#i feel like throwing away my sketchbooks again

[iqmmir]

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[madsraa]

I was kinda nervous to post these since they are traditional sketches and a liiiittle messy but here they are anyway! I’ve been trying to relearn anatomy so I’ve been doing a bunch of head/neck studies in my sketchbook. The studies are boring, but these were some of my favorite sketches I did while trying to apply what I learned!

[solbaby7]

Make You Feel Something

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: sexual tension, some anxious themes, probably typos, some swearing, and two best friends—they might kiss

summary: You paint a certain Shadowsinger like one of those French girls

[ inspired by that quote “Art isn’t supposed to be perfect, it’s supposed to make you feel something.]

—

“Just stay still.”

“I don’t know—I feel like I’m not doing this right.”

You sigh, a soft smile stretching across your features watching Azriel attempt to stop his fidgeting. “You’re doing perfect, just get comfortable and lay there—I’ll do the rest.”

The paper was thick, a little yellowed but the charcoal in your hand seems to enjoy such conditions. Your back settles into the plush cushions on the couch, a throw pillow tucked against your thighs and every now and then you glance over the sketchbook to peer over at the partially bared body before you. “What’s this for anyway?”

“Practice,” You mumble, clearly distracted when roughly outlining the shape of him, the throne of a seat he was splayed over, shirtless with his fighting leathers hanging dangerously low on his hips and large wings shuffled behind him. “Why are you so nervous? You’ve been shirtless around me a million times.”

His left arm shifts again before you can draw the outline of it. “No one’s ever painted me before.”

“Technically, I haven’t gotten to the painting part yet. This will eventually become my reference photo for that.” The words don’t soothe him how you’d hoped and after a while Az is moving enough to have you settling down the charcoal, eyes sliding to his own. “What’s going on in your head?”

“I don’t know where to put my hands.” The shadowsinger sheepishly admits, looking more boyish than you’d seen him in centuries. Dark hair falls over his forehead and judging by the neat lines along the perimeter of his head, Az had recently gotten a haircut.

He attempts to hide his hands, tucking them behind his head or shoving them under pillow until you make a move to shuffle off the couch and finally it all makes sense. The fidgeting wasn’t because your best friend laid half-naked before you but the creeping insecurity of his scars ruining the final product. “Lay like this,” Azriel’s like putty in your grasp, malleable and easy to guide when you shift one leg to casually drape over the arm rest. He’s at a bit of an angle but the way you position him gives off attractive arrogance, effortless masculinity mixed with a boyish charm. “They’re beautiful,” Your voice is filled with uncapped love, lips soft when you take both of his hands in your own and press a kiss on the back of each. “Art isn’t supposed to be perfect—it’s supposed to make you feel something.”

Hazel eyes take you in, memorizing the slight furrow of your brow as you make a few final adjustments; his hands on full display while you mumble under your breath, something about the lighting and your nose scrunches a little when his shadows tickle at your cheeks. “What do they make you feel?”

There’s a brief pause and you can’t make eye contact for a few seconds, fearful that if you did your resolve would break and you’d be too busy trying to take his clothes off to worry about the poor beginnings of your drawing. “I couldn’t tell you honestly without ruining our friendship,” His brow quirks, throat bobbing with a gulp. “—but if I didn’t like them I wouldn’t have asked you to model for me.” Relief spreads when a smile tugs at his mouth, head dipping down to hide the warmth that blooms at his cheeks when you waggle your brows at him. He’s much more relaxed when you return to your seat, a slow breath releasing from you as you twist your neck, fingers gripping around the charcoal once more and Azriel can’t seem to take his sights away from you.

Painted toes wiggle softly at the edge of the cushions, bare knees drawn up and your hair is gathered in a ponytail. You hum when you focus, some song Azriel’s never heard of before seeming to aid in alleviating the self-consciousness and pleasantly distracting his brain. Five minutes turn into ten, then fifteen before Azriel breaks the silence, being sure to keep his body exactly as you’d placed it. “What’s that song?”

“Not sure,” His body was an artists dream, all hard lines and alarmingly perfect symmetry; the golden light casting through the room, scattering moody shadows along the angles of Az’s face and your thighs clench slightly when you’re forced to pay such close attention to the plush curve of his mouth. “My mom used to sing it when I was really little—can’t remember all of it but it calms me down.”

“You’ve seen me shirtless a million times, what’s there to be nervous about?” Your eyes roll at his harmless teasing, huffing at the way he’d thrown your words back at you and it’s become increasingly harder than you make it look to get a fucking grip on your body’s reaction to him.

The response is instinctual, fingers rubbing the page to soften edges and your brain wanders to what it would be like for real. “You’re not exactly hard on the eyes and I’m not used to having a reason for examining your body for this long.” The warmth of his skin beneath your hands. The free will to travel the contours of his muscles and kiss each and every scar, ripple and divot formed by countless hours of training and dedication. He’s easy to draw when you spend so much time oggling, bottom lip caught between your teeth when mimicking the lines of his abdomen, the inky trail of hair that disappeared beneath dark grey fabric. “It’s truly annoying how perfect you are—could probably get some sort of sexual gratification from how satisfying it is to draw you.”

There’s no room for embarrassment when Az is so easy-going, the same laugh you’d always yearned for pulling from his throat and you have to swat away a few creeping shadows from sneaking a peek before the final result. “I’ve never heard that one before.”

“It’s true,” The fireplace crackles behind you, a warm glow filling the room and kissing at the exposed skin of the model before you. Sharp jaw, soft smile; the hard line of his brows smoothed out by the light in his eyes—like sweet honey and sunshine. “I’ve never once drawn someone like you.”

“I’d hope not.” Azriel’s head tilts just a little, brows furrowed in thought. “Who else do you ask to get half-naked for the sake of practice?”

He’s fully aware of how it sounds—the jealousy lacing his tongue and you have to pull your hands away from the paper a moment before the slight tremble threatened to ruin the flow of the strands of hair you’d been steadily shaping around his head. “Not many seeing as I usually prefer painting models that are nude. I figured for the sake of our friendship I’d spare you.”

“Spare me?” He scoffs in a way that reminds you of Rhys, a little cocky and entirely too confident. “I’m not sure your heart would’ve taken seeing me nude. Certainly, it was me doing you the favor keeping the rest of my clothes on.”

Azriel’s skin goes hot at your lack of response, gaze sliding thoroughly over the length of his body from the top of his head to the very tips of his toes and a slow smile appears. “You sound awfully confident,” You shift in place, adjusting your legs and stretching out to see him better. “Take it off then.”

His mouth parts, words caught in his throat for a few beats of time before letting out a breath. His hands hesitate before untying the leathers and shimmying them down his thighs. There’s no hiding the desire that clouds your vision when taking in the simple black material that held snug against his cock. His thumbs hook in the waistband, shoving them down and tossing them aside.

It’s not the most simple task to tweak at the preexisting sketch, snuffing out dark lines and fading them into the background enough to make it easier to map out the thick lines of his thighs and calves—the generous length hanging confidently between it all. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually do it.”

“Should I not have? Are you uncomfortable?”

Your head shakes in denial, brows furrowed in focus and Azriel can’t place how it feels to be looked at as a specimen rather than a person. Your gaze is admirably respectful, quick glances with your tongue peeking through when perfecting soft lines and adding shading here and there. “Believe it or not, I couldn’t be more relaxed.”

He believes it too, your heartbeat is steady and controlled, limbs perfectly lax and Azriel is more than grateful for the view when you’re all laid out; sleep clothes shifting with each move and desire burns in his belly when you flick your ponytail off your shoulder, exposing the curve of your neck. “Where do you plan on putting this?”

“Nowhere, it’s private.” For viewing pleasure only, for those late nights when picking up a random male from Rita’s didn’t quite scratch the itch. “Once the painting is finished I’ll give it to you and keep the sketch for my portfolio.” You move on to his wings, tongue clicking against the roof of your mouth when you slide from the cushions, bare toes sinking into the throw rug when you stand before him. “Can you put those up higher?” Azriel complies with ease, craning his wings higher but the furrow of your brow doesn’t subside. “Spread them a little.” Your head shakes when he moves and you reach up, fingers millimeters away before glancing down at him. “May I touch?”

He should’ve said no—maintaining some sort of boundary because drawing him naked was one thing but standing before him asking to touch; all the resolve in the world wouldn’t be able to save him. Azriel’s mouth opens, intent on saying no but by some sick sense of self-indulgence he nods in agreement, eyes fluttering shut when the scent of your shampoo enters his space. Warm skin grazes his own and while the shadowsinger is a tense mess beneath you, you’re the picture of serinity, completely in your element when carefully adjusting the membranous wings how you pleased. He tries to hold it back but your hands are so soft and the rough groan that fills the silence has goosebumps raising.

“You can feel all of that?”

Azriel traces a finger up the outer side of your thigh, pausing at the hem of your shorts. “Can you feel that?”

“Right, stupid question.” Maybe you linger longer than necessary, tracing over a texture you’d never felt before; not leathery, softer than that but just as sturdy. Warm to the touch and they shudder when you smooth over the thin seam at top that fused everything together. “They’re beautiful.”

