#And some extra hand there because it's my sketchbook and it's a mess

[zorcha]

My friend convinced me to post it

[hxnbi]

⸻ ( •ᴥ• ) ❝ IS THAT... ME? ❞

their reaction to you drawing them ﹒﹒blue lock boys

ft. nagi seishiro, isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, mikage reo, chigiri hyoma x gn. reader (separate)

NAGI SEISHIRO | 凪 誠士郎  ─ ♬. ⁺ ♡

"I'm home!" you called out, expecting some response from the same groggy voice you came to love. 

You had returned home after a long day, and from that, carried alongside a bag from NAGI’s favourite fast food joint as a peace offering for your boyfriend. "Sorry for coming home late. My professor had us stay back for extra lectures, but I brought your favorite—" You trailed off upon seeing him sprawled on the couch, fast asleep.

Nagi awfully had a way of making even the most uncomfortable sleeping positions seem restful. It was admirable, in a weird way. You always saw him sleep in unusual and sometimes contorted positions, and today was no exception. His tall, lanky frame was twisted in what could only be described as a shrimp-like posture, with one arm draped over his eyes and the other hanging off the couch, limbs hanging off the sides in what looked like the most uncomfortable posture imaginable. But for all you knew, he could’ve been having the most refreshing dream ever…

But instead of waking him up immediately, an idea sparked in your mind. You couldn't help but chuckle at the sight, deciding to capture this moment with a quick sketch. 

You set down the food on the kitchen counter and grabbed your sketchbook. Settling down in a chair nearby, you then began to sketch with light chicken scratches, the lines flowing easily as you captured the endearing, albeit charmingly awkward, way Nagi slept, his mind clearly off to dreamland. His mouth was slightly open, and his hair was a tousled mess—details you knew would make him laugh later.

Once finished, you couldn't resist teasing him a bit. You gently poked your boyfriend's nose with your finger, rousing him from his slumber.

“Sei,” you whispered, “I’m home.”

He mumbled something incoherent, slowly blinking his eyes open to see you standing there, a playful smile on your face.

“I have a gift for you. Well, two,” you said, holding up the drawing and gesturing towards the kitchen table where the food awaited.

That got his attention. Several groans and moans later, Nagi struggled to sit up from his awkward position. As he stretched, you could see his tall, lanky frame finally standing upward, his height and broad shoulders a stark contrast to your own. He sure did look the part of an athlete, even if he did act like a toddler at times.

“I think you look nice like this, don’t you think?” you teased, holding up the drawing.

He groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Why are you saying it like that…”

You laughed and handed him the drawing. He stared at it for a moment, a sleepy smile spreading across his face. 

“I look ridiculous,” he muttered, but you could tell he was amused.

“You should be grateful! Y’know, that’s the sleeping face I came home to tonight when I had bought him for,” you teased, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the kitchen. “I brought your favorite food! So, which gift did you like more?”

“The drawing, of course,” he muttered, his arms still encased around you as he fiddled with the hem of your sleeves and its bottoms.

“You’re just saying that because you want to make me happy,” you said, leaning into his embrace.

“Mhm…” Nagi took his chance—one that was as good as any—to pull you closer, finding a comfortable position that he could easily doze off right then and there. And in a way, he certainly did sound like he was ready to pass out at any second. “And I’m not fixing my posture,” he stated with utter conviction despite his sleepy tone, his tone almost comedic in its seriousness that made you deadpan.

“Sei…”

ISAGI YOICHI | 潔 世一  ─ ♬. ⁺ ♡

From daylight to dusk, your boyfriend, ISAGI, would be playing soccer on the field. Sometimes he would be practising with others, but most of the time it would be between you and Isagi alone. He was easily someone obsessed over the sport, and during the times when you would join him on the field, you would merely sit and watch as he played on his own, all with a hand over your chin and cheering him on. You found it charming to see his love for the sport take shape, with each training session bringing noticeable improvement. But as sweet as it was, it did occasionally bore you at times. 

So you had a plan. During one of the days, before heading together with Isagi on the field, you grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and shoved it in your pocket. That day, a few of his teammates from Blue Lock had joined in, and not wanting to interrupt their practice, you would find yourself and your hands sketching out Isagi while he was playing, capturing a moment of time.

Hours later, as you two walked together, your boyfriend would notice the piece of sketch paper in your hand and, stopping what he was doing, holding the ball in his hands, curiously, sheepishly asked what it was. You laughed,  noticing the boy's hesitant expression—that he didn’t feel particularly comfortable asking, yet his curiosity was too strong to resist not to.

“Oh! It's just a quick sketch I drew of you while you were playing. Do you want to see? I was gonna show it to you later but I suppose there’s no harm in revealing the surprise now!”

A sketch? Of him? Since when did you draw him?

Did he want to see? A drawing of him made by you? Of course he did.

With his neck reaching over your shoulder to get a glance at the paper, his first reaction was a mix of panic and delight, his expression wide-eyed and beaming from ear to ear.

“This is… me?” He struggled to find words, if any at all.

“Yeah!” you laughed. “I tried to capture you in the moment, but it turned out pretty medi—”

Your words were cut off as Isagi came to embrace you, encircling your waist with a grip so strong that it almost knocked you to the ground. He tightened his hold, his arms around your torso, his face nuzzled into your neck.

“I love it,” he murmured. “I love it so much. I can’t believe my significant other is so talented.”

Your mouth went agape just at the level of physical affection Isagi was showing at a mere drawing. “T-Talented?! Me? Yoichi… you’re being modest.”

But that was just it. It wasn’t “just a drawing” to him. It was a masterpiece, a reflection of your love for him. And the playful teasing continued from there. Little did you know, Isagi would bring the drawing to his next game and flaunt it to his teammates, who, for the most part, couldn’t care less. Some were more interested than others.

“Tch, that asshole… not only is he disgustingly talented, but he also has a sweeter-than-sugar significant other.”

“I’d say that bastard is having too much fun.”

“Agreed.”

BACHIRA MEGURU | 蜂楽 廻  ─ ♬. ⁺ ♡

With your binder and papers in hand, enjoying a peaceful moment right outside a school building, waiting for a certain someone to finish class, out of pure boredom and nothing else, you decided to pass the time by doing some doodling. If only he were actually here to be your model, you thought, but, oh well, you made do with what you had. Besides, it was just a little sketch anyway. It's not like he or you would care that much about the finished product.

“Whatcha doing~?” a voice sang loudly, a figure suddenly appearing right over your shoulder, making you flinch until you saw that familiar tuff of black and yellow hair, realizing it was only BACHIRA, your boyfriend.

Bachira excitedly looked at your drawing, his chin resting on your shoulder as a support. “Do you like it?” you asked, a bit shyly.

“I do! Hmmm, what's that supposed to be, an elephant?” he mused. 

‘I’m sorry, wha—’

You would expect that he was joking, but this was Bachira you were talking about. For all you knew, he could be completely serious. And if you knew anything about Bachira, is that he is unpredictable. 

“I- wha- NO! It's you!” you exclaimed, a laugh escaping your lips.

His face lit up even more. “Wahhh really?! I’m honoured!” Bachira grinned, pressing a quick kiss on your cheek. “You’re the best, you know that?”

You smiled back, feeling the warmth of his affection. “I try,” you said, your cheeks heating up with a mix of embarrassment and joy.

“You drew me so well! There’s no way I look this good in real life!”

‘Okk… now he’s pushing it.’

You swear you could see him smiling from ear to ear, and he quickly pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, but just enough to make your face flush red. “I can’t wait to show this to everyone!!”

“Ahah, alright…”

‘He’s not actually going to do that, right…?’

Oh how wrong you were.

The very next day, you'd be greeted by the sight of the drawing you made of him as Bachira’s new wallpaper, front and centre. 

Your mouth fell. ‘He… he really was serious.’

ITOSHI RIN | 糸師 凛  ─ ♬. ⁺ ♡

“...ughhhh.”

“What are you looking at?” 

RIN tapped his own pen on your paper, his index finger rhythmically tapping against the desk. If you didn't know better, you would’ve thought that your own boyfriend was scolding you for doing something bad. Well, that’s because he was.

You and Rin were supposed to be studying together that day, but your mind was drifting elsewhere, going back to all the chores you have lying at home—as if you’re actually going to do them—and what to eat for dinner with your boyfriend; the same boyfriend, who, at that exact moment, was staring hypothetical bullets into the front of his poor paper. Meanwhile, while you were in la la land, Rin was diligently focused on his own work, his head fixated on his own work, while you were scribbling onto a piece of paper that was once your worksheet.

Rin looked up at you, an eyebrow raised. “You must’ve been rather inspired to get on your homework this efficiently..”

“What? O-Oh, yeah,” you stammered, trying to sound convincing.

How convincing indeed. In fact, Rin stood up for once in the entire study period, moving away from his own work to stare directly at you—talking to you in a language using nothing but his eyes. You immediately hid the paper with another piece of lined paper over it, which was, unfortunately, empty. This did not convince your boyfriend at all.

Rin came even closer until he was mere centimetres away from your face. “Do you want to show me what you’ve been doing?”

It wasn’t an order, but that didn’t exactly sound like a request either. You were screwed. 

“Promise you won’t get mad?” you said sheepishly, making Rin sigh, knowing that was even a request. He could never truly get mad at you. 

And with that, you sheepishly revealed your paper, removing your hands to unveil the lead sketch. A moment passed until you heard a sigh exhale from Rin’s exasperated lips.

“Were you seriously paying any attention to what I was teaching you earlier? My explanations may as well have gone through deaf ears.”

“But lookkk! You look so handsome.”

He gave you the most uninterested look imaginable, making you gloomily sink back into your seat in defeat. “Since when do I look like that?” He deadpanned, utterly republished with a scrunched-up expression before critiquing every, and he meant, every single detail, down to where his pupils were looking.

“If you didn’t like it, then you should’ve said so…” you pouted. “Got my hopes up for nothing,” you mumbled under your breath, thinking that Rin didn’t catch that. But if you knew anything about Rin, then you would know he always knows everything, whether you like it or not.

Though, he didn’t say a word, instead, he just shook his head, a small scowl—or was it a smile—tugging at the corners of his mouth as he returned to his chair. 

“We can study another day.”

You lit up. “Really!?”

With the blandest intonation you’ve ever heard, Rin nodded his head, “Yes, so you have all the time in the world to fix that atrocious drawing of me to your heart's content.”

“Aha…”

MIKAGE REO | 御影 玲王  ─ ♬. ⁺ ♡

Sitting in REO's home on one of the dozens of chairs and tables in the grand Mikage mansion, with a pen held in between your fingers, you couldn’t help but gap at the fortune that is Reo’s family before you, the walls being littered with picture frames and paintings upon paintings.

Earlier, you had asked the butler if he could give you a piece of paper and a pen to write with, to which he graciously obliged, disappearing and then reappearing almost instantly with the said items in his hand shortly before Reo arrived home and joined you, settling in to do some homework. He was always a hard worker. As for what you were doing? Unbeknownst to Reo himself, you decided to use your boyfriend as an unpaid, unknowing model for your sketching.

His focused expression made him an ideal subject, and as you were scribbling and sketching, you found yourself lost in the details of the handsome features of your boyfriend. Only when he turned to look up and see what was really being drawn on your piece of paper, did Reo’s eyes widen in surprise.

"You drew this?" he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

You nodded, “Yep! Do you like it?”

He loved it. Absolutely loved it. 

Reo, with his hand running through the middle part of his hair, let out an exasperated sigh, “Hah… is that even a question? Of course, I do.”

He went back to admiring the sheet of paper that you had spent—unbeknownst to him—an hour drawing. Though you would never consider that to be a waste of time, anything for your lover was time well spent, and in fact, more than that.

“Can I take it?”

You blinked, for a second being taken aback. It certainly did take you a while, but Reo wanted it? Oh well, you were never going to refuse. “Uh-huh! The drawing is of you, after all. What could I do with it other than admire it? I already can do so in person.”

You had initially assumed that Reo would probably just put it somewhere and then leave it to collect dust. Little did you know, that the very next day, you would see your drawing framed in a luscious and expensive frame, hanging in the centre of the main hall. Reo’s butler had hung it with great care, that was ensured, displayed in a way that highlighted its importance.

Your heart melted in a thousand different ways. This… this was too much.

You felt a hand clasp your own. The warmth of your boyfriend and his hand wrapping around your own. “So~? What do you think?”

Tears. Tears and tears dripped down your face as you looked at the framed drawing. It was more than you ever expected.

And as Reo held you in his arms while you continued to weep, from the corner, Reo’s butler watched from a distance, giving his pleased nod of approval. Anyone passing by couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity and marvel at the audacity of such a bold choice in “home decor,” but to you, it was a moment of pure, heartfelt joy, and one that you would never forget. 

And you wouldn’t. Not when Reo would continue to keep that drawing on the walls for months and explicitly show off to those who were unfortunate enough to be invited to his mansion for “work purposes,” only to get a mouthful about his beloved significant other.

CHIGIRI HYOMA | 千切 豹馬  ─ ♬. ⁺ ♡

Utterly unperturbed by your presence and fully engrossed in the tangles in his hair of all things, CHIGIRI was doing his hair care like always. An extensive hair care routine that would take probably an hour at the very least, from all the times you’ve timed him while getting ready. Sitting at the living room table, you fiddled with the pen in your hand. You nearly wanted to drop it right then and there when you saw Chigiri bring his entire bag of presumably hair care products and a mirror.

You yawned, glancing around the cozy living room. Now who does their hair care in the middle of the living room?

“Do not worry. I won’t bother you with your work.”

You gave him a nod. “That’s not a problem at all. Do what you have to do. The shampoo you use smells good anyway.”

With a short laugh at your forward comment, thus began his haircare routine which felt like hours, and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were missing the presence of your boyfriend at your side. 

Every now and then, you would glance up at Chigiri, admiring the way his hair glistened in the light, even with droplets of water still clinging to each strand. Chigiri did, and even with his wet hair, he looked oddly handsome. Granted, he always did look handsome in your eyes, but there was just a sort of natural beauty to him that anyone who passed by would be hard-pressed to ignore. And so, out of boredom, you decided to draw him while Chigiri was all but focused on his hair. His true one true love, as many would say and mock him for. 

“.....”

“Hm, I didn’t know you could draw.”

“GAH!”

Your shoulders jumped in fright, nearly knocking over your pencil and capsizing off your chair to the cold ground. “God… you nearly scared the life out of me.”

He chuckled softly. “I’m sorry. Is that me? It looks really nice. I had no idea you were such an artist.” Chigiri, still with his half-cleaned-up hair, leaned closer, examining the details with genuine curiosity.

You chuckled sheepishly. “You’re just saying that to be nice.”

“No no, I mean it,” Chigiri insisted, glancing over at your sketch while pushing the hair from his face to get a better look. “Can I see it again?”

You hesitated but handed over the drawing, allowing his eyes to roam all over it. A soft smile formed on his lips. 

“It’s beautiful. You captured me perfectly.”

Your heart swelled with pride. “Really?! You think so? …Your hair does look a lil wonky, it’s usually a bit more—”

“It’s perfect,” Chigiri assured you with a pat of your hair. “Just like you. I might have to ask you to draw me more often.”

You laughed, feeling a warm blush creep up your cheeks. “Anytime.”

©hxnbi. comments, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated ♡

[silentcryracha]

❍ ‗ Making art with Hyunjin ‗ ❍

Pairing : Hyunjin x f reader

Summary : chapter four of a cute standalone miniseries. It's what it says in the title

Genre/ Warnings : scenario/imagine/headcanon, drabble, fluff, suggestive but no smut, unserious but helpful Hyunjin, it's cute idk

Word count : 635 words

A/n : none

ps: There could be grammar errors. Do NOT repost on other socials. Leave feedback if you feel like it, otherwise enjoy! ♡︎

masterlist

series masterpost

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Hyunjin loves art, yes, but he loves you more. Don't even try to not make things about you if you're around because you'll be unsuccessful.

