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maxdark158 · 4 years ago

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Wooo! Writing shoes are back on and i’m actually really happy that i’m finally able to write again. This chapter is a bit shorter than normal but the next two are heavy hitters so it’s alright

Angel in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Ao3

Demon in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Ao3

Fanart for AiG: Riddler ~ Joker thank you @thegreysman

Please tag me in any fanart you draw for this guys ^^

oooOOOooo

Damian typically liked patrol.

Jumping from rooftop to rooftop under the cover of the night was always exhilarating. Parkour just wasn’t the same without a belt of weapons and a costume, it was always a good way to burn of excess energy and get his mind focused.

Sure, it was his job to protect Gotham so he couldn’t be joking around, but he had to admit he liked the physical activity. He took his job seriously but taking it seriously didn’t mean it had to be unenjoyable.

Patrols were a time when he didn’t feel constrained, didn’t have to play a part or meet expectations. Nothing could ruin the cool gotham city nights on the rooftops.

Well, almost nothing.

After all, Damian’s father had the insane habit of adopting shitty ass kids for his crime fighting ring. Which meant Damian had this awful sickness called siblings. And the only thing that could ruin his nice patrols were the chortling of the other costumed idiots.

The worst nights were when all his brothers went.

Every. Single. Brother.

And what made it worse on top of that?

When they had something they felt they could tease him about. And when they were all teasing him about the same thing at the same time.

He was going to snap and stab one of them. His father might be anti murder but he didn’t have to know…

Damian shook his head. Bad thoughts.

“Thinking of your Angel?” Drake seemed to have a death wish and Damian was all about granting fucking wishes right now.

“Why do you all insist on being here?” he grumbled to himself. Because really they didn’t have to be. No bat signal, probably a few minor purse snatching crimes that one or two could handle easily. Why were they all in costume? Take the night off, stop fucking bothering him.

Annoying Fuck #1 snorted next to him when he said that, clearly not planning to be reasonable. “What, don’t like us teasing you about your Angel, demon spawn?” Todd snorted.

Damian ignored him. “Batman, shouldn’t he not be allowed to patrol with us?” His father could at least tell Todd to go home. Then when his back was turned he wouldn’t witness what happened to Dra-

“C’mon, I haven’t killed anyone and I want to hang out with my little bro! It’s not every day that Robin gets his first crush!”

Annoying Fuck #2, Drake, nearly slipped and fell from laughter.

Damian’s face warmed under his mask. “I do not have a crush you-“

“Focus on the job,” As always, father was on his side. “You can make fun of Robin later when we aren’t patrolling,” the traitorous bastard added.

Damian didn’t want to be the fucking blood son anymore.

He glared at Batman, scoffing to himself. “Then if you’ll excuse me, I’ll take my own route.”

“I’ll go with you little bird!”

Fucking fuck fuck.

Because of fucking course Grayson suggested that. And of fucking course Damian momentarily forgot that Grayson was back and patrolling too, leaving him unprepared for the suggestion. Grayson’s uncharacteristic quietness was the worst thing at times.

Fucking hell why’d they all have to be here tonight?

Proving himself to truly be a traitor, his father nodded to Grayson’s suggestion. So Damian, previously wanting to get away with his brothers and dream of murdering them alone, now had a tagalong stopping such a fun activity.

At this rate he’d have frown lines at 23.

Damian went off, not waiting for Grayson. He knew he’d easily keep pace though, so the halfhearted dream of being fully alone wouldn’t happen.

“Robin, wait here a second.” Oh fuck no. That’s Grayson’s I want to talk voice. Too bad for him because Damian did not want to talk. At all. Especially about anything Grayson might want to talk about. Because Grayson wanted to talk about French Angels and Riddlers and Spars and-

“Robin, are you listening?”

“No, Nightwing, I’m not.” Damian stared at him and raised a brow. “What is there to talk about?”

Grayson huffed, annoyed. Good. Fucker deserves it after what he and the others put him through these last few days. “I was asking if you actually had a crush or not. They’re teasing you but I’ve been,” at WE all day, Damian knew, “busy all day. I can’t tell if they’re making something out of nothing and I’d rather hear it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”

There was a time when Damian would have said he wasn’t a horse. When he was younger, he didn’t know idioms and expressions that well. He considered saying it now, to try and change the subject, but he also knew Grayson didn’t let things go easily. Which wasn’t very good.

Because Damian wasn’t sure how to answer.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to answer it, even to himself. His weedkiller wouldn’t arrive for a few more fucking days, he wasn’t prepared for this.

Though maybe that in of itself showed the answer to Grayson’s question…

Fucking fuck fuck.

He shook himself from those thoughts. Grayson was waiting on an answer and he didn’t have time to get lost in thought about his Ang- Marinette. Marinette.

Damian settled for glaring at Grayson. “My private life is not any business of yours.”

Grayson snorted. “Suure little bird. She’s one of the French students, right?”

“Don’t say that right now,” he snapped. Not while they were in costume, not while they could be listened to. “Focus on the job, Nightwing.”

Grayson put his hands up in surrender. “Race you to Wayne Enterprises?”

Damian didn’t wait for an answer, jumping to the next roof and making his way as fast as he could. He was determined to beat his adopted brother’s sorry ass, not that he cared about winning. It wasn’t that he was competitive, he simply didn’t want to continue this discussion. That was all. That’s fucking it.

Grayson laughed behind him, and the race began.

-----

They were taking a break near the Batcave. No activity yet, but they stayed suited up incase that changed. The night was still young, after all.

Batman instructed them to meet there through the comms. Damian and Grayson, further from the cave, made it there last. Grayson luckily hadn’t brought up and other conversation during patrol, and Damian hoped that would hold ou-

The other two idiots were waiting like the fucking lunatics they are.

Fucking fuck fuck.

“Did the demon spawn tell you about his precious Angel?” Todd clearly decided that he would die in seven days by saying that, big dumb fucking grin on his face and hair messy from removing his dumbass helmet.

“What was her name again? Mary?” Drake knew her name and was just being a little bitch. Damian decided not to give him the fucking bait, going over to a place to sit-

“Marie something, French and I think with brown eyes?”

“They’re blue,” Damian bit out. Fuck, their stupidity had infected him, he spoke before thinking. Was there a cure? He doubted it as they were all still stupid and have been for years. Fucking fuck the last thing he needs is to be on their level of idiocy.

“Right, right,” Jason’s wolfish smug grin was showing exactly how much of a fucking bitch he planned to be. Damian wanted to kick his face in.

“Little bird was pretty tight lipped on patrol,” Grayson said lightly as if he didn’t just stab him in the back.

“It’d be rude to kiss and tell,” Damian was going to strangle Drake with his own two hands.

“I haven’t kissed her!” He snapped again. His face was very warm, did he get sunburned somehow?? “We’re friends you imbeciles!”

“Friends that hold hands,” Drake pointed out.

“And tour Gotham together, alone.” Todd shortened his life span even more.

“And invite each other over to their house, where they never invited anyone before, to eat lunch.”

“Look how red his face is!”

“Little bird probably even planned to buy her ice cream! That’s why they were there when the Riddler showed up!”

“I’ll bed demon spawn-“

Damian stormed out of the room. Blood was roaring in his ears and he needed to- he just. He fucking needed fucking out of here. Away from those fuckers. Or he’d actually follow through with his thinly veiled threats and he’d rather not get blood on his costume.

He hated siblings with a passion. If his father ever considered adopting again Damian would fill all of his shoes with centipedes and rip the third seam out of every pair of pants he owned.

I don’t have a crush on her. I don’t. She’s wonderful and amazing, an angel, but I don’t like Ang- Marinette like that. She’s a friend I made and that is all.

Damian grabbed some throwing knives for target practice. Not on his brothers this time. He wanted to clear his head without those fucks nearby.

He threw one. The aim was a bit off, and he frowned. His aim was impeccable, why was he off right now? Why is having a crush on Marinette a bad thing?

No. He shook his head. He didn’t want to think those fucking thoughts right now. He threw another, harder. It went deep into the target, still off by more than he was happy with. He growled lowly.

Ange- Marinette is pure and good and wonderful. I was raised by assassins and I can’t completely shake their ideals.

Another knife. Damian’s grip on them tightened. Why was he missing?

I’m a vigilante and Damian Wayne. I have blood on my hands and money to my name and she wants to make her fashion empire herself.

Damian got more knives. His frustration was growing with each thought. They kept coming back as he tried to dismiss them, kept distracting him from the target.

She’s a talented designer. She’s incredibly smart, knows how to fight. Beautiful, dark hair and freckles and blue eyes.

Another knife sailed through the air.

I’m not anything of note without my last name or costume. She’s amazing without needing either.

Damian walked over and began taking the knives off the targets. Maybe they were fucking with his aim. He should get rid of them. Focus on removing them. Stop thinking about her.

But no matter how many fucking times he tried to redirect his thoughts, they came back.

She doesn’t have to tolerate me.

She’s wonderful and innocent.

She doesn’t deserve to be dragged down.

I don’t want to hurt her.

Damian’s hands were on his face, pushing at his eyes and trying to stop the thoughts. His Ange- Marinette was wonderful he knew that, but he didn’t think the other things. Not constantly anyway, he helped people as Robin. He was his father’s blood son. He wasn’t unhappy with himself.

But that doesn’t mean I’m good enough for Marinette.

He grabbed a knife from the table he set them on and threw it blindly, as if throwing the thought itself out and away.

It hit the center perfectly.

Damian took a deep breath. Everything was fucking overwhelming right now, and he didn’t want to think about it anymore.

But it seemed he’d have to.

Fucking fuck fuck.

Okay, okay. He… He might have a crush on Marinette.

Admitting it, oddly, seemed to lift a weight off his shoulders. Damian took another deep breath.

He has a crush on Marinette. But he values her a friend very much. He isn’t going to do anything about his crush, because she deserves someone as amazing and angelic as her, and Damian isn’t that.

But that’s okay. Because he already loves being her friend. And his weedkiller isn’t too far away.

Damian calmed down. He threw some more knives. They were all on target.

She’ll always be my friend and Angel, if I have any say in it. I’ll make sure whoever she choses is worthy of her.

