#still taking requests for the color palette + characters!

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I Never Missed You 3/3 (Bodyguard!Ghost x F!Reader)

Word count: 6.4 k

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Romance, eventual smut, fluff, light angst, banter, pining, flirting, minor injuries, major character death, HFN ending. Lady/Knight dynamic. Unequal pairing trope. Bodyguard AU. Reader is a rich bitch (how else could she afford a PPO?)

Summary: You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.

A/N: A three part fic based on this request. Angst and smut and fluff (the holy trinity!) in this last part.

Part 1 Part 2

Juice spills all over the table from the oranges you press, but you don't mind. There has been a soft smile on your face all morning.

Simon's still sleeping, and you want to surprise him with a special breakfast today: scrambled eggs, freshly pressed orange juice, berries, and…

"You took my shirt."

You flinch when you hear his familiar rumble not a few feet away. The staircase wailed like a widow last night, but obviously, this man has learned to avoid the creaky spots when he wants. A goddamn heavyweight ninja...

"I'm sorry." You lick your fingers from the juice and try to feign innocence. The sleeves of his black tee reach your elbows, but you're not sorry. Nor do you feel bad about seeing him in your kitchen without a shirt.

"It was not an accusation," he says, the corner of his mouth curving a little, the dark eyes that made love to you last night giving you an approving once-over.

You approach him with a glass full of sun, but it's you he grabs in his hold. Your fingers find the scars on his back as you two embrace, and you feel an odd churn in your stomach.

"What's this…?"

Your hand floats across the embossed, white ridges that crisscross his back. The collection forms an entire mountain range, and it's chilling because you've only brushed the space between his shoulder blades.

"A reminder. To trust no one."

"No one…?"

"No one."

You remain a coward and refrain from asking for more details. You doubt he would even share them.

"I made you breakfast," you lower your gaze to the colorful palette you've gathered on the plates. Is it some sort of an instinct to want to feed a man after they've fucked you so good?

"So I see," he says, ever more approvingly. Then you're lifted on the table, next to the plates, like you're the breakfast.

Soon you're only wearing his shirt and your tiny socks, which Simon decides to leave on, too busy with getting his face between your legs. 

No one has done anything like that before… No one has chosen you over breakfast; an entire abundance of delicacies laid out. 

He licks you until your legs are trembling on that tortured back. You're pure, you're untouched by evil, and he carries your naivety on his shoulders like it weighs nothing. He flattens his tongue on you, sucks your flesh, tortures you on that table and doesn't even mind his teeth all too much. The peak stubble he hasn't yet shaved stings and burns as he moves across your folds. 

Saying that the coarse chin on your silk feels good would be an understatement. You come undone next to the breakfast, clad in golden light shining through the small window left uncovered.

You feel alive, and raw, and stellar. A shooting star, a comet high above the sky, although the space through which you ignite consists of golden rays of sunlight and the scent of orange juice. 

He takes the shirt back after he's done. After you're done and try your best to return back to earth with shaking legs. The only thing you're wearing is your socks, but you feel completely naked before him, dopey and dumb before the day has even started. Simon only licks his lips, throws that shirt on, and grabs his plate.

He dares to comment that there's no hot water. You put the kettle on with a wobble, feeling hotness on your cheeks while he sits down to eat his second breakfast like it's the most natural thing in the world: to wreck you first thing in the morning.

…............................

Simon.

He fixes the door on your fridge. He helps you clean your garage and fucks you on the table. Oily, dusty, filthy table. You go to shower after, together. You're giggling; he's smiling. Fully, now.

You want to ask him, Is this free of charge too…? Not just his cock... But his smiles. His assistance and support. The looks he grants you when you come out of the shower, ready to be licked to ruin.

He calls you his Princess to tease you just right. To get you in a state where your eyes flash with half-rage, half-lust, just before he slips inside you. He knows exactly which strings to pull – and then calls you love just when you're about to give him a piece of your mind.

You end up on the table, on the counter, on the floor. He takes you while your jaw slowly falls open from his audacity and his cock, splitting you apart with slow love. The first time he takes you in a missionary, you squirt. It's like his cock was made for you. And he dares to tease you about that, too.

"Did ya just squirt all over my cock?"

You have tears in your eyes, shame on your cheeks, and he's wetter than a wet dog down there… then he makes you squirt again, high on the lewd, obscene praise you just gave him with your pussy. 

Your cunt can't lie; he knows it by now. So it's futile to keep your lips sealed either.

Kiss me. 

That's what you would've usually ordered. But after an exceptionally quiet and passionate and desperate fuck that leaves you both catching your breath, leaves him hovering only inches from your sweaty upper lip, you whisper…

"I want to kiss you."

You expect him to laugh or mock you, at least crack a stupid joke or two. But he doesn't. Instead, his eyes drop to your lips, and he swallows with a heavy roll, then closes the gap between you two. Covers your mouth with his, uses that strong jaw to open you for devouring.

The kiss lasts long enough for you to begin breathing through your nose. Your inner walls grip him, still buried deep inside, and the gusts of exhales passing through his nostrils hit your face with pure bliss. He’s a little breathless when he parts – withdraws just enough to look into your eyes.

“Will that do...?”

There is a drunken vigor in his eyes of crushed amber, but to your shock, you hear your own question laid out before you. The one you asked when you were going to that party.

Will I do…?

Your hands find his jaw and cup his face from both sides, drawing him back to your lips.

“Yes." 

You will more than just do. 

And then you say… 

"I want more.”

He chuckles a soft scoff on your face. 

"Greedy little thing." 

Then he swallows you again. You kiss for a good few minutes while he grows half-hard inside you. It's the most romantic kiss you have shared with anyone, ever. He tells you how spoiled you are between the breaths you both catch, then spoils you some more with his mouth and tongue and cock. 

You start to curl together in the evening. Just to watch a comedy. He massages your feet and smiles more every day. It's kind of domestic, how he wrinkles his nose at your fine white wine and asks what it is in that decanter you have in your study. When you say it's just some old bourbon, he goes and gets himself a glass like he's finally made himself at home. 

It makes your heart grow thick from love. You almost forget why he's here in the first place.

When you ask him about the plan, he explains it to you in detail while kissing his way down your ribs and navel. He takes his sweet time while doing it, kissing the inside of your thigh, the hollow place below the knee, the tender skin under the knee. He kisses your calf and the ankle bone while holding your leg up for his lips with just one hand. Then he does the same to your other leg, but this time, kisses his way from ankle to thigh until he reaches…

You.

You've forgotten half the plan by then because you realize Simon hasn't looked at you like you're a steak or garbage in a long, long time. 

He looks at you like you're a queen. You could say he worships you, but the thought alone makes your heart flutter with the anxiety of a fragile hummingbird. 

Simon gets you your groceries and gets himself only a beer as a reward. You would happily offer him a case if you knew it would make him happy.

But you don't really know what would make him happy. You don't know anything about this man. You know he likes it when you're dolled up and angry. He likes you when you're sleepy, without makeup, wearing only his shirt. He likes to fuck you from behind and hold you close after. He likes to give you a wash, likes it when you wash him. He likes to watch the two tall trees outside the window sway when there's a strong wind. 

"What makes you happy?" You ask one night after you've had him in your mouth.

"Blowjobs," he answers with a straight face, and you shove him in the shoulder. Nicely. Softly.

"No, for real."

"I dunno." He sighs and turns to stare at your ceiling with a bothered look. It's a tricky question, perhaps. Or weapons, not willingly gifted. 

"Dogs," he shrugs after a while. "A day of silence. Good whiskey."

He doesn't grant you weapons. You get some rope, but not enough to choke him with it. He trusts no one.

"Why don't you like missionary…?" You continue roasting him while curling your fingers around the pale hair on his chest.

"I never said I didn't like it."

"Don't avoid the question, Mr. Doggystyle."

You prop yourself up on your elbow and place your palm flat over his heart. His stare slowly drifts from the ceiling back to you.

"Simon. Why do you always fuck me from behind?" 

He raises his eyebrows like he's innocent of the crime he's being accused of. "Not always."

"Seriously, Simon."

The smug look returns; it gives his eyes a delightful little spark and tugs at the corner of that kissable mouth.

"I like your ass."

"But not my eyes?"

The smile dies, and he gulps down a short surprise, caught between truth and dare. But then his eyes settle like the calming sea under a full moon. Stern, but not remorseless. Bold, but not heartless. If anything, he's naked and bare.

"Darlin'. Love your eyes the most."

Your heart does a backflip. You've been a fool because what else has he done but search for your eyes first thing in the morning? Given you flashes of mischief over breakfast, made love to you with those eyes as you cum around his cock? That liquid fire and smoke hasn't left you since he stepped inside this house.

You breathe together; you can feel the slow rise and fall of his chest. There was a time when you thought this man was incapable of love, but now you fear he has never been allowed to love enough.

"We never talked, you know," you whisper. His heart swells underneath your palm like a sail.

"What'ya wanna talk about?"

"Us."

"So talk."