"Okay mr. Picasso draw an apple for me"

Five minutes later he'd be handing you the sketchbook, a pencil sketch picturing YOU holding an apple.

"This is ridiculous" you whisper, lowkey speechless. Hyunjin would pout, looking genuinely sad for a moment.

"You don't like it?" and of course you'd throw yourself at him covering him with kisses and praises all over his face.

He's just extra talented and in love! It's not his fault!

He'd be so happy to either learn from you or teach you, if you asked. Like oh my gosh imagine if he had an actual artist as a partner? He'd be so in awe and interested in each and every step of the process.

He would a hundred percent ask you to teach him, whatever the technique. He'd just be so excited to spend time with you regardless <3

Same thing if the roles were reversed and he was the teacher! He'd be very honored if asked him to teach you, probably because even though he's crazy good he wouldn't consider himself a professional artist.

You'd just end you having so much fun together. I feel like Hyunjin would shower you with praises and encouragement.

"That looks so good already, baby."

"It's...missing an arm and hair"

And he'd just respond "It's his business not yours" in the cutest most unserious tone.

"Hyune, come here a sec" you call out and whatever he was doing, he'd walk over.

"I don't think the sketch is bad but something is off. Is it the colors?" he listens, giving you a sweet kiss on the head, then focusing on the painting.

"I think the purple is a bit bright, try adding some black. I know you usually shouldn't but I don't think it's a drop is gonna hurt." he answers softly, picking up the acrylic and then mixing.

He picks up the brush and skillfully covers up the previous color, smiling to himself in satisfaction afterwards.

"See? Now the palette is more balanced." he gives you another kiss because, well yes.

"Yes it does! Colors do make such a difference. Thank you, honey"

It doesn't always need to be a learning experience though! Sometimes you just want to have a laugh or make a mess and then then make out covered in paint like it's not that serious.

It would happen specifically when someone got stressed working on a piece, and maybe it just sucked and wanted to throw it away, so might as well transform it into a whole abstract piece and get a laugh out of it. Mood lifted!

You and Hyunjin were just chilling, sitting together on the couch late at night, a whole storm outside. He turns to you, saying:

"Do you want to play a game?" you look up at him.

"Okay, Jigsaw. What were you thinking?"

He stands up, walking around the living room to pick up two sketchbooks, some pencils and spare pastels. Then comes back to hand you one.

"We pick something in the room -in our line of view- to draw, then we each have three chances to guess it right." you bite your lip, smiling.

"Okay. And what if we don't guess right?" he shrugs, a smirk struggling not to appear on his plump lips.

"Then one piece of clothing, of choice, comes off." he replies, "Each. time." you pout, feigning innocence.

"But...it's quite cold. Will we not be cold?"

"Well then let's hope we lose fast, so we can warm each other up." he winks and you giggle like an idiot, because of course that's where he was going.

"Bet"

And the rest is history <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[awkward-walking-potato]

Hi 👋

I've been loving the fics you've been putting out and I saw you wanted some ideas for Nightcrawler? I love my blue child lol

How about this:

The reader is a shy artist that is a student at the x mansion. She carries a sketchbook with her everywhere to sketch new pieces, but she doesn't show her work to people unless it's to Rogue or Jubilee.

She and Nightcrawler become friends and slowly develop feelings for one another, but they won't say anything to each other because they think that the other wouldn't want them. Until Nightcrawler finds her sketchbook by accident and finds the book is filled with sketches of him. Nightcrawler confronts her about it, but she's a stuttering mess, and they end up confessing to each other. And please make it extra fluffy. Maybe throw in a kiss or a makeout session. Your choice lol.

Drawn to you

The halls of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters were bustling with energy, filled with students whose powers ranged from the awe-inspiring to the whimsical. Among them, you navigated the day-to-day with your head down, your ever-present sketchbook tucked securely under your arm like a shield. The thick, well-worn pages held a piece of your soul, capturing the world around you in lines and shades. But only two people had ever seen what you created within those pages: Rogue and Jubilee, your closest friends who shared in your quiet passion for art.

You were content to let the world flow around you, observing and sketching, but always from a distance. There was safety in your shyness, a barrier that protected your heart from the complicated emotions of growing up among mutants. However, that all started to change the day you met Kurt Wagner.

Kurt had a presence that was impossible to ignore. His vibrant personality, infectious laugh, and the way he moved through space with the grace of a performer left an indelible mark on you. His tales of life in the circus, the bright lights, and cheering crowds filled you with images you couldn’t help but capture in your sketchbook. You were drawn to him, fascinated by the blend of joy and melancholy that seemed to radiate from him in equal measure.

The two of you quickly became friends. Kurt would teleport beside you in the middle of your walks, flashing a playful grin that made your heart skip a beat. He’d talk, and you’d listen, sketching all the while, though never letting him peek at what you were drawing. You cherished these moments, but the more time you spent with him, the harder it became to ignore the feelings that had begun to bloom in your chest. Feelings that you were certain were one-sided.

After all, why would someone as incredible as Kurt be interested in someone like you?

So you kept your distance emotionally, hiding your growing affection within the pages of your sketchbook, where countless drawings of him lay hidden—his gentle smile, the playful glint in his eyes, the way he moved with a fluid elegance that never ceased to amaze you. Each sketch was a small piece of your heart, poured out on paper in the only way you knew how.

One afternoon, after a long day of classes, you found a quiet spot in the garden to sit and draw. The sun was setting, casting a warm golden light over the mansion grounds, and you lost yourself in the peaceful moment. You didn’t notice when your sketchbook slipped from your lap as you stretched, falling to the ground behind you. It wasn’t until you heard a familiar voice that you realized it was no longer in your grasp.

“Was ist das?” Kurt’s voice was filled with curiosity, and when you spun around, your heart dropped. There he was, holding your sketchbook in his hands, flipping through the pages with wide eyes.

“K-Kurt!” you stammered, scrambling to your feet, your face flushing with embarrassment. “Please, don’t—”

But it was too late. His expression softened as he realized what he was looking at. Each page was filled with drawings of him, capturing moments both big and small, from his bright laughter to the way his tail curled when he was deep in thought.

“Is this… me?” he asked, his voice quieter now, filled with something you couldn’t quite place.

You nodded, unable to speak as you felt your cheeks burn with mortification. The urge to run, to hide, was overwhelming, but your feet refused to move.

Kurt looked up from the sketchbook, his golden eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You tried to form a response, but all that came out was a string of nervous, stuttering syllables. “I-I didn’t think you’d… I mean, I didn’t know if… I just—”

He stepped closer, closing the sketchbook carefully and holding it out to you. “You didn’t think I’d what? Like it? Or… like you?”

Your eyes widened at his words, and you could only shake your head, feeling tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I thought you wouldn’t want me,” you finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling.

Kurt’s gaze softened further, and he took another step closer, closing the distance between you. “I thought the same thing,” he admitted, his voice gentle. “That you wouldn’t want me, that you might be afraid of what I am.”

You shook your head more fiercely now, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “No, Kurt, I could never be afraid of you. You’re… you’re incredible. You’re kind, and brave, and so full of life. I… I’ve liked you for so long, but I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Kurt’s expression lit up with a mix of relief and happiness, and before you could say anything else, he pulled you into a hug, his strong arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that melted away all your fears. You buried your face in his shoulder, breathing in the comforting scent of him, feeling the warmth of his embrace.

“I’ve liked you, too,” he whispered into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your eyes meeting his, and in that moment, everything else seemed to fade away. The shyness that had always held you back melted under the warmth of his gaze.

“Kurt…” you started, but before you could finish, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a gentle, lingering kiss.

Your heart soared as you kissed him back, the world around you disappearing as you focused on the feel of his lips against yours, the way his hands cradled your face with such care. The kiss deepened, and you felt a surge of warmth spread through your chest, your hands clutching at his shirt as if he might vanish if you let go.

When you finally parted, you were both breathless, foreheads resting against each other as you shared a quiet moment of bliss.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Kurt murmured, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

You giggled softly, feeling a wave of joy and relief wash over you. “Me too,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He pressed another kiss to your forehead, his tail curling around your waist in a tender gesture. “I’m glad I found your sketchbook,” he teased lightly, earning a soft laugh from you.

“Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing after all,” you replied, your voice filled with newfound confidence.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, the worries and fears that had once kept you apart now nothing more than distant memories. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a gentle twilight over the garden, you felt a sense of peace settle over you—a peace that came from knowing that you were no longer alone in your feelings.

[wintervalewritersecond]

siren song ||| - xavier thorpe

requested: yes! requests: open! siren song part three!

part one, part two click here for my masterlist

A/N: thank you so much for the overwhelming love! i never expected this to blow up, but i couldn't have done it without the person also requesting this! thank you all and i hope you enjoy the next chapter <3 like last time it picks up immediately where the other chapter ended! let me know what you think and enjoy! <3

wordcount: 4,581 warnings: she/her reader, some cursing, sad xavier

Ajax tells Xavier about what happened. Xavier takes everything into his own hands, which may or may not include sneaking into your room. He finds out the truth.

Ajax awkwardly lets out a laugh. He had a list with answers in his head with a correct response to it, but this one was not on the list.

"What do you mean? Xavier. Your best friend?"

You furrow your brows, shaking your head. The name 'Xavier' is not extremely common, definitely not in a small town like Jericho. Besides, you would know your own best friends, right?

"Ajax, I think you have been smoking too much. I know no one by the name of Xavier."

He looks at you like you have grown an extra head. Are you joking right now, or are you dead serious? You look just as confused as him, and you aren't really the best actress. It is already hard for you to keep a birthday gift a secret, so acting as if someone does not exist at all would be impossible.

"I- What?" The Gorgon shakes his head. "I might be wrong then. Don't worry about it."

The two of you return to your own tasks. You are still doing your Botany homework while Ajax sits and stares off into nothingness.

His head is a jumbled mess. Do you really not remember your best friend? Xavier told him what happened, but he wanted to hear it from you as well. Not that he thought Xavier was lying about what he had said, but just because he wanted to make sure you were doing okay.

It was truly strange, though. Yes, you had a big fight with Xavier, but ignoring someone and forgetting someone is a whole other fact. Not to mention that you didn't even so much react to the name.

Xavier needs to hear this.

-

"Dude!"

Ajax runs through the door as Xavier lets out a yelp, dropping his pencil to the floor. It's late at night already, does he not realize most people are sleeping already?

"Ajax, you can't just burst in at eleven pm?! You're lucky I don't have a roommate anymore-"

"Listen," he closes the door behind him, sitting down on the empty bed that once belonged to Rowan while catching his breath. "Dude, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't important. "

Xavier picks up the pencil from the ground, placing it on his sketchbook before closing it. The sketch was of you. For the last few weeks, he has drawn nothing other than you. Memories he has with you, things you have done together, and even only some half-finished sketches.

"What could possibly be so important right now-"

"Y/N forgot about you."

Xavier straightens his back, his eyes big as he looks at his friend. He has to be kidding right?

"That can't be," Xavier lets out a breathy laugh. "I would have expected her to ignore me, yes, but how can she forget me?"

"I thought she was kidding at first. I asked her what happened at the Rave'n and she said nothing about it," Ajax rolls off of the bed, pacing around the room. "And I thought that the fight would be something she would mention. Then I asked specifically what happened between you and her, but all she asked was 'Who is Xavier?'!"

The boy is at a loss for words. It is like every single word is pulled out of his head, replaced by a pounding headache.

"Are you sure? She- She is not the best actress, was it really not fake?"

Ajax shakes his head, breathing in deeply before rubbing his hands on his face.

"Nothing. Nada. If you even got close to guessing what a gift was going to be she would always immediately tell us, right? She didn't even flinch when I said your name. And then she told me she has never, ever met someone with the name Xavier."

The Gorgon places a hand on his friend's shoulder, slightly squeezing it before letting go again. Neither of them has any idea of what to do.

"I'll just try again," Xavier whispers. "Worst case scenario is that she genuinely doesn't want to talk again. I- Thank you, Ajax."

"Take it easy, okay?"

After a goodbye he exits the room, leaving the artist stuck in his own dorm. Only he and his thoughts. Thoughts seem to be racing through his head as his heart is pounding against his chest. He was a total asshole, but he just hopes that you still hear him out.

-

"Hey, Bianca?"

The Siren had placed herself on your bed, flipping through a magazine. The room had been quiet for a bit, only the sound of your laptop, pages flipping, and the soft instrumental music in the background. Bianca hums, looking up from the paper.

"I was in the library with Ajax," you slowly say, your leg bouncing up and down. "And... He said something really weird."

Fuck.

She should have known that Xavier and Ajax were going to be up to something. It's not like she didn't notice Xavier trying to talk to you. He tactically counted the seconds on when he should stand up just to be close to you, even bump into you if he had to. But the Song made it so you kept your distance.

A pen floats in front of your face as you try to distract yourself. You didn't use your telekinesis a lot, but your mind has not been on your laptop anyway.

"Oh?" Bianca raises her eyebrows.

"Yeah," you mumble before suddenly turning around on your chair, facing your friend. "Who is Xavier?"

"Xavier?"

You nod as the pen behind you falls back on your desk. You have not been able to get the name out of your head, repeating it over and over again to try and find some memory attached to him.

Bianca bites her cheeks. Is she to tell you? Or should it be kept a secret? Before the Siren Song, you did not really talk about it. But Bianca wouldn't hold the truth from you. She only wants to protect you from him, something you consented to.

"Xavier is," Bianca hesitates. "A student here at Nevermore. He did something incredibly stupid and dumb."

"Do I know him?"

She doesn't want to cause you any distress. She can say no, but then once the Siren Song breaks, it would only be worse. If she says yes, then you might go seeking answers.

"You used to."

-

Bianca didn't say much more after that. In a way, she was completely honest. She did tell you that you used to know him, but you had made your intentions very clear. Forget about Xavier and just have a moment of peace and quiet to yourself. It had worked for weeks now, yet Xavier doesn't feel like he has changed one bit.

During class, he still tries to get your attention, but Kent and Bianca are quick to shut him down. Kent doesn't know about the Siren Song, though. No, if he did, then the entire school would have heard it already. He just thinks that you want to stay out of Xavier's way, still mad because of the fight. It is true, in a way.

You were quiet the entire day. Not quite sulking, but you were thinking. Why is it that you can't recall anything about him? You even sneak some glances at the long-haired boy. He seems... Miserable. His eyes are dark, his eyebrows are stuck in a frown, and his hair is just messily placed in a small bun. He does not look bad, but just upset.

Even during lunch, you didn't really say a word. You insisted that you just needed some time and that your social battery was dead. But Bianca knew you were thinking about Xavier. If he just had not pulled this, everything would have been fine. She hasn't heard anyone talk about a Siren Song though, so he doesn't know the truth just yet.

Another few days go by before it is finally Friday again. For the entire week, Xavier had been trying to talk to you, but you have always hurried away from him. Not to mention that especially Bianca and Kent almost formed a wall around you. But Xavier also isn't the person to start drama in the entire Quad. So he waited. Patiently waited. During this time, he came up with a plan. Was it smart? Probably not. But this was the only time he could talk to you.

It is well after ten, which meant that everyone had to stay in their dorms. But Xavier had other ideas. He had sneaked out, running through the halls and out into the side of Nevermore. Your balcony had a fire escape, one that he used quite often to sneak in or out when he would hear Thornhill coming. It is a bit too dangerous to walk through those halls right now, especially considering he might wake people up. He doesn't have the patience to take his time right now, wanting to reach you as fast as possible.

He runs up the long flight of stairs, catching his breath once he finally reaches the top. He thought that running would make this a bit easier, but it doesn't seem to work too well. Your window is similar as to the one in Enid and Wednesday's dorm. It has the same spiderweb-like pattern, though yours is missing the colorful stickers on it.

Your side of the room is decorated with lots of smaller lights. The lightbulbs in the Nevermore lights seem to be dim, and you always insisted that the smaller lights looked more fun anyway. He stands in front of the window, trying to look through the glass.