Damian had just thrown his third when his father spoke through their comms. “Poison Ivy sighting at Gotham Hotel.”

The six words turned Damian’s recently found peaceful mood onto its head. Ice water poured into his and filled his limbs with dread. His chest was tight, as if someone was grabbing at his lungs and they were closing. The weeds of worry were strangling him.

That’s my Angel’s hotel.

He had dropped her off there with Alfred just earlier that day. She was staying there with her class. They were supposed to be safe and protected, she was supposed to be safe and protected.

Damian’s knives hit the ground but his feet hit it faster as he ran through the cave to the exit. Ivy best not lay a finger on her or she would lose her entire arm.

His Angel wouldn’t get hurt, not if he could help it.

#daminette #maribat #Marinette #Damian Wayne #maridami #damimari #marinettexdamian #damian x marinette #miraculous ladybug #batman #batboys #batbrothers

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wildlyglittering · 4 years ago

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The Ones Before

Happy Sunday everyone!

Thank you again to those liking, re-blogging and commenting on my fic’s, I really do appreciate it.

I’m loving all the ACOSF inspired fic’s and fanarts that are being produced - and definitely all the critique!!

I hope you enjoy!

***

A hand pressed against his bicep as a low, husky voice murmured in his ear.

“General.”

The owner of that voice, an attractive red-haired female, placed a glass of dark liquid in front of him and squeezed her fingers around his arm.

Cassian’s muscles automatically flexed and the voice turned into a breathless giggle. “On the house,” she whispered, her mouth moving closer to his ear. Perhaps it was his imagination but it seemed that she had pushed her breasts against him so he would feel their firm swell against his shoulder.

He turned to her with a smile so charming that her face lit up like solstice lights. “Thank you,” he said, “but I can’t accept.”

Those ruby red lips of hers turned from a grin into a pout and once upon a time Cassian would have eased her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb before asking if there was anything he could do to put a smile back on her face.

Once upon a time. Not now.

Despite his rejection, she was undeterred.

“It’s our finest liquor, General. It’s incredibly silky as it goes down.” It was definitely not in his imagination that he saw the twinkle in her eye.

“I’m sure it is,” he said with a wink, “but let me rephrase myself – I won’t accept.”

The twinkle, much like the smile, disappeared. She frowned before snatching the glass and storming off, Cassian catching her stamp her foot as she left as though she were a petulant child and not a fae of likely over a century old.

Cassian chuckled and turned back to the table, picking up the drink he had. The beverage was sickly sweet and made from fruits that were imported into Night from Spring. It was Elain’s favourite and not at all Cassian’s. There were times when he missed the sharpness of wine or the spice of whisky but he reminded himself of what he gained by no longer drinking.

Early winter had come to Velaris and the city was bustling, its occupants rushing around hard at work or preparing for the solstice. Cassian was doing neither; a rare idle day off had lain ahead of him when he’d woken that morning.

The skies had been a bright, albeit pale, blue to start but had grown steadily gloomier before turning into an ashen grey with fat clouds that poured the rains down. The rain wasn’t the soft kind but the sort that smashed against the stones with such force that drops rebounded from the ground and back into the air.

A misty haze drifted around the footsteps of all the rushing fae, their shrieks filling the street as those without coverings ran for shelter from one building to another.

Cassian had been caught out when it started. The first rumble of thunder occurred when he was crossing the bridge and he looked down to see small droplets on the back of his hand. He stood, watching as the rain lashed into the river, mesmerised by the circles the drops created. His hair was drenched and he shook the strands around his head, laughing.

Storms never bothered him, the only reason he moved indoors was because he took up too much space outside for those who didn’t find getting soaked as delightful as he did. That, and his pending companion wouldn’t be too impressed to be made to hang around in the rain.

The café he settled in gave him a decent view of the streets and a prime view of the bridge ahead. Rainwater dripped from his hair when he tied it into a bun and he’d ordered himself his drink, delivered by an older female who wasn’t remotely interested in Cassian.

Fresh warm bread scented the place as the waitresses carried large slices, liberally buttered and served with thick broths in deep bowls, to surrounding tables. Despite the smell, he was content to drink his cordial and observe the world beyond the windows.

The clinking of plates from the table next to him drew his attention and he looked over to see the red-haired fae clearing crockery for the next customers. Although she was working, she was clearly keeping an eye on Cassian, probably waiting to see if he’d change her mind at her offer.

With her coquettish glances and the angle in which she now exposed her cleavage, it wasn’t only a drink she was offering.

A time existed once, when he would have charmed her and they would have removed themselves into the backroom of the café or even a room in the apartments above. Because he was the General, they would never have been reprimanded even if it left the café one employee down.

Admittedly something about the serving fae had captured his attention. Yes, flirtations from an attractive female were always flattering but he had entertained her smiles a bit more than he should have done in the circumstances.

The thrashing of the rain grew louder when the door to the café opened and a fae couple walked in laughing about their soaking clothes. The red-head walked past Cassian to greet them and as she did, her dress deliberately slipped, leaving a pale freckled shoulder to his view.

A memory flashed through Cassian’s mind and in an instant, he could place why she captured his attention so. It was a memory so dusty on the shelves of his brain that he was surprised it was even in the archives.

He was centuries old and he’d spent that time in a variety of ways. Chasing after attainable and unattainable females and fucking a fair few was very much on the list.

But everyone, even he, the fierce Lord of Bloodshed and General of the Night Court’s armies had to begin somewhere.

He’d lost his virginity not to a fellow Illyrian but a fae. She hadn’t been a female of strength or status and considering as Cassian was a bastard runt at the time, he couldn’t have even fathomed those females would ever be an option.

There had been a war. There was always a war.

The troop of Illyrians were on the outskirts of the Night Court and were setting camp around one of the smaller towns. A tavern with warm lights and a warmer hearth was tucked into one of the streets and he was sick of sleeping in the filth. The mud oozed its way into his fingernails and onto his hair and worryingly close to the fresh, open wounds he’d sustained while fighting.

Cassian had fought an Illyrian, broader and older than him and one that would have been stronger too if Cassian hadn’t been desperate. Cassian had pounded him into the ground, knuckles connecting harshly with bone, until the male had acquiesced, giving up the three gold coins Cassian wanted.

He’d sloped off to the tavern after his win, to bathe his body and tend his wounds in one of their boarding rooms. He wanted a decent night’s sleep someplace clean and comfortable and, if he’d had any coin left over, a hot meal.

The Illyrian’s in the tavern were either already in their own boarding rooms for the night, passed out in front of the drinking room fire or still drinking in darkened corners. If they saw Cassian, they paid him no mind, he was a tall thing with growing muscles but still on the wrong side of scrawny.

The only fae that looked at him was the female behind the bar.

She looked to be his age but where his skin was dark, hers was fair and where his was a mottled collection of yellow and black bruises hers was as smooth as cream. She had a mass of red hair which tumbled past her shoulders.

“What will this get me?” he asked and placed the coins on the counter.

She’d told him about a small room at the back he could take and the rest would pay for some slices of mutton. And that was all, she stressed, nothing else.

Cassian merely grunted at her, too tired and hungry to care about anything else that she may have implied.

They must have been used to Illyrian guests as their smallest lodging was still room enough for him and his wings. The bed took up most of the space and a narrow window gave him a view of the courtyard he didn’t care to see. When the food was ready the same red-haired fae brought it up to him and told him she would collect the plate in an hour.

Cassian tore into the meat and bread like a starved animal and when she came back to collect the plate as promised he nodded his thanks and carried on with his task. She’d paused by the door, hesitating.

His leathers and shirt were off and he sat, bare chested on the bed wrapping gauze around his middle with inexperienced hands, cursing when it slipped away.

“Here,” she said, “let me help.”

Her fingers were soft. It had been so long since he’d been touched by a female in any kind of manner. When he was a boy he longed for the touch of a mother but he was no longer a boy and a mother’s touch wasn’t on his mind anymore.

Her fingertips dipped and tucked around his skin, wrapping and folding the gauze so it held firm. All throughout she kept glancing from her task to see him watching her.

“You’re handsome,” she told him, “it’s in a rough way but you have a gentleness in your eyes.”

Cassian closed his eyes as her fingertips traced down his belly and lower and he shuddered when they dipped inside his leathers. Her lips placed a gentle kiss to the bruise on his cheekbone and then used her free hand to turn his face to hers.

Their kisses were slow, unpractised and wet. Their tongues sliding over each other until somehow, she was on her back on his small bed and he was nestled on top of her. When she guided his hand up her skirts and in between her thighs he discovered something else wet and his body hummed.

He didn’t make love to her but it wasn’t fucking either.

He was unskilled but made up for it with enthusiasm and he watched as the moonlit danced across her bare skin, highlighting the splattering of freckles across her shoulders and chest.

Cassian slept like the dead that night never knowing whether he’d passed out before she left or if she’d crept away in the night. Either way, in the morning she was gone and he was alone.

Despite the fact that he’d taken his pleasure but hadn’t managed to give her hers, she’d placed extra gauze on the wooden table by the bed along with a parcel of food, carefully wrapped up for him to take away.

She’d never asked for his name and hadn’t given hers either.

The continued laughing of the couple brought Cassian back to the café. That red-haired fae from the tavern would now be centuries old, like him, if she were still alive. The town that she lived in had grown to the size of a small city.

Whether the tavern still existed, Cassian didn’t know. Whether she was alive, Cassian wouldn’t know.

He was a nobody back then but it was no surprise that the red-haired fae in this café knew who he was.

Most, if not all, of the city knew who he was. Predominantly he was the esteemed General who had protected and fought for Velaris for centuries and a member of the Inner Circle, one of their High Lord’s most trusted confidantes.

The other facet of his reputation, and likely what the serving fae was interested in, wasn’t so much his prowess in battle as it was in bed. Cassian, and every female since the first, had one Illyrian female to thank for that.

Elvira.

By the time he’d met her he’d grown into a warrior of some esteem. Still a foot soldier and placed in the lowest ranks where Rhys’ father wanted him but the previous High Lord of Night couldn’t crush Cassian’s desire to succeed nor his natural talent at doing so.

