bruises all over them, and.. i .. i want to comfort them but.. i don’t know how.

☆ i don’t want to say the wrong thing. I’ve experienced it.. before… and the thought of someone experiencing something.. like that.. it makes me sick to my stomach. I— i don’t know how to feel about this! I just want to help them out however i can. just.. i need some time.

☆ 8/15/24

☆ okay. um.. i managed to get darkheart some cake! i figured they would like it, i love cake myself, but they like phish a lot. specifically the ones phished up from the crossroads river to blackrock. they said they.. live there. i dunno how, but as long as you’re comfy.

☆ i.. i know how to cook phish pretty well, so i asked for a phish from them and.. cooked it! my signature dish, i cook it all the time, and yet i don’t know what to name it.

☆ man.. that was a REAL mood switch from yesterday.. but, whatever it takes, i guess!

☆ in all honesty, darkheart liked the phish. they gobbled it up like some.. hungry cat you find at the street if you give food to them! imagine that! we also talked about a lot of things, like shadow things and all.

☆ even though they still have a bit of .. anger issues.. i still love them nonetheless!

[yakultii]

found myself in da exact change room i had a breakdown in almost exactly 4 years ago bc recovery at the time had made me so uncomfy (i was still significantly smaller back then :///) anyways, pretended not to care (today) but my throat got all swollen and i forgot how to breathe, i think i had an allergic reaction to my past lol. anyways bought these two overpriced items and a few others hehe

[impossibledial]

i’m so intrigued by dannyclara despite not shipping them. i think that relationship is an interesting addition to clara’s character arc and i’m still trying to to figure out it’s purpose.

[milflewis]

.

[dreamyprinx]

I bring to you, actual art but it’s me trying to replicate my friend @spaceshmuck’s art style

✧ reblogs are appreciated ✧ | ♡ buy me a kofi ♡ | ☾ commission info ☽

[supergraphicultramoderngirl]

oh no no no i should snap myself out of this immediately

[acourtofquestions]

“Happy July 9th to those who celebrate” also known as “go cry in a corner Samlaena stans”😅😭because I don’t know about y’all but Last Kiss💜gets me🩶every🖤dang time☠️

[pzos-amiserableidiot]

was watching tiktok and a video had the song michael in the bathroom playing and I was vicerally reminded of being in middle and high school and mom always mentioning how much I looked like my dad (his name is michael) and how I slowly was able to start noticing it too and whenever I sang the song it reminded me of him and I felt like we were overlapping too often felt like id never be anyone but a shadow or his mirror and then i began learning i was trans and now the song makes me think of him even more (he’s not a bad dad he tells me he’s proud of me and stuff there’s just two really big moments he unknowingly failed and one long continuous one but he loves me and he’s proud and he supports me and he didn’t mean it and ive learned to make that enough) and the weird flashback I got when I heard that song and overlapping with his face and how if I transitioned I almost fear I’d be his clone and yeah Anywyas banger song

[trust-over-love]

The conversation sucked but was so what I needed. I was asked to respect his decision to move on. & I asked for the respect to not have sex anymore. Because I love my husband & it makes it harder for me to move on. I was being cordial, not trying to fight. But instead of saying okay & ending the conversation I get shit talked about me. Like what?

I want to move on peacefully as well, just as he requested & not having sex with someone I love who no longer loves me back makes me wrong? So much negative things being said to me. When the convo could’ve been so short. Just crazy. Proves me how toxic he truly is.

But the conversation was needed for me to understand that I am not the only one who messed up. I was lied to & made to believe we’d always work through it & always get stronger through our downfalls. I mean I literally got all the proof of his betrayal, but to him it was nothing & I’m the bad guy. He told me to stay when I should’ve left & now he denies it lmao Okay. We both messed up. Take accountability as I have. I was willing to always try & you lied about never giving up & always trying & that divorce was never an option. Thanks for showing me your true colors. Even showing me how much of a snitch he is by threatening me with law enforcement like really. Thank you for the push. I’m with our kids 85% of the time cause you work a lot & that’s okay I understand that but you threaten to try to get me in trouble with the law. Fake AF. So unbelievable but it’s okay. Thank god I didn’t decide to go back to that place when you asked me to for our kids. I knew it wasn’t gonna be a good idea & I’m so thankful I stuck to my gut feeling.

& he’s mad I use this app to vent instead of talking to people & posting on apps where people know us. Don’t nobody know me here. Don’t nobody even care. You left me, you can’t dictate how I heal myself from being fooled. Crazy how the truth unfolds when things get rough.