“I’m flattered, really,” His voice is strained, hands clenched in tight fists and when you glance down past inky strands, his cock is standing at attention against his stomach. “—but I think you’re overestimating my self-control.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Not unless you asked me to.”

The swallow you force down is audible, hands shaky when you tuck them back at your sides but you don’t make a move to step away this time. Instead, you stand before him, fingers coated in charcoal and there’s a little smeared at your collarbone. His hand is up and touching before common sense can deter him; pure fire burns beneath each fleeting touch, knuckles grazing at the curve of your jaw and there’s no hiding the rising beat of your heart when he wipes your skin clean. “Thanks.”

“You shouldn’t be thanking me,” His head falls back, words low and barely contained. The hands he pulls away keep drawing back like a magnet, touching greedily at the sides of your thighs and stopping at your waist. “I’m supposed to be helping you and my thoughts are not very helpful.”

Years of denying himself the simple pleasure of touch and the powerhouse of a male on the battlefield is reduced to a simpering baby, grappling for more touch, more of your silky clothes shifting against his skin and the sweet smell of vanilla and cocoa, sugar cookies and warm milk filling his nose when he pulled you in closer. Better judgement makes you wonder if you should pull away, find a way to comfort him and keep it friendly but the more distance that closes between you the more of that hard length you begin to feel against you. “Az—“ He doesn’t let the warning fully come to life, hands twisting behind the back of your knees until you’re sat above him, resting on bare thighs and your hands brace at his shoulders.

“I know,” Azriel repeats it over and over under his breath, face buried in the dip of your throat, mouth grazing at the sensitive skin there and the little whimper he draws from you has that hard cock between you twitching against your stomach. “I thought I could handle it but you just feel so fucking good.”

It was wrong.

So fucking wrong.

Shit like this never ended well; mixing fucking and friendship but while you kept thinking no your body stubbornly arched into his touch. You bared more of your throat to him when he buries his nose there, taking in your smell while he memorized the feel of you. The slope of your shoulders, the flare of your ribs and the soft curve of your stomach. You grind onto him, searching for more friction when Azriel follows the length of your legs down then up to cup the fat of your ass. “Take it off.”

You feel weak; too captivated to acknowledge your backbone when you tug the shirt from your head and throw it somewhere behind you. His mouth is insatiable when pressing kisses to every inch of exposed flesh, holding you closer with each breathy moan and whispered plea for more, more, more. Nothing could’ve prepared you for his mouth finally slotting over your own.

Azriel’s careful now, slow and attentive, maintaining a pace as you got to know one another in ways you’d only thought about when you’d snuffed out the fire for the night and shuffled under the covers, fingers hiked up your nightgown for a few minutes of uninterrupted pleasure. He groans into your mouth when tongues touch, fingers tangling in your hair to keep you close.

You hand slides between the two of you, wrapping around the stiff length of him and the moan he lets out has him sinking back into the chair. Preening under the attention you continue, gaze locked on the half-lidded hazel eyes before you, his arms flexing at his sides, hands holding onto your thighs for stability because your hands were so soft, holding him so firmly and the steady drags up and down was enough to have his thoughts muddled and hips bucking up into your touch. Swears spill from his mouth like prayers, pleading and begging for you to keep going and watching him crumble beneath you was a greater high than any smokes or powders. “Feels so fucking good.”

“You look good under me,” Draped across a throne like some entitled High Lord finally receiving his birthweight as promised. “You close already?” Azriel’s cock throbs in your hands, pre-cum oozing from his slit and the thumb that curls to swipe over it is torturous. “Poor Illyrian baby—I’ve barely even touched you yet.” A cruel laugh accompanies the choppy breaths and hazel eyes kept falling victim to the backs of his lids. “The High Lords spymaster. The feared Shadowsinger. A great warrior with seven Syphons to hold onto all that power and here you are,” Your pace speeds up, pure feminine satisfaction building when watching such manly power submit beneath a woman. “—falling apart just for me.”

You feel his release coating your palm and you use it for better slip when you keep going, riding out his pleasure until he’s pulling your hands away, chest heaving.

He watches you slip from his lap while he catches his breath, catching a towel tossed his way for the mess. “Clean up for me, I need to finish this before the lanterns burn out.”

Azriel doesn’t listen though, rising from the throne and clearing the distance between you in no more than three steps and his mouth is right back on your own.

Fuck it, some of the best art was left unfinished anyway.

[rosenclaws]

Hi! 👋

I saw your requests were open and I was wondering if I could submit a request?

The reader is a shy artist who is a friend of Wades. She carries a sketchbook with her everywhere to sketch new pieces, but she doesn't show her work to people unless it's to Wade.

She and Worst!Logan 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 Worst!Logan finds her sketchbook by accident and finds the book is filled with sketches of him. Worst!Logan 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.

Thank you and have a good day! 😊

Hidden Feelings and Hidden Sketches || Worst!Logan Howlett x Reader

warnings: drinking, swearing, wade making suggestive comments, make out sesh towards the end, reader gets drunk and logan helps her out. Logan also calls the reader sketch. It got kinda suggestive at the end I apologize sldfjka

a/n: Hi!! This idea is adorable omg I love it, I hope it was fluffy enough for you I have to admit I'm not great at writing pure fluff. I also hope wade is funny because I am not funny so its hard to write his dialogue sometimes. I also altered the plot a little so i hope its okay

You never quite understood how you and Wade became friends. He was possibly the biggest extrovert you have ever met and you were the exact opposite. He saw you once at his favorite diner with your sketchbook and he jumped into the seat across from you.

Yapping on about your art and if you drew often and that he once tried to paint but the class didn't appreciate his art and asking if you'd paint him naked as a present for his girlfriend. Which you declined very quickly.

He wouldn't leave you alone, talking and asking you all sorts of things. You getting a few words in and him covering the other 98% of the conversation. He left with the promise of seeing you again and disappeared before you could say anything else.

It was an odd experience that's for sure but you liked Wade. Sure enough he kept coming back and a friendship had blossomed. He invited you over to dinner multiple times but you always declined, choosing to meet at the diner instead.

Slowly he got you out of your shell around him. Cracking jokes and sometimes putting him in his place when he went a little too far. You showed him your sketchbook after a while and he gushed over your drawings. Begging you to draw him at his best angles and you would sometimes give in.

When he disappeared for a while you got worried, that is until he showed up with a new dog and a very handsome new friend. You couldn't take your eyes off of him. Wade spotted you and waved but you didn't even notice.

"I know right, he's like a tall glass of rage filled water." Wade sighs as he sits across from you.

"I uh what?" You hug your sketchbook close to your chest as you rip your eyes away from Wade's new friend.

"Oh don't pretend like you weren't eye fucking him the second he walked in here, not that I blame you." Your eyes widen as you start to stutter. Your face heating up as you stare at the pancakes in front of you instead. A loud grunt catches your attention. You can barely meet his eyes as your brain is too busy being embarrassed by what Wade had said.

"You can sit on my lap angel cakes." Wade pats his leg but gets shoved to the side as his new friend sits down across from you.

"Logan this is my friend, be a good kitty and play nice." Logan rolls his eyes and chooses to ignore Wade. He does look at you though, burning a whole through your skull.

"Hi Logan," You say shyly.

"Hi." A few beats of silence pass until Wade breaks it as usual.

"Well aren't you two the life of the party, if you excuse me I have to go relieve myself." Wade stands up and instead of asking Logan to move, starts to climb over the man.

"What the fuck?!" Logan hisses as he grabs Wades shirt and tosses him to the ground. You can't help the laugh that escapes your mouth as your friend flops to the ground.

"So rude." Wade shakes his head and heads off to the bathroom. Silence falls once again as you awkwardly push around the pancakes on your plate.

"What's that?" Logan asks, nodding towards your sketchbook. You grab your book and shove it into your bag.

"Nothing! It's uh, just a sketchbook it's nothing don't worry about it." Logan raises an eyebrow as you panic in front of him.

As if you couldn't feel more embarrassed. You debate on waiting for wade or just leaving to save yourself but Logan makes the choice for you.

"You don't have to stay, not holding you hostage." He sips his coffee as you let out a shaky laugh.

"Not much of a talker." You play with your fork as you look up at Logan. He's much more handsome up close.

"Neither am I." He offers a small half smile and you return it. He's still incredibly intimidating but maybe you can stick it out a little longer. Logan's food comes and the two of you eat in a comfortable silence and when you're done you work up the courage if he'll be here tomorrow. He holds the door open for you as you step outside.

You clutch tightly onto the strap of your bag as you wait for his answer. He lights a cigar and you try and suppress your smile when he says he will be. As you part ways you realize that Wade never did come back from the bathroom.

That sneaky bastard.

-on

The diner uh, meetings as you called them, with Logan were amazing. His grumpy exterior was hard to crack but eventually the two of you started to become friends. Being with Logan started to become your favorite parts of the week. He was more than the tough guy persona he put on. What surprised you the most is that he seemed interested in you too. Well you know as friends.

Logan could appreciate someone who liked the quiet. He never pushed you out of your comfort zone, never made you feel uncomfortable. He was just Logan. Call it what you want but it was only a matter of time before you fell head over heels for that man. Not that you'd ever tell him.

