#When i drew this in my sketchbook i realised that the last time i drew desert duo angst was almost exactly a year ago
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Filling my annual "being ill about 3rd life desert duo" quota
#When i drew this in my sketchbook i realised that the last time i drew desert duo angst was almost exactly a year ago#It's seasonal#court jester's art#3rd life#3rd life smp#grian#goodtimeswithscar#desert duo#scarian#i just can't let go of the curse of the sun thing bro i can't#celestial theme is my favourite thing ever#tw blood
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Hey this is one of my first times requesting but can you do one where Levi has someone who draws and sketches a lot (they're both captains in this scenerio) and when Levi is volunteerily cleaning their office he stumbles across a drawing/sketch of himself that she drew
Ending is up to you
Loving lines
Levi x fem!reader
Canon world, fluff, romance, becoming a couple, artist reader, love confessions.
While cleaning your room, Levi comes across a sketchbook filled with beautiful drawings of the land around the scout base. He then comes across the only drawings of a person and it is a few of him. Flustered by the thought that this could mean you have the same feelings for him as he has for you, he decides to confront you.
@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird
Offering to clean your office was Levi's sneaking and cheeky way to get close to you. This allowed him to go into your office, snoop a little and always be surrounded by your intoxicating scent. As soon as he got into your room, he stood there for a while and just inhaled a few times.
He got busy cleaning your rather clean place, but he was making sure that everything was perfect. As he made his way around your office he noticed that you had left a sketchbook on the window seat. Curiosity consumed him and he needed to see what was inside.
Levi got comfortable in your window seat and began looking through your book. Each drawing inside was beautiful and cute. The way you saw the world around you gave him such hope and happiness. He adored how sweetly you captured the land surrounding the scout base.
He was beginning to notice a theme in your book, you only ever drew scenery. He flicked through the pages and felt his heart skip a beat when he came across something that moved him. Levi was lost for words when he saw a beautiful drawing of him smiling so softly. He gulped hard and felt so flustered because you had made him look so beautiful.
"Levi?"
Levi jumped on the window seat at the sound of your voice. He looked over at you as he gripped your book tightly. It was only recently he realised that he was in love with you. Levi had never been in love before, so he wasn't sure how to do this or what to say.
You moved closer to him. "Is that my sketchbook?"
He looked down at his hands. "Yes."
You gulped hard. "Did you get to the last pages?"
He nodded. "I did."
"So you saw the many drawings of you?"
He slowly looked down. "Many? I only saw one." He flicked through the book. "Let me see."
You gasped and ran over. "Wait."
He smiled at the other drawings. "You've drawn me a lot."
You grabbed the book and whined. "I can explain..."
He locked eyes with you. "You feel the same way about me that I do for you."
"Levi."
He rose to his feet and walked up to you. "That you have a deep love for me that it hard to contain like I do for you."
You felt your cheeks burn as Levi left you breathless. "Yes."
He took your book and put it behind him on the window seat. "I have never felt this way about anyone before. This is all new to me." He reached over and caressed your cheek. "Tch, it's confusing and maddening how much I care about you. I just want to lock you up and not let anyone else near you. I also want to kiss you so much and take you on long walks through the pretty fields and shower you with flowers."
You leaned closer and gave Levi a sweet and loving peck on the lips. "I want all of that."
Levi held your hands. "I want to be with you. I am terrified for your safety though."
You nibbled your lip. "I have been thinking of maybe working less out there and more in the base, maybe training and support as well." You moved closer to him. "I don't want you to be alone or heartbroken." You whined. "That's if you want to be a couple. If you do, then I'll change my job a bit."
Levi hugged you tightly. "Yes. I want you. I adore you." He released you. "Maybe I could sit for your next drawing?"
You giggled. "Yes, please."
#levi ackerman#levi#aot levi#snk levi#aot fanfiction#levi x y/n#fanfic#levi fanfiction#levi x reader#levi x you#jelly fanfics#captain levi x you#levi x yn#captain levi ackerman x reader#captain levi#captain levi x reader#captain levi fanfiction#captain levi ackerman#levi ackerman x female reader#levi ackerman x you#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman x y/n
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sketchbook
summary : Y/N drew Draco in the middle of class, and got caught.
warning(s) : Umbridge
words : 1.3k
A/N : This is inspired by a real life event lol, so very self-indulgent. I miss story with plots :( Working on one but tbh I rather read than write because even though writing is one of my hobbies, not writing is also my hobby. so, yeah.
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Umbridge class is might be the last class you wanted to be in right now. It might sound a bit harsh, but you rather have death eater disguised in Mad Eye Moody than her. Despite what he did last year, he's clearly way more competent than the women standing in front of the class. Speaking of the disguised defense against the dark arts teacher last year, you remember how he turned Draco into a ferret. You snorted at the memory, your pals in the neighboring desk send you a look of concern which you return with a reassuring shook.
You glance at the sight of Draco in the other side of the class. The sight of him under the morning sun caused you to gasp softly, stunned. He seemed just as bored as everyone else in the room; his lips curved down makes unnoticeable pout; his eyes looking back and forth from the blackboard to his textbook; his slender long finger holding the quill, dip it to the ink bottle in front of him every other minute; his head laid flat on his palm, his elbow on the desk helping his arm support the weight of his head; white blonde hair of his look so soft, reflecting the morning light.
You instinctively grabbed the sketchbook and pencil in your satchel. Ready to draw the Slytherin across the room. You took out the needed supplies without second thought. After all, fuck this class. Draco's beautiful features under the good lighting was too precious to be missed. You tossed your textbook to the side, flipping your sketchbook and readjust your seat to get a better position while drawing Draco. As if he knew of your activity, he stayed still like a good model. He didn't move much and his facial expressions didn't change.
An hour later, after glances you took of him so often, Draco beautiful features imprinted on the paper of your sketchbook. You grinned in satisfaction; looking back and forth from the sketch to Draco across the classroom. Not bad, just need a little completion. You just about to continue to go on a few small details when out of nowhere, Umbridge showed up behind your shoulder.
"Ms Y/L/N," your hands freeze at the painfully sweet voice. "What are you doing?" she asked sweetly, but her eyes already attached to the sketch.
You opened your mouth to answer and give her excuses but immediately shut it close as you realised 'bored' was not an acceptable reason to draw your classmate.
"Is that Mr Malfoy?" she snatched the sketchbook from your hand before you even have time to process what she was doing.
My precious Draco, you cried silently as she brought the sketchbook to her desk.
Draco shoot his head at your direction as he heard his name mentioned. He furrowed his eyes at you in disapproval, you refuse to meet his eyes in embarrassment. Your face growing warm as Umbridge flipped page after page of your sketchbook. You prayed to whatever God that might exist to keep Umbridge's mouth shut and to give her a bit of compassion not to humiliate you in front of the whole class. It seemed like God must be nonexistent, because Umbridge sent you a wickedly sweet smile that made you loath the sight of her even more than you did before.
"Ms Y/L/N. Do you think you're a good artist?" she asked with a mocking tone. "Your sketch is awful." she added before you could answer. Her hands dangerously brought your sketchbook up and flip it for the class to see.
It was a few weeks ago, Hermione in library reading her book. She flipped to another random pages, Daphne and Pansy painted each other nails. And last, she showed the whole class your latest sketch of Draco with his bored face. The whole class wasn't laughing at you, instead they send you an emphatic look. Umbridge seemed to be unsatisfied with the lack of humiliating response from your fellow classmates.
"You have a crush on Mr Malfoy? You drew him quite often," her questions pushed you off the edge. How dare she barge in to your personal space.
"That's none of your concern. You could insult me for my drawings, but you shouldn't ask about my personal life because you don't have the right to." you snapped at her. You know it was a bad move when you heard a few gasps from your classmates.
Surely, Umbridge face turned sour. "Detention, Ms Y/L/N. Don't talk to me like that and don't sketch anyone ever again. You’re an awful artist; to be sketched in your Merlin awful drawing is the biggest insult anyone could ever receive," she spat venomously.
She walks right to the middle in front of the class, still carrying your sketchbook. You expected her to return the book to your hand, but when she muttered 'incendio' your heart dropped. Seconds later, your sketchbook had burn to ashes. You don't know what exactly you must be feeling. You’re mad, sad and embarrassed all at the same time. The class was dismissed right after that. She leaving after sternly told you to go to her office after dinner for detention.
You’re so embarrassed you can’t look at anyone even when they pat your shoulder softly in attempt of reassurance.
"Hey Y/L/N," a soft voice calling your name. You turned around to find Draco standing behind you.
"Oh, hello, Malfoy." you nodded at him before realizing he must think how much of a creep you are for drawing him 'quite often' without his permission. "I'm so sorry, Malfoy. I didn't mean to creep you out or stalk you or anything. It's just I found you quite attractive when the light fell right on you," you rambled.
He just chuckled. "You think I'm attractive?" he smirked and rise his eyebrows.
Damn it! You should think through your words before sputtering things and embarrass yourself.
"Uh, no. I mean, yeah. Everyone is attractive to draw if they have the right light. Anyway, I'll stop sketching you. It's awful anyway, sorry again," your voice gradually got quieter. You look at the ground as if Draco was scolding you.
"Your sketch is lovely." he said with a genuine smile. You gaped at him in astonishment. "I'm flattered you choose me as one of your models. Thanks for sketching me 'quite often'," he put an emphasis at the last two words. You smiled bashfully. "Walk with me?" he offered. You just nod.
For that day, you were not sure if you should be mad for Umbridge destroying your months of works or do you have to be grateful for the newfound friendship you have with the boy you had a crush on for sometimes.
Bonus:
You walk to your room to find a package on the bed.
"Dray, what is it a package on the bed?"
"What package? I don't know just open it!" your husband yells back from kitchen.
You look at the fancy wrapping paper investigatively. You tear it to get a clue of what inside. You can’t believe your eyes as it sets to a familiar front cover of your old sketchbook. It was the one Umbridge set on fire! A note falls to your feet. You pick it up.
Yes, it is what you think. You should be thankful to have an exceptionally genius husband, like me. I like the drawings by the way, I think I look better on your sketchbook ;)
Love x
D, Malfoy
"Do you like it?" Draco asks softly, sneak his arm around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder.
"I like it. I love it, I love you," you jump on him, make him chuckle.
"I love you too." he kiss your temple lovingly.
#draco x reader#draco malfoy x y/n#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy#draco fanfiction
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LOST
LOST really is 2023's theme for me. I spent most of this past year on my PhD project, so my output has been quite scarce overall - certainly so compared to the industriousness of years past. When I had chances to draw this year it was often like a gasp of air amidst a sea of my other efforts. "What's the next step forward?" I think at times. Consider the center drawing my face of course, because in real life I look like if cannonbolt was a sad refridgerator.
I started a new physical sketchbook and made some breakthroughs in my personal illustrations, but nothing I'm happy to share - in previous years I didn't have as much nervousness to experiment in public. Anyway this feels like a good opportunity to do a bit of a retrospective on the last ones of these I did.
In many ways 2022 was the best year of my work, I both did my most challenging (and correspondingly complex) pieces this year, and had the confidence to make several things a week. Past the initial few months I had really started to hone my mix of solid shapes, lineart and linelessness thats ubiquitous in my pieces now, though I wonder if I have grown too comfortable with the stability of a partial formula.
One disadvantage about only choosing nine pieces was that in wanting them to look good together I had to exclude a series of the coloured background pieces that interspersed the dark background ones. In those, I felt like a lot more of my effort went into the shape language, so there was a synergy with both approaches letting me understand things.
In 2021 I started using colours instead of grayscale, that years inktober could almost be said to be my best work, there was both a variety and scale to it..I drew something virtually every day for almost three or four months straight and crucially, I also shared it all after I was done. It really felt worth it planning art ahead, but also spontaneously filling the blanks it in the moment. That being said maybe that productiveness was not sustainable because I'd have very little time for much else after school, work and art.
Late in that year I realised I could just draw the things I like if I wanted, instead of the things I thought people wanted - so some of the later pieces really resembled discount warframes. That game has so deeply hooked itself into my visual library that I draw it even when I'm not intending to, and so when I started deliberately trying to evoke it (with very fledgling art analysis skills), I think I got more and more familiar with what I wanted.
In 2020 I was just starting out so I did not yet recognise there was something specific to aspire to - I dont have a retrospective montage like these other years for 2020. You can see virtually every piece I've ever uploaded on my instagram page, so I think I might not narrate as much about those in this post. Maybe in the future I'll review all these years through a completely different lens.
#veilantares#digital art#my art#illustration#art vs artist#art vs artist 2023#artvsartist2023#retrospective#q&a#voidpunk#character design
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The Tale of getting Hawk and Flo Made Part 1
Greetings dear reader, I am HeaddyPidgeon. I make a webcomic series currently called Hawk and Flo 2: Ice Cream Truck of Doom. Now you may have read my comic before or you may be someone who has never even heard of me until now (that being the more likely case). Now you may have noticed the eponymous 2 in the Hawk and Flo 2 and come to the conclusion that there is a Hawk and Flo 1. Well you would be correct dear reader there technically is a Hawk and Flo 1.... It just isn’t finished even though it technically was finished 2 years ago.
What the heck does that mean. it’s finished and it’s not finished at the same time? how is that possible?!. Well the reason why is because during the Pandemic I completed Hawk and Flo: Last Space Wizard. It was Inked, coloured, lettered with all of the bells and whistles added from the comfort of my own bedroom. The physical manuscript version is finished. The digital version which I sometimes refer to as the webtoon edit is still in production. When I made the physical version I thought I could just scan the pages and then upload it on the internet, but that sadly didn’t work which meant that over 200 pages then had to (and still have to be redrawn all over again from scratch. Ouch
This is but one chapter in the story of what might be one of the worst production hells in the history of fiction writing let alone comic books. Behind every piece of art there is an artist, behind every novel there is a writer and behind every story there is the story of how it gets made. Let it be known throughout the cosmos that whilst in the year 2022 we’re getting to see the brother and sister from Bermuda fight space armies and crack jokes. Getting it up and running in the first place was a daunting, absolute, nightmare of a quest undertaken by an individual with absolutely no clue what he was doing and whose only credentials were..... ok basically nothing.
I’ve only really been at the process of trying to make my comics for a few years now, Last Space Wizard may have had it’s first chapter in November of 2021 but before that I was pretty terrible. So Terrible that I realised I needed to practice at making comic books before I even got onto the internet. if I was aware of how truly awful I was at doing it all The Internet was certainly going to have had a field day with many of my earlier attempts at comics. Now the (not so) strange thing is I studied English so the stories themselves were pretty well written. The Jokes landed the characters were likeable, it’s just everything else was terrible. The art was terrible, My Lettering was completely Illegible, I couldn’t even draw anyone moving. So my first ever attempt at a Hawk and Flo comic was a script I had from a complete Turkey of an episode I had called ‘My Worst Fear’. I considered it the worst script I had ever written for anything but because the characters mostly stood around and talked I threw caution to the wind and gave it a go. i Showed it my friends and they found it hilarious which is what encouraged me to try learning to draw on my own. I started with A3 sketchbooks I'd buy from the Range. I would then turn on them on their sides then draw all of the action (or lack thereof in my case I was so bad it wasn’t funny) big and bright because I struggled a lot with drawing small and my consistency was awful. So when I very first started I drew character design sheets then I would trace my own drawings so it would turn out consistently LOL.
We all have to start somewhere If somehow someway I one day take off as some kind of famous writer/artist know this I had no idea what I was doing I’m just as clueless as anyone else. It’s just I understand I'm getting older, after trying and failing so many times to look for artists to draw my comics, whether it be my ex girlfriend, or friends I knew from High school I realised the only way any of this was ever going to get made was I had to do it myself. It came with some heartaches, i’m still gutted that I wasn’t able to get my comics off the ground at the time the storm Area 51 event happened in 2019. it would have been so perfect if a series about space armies invading planets came out that day... but It wasn’t to be I wasn’t ready to be out there. When I tried to scan my sketchbook art I just wasn’t able to do anything with it, the pages weren’t edited out properly and none of it was the right format. So when I got better I started drawing on A4 sheets of paper which I then couldn’t get to upload due to file size limits and such so I had to start doing everything digitally. I couldn’t figure out how to scan and upload my A3 books or A4 manuscripts I still don’t know how XD. Shout outs to anybody who did figure that out I still haven’t to this very day.
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I have just realised that it's new year's eve.
Well, staying up past midnight is easy for me as my sleep scedule's a bit of a wreck. I don't have anything that I'm really thrilled about for 2024 (apart from deltarune chapter 3 and 4 possibly coming out that year) and I'm ending on a really lame year art wise as I still don't have my computer and I don't want to have to reinstall drivers and stuff. At least I have the excuse to make the 2024 drawings folder on my backup USB.
I like having things in chronological order.
Anyway, here's the first and last drawings from each year because why not.
2019:
This one only dates back to the 20th July as this was before I took art seriously as a hobby. I drew this in MS paint for a roblox game I was making.
This dates back to the 25th December and I drew this in ibis paint x on my dad's old phone that me and my brothers shared. To play music in the background, I would have youtube as a window at the top and listen to the same 5 songs on loop. This took a considerable amount of time for some reason.
2020:
This dates back to the 18th January and I drew this on my phone as I just got it at this point (the same phone that I still have currently). I had no idea what I was doing and it shows.
This dates back to the 29th December and it seems like I've discovered undertale. This was when I started using my crappy laptop again and I drew this with the touchscreen it had (it was one of those hybrid laptop-tablet things) with my finger and autodesk sketchbook.
2021:
The first one is technically the first of 2021 as it dates back to the 16th of January, but I've posted that one a lot whenever I redraw it every year so here's the drawing I drew the day after. It was for an animation meme but I saved it into the folder anyway for some reason.
I was trying to model in blender for the first time towards the end of 2021 so the last picture is a boring sketch of anatomy from the 31st December to be used as refrence. The last actual artwork was a day before and at this point I had a little drawing tablet and was posting art on Newgrounds. I also started using medibang paint pro as autodesk sketchbook stopped working.
2022:
The first drawing I have in my 2022 folder was technically from 10:30 PM on the 31st as I got impatient, but I put it here anyway. It's a gif but I made it into a png so I can put it on a tumblr post. Technically the first one was this drawing I made about 12 hours later on the 1st January. On newgrounds it's regarded as being in 2021 as it's in EST and my time zone is a couple hours ahead.
