#gri-clover

[sterekvalentine2016]

Happy Valentine’s Day @gri-clover!

[petals42]

Name: G.C.

Codename: Reevers

Backstory:

While most shifters transform from human to an animal, Reevers is one of the few who spend most of their time as an animal and only occasionally swap back into human form. Generally, they decide to walk on two legs when they have to go to the bank to deposit a check or order drive-thru Wendys or have the urge to draw. Aside from that, it’s all wildcat all the time.

Current Motivations:

Look, Reevers just likes fighting. For a while, they operated as a gun for hire but even that did not allow for as much physical contact as they desired (and seriously, why was sneaking so in right now. Sneaking and cyber-world dominations are the worst things to happen to Planet Earth). Faced with a future without a chance to show off their mixed martial art skills, Reevers opened a gym right across from the Supernatural bar, Moonrise, and runs an MMA fight ring through it. There are legitimate classes taught, monthly packages offered, and every so often they just grab people arguing at Moonrise, walk them over, and let them duke it out the old fashioned way.

Assorted Facts:

Always wears the same scarf, even while fighting; even while a wildcat; even while a wildcat fighting other wildcats…

Enjoys being wrapped in quilts, burrito style. Will often make the last person to leave their gym wrap them up. If you don’t do it snug enough, they will fight you.

The gym only plays books on tape. Some people complain because it’s not exactly a pump up soundtrack but no one complains too loudly because…. again, Reevers will fight you. Anytime. And they’ll win.

[i-want-to-fuck-ing-cuddle]

11, 12, 18, 20 and 30 :)

I’m sorry, i don’t know what this is from! I can’t find an ask meme that I reblogged recently. Maybe this was for someone else?

[midnightbluetamashii]

you're SUUUUPER NICE!!! **Send this to the 12 nicest people you know or who seem to have a good heart* me encanta hablar con vos!! :D

Omg, you’re super! También me encanta hablar contigo eres amor <3

[unelore]

I say, 'You the bestests', lean in for a big kiss by Gri-Clover

[alexenglish]

littlerosetrove replied to your post “gri-clover is honestly one of the most talented artists I have ever…”

Right!?!?! Seriously, every time I see a new piece or hell even an older piece, I’m just like, “How do you art???”

yes exactly!! everything gri does is perfection. x.x

[alexenglish]

gri-clover is honestly one of the most talented artists I have ever had the pleasure of following. everything she does blows my mind, and I’m always waiting in anticipation for her next piece. if you haven’t visited her blog and seen her art, I highly recommend heading over there. 

[dydia]

I heard that gri-clover is celebrating a birthday with Sterek fluff, so in an attempt to over come my writing block, I threw this together! Happy Birthday!!! (And I hope you like it!)

Based on the following AU:

I’m an art student and we’re doing realistic drawings in class, I was prepared for the fruit bowl and the pair of shoes but then yOU WALKED THROUGH THE DOOR, STRIPPED, SAT ON A STOOL IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM AND I FELL OFF MY CHAIR BECAUSE HOLY FUCK. (x)  

The summer between senior year of high school and freshman year of college, Lydia decided to take classes at Beacon Hills Community College in order to get a few credits ahead. Stiles isn't quite sure how that translated into him and Scott signing up for classes too, but it's a thing that's happening. Since it’s summer and everything, Stiles out right refused to sign up for anything that, in his mind, required much thinking. He was surprised when Lydia agreed, and directed him to sign up for Art 101.

It's a condensed schedule, with classes meeting every day for two hours, for three weeks. Stiles likes it alright, they've been working with different mediums from clay to charcoal to water colors. It would be better if Scott was here with him, but his best bud chose to get some of his easier science classes out of the way and had definitely given Stiles a few judgmental looks about going the art route. Just because of that one time in fifth grade. It’s not his fault that mushrooms look a lot like penises, and it’s definitely not his fault that Scott didn’t realize it and had the painting hanging in his room for three years. So far he's made Scott a sick mug and painted a howling wolf on it, sketched a pretty awesome picture of his dad's sheriff badge that was now hanging in their living room, and drawn a stick figure of Lydia in a highlighter pink dress (which was totally a joke but he's pretty sure it's framed and hanging in her bedroom).