How could you?

He's a superhero. He's gorgeous and grumpy and funny and so much more. All you do is draw silly pictures. So for now you settle on friends. Even if he makes your stomach turn with ever smile. Even if his laugh is the best thing you've ever heard. Friends. That's good enough for now.

-

"Wade Wilson I am going to kill you!" You say angrily.

He had texted you asking you to meet him for coffee and you had agreed solely because you never got the chance to scold him for his little dine and dash.

"Leaving me alone with a stranger!" You slap his hand as he tries to reach for your pastry.

"Ow! That was so five months ago! Anyways I was just trying to help. You know, relieve the sexual tension." You gasp as he makes a very lewd gesture with his hands.

"Besides, you and Logi bear are spending a lot of time together for just being friends huh Boo-Boo." Before you can stop him he reaches for your sketchbook. Keeping it just out of reach as he flips through the pages.

"Give it back!" You plead as you reach across the table.

"Oh. My. God. How come you never draw me this sexy?" He shows you the pages and you fall back into your seat in defeat.

You know what's in there and now Wade does too. Pages and pages of sketches of Logan. You feel like a stalker. It's not your fault! Ever since you met him he's all you can think about. All you can draw.

"Please give it back." You beg but he refuses.

"You'll get it back after you admit to Logan how you feel."

"What!" Your jaw drops as you make another lunge for your book.

"I am a very impatient man and I'm not about to wait another thousand words for the two of you to fuck." He stands up and tucks the book down his pants.

"Ew really?" You groan as you let your face fall into your hands.

"I'm having a get together and you're invited. Logan will be there it's the perfect opportunity." You feel like throwing up at the idea of talking to Logan about any of this.

Maybe you could just steal it back tonight. Or maybe you could never show your face to anyone ever again. Yah the second option sounds better. If only it was that simple. You waited for many anxiety filled hours, the only thing on your mind is getting your damn book back. You knock on the door and it swings open with Wade standing there, a stupid smile on his face.

"Honey badger at 4 o'clock." He hands you a drink and pushes you right towards him. You shoo him away, taking a deep breath and head towards Logan.

"Hi Logan," You say nervously.

"Didn't think these were really your thing." He says with a smile. You laugh nervously and nod your head.

"Yeah well...I thought he'd finally stop asking if I came to one of these things." You joke. Logan snorts and offers you the seat next to him.

"Good luck with that." You sit next to him and swirl around the ice in your drink.

If you're going to tell him then you're going to need a lot of help. Logan's eyes widen as you down your drink in one go, making a face before asking for another one. He's never seen you at a party, let alone drink.

"Why don't you take it easy there sketch."

"It's a party right, why not have a little fun." Logan keeps an eye on you as you drink and drink. As the night passes on he realizes that you might have had a little too much. You can barely get a sentence out by the time the party's over.

"Hi Logii!" Your arms slink around his neck as you stumble into him.

"Come on, let me take you home." He chuckles as he helps you to the door.

"Nooo, I needa get my uh..." You stop and think for a moment.

"My uhhh" Logan hums as he helps you to your apartment. You stay close to Logan as you walk through the night. He's just so warm and he smells so good.

"Got your keys?" You pat around for them and frown. Logan reaches into your bag and pulls them out.

"Right here." He unlocks your door and helps you to your bed. You sigh as your head hits your pillow.

"Oh! my sketchbook. Wade has my sketchbook." You say with a yawn.

"I'll get it back tomorrow, now sleep well." Logan takes off his jacket and lays it on you. He brushes your cheek gently. A soft smile on his face as he leaves you to sleep peacefully.

"Good night."

-

God your head hurt and the sun was way too bright. You crack your eyes open groan as you head pounds. What were you even thinking last night? You wanted your damn book back that's what you were thinking. A loud knock on your door makes you moan in pain. Getting up you swing open your door only to be met with Logan holding your book. Your face pales as you see a smirk on his face.

"Wade gave me back your book." You reach out for it but he holds it back.

"You're a real good artist sketch." To your horror he opens up your book and flips to one of its pages.

Right in front of you was a side profile sketch of Logan. It had been while you were at the park or something. The sun was hitting him perfectly, he had this content look on his face. You couldn't help but draw it when you got back home. To capture him in a moment where everything felt okay.

"I uh..I.." You don't know what to say. He caught you red handed. Your face is on fire from shame and embarrassment as he finally hands over your book. You can't even look at him.

"I'm sorry." You whisper. Shutting your eyes you hope he gets the hint and leaves, leaves you to wallow in pity.

"Sorry? Why are you sorry." He grabs your chin and tilts your head up.

"I'm flattered sketch. I think you really captured me pretty good." You still can't bring yourself to say anything as you hug your book tightly. You can't tell if he's making fun of you or what.

"This isn't funny Logan." You try and push his hand off you but his grip is strong.

"Not trying to be funny." He brushes his thumb over your lips.

"Logan..." Your eyes flick down to his lips and you know he catches you.

"Say it, come on don't be shy. Not with me." Sighing you dig your fingernails into your book.

"I love you." Your voice is barely above a whisper, eyes squeezing shut. You almost hope he doesn't hear it but of course he does.

He presses his lips to yours roughly. You drop your book in shock as you melt deep into his kiss. Wasting no time in kissing him back, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. He deepens the kiss as his hands fall to your sides. You pull away much to his disappointment, his lips chasing after yours for a moment.

"I love you too." He kisses your jaw lightly making you sigh.

"You know, those drawings were good but I think you got my lips wrong." You furrow you eyebrows, you thought you got his lips pretty good. After all you stared at them long enough to memorize them.

"Yeah sweetheart, think you need a lesson." He walks you back until you hit your couch.

"Get up close and personal." He winks as you bite your lip. How flustered can he make you?

"Then maybe you can show me more of those drawings."

Well, If it would help make your drawings more, accurate. Then who are you to say no?

"Okay." You run your hands along his arm as you look back up at him. Nerves and excitement swirling around your eyes.

"Don't worry sketch, I'm a pretty good teacher."

[inkdrinkerworld]

Hey could I possibly request an Autistic! reader x Dealer! Remus where r shows affection through biting so they'll randomly come up behind rem as hes with a customer (Or James/Sirius) and just bite his shoulder but no where near hard enough to hurt and they just stand there like that and the other person with rem gets a little confused but Remus is just completely unfased because R will do this all the time if they get overwhelmed and just need to be around Remus but is way to overwhelmed to hug him

That probably made no sense but my lil autistic brain came up with it while reading your dealed rem fics :))

Your autistic brain has made this perfect blurb be born!! Thank you for requesting and feel free to send more autistic!reader x whoever you please

You'd been sketching on the sofa in the dispensary, mechanical pencil scratching against the paper as music blasted through your headphones.

It wasn't the first time that Remus had you sit in the quietest corner of the dispensary while he was selling, and every so often he'd throw his gaze in your direction smiling quietly to himself when he found you relaxed and drawing.

"Are you sure this is all I can get?" Remus hates when customers get like this. He's been straining a new type of weed and it'd been a selective process, not wanting to waste too much of it in the event that it didn't do well.

He'd limited it to 7 grams only. It was still a lot, but to seasoned smokers, not really.

"Yeah mate, m'not trying to send anyone to the hospital if they green out." The man nods, asking Remus another question that doesn't register to you.

You're just on your way to Remus, you've been stumped by your drawing and being stumped has led to a bit of overwhelm that you know just how to get rid of.

Your hand presses into the small of Remus' back as you sink your teeth into the crook of his shoulder. You don't bite him for longer than ten seconds, not hard either- there's just the slightest imprint of your teeth in his skin when you pull away.

Remus turns to you, a question on his face that he doesn't vocalise. He doesn't need to- you've been together so long and Remus has worked hard to learn all your cues so that when you don't want or can't talk, you don't need to.

You shake your head and he nods once, the man on the other side of him confused as to the entire interaction. "Sorry mate," Remus says when you're back on the sofa, pencil tapping against your lip.

"That doesn't break skin?" the man asks and Remus chuckles, placing the baggie in his hand and taking the money from his outstretched hand.

"No it's sound, see you next week?" The man takes the dismissal, taking his weed and leaving. Remus turns in your direction.

He mimes taking off one of the ears of your headphones. "Everything okay?" he asks when you do, eyes roving your face and then taking a peek at your journal.

There on the pages are a series of sirens, all from different angles. The body twisting one way, then the other, some are swimming upside down, others are laying on a rock lower body hidden as they entice a sailor.

"Yeah, was just stuck on something. It helps." He knows it does, so much so that he doesn't even check on the mark. You lean into him when he takes a seat beside you, pressing a kiss to the bitten shoulder.

"You know it's okay, dovey." he whispers, patting your head and feeling you preen under the action. "Doesn't bother me." you smile where your lips are pressed into his skin.

"Can I do it again?" you don't sound overwhelmed but Remus nods. Your teeth sink into the same spot, Remus strokes hair back into your braid, cheek pressing into your head.

When you pull away, there's a little line of dribble moving with you. Remus swipes it away with his thumb, kissing your forehead as he watches you fix your headphones back on and pick up your sketchbook again.

