#i love the ink wash brush XD

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Painted Souls Part 1

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Eventual Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: None. 

Author’s Note: Here is the beginning of another series! Because I obviously don’t have a lot of those going on already XD I couldn’t wait any longer to get this up. So I hope you guys enjoy it. ♥

“Let's just face it,” Y/N said as she dipped her paintbrush into the light blue paint before bringing it up to the canvas in front of her. “You were the lucky one to know you have a soulmate. I on the other hand apparently don't have one.”

Elena laughed and shook her head as she looked around the canvas in front of her to look at Y/N. “Everyone has one. Yours just doesn't seem to write on themselves like the rest of us.”

Elena had been right. Everyone in the world had a soulmate that the universe declared they were destined to meet. From the moment they are born, their skin became a connection to their soulmate. A simple pen mark, paint splatter or even the embedded ink of a tattoo would be shared between the two until it had been washed off their skin. In the case of a tattoo, well one would hope their soulmate didn't make drunken decisions or at least hoped they shared the same interests in things.

“My whole life I've been waiting for some kind of indication that my soulmate is out there but I've literally seen nothing.” Y/N said as she eyed the painting for a moment before rinsing off her brush, wiping the excess water off and dipping it into a dark green. “Not even a tattoo to help at all.”

“Hey, he asked me about it before he got the tattoo.” Elena said as she worked on her painting.

“My point exactly.” Y/N said as she used light strokes of her brush to add the little details she wanted. “All you two had to do was write messages to each other on your arm and that was it. I've tried that and nothing.”

“Maybe if you said you're gonna get a tattoo on your ass of something obnoxious, you might get a response.” That caused Y/N to laugh and shake her head.

“You would think with how much I paint or even write on myself I'd get a response to stop or something.” Y/N tilted her head as she took another look at the painting before her. Her Y/E/C eyes flickered back and forth between the canvas and the picture she had clipped to the corner of it.

The image a beautiful landscape of mountains and fields. Y/N had taken the image from a magazine for her current art project she was working on for her college art class. The canvas held an exact replica of the image. All Y/N had to do was add in the textures she felt it needed to bring the painting to life.

“Maybe your soulmate doesn't care.” Elena said as her brown eyes never came off the canvas. “They don't care that you cover their hands and face up with paint as you do since they know you love to do it.”

“Or there isn’t someone on the other end.” Y/N sighed as she ran the back of her hand across her forehead. A smudge of white paint leaving a trail in its path. “I just figure that while you are off riding into the sunset with Damon, I'll just give up on actively searching for a person I don't even know exists.”

Elena opened her mouth to tell Y/N not to give up when the dorm room door opened quickly and Caroline rushed in. Closing the door behind her, she walked over to where her best friends were sitting on their stools in front of their canvases.

“Oh my god.” Caroline said as she walked closer to them. “My mother is so going to kill me.”

Both Elena and Y/N looked at Caroline with a raised brow. “What now?” Y/N asked. This wasn't the first time Caroline had came running in declaring her mother was going to kill her.

Unzipping the sweater she had on Caroline pulled it off and pulled the straps of her tank top towards her neck, revealing the tattoo that ran along her left collar bone to over and down her left shoulder.

A small smirk pulled at Y/N's lips. “Is this in retaliation for the star on your foot?”

“Seriously, Y/N. This isn't funny.” Caroline's voice sounded panicked. “This is a tattoo I can't hide.”

Even though Caroline had been in college, her mother still wasn’t too fond of tattoos. Something like this wasn’t going to sit well with the sheriff when she eventually went home. The thought alone had made Caroline run her hands through her blonde locks until her hands came to a rest at the back of her neck.

“Technically you didn't get it.” Elena chimed in as she placed her paintbrush down.

“She’s got a point there, Care.” Y/N said as she began applying a few different paints on the back of her hand to blend.

“Why couldn’t the universe just give us a name written on our skin? Not this we share whatever they put on their skin.” Caroline said as she began to pace the room.

“It could be worse.” Elena said with a shrug. “Be thankful your soulmate has good taste.”

Caroline sighed. “I can handle the paint splatters, and I can handle the occasional pen marks that appear from time to time, but this,” She said as she gestured towards the tattoo. “I don’t think I can handle. How does one get use to something they didn’t even want?”

“You'll learn to love it.” Y/N as she used the paint mixture on the back of her hand to add some texture to some spots on her painting. “Isn’t that the point of it?”

“Says the person who's soulmate has never made any kind of contact.” Caroline said placing her hands on her hips.

Y/N raised her brow as she looked towards Caroline. “Do you know how lucky you are? Yours has a tattoo challenge with you. Elena is practically in a long distant relationship with hers. I've got nothing.” She shook her head as she placed her paintbrush down and stood up off the stool. “I'd be happy to see some sign that the universe isn't going to leave me alone, but I apparently don’t get that luxury. To be honest, I’m glad I don’t. Look at how much you are hating something that person who is perfectly made for you has gotten.”

Caroline opened her mouth to say something but quickly closed it before looking towards Elena. Elena shook her head and gave her a knowing look. One that Caroline knew had meant she had taken things too far.

“Look, Y/N.” Caroline said sighing. “I know I should be grateful. I just hate when things come so unexpectedly.”

Picking up her overused cleaning towel, Y/N began wiping the still wet paint off her hands. “You like being in control.” She said with a shrug. “That tattoo shows you aren't in control of everything and it scares you.”

“Y/N/N is right.” Elena said with a nod. “Its unexpected and it's driving you insane. But you'll live with it.”

“As much as I would love to stay and help you sort out your control issues,” Y/N said as she walked over towards her dresser. “I have an interview at the gallery soon that I need to get ready for.” Opening a few different drawers, she pulled out what she wanted before making her way over towards the bathroom. “It's not the end of the world, Care.” She called out before closing the door.

It had been one of Y/N’s dreams to have some of her work showcased at Richmond Gallery ever since she had attended for the first time when she was five. To see all the different work hanging on the walls as a child had inspired so many different things in her mind. That was all it took before she begged and pleaded with her parents to get her a better paint set.

The child in her was bouncing up and down in her seat as she waited in the lobby. While calm and collected on the outside, everything inside Y/N was everywhere. The child bouncing, her nerves joining in, and even her mind over thinking everything on the spectrum of ‘what ifs’.

Even as the director walked out and greeted her, Y/N was trying so hard to not let her nerves get the best of her.

“We’ve been keeping track of your progress, Ms. Y/L/N.” The director, Joyce, said as she lead Y/N towards her office. “You’ve made quite the name for yourself already.”

Y/N gave a small smile. “I was inspired from a young age and I haven’t let up on it since.”

“Oh I know.” Joyce said giving Y/N a smile as she rounded her desk and took a seat. “Between your High School and College art shows, our recruiters have had an eye on you. I figured it was about time that we begin the process of showcasing them in future shows.”

“That would be amazing.” Her smile was growing with every passing second. “Here is my portfolio.” She said as she took a seat and handed it over. “It’s got everything in there but my most recent one.”

“What is your most recent one?” She asked as she took the portfolio and began to look through them.

“Landscape of the Smoky mountains.” Y/N said with a nod as she watched Joyce flip through her portfolio. “It was in a nature magazine and I replicated it for a class project.”

Joyce had hummed her response as she continued to look at the images in front of her. There had been plenty of people who had looked at her work before, but in that moment it made her nervous that Joyce was looking at them.

“When is that project due?” Joyce finally asked as she looked up from the portfolio.

“Not for another month.” Y/N said with a small smile. “Always eager to paint and get them done ahead of time.”

Joyce nodded her head and closed the portfolio before handing it back to Y/N. “I’m liking what I’m seeing.” She gave Y/N a smile. “Let me speak with my business partner and I’ll let you know soon when we can get you set up for your own showing. Sound like a plan?”

“Of course.” Y/N said as she quickly nodded her head. She was trying to contain her excitement in that moment.

Joyce stood up from her seat and Y/N did the same. “You have my number so it should be easy to see when I’m calling.” She said as she stuck her hand out in front of her.

Taking Joyce’s hand and shaking it, Y/N nodded her head once more. “I look forward to your call.”

Y/N plopped down on her bed the moment she walked back into the dorm room. Elena chuckled as she had watched Y/N do so and made her way over to Y/N’s bed and plopped down right next to her.

“So how did it go?” She asked as she looked over at Y/N.

“Great.” Y/N said with a smile. “She’s gotta talk to her partner about some details and she’ll get back to me. But it's that waiting to hear back that’s going to kill me.”

“They’ll call you back, Y/N/N.” Elena said with a nod.

“I know.” She said looking over at Elena. “You know what this means right?”

Elena smiled. “You’ll be a paid artist if someone buys your work?”

Y/N laughed. “That too. But I was going to say we’ll have to go shopping for cocktail dresses.”

“Right.” Elena said with a nod. “You know when we tell Care, she’ll demand that she pick things out for us.”

Y/N shrugged as she ran her hand through her Y/H/C hair. “It actually wouldn’t hurt to do that. One less thing for me to worry about.”

It had been right in the middle of the girls enjoying their takeout that Y/N’s phone had started ringing. Three sets of eyes landed on the phone that had sat right in front of Y/N next to her Styrofoam tray.

“Answer it!” Caroline said from her spot across the table.

Quickly swallowing the food she had in her mouth, Y/N answered the phone. “Hello.” Caroline and Elena watched as Y/N listened to the voice on the other end of the call.

While they could only hear bits and pieces of the voice on the other side, they were watching Y/N intensely. They watched ever slight tug of her lips, the way her eyes widened from time to time before she gave a response to whatever the question had been. They had even watched as she jumped out of her seat and made her way towards her side of the room.

“Of course!” Y/N said into the phone as she reached towards the desk, grabbing a black fine tip marker off of it. Biting off the lid, she held her arm in front of her as she began writing the necessary details. What time the show started, what time she needed to be there by and the address of the gallery, even though she had already knew it by heart. “Correct, its not due for some time.” She said with a nod of her head as she looked towards the now drying painting.

Both Caroline and Elena looked over in the direction of the painting before looking back at Y/N. They were waiting for the call to end to hear what they’ve known all along. The take out that was sitting at the table was going to be forgotten the moment Y/N hung up the phone.

“Yes, I’ll be sure to bring it.” Y/N said with a grin pulling at her lips. “Thank you so much! I’ll see you then.”

The moment Y/N had pushed end on the call, excited shrieks filled the room from the girls. While Y/N knew she was eventually going to get her own showcase, it made it all the more real to hear the actual details from the gallery itself.

“Now we need to go out to celebrate!” Caroline said as she stood from her seat. “And you need to be dressed for it and not in pjs.” She said walking up to Y/N grabbing a hold of her arm and began pulling her towards her closet. A groan passed Y/N’s lips but she followed her. 

“Wait.” Elena said and it had caused both Caroline and Y/N to look over at her.

“What is it?” Care asked with a raised brow.

“Y/N, your arm.” Elena said pointing towards the arm Caroline had been holding.

Both Caroline and Y/N looked down at her arm. Right next to the info she had written down on her arm had been the neatest handwriting she had ever seen. It caused her eyes to widen as she looked at the words. Words that she hadn’t written. 

I wouldn't miss it - E

#the originals #the vampire diaries #Painted Souls #Elijah Mikaelson x Reader #reader insert #Soulmates AU #Elijah Mikaelson #Caroline forbes #Elena Gilbert #series #new series #Elijah Mikaelson x you #fanfics

[shadowdianne]

'Stripped Bare' by Alyson Stoner for SQ please and thank you 💕

[Stripped bare]

I remember being pumped for the Dark Swan arcand I have never made it a secret that I was fangirling before the damned 5thseason happened. However, while I never liked the route of splitting the queenfrom a narrative standpoint I was also very curious and very interested onseeing what or how Regina would be without a side of herself. Especiallyconsidering how powerful that side was. To be honest while I think Lana did anamazing job as always and you are kinda limited to the time one has on prewrittenscenes I always felt that they could have focused a little bit better on thefact that there’s something missing on Regina while the split is happening.Soooo, I guess this is one of many fixitfics I will ever write about that xd

Thanks twin, for the prompt

Set on: 6x04 with aside of s5 finale

Pre-relationship.

                                                        -Cutting the strings-

“I needyou to promise me you’ll do the same thing if it comes to that.”

“I won’t let it come to that.”

“Promise.”

Regina stared as Emma glanced away; nervousnessrolling off her as the sound of the waves crashing against the docks raised andfell above their words. Eyelids dropping, irises protesting against the twinklingwater, the brunette bit down on her bottom lip as she kept glancing at theblonde, at the way Emma swallowed once, twice, before looking back at her.Shoulders locked, Emma’s arms seemed fragile as she hugged her midsection, thedecision of a promise the older woman knew couldn’t be easy, weighing her down.

She could remember how she had felt the momentEmma had asked her to do the same; to consider blood and loss over optimism.The same kind of one that felt as if everyone around them shared in aninfectious cloud. There were no other possibilities, however, and she knew asmuch as the scent of the sea closed around her throat, foam almost hittingEmma’s boots while the blonde changed positions, magic crackling in silver andwhite.

There had been a second of hesitation back atthe roof, with the realization that she could destroy what she had come todespise; nerves flooding her system as the death that had come to be a secondskin to her - ropes robbing her of the ability to speak, to decide aside fromthe persona she had once used with pride- stuck to the back of her throat. Shehad remembered Emma’s pain that night; the split second in where the otherwoman had said that she would now be the Dark One; no need to offer a salvationto someone who did not want it anymore. She had felt helpless back in Camelot,weak, but she had been able to see, for a split second, less than a moment, thelogic behind Emma’s words. Even if those hadn’t been for her.

She had felt attached to a second part ofherself with hot iron and prayers whispered out of her mother’s lips. Futurepages written in an ink stolen to the dreams the woman who had raised her had.She had followed the steps that had been pointed at her -even when she hadn’t wantedto.

Which had been the reason why, when presentedwith the opportunity, she had taken it. No matter the price she had glimpsedshe would need to take. Now, standing too far from Emma, she thought on thosemoments once more, in the way Emma had looked at her. She would be there, shehad promised she would, but she had looked away at the last possible second,magic already coursing through her and pain burning everything else away.

Lowering her head, chin tucked, Regina let hereyelids fall, breathing into the sea’s wind as the cracking sound of the dockstold her, way before than she let her eyes open once more, that Emma had movedcloser.

And she had and so she stood a few meters away;cautionary space between them still. Regina couldn’t quite remember when thathad begun to happen. There was not a moment in where she could remember thechange. Only that it had happened.

Green eyes shining, the blonde had her headtitled as she eyed her, hair battling against the wind, gold halo coloring theair around her hair where her dirty white magic met the air.

It was maybe because of that, because of thepainful realization that she felt lost and trapped in something she had walkedin hoping for redemption and freedom, because of the way Emma kept eyeing her,silent but stubborn in the way her lips were set in a fine line, that Regina fellher own lips part, words already escaping her throat before she was able toswallow them once more.

What good a half-made admission would make?

“I shouldn’t have taken it.”

Emma blinked, posture changing, shouldersunlocking as she let arms fall limp at her sides, fingers brushing against thefaux leather of her jacket. Everything in her felt too sharp and Regina blinkedaway in pain as she took into the way her lungs seemed to already be filleddespise her need to breathe.

She had changed that night. She had transformedperhaps, cut away from the most acerbic side of her personality. She hadthought it to be a good exchange at the very beginning; drunk into the idea ofher not needing to listen to a voice she had felts hers but not anymore. Nowshe realized that she missed it; missed the edge the Queen gave her even if therage felt as a forever empty void, needed to be filled. A kind of hunger thathadn’t been hers back when she had been a child. Because it hadn’t been hers;it had never been about her. She had merely picked the mantle, covering herwounds with it while hoping for them to not get infested.