The last drawing I have dates back to the 27th December where I was experimenting with art styles as I had just gotten a new idea for a game (what is now known as Roboska LV).
2023:
Both of these date back to the 1st January however the seccond one was exported 40 minuites later according to the meta data. The first one is another redraw while the seccond one is a character profile and I just realised there's no shading on the hoodie.
This dates back to the 9th December and I haven't been able to draw anything digitally since my computer's botched surgery on the 16th. I have drawn some stuff in my notebook though, so here's the "final" drawings of 2023 (basically anything in my notebook since the 9th). The dates are in the bottom corners. I didn't bother with fixing the lighting.
I drew that picture of Kokichi Oma in the dark with only the light of my phone torch as I drew it while a film was playing in my school sports hall with dominos pizza. The last 2 I drew on the last day of school while completly ignoring everyone partying in the form room.
I got a book on how to draw in a manga art style so this is me trying to figure out how to adapt the tips into my artstyle to make it not suck.
This is technically the last drawing of 2023. I drew it on the 26th. It also featured in the post about my personal best pencil drawings of 2023 too: https://pearlhikara.tumblr.com/post/737810429204643840/best-drawings-of-2023-notebook-12-and-13
Looking back, I don't think my change in art style from 2023 is as stark as the other years. I don't like how my art keeps changing and I want to just keep it at a consistent "very very good" and leave it at that as the little changes annoy me as I like consistency.
In terms of actual new year stuff, I'll probably just rewatch "who framed roger rabbit?" and go downstairs when it's near midnight to watch the fireworks on TV.
#art#digital art#digital drawing#artwork#drawing#digital artwork#illustration#traditional drawing#traditional illustration#traditional art#sketch#digital illustration#new years eve#new year#new year 2024#happy new year 2024#happy new year
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aaaaaa
hi i am attempting a thing. last time i tried to hold myself to account for posting regularly i gave up after a week and abandoned the account so lets goooooo
Want to make my art a bit better so I’m gonna be doing some studies on different topics. I’m in no way an expert at anything, so this is me going “hi! this is my learning process!” rather than me going “here’s how to do a thing.” We’ll see how it goes...
all my references for this one are from line of action, specifically their faces and expressions tool. decided on just doing neutral faces because I wanna focus on structure first. the ones I used are below.
here are my terrible quality photos of not-quite-as-terrible drawings (marginally).
I did write annotations on my sketchbook but my handwriting is less than ideal right now lol
Drawing one: Reference pic had the face turned more to the left. The general shape of the head needs softening. I seem to avoid drawing the details around the eyes, like the eyelids and general skin folds. Overall the drawing is very stiff and kind of lifeless. This is probably because I drew everything the first go around
Drawing two: This one has a bit more life as I decided to be looser with my actual hand, and built it up gradually with rough shapes and vague blobs before refining the detail. The eyes definitely need repositioning. I feel like I’m allergic to having them aligned properly. The overall headshape is also a little too wide.
Drawing three: The head angle is totally off and I didn’t realise until I was done lol. I’m definitely going to have to do more studies looking at skulls and how they affect the positioning of muscles and stuff, which I am not looking forward to. Again, eye alignment. Not quite as bad as the last but they do look inconsistent. I also definitely ignored ears lol
So, things I need to do more work on:
- just drawing a bunch of faces of different varieties from different angles
- ears.
- proportions of the face and how eyes work within that
- skulls.
- not drawing on my sketchbook at an angle where my view of the page is totally skewed so stuff looks squished as hell when I look at it head on afterwards
- general breakdowns of faces before I start drawing them
hopefully I actually post again lol
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"Letter to a dreamed love"
We were meant to not achieve a happy ending since that sad morning you told me you were leaving, 'We can do it', we said like fools, believing that all the stories and anecdotes warning us that love at distance never works weren't gonna be true for us, because our love could win, because nothing bad could happen if we were together, even with two thousand kilometers between us. We had a time to be happy, after all. All day we were texting each other, sometimes all night too.
You were my first and my last message, you were my dreams and my sketchbook turned into a ode to you. We loved each other through texts and photos, we loved each other with two thousand kilometers of distance between your heart and mine.
We planed a future together, don't you remember? We imagined ourselves married, we even drew our wedding, we saw us in a cottage in El Bolsón, a garden in the front, cats of different colours, we were gonna be happy in a paradise that only existed in our imagination, in our drawings, in our letters.
We had anecdotes together, that's true, we had love, we had experience. We saw each other in video-calls, in videos, in pictures. And even so it wasn't enough, it never was. We yearned to see each other, to be together, to hug each other, to kiss, to touch, see each other face to face and feel close. We couldn't. We loved each other so much and it wasn't enough, maybe it wasn't in our destiny, maybe since the beggining we weren't meant to be, but we were blind, we wanted to, not accepting what deep inside us we knew.
'Tomorrow we're going to your city with my mum, to visit some family. Maybe I can convince mum to go to that beach close to your house', you told me one friday while in call.
'Oh, wonderful! I hope you can, so we can see each other'
Maybe that was what made us fail, in all the excitement and happiness we had we didn't have time to plan it deeply, to think for a bit, if we did maybe it could have worked, but there are many 'maybes', and those maybes don't exist for us.
It was a disastrous day, to say the least. We fought, we hurted, we bled inside, and all because we couldn't see us. I slept crying, and later you told me that you did too.
That day we realised of that eternal flaw in our relationship, like a bucket of cold water that fact let us freeze, hurt, broke. That thing we wanted so bad to ignore slapped us suddenly, leaving us doubting about our relationship and how it was going to work from then on. How would we get our cottage in El Bolsón? How would we get married? How woukd we have our happy ending? How would we see each other? How would we-?
Suddenly we had to realice that all the situations we imagined together were that, imaginations of little lonely teens, imaginations of dreamers who didn't want to wake up, and who woke up in a brusque way.
Our conversation started to be more serious, colder. Once we woke up we couldn't keep ignoring our reality, without a future in a cottage with cats and happiness in matching rings. Once we woke up, after two years dreaming, we decided to put an end on us. It was all very cold, your reasons totally logic and right, a mutual deal in wich we never hurt the other, we promised to never. We also promised that if we met again, if the opportunities were right, if our destiny said so, we would give each other another chance, to try what came out wrong and hope something different. We both promised, and it sounded less like a promise and more like other dream that would never be true, what was left of the dream we lived in and found a place in the convesation of two people who had wake up.
We haven't talked since, and there's this weird pain in my heart, a twinge that comes back when I remember your smile, when I listen the song you've dedicated me, when I see your pictures in my cellphone (those I never erased), when I see the drawings you gifted me (they're still in my wall). One part of me, a selfish little voice, a hopeful little voice, thinks about you and yearns for you to miss me with a twinge in your heart. Another part of me, a kind little voice, a broken little voice, thinks about you and hopes that you've never thought about me again, and wishes that you'll be inmensely happy.
There, where there's no cottage, no rings and no cats.
There, with two thousand kilometers between your heart and mine.
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Earlier, around 2:20pm, I almost got ran over. I was walking to university, listening to the new Caroline Polachek album on my headphones. I was near the end of “I Believe”, and was so lost in the song that I didn’t look to the right when I crossed the road— in that moment a car roared past, only inches from hitting me. If I had crossed probably half a second earlier I would have been hit — critically injured, comatose, or dead.
I was okay, though. I wondered if this was supposed to be the kind of near-death moment that changed people’s lives, and took stock to see if it had changed mine. First impression: not really. I wondered if that attitude reflected the idea that 20-somethings think they’re invincible. I continued to walk to school, pretty unphased.
I thought about what would have been the last things I’d done if I had died, and made a little list in my head:
- The day before last, I had visited my parents and aunt. It was a very happy visit, so I decided that it would have been fitting as a final one if I had died.
- That night, I sat in the kitchen and talked with my flatmates, and we compared our fortunes from a Cantonese palm-reading website. We had laughed a lot, cracking jokes about each other’s fates in marriage, love, and careers. It was a really nice conversation, so I decided I was satisfied if it was a final one.
- I had handed in my final dissertation for university yesterday. That night, I had stayed up late to hear the new Polachek album and discussed each track with my best friend. I decided this would be a nice thing to leave as our last discussion: sharing something we were both excited for and enjoyed together. If I had died they would have that album to remember me by.
- That morning, I had taken a walk in the park and got a Diet Coke in the cafe at the top of the hill. It was a sunny and hazy winter day: my favourite kind of weather. I sat there and drew in my sketchbook, sending the drawing to a couple of friends. I was proud of it— it was based on an illustration by Egon Schiele, but I had tried to make it my own. If that was my last drawing I think it was pretty representative. I imagined my friends releasing it after my death, and felt content.
- I’d eaten carrot soup and a wholewheat roll for lunch. That’s a pretty humble last meal, which felt good. It wouldn’t sit right with me if it was a Tesco meal deal or something opulent. The simpler, the better.
- I realised that it was Valentine’s Day. Dying on Valentine’s Day would have been a pretty literary and romantic end, which felt satisfying. 02-14 is also a good sequence of numbers. I think I’d be annoyed if I died on an odd-numbered day of an odd-numbered month. I resolved that years in the future, if I was already on the way out then Valentine’s Day would be a nice date to surrender myself.
Weighing everything up, I realised how content I would have been if that was my final moment. Sure, I had a few loose ends untied and a couple of secrets left lying around, but that’s forgivable and expected. Of course, I had failed to live the rest of my life and had never done all the things that I was about to, planned or unplanned. That’s sad, of course, but I realised how content I was with what I’d done up to then. Likewise, I didn’t want to put my friends and family through any grief at all— I really was mindful of how much it would destroy the people that loved me, but it wasn’t like I was trying to die, though. I was just weighing up the outcomes of a freak accident that I didn’t have control over.
I made a mental note to be more careful when crossing the road, laughed a little at how self absorbed the whole train of thought had been. (Although I think it’s forgivable to spend time thinking about how you’d be remembered in a moment like that.)
I continued the walk to university, enjoying the rest of the album as I walked. At a zebra crossing, I bumped into a friend of mine, and waved at her. When I crossed the street to speak to her, however, I realised that she was ghost-pale and shocked about something. She told me not to walk down the street she had approached from, that someone had been ran over, and that it must have been at high speed because long streaks of blood were covering the street. I gave her a hug to calm her down and made sure she was okay, and then continued my walk, chewing it over. I’m still not sure what to think, but the coincidence feels a little meaningful. I had almost been ran over, and everything was set up for it to have been a good moment to die tragically young. But I had been spared, and someone else was struck— who knows, maybe even by the same driver!
I wasn’t sure what I think about it, so I wrote it all down to try to figure it out. (That’s this writing). I hoped it would reveal an answer from the pattern, but there wasn’t something immediately special I could take from it, only this: I’m sad that person was hit, and despite the fact that it would have been a good ending, I’m glad that I wasn’t. That’s awfully plain, but maybe that’s just because it’s true. Something more poetic would probably be a little deceptive or constructed.
Anyway, I’ll continue with my day. I have some homework to take care of, and this evening I’ll go to a life drawing class with my flatmate. And then I’ll live the rest of my life after that.
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Smile
Damian Wayne x Joker’s daughter!reader
Summary: Damian finding out his friend from school is the Joker’s daughter and is being abused.
part 2 part 3
Spotify Playlist
“Guess who!” I called from one of the balconies in the abandoned warehouse. Batman and my father the Joker were fighting in one of the other rooms while Robin came looking for me.
“An annoying brat?” He replies and slightly chuckled but he won’t be laughing soon.
“Mmm… Close, but no.” I jumped down from the second level on the first with him. We both took out our swords and got into our fighting stances.
~
Several minutes later and we both have several cuts and wounds but no serious damage just yet. Robin tried to swing his sword at me but I leveraged under it and hit it down to the ground and kicked it across the room. I swung at him but he kicked my sword out of my hand and across the room with his.
Now fighting hand to hand and occasional kicks, knees and elbows, a few more bruises had been added to each of our bodies. Neither of us were winning but it definitely wasn’t me. I couldn’t land as many blows on him but I managed to knee him in the balls and run away.
~
I got a rather harsh lecture from my father after running away from a fight like that. He even threatened to beat me with the crowbar again if I ran from another fight. Mom helped me stitch and clean my cuts and wounds.
That night I couldn’t sleep and ended up staying on my phone scrolling through tiktok. When I realised how long I had been scrolling on tiktok I moved to scrolling through instagram. It was fairly boring until I saw that Damian finally posted for the first time in centuries. It was a photo of a drawing in one of his sketchbooks, it was of two swords crossing over each other making an x.
What really caught my eye were the hilts of the two swords. One was mine and the other was Robin’s like sure he could’ve found a photo of Robin’s sword and copied the hilt but there are no photos anywhere of mine. Since Damian was somewhat of a friend and, I had tried to keep my social life and the life my parents practically dragged me into, separate so he couldn’t have seen it at all. This was going to keep me up for several nights thinking about it now.
~
“Hey Dames!” I ran up behind him and gave him a hug.
“Hello y/nn.” He said calmly as I unwrapped my arms from around him and started walking beside him down the school halls.
“I was wondering about your drawing you posted last night. I recognised one of the sword hilts was Robin’s, but who’s was the other one?” He looked taken aback by the question.
“Oh- umm it was just something that I thought of on the spot because after I drew Robin’s the page still looked blank.” He’s lying, I can see it in his eyes.
“Oh ok, well it looked really cool.” After that I skipped of to the library.
~
Later in english class I kept glancing back and forth between the clock and Damian and every so often I would catch him looking at me but I thought nothing of it.
Damian’s POV~
Y/n’s been my friend for a while, I might have even developed a small crush on her, but she reminds me of somebody and it’s throwing me off. At first I wasn’t sure what made her so familiar then it clicked it was her smile. I kept on trying to see if any young heroes/sidekicks’ smile matched.
After I went through practically all of their smiles I never saw one that matched hers. It seemed like a bust looking through all of the young heroes’ smiles but I knew it had something to do with Heroes and …Villains… No she can’t be a villain, she’s too nice.
~
I was now looking back on some footage taken by the camera in my mask of my recent missions to see what I can work on in training. There was a clip from a few days ago it was when my father and I fought the Joker and v/n. It was when v/n first walked on the platform of the story above when she first looked at me she smiled.
It wasn’t sick or sadistic or meant to look cruel or ‘scary’, it looked happy, it was wide, bright, cheerful and almost innocent. It was also familiar, very familiar. I knew that smile anywhere, it was y/n’s.
When the video reached the end I saw something that I didn’t see when I was actually there. It was Joker slapping y/n then moved both of his hands to her throat and he threw her to the ground.
I couldn’t let her go through this I needed to help her, but I don’t know how if I knew where they lived then I would be able to save her and bring her back here.
#dc reader insert#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne x you#damian wayne x y/n#damian wayne#damian wayne x jokers daughter!reader
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kill em’ with kindness
fandom | miraculous ladybug
genre | lila salt, so much salt
summary | marinette takes the high road to a better life.
w.c | 8.1k
author’s note | had this idea for a few days after i wrote victory tastes bitter, which really blew up on ao3 (thanks for all the support <3). always wondered what it would be like if marinette just. played nice. so here she is, being an absolute badass.
author’s note.2 | okay so since i did not write this in one sitting, i get that the story probably doesn’t flow as properly as it should. will edit if i ever find the will to do it.
Marinette was done. They wanted her to be a model student? Fine. They wanted her to stop being mean? Fine. They wanted her to be friends with Lila? Fine.
Luckily for Hawkmoth, no akuma plagued the sky of the previous night, or she would rain hell on him. There was no more tolerance left inside her to spare, and she certainly wouldn’t go out of her way to make some for the manipulative pest problem Paris has had for way too long.
She looked up into the mirror, having exchanged her pigtails for a low ponytail, strands curled to frame her face. Bluebell eyes glistened with a fire that burned brighter than hope— Hope that her ‘friends’ would see sense. Hope that Adrien would be there for her. Hope that the good guy would always get the happy ending. No more being patient, no more being passive, no more putting up with things she didn’t have to.
If Lila Rossi wanted a battle, then fine, a battle she would get. Marinette was lowering her white flag, replacing it with a battle emblem that scorched red, redder than blood and redder than the anger her friends would feel when she was finished. No more peace negotiations. Rossi wanted a fight, Rossi wanted a challenge. Who was Marinette to deny her from what she wanted?
They didn’t know what was coming for them.
The power of makeup was truly one that reigned apex among the world. A few touches of her makeup brush was all it took to erase her dark eyes from existence, give her skin a more radiant glow (She promised that she’d take time to give it a natural glow after she was done being nice), and ease a cherry-pink blush onto her cheeks, making her freckles stand out more in contrast. Marinette Dupain-Cheng meant business, and when she meant business—
“Good morning, Marinette! You look great today!” The head of the student council, a sensible, down-to-Earth blonde by the name of Noelle smiled, speeding up slightly to catch the bluenette on the steps of Francois Dupont. “Love the new look.”
Ah yes. The new look— A royal blue blazer, detailed with golden embroidery of cherry blossoms bursting at the sleeves and the collar, accompanied by a classy-looking silk blouse tapered with a soft, black felt. The pleated black skirt (Made from heavy cloth so that it wouldn’t flap about in the wind) was lined with a beautiful scarlet at all the edges to complete the look. Knee-high black socks trailed all the way into the slight heels that Marinette had added flower adornments on, just so she could tap a little of her own touch on it.
“Thank you,” Responded the bluenette with a smile.
“Woah! Someone looks like they got a good night of rest.” Madeline, the president of the Art Club teased, flocking to the other side of the girl. “That mascara looks sharp enough to kill, girl!”
Sharp enough to kill?
Oh, that wouldn’t be necessary, Marinette mused to herself, sending out thanks to those who had complimented her on her way to class. Nothing sharp was going to be required for the liar’s downfall— No, no. That would just be too messy, and she wouldn’t even think of staining her new outfit. Of course, the ensemble was crafted from her own hands, as stated by the classic MDC that graced the inside of her blazer, the collar of her blouse, and one of the pleats of her skirt. Besides… Lila wasn’t worth getting her hands dirty.
She was going to do things the right way.
The kind way.
“Good morning, everyone.” She greeted, walking into the classroom, garnering their attention with her punctuality. Every set of eyes in the room were attracted to her, like iron fillings to magnets. Some of the gazes were malicious, hateful; Some were doubtful, wary; One was pleading, as if spelling out ‘Please keep taking the high road!’— And then there was Chloe, who was entirely uninterested.