You start a new sketch, one of a superhero Remus has come to recognise as yourself, equipped with your pink headphones as all, laying on a sofa much like the one you're sitting on now with a cat Remus thinks is himself sitting on the arm near your shoulder.

He sits with you until another customer comes in, eyes flitting to you every couple of minutes he's away.

[luveline]

i have a request idea! maybe aaron x reader where the reader is bullied/ being maltreated by her roommates like that one remus headcanon you filled? i love protective hotch but i get it if you don’t think this goes with him! your fics give me sm comfort thank you for writing them <3

thank you my love. fem, 1.5k

cw bullying/ unfriendly roommates

You can't believe it's Aaron's car. No way is his timing this bad. There's just no way he's home from a case, that he's chosen to visit without calling first, today. Right now. 

He's out of the car before you've so much as wiped your cheeks dry. You've never seen him park that fast. 

"What are you doing out here?" he asks, looking you up and down. "Let me help you up, sweetheart." 

Sweetheart so soon after seeing you —you must look terrible. You take his hand and stand up off of the floor, unperturbed as he brushes down your butt and thighs. 

"Why are you sitting on the floor?" he asks, soft, "It's wet, honey, you're crying– What's wrong?" 

You remember suddenly that you have someone on your side. Shaking, you tuck your arms under his and cross them behind his back, the fabric of his suit jacket familiar under your trembling fingers. You feel like a kid again at the mercy of other people's cruelty, but this hasn't been something you could run away from. The meanness takes root at home. But now Aaron's here and he's holding you, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head delicately, his voice a murmur as he reassures you, "It's alright." He presses his cheek to the plane just adjacent to your eye. "Honey, please don't cry." 

"They smashed my vase," you say into his chest. 

"Who?" 

"My roommates, Aaron, they don't– don't like me." The vase was a gift. Special to you, irreplaceable, you've brought it safely from one place to another without ever having broken it. It was in the kitchen, housing your most recent bouquet of flowers from Aaron. "Macy said it fell over, but they were laughing, and they said the same thing about my bag, my– my sketchbook. They keep ruining my things, they throw away my food, and they laugh at me all the time, even when I'm not doing anything. I know they are."  

The laughing is honestly the worst part. Like your reaction isn't even worth considering, it doesn't bother them that you're upset, they just giggle and tell you to feel better. Sometimes they apologise like it wasn't them. Sorry about that, maybe don't leave it somewhere it could get ruined? with a smile that hardly counts as sympathetic. 

"How long has this been happening?" he asks. 

Months. "Since we met, at least." 

Aaron makes a noise you don't understand. You wait for him to say more, but he only rubs your back diligently for a time before ushering you into the car. A bag of takeout has gone cold in the passenger seat, the backseat busy with his go bag and a new bouquet. He's very, very good to you. 

In the car, he reaches across the console to fret over you, stroking your damp cheeks and rubbing your shoulders. You feel as though all your energy has been stolen. All you can do is lean into his hand as he wipes away your quiet tears. 

—

Hotch watches you cry in his passenger seat and feels pretty angry. It's not often like him to turn to anger when the people he cares about are upset. He's more of a problem solver. But when it's as bad as it is now, he doesn't bother restraining himself. 

He knew there was something about your roommates that you weren't telling him. Obviously, as the partner in the relationship who doesn't have roommates, Hotch hosts the majority of your 'sleepovers'. It's easier and awards more privacy most of the time, and honestly, he's not at the age where he's very interested in bumping into people on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. He'd prefer to be home, and much prefer to have you there. 

He was wondering about asking you to move in, but there never seemed to be a good time, and right now your answer would likely be influenced by the insecurity of your home rather than true desire to live with him. He knows one day, he'll ask, and one day you'll say yes, (or he hopes), and so he keeps it in mind but otherwise proposes a temporary arrangement. 

"Let's go get some of your things and you can stay with me for a few days," he says. 

"Are you sure?" you ask. "What about Jack?" 

"He'll be happy for the company. Trust me." 

Hotch isn't shallow, but he likes being that little bit taller than you, and he's no brute, either, but he knows he's intimidating at times. He'd never use his position to scare private citizens in civilian disputes, but seeing the amusement in the eyes of your  roommates turn to nervous recognition when he follows in behind you makes his day. 

She's not alone, he thinks, putting his hand to your back. 

He might put their behaviour down to jealousy. Not so much that they wish they were with Hotch, there's hardly been any desire for him coming from either woman, but your happiness. You're a nice girl, a good girl, good in the sense that you don't need to knock others down to be happy. He treats you accordingly. 

He pointedly doesn't greet them as you show him the corridor down to your room. Your door is ajar, which he doesn't like, but you don't say anything about your things. 

"What do you need?" he asks.

"How long will I stay?" 

"However long you need to. If you want time to feel better while we manage this, or you need to move. I'm with you." He again thinks of the lack of a lock. "I'd say bring your valuables, honey. So nothing miraculously breaks." 

He ends up packing for you. He knows you well, and he's more than aware of what you'll need to survive for a week. What clothes, which pyjamas you favour, even your skincare. He has a career in identifying small details, but it's a better duty knowing you so well. He does that for fun. 

You stop by the door and turn into his side, hesitant to leave. He hates seeing you wilted, usually so bright. "They're talking about me." 

Your roommates are indeed whispering in the kitchen and Hotch would bet money that you're correct, but he doesn't want to encourage that line of thought. It could easily become a seed of doubt that leaves you anxious and paranoid. 

"I'd hope they were discussing their own bullying," he says. 

You rest your forehead on his arm. "What did I ever do to them?" 

"You're happy. You're grateful and loving, and some people can't stand it. They can't rope you into their misery," he guesses. "Have you considered the possibility that you're a bad roommate?" 

You laugh into his jacket reluctantly. "You know I'm not."

"Maybe you behave with me," he says, rubbing the top of your shoulder. Your laughter draws a silence in the kitchen. Hotch can't help himself. "Don't forget to turn your security camera on before we leave," he says, holding a finger over his lips. 

You smile. "Oh, I almost forgot about that." 

Your roommates aren't so full of cheer as you go. At least without a lock on the door, Hotch can be confident that his… bending of the truth will buy your possessions a few more days of safety. You don't have to tell your roommates that you're leaving, evidenced by your bags, but Hotch is feeling awful, and he says, "Do you have your bathing suit? Your passport's in the bag." 

"What is wrong with you?" you whisper through laughter as the door closes behind you both. "I had no idea you were this quick to tell lies." 

Hotch pulls your bag further up his arm to take your hand. "I wasn't lying about anything, your passport is in the bag, and I asked a question. If that question implies that you're about to have a fun weekend, that's coincidental." 

He doesn't want your roommates thinking they have any power over you. Not an inch of it. And he doesn't want you thinking that they do either, knee deep in plans for the forthcoming days. He's going to spoil you to death if he can, starting with a new vase for your waiting flowers, and a good squeeze on the way down to the car to prompt you into relaxing. 

"Sorry about all the fuss," you say. 

He kisses you twice. "Don't think of it that way." Rather boss-toned, he softens, "I'll deal with anything for you. I'm sorry they've been cruel." 

You exhale. He can tell from the tug of your eyebrows that it's partly for his benefit, and the more lax set of your shoulders that it's partly genuine as you brush it off. "Doesn't matter. Just an excuse to spend more time with you, yeah?" 

"Yes," he says immediately. "You're right, honey. Exactly right." Starting with one of his clumsy neck massages and a much more practised kiss, he thinks. 

[verysium]

how bllk boys would react when u draw them, could either be rlly good or rlly SHIT u choose idk (plz include barou and the itoshi bros) 😊😊😊 i love you and ur works, and the way u write the boys and ur content makes me laugh fr, one of my fave bllk authors mwjahaja 😓 have a great day, ily:3 and the icks post made me smile like all of ur posts do!

thank you so much anon ♡ this ask had me contemplating very seriously, so apologies if it's a bit late:

sae is definitely awestruck in some way, even if he doesn't immediately show it. i think i talked about this in a previous headcanon, but he has a deep-seated admiration for artists who can grasp abstract concepts because he himself cannot. he would be somewhat flattered if you drew him since he's never considered his own appearance to be particularly inspiring. would be appalled if you considered him your muse. like....why? to him, his looks aren't anything of importance (clearly he is blind.) would probably say your drawing was inaccurate but then hang it up by his nightstand so he can look at it every night before he goes to sleep. if you're a full-time artist, he probably keeps a little stash of your gifts in a small box beneath his bed. sometimes if he's having a bad day or he lost a game, he goes back and flips through them just to make himself feel better. secretly loves the way you draw his bangs and the little swoop you do in your signature.

kaiser corrects every single detail in your drawing. stands behind you and gives you little pointers here and there. he should have an 8-pack, not a 6-pack. his jawline isn't sharp enough in your initial sketch. poses shirtless in front of you so that way you can encapsulate the full extent of his sexiness. shows off your drawing to every living creature in existence. "isn't he handsome?" like...🙄 yeah, michael we know. he's probably the hardest to draw because of his tattoo, so i think he genuinely appreciates it when you put in the effort to capture his intricacies. will never admit this but he's low-key proud of you and your talent (mostly just your ability to make him look good.)