He was broader by this point, the burgeoning muscles now in full growth and he ambled into camp with his war wounds now badges of pride.

Cassian was a long way off his nickname of Lord of Bloodshed but whispers spread amongst the camps of an Illyrian warrior, not even a century old, who was feared and revered in equal measure.

His success fed him even if Rhys’ father, nervous at the suggestion that Cassian was the reincarnation of the Illyrian’s first warrior, tried to starve him from his accomplishments.

Elvira had been in that camp, wings clipped and eyes hard. An immediate attraction existed between them and Cassian wanted her.

Luckily, she also wanted him.

After their first time, laying on the camp bed in his tent, he was cocky. You’re blessed, he told her, you’re in the bed of the best Illyrian. Her scoff followed by the comment about him not being the best Illyrian in bed wounded his pride.

He didn’t lick his wounds for long. Elvira was keen to teach and Cassian keen to learn and he liked to prove a quick study.

Cassian learnt the only way he could learn; through trial and error but with not much room for error. Soon he had it so Elvira panted desperately for her release, her fingers slipping on his skin for grip. Then, when they lay on the camp bed, their bodies coated in their mingled sweat, Elvira had no breath for comments.

Elvira didn’t do gentle and she never considered their acts as making love. Neither did Cassian. They were lessons in the art of fucking.

But some lessons were the hardest to learn.

Much like him, she was filled with rage and it exploded in a temper that was as hot as it was quick. Often their arguments were deliberate just so Cassian could fuck her anger out of her but when together they were flame and neither carried enough sweetness for the other to make their time anything close to joyful.

In the end they both fucked others and neither cared. As quickly as they came together, they fell apart and she drifted away to another camp.

Elvira was dead now. A name on a long list of Illyrians who perished in war. There had been so many that Cassian couldn’t remember which one it was.

Cassian let out a quiet sigh. His drink was now cloying, tasting too sweet against the bitter memories and he fought the temptation to have something stronger.

He had numerous encounters over the centuries and not all as sad as Elvira. In the sands of time, he’d had lovers who’d lasted hours and lovers who’d lasted months. There were those he left and those where they left each other.

Sometimes he wasn’t willing to let go first, they were rare, but they happened.

Mor came to mind. The difference was that he’d pocketed her away in a corner of his heart, one that held Az, Rhys and Feyre and even Amren - when he was feeling gracious.

Mor was the only lover who became a friend.

The night they spent together she was at her most beautiful. The bravado she would later have and that he would love was still developing. She lay back on his bed, the flames crackling outside his tent and her golden hair fanned across his pillow, a pale blush bloomed on her creamy skin.

Cassian was a means to an end that night but in truth, so was Mor. They became a tool for each other’s temporary destruction but then they became a tool for each other’s re-birth. He would always love Mor and she him.

There was only one other female from his past that he could say he adored for a time.

High fae were visiting Velaris from Dawn and she was one of the nobles, invited to the House of Wind as a special courtesy. She dressed in soft sunrise pinks and oranges, her hair a soft golden-brown caramel and she had sharp grey eyes.

Her appearance was gentle but she had her own mind and would speak it, although her opinions, even the forthright ones, were always tempered with kindness.

Cassian was older, sharper, more rough-hewn than before. He felt battle scarred and weary on a daily basis but at that moment he was amongst friends, drinking wine that tinted their lips ruby red and throwing back their heads in boisterous laughter.

The reason behind the Dawn Court’s political visit was long forgotten but Cassian would always remember her.

She strode over to him, her beautiful face with cheekbones sharper than any blade but holding a tender smile.

“My name,” she told him, “is Lyla. Yours?”

He’d introduced himself and, like the gentleman he wasn’t, kissed her palm.

“I’d like a drink Cassian and a tour of the balcony if you would.”

His grin was borderline feral.

Lyla smelt like jasmine and roses and every chance Cassian had he pressed his nose into her skin, inhaling as deep as he could to capture it into his lungs forever. That night he showed her the Night Court stars and the next, his scars.

Every night after was spent in his bed.

When the Dawn Court left to continue their tour, Lyla stayed behind for almost a year.

Mor teased Cassian relentlessly. “Is she yours?” she jested. “Is this it for our beloved Cassian? Lost forever in the endless drudgery of matehood?”

He’d laughed it off but secretly hoped it was.

He’d sometimes dream of a figure and the image that passed through his mind was always one with golden-brown hair and grey eyes. In his dreams he always tried to reach her, this female who was permanently one step away. Every time he got close, she seemed to slip down a corridor of a labyrinth she’d built up around her.

At times he would get close enough to touch the strands of her hair and as she turned a corner, he would glimpse a striking cheekbone and chilling glare.

On waking he would reach for Lyla, warm and supple in the bed next to him. “You were running from me again,” he murmured and placed hot kisses down her throat.

“I would never,” she gasped as he drew closer, unlacing the front of her nightgown and bearing her breasts.

“Hmm, but you did,” and a nipple would disappear into his wet mouth as he slid warm fingers up her thigh. She squirmed delightfully and the sun would break over Night, filling the room.

“And you glared at me,” he would continue as his mouth travelled down her body as he lifted the nightgown up. Cassian would nuzzle his face at the juncture between her legs, and languidly lick her as though he were eating cream from a spoon.

“Oh, I would never.”

Cassian waited for the mate bond to snap but it never did. After another half year had passed, he realised that he didn’t want it to.

Lyla was too good for him.

He licked honey from her body and couldn’t distinguish whether the sweetness was that or her skin. Her hands, smooth as butter, caressed his, snagging on the coarseness of his palms. She would talk about her friends and family, eyes drifting to the windows in longing while patiently spending all her time with his.

Cassian watched as Lyla pined for home.

“Perhaps,” she’d asked him, “Dawn would be a home for you too?”

It would never be and they both knew it. Cassian also understood that while it wasn’t love for him, it was for her. Maybe it could have grown in time but he wondered if it was fair for to Lyla to wait while Cassian forced it to root.

It could be years, Cassian told himself. Or decades. Centuries even. Time is nothing when you are immortal.

Eventually the sweetness would have turned to sorrow while Lyla waited for something that may never happen and that’s why Cassian told her to go. No, it wasn’t love but it still hurt.

Years later, possibly a hundred of them, he was on a visit to Dawn and enquired about her. Thesan had surprised him by making arrangements and there she was, visiting his guest suite one afternoon as beautiful as ever.

She had mated to a Peregryn. She’d smiled at Cassian, her familiar happy smile and said, “I’ve always liked winged males.”

Cassian’s hug lifted her from the ground and no more was to be said.

Cassian’s reverie was broken by the chime of the door as more and more fae rushed in. The sky outside had now darkened to charcoal and the rain was showing no sign of slowing. Inside the café, the fae lights lit up and flickered around the trailing ivy draped across the walls.

Another couple had entered and chose to sit in the alcove to Cassian’s left, pressed as close as could be decent in public. Cassian observed them for a second and felt his lips twitch into a smile. The years had turned him into a sap.

There had been too many females to count; multiple hair colours, eye colours and skin tones. A variety of accents and scents.

Then her but before her, during the time in which they sized each other up like dogs of war, there was another.

Cassian rubbed his hand over his face. That year held a long, cold winter and an unrelenting hot summer. Both were filled with anger and vile words. It was no wonder Cassian sought comfort in the arms of someone who wanted to comfort him.

He’d been simultaneously dealing with the discontent within the camps that grew from rebellion into civil war and a personal, much smaller scale rebellion at the request of his High Lord and Lady. Nursing a wounded ego, wounded wrist and what appeared to be a wounded heart he fled back to Velaris to find solace in the drinks at Rita’s.

A beautiful blonde had approached him. She recognised him, had knowledge of his reputation and knew what she wanted. It suited him just fine.

He’d fucked her against his bedroom wall in the House of Wind. He’d fucked her on his bed, against the silk sheets that were luxury in comparison to the rough blankets in his Illyrian cabin. He fucked her from behind and she rode him until her knees gave out. Cassian made sure it lasted the entire night and the next morning her voice was hoarse.

It made him feel better. For a moment.

Cassian hadn’t bothered washing the fae’s scent from him when he flew back to the cabin. It was a vindicative move but felt like a victory when he saw the reaction it had.

Was it worth it? It didn’t matter now. It had been so long ago, half a century - perhaps more.

That blonde, the one whose name he couldn’t remember because ultimately it was never of significance, was the last female who would grace his bed before the one who mattered did.

That female, he’d said once, was the last female I fucked before the last female I would ever fuck. Cassian grinned at that memory and the subsequent reaction from the other fae in the conversation.

You coarse bastard – you refer to what we do in our bedroom as fucking? I’m your mate. Give it a more respectful name. Her eyes had narrowed and her glare was ice, her posture rigid.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Cassian nodded “whatever you say.” He decided to not mention how, on the morning of that conversation, when they were performing the very act that apparently required some reverential anointment, she had begged him to ‘fuck her harder.’

The current colour of the sky reminded him of her, mainly of the dresses she wore; deep grey embroidered with silver thread, but also of her eyes. Those blue-grey eyes would change shade dependent on her mood. Blue when contented and grey went irritated.

Whether it was magic or a trick of the light Cassian didn’t know but they were often bluer than grey most days.

A crack of lighting and rumble of thunder turned into shrieks as fae ran from the bridge to get out of the storm. All the while Cassian sat at his table in front of the window watching,

He once lied that he wasn’t concerned about who she lost her virginity too, he’d taken the virginity of many but there had been a time when he thought he would be involved in hers too. There was a sadness in that train of thought, that he hadn’t been the one to give her an experience worthy of who she was.

Their first time together was filled with resentment and anger so it was the other times that held more meaning. He remembered when they were on the mountain and the rain drops shone in her hair like jewels. He was overwhelmingly consumed with love for her.

There was time after time where they fell into each other, desperate for the feel of each other’s skin that they shredded through clothes. There had been the soft times where he pressed his mouth against hers, looking into her eyes while their bodies joined.

There had been that very morning and the night before. And the night before that one. She was hungry for everything these days and he grinned at the thought.

On the bridge a group of fae scattered, not to escape the weather but to make way for someone approaching. It wasn’t that they moved out of fear although she did still carry a certain reputation, but an element of her presence commanded respect.