Raw and open, she almost recoiled as Emmalooked at her own left hand, at her fingers, before she took yet another steptowards her; the scent of the sea dimming as the magic washed over her,surrounding Regina’s ankles, waist, chest, before it dissolved in a myriad ofparticles; the mental ropes around her chest disappearing completely as shetook a deep breath. The kind of one that made her feel dizzy but awake.

“That’s not what we should focus on.”

Emma’s words were true: Regina knew it. Thiswas not the moment for her to have self-doubts regarding something thatcouldn’t be fixed, not anymore. Yet, anxiousness was already growling at theback of her head, replaying thousands of moments in where there had not beenanything else but darkness: a blind clarity on the way she had burned.

“But I shouldn’t have.”

She wasn’t entirely sure where theself-deprecation was coming from, or the way she felt younger as well as olderas she truly was. There were other voices within her, voices she had been ableto pretend they weren’t there while the Queen roared: the naïve version ofherself, the impetuous side of her, the meek, the tender side of her. Not theones drenched in the Queen’s colors but on hers.

Weren’t those merely party tricks of someonewith a title that didn’t fit anymore?

She didn’t move when Emma closed the few inchesthat had still been separating them. There was no point on such a thing afterall: she craved it in the same way she wished for everything, for every stringthat kept her moving, to disappear. Not strong enough to say a thing, she letthe blonde’s arms envelop her in a quick –far too quick- hug. The kind of onethat made her want to disappear into.

“You brought me back.” The words, whisperedagainst her temple made her dig her nails onto her palms; anger rising withinher; the colder burn of what she was used to making her shiver.

“I’m not asking you that.”

“I know.”

Emma moved away just as Regina let her headrise, the hairs at the nape of her neck standing as she watched at the blonde’sdetermined face, at the way the cupid’s bow was shaded thanks to some cheekysunrays that jumped over the surface of the water a few feet away. There was astretched moment there, another missed opportunity Regina didn’t know how toread or if she ever had been able to. Still open, still raw and hurting, shesighed again and let the younger woman nod twice before taking a final stepback. The one that made her scream inside, hoping for a question and an answershe was not going to take or give.

“If it comes to it I’ll be there.” Emma’sghost-like touch still warmed her despite them not being in close proximity anylonger and Regina drowned on the memory of it as she listened to the blonde. “ButI’ll be sure it doesn’t.”

There could be many things there, many wordsRegina could have said. She didn’t.

The Queen had trapped her. That much was true.

But she had also freed her and so, as she nowstood at the very limit of the precipice, she realized she couldn’t quite fall.Not any longer.

#swan queen #SwanQueen #prompt #emettkaysworld #pre relationship

[smarties-art]

:0 dude I'm loving your inktobers!!! What media are you using?

Thank you so much ♥ Here´s the stuff I mostly use; I´ll name what it is from left to right:

- watercolor for the grey washes (I tried inkwash, but my paper didn´t handle it well)

- Deleter dip pen; I mostly use the G-nib for the lines and occasionally the Maru-nib for small details

- waterproof black Deleter ink (Nr. 4)

- white Winsor & Newton Ink

- Uniball eye pen (usually if I draw outside my home)

- Pentel pocket brush pen for filling in black areas and creating texture

- Zebra brush pen for thicker outlines 

- watercolor sketchbook by Hahnemühle 

(it kinda is a lot of stuff and you really don´t need all of it xD)

#ask #smartie talks

[heiress-incognito]

Greek God Aesthetic - Vallencia Lotus

APHRODITE: laughter-loving, sweet smiles, dressed in silk and satin, flower in their hair, thrives on attention, sees the world as a runway, unapologetically sexual, the sea washing their ankles, in love with love, stirrer of passion, cunning concealed by painted lips, secret daggers, doves, revolution in their kiss, delighting in the waves, flirtatious winks, strolling along the beach, staring wistfully from a balcony, this is how to be a heartbreaker, your boyfriend/girlfriend thinks they’re attractive, wants to be adored, gets turned on by danger

APOLLO: glitz and glamour, art galleries, turning the volume up, being made of gold, neatly-organized music sheets, notebooks filled with poetry, bathing in the sunlight, the powerful urge to create, collecting vinyl records, beautiful cover of Wonderwall, playing multiple instruments, tasting like sunshine, healing touch, speaking in prophecies, smile mingled with wrath, shunning lies, sporting shades, hanging out at music festivals with their friends, sleeps naked, arrow to the heart, paint brushes, probably has a Tinder account

ARES: armed for battle, wants to raise a dog with their significant other, soft spot for children, gives piggyback rides, scarred body, blood on their hands and face, willing to fight the world for the ones they love, fights against injustice, warm hugs, well-worn combat boots, boxing gloves, bandages wrapped around bruised knuckles, fist raised in protest, ignites revolutions, fear is a prison, more sensitive than what their tough shell may have you think, exhausted, damaged goods, force to be reckoned with, red roses, curses under their breath

ARTEMIS: keen senses of a hunter, freckles like constellations on their skin, piercing eyes, disheveled braid, moonlight peeking through the shadows, the calm of the forest at night, lying on the grass and staring at the stars, mother doe and her fawn, protecting their kin, the moon shimmering on a still lake, quiver full of arrows resting against the bark of a tree, running with wolves, bonding while circled around a campfire, not being much of a people person, arrow hitting its target, popping egos, patience on 3%, touches heaven and returns howling

ATHENA: discerning gaze, unreadable face, the patience of a life-long teacher, quiet museums, owl perched on their finger, armor that intimidates, eye for architecture, plays the Sims for the sole purpose of building houses, studied the blade while everyone else was busy getting laid, big fan of logic, loves brain teasers, go-getter, balls of wool displayed on shelves, ancient buildings, sweaters in neutrals and cool colors, hair done up, can kill you with their brain, heads to the library often to research, sharpened pencils, abs that can cut steel, stoic statues, pottery classes  

DEMETER: soil-covered hands, smile that can bloom flowers, skin loved by the sun, being the Mom friend, can lift you and all of your friends, flowers kept in the pockets of overalls, takes pride in their beautiful garden, speaks to their plants, leaves rustling in the wind, stalks of wheat, picking fruit, greenhouses, heart as strong as a mountain, values simplicity, daisies dotted across a collarbone, curls crowned with flowers, folded pile of sweaters in warm hues, pulling out fresh-baked bread out of the oven and the smell wafting through the air

DIONYSUS: drunk shitposter, on their sixth glass of wine before you’ve even finished your second, seductive smirks, untamed curls, rich fabrics on dark skin, sleek-furred panthers, theater masks, stage productions, receiving a standing ovation, rose caught between their teeth, being the baby of the bunch, wild parties that last from sundown to sunup, creeping vines, inspiring loyalty, grand opera houses, masquerade balls, rolls of film, shattered chandeliers with broken glass scattered across the wine-spilled floor, pouring champagne into flutes, lives for the applause

HEPHAESTUS: the calloused hands of someone who knows labor, sweaty brow, flame burning in their eyes, inventive mind, broad shoulders, steampunk goggles, nuts and bolts stored away in little boxes, ashes, striking a match, blueprints for future projects, fixing up a busted up car and giving it cool upgrades, wrestles with bitterness, work boots have seen better years, wrinkled plaid shirts, iron melted by blazing fire, huge jackets, crafting masterpieces, greased-stained overalls, fascination with robotics, pain is fuel, stack of weaponry, even their muscles have muscles

HERA: resting bitch face, dressed to the nines, cows grazing on a pasture, cool rain, loving and hating fiercely, hand clutching a string of pearls, large chandelier with glittering crystals, plays the Sims for the sole purpose of killing off their sims, romance to realism, pictures of the sky while flying on a plane, files that under fuck it, downs glasses of wine as they relax with a scented bubble bath and Netflix, like their selfie or you’re grounded, knows 57 convenient ways to murder a man, dark eyes that penetrate your soul, marble and gold

HERMES: devil-may-care smile, ink-stained hands, always up-to-date on the latest technology, will steal your french fries, does it for the vine, shitposter, puts googly eyes on everything, meme hoarder, long drives on the highway, ma and pop diners, spontaneous road trips, folded maps, fingers dancing across the keyboard of a laptop, shooting hoops on the basketball court, chatting up strangers as you all journey to your own destinations, goes jogging in the morning, mixes Red Bull with coffee, menace on April fool’s, hoodies and sneakers    

POSEIDON: storm with skin, colorful coral reefs, waves crashing against the shore, the sea casting its spell, stroking the soft fur of a cat, their heart pounding as their horse’s gentle trot speeds into a gallop, tousled locks, clothes smeared with paint, owns several sketchbooks yet always yearns to own more, leather jackets, fondness for DIY projects, handwriting that flows across the page, nimble fingers playing the strings of a violin, velvety singing voice that haunts your dreams, mood as ever-changing as the sea, the roar of a motorcycle, compass with a spinning arrow

ZEUS: thunder in their heart, running on coffee, flash of lightning, natural charisma, eloquence, badass in a nice suit, aficionado of history, force of nature, lenny face, pretends that they don’t have feelings but they do, nightmare-filled nights, proud arm around their lover’s waist, high-rise buildings, planes soaring through a cloudless sky, technician on the piano, maintains order, strong handshake, juggling multiple events on their busy schedule with apparent ease, most likely to be voted class president out of their peers, expensive watch, like a boss

Tagged by: @nhaamas-grace (finally got to this!) Tagging: Since I’m late, I don’t even know who did this and who not xD Ehm, so @mistress-of-midgardsormr @celestial-opposition for Nirya

#meme #i see so much Zeus in Valli xD

[myfandomincolor]

If you don't mind me asking, how many different media do you typically use in a finished piece? And how do you keep watercolor within the boundaries you set?

Hi Anon! I 💖love💖 talking about media and materials, so I am moooore than happy to answer.

I use anywhere from 6-??? kinds of media when I illustrate. I’ll describe the process, which will hopefully help!

• Usually I start by sketching with colored pencil. I use a Pilot Color Eno in either orange or light blue. I also use Prismacolor Col-Erase, but they’re more permanent than the Pilot leads and don’t erase as easily. I like colored pencil because it won’t wash away when I start applying wet mediums.

• Once the sketch is finished, I use multiple watercolor washes to start building up areas of color. I really love the different effects you can achieve with watercolor, it’s my favorite! I sometimes use pan watercolors (Pelikan or good ol’ Prang are good), but liquid concentrated watercolor is my main jam. I’m obsessed with Dr. P.H. Martin’s Radiant line. I like painting with soft, round brushes. TBH I hardly ever use anything besides a size 6 round (I love Plaza Art’s brushes, and the Fairfax bristles are so nice for illustrative painting, plus they last forever).

• I use marker, colored pencil, ink, etc to add details and more texture. Copics, Artwins, gel pens, metallic inks...whatever seems right!

• I finalize lines in either ink or graphite watercolor. I love love loooove the Tombow Fudenosuke and Akashiya Sai brush pens for bold lines (the Sai isn’t waterproof, so I make sure the paper is dry before inking!), and ArtGraf watercolor graphite for a softer look. The soft grey linework that usually pops up in my pieces is the graphite. I use a water brush pen instead of a regular brush since the bristles are more firm.

•The last thing I do is add white highlights with either Deleter White 2 ink or a Sakura Souffle gel pen.

Keeping the watercolor where it’s supposed to be is 1/2 materials and 1/2 accepting that I can’t tell it exactly what to do XD As far as materials, I try to use paper that suits wet mediums. I use Global Art’s Trav•e•logue sketchbooks, and both the standard and watercolor papers are fantastic IMO. For loose paper, I like Arches when I can justify the expense, but Strathmore watercolor is a great alternative.

Using colored pencil as the sketch layer also helps! Colored pencil lead is partly made of wax, so it repels water. 

You can also guide watercolor washes by wetting the paper before you add color. If you first “paint” an area with plain water, the color will stay in that wet area when applied.

Sorry if this was a ton to read through! ｡(*^▽^*)ゞ In summary, I usually do colored pencil > watercolor > detail with whatever > graphite or ink > highlights. Have fun with your mediums and find stuff you enjoy handling!

[tahlreth]

I Want That One

AN: This is such a dumb titles for a story, I hate it. XD I’m pretty happy with the story itself, however! It’s pretty long, almost 10k, so if you want to read it on A03 instead, you can find it here.

Anyway! This is for @kirah69 for the Steter Secret Santa Exchange, and I hope you enjoy it! Thanks to @stetersecretsanta for organizing the even!

Alliances were tricky beasts at the best of times, and part of Peter was absolutely delighted to see Talia struggling to form this one. Having dared to question if she would be able to succeed in tying their clan to a neighboring tribe of Octarians, his dear sister had forbidden him from participating in negotiations with their leader. It was a bit ridiculous of her, really. He wasn't the one who called them bloodthirsty savages, after all, and even if he did he wouldn't mean it as an insult. Peter admired their willingness to go to war to protect their own, and even a small tribe of the fierce warriors was capable of destroying an entire settlement of Merfolk.

With more and more dark creatures crawling their way out of the abyss of a nearby trench, their clan needed that kind of aggression on their side.

That was why he would, of course, step in to aid Talia in securing the alliance - eventually. Once her common sense overtook her pride and she asked him to join her at the table, he would be happy to do so. Peter wouldn't even make her beg. Much. Until she broke, however, it was far more amusing to watch her flounder when faced with the stern leader of the Octarians. Unlike him, Talia truly did believe the other species to be savage, crude and inferior.

'They don't even build shelters, Peter', she'd told him once from where she was lounging on a bed of coral and sea silk. 'They don't clothe themselves either, or create jewelry or art or music - all they know is war'.

Looking over the visitors from his favorite alcove (one mostly hidden in the shadows that few ever took notice of), Peter found himself in firm disagreement. Perhaps the adornments the Octarians wore looked more crude than the glittering ornaments his people crafted at first glance, but there was artistry there regardless. Most pieces were probably made of bone rather than coral and shells, but they were just as skillfully shaped, carved into interesting shapes - Peter itched to get his hands on the necklace the leader wore so he could examine it closely. Many of their visitors wore brightly colored spikes and barbs from tropical fish woven in their hair, and if they felt no need to hide their bits behind useless scraps of frippery, Peter saw nothing wrong with that.

He was absolutely fascinated by the symbols that the Octarians had tattooed into the skin of their human halves. There were stories in those tattoos, Peter was sure of it. Most of the ink was black, a deep blue or a vivid red; only a few members had emerald greens, vibrant pinks or shocking oranges. Older members were the ones that were the most decorated - the man Talia was dealing with was nearly covered completely from waist to neck. Perhaps they got them when they became accomplished warriors or hunters, or they could be a right of passage... he wanted to know. He hated when knowledge eluded him, and he knew his sister wouldn't ask any questions about the tattoos, not when they were both scandalous and indecent in the minds of most of the Merfolk in his clan.

Peter could hardly wait for her resolve to break so he could be formally introduced to the Octarians. He had so many questions that needed to be answered once their alliance was secured.

Focused intently on the flagging discussion happening in front of him, Peter had been largely ignoring his surroundings... so it was no wonder, really, that he was taken completely by surprise by a light touch to the inside of his left wrist. His pride would sting later when he remembered the way he startled - he hadn't had anyone sneak up on him in ages, and he was absolutely going to give whoever had touched him without permission a tongue lashing.

Except when he whirled to face the interloper, he found himself staring into wide, unfamiliar brown eyes that almost seemed to glow. At the same time, the touch on his wrist turned firmer - no, not firmer, something was sucking at his skin and he couldn't bring himself to look down at his arm to see what was happening. That would mean tearing his eyes away from the beautiful face in front of him and Peter wasn't ready for that yet. He was too interested in drinking in the pale, almost pearlescent skin that was marked by small, reddish rings that in a true human would have been called 'beauty marks' - and oh, they were lovely. Peter found himself wanting to brush his fingers over them, wanted to map they way they disappeared into short, dark hair and the way they trailed down the right side the Octarian's neck.