Good, Lila was already present.
“I’d just like to take a minute of your time. Won’t be too long, I promise.” She took a deep breath, ignoring the imploring gaze that dug at her side, courtesy of a blonde that sat in the front row (And no, it wasn’t Chloe she was referring to). “I’d just like to say…”
The class watched with bated breath.
“I’m sorry.”
Alya blinked. So did everyone else in the room. Stunned faces greeted Marinette’s apologetic one, including Lila’s— She didn’t even have to fake her reaction. What on Earth was Marinette trying to pull off? What kind of stunt was this?
“I realise that I’ve not really been the best version of me lately,” She admitted sorrowfully. I haven’t been the best version of me because I was being boycotted and isolated, “It wasn’t fair to put you all through this,” It wasn’t fair that you idiots had to lose all your reputations because of the words of one liar, “And people got hurt as a consequence,” Me. I was the one who got hurt. “I realise that things haven’t been all smooth-sailing in our class lately, so I’d like to apologise to everyone.” I’d like to apologise for not being able to save you from a liar who only sees her own personal gain.
A practiced breath escaped Marinette’s throat as she waited for her cue— The school bell— And set her bag on the teacher’s desk. Good, everything was unfolding right on time. Not quite far away, there was a distinct clack-clack-clack of someone’s heels— An auburn teacher, perhaps? Marinette reached into her backpack and drew out a package she had meticulously wrapped in brown paper and tied in golden ribbon. Sitting passively on top of the package was a small note, decorated in hand-drawn flowers and a hummingbird in the corner.
“Here,” Marinette strode up the steps of the class, stopping right in front of her former seat— Now Lila’s— Internally taking pleasure in the first time she’d seen the Italian’s true expression. “For you, as a token of my apology. I understand if you don’t want to forgive me,” Marinette swallowed painfully, biting her lip, as if she was trying not to cry, “But I just want to make things right.”
Lila blinked.
What the hell was happening?
The silence was broken by a quiet sob, one that did not originate from Marinette. Instead, Mlle. Caline Bustier stood in the doorway of the class, clutching her books and notes for the day’s lesson, wiping away a tear that dropped from her eye. “Oh, Marinette,” The teacher sobbed, “I’m so proud of you.”
“That’s so sweet of you, Marinette.” Rose sniffed, wiping away a few tears of her own that had started dripping during the bluenette’s speech. Juleka patted her girlfriend’s back, trying to calm the emotional blonde before she cried out a tsunami on top of her textbooks, giving Marinette a thumbs up to show her approval.
Alya beamed, seemingly proud of her former best friend, who had (In her opinion) finally started to see sense. “I’m so proud of you, girl!”
(Adrien was too shocked to form any words.)
“Could you… Open it?” Marinette asked hopefully, ignoring the teacher for the favour of the liar who ruined her life. “I… Just want to know if you like it.”
The Italian could do nothing more than grit her teeth when Alya urged her to open it. What kind of trick was Mari-Brat up to? Never mind— She’d just spin it into something stupid and the class would take to it like starved animals. With no other choice, she tore apart the brown paper, discarding the golden ribbon on her desk. The class gasped, oohs and aahs echoing all around as the package unfolded to reveal a pretty, beige-coloured cardigan, hand-stitched with murals of foxes, jumping livelily among berry bushes.
Stitched into the inside of the cardigan in pastel blue were the words ‘Lila Rossi’, done in an exquisite cursive that could no doubt only come from Marinette’s hand.
“I made it for you myself,” Marinette sniffed humbly. “I know you’re a really great model and you’ve probably seen clothes that are much better than this one, but I poured all my feelings into it. I spent every night of last week working on it, and—” She hiccuped rather loudly, instantly covering her mouth with her hand in embarrassment. “I just hope you like it.”
“I…” Lila was at a loss for words. She had an itinerary full of the lies and stories she would spin that day (“Marinette texted me mean things last night,” she would weep tearfully to Alya, sniffing and wiping away tears on Alya’s shirt sleeve, “I just want to be friends but she just keeps… Attacking me!”) but no matter. A smirk danced along the Italian’s lips. “Did you design this yourself?”
Judging by the smirk that Marinette could practically hear in the other girl’s tone, the liar already had a trick up her sleeve. If Marinette had to guess...
Something along the lines of she stole this design from [random designer], who just coincidentally had the time to be Lila’s friend. Or maybe the friend of Lila’s grandmother. Whichever didn’t matter much, because Marinette was prepared.
Marinette crossed the room in mere seconds, returning back to Lila’s seat with a sketchbook that she’d pulled from her bag. “Here!” She chirped, flipping open the page with an exercised movement, not even having to shuffle through the pages to find the correct sketch. “I brought the original sketch, just in case you wanted to see it so you could get a professional to redo it for you.”
Lila opened and closed her mouth like a gaping fish out of water. Beside her, Alya’s eyes sparkled, envy still glowing in her eyes at the sight of the intricate foxes, coloured in hazel, gold, and orange threads.
“Thank you, Marinette.” Lila gritted through her teeth, basically seething at the thought of having to thank the girl in front of her, who was smiling like an innocent sunshine child.
The bluenette then turned her attention to her homeroom teacher. “Sorry for interrupting and taking up class time, Mlle. Bustier.”
“It’s not a problem, Marinette,” Mlle. Bustier wiped at her eyes, slightly embarrassed now that the whole class was watching her cry at the sight of her ‘model student’ correcting her wrongs. “E— Excuse me.” She mumbled, clearing her throat. “Let’s pick off from where we stopped yesterday. Open your textbooks to page 63, please.”
──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────
The rest of the day went along smoothly. Marinette sat at the back of class, as usual, sighing in boredom as class was derailed off course, whisked off by another one of Lila’s tall tales. Honestly, they were already weeks off schedule— How the hell were they expected to sit for the final exam, at this rate?
She huffed quietly to herself, watching Bustier trying (and failing) to act like she wasn’t interested in Lila’s story. The woman— An actual adult— Fell for Lila’s usual tricks like a fool, taking in every single word in drunken thirst. Did Mlle. Bustier really have nothing better to do than get absorbed in a teenage girl’s wild fantasies (in a way it was like that). At that thought, Marinette sat up straighter in her chair, an idea going off like a lightbulb above her brain.
Was it...?
After further thought, Marinette settled back into her chair, humming thoughtfully as she drummed her fingers against her table quietly. Yes... Yes, perhaps.
Perhaps it was possible.
The rest of the lesson passed in wasted time as the class took a major detour to go on a warped journey through Lila’s lies, and before Bustier knew it, the lunch bell had rung. Students chattered animatedly as everyone got up, Mlle. Bustier’s announcement of ‘please go home and study this chapter by yourselves, everyone’ was pathetically drowned out by the rest of the noise.
Marinette collected her things quickly, needing her exit from the classroom to go off without a hitch, exactly the way she planned it. “I’ve got to go back to my parents’ bakery for lunch,” She said shyly, shrinking into herself as her classmates turned to look at her. “I... Was thinking of bringing some macarons back later. Before I go, though... Lila, is there anything you’re allergic to?”
“What?” The girl being asked snapped back as a reply, the words leaving her mouth too fast for her to register. Before she knew it, the whole class was staring at her, mouths agape. “I... I mean.” Clearing her throat, the liar plastered on a sweet smile. “What was it, Marinette?”
“I wanted to bring some macarons back for everyone.” Shyly, the bluenette repeated her plans. “And... Since I’ve been in class with everyone else here for a while, I know their allergies, but not yours. Is there anything you’re allergic to that could be in baked goods?”
The Italian cursed under her breath— Mari-Brat really wasn’t letting up. The bluenette had made sure to cover any ground that the Italian could use and turn back against her. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m not allergic to anything.”
Brightening visibly, Marinette nodded, shooting the Italian a smile. “I know things between us aren’t going to get better immediately, but I promise to do my best in fixing things! See you guys after lunch.”
──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────
Lila was getting really, really fed up. For the whole morning, she wasn’t able to come up with any reason to blame Marinette. If things kept going at the rate that they were, the class would be fully convinced that the bluenette was a changed woman, and that couldn’t happen. There was, in the end, a downside to having such a gullible bunch of classmates— Sure, they swayed easily to her side, but that meant that they swayed back to Marinette’s just as easily.
Hissing under her breath, Lila looked up to catch Alya and Nino’s concerned looks.
No.
She was Lila Rossi. She was resourceful. She had Gabriel Agreste behind her back. She was powerful. She was not going to let Mari-Brat halt her plans in their tracks ever again.
“I’m going to go use the bathroom real quick,” She said, excusing herself from the lunch table. Perfect! Now all she had to do was come back in tears, saying that Marinette confronted and mocked her in the bathroom, and the class would be all hers, once again.
Little did she know that Dupain-Cheng was one teensy step ahead.
As soon as Lila rounded the corner of the cafeteria, Marinette appeared, having just had a lovely chat with Rose (And Juleka, although it was Rose who did most of the talking). The two were at the front steps of Francois Dupont, having a lovely couple moment that Marinette hated to interrupt— But she needed to have at least a word with them.
“Rose, Juleka!” Marinette greeted, box of macarons held carefully in her arms, as if it were a box of important jewelry instead of just a box of pastries. “Oh— Rose, is that a new watch? I’ve never seen you wear it before!”
“Yep, it is!” Rose beamed, delighted that someone (Besides Juleka) had finally noticed it. “Isn’t it pretty?” Indeed it was. The watch in question was a pretty, intricate-looking thing done in rose-gold metal, with a pastel pink leather strap holding it down. The background of the watch face was a white background with a thin film of rose-gold metal, cut to resemble a wall of precious rose vines.
“It is!” Agreeing wholeheartedly, Marinette offered her classmate a smile. “Oh by the way, what time is it?”
Rose peered at the watchface, returning the answer with an equally-bright smile. “11.47.”
“Thank you.” Marinette thanked, continuing her way through the school until she reached the cafeteria. Just before she fell into line of sight, though, she hid behind a wall, peering over the corner until she spotted the table she was looking for.
Perfect— Lila just walked away. Marinette thanked the gods for all the luck that she was having— Okay, maybe she thanked one god in particular more than the others. Gently, she patted the secret pocket that was sewn into the lining of her blazer— Tikki, who had magic powers, managed to create a miniature ‘room’ inside the secret pocket, with the pocket itself acting as a portal of sorts to the room. After a few seconds, she felt the pocket tap back, managing a small smile of gratitude for her kwami’s constant love and support.
“Hey, Alya, Nino.” Marinette greeted shyly, box of macarons propped up against her hip. “Where’s... Lila?” She hesitated slightly with her question, acting as if it was a little out-of-place to ask about the Italian girl.
“She went to the bathroom.” Nino provided, mouth still full of unchewed food. This gifted him with a smack from his girlfriend (“Don’t talk with your mouth full!” she scolded,).
“Oh, I see.” I definitely see. I know what she’s going to try and pull later— I have to time this properly. Timing is everything.
Marinette continued to make small talk with the two, whom she had not talked to for a very long time. Much to her surprise, they were very warm and accepting, quite unlike the people who slung slurs and accused her baselessly a few days ago. One morning made all the difference to people who believed anything, she supposed.
All of a sudden, something in her chest buzzed, as if it were a fire alarm, vibrating in warning— She had to go. “It was nice talking to you guys again.” She admitted, having briefly dipped into a pool of what their friendship used to be like. “But I have to go. I promised Kagami I’d meet her for a few minutes before lunch ended.”
Alya’s eyebrows jumped up comically in surprise. “I didn’t know you still talked to her. I thought you two were… Love rivals.”
“So what if we were love rivals?” Marinette shrugged with a simple smile. “Adrien is… As much as it’s odd to admit, he’s just a boy. Neither of us let him get in between us. He’s just a boy, and it’d be stupid for us to not get along just because we like the same boy. It doesn’t bother Kagami that we used to like the same boy, so why should I let it bother me? Besides,” Marinette tilted her head slightly. “It’d be stupid to give up a great friendship just because of a boy.”
With her last words still hanging in the air, Marinette turned tail and left, walking faster than usual. She had little time left— As she neared the wall that would shield her from the view of the cafeteria, she sped up her footsteps, practically half-sprinting just so she could get out of sight before Lila Rossi returned, looking like someone just killed a puppy in front of her very eyes.
“Oh my god, what’s wrong?” Alya jumped to her feet instantly, reaching out to comfort her best friend, who was moments away from having tears stream down her cheeks.
“I… I thought she’d changed.” Lila sniffled, biting her lip to appear as if she was desperately trying not to cry.
Alya frowned. “Who?”
“Marinette.” Lila stated as if it were obvious, faltering for a moment— Why had Alya bothered to ask? Shouldn’t it come pretty obvious? The liar dismissed the thoughts and continued in her performance. “She threatened me in the bathroom. She… She confronted me and mocked me, saying… Saying that all of you… All of you are idiots for believing that she’s changed. She… She said everything was an act to turn you all against me.”
Nino’s jaw dropped so far that it touched the floor. “Uh… Dudette, are you sure it was Marinette?”
“Yes!” Lila spun to look at him so fast that it was a wonder she didn’t break her neck. “Are… Are you doubting me? Oh my god, it’s working. She’s turning you guys against me. I just want to have friends, I don’t get why she hates me so—”
“You’re… Absolutely sure it was Marinette? You saw her face?” Alya repeated her boyfriend’s words, emphasising each and everyone of them as she looked Lila in the eyes.
“Alya, not you too.” Lila sniffled, tears basically dropping out of her eyes like big, fat droplets of salt water. “It was her— I saw her blazer, it had MDC stitched onto it.”
An uncomfortable silence settled in between the girl and her boyfriend, neither quite knowing what to say. “Oh. I… I see.” Alya said at last, turning back to her food. “Well… Lunch is almost over. Let’s… Let’s get back to class.”
“Marinette just threatened me in the bathroom!” Lila puffed up, clearly upset now. “She mocked me! She called you guys stupid for believing her act!”
“Dudette.” Nino shattered the ice-cold silence at their lunch table, swallowing heavily. “Marinette was with us the whole time you were in the bathroom.”
──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────
The tension inside the room was so thick that Adrien could cut it with his bare hands. God, what had happened? The day had started off so well— Marinette agreed to be friends with Lila, god bless the girl— But as it turned out, one hurdle folded over only to be towered over by a taller one.
“Alya—” Lila began tearfully, her pitiful look attracting the sympathy of those who still didn’t know what was going on.
“You claimed that Marinette threatened you in the bathroom.” Alya interrupted. “While she was with us the whole time in the cafeteria.”
Faltering, the Italian struggled to find a way to squeeze herself out of the tight spot. “M— Maybe it was someone else.” Reluctantly, she backed out one trap into another one.
“You said that you were sure! You said that she was wearing a blazer with MDC stitched on it. Marinette was wearing that blazer during lunch!” The reporter shot back, Nino at her side, trying to extinguish the conflicted fire blazing inside Alya’s heart.
The seeds of doubt had been sewn, and Lila was going to have a tough time weeding them out. “I... I’m sorry!” She burst out into tears, sobbing pitifully in front of the class, most of which were already in attendance. “My lying disease is acting up again. I... I can’t help it. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone!”
“Uh... Is this a bad time to ask if anyone wants macarons?” Marinette cleared her throat awkwardly, standing at the front of the room. Her royal blue blazer had been shed, and it now hung over her arm, properly folded into half. Earlier, she had asked Rose for the time to make sure that she had a witness in case Lila tried to pull another act— But as it seemed, the Italian was determined to dig her own grave and all the work had been done.
The students of Mlle. Bustier’s class shared looks.
“I’ll... I’ll have one.” Mylene cleared her throat, hoping that it would diffuse the situation.
“Me too.” Kim followed, not missing the way Marinette flinched slightly at his words. Most of the words he had said to her of late had not been nice at all— But he justified that with the fact that she was being a bully to Lila, like Chloe had been to Marinette herself.
“Great!” Marinette cleared her throat awkwardly, slapping on a strained smile. She passed the box to the front row, where Sabrina and Chloe were, gesturing for them to pass the box along until everyone got their fill.
Internally, Lila seethed, anger burning like a wildfire that tore down every lush sign of life in her path. The girl had never felt that livid in her entire life— Who did Dupain-Cheng think she was, having a change of heart out of nowhere, pretending to play along with those oh-so-innocent eyes of hers?
“I... I think I know why my disease acted up again,” Lila sniffled, loud enough to gather attention again. Unsure glances passed around like an object that no one wanted, carried from hand to hand forcefully as no one wanted to hold onto it for too long. “It... It must’ve been because of... Of the cardigan that Marinette made me! You must’ve known that...” The Italian squinted at the cardigan on her desk, “... Cotton triggers my lying disease!”
The bluenette, still passing around macarons, stopped in her tracks. Inside her mind, Marinette was shaking her head, an amused smile on her cheeks. She had to give Lila credit for that one— She would’ve never anticipated that lie from her nemesis. “That’s terrible!” She sucked in a breath, putting on a dismayed look. “I’m really sorry, Lila! I know it seems like I did this on purpose, but I promise I didn’t! To make it up to you, I’ll make you another one.”
Is she serious right now? Lila scoffed mentally. How long does she plan to keep this going? No matter— She’ll eventually drain herself out and I won’t even have to meddle in this matter.
Marinette sniffled, collecting the cardigan pitifully from Lila’s desk. “But to prevent future incidents, Lila, I just want you to know that this isn’t made of cotton... It’s made from the highest-quality of star silk, which is incredibly difficult to produce and is rather expensive. It’s such a pity... I thought that only the best of materials would be deserving to be used to make an apology present... I guess you can’t wear it. I’ll just make another copy of the cardigan with some normal-range silk.” Sighing, the bluenette pretended to mull in sadness for a few seconds before an idea struck her. “Alya! You aren’t allergic to star silk, right?”
The flow of conversation redirected suddenly, with the reporter snapping to attention and nodding eagerly as she realised what was about to happen.
“Then... Since I’ve spent so long on this, I don’t want it to go to waste... Why don’t you have it, instead?” Offered Marinette with a sweet, shy smile on her face.
Lila, still caught up in shock by the reveal of the material— Was then slammed with a wall of flaming anger as Alya squealed, coddling the soft, fluffy material that made the cardigan the exquisite product it was.