 "Today I've brought in a model for you all to use as a pose reference," Professor Lee announces, clapping her hands together as she breezes into the room. "We'll be using easels and paint today, so get those set up." Stiles does as he's told, methodically taking out his materials and setting up his workspace. He's really not all that excited about painting fruit or whatever Professor Lee has brought in, but the rest of the class is whispering, and some of the girls are... Blushing? Stiles huffs out a laugh. Like, yeah, maybe he and Scott get a little giggly around bananas and eggplants and shit, but he manages to keep it under control in a classroom environment. He's an adult now and everything.

"Oh my god," the girl beside him gasps, frozen and staring with wide eyes at the center of the room. Expecting to see some provocatively placed fruit, Stiles turns back toward the middle of the room, almost sliding off his stool as the laughter dies on his lips.

Nope.

Nope, nope, nope.

THIS IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HAPPENING TO HIM.

Because Stiles knows that muscular back, and there's only one person in the entire world that would get a tattoo like that right between their shoulder blades. He doesn't even need the tattoo, he's spent enough time thinking about certain grumpy werewolves to recognize that inky hair and those dumb little elephant ears to know exactly who it is without even seeing his face. This is exactly the opposite of what Stiles ever imagined happening here, and definitely not at all how he hoped to see Derek naked for the first time.

Because yeah, Derek Hale is definitely naked.

Damn that ass is phenomenal.

Like, he kind of wants to get his hands on it, wants to smack it, bite it, lick it.

Oh shit.

He's suddenly staring at well, the other side, and while that deserves just as much attention, he forces his eyes up, over the abs he wants to lick and those hair covered pectorals and yup, Derek is definitely staring at him. But like come on, Stiles isn’t the one with werewolf senses here. Mr. “I Evolved” should have smelled him or something, right?

“Derek,” Stiles manages to croak, forcing his expression into some semblance of a smirk as he keeps his eyes carefully trained on Derek’s face. Not that it’s a hardship or anything, looking at Derek’s face. Those cheekbones alone deserve to be memorialized on paper or carved into stone to be admired by the masses. Right now though, the angry eyebrows are fast appearing, dipping dangerously into “rip your throat out with my teeth” territory. “You um… Wanna hear a joke?”

“You know him?” The girl next to him whispers reverently, cheeks pinking up with Derek’s eyes cut momentarily to her before settling back on Stiles.

“No.” Derek growls, but Stiles grins and continues. He needs to continue. If he doesn’t, then he’s going to end up focusing on things he shouldn’t. Like how the object of his possibly soul crushing affections is standing in front of this thirty person art class butt naked.

“Why was the tomato blushing?”

“Stiles-”

“Because it saw the salad dressing!”

“That’s horrible,” Derek huffs, lifting a hand to cover his eyes. Stiles is 77% sure someone actually moans on the other side of the room, and he can’t really blame them. The way Derek’s muscles shift every time he moves is a thing of beauty. He would know. He’s spent many, many hours studying it and simultaneously trying to control his level of arousal. It’s a great way to pass the time.

Stiles just winks at Derek, more than pleased when the werewolf’s ears turn pink. Before he can test out any more of his obviously fantastic comedic material, Professor Lee is motioning for Derek, directing him to sit on a chair in the middle of the classroom. There’s still some muffled giggling floating around the room, and Stiles can’t help but praise the goddess when Professor Lee ends up suggesting Derek put his underwear back on (she definitely glared at everyone too, but come on. They’re college students, not mature adults). Of course, Derek in tight, black briefs isn’t all that much of an improvement. Stiles just hopes that there’s enough interest and desire emitting from every person in the room that his in particular won’t be all that noticeable.