For the moment he could only let his eyes follow that path, ignoring the way he felt something wrap around his wrist to create several more points of suction. The Octarian who had interrupted his spying was male and likely younger than Peter. He was old enough to have been inked, at least - his was that vibrant red, looking so delightful against pale skin that Peter longed to run his hands over marked inch of him. Not that there was much of it, as the Octarian's tattoos were limited to a sleeve of swirling lines on his left forearm and a piece that wrapped around his right shoulder to grace that collar bone, a few delicate lines curling into the hollow of his throat.

Forget his hands - Peter wanted his mouth on those beautiful adornments.

Letting his eyes drop further, he found himself just as entranced by the many legs that his new obsession owned. His octopus half was the opposite of his human; the majority of the coloring was the same deep red as those delectable marks on his face and torso. Dotting the skin (which Peter thought might feel like the velvet rich humans wore) were rings of pearlescent white, some of them just large enough to be seen while the largest few were as big as his fist.

It was as he let his eyes run down the length of one tentacle that Peter fully processed the fact that one of the appendages was curled around his wrist. He felt his eyebrows lift at the realization before he gave into his curiosity and twisted his hand enough to stroke the limb that was holding him captive. Just as he'd thought, the surface was velvet to the touch with firm muscle beneath and just a hint of sliminess - it wasn't at all unpleasant, and from the way the Octarian shivered at the touch, the other man felt the same way.

"And who do we have here?" Peter asked in a croon when the Octarian unstuck himself to release his hold. When he glanced down, there was a ring of vivid red circles that might even bruise; they ran all the way around his wrist. They looked rather lurid, almost obscene on his skin, and they left Peter with the odd feeling that he'd been somehow claimed. He arched a brow as he met the Octarian's eyes again and was delighted by the way a red flush began to wash over his face. "Darling, if you wanted to mark me all you had to do is ask," he added while drifting a little closer.

Talia would be furious with him, both for endangering the alliance and for 'lowering' himself by dallying with an Octarian. Peter didn't care - the other man was beautiful, and Peter wanted him.

"Hello," the Octarian breathed, scooting back a little at Peter's advance. Two of his eight tentacles, however, kept drifting towards Peter and twitching - probably an aborted attempt to latch on, so he was fairly certain he wasn't completely unwelcome. "Hi. I mean hello. I said that already. I... I didn't mean to grab you, I'm sorry, I just saw you up here while I was exploring - no, not exploring because this is your home and that would be so rude, to be, you know, snooping around. So I wasn't. Exploring. I was... lost? Yeah. I was lost. And then I saw you, and your tail is just really pretty so I got maybe a little distracted and then before I knew it I was over here and touching you. Hi."

"Hello," Peter said, giving a grin that probably showed off too many of his sharp teeth. The Octarian thought he had a pretty tail, and Peter preened at the thought. He was a rather handsome specimen, and he was well aware of that. Even with his personality (which many people who weren't him found a great deal of fault with) Talia was constantly fielding requests from other merfolk wanting to mate with him. The electric blue of his eyes was mirrored in his tail, and his markings resembled that of a mandarin fish - bright yellow near his waist and shifting to a vivid orange as his scales moved down to his fins. It was very pretty, and he spent a considerable amount of time grooming his scales until they shone. Peter took great pride in the rest of his appearance as well, and while modesty was all well and good he also believed in being truthful. He was stunning, and he was pleased that the beautiful Octarian had noticed.

"Hi." Peter bit back a laugh at the newest, breathless greeting - he didn't want the Octarian to think he was making fun of him.

"Now that we've said hello several times over, let's try something new. You can call me Peter, and if you're so curious about how my people live I would be extremely pleased to give you a guided tour. We can begin here and - if you'd like - end in my bedroom." The Octarian let out a soft sound that wasn't quite a yelp, darting back with more force than he'd been using previously. He managed to run into a wall and kept his back plastered there, staring at Peter with those lovely brown eyes.

"That's. That would be... I don't think..." the Octarian gulped, bringing Peter's attention to his neck - it was already lovely, but the pale, slender length would look even better decorated with Peter's bite marks. "I'm Stiles," he said, not quite shrinking away when Peter got close again. Not wanting to crowd... Stiles so much he felt threatened, Peter stopped an arm's length away. It was hard not to grin when the tip of one of Stiles' tentacles began to lightly stroke his side, shifting between skin and scales and making shivers of pure pleasure zing down Peter's spine. "That's not... my mom was from a tribe that lived in different waters, and the name she gave me is... most can't... so Stiles is good. I think my dad would kill me if I agreed to go to your bedroom, so. Not that I want to even if he wouldn't get mad - not that I don't want to, exactly, but. I'm sorry for grabbing you?"

"Don't apologize for that," Peter said with a smile, holding up his wrist for Stiles to inspect. "You look good on me, sweetheart."

Stiles' lovely eyes darted from Peter's to his wrist and back again several times, mouth dropping open a little in an expression Peter couldn't quite interpret. "Yeah," he whispered finally, sounding wrecked. "I mean! Uh. I shouldn't have done that. Probably." A second tentacle had joined the first on Peter's opposite side, and he refused to draw attention to the soft, exploring touches - it felt far too enjoyable. It made him want more though, made him wish Stiles would wrap all those tentacles around Peter and leave marks all over his skin. "My dad is probably wondering where I am. I should probably... go and join the talks again before they realize I slipped off. I wasn't going to do anything, I just wanted to see," he added hurriedly, perhaps realizing how bad it could look to have a member of a diplomatic party slip off unattended to 'explore'.

"If Talia says anything, tell her that I'll vouch for you," Peter said, shrugging one shoulder. It was a risk, but one he was willing to take if it kept him in Stiles' good graces. If it pissed off his sister at the same time, that was just a happy bonus. "I'm afraid I can't help you with your father, however."

"... right. Okay. I have to go now."

"Of course."

"I mean, I really need to."

"I'm not stopping you," Peter pointed out, breaking his rule and carefully settling the fingers of either hand on the tentacles that were touching his sides. He loved the way Stiles shuddered as he skimmed his fingers upward, but he didn't try to hold onto him when Stiles pulled his tentacles away. "If you need to go, darling, I wouldn't dream of keeping you."

"Right. I'm going to, uhm. Go then," Stiles said, starting to edge his way along the wall, away from Peter. True to his word, Peter stayed where he was... but there was probably no hiding the interest he felt. Stiles' eyes never left him as he inched away; the Octarian went so far as to swim down the hallway backwards so he didn't have to look away. Just before he turned the corner, Stiles paused and swallowed hard again. "Could I maybe... if you're not busy... could I maybe see you again? Later? If my dad doesn't, you know. Kill me. I still probably shouldn't go to your bedroom, but you could maybe, uhm. Give me a tour of the other stuff here. So I don't have to explore by myself."

"I would be delighted, Stiles. Shall I come find you in the morning? I assure you that time spent with me will be far more enjoyable than whatever mindless entertainment they've set up for your group tomorrow."

"I'm sure I'll find time with you extremely pleasurable," Stiles said before turning that lovely shade of red again. "So... so I'll see you tomorrow then? Oh, but won't you get in trouble? I'm really not supposed to wander around without Talia's permission."

"Let me worry about Talia," Peter said, pleased to have found someone who was willing to use his sister's name instead of her title. "You just wait for me tomorrow morning, and I'll come."

"... alright. I'll see you tomorrow then, Peter."

"Tomorrow."

"Right. Bye."

"Farewell for now."

"Mmm. Bye." Stiles paused again, human hand gripping the edge of the entrance. "... bye."

Even once he hurried out of Peter's sight, Peter stayed right where he was, staring down the hallway with unseeing eyes. Stiles was beautiful, and there had been a glimmer of intelligence in his eyes despite the way he'd babbled mindlessly. If things went well during the tour he'd offered, perhaps Peter could solve Talia's alliance problem and catch himself a lovely mate in one fell swoop.

It was certainly something worth considering. Talia would hate the idea, and who knew how the Octarian delegation would take it - to say nothing of Stiles' family. But his sister had been after him for quite some time to settle down and choose a mate, so she could hardly complain. Hopefully his position as Talia's Left Hand would be enough to impress Stiles' family and gain their permission. So long as the next day didn't end in complete disaster, it really was an idea with a lot of merit.

If he could convince Stiles of that, Peter would be able to get his hands and mouth on Stiles just the way he wanted... and he could probably get Stiles to thoroughly mark his own skin in return with just a little encouragement. Looking down at his left wrist, Peter felt heat curling in his body at that ring of red circles Stiles had left behind. They really did look good on him, and Peter could hardly wait to get more.

~.~.~

Peter stared down at the trio of dead, gutted fish that was on the floor in front of his suite. They were strung together with a bright red spine from another fish, and between each was a carved bead made of bone. He had no idea what exactly he was supposed to make of the... gift? Warning? Threat? There wasn't anyone waiting to tell him what in the void it was supposed to be, or why someone had dumped it in front of his door. But it looked like a good deal of effort and thought had been put into it, so he gave a put-upon sigh and scooped up the present and brought it into his room for further inspection.

From the beads, he thought it was a safe bet that it had come from one of the Octarians. Perhaps Stiles would be able to tell him what it was for.

Reminded of is self-appointed task, Peter smiled and looked down at his left wrist. He was right, and a few of the marks that Stiles had left with his suckers had bruised, still starkly visible on his skin. Pleased by that, Peter had found a cuff bracelet that he could put on just below the marks, hoping that would draw some attention to them. Just to make sure, he'd taken the time to grab the inks his clan used to paint their skin - bought from humans, it was spelled to resist water, and was mostly used for special occasions. He almost never utilized them, but that morning it had felt right to decorate the back of his hand and bring swirling lines down to his wrist. Peter echoed the tattoos he'd seen on Stiles as best he could remember them, hoping the Octarian would appreciate the gesture.

All in all, he fully expected every eye to be drawn to the marks on his wrist, and he was sure he would preen every time he noticed it. He smiled down at it, pleased with himself, then swam off toward the visitor's quarters with powerful strokes of his tail. He ignored everyone that he passed, though he did spare a nod to Derek and a small smile for Cora. Thankfully he was able to avoid Talia altogether, and soon he had reached the suite that Stiles would be sharing with his fellows. Peter briefly wondered why it was that Stiles had come with them - he was clearly the youngest in the delegation, and while he was beautiful he doubted that was a reason to bring him along.

He put it from his mind as he knocked, however, intent on enjoying his time with Stiles. Before his fist connected with the door for the third time it was yanked open almost violently, and he came far too close to hitting the object of his affection. Stopping himself just in time, he turned his hand and opened his fist, turning the gesture into one where he could smoothly cup Stiles' jaw. "Good morning," he said with a smile, smoothing his thumb over Stiles' cheek.

"Good morning," Stiles echoed, eyes wide and skin flushing a sweet red. "I wasn't sure... you came."

"You didn't think I would? I do believe I'm hurt. Since we don't know each other very well I'll forgive you just this once. But Stiles - when I say I'll do something, I always follow through." A thought occurred to him, and he let himself drift a little closer to the Octarian, doing his best to contain his glee. "Did you leave me a present this morning sweetheart? Is that why you didn't think I'd come?"

"... maybe."

"The beads were lovely," he said as he searched Stiles' eyes.

"I made them when I was younger," Stiles was quick to reply, a smile hovering on his lips as one tentacle reached out toward Peter. If he nudged the appendage with his right arm to encourage the tentacle to wrap around him, that was entirely his own business. Well, it was Stiles' business too, especially since the tentacle wrapped around him with no hesitation, suckers moving over his skin almost like they were tasting him. "We all have to make at least two sets - that was my second. They aren't... they aren't as good as my friend Scott would have given you, but--"

"I don't want any beads from Scott, Stiles, no matter how lovely they are. Yours suit me just fine." Another blush fell over those pale cheeks, and Peter couldn't help but chase it with his thumb before sliding his hand down to cup the side of Stiles' neck instead. The motion drew Stiles' attention to Peter's wrist, and he saw the moment when Stiles realized what he'd done to draw attention to the marks left there.

"Peter," he said, voice sounding strangled. "You... that's..."

"I told you - I like the way you look on me." Peter told him with a shrug. "I want everyone else to see how pretty you make my skin look." Stiles made a sound that was nearly a shriek, then seemed to pull himself together. "Should I not have?" he wondered, for the first time realizing he may have crossed a line that Stiles' people found important. It was one thing to thumb his nose at Merfolk propriety; it was another to offend the people of his potential mate before they'd pledged themselves to each other. "I can wash the ink off if you--"

"No! I mean... no. It's... fine. Better than fine. Good. It's... so good. It's just hard to figure out... this would be easier if we were in my territory. I made sure it was alright to kill the fish, but--"

"Darling, if you're trying to court me I give you permission to kill whatever you need to. But first..." Peter carefully pulled away, making sure to be gentle with the tentacle wrapped around his right forearm. When he did, there were marks left behind, but they weren't anywhere near as dark or satisfying as the ones that had decorated his wrist. Swiftly hiding his disappointment, Peter bowed the way he'd seen humans do, then offered Stiles that arm. "I owe you a tour, I believe. Come while the day away with me."

Stiles grinned and took his arm, making sure to shut the door behind him as they left. Almost immediately the Octarian launched into a series of rapid-fire questions about Merfolk, Peter's home, and Peter himself. His questions were as delightful as Stiles himself was, showing a great deal of intelligence and wit. When he wasn't blushing and stammering because of their flirtations, Stiles was also excellent at responding to Peter's biting sarcasm with more of the same.

Peter was mer enough to admit he was smitten. Even if Talia forbade it, even if it didn't help secure the alliance, he was going to have Stiles as his mate. They'd spent the whole day together and Peter hadn't found himself bored even once. Better still, Stiles' tentacles and their suckers had kept up a light but constant exploration of him, moving over his scales and skin in equal measure. It was rare for Peter to be touched in his day-to-day life - he hadn't known how much he missed it until Stiles.

He had a feeling that he would be saying that about a lot of things in his future.

~.~.~

Well before Peter would have started the next day, he was yanked from his dreams by the sound of someone pounding thunderously on his door. Certain it was his sister, come to ruin his happiness from the day before, he didn't exactly rush to answer it... and was taken aback completely when the door slammed open before he reached it. Before his sleep-slow brain could process what was going on, each of his arms was held tight by a set of tentacles - neither belonged to Stiles, and Peter found the situation intolerable.

"What is the meaning of this?" he bellowed, tail thrashing and revealing his agitation. It took all his willpower to keep from fighting against his captors right away; instead he forced the rest of his body to go slack. If they thought he was submitting, he might find it easier to escape their hold should he really need to. The leader of the Octarians - John, Talia had told Peter that his name was John - no longer looked stern and noble. Instead fear and rage were mingled in his expression while washes of a bright yellow ran over his usually tan lower body. The vivid warning color made the Octarian's bright blue rings stand out even more, and Peter found himself certain that John was hanging on by a thread.

"Where is my son?!" John was even louder than Peter had been, human fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Like Peter's, his lower body was an even clearer indication of how upset he was, tentacles curling into themselves before lashing out - if one managed to hit him, Peter had no doubt that it would be extremely painful. As the Octarian's words penetrated, Peter found himself at a loss. John had a son? A son he'd brought to this meeting? He hadn't known that, didn't know why they would think he knew anything about-- "Where is Stiles?!"

Shit.

"What do you mean, where is he? Did something happen?" Peter tried to move forward, but was held fast by the other two Octarians. He didn't even try to keep from snarling at the one on his left, but even the way the other winced back wasn't enough to mollify him. "I left him last night in the guest quarters. I was supposed to see him later today."

John was scowling as he watched Peter, but after a few moments he waved a hand and Peter was released. He hated the light suction marks they had left on his skin, and the two Octarians should pray they disappeared before he saw Stiles again. If his mate-to-be suspected him of any kind of unfaithfulness, Peter would gut the both of them.