“Marinette’s right,” Adrien chipped in with his own two cents, “Father can rarely get his hands on that material— It costs a fortune, and if hand-made... It takes forever.”
“Oh, I wove the silk by myself,” Marinette added shyly after Adrien’s contribution, “So I apologise if it’s not up to the quality of industry-level star silk.”
The reporter gushed, still cooing and running her hands over the gorgeous threads of fabric that made up the cloud-like base of the cardigan, eyes sparkling and the details of the embroidery.
Marinette smiled, returning to her seat without a fuss. The rest of the class continued to pass the pastries around, the perfect description of ‘ignorance is bliss’ as they pretended as if they couldn’t see the way Lila was shaking in anger. Alya, on the other hand, could see nothing but the garment in her hands, her ‘best friend’ having become invisible for the time being.
Just as well that it turned out this way, Marinette hummed, twirling her pen in hand, Let that be my departing gift to Rena Rouge.
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Tomorrow arrived like clockwork, never late and always on time. The crowd of students clamouring by the front of Francois Dupont hushed to silence as they parted for two dark-haired women, both of which were giving off waves of confidence. Simple conversation flowed between the two, who were perfect examples of elegance and grace, their traditional-inspired attire complementing the royal-like aura they had.
“This dress is really lovely, Marinette,” Kagami smiled gently, admiring the way the fabric flowed around her. The designer had gifted her friend with a maroon-coloured hanfu-inspired dress, complete with hand-sewn embroidery of a golden dragon curled around Kagami’s waist and neck. The dress was completed with a pleated skirt that went all the way to the heels. At first, the fencer was reluctant about the skirt due to the limited maneuverability, but then Marinette revealed that the skirt was very simple to take off as it was just tied around the waist.
“You look gorgeous in it. It suits you.” Marinette replied, dressed in a similar looking dress. Her hanfu-inspired dress was light pink in colour, with silver threads depicting cranes flying about freely. The pleated skirt was grey in colour, lined with a soft circle of white.
Kagami blushed slightly. “Thank you.” Briefly, the Japanese girl wondered why on Earth Marinette would go and embroider a dragon onto her dress— Was it purely a coincidence, or...?
“I’m really glad you decided to transfer here,” Marinette smiled softly, her dark blue bangs framing her face as the rest of it was gathered into a braid that Kagami had helped weave. “It’s going to be nice! I’ll get to see you a lot more often.”
“We’re in different classes, though.” Frowning, Kagami wondered if she should request a change of homeroom.
“For now.” The designer winked playfully. “Oh, I have to get to class. See you during lunch?”
Without waiting for a reply, the blue-eyed girl moved away gracefully, leaving Kagami in confusion.
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“Good morning,” Marinette greeted gracefully, sweeping into the classroom with her bag over her shoulder and a package in her hands. This package was clearly not as exquisitely-wrapped as the one from the day before, as it was just brown paper and some rough string.
Alya brightened at the sight of her friend, shrinking away slightly whenever Lila tried to say anything. Sure, the reporter did shake off the initial reaction and respond to whatever her ‘best friend’ said, but the damage had been done.
“Here’s your new cardigan. It’s made from the same material as your shirt,” Marinette smiled warmly, placing the package on Lila’s table. “It’s a little different from the one I brought yesterday, but I still poured in all my emotions when I made it, so I hope you’ll accept it.”
Through a gritted smile, the Italian thanked the designer, clenching her fists under the table. That was the second time in two days she had to thank Mari-brat! She swore that if she had to do it again a third time, she was going to slap someone.
“Oh, Marinette!” Alya called out excitedly, wearing the cardigan that was originally supposed to be Lila’s. “This cardigan is so soft! It’s really amazing to wear! As expected of you, girl!”
The bluenette stared back at the reporter, wavering for a bit. She had a feeling that Alya wanted something from her...
“So... I was wondering...” The reporter’s expression turned sheepish, with Marinette’s internal thought-train going ah, there it comes— “Could you remove this and put my name instead?” Alya picked up the corner of the cardigan, pointing to the inside of the garment, where ‘Lila Rossi’ was embroidered on.
“Ah...” Marinette didn’t even have to fake her nervousness. We already agreed on this, She told herself, No more doing free stuff for people. No more. “Sorry, Alya. My parents need a lot of help in the bakery recently,.. You know how it is! Family always comes first. I’ve already taken out a lot of time to make the cardigan for Lila... And I promised Kagami I’d go out with her this weekend. I’m afraid I don’t have time...”
There was no missing the way Alya’s face fell instantly. “Couldn’t you put off Kagami for me? Aren’t we best friends?”
“I thought Lila was your best friend,” Feigning an expression of innocence, Marinette tilted her head slightly. “You shouldn’t go around saying things like that, Alya. You might hurt Lila’s feelings. Besides, a promise is a promise. I wouldn’t want to hurt Kagami’s feelings either. Not to mention— I gave you that cardigan for free. That was two weeks’ worth of hard work. I’m afraid I don’t have the ability to take time out to alter it for free either. If you really want to get it done, you could ask an external tailor to do it for you. I know a few who can do really good embroidery.”
Alya faltered. “But... We used to be best friends...”
Snorting mentally, Marinette continued to hold her calm composure. “Like I said, you really shouldn’t say that, Alya. Lila might get upset and we don’t want to hurt her feelings— Right, Adrien?”
The blonde jumped when the conversation turned to him out of nowhere. All of a sudden, every eye in the classroom was fixed on him. “R— Right, of course.” He said, forcing out each word.
Satisfied, Marinette nodded, still wearing her ever-so-kind smile. “Exactly.”
──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────
“Hey, why don’t we all go out and have a picnic outside during lunch?” Alya suggested loudly, jumping up as soon as the lunch bell rang. “Marinette, you can come along too!” Something inside the reporter’s chest was stirring, and with the events of the past few days, Alya felt like she just had to quench that unsettling feeling— And the first step to that was to mend things with Marinette, even though it was the bluenette’s fault for always having been biased to Lila. Alya smiled, proud of herself. She would be the bigger person, she would forgive Marinette, she would integrate the designer back into the class again.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Marinette replied just as quickly, “We don’t know what Lila might be allergic to— She could easily trigger a reaction if we go out, especially since it’s spring.”
A collective choir of groans rounded the class.
“Well, I’m going to go back to the hotel to have a first-class meal,” Chloe turned her nose up at her classmates. “... Dupain-Cheng, would you like to come?”
Shock painted the faces of the whole classroom. Did Chloe just... Ask Marinette something... Politely?
“I’d love to take that offer, Chloe.” Responded the bluenette, graceful and flawless as ever. “Perhaps tomorrow?”
“Suit yourself. They’re serving lobster today.” Chloe huffed. “If you’re really that busy, then fine. We can discuss...” The Mayor’s daughter trailed off as she blushed.
The bluenette giggled knowingly. “You’d like to commission a dress from me, right?”
“... No.”
“...”
“... Maybe.”
“Alright.” Marinette nodded. “Then maybe it’ll be more convenient if I head over to the hotel after school. I’ll need to take your measurements and we can discuss the prices after.”
“Whatever.” Chloe waved her away haughtily, a poor effort to cover up her embarrassment. “Sabrina. Let’s go.”
“Chloe?” Alya guffawed. “Why are you commissioning something from Marinette?”
Rolling her eyes as if Alya had just asked the stupidest question ever, Chloe answered plainly. “Because she’s one of the up-and-rising designers in the industry? Have you seen what Dupain-Cheng is wearing today? Celebrities are already fighting for spots in her commission list. Even my mother and Gabriel Agreste acknowledge her talent. I’m not dumb, Cesaire. I can recognise a future fashion queen when I see one.”
Wow, Marinette breathed, looking at the stunned faces around the room, Chloe sure knows how to create an impression.
“W— Well.” Stuttered the reporter after Chloe made her big exit. “Then... What about going to the bakery for lunch?”
“Didn’t Lila say she saw a rat in the bakery the last time she visited it?” Marinette pointed out. “The health officer checked the surveillance and the claim was dismissed, of course, because my parents make sure the bakery is as hygienic as possible— But I’m sure Lila is traumatised from that incident. I wouldn’t want to force her to come along to the bakery— And we wouldn’t want to leave her out either, right?”
This elicited another round of groans.
Oh, I am enjoying myself way too much, Marinette chuckled mentally.
“Then— Then...” Alya struggled visibly before she was put out of her misery.
“It’s fine, Alya.” The designer reassured her. “I wouldn’t want to bother Lila. I’m sure she’s still upset at me. You guys go ahead. I have to go back to the bakery to help my parents out. See you guys after!”
──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────
Slam!
Lila fumed, hand still pressed on her locker door. What. The. Hell. Was Mari-brat trying to do? She didn’t miss the way some of her classmates sent her unsatisfactory looks after that pre-lunch stunt that Marinette had pulled.
And what was the thing about high-and-mighty Chloe commissioning from Marinette?
Sure, Lila would admit that the cardigan that the designer made was indeed gorgeous, and the fabric was smooth and velvety, a quality unlike any of the clothing that Lila had ever had the privilege to touch— But surely a lowly brat like Dupain-Cheng couldn’t be that popular... Right?
Dammit, hissed the Italian girl, Maybe I should’ve tried being friends with Mari-brat instead of Cesaire.
──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────
“Is that... Marinette and Kagami?” Nino gaped, prompting Alya to turn around. It was true— Walking up the steps of Francois Dupont together were the two blue-haired girls, a gentle smile dancing on Kagami’s lips as Marinette talked animatedly, her hands waving around quickly to further elaborate her point.
Students lounging around the entrance for lunch couldn’t tear their eyes off the two and their matching dresses. Sure, the two girls had walked into school the same way that morning— But now that the afternoon sun was high up in the sky, the golden and silver embroidery was glinting luminously, revealing the true caliber of Marinette’s craft.
“But... They’re rivals.” Stuttered Alya. She just couldn’t understand... Weren’t they supposed to hate each other?
“They both like Adrien but they can still get along,” Nino remarked thoughtfully, taking a bite from his sandwich. “So Marinette wasn’t lying about going to meet Kagami yesterday.”
Alya was silent.
“Alya? What’s wrong?” Worried, Nino put a hand around his girlfriend’s shoulder, care and concern shining through his honest eyes.
“If... If Marinette doesn’t get jealous or biased over someone who also likes Adrien...” Alya started quietly, eyes still fixed on the two girls, “Then why was she so against Lila?”
──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────
“Mlle. Bustier?” The teacher looked up at the voice of her favourite student. Fondly, she smiled. Marinette had finally seen the light and changed her ways, becoming the helpful, generous, kind Marinette that served as a great example for her peers. “May I make an announcement before class ends?”
“Of course, dear.” Mlle. Bustier gave permission instantly— Marinette was taking up the reins of leadership again! The teacher couldn’t help but do a happy dance internally.
“I have an announcement to make, so if everyone could listen, I’d be really thankful.” Marinette started, her clear blue eyes meeting those of her classmates.
She took a deep breath. This is it. I’ve done what I needed to do, now it’s time to finish the job.
“These past two days... Have been great,” Marinette started wistfully. “I really missed hanging around everyone, just like we did before,” Before you all turned your backs on me and stabbed me when I wasn’t looking, “But I can’t deny— And neither can you— That the things that have happened... They had a really deep impact. And I’ve realised that I can’t just ignore that damage that has been done.” The damage that has been done to me. “So, for the better of everyone— I’ve decided that I... Will transfer classes.”
It was as if an explosion had gone off in Mlle. Bustier’s classroom.
“Girl! You can’t do that!” Alya exclaimed in dismay, “We can fix things! Everything has been going well these few days, haven’t they?”
“Dudette! Honestly, we forgive you.” Nino sighed, “Things just aren’t the same if you’re not here anymore.”
Adrien didn’t say a word, but the imploring gaze he wore said enough. Please don’t leave me here alone. We promised we’d fight together, right? As long as both of us know...
Marinette held her hand up to silence them, and the classroom, just as swiftly, became the deadly silence that followed post-disaster. “I understand. But once again, this is for the better,” — Of my mental health, “I’ve talked to Mlle. Mendeliev, and she’s agreed to take me in. I believe that once the changes have taken place, we can all grow more freely without restrictions.”
In the corner, Mlle. Bustier was tearing up and dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve.
“Mlle. Bustier,” Marinette turned to her teacher, no malice in her eyes. “I’ll be under Mlle. Mendeliev’s care now.”
“Marinette...” The teacher sobbed quietly, with Chloe shooting her a look of disgust from the front row.
“It’s not going to be easy for any of us,” Marinette turned back to the class, “But with time, I’m sure we will all prosper. Especially since you will now be under the care of our one and only Lila Rossi.”
Adrien looked like someone had just killed a puppy in front of him.
“Since I am the current class president, I thought I’d pass on the duties onto the most capable person in our class.” Marinette explained warmly, never moving her gaze away from the bewildered Lila. “Lila has the most connections in our class out of all of us, and she’s met so many CEOs and entrepreneurs that she must know a lot about organising and planning. I’m sure you can do it, Lila, but...” She paused. “You can handle it, right?”
“Y— Yeah. Of course.” Lila stuttered.
“You promised the class that you’d get BTS to perform for the year-end fundraiser since you were supposed to be in an arranged marriage with their youngest member, Jungkook.” Marinette continued, God I am enjoying myself too much honestly, but I ain’t going to stop now, “And you said you could convince your godfather, Bruce Wayne, to allow the class to go to Wayne Enterprises for this year’s class trip.”
“She said she could convince Tony Hawk to give me an internship, too!” Alix chipped in.
“And that she’d bring me along the next time Prince Ali asks for her help for a charity cause!” Rose smiled.
“She said she’d introduce me to the CEO of Graham Films!” Nino’s eyes shone at the idea.
The class continued to talk all over one another until Marinette silenced them once more. “Now, now. Let’s not overwhelm Lila. We wouldn’t want her to be overworked or to feel like the expectations are set too high, right?”
The class agreed, nodding along.
Marinette made eye contact with Lila, offering her a sweet smile as she did so. Lila, on the other hand, had no taste for such politeness. Instead, she straight-out glared at the former class president.
This is your problem now.
──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────
“Marinette! I was hoping to catch you before you went home,” Alya panted, having been able to find the bluenette in the locker room before the designer slipped out of her reach. “You... You’re really serious about leaving?”
“Yeah.” Smiled Marinette, organising her textbooks into her bag, dusting down her skirt. Noticing Alya’s crestfallen expression, she took the initiative to continue the conversation. “Is there anything else, Alya?”
“Did you... Did you really hate Lila because she liked Adrien, too?” The reporter asked somewhat timidly.
Marinette giggled. Normally, when the girl giggled, you could hear a gentle tinkling of wind chimes— But at that moment, Alya heard the freezing winds on Mount Everest instead. “Don’t be silly, Alya. All this over a boy? Besides, I’m over him.”
“Then...” Alya swallowed difficulty. “Lila... Really was lying this whole time?”
The gaze that swept across the reporter was stone cold, and it made Alya feel as if she was dangling over a valley of jagged rocks. “What do you think, Alya?” Even so, the bluenette maintained a sweet smile.
“She was. She was lying the whole time.” Alya suddenly felt as if she had a shortness of air. “This whole time—”
“Oh, good for you. You finally learned how to see further than one feet in front of you.” Marinette hummed. “I’m proud of you, really. But I’m afraid that I don’t have the time to listen to you slowly come to conclusions after I’ve tried making you see sense for the past half a year. I tried to stop you from ruining your futures, but I guess determination was always one of your good traits.”
Alya slipped to the floor, having lost the feeling in her legs. She placed one hand against the lockers for support as she shook, weakly looking up at the girl who she was once so proud to call her ‘best friend’.
“Marinette?” Kagami’s voice rang through the room, indicating that the girl was waiting at the doorway. “You said you were heading to Bourgeois’s hotel after school— Would you like a ride?”
“That’d be nice, Kagami. A moment.” The designer looked down at her friend and smiled, albeit a little sadly this time— And then she lowered her voice.
“Determination was always one of your good traits.”
──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────
“Marinette,” Adrien perked up at the sight of the bluenette leaving the school doors— Side by side with Kagami, who looked ready to draw a sword and start a duel then and there.
“This’ll just take a minute, ‘Gami.” Marinette reassured, gently patting her friend’s arm. “Why don’t you get in the car first? It looks like it’s going to rain.”
Reluctantly, Kagami nodded. “Alright.” Warily, the fencer stepped down the stairs and into the car— But even as she sat in the vehicle, she watched over her fellow bluenette like a hawk, ready to jump out and challenge the blonde if the situation called for it.
Adrien rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, not quite knowing what to say. Luckily for him, the designer decided to start the conversation.
“I just wanted to say thank you.” Marinette smiled softly. A few months ago, when she looked at Adrien, she would see the kind, generous, pure-hearted boy with the finest golden hair and the brightest green eyes. Now? All she saw was a spineless, sheltered, passive child that was afraid of confrontations.
“For what?” Adrien looked at Marinette, and no longer did he see the cute, pigtail-adorning girl that would blush fiercely everytime he tried to talk to her. Instead, he saw a beautiful, young woman, a rock that had pulled through all the odds to become a vibrant, iridescent diamond.
Marinette was glowing with confidence, her presence diffusing into the air around her and triggering eyes to look up every time she walked by. There was something about the way she held herself that just made the woman demand awe and respect from those that crossed her path. The old ‘Clumsinette’ had been shed like an old snake skin to reveal a treasure, a better version of the bluenette that had always been waiting for her time to come.
Bluebell eyes met green ones just as rain began to patter down onto the streets of Paris. Marinette glanced up slightly, not at all bothered as she smoothly retrieved an umbrella from her bag, holding it out for the blonde to take. A flush of deja vu burst through Adrien’s veins and through his skin as he took it with a mumbled thanks, eyes blown wide as Marinette let loose her hair from her ponytail, pulling her blazer over her head to avoid getting her head wet.
Adrien could only gape as Marinette uttered familiar words back to him, a knowing smile dancing across her lips as she ran off into the rain as if an invisible weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The bluenette looked lighter, brighter, ready to take flight and soar towards the success that her crops of hard work had finally started to bear. Before the blonde model knew it, Marinette Dupain-Cheng had slipped out of his grip, already spreading her multi-coloured wings to land among the stars.
“Thank you for telling me to take the high road.”
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this was both satisfying and tiring to write...