"Y/N? Are you in there?"

Nothing. At least, no response from you. He can hear the clicking of your keyboard.

"I know you're still mad at me," he says again. "And I totally understand it. I have been wanting to talk to you, but Bianca and Kent always stand between us."

Nothing, again.

He looks behind him to make sure no one followed him before he pushes the bottom of the window, opening it before sneaking in.

There you sit.

It is like this is the first time he has ever seen you. At least, it feels like it. You are sitting with your back towards him, your head moving to the music that sounds through the headphones on your head. It was a gift that Xavier had gotten you for your birthday.

You had been planning to buy a new one for a while, but it was hard to save up money. So, he decided to go with you to the closest store to try some out. You had fallen in love with these, but they were quite expensive. So, as you had already walked out of the store, Xavier had quickly paid for them, hiding them in his backpack before giving them to you on your birthday.

You were even wearing his burgundy-colored t-shirt. You must remember him then, right? He slowly walks over to you, tapping you on your shoulder before he aggressively gets thrown against a wall. Ouch.

You turned around in shock, seeing the boy pinned against the wall.

"Oh!" You exclaim, immediately releasing him from your invisible grip. "I'm sorry-"

You squint at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Wait a second," you point at him. "There are no boys allowed in Ophelia Hall. And definitely, no boys that I don't know!"

Xavier stands back up, a pained expression on his face before he shakes his head.

"I just needed to talk to you for a sec, and you know what happened the last time Thornhill saw me in the halls."

Actually, you didn't.

"You have never been in my room."

You stand opposite the tall boy, looking him up and down. He feels familiar to you, and you are guessing that this is the 'Xavier' that Ajax and Bianca had mentioned. He licks his lips before letting out a deep breath.

"Look, Y/N, I know that you are still mad at me, but-"

"The only reason why I would be mad is because a stranger randomly showed up in my dorm room!"

His shoulders slump as he looks at you. Not one part of you recognizes him.

"Well, ever since the Rave'n and the fight we haven't spoken. I know that I was very, very wrong for doing that to you and you deserve much better," he runs his hands through his hair. "But I really need to apologize."

"Xavier, is it?" You awkwardly laugh. "I think you are mistaken. I don't recall seeing you at the dance, much less having a fight. I'm sorry?"

Should you say sorry? Surely he must recognize the person he had a fight with, and it wasn't you. His heart slowly chips away at itself, less and less connected to each other once he truly realizes you don't remember him.

"You truly don't remember, do you?"

His voice breaks a bit as he starts fiddling with his hands. You look up at the boy, feeling quite bad for him. He does look truly confused and stressed.

"No," you grimace. "Sorry. Truly."

"Nothing? Not even from the Rave'n or- or before that?"

"Everything I remember from the Rave'n is dancing, drinking some of those weird, blue drinks, and then that disgusting paint drenching everyone. After that, I just went to my dorm to try and get all of that out of my clothes and hair." You shrug, still looking up at him. "The only thing I did after, was hanging out with Bianca and sleeping."

There really is not one bit of you that remembers him. Or, you have just become a really good actress overnight. He did really hurt you, but he didn't think you would actually forget him. Xavier pulls on his scarf, coughing awkwardly as he nods.

"Yeah, okay."

"I'm really sorry, Xavier," you look at your window which is still slightly open. "Look, you are very pretty and you must also be super nice, but I think it is better if you leave. I hope you find the person you were looking for."

He nods silently, climbing back out of the window before descending the stairs, not once looking back.

The way back through Nevermore is slower. He doesn't feel the need to hurry anymore. Ajax was absolutely right. There was not one memory of Xavier left in you. Not even when you see him up close, when you smell the perfume he always wears, not even when you wear one of his shirts that he left behind.

Did a witch cast a spell on you, leaving you without any memories of him? There are witches at Nevermore, so it isn't unlikely. But how can it be that you remember everyone except for him? Ajax, Wednesday, Kent, Bianca-

Bianca.

If you recall going to the girl after the Rave'n, then that must be the whole reason why you forgot about Xavier.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he groans, picking up his pace before sneaking into the dorms where Bianca sleeps.

He should have known it. Bianca and you had gotten closer after he screamed at you, but he thought it was because you needed someone to talk to. After all, he turned to Ajax to talk about his problems. But, Bianca has one thing that not a lot of others at Nevermore have; the Siren Song.

He doesn't want to accuse her of having used it, the last time it ended badly. But he does want to know if she had anything to do with it.

Once he reaches Bianca's dorm, he knocks on the door. Not softly, either. He doesn't care if someone sees him now.

The Siren opens the door, an annoyed look on her face which turns even more annoyed when she sees Xavier. She expected him to show up sooner or later, and today was finally the moment.

"Do you not realize that it's almost twelve?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Just let me in," he groans.

Xavier is not here to play games. He wants, no, needs the truth. He needs to hear it, because if it isn't the Song, then he doesn't know what else it could be. Bianca steps to the side, closing the door behind him before crossing her arms.

"What do you want, Xavier?"

"Did you use your Siren Song on Y/N?"

"Why would I tell you?" She raises an eyebrow.

She just walks past him, back to sitting on her bed and scrolling through her phone. Xavier only stares at her, at a loss for words.

"I'm serious, Bianca. Just give me a yes or a no."

"Hm," she hums. "Sucks, doesn't it?"

The boy stays quiet, only looking at the girl. Please, just a simple answer. That is all he needs.

"To be completely ignored by someone you like?" She stands back up with a smirk on her face, throwing her phone on her bed before stepping closer to Xavier. "That, no matter how hard you try, she doesn't even bat an eye at you? Much less say your name?"

"What do you mean?" He grits his teeth. "Just give me an answer."

A smirk is still on her face as she shrugs. She has no need to tell him. Besides, he deserves it. He deserves to suffer, just in the same way you did. No matter how much she believes he has feelings for you; he has to find it out himself.

"Come on, Xavier," she lets out a sigh. "I will not help you if you don't get your head out of your ass."

"Bianca, please."

She takes a good look at the guy in front of her. He might be extremely stupid, but she can't help but feel bad for him. Yes, he is the entire reason that you had felt bad for weeks, and though she still thinks that he has to learn a lesson, he might need the truth.

"Fine," the Siren grits her teeth. "After the Rave'n, she came to my room. Like, right after your fight. Asked me to use my Siren Song and I told her that I would think about it."

She steps away from Xavier, pulling the piece of paper that you had previously signed out of her desk drawer.

"Then I saw how miserable she looked and how much you ignored her," Bianca points at Xavier, holding up the piece of paper. "So, with Y/N's permission, I used it."

This was everything he was scared of. He knew he was wrong, he knew he had to make things right, but he had no idea how bad he had gotten.

"You have to undo it, Bianca. I'm serious."

"Why?" She raises an eyebrow. "So you can go ahead and break her heart again by hanging out with the psycho?"

"No!" He exclaims, running his hands through his hair while letting out a sigh. "So I can make it up to her! I just-"

He paces around the room, fiddling with his fingers and pulling on his scarf. He still had not discarded his winter jacket, he simply couldn't be bothered.

"I really like her, Bianca."

"Then tell me why you ignored her."

Xavier doesn't have one reason. It might be because he truly believed you didn't like him back, he could have been too insecure, maybe because he got pulled into Wednesday's theories about some monster, or maybe he was just a total asshole.

It stays quiet for a good minute. Bianca then just places the paper back in its original place, leaning against her desk before looking up at the boy.

"I'll ask her," she mumbles. "I'm not promising you anything. I only do this because I know she likes you. You better get your shit together, Xavier. Now, get out of my dorm."

-

It was Saturday which meant that you went to Jericho. This time, you went with Enid, Wednesday, and Bianca. You and Enid tried to keep some distance between Wednesday and Bianca, knowing they aren't best friends. Even though Jericho is not a big town, it still has enough little stores to explore.

At one point, Enid had dragged Bianca with her, leaving you together with Wednesday outside of Weathervane. You sat on the little bench, just in silence as Wednesday was reading a book and you were sketching in a small little notebook.

"I want to ask you a question."

You look up from your sketch, looking at Wednesday.

"Sure!"

"What happened between you and Xavier?"

You raise an eyebrow, shrugging.

"I don't know why everyone keeps asking that. Nothing, I think?"

Wednesday doesn't seem to believe it. She has an eye for lies, not to mention that she is talented at finding out the truth. Most of the time, that is.

"You can not believe that that will fool me. Xavier has only been sulking for the last few weeks. He is living up to the whole tortured artist thing."

"Well, I hope he gets better soon. But I had nothing to do with it, Wednesday. Really."

"What are you girls talking about?"

Enid suddenly jumps out, a big smile on her face as she holds a small bag.

"Nothing," Wednesday shakes her head before closing her book. "Let's go back. These Jericho people make me want to throw up."

-

You take your shopping bags upstairs as Bianca follows you. The two of you were going to go through everything you bought. After all the bags had been emptied and all the items were tried on again, Bianca speaks up.

"I have to talk to you about something."

What is it with everyone suddenly being so serious?

"If it is about Xavier, I truly don't know what happened. He showed up in my room, insisted on apologizing for a fight that never happened, and then left again."

"It did," Bianca grimaces. "You don't remember what you asked from me?"

You slowly shake your head. You can't really think of anything at this moment. The only thing you feel is confusion. You hadn't known anything about Xavier before you finally heard his name when he sneaked into your room.

Bianca looks at you before nodding, breathing in deeply. She has to tell you; you might have changed your mind.

"You used to know Xavier. Really well, actually."

Question marks almost appear above your head.

"He... kind of ignored you for a few weeks," Bianca looks at you. "Then stood you up again at the Rave'n. You asked me to use a Siren Song on you."

You are at a loss for words. The poor boy had spent weeks being miserable for something you didn't even remember. But, from what you understand, he had done something horrible to you too.

"Okay," you just whisper, nodding your head. "So... For a few weeks now?"

"Yeah," Bianca takes the folded piece of paper out of her pocket, handing it to you. "This is what we agreed on. I just... Wanted to check in on what your thoughts are now. You didn't really let me know about the Song ending in any way, even though we both aren't sure if it'll work."

It stays quiet for a moment as you read the letter over and over. You try hard to remember it, but it just doesn't come back up. Nothing. Nothing about Xavier, nothing about the Song, not even the good memories you had with him.

"Do you think anything changed?"

Bianca looks at you as you hold out the piece of paper to her.

"What do you mean?"

"Xavier," you mumble. "Did anything change? The Song wasn't for nothing, right? If I really used to be best friends with him..."

Did he? He did spend weeks in his art studio, sketching every single memory he had of you with him. He tried to map out exactly when to run into you, He had even broken rules to apologize to you, finally getting his jumbled thoughts straight.

"I think he did. He is well on his way. I might have tried to set him straight," she lets out a laugh. "I told him he had to get his shit together. He really cares about you, but he just doesn't know how to deal with it."

"He might need some therapy," you shake your head. "I feel like it has been long enough, right?"

"You want to undo the Song?"

You nod, sitting down on your bed while looking up at her.

"Maybe he didn't mean it. I don't remember a lot about him, it's like I have only seen him vaguely in a dream or in the background of a picture. I trust him."

"Okay," she nods, "Let's try this. But, I am not too sure if it will work."

The least you could do is try, right?

"What do you think about... 'Remember Xavier from then to now, it is no question as to how. The Siren Song will now end, old memories will now again blend.'? You will remember everything from now on top of your old memories. I hope."

"Let's do it."

The amulet gets removed from her neck as she looks at you with a gentle smile on her face. She truly does wish you the best.

"Remember Xavier from then to now, it is no question as to how. The Siren Song will now end, old memories will start to blend."

Nothing.

It stays quiet for a few seconds before you look up at Bianca who is placing the amulet around her neck again.

"Is it supposed to work immediately?"

She looks you up and down.

"Usually, yes... You don't have your memories back?"

You slowly shake your head.

"Absolutely nothing."

This is exactly what Bianca feared. Though you knew the risk was there, it still was extremely disappointing that it couldn't be changed.

"What if I start over? If Xavier and I became friends once, we might become friends again, right?"

"That is something you need to decide yourself," Bianca takes her bag in her hands. "Do what you are most comfortable with. My input? It might be worth it."

A smile is on her face as she turns around to walk out of your dorm, pausing for a second before looking back at you.

"Xavier is a good guy. Genuinely. He just needs a little push sometimes."

-

Xavier had finally laid down on his bed, his hair still wet from the shower. He had taken the hottest shower ever, trying to get his mind off of things, yet it didn't work. He was back to sketching all he could remember of you. All pages up to now were filled with your face.

When his phone buzzes, he feels like he wants to throw it around the room. He is not in the mood to talk to anyone, but he had to turn on his alarm still anyway. The light of the phone is extremely bright as he squints his eyes, trying to shield himself from the brightness. But his eyes fly open when he sees the notification that made him grab the phone in the first place.

Y/N ♡

hi xavier! could we talk soon? let me know when you have time :)

He can not believe his eyes. He immediately sits back up, typing on his phone like crazy. With shaking hands, he finally sends you a response.

xav!

yeah! any time tomorrow?

He nervously stares at his screen, seeing the notification of your typing pop up.

Y/N ♡

sure! some relaxing before the visiting week, haha :) see you tomorrow!

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

taglist

@pagesfalling @skrlls-devonte @clingytraitscclist @annamarieisbae @babyminghao @rayliz7931 @morningstar09 @flowersownme @sunnytkm23 @sweeterheartxamerica @geekgirleve @lorayma9 @eringaitskill @itscheybaby @sophiathereader @r3fundmyb1rth @sweaterxav @stxrangerdxnger @wrenwastooshort @negativity4you @poppet05 @bambi-munson @diorheaven @mirikusashes @yksthings @kis9na @br66klynbaby @ietss @xxhospital-for-soulsxx @secretdazeobservation @lunacurlclaw @dredres @joselyn001 @sojo154 @parkersmyth @hannahnikohl @peanutbutter-y-jams

@ietss @flowersownme @zestygingergirl @katdog111 @urgirl-iris @buckleylips @maylaysia109 @alexdiedin1999 @i-am-no-one-0 @givemereylo @geekgirleve @no-soy-fer @phoenixgurl030 @hannahnikohl @molllybc @omegaworld @nushy @blahbel668 @temptressofthetarrot @heartsfordeftones @aeplern @katkoosik @percyhyneswhitesgf @luna670 @mypsychoticlove @clingytraitscclist @mk-the-great @mayranakata @grass-sunflower @inky-sun @nikt-wazny-y @alexayoonlee @ghswlz @slngarza @fandomstoryreader25r25 @theworldofkami @itspalaly @blakebearsblog

@roacchan

[pentrologram]

What Normal People Do - 5

Art fair! sorry to the ghost truthers i just realised simon has brown eyes and not blue… i changed it in chapter three. idk how i got it in my head that his eyes are blue :’) ao3! ghost/soap/gn!reader (established ghoap)

I Need You Here

Johnny has been looking for a job.

Simon knew this day would come, admittedly. Crafts from Hobby Lobby would only tide Johnny over for so long before his hands grew a mind, taking him away from the private little paradise they’ve built together.

Now, Johnny often sprawled over Simon’s laptop, searching for any hands-on job nearby. It wasn’t uncommon for him to come to Simon, asking questions about the workforce since all he’s ever known is the military. They talk about handyman jobs, which Johnny seems most attracted to, assisting artists at a nearby college or even teaching an art class at the college, which revolts Johnny.

“Ae don’t ken anythin’ about art, Si!” He protests when Simon taps into the job listing.

“Sure you do. Your sketchbooks, Johnny.”

“That’s nae college level!”

He does half of the application just to fuck with Johnny.

Johnny finds a listing at the clinic you work at for a janitor. He froths at the mouth while thinking about working in such proximity to you for four days a week, but the pay brings him back down to earth. While technically they’d be fine forever with their retirement money, having extra cash could never kill them. For twelve pounds an hour, Johnny decides he can do better.