rin is one of those people who doesn't understand hyperrealism. like why does he need a highly detailed sketch of his face when he can just take a photo and print it out? i don't think he understands art in general. probably despises modern art too. he'd take one look at a rothko painting and be like....i could draw this too...in my sleep. similar to sae, i feel like he's just numb to the sentimentality of gift-giving. doesn't understand why you would waste your time drawing a little picture of him, but it does make his heart feel strangely fuzzier, so maybe he'll keep it this one time. lo and behold, months later he now has a collection of your drawings he doesn't have the heart to throw away. refuses to let isagi or anyone see them because they're meant for his eyes only.

yukimiya has impeccable taste. in fact, he's probably an artist himself. i think it'd be cute if you both drew little sketches of each other throughout the course of your relationship. but neither of you ever knew until you gifted him your sketchbook for christmas, and he was like....guess what...i drew you too. thinks you're pretty even when you don't think so. sometimes when you're having a coffee shop date, he scribbles a portrait of you on his napkin because the sunlight hit your cheek just right in that moment, and the birds were chirping, and he fell in love all over again. i think it's also tragic that he's slowly losing his eyesight, so he won't be able to enjoy your drawings and the vibrant colors you infuse into them. that's why he treasures them even more. probably thumbs over the pages from time to time. memorizes every stroke and line.

isagi likes the way you always draw that little tuft of hair that sticks up on the top of his head. it looks like a cute little bean sprout. he pins your drawings up above his bed next to a polaroid of you two in germany. buys you a professional art set for your birthday. if you're a digital artist, he buys you a new tablet and stylus.

bachira adds his own doodles next to yours except he makes a chibi version of everything. always pesters you to include his little fangs. uses the boldest combination of colors. he would definitely be a messy artist. paint everywhere. fingernails perpetually stained a different color. you both draw during class, so when you two trade notebooks to actually study......there aren't any actual notes.

barou acts like he doesn't know what to do with your drawing of him but then the next day you visit his house, and he's already put your artwork in a fancy picture frame. refuses to let anyone else even stand within a ten meter radius next to it because he doesn't want their "nasty fingerprints" all over your beautiful masterpiece.

[catiuskaa]

charcoal, paint, post-its and tape.

SUMMARY: seeing your boyfriend’s messy art studio, you couldn’t help but want to try and surprise him with a painting of the most gorgeous piece of art you knew: him.

REQUESTED! here by my pookie wookie @4ln-stay8, and honey, this was a beautiful idea! i love writing about art and hyunjin and hyunjin and art (and hyunjin) lol, hope you like! <3

CW: hurt/comfort, mentions of anxiety, reader is really hard on herself as a perfectionist (which sadly i can relate), crying and cursing, lots of fluffy comfort in the end!

WC: 1.6k

[☆🌷🖼️🌷☆]

You hate it.

Your hand feels cramped, your head hurts and you’re close to breaking the paper if you keep on erasing the same lines over and over again.

But it’s hideous.

It’s a sad excuse of an attempt in art and you hate it.

You were tempted to kick the sketchbook away, but knowing that it belonged to your boyfriend, to hyunjin, who could actually do art, made you refrain from doing so, opting to just harshly shove it away from your lap.

It wasn’t fair. You’d seen tutorials. You had practiced beforehand. You went as far as to use his anatomy books to study it, wanting to be able to do justice to his ethereal, beautiful self by at least getting proportions right.

But no. Art wasn’t accepting your preposterous attempt to join into it.

Hyunjin entered your shared apartment as he hummed a random melody, happy to come back a bit earlier than usual, his head drifting off to how he could surprise you and what kind of activity the both of you could do with the newly-founded time.

But he froze after he kicked his shoes off at the entrance.

“Angel?” He called, and you cursed, but barely had any time to put anything back into place as he followed the sound of your gentle sobs.

“Hyun…” you started.

“My love.” He crouched down next to you, looking at you as if you held the stars and the moon just for him. “Want to tell me what’s wrong? Mhh?” He hummed shortly, his hands traveling to your face and stroking it sweetly.

You stared at him, your heart troubled, so the only coherent response you could come up was throwing yourself to his arms.

The long-haired artist hugged you tightly in response, a part of him appreciating having the type of trust that allowed you to break before him and let him watch you reasemble with a little helping hand.

You sniffed, then shook your head sideways.

“Are we doing the nod and shake?” He smiled in efforts of making you join him, which you did shortly, and he allowed himself to take that as a win. “We can do that, pretty. Nod if you want to.” He snickered.

But you shook your head, staring down at the forgotten sketchbook.

“I-it’s just th-a-at I… I w-wanted… wanted to surprise you… b-because I-I wa-s trying to paint…”

Hyunjin’s face shined upon your confesion.

“My pretty girl was painting?” He chimed back with a gleeful joy. “But you’re not having fun. What happened?”

You just shrugged, sinking your head in your hands. “It’s horrible.”

“Can I see it?”

Watching you nod, it was only then when Hyunjin separated himself from you just enough to grab the sketch, then sprung back to your side.

A silence only broken by your unsteady breathing clouded the house as he viewed the canvas.

“Do you want my opinion, my advice, or my shoulder to keep crying?” He offered soothingly, and you rolled your eyes at his last mention. “What? My shoulders are very comfortable. I don’t even charge if you leave tears on my shirt, you know.” Hyunjin teased with a smile that you were quick to match. Another win for him.

“I just… I don’t know…” you sighed, melting against him. “It’s… ugh.”

He stared at your piece in silence, which you didn’t, only zoned out, playing with your hands as the silence crept up your spine.

What if he hated it too?

“It’s just like how you do with your post-its.”

He interrupted your spiral of thoughts, and you blinked at him, so Hyunjin repeated himself with a gentle smile. You then sniffed, a small chuckle fighting to get out in the midst of frustated tears. “What are you on about?”

“You have your cute organizing board filled with post it notes, don’t you, lovely?”

You nodded, but scoffed, still submerged in the depth of the painting —or rather lack thereof. “What’s that got to do with anyth-“

You trailed off when his hands, still a bit colder from the weather outside, cradled your face, forcing you to look at him, a beautiful sight you didn’t notice you were evading.

“Listen to me for a second. Please?” He pleaded, eyes soft, and giggled sweetly when you pouted, a petty way of letting him know you were listening. You blushed when he kissed you.

“So. Your post it notes.” Hyunjin smiled. “You stick them on the board, but often, they slip down, right?” He asked, to which you nodded. “And when that happens, I noticed your little trick, brains.” He booped your nose, and you couldn’t help but smile coyly. “Tell me, beauty. What do you do when they don’t stick?”

“I… I put a small piece of tape on the back.” “And it works like magic,” he grinned, beaming in a kind of proudness you had never seen on anyone, not when it came from others aside from themselves. And it mended your frustrated heart to see him like this, his now warmer hands stroking your cheeks.

He took one of your hands, and with a strained groan, reached to his pencil cade, grabbed a piece of charcoal and stained your hand with it, kissing your palm sweetly

“These are now the hands of an artist. And artists, just like you and me, can be quite like those little post it notes of yours. We bend right after taking us out of the package.” He chuckled, and you followed along, letting the sound of his voice lift your spirit. “It won’t matter how, there can always be a crease, or the glue won’t stick right, or the color is too blinding, maybe too dull, perhaps the paper got stained with paint or ink.” He stared at you, deeply so, allowing you to see through him, allowing you to understand.

This wasn’t about post it notes. Not anymore.

He continued. “But, just as your post its, sometimes…” he smiled. “Sometimes all we need is a bit of tape to stick in place.”

He kissed your tears away one by one, allowing your breathing to even out, matching and following his as you relaxed against him.

“Let me help you stick back on the board.” He looked at your lips in a flash, then bashfully went back to your eyes. “Let me be your tape.”

He hugged you tightly, and he showed you the sketch.

“To me it looks fine, beauty.” He started. “It’s a really nice attempt. Would I redo some things? Probably, if I wanted to be really perfectionist, because it doesn’t look bad at all. Or maybe I’d let the color do its magic.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “The thing about drawing is that we cannot let it control us, hoping to achieve perfection. That can’t be achieved, my love.” Hyunjin laughed. “Even what we see sometimes doesn’t look right in real life. There are references and references, and if a drawing’s sketch isn’t quite what we’re looking, sometimes we may need another one.”

You stared at him softly, comforted in his honest commentary.

“I can help you. You know were to find me.” He smiled sweetly.

“I…” you sniffed, staring at your charcoal-stained hand.

“I just want a coffee right now.”

You both giggled as you stood back up, and he engulfed you in a bear hug, picking you up and carrying you to the kitchen, determined to make you the best coffe in the whole year.

It wasn’t until the next morning that you found him puting your first sketch next to his. Only this time, instead of his usual messy tape lines, yours han bits of tape glued to the back.

Little by little, charcoal and paint helped post-its and tape, but even with the smallest things, it could certainly be the other way around.

And Hyunjin loved it any kind of way— Hyunjin loved you, post-its, charcoal stains and all.