#ml salt#ml saltfic#saltfic#lila salt#marinette dupain-cheng#adrien salt#miraculous ladybug#alya salt#[ris writes]—✧
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Mcsm characters as cats - designs #4
When looking at my last mcsm designs post I saw that it was posted 3 months ago !! Time flew past cuz I honestly didn’t know it had been that long since I have posted mcsm cat designs lmao . Very sorry about the delay . Just didn’t feel motivated to draw that much. Art block sucks
Anyway , for these designs and probs for the rest of the designs that I do I’ll probs won’t do full drawings like I did with the last few cuz they take so much time lmao . Instead I think it will be better to do these designs as little doodles/sketches and then if I do ever end up drawing the character I’ll have the design there to use. Also at the beginning of drawing these my Apple Pencil had faulty pen pressure cuz it’s abit broke so their all drawn with fine liner pen tool cuz it’s the only brush that doesn’t seem to require pen pressure to work . So yeah , I’ve drew all 5 of the old order and Cassie cuz I was gonna do the old builders as well but didn’t end up doing them lol .
I originally drew these as sketches in my sketchbook cuz I had the motivation to draw while my Apple pen was charging . Another thing I realised while drawing Cassie is that I forgot to give radar glasses! I’ll make sure to add them on next time I draw him lol .
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hello! can i request for the brother and undateables (if you don’t want simeon is just okay) headcanons for seeing mc sketches book and mc drew some positions with them? thank you! (sorry if i bothered you and my english is not will)
Sorry for the delay in writing your request, i really like this idea and I will get right on it for you :)
You absolutely did not bother me whatsoever and your English was great btw x
Brothers + Undateables Reaction to Seeing MC’s Sketchbook
——————————————————
Lucifer
Saw it lying on your desk when he came in to clean your room
He was never one to pry but he eventually found himself flicking through the pages of the book
Each page was filled with sketches of flowers or scenery or the cats that wander outside the house
He was so intrigued by these intricate drawings of yours, finding himself rather impressed by the skill you had
Around about the end, he notices sketches of his brothers, each in particular poses, drawn in such beautiful detail
He smiles to himself as he continues to flick through multiple pages of Asmo, not really surprised that he’s the main model of your drawings
That’s when he came across one of him
It was him sitting down in his study, enjoying the sound of one of his records. He didn’t even know you drew him.
It looked so real, like it was a photo. The way the shading was so perfect and how you drew his small smile so delicately. Incredible.
He was so taken back, he had to see more
Walks past you in the corridor with your sketchbook behind his back
I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if he borrowed it for a little while
Mammon
Bust into your room to tell you about this massive loss he had gambling again but you weren’t there
He looked around but all he could find was a singular book lay open on your bed
One peek couldn’t hurt, he thought, already flicking through the contents of the book
His eyes widen as he saw more and more of your art, each drawing so filled with detail
Since when was his human so talented, and when were they planning on telling him?
He kept flicking through until he saw his brothers in several different poses
He felt kind of hurt that you’d never asked him to model for you before
Each page that went by, the more impressed he was
This has gotta be worth a lot with how incredible these drawings are
Suddenly, he reached one of him. He was surprised since you’ve never asked him to model for you so when did you draw this?
It was him smiling while counting his money in his room. He didn’t want to know how you got this to be honest
But he was amazed by the detail put in. The amount of time you must have put into this makes his cheeks blush like crazy at the thought of you drawing something so time consuming for him
He ran out, notebook to chest, flicking through the pages with a goofy smile on his face in his room
Leviathan
Didn’t mean to snoop, just casually found it open on your desk so how could he resist...
His jaw dropped as he flicked through, admiring the never ending sketches of scenery or animals
Literally woooaaahhh’s in his head after looking at each drawing
Gets to his brothers drawings and he’s amazed
You can draw realistic too??!
His mind is running wild at the thought of you drawing all his favourite anime characters
Wonders if there’s any of him but he can’t remember you asking him to pose for any so he gets sorta upset
Who’d want to draw a yucky otaku like him anyway
Continues to flick through, still trying to get over how good the one before was until he sees the one on the next page and he’s starting all over again
In complete awe at how incredible they all were, each detail perfect and the facial features were sharp and precise every single time
Onto the next page and he felt his heart beat out of his chest. No way, could it be...
It was a drawing of him, focused on his game with this concentrated look on his face. When did you even draw that?! He feels his entire face burning up as he stares at himself. You drew him so well...
Clutches the book to his chest, very very close to tears, and runs off to find you to ask you to draw him and Ruri-Chan
Satan
Walks past and sees you drawing in this little book so peeps over your shoulder to see what you were doing
He’s overcome with surprise as he stares at your beautiful drawing of the flower that was sitting on the table in front of you
He crosses his arms on top of your head and laughs as you jump out of your seat, holding the notebook tightly to your chest
He apologise for snooping but tells you how incredible he thinks your art is, watching your face closely as it turns red
He asks if he can see more as your current drawing had intrigued him, and held out his hand to you
You hesitate but happily hand it over, sitting back down and patting the seat next to you
You watch as he flicks through, his eyebrows raising every few times, then looking over and flashing you a smile
Why didn’t he know about this? These drawings were incredible
He especially liked the drawings of the stray cats outside, as his face lit up, pointing and telling you the names of the ones you drew
When he got to his brothers, he couldn’t help but be massively impressive at the intricate detail you put into them as well as the unique poses you put them in to
He doesn’t remember you asking him to pose for anything but he continues to flick through, hopeful
As he flick the page, he comes face to face with a drawing of him. His eyes widen as he scans over the drawing of him holding a book between his fingers as his face looking tranquil and calm.
He looks over at you who had a nervous face, obviously trying to figure out if he liked it or not, to which he smiles widely and tells you he’ll be borrowing it as he’d really like to see more
Asmodeus
You left a book in his room after he’d finished paining your nails
He went to go return it to you when he felt the sudden urge to take a peek inside before hand
Maybe it’s something erotic, he thinks, as he begins to open the book on his bed
When he first sees your drawings, it’s so much better than anything erotic he’s ever seen
His lips twist into a sweet smile as he flicks through the book, his hand resting on his chin, making small humming noises every few seconds
He never knew you were an artist!
The drawings of his brothers were beautiful and he felt sorta jealous that he hasn’t seen a single one of him yet
He desperately turned page after page, searching for drawings of him
At the final page, he finally saw himself. He was speechless as he stares at the incredibly drawn masterpiece of him.
It was of him sitting sweetly on the couch, looking at his freshly paint nails with delight, the drawing perfectly capturing the mood of the moment
He squeals as he hugs the book to his chest as if it was his prized possession
He goes running after you to ask if he could model for more of your art as it was love at first sight
Beelzebub
On his daily snoop around in your room for snacks when he saw a small notebook on your desk
He didn’t want to invade your privacy but he was just too tempted, one peek wouldn’t hurt
He opened it and was greeted by your incredible art. He stopped eating and stared at it, completely in shock at how good they were
He kept flicking through all your little quick draws. Flowers, animals and food. He especially liked those ones
When he came across his brothers, all in these complex poses, he smiled wide and began flicking through to find him, quite excited to see what you drew for him
He went past Belphie’s and a sweet smile spread across his face as he imagined you trying to keep him awake so you could draw him
He kept flipping through but there was still no sign of him. He felt sorta left out at that thought but kept on going through hopefully
Finally, on the very last page, was a drawing of him. It wasn’t like any of his brothers tho, it was him completely in his zone
He had a burger in his hand and was going in to bite down on it, a grin plastered on his lips as the perfect detail showed joy in his eyes
He stares on, wide eyed. This was amazing. He wanted to keep it and store it somewhere so he could look at it forever
Picks up the book to go find you, wandering around like an excited puppy
He was going to give you the biggest hug you’ve ever experienced
Belphegor
Was asleep on the sofa opposite you when the sound of a pencil sketching on a piece of paper woke him up, so he opens his eyes and begins to sit up, rubbing his eyes and looking towards where the sound was coming from
Immediately sees you drawing away into a book, to which he raises his eyebrow and walks behinds you to take a peek
You didn’t seem to notice him getting up as you were completely focused on your sketch so he looks over your shoulder to see a sketch of... him.
Were you just drawing him sleeping?
Thought it was sorta cute actually
He admired how you delicately put in extra minor details that made the drawing look so realistic to him
He couldn’t take his eyes off it, your drawing was incredible
And you drew him lookin good too
You felt something tickle your neck so you turned around quickly to see Belphie peering over your shoulder, staring straight at your art, a big smile plastered on his smug face
Your face burns up in embarrassment as you realise he saw you drawing him sleeping but he just responds with a small laugh and a pat on the head as he jumps over the couch to sit next to you, offering out his hand in a way of saying “let me see”
He flicks through all your nature sketches and the ones of him and Beel, not really bothering about his other brothers, a persistent smile on his lips and a hand glued to your thigh
He was impressed, but surprised he never knew. He really wanted to take it so he could look at it more
So he did just that. Stood up, sketchbook in hand, straight towards the attic to binge through every single drawing in there
Diavolo
You came over to him and asked him to hold your book while you went to go do something, to which he agreed and carried on with his work
He kept eying it on the desk next to him. He’s never been one to snoop, but he couldn’t help but look at it
He flicked through the pages, each one filled to the brim with sketches, doodles and beautiful portraits
He couldn’t believe his eyes, you drew these?
The artwork was captivating, so stunning and detailed with each one he flipped through
He chose well when he picked you to be his exchange student, so talented
He couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of you putting the brothers into these poses and making them sit still for hours while you drew them
He found that a smile appeared on his face as he looked at all the antics the brothers get into which you skilfully drew to savour the moment
That’s when he found himself. Sat graciously on his throne with a huge grin on his face. The detail so incredible it looked almost real. His jaw dropping slightly at the mere sight of it
When was this drawn?
But he didn’t care, he was smiling giddily at it. Honoured you’d spend your personal time drawing him
He knows who his next royal artist is going to be
Barbatos
Diavolo had a little party organised for you and the brothers and when he saw you enter with a book lodged under your arm, he was rather intrigued
Watches as you walk out mid way through the event to an empty room, book still in hand, and so he decides to follow you in case you wanted company
Walks in to see you, pencil in hand, scribbling away at the book
He sits next to you and you jump, startled at his sudden presence
He asks what it is you’re doing and stares down at your open book, watching his eyebrows raise in surprise at your art work
Your face flushes pink as he offers out his hand, asking to see more. You nod and hand it over to him, watching him flick through the pages
He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Your art was excellent and so detailed. Even the small sketches were near perfection
He looks over at you and flashes you a small genuine smile of delight
When he sees the drawings of the brothers, he chuckles and compliments you on how well drawn they are
When he turned the next page, he didn’t expect to see himself though
He was sat cross legged with a cup of tea in his fingers, his face visibly delighted
He clears his throat in surprise, hiding the obvious grin on his lips, and hands it back to you, giving you a small pat on the shoulder as he exits the room
He was amazed. He’ll be mentioning this to Diavolo for sure
Simeon
You honestly come to the angel whenever you need peace from the brothers, so he’s seen you sketching away in that little pad of yours several times, but never actually seen what’s inside of it
One day, you got up to go get something and asked him to look after the book for you, to which he nodded and held the book in his lap
Now... Simeon never snoops, but looking down at your sketchbook, curiosity took over him
He opened it and lay it on his lap, staring down at the multiple little drawings you had scattered on one page
He smiles and turns to the next page, once again greeted by more of your amazing drawings of cats, birds, trees, followers and the House of Lamentation
He keeps turning the page, drawing after drawing, each one seemingly getting better than the last
When he saw the little drawing of Luke he couldn’t help but chuckle at how sweet he looked. He’d have to ask you if he could keep it later
Then he saw the brothers and he admired how well you drew them all, each detail drawn to perfection. He most enjoyed their demon forms and how beautiful they all looked
As soon as he flicked to a drawing of him, he stopped in his tracks, staring down at your sketch in disbelief
He didn’t care too much about when you drew it, all he cared about was how astonishing you made him look
He was stood with his hand on his hip, a small smile displayed on his face as his cloak carefully draped around his arms
He put the book back before you re-entered the room. He’ll ask you if he could take another look later
Solomon
Couldn’t help but notice you sketching something in class, since you share a lot of them together and it happens almost every lesson
He doesn’t really care at first but when he finds it laying on the table after you’d forgotten it, he couldn’t help but look
First couple of pages were filled with small sketches and he was pretty impressed. He does a bit of doodling and draws his summoning circles himself so looking at your art was pretty intriguing to him
When he sees the drawing of the brothers, he realises you’ve actually got a hell of a talent for drawing
He decides to go find you and return it, but he’ll keep flicking through as he walks, because he’d really like to see more
As he’s walking and flicking through, a smile begins to form on his face as he sees sketches of Luke and Simeon having a tea party together, something he knew went on weekly with the 3 of you
He stops walking as he stumbles across something he never expected to see
It was him, practising his spells with a focused look on his face
He has absolutely no clue when you drew you and honestly, slightly creeped out
Ignores it though since the drawing of him came out pretty good and the details you put on his face were incredibly done. He felt himself blush slightly at the fact you actually took the time to draw him
Eventually found you and yelled out your name, waving the sketchbook in his hand as he watched you rush over, your cheeks burning red as you cover your face. He smiles sweetly as he walks off
This guy couldn’t get any more sketchy even if he tried
Luke
Simeon needed to talk to Lucifer, so he brought Luke along since he was bored. He started wandered the house when those two began talking about things he didn’t understand.
He reaches your room and knocks on the door, but there was no answer, so he let himself in
Kid can’t keep his hands to himself, he’s touchin everything he sees. So when he sees a book on your desk, he can’t help himself
Sits on your bed and opens it, his eyes widening as he’s greeted by several incredible sketches
He’s having the time of his life flicking through them all, going through flower after flower, the stray cats he sees outside the house and of course, the demons
He thought all the drawings were the coolest things he’s ever seen in his life
He had to show Simeon
He was about to go running to show him when one of them caught his eye. It was a drawing of him?
He was stood on a stool baking his cakes. The intricate details standing out, making him gawk in awe. He didn’t know when you drew this, but he didn’t care. You made him look amazing
The drawing of him made his eyes tear up, he was so so happy that you drew him
Wiped his eyes and clung to the book, running into the room where Simeon was so he could show him your beautiful drawings too
This was so damn fun to write, but fuck did it take days to do :,)
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me headcanons#obey me leviathan#obey me mc#obey me mammon#obey me lucifer#obey me satan#obey me belphie#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me simeon#obey me solomon#obey me luke#obey me dateables
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picture perfect | k.m
pairings: kevin moon x reader
genre: art student au, strangers to lovers, art!student kevin, actor!reader, another secret admirer situation (yes i know we already did that in my sangyeon fit but it’s cute so idc)
summary: in which you find a sketchbook filled with drawings of you, and go on a mission to find the owner
word count: 8.5k (these just get longer and longer wow)
series: sankyeom’s 2k followers celebration
masterlist
Your psychology professor always spoke a mile a minute, and it made taking notes unnecessarily difficult. Usually when she lectured, your wrist cramped from writing so fast, and your classmates couldn’t wait to get out of the room. On one particular autumn afternoon, you stared into nothingness as your professor gave a lecture on Milgram’s experiments, running lines in your head instead of taking notes like you usually did.
When you were cast as one of the lead roles (who didn’t even have that many lines to begin with) in your University’s winter play of An Ideal Husband, you were ecstatic to be given a new challenge. You had never been involved in acting or theatre before University, and you always felt like you were behind your peers. Your excitement soon morphed into something less productive: fear.
You were so afraid to mess up and disappoint your peers that you frequently did poorly in rehearsals and were the source of your cast’s frustrations. Perhaps it was your lack of experience, or perhaps it was because you didn’t really have any faith in yourself. Either way, it was all you could think about.
As your classmates started packing up to leave, you realised that the lecture was over and that you had just been in your own head for over an hour without learning anything from your class. Scrambling to pack up, you put away your notebooks and pencils as your phone chimed. Checking the text, you saw a message from your friend Sunwoo asking if you wanted to get lunch with him.
Getting to your feet, you texted Sunwoo that you were down for lunch as you exited the now empty lecture hall. As you left, you felt your shoe come in contact with a solid object in the doorway; a notebook that somebody must have dropped on the way out. Knowing that you would want your notes back if someone found them – especially in this class, where your professor spoke way too fast – you opened the notebook to see who it belonged to.
Your breath caught in your throat.
It wasn’t a notebook, it was a sketchbook. With a drawing of you on the first page.
At first, you scolded yourself for assuming that the person in the drawing was you. It was presumptuous of you, wasn’t it? But the texture, colour, and length of the person’s hair perfectly matched yours. The person in the picture had your eyes, skin, clothes, and smile.
Perhaps it wasn’t so arrogant of you to presume that you were being depicted in the drawing.
“That’s a lovely drawing,” Professor Shin, who was on her way out, complimented. “You’re an excellent artist.”
You glanced up from the page, feeling a little dizzy. “It’s not mine,” you admitted, head spinning at the idea of somebody drawing you. Plain, simple, me? You couldn’t believe it. “I just found it here on the floor.”
“Looks like somebody admires you,” your Professor mused, smiling before bidding you farewell, leaving you standing in an empty lecture hall, clutching the sketchbook in your hands.
You tried to find a name on the other side of the cover, but there was no number or form of identification anywhere. The only thing that alluded to an identity was the small signature at the bottom right corner of the drawing.
Moon scribbles.
The first time Kevin saw you, he was seated three rows behind you in one of his Cultural Anthropology classes last semester. You were jotting notes as quickly as possible, brows furrowed together in concentration as you gripped your pen hard enough for your knuckles to turn white.
Kevin didn’t take any notes that day.
All the could do was watch you, appreciating the way your expressions changed as you understood the content, and the hesitance on your face when you volunteered an answer during class.
He didn’t mean to start drawing you. You had simply inspired him to pick up his pencil and start sketching, the soft strokes of the lead slowly but surely forming shapes that resembled your eyes, nose, lips…
Kevin didn’t think that you’d be all he could draw from that moment onwards. Even during his art classes; if the assignment was to study the scenery surrounding the University and draw a landscape, Kevin couldn’t get the image out of your face out of his head. Whether he used paint, charcoal, ink, or lead, it was your profile that emerged from his efforts.