Cassian’s grin turned into a chuckle as she moved nearer. She was using her magic as a barrier against the rain and instead of it hitting her, it lashed out at anyone too near. Despite this, the bottom of her dress was soaked and she wore a scowl on her face only Cassian found charming.

He waved the red-haired fae over and her face lit up until she realised who was heading their way.

“A bowl of your best stew please,” he gestured towards the window, “she hungry.” He paused, “And grumpy.”

Colour leeched from the fae’s face and she rushed off quicker than he’d ever seen anyone move. The door chimed again to announce its newest arrival.

Nesta. His Nesta. The only female he would ever lay beside again, the only female he would want to lay beside again.

He stood to greet her and she glided over to him, an act which was getting more difficult for her each day. “This weather,” she bit out, “ridiculous. It makes everyone ridiculous.”

He cupped her cold face in his palms and leant forward, kissing her forehead. When he pulled away, she gave a little sigh.

His ever so slightly mellowing Nesta.

He got her settled and the serving fae placed a bowl in front of her before making a hasty retreat. “Thank goodness,” Nesta said, “I’m starving.”

Cassian was content to watch as she picked up her spoon and tucked in. Loose strands of hair framed her face and there was the hint of some freckles on her nose, remnants from the summer when she went to visit Elain.

He would be content to watch her forever.

Reaching out with a hand, he pressed his open palm against her growing stomach. Nesta didn’t break stride, one hand spooning stew into her mouth while the other came to rest on his, their fingers curling together.

Cassian knew when they’d conceived.

It had been one of their visits to Illyria, Cassian for routine training and inspection and Nesta to get some space.

It had happened on the third day.

Nothing unusual had occurred, just simple domesticity in the cabin they shared. Nesta looked so lovely by the fire, her hair loose around her shoulders while she read. A thick blanket was tucked around her and her entire pose indicated nothing but pure relaxation aside from when she occasionally quirked an eyebrow.

That, and the dusky blush on her cheeks, was how Cassian recognised she was reading on of her erotic stories.

He’d placed an open-mouthed kiss on her shoulder. Nesta smelt like the smoke from the fire but tasted as fresh as mint. The little gasps she made as he continued down her body gave him all the encouragement he needed and she buried her fingers in his hair, the book falling with a thud.

Whatever the characters in her story were doing, Cassian could do better.

Soon it was nothing but their naked bodies pressed against each other, sweat coated skin slipping against skin. The firelight danced around them, shadows highlighting the curves of Nesta’s body as she writhed beneath him.

He was on her, in her, around her. His winged body taking up space on the rug. Nesta, his proper Nesta, who stood spine straight and unsmiling in public had sucked his thumb into her mouth, tongue flickering against his flesh, her pupils so large her eyes were black.

Cassian fucked her so hard that when her release came, she arched her back wide off the ground. He’d grabbed her thighs and hoisted her upwards, opening her up further so he could drive in deeper.

Afterwards they lay in front of the glowing embers, sweat cooling and he kissed her breathless because he never wanted to not be kissing her.

The rest of their time in Illyria was filled with duties that took Cassian away and it was a few days after their return to Velaris that he noticed a change in them both. A slight alteration of her scent and a distinct primal urge within him to tear apart any male who looked at her.

Cassian felt their baby shift underneath his palm, moving around for space, maybe even stretching its developing wings.

Nesta made a contented noise, food devoured. She rested her other hand against her stomach and leant back in her chair, looking out the window. “I’m surprised you didn’t want to sit further into the café, the alcove looks cosy.”

“I like watching the city.”

Nesta squeezed his fingers as the baby shifted particularly firmly. She sighed and Cassian saw her look out towards the bridge. “There’s not much to see in this spot.”

“I don’t mind,” Cassian said. “All this time, I was waiting for you.”

#nessian #nesta archeron #nesta #cassian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron x cassian #cassian x original characters #fanfiction #nessian fanfiction #nessian fan fic #nessian fanfic #i wrote something #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosaf #acosf #sunday fic post

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angstyaches · 3 years ago

Note

could you please give me a physical description of your StW characters for fanart porouses (i would use the picrews but i would end up just copying it)

Certainly!! I wasn't sure what should be included, so if I forgot about anything or you have any follow-up questions, please let me know.

___

Shayne has a round-ish shaped face and nose, though his cheekbones are often a bit too pronounced. His eyes are very dark brown, almost black, and he always looks tired and pale. His hair is black and somewhat curly, usually cut to just above his ears and the nape of his neck, except for some longer bits at the front that he uses to cover some of his forehead. His typical outfit is a black or white t-shirt under his leather jacket, skinny dark jeans, and his black Docs.

Charlie has a slightly wider set face and a very nice, sharp jawline. His nose is a little more angular, too. He keeps one side of his hair shaved pretty closely, and lets it grow long on one side, so that it sort of flops, but he usually uses gel to keep it up from his face. His eyes are deep blue, and his hair is a slightly dirty blonde. He usually wears some combination of a graphic tee, a brightly-coloured hoodie (usually one of the primary colours), and a denim jacket with his pride pin attached. He wears straight-cut jeans or tracksuit pants, and usually his blue or white Converse.

Rin has a heart-shaped face and pale, freckled skin. Her hair is deep red (off the top of my head, kind of like Lindsay Lohan's in Mean Girls) and a bit longer than shoulder-length when loose, but she usually ties it in pigtails or space buns, and has side bangs that just reach her eyebrows. Her eyes are blue, but paler than Charlie's, and she wears wide-rimmed burgundy glasses. She likes to mix-and-match hyper feminine clothes with fishnets.

Elliott also has a Very Nice strong jawline, and usually grows a very short beard (barely-overgrown stubble length, if that makes sense). His hair is deep brown, thick, and silky, with a slight wave to it; in my headcanons, it's anywhere from shoulder-length to the small of his back, so you can imagine it to your own preference! He usually wears it in a ponytail, with curtain bangs on either side of his forehead. He has dark skin and his eyes are amber yellow. He has dimples in his cheeks that become more pronounced with he smiles. He usually wears shirts (dark tones of purple or green or navy), suspenders, and corduroy pants with brogue style shoes.

Felix has a narrower face, and a light sprinkling of freckles across his nose. His hair is kind of thin and stringy, and it's cut to just above his shoulders. His natural hair colour is strawberry blonde, but he dyes it a mint/teal colour and typically ties it in two low ponytails, leaving some long bangs on one side. His eyes are so yellow, but are paler in colour than Elliott's. His style of clothing varies a lot, but he likes to wear layers, especially his khaki jacket with the furry hood.

Kazuhito has a round-ish face and a bowl-cut hairstyle, with a thin streak of white hair cutting through the black. His eyes are chocolate brown and his skin is a little tanned from spending time in the sun. His typical fashion choices include vintage pieces and fuzzy textures, though he's also partial to oversized hoodies while he's skateboarding.

Ryan has pronounced cheekbones and pointed features. Her eyes are amber yellow too, but veer closer to orange when she's well-fed. Her hair is starkly white, cut to a wavy shoulder-length bob and a blunt fringe, while her eyebrows are black by contrast. She has heavy eyelids. Her outfits usually consist of a white button-up shirt or blouse with ruffles or a bow tie, along with white or beige slacks. Maybe a white blazer too, if she's feeling particularly formal.

Nancy has an olive skin tone and tumbling brown hair that reaches the small of her back. She usually wears a high ponytail, with a white bow either holding the hair in place or just on a hairband or hair clip. She has soft cheeks and rounded features in general, including particularly round-shaped eyes. She has creases around and beneath her eyes. Her irises are a shimmering shade of purple. She likes to wear soft textures and lace, usually in subdued tones of pink and beige.

#StW Shayne #StW Charlie #StW Rin #StW Elliott #StW Felix #StW Ryan #StW Nancy #OC stuff #ask #my OCs

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beewitch4 · 4 years ago

Photo

[Image description: A 3 by 2 chart with “give me six characters to make fanart of!” written above it and “#SixFanarts” written below it. There is a simple digital drawing of a character in each box of the chart, with their names written underneath them. In order, they are: Wirt from Over The Garden Wall, with the drawing cutting off below the waist. He is a teenage boy with pale skin and short, straight light brown hair. He is wearing a dark blue cloak, a white shirt, grey pants and a red cone on his head. He has shrugged shoulders, his hands clasped together over his chest, a frown on his face, and he is looking over his shoulder nervously. The background is solid orange, with four leaves flying past him. Tulip from Infinity Train, with the drawing cutting off at the waist. She is a teenage girl with very pale skin and long straight orange hair, which is tied back in a ponytail and a yellow hair clip. She is wearing glasses, a big dark green hoodie with brown patches on the elbows, and a pale brown backpack. She has her left hand in her hoodie pocket and is looking at her right hand, which is casting a pale green glow on her face. She is squinting, frowning, and raising an eyebrow at her hand with a suspicious expression. The background is solid dark purple. Spongebob from The Spongebob Musical, with the drawing cutting off just below the knees. He has pale skin, short straight orange-yellow hair, blue eyes, three freckles on each cheek, and a gap between his front teeth. He is wearing a pale-ish yellow polo shirt with cuffed sleeves, a bright red tie, very pale blue suspenders and brown checkered pants. He is posing with his arms up in a flex and his legs apart, sort of like a superhero, and smiling, looking to the left. The background is solid blue-ish green, with some darker green shapes of kelp and two fish in the background. Anne Boleyn from Six The Musical, with the drawing cutting off below the waist. She is a young woman with pale skin, long straight black hair and brown eyes. Her hair is styled with two buns on the top of her head and the rest of her hair out, and she has green eye shadow, pink blush and red lipstick. She is wearing a crop top that covers her neck and has a glittery “B” necklace. The crop top is green with thick black stripes and sleeves that ruffle and stick out, and sliver studs on the black stripes. She’s wearing a skirt that stops just above her knees with a microphone holster that is identical to the crop top in style without the silver studs. There is a microphone in the microphone holster. She also has black slide on pieces of clothing on her forearms with silver studs on the part closest to the wrist. (I am so sorry if you only have this to go off of for Anne’s appearance. The clothes in Six are really unconventional and difficult to describe. If someone could tell me a better way to describe her, please let me know.) She is leaning against the side of the box, and seemingly talking to someone to the right with a smile on her face. The background is solid bright purple. Martin from The Magnus Archives, with the drawing cutting off below the waist. He is a man who has pale skin with freckles, brown-ish loose curly orange hair, and green eyes. He is wearing a light blue sweater, a paler blue dress shirt underneath and grey pants. He is holding a mug with steam coming out of it in his right hand and holding his left hand to his chest. He is looking worriedly to the left with bags under his eyes and seemingly talking to someone with a frown on his face. The background is a solid bright green. Carlos from Welcome To Night Vale, with the drawing cutting off below the waist. He is a man who has medium dark skin, curly black hair, and light brown eyes. He is wearing a red plaid button up shirt, blue jeans, and a white lab coat. He is holding a cellphone in his left hand, and whispering into it, with his right hand covering the side of his face to cover the sound. He is looking nervously to the right, where there are lines drawn to indicate that sound is coming from that direction. The background is solid purple-ish magenta. Image description ends.]