Johnny calls it quits after a week of searching for jobs. Everything he found started too early or too late, had too many days or not enough. He was either overqualified or underqualified and he was beginning to think that maybe he should go back to the military and take a civilian job because nowhere else seemed to understand his need for flexible hours. He tells Simon as much.

“No, Johnny, you just need to find your thing,” Simon says, rubbing Johnny’s shoulders reassuringly as they curl up on the couch together, Riley asleep by their feet. “It feels discouraging now, yeah, but you just might not be looking at the right stuff, y’know?” Johnny huffs.

“I’m dyin’ of boredom here, Si,” he gripes.

“I wasn’t joking about teaching that art class, you know.” He says, quietly, after a second.

“There’s no way, Si. A’m not like that. I dinnae know value from shade.” He grumbles back.

“Well, it’s the twenty-first century, love. You can sell your work. Or teach an amateur class online.”

Johnny goes quiet for the rest of the movie. He’s quiet as he takes a shower, brushes his teeth and gives Riley her last walk of the day and quiet as he crawls into bed.

He spends the next day researching things about a platform called ‘Etsy’. He barely takes breaks to eat or drink and Simon has to manhandle him to wash his hair. He spends most of the night doing whatever the hell on Etsy and Simon gives up on forcing him into bed and just falls asleep.

By the time he wakes up at 1000, Johnny is slumped at his desk, the laptop dead in front of him and covered by some of Johnny’s old charcoal figures. He sighs and cleans up the mess on the desk before putting a pillow under Johnny’s head and throwing a blanket over him. Then he makes breakfast and puts a full plate underneath Johnny’s nose, to help him wake up.

He takes Riley for her morning walk after breakfast and they detour to your apartment to say hi. You’re chirpy, finally fully recovered from the breakup as it seems, and genuinely happy to see them. Riley loves up on your legs like usual while you idly chat.

“There’s another fair coming to town next week,” you bring up.

“But didn’t we just have the strawberry one?”

“Yeah. But the college nearby is opening a new museum so they’re hosting a tiny version of one of the exhibits in a fair and bringing a bunch of local artists in.”

“Really?” Simon says, mind already churning into high gear when you mention local artists. “Johnny’s gonna love that.”

“It sounds like it’ll be his speed.” You say.

Simon nods. He has something to chew on now and he says an abrupt goodbye before going back to the apartment, hanging up Riley’s leash. Johnny is quick to pounce on him, immediately yapping about the Etsy page he made and all of his old art he put up for sale and how he’s already sold five whole pieces and needs to go ship them out.

Simon praises him, because he’s done such a good job- because, well, he’s doing something to occupy himself without leaving the relative safety of their apartment and that alone is enough to soothe him.

He tells Johnny about the fair during dinner, and Johnny lights up like the sun.

“Oh, oh, Si, can we go wi’ the bon, please, Si?” He begged with his biggest puppy eyes.

“Nn. You’ll have to ask them yourself.” He says, which makes Johnny immediately jump up to go and do just that. He’s stopped, obviously, with a sharp tug on the neck of his shirt.

“It’s ten in the night, Johnny.” He says. “Eat your damn dinner.”

“But ye said-“

“I didn’t mean right now, you bloody maniac. Calm yourself.” He says. Johnny pouts and pokes at the rest of his mashed potatoes like a child.

When Johnny does get to ask you the next day, though, he looks fully prepared to guilt trip you into agreeing. You agree without resistance, only ever so gently coaxing Johnny into going on your off day next week as opposed to that very second. He agrees only because it’s you.

Needless to say, Johnny is nothing but unbearable during the wait; talking Simon’s ear off to the point where he thinks he’ll get a permanent migraine. Thank bloody hell he’s so easily distracted by shiny things- most of the time, he was able to redirect questions about you to a collection of cross-stitch sets he had bought years ago. That, and helping Johnny pack and mail the odd dozen or so artworks that he's sold for a good dollar help keep him occupied. The works are mostly charcoals on fancy mixed media paper, all of them vaguely an unmasked Simon or the dog. It doesn't seem to matter much to the people who're buying his stuff, though.

The day finally comes, though, and Johnny sniffs you out. It’s very bloodhound-esc. You don’t seem to mind all too much, looking content to be dragged around.

Johnny first takes the three of you to a little make-your-own painting stall hosted by an oil painter located a few hours out. Johnny is utterly concentrated, leaving Simon and you to foster a quiet conversation while you paint on the provided canvases. When Simon goes to pay, Johnny shows you his painting proudly; it’s a portrait of you and Simon hunched over your portraits while engaged in a conversation. He’s somehow captured the essence of the summer afternoon and you’re entranced by how he’s painted you; the sun is almost right behind you, in his painting, and it makes your hair glow and eyes shine, even as they’re downcast.

“Wow….” You murmur, and Johnny beams, proud. Suddenly the still life you had done of the stall is no longer impressive. Johnny still insists on seeing it, forcing you to show it to him. He might be a little too generous, but still. It seems as though he means it, so what else could you ask for?

Simon comes back and he nearly mirrors your response, but he doesn’t seem as surprised as you had been. Johnny also manhandles Simon into showing his painting, but Simon is a lot more resistant. It takes Johnny squirming under one burly, hoodie-clad forearm for Simon to relent and begrudgingly show him a heartfelt landscape of simple green grasslands. Johnny still seems earnestly honest, nattering about how natural the few flowers look.

Then you’re toted to a make-your-own pottery stall, which is a lot harder than it looks. Johnny (obviously) takes to it like a fish to water after one or two bad first attempts, but neither Simon nor you take to it as quickly or smoothly. You end up coaxing a few deep chuckles from Simon with your poor attempts, but you’re not afraid to laugh at him, too, when he doesn’t do any better. Johnny makes an elegant, tall vase and Simon manages a lumpy yet characteristic mug. Your bowl is cute and has a swirly design you're rather proud of. Again, Simon pays and registers the group to be notified when the pots (as poor as yours and Simon’s were) are finished with glaze and firing.

Lastly, since by this time it was beginning to get dark, you take photos in front of painted backdrops done by different artists. They're all unique and beautiful, each done in their own, unique style. Johnny takes twenty minutes to just appreciate the artistry before making you take photos in front of his favourite backdrops with him. It’s another twenty until you’re able to rope Simon into taking one photo.

Johnny looks so utterly inspired, clutching the tote bag that holds his and Simon's oil paintings with a starry-eyed look as he takes one more look around the fairgrounds. It's awfully adorable. He begs you to just peek into a few more stalls while you wait for Simon to go to the person who ran the little photo area and get the photos printed out for you, so when you inevitably parted ways at the doorways of your apartments, you had a small 3x6” souvenir- ready to be pinned up on your wall.

[dragonmasterhiccup]

“You just have a blueprint lying around for your own leg?” She asked while raising an eyebrow.

When Toothless dropped Hiccups leg into his hand, Danny made face scrunched up in disgust, “Eugh- wait are you just gonna put it back on after?! That is nasty!” she exclaimed, although there was no malice behind her voice.

“How urgent was it that he ripped your prosthetic off?” she said curiously with a chuckle.

As Toothless brought back Hiccups prosthetic again, Danny seemed to think about something before speaking up, “Hey so uh, I actually have a question- and you can totally say no because I literally just yelled at you like two minutes ago, but I saw awhile back that you had a sketchbook and I was just wondering if maybe there was an extra one lying around that no one was using?” she asked, her voice somewhat hesitant as she did so.

He nodded. "Yeah, of course. I built it. Why wouldn't I have a blueprint?"

He laughed, leaning heavily on the stick to keep him balanced. "Astrid has the same response! No, I wipe it off on the grass first, otherwise it makes an unsettling squishing sound when I walk..." He had a playful look on his face, messing with her a little bit. He had never put it back on without cleaning it first, but he wanted to see Danny's reaction to thinking he had. "But, I have found that it does have some amazing properties. It can work as an adhesive, on paper at least."

He rubbed the back of his head. "If I remember correctly, pretty urgent. My friend's dragons had been trapped by a Deathsong. I'm not sure we would have found them in time, if we hadn't had Toothless' help." Toothless had once again returned, giving Hiccup back his leg. "Okay, bud, last one. Then we should probably get going." Hiccup threw the leg again, and Toothless happily ran after it.

"A sketchbook? Yeah...I think I have an extra I can spare. Consider it yours!"

[minileena-sfw]

Zookeeper - part 4

prev - next

On that first tour of the little section of the zoo that I was responsible for, I had been excited about my job until Jasper told me that the parvinnet was going to take all my enthusiasm away.

I chuckled to myself at that. Funny how the complete opposite became true.

All my other responsibilities were just chores now. I spent all day thinking about her. Layna. It was… a weird topic to think about. She was just an animal, obviously. We had a gorilla exhibit elsewhere in the zoo, and while none of them knew sign language, I knew that there were gorillas who had been taught to communicate like that. It spoke to a degree of intelligence, but not to the extent that it felt weird to have gorillas in cages at a zoo.

Well. At least no more than it felt weird to cage ANY animal and show them off to strangers at ten bucks for entry. Zoos are kinda fucked up when you think about them too much.

Still, thinking about Layna felt… different. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. Maybe it was just my brain playing tricks on me because her anatomy was so humanoid. Aside from her eyes and larger, mostly featureless ears, she looked pretty much like a normal human woman. To the extent that I started feeling uncomfortable with the fact that she, uh… didn’t have any clothes.

But, like… she’s not a person. I heard of an octopus in an aquarium that memorized the guard’s schedules and used off-time to sneak into a neighbouring tank to eat extra fish. That was cool and showed off the octopus’s intelligence, but… it’s not a person.

Layna had sounded so depressed and defeated yesterday…

Instead of thinking about the philosophy of personhood and sapience, I tried to reconcile my conflicting emotions by buying a bunch of cool shit for Layna’s tank. I remembered her complaining about not having anything intellectually stimulating, idly tearing at cotton just for something to do. My mind immediately went to toys—anything with moving parts to provide some enrichment for her. But the thought felt… wrong. She wasn’t a bored cat who needed a ball of yarn to bat around.

I came up with a different solution.

“Hey, Layna!” I called as I walked into her room at the end of my rounds.

I was greeted with a grunt. Layna wasn’t in her bed—she was on the opposite side of the tank, fidgeting and fiddling with one of the plastic plants.

“Messing around with the fake foliage?” I prompted as I grabbed her water bowl and cleaned it out.

“What the fuck else am I supposed to do in here?” She huffed.

I smirked. “Funny you should ask that… I brought you a little somethin’-somethin’.”

Layna’s brows furrowed and her attention shifted over to me. And to what I held in my hands.

After thinking about it for a while, I had eventually decided to buy her a little sketchbook. It was about as tall as she was—there wasn’t anything smaller I could find at Michael’s—and while nobody sold drawing utensils that she could use at her size, I tried to find a solution in a broken-off piece of mechanical pencil lead that could act as a drawing utensil of sorts.

Layna stared for a while, so I just set the sketchbook down next to her bed with a smile and returned to her water bowl.

“So… ignoring Jasper’s advice, then?” Layna prompted as she started making her way over to my side of the tank. “What’s that saying again? ‘Give a man an inch, he’ll take a mile?’ You’re, uh… offering me quite a few inches.”

I paused for a moment.

“I… know that,” I conceded. “But… it would feel wrong to not give you a few inches. I don’t quite get why, but… I dunno. It felt, like, correct to come here with this for you.” I set her clean water bowl back down in the cage and gave her a smile. “Anyways, I dunno if you’re an artist at all, but… I guess anything’s better than cotton and plastic foliage?”

Layna had finally made her way over to my side of the tank, looking at the sketchbook I had gotten her. She wore that expression again, the one I always have trouble placing… contemplative, maybe?

“You’re being nice to me because I’ve been cooperative,” Layna concluded. “These are, like, rewards?”

I pursed my lips at that. “I… am not quite sure why, but phrasing it like that feels weird.”

“Maybe because it’s basically pavlovian classical conditioning and that’s kinda fucked up,” Layna muttered as she lifted the sketchbook and brought it over to the glass tank, leaning it against the wall.

My eyes widened a bit. “How… do you know what that is?”

Layna huffed and moved to grab the pencil lead I had left for her. “I’m twenty-two years old. I’ve only been in this tank for three of those. I’m starting to suspect that you kinda just… never consider the fact that I existed outside of the context of these last three years. I had a life before this.”

Layna… is older than me.

I definitely internalized all her words and vowed to think on them more later, but for now that was what my mind was focused on. I was twenty-one. Why was it weird that she was older than me?

“Well, thanks for the reward incentive for my ‘good behaviour’ then, I guess,” Layna said as she started sketching at a level of proficiency that I had NOT been expecting. “You should finish your rounds. The sugar gliders are probably gonna get jealous that I’m taking all of your attention today.”

I nodded with furrowed brows and left to finish up the rest of my work in the room.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

I realized that I had started to consider Evelyn my friend.

It was fair of me to do, I supposed. I was slowly going insane in this cage, after all. Perhaps I had been so deprived of any positive social interaction that the moment she offered me even a hint of kindness I latched onto it like a starving leech, desperate for something, anything to eat.

I would disabuse myself of this notion.

Evelyn was not my friend. She was my warden. These gifts and acts of kindness were intentional moves to try and make me more cooperative. I knew that for a fact. I could prove it.

I had to prove it. Because if she wasn’t my warden, then… she was an opportunity.

I needed to test this.

Once I misbehave, the rewards stop coming. That was the hypothesis.

And I had come up with the perfect experiment to prove it.

I tore out a sheet of paper from the sketchbook and started folding my path out of this cage.

Prev - next

[villainworshiper]

Grabber x artist! Gn! Reader HC?

Would be so lovely to see what you come up with, feel free to ignore also!

/knuckle cracking

this is my jam, dear anon I love you for giving me this topic.

The Grabber x Artist GN!reader

Warnings

you might have diabetes after reading this post, mentions of kidnaping, stockholm syndrome, older reader

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

being trapped sure is disturbing enough but not having your sketchbook nearby was torture.

the boredom when he wasn't around was enough to make you start looking for something, anything you could use to draw.

you ended up finding a small piece of chalk in a corner, that would be enough.

you started drawing on the wall next to the bed, flowers and anything you could think of that you would miss from outside, even your pet.

then you drew a pair of blue eyes hidden in the side of that black phone on the wall, that unmistakable mask and his intense gaze were the only thing that haunted your mind after all, every second you were there was because of him.

it was a bit chaotic but your style was more like that, a bunch of mixed feelings in a rushing mind.

you drew until the chalk disappeared from your fingertips.

you woke up by a presence the next morning, he was staring at the wall crouched down with your tray of food in his hands.

"Did you do that?"

shit, you thought you were already dead, he was mad that you messed with his walls.

you nodded with fear in your eyes and sweat on your palms as he pulled off the bottom of his mask to reveal a smile.

"I didn't know you were so into art."

"well you didn't ask anything before you kidnapped me so..." you thought but nothing came out of your mouth, just a nod.

after that he got easier with you.

one day after your meal he gave you a dusty black covered sketchbook and a red pen. (of course, his trademark colors because he can).

he never asked you about your preferred art supplies so he felt insecure.

but when your eyes lit up like a lighthouse he released the air he had in his lungs.

he literally searched every corner of his house to find something for you to draw on.

he stood there while you opened the sketchbook but you couldn't get started.

i mean he was still there and you could feel his gaze on you making your face burn.

you asked him to leave and surprisingly he agreed on the condition that he would come back two hours later to look at your sketches.

that was a very frequent routine since then, he would come down two or more times per day to see how many pages you filled with various things.

he would even give you extra food if he really liked the drawings you did, and of course he does.

he already liked your style, but seeing it on paper really amazed him.

once you asked him for colors, you liked the red pen but you wanted to be a bit more colorfull.

he went to buy you some but when he came back god, if looks could kill he would have disappeared from existence by now.