Walls are raised so quickly you feel them knocking the warmth out of your body. It's cold, it's Antarctic, the technique he uses to withdraw. Your room turns into a kingdom of ice from the cruel, emotionless indifference he emits. 

You've been a fool, yes... And a child.

"You're making it hard," you say, noticing how the man starts to tense up under your fingertips. This is not the way, but you're not smart enough to stop your rampage.

"What happens when you've done your job?"

He doesn't sigh. He doesn't even think twice before giving his answer.

"I go back to the base."

You know now why he's called a ghost. You wonder if he was ever even here. Simon becomes a reminder for you, a reminder to trust no one.

"...Right." You pull your hand away slowly. As if it somehow helps with the pain to pretend you haven't just touched a hot stove and ended up getting your fingers burned.

He notices how you tense up far more than he. The arm around your waist goes tight, and you wonder if you've always been a bloodied steak to this brute, a stupid little princess with your wines, sighs, and wet eyes. He just doesn't want to let go of the last bites of his fine, delicious meat.

"I never thought you wanted a relationship," he says with a hollow voice, and the red rage nearly blinds your sight. You're too riled up to even yell at him.

"Love…" he tries for the last time.

"Get out of my bed."

…............................

His musk still clings to you as you descend the stairs the next morning.

He's sitting at the end of the steps with hunched shoulders and a tense back, exiled into the man he was the first day you met him. Your heart bleeds from the sight, wondering whether Simon has waited there the whole night after you kicked him out of your bedroom. But the boiling bile in your stomach forces you to lift your chin and draw your shoulders back as you walk down those steps with an audible clatter as your heels clack across the parquet.

He must've heard you before you make a racket fitting for an angered queen, but rises only after you've made it halfway through the staircase. You won't allow yourself to even look his way as he draws a deep breath.

"Love. Sweetheart."

But with that, you flash the man a stare full of despise as you walk past him.

"Don't."

"Let me–"

"Don't say a word," you take a sharp turn and raise a hand to shield you from whatever brutality he would like to stain you with. "You don't talk to me. You just do your job. Ok?"

His chest swells with another deep breath, but otherwise, this man is still as a statue again.

"Ma'am."

It takes you a while to notice he has regressed back to that term again, and you tilt your head. The movement is that of a warrior who swings her sword to a guard before a fight. He crosses his hands over his crotch as if to shield the most vulnerable parts from a low blow, but his eyes are full of hateful hurt as he gives you his most pretentious, mocking tone.

"Miss."

Your heart skips a beat – Simon becomes the thing you miss. 

A hit and run.

You have to resist the urge to grimace at the pure venom in his voice - it doesn't matter what he calls you because that tone seeps straight through your skin like lye. It hurts; it burns to see him even more withdrawn to his shell than when you first met. He retreats far beyond the front line, he goes further than the rear, and it's a bitter defeat for both of you. 

This man has rubbed your feet while you've laughed at a stupid joke in a sitcom. The same man has been inside you – night after night after night. It rips your heart to see a distant, perfectly blank expression on his face after you've seen him give you a plentitude of relaxed and wicked little smiles. 

You share the breakfast in funeral-like silence. You wish you could pay him to stay home so that you can go through your day filled with terror and longing without Simon Riley following you around.

"I've been meaning to update you on new intel about the target," he breaks the silence, and your heart feels like it's being put through a wringer. Simon hasn't even touched his breakfast. "Turns out he received training in a sniper unit."

"So?"

"There's a high chance he might prefer to use long-range weapons."

He's professional, curt, clinical. Even more so than when you first shook hands with him. And all the while, those eyes burn you; they examine you like you're the most challenging puzzle he's ever tried to solve. He's cold as ice with his words and hot as hell with that stare. Those eyes seem to pierce your clothes, they even reach under your skin.

"Right," you say without giving him a single look back.

"We have to update our protocol asap."

Our…

We.

"The protocol…" you whisper and finally look up at him. His lips draw into a thin line as he sees how your walls crumble; they didn't last even half a day.

"Simon, I can't do this," you say, your voice breaking. The tears are only seconds away. They blur your sight, but as he rises from the table slowly and takes a hesitant step towards you, you turn your head back to your toast with a snap.

"I want to change bodyguards."

From the corner of your blurred vision, you see how he raises a hand. If you didn't know any better, you could say that he's at his weakest. But the hand falls straight back and gives a twitch by his side. You wonder why he even bothers to disguise the spasm so lousily as a stretch. It's as if he wants you to see that he's in tumult too.

"I'll stay until–"

"No. Get out."

"Miss. I'll just get my things," he says, and you nod briefly. No exchange of gazes is probably the best policy after informing him you no longer need his services. It's better to rip the band-aid off with one yank than try to pretend that this relationship was something more than sexual. 

You know he came to your house with minimal belongings, a duffel bag full of spare clothes and a large case which you supposed was a container for different weapons. That is why you notice he takes a surprisingly long time to get those things and leave your house.

When he finally emerges from his room – no, not his room, but the guest room, you remind yourself – he places the luggage in the hallway and comes back to you, probably to say his polite farewells.

"You won't let me speak to you, so I wrote you a fuckin' letter."

You turn to solid stone as he places an envelope between your water glass and cup of coffee. You sit with your heart thumping in your chest as he picks up his things, walks to the door, walks out of it and out of your life.

It's one of those moments you wish you could freeze and rewind. Do everything differently so that it wouldn't have to come to this. Instead, you listen how the front door clunks shut.

Then you send your trembling fingers up from your lap and onto the pure white thing that holds his secrets. You pry it open and find yourself reading the lines, scribbled with surprisingly sophisticated handwriting, through a round of hot tears.

They cloud your vision, but they don't cloud his words.

You skim through the letter in a frenzied hurry once, then again with more control, and try to remember how to breathe.

He shares shrivels from his past, ugly, horrid things which make your breakfast nearly push up your throat. He tells you he stopped dating eleven years ago for a reason. He writes that he would rather be tortured again than make you suffer from his past and incapacities.

There are certain lines that enter your heart like a thief with the most delicate crowbar. Lines like I'm not good with words and You must know by now that I'm a broken man.

Lines like I'm not a fucking poet but I'll miss your warmth even under the desert sun.

Some lines make you want to tear the letter to pieces. Lines such as Don't throw your diamonds in the dust and I can't give you what you deserve.

He thinks you can't take his darkness, so he shelters you from it. He says he would come back to you if he could. You don't know what the hell he means by that. 

If he could? 

What the fuck prevents him?

You sit inside your empty, lonely house, confident of the fact that it is not you who prevents it. It was not you who just sent him out that door. Who commanded him to leave because you didn't need his services anymore.

The letter makes you cry, and then it makes you boil.

Such sweet words, and so many empty sentences. If only, if I wasn't, if I could.

You get the feeling that he's mocking you again. If only you weren't a princess and a spoiled brat, then perhaps he could reconsider this relationship.

You leave the letter there; you leave your coffee and your breakfast. You almost wish someone would shoot you and put you out of your misery as you call a taxi and go to the heart of the city.

You're completely numb as your fingertips brush silk and linen and all the newest designs. They curl around tiny bottles of bright nail polish and touch the perfumes made from the last free wildflowers of a burning world, but you feel nothing stir inside.

You're emptier than the echo that rings through the malls and corridors of stone; you feel poorer than all the beggars on the street. Shopping always makes you feel better. But now you want to burn all your money, throw your jewels out the window, torch all the fucking stores like some bloody anarchist. You leave every store without buying a thing and try to remember what it was to have lunch without drowning in tears that can't be cried in public.

"I can't give you what you deserve."

That's the line that scalds you most. You know what he meant when he wrote those words, seemingly humble. But your bleeding heart twists that sentence until his words are a testimony of pure rejection.

You have money, so you don't deserve love, is that it?

You want to find him and shake him. It's not about what you deserve or what he deserves. It's not about what anyone deserves. And if the bloody man thinks he doesn't deserve love only because he's made his home in suffering, then he's the last person who should be allowed to decide who deserves what.

You walk through the crowds and streets like a small whirlwind, on the verge of yelling your heart and loneliness out in the air until your vocal cords are raw. You're so riled your mind doesn't even register the gunshot.

The only thing you hear is a glass shattering next to you just before an entire boulder hits you.

His scent envelops you like a safe, warm blanket, even if that blanket weighs a ton and causes your jeans to grate and tear as you two hit the asphalt. Simon gives you bruises, scrapes and burns all across your left side as your body grinds through the dirt. 

Another shot is fired; this time, a car's glass is shattered above you, and the body surrounding you tenses until you worry your bodyguard has been hit. The bodyguard you fired this morning, who's still doing his job, who never even left you…

People are screaming and running in different directions all around and above you, but time comes to a halt as Simon rises only an inch or two.

"Stay down," he gruffs in your ear. "Don't move. Don't you fucking move, ok?"

The whole world could've gone silent from the way you only hear his voice. His words. His distress. You remain still as a stone and look up at him – your lips part because he's looking at you with impatience that's not just pressing; it's demanding.