I know that this trend was over a LONG time ago, but I drew this awhile ago and I totally forgot that I could post it on here. 😅

#sixfanarts #fanart #my art #over the garden wall #otgw #wirt #infinity train #tulip olsen #the spongebob musical #spongebob squarepants #six the musical #anne boleyn #the magnus archives #tma #martin blackwood #welcome to night vale #wtnv #carlos the scientist

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coupsyboopsy · 7 years ago

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Question Tag

I was tagged by @smilingvernon

1. Are you named after someone?

Kind of. My grandmother’s name is Christine, but my mom didn’t want to go with Christine. My bio dad’s name is Kristopher (with the K, yes) and my mom always liked K names. So she got Kristina from them both, but mostly my grandmother :)

2. When is the last time you cried?

Uhh.... Tuesday? I was a bad day and I cried a lot that day. But the last time was because of the wonderful series finale of Parks and Rec. Something about Leslie’s speech of doing work that’s worth doing gets me going and I think about my future and America and the history of America as a nation.

If you get my lame attempt at a reference there, I am marrying you.

3. Do you like your handwriting?

I guess? Sometimes I do? I don’t know.

4. What is your favorite lunch meat?

I love roast beef omg.

5. If you were another person, would you be friends with you?

The me that I am now, yes. A few years ago me, hell no. I like who I am now.

6. Do you use sarcasm?

I was brought up with sarcasm and passive aggression. I chose to cultivate the less of two evils. Sarcasm and I are old friends. We go way back.

7. Do you have your tonsils?

NOPE! They actually caused me a lot of problems as a kid with my ears, so I had them removed when I was five.

8. Would you bungee jump?

H E L L NO. I don’t have a fear of heights. I have a fear of falling. I love roller coasters, oddly enough, but I feel safe in those because I’m strapped in.

9. What is your favorite kind of cereal?

Dennis’ voice: I like Lucky Charms

10. Do you untie your shoes when you take off your shoes?

I never really untie them to put them on unless it’s absolutely neccessary and after 10 minutes of struggling. Or it’s my hightops.

11. Do you think you’re a strong person?

Physically: enough to hold my toddler brothers for a little while Mentally/emotionally: Maybe? I’ve overcome a lot but I don’t think I’m that strong. People have told me I am but I don’t know.

12. What is your favorite ice cream flavor?

Something fruity or chocolate. Or both.

13. What is the first thing you notice about people?

My smile, my eyes, or my freckles

14. Red or pink?

Depends. Usually I’m a mix of both. Except lipstick. Give me all the shades of red lipstick

15. What is the least favorite physical thing you like about yourself?

I don’t care about my size so much as I hate my back. I’m a fatty (I use that affectionately) but I really hate my back. If I could have a flatter back, I wouldn’t care as much about my size in general

16. What color pants and shoes are you wearing now?

Blue jeans and no shoes.

17. What was the last thing you ate?

A biscuit

18. What are you listening to right now?

Not much. The AC at work, whatever tf is going on in the basketball courts upstairs, my supervisor shuffling papers around and complaing to herself about her sneezing and the work she’s doing.

19. If you were a crayon, what color would you be?

Cerelian Blue—it’s a really relaxing color

20. Favorite smell?

Rain, fresh cut grass (even if it makes me sneeze), cucumbers, and the tops of babies heads (it’s what I imagine innocence and love would smell like)

21. Who was the last person you spoke to on the phone?

My mom

22. Favorite sport to watch?

My brother playing basketball ; uu ;

23. Hair color?

It’s a weird ombre of light and dark brown that doesn’t look as bad as roots and faded hair color usually does.

24. Eye color?

A chocolatey hazel brown

25. Do you wear contacts?

26. Favorite food to eat?

LMAO KAYLA SAID GOLDFISH CRACKERS I EFFIN’ LOVE HER OKAY

I really food in general. I don’t really have a favorite food as I do favorite places for different foods.

27. Scary movie or comedy?

Comedy. I will literally cry if I watch a scary movie.

28. last movie you watched?

Probably Mean Girls tbh

29. What color of shirt are you wearing?

A light, Easter-y blue with black lace ruffles and a black cover over it (that’s actually attached to the shirt)

30. Summer or winter

Winter—because you can bundle up to get warm. In summer, you’re hot, and you strip down to nothing, and you’re still hot.

31. Hugs or kisses

GIVE. ME. BOTH. But hugs are more appropriate so. BUT IF YOU LET ME KISS YOUR CHEEK AND THE TOPS OF YOUR HEAD AND YOUR HANDS, YOU’LL HAVE AN ENDLESS SUPPLY OF LOVE FROM ME THERE TOO.

32.What book are you currently reading?

I finally got a copy of the literary magazine from this past year at my school. Does that count? If not, then The Casual Vacancy by J.K. Rowling.

33. Who do you miss right now?

My bestie ; nn ; I’ll see her next week And my brothers ; nn ; I’ll see all three next week too

34. What is on your mouse pad?

My work one is purple. The one I use at home from time to time is fan merch from my SHINee days with a fanart of long hair!Minho.

We don’t talk about my Minho days.

35. What is the last program you watched?

PARKS AND RECREATION. I CAN ALMOST GUARANTEE YOU THIS WILL ALWAYS BE ANSWERED WITH PARKS AND REC.

36. What is the best sound?

My little brothers laughing.

37. Rolling Stones or the Beatles?

I mean, I don’t like bugs and rocks are boring. :’)

I like them both.

38. What is the furthest you have ever traveled?

Niagra Falls and Cozumel, Mexico. Idk which is farther? Probably Mexico?

39.Do you have a special talent?

Is writing a special talent?

40. Where were you born

In a hospital bed. :’)

North Carolina, born and bred.

Tagging: @mans-ayyye and @supersuperroa (I know Kayla already got you lovelies), @velvethoseok @leedonghate @scoup-d-etat @meraki--kid @cheolshu @rellyuta and anyone else who wants to (tag me in it. I wanna see)

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cocoarosalia · 8 years ago

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Speed Demon (Motorcycle AU/Ladynoir

So this pic was inspired by these two pinterest links

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/346495765067158677/

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/527906387548076579/

And If anyone can link me to the artist for the fanart I’d so greatly appreciate it

It was such a stupid fucking purchase. That was the LAST and FINAL time she was ever gonna get drunk with Alya ever again. Last time it was a pomeranian and husky mix (Now named tikki)

“O.M.G Mari look at this fucking dog it’s so cuuuuuuute” Alya squealed, words basically vomiting out of her mouth

“Holy fuck that dog is so cute, I think i’m gonna die” Mari responded, leaning on a pillar to keep herself upright

Alya grabbed her by the shoulders with pure determination dancing in her eyes “Dude, let’s. Take. This. Dog. Home”

Mari blinked slowly, not catching up to Alya’s request “But, who’s gonna take care of it?”

“What are you, stupid? You should, duh! You’re always at home alone, whining about how you’re not getting any of that Agreste dick. The fastest way to man’s heart is with a puppy.”

It took a moment for all the words to reach her brain. But unfortunately (or fortunately depending on how you look at it), all it took was for her to hear the words “Agreste”, “Dick”, and “Puppy” for her to slam down 20 dollars onto the counter and parade down the street, Pomsky in hand, belting out the Lion King theme song.

‘And now it’s THIS fuckery’ she fumed

Marinette took a long hard look at her most recent drunk purchase and groaned. It was a Kawasaki Ninja ZX motorcycle. 998cc, liquid-cooled engine, a fuel engine of 4 50mm throttle bodies with dual injection and the sexiest red underglow you ever did see.

Marinette groaned louder “Tiiiiikiiii,” she picked up her baby and stared at her pitifully in the eyes “I’m in love with this fucking motorcycle”

Her phone suddenly buzzed and she glared at it with the fierceness of 1000 suns

“Heeey my favorite bestie in the whole world who is just so wonderful and beautiful and-”

“Alya, I still have a fucking motorcycle sitting in my apartment’s parking lot. AND I’M STILL 700 DOLLARS IN THE SHITTER”

She could hear her wince from the other side of the phone “I know, I know I’m sorry. I promise to go halfsies with you on it.”

“Extremely not the point but appreciated regardless, what do you want”

“Oh yeah that’s right. Um, me and Nino were gonna get coffee over at this cafe near the tower and he was bringing Adrien along which automatically means you’re coming too!”

“Alya, I can’t walk there! It’d take me forever!”

“Oh my god, you’re right. Hmmm...well, those motorcycle lessons you took in university had to come in handy at some point!”

“Wait, what?”

“It’s at Carette on 4 Place du Trocadéro et du 11 Novembre. You have 30 minutes. Bring my tiki baby. Kisses!”

“Alya don’t you dare hang up this fucking phone-”

*click*

“....She really did hang up this fucking phone”

Marinette ran her hand through her hair.

“Wanna go for a ride tikki?”