"He was gone when I woke this morning," John said, beginning to move back and forth in the water, tentacles still barely under control. "I thought... I had hoped he snuck away to be with the Mer that he had been gushing over. He gave you fish and beads," John added in a mutter, running a hand through his hair. "I thought for sure he would... you really haven't seen him?"

"No," Peter said shortly, refusing to be worried just yet. He needed to stay as calm and collected as he could - he would give into the urge to worry and turn hysterical once Stiles was found. Then he would either kiss the Octarian senseless or strangle him, whichever was most appropriate. "Have you told my sister? Talia could--"

"You're Talia's brother?"

"And you're Stiles' father," Peter knew his voice was terse, but there was no helping that. As he spoke he was headed for his door, itching to put a plan in motion to find Stiles. "Clearly there are things we should have spoken of, but now is not the time. You have no idea where he could have gone?"

"No."

Peter didn't growl at Stiles' father, but it was a near thing. How could he have lost Stiles? He refused to talk to the Octarian as they moved, too busy trying to put a plan of action together. He didn't want to draw the attention of his entire clan, not with an alliance and Stiles at stake. There were some Merfolk that he wouldn't trust not to overreact - they would decide Stiles was a spy of some kind and might hurt the Octarian he wanted to take as his mate. Talia would have to be told, unfortunately, and then she'd stick her nose into his courtship which he wasn't looking forward to. Still, the warriors that he did trust to take the task of searching for his mate seriously all answered to her or his nephew.

Which meant he'd have to get Derek involved, which would intrigue Cora and Laura, and soon the entirety of his nosy, annoying family would be involved. Marvelous.

Despite the reluctance part of him felt, Peter sent the first mer they came across to fetch his nephew to Talia's chambers immediately. John frowned over at him, and he held back a sneer in return. He needed to make nice with Stiles' family, especially since their courtship hadn't been completed yet. Beyond that, the Octarian looked to be hanging on to his temper by a thin thread, and he had no doubt John wouldn't have a problem lashing out in his anger. It was a trait he admired in his people as much as Talia found it distasteful.

He hadn't wondered if the alliance was really a good idea for his own sake.

By the time Peter and his Octarian escort arrived at his sister's chambers, Derek was hovering by the door. His heavy brows were drawn into a frown, though one arched in a silent question once he caught sight of Peter. His nephews eyebrows said more than the dear boy ever managed with his mouth.

"My son is missing," John snapped instead of letting Peter answer. "If I find out your people know where he is--"

"I can assure you that we had nothing to do with it," Peter interrupted in his 'I'm very diplomatic' voice. "If even a hint of something like that had reached my ears, I'd have killed the one doing the whispering. Talia!" he called as he threw open the doors to her room - she'd know they were there, and this was no time to stand on ceremony.

His sister was scowling as she swam up to him, hair still mussed from sleep and none of her usual finery in place. "Peter. What is the meaning of this?"

"Stiles - my son - is missing," John said yet again, starting to go quiet in his anger. That worried Peter, and he did hope that this wouldn't turn into a diplomatic incident. For all that Talia and most of their clan considered them savages, Peter doubted they could stand against the Octarians if they found a reason to go to war. "I want him found, and I want an explanation - you assured me that we would be safe here, that no one would move against us--"

"None of my people had anything to do with this," Talia interrupted, and another wash of violent yellow ran over John's lower body. Peter thought if another person didn't let him finish the Octarian was going to do some damage. "Peter, why are you here?"

"Stiles has - apparently - initiated a courtship with your brother," John said, terse and to the point. "I had... hoped," he continued, though the grimace that accompanied the word indicated that he'd felt something completely different. "That I would find them together in Peter's room. Instead my son is missing, and I demand your aid to find him."

"Peter, you--" Talia stopped herself and shot him a look that meant trouble later, while Derek looked almost happy with surprise. It was strange to see his face without a sullen glower on it. "I apologize, John. Now isn't the time. Of course we will assist you. I assume you have an idea of where to start, Peter."

"Only who we should send. If word of this spreads, we may lose control of the situation. Derek, if you would be so kind as to lend me Boyd, Erica and Isaac I would very much appreciate it. Just do remind Erica to keep her mouth shut for the time being. And Talia, I believe we should use your honor guard - they would die before they betrayed your trust. Did Stiles say anything last night that gave any sort of clue as to where he might be?"

"No. He spoke only of you, and how he wished he'd been able to find something more impressive to offer you than mere fish."

"I liked the fish," Peter said, frowning at his mate's apparent insecurity. "He managed to catch my favorite." Peter had planned to prepare the both of them a meal using the gift for lunch, one of the first steps in the courtship dance of his own people. If Stiles didn't manage to come back to him before the midday meal, Peter was going to be rather cross with him.

"Stiles worries," John said, sounding both fond and exasperated. "If no one abducted him, I'm sure that after you parted ways he talked himself into thinking that you found his offering to be lacking. Once he gets his mind set on something... well. It is possible that he managed to sneak out," John allowed, looking unhappy at the admission that there might have been no wrongdoing on the part of the Merfolk.

"Excuse me," Derek's voice was unexpected, which meant it was probably something important. Peter turned toward him and made a gesture for him to continue, and his nephew did so with heavy brows. "But I don't know much of your rituals. Does Stiles need to hunt something to present to Peter for the first step of courtship?"

"In a manner of speaking. Usually we try to hunt a more dangerous creature to prove that we are capable of protecting our mates and any children that come from the union. However, if we are in an area where that's impossible or if an Octarian is a poor hunter, they may choose to hunt a prey animal instead to prove that they can still provide."

"Stiles was disappointed that he could only give me fish," Peter remembered suddenly. "He was worried about hunting things he wasn't supposed to in our territory. I... I gave him permission to kill whatever he needed to. I was jesting, but--"

"Well... shit," John said quietly, running a hand through his hair. "So he probably went off hunting, on his own, in unfamiliar territory looking for something dangerous. Lovely."

"I think... it might be worse," Derek murmured, reluctant as always to give his words away. "Stiles is... he is the one with the red markings on his human half, isn't he?" Peter saw just a hint of red dusting his nephew's cheeks and he didn't even try to keep himself from growling. Derek just rolled his eyes, eyebrows drawing even closer together. "I was talking with Cora and Boyd about the recent increase of invasions from the creatures of the abyss. He... may have heard. If he's so determined to impress uncle Peter...."

Dread swamped him, turning his human parts cold as the arctic sea. Even the least of the infernal beings was a monster, and facing one alone was akin to suicide. If Stiles ran into one of the larger, more dangerous creatures.... Peter propelled himself backwards until he hit the wall, using it to support himself as he tried to think. John had wave after wave of yellow washing over his tentacles, while the other two Octarians were changing colors as well. John and Talia were barking orders to their respective people, while Derek left to get Boyd, Erica and Isaac. On his way out he took just a moment to stop at Peter's side and give his shoulder a firm, reassuring squeeze.

His mate was out there hunting monsters born from darkness and nightmares, and Stiles was doing it to impress him. Peter was going to strangle the idiot once he returned, he decided as everyone but he and his sister left the room. He wouldn't kill Stiles, because many of the preparations he'd made to cheat death would work only for him, but he might maim the Octarian. His stupid, reckless mate deserved nothing less, and if he got hurt during this ridiculous attempt to win his hand, Peter would make him grovel for forgiveness.

Well, after he nursed Stiles back to health. Yelling at and strangling him would be far less satisfying if Stiles was already injured.

Making the decision that he'd let himself be weak for long enough, Peter took a breath and pulled himself together. Almost as soon as he'd left the support of the wall behind, however, Talia was on him. "An Octarian, Peter? Really? I have brought mer after mer to you, ones who were accomplished, refined and beautiful - some from clans even wealthier than ours! - and you spurned every single one of them--"

"They were boring," Peter said, eyes narrowing in a warning Talia was almost certain to ignore. "Most of them were also stupid or complacent. Stiles is far more beautiful than any of them ever were, and his mind is absolutely fascinating. So no, not an Octarian - I want Stiles. I don't know why you're getting into a snit, sister," he continued with a growl when Talia opened her mouth to argue. "This will probably help you get your alliance, though I had no idea Stiles was John's son. Though I had wondered why someone so young had joined the delegation... but none of that matters. Not until he's found and brought safely back here where I can maim him myself."

"Hmph. You call our people stupid. At least none of us would be so foolish as to--"

"I would think very, very carefully about the words leaving your mouth, sister dearest. Stiles will be my mate, so long as John doesn't forbid it. If you think I'll let you or anyone speak ill of him..." Peter trailed off, then gave Talia a smile that made her shiver and move back just a little bit. "Your position means nothing when it comes to him. If you can't keep a civil tongue in your head then I'll be happy to rip it out."

With that, he swept out of her chambers, heading for his own as swiftly as he could manage without rousing suspicion. Once he'd gotten there, he went straight for his armor - he had no intention of sitting at home flipping his fins while others searched for his mate. His chest piece had been made of the scales from the very monsters Stiles had gone hunting, given to a master blacksmith on the surface to turn into a protective work of art.

It was nearly impenetrable, black with a sheen of colors dancing over the surface like oil on water. It included a pauldron that covered his left shoulder in the shape of a leviathan, with it's eyes done in jewels that were the same color as Peter's eyes. The guards he pulled onto his forearms were far less intricate and far more flexible, giving him the dexterity he needed to wield the daggers he preferred. As soon as the belt that held six of them was strapped around his waist, Peter was off, headed for the place where they'd all agreed to meet.

If Talia or John thought to keep him out of this, he would stab first and ask for 'permission' later.

Thankfully Stiles' father did no such thing. Indeed, he and the other Octarians with him were kitted out in much the same fashion as Peter, though his weapon of choice was a spear. When he saw Peter approach, something close to respect and acceptance crossed his face, and the nod he gave was one of approval. Peter knew that many other underwater denizens considered his people soft, and they weren't entirely wrong. He was, however, happy to prove that not all Merfolk were content to stay in their shelters and let others protect them.

Once Derek joined them with his three underlings and Talia's honor guard, they spoke briefly to make a plan. Peter ended up in 'command' of two Octarians and Erica - it had been decided that breaking into groups that included both peoples was the best option. The Octarians were more battle-hardened, while the Merfolk knew their territory and the best ways to fight the beasts that rose from the darkest depths. Hopefully the mixed groups would be able to cover more ground and come back safely.

As they left their shelter, Peter swore once again that he would never forgive Stiles if he got hurt. Peter was already impressed, already determined to make Stiles his, after all. There was nothing that could make him change his mind... not even the realization that his mate was just a little bit stupid.

~.~.~

Peter wasn't the one who found Stiles.

Erica and the Octarians - Jordan and Liam - had done well despite that. They'd run into a few small threats and gotten through them all with nothing more than a few small cuts and bruises. The Octarians had impressed him quite a bit, and he'd been pleased with the way Erica was completely willing to work with them, adapting the way she fought to accommodate and compliment their own styles. It had reinforced the benefits of the alliance in Peter's mind, and if his sister found a way to fuck it up he was going to seriously consider a coup.

One of the last pitfalls they faced was a shark - aging and scarred from a life well lived, she wouldn't stop attacking until Peter finally ended her pain. She had gotten a few good smacks in with her tail, and his ribs felt bruised and tender as the four of them worked together to bring the carcass home. While his clan didn't often seek out shark, it would provide quite a bit of food, along with teeth and other things they could use. It would have been a waste to let the carcass rot in the water, and they'd been out long enough that Peter thought it best they check in to see if anything had changed.

On reaching the outer wall of the settlement, however, he saw that their catch was not going to be the big news of the day.

Someone had killed a druaqon. Though they weren't the largest of the dark creatures by far, they were still vicious and difficult to bring down without a solid plan and, preferably, at least three Merfolk. Peter very much doubted that any mer at all had been involved in the slaying of this particular brute, however. Not with Stiles standing proudly next to it, a spear dripping with black ichor; some of it was also smeared on his arms and in a long line down his back. Along that same line were large welts where the creature had gotten Stiles. Peter knew from experience that they were painful, and fully intended to sit his idiot mate down as soon as possible so he could care for them.

"Erica?" he murmured, eyes fixed on the wonderfully stupid Octarian he fully planned on twining his life with. "Could you please go to Deaton and ensure that a batch of the antidote for druaqon venom is being made? If no one had the brains to request it before I arrived, have him start one."

"So that's your mate, huh?" she said, voice heavy with interest and suggestion. "I can see why you like him so much Peter." When he slanted a look her way, she was grinning. As soon as he growled, the little minx winked at him, then flitted off to Deaton as he'd asked.

"Brat," he muttered before looking over to his Octarian helpers. "We can leave the shark here - the kitchens will come to retrieve the meat. I think we'd best go see how much trouble my mate is in."

"You two aren't even--"

"Shut up," Jordan interrupted before Peter could, elbowing Liam in the gut as he spoke. "Stiles went and killed a monster for him, and Peter was ready to kill one to keep Stiles safe. I have a feeling that if either John or Talia try to get in the way of this match they'll be the ones who ended up backing down."

"Of course they would," Peter said with a smile, deciding that he liked Jordan but would happily stab Liam a few times - though in non-fatal spots, since he had done well against the shark. "My sister knows better than to stand in my way when I want something... and right now I very much want Stiles." Octarians were stronger but Mers were faster. It was easy to put on a bit of speed and leave his temporary companions behind.

As soon as he was in earshot, he could hear John shouting at Stiles. Underneath the anger was a layer of fear and just a hint of pride; Peter hoped Stiles would take all three emotions to heart. He was also a little upset that John was the one doing the yelling, if he were honest with himself. Nothing between him and Stiles was official, as Liam had reminded him, so he had no true claim to be the one doing the shouting. He'd been afraid for his mate and angry that Stiles had so foolishly struck out on his own - he wanted to be the one threatening to wring Stiles' neck. But his father did still have first rights to that, unfortunately, so Peter supposed that for now he would play the supportive mate and save the scolding for later when they were alone.

In that spirit, Peter slid up to Stiles' side from behind, splaying his hand over Stiles' lower back where there were no welts. Stiles, who had been staring defiantly at his father, startled and then looked over at Peter. Instantly his expression melted to one of pride and pleasure, and Peter was suddenly hard pressed to be all that angry with him. "I found something better than fish," he declared, waving a hand at the dead druaqon. "I'm supposed to give you another set of beads, since my first offering was unworthy--"

"It was not," Peter interrupted, offended on his mate's behalf. "I was perfectly happy to accept those fish, Stiles. I had planned on using them to make the both of us a meal as my own first courting gift, but that's been rather ruined, I think." Stiles' face fell, and the proud set of his shoulders slid into a slump. Peter told himself to remain firm - he had a reputation to uphold, and all the gathered Merfolk could not be permitted to see how easily Stiles had wrapped Peter around his little finger. "I hope you will accept the shark I slew with some assistance from two of your people and one of mine."

There. That wasn't too soft of him, but it still brought some of the light back to Stiles' eyes. "You killed a shark for me?"

"Mm. Well, I killed it while searching the ocean for my intended mate, who vanished without a trace, telling no one of his destination. During that rather frantic attempt to find him--"

"I get the point, Peter."

"Oh, I very much doubt that. Regardless, the shark was killed during an effort to protect you, and I can prepare a meal just as well from it instead of your fish. I don't need another set of beads either, Stiles," he said as he leaned in to casually drag his cheek over Stiles' jaw. Peter was deeply pleased when two of Stiles' tentacles immediately began touching Peter. The tip of one was exploring the scales of Peter's tail, while the other wrapped around his waist from behind, curling around his side to rest on his chest as well. He could already feel the way Stiles' suckers were marking his skin, and he preened at the further evidence that his mate had chosen him back.

"This is all very sweet," John broke in suddenly, sounding exasperated, angry and fond. Peter had a feeling that combination of emotions might be common around Stiles. "But that was still an incredibly stupid thing to do, Stiles. I don't have words to express how stupid it was. Anything could have happened to you, and we probably wouldn't have even been able to find the body!" Stiles did flinch back at that, and Peter couldn't help but pull the Octarian protectively against his side. "You don't get to do that to me, kid," John said, suddenly sounding exhausted. "You don't."