[☆🌷🖼️🌷☆]

catiuskaa, may 2024 ©

~kats, who will now go to bed with my own cup of hot milk (not coffee lol, and sadly not made by hyunjin either)

[sim0nril3y]

hii, I LOVEE your Simon x civilian! reader series!

I was thinking maybe of Simon finding readers scketchbook and discovering that it s pretty much filled with him? maybe reader has some drawings of a favourite picture of the both of them that s also colored with little hearts?

please and thank you! <3

Thank you thank this is actually so CUTE! I absolutely LOVE the thought of this, like I’ve actually be dreaming about it!

There would be times when Simon would catch you watching him. Like, he would be making a tea, putting the dishes away or sharing out the take-away you’d ordered between a couple plates when he’d feel that eery sense of being watched. Glancing over his shoulder he’d spot you just observing him with great interest, sketchpad in your lap and the moment Simon was aware your eyes would dart away and continue to focus on your pencil against the page.

You had been so happy to show him so much of your art, but that sketchbook in particular was on that you had very clearly kept to yourself. Each time he would pick it up you were overly protective and practically snatched it back, hiding it behind the sofa or throwing it into a drawer. “You hiding something from me?” He quirked a brow and you pressed a soft hand to your chest and replied. “Not at all. Cuppa?�� You always seemed to pull his attention away quick enough that he’d drop it.

It was a few nights later that Simon spotted that sketchbook again left vulnerably on your coffee table whilst snoozed, cutely curled up on the sofa beside him, head resting on the arm of the chair whilst your feet rest happily in his lap. His eyes flicked from the football game, back to the book and then back to the game. Fuck it. He leaned forward and snatched it from the table, carefully beginning to flick through the first couple of pages.

It was as he had expected, just a few innocent sketches of flowers, all different types that he certainly couldn’t name. He almost placed the book back down before turning to the next page and feeling his face becoming very warm. Your interests for sketching had changed away from pretty flowers to sketches of him. They were all him doing very mundane and candid things. There was one of him sipping tea from a rather fancy cup, then another of him lifting his heavy dumbbells, another of him running his hands through his hair Simon noticed you’d taken great detail to sketch his hands, another small sketch of him pulling off his shirt and somehow, you’d manage to capture every little scar that littered his body.

As he continued to explore the book Simon noticed that there were some sketches of the two of you. He remembered when you had forced him to take a photo together on a woodland walk, the first picture taken of him for years but he was willing to do it to make you happy. You had taken time sketching that photo, taking in every little detail, even the disdain on his face. He should have given you a smile that day, but instead he just looked pissed whilst you beamed at the camera. His little ray of sunshine. God, he fucking loved you.

“What are you doing?” From beside him your voice was full of surprise before quickly attempting to steal the book from him but he held it up from your reach. “I was looking at your sketches, love.” He mentioned, laughing as you clambered onto his lap attempting to grab it from his greedy hands. “You wanna explain them to me?”

A quiet sigh of embarrassment fell from your lips before you stopped trying to snatch the book from him and just sunk into his body, burying your face in his throat whilst he rubbed your back comfortingly. “I like them.” He whispered into your ear. “I’m not mad, love.” He assured you softly, rubbing small circles into your face. “I just like drawing you, Si.” You whispered into his throat and he chuckled. “You’re so handsome.” He felt heat rising on his cheeks then. “And so strong… I see you doing all these really normal things and… and I just need to put it on paper… I don’t know…”

“My sweet girl…” He chuckled rubbing your back and placing the sketchbook beside him. “Don’t hide things like this from me, love…” He placed a few small kisses to the side of your face. “You don’t think I’m some obsessed weirdo?” You whined softly and he chuckled and shook his head. “I love that you’re obsessed.” He growled, quickly moving you to be flat back on the sofa with him looming above you. “Now, let me show you how much more I’m obsessed with you~”

Masterlist | Ask | 08-09-2023

[teapartyprincess4two]

Full Set is too damn good you write it sooo well. like I actually NEED more matt stories from you 🙏

Small Town Dreaming- M. Sturniolo

pairing: neighbor!reader x bestfriend!Matt

classification: fluff, best friends to lovers (kinda)

warnings: use of y/n, slow build up, small town au

summary: There’s not much to do in this small town but fall in love.

—

Your small town has been boring for as long as you can remember. The town was so small you could probably run down every street in less than an hour. There was one movie theater that played reruns of movies no one cared about, a bowling alley with 4 bowling balls in total, a park with a wooden termite infested playground, and a library with books so old they had mold. Everyone either had a flock of chickens or a herd of sheep, spending their free time tending to the livestock.

One of your favorite pastimes was to sneak up onto the old water tower and just people watch, occasionally pulling out your sketchbook to draw the familiar faces that passed by. No one ever left this town, it always seemed to suck people right back in and keep them here forever. So many people have tried leaving, packing their bags and driving down the main dirt road to freedom. For some reason or another they always turned back though, throwing their dreams out the window on the way.

“One day I’m moving to LA with my brothers,” Matt sighs dreamily, the both of you laying on the trunk of his car as you watch the stars. Without dreams this small, boring town would crush everyone’s spirits. “That’s a good idea,” you say, squinting your eyes as you pretend to squish the stars between your fingers. They looked like fireflies dancing in the sky.

You had a lot of dreams too, most of them involving running away and never turning back, but none of your dreams were written in stone yet. For some reason you felt like you’d end up like many others, too involved in your daily life to ever do something big. You’ve seen it happen to a lot people, your mom included. She was full of dreams and aspirations, but as soon as she got married and started having children it just felt easier to stay.

“What about you?” Matt asks, turning his head to look at you. “What about me?” You say in a teasing tone, hopping off the hood of the car. You were never the type to sit still, plus you didn’t have a definite answer to Matt’s question yet. “What are your dreams?” he asks again, formulating the question in a way that was much easier to answer. It was simple, you wanted to leave, but you were too scared to say it out loud. You felt like if you vocalized it, it wouldn’t come true. Maybe you’d follow Matt and his brothers, you didn’t know yet, but you didn’t want to stay here for the rest of your life.

You take a while to respond so he interjects again jokingly, “or are you staying here forever?” The idea of staying here forever was actually terrifying, but you’re only a junior in high school so it’s easy to push the thought to the back of your mind. “I am NOT staying here forever,” you reply, shivering at the idea of this town becoming your finally destination. “I won’t end up like my mom,” you whispered, shaking your head as you looked at the ground. Matt stays silent as he hops off the hood of the car, walking over to you and hugging you. “It’s okay. You can just come with me and my brothers,” he whispers against your hair as he rubs comforting circles into your back.

The sentiment was nice and it made you smile. “That could be fun,” you murmured, dreaming about a life that seemed so far away.

—

You’re 21 years old now and that conversation feels like a lifetime ago. You’re currently in the kitchen helping your mom prepare lunch for your dad and brothers. “Make sure you don’t cut the tomatoes too thick,” she instructs as she expertly cuts onions beside you. Over the years she managed to refine her kitchen skills, the onions having no affect on her whatsoever. You, on the other hand, are wiping away the involuntary tears with the back of your hand.

“I know how to cut tomatoes,” you reply, squinting so you can see through the tears. Her eyes are trained on you as she piles the onions into the pan. They sizzle loudly, steam rising from the hot pan. Sometimes you wonder why you even bothered helping her if she was going to be so bossy. “Then why are they so thick?” She retorts, grabbing one of the tomato slices from your cutting board and wiggling it around in her fingers. You laugh as you watch the tomato dance back in forth, “fine you do it then.”

She doesn’t second guess it, instead she grabs the knife from you and swiftly cuts the rest of the tomatoes. She’s done before you can even look away. You walk over to the sink to wash your hands before replying, “no one is gonna die from a thick tomato slice.” She sends you a glare as she grabs the cutting board and slides the tomatoes into the pan. “No, but you need to know how to do this stuff for when you get married. No one is gonna wanna marry a girl who can’t cook,” she responds with a tsk, mixing the vegetables in the pan so they become sautéed.

You don’t say anything, you just watch as she tastes a now translucent onion, checking the flavor. “Needs some garlic,” she mumbles, moving towards the cupboard to grab the seasoning. Talking about marriage and relationships with your mom was always awkward because she always found a way to push your buttons. “Speaking of marriage,” she says again, turning the stove off. Now she’s completely facing you, cleaning her hands on a kitchen towel as she continues, “what ever happened to that Matt boy you always used to hang out with?”

You groaned, she brought Matt up at least once a month. “I haven’t talked to Matt since high school, mom,” you reply, rolling your eyes at her inability to remember details you repeatedly told her. She nods her head almost like it’s the first time she’s hearing this as she whispers, “that’s a shame.” The last thing you want to talk about is an old friend who actually managed to leave this town behind, so you decide to wash the dishes in the sink to avoid any further conversation. Hopefully the sound of the running water would drown out your mom’s voice.

You let the hot water run over your hands as you reminisce over all your memories with Matt. There was homecoming, football games, prom night, nights at the bowling alley, sneaking into the theater for popcorn, and of course stargazing. A small smile adorns your face at the memories, you cherished those moments despite them feeling like forever ago.

“He would’ve been a good husband,” your mom says casually, dumping any remaining dirty dishes in the sink before walking out of the kitchen and into the living room.