Ok, so despite the hefty price tag. And despite the fact that thing clearly is not made for everyday use. AND DESPITE the fact that she got this thing drunk off her ass…

Marinette did honestly adore this bike

The wind whipping against her leather jacket, the adrenaline pumping speeds this bike was giving her something she hadn’t felt in a long time…

Freedom

She arrived at the cafe about 3 minutes late to varying reactions

Alya looked smugly impressed that she actually brought the bike

Nino was shocked that she could even RIDE the bike

And Adrien...she couldn’t really tell

The entire time she spent parking, taking tikki out of her jacket, and locking up the bike he just stared at her with this indistinguishable look on his face. It put her completely on edge so she made extra sure to watch her every move.

Nino whistled low as he stared lovingly at her ride “I never knew you were into motorcycles, Mari”

“Well typically I’m not. But, alcohol mixed with fast and furious movies can make a person do odd things” She put extra emphasis on the last part as she glared Alya down

“In my defense...it makes your ass look fantastic”

Adrien almost choked on his latte as his face turned scarlet red

“I-in other news that isn’t this!” Marinette stuttered, desperate to change the subject “Adrien, how’s life going now that you’ve moved out of the family mansion?”

“Hm? O-oh! They’re going fine. I still have the whole ‘Agreste Legacy’ looming over my head so I have to be mindful of what I do, but, I’ve been trying to do more ‘rebellious’ stuff to balance it out”

Marinette quirked an eyebrow in genuine curiosity “Rebellious stuff like…”

His face calmed down to much more of a goofy and bashful pink “Well, I had my first burger last week. It was so good!”

Marinette broke out into a fit of giggles

Alya reached across the table and patted his cheek “Oh your poor, sweet summer child”

Nino patted his back “Dude, that’s so fucking pitiful”

“Hey! I’ve been on a strict diet since I was 13! Cut me some slack!”

Marinette took a bite of her sandwich “Soo, would you consider getting a bike”

“Oh so when I talk about the bike, I’m rude, but when you bring it up it’s fine”

Marinette kicked Alya in the ankle as she leaned in to hear his answer

Adrien swirled his latte around for moment “I wouldn’t be against it. I don’t have a clue what I’d do with it though.”

She hummed in agreement “I can see that. But, if it’s freedom you’re looking for a bike is about as free as you can get in all honesty”

They sat and chatted for awhile. Before they knew it the sun was low in sky and Tiki was starting to grow bored and antsy

“Bye bye my favorite little doggo!” Adrien cooed, petting her all over “Plagg will be so pissed at me when I get home but I’ll just slip some cheese in his catfood”

“Will you be ok riding home?” Alya asked, an expression of concern gracing her face

Marinette waved her hand in a passive gesture “Don’t worry about me; I know my way around this bike and the city. I’ll be fine”

Alya nodded in agreement “Alright Nino! it’s time to go home”

“Bye bye my favorite little bike-o” Nino cooed, feeling the smooth, cooling metal on his face “I know all the other bikes at the shop will be jealous but I’ll just give them the premium oil today”

“That’s enough of that” She declared, literally dragging him off the bike “Ok Mari, see you around!”

Marinette saw them off just as Adrien finished his mini cuddle session with Tiki. She started to feel nervous as she realized that they were actually alone together

“I do believe this is yours” He said handing over a decently satisfied pooch

“You spoil her far too much you know” she replied, fitting tiki comfortably in her jacket

“I could say the same to her. She’s my daily dose of affection which is more than what I can say for my own grumpy cat”

“Are you two still arguing?” She laughed

“I refuse to feed a cat only cheese! So he’s just gonna have to be ok with that”

Marinette giggled and watched some couples walk by. Adrien took a glance over at her and was surprised by just how pretty she truly was

He had always known that she was a pretty girl. He’d seen her at the occasional dance back in collège, or when they’d go down to the beach nowadays, but it was the oddest thing. Just being next to her, alone and staring out at the passersby, he finally got to see just how cute she really was.

Petite body, curvy where it counts, and soft all over, she’d be the best kind of cuddle buddy. Plus, it certainly helped that her face was easy on the eyes. Her light freckles gave that special kind of youth to her facial features and her lips were the cutest he’d ever seen.

But her eyes…

They were the kind you could easily get lost in. As blue as the sky, they were so captivating that it honestly baffled him sometimes. But as he stared, he could tell there was something hidden behind them. There was so much more to her. Something wild and unchecked. She hid it well behind that polite, well placed smile…

But he hoped that one day, she’d reveal it to him

“Welp, I think I’m gonna head out.” She said stretching out her limbs “Tiki’s getting sleepy now and she’s no fun cranky”

He shook away his rambling thoughts “Oh, ok that sounds good. Be safe on your way, ok? It starts getting dangerous at this time of night”

Marinette laughed mockingly “Hah! You think anyone’s gonna want to up against anything I’ve got?”

she flexed her well earned muscles to emphasize her point and Adrien’s blood ran straight to his face (among other areas)

“I wouldn’t mind going up against you. preferably against a wall and that bike being involved in some way, but I’d like to think i’m flexible”

He thought that the statement was only in his head…

“E-excuse me?!”

It wasn’t. It really wasn’t

Adrien’s eyes went to the size of the moon. He did not just openly admit to wanting to be pinned against a wall by his 5 foot 4 best friend, did he! But as she gawked at him, speechless at the fact that those words LITERALLY just came from his face, he quickly tried his best to come up with a cover story.

“I-i mean like a race o-or something. YEAH, I meant I’d like to go up against you in a race...with the starting line being...near a wall. Or not...I’m flexible?”

It was bad. SO terribly bad. But, she couldn’t bear to face the alternative option of talking that little slip up all the way through so she just mechanically nodded her head in agreement. He puffed out a sigh of relief.

He put a hand on her shoulder for support to lean in close and give tikki a good bye scritch. She caught a whiff of his cologne and she could feel her knees turning to jelly. It also didn’t help that his fingers so warm and soft on her neck. Electricity shot down her spine when his breath hit her collar bone.

‘Oh come on man this is a problem. A problem I’d love to explore one day. But for right now A VERY LARGE PROBLEM’

She clumsily shifted backwards to put more space in between them

“Welp, I’m gonna get started now.” She stated quicker than she meant to “Be safe getting home. yourcolognesmellsamazingyoushouldwearitmoreoftenbyeeeee” And before he could even respond she was already on her bike, racing down the road and weaving in and out of cars.

He watched the street she fled down for a while, a goofy, mixed look of joy and mortification plastered all over his face

“That bike really does make her ass look fantastic” He mumbled a lot quieter this time

He turned on his heels and started his walk home, scrolling through his phone at local bike shops

Marinette found herself planted firmly on the floor. It had been three days since she brought the bike to the cafe and she was still reeling from her personal time with Adrien.

“I wouldn’t mind going up against you. preferably against a wall and that bike being involved in some way, but I’d like to think i’m flexible”

Marinette screamed into the cottony void of her pillow. Who says stuff like that!? And more importantly, why didn’t she take him up on his offer!?!?

She peeked her eyes over the pillowy edge and up into the ceiling. She was so...pissed! Pissed at his stupid blonde hair that looked like a halo of pure gold. Pissed at his stupid, bright and playful smile that could cure depression if he wanted to.

But she was most pissed at his mystifying green eyes. How deep and entrancing they were. How they glittered when he talks about something new. How with just a look, he could get her to fall to her knees and...

She sat up straight on the floor and slammed her pillow down “ALRIGHT! I’m over this now, I want it to stop, and I know exactly how I’m gonna do that”

With the song “You don’t own me” by Grace blaring in her ears, she slipped into her sexiest pair of black jeans, red tank top, black leather jacket, black thigh boots and before rational thought could catch up to her she was flying down Rue Amelot, A ribbon of red light trailing behind her.

After a while, Marinette could genuinely say that she was feeling a little better. This whole “riding into the night” thing might become the norm for her if she could always feel this free.

As she rounded the the corner onto Boulevard Beaumarchais, she felt her stomach throwing a hissyfit of hunger. She noticed a convenience store on the side of the road and decided to make a quick pit stop.

Lucky for her another bike had just peeled off down the road. She pulled into the vacant spot, took off her red and black spotted helmet (It was cheap and cute), and made sure her bike was all locked up

‘Oook’ she mused to herself ‘I’m gonna get some chocolate...ok lots of chocolate, chips, some sodas aaand a treat or two for tiki, since I know she’ll be pissed I left without telling her’

Her thoughts were interrupted as she was roughly pushed out of the way. She fell to the ground, a little scuffed up, but ok otherwise.

“Sorry about that!” The voice called out. She turned her head to yell at the offender, but she could only see a running, manly figure dressed in all black and wearing a cat eared helmet. He pulled off into the street and was gone before she knew it.

“Christ, someone’s eager to get back to their pornhub” she fumed “Fucking prick”

She picked herself up, dusted off her pants, and collected her helmet “Oh well, there’s an asshole in every city. Now, back to horrible health decisions”

Two steps

She barely got two steps into the store before being hailed down by a woman in complete hysterics. She flung herself into Marinette’s arms, caked on makeup running down her face as she cried

“You have to help me! Please! You have to go after him!”

Marinette was at a pure loss, she looked over at the clerk who had an equally distressed look on his face “W-who are you talking about miss?”

The woman only wailed louder “That man! He stole my purse! Without it I can’t get back home! Please, you have to catch him”

The man that pushed her earlier came back to her mind. ‘Omg, a mugger ran right past me and I didn’t do shit about it’.

Her eyes flared up in pissivity the second time that night

‘Oh, that shit’s gonna change on THIS night’

She hadn’t planned on going on a high speed chase that night. Honestly, her plan was to ride around until 2 AM, get gas for the cycle, then go home and pig out till morn.

But, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned

She snatched up a protein bar and red bull (free of charge, due to her impending heroics), strapped on her helmet, and shot off into the night to find the man with a cat eared helmet.

Moments later she caught sight of him crossing over the street ahead of her.

She smirked in malicious delight

“Got you, fucker”

Using her foot as an anchor she pivoted herself until she was right behind him. She revved the engine hard and was steadily inching closer, wanting to cut him off at that pass.

This guy was no fool, however. The first chance he got the man turned down a smaller road to try and shake her off. She was going too fast to turn down the same path, but that hardly fazed her. She’s lived in this city her whole life and no one was gonna keep her from her goal.