"Sorry dad," Stiles said softly.

"I know. That doesn't make it better. And that doesn't even begin to address this... this... this!" John added, gesturing to where Peter and Stiles were connected. "What is this?"

"We're courting," Peter said smoothly, stalling Stiles' attempt to answer. From the way Stiles had gone rigid against him, he had a feeling whatever Stiles said wouldn't be helpful. "But I think any discussion of that can wait until after my mate's--"

"You're not mated yet!"

"Details," Peter said, waving the concern away. "Stiles is injured, is my point, and any discussion of our courtship can wait until they have been tended. Deaton should be finished with his concoction by now," Peter murmured, turning his head to speak the words against Stiles' temple. "Will you let me tend to you?"

The blush that graced Stiles' cheeks was both adorable and delicious, and Peter had absolutely no choice but to press a kiss to that rosy skin. "That sounds good. Nice. Yeah, let's do that. Hey daddy-o, as much fun as this has been, I'm going to let my mate--"

"You're not--"

"Why is everyone so worried about the formalities?" Stiles complained, plush lower lip pushing out in a pout. "We've done the first step of a courtship, which were actually the same which is nice, because we haven't talked about the differences between how my people court and how you Mers do it," he said, blinking at the realization. "Peter, why haven't we talked about that?"

"Because I woke up yesterday to find fish waiting for me in front of my door," he reminded the younger male, chuckling as an even darker blush washed over his face. "We'd only spoken once - I had intended to wait a little longer before offering you a token of my intent. You beat me to it, darling."

"Oh. Right."

When Peter glanced at John, he looked utterly resigned even with one hand covering his eyes. "Stiles," John said on a sigh before looking up at the pair of them. "I ought to lock you in your room until we leave. But you'd only find a way to wiggle your way out and find Peter despite it. So fine, go. You have my blessing. Just try not to skip any courtship steps, please, for my sake. Oh, and I expect you to come stay with my tribe soon, Peter - I won't have you two formally mating until that happens."

"Of course. I'd planned on doing just that."

"Good. Now go take care of my boy."

"Yes sir."

Peter ignored the commotion that was starting as more and more Merfolk learned what had happened. He breezed right past Talia without a word, guiding Stiles with a firm but gentle hand on the small of his back. By the time they neared Peter's room, Stiles was clearly beginning to feel the pain. The Octarian didn't say a word about it, however, choosing instead to bite his lower lip until it turned white and Peter began to fear that he'd bite right through it. The tentacles on Peter were also tightening, and he was sure he'd have dark bruises left behind by Stiles' suckers. While he wasn't opposed to that result, he was less than pleased with the cause behind them.

"Is your back the only place that's injured?" Peter asked, unable to help how terse he sounded.

"Yeah." Stiles looked over at him as they entered Peter's room, looking truly uncertain for the first time that Peter could remember. "You're angry with me, aren't you? I didn't mean to make you and dad worry, I swear. I meant to be back before anyone even knew I was gone. Not that that makes it better, probably, but I didn't think it would take so long. And I wasn't trying to find a creature from the abyss either, exactly, it just sort of... happened. I think it was injured or really young or something though, because it was moving really slow and it was pretty clumsy. I kind of thought I was going to die when I accidentally met up with it," he admitted, flinching at the wounded sound that escaped Peter's throat. He kept talking though, even as he laid on his stomach on Peter's bed. "I mean! I was hoping I could run away? Yeah, I was going to run away, definitely. I didn't just charge in or anything. Nope. Not me."

"Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

"This isn't helping."

"Oh. Sorry?"

They were interrupted by the arrival of Erica, who passed over the salve Deaton had made. She left with a lascivious wink, which made Peter roll his eyes. Curling up on the bed at Stiles' side, he gently washed away the ichor staining his mate's skin before beginning to apply Deaton's creation to the welts. Stiles did not take the application in a calm, stoic manner - the idiot whined and complained the whole time. It made caring for him less enjoyable and intimate, and Peter really was close to strangling him before the end.

The way Peter remained completely smitten despite that spoke to how wonderful his mate was.

After shucking his armor - he would clean and polish it later - Peter joined Stiles in the bed. It wasn't strictly appropriate, but they were courting. And considering the events of the day, Peter was fairly certain that they would be mated sooner rather than later and that no one would be able to stop their union. Not when they were so well matched and not when it would solidify ties between their two peoples. Besides, Peter had a feeling John would be hard pressed to find anyone else so willing and eager to take Stiles off his hands.

Stiles squirmed and wriggled and chatted for a ridiculous length of time before Peter huffed and dragged the idiot closer. Then the both of them were struggling to find a comfortable position, which was only made more difficult by the way Stiles' only option was to stay on his stomach. Eventually - finally - they settled with Peter on his back and Stiles draped half over him. It felt like he had tentacles everywhere, wrapped around his tail, torso and one of his arms. He couldn't wrap his arms around Stiles for fear of disturbing his injuries and the salve working to heal them, which meant he had to let both of them lay in a fairly uncomfortable position for far too long. Stiles' face was smashed against the side of his neck, where he'd probably start drooling and he was already snoring. He was too hot, too crowded, and too aware of Stiles to fall asleep with his usual ease.

Peter was certain he'd never been more content in his life.

#steter #steter secret santa #kirah69 #steter secret santa 2017 #my fic

[kpopwishes]

Which One? Jinyoung & Hakyeon Poly!Soulmate au

soulmate au!JinyoungxReaderxHakyeon

words: 2.9k

Soulmates were everything. You see whatever is written by your soulmate on your body. That’s why you knew something was wrong. You saw 2 different handwriting styles on your arms. You never joined in on the conversations written on the arms to see if this was some kind of joke by your soulmate. One of them went by the name JR and the other N. They spoke Korean, and little bits and pieces of English. You were the opposite. You spoke little bits and pieces of Korean and spoke English.

You tried to tell your parents that you had 2 soulmates. They laughed and said your soulmate is pulling a prank. You didn’t think that they would do that, would they? Today was the day where you had decided to write to your soulmates and tell them. The writing on your arm right now was translated to, “Did you take a shower?” JR’s handwriting told you he asked. N had responded with, “No, Why?” JR’s handwriting appeared again, “Why was our messages washed off again?” You decided to write now.

“I’m afraid to inform you there is a 3rd.”

There was no writing for a day or two after you had decided to write. Did they die? You sighed as you had shuffled some papers around as you were researching Korean. You wanted to learn it for your soulmates. You didn’t tell any of your friends, you only tried to tell your parents. They wouldn’t believe you so who thinks your friends would? You decided to write back to them in Korean. “Did I kill you?” The ink had smudged as you think someone must have seen it. N seemed to notice, “I’m surprised, I thought there was only JR.” JR then wrote, “Is this some sick joke?” You laughed slightly at his reaction. “What gender are you both?” They both replied with male. Well, shit. JR wrote back, “What about you?” You inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, “Female” N seemed to write a “>_<” And JR said, “Well. might as well get to know you.” You wrote “XD” As you started to write about yourself. You gave yourself the nickname TT, they said they both lived in Korea and as far as they know, they are in the same area. They wanted to keep their identities secret since they were both famous.

After a while you started to talk to them daily. The time zones were crazy and difficult but you managed. You were currently signing up to go abroad. It might as well be the best for you. You told your parents that you could go. They needed some convincing at first but you told them you needed to go find your soulmate. You told them the date you were going to fly out to Korea, they seemed pretty happy and you all loved each other just from the simple writings on your skin.

The next couple days before your flight you had spent getting ready and planning out with N and JR. Since you were going to Korea and going to see them they had revealed their identities to you. N was Cha Hakyeon from the group VIXX. You would have never guessed. JR was Park Jinyoung from Got7. You decided that you would stay with Jinyoung for a little until you were financially stable enough to go get yourself a home for a little. Hakyeon had agreed only because he was promised that he could visit you and Jinyoung.

You arrived at the airport really tired, you had a mask on as you lifted it up slightly so you could bite off the top of the pen. You wrote on your arm, “Guess who just arrived my lovelies~” You put the cap back on and tugged your mask down as you giggled quietly. Hakyeon had agreed to pick you up from the airport, since Jinyoung was busy with a shoot today. You sighed as you sat on a nearby bench waiting. You felt like you were about to fall asleep when your shoulder was tapped and the sight of shoes in front of you became visible. You had tiredly looked up to see Hakyeon, his hair was messy as he wore a baggy  hoodie and glasses. You excitedly embraced him in a hug as you squealed. He laughed quietly as he held you back, resting his head on your shoulder. He was really tall. REALLY tall. You smiled brightly as you pulled back to look up at him. He looked at you in concern, “You look tired? You want to go home?” Jinyoung was busy so you must have been going to Hakyeon’s place for a night. He held your hand as you quickly had left the airport, you almost forgot your luggage but Hakyeon had remembered as you both held the luggage. You got into the car with his manager in the front.

You both got dropped off at the dorms. Everyone seemed to be sleeping, Hakyeon had said, “You can use my room if you want to, I can sleep on the couch.” You gasped and had quickly said, “No! I can sleep on the couch, it’s fine really.”

Hakyeon sighed as he picked you up and you squeaked in surprise. He put you in his room and shut the door. You quietly yelled, “Yah! I want to sleep on the couch or even the floor! Take your bed back!” You heard him huff in defeat on the other side as he opened the door and picked you up again. He dropped you onto the bed before you could protest. You were about to say something then you felt the bed dip and he got in beside you. You turned over to face him and he was staring at you, “Are you happy now?” He smiled at you as he pulled the blanket over the both of you as he had turned over so his back faced you. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, so I’ll just be on this side.”

You scooted on the other side of the bed and sighed happily. You can’t believe the person who has been only ink on your arm is your soulmate and he’s right there. My soulmate. You drifted off to sleep shortly after those thoughts had appeared.

You woke up to the sound of Hakyeon groaning and his hand landing to hold yours. You looked at the clock next to you, 3:07 AM.. Why is Hakyeon up so late? You turned over to see what he wanted but he had pulled you into a tight embrace. Your hand was placed against his chest as you could feel his fast heartbeat. His breathing was fast as he rested his chin on top of your head. He shivered slightly as you held him back just as tight. “Hakyeon?” You whispered. You felt his chest vibrate as he had responded to you, “I had a nightmare..” He whispered right back as he squeezed you slightly. You hummed slightly, understanding. You drew soft circles into his chest before he started to doze back off into sleep. You smiled as you heard and felt his breathing slow, you felt drowsy too as you closed your eyes, falling asleep.

You heard a knock at the door, “Hyung get up!” A voice yelled from behind the door. Hakyeon had shifted and groaned as his hold tightened on you. You rested your head on his chest, it seemed to early to get up. Hakyeon mumbled, “5:35..” You sighed, ‘Too early, how does this boy live if he gets up at 5 am every day.’ You huffed as you heard Hakyeons morning voice, “Morning” He chuckled softly. You squirmed in his grasp, trying to get up. His grip tightened on you, “You’re not going anywhere” He cooed and giggled softly. You sighed and stopped struggling. “But Hakyeon-” You whined before getting scared out of your wits by the door opening. The person in the door had gasped and ran out the room and shut the door. Hakyeon grunted, “Ken isn’t going to let me live this one down.”

He finally let up go as you got up, you asked, “Is it okay if I take a shower?” He smiled, “Of course!” the room he was in had came with a bathroom, You brought your suitcase into the bathroom with you and got out a pair of clothes, a towel, and your toiletries as well as a hair dryer. You then took a shower and blow dried your hair as you brushed your teeth and had put on your clothes. Once you felt you were ready, you packed everything back up and left the bathroom to be met with an empty room. ‘Hakyeon must have went downstairs’ you muttered. You set your suitcase down as you quietly went down the stairs to be met with the living room filled with 6 boys, you searched for Hakyeon and when you found him, you didn’t even go to him. You kind of just sat at the stairs. The guy from earlier had turned his head and smiled at you, then they all joined and looked back at you. Your face heated up as Hakyeon bashfully smiled at you. You heard the doorbell ring, you mentally thanked whatever it was because all their attention turned to it. Hakyeon got up and made his way to the door to see who it was. Hakyeon smiled as he opened the door to reveal Jinyoung. Jinyoung peered inside and he instantly smiled as his eyes stopped on you. He ran into the house to immediately embrace you. He lifted you up and swung you around. You squeaked in surprise as you held onto him tightly, scared you were gonna fall.

Hakyeon rolled his eyes at you two as you both let go. Jinyoung spoke, “I was planning on taking you both out from breakfast.” He flashed a smiled towards you and Hakyeon as he grabbed both of your hands dragging you out of the door. Hakyeon looked behind you both and yelled, “You guys better not burn the house down.” A tall boy came towards the door and poked his head out before yelling back, “We will!” He smirked before shutting the door. Hakyeon sighed. “Hyuk.. What am I going to do with him.” Jinyoung let go of your hands as he opened the door for both of you. “You both first” He said coolly. “What a gentleman” You laughed and slid into the car following Hakyeon.

The ride there was quiet, the conversations were nice but they were small. You all enjoyed the silence and each others presence. Once you made it there, you had gotten out, not before Jinyoung opening the door, what a gentleman. You guys had went in, you fidgeted with your fingers as Jinyoung talked to the waitress. Jinyoung’s manager had called the breakfast place beforehand to give them a seat closed off so no paparazzi or fans see them all together. The waitress had led you guys off to the assigned place. You felt nervous as you stared at your feet. Hakyeon had placed his hand on the small of your back, he smiled at you warmly when you looked up at him. You blushed at his gaze and sat across from Jinyoung at the booth. The waitress asked for drinks as you all ordered coffee. You sat back and looked at the menu in front of you, you eyed the pancakes on the menu and decided you should get it. ‘2 Pancakes’ Seemed enough for you.

The waitress came back with the coffee and a little pad to take orders. The waitress had gestured to take your order and you stuttered a bit, “O-oh. Could I have the 2 pancakes?” You handed her the menu as she took Jinyoungs then Hakyeons. You took a sip of the coffee as the waitress left. “I thank you both a lot, you’ve both been really nice to me.” You smiled as you looked at both of them. Jinyoung had smiled back and rested his chin on his hands, “It’s my pleasure~ Hey for most of our lives I thought it was only Hakyeon that was my soulmate.” Hakyeon nodded and hummed, “You must have felt left out or odd.” You looked down and stirred your coffee with a nod. Hakyeon looked at Jinyoung pitifully, Hakyeon looked back at you and placed his hand on your knee, “Hey, We are sorry. We will make it up to you.” As soon as you sat up and Hakyeon removed his hand from your knee, the food was brought to your table as you sipped on your coffee again.

The pancakes were placed infront of you as you felt your stomach growl at the sight of food. Jinyoung had gotten a bagel and eggs as Hakyeon got french toast. Once you finished your food, you leaned back and took the last sip of you coffee. You stacked your plate on Hakyeons since he was done, you leaned your head on the table and sighed. Jinyoung and Hakyeon both noticed that you had syrup on your cheek and they both reached out with a napkin at the same time. You looked dumbfounded as Hakyeon laughed, you and Jinyoung joined in.

Once you guys had left, you all got back into the car and started driving, you asked, “What’s next?” Jinyoung leaned forward to look at you, “Ah.. It’s a surprise.” Hakyeon nodded as you turned back against the window. The car stopped as you felt fabric slip over your eyes. You jumped slightly as it was unexpected but you heard the doors open, Jinyoung must have gotten out as he walked around the car to open the door to guide you out the car. Once you were out of the car, you were turned as you felt two pairs of lips, Hakyeon was on your right and Jinyoung was on your left. Your face heated up and burned in embarrassment. You felt lips leave your cheeks as your hands here held. Hakyeon and Jinyoung both guided you to wherever it was. They held your hands up as they told you to jump. You jumped up as a pair of arms pulled you up to make sure you didn’t fall. You were led into a loud area, they let go of your hands to undo your blindfold. Once it was done, you gasped. It was an amusement park. You squealed and jumped, “Oh my god!” You exclaimed as you hugged both of them. They smiled and leaned down to press kisses to your head. Your face lit up again just to grip their hands lightly to take them into the amusement park.