Today was no different; Kevin was supposed to be studying the Psychology slides from class that day – which he hadn’t taken notes on because he was too busy sketching you – and yet he only had the urge to add the finishing touches to his drawing instead of facilitating his studying. Dragging his messenger bag over to his desk, Kevin rifled through it in search of his sketchbook. He had filled many, many pages with your face at that point, and it had become a habit for him to bring it everywhere with him in case he had the urge to draw.
Kevin furrowed his brows when he couldn’t find it. His heart pounded suddenly, the idea of him having lost his sketchbook in a place you might find it seeming terrifying and disastrous. After a final sweep of his bag – which included emptying it inside-out to make sure he didn’t miss anything – Kevin could only hope and pray that he’d find it before you did.
“You found what?” Sunwoo asked through a mouthful of noodles, his eyes comically large and rounded in surprise.
“A sketchbook full of drawings of me,” you replied in a monotone voice, knowing fully well that Sunwoo had heard and understood you the first time. This was the fourth time you had explained the situation, and it was starting to get a little old.
Eric narrowed his eyes, judging Sunwoo’s eating habits, before turning to face you. “Are the drawings cute?” he wondered.
“I wouldn’t say they’re cute,” you said absentmindedly, thinking back to the drawings you saw. After succumbing to your own curiosity, you had looked through the notebook to see what other drawings there were. You knew this was an invasion of privacy but you couldn’t help yourself. Surely enough, they were all of you.
“They were beautiful. Drawn in such detail that I couldn’t even believe it when I first saw them… And I look genuinely gorgeous in them,” you paused when Sunwoo scoffed at your words. “I’m not saying that to be vain,” you defended. “Trust me, I look much better in the sketches than in real life. Whoever drew them just… sees me differently than I see myself. I look beautiful in the pictures.”
“Your Professor’s right, it does sound like you’ve got yourself an admirer,” Eric teased you, pleased that somebody other than your close friends was starting to see how great you were. He wasn’t your best friend like Juyeon or Sunwoo, but he knew you well enough. “Did you get a name or anything?” he asked excitedly.
“Nothing,” you sulked. “I can take an educated guess that this person is probably in my Psych class since it’s the only class I have in that room, but who knows? It could be anyone that’s seen me before.”
“Maybe it’s one of your fans from the drama department,” Sunwoo poked fun at your cast members, not liking how they were treating you in rehearsals.
“Very funny,” you rolled your eyes, finally picking at your rice and starting to eat. “I just want to know who’s drawing me in such an amazing way. It’s so detailed that I assume it might be someone will a lot of skill, maybe an art major? But a lot of people draw as a hobby who aren’t art majors as well. Maybe-”
Eric interrupted you. “You’re thinking too much,” he said, trying to clam you down. “Just… slow down a little. Maybe they’ll come looking for it next time you have Psych? There’s no name or information so you can’t do anything to find them, anyways,” he rationalised, something that was usually your role in your friendships.
Your eyes lit up. “Moon scribbles,” you exclaimed.
Sunwoo gave you an unimpressed look. “Bless you.”
You ignored his cheek, taking out your phone and going onto Instagram. “The artist signed all of their drawings with a signature that says Moon scribbles,” you explained.
“You know it’s rude to go onto your phone during mealtimes,” Sunwoo replied.
You laughed. “I’ll be sure to remember that for the next time you do the same, Kim Sunwoo.”
After typing moonscribbles into the search bar, you saw an art page by the same name pop up. You couldn’t tell who it belonged to, as the bio vaguely gave information about the artist going to your University, studying art and being a pisces. Since the account was private, you decided to risk it and request to follow them, no matter how strange that might be if they weren’t the person you were looking for.
“I should have invited Juyeon out for lunch instead,” Sunwoo decided, picking at your rice dish in between bites of his noodles.
“Juyeon would rather hang out with Eric than you anyway,” you teased your friend back, knowing that Juyeon and Eric had a deeper friendship despite Sunwoo and Eric being the same age. Eric grinned, amused that the was the topic of discussion and not chiming in to deny anything. “And excuse me, I paid for lunch, you rascal! Now stop complaining, I’m done anyway.”
“Alright, fine. Did anything come up?” Sunwoo wondered, slapping your wrist when you tried to take some of his noodles. You rolled your eyes. Typical Sunwoo: always taking your food but never willing to share his with you.
“I don’t know yet,” you admitted. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”
A few days passed without any response from moonscribbles on Instagram. You checked a few times a day to see if they ever accepted your request to follow them, but nothing ever came back. They didn’t deny your request, nor did they let you follow them either. It was frustrating, but it fell to the back of your mind after a week due to your schedule.
You had started doing full rehearsals with your cast members on stage for the play. At first, you thought that the setting might help you remember your lines and act without feeling awkward, but you were wrong. Most of your cast mates thought you got one of the lead roles for an alternate reason; perhaps you were related to someone on the University’s board and the director put you in because they wanted to keep their job. None of that was true, of course, but it didn’t help you make any friends.
The only friend you made was Younghoon, who played the lead opposite you, and with whom you frequently got together to go over lines and practice. He was one of those actors who was a completely different person from his role; he could keep be totally in character while doing his lines and the second the scene was over, he was back to his smiley self.
It didn’t help your confidence that he was an absolute pro. It only made you seem less competent in comparison, and you scolded yourself for even thinking that. Of course you knew it wasn’t Younghoon’s fault that he was simply much better at acting than you, but it definitely hurt your pride even more.
After another disastrous rehearsal, your cast mates had left to go backstage so you could have a word with the director. Younghoon sent you an encouraging smile and a pat on the shoulder before he followed your cast mates backstage, going over his lines in a faint whisper.
“Y/n,” your director began gently. “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but what’s up with you?” You said nothing, prompting her to keep talking. “Your audition was really great. I knew I wanted you to play a lead role the second you were done auditioning. But you’ve been doing pretty poorly in rehearsals.”
“I know,” you admitted. “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Your director sighed. “Look Y/n, I still want you to play your role. I like your chemistry with Younghoon and I think you guys could be really great leads. But if things don’t improve, I’m going to have to replace you with your understudy for the sake of this production.”
Even though you knew it was the obvious thing to do, it still hurt to hear. “I understand,” you whispered, nodding as you glanced at the floor.
“I really hope you can figure this out,” your director said, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “Let me know if I can help in any way, okay?” You nodded, and your director excused herself, leaving you standing at the edge of the stage by yourself.
You groaned once you were alone, taking a seat at the edge of the stage and letting your legs dangle over the edge. Welcoming the silence in the theatre as most of the cast had left for the day, you allowed yourself to lay back and close your eyes.
Why couldn’t you get this right?
Maybe I should just quit the play, you thought to yourself. It’s probably for the best.
When you heard the gentle patter of footsteps leading onto the stage, you spoke without opening your eyes. “Let me guess, you came to tell me how terrible I am too?” you uttered, not even caring who it was anymore.
The footsteps paused. “Um, actually, I’m just here to paint the sets…” a soft male voice spoke, causing you to open your eyes and sit up.
A familiar face stood a few metres away from you, paintbrushes and paints in hand. He had black hair that slightly covered his eyes, cat-like eyes and small lips that were pursed at the awkward interaction the two of you had just had.
“Sorry,” you apologised, getting to your feet. “It’s been a rough day,” you paused. “You’re Kevin, right?”
He looked surprised that you knew who he was. “Oh. Yes, actually.”
“I’m close with Juyeon,” you explained, realising how strange it might seem that you knew his name and recognised him. “I suppose I should probably have led with that.”
Kevin smiled. “No worries. I know you as well, you’re Y/n. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Likewise,” you replied, bending down to collect your script and other belongings, pushing them into your tote bag as quickly as possible. “I’ll get out of your hair, then,” you smiled at him, implying it as your farewell.
“For the record, I don’t think you’re terrible,” Kevin confessed, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and starting to mix paints. You glanced at him. “Are you in your head a little? Maybe. But you’re far from terrible,” he assured you, his brown eyes brimming with kindness.
“That’s very nice of you to say,” you replied. “Thanks. Although, you seem more like an artist than an actor,” you added, teasing him just a little. You couldn’t help yourself, he was pretty cute.
Kevin laughed. “Fair enough,” he allowed. “If you want me to brag about being the lead in Aladdin in middle school, then I will.”
You placed your tote bag on your shoulder, holding your hands up in surrender. “I take it back,” you said immediately. “You have more experience than I do on stage.” The two of you shared grins.
“You’ll get the hang of it,” Kevin assured you. “If I can do it then you certainly can.”
He seemed really sincere, and you appreciated it. “Thanks, Kevin,” you said, feeling much lighter and in a far better mood than before Kevin had come on stage. “I’ll see you around,” you bid your farewells before exiting the stage.
You’d have to ask Juyeon more about his friend Kevin.
The next time you and Kevin bumped into each other was after one of your rehearsals a few weeks later.
You had improved in your rehearsal times, with a lot of help from Younghoon – who practiced with you in between classes – and Sunwoo – who you ran lines with anytime the two of you were together. When you were done rehearsing, your director had expressed how happy she was that you were starting to warm up to the stage and really get into the character the way she was hoping you would. Younghoon earned himself two week’s worth of free coffee from you, and your cast finally stopped glaring at you whenever you came to rehearsals.
“Oh, hey,” you greeted Kevin, who started coming onstage to work on the sets with other people who were involved in the production process. “Good to see you again,” you told him.
“You too,” Kevin beamed, his hair falling over his eyes just slightly. You had the urge to brush it out of the way so you could see him better, but you resisted the urge and scolded yourself for being so forward. “You guys are looking pretty good out there,” he complimented, waving at Younghoon as he left the theatre. His older friend gave him a knowing look, making big eyes at him and puckering his lips to tease Kevin about his crush on you.
“Thank you,” you smiled back at him, entirely clueless to Kevin cursing Younghoon with his eyes right in front of you. “The sets are really coming along too,” you commend him, gesturing around you. “It’s certainly adding some more colour to our rehearsals.”
“Glad to hear it,” Kevin replied. “Set painting isn’t exactly my vocation or anything, but it’s a fun way to help out with my skillset.”
“Skillset?” you echoed, tilting his head in curiosity.
“Ah,” Kevin cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um, I’m a fine arts major. So set painting is a little less refined than what I usually do. Not that I’m bragging,” he added quickly.
“Not at all,” you agreed, your eyes widening in realisation. “Fine arts, that’s a really cool major. You must be pretty talented to get into fine arts here, it’s such a competitive major,” your eyes widened in sudden realisation. “I’d love to see something of yours that doesn’t involve painting sets,” you motioned to the stage around you.
Kevin almost blushed. “Really?” he asked, his heart beat hammering in his chest at the idea of you seeing his art.
“Yeah,” you nodded your head eagerly. Partly because you were really curious about his art, but mostly because Kevin was pretty damn cute. “For sure! I mean, if you come to opening night of the play, I’d love to go see your art some time.”
“How’s this Saturday?” Kevin asked, his words almost slurring together at the speed he was talking. “The art department’s putting on an exhibition and a few of my drawings are going to be in it.”
“That sounds great,” you agreed. “Do you think I could bring some friends?”
Kevin nodded, his deep brown eyes brightening at the idea. “For sure! I already invited Juyeon but you can bring Sunwoo along as well.”
“Then I’ll be there,” you promised.
“Oh my god, are you touching the art?” you heard Kevin exclaim semi-loudly. You froze from your place, pointing at the water fountain from which you were filling up a cup of water to drink.
“What?” you asked dumbly, your eyes widening as Kevin smirked, hiding his laughter.
It was the Saturday of Kevin’s exhibition and you were doing your best to blend in with all the artistically-minded people in the room; admiring the paintings, motioning at the sculptures and pondering over the meanings behind the light exhibitions.
“I thought this was just a regular water fountain,” you tried to defend yourself.
“It is, I’m just messing with you,” Kevin shrugged, causing you to exhale in relief and slap Kevin’s arm.
“That was awful of you,” you scolded, unable to hide the large grin making its way onto your face. “You suck.”
“So I’ve heard,” Kevin retorted easily. “Hi. Thanks for coming.”
“Thanks for inviting me,” you replied. “So, when am I going to see your pieces?” you asked, motioning around the room. It was filled to the brim and people were bustling around the room to get a good look at every piece.
“Right now if you’re up for it,” Kevin suggested, waving as Juyeon and Sunwoo made their way over to the pair of you. You had excused yourself to get some water when Kevin spotted you and came over. “Hey guys. Sunwoo, good to see you again.”
“You too,” Sunwoo replied courteously, which was unlike him. Sunwoo knew Kevin vaguely through Juyeon, who was the same age as Kevin and had a lot of classes with him, and Eric, who Kevin often hung out with because they both spoke English. “Any of these yours?”
“A few,” Kevin said modestly.
Sunwoo nodded, looking around. “Are they good or are they more… conceptual?” he asked, his own way of asking whether or not Kevin’s art was a piece of crap or not.
You rolled your eyes. “Your eloquence astounds me, Sunwoo,” you said sarcastically.
“Well I might as well get to the point,” Sunwoo chided, glancing back at Kevin. “So?”
Kevin, who was observing you and Sunwoo with the same amused smile that Juyeon was, motioned the three of you over as he led you in the direction of his drawings. “I’m not so sure if they’re good, or conceptual, but I suppose you could judge that for yourself,” he told Sunwoo, coming to a halt in front of a display of drawings.
The drawings were lively and bright; colours in the form of pastels and charcoal bringing richness and warmth to the image. Most of his drawings depicted a faceless person. There were multiple drawings where the person was being portrayed from the back, and ones that were head-on didn’t have any facial features.
“These are amazing,” you breathed out, enchanted by the creativity of the drawings, as well as the immense detail that went into them.
“I like them,” Sunwoo decided, causing Juyeon to nod in agreement.
“They’re really good,” Juyeon complimented his friend, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m really glad you decided to put something on display this year.” Juyeon knew all about the artistic slump Kevin was in last year, so he didn’t have any art on display.
Kevin thanked Juyeon quietly, still studying your expression. “Can I ask why they’re faceless?” you asked, tilting your head as you studied the drawings further.
“Ah, that,” Kevin began, an uncharacteristic shyness appearing in his tone. “Well, I’ve been inspired by somebody for a few months now,” he explained. “I suppose I made my drawings faceless because I don’t want people to know who my muse is. I’m not ready to face how I feel when I draw them yet, and I think it’s too personal to put in an exhibition.”
You nodded your head, understanding where he was coming from. “That’s really great. I hope that one day I’ll get to see their face,” you said kindly, genuinely enjoying his art. Your eyes widened as you realised something. “Hey, do you know the other students in your major well?” you asked him.
Kevin raised an eyebrow at your sudden change of topic. “Yeah, I think so. We’re a small major and I have all of my 300-level classes with all the same people. Why do you ask?”
“Would you be able to recognise one of your peer’s work?” you inquired, the sketchbook in your dorm room burning a hole in your mind. He might be able to solve my curiosity.
“Maybe,” Kevin drawled slowly. “Why?” he found your sudden change of pace surprising. “What’s up?”
“Well, I found someone’s sketchbook in one of my classes and I was wondering who it belonged to,” you began, hesitating before bringing up the sketchbook you found in your Psychology class. “But they didn’t put their name on it so I can’t return it to the owner. It was really detailed and skilled work, so I thought they might be a fine arts major.”
Kevin’s heart plummeted into his stomach.
His worst nightmare had come true: you had found his sketchbook. His sketchbook that was filled with his heart-felt drawings of you. And here you were, asking him if he knew who it belonged to. Somehow, it was equal parts thrilling and mortifying.
Sunwoo, having heard about your secret admirer decided to check out a different part of the exhibition, but Juyeon – who was hearing this for the first time – stayed out of curiosity. “You found someone’s sketchbook?” he repeated. “What was in it?”
You laughed awkwardly. “Oh. Well, here’s the thing… There’s some drawings of me in it,” you admitted, feeling shy about divulging everything about the sketchbook to Kevin. “I just… I guess I want to meet the person that made me feel so vibrant and beautiful when looking at the drawings.”
“You have an admirer,” Juyeon realised, beaming at you; eyes squinting into little crescents. “That’s adorable. Does it say anything inside?”
“Yeah it does, actually,” you told him, giving him a smile before meeting Kevin’s eyes again. “All of the drawings are signed with the handle Moon scribbles,” you recalled. “No name or phone number, though.”
Juyeon’s brows furrowed together. “Kev, isn’t Moon scribbles-“
“A really interesting name?” Kevin cut Juyeon off, sending him the clear message that he wasn’t ready to tell you about the fact that you were his muse and he couldn’t stop thinking about you.
Getting the message, Juyeon eagerly agreed, thanking Kevin for finishing his train of thought. “Um, I don’t think I’ve heard of it before. But if you show me the drawings, maybe I could recognise the style?” Kevin suggested, coming up with a solution for you to find the owner of the sketchbook.
“That would be really great, actually,” you acknowledged. “I could bring it by the next time we hang out,” you suggested, excited to figure out who you should thank for their hard work.
“Next time?” Kevin echoed, excitement filling his stomach. “Are you really so eager to solve your mystery?” he teased you.
“Well, you’re not such a bad addition,” you added with a wink.
Kevin’s heart soared.
You met up with Kevin in the library a few days later to show him your sketchbook. It was good timing because you definitely needed to study for your Psychology class after zoning out in your last few lectures, so the library was the perfect setting to meet.
“Hey,” you greeted Kevin, taking the seat next to him on one of the sofas in the more secluded area of the library.
“Hi,” Kevin mumbled in return, his voice sounding quieter and more hoarse than usual. At first, you thought it might be the fact that he had to whisper that made him sound more quiet. Then, you spotted the dark circles under his eyes and the fact that he was wearing glasses, which he didn’t normally do.
“You okay?” you asked him, seeing him stretch out and yawn in his seat.
“Me?” Kevin murmured, meeting your gaze with tired, glazed-over eyes. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Not to sound like an asshole who’s telling you that you look terrible, which I’m not, but you look really tired,” you had to tell Kevin. “Are you sure you’re up for this? You look like you could use some sleep.”
“Sleep,” Kevin said the word like it’s funny. “Sleep and I… we aren’t friends.”
You smiled sympathetically at your new friend. “Up all night studying?” you wondered.
“Insomnia,” Kevin corrected you.
“Ah,” you nodded in understanding. “So sleep is… a distant acquaintance?” you played off his previous joke.