"What? You said you wanted colors dove."

he gave you crayons, child size crayons.

that sketchbook became your personal art journal.

until you got guess what, an artblock.

you were very upset when he came over and asked you why you weren't drawing today, you explained.

he told you he wasn't sure he could help you with it.

then you had an idea.

you really liked the magician outfit he was wearing when he forced you into the van so...

still thinking it was a questionable request, you asked him to wear that without the mask, if that was okay.

it didn't take long for him to come back dressed like that.

he stood there, near the bed, while you relayed into the wall and began to draw him.

it was the first time he could see you work and you looked so confident, so calm and full of concentration that he lost himself in you and your expressions for a bit.

your lines were so smooth, so free and you finally finished turning the sketch for him to see.

oh no his smile was doing things to make your heart race, you didn't draw him creepy you were actually picturing him as a person, not a monster and he liked it.

you started drawing him more often, maybe so often that your last pages were just filled with him and occasionally you posing for his attempts to draw you.

because sure, he wanted to learn and you were trying to teach him but you were a horrible teacher and he was a stubborn man when things didn't go as planned.

by the way, he never erased those drawings on the wall.

[froggy-frogz]

Hey I hope your having a good day or night, I was wondering if you were able to write a jinx x transmasc or ftm reader? That's all, you can write it about whatever 😅.

A/N: Ofc afshdkj! Really like writing transmasc fics because I literally can never find any so I hope you enjoy it!

- - -

Jinx x Trans Masc!Reader

Warnings: A little bit of transphobia, one instance of misgendering, and Jinx rocking an asshole's shit.

- - -

Living in Zaun was an... interesting experience. One that you had gotten used to, but still interesting. You lived with your girlfriend as her sort of 'glorified' bodyguard, is what her father called it, in exchange for a place to stay and a bit extra silver in your pocket.

You say weren't even really a bodyguard, Jinx could take care of herself and you knew that, but you weren't going to complain. Her dad hadn't kicked you out yet and that was definitely was something you thought was going to happen.

- - -

"Why do we have to do this?" Jinx complains as she had been the entire time you two had been walking.

You weren't happy with your task either today, but Jinx didn't have to come. Not sure what she thought you were going to do, but you were thankful she was coming.

"Because Silco is busy." You huff, blowing a couple of strands of hair off your face.

"And Sevika couldn't do it?" Jinx scoffs, "I wanted to have some alone time with you. She always handles this shit anyway."

You shrug, you weren't sure what Jinx's beef was with Sevika, but you didn't care. Sevika was chill enough that you didn't have any issues with her. You just wished that Jinx would stop messing with her.

"I don't mind it, Jinx, Silco pays me pretty well to do this sort of stuff." You slip your hand into hers, tugging on it, "Plus we are alone, and once I drop this stuff off to the Chembarons then we can go."

"The Chembarons? See Sevika should of gone," Jinx mutters, but you couldn't disagree with her there, you didn't like them either.

"We're almost there anyway." You say, "Then we can do whatever you want okay? I'll get you something if you want, to make up to you, I know you've almost completely used up your sketchbook."

She flashed you a grin, "You don't have to toots, but I won't stop you."

There we go, there was your Jinx. She seemed to have cheered up, and you let out a sigh of relief as she started to talk about the new bomb she was working on. It really hurt to see her upset so you were glad that her mood had done a 180.

You didn't like where the Chembarons met up, it stunk of cigars and sure, even though you worked for Silco, it doesn't mean you were all too pleased with all the shit they were doing.

Also, Jinx was right, if the Chembarons were all here, why wasn't Silco. Again you didn't really care, but it was just a thought.

You had gotten quiet in the elevator up and Jinx quickly caught onto that, pressing her weight onto your arm.

"In and out toots, you don't even have to talk to them if you don't want too." Jinx whispers to you as the door opens.

You tensed up as you two were faced with the door to their meeting room. You had been here once before with both Silco and Sevika, and it wasn't a pleasant time. You didn't talk but the way everyone looked at you made you want to be sick.

The doors pushed up and there stood Finn. He was one of the Chembarons, and one of them you hated the most. He had spent a good amount of time eyeing you. Too much time in fact.

"Heya Finn," Jinx snatched the package that you had held moments before and tossed it to him, "For you, special delivery."

He caught it and looked up to you two, his eyes quickly flashing between you and Jinx, and he smirked. Gods, you weren't sure how it could make you as sick as it did.

"Huh Jinx, never knew you swung that way." He leaned against the wall, "Though I did have my suspicions."

"What are you blabbering about?" Jinx flashed him a look, and you let out a small groan.

"Jinx, c'mon," You muttered, going to tug on her.

"I knew you were into women, though I never thought you'd actually find one." Finn snorted, and your stomach twisted.

You could feel Jinx tense up beside you, her hand gripping onto yours. This wouldn't end well. Jinx knew that you're transgender, but she didn't care at all. She had even helped you transition, cutting your hair for you when you had first come out to her.

There had been assholes in the past who had misgendered you on purpose, and Jinx happened to be in front of you. Things didn't end well for that person, they ended up with a broken nose and a threat that she'd do worse if they misgendered you again.

"Jinx, he's not worth it, let's just go." You mumble, but it was no use, you could tell she was livid.

Instead of leaving, she did the opposite, and let go of your hand to walk up to him, "Well sadly, that's none of your business Finn, and you also must be so blind because that's no woman,"

"Really? Could have fooled me," Finn snorted, "When we were first introduced, I was sure [Y/n] wasn't a woman's name. You really must like them broken, Jinx."

That was the last straw from your girlfriend, and before you could even manage to stumble over to her and pull her from him, her knuckle collided into his jaw, making the gold plate break off and clatter to the ground, making Finn stumble, landing on his ass.

"You better shut your mouth Finn, or I'll do it for you." Jinx spat, "You disrespect me or [Y/n] again and you'll regret it."

Finn was either too shocked to speak or smart enough not to push his luck as he said nothing.

With that, Jinx snatched your hand and dragged you from the room, and you two left, you said nothing, and Jinx still fuming.

- - -

It wasn't until you were back in her hideout, that you actually said something.

"You alright?" You say softly, as Jinx flops onto her couch, her breath still heavy and her face flushed. You'd take that as a probable no.

"Yeah I'm fine." She said shortly, "You don't even look like a woman, I don't know why Finn was say that."

You sit down on the free space next to her, leaning against the backing, your voice still soft, "I do appreciate you looking out for me, Jinx, but you could of gotten in trouble."

"I wasn't going to let him shit-talk you." She swiftly sits up and her hands are suddenly cupping your face, "Are you okay trinket, I know that wasn't something you wanted to hear... back there."

"I'm okay now." You say, wrapping your arms around her, "I wasn't for a little bit, but after seeing you knock Finn onto his ass, I think I feel a bit better."

She smiles, moving to pull you into a hug, your head resting on her shoulder.

"If he does ever misgender you again, I'd do worse than send his jaw flying."

And you sure she would.

- - -

[muraeeeeena]

𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐬 / 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Part 5

Summary: you are getting tired from working in fashion industry in general and for Baroness in particular. Old friend from France offers you work in an interesting project and you finally decide to leave the industry. What definitely doesn't fit in your plans is a new redhead girl in big glasses called Estella

a/n: week was exhausting so this one is really short

Feedback is always appreciated

Updates on Mondays and Fridays

Word count – 0.85k

Warning: spoilers for "Cruella" (2021), smoking

(@miphas-trident @scruffyumbreon @gayarchnemessis ) 

• • •

Everything was upside down. Press has written about "Black and White ball" multiple times pointing out it's awful organisation, Baroness was furious because of that and this mysterious Cruella didn't make the whole situation any better.

What kind of gossips have you heard in the next few days! Imagination of your collegues was focused on discussing if Cruella's appearance had to do anything with a robbery attempt. What you didn't expect was that Estella, surprisingly, was interested in this subject too! You, on the other side, didn't have this much time to spend it on talking, so Estella was using your shared lunches as opportunity to discuss it. Slowly, thanks to her, you got interested in Cruella too. You had no idea who she was or what she wanted to do but Estella had a bunch of theories about it. Your favourite one was about Cruella being a hired actress who just distracted guests while robbers tried to break into the safe of Baroness.

Because of the previous failure the standarts in "House of Baroness" have risen (even though you thought there was no place to raise them anymore). Now you needed to focus on the Valentine's day show and make everything perfect. It was hard considering that you were running off the energy.

• • •

The work day has ended. If it was the normal one Estella would stay with you and work few extra hours but today she was busy with something else. You were left alone in the giant building, with nothing else to do but sew and think about Cruella.

What was her purpose? Was it her fault that the ball has turned into the mess? Will she make a new move?

Scissors started to fall from your tired arms.

And she had such a standing out style... intresting, how would she look in...

You yawned.

Yes, it would look great! And with that it would be even better...

At some point you took your sketchbook and started to quickly draw there silhouettes of dresses and costumes that were popping in your mind one by one. With Cruella as a model, for some reason, it was really easy to create the design. Thanks to her white and black hair, she was almost like a cartoon character...

You traced a final line and proudly looked at your work. Considering that it was created at 2 AM... it wasn't bad.

Your eyelids started to fall and you comfortably stretched out on the table. You will need only one minute to rest and you'll return to work. Yeah, only one minute...

• • •

A hand on your shoulder was soft and warm. It gently shaked you and somebody whispered in your ear:

"Y/N...Y/N".

You rolled from back on the side and continued sleeping. The voice grew stronger.

"Y/N!"

You didn't respond. After few silent minutes you heard how someone was flipping pages of your sketchbook.

This made you wake up in a second. Estella was standing in front of you and she was curiously looking through your drawings. Her hair were messy and she looked sleepy too in general.

"Wow", she turned another page.

You reached for your sketchbook and grabbed it as fast as possible. Your heart pounded in your chest.

"What were you doing?"

"Just looking at your works... why are you so nervous?"

"Don't take my things without permission. Especially sketchbooks", Estella starred at you and nodded. She didn't say anything but you could see a question in her eyes.

You hoped she didn't see anything with Cruella. You had ripped off the list and put it in your pocket. You had to get rid of it before it will get rid of you. Even though Estella was nice, you didn't trust her a lot.

You couldn't wait for this work day to end.

• • •

During the lunch you didn't go in the park, instead, you went in the whole other direction.

It didn't matter where to go. You just needed to make sure that Estella won't notice and follow.

Quickly, quickly, quickly...You just needed a trash bin.

Here it is! The design was ready to be thrown there. You pulled it out and... something stopped you. Even though it was, in fact, the root of the problem, the design was great and it was hard to get rid of it that easy.

You reminded yourself that it wouldn't be safe to keep it. Focusing, you shaked your head and tore the design up in four pieces that immediately got into the trash bin. You sadly exhaled and headed to the bus station.

There is no place for being pity. If Estella tells Baroness about it...

No. She won't.

You shaked your head again.

At least you hoped so.

And lost in your thoughts, you didn't see how one redhead girl in big leopard glasses appeared from the corner and started to rummage in the bin. When she has finally found what she was looking for, you were already in the bus, on your way back to the "House of Baroness", completely unaware of everything.

[works-of-fanfiction]

“He’s the Best.” - 90s!Graham Coxon x Reader

Summary: Graham struggles with his self-esteem within the band and the reader tries to cheer him up.

Requested by: Anon. I hope you like this <3

Warnings: Swearing (literally once).

Word Count: 3.3k - a bit of a longer oneshot from me! I didn’t mean for it to be this long.

A/N: I’ve been writing this and putting it off for days because I just don’t know if I like it, but I don’t want to restart it. Argh… I hope someone enjoys this cheese fest.

* Gif credits to the linked creator

_______________

No one in this life is born ‘better’ than anybody else. It’s not a competition or a game of comparison. Every single human on this planet has their own unique qualities that make them interesting and most importantly, worthy. However, humans sadly aren’t wired to see those qualities in themselves. They spend the majority of their lives obsessing over others; wondering if they’re as talented as the next man, or if they’ll ever look as good as whatshername. Sometimes, it gets to a point where even the deepest of friendships can become strained due to one or more parties comparing themselves to another’s achievements.

And seeing Graham go through exactly that, has been killing me. There was a time when everything Graham and Damon did together, was truly that - together. Every single melody, riff, lyric - it was theirs. Neither one did more work than the other, neither was more musically talented. They were both kids crammed inside a Portakabin with their very first instruments, strumming and plucking and making probably rather bothersome noise. They had no idea what was to become of their lunchtime jam sessions and after school practices. Both were just excited to have a friend that liked the same things as them, and enjoyed the noise the other was making.

But Graham has since become a shadow of who he once was around Damon - he’s become Damon’s shadow. Or so he thinks.

Being in a band with a boisterous frontman like Damon was bound to become hard work for the other members at one point or another, but I never thought it would affect Graham like this. It’s getting harder to communicate with him, and I know it’s not his fault but I’m running out of things to say to fill the silences. There’s only so many times I can ask if he wants a cup of tea, or tell him about the encounter I had at the bus stop earlier that day. I’m sick of hearing my own voice, so I can’t imagine how he must feel. The silence seems to be the only thing he wants; he doesn’t write anymore, he hardly plays guitar outside of work commitments, and he hasn’t picked up his sketchbook in weeks. He just seems to stare at the TV or sit on the sofa with his head buried in a book that’s stuck on the first chapter. I watched him the other day and in forty-five minutes, he turned the page once. I bet if I asked him about the story he wouldn’t be able to recall a single character’s name, never mind the plot.

Watching him struggle with his self-esteem is crushing, and I don’t want him to live another second feeling the way he does. I know it may take a while for him to find himself again, but if I can do anything to help move things along, it’s worth a try. I’d drop everything for Graham in a heartbeat.

“I dropped those music stands off today. Did you get them?” Dave asks, his voice a little crackly on the other end of the phone.

“I did, thank you!” I chime, balancing the phone between my shoulder and ear as I assemble the very same stands.

“Oh, good. I was a little worried about leaving them outside. I thought somebody would take them… What do you need them for anyway?”

“That’s something for me to know and you to find out, Dave.” I laugh, tightening one last knob on the second stand and straightening it out. I stand back and admire my handy work, smiling at the prospect of what they are to become.

“Alright, alright. Well, I hope they come in handy! I’ll see you later.”

“Thanks again. See you next week!”

We both hang up and I grab the stands, climbing up the stairs and into the spare room, placing them in their desired places. Grabbing two pieces of sheet music, I slot them onto the stands neatly and adjust them until they’re perfect. With one last thing to check, I turn on the projector I borrowed from an old university friend and let the film play out on the blank wall opposite. I mess with the sound a little, making sure it’s loud enough before rewinding the footage to the beginning and turning it off until later.

Standing in the middle of the room, I turn around and admire everything on the walls. Everything from lyrics to old album art concepts, to still life paintings from Graham’s time at Goldsmith’s. Beside the music stands, there’s crates filled with records, decorated with lyrics scribbled onto scraps of paper, some in Graham’s handwriting and others in mine. I of course, couldn’t resist writing them out in various colours and covering them in star-shaped stickers. The finishing touch is a large beanbag against the wall for us to sit and watch the projector from. I fluff up the beanbag for the thousandth time before heading downstairs to wait for Graham to get back.

It takes around two hours for Graham to arrive home. As soon as I hear his taxi pull up outside, I jump up from the sofa and head into the kitchen to flick the kettle on. Nerves bubble through me as I anticipate his entry. It’s impossible to predict how Graham’s going to be feeling on any given day. He could come through the door and speak to me as normal, or he could disappear into his studio until he’s tired enough to head to bed. Through the rumbling of the kettle I listen out for the door, fingers impatiently tapping on the counter as my gaze fixates on a magpie outside, shakily balancing on the washing line. A second joins it and I smile, muscle memory taking over as I pour the boiled water into two cups, not taking my eyes off of the birds.

“Hi.” Graham’s voice peeps behind me. Putting the kettle down, I turn around with a warm smile on my face. Despite everything Graham has been going through, seeing him come through that door every day is still my favourite sight. Having him come home to me will simply never get old. I don’t know what I’ll do when he has to go out on tour again in a few months.