You took them to a couple game booths until you saw a really big stuffed teddy bear. You stared at it until Jinyoung had leaned in, “Do you want that teddy bear? Which one?” He pointed towards the bear you were looking at. You nodded shyly as Hakyeon and Jinyoung both went to the booth, it was to throw darts and pop the balloons. You blushed as they both attempted to get the bear. On Jinyoung’s 2nd try he had gotten to pick the prize. Hakyeon sighed in defeat as you went up to them and squeezed Hakyeon’s hand with a bright smile. He smiled back as the man in the booth handed Jinyoung the teddy bear you wanted. The sun started to set as you held the bear in your small arms. Jinyoung smiled and laughed at your cute frame. You yawned into the bear as Jinyoung and Hakyeon exchanged glances, Jinyoung had stepped forward to you, “Are you ready to go home?” You nodded and kissed Hakyeons cheek and saying ‘Goodbye’ as he had to leave, seeing his manager wave him over. Jinyoung looked away, you giggled and stood on your toes to give him a kiss on the cheek too. He instantly smiled and picked you and the bear up to take you to the car. You stuffed the bear in the seat and as soon as you were both seated in the car, you rested your head against his shoulder; He looked down at you and smiled, ‘How cute’ he had thought.

Once you arrived at the dorms, Jinyoung had carried you inside as you held onto the bear. He opened the doors and kicked it shut as one of the boys there had gotten up to lock it and shut it fully, seeing his situation. Jinyoung had opened the door to his room and laid you on the bed and sat the bear on the ground next to the bed. You had yawned again as Jinyoung had went to lock his door before getting in bed with you and pulling the covers up above you both. He wrapped him arm around you as you held onto him. You felt ink be itched into your skin as you and Jinyoung looked at your arms to see Hakyeon had wrote, “Don’t do anything without me >:(” You and Jinyoung both laughed as he rolled over to grab a pen, “We are just going to sleep~ ^_^” You held the pen and wrote, “Goodnight, I love you both ❤ ″ You passed the pen back to Jinyoung and cuddled back into his embrace.  He held you tightly against him as you started to fall asleep faster than him.

WOOOOOO!!! I want to make up with an extra long scenario for you guys!! FORGIVE ME!! I’ve been writing scenarios that were pretty bad, I hope this makes up for it all! Also welcome our new admin ❤

-Young-sook ♡

#vixx #vixx n #cha hakyeon #hakyeon #vixx hakyeon #vixx smut #vixx fluff #vixx scenario #vixx reactions #kpop #kpop vixx #vixx kpop #n vixx #hakyeon vixx #got7 #got7 jinyoung #park jinyoung #JYP #jinyoung #got7 smut #got7 fluff #got7 scenario #got7 scenarios #got7 reactions #got7 reaction #vixx scenarios #kpop got7 #got7 kpop #got7 jinyoung smut #got7 jinyoung scenarios

[paintingraves]

Fire of devotion (contd)

don’t know if this makes any sense and is probs 100% OOC but I was INSPIRED so have this *runs the fuck away*

–

Percival Graves had never thought of himself as without a soulmate. There wasn’t a name yet on his skin, but he dreamed. Great things or whimsical things, cool fingers twining in his and my dear breathed against his ear. He even felt, sometimes, a current of emotion that was not his like a wave passing over him, taking him under and leaving him feeling so vast and fragile. Once lying in bed at Ilvermorny, missing an exam because he could not stop crying, somewhere his soulmate was devastated, anxious, heartbroken. He wanted to demand why, who had hurt them, what he could do, could they just please fucking stop feeling like the world was ending? Shoving emotion forward without thought, anger and righteousness and I'mhereI'mhereYouhaveme.

He had never felt alone, had held onto that feeling somewhere in his soul that someone was waiting for him and would be disappointed to meet his headstone when being an Auror was painful, when hexes cut up his sides or magical children cried, begging for their no-maj parents. There was always someone there, at his lowest.

But now he felt alone, staring into the mirror with dread filling his mouth with the taste of bile.

Percival looked at the name scarred onto the curve of his throat, and he felt–dirty. Branded, a thing owned. Gellert Grindelwald was his soulmate, the loop of the signature the intimacy of Percival’s dreams since his school days, the flirt of fingers tracing the line of his back, the reverent endearments mumbled against his skin before wakefulness tugged the dream away.

A voice used to preach war had made his heart swell.

Hands that murdered had touched his soul.

Percival stared at the name and swallowed. He cut the terror and disgust and shame twisting up his lungs neatly away. He glamoured his skin until the name disappeared.

“I’m not yours,” he whispered, and was disappointed in himself when he felt anguish in saying it.

-

Gellert washed the blood and grime from Percival’s hair, fingers efficient and attentive. Percival sat in the porcelain tub and said nothing, only staring at the new scars on his body, the ones MACUSA had carved into him as he screamed in its dirty cells. How long had he been down there?

“I’m going to rinse you off,” Gellert said, the shower-head in one hand. He looked different like this, bare of his coat, collar unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His expression was carefully blank, mismatched eyes absent of the smugness Percival had always seen in the wanted posters.

The water was warm. Gellert ran his hands here and there, sweeping his fingers down along Percival’s skin, over the scars where his touch lingered. He swept the hair from Percival’s neck, proposing a hair cut perhaps, when he brushed against his own name.

Percival jerked in his hands and made a wounded sound he didn’t mean to escape past his throat. Gellert’s hand stilled for a moment before he simply continued with his work, letting Percival shift and resettle, self-conscious.

“Can you stand?” Gellert asked. Percival nodded, grabbing onto the sides of the tub and pulling himself up, knees shaking and legs still aching. Gellert wrapped him in a towel and held him as he lifted one leg out of the tub and then the other. They made their way to the bed, where Percival sat on the edge while Gellert went to pick out clothes for him.

“Where’s yours?” Percival asked, and his voice was a croak. Gellert turned to him with clothes thrown over his arm.

“What was that?”

“Your Mark,” Percival said, clearing his throat. “Where is it on you?”

Gellert smiled, and there was something reminiscent of his wanted poster then, in the tilt of one mouth, like a secret he was all too proud to tell.

He walked over to Percival and set the clothes down on the bed. Then he began to unbutton his own shirt.

Percival made a sound of protest, but the other man simply continued until he had pulled it off. His skin was pale, and he was thicker in shape than Percival would have guessed, the lines of his body softer than his clothes would have suggested.

Gellert turned, showing off his back. And then, there, along his spine was Percival’s name, written on its side in the loop of his handwriting, dark as ink.

“I was told it is quite pretty,” Gellert said. “That you have very excellent penmanship.”

Percival had stopped breathing, somewhere in seeing it and Gellert speaking. He really wasn’t in the cells anymore. His name was on this man’s skin, as surely as Gellert’s was on his. Their souls had made each other home, forever in this life and forever in any after it. He reached forward without thinking and pressed his mouth to where his name ended, where Gellert’s spine dipped. He kissed the skin, gently, once, twice, before Gellert turned to kiss him, brushing their lips together before Percival pushed up and took his mouth completely.

“Oh my dear,” Gellert mumbled, pulling back before kissing at the corner of Percival’s mouth, down his chin and his neck to Gellert’s own name. Percival could feel his smile and he wanted to see it, wanted to taste it again, to forget how much his body ached, how much his mind was still memory and sensation being picked apart, Seraphina in the dark corner watching and commanding “again”.

“I’m here,” Gellert breathed against his neck. “I’m here. You have me.”

original post here (x)

OH. 

MY. 

GOD. DUDE. DUUUUUUUUUUUDE. 

I HAVE NO WORDS ?? THIS IS UTTERLY PERFECT ?? There are few words to describe the pain Percival went through at the hands of those he trusted, and you did it so well, it is so chilling. Like, 

Percival sat in the porcelain tub and said nothing, only staring at the new scars on his body, the ones MACUSA had carved into him as he screamed in its dirty cells. How long had he been down there? 

Percival could feel his smile and he wanted to see it, wanted to taste it again, to forget how much his body ached, how much his mind was still memory and sensation being picked apart, Seraphina in the dark corner watching and commanding “again”.

kill me, this is perfect. wanna write the fic in my stead? XD you GOD THIS SO GOOD I CANT EVEN. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. Percival is so lost and hurt and betrayed and just -- looking for an anchor and - it’s perfect. bless you. 

and Graves being so reassured and breathless at seeing his own name on Grindelwald’s skin. and the place you chose for it. I just, I can’t, thank you bless you amen i love it good night to me 

#<3333333333333 #submission #aaaaaaaaaaah #fire of devotion #grindelgraves #screaming

[athyrabunlord]

Of Cats and Thieves

A/N: Inspired by the Job Set on SIF, though throughout writing this, I found that I couldn’t fully explore this AU until the other four are released too OTL Hence, only a short blip here. I’ll most likely write more and finalize the nonexisting plot and ships when I know what other jobs the rest have XD Words: 2,130 Ship(?): Kanan x Mari

“Not this one either…”

Violet versus gold. The dark-haired woman could practically see her own reflection as she crouched and peered at the calico cat. Unafraid and merely curious, the cat reached out and lightly pawed at her nose. She laughed quietly, which seemed to encourage the critter because it boldly hopped onto her shoulder and began to play with her long ponytail.

“Hey, careful there,” she said half-heartedly and was met with a dismissive flick of tail. Feline nature indeed, doing as it pleased. Sighing, she studied the slip of paper in her hand for the umpteenth time.

Why was she looking for lost pet cats again?

The calico cat meowed and rubbed its head against her cheek.

“Yes, I know, it’s because I’m fond of your kind.” Resigned, she scratched at her new friend’s ear, earning a rumbling purr. One look at a kitty and she became putty. On the other hand, cats also returned her affections and would scent-mark her whenever possible. She could easily approach a random cat on the street and it would let her pet it.

One time, she returned to her office covered in cats, startling her colleague slash partner, Detective Watanabe You. Unfortunately for the blue-eyed woman, cats did not like her and fled in  hissing balls of fur.

Even then, You loved cats and often helped out in these cat-searching missions.

“I should’ve let her handle this case-”

The calico cat promptly knocked over her black cap.

“Now now, I’m at least the Chief Inspector, I deserve some respect?”

A nonchalant yawn was the only response from her feline companion..

“… right, Chief Inspector but looking for lost pet cats. Maa.”

Matsuura Kanan had many errands to run, but truthfully she did not mind this quest. It was nice to be able to entrust some tasks to dependable colleagues, giving her the chance to enjoy a fine afternoon like this. Rather than desk work, she preferred patrolling or simply strolling around town and interact with the folks.

She did tend to forget time and would continue working until she was satisfied with her progress. Her adopted sister Maru certainly wasn’t very happy when she came home in the middle of the night the other day. And to punish her for sleeping right on the tatami without setting up futon, the young calligrapher drew on her face with especially dark-colored ink.

Kanan didn’t know she had circles all over her face until she ran into Chika the next morning.

“Oh yeah, Chika, I should go get her. She’s better at recognizing cats anyway.”

Though popular with cats, Kanan couldn’t tell one cat from the other if they were the same breed. Her good friend Takami Chika was a hair stylist who also groomed pet dogs and cats if patrons requested so. Perhaps Chika had a box of mikan to spare - Kanan needed something to placate Maru since she’ll probably work late today again.

The Chief Inspector did not want to be whacked on the head with a giant ink brush.

“Hey you, get back here!”

The commotion caused her to narrow her eyes and school in her expression. Gently but firmly, she tugged the cat off of her shoulder and gave it an apologetic pat before standing up. The cook from a nearby restaurant was shouting about ‘eat-and-run’ at a bedraggled, unshaven man, who fled down the street while shop owners and passersby watched on with hesitation  She did not blame them for not wanting to get involved, for such intervention nowadays warranted more trouble than it was worth.

And thus, being responsible for law enforcement, she must work harder to preserve peace so civilians did not have to worry about having their quotidien life disturbed.

She kept her stance relaxed and waited for the man to near her. The moment he stepped within range, she tilted her sheathed saber and tripped him in a fluid motion. When he struggled to get up, she struck his calf as a warning but she didn’t expect him to curl up in pain. She was certain that she held back her strength.

Frowning, she observed the man’s malnourished state and held out a hand to stop the cook before the angry man could rip into the perpetrator.

“Chief, thank you for catching the little rat. He thought he could just sneak away without paying? Think again, scoundrel!”

She could only give the cook a strained smile before returning her attention back to the obviously scared man. She noticed his eyes were on her police cap and especially her saber. She carefully removed her hand from the hilt and was disheartened by how much he relaxed just from this simple gesture.

The abuse of police power was usual nowadays and her colleagues from other jurisdictions had no problem drawing their weapons, or even killing suspects, all in the name of law.

Kanan tried to keep her voice as even as possible as if not to scare the frightened man. “Is it true that you did not pay for the food you ate, mister?”

After all, innocent until proven guilty.

Under the cook’s vicious glare, the pitiful man nodded in shame. “I-I was really hungry, Chief. P-Please don’t throw me in jail.”

Jail, where the incarcerated often perished from inmate abuse or ‘mysterious’ circumstances, or at least that was how the general public viewed it. And sadly, that was mostly true.

“Yeah I won’t. In return-” she raised her voice before the cook could exclaim in outrage, “you have to help out at the restaurant, to pay back the food you ate. I’ve been to your place before, Cook-san. Weren’t you understaffed and needed someone to wash dishes?”

“Well yes, but..” Huffing, the cook folded his arms and his hard stare softened slightly, perhaps seeing how sorry the thief appeared. “Alright, fine, I suppose that’s an acceptable arrangement for the few pork buns that you ate. Heck, if you can last the whole day and do a decent job, you can have dinner too.”

The thief’s face lit up and thanked them both profusely before submissively following the cook to his ‘new job’. Kanan let out a quiet sigh of relief. The man wasn’t born evil and certainly deserved a second chance, for he was merely led astray by pangs of hunger.

She blinked and turned around when she heard someone clapping.

A beautiful woman seated under the shades of a nearby tea shop was smiling at her. Since this town was close to a port city, it was not unusual to see golden-haired foreigners mingling with the locals. However, this stranger appeared completely at ease with the graceful way she held herself, and her flowy dress of elaborate designs implied her wealth and perhaps powerful background.

The blonde, still smiling, beckoned at her with a curl of her elegant finger.

Kanan looked around and pointed at herself in bewilderment. The stranger giggled and nodded.

Hesitantly, she dug through her mind for her limited vocabulary and approached the foreigner. “Yes, miss? How can I help you?”

“Wow, your English is pretty good~” The blonde replied with perfect Japanese, though there was an accented lilt interlaced in her voice that tickled Kanan for some reason.

“Er, thank you? Your Japanese is good too. Have you been here long?” She scratched her cheek in slight embarrassment as the woman peered at her rather intensely.

“Oh, I’ve been around, though yes, I’ve only recently moved to this town. I’m Mary O’Hara… hmm, you can just call me Mari~ And your name is, dashing chief-san?”

“Kanan, Matsuura Kanan,” she dipped her cap in greeting, blinking in confusion yet again when Mari giggled. Did she say or do something funny?

As if sensing her unspoken question, Mari languidly waved her hand. “Eheh, pleased to finally know your name, Kanan. Love the way you handled that little situation just now. There are so many ways you could’ve handled it yet, unlike other police officers I’ve seen in other districts, you’ve kept your sword nicely sheathed.”

“Well, I didn’t see the point in excessive violence,” Kanan furrowed her brows. Perhaps it was time to bring up the matter again in the next conference, though she knew her concerns would be ignored like every other time.