“Something like that,” he allowed, moving his glasses up onto his forehead to rub his eyes. “I’m good, though. I look like this most days, don’t worry about it.”
“If you say so,” you trail off, your concern still not being calmed by Kevin’s explanation. “We can do this anther time if it helps, though. I wouldn’t want you to be unwell because of me.”
Kevin grinned, adjusting the beanie on his head. “But I couldn’t possibly be unwell if I’m around you,” he said, pointing his finger in the air as if he had made an excellent realisation. “Now, show me the sketchbook.”
You pulled the sketchbook out of your tote bag and handed it over to him.
Seeing it right in front of him, Kevin could confirm that it was definitely his sketch book that you had found. Although the chances of another person on campus being entirely smitten by you to the point where you became their artistic muse was slim, it wasn’t zero.
“Can I,” he motioned to the sketchbook, asking for permission to open it. It was incredibly ironic, but Kevin was too embarrassed to come clean about the sketchbook being his.
“Go ahead,” you nodded, telling him to flip through the pages.
Kevin did so, pretending he was seeing all the drawings for the first time. He paused on every page, looking over the details in the sketches and the way they realistically depicted your features. Even though he was the one who drew them, Kevin could admit that the drawings were really great. They were great because he appreciated the subject and was inspired by you. That much was clear to anybody.
“Wow,” Kevin said when he was done looking at all the drawings, holding the sketchbook on his lap. “That’s… you,” he observed, as if he didn’t already know.
“So I’m not crazy?” you asked immediately, biting your lip. “That’s me?” you glanced down at the open page in front of Kevin, seeing the resemblance between you and the person in the drawing.
“Oh it’s definitely you,” Kevin confirmed. “Unless you have an identical twin somewhere out there, there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s you.”
You let out a relieved sigh, leaning back onto the sofa. “Okay, good. I thought I was being really shallow and presumptuous at first but it’s good that you agree,” you told him, feeling a weight being lifted off your chest. “So, does it look familiar?”
“I’m not sure,” Kevin replied vaguely, wondering how he was going to get himself out of this one. “Do you think I could keep this? Maybe look over it a few more times when I’m not about to pass out,” he added.
“Sure,” you allowed. You trusted Kevin enough that he wouldn’t lose the sketchbook, since all of your mutual friends spoke very highly of him. Besides, you were becoming more impressed by him every time the two of you met. “I hope something comes up. I looked moonscribbles up on Instagram but their account is private and they haven’t responded to my follow request yet.”
Kevin had completely forgotten about his private art Instagram account. Before he was inspired by you to draw, he was in a serious slump and had been spiralling downwards. In this time, he made his Instagram account private in an effort to not think about it too much. Kevin scolded himself for not realising that you would look him up on social media to find him.
“That’s too bad,” he said sympathetically. “Maybe they’ll respond soon?”
“I hope so,” you mumbled, sighing. “I just… I want to meet them.”
“Just out of curiosity, why do you want to meet them so badly?” Kevin wondered. “Because they drew pretty pictures of you?”
“Kind of?” you replied unsurely. “That’s definitely part of it. I guess I wanted to meet somebody who thought I was vibrant and colourful and beautiful,” you shrugged, glancing down at your lap. “Because I don’t think that about myself at all. It’s why I suck at acting, and it’s why my cast mates hate me. I just thought that if somebody out there really thought I was special, maybe I would have a reason to believe it, too.”
Kevin felt butterflies rising in his stomach again, but not in a fluttery, nervous way. He was anxious about what was going to happen. “I’ll do my best to help out,” he said gently. “And Y/n?” you looked back up at Kevin. “I think you’re special,” he admitted. “A lot of people do. Juyeon, Sunwoo, Eric, Younghoon… You don’t need Moon scribbles to be special, you’re already special to us.”
A grateful, shy smile spread across your lips at his words. “Thanks, Kev. For your help, and for saying that. I really appreciate it,” you acknowledged afterwards, realising that Kevin was going out of his way to figure out your mystery while he was dead tired.
Noticing the shift in atmosphere, you cleared your throat and changed the subject, heart hammering. “I’m going to stay here and study for my Psychology class, so you don’t have to stay if you’d rather get some sleep.”
“Psychology?” Kevin echoed. “Are you taking it with Professor Shin?”
“Yes,” you groaned. “She talks so fast that my hand feels like it’s going to fall off after her lectures,” you complained.
Kevin laughed. “I can relate,” he commented. “I didn’t think you were in my class. I’m in section fifteen, what about you?”
“Section twenty-two,” you said, shrugging. “Although I’m glad to hear that it’s not just my class that she’s driving crazy.”
“Ditto,” Kevin agreed. “I actually have to get some studying done for that class too. You mind if I stay?”
“Not at all,” you promised. “It always helps to study with a friend,” you added, pulling out your notes and laptop from your tote bag.
After setting up all of your work, you quickly got to studying, cross-referencing terms from your notes to the textbook to make sure you didn’t write down anything wrong in your hurry. Kevin was silent and still beside you, which you took no notice of because you were so focused. In your distraction, he soon drifted off to sleep with his pencil still in hand, head lulling back to rest on the sofa as his eyes shut by their own accord.
Forty minutes later, you had finished both of the units on Social Psychology and furrowed your brows at an unfamiliar name. “Hey Kev, did you guys talk about-“ you paused after turning to face your new friend, seeing that he was peacefully sleeping, his head now leaning to the side to face you.
The sight of him sleeping peacefully warmed your heart, especially after he had talked about his insomnia earlier. Smiling, you pulled your headphones out of your tote bag so you could listen to the recorded lectures in favour of waking up Kevin to ask him for help. As carefully as you could, you slid the pencil out of his palm and placed it to the side so he could get some rest.
You spent the next half an hour studying in silence, until you noticed Eric, Sunwoo and Jacob walking up to you and Kevin. “Hey,” Sunwoo greeted you, earning a wave from you.
“Hi guys,” you whispered back. “What’s up?”
“Are you and Kevin dating?” Eric interrupted whatever Sunwoo was about to say, an excited glint in his eyes. “You guys are in the make-out section of the library!”
You made a face. “That’s why nobody’s here?” you realised, looking around and frowning. “No, Eric. We’re just studying together.”
Jacob grinned. “Looks like Kevin’s making really great progress on that front,” he teased. “I’m Jacob, by the way,” he added, since the two of you hadn’t properly been introduced yet.
“I’m Y/n,” you replied. “Nice to finally meet you! These rascals have told me all about you,” you motioned to Sunwoo and Eric, who beamed proudly.
“I’ve heard a lot about you as well,” Jacob replied. “And I’ve come to collect Kevin. If he doesn’t wake up soon, he’s going to miss his Ceramics class,” he explained.
“Aw,” you pouted, glancing over at Kevin. “He looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping, though. And he said he was struggling to sleep.”
“Yeah,” Jacob agreed. “I hate waking him. Believe me, I’m his roommate so I see it all first-hand. But attendance is graded in this class, so…” he trailed off with a small shrug before leaning over and waking Kevin up.
Kevin awoke, eyes blinking drowsily as he took in the image of four people staring at him. “What did I do?” he asked, wondering what prompted all the attention.
You grinned, finding the sight rather cute. “Your wake-up service is here to tell you it’s ceramics time,” you explained.
“I fell asleep,” Kevin realised. “I’m sorry,” he apologised, feeling bad that you were studying in silence when you were supposed to be helping each other out.
“Don’t be, I’m glad you got some shut-eye,” you assured him. “Go get ready for your class.”
Kevin gathered all of his things into his bag and waved his goodbyes, trudging out of the library with Jacob. “So,” Jacob began, a wide grin gracing his features. “That’s Y/n?” he teased.
“Yes, that’s Y/n,” Kevin replied quietly.
“The famous Y/n?”
“Oh my god please tell me you didn’t say anything to Y/n.”
“What should I have said? Oh so you’re the Y/n that Kevin has been in love with all semester! The famous muse! Nice to meet you, I’m the guy that has to listen to him gush about you.”
“Don’t make me hide your guitar.”
moonscribbles accepted your follow request!
You sat up from where you were lying down on your bed, startled at the notification you had just received. Racing to open your Instagram app, you looked at moonscribbles’s account. None of the drawings on their account were of you, so you couldn’t decide if they were the right person. But they simply had to be. They went to your school, they studied art…
Braving it, you decided to send them a private message.
Hi! I think I found your sketchbook in Professor Shin’s lecture hall. How do you want me to return it to you?
You waited for a response, which came within a minute.
You can keep it.
You were pouting over your cereal in the dining hall when Juyeon joined you, his plate stacked high with all kinds of delicious breakfast foods. “Hey pouty,” he teased you, giving your shoulder a gentle nudge when he took the seat next to yours. His smile never failed to cheer you up, which is why your frown caused concern to grow in your best friend. “Why the long face?”
“I’m never going to meet moonscribbles,” you told him, your eyes uncharacteristically sad and shiny when they met Juyeon’s.
He startled at how upset you were. “What? Why would you say that?”
“They accepted my follow request on Instagram,” you explained. “And they told me I could keep the sketchbook. Then they went offline,” you recalled. “I guess I was wrong about them.”
“I’m sorry. Whoever they are, they clearly have no idea what they’re missing.” Juyeon frowned, sympathetic of your situation and confused about what Kevin thought he was doing.
“What who’s missing?” Jacob and Eric took the seats opposite you and Juyeon, their plates equally filled with breakfast foods.
“Moon scribbles,” you said vaguely, not wanting to get into it with anyone other than Juyeon and Sunwoo. While you were starting to get to know Jacob better, you didn’t feel comfortable enough around them to discuss the matter with them. And of course you loved Eric, and he knew your situation, but you hadn’t anticipated feeling so upset about Moon scribbles’s response.
“Kevin?” Jacob asked innocently, picking up his fork and elbowing Eric so he wouldn’t steal his food. “What did he do?”
Your eyes snapped over to Jacob. “What did you just say?” you asked. Juyeon’s eyes widened, mouth slightly open as Jacob revealed Kevin’s secret to you without even realising it.
“I was asking what Kevin did,” Jacob repeated. “You said Moon scribbles, didn’t you? Kevin’s artist handle?”
“That’s clever,” Eric chimed in, innocently eating his food. “Since his last name is Moon, and all.” Then his eyes widened and he realised the situation, his gaze snapping over at you to see how you were handling the reveal.
In that moment, you’d never felt like more of an idiot.
“Kevin is Moon scribbles,” you echoed, dropping your fork onto your tray.
“Oh,” Jacob paused, reading the room as he saw the way Juyeon was staring at him. “Did you… not know that?”
“No,” you told him, having lost your already minimal appetite. “He didn’t say a thing.”
“Oh boy,” Jacob said awkwardly. “I feel like I definitely just messed up.”
“No, no,” you denied, waving your hand in Jacob’s direction. “Not at all. I’m just glad that I know who it is,” you tried to convince him, as well as yourself. “Did you know?” you asked Juyeon. “That day at the exhibition… You were trying to tell me that you knew it was Kevin, weren’t you?”
“Yes, I knew,” Juyeon replied slowly, confirming your suspicions.
For a moment, a dull pain ached in your chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, hurt that your best friend had lied to you.
“Because I figured Kevin wanted to tell you in his own time,” he explained. “I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you, I just thought he’d do the right thing and explain it to you himself. It felt like it wasn’t my news to tell.”
“Okay,” you nodded. “I understand,” you got to your feet, grabbing your tray after putting your bag on your shoulder.
Juyeon stood up with you. “Are you upset with me?” he asked. “Because I understand if you are.”
You did your best to smile, not caring if it looked real or not. “I’m not upset with you,” you assured him. “I’m upset, but not at you. I have to get to the last dress rehearsal before opening night, so,” you glanced over at Jacob and Eric, who both looked mortified. “Enjoy your breakfast,” you told them before putting your tray away and walking to the theatre as quickly as you could.
“Hey!” your director greeted you when you came in, beaming. “You’re like a half hour early,” she observed.
“Oh, I’ve just come to go over lines and talk to some friends,” you lied, smiling at her before stepping backstage. The set design volunteers were adding last-minute touched to their sets, and you knew that was where you’d find Kevin.
“Hey,” he greeted you when you arrived in front of him. “What’s up?”
“Moon scribbles doesn’t want their sketchbook back,” you told him, as if you didn’t know that he was Moon scribbles. “So you don’t have to keep looking for them,” you added.
“Oh, okay,” Kevin nodded as if he didn’t already know this. “Did you want the sketchbook back?”
“You can keep it,” you declined, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s rightfully yours anyway.”
Kevin paused his painting. “It is?” he asked, voice squeaking just slightly in surprise.
“Yeah, Moon scribbles,” you narrowed your eyes at him. “Besides, it’s the only way you’ll get to see me ever again, anyway,” you added, frowning as you turned around to go. “Bye, Kevin.”
“Wait,” Kevin put his fine paintbrush down to stop you from leaving.
“What?” you asked him, facing him with a raised eyebrow. “You know what, I actually really want to hear this. What exactly is it that you’re going to say to save this situation?” you wondered.
Kevin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean for it to go on this long,” he began.
“That’s a joke,” you accused. “You knew how much this meant to me! Just admit that you were never going to tell me that you’re Moon scribbles.”
“How could I tell you?” Kevin exclaimed, startling you with his sudden increase in volume. “How could I just come forward and tell you that it was me? What would you have thought of me?”
“I’d have thought more of you than I do now,” you retorted. “Look, I get it now. I read the situation all wrong. You don’t think I’m special or vibrant or any of those things. You just drew me because I was there, I suppose,” you decided, feeling your heart dropping in your chest at your own words.
“That is not true,” Kevin denied, shaking his head. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“I suppose you might have though I was pretty if you drew me,” you allowed. “But clearly, I was putting too much onto this whole Moon scribbles thing, and it didn’t mean anything to you at all. Which is fine, it doesn’t have to mean anything. It just sucks that you couldn’t just tell me that to my face,” you confessed wholeheartedly. “But it’s fine. You can just go back to drawing your faceless muse now, I’m over it,” you lied.
“That’s not why I didn’t want to tell you that I’m Moon scribbles,” Kevin insisted. “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to think I drew you just because you’re beautiful.”
“That worked out well,” you muttered.
Kevin sighed. “I don’t care about your looks, as ironic as that sounds. When I first saw you… You exuded an aura. I know that sounds cheesy and not everyone believes in vibes or energy, or whatever, but it’s true. You inspired me to draw and be creative,” he explained. “But I liked you when I met you. When I saw you in class and when I saw you around Sunwoo and Juyeon. You don’t get it. You are my faceless muse. You have been ever since our Cultural Anthropology class last semester.”
That stopped your train of thought. “You were in that class?” you repeated, confused.
“Yes I was. The first time I saw you… I swear, I haven’t drawn anything other than you since that day,” Kevin’s tone was uncharacteristically serious, and you felt inclined to believe him. “No matter how hard I tried. Flowers turned into your eyes, landscapes became your hair; I was a man possessed. I still am.”
“Then why not tell me all of this?” you wondered, frustrated with the situation.
“I thought that if you found out I was Moon scribbles, you’d just think I was shallow,” he paused. “Or worse.”
You rose an eyebrow. “Worse?”
Now it was Kevin’s turn to sound frustrated. “I mean, I’m not so great and special. I figured you’d be disappointed that it’s me.”
Your heart clenched for him. “How could I be disappointed that it’s you?” you asked him. “You’re great. It’s me who’s awful.”
“You aren’t awful,” he denied. “You’re so much greater than you can see. Don’t you get it? You inspired me to create after the most awful year I’ve ever had artistically. I drew you instead of studying, I drew you instead of leaving my dorm, hell, I drew you instead of sleeping. You didn’t misunderstand anything. I do think that you’re special, and vibrant.”
You buried your face in your hands. “Okay,” you spoke quietly, your mind spinning in circles. “I believe you.”
Kevin nodded. “Good.”
You nodded back at him, unsure of how to continue. “So… You have a sketchbook full of drawings of me,” you decided to tease him, just to bring some of the usual lightheartedness you felt around Kevin back.
Kevin visibly reddened at your words. “I mean… I’d be lying if I said it was just one,” he confessed.
You brightened at his words. “You have multiple sketchbooks full of drawings of me?” you exclaimed.
“I made drawings of you for the art exhibition,” he reminded you. “I haven’t been able to draw anything else for seven months. And I draw a lot, so the sketchbooks just started piling up. Plus my iPad,” catching the delighted glint in your eyes, Kevin cut himself off. “You know what, we don’t have to talk about my iPad.”
You smiled, flattered that Kevin had been so inspired by you. “Well, thank you. For filling sketchbooks and iPads and whatever other mediums with drawings of me. You made me feel seen for the first time in a really long time, and I appreciate it,” you acknowledged his efforts. “Is this why everyone acts so weird when we’re together?” you put the pieces together.
“What are you talking about?” Kevin asked, dreading your answer.
“Eric practically skips over to me whenever he sees me now, asking about you and all kinds of other things. Jacob is a lot more subtle, but he looks at me like a proud dad sometimes,” you explained.
Kevin rested his palm against his forehead. “Why are they so obvious?”
“The real question is: Why was Juyeon the least obvious,” you retorted.
“I think he just wanted us both to figure things out in our own time,” Kevin mused, earning a hum and a nod in agreement from you.
“Hey Y/n,” Younghoon poked his head around the corner. “We’re getting ready for rehearsals. Are you going to be done in time to change?” he asked, eyes flitting between you and Kevin.
“Yeah, I’m good to start getting ready. Thanks Younghoon,” you agreed, grateful that your friend wasn’t making a big deal out of what he might have overheard. Younghoon nodded, disappearing with a wink to get himself ready. “Well, that’s my cue,” you trailed off, motioning to the backstage area where you had to get changed for your last dress rehearsal.
Kevin nodded, slightly upset that your conversation didn’t come to a closure yet. “Okay,” he replied. “I guess I’ll see you around?”
You agreed with him, grabbing your bag from where you dropped it on the floor and making your way to the changing rooms. Before you opened the door, you turned back to face Kevin, who had been watching you leave. “I came to your exhibition, so you have to come to opening night,” you reminded him of the agreement the two of you made.
“I’ll be there,” Kevin assured you, taking it as a sign that the two of you could still – at the very least – be friends.
“Good,” you smiled. “And after opening night, we have a few days off so I would definitely be available, say, Wednesday?” you informed him, hoping he’d get the idea.