"Yes," you stutter, "yes, of course."

Someone's pissed because a third shot sends him right back over you, and only then do you notice you're clinging to him, to his jacket and his shirt, like he's a human shield. Then the human shield speaks again, and the words that come out only make you grip him tighter.

"He has to change the magazine soon. You stay right here, ok? I'm going in."

"No, don't," your fingers curl around his clothes and try to keep him on top of you. "Don't go. I'm afraid."

I'll get you a dog. 

A day of silence. 

I'll buy you some good whiskey. I promise…

"I'll be right back," he murmurs, more softly now. "I promise." 

Then he rips himself off you. Your body misses his heat like the desert sand must miss the sun, and you realize you've ruined everything as you finally get to watch him in his element. He's agile and beautiful as he reaches for his gun, takes it out, and prepares it in a few seconds to fire death upon your faceless enemy. You've ruined everything because if Simon goes in, he might get killed – he's a human, not a shield, he's not even a weapon – and all the things you never said will haunt you for the rest of your life.

"Don't leave me," you want to reach for him, but don't dare disobey his orders. It should send you laughing: that you're finally doing precisely as he says. You finally trust your life with him, just before he leaves you, leaves you, leaves you. 

"Simon–"

"Sweetheart. I never left you."

He looks straight into your eyes. You gulp the tears now.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper, and someone is screaming; everythings a buzz, cars whir by as you tell him all the things you meant to say weeks ago. "I never wanted you to go. I always liked you. I– I think I love–"

"Shh. Don't you do this to me now."

The words are so soft you have to struggle to hear what he's saying under his breath. It's like he's talking to himself, and you realize you're an asshole, saying things like that to him when he's trying to concentrate on his mission and his job. But you just can't help yourself sometimes. No one in your life compares to him. No one has caused such a ruckus, such turmoil, such devastation and such love.

"Do what?" you whimper there, motionless on the ground as he gives you a last, painful look before his stare fixes on the piece of glass still unshattered, the dim, transient mirror of a store window he uses to locate movement in one of the buildings. 

Then he takes a peek over the car, and you hold your breath – he's the bait now, and ducks his head immediately as two more shots are fired. You don't even have the strength to scream; your whole body simply shudders from the echoing sound of pure fear – how can he play tag with death like that? 

And then he leaves. 

He rounds the car and darts for the building and the sniper; he disappears from your vision so quickly you wonder if these past weeks have been but a dream.

A hit and run.

"Do what…" you repeat on the ground and curl into yourself even though he said you shouldn't move. You figure it's not that big of a crime to go into a fetal position when you don't know if he's ever coming back to scold you for breaking the rules.

You want to close your ears from the sounds that follow – you fear you'll jinx something if you listen too closely to what happens in that building. You try to concentrate on your breaths, slowly bringing you back to your body. You haven't even noticed that there's blood running down your arm.

It's funny how you only notice the pain after seeing the flowing crimson that makes small rivers around your fingers. You don't want to look at your burning shoulder because the shock is already here. 

The searing pulse gets worse as you hear another shot, then another shot. Those sounds pound inside your shoulder and send more fire down your arm. Minutes or hours pass and you think how strange it is that everything's completely still, how bizarre it is that there are no sirens, no cars, no screaming. They've finally closed off the roads.

You only start to cry when you see that he's alive.

You try to rise from the ground to meet him – a bleeding princess, waking from her beauty sleep and realizing everything's just been a bad dream, greeting her knight in a black pair of fitted tactical pants and a pistol on his waist. Diamonds and darkness…

He rushes to you in what seems like desperation. You find it oddly beautiful that he's not only relieved to see his client is still alive and well, he's also relieved to know you're still there. That his princess has waited for him.

He falls on his knees and prevents you from rising. You're quickly wrapped in his arms, feeling so happy and safe that you don't even bother to tell him you're injured. It's just a scratch anyway. Even if your leg was blown off, you wouldn't complain about being picked up in his lap like this. 

"Shh. I got you. I got you."

He's cradling you like a child while tears stream down your face, but there's no audible sounds of crying. You weep a whole river of tears and your nose is clogged, forcing you to breathe through your mouth, but there's no wailing, no screaming, no bawling. The first words that roll off your tongue are a child's moody complaint.

"You left me," you mope as he caresses your head.

"Only for a little while."

"You came back."

"I said I would."

More tears flow, and this time you sniffle and sob. He rocks you gently back and forth as you cry in his embrace. Simon would make a good father.

"Is he…?" You whisper, then look up at him. He just nods and gives you a quick scan, drawing a sharp breath when he notices the wound on your arm. 

You're placed back on the ground as he inspects your shoulder and tells you the bullet managed to scrape some skin but has mostly just ruined your jacket. You're almost sorry that the wound is not as severe as it feels. You thought the burning sensation meant shattered bones and scarred flesh, but the scratch is no deeper than if you had accidentally cut yourself with a kitchen knife.

"No, I don't want… No hospital," you beg as he offers to take you to ER. You're not spending the rest of the day in a frigid treatment room where tired medical personnel only clean the wound and put a big plaster on it. 

"Just take me home," you plead like you're his daughter who doesn't want to go to school today. "Please?"

"Sure. Whatever ya want."

He makes a few phone calls, arranges things with the local police or something. You don't want to know anything about it. You don't want to know who got shot in that building and how.

It's not a taxi that drives you back this time. You don't know where he got a car and a driver, but the vehicle is big and black, and your head is in Simon's lap when you lie in the backseat. There's a panel between the driver's seat and the rear, so you don't even know who's driving, but you're only grateful for the privacy after the crazy morning followed by a murder attempt. You look up at Simon, who looks back at you for the first time while you're in a car together.

"Why did you become a soldier?" You ask, not knowing why you're whispering. He's holding your hand – a simple, wholesome thing to do, but his grip on you is solid and warm and feels equally as intimate as the times this man has been inside you. 

"I wanted to help people." 

"By killing them?"

"By saving those I can."

He keeps a hand on your cheek too. Simon has spoken softly ever since you were fired at, has been humane and caring and tender, and you realize… This man is naked before you; he's stripped bare from all pretenses. 

And he's not darkness. He's not a skeleton or a dead man or even a soldier.

He's a beacon in the night.

"You did a good job," you squeeze his hand softly.

The last glass-like veil in his eyes shatters, but far more softly than those windows shot at with a rifle.

"I live to serve, Ma'am...–Miss."

"Don’t… Simon, please don’t call me a–"

He descends. He doesn't need that hand to lift your chin up to meet him in a kiss. It's not a hungry devouring this time, but a soft promise, a lover's seal. You feel the rest of the shock leave your body in his embrace. There's no more coldness, only a fragile burning.

"You never look me in the eyes," you whisper as a tear escapes from the corner of your eye. It's a silly thing to say when he looks at you with all the love in the world.

"Yes I do," he gives you a soft brush of a thumb across your cheek. His lips are right there, an inch away from yours. "How could you have missed that?"

He's right, as always. The dark love almost swallows the brown of his eyes as he looks at you, shining light on you as he has shined for days, for weeks now. How could you have missed that, indeed? You raise a hand to cup his cheek, not caring about the pain, not even mourning that your blood stains his chin. He doesn't seem to mind at all, so why would you?

When you arrive at your house, he drives away the loneliness, sorrow, everything a rich girl can fear by carrying you in his arms, stepping over the threshold with you like you two are married now.

He peels your jacket off with affection and tenderness, tends to your wound and wipes away the blood that has caked dry all over your arm. The gash has bled a lot for such a small wound, and you purse your lips from how accurately it reflects your feelings for him.

He ties the wound, checks at least two times he's not tying it too tight. His care breaks your heart, because you don't know whether he will leave you after this. There's nothing that keeps him here anymore – there's no way you can keep Simon Riley to yourself. So you abandon him first for the second time, ascend the stairs to your lonely domain while he cleans up the small mess in the bathroom.

It's a small miracle that he follows you. He opens the door to your room without knocking – not because he's entitled to your privacy, but because there are no more barriers between you two. You're gathered in a stout embrace for the second time this afternoon, and you wrap your arms around him to hold him closer.

"You'll leave me soon," you speak to the wall before you, to the man behind you, holding you so gently against his chest. "I'll miss you."

"Love," he murmurs behind you, you feel the words against your back as a warm rumble. "I'll come back. If you want me, I'll come back to you."

"You will…?"

"I promise."

You have no more tears to cry, so you settle for examining the stab inside your heart, the wound that will bleed you dry if no one ties it tightly enough. 

"I don't believe you."

"It's not a matter of whether you believe me."

He turns you around and lets you bathe in his warmth again, the same golden light that came through the window when he placed his mouth on you in the kitchen. It's almost frightening to know that there's nothing that can keep him from you. Nothing, except you. The only thing that has stood between you was only and ever pride.

"Simon," you breathe, a soft attempt to introduce him to mercy. "It's not a matter of what we deserve."