“You just did what your heart tells you, ne? Very shiny of you. Helping out the elderly, caring for children and looking for lost cats, you certainly are a rare find.”

Kanan frowned. “Have you been following me, miss?” And without her noticing too?

“Who knows? If I say I’m your stalker, would you arrest me, hmm?” Mari sent her a flirtatious wink and her lips curved into a feline-esque smirk.

“Err, not really.” The chief inspector shuffled uncomfortably. It wasn’t the first time that she has conversed with ladies who were interested in her, though she never knew how to handle the situation. She has been told numerous times, by both Hanamaru and Chika, that she was ‘denser and worse than You’, whatever that meant. Sure, she was aware at some level that ladies were attracted to her, not that she understood why. Yet everything she did, even sincere rejections, only encouraged them more.

“May I ask why you’ve been… observing me, Miss?”

At this, Mari’s smirk eased to a faint smile. A calculating, almost challenging gleam appeared in those chartreuse eyes as opposed to the humor from earlier, and it put Kanan on guard.

“Like I said, you’re a fine specimen, that’s all, Chief. I’m just curious about you.”

“Thank you for your compliment?” Kanan decided to reply after moments of deliberation. There was not much she could say when she didn’t even know what the blonde was trying to do. The more she talked to Mari, the more exposed she felt as if the latter could see through her.

It wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but it felt disconcerting enough that a primal part of her urged her to flee, to be somewhere she could feel like herself again.

She dipped her cap awkwardly. “Well then, have a good day, Miss.”

“Hold on…”

Mari stood up and held out her hand as if to stop her, but stumbled over her long dress after a few steps. Instinctively, Kanan caught her in her arms and tensed as faint lemon perfume and other aroma permeated her senses.

Her hands lingered a little before she snapped to her senses and forcefully pulled away. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Thank you for catching me.” Mari appeared just as surprised at this turn of events, though she quickly regained composure and laughed teasingly. “You have sturdy arms, Chief. It’s too bad this long coat of yours hides those wonderful muscles~”

Uncertain what to say, Kanan only nodded and tried not to squirm when the blonde lightly squeezed her arm.

The tantalizing scent of perfume brushed against her again and she felt something warm against her cheek briefly.

“Hope to see you again soon, Kanan. Ciao~”

The Chief Inspector stood there dumbly and watched as Mari sauntered down the street and out of sight. She touched her cheek in disbelief, still reeling from the bewitching aroma and electrifying sensation of soft lips against her skin.

She shook her head. What had gotten into her? She needed something to focus her mind, oh yes, the request. What did the lost cat look like again? She stuffed her hand into her pocket for the paper with its description, only to discover a small card with violet decor and star insignia.

When did she slip this into her pocket? Frowning, Kanan stared at the card that had ‘Ohara Apothecary’ and its address printed on the front. She flipped to the back and found an invitation written in elegant cursive.

‘Drop by anytime~ I have a feeling you’ll come see me soon.’

Kanan pursed her lips and placed the card into her pocket, unsettled and unwilling to ponder further. While she was intrigued by this mysterious foreigner, she was rather off-put by how easily Mari had gotten past her defenses.

She was never this careless, especially not around strangers no matter how friendly they seemed.

“Meow~”

The calico cat from earlier had wandered back to her and this time, it brought two more friends. It pawed at her leg, as if reprimanding her for ditching it before. Desperate for something to calm her nerves, Kanan crouched down to greet it and let it hop onto her shoulder again.

The other two sniffed at her hand for a few moments before allowing her to pat them. Grinning, Kanan caressed at their soft fur and indulged in this wonderful feeling. So soothing, so healing!

Her trance was interrupted by the calico cat’s agitated croon. It was batting at her ponytail and nudging against her head with a rumbling purr. The odd sensation had her reach for her cap, but her hand found nothing.

Her cap wasn’t there.

“Huh?”

She stared at the direction where the blonde cat-like woman had gone and was quite aware of the non-existent weight of the card in her pocket.

Mari was right after all. They will see each other again soon.

#athyra writes #kanamari #Animus JobSetAU #so outdated lmao!! #but the foundation is still there #gist is still there #this is still the prologue blip

[breeeliss]

[Femslash February]: Flowers

i feel like i’m just going to accept the fact that i’m going to be perpetually a day behind on these things. 

also this took forever to write im off my game today xD

Day 9: Flowers (Alyanette)

Words: 2200

Link to Archive of Our Own: [AO3]

[Previous: On Wheels] [Next: Sunlight]

One of the first things Alya learned about Marinette was that she doodled flowers when she was bored. 

They started off as small, blossoming roses in the corners of her notebooks that weren’t any larger than the tip of her pinky. If you left her to it for long enough, she’d wrap vines, leaves, ladybugs, caterpillars, bees, birds, clouds, and more flowers all around the margins of her book. Sometimes, she’d sneak her colored felt pens and highlighters to school and add in whorls of colors and outlandish patterns until her entire notebook page was covered with fields and gardens and windowsills dripping in plants. She’d always take a picture of it on her phone -- to turn it into an embroidery, or a screen print for a t-shirt, or a design for a book cover -- and pout pitifully for Alya to send her copies of her notes. 

It blended seamlessly into the normality that was Marinette -- the color pink, pigtails, the smell of bread, pinpricks on fingertips, different nail polish everyday, humming music under her breath, and doodling flowers in class. 

One day, Alya’s hand was right next to Marinette’s notebook, and Marinette continued the doodle from the edge of the page onto the back of Alya’s hand. Alya raised a brow when she started, but shrugged when Marinette asked if it bothered her. As far as idiosyncracies went, Marinette’s were all rather harmless. Besides, it was rather nice to take notes with one hand and feel the light brush of Marinette’s pen sketching away against her other. 

It always took three washes in the shower to get all the pen out, and her mother kept worrying her with folk knowledge about skin cancer and ink poisoning, but Alya didn’t like showing up to school the next day with the sketches still on her arm. It almost felt like her duty to give Marinette a blank canvas everyday, to encourage her darling little habits that were secretly the highlight of Alya’s day. 

“Why flowers?” she asked Marinette as she added yellows and oranges to the sunflowers she was drawing along the vein inside of her wrist. 

Marinette tapped the end of her pen against Alya’s nose. “Pretty flowers for a pretty lady.”

“How flattering,” Alya joked. “Do you sweet talk all of your notebooks like this too?”

“Of course,” Marinette chuckled, extending her horizon down Alya’s arm so she could add another row of flowers. “Nah, they’re just easy to draw. Mindless enough that I can half pay attention to the lesson.”

“You could just pay attention to the lesson and doodle later,” she teased. 

But Marinette gripped Alya’s arm and held it still as sketched. “Noooo, physics is so boring. Besides, you and Adrien are better at explaining it. And god forbid I want my art advertised.”

“To who? My family?”

“Yes. Their approval is very important to me.”

“I actually think my mom loves sunflowers, so that shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Look at that! I’m psychic too! Sometimes I surprise even myself.”

Marinette started taking pictures of Alya’s arms as well, and she’d send them to her at the end of every class. Alya just sort of kept them in their own little album in her phone and flipped through them when she was waiting for the bus or laying in bed at night trying to fall asleep. Sometimes, they were incredibly simple -- like a long chain of tulips wrapping around her wrist. Sometimes, during long periods, Marinette would manage to create abstract drawings filled with rings of daisies with hearts in the middle, swirling clouds that circled fields of violets, and shining suns with beams turning into longer vines of leaves and flower buds that left Alya reeling from the detail of it all. On the weekends, when she knew she wasn’t going to see Marinette the next day, she’d avoid washing it off just so she could trace all the lines and patterns with her fingertips and marvel at the talent. 

It almost seemed like something Alya could force meaning into if she really wanted to. Like those moments where you realize you’re the exception, and your heart wants to add sentimentality where it doesn’t necessarily belong. But it was such a mundane habit the two of them shared, that it seemed silly and self-indulgent to even hope for something like that. Even selfish to demand more of something that was already special and perfect. 

Adrien laughed when she moved to sit next to him in class one day to work on the literature project they partnered up to complete. “Daffodils today, huh?”

“Sometimes I have to look them up online,” Alya said. “She drew amaryllises the other day. I didn’t even know that’s what they were called.”

He gestured for her arm. “Can I see? I was watching while she was drawing on you today, she was concentrating so hard.”

“Yeah, she added butterflies to this one and started getting all crazy with the wings and the lines and stuff,” Alya mused. “It’s pretty with all the red and purple added in, but it’s going to take forever to wash off.”

“Well, that’s Marinette. Putting 110% into everything.” Adrien turned her wrist to the left and squinted at one of the designs. “Huh. I didn’t know she writes things, too.”

Alya frowned. “She doesn’t write anything. Not that I know of anyway...”

Adrien shrugged. “Then maybe I’m just seeing things. Thought for sure that looked like an ‘M’.”

“Where?”

“Right here. Above the bone in your wrist. Next to the tree with the red leaves.”

Alya checked where Adrien was pointing, and sure enough, there did look to be something that resembled an ‘M’ resting just underneath a flower petal that was lying right next to a great tree that took up half of Alya’s arm. “Huh. You’re right. Does look like a letter.”

“Could be just an accident.”

“I dunno,” Alya squinted. “Hard to accidentally draw an ‘M’. Plus, it’s just under the flower lying there out of nowhere.”

Adrien tapped his pen against his lips. “Maybe it’s just her signature, you know? Doesn’t she monogram ‘M’s on everything?”

Alya hummed. “Yeah, she does. But, what, she’s signing my arms now?”

“She did say she wanted you to show off her art,” Adrien chuckled. 

“Well, damn, good to know I’m her new canvas,” she said, pretending to sound annoyed. “I thought she was kidding about that.”

“Marinette doesn’t strike me as much of a kidder,” Adrien said. “I mean you definitely know her more than I do, but it always seems like she’s got a reason for doing something you know?”

Alya ran her thumb across the letter. “Yeah....that’s true.”

She pointed it out to Marinette as a joke the next morning. Marinette contained her smile by biting her lip, dipped her head so that her bangs covered her face, and muttered, “Yeah, that’s me. Signing everything...”

“Guess you’re serious about me advertising your art, huh?”

“Yeah...” Marinette said absently. “I never kid.”

Alya spent the entire walk back to her house from school looking for Marinette’s initial on her arm, wondering where she’d hidden it that day. Except, Alya never found an ‘M’. Instead, she found an ‘E’ written along the vine wrapping around her thumb. The day after that, it was what she was sure was a ‘J’. Then, another ‘E’. 

Was it a message? A word she was trying to spell out? MEJE hardly meant anything, unless she’d caught Marinette in the middle of a word or a sentence. Maybe it was a joke she was trying to spell out, or some silly message that she wanted to sneakily place into her art. Like that time Marinette sent her ten texts that were just pictures that was supposed to say “Please help me I am very hungry and very sad.”

“Maybe it’s in another language?” Nino offers when Alya shows him the ‘T’ on her sleeve of buttercups that Marinette drew on her arm during maths. “Doesn’t she know Chinese?”

“Barely,” Alya smirked. “Plus, wouldn’t she just use characters and not letters?”

“I guess so.” Nino laughed and twisted Alya’s arm around to stare at the design that was looping around all of her fingers today. “Must be something really important. She’s putting a lot of work into these doodles. You might as well get one of these tattooed.”

“Watch it be a meme she found on the Internet the other day. If it is, I’ll kill her.”

An ‘A’ and an ‘I’ came next, and then another ‘M’ before the letters started to repeat. Alya waited until she was home and typed in all the letters she’d gotten so far: MEJETAIMEJ. 

It seemed like nonsense to her at first, and Alya blamed the late hour for making her miss what was so obviously right in front of her face the entire time. But she blinked at the letters right in the middle of the jumble and felt her chest tighten a little. 

JETAIME. 

Je t’aime. 

She had to rewrite all the letters four times over to make sure she didn’t miss one, to make sure they were all in the right order, to make sure that she wasn’t just projecting her feelings onto something as innocuous as silly little messages left in the doodles that Marinette left on her arms. But Alya wasn’t wrong, and that may have been the most confusing and frustrating part of all of this. It didn’t make any sense. They told each other they loved each other all the time. They were best friends, of course they loved each other. Maybe it was just that. Maybe it was just a cute little message from a friend that she wasn’t meant to read into. Maybe. 

Or maybe there was a reason Marinette wasn’t just telling her. Because it was heavier than it had been before. So heavy that Marinette couldn’t bear to say it with a new meaning -- a meaning that could very well add a different filter to everything. 

Alya waited for more days -- waited for the ‘E,’ ‘T,’ ‘A,’ and ‘I’ -- until it was Saturday and they were lying down on Marinette’s bed, limbs tangled together, watching a movie on the laptop balanced on Alya’s stomach. Her right arm was held up while Marinette started drawing roses on her wrists again. 

Alya cleared her throat and lowered the volume on the movie. “It’s an ‘M’ today again. Isn’t it?”

Marinette’s pen stilled for only half a second before she continued shading in a petal. “So you figured it out?”

“Pretty sure,” Alya muttered. She was hyper aware of the feeling of Marinette’s head pressed up against her temple and Marinette’s nose that was tucked against her neck. She swallowed and tried to make her voice sound stronger than her resolve felt. “I...I love you too.”

“But do you?” Marinette muttered, keeping her eyes on her pen and on Alya’s arm. “I mean, really honestly. Do you? Because....i-if you don’t, it’s fine. I just...sometimes I feel like I have all these things I want to tell you and I don’t know how to say them. So I just...picked the best thing that fit. But if you don’t....I mean, I don’t have to -- ”

“You’re rambling, babe,” Alya interrupted gently. 

Marinette laughed against her skin. “Sorry. I’m not very good at this sort of thing. And I don’t want to freak you out.”

“Nothing you do could freak me out, Mari. You don’t have to worry about that” Alya assured. “I’m not freaked out.”

“So then....what are you?”

Things with Marinette always felt so natural, like one thing bled seamlessly into the next. Nothing felt jarring and nothing felt strange enough to need a period of time to settle and adjust. Things just were, and no matter what came up the two of them molded into it perfectly without ever needing to explain or defend. Alya wondered if this was exactly what was happening now. Because Alya had always loved Marinette, always loved her with all her heart. She traced back along the past year to see if that love turned into a love, if that comfort turned into a need, if those changes were even the sorts of things you could track and notice. But there was never a sharp jolt or jump to indicate a change. Alya wouldn’t be surprised if one morning she woke up, got dressed for school, saw Marinette stumbling into class with only seconds to spare before the bell and realized ah! There it was. There were all the small letters left behind like clues forming together into something beautiful that Alya could treasure deeply. 

It took no work. Smooth. Effortless. Everything always easy. 

What are you?

Alya shut her eyes and pressed a small, short kiss on Marinette’s lips, smiling at the gasp that jumped up from Marinette’s throat and past Alya’s lips. They pushed back against hers as Marinette kissed her back, and for such a brief moment the whole world stilled and everything felt perfect and righted. 

“I’m happy.” 