Kevin brightened up, his posture straightening suddenly. “Oh?” he stammered. “Would you maybe want to get dinner on Wednesday?” he offered. “Like, a date?”
You grinned, your eye dropping into a wink. “What an excellent idea,” you told him. “By the way, don’t bother asking the boys about what I like, they’re completely clueless. My favourite flowers are peonies.”
“Peonies,” Kevin repeated, accompanied by a nod. “Any preferred colour?” he asked, giddy with excitement at the outcome your confrontation had.
You shrugged. “Surprise me.”
note: okay i know you guys waited forever for this so thank you so much for your patience!! i hope you guys enjoyed it xx
#the boyz#the boyz imagines#kevin#kevin imagines#kevin x reader#the boyz x reader#the boyz scenarios#the boyz drabbles#the boyz fanfic#deobiwritersnet#tbznetwork#kevin moon#2k celebration
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The Greatest Gift of All
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(Inspired by^ for the people who asked :D hope it was worth the wait!)
*
Long before the war, before Captain America or the Winter Soldier, there was simply Bucky and Steve. At least, that's what history says. But they missed out one very important person, a girl called Y/N.
Women in those times often found themselves with little opportunity, and only two easily attainable pathways in life: wife and mother. But Y/N carved out a life for herself that defied all expectations, and it all started in Brooklyn.
She dived headlong into scuffles, usually next to Bucky in defence of Steve. Regardless of the opponent, Y/N stood by them both, and often held her own quite impressively.
Her dress style borrowed from more masculine cuts, and Y/N was never seen without her cap. A lot of people had a problem with this, but she shut them up fairly swiftly.
Everything about this girl drew Bucky in, a battle he fought with little effort. They reveled in each other, flaunting their love at every opportunity. More than a few were jealous that the rough and tumble girl got the best looking boy in town.
In a way, before even coming of age, they started an adult life together. The three of them moved into a flat. Y/N and Bucky took hard labour jobs, or anything they could get. They had little room to be picky.
Both managed to hook steady summer jobs at the local docks. They used most of their money to keep a roof over their heads, buy food, and pay for Steve's medical needs. He attended art school, and sold his work every now and then; but physically, he was in no condition to work.
The war appeared on the horizon, just as they started to pull themselves an inch above the poverty line. Y/N saw it coming, the inevitable. She treasured every second they spent together, and dreaded the day when the draft came.
A lot of the older women she worked with were disrespectful, looking down on her pre-marital relationship with Bucky. They claimed she couldn't possibly understand their grief, despite the fact Y/N had seen Bucky off at the docks that very morning.
In truth, they already planned on being married, but at the time, they simply didn't have the funds. Bucky promised, once the war ended, that ring would be on her finger.
Except, he never came home. Not properly. The person Hydra gave back to Y/N was damaged and jaded, angry at the world, angrier than she ever saw. But still, they loved each other. Though she never forgave them for stealing away his innocence, for trying to snuff out the light in his soul. A part of him would always belong to them, and she hated it.
Refusing to stay home while they risked their lives, never knowing, Y/N trained as an army nurse, working specially with the Howling Commandos unit.
Then one day, she went out to welcome them back from a mission. Every face looked devastated, but none more so than Steve. His eyes, red-raw and streaming, seemed incapable of rising from the ground. At first, the realisation didn't process, the idea simply incomprehensible. He promised.
Dugan was the one to finally break through and catch Y/N as she fell, holding her as the tears poured. Once he shook off his daze, Steve took his place, sharing in her grief.
Her world fell apart so quickly, with no warning and no mercy. Their commanders celebrated the capture of Arnim Zola, while Y/N and Steve sat, staring at an empty place at their side.
Everyone mourned Bucky, and swiftly after, began to mourn Y/N, too. The loss took a part of her...the sparkle, the happiness, the laugh that lit up her face. It all vanished. She worked hard, looked after them all, but only Steve was able to make her smile. Even then, it looked pained.
So when Steve went down with the plane, the very last shred of Y/N died with him. No tears left her eyes, no screams ripped up her throat. A cold numbness took over, freezing the woman from the inside out.
V-Day came and went. The Commandos stood and drank to their lost comrades, and Dugan silently drank another...for the loss of a bright, fiery girl who had virtually nothing to lose, and still lost everything.
She spent her days as a robot, doing nothing but going through the motions of badly imitating life. The flat was empty and quiet, yet somehow, bursting with the ghosts of her loved ones. Nightmares plagued her, terrible images of Bucky's body, forever trapped in a freezing hell, nothing but food for the birds. And Steve, his body...was it cast adrift in the ocean? Or destroyed, burnt to ash in the belly of a metal beast.
They were simple folk before the war turned them into soldiers, into weapons. Before symbols and flags stole away their names, driving them to sacrifice their lives for a greater cause.
Y/N knew their fight against Hydra was important...knew the honour behind their sacrifice. But when it's you left sitting at an empty dinner table, it's much easier to be angry and bitter.
She never married, never settled, bouncing around countries working as an army nurse. The Commandos slowly died around her, each one fading to grey as the curtain drew the show to a close. Each death, each funeral ripped open her wounds, bigger and deeper each time. Until eventually, Y/N let the blood flow freely.
Or at least, that's what would have happened. But one choice, one decision, made by a boy she thought dead in the far future, changed it all.
*
Bucky Barnes struggled to find himself again. His memories were mostly all returned, if a bit hazy and fragmented. He had Steve there to right any wrong recollections, and connect with on their shared experiences. But something always seemed to be missing, a piece of the jigsaw that hadn't been found.
He remembered Y/N. He remembered her clearer than anything. She was glowing like honey in the sun when Bucky closed his eyes and brought her back to mind.
Face covered in muck, hair tousled and streaked with grease from the boats, soot on the very tip of her nose and a cap perched jauntily on her head; wearing the deepest expression of concentration as she aimed a hanful of rotten fish guts at the sleezy Connell boy from Fifth, who decided his opinion on her backside mattered. The image shone crystal clear. Her laughter, rolling out from between curved lips, beautiful and full of mischief.
It never failed to make him smile. Or cry. Or sometimes, both. He missed Y/N than he thought possible for a human being.
Bucky often wondered about her life, whether she went on to marry, or maybe even have children. Was she happy? Did she bury him and move on? If they met today, would Y/N even recognise the man he was now?
More importantly, in his mind, something he both feared and longed to know: would she still love him?
Unbeknownst to Bucky, Steve saw all this. Understood, to a degree, his pain. But he and Peggy never got the chance to bond so strongly. He knew Bucky needed him, but Steve also knew he needed Y/N more.
So once his goodbyes were said, he looked one last time at Bucky, and smiled beneath his suit as he vanished into time.
*
The living room looked exactly the same as he remembered. Bucky's coat, slung over the back of the chair, his sketchbooks strewn around the desk. Every rip and chip. His heart swelled with nostalgia, and pain, thinking of the life they were supposed to have.
What must have been in their heads...running off to fight, so eager to throw everything away. And who was left to stare at empty beds and eat breakfast alone every morning? Y/N.
His chest constricted, hearing the keys in the door, the lock rattling three times before letting her in. His nerve faltered for the briefest second, wondering if he was ready to see her again.
"Who the hell are you?!"
Time's up.
Slowly, he turned, and watched as Y/N's eyes widened, all the bags in her hands falling to the floor with a crash.
"...Stevie?" The name came out as a whisper, nearly inaudible.
He grinned, laughing as tears stung his eyes. "Hey, spitfire. Long time no see."
"Steve!" She launched herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck and clinging on for dear life.
Catching her by the waist, he swung Y/N around, burying his face in her hair. They held onto one another as if they might vanish if they let go. But after a minute, Steve gently pushed her back.
"How? How are you here? What are you wearing? I don't understand, Steve, they said you died! Your plane went down in the ocean," she stammered, hand on his forearm with a grip like a vice.
"I survived. The serum kept me alive in the ice for seventy years," he said, questioning his own sanity momentarily; standing in the flat again made everything that happened seem like a distant dream.
Y/N frowned, brows knitting together. "What? Did you hit your head? Steve, this is 1945."
"I know, I came from 2023. I'm alive," he said, and saw her mentally backing away, so added, "I'm alive, and so is Bucky."
Her head snapped up, eyes immediately filling with tears. A dozen emotions whizzed through them in a second; disbelief, pain, hope. It shone clearly in her face as she stepped closer.
What did you say?" She asked, voice choked as she brought her shaking hands up to her mouth.
"Bucky's alive," he repeated softly, "and I can send you to him, in the future. But we don't have a lot of time. You need to listen to me, carefully, and do what I say."
She spluttered, struggling for words. "I, but...what about you?"
"I've made my decision," Steve said, and gently took her hands in his, "now, please, listen."
*
Bucky watched the machine, feeling a wave of numbness wash over his insides. Nothing was a better deal than the pain, the cruel sting of betrayal fighting to be felt. But he beat it back, unable to allow those thoughts validation.
Steve gave up so much for him, he fought for years to get him here. Steve deserved this. And no matter how wrong those words sounded in his head, he resolutely stood by them.
The seconds ticked by, noted by Bruce's countdown. A flash of guilt almost made Bucky explain what was going to happen, explain that Steve left them. Left him. But he possessed no energy to speak, they'd see in a second, when no one appeared-
Zap. A blinding flash of light.
There's someone there.
Bucky frowned, hands falling from his pockets. Did Steve change his mind? Did he...
All the thoughts in his head stopped as the figure stepped down. Too small, too lithe for it to be Steve. Bucky's heart rate quickened, something in his unconscious already registering his recognition.
The suit fell away, and if he weren't frozen in place, Bucky wouldn't have been standing. A quiver shot through him, nearly buckling his knees. Shock, fear and pure disbelief all delayed his reaction.
Y/N looked around, amazed, but turned to stone as she set eyes on him. Her face went utterly blank, a strangled sound leaving her lips.
Wearing her yard slacks, with a small bag on her shoulder, her face covered in dirt, hair streaked with grease, cap perched on-top, slanted to one side...she was everything he remembered, and his heart tried to leave his chest to go to her. To be whole again.
But fear held him back. She didn't know the things he'd done, the person he became after the train accident. What if-
"Who is she?" Sam asked, glaring as he stalked towards her, an accusation rising on his lips.
Bucky answered without hesitation, or thinking; the question had been asked countless times over the years. It always recieved the same reply. "My doll."
Sam stopped short, glancing between them, the way neither took their eyes off the other. He nodded, brows still closely knit, and backed off.
Slowly, Y/N approached, encouraged by the sound of his voice. She reached out carefully, when she got close enough. Trembling fingers brushed his cheek, and a shudder ran through her.
"My Bucky..." She said quietly, eyes roaming over his face, a small smile tugging at her lips, "...you're here, in front of me. Alive."
He swallowed dryly, heart thundering away beneath his skin. "I'm different...you don't know..."
No sooner had the words left his mouth that her eyes found the cold metal where his flesh used to be. In reaching to hold it, she'd been taken by surprise.
Gently, Y/N took the hand in her own, examing the limb with a careful gaze. Moments passed, and she met his eyes again. Bucky steeled himself for rejection, for the disgust and horror.
Her hand went back to his cheek, and he involuntairly leaned into it. The warmth seeped into his blood. She stood on her tip toes, the smile on her lips blossoming into a bright beam of sunlight. "You've always been my Bucky, and always will be. Metal appendages and all."
He fell apart and dove down to capture her lips, clutching her to him with the hunger of a starving man. She pulled herself in, hands tangling in his brown locks, and both tasted salt on the others' lips.
So filled with joy his heart could burst, Bucky revelled in the feeling of holding his girl again. Laughing through the tears, he buried his face in her neck.
Thank you, Steve, for the greatest gift of all.
#marvel#writing#creative#youtube#movies#sacrifice#steve rogers#endgame#captain america: the first avenger#bucky barnes#bucky angst#bucky barns x y/n#bucky fic#bucky x you#bucky imagine#sam wilson#lovers#i love him#love story#time travel#angst with a happy ending#here you guys go#i hope this is okay!
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hi different anon here! but what if spencer had to take a mandatory arts class of some kind for his degree (i don’t know how caltech or phd courses work but we’re going to ignore that) and he’s getting super frustrated because he’s so good at all of his other academic classes but he just! can’t! figure! out! the arts!!! but then reader is in the same class as him and notices that he’s struggling so they offer to help him out?
it’s kind of a role reversal of the usual spencer-tutors-reader in college (because he’s a genius so it’s an obvious [and very good!] dynamic)
and bonus points if it’s a pottery class and they have a “ghost” moment 🙈🙈 (reader is obv patrick swayze 🤤) but make it any medium you want! or even a music class!! up to you my dear <3
ok for some reason i immedaitely thought of finger painting but. have decided against that
idk how art classes work either but if it’s anything like art was in school then you’re kind of left to you own devices? so let’s go with that. it’s fiction babey!
this was meant to be headcanons/random concepts but turned in a messy blurb so it’s under read more
he loves art and isn’t so bummed out that he has to take the class because - again - he likes it But the issue is he likes Looking at it, Not creating it. he’s got jiggly hands that squirm and twitch without his consent constantly and that doesn’t bode well for drawing fine details and intricate patterns, so he’s hoping because it’s an introductory course it’ll be. maybe more theory than anything else? or at least just basic tools and mediums so he can struggle through with a grimace from the professor
he ends up with /oil/ paints though and he’s looking from the bowl of fruit to his easel to thr OIL PAINTS and derek is there, in spirit, going hahahaha good luck pretty boy! and spencer Could ask to change the type of paint he’s using but he’s awkward and so. grits his teeth and goes. alrighty this is it this is life im using oil paints, something notoriously difficult for a beginner, which is what i am, a beginner, and i am now putting these expensive paints to this expensive easel with my inexperienced hands-
and you’ve been watching him since he stepped in, because he’s pretty, and now you’re grimacing cause Oh Boy he does not know what he’s doing and he’s. he’s breaking the paintbrushes. you can hear the bristles cracking from across the room.
spencer would’ve noticed you if he wasn’t so Humiliated (he, too, easily notices pretty people) so when you creep up behind him and say, “oil paints are difficult, aren’t they?” in this understanding voice that he follows with his head, his first thought is- oh, so to top it all off a piece of art has come to life? this is where we are now?
he does that thing where he forces out a little breath along with a small smile and goes, “ah, yeah. i didn’t want to ask for something else, so,” and weakly lifts the palette in his hand as if to say, it is what it is.
“i could help, if you’d like?”
and he agrees cause he’s eager to learn! and you, a masterful artistic genius, blow him away with not only your knowledge (you’re into the theory kind of stuff too and at one point he jolts himself, realises he was staring at you with his mouth open, and deeeeep down wishes someone would think of him the way he thinks of you when you ramble) but your actual skills too! and you’re a great teacher! patient, understanding, and did he say patient? because he has painted a damn sky at least 15 times and every time he Somehow makes clouds look phallic and you just go hehe :) and he’s like I love u (internally)
several weeks in, when you and spencer have become arty friends, the subject turns to drawing people rather than objects - you tell him getting people /right/ is something you struggle with yet you love doodling your friends and family in your sketchbook. the first body spencer draws (that isn’t a stick man) is done in crayons, which he’s found is the medium that works best for him (only when the crayon is properly wrapped. because the waxy feel of them Freaks him out)
you help him learn about drawing anatomy while he tells you /about/ anatomy, he attempts to sketch a hand and it’s so odd looking he laughs so hard he CRIES and you finally convince him to try charcoal, your personal favourite
it’s messy and gets everywhere (spencer opens his mouth to complain about his expensive grey cardigan but then- the little mark is a physical representation of this memory between you and him, huddled close together as you both draw aimlessly in your sketchbook, and the mark feels more like a blessing) but spencer ends up agreeing that charcoal sketches look the best.
then he sees something he shouldn’t have.
you’re talking about how you sketch your family all the time - there’s several of your roommates and your pets and a sheep u saw this one time - then there’s...someone oddly familiar? that he catches a glimpse of? and before he can think he goes “wait-“ opens that page and it’s him. him, standing too close to an easel with his tongue slightly poking out in concentration and it’s a charcoal sketch of him from last week.
you’re embarrassed. “that’s weird, im sorry-“
“you make me look good” he tells you, smiling sweetly, and you’re convinced it’s just to comfort you but you’re too glad he isn’t filing a restraining order you let it slide
i mean. have you seen his face? how can anyone look at that and not want to start chiselling marble?
then he gets secretive, weird, a little odd and definitely is avoiding you. he paints and draws with his back to you, still talks to you but over his shoulder and can never really look you in the eyes. you think this is it and that the sweetheart you’ve come to see as more than a friend is Done with you, because you’re a CREEP, and then after a weekend of silence on his end this happens:
while you’re getting your stuff ready, he walks up silently and slides a small sketchbook in front of you. you stare at it, wondering what it’s for, and he nods at it and tells you to open it. when you go to, he stops you-
“a-actually, let me give you a page to start on-“
when he manhandles the book his hands brush yours, his already bright red cheeks get redder, and you bite your tongue so you don’t sigh dreamily.
he’s drawn you.
it’s not perfect and kind of not pretty - a lot of harsh edges and weird shading - but you can tell its you. it’s you, drawn by him, probably from memory, and he’s drawn little hearts around your head because he’s the cutest? evidently?
“it’s really bad, but i thought-“ you look directly at him, making him freeze. he’s got a little charcoal just under his eye. unabashedly, you reach up and wipe it away, hand remaining at the side of his face when you’re done. “i thought you deserve to feel how i felt when you drew me.”
“and how did you feel?”
he gulps. “loved.”
all you can do in the Classroom you’re in is beam sickeningly sweet at one another, lost in your own world while there’s a wordless exchange. the rest of the sketchbook is full of half attempts at sketching you - in different positions, with different expressions, some with a full head while others are half a face. some of them are hilarious, but they’re all made with the purest intentions. “i love it.”
and when you share a look then, you don’t need to verbally say what comes next just yet.
(and. yes. the second you see a pottery class is available you drag him and Make him sit between your legs and he’s never blushed so much in his life the teacher asks if he needs air. at one point you think it’d be funny to peck his neck and the shiver it sends through him is so shocking your mould on the wheel is squished between his hands)
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#ask#long post#this was supposed to be short#and turned into this shit thing#that's why it feels rushed (more rushed than usual)
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