Judging by the way Derek glares at him the entire class, it has to be noticeable. Whatever. Derek should be used to it by now. He has to know how he looks. He volunteered to be a nude model! Who even does that? Eventually Stiles gets past the part where he’s supposed to be painting Derek, and he settles into it. He gets lost in it, trying to mimic the curve of his biceps, the sharp angle of his nose, the inky mess of his hair. He knows better than to even try and get the color of the eyes right, instead making them an unnatural blue that will undoubtedly make his professor lecture him. It’ll make Scott laugh though, and Derek might even let out an amused huff, which is about as high of praise as Stiles can get from him.

“Okay, times up for today.”

The sound of Professor Lee’s voice startles Stiles out of his reverie, narrowly avoiding dumping his paints all over his neighbor as he struggles to remain balanced on his stool. When he looks up, Derek is smirking smugly at him as he pulls on his jeans, but there’s a soft fondness in his eyes that makes Stiles feel warm all over.

He takes his time packing up, breaking down his easel at a snail’s pace in hopes of maybe walking out to his Jeep with Derek. It surprises him when Derek finishes dressing and stands there with his arms crossed, glancing at his wrist like Stiles is holding him up. Stiles grins at him and moves even more slowly, giggling when Derek huffs and starts packing his things up for him.

“So… you do this kind of thing often?” Stiles asks as they walk down the quiet corridor, his voice bouncing off the concrete walls. Derek doesn’t answer, and when Stiles glances at him, he swears the werewolf's ears and neck are turning pink.

“No,” he murmurs after a moment of awkward silence. “This is the first time.”

“Why…” Stiles falters to a halt as they step out into the summer sun, the puzzle starting to piece together in his brain. “Derek, did you know I was going to be there today?” Derek doesn’t answer, entire body tense and stiff as he practically runs towards the parking lot. Sighing, Stiles chases after him, determined to set the record straight.

He’s surprised when Derek lets him crowd him up against the passenger side of the Toyota, spinning him around and boxing him in with his arms. “I thought we’d gotten past the…” He trails off, all the ability to sarcasm leaving his body when he notices the way Derek’s looking at him. Those impossible eyes seem to be mapping every inch of his face, and he can practically feel the heat they trail across his skin.

“You’ve got paint on your face,” Derek murmurs, lifting his thumb to his lips and licking it, rubbing at a spot just under Stiles’ left eye. He sighs and leans into the touch, lips lifting into a smile when Derek’s entire hand is suddenly spanning his cheek. Derek’s staring at his lips now, chest rising and falling visibly against his own.

“You gonna kiss me or what sourwolf?” Stiles teases, not giving Derek a chance to answer before leaning in and pressing their lips together.

He always thought their first kiss would be frantic, desperate, tasting of blood and tears and fueled by the euphoria of being alive and adrenaline. This is so, so different, but so much better. Derek tastes like the pink starbursts Stiles knows he keeps hidden in the center console of his car, and his lips are warm and plaint and oh so soft. His thick fingers spasm against Stiles jaw, and then suddenly he’s being embraced, strong arms wrapping around him and pulling him snug against Derek, from chest to thighs. Stiles sighs against his mouth, pulling back slightly just to see the small smile he could feel Derek pressing against his lips. It’s devastating of course, the way his eyes crinkle in the corners, those dumb bunny teeth and his scruff covered dimples. “You volunteered for this because you wanted me to want you bod didn’t you?” Derek rolls his eyes, fingers dipping just slightly below the waistband of Stiles’ khakis.

“No,” he grumbles, cheeks flushing before he hides his face in Stiles’ neck. “I just didn’t want you looking at anyone else.” Stiles can’t help but laugh, throwing his head back with the force of it.

Derek shuts him up rather quickly, with his teeth and his tongue, and soon Stiles’ giggles have turned to breathy moans. Stiles is 100% okay with that. He really, really is.