#miraculous ladybug #alyanette #alya cesaire #marinette dupain-cheng #alyanette fanfiction #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #my writing #femslash february 2017 #femslash february alyanette edition #flowers

[rockerchick1330]

~ Flower ~ A Chris Cornell fanfiction (Chapter 9)

Hey again hunnies! Sorry I haven't been posting so often, school recently resumed for me and, ya know -_- xD but I am excited cause I do have a lot of great ideas for the plot, hope you guys enjoy! Love you all and thank you so much for the support! XOX!! (This is Star's POV btw) Warning: This chapter does contain explicit, sexual content... The staircase was probably a faint blur at that moment. I constantly batted my eyelids until the thin, sheen of liquor based influence cleared it's infestation of my pupils. The bitter, yet cloying, taste of victorious spirit still lingering on my tongue. It was certainly responsible for the undefeatable grin plastered across my curled lips, twitching wider until my flushed cheeks ached. The bubbling din of Xana's drunken giggles that emitted like joyful sobs from her throat were quite peculiar, considering the lack of comical humor that Andy condoned. Her feet swirled and danced on the staggered brick path, the stiletto heel of her shoes often snapping sharply against the concrete. "Careful babe," Andrew snorted, rather amused than concerned of Xana's mentally numb condition. He coiled a protective arm around her tiny waist in assistance to avoid any minor incidents. After scribbling what I had assumed to be my originally designed signature on the freshly printed contract, I reminisced on the previous celebration. The loud, flustering cheers of finally being recognized as a foreign, Seattle Hard Rock band suffocated and drowned my self esteem positively. The vivid memory of Layne and Mike encouraging me to chug what appeared to be a quart of infused Vodka. The tingle and smoldering singe as the smooth, what I considered to be at the time, elixir rolled down my gullet. That thrilling after flame that left the linen of my throat raw. Yet, the satisfying pain wasn't enough to distract and amputate the roaring, distorted applause and jeers that followed immediately. With the liquor still churning in my stomach and my immunity barely flinching at its perilous contents, I retrospected on the latter consequences which I further disregarded. The professionally documented and typed sheet of great exaltation flitted and jolted my visual thoughts. The way I had the least heed for the seemingly endless paragraphs, transcripted in ebony ink. Skimming through the elegant font array of sentences just to display some sort of discretion, I hovered atop the labelled, dotted line. Its broken base already autographed by the uniquely drawn signatures of my band mates, I felt a sharp tremble and anxiety spume inside of me. Lines I assumed would've been jaggedly written were perfectly equable as my soul, gravitating on the carbonated ripples of my drinks. With both record executives offering us the typical introductory speech and invitation, an attentive Ashton absorbed most of the information. My attention was diverted on the most regular and uneventful individual in an assembly of notable, ensuing melees. Previously preaching the gospel of Rock 'N' Roll on stage, my eyes had strayed to the shady, sexy figure observing silently on the back. Neither of his fists were lodged into the air and his jaw was clenched shut, not permitting any chants or screeches of support. Clad in the sleek, appealing leather jacket I absolutely adored and fawned upon when he was clothed in it. His long, moisturized curls cascading down his broad, squared shoulders and his ghastly pale complexion shimmering beneath the flickering audience lights. The florid, overdone stage smokers occasionally fogged and clouded the once prominent view of him. I contemplated on the sudden adrenaline rush fumbling with my mature status and in exchange for foolish illusions, but I knew for a certain fact, it had to be whom I was convinced it was. Spitting lyrics out and attempting to congregate how he could've possibly slipped out of the insecure gaze of Susan was overwhelming. My consistent breaths and hesitation on particular lines disoriented my tongue, tying it into tricksy knots. Failing to shove and rid the sensual and intimate fantasizes of him out of my subconscious, I struggled to latch back onto the clasp of my usual performance ego. The moaning of Brandon's whammy bar piercing like a struck bell and creeping through the speakers. The way Ashton's fingers explored and journeyed across and beyond the frets of his guitar, performing licks that weren't even comprehendible. I felt my chest tremble, my rib cage shiver as Cyd's rhythmic bass line seeped like liquid gold from her rusted strings. Paired with Tristan's ridiculously angst amplified drumming, both were coupled romantically. Their depth pleasing the ears of dozens of spectators and fans, making it all the more satisfying to experience. But then, I could've no longer excused the mysterious, abstruse figure, for he was then trudging sluggishly beside me. His hands were buried within the grave of his pockets awkwardly as he occasionally attempted to conceive a normal, casual conversation. Skipping up the staircase, I refused to halt and await his presence as to conceal the existent endearment I shared with him. For cautionary purposes, Andy didn't hesitate or even inquire consent before scraping Xana off her feet. "Andy!" She squealed, struggling abundantly within his cradle intended arms. She punted her legs ferociously whilst wavering and deliberately flinging noneffective blows at his chest. "Baby, calm down!" His intentions of being placid and soothing were completely misinterpreted by his agitated, altercated tone. "No! I'm not a baby!" She bickered like a pouty, aggravated child. Being oblivious to her argument, her milky, shaved legs jolted, rather fiercely that time considering that her left shoe was then plummeting towards an untamed, decorative rose bush. "Fuck," I heard Andy hiss beneath a heavy, irritated breath. "My shoe! Go get it Andy!" Xana instantly swapped her once savage and violent behavior for one of much more agony and affliction for a materialistic object. Either way, Andy hadn't threatened to disobey an intoxicated Xana, bidding Chris and I farewell as we hurried up the creaky stairs. Our weight occasionally shifted the metal planks, a hazardous event I had grown accustomed and acquainted with. "Hey, Star-" arriving at the top floor, he somewhat timidly hailed my attention. "U-Uhh, about what happened today." I hadn't any confidence to properly assemble words, far much for my ability to avoid necessary eye contact. I apprehensively coughed, clearing my throat of the intentional hitch of air that dared to choke me. "W-What?" I ignorantly blurted, tripping over the complicated obstacles that were embarking on my tongue. Just the brief recall of the comprising, yet absolutely orgasmic, encounter Chris and I endured permitted a bright red glow that tinted my cheeks. The surreal feel of his hot, obscene touch merely scratching the surface of my sexual pinnacle. How delicious and delightful his long, calloused fingers apperceived my inner heat, stroking me in that undescribable pattern. He brushed every single inch of my valid weak spots, making me vulnerable, feeble beneath his accomplished smirk. My already aroused girlhood fluttered, reminiscing on how exceptionally he stimulated its palpitating nub of pink flesh. My teeth reflexively clenched my lower lip on the erotic vision of how warm my skin rose from his singular tease. But the most pleasurable and achingly amazing sensation was my achieved climax. It was beautiful, that final contraction and then the sharp ripples of my internal muscles. It was amatory and wonderful, that finishing cry and tight buckle of my pelvics. I would've sacrificed anything I was required to to experience a lengthy, passion driven intercourse session with Chris. "When we-" he paused abruptly as he gazed down at my lowered chin. "Well, when I touched you." I pursed my lips into a thin, firm line, fiddling nervously with the frayed ends of my distressed, acid washed jeans. "Chris, I-I don't know what to say," I mumbled rather charily whilst he ran his tongue along his chapped, bruised lips. Though he labored with the use of understood gestures to plead for applicable, visual communication, my aplomb had withered like the petals of a shriveling rose. I adverted my attention to the semi reflective surface of his boots, the disheveled laces making me cringe mentally from its lack of uniformity. My initial ambition was to ignore the emotional incision that spewed and exhausted my heart, trading it for a more unchanged and aloof spunk. Briefly surpressed by a figurative impediment, I coughed and shrugged either off my tensed shoulders. It was excruciating to mask my true intentions and love for him beneath the girl I attempted, but failed, to be. "I'm sorry for-" "No! No!" I denied and interrupted his sincere apology. Alternating my body language, I tilted my hips in accordance to the shifted weight amongst my legs. Slightly levitating my chin humbly and indolently swaying, I proceeded. "It was n-nothing really," there was an unintended strain in my voice when falsely confessing our affair was of no worth. His eyes frowned at me sympathetically, knowledgeable enough to recognize my transparent lie. "Nothing? What happened today was nothing to you?" He muttered questionably, unfazed by my unrealistic reply to react properly. We were shortly disturbed by the familiar wail that was squawked a floor beneath us. "Fuck! Fuck these motherfuckin' thorns!" He easily disregarded Andrew's cry of arrogation whilst I attempted to alter it into a distracted, miserably doing so unsuccessfully. "I think it meant more to you than it did to me." His assumption immediately captivated me in his skillfully invented snare. "T-That's not true," I spat hastily, abusing my innocent tongue for emitting such fibs. My jaw firmly clenched as my teeth sank into the inner flesh of my lips, silencing my untruthful phrases. I knew well he hadn't been swindled by my charade, proof being the twitching smirk that itched the corners of his lips. With the faint, apologetic moon mimicking his current emotions then, she casted a tender, ghoulishly romantic glow onto our silhouettes. Stumbling back against the front door and wincing at its irritating groan, he properly confronted my figure, skyscraping above my head. "You're a really bad liar babe," he mused, a mere grin tickling at his tempting, irresistible lips. I was immensely startled by his swift motion, barricading my body within the defense of his toned, leather clad arms. His fists solidly plastered onto the door behind and occasionally brushing on my curves as if the intended contact was an incident. My constant wheezing was audible then as he leaned at an appropriate level and reluctantly distanced our faces. That beautiful shimmer and sparkle that wedded his astounding emerald irises never failed to dupe me into a serene epiphany. His pale, perfectly chiseled features and alluring body added to the undeniable urge I felt for him. I desperately grasped at my sanity and control, reminiscing on the later remorse that would've haunted me. But I hungered for him, lusted after his touch and kiss, I needed him, buried deep within me, physically without any boundaries. "Is it that obvious?" I breathed, exchanging necessary oxygen with him, thirsty for any substance that contained matters of him. His hands were then fluctuated on my waist, firmly preparing me for what was soon to occur. Savoring the absolutely delicious taste of his lips as he sloppily latched onto my tongue, my eyelids grew heavy with the great mass of lust weighing them down. Feeling his arms snake around the entirety of my waist, I noosed my frail arms around his neck, gravitating on the very tips of my toes. "Chris," I muffled between our passionate kiss when his either hands heaved and groped at my full, prominent butt cheeks. "Fuck, I just need to see your body one more time," he sighed, regaining the brief disconnection with an equality of desire. "I just need to hear you moan my name again." My skin crawled like six legged fiends on beneath my flesh, making my body violently shiver within his secure prison. Finally committing to him, I breathed, dainty and soft. "P-Please, I need you Chris." Due to a sudden, lustful and horny impulse, he snapped at my lower lip, clenching it sharply between his teeth. Sucking at it and chastely licking its moisturized surface, I whimpered in delight and gasped. "I wanna make you feel so good," he seductively mumbled, lingering on my already swollen lips. "I want you sprawled out and moaning so loud for me when I finally have you." I unintentionally moaned, pleasured just by the unholy thought of hot, procrastinated sex with him. The mild foreplay and exchanging of filthy innuendoes were persuading us accurately, that was until his forsaken brunette snake slithered in... ★★★★★★★★★★★★★ I groaned, bothered and harassed by the vivid imagery of what had previously happened, excluding the interrupting melee from Susan. I uncomfortably shifted and revolved around my scattered, futile sheets that were much too distraught to provide coverage. The fragrance of his musky, alluring cologne infinitely dwelled on his indigo flannel I somewhat alleviated myself within. My digital clock flickered with bold, red numerals which accordingly read '1:35 A.M'. I was unable to analyze or comprehend the idea of slumber. The concept of Chris irritated and nagged annoyingly at me, depriving me of any relief of relaxation. Observing intently as the scarlett digits increased by each ticking minute, another sixty seconds of my deteriorating life squandered on him. My bed was the grave of the underlying scenario that we both part took in several hours before. Its deranged spirit whispered of my sinful disobedience to my once instilled oath. Fluctuating in multiple, unsatisfying directions on my unleveled, measled mattress, I forced my face into my fluffed pillow. The severe, suicidal contemplation of simply stifling myself within the feathers and cloth floated across my subconscious like an innocent cloud wavering amongst the sky. Discreetly exiting my regular thoughts, I stiffened at the sound of heavy, unsteady footsteps thumping down the corridor. Assuming it was Chris roaming the hallway and scraping the kitchen for left over delicacies or expired meals, I presumed to my normal plotting and suggestions. I didn't expect the abrupt introduction of his figure creeping into my room. A streak of yellow light seeped into the ebony atmosphere, approximately glaring straight into my squinted eyes. With shrunken pupils, I inspected his dark silhouette, immediately biting my sore lower lip slightly. His loosely hung boxers, sewed and embellished with a checkered design, barely clung to him. The elastic band of his briefs hung with peril on his extreme, low torso, exposing a mere inch of his muscular indented 'V'. Paired with the nonexistent shirt he wore, I immediately fawned over his sexy, appearance. "Chris, what are-" he harshly shut the door behind him, not exasperated by the still erect lock that perched open. The lack of lights made it difficult to properly detect what his purpose of entering so exaggeratedly was required for. I only realized his ambition when he invited himself to hover on top of my tiny figure. "I'm not finished with you babe," he growled, immediately beginning his intended goal. Clenching both the buttoned seams of the oversized, rugged flannel I was huddled into, with a single, brutal tug, my bare chest was no longer secluded. Before having a moment to protest, he pinned my wrists down on the ruffled covers of my bed, migrating his lips to my neck. My argument only emitted as a faint gasp and moan, thoroughly enjoying his constant, violent nibbling and sensual sucking at my tender flesh. He was already familiar and accustomed with my body. With eventual lag and a teasing ego, he finally arrived at my perky, round breasts. Adorning them with hot kisses that threatened to burn or singe my flesh, I sighed as my chest heaved and released. "Ah! Chris!" I whimpered when he began suckling at one of my erected, solid nipples. Grazing his warm tongue on every single inch of my boobs, my twinging embarrassment or, perhaps more appropriately, shame faltered away like ashes crumbling from blue flames. My skin immediately roused in temperature, contagiously spreading throughout my entire body. Paving his path down my cleavage and flattened stomach, I hesitated when he taunted the waistline of my vulgar panties. "C-Chris," I wheezed as his tongue traced the spacious region between both my pelvics. My heart was palpitating at a surreal rate along with the rapid flow of my blood curdling through my veins. The vague puncture of fear struck me. "I-I'm scared," I honestly confessed as he fiddled with the satin trim of my underwear. "Shh-" he hushed gently, his lips brushing intimately on my inner thighs. "Don't be scared, I promise I won't hurt you." With his fingers prying my panties down and permitting them to dangle around my ankles, he briefly savored a moment to admire my pubic area. Licking his lips and firmly fixating my limbs on how he desired me to be positioned, a shallow breath hitched in my mid throat. "Relax for me," he purred with his hot breath purposely fanning against my glistening genitals. His soothing words smoothed out my ridged edges and choppy fright, leisurely easing my pressure like magic. He firmly grasped onto my thighs, so tightly that my skin seeped through the gaps of his long fingers. With sufficient time to plot out his performance, I pursed my lips and screwed my eyes shut. All his persuasion finally paid their debts in the end. I strangled the sheets from my iron grip, moaning aloud as an approval of his current gesture. His tongue was soft and supple against my shimmering, folds, concentrating especially on my plump, aching clitoris. "Mhmm," I whimpered, my body jostling sharply when he proceeded to pacify my flitting clit. "O-Oh! Chris, I-I." My hips automatically bucked, angling myself for him to make proper love to my flesh orally. The undescribable pleasure tingled and swished inside of me as events developed more erotic and heated whilst he preserved strong eye contact with me through his curtained hair. I grinded against his then inserted fingers and tongue, edging myself to an absolute wonder of an orgasm. "Ohh! Oh yes!" I convinced him more. My toes curled as a thin, sheen layer of sweat built upon the surface of my skin. I felt myself hot and boiling within my lower abdomen, reflexively earning subtle screams and cries then. Easily predicting my oncoming climax by my obvious reactions and muscle contractions, I pouted and whined when he distanced his once consistent lips from me. "D-Don't stop, please," I pleaded as he licked the residue fluids up from the scape and circumference of his lips. Cleansing his sticky fingers with his mouth and returning to kiss me, my interestingly queer taste still lingered on his skilled tongue. "I've got something better for you babe," he whispered sexily as I raked my nails down the width of his firm, strong back... That night was it, the blissful farewell to my purity. The pleasurable moment of combing with his being, becoming singular in soul and mind with him through physical contact. It was impeccable, beautiful, perfectly executed. But nothing, not even considering our passionate sex, was enough to defeat the comforting promise we vowed to one another. "I love you Chris, so much." "I love you more Starlett, I always loved you."

#chris cornell #soundgarden #pearl jam #fanfiction #90s #grunge