He blinks a few times, the chest against your side collapses a little. It's a hard reset. The corner of his mouth tugs, a beautiful betrayal of his surrender, a sign of being hit by a boulder – your boulder, finally bringing the rest of those walls down.

"You think so...?"

"Yes. I think so."

He brushes his knuckles across your sternum – a familiar motion that always manages to lift your heart. You used to think it was foreplay when it was in truth, an attempt to touch the organ said to be the house of love.

You think about the times his harsh breaths have hit you just before he cums, the urgent praise he's peppered you with merely seconds before you've cried from pleasure. Can't get enough of you pet, you’re fucking perfect, 'm gonna make you cum, sing for me, just like that... 

You always thought it was a catalogue of shallow lust when it was an offering of naked devotion. 

He was as vulnerable as you when you drifted through space together, when you drowned in his stunning midnight sea. He was catching fire and burning too, again and again until you were both satisfied and sweaty. He always held you close after, panted desperate love on your skin, planted kisses on your collarbones and neck before resting his head on your heart. Settling there, over your pulse, like he had finally found his way home…

The hand glides between your breasts and molds itself over your waist. It fits there like a second skin. You're relatively sure his hands were made for holding you. 

"You asked what makes me happy," he says, completely naked and bare. The heavy love surrounds you with warm safety; your breath flows freely as you await his confession, the last secret revealed. "I think you know, love."

You know. It has finally dawned on you. What you didn't know was that tears of hope could feel like fire too. You've never been more eager to burn.

"Now keep those pretty eyes on me."

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley imagine #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #cod fanfic #mw2 fanfic #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost riley x f!reader #ghost x female reader #bodyguard au #bodyguard!Ghost

[gloryy-vs]

Hii! I hope ure doing good.

Id like to request Neteyam w a human reader whos very feminine? Like she wears makeup n nail polish n is very... classy (i think that theyd be wondering about makeup tho bc they only wear paint to war?)

You don't have to write it if u don't have any ideas for it tho! 😊 thank u

Face Paint

|| this is so cute i can imagine them being like ‘wtf is that shit on your eyes babe’

characters: neteyam x human! fem! reader

ratings: SFW , reader is v feminine , neteyam is lost asf , fluff , bonding moment

||

He was sitting there confused, towering over you even while he was sitting and watching you put this black stick of goop on your lashes. It was intriguing to him, it was like your own warrior fave paint except you made it look prettier. His large hand grabbed a makeup brush of youre, patting it against his own cheek in curiosity.

“What is it called?” He said, wiping off his face afterwards and putting it back in your bag. “It’s called makeup, Teyam. That’s my contour brush. Makes my face skinnier basically.” Neteyams ears perked up, “Your face is fine as is? Why put it on?” He seemed slightly offended as to why you used makeup, he found you perfect without it. But who was he to judge? It was a human thing.

“It’s just to accentuate features I already have. I like it. Makeup, nail polish, skin care..” You trailed off, looking at him for a reaction. His tail flicked around, looking through your bag as he pulled out an eyeshadow palette. “Can you do my tourcon with this?” He said innocently while pointing to a brown color. You cackled, taking the palette away from him. “No, baby. It’s contour, and we have to use a dark blue for your cheeks right here.” You said softly, tracing his cheekbones and nose. Neteyams ears flicked happily and he looked down when you grabbed a brush. Even your nails were a different color.

“Is that makeup too? Can we do that too?” Neteyam said, holding your small hand into his large blue ones. You gripped onto them, a small laughing escaping your glossed lips again. “It’s nail polish, my love. We can if you want to.” He scooted closer, careful as he bent down, and you dipped your brush into a blue color, dusting his cheeks lightly to frame his face with contour. He would never let his brother see him like this, or his father. This was just between you two, content with being alone together and you practicing all kinds of looks on him, he was still confused by the idea of it and all the different names for things that you could just call paint, but he loved how passionate you were about it. You gave him a small kiss, and he returned one gently, not wanting to amish you from how cute you looked. You wiped off his lips so it wouldn’t be sticky for him from the gloss, and was thankful.

He loved you with or without the face paint, and that’s all that was important to you.

#neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam imagine #neteyam sully #avatar neteyam #avatar loak #avatar way of water #neteyam

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[fiendishfables]

Camillo Carmine x Reader

General Headcanons (SFW + NSFW)

warnings: nsfw, mentions of blood, mentions of biting, cursing

words: 1.4k+

a/n: this was a highly requested work, so enjoy and have fun with the little bonus at the end! This is not really an x reader, but it could be read as such, so oh well. Let me know your thoughts on Camillo's character, and/or if you'd like to see more of him in the near future <3

SFW

✧˚ · . Camillo is basically like a big cat

✧˚ · . Tall motherfucker, standing at approximately 8,2

✧˚ · . The guy is very calm, silent, and sneaky all at once. If anything, he would make an excellent spy and has been offered positions before in that line of work

✧˚ · . Very independent; wont work for anybody but himself and is beyond stubborn

✧˚ · . He is a hardass, but underneath his tough, strong front, is an individual who is a giant kid at heart, who is so deeply loyal and giving that it hurts, and who takes all relationships he makes very seriously, as in he would gladly put his life on the line for someone he cares about; questioning his loyalty is the worst you can do

✧˚ · . Favorite colors consist of greys and purples of any shade; it always struck him as having more of an elegant, dancer sort of vibe, and the display of the colors usually help him to relax in times of distress. His whole bedroom is centered around that color palette and it hasn't been changed since he and Camilla have inherited the mansion

✧˚ · . On the subject of Camilla, he likes to annoy her. His real personality can start to be seen the more time he spends around his sister; they behave just like any normal pair of siblings would. The two have had a love hate relationship growing up and it still is that way, even if just a bit more watered down now. The two like to joke and hang around together every now and again when they aren't off busy with their own lives

✧˚ · . What a Carmine lacks in affection, they make up for in loyalty

✧˚ · . If you wanna talk about dancers, he is one. He loves dancing in his spare time and even uses the Carmine manor as a spot to host dancing lessons amongst sinners willing/wanting to learn

✧˚ · . His silvery pointed dancing shoes are like his literal children, and he always goes into a slight panic whenever he can't find them. They provide him with that sense of security, as dancing is a huge part of his life and he could never stand to be without it; they were also a gift from his mother

✧˚ · . Never likes to ask anyone for anything, especially not help. He likes to cover up his needs with smart-ass comments and handsome smirks that most can't stay mad at for too long

✧˚ · . Has been told he has a very punchable face

✧˚ · . His fangs make for a great, sarcastic smile; his face either consists of a frown or that signature smirk. He uses his fangs for a lot of things, including biting people when they get on his nerves

✧˚ · . Can totally play the piano; claims its a very calming and dignified instrument. He doesn't play it often but when he does, its a gift to anyone around to hear

✧˚ · . On the asexuality spectrum, identifying as demisexual and biromantic. It takes him a little longer than the average sinner to develop feelings for someone, let alone sexual feelings

✧˚ · . As stated before, his relationships are one of the most important things in his life and he handles them with great seriousness

✧˚ · . The epitome of that one secretive, mysterious, tall and mysterious stranger everyone wants to be friends with, but are too afraid to approach directly to ask

NSFW

✧˚ · . It's very difficult to get anything verbal out of this man when he's in the process of being intimate with someone, even if they're his s/o

✧˚ · . The most you can expect is some pleasured grunts, maybe some low groans if you're lucky

✧˚ · . It's not that he isn't enjoying whatever is being brought upon him, he is just one to closely guard his feelings and never really express them too vividly; yes that ends up following him into his sex life

✧˚ · . 9 times out of 10 he prefers to give pleasure rather than receive it

✧˚ · . Loves to degrade and use pet names with his partner; sweetheart, doll, slut, and whore tending to be some of his personal favorites to use

✧˚ · . Big on consent. If you are ever not comfortable with anything he proposes or is in the middle of doing to you, then he will stop instantly and get you anything you need. He may seem like an asshat sometimes, but he is a decent person (if that comes as such a shock)

✧˚ · . Into some form of pet play/leashes, no negotiation

✧˚ · . He always likes to be in control and rarely ever is the submissive one during intimacy.

✧˚ · . Will speak Spanish in bed, usually doing so in order to fluster his partner; it often gets him a positive response

✧˚ · . Being blindfolded is a big kink of his. As a dancer, he is used to having to be accustomed to other senses, so when they are heightened after his sight is temporarily taken from him, he will have a ball of a time

✧˚ · . One of his top favorite things is watching his partner ride him. Just the sight of his cock being sheathed inside your body over and over again as he watches you get off on his lap all on your own

✧˚ · . Dirty dancing is something he is much too fond of. The act of getting all worked up from dancing with one another, teasing each other all the while, then getting to fuck his partner into the ground, whispering praises to them about how well they danced with/for him; he is all too eager to teach you more of what he knows about the dancing world

✧˚ · . The little shit is one of the biggest teases you will ever meet. He honestly has a sex drive that's more so on the lower side and does not need sex as often as most sinners seem to

✧˚ · . But, be prepared when he does have the energy to pleasure you, for he is astounding at it.