She weaved her way down alleys and back roads till she found herself right behind him again, his electric green underglow shining in her face.

He tried it again but she was smarter this time around, predicting every move he made before he even had the chance to make it.

And Marinette had to admit, she was having fun! Adrenaline, passion-fueled fun! It was in no way legal, but you know...semantics.

They had been playing this cat and mouse game for a while, but it soon became a game of wits as the perpetrator turned down a road with no street lights. The spaces between the rooftops were filled wall to wall with tree branches, so any visibility from moonlight was shotty at best.

To make a complicated situation short…

Mari couldn’t see shit

‘It’s fine’ she reasoned ‘We both still have our lights on so I can still track him’

As if he had read her mind the green lights of his motorcycle cut to black

‘Oh you are an extra kind of asshole’

She had to pick up the pace now, move to slow and he’ll slip away into the darkness. She was so close now she could catch his scent wafting into her nose. She reached out her hand to grab him by the jacket and maybe yank him off…

But she hesitated with the oddest sense of Deja vu

‘That scent…’

The figure took her confusion as opportunity and slammed on his breaks, giving them instant distance. Marinette whipped herself around to face him but by the time she pulled herself all the way around, she was only faced with an empty road, cars lined along the street, and thick inky darkness.

She clicked her tongue in annoyance, he was clearly hiding because she could no longer hear the sound of an engine anywhere near by but that only made her search more difficult. She clicked on her headlights and silently rode along the street, her eyes trained intensely on anything that moved.

Something wasn’t right, however, she found his bike parked not too far from where she was, so he couldn’t have gotten too far. And yet, she couldn’t hear a thing besides the sound of her own humming engine.

Her eyes scanned the area meticulously. “Where are you hiding?”

The sound of fist hitting face cut through the air. Marinette looked toward the sound and found a portly man tumble out of an alley.

“You fucking creep!” He bellowed, wiping blood from his nose “Hand over that purse and I won’t break your fucking kneecaps”

‘Aha! Found you, ya jackass.’ She smirked ‘Don’t worry gramps, helps on the way’

Kicking it up the engine, she rushed to the scene of the scuffle, skidding her bike till it fit sideways into the alley, blocking everyone’s way out.

She came too late it seemed as the black figure was busying himself with punching the nightlights out of the man.

She hopped off and yanked the figure off the man, putting a great deal of distance between them.

“Jesus Christ are you ok? Can you hear me?” The old man was unresponsive. She checked for a pulse, it was fine but the man was clearly unconscious.

“Hey!” Marinette barked out, rising up slowly to face the man in the black mask “If you want a real fight I’ll take you on right now!”

The figure didn’t speak, he merely tilted his head in apparent confusion. She refused to even give him the chance to react as she rushed right up to him so she could plant her size 7 boot to his sternum.

His reflexes were impeccably sharp, however, as he brandished a titanium staff to block her blow.

She was knocked back a little but that only fueled her resolve. She ducked down low aimed for ankles. She figured she could trip him up but he stabbed the staff down between them causing her to freeze in her track to avoid a shattered shin.

She was starting to grow real irritated with this guy. Everytime she attempted to advance toward him he’d counter-attack by jabbing at her arms, chest and neck. She’d dodge each time but not by much.

‘He’s attempting to paralyze me’ she analyzed. She had to get that staff away from him and fast before he put her in a coma.

A crude but effectively brilliant idea came to mind. She took a few prep steps back and rushed him, raising her leg for a jump kick to the sternum.

He held out his staff to repel the hit.

‘Hah, dumbass’ she smirked from behind her helmet.

Marinette slipped underneath the baton in the man’s hands, twisting herself around until she was pressed back-to-chest with him. Grabbing on tight to the staff with both hands she thrust her head back, colliding their helmets together violently.

“Ah! Fuck that hurts!” The man donned in black cried as he stumbled backward, dropping the staff from his hands. Admittedly, her brain was pretty scrambled too, but she didn’t give him even a moment’s breath. Grabbing him by his jacket collar, she whipped him around and forced him onto a brick wall.

Marinette threw off her spotted helmet, wanting to be perfectly clear in every word she spoke.

“Hand over the purse” She warned

Even from behind the black void of his visor she could tell he was confused “Wait...huh?”

She pushed again “DON’T play stupid. Return that purse you stole and I may at minimum let you live”

“H-hold on Mari, this is a huge misunderstanding”

Her eyes widened in astonishment but she forced it down as she pressed herself tighter against him, keeping him trapped there.

“I don’t know how you know my name and quite frankly I don’t give a fuck. However, what I do know is that you have about 5 seconds to hand over what you stole before you become quite intimate with the fucking concrete.”

The man was in a panic. He put up his hands in surrender as if to show some type of peace.

“Marinette, I didn’t steal that purse! And I can prove it too.”

She was skeptical. There was no immediate reason for her to trust this guy, everything about him appeared exceptionally shady.

She narrowed her blue eyes. There was something to this guy. His voice and physique gave her another hit of deja vu. It didn’t help that again that familiar scent drifted to her nostril. Against her better judgement, she gave the guy the chance to plead his case.

Easing off of him just enough to show that she was offering him a chance the man breathed a sigh of relief. He reached behind his head and her hands were immediately at his throat.

“E-easy there tiger” He choked out “I’m just taking my helmet off”

She loosened her grip and again he reached his hands behind his head. Pressing a small paw print shaped button, his helmet expanded, releasing bouts of pressure from around his head.

“You see, dear Mari” He said with a light chuckle as he lifted the covering from his face “I couldn’t have taken that woman’s purse”

He opened up his eyes to stare deeply into hers

“Still got that whole ‘Agreste Legacy’ looming over me, you know?”

Bright, playful smile

Golden halo hair

And those stupidly mystifying green eyes

Forget the french language, comprehensible human sounds failed her.

He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed, as she stared incredulously at him

“Um...surprise?”

Reality finally caught back up to her as he face flared crimson “A-Adrien!? What are doing!? Why in gods name did you take that woman’s purse?”

Adrien groaned “Mari. I. DIDN’T. TAKE IT. I’m loaded remember?”

“So why did you push me at the store?” She stammered out “Why did you run?”

“I said sorry for the push.” He complained “Speaking of which, I don’t think you should concern yourself with other people’s internet search trends”

She couldn’t bear to look him in the face anymore as she stuffed her face in his jacket, unknowingly spreading a pink hue across his cheeks.

He cleared his throat “A-as for the running. I didn’t know who you were, figured you were one of that asshole’s cronies. I followed him as you followed me I suppose.”

She peeked up at him “Ok fine then. Why did you try and paralyze me”

“Well when you called me out I thought that it might’ve been you but I couldn’t be sure. The pressure point thing was to paralyze you enough to find out who you were.”

Marinette’s face slowly began to lose some of its red hue as she thought about the series of events.

But of course that didn’t settle the fact that she definitely just tried to beat the shit out of her long time crush. She stuffed her face into his chest again and groaned piteously

He had to have been thinking the same thought as her as he placed a warm and caring hand atop her head “You’re a great fighter by the way.” He laughed “You were right when you warned not to go up against you. You’re mighty scary when pissed”

That phrase hit her like a truck ‘not to go up against you’

She looked up at him though fluttering lashes, a flirting smile painted along her lips.

Those bluebell eyes pierced through him worse than any knife could. He averted his eyes and shifted his position in nervousness.

Bad idea, champ

He suddenly became painfully aware of Marinette’s position in relation to himself. Her curvaceous figure was pressed flush to his body, soft assets pushed firmly onto his broad chest.

But what was killing him most was the fact that Marinette’s knee was held firmly against his more...sensitive regions. Under any other circumstances he might be able to play it off casually, have a good laugh about it and move on. Problem was, he was still riding his adrenaline which was sending his libido through the metaphorical roof.

“Hey M-mari” he stammered “Do you mind easing off me just a tad? It’s um a little claustrophobic right now”

Marinette hummed in feigned thought “Now why would I ever do that? If I remember correctly you shouldn’t have a problem with this kind of thing, right?”

The gentle scent of strawberry from her shampoo eased its way into his nose. He swallowed hard “What makes you say that? I’m positive that a situation like this is a new one for me”

And then he saw it

That hidden look in her eyes that he’d been longing to see. It wasn’t some deep identity secret that she was trying to withhold. Oh it was something far more captivating. It was wild. It was pure seduction.

It was her true, free self

Her arms wrapped smoothly around his neck, pulling herself up to the shell of his ear. Without hesitation he wound his long arms possessively around her waist. It was so tiny and slim. She truly was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

“I think I remember a certain blonde wanting to ‘go up against me’. He preferred a wall and my bike being involved, but, I’d love to see how flexible he really is”

Cute. Did he say cute?

He meant sexy.

Like Adriana Lima drizzled in chocolate was a protestant nun compared to Marinette right now.

And if she kept talking like that they may have to take a sporadic trip back to his apartment...and close all the blinds...and play some pretty loud music.

‘FOCUS Agreste FOCUS’ He chided at himself ‘The girl you’ve been in love with since high school has just said something incomprehensibly sexy. You HAVE to come up with something clever to retort with. Come on man, ACTIVATE THAT CHARM’

He gripped her shoulders and pushed her just an inch away staring intensely into her big beautiful blue eyes.

This was his redemption, his crowning moment! What he says now will determine whether or not he gets laid tonight!

“Something sexually clever”

Weeell pornhub doesn’t sound THAT bad right?

He blew it. He could’ve said anything. Hell, A PUN could’ve sufficed but instead he vomited out that garbage statement.

Marinette burst into a fit of giggles. It was so terribly bad that she had no choice but to laugh.

She reached out her hand to lift his downcast eyes but was ripped from his hold by two large grubby hands.

The man once thought to be knocked out cold, had somehow managed to get up and hold a knife to Marinette’s throat

His voice was gravelly and shaken, like he wasn’t playing with a full deck of cards

“I’ve got you now you little prick” he seethed at Adrien, eyes still cast toward the floor “Hand over the bag and all your shit. Do anything stupid and your little lady gets a not so friendly hole in her throat”

Adrien bent down and picked up his helmet up off the ground. The burly man pressed the knife further against her neck “Y-you stop right there!”