“Hey.” I breathe, the sides of my face already beginning to feel sore from the ridiculous grin stuck on it. He smiles back, the expression not quite reaching his eyes but I know he means well. He’s trying. “You go and sit down. I’ll bring these in.” I gesture to the brewing teas on the counter and he nods, hanging his bag on the nearest kitchen chair and leaving the room without another word. I finish the drinks as quickly as possible, grabbing the stack of takeaway menus from the junk drawer and bringing them with me, the pieces of paper clamped between my teeth as I concentrate on carrying the two steaming hot cups in my hands.

Setting the cups down on the coffee table, I toss the menus onto the sofa next to where Graham is very aggressively, trying to pull his Docs off. “Need a little help?” I ask, laughing as I kneel down and bat his hands out of the way. “It would help if you untied them.”

“It’s easier to leave them tied.”

“Oh, really?” I scoff, gesturing to his feet still stuck in the cherry red boots. The laces are a complete mess with three bulky knots in them. I sit down cross-legged on the carpet, carefully plucking and unravelling each knot whilst Graham buries his head in the takeaway menus. “How do you even - “ I struggle, pulling at the frayed shoelace whilst trying not to damage it further, “- get these things on?” With one last tug, the first lace loosens and I’m able to slide the boot off with ease. Graham’s face pops out from behind the menu, a side-smile plastered onto his lips and a cheeky glint in his eyes. I know he wants to laugh.

“Shall we get Indian tonight?” He changes the subject, flipping over the tatty piece of bright orange paper as he squints at the options. He always orders the same thing, yet still insists on reading the whole menu front to back. He does it for every restaurant.

“Indian sounds good.” I nod, pulling the second boot off and shoving them to the side. “I’ll call them now.” Jumping up to grab the phone, I type the number in from memory and hold it up to my ear.

“What’s the rush?” Graham mouths and I hush him when somebody answers. I order the usual along with some extras and give them our address, despite them not even really needing it anymore. The phone call is no longer than a minute and Graham sits staring at me, nose scrunched in confusion. “Are you going to tell me what’s going - “

“Follow me.” I blurt out, stretching my arm towards him and rising onto my tiptoes out of excitement. He stands slowly, shrugging off his jacket and leaving it on the sofa. “I was going to wait until we’d had our food, but I have to show you now.”

“Show me what?” He asks as I grab his wrist and drag him up the stairs. We squeeze up the narrow staircase, almost tripping each other over a couple times until we stop on the landing, feet overlapping one another’s on the small square of carpet.

“I know you haven’t really been yourself lately.” I start, my fingers slipping from Graham’s wrist to entwine with his. He looks down, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes watch our hands as I lightly stroke the back of his thumb in an attempt to relax him. He has a habit of tensing up whenever I broach the subject. “So I wanted to remind you just how great you are.”

I watch his face intently, the corners of his mouth twitching and trying to smile. With my free hand, I open the door and flick the light on, pulling Graham into the room with me. His hand slips from my grasp and I back up to stand against the wall, watching as he takes in the room around him and everything in it.

He walks to the music stands first, fingers tracing the notes on the pages, flipping them over then back again. He walks towards the canvas on the back wall - a woodland painting he’d won a prize for back in college - running his hand over the textured patch of paint that forms the trees. I nervously bite the back of my thumb as he kneels down to sift through the records in the large black case below, flicking through every Blur album and single released to this day. My favourite lyrics are scattered on sheets of paper all over the ground, and he picks up the second verse from Coffee & TV. “You’ve always loved this one.” He says, turning to me and smiling.

“I happen to really like the guy who sings it.”

“He must be pretty good then.”

“Oh, he’s the best.” Resting my foot against the wall, I kick my body forward and stand straight, joining Graham beside the projector.

“What’s this for?” He asks, hands hovering near the buttons but not daring to touch anything. I take his hands in mine and give them a loving squeeze.

“Sit down and I’ll show you.” I chirp and he sinks down onto the beanbag. I mess with the projector until the sound starts to creep in, stretching over to switch off the light. Graham shuffles to the side to make some room for me on the beanbag and I flop down beside him, nestling into his side.

The image from the projector is surprisingly clear against the wall, although could’ve been improved had I borrowed a screen from somewhere. A variety of different clips play out in front of us, ranging from Graham performing onstage to snippets of his band members talking and praising their guitarist. I try my hardest to focus on the film in front of me, but I can’t help glancing over at Graham to see his reactions. His brows are furrowed, but not necessarily in a bad way - he’s focused, fully concentrating on everything he’s seeing and hearing.

I fidget with my hands, twiddling my thumbs and quietly cracking my knuckles. Graham notices this and grabs my left hand, squeezing it tightly and bringing it over to rest in his lap. Laying my head on his shoulder, I press a kiss onto his sleeve, rubbing my head against him and breathing in his familiar scent. He lays his head on top of mine, but never looks away from the video playing on the wall. Absentmindedly, his fingertips dance on the back of my hand, the drumming following the beat of Song 2 as it plays from the projector. I too can’t help bopping along to the beat, my foot tapping softly on the carpet.

The video closes with one final clip, a message I recorded for Graham. Too embarrassed to watch myself, my focus stays on him as I squeeze his hand a little tighter and snuggle up as close as possible. The picture begins to fade and the sound plays out until there’s no footage left, and the whirring of the projector becomes background noise in the room. Graham doesn’t say anything at first, but as I try to stand to turn the projector off, he pulls me back down onto the beanbag and rotates his body to face mine.

“Hey.” I whisper, my right hand supporting his cheek as he leans into me, his eyes closed and lips pressed into a line. Our bodies slot into one another’s on the beanbag, the very little space between us growing warmer by the second.

Graham releases a deep breath, his eyes slowly opening again with a small smile spreading across his face. It’s hard to see him properly in the dimly lit room, but I could never mistake those big brown eyes staring at me. “I can’t believe you did all of this for me.” He says, his voice low as he leans in close to speak like we’re the only two people who matter inside a crowded room.

“I wanted to show you how incredible you are. You’ve been so hard on yourself and I just - “ As I speak, tears start to well up in my eyes and I look up to the ceiling to try and stop them from falling. I’d already told myself earlier that I wouldn’t cry, because I don’t want Graham to think he’s upset me. I press at my eyes lightly with my fingertips in an attempt to push the tears away. “I can’t stand seeing you this way because you don’t deserve to feel like this. If it wasn’t for you, Blur wouldn’t exist! Everything you’ve all achieved wouldn’t have happened.” My voice begins to shake and I feel Graham’s hand on my arm, rubbing it gently to try and calm me down.

“Y/N.” He starts, before reaching up to turn on the light. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust, before my gaze falls to the ground to avoid his. If I look at him properly, I know I’ll start bawling. “Look at me. Please.”

“I can’t. I can’t because I’ll cry, and then you’ll get upset and I don’t want to make you feel any worse than wha - “

“You won’t upset me. Y/N, I’m sorry I’ve - “

“No, Graham. Don’t apologise.” I grip onto his shirt tightly, my fingers tangling in the fabric. Graham bows his head and nudges it against mine, edging closer until he pushes my head up with his and our noses are almost touching. We both open our eyes, our faces too close that my vision is distorted and I’m seeing double. I pull back, sniffling once and dabbing at my eyes again, still not allowing any tears to actually emerge.

“I’m sorry,“ he starts and I sigh at his words, but he hushes me by holding his finger up to my face, “for putting you through this. I was so caught up in my own head that I didn’t realise how it was making you feel.”

“Graham, this isn’t about me.”

“But it affects you. Bloody hell, if I had to live with this miserable twat - “ he points to himself and I scoff, slapping the back of his hand playfully. “ - I’d have given up by now.”

“I would never give up on you.” My voice is barely above a whisper, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. Graham goes silent again, staring down at our joined hands and moving his thumbs around. I nudge his head with mine in the same way he did previously and he sniffles, his chest rising and immediately falling again. “Graham?” I bring my hand to his chin and push his face up to find his eyes watery, and cheeks significantly more red compared to a moment ago.

“God, look at me. What the hell are you still doing with me, ay? I’m a bleeding mess.” He sniffs, roughly wiping tears off of his cheeks with the backs of his hands.

“Because I wouldn’t want to be with anybody else.”

“Not even - “

“Ah! Stop right there. There’ll be no more of that.” I take his hands away from his face, holding onto them loosely. “Graham Coxon, you are the best thing to ever happen to me. And I’ll give you a free pass to slap me silly for being so cheesy.” I laugh, his grip on my hands tightening as he awkwardly slides closer on the beanbag, his body sinking into it at a strange angle and pulling me with him. “I love you.”

Within a second, Graham’s hands are on both sides of my face, pulling me in for a kiss; the kind of kiss that feels like the person is pouring their entire heart out to you. Like the kiss between the main characters of a movie, when they’ve just ran across a field or a busy road to collide with another at the centre. His lips messily press against mine and I can feel the stray tears running down his face as they dampen my cheeks. My hands rest on his legs, holding on firmly as his thumbs dig into my face a little. It doesn’t hurt, but he soon pulls away and swipes at my face softly as if to apologise for it. He uses his sleeve to dry my face and I do the same for him, small gasps of laughter exchanging between us.

“Thank you for doing this. If you can’t tell, I really love it.” He says sincerely with a genuine smile, the biggest smile I’ve seen from him in weeks. The expression is infectious and I can’t help mimicking him as I grin back like the Cheshire Cat. The faint sound of knocking from downstairs pulls us out of our romance film-esque daydream and we both clamber to our feet.

As we approach the stairs, Graham stops and spins me around, pulling me into him. I land against his chest with a huff, before adjusting my hair and looking up at him. “After we eat, can you show me the film again?” He asks, his hand meeting mine to help me fix the loose hairs falling in my eyes.

“We can watch it as many times as you like.”

[symwinter]

HBIC Marinette – Chapter Two

Taglist: @ladybug-182 | @our-preciousss | @woe-is-me0 | @vroomtaka | @lady-bee-fechin | @ramos123 | @itsmeevie01 | @chaoticstarworld | @vixen-uchiha | @seraphichana | @pleaseignorejustheretoread | @basenikon | @bread-loving-mess | @walkingthroughonautopilot |

Sorry it took so long for the next chapter. If I stop writing I have to go back and read what was there and it just reads so badly to me so I have to start over. To make up for it, I tried to make this chapter extra long, but I don’t know if it came across that way.

First - Last - Next

Hell hath no fury like Marinette scorned. On the outside she appeared calm, almost peaceful, but on the inside she was plotting. She doubted the class would take the fallout quietly so she needed to be prepared. The bell on the door jingled as she stepped inside. Her maman perked up hearing the bell. “Marinette! How was school today?” “Eventful,” she replied, “can I talk to you and papa about something? It’s important.” “Of course,” Sabine replied, “please flip the sigh to closed will you?” Marinette nodded and flipped the sign, locking the door for good measure. From there she was ushered upstairs.

“So what do you need to talk to us about? Did you find your sketchbook?” Sabine inquired, her hands folded gently on her lap. “You remember Lila right? The girl who falsified my expulsion?” “She’s the one with the lying disease right?” Tom replied. Marinette forced herself to not roll her eyes. Lila literally said she had a lying disease and was still believed. “Yes and yes. Lila was the one who took it and tore it apart,” Marinette pulled the broken sketchbook from her backpack. Sabine gasped. Tom rubbed her shoulder. “Most of my class did as well. Except for Adrien, Chloé, Sabrina, and Nathanael.” Sabine frowned. “Was it your commission book?” “No, thankfully. That one’s still here. This one was just doodles.” Marinette put the sketchbook down on the table. “But I refuse to leave this unpunished. I just thought I’d let you know.” Tom grimaced but object. “Normally I would be against this,” Tom said, “but if you think it’s necessary then you have my support.” Sabine nodded in agreement. “Is there anything we can do to help?” “Outside of Chloé, Adrien, Sabrina, and Nathanael I don’t know who helped tear it apart and who tried to take it away so it wouldn’t get damaged,” Marinette began, “so until then could you refuse to serve anyone from my class that isn’t those three? Or at least not give them a discount? Or let them see me?” Not that anyone but Nathanael would visit from that small group. “Of course Marinette,” Sabine said, “we’re your parents. It’s our job to be there for you.” Marinette didn’t comment about how they believed Lila when she was expelled and instead shot herself into her parents arms, pulling them into a hug. “I’m going to go salvage what I can from this.” She said, picking up the sketchbook. “Let me know if anyone stops by.”

It took longer than Adrien would like to admit to pick out which sketchbook to buy for Marinette. This was the third shop he went to. “Oh for the love of god Adrikins will you just pick a sketchbook already?” Chloé snapped from beside him. Adrien staggered slightly before looking at her. “It’s not just a replacement but an apology.” He replied. “It needs to be perfect.” “There’s only so long before you father comes a calling and then you can’t give her the sketchbook at all.” She retorted, crossing her arms. Sabrina appeared next to the two blondes holding a 12 by 9 inch sketchbook. Adrien took it from her hands and inspected it. The cover was rather bland, only being a dull dark brown, but the quality of the paper was rather nice. It looked like something his father would use. He didn’t know Sabrina as well as he did Chloé but she clearly had an eye for these things. He supposed being friends with Chloé helped in that regard. “I also considered the idea of getting flowers for Marinette,” Sabrina added, “maybe they’ll act as a nice icebreaker before giving her the sketchbook.” “Sabrina, when you get married I will happily pay for the wedding.” Adrien said. Sabrina smiled. “I’ll hold it to you.” “Great we have a sketchbook can we go already?” Chloé hissed, clearly annoyed. “Yes Chlo, we can go pay and head out.” Adrien paid for the expensive sketchbook before hopping into a flower shop nearby, much to the chagrin of Chloé. One bouquet later and they was off to the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

“Welcome! How can I-” Sabine paused looking at the odd trio in front of her. Adrien, Chloé, and Sabrina, only two of which had ever been over. “We’re here to see Marinette.” Adrien replied, giving an awkward smile. If Sabine did know about the sketchbook, it’s possible she wouldn’t let them visit. Chloé and Sabrina’s less than perfect history with Marinette certainly wouldn’t help. “Of course, you remember how to get inside don’t you Adrien?” He nodded and slipped past the confused Sabine. Tom was equally as confused. “You’re here to see Marinette?” “Yep.” Adrien replied, popping the ‘p.’ “Feel free to grab something then, you’re practically skin and bones.” “Model diet,” Chloé retorted, as Adrien slipped the sketchbook under his arm. Marinette’s parents made the best baked goods. The trio moved efficiently through the house before sending Sabrina to knock on the trap door. A simple ‘who is it?’ rang from above. Sabrina pushed the trap door open. “Adrien and Chloé are also here.” Marinette ushered the three up. Adrien practically shoved the flowers in front of her. “Are these-” Marinette began. “Flowers? Yeah. Sabrina suggest I get some along with this,” he held the sketchbook out. Marinette placed the bouquet on her desk before delicately taking the sketchbook from him. She inspected it but found no price tag. “I heard the class damaged your sketchbook so I found it right to get you a new one.” “I can’t this accept, ugh I mean, I can’t accept this.” “Yes you can. You deserve nice things Marinette.” “Adrikins practically dragged me around Paris to find you that sketchbook. Take it.” Chloé said, inspecting her nails. “Ignore her,” Adrien replied, “it was my fault that you’re sketchbook got torn in the first place. I didn’t know how awful Lila could be.” “But you didn’t. I didn’t tell you that she threatened me-” Adrien, Sabrina, and Chloé’s heads whipped to look at her. “She threatened you?” Adrien’s voice was cold. It almost reminded her of M. Agreste’s during the brief time he heard it. “When exactly did she threaten you?” “When she first got back. In the bathroom. And she kind of did when I got briefly expelled.” “Well then it was definitely the wrong advice. I thought she was just lying for attention, not threatening you. That’s serious. I would’ve never made that deal if I knew how awful she was. I could’ve, I should’ve-” “Wait deal?” This time Sabrina spoke up. “The reason Lila works for Gabriel is because I made a deal to get her to lie Marinette back into class. I swore I told her to leave you alone to. It’s all my fau—why are you crying??!!”