✧˚ · . Kissing, biting, steamy makeout sessions, eating you out, fucking you raw; he can do it all and excel in the process

✧˚ · . His fangs usually come into play a lot during sex; a huge fan of biting and leaving marks on his partner to let others know that they have already been claimed

✧˚ · . Camillo is one of those demons you'd be lucky to have sex with. It's not even an egotistical thing, he's just not very sex-coded when it comes to relationships or really anything in general. He believes in a true connection with someone first before engaging in any sorts of those activities, hence his sexuality

✧˚ · . Sex with Camillo is always very serious and passionate. He never allows himself to be as vulnerable as he would be right now, so better to cherish it whilst it lasts

✧˚ · . It's almost like he picks one mate for life, then he's done looking, like some species do

✧˚ · . Thinking of it, when he really gets into action and the rare times he wants to have sex, he fucks like a wild animal. He does have his vanilla, gentle side where he will care for you nothing short of a husband, but if he has the chance or some pent up anger to release, you better prepare to go for multiple rounds of very rough sex

✧˚ · . To top things off, he does have a praise kink. It may be hard to pick up on at first, but if you praise him, let him know how good he's making you feel, he's a mess (at least internally). Nothing really gets him going more than knowing he is fulfilling his job as a partner; making you feel good in every aspect that he can. It gives him purpose and that's really all he needs when he's with his s/o

BONUS~

✧˚ · . One of Camillo's wildest fantasies is to have his lover cockwarming him whilst he plays a song for them on his piano. He can imagine struggling to not fumble over the keys, not let his fingers slip, as he feels you clench around him, biting his lip or your shoulder hard enough to draw blood in order to stifle any noises that may find their way past his lips. That vulnerability is something he knowingly holds sacred; you could potentially be the one to coax it out of him.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #xreader #carmilla carmine #hazbin hotel carmilla #carmilla x reader #carmilla hazbin hotel #carmila carmine #hazbin hotel camillo #camillo/carmilla #camillo #camillo hazbin #camillo hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel genderswap #x reader #carmilla carmine x reader #carmilla carmine x reader smut #sfw #headcanon #headcanons #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel oc

[richea]

Inomata’s Design Notes & Memories - Destiny Cast

Some notes:

I’ve linked images of each thing she references below.

Unlike the first batch of Eternia characters I previously posted, these were in Japanese. And unlike the Destiny 2 ones I translated, she talks about her experiences with the characters in the game and not just her design processes!

The book in question is this one.

What I think about most when designing characters is their colors and the components to their look. The characters are displayed as such small sprites, so in order to be able to differentiate them from each other, I give each of them a specific color palette and unique accessories to each of their outfits.

Stahn’s thing was his scarf. I also made sure his shoulder pads, gloves, and boots looked huge.

Rutee is supposed to be a thief, so I made her look a bit like a ninja. I didn’t want her to look too girly, so I gave her shorts and exposed her navel. For colors I went with red and black, since that’s a distinctive palette. Whenever I’d do boss battles, she’d always be joyfully picking 2 gald off the ground instead of healing my very low HP characters (laughs). I thought about removing her from my party to prevent this, but then I’d feel bad, and it just made me think “this is all part of her plot” (laughs).

Philia is a priestess through and through. I went for white and green to give her an earthly feel (laughs). Her glasses and braids were a strong request from Namco. I came up with designs for her, but they didn’t have the glasses or braids, so they were repurposed for the priests in Straylize Temple. It was the basis for Philia’s design as well as Elraine’s in the sequel. Philia has her eye on Stahn, but he eats too much and he oversleeps. I feel like they’d work out better if Philia was more the assertive type herself (laughs).

Woodrow is an archetypical handsome man, so I didn’t have much to stress about when designing him. He’s a king, so I wished he had a stronger atmosphere behind him. I almost never used him when playing the game though (laughs). When you break into Dycroft, I thought, “it’d be really cool in a narrative sense to use him here, but he’s just so weak”. But you get special dialogue if you take him along, so I went “tsk” and brought him anyway. “Just stick to the backlines and don’t die” (laughs).

Leon’s really easy to draw, so again I didn’t have much to stress about when drawing him. He has a princely vibe to him, so I gave him white tights, but everyone was taken back by it! I thought, “is it that weird?” and ended up making them less tight fitting (laughs). He acts a bit snobbish, gets seasick easily and refuses to eat vegetables, so he really crosses off a lot on the “young master” list. He’s also really fun to use in battle (laughs). He has a really low defense stat but he hits fast, so it’s crucial that you string your combos together. When paired with Stahn, if you can isolate your bosses in the far side of the screen, they go down quite fast. Then I see the popup that Rutee’s picking gald off the floor again and I just use healing items on him (laughs).

I wanted to make Chelsea cute and small, so I based her image off of little birds. I gave her a palette of pink, green and blue, and made her hair look like a cockatoo or parrot. Her bloomers look like a paper lantern and I find them quite cute (laughs). Her life story makes me want to cry though. She’s fine and all in the first game, but in the sequel, she’s still wearing those bloomers from when she was a kid, living all alone on a snowy mountain. And if you go through her drawers, you can take something that Woodrow gave to her. I felt so bad, I thought “even though it’s so out of the way, I’ll go buy all the items you need!” (laughs). Then she makes all of these bows for you, but by then, I’d already enhanced my weapons a lot… But I felt so bad that I never Refined them and thought, “I’ll keep these on me forever” (laughs).

Johnny’s original idea was “troubadour,” but as the story progressed and I gave him his hat and all sorts of plumes, he came out a bit comical (laughs). He’s a really fun character to have in your party though, and I fell in love with him right away. I love that his tone-deafness does physical damage to the enemies (laughs).

With the Swordians, they have the will of humans and I wanted to incorporate that into their designs, but it didn’t seem to fit so I went for something more inorganic. Berselius alone has a creepy aura to him, and when Destiny 2 came around I thought “But his owner is such a nice person! Is it really okay for him to have such a creepy design?” but then I thought well, maybe Harold just likes things that way (laughs).

#seines translation #tales of destiny #tales of destiny 2 #mutsumi inomata #tales design notes #inomata mutsumi

[zeroone-eleven]

Gifts & Thoughts (M6); The Arcana

-------------------------------------------------------

Summary: The Main 6 and the gifts they send the Main Character. [Upright Endings]

Requested? ❌

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

"Is it obvious that all of this is right?"

-Elijah Woods, 24/7 365.

----------------------٩(◕‿◕｡)۶-----------------------

Nadia Satrinava:

Elegance, is the word for the gifts she spoils you with.

Everything she gifts you always has a connection to a certain time you have spent together.

A memorable date? A memorable day? A memorable moment? It doesn't matter;

Even the jewels that always color coordinate with your outfit palette has some sort of underlying memory connected to them.

Prepare to get showered with the finest, most intricately detailed accessories that Nadia associates with your shared memories.

Small mechanical inventions for your familiar. Like the little toys she made for Chandra.

Just as much as she pampers you, Nadia spares no expense in both monetary value and thought value to the things she creates for your familiar.

Your familiar is never going to feel bored within the Palace grounds, what with both Chandra and Nadia's little inventions to keep them company when you aren't there.

Light silk clothes in your preferred color palette, while the Vesuvian weather makes velvet and other similar fabrics impractical-

Nadia is well versed with the versatility of silk with the heat.

The silks she gifts you are to be imported from Praka, she will settle for gifting you no other silks but the finest kind in all the world.

The embroidery on these clothing items are always customized:

A pattern of a colorful forest: When you hunted down Lucio's ghost together.

A pattern of a wheat field: For that time you screamed your grievances to the heavens.

A pattern of waves, a small island with a singular angled tree: For the time you swam with her in the High Priestess' domain.

Asra Alnazar:

Scrapbooks is the vibe that comes to mind whenever the gift is from Asra.

For his presents are a mix of both learning, and simple sentimentalities.

There are still times where he goes on his own adventures and whenever he does, he never fails to bring back a tricket (Or five) which had reminded him of you in some way.

A leatherbound journal, with a burnt in pattern. For note taking when you're working on spell adjustments.

A small gemstone imbued with a protection spell, or a spell for luck, or healing- That has been fashioned into a necklace.

Herbs that he dries himself.

Self-made tea blends that he has subjected himself to tasting before handing you the perfected blends.

Matching knitted sweaters for you and your familiar, imbued with temperature regulation spells.

Spell tomes he bought, read, and then annotated with possible helpful tips, or everyday commentary to make your learning easier and more fun.

Julian Devorak:

Tomfoolery. That's it. That's his type of gifts.

A pun book, that he had somehow managed to talk Malak into gently dropping on you.

A sealed bottle with a preserved leach inside, reminiscent of the time you both thought to bathe in a suspiciously muddled pond.

He buys small journals, and writes down his adventure stories within them before handing them over to you.