“Oh calm your nerves asshole.” Adrien sassed back “No one’s gonna do shit to you”

He leaned back against the wall casually, fiddling with something along the side of it sleek black exterior

“Hey Mari wanna guess how cool it is being rich” He said eagerly

She let out a sigh of teasing annoyance “How cool, you spoiled brat.”

“I take offense to that” he pouted “And if you must know I got tons of neat software loaded into my very helmet”

“Like I said spoiled”

The man was losing his patience and fast “HEY! Cut the bullshit and give me all shit!”

Adrien merely cut his eyes at the man and disregarded his statement “Wanna know what I got programmed onto this bad boy?”

Marinette shrugged “You seem oddly eager to tell me about it so go for it”

“I got a GPS, personal assistant, even little driving games I can play with!”

She giggled “That definitely sounds like something you’d piece together”

He laughed back in goofy satisfaction “It’s super fun, but, there is this one app that i’ve yet to try out. It’s kinda hard to explain but maybe if I fiddle with it it’ll come on”

He subtly tapped on his ear to show earplugs tucked firmly into his ears. Marinette took the hint and covered her ears as best she could.

The man was absolutely livid. How dare this smug bitch and her boyfriend ignore him! He is no one to fuck with and he’d prove it.

He raised his knife hand high into the air

“Aha! Found it” Adrien exclaimed and clicked a little red button hidden in between the expanded panels.

From the speakers installed on the ears of his helmet a piercing, shrill sound sliced through the air like a fresh blade. Its volume went up to 130 decibels and without earplugs would surely disorient any poor schmuck in a half mile radius.

The man dropped the knife onto the ground and gripped his aching head with both hands, setting Marinette free. That migraine would only shift into a mild coma as Adrien then hurled the helmet and pinged the man right in the temple.

The sound soon turned off and all that was left was an unconscious asshole wishing he had just stayed home.

Marinette didn’t wanna take any chances and jogged over to her bike to look through her back for some restraints.

She could feel his eyes on her as she bent over to look through her carrier bag

“You have such a great ass” He commented with abandon

“Coming from a cutie with a booty like yours I’m flattered” She retorted, returning to finish restraining the man

“And rather than staring at the loveliness that is me” She commented, still feeling his eyes watch her every move “I’d suggest you call the police so that we can all this a night”

Although he blushed a light pink from embarrassment he also couldn’t shake the sad feeling that after this guy get hauled off that’ll be the end of their little excursion. If he could, he’d put this night on massive repeat, but it was getting late and he was sure she had somewhere important to be. He called the police to report the man and returned to Marinette with an odd amount of rope left over.

“Mari?” He questioned cautiously “Why do you have so much excess rope?”

“Well, originally I used it to tie down the tarp over my bike but I’m realizing it’s pretty useful”

He tilted his head in confusion “LIke what?”

“Well” she said walking casually toward him “Tying down tarps, hanging up picture frames, restraining creeps. Things like that”

Adrien nodded his head in agreement “I can see that but you are missing one vital use”

It was now Marinette’s turn to look lost “And that would be?”

He took the rope from her hands and wrapped it around her slim waist, pulling her in until their lips met in passionate kiss.

Originally the kiss was gonna be short and simple but one taste of her and he lost control for a moment, hungrily exploring her mouth until her legs gave out from underneath her.

By the time they actually separated she was lost in a haze of pleasure on the ground. He knelt down, a wild and dangerous look in his eyes. He leaned in and she trembled at the deep sound of his voice.

“How about this” He whispered “Whoever makes it to my place first gets to find out that hidden use”

He laid a searing kiss into the crook of her neck

“Fair?”

Never in her life had she said yes so quickly in her whole life

He straightened himself up and helped the poor girl onto her feet “Good! Then I certainly hope you can drive much faster than during our little chase my lady”

He may be a sex god in her eyes

But she’ll be damned if she backs down from a challenge

“Hey! Get back here you mangy feline!” She yelled after him, Adrien boasting a cheshire like grin on his face.

He leaped over her bike but before he could even put up the kickstand she sped by him, determined to prove a point.

“That’s my lady” He crooned, gazing lovingly at the red ribbon of light streaming down the street “She’s crazy as hell. And I love every minute of her”

The next morning Alya woke up to an odd text message

“The fastest way to a man’s heart is not a puppy. It’s a Kawasaki Ninja.”

…

“PS, Rope is SO useful (Just make sure you’re the one figuring that out)

#miraculous ladybug #Marinette #adrien agreste #LadyNoir #adrienette #motorcycle #tikki and plagg #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #cafe #kawasaki #im getting good at this whole fanfic thing #oneshot #fanfic #mlfanfic

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horticultureandfineart · 7 years ago

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Portraits

Portraits by Amanda Witt

Creating a portrait is a way of capturing a person’s likeness, personality, and emotion. Whether it’s a self-portrait, a picture of a friend, or even fanart of someone you admire, portraits are aimed at showing a likeness and even setting a mood. They can be done in many styles, from realistic to more stylized versions, to the abstract. I personally find drawing faces to be very challenging and also incredibly fun. Everyone has unique features and I love being able to capture them. Sketching out eyes, noses, and mouths to create a beautiful piece is something I love to do. Faces show so much emotion, and creating a work of art out a face can add so much to it. You can really capture the feeling of the person and create an overall mood of the piece itself. However while doing this you still have to show a likeness, this is the hard part. You have to keep the distinct features of the person, be sure add in what makes the person them. This doesn’t have to necessarily be a perfect recreation of them, but enough to show a likeness, to make it feel like them.

This post will be different than Rachel’s post on Steps to Drawing a Face, instead of showing each step to drawing a face, I’m going to talk about different types of portraits styles and things to keep in mind when creating one.

There are many ways to approaching portraits, one of the first steps is choosing what style you want to draw in. Each style can show a different emotion. A common way is to simply do a realistic style. Realism can be a great way to capture someone and can be done in many types of mediums. Different mediums can give it a different feel. I’ve done a few realistic portraits using graphite, and charcoal. The charcoal portrait I did was of myself, I did it by covering the paper completely in charcoal and then drew in the face by removing the charcoal with erasers, tissues, and smudge stumps. The charcoal piece had a larger range of values, by being able to use really soft, dark charcoal and then contrasting it by adding in lightness with erasers. The larger contrast and use of blending gave it a darker, more intense feel. The graphite portrait I did was in my sketchbook. I drew a picture using a reference online and then cut it out and placed it against a green background.While drawing this one, the shading on her face is left to be more subtle, and light, while the hair is kept darker in contrast to the unfinished bottom. Using graphite I was able to keep the piece light and more detailed. With her features, they’re bigger, she appears more doe-eyed. In this piece, I get the feeling that she’s gently looking into your soul, almost with a face of innocence By using the same style, but just a different medium, I was able to create two different moods and feelings of portraits.

You can also make your portraits more stylized. This can be more impressional/post-impressional like a Van Gogh style, or completely abstract like a Picasso. Maybe try simplifying the face and the features to create a minimalist style portrait. Play with different colors, maybe even adding blues and reds to the face. Create your own style by combining elements of realism and abstract. One of my favorite artists does a great job of this in his portraits, Henrik Aarrestad Uldalen. Henrik is able to create beautiful surrealistic portraits, painting a realistic face or figure, and then having it fade away, almost like they are dissolving. His work shows the subject in a dream-like, limbo sorta of state, and he is still able to capture his subject perfectly.

Henrik Aarrestad Uldalen

Another one of my favorite artists who does a beautiful job at portrait painting is Elly Smallwood. I personally love her work, and I draw a lot of inspiration from her. I love her bold use of color and her unique style. One of the features of her painting that I especially love is how she layers the color, leaving it so you can see each brushstroke, and even leaving some empty space. Her artworks for me really capture the emotion of her subject, and even herself. For our current painting project, we are painting portraits of our classmates in a certain type of style that we chose. For mine, I chose to recreate Elly Smallwood’s style. By following her style, I’m using simple, bold brushstrokes, using different colors, and layering on the paint without much blending, even adding in some random brushstrokes.

Elly Smallwood

The hard part when creating a portrait is creating a likeness of the person you’re drawing or painting. Look at their features, what key elements make them, them? Look at their face shape. Do they have a long and narrow face, or is it more short and wide? Are the features soft and round, or is it sharp and angular? What about their eyes? Are they sunken in, or do they pop out? Is the shape long and narrow, or they more round? Pay attention to how the eyelid shape is, is it a deep crease, or is it more hooded? How about the nose? Is it short and round, or long and pointy? Look at how the nostrils are shaped. Next study the lips and the mouth. Is the bottom lip bigger than the top? Look at the lip shape, is there a prominent cupid’s bow, are the lips thin? Ask yourself these questions to really look at and study your subject’s features. Keep in mind proportions, such the space between the eyelid and the eyebrow, and how far the nose is from the lips. Be sure to add any other specific features your subject may have. These could be freckles, birthmarks, scars, wrinkles, moles, facial hair, piercings, dimples, and even hairstyle. All of these elements together make up a person, and if you’re able to capture these features then you’ll definitely be able to capture their likeness no matter what style you depict them in.

I really like drawing portraits because of the simple beauty in faces. Every day we see hundreds of different faces, it’s something common that everyone has seen. I really like being able to recreate such a common thing in a way that’s beautiful. Faces themselves are beautiful and interesting. Things like learning about the skull underneath the face and how the eye sits in the eye socket are fascinating and also helps improve knowledge of how faces work. Looking at and studying faces is something I find myself doing often. At school drifting off, on my phone looking at other people’s selfies, or hanging out with friends, I look at people’s faces to see how they work. My eye follows the outline of their skull, how the head curves in and out to create the cheekbone and how the nostrils connect with the tip of the nose, how different eyelids fold in unique ways. I constantly look at faces to get a better understanding of how they work, and what makes a face a face. When sketching out a face, I really try hard to capture these qualities and to make it interesting. Again, faces are such a common thing that everyone’s seen and many artists draw because they can be so meaningful, finding a way to make the portrait be interesting is important to making the artwork really stand out.

#art #blog entry #portrait

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