She was right, he would’ve made a perfect husband.

—

“I’ll be back!” You call out to your mom as you tug your shoes on and grab your coat from the couch. November was always chilly, especially in a town like yours where there were no large buildings to block the wind. That wouldn’t stop you from sneaking up onto the old tower, instead it actually excited you. The rush of being so high up was the most exhilarating thing this town had to offer.

“Where are you going?” She calls back, peering her head into the living room from the kitchen. “I’m just gonna go hang out with a friend,” you comment, not wanting to admit your true destination. She always scolded you when you told her you were going to the water tower, claiming it was dangerous and reckless. “You better not be climbing that old tower,” she gave you a stern look before returning to her cooking.

You roll your eyes, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. If you weren’t allowed to do one dangerous and reckless thing, you’d go absolutely insane in this town. “Bye,” you finally say, dismissing yourself in a sing song tone as you walk out the front door.

The walk is short, the only hard part of your journey being the climb up the ladder. It creaks with every step, the rusty metal leaving your hands orange. Finally you arrive at the top, plopping your bag on the metal floor. You carefully take a seat, making yourself comfortable enough to begin people watching. Your legs swing back and forth as you look toward the ground, you were really high up.

People pass by, most of them by foot and you rest against the metal railing as you watch them. All these people were stuck doing mundane things like carrying their groceries home or walking to a friend’s house. So many familiar faces spark your creativity causing you to pull your sketchbook from your bag to begin drawing.

You see your brothers in the distance playing soccer on an old dirt road and you decide they’ll make the perfect warm-up sketch. So, you work diligently to replicate the figures in the distance, trying to capture their motions. The sketch is coming out good, but your pencil suddenly snaps, interrupting the flow you’d created. “Stupid cheap pencil,” you mumble to yourself, resting it in the crack of the sketch book that lays on your lap. You dig through your bag in search of a sharpener, finding it tucked between an old gum wrapper and a candy bar.

Just as you’re about to turn back to your sketchbook, the wind aggressively blows it off your lap. “No, no, no,” you yelp, trying to catch the book before it can slip away. One arm grabs a hold of the railing as the other reaches for the book that’s too far gone. You groan in annoyance, shoving the sharpener back into your bag and getting up slowly so you can make your way down and get your book.

“Ow! What the fuck?” someone exclaims from below, your book hitting them right on the head. ‘Great,’ you think, quickly slinging your bag over your shoulder and climbing down the stairs. Of course your book managed to hit one of the 200 people who populated this town. “I’m so sorry. I was drawing and then the stupid wind-“ you begin to apologize, climbing down the ladder as quickly as possible. You’re interrupted though, “Y/n?!” Everyone in your town knew everyone, who the hell was actually confused to see you?

“Yeah?” you reply, hopping off the ladder and turning towards the voice. Immediately your eyes go wide at the person in front of you. After 3 years of not seeing him, Matt stood right in front of you holding your sketchbook. He looked so much older than the last time you’d seen him. Small stubble scattered across his jaw, his arms adorned with tattoos, and he held a much more modernized look. “Matt?!” you ask in shock, rushing towards him excitedly. Seeing him after so long felt like a breath of fresh air.

“Oh my God! You look so different!” He exclaims, he’s equally as excited to see you. When you both were in high school you were inseparable. Sometimes you’d let your mind wander and dream about a life where the two of you were married, but that was then and this is now. “That’s what 3 years will do,” you chuckled, taking your sketchbook from him and putting it in your back. “Has it really been that long?” he asks, his eyes examining everything about you.

Since the last time he saw you, you’ve grown a little taller and your hair is much longer. You’ve got a woman-like essence about you that you didn’t have before, he’s sure that every guy in town is fighting for a chance with you. Last time he checked, you were the only girl worth looking at, let alone fighting for.

“Yes, dude! Where have you been?” you punch his arm playfully, earning a slight push from Matt. It felt like he never left, you two picked up exactly where you left off. “Chris, Nick, and I have been in L.A,” he responds, the two of you beginning to subconsciously walk away from the water tower. A gust of wind blows past you two causing you to pull your coat tightly around you.

“Aw, Chris and Nick! I haven’t seen them in so long,” you reply longingly, reminiscing briefly on all your memories with the other two. “Yeah we’re here visiting our parents for Thanksgiving. We should all hang out one day,” he says, the word ‘visiting’ leaving a bad taste in your mouth. It was a gentle reminder that they actually escaped this place and only came back as a favor to their parents while you were stuck here indefinitely.

“Yeah that could be fun,” you say halfheartedly. “Are you visiting too?” he asks, genuine curiosity leading him to push further into your personal life. You gulp, becoming scared to admit the truth to Matt. “Ugh no, not really,” you respond vaguely. “Oh, are you leaving soon?” he asks again, unable to stop himself from prying. He can’t help it, he hasn’t seen you in a long time and he’s curious. The two of you are now outside your house, the walk coming as second nature from all your walks home from school. “I never left,” you admit, an awkward cough following the sad statement.

Matt doesn’t know what to say, he finds it hard to believe that a girl like you never found her way out of this place. The only reason beautiful girls like you got stuck in this town was because of marriage, but Matt shook the thought from his head.

“It’s getting cold,” you say as you look back towards your house, breaking the silence that settled between you two. As excited as you were to see Matt, you needed to escape this awkward situation immediately. The wind was howling dramatically, shaking the surrounding trees and picking up the dirt from the roads. “Oh. Um, yeah. I’ll let you go. We’ll catch up another time, yeah?” he says sheepishly, feeling bad for embarrassing you. You hum in response, waving slightly at him before turning on your heel and hurriedly making your way inside.

“Was that Matt?” your mom asks enthusiastically as soon as you walk inside, leaning against the couch so she can get a better look out the window. Had she been watching the whole time? “Invite him inside!” she exclaims, not even giving you time to answer her previous question. “No, mom! He’s busy!” you lie, coming up with an excuse on the spot and watching from the window as Matt walks home.

“That boy is NOT busy. Marylou told me her boys were visiting,” she replies, rolling her eyes at your lame excuse of a lie. If she knew the triplets were in town, why did she ask if that was Matt? She clearly wanted to catch you flustered and annoyed. “Well he doesn’t want to come in,” you retort, shrugging your coat off and kicking your shoes off.

“You are never getting married, are you?” she asks sarcastically, giving you a blank look before disappearing into the kitchen.

—

Matt was home in a good 15 minutes, walking in to his house to find his brothers on the couch awaiting his arrival. “Did you bring it?” Chris asked, leaning against the backrest of the couch to look at Matt. Matt shrugs off his coat and kicks his shoes off, wondering what the hell Chris is on about. “Did I bring what?” Matt asks in confusion, walking over to the couch and sitting beside Chris.

Chris was now squished in between his two brothers, all three of them watching a random movie to pass the time. They had to resort to the old VCR their mom had because their phones didn’t get any service out in the country. Neither of them wanted to go through the hassle or rewinding the movies, so they were currently halfway through one without any context. It was hard to readjust to a slow paced lifestyle after being in L.A for so long and they couldn’t find anything to do. So, they sent Matt out in search of fireworks, but of course he got distracted along the way and came back empty handed.

“The fireworks, dumbass,” Nick chimes in, facepalming at Matt’s failure to complete the easiest task ever. “Oh, yeah, no. I couldn’t find any,” he lied, still thinking about his encounter with you. When your sketchbook fell on him, he flipped through a few pages and recognized so many of the people in the drawings. Some of the earlier pages were even filled with drawings of him and his brothers.

“Bullshit! We saw them yesterday at the corner store!” Chris shouts, getting up from the couch to go find the fireworks himself. “If I find even ONE firework, I’m beating your ass,” Chris says, pointing a menacing finger at Matt before slipping his shoes on and walking out the door, coat in hand. “Did you go to the right store?” Nick asks, watching mindlessly as the characters on screen converse. He has no idea what the plot of this movie even is.

“Well I tried, but I sort of got distracted,” Matt admits, shifting uncomfortable in the couch. He grabbed a pillow from beside him, hugging it closely to him. “How could you possibly get distracted? The store is 5 minutes from here!” Nick exclaims, looking suspiciously at his brother. Nick knew Matt was hiding something.

“I ran into an old friend,” Matt shrugged, sinking further into the couch and holding the pillow even closer to him. He knew that if he admitted to running into you, he’d never hear the end of it. He’d be bombarded with questions about you, how you’re doing, why he didn’t invite you over. Nick is looking at Matt expectantly, wanting him to spill the details on which ‘old friend’ he ran into, but Matt’s gaze is focused on the tv in front of him.

“Matt!” Nick says dramatically, pushing his brother by the shoulder to grab his attention. “Which friend?!” He finally asks once he’s successfully grabbed Matt’s attention. Matt debates whether or not he should just admit he ran into you, but before he can say anything he’s interrupted by Chris arriving from the store.