Sometimes he'd send you a "Doctor's Prescription" that contain sweet gestures such as ten hugs a day, four kisses per hour, a "Nap" with him that lasts at least 12 hours-

Julian is an actor, a performer, an artist, a man of the arts. He always comes up with a new way to make a gift unique from the rest despite them being almost the same in form.

You now have a slowly growing folder of all the Doctor's Prescriptions you have been prescribed.

Thankfully, you only have a single bottle of leech and there is no indication that there will ever be another one.

Muriel the Outsider:

Handmade. Everything he gifts you is made with love, adoration, and quiet devotion driving his hands.

Sculptures both realistic and abstract, with the wood carefully polished to bring out the unique patterns.

Spice blends foraged and dried by himself from when he goes foraging in the forest every month.

Very seldomly, he gifts you flowers that he dried himself. Whenever he finds some that he likes the colors of.

He doesn't gift you dried flowers often, he appreciates nature and it's bounty but finds it hard to see any flowers as beautiful enough to be given to you.

Home cooked meals that Muriel tries his best to perfectly season and cook to your preferences.

Whenever trading caravans pass by Vesuvia, Muriel heads into the city and does his best to peruse each and every cart. Looking for something that might "Speak" to him as something that suffices as a gift for you in his eyes.

If there is no specific thing that meets his standard, then he'll look for materials in the carts instead so that he can make you something.

Portia Devorak:

Literature; Portia learned to read and write quite late in life, those two skills have become an integral part of who she is and what she sees as art and worthy of praise.

She writes you verses, poems, short stories- and she scatters them in the nooks and crannies of your shared home for you to find unexpectedly.

The paper is always subconsciously imbued with her magic. Whenever you touch the paper, you end up getting a glimpse into what she was feeling for you when she wrote the piece.

She gifts you books of stories she always comes back to, and books about the history, customs, and culture of the places you and her are sent as Emissaries to.

She makes sure to read through these books herself first, inserting slips of paper with her own viewpoints on a particular scene, or poems inspired by the scene (and the fact that she imagined both of you in it).

She also makes sure to always get you a box of the most delicious looking and smelling treat in the bakeries you visit on your Emmisary trips.

Lucio / Montag Morgasson:

The World. (No, Lucio does not get you the world turtle- As cute as they may be.)

He is no longer the Count, he has renounced that stature in favor of being a mercenary once more.

On your excursions, Lucio takes the time to sit down and take in the sights with you. Talking about everything and little nothings all at once.

Sometimes he sneaks in a purchase when you're both in the marketplace stocking up on supplies, stuffing it into his pack when your back is turned.

He never knows where or when he's going to give it to you on your adventures, but he knows that he'll know when the time is right.

Lucio picks flowers from the paths you're walking to place it either in your hair, or he pins it to your shirt.

If you get sad when it inevitably wilts away, Lucio reassures you that it's nothing to be sad about because the memory of your happiness from receiving the flower will metaphorically be keeping it alive.

If you find a way to preserve it with magic, he'll buy a sturdy box (He also asks you to enchant it with a few spells for extra safety) in which to keep all the flowers taken from your journey.

Once the box is full, it finds a place on the mantle of your shared home.

----------------------٩(◕‿◕｡)۶-----------------------

#Nadia Satrinava x MC #Nadia Satrinava x Reader #Asra Alnazar x MC #Asra Alnazar x Reader #Julian Devorak x MC #Julian Devorak x Reader #Muriel x MC #Muriel x Reader #Portia Devorak x MC #Portia Devorak x Reader #Lucio Morgasson x MC #Lucio Morgasson x Reader #Nadia Satrinava #Asra Alnazar #Julian Devorak #Muriel #Portia Devorak #Lucio Morgasson #the arcana #The Arcana Game #The Arcana MC #the arcana apprentice

[milksuu]

HIIII omg im in love w ur writing !! if it’s not too much to ask, can i request heartsteel aphelios and his s/o who also happens to be an idol?? maybe something where he finds them stressing about a song not being good enough or just general stress?? ty in advance!!

❥ prompt: Being an idol came with all the stresses one could imagine. Autograph signings, photo shoots, and general press interviews. That was your life. Day in and day out. At some point, something had to break. But Aphelio's was there to pick up the pieces. ❥ content/warnings: hurt/comfort, panic attack, angst, fluff ❥ characters/pairings: v!Heartsteel aphelios/ f!reader

Your life was scheduled. Rigid. Kept in a little black book. In the right-back pocket of your manager's steam pressed pants. Anything that went outside the borders of those pages, was irrelevant. Nothing else mattered.

And a lot of times, you thought you didn't matter. Your manager would remind you, quite often. That you were just another pretty face. With just another pretty voice. With just another idol cookie-cutter personality. Easily replaceable. Easily forgotten. No matter how many hit singles topped the charts. No matter how many brand deals you signed. No matter how many venues sold out. If that black book disappeared, you would go along with it.

But when you met Aphelios. You felt it. How important you actually were.

It was a comical meet-cute. There was a mix up in dressing-rooms at one photoshoot, where multiple artists attended. You found it odd when you saw the make-up artist open their color palette. Mostly darker colors, which wasn't on brand for your aesthetic. Still, you didn't question it. To not be labeled a difficult artist, you went along with anything and everything.

It wasn't until Aphelio's knocked on your dressing-room door. And when you opened it. Wow. How pretty. With all that glitter pink lip-gloss, peach summer cheek blush, and gorgeous lash extending mascara. Then there was you; dark lipstick, pale cover foundation, and heavy eye-liner on your bottom lid. He explained the situation by taking a lip-stick and writing on his arm. You couldn't stop laughing ever since.

It was only a miracle that you were somehow able to convince your manager to set up a collab with Aphelios. If it involved work and profit, it was marked inside the little black book. If that's what it took. You would work yourself to death. Even just to spend a fraction of time with him.

And yet. How did it turn out like this? There you were, inside the recording booth at Riot Studios. Your hands crinkling the lyric sheet Aphelios gave to you. Written specially for you to sing. But you were trembling, your voice trapped inside you. Your heart pounded so loud it hurt your chest and head. Your breathes? Where did they go?

Your dizzy eyes darted upward. Behind the booth glass, you saw Aphelios raised in his seat. A look of worry spreading through his features.

Bang! You flinched. Your manager slammed that little black book against the glass. Yelling at you to sing—to stop wasting everyone's damn time. Bang! You're going to be replaced. Bang! You're going to be forgotten. You! Don't! Matter!

The banging stopped. You stared wide-eyed. Aphelios snatached that little black book. Page by page, he tore it to shreds. Tossing the pieces at your manager, and tossing the book on the ground. His voice silent, but you heard him. So loud. So clear. A strong and beautiful voice. It was the strength you needed to not collapse.

Before any physical confrontation transpired, Aphelios pressed a specific button underneath the panel. Shortly after, two security guards dragged your manager, red-faced and swearing out the door.

Aphelios hurried inside the booth with you. You reached a trembling hand to him, stumbling into his arms with utter exhaustion. He caught you in his embrace, bringing you into the safety of his chest. You heard his heart sing. Felt it beating against your cheek, reaching for you too. Thank God. Hot tears pricked the corners of your eyes. That little black book was gone. But you were still here. You mattered.

And you mattered so much to Aphelios. He made some text calls, contacted a couple of important people, and pulled some strings. He arranged your new manager to be his sister, Alune. Who was more than happy to work with you. From then on, your days were filled with Aphelio's, Alune, and the rest of Heartsteel. Your most precious musical family.

an: bruhhh the life an idol, especially if you have a poopy manager must be hell. so stressful. ty for you req. anon. got me in the feels a bit here.

#heartsteel #heartsteel x reader #aphelios x reader #aphelios #league of legends #LoL #request #reqs open #aphelios lovers really coming out of the woodworks in my inbox #this blog is going to turn to just aphelios x reader if you guys keep this up haha #not complaining #nope nope not me

[koivoid]

so am I insane or am I insane

I have a new theory to share with you guys:

I am like 90% sure that Teacher is Teruko’s brother.

(sunlit-haru also made a cool analysis post about this theory here! Go read it, it’s great!)

firstly, their skins tones are extremely similar. As you can see from the image they’re very close, with Teruko’s skin tone being slightly warmer. Teacher is also closing his eyes in all of the appearances he’s made so far, which could be intentionally hiding more similarities they might have. (Same eye color, perhaps!) Another thing to note is that none of the drdtalt character’s names have been revealed, which could potentially confirm the connection between the two. Although, Teacher may have a different last name, but he could still be related to Teruko, as Teruko mentioned that her brother was adopted by another family; he could have taken his adoptive parents’ last names instead.

In the most recent QNA with the DRDTDev, they confirmed that Teruko’s favorite color is red, because of association.

Although this could be referring to Mai, it could also apply to Teacher, as red is one of the prominent colors in his color scheme.