And lo and behold, large tears dripped down Marinette’s cheeks, which she wiped away. “You did that for me?” “Of course, you’re my friend.” Adrien replied, pulling her into a hug. “And that’s what friend do right?” “Okay great, dirty laundry has been aired or whatever but can we get to the point people?” Chloé sniped. “What’s the point?” Marinette asked, stepping out of the hug, albeit reluctantly. “When you go maul the class to death, leave Sabrina, Adrikins, and I out of it. We’re not friends, but even I know not to ruin your stuff.” Marinette put the sketchbook down. “I will but I get to slap you with no consequences.” “You’ve got to be joking.” “You made my life hell and that’s getting off easy for the amount of crap you put me though.” “How about instead, I cover whatever expensive fancy fabrics you can’t buy for the next two months. I’d have to explain the smack to daddy after all” “Hm, make it four months.” Marinette replied. “Three.” “Deal.” Chloé turned on her heel. “Sabrina, let’s go.” The redhead followed but paused to wave goodbye. “I guess that’s my cue to leave as well.” Adrien replied. “And again, I’m sorry I didn’t help you sooner.” “You didn’t know. But you’ll stand up for me now right? When Lila opens her mouth to spew more lies?” “Of course Mari. I’ll be your alibi until the foreseeable future.” He pulled Marinette into a hug again, and impulsively kissed her cheek before leaving the building. It wasn’t until he was standing on the street, phone in hand to call the Gorilla did he realize what he had done.

“Oh god.”

[missdawnandherdusk]

Hufflepuff!Muggleborn Extensive Dating A Malfoy Headcanons:

Okay so this got very long very fast but I apologize for nothing.

So you’re pretty much terrified of getting your Hogwarts letter because you have no idea what magic is but now you’re a wizard???

You go anyway and see a blond little boy at Diagon Alley with his parents and his mother has the same list as your dad does

So maybe you follow the little boy around and pick out the things he does because he seems to know what he’s doing

Then you heard his father hiss “disgusting mud blood” your way and your face kinda falls because you thought maybe you found someone who could help and we’ll never mind

Your dad takes your hand and snaps at Lucius “what kind of example is that for your son? No, I’m not one of your lot but you shouldn’t take it out on my daughter!”

Draco peeks out from behind his fathers robes and looks at the tears in your eyes and maybe he does feel a little bad

You absolutely adore your wand

At the station a few older years can tell you’re new and very Muggle in your tshirt jeans and converse that they sort of adopt you one of them being Cedric

You’re not so scared anymore because it seems like maybe these people aren’t so bad

Some kid named Fred buys you a Chocolate Frog and his twin warns you about their sentience

You meet a few other first years and Hermione Granger whos also a muggle and you sort of lament about all of it. She’s super excited because there’s so much to learn and you start to adopt her perspective

You see the boy from Diagon Alley sneering and bullying other kids and you go up to him with the same fire in your eyes that you dad had and tell the boy off a-al-Muggle

He just laughs and scoffs but you don’t back down which scares him because everyone always backs down

Big brother Cedric comes over and tells Malfoy off for calling you a mudblood again and ushered you back to a compartment of other Hufflepuffs and someone explains to you the house system

“Well that’s kinda stupid,” you decide “why should we be separated based on what a magical hat thinks we might be?”

Cedric grins at you because you remind him of himself and stands clapping when you’re sorted into Hufflepuff

Momma Sprout helps you so much because she knows that her muggle born kiddos need the extra comfort and encouragement

You have Herbology with the Slytherins and that meant Draco Malfoy his name was rattling around your head since the Sorting Ceremony

You end up partners with him. You’re shy and quiet and he’s dismissive and snappy.

“Draco you shouldn’t—“ “Don’t tell me what to do! Filthy little mudblood.” You sit back and watch the Doxy bite him “well get help!” He demands “I thought you didn’t want a mudbloodas help,” you snap. He gives you a hopeless look and you administer the antidote and produce a Bandaid “stupid muggle bandage”

While he’s sulking you handle the Doxy properly and show him how it’s done without being snotty about it. Maybe you smirk at him when you catch him leaning in and watching closely

It’s not friendship but he doesn’t call you mudblood anymore so... there’s that

Cedric nearly has a heart attack when he asks about your first day and you tell him about Draco

You find your footing at Hogwarts and though you’re not the best in class you can still do magic and it’s SO FRICKIN COOL MOM I MADE A FEATHER FLOAT TODAY

You chat with Draco thoughout the year in class well you talk to him he doesn’t say much. “And my mom was so proud when I told her about the Goblin wars and my dad wants to see me leviosa a feather but I told him I can’t do magic outside of school...”

Then there’s a quiet “your parents are proud of you? And interested in all this stuff?”

You look at him, mystified and “...yes? They’re proud of whatever I do,” Draco looks down and continues to sketch the bowtruckle which is almost life like on how accurate it is

You write to your parents immediately asking them to send a letter to Draco and tell them all about his really good drawings in Herbology

It takes a few days but one morning Draco comes up to you in the Great Hall with a parcel

“I think this is yours, your stupid owl gave it to me” he sulks. “It has your name on it,” you point out. “But why would your parents...?” You shrug and go back to talking to your friends and reading your own letter from your mother. Draco huffs and mutters something under his breath and walks away

In Herbology he has a new set of very Muggle graphite pencils and a proper sketchbook and he’s just sketching the Mandrakes on the desk when you come in. He doesn’t say anything and neither do you. He’s less irritable now

It’s second year and you hug your parents and go say hi to your friends before finding a compartment for the long journey. You swap muggle candy for magic candy with your friends

Draco passes your compartment and you wave. He gives a half smile and keeps walking.

“You like him!” Your friends exclaim. “What? No! I don’t!” You turn very red. “He’s just a friend!!” No one is convinced

This year you have potions with Draco and you’re freaking out inside because you don’t know what you’re doing and Snape seems to have it out for you and you’re just a mess.

Draco volunteers to be your partner “to show this mudblood a little decorum and how things are properly done.” He scoffs

You look down, embarrassed but as soon as Draco is next to you, you hear a quiet apology.

You understand the charade he has to put on but you wished he didn’t and you really wish he’d stop calling you mudblood it was rather annoying

He helps you through potions like you helped him through Herbology. This year you have Herbology with the Ravenclaws and he has it with the Gryffindors. He totally whines to you all the time about Harry

Once he’s complaining and accidentally puts in the wrong ingredient and the entire thing threatens to explode. Before you know it, you’re on the ground under Draco who pulled you and the remnants of the potion is shielded from you because Dracos robes are draped over you

Snape scolds you for being stupid and you start to protest but Draco confesses that it was him mistake, not yours. Snape just eyes the pair of you and walks off.

“Thank you,” you stammer out. He rolls his eyes but there’s a soft smile on his face.

Boy does Draco flip out when he hears about the Chamber of Secrets because you’re in potential danger and he would willingly sacrifice Granger to keep you safe

He mentions that to you in Potions one day and you gap at him. “Draco killing anyone for any reason isn’t right.” You scold. There’s a cold look in his eyes and a fire in yours. “But... thank you... for worrying about me,”

Your friends still pester you because they can obviously see you like Draco and maybe you do... but you know he doesn’t like you so you’ll just ignore your feelings

Third year comes and your heart skips a beat when you see Draco because he grew a lot over the summer and his hair is no longer ridiculously slicked back and oh Merlin you’re in trouble

Unbeknownst to you Dracos heart flutters when he sees you and has to fight the urge to wave or say hi to you in front of his father.

This year you have History of Magic together

He sits down next to you without a second thought. You smile and say hi and ask about his summer and then he returns the question. Your muggle summer and his magic summer are both a bit lost on the other

“Didn’t you wear glasses?” He asks one day. “Oh, my mom let me get contacts,” “contacts?” “Um... like plasticy little doodads that go in my eyes and help me see?” He just stares and you laugh. “Too Muggle?” You ask. “Too Muggle,” he replies.

Now it’s a sort of game. Youll come in with something Muggle—Pens, notebooks, lined paper, Muggle books, a watch—and Draco decides whether it’s “too Muggle” or not for him. He quite likes pens and lined paper but you can keep your Muggle books

You tell your parents again and Draco gets a package filled with green notebooks and black pens and a pencil pouch with a snake on it.

You hear about the Buckbeak incident and you rush off to find Draco. He’s in the infirmary snapping at Pomfrey but softens when he sees you

“She’s just trying to help,” you scold softly. “Are you alright?” “Doesn’t hurts much anymore but it’s numb so...”

Pomfrey wants to keep him a few hours to make sure that his body is reacting to the medicine correctly and you stay with him.

“You know I’ve been thinking,” you start. “That’s scary,” he mutters. You hit him playfully and notice that he flinches so hard you note it and continue “I’ve been thinking that it really doesn’t make sense for you to call me a mudblood,” “and why not?” He snaps. “Well, I mean... I’m technically all muggle. If anyone was really a mudblood wouldn’t it be halfbloods? With a muggle and wizard parent?”

He doesn’t have an answer to that. So he sulks quietly. “Why doesn’t it bother you that I call you that?” He asks quietly. You shrug. “Sometimes I wonder if I really belong here. Your adamant hatred for me is comforting. Like I’m doing something right enough to make you upset about it.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that either. He didn’t know that you were insecure about being a wizard. Of course, you belonged here you were wonderful with magic and your hexes were remarkable.

“I don’t hate you,” he mumbled. “Sure you’re annoying with your cheery disposition and your... Converse trainers... but I don’t hate you.” You laugh and he thinks it’s a wonderful sound

“Well, I don’t hate you either,” you smile back. You don’t think it’s something but it’s definitely not nothing

You hear about what happens between he and Hermione and you’re furious because he’s better than that and you can’t believe he would still call her a mudblood

You refuse to talk to him for a few days. Which is hard because he tries to make small talk with you.

One day in class he slips you a folded piece of parchment and you open it. Begrudgingly. “Im sorry, I was an arse. I shouldn’t have called her that.” You take your pen and scribble quickly “you’re apologizing to the wrong person.” And slide it back to him

Draco did apologize to Hermione before he apologized to you and he’s frustrated because he thinks you’ll think he’s lying if he said he already did

Then Hermione finds you in the hall that day and asks if you put Draco up to apologizing to her and you admit yes you did. And she tells you that he apologized a few days ago. Your heart soars and you hug a confused Hermione before running off to find Draco

He’s in the corner of the library, not reading, but drawing. You accidentally sneak up behind him and see that you’re the sketch on his paper.

“I don’t think my hair is quite that long,” you whisper softly and the boy about jumps out of his skin. You apologize quickly and he quickly covers his sketch book, red faced.

“I um. That wasn’t you.” He stammers turning a darker shade of red. You laugh. “Yes it was!” You reach for his sketchbook but he hugs it to his chest. “Oh come on Draco? What am I gonna do? Laugh?” “You’re laughing right now.” He points out. “And it’s not that good anyway...”

You roll your eyes and sit next to him. You offer to pose for him so that he could take his time to draw you. “Well I’m not busy now,” you grin and he sulks a moment before nodding.

You watch his hands work and sift through the pencils as he props the paper up on his knees and instructs you to look somewhere and not to move.

It’s odd, being drawn. You close your eyes and hum softly knowing he was studying you the way he might a bowtruckle or mandrake and it feels weird. A good weird.

He refuses to let you see the drawing even though you persist. You pout and drop the matter, just glad to have a friend in him.

You begin meeting in the library on a weekly basis, partly so he can draw you partly because you’re both struggling in History of Magic and need more study time

Cedric is not happy about any of this and goes very “protective big brother” on you. You tell him off and huff.

You start going to his quidditch matches and maybe he almost runs into a goal post because you smiled and waved at him and he forgot to pay attention

The summer comes and you wave goodbye knowing as soon as he’s around your father you’re going to lose your fried.

But he surprises you and hands you his sketchbook on the train home then quickly runs away to his father and you just stare at it and him and he’s gone, all you see is two heads of silver blond hair receding in the distance

Your parents usher you into the car and it’s maybe two hours before you get to look at the sketchbook

When you do open it you see a sketch of a bowtruckle and “Steve” written one his careful script underneath. You had forgotten that you named the bowtruckle Steve that day in class

The next few sketches are from Herbology. And little notes about class that day, a lot of them are about you. Then there’s a break in Herbology drawings and there’s a drawing of his mother almost perfectly. Then of a family portrait of the three of them. A few vases of flowers. Then you see your face. And again. And again. It’s you. Smiling, laughing, concentrating on a book, raising an eyebrow at him, gnawing in your lip, asleep in class, then the library drawings that are much more detailed.

Then you’re crying and you want to call him and thank him but you CANT BECAUSE HE DOESNT HAVE A PHONE STUPID WIZARD FAMILY

But you do have an owl. You have no idea what to write. So you go with “thank you” and then send it.

You get a letter a few months later and it’s from Draco. He’s asking if you want to go to the Quidditch World Cup with him. “I know you’re Muggle and don’t like Quidditch much but...”

So you’re going with Draco and it’s weird because he’s on your doorstep with his mother and it is just a clash of worlds. You stammer goodbyes to your parents and you’re quickly ushered into the limo of a car next to Draco. You notice he’s changed his hair again and he looks quite dashing in his blazer. You get a little self conscious about your jeans and sweater.

Narcissa is a doll. She asks you about your summer and time as Hogwarts and keeps polite conversation and you thaw a little.

Though you have no idea what’s going on Draco is very excited about the game and is cheering and you can’t help but smile and maybe you take pictures with a Polaroid camera and he just rolls his eyes and you get a picture of him rolling his eyes

Fourth year comes and he is ushered away from you by his friends before he can say hi.

The kids from the other schools show up and you’re convinced that he like Fleur and he thinks you like Cedric and it’s just a mess

He’s back to being irritable and you’re slipping into depression not just because of him but everything is really weighing on you

You’re alone in the Astronomy Tower, your feet dangling off the edge. You had no intention to jump, but it was sort of thrilling. 

Draco flips the fluff out and nearly drags you from the edge. 

“What the hell are you thinking!?” He exclaims. You gape at him because it’s probably the first thing he said to you in a week. He’s just so scared that he was actually going to lose you that he pulls you close and doesn’t let you go. You start crying and everything just comes out in a word dump. Your brother is getting worse and stronger and it’s not good for you and he keeps putting you down and calling you a freak and that “no one is going to love me because I’m a freak and mom and dad think I’m fine because my grades are still fine but Draco I can’t... I’m slipping and... and I feel like I lost you and you were the only one who really believed in me and...” You’re just sobbing.

And he listens. He holds you and listens. 

“You haven’t lost me,” He whispers softly. “But you like Fleur... and I can’t ever be her... she’s just so perfect and powerful and...” You sniffle, hugging your knees looking at your beat up Converse. 

“She’s my cousin,” He almost laughs but doesn’t because of the look on your face. “And what about you and Cedric?” He raises an eyebrow and you blanch. “He’s like a big brother to me, gross,” You shove his arm and you’re both laughing. 

“There’s only one Hufflepuff out there for me,” He takes your hand and hello butterflies and blushing. “And there’s only one Slytherin for me,” You lay your head on his shoulder and watch the stars. 

You two start dating and Merlin his friends are livid because how dare he date a muggle hufflepuff? But then they watch him with you and it’s hard to deny that Draco is truly happy for once and they don’t want to take that from him

Your friends exchange bet money. 

Weekends filled with more games of “Too Muggle” and trips to Hogsmeade and Draco explaining wizard culture and you try to explain muggle culture but he just does not understand washing machines. You introduce him to muggle music and is thrilled that he loves ABBA. 

He makes everything hurt less. And it’s nice to feel wanted. 

Then Voldemort returns and everything changes and you weren’t ready for it. Draco gets cold and distant again and you try and try to get through to him but he doesn’t let you in. 

You end up screaming at him one night and walk out. He finds you curled up outside the Slytherin portrait, weeping not minutes later and carries you back inside to his dorm and apologizes and hold you and admits that he’s scared and he doesn’t want to lose you or see you get hurt

You both make an effort to find the sunshine in the proverbial dark times that linger through the next year. It means you become a but more calloused and jaded and he becomes a bit more optimistic and grateful. 

Pansy Parkinson doesn’t exist. It’s just you with Polyjuice potion to keep you safe from Draco’s aunt and Voldemort. It’s an easy charade to keep up. There are still quite nights when you’re yourself with Draco and he reminds you how much he adores the real you with his words and touch

If there’s one thing you don’t do, is break a Hufflepuff and that’s what Harry did after his sectumsempra and holy hell do you lose your cool.

Draco’s mother has to step in before you’re expelled for what you did to Harry

You nurse Draco back to health afterwards and never let Harry forget what he did, nor do you let anyone else forget it when they call him the chosen one

And Merlin does Draco love you for it

Draco can’t kill Dumbledore because your words are still in his head from second year “It’s not right to kill someone for any reason” and he just can’t disappoint you like that

You’re still kind. You’re kind to Luna when she’s locked up at the Malfoy Manor. You’re kind to the house-elves that attend to you. You’re kind, and value fairness and hardwork, but you will not put up with bullshit any longer. 

You and Draco stand with Hogwarts when the battle boils down to it. You give Draco your wand when he loses his to Harry.

When you go back eighth year, you advocate for the removal of the House System and write a very convincing argument against it. It takes about ten years, but the system is disbanded after one too many close calls and ruined lives

You also start a Support Group at Hogwarts for those suffering from mental illnesses and for those who have suffered abuse at home. 

You and Draco get married at the Manor. You wear your Converse. 

.

Want to read a more in depth Hufflepuff!Reader x Draco? Find it Here!!!

.

Tags: @coffee-addicti @msmcsmutt @ravn-87@artemismohr18 @whygz @crazywritingbug @fuzzy-panda @bitemebro522  @zombiesnips-blog @jillanaholland @shookyungsoo @savingdraco @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @akari180 @slytherin-emerald @chaotic-good-gemini @memalfoy-spidey @theres-a-dog-outside-omg @queenfeatherwings @fanficflaneuse @go-whovian-universe @spicyshenanigans @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise @dietkiwi @katsukink @takemetothekingdom @strangerr-things @tmnt-queen @mccloudchloe @hxneybgb @justsomerandomgur @belcvayelena @moviesbooksandfandoms @howdycharlie @xtrashmouthxtozierx @cocochanelthepupper @ninacotte @braelynn-j @jiggllyy @honeymarvel @darcypottah @atomicpunkrock @thiccheerioss @lottie289 @boredashaeck @beautiful-pegasus @tceedlmao @deadlynyghtshayde @iconjuresnapeingrandmaclothes @anonymous034 @bi-andready-tocry @lunna-does-real-doodle @dragonsandbread @atomicwonderlandmentality @okaydraco @the–queen-of-hell @langdonzvoid @cmxreader @alienmotel @oh-itsnothing​ @tulippings​ @thestressedprincess​ @sunflowerxsadnessw​ @caps-wilsonn​ @fattycooter​ @angelotakunerd08​ @thisisahugemistake​ @fanficsigottaread​ @gweaslvy​ @okaydraco​ @strawberriesonsummer​ @ughjjloveme​ @honeymarvel​  @gaysludge​ @cleopatera​ @ray-of-sunrise​ @artist-bby​ @shadowsingeraxolotl​ @peters-legos​ @quillsareforwriting​ @ghostlytoadalmondhairdo​ @wollymalfoy​ @lilpieceoftoast @paper-cats​ @floweryjh​ @sdicapriox​

[rehkkuma]

aa hiii I just read that fic you wrote and I love the way you write so much😭💕 I saw requests are open, so if it's not too much to ask and if you have the time/inspo for it can I request hcs of Garou with a really caring s/o who's also an artist? If you don't feel like writing him maybe the same theme but with Kakyoin? Those two have my heart ahh whichever you chose is fine! Tysm!

AHHHH im so glad i got a garou request because he's one of my favourite characters of all time 😭😭 i also included a small scenario underneath because yeah<3

garou + a caring s/o who's also an artist headcanons

disclaimers/tags: gn pronouns and fluff!

-Him being the Hero Hunter, he tries to limit his contact with you so you won't be dragged into his mess.

-The few times a week you do see him, he just looks so tired and drained from energy.

-As soon as you hear his footsteps enter the household, you don't waste a second and give him a giant hug with kisses.

-Sometimes he just stands there like (。・_・。) while he embraces your touch, but expect some eager kisses back on the days where he misses you extra.

-Because of your caring nature, you can't help but insist on treating wounds, making his favourite meal, or setting up the bath for him.

-Garou would refuse because he doesn't want to put an even heavier burden on you, but the concerned look on your face makes him accept your offers.

-One of the things that he struggles at is showing how grateful he is for you. Despite him being gone half the time, you're always keen to helping him.

-Any small gifts or favours you give Garou will always leave him blushing (as much to his dismay). If that gift happens to be a portrait of him, he's going to go wild.

-Whether you painted a hyperrealistic portrait of the two of you or a scribbly sketch under 2 minutes, he will cherish all of your work.

-That small doodle you drew of him on a napkin? He keeps it in his pocket and takes it everywhere.

-He may be a giant hotshot who loves teasing you, but one thing that he doesn't try to make fun of (even as a joke) is your art. He genuinely loves that you have a hobby you're passionate about and wouldn't dare try to discourage you from doing what you love.

-Whenever he has a day that's a bit shittier than the others, nothing will make him happier than coming home to your arms and you showing off an art piece of him!

It had been a while since you last picked up your sketchbook. Your increasingly busy schedule, complicated relationship with a famous villain, and art block resulted in empty pages.

That's when you had a sudden spike of inspiration. After weeks of avoiding art altogether, you wanted to draw again. You didn't exactly know what you were going to draw, but you'd find that out sooner or later.

You sat on your couch, one knee holding up your sketchbook and your dominant hand holding a pencil. The tip of your pencil then began to scratch the surface of the paper, making a series of intricate lines. After maybe a minute or so of random drawing, you leaned back to see the entire pad of paper from a further view. It looked... horrible.

You assumed that your skills have gotten rustier from your months-long absence from the art world. Just when you thought your art block had gone away, you felt unmotivated to continue your drawing.

Before you got up to put away your supplies, you remembered that your boyfriend was coming home tonight. The last time you'd seen him was 3 weeks ago-- also one of the longest periods he'd been gone for. As much as Garou tried to hide it, you knew he loved it when you drew him. With that information, inspiration began to flow once again.

***

Garou didn't remember the last time he'd truly relaxed. He ate cheap meals, had sleepless nights, and hadn't taken a good shower in a while. All these problems would've been solved if he dropped by your house more often, but he was scared that it would endanger you. When he did come home, however, it was always during the late evening. Today was no exception.

As he stood in front of your door, he checked his surroundings to make sure no one followed him on his way here. Once he confirmed that he knocked on the door.

"Coming!" he heard your voice say.

After a few seconds, he saw your face pop out of the door. Your eyes were glowing, a bright smile also accompanying it.

"I missed you," you said, placing a small kiss on his jawline. "I made dinner not too long ago! It should be on the table," you smiled.

"Ah, thanks." Garou slowly made his way to the table, sitting down on the chair with a slouched posture. He saw the sultry plate of food sitting in front of him. In no time, he began to devour all of it.

Because Garou was busy eating, you decided to wash some dirty dishes. The sound of water hitting the plates was the only thing that could be heard in the room until Garou began to speak.

"Sorry I've been gone for so long," he said while chewing. "Has anyone been bothering you lately?"

You let out a small laugh. "If there was, what were you planning on doing?"

Garou shrugged. He was about to reply but got distracted by a sketchbook sprawled on the other side of the table.

"Is something wrong?" you asked, wondering why he went silent.

"When did you draw that?" He pointed at the rough sketch of him- his hair was down to his shoulders with a hair tie attached to his left wrist. His harsh facial features were softened, but just strong enough to still resemble him.

"Oh, that? I just wanted to mess around a bit. I think it turned out pretty good!" you said, eyes still focused on the dishes.

Garou held up the sketchbook higher and smiled. Even if the picture didn't exactly remind him of himself, it made Garou blush to know that you interpreted him this way. "I... really like it."

[elliotoille]

Do you have any advice for understanding hands better? I’ve been practicing them for years but feel like compared to other aspects of anatomy it’s the one thing I haven’t seen much improvement in. I draw both from life and images and draw nearly everyday but nothing I’m doing seems to help

I personally get by mostly from remembering poses that I’ve already practiced a ton, like I figure out how to draw it once and am able to file that away in my brain and use it again later, and tweak bits of the pose or the level of simplification to suit what I’m drawing. 

I’ve paid special attention to drawing hands for like.... most of my life so I have a LOT of poses I’m easy comfy with now, but when I need to figure out something complicated or new, I can usually work it out by breaking a hand down into shapes, remembering a few key points/”rules” from what I’ve learned about hands in order to help me break it down in a way that makes sense. And if that’s not enough either, then I take photo refs. 

^^^ here is a pose I use a ton. I have a quick way of drawing it from various angles. the first time I had to draw a pose like this, I had to think and figure it out, but in drawing it a bunch of times and having to use various angles like this, I’ve eventually come up with a quick, reliable way to draw it from a few of the most common angles that fits the style I like to draw in. I’m blessed with a good memory for observations, so when I see a beautifully posed hand, I can usually really quickly analyze what I like about that pose and why, and that helps me absorb it so I can recreate my saved impression later. But I know not everyone thinks the same way. it might benefit you to quickly scribble down a study in a sketchbook when you see a pose you find beautiful and want to learn from for later.

^^^ here are some poses I had to stop and spend time figuring out, calling up the “rules” for how hands are built to kind of logic-out how they should look from angles I’m less familiar with. results can be mixed, but... if I end up with something expressive that fits the style of the rest of the drawing, I’m usually really forgiving of fudged anatomy or slightly wonky proportions. as long as the thumb is on the right side and there aren’t too many fingers, that’s a great start lol.

^^^ and here are ones I had to take reference-selfies for. I try to use this as a last resort because 1) it’s a lot of trouble 2) interrupts my drawing and 3) if I’m not careful I stick too close to the reference, and the drawing ends up with the hand looking referenced and the rest of the pose not, which is jarring to me. not to mention I have tiny manlet wrists that without fail, look horrific and emaciated in photos, and the lens distortion makes my fingers look scary too... ugh, photo reference has definite flaws. I actually don’t like the look of drawings for which I can Really Tell the artist drew from photo reference, because most often that means they’re taking the ref too much at face value and incorporating ugly lens distortions into their drawing. so I have to think extra hard not only about interpreting the ref, but also might have to make multiple passes just to get the hand to look normal, AND match the style of the rest of the drawing.

Anyway, here are some of the ““rules””” I mentioned earlier that I fall back on to help me figure out more complicated poses:

1. probably seen this before, but basic proportions. the palm is usually half the total height of the hand. obviously you can mess with this purposefully. 

2. I think of joints as like, ball joints or hinges. I find that easier than trying to remember bones & muscles. here’s a drawing of the wrist as a hinge. note that when you’re thinking of it this way, it’s a shortcut, but a shortcut is only good if you use it with precision. notice the pin for the wrist hinge is not just halfway, it’s closer to the top of the hand. being precise about that is what allows this shortcut to work. the heel of the palm juts out, while the top of the hand transitions into the wrist quite smoothly.

3. simplified planes. planes are important yo. in super simple terms: top is flat, bottom is round. this works on the fingers too, actually. the tops are bony and tendony, and the bottom is where the fat is, so it’s rounder and soft

thinking of the hand as abstract shapes REALLY helps simplify the task of drawing hands, and is just as helpful even if you are drawing from reference. I can say “the palm is a box” and obviously the palm is not really as simple as a box, but if I think of the palm, wrist, and each finger joint as various shapes of box, then all of a sudden, psychologically, my task is SO much easier. I’m not drawing a Hand, which is hard, I’m drawing boxes, which is easy.

4. that prominent knob some people have on their wrist? that’s on the pinky side.

1. the knuckles aren’t really a flat row on top. the hand is like a cup right, so your palm can hold water and things. so we can think of the hand as a box to make figuring out the pose easier, but when it comes down to it, you’ll want to make it more of a curve. this curve is why you can see multiple fingers in a side view

2. when curled up, the fingers nestle together. the fingernails also turn slightly toward the center. even if I’m simplifying the hands significantly, I usually still draw the fingernails because they are SO useful for communicating the pose of the hand effectively.

3. lots of people suggest to think of the hand as a mitten, grouping the pinky/ring/middle fingers and singling out the index finger. this works great, the index finger is more independent from the other three. on the flip side, those three are really stuck together; if you’re drawing the pinky curled up all the way, then you better not draw the ring finger sticking straight up, cause that would HURT. anyway, singling out the index finger leads to more interesting poses in my experience.

1. this is another illustration of top = flat and bottom = curved. this is a really easy way to organize your line quality. straight lines and sharper angles where there is bone, and soft gentle lines where there is muscle and fat. your drawing as a whole will read very clearly if you find some guidelines like that to stick to, as it means all your lines are intentional and thoughtful.

2. this one’s about overlaps. when forms overlap, it makes a crease, and when you draw that crease you’re communicating which form is in front of the other. in the second drawing I reversed all the creases, and it looks.... messed up. think about how pieces connect.

so when you’re trying to make up a pose without using specific reference, I think it’s good to think about the.... flow of energy through the pose. honestly, I know it’s really abstract, but if I have an ability to make interesting poses that communicate weight and movement, the things that make people say your character feels ALIVE, like they really EXIST in a space... it’s because I started to think of poses this way. imagining streams of energy bouncing through the body, flowing down the limbs and out through the fingers. this is why hands are so important to me, cause they’re where the kinetic energy of the pose ultimately ends up. I talk about it when drawing the torso and arms and legs, but an interesting drawing has a bounce back and forth between opposites: for every curve, an opposing straight line, alternating back and forth down the entire body. if you’re sensitive to the energy of the pose, then even very simple poses will be interesting to look at.

anyway, with regards to hands, I imagine the energy getting sort of cinched in as it passes through the wrist, and then emanating out through the fingertips. I hope my drawing at least SORT of communicates this imagery. it makes sense because that’s BASically how the bones in the hand are anyway. and then the right side of the image above is just demonstrating some highly simplified gestures. see how the fingers fan out and curl in, rarely parallel to eachother. when you’re figuring out the pose, using a line to stand in for the row of knuckles is super valuable.

aaand finally, here’s two hands where I intentionally neglected correct anatomy and proportion because I felt it worked better for the style of the whole drawing. Left side: since this is a really simple and cartoonish style, I was thinking back to kids’ and shoujo manga I have read where the style was very solid and distinctive, but definitely NOT overly concerned with correct anatomy, or even really drawing hands, uh, “well” at all. to me, that sort of approach has a Look that I like to invoke sometimes, since for years I felt like I learned a bunch of anatomy and proportion and drawing from life actually in detriment to the liveliness and appealness of my drawings. this hand is mushy and makes very little sense, but it turned out as intended. Right side: sometimes I like to pretend fingers only have 2 bones in them, cause i am a Queen and i do what i want

and there you go. I hope that helped, like, at all? Look at real hands and photos of hands and hands in motion, but also look at drawn hands as well. find what you like, and work towards expressing that yourself. and remember the hand is part of the whole drawing. not only in the art style like I’d been talking about, but because the angle and placement of the hand is reflected in the angles of the arm, which in turn reflects on the angles of the shoulder, which affects the whole torso, etc etc etc. and the techniques you can use to understand and draw the rest of the body, works on hands too. as you improve everything else, your hands will improve as well.

DISCLAIMER: I whipped up these diagrams quickly, they’re not meant to be good drawings or accurate refs, just diagrams to illustrate my thought process lol