And while I’m on the topic of Mai, Teacher’s appearance also parallels Mai’s. They both have red as their main “bright” color, and more importantly, their hair styles are similar. As shown in the image above, they both have hair sticking out on one side and a braid on the other. They also have similar bangs (the middle part) but that’s more of a stretch, as other DRDT characters have them too. Though I should mention, Teruko has these bangs too. In fact, her post-ch1 hairstyle looks pretty similar to Teacher’s, with the hair sticking out on the right.

now, you may ask, “why are you comparing Teacher to Mai?? What does this have to do with Teruko?”

You see, Teruko has flashbacks to two different people.

Of course, Teruko remembers Mai’s appearance. She even has a flashback of Mai smiling at her at the beginning of Chapter 1’s deadly life. But she doesn’t remember this mysterious “his”’s face at all. Mai seems to have been in Teruko’s life pretty recently, so she remembers her; but what about the other person? Surely she would remember everything about the only other person she cared about? Well. Perhaps she doesn’t remember him because she hasn’t seen him since she was, say, five years old? When he was adopted into a different family?

Then what about Hope’s Peak? After all, Teacher wears an ID from HPA. (Thanks to weightedblankettt for deciphering the text!) Min mentions a teacher in charge of the DRDT cast’s class in the bonus episode, and he’s also implied to be the receiver of this letter hidden on the DRDT website:

So if Teruko ever went to HPA, wouldn’t she recognize him?

She probably wouldn’t. She had prosopagnosia. She can’t recognize people by their faces. So there’s a very low chance that Teruko would recognize her brother whom she hasn’t seen in years.

In conclusion, Teacher is most likely the other person that Teruko struggles to remember. This would help explain the parallels between Mai and Teacher—the braids and the red in their color palettes—because they were the two most important people to Teruko. And of course, the only other person we know of that is significant to Teruko is her brother.

Now, in the end, this is all speculation, so take it with a grain of salt. I might be overthinking some of the above points, and Teacher and Teruko could have nothing in common. If I do end up being wrong, I’ll do art requests and draw whatever cursed things you guys want…

anyways, please do feel free to add onto this post! I’m sure there are some things I’ve missed. I’d love to hear other people’s interpretations!

#danganronpa despair time #drdtalt #altdrdt #teruko tawaki #mai akasaki #teacher #I am indeed as they say. “cooking” right now #pretty proud of this theory! 👍 #I typed half of this at 12am so ignore any grammar mistakes lol #drdt spoilers #drdt

[evilcokito]

I feel like this one is very obvious but—Jade Leech in Mountainous for the color palette requests if you’re still taking them please! ty!

JADE LEECH X MOUNTAINOUS X DEMON MUSHROOM

Color Palette Challenge from THIS POST! -> Any twst character is allowed

How far did Jade go for THAT and why was there an EXPLOSION???

#thaankkksssSSSS #twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #twst jade #cocoart

[artsybug0]

What have I been working on lately? I’ve started a lot of sketches and currently don’t have a lot of energy to finish them as quicker as I would prefer. I’ll probably end up taking a little break or just add more to these drawings slowly day by day. But for now here are sketches/WIPs of what I have made the past couple of days.

A new wallpaper for my iPad. I can see this as a poster the Welcome Home Puppet Show would of made to advertise Millie as a new character.

Working on certain Au’s people have requested (Mama Millie, Dead by Daylight, and Greyscale Millie). A few specific Au’s I can’t really insert Millie into for different reasons. For example in the Dead by Daylight Au Millie would be with the rest of the neighbors while Wally would be missing to her. So for these specific Au’s I can’t insert Millie into I’m drawing her as if she was in Wally’s place. (Including, Watcher au, Killer au, Dead by Daylight au, and probably others I can’t think of right now.)

I also have plans to draw Millie on clownsuu’s Mob Au! I love their au and artwork a lot. And thanks to Mob Howdy’s character.ai there are scenarios I wanna draw between them! (Like how they first meet! It’s super sweet and precious!) sadly This Millie would have a lot of truama thanks to Wally haha!

I have a couple of drawings of Actress Millie I wanna finish before I post her official design! I love her so much and have her pretty much all done! I just want to have a few drawings that shows how she is as a person and her relationship with her fellow cast members before I post her official design. Sadly my lack of motivation is making this a lot harder. 🥲

Im still struggling a lot with Angel Millie’s color palette and now I think I already want to redesign her 🥲🥲 I’m way too picky about her design.

This is also my sketch for the banner on this app haha! It’s gonna take so long to do but it’ll be worth it lol.

I keep making sketches but never actually finishing the drawing 🥲 screw art block and lack of motivation.

#digital illustration #welcome home #welcome home puppet arg #welcome home oc #welcome home puppet show #work in progress #art block #lack of motivation #I’m pretty sure I need to post some tags but I don’t know what tags to do so for now I’ll just do random tags

[22ayla19]

Hellooo!! Can I ask a scenario wherein jiwoo and his friends are doing some shopping with kayden (in his human form) and kayden's gf. Then she picked a shirt for Kayden (something light that will go with his color palette hehe), asking to try it out. Then a man said something mean about a man should only wore dark colors. Then she picked a fight on the man telling him a man can also wear other colors etc etc, not letting others disrespect kayden or a man's masculinity (if you know what I mean) hehe. Then the boys are calming her, subin telling she's gonna be her role model and kayden saying despite being a non awakened she can depend herself just fine. ONLY IF MY REQUEST IS OKAY TO YOU, THANKYOU!! LOVE YOU!!

Kayden x Reader

From author: More than satisfying. I hope, you like it)

How you convinced Kayden to go shopping with you and the guys is still a mystery. There is a suggestion that he was just bored and decided to join the shopping, but apparently, he is just jealous that you are paying more attention to Jiwoo and his friends than to him.

What can we say about Jiwoo and the guys who were shocked that Kayden and his girlfriend joined the shopping spree. Well, at first it was really an awkward sight, but after you assured the guys that they shouldn’t worry so much about Kayden’s presence, the guys relaxed and began to behave more confidently.

The boys didn’t choose much for themselves, so Subin consulted with you a lot about this or that style of clothing. She chose what she wanted and what you recommended her to wear. Of course, you advised the boys to buy more stylish clothes (you paid for some, as if giving them a gift) and while they were trying on what they had chosen, of course, you began to choose something for your boyfriend, since you saw that he was becoming too intrusive and realized that he was jealous. If only you could calm him down and start choosing a new shirt for him.

Kayden usually wore something that would be comfortable for him to fight in, that is, a sports style, but recently he began to wear dress pants and shirts, which suited him very well. It especially showed his muscle definition. Your nose didn't bleed a couple of times while you were looking at him in his new style.

- Kayden, please come, - he approached, clearly not understanding what you want. You just wanted to look at his current shirt size to know which shirts would suit him. - Turn your back.

- And why is that?

- Don’t fool me and just turn around, - Kayden didn’t argue and turned around, and you turned the collar of your shirt and found out the size.

She found a shirt that she had noticed a long time ago and told Kayden to try it on. He just didn’t understand, looked at you, then at your shirt and said:

- Don't want. She doesn't fit my tough guy style at all.

From anger, a vein appeared on your forehead. Yes, Kayden was very stubborn and rarely made concessions due to his character, but even so, where did he get the idea that a light shirt did not fit into his image?

Jiwoo immediately guessed that things were heading towards a quarrel, but he did not intervene, because he knew that you were terrible in anger. Friends just stood there and didn’t understand what was happening.

- Ah, now listen carefully, my dear, - here even Kayden shuddered in fear. He knew better than anyone else that you were terrible in anger and still managed to make you angry. - Who’s going to tell you anything if you just try on this shirt? Dark colors certainly add a cool edge to your image, but sometimes it's worth making concessions to lighter colors. Light colors are also suitable for men, and with your body type it also emphasizes muscles, which is not always noticeable in dark colors of clothing. Understood?

- More than... - taking the shirt that you chose, Kayden went to the fitting room.

The guys who stood on the sidelines all this time were shocked and delighted with how you dealt with Kayden’s stubborn character, because he is very headstrong and will not listen to anyone.

- Miss (Y/N), you are simply incredible! No one has ever managed to cope with Mr. Kayden like that! You are a role model for me! - Soobin said with a joyful exclamation.

- I’m not that incredible, I just learned to cope with Kayden’s stubborn character, nothing like that.

- Well, I would argue, - said Kayden, leaving the fitting room in the shirt that you chose, - I admit that I have a rather headstrong character, but you are the only one who could handle the pine tree. Despite the fact that you do not have awakened abilities, you can easily stand up for yourself by simply destroying the enemy morally.

- Thank you for the compliment, it’s worth noting that I was right. The shirt suits you very well.

- Maybe then you can take it off me? - Kayden asked flirtatiously and with a hint of vulgarity, which is why he received a slap on the head from you.

- Not in front of children! Unscrupulous!

#eleceed x reader #eleceed #kayden break #kayden break x reader

[bichimney]

911 valentine's day gif requests

pick a character or a ship (not exclusive to the mains or core couples) (non romantic dynamics are also acceptable!)

feel free to choose some overlays from these x or x (mix and match if you'd like but please keep it to max 3 between the 2)

here's a blog with color palettes if you'd like to pick one (or if you have some other color/color palette you'd like me to use lmk)

if you want text you'll have to tell me exactly what you want it to say (if you don't just want it to be their names) I'm not fully confident in my ability to pick fonts so if you can, tell me what font you'd like, I'll still do my best if you can't though

I'll probably stop taking requests by february 7th. depending on how fast I turn them out and how many I get, expect some of them to come after valentine's day

one per person. please be respectful and patient. this is not mutual/follower exclusive and I'll accept anonymous requests. any questions? feel free to ask before requesting! 🖤

#911 #bobby nash #chimney han #hen wilson #karen wilson #eddie diaz #maddie buckley #athena grant #ravi panikkar #evan buckley #911 abc

[pastelwhile-art]

it'd absolutely make my day too some makokuu from you (i loved that illustration of them im insane about them)

what about some domestic makokuu 👀 them spending time together at home :3 no pressure ofc

Help I know I asked for saiki k requests TWO months ago and I had a really fun idea for an illustration, but my brain is a smooth cube. so that idea stays up in the air.

For now take a really quick silly crack doodle about one of the many possibilities I think Kusuke/Makoto telling Saiki/Teruhashi would go. Spoiler alert: it’s hilariously horrible.

(Saiki thinks they’re messing with them and Teruhashi is seething. Are they pranking them? Who knows.)

And ya know what? Beneath the cut take my redesigns of these guys and my notes for them because I made several months ago ‘cause I haven’t touched them since :(

Warning: I talk a lot.

A quick note! These designs aren’t meant to say ‘fix’ the original-they’re just for fun! Even if I think elements of mine look better, clearly the original works and are well loved. Also I’m not especially fond of these anyways JAJSJANW

Saiki doesn’t change much other than his palette is a more balanced. Also I really like designing hair, and wanted the idea that Saiki really tries to sleek it down to something very generic and unassuming, but the hairpins get stuck in the way and his hair sorta moves outwards from there. Continuing the idea that his powers make him subtly less normal. It also accidentally made him look A LOT more like his parents, oops.

Also I drew a comparison from his canon hair to his redesign, because I didn’t think it was particularly clear until side by side.

Also I actually gave this one a proper illustration lol.

Teruhashi’s design was actually partly inspired by @lu-kario’s human mlp designs because they’re really good :^ She’s also pretty standard except her hair and color (which I’m not too satisfied with.)

I like the idea of the Teruhashi Siblings being a bit supernatural, so along with weird shine effects, they also get constant wind effects! Like in all the anime where they have flowing hair at just the right times even though it wasn’t windy at all before? Yeah! Except that’s more Makoto’s thing while the shine stays Kokomi’s.

Also what ethnicity are these characters now? To me they’re still Japanese, but I think people don’t ever use a range of skin tones for the same ethnicity. But really these are just fun designs I didn’t really think too hard.

Kusuke! He was the first one I did and an absolute PAIN. He was also the reason I did this, because as much as I love Saiki K and respect the author, I just got to know what is going on with his debut clothes.

Well not like I did that much better… Kusuke is stuck with four alt palettes because I can’t decide which shade of weird yellow and purple to make his head and gown (I’ve resolved to draw his hair a different shade of yellow in every drawing.) His eyes also match Saiki with purple eyes, because I think they look better lmao.

Also, that’s his Cambridge gown he’s wearing. And fun fact-they have a great amount of rules on what color does gowns get an accent of based off what subject people are taking! I decided to not think too hard on that and just gave him a better looking gown.

And I really like the hair I gave him, the original to me just lacks a bit of anime shape style. Also his headgear is shaped like a graduation hat now lol.

He also has a silly little doodle for what he’d look like with his lab coat. It’s not here, but I like to think he always puts a ponytail up!

Last and also least xp, Makoto! He’s uhh about the same with the points I said with Teruhashi. Just very angular now. I swear I tried to design a better fashion for Makoto but I just ended up with the same.

I tried to style his hair how Japanese celebrities would, but I don’t know if I succeeded. His hair as I said is constantly blowing to the left lol. Also he has a hair clip now! In my head Kusuke gives him a telepathy canceller disguised as a hairclip.

Also anyone can draw or get inspired by these designs if you wanted lol Though I don’t really like these, I still use these hairstyle for drawing them cause I think they look cool lol.

#saiki k #pwoodle #kusuke saiki #makoto teruhashi #makokuu #kokomi teruhashi #kusuo saiki #design #help under the cut is LONG. #but if you want to see local pained artist tries to do character design go ahead #ALSo. I still love Makokuu and saiki k. #I bounce from fandom to fandom but my fandoms are still dear to me #and i have a lot of ideas of how Makokuu would work JANANEENE #then telling saiki/saiki finding out is one of my personal favourite tropes for this ship #because it fits so well with canon and has so many possibilities #I have a whole. canon chapter length art idea but. that is too long #I wish I could 😔👌 #but if anyone is curious 👀👀?? #I may share my headcanon and many ideas #saiki k redesigns #is that a tag??

[ooops-i-arted]

Mando's spidersona

Inktober #1: Spider-Mando, Spider-Mando, does whatever a Spider-Mando does!

Let me tell you I shrieked aloud with delight when I got this request!! I love riffing on characters' designs so this was so much fun. Spider-Mando probably spends his time bringing criminals to justice now after years of a bounty hunter, now that he found a little kid to look after. Din's parents were his original loss, Peli is the Aunt-May-like figure who babysits Grogu, Greef Karga runs a newspaper while hounding Din Djarin for more pictures of Spider-Mando, Carson Teva is the chief of police trying to catch him, and Cara Dune is a cop who's been helped out enough by Spider-Mando to be intrigued and think there's more than just a vigilante to this guy.

Design sketch and notes under the cut:

I knew from the start I wanted a beskar chestplate with a beskar kar'ta spider on it. I originally thought wraparound but I didn't want it to look too similar to the Holland Iron Spider, so I contained it.

The biggest overall challenge was merging a tight-yet-flexible suit designed for a nimble fighter with a character whose iconic design is non-form-fitting, non-flexible armor. So the suit is the base with some pieces of armor, but they're kept very minimal so Spider-Mando can flip and thwip his way across town. He needs the protection but can't be weighed down and can't have his joints compromised at all so he can move. Din ofc can be nimble when required, but he's not really the same type of fighter as Spider-man, so I bulked up the suit's silhouette to reflect that. Web shooters have been integrated into the bracers. He also has boots to ground him and make him look sturdier. He can take hits without being thrown around as much, but can still move and fight in that more Spider-man-like way.

The face was the toughest part. Mando's helmet and T-visor is such an iconic part of his look, but the expressive eyes are equally as iconic for Spider-man! I ended up taking inspiration from Miguel's face in Across the Spider-verse, since it's similar to the T-shape but with the expressive eyes. I figure Din in this universe would get to show his snark off more and not always be so stoic, so I wanted to allow him some expressiveness while still echoing the T-shape overall. It still looks more like the Nite Owl helmets than I would like but I think the top part helps. To mitigate losing the T-shape on the face, it's placed on the suit instead, so that when Din is standing in a neutral position you can see it.

I pulled the gloves straight from Din's regular outfit because they're so recognizable and add a pop of color to the neutral palette. His waist looked odd bare so I added a utility belt reminiscent of Din's. The "bombs" are less deadly and the canisters are now extra web fluid, and of course there's gotta be pockets for snacks and if he sees a cool rock or small toy to bring home to Grogu.

My tendonitis hand is killing my now but I regret nothing, I love how this turned out. Thanks for the awesome request Pomrania!!!

#the mandalorian #spider man #across the spider verse #din djarin #crossover #fanart #spidersona #inktober #inktober 2023

[ace-editor]

Day 1; A character with a colorful palette/a character with a neutral palette

credit is appreciated!

this blog still isn’t taking request/fully done with its makeover but I wish to participate in @brain-fluid-explosion-girl’s 30 follower event! RAAAAAH

#explosion30 #joker persona 5 #persona 5 joker #persona 5 protagonist #persona 5 ren #persona 5 akira #akira kurusu #ren amamiya #akira kurusu icons #Ren amamiya icons #joker icons #persona 5 icons #persona 5 edit #⚖️ // eureka! | Self indulgent

[2334242xiao]

If you're still taking color palette requests, could you do Yuto in frigid?

Hello 💓💕 thank u so much for requesting Yuto. He's kinda my favorite character from Arc V

Palette requests are still open sorry I'm so slow :3

#palette request #yuto arc v #yugioh arc v #yuto #yugioh #ygo

[felixravinstills]

Palette watermelon for Sejanus. Thank you for this.

You're welcome! Thanks for the request! Sometimes I need a little push to draw other characters! It's actually really funny that this is the first time that I'm drawing one of the three main characters!

Color Palette by @thoughtfulrobot (still taking requests for a few weeks)

Commission Info

#abyssal stuff #abyssal arts #sejanus plinth #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #thg series #fanart #color palette challenge #art #drawing #illustration #digital art #digital artist #painting #hunger games #ask response #anon asks