Throughout this entire conversation, Chris had managed to successfully find the fireworks and even ran into you on his way back home. You were reluctantly running an errand for your mom, but of course got distracted by Chris. He asked about you, inquiring about your personal life just like Matt had, and then insisted you come over. He said something along the lines of, “Nick and Matt would love to see you! Matt especially.” Chris was completely unaware of your encounter with Matt earlier that day, so in his mind this would be your first time seeing each other after years. So, as to not seem rude, you abandoned your errand and followed Chris to his house. He was carrying so many fireworks that he dropped a few along the way, but luckily you were there to pick them up.

“Guess who I brought?” Chris says dramatically in a sing-song tone, dropping all the fireworks at the front entrance. Nick and Matt look towards the front door, Matt’s mouth going agape slightly at the sight of you and Nick immediately jumping up from the couch. “Y/n?!” Nick exclaims, running over to you excitedly and embracing you in a hug. This was very uncommon for Nick, seeing as he wasn’t usually a hugger, but he hadn’t seen you in so long that he made an exception. “Hi Nick,” you greet awkwardly as he smothers you in his arms, hands still full of fireworks.

“Oh my God, girl. Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in so long,” Nick let’s go of you, holding you by your arms so he can get a good look at you. He noticed all the same things as Matt and Chris, you looked like a woman. “Here,” you admit with a shrug, not embarrassed to admit it anymore. You’ve already gone through this round of questioning twice at this point with both Matt and Chris. “Oh,” he mumbles awkwardly, offering you an equally as awkward smile.

Matt was still watching in shock, what a coincidence that he ran into you earlier today and now you’re in his house. Well, in retrospect, the town is so small that you probably would’ve ended up here anyway. “How has life here been?” Nick asks again doing air quotes around ‘here’ before taking the fireworks from you and dumping them where Chris had dumped the rest. “It’s.. been” you laugh, rocking back and forth on your feet awkwardly.

Nick nods, deciding he’s had enough awkwardness for one day. “Wanna pop some fireworks with us?” he asks, hoping you’ll just say yes and break the awkward tension. You look between him and Matt, wondering if this was the right decision. Matt’s smiling at you, he wants you to say yes so bad. “Sure, why not,” you reply with a shrug, deciding this will be the most fun you’ve had in a while.

Chris appears from the kitchen, lighter in hand. He’s pretending to use it as flame thrower, waving it from side to side dramatically. “Get ready to burn!” He says evily, earning a laugh from the rest of you.

—

The fireworks left long sparks of color in the sky, the booming sound resonating throughout the entire town. It’s dark now and the wind has calmed down considerably, making it the perfect time for childish shenanigans. You and Matt were sat on a pair of lawn chairs, watching as Nick and Chris lit up firework after firework. They would light one, place it carefully on the ground, and then scurry away like excited children.

Matt is staring at the sky, mesmerized at the colorful sparks that flew by. The stars were faint, the light and smoke from the fireworks dulling their luminosity. You also watched the colorful explosions, but you held your fingers out in front of you to squish the stars. You created a game out of it, trying to squish the stars before the colorful sparks reached them.

Matt noticed this and chuckled slightly, reminiscing on the old habit you never seemed to let go. Upon hearing his laughter, you turn your attention to him quickly in confusion. “What?” you ask with a small pout. He smiles sincerely at you, examining your beautiful face as the colorful light from above decorated your face. The strobing lights seemed to only further accentuate your features.

In this moment Matt felt 18 again. He felt like he was seeing you for the first time and realizing he had a crush on you. “Nothing, you just always used to do that,” he replies sheepishly, pointing towards your hands briefly. It was a habit you never realized you had, you mostly did it to pass the time. You don’t say anything, but the silence isn’t awkward. You just smile at Matt before returning to your make-shift game, occupying your mind the only way you knew how.

You felt so comfortable right now. It felt like everything was the way it was supposed to be. It felt like old times, just you and your friends enjoying each other’s company. With each star you squish, you remember all your late nights under the stars with Matt. All the meaningful conversations and deep secrets you two exchanged, both of you becoming closer and closer each time. You always thought you’d end up following them and leaving this town, but life had other plans for you. Sometimes you even wondered what would’ve happened if you had confessed your feeling for Matt, would you two be married by now? It feels so wrong to think about, because you know that if you would’ve confessed he would’ve stayed and never fulfilled any of his dreams. He, like you, would’ve been stuck here.

Matt, on the other hand, can’t stop himself from smiling as he takes in more of your features. You looked so different, yet exactly the same. He still doesn’t understand why such a beautiful girl like you would stay in such a boring place like this. Of course he wondered if you were married, it was a common custom in your town for girls to get married young. Plus there was no a shortage of men waiting for the right moment to ask you on a date. Matt remembers it all too well, you’d always reject potential suitors in favor of spending time with him. He never understood why, but he always found himself feeling relieved when you did that. Maybe he internally wished you two would’ve started dating, but he never gained the courage to confess. He shook the thought of you being married out of his head, trying to focus on all the positive things tonight has to offer instead.

“Matt! Y/n! These are the last ones, come light one!” Chris calls out, waving the remaining fireworks in front of him, enticing you two to join in on the fun. The two of you are pulled from your thoughts, looking at Chris with smiles. Matt jumps up from his seat, jogging towards Chris and grabbing ahold of one of the fireworks. You get up a lot slower, taking in the moment in front of you. You really missed this.

“Girl! Hurry!” Nick rushes you, becoming impatient with your leisurely pace. You smile again, picking up the pace and grabbing a firework. “Ready?!” Chris asks excitedly, lighting everyone’s firework. You nod, excitement and adrenaline filling your body. As soon as he lights the fuse, you each place the fireworks carefully on the ground and run away in the opposite direction.

Lighting the fireworks was so much more exhilarating than just watching, your heart pumping rapidly as you try catching your breath. You’re standing next to Matt who wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side, both of you looking up to watch the colorful explosion in the sky.

—

You don’t see the triplets again until a few days later, too busy helping your dad with the yard work to go anywhere. “Why can’t one of them help you?” You groan, looking at your brothers playing soccer in the field across the street. You always got stuck doing chores with your mom or dad while they got to have fun. “Can’t trust those guys to remember their own names, let alone help me,” your dad replies with a grunt, picking up two heavy buckets of water. You do the same, following behind him as he walks towards the pig enclosure.

It was so sunny today that you felt like you were melting. You were sweating underneath your overalls and the boots you were wearing were starting to rub against your ankles. “Fill that tank over there,” your dad instructs with a tilt of his chin, pointing in the direction he wanted you to go. You missed the tank as you tried pouring the water, some of it falling on the ground and creating mud. Your boots sank into the mud slightly causing you to groan in annoyance again. The pigs were oinking and squealing, almost like they were taunting you.

“Stupid fucking mud. Stupid dumbass pigs,” you grumbled, picking the other bucket up and dumping its remnants into the tank. “Language,” your dad warns sternly, only causing you to roll your eyes. He’s definitely said worse than fuck. You wipe the sweat from your forehead, adjusting your overalls in the process. “Are we almost done? It’s so hot,” you ask your dad, hoping he’ll have mercy on you and let you go inside. He doesn’t. “We still gotta shovel along the back to build that fence your mom asked for,” he informs you with no intention of letting you go early. You groan again, of course your mom wanted a fence. All you could do was prepare yourself for the long work day ahead.

-

Your arms feel like jelly, each pile of dirt you shovel sending you further into exhaustion. The sun was not letting up either, beaming brightly on the two of you. Your overalls were covered in dirt and your sweat mixed with the debris creating a gross mess all over your face and arms.

“You guys almost done?” Your mom asks as she walks over to you two. She’s holding a glass of water in each hand, working carefully not to spill any of it. The two of you stop digging and you’re silently thanking God for the small break. “We still have about 6 feet left that way and another 3 left this way,” your dad says, grabbing a glass of water and taking a few sips. Of course your side was missing the 6 feet, you were a much slower digger than your dad. You down the whole drink in one go, finally quenching your thirst after a hard days work.

“Well do you guys think you could wrap it up? We’ve got a visitor,” she says casually, taking the glasses back as she makes her way inside again. She was not going to stand in the hot sun for a second longer than necessary. ‘Visitor?!?’ you think, as you look down at your dirty overalls and muddy boots. If that’s how dirty your clothes were, you couldn’t even begin to imagine how dirty you were. “We’ll finish up tomorrow after breakfast, shouldn’t take us more than an hour,” your dad says, slapping your back as he follows behind your mom.

You jog behind him, trying to catch a glimpse of the visitors through the window. You can’t see anyone yet, so you just decide it’s probably one of your mom’s friends. If they saw you this messy it wouldn’t even matter. Both of you make your way inside, stomping the mud off on the grass before walking in.

“Y/n! Say hello to your friend, don’t be rude,” your mom immediately says once you walk in, referring to people waiting in the living room. Your mom considered everyone your friend, so you still weren’t too worried. “I’m going,” you call back, slowly walking over to the living room just in case it was someone you didn’t really know. If it was someone you didn’t know, you’d be able to excuse yourself with the excuse that you’re dirty or tired.

“Hi,” you greet plainly, peeking your head into the living room and waving at the unexpected company. “Hi,” Matt greets awkwardly, taking in your dirty appearance. You freeze at the sight of him, why didn’t your mom mention HE was the visitor? That was literally one of, if not the, most important detail of this story. “Excuse her, she’s been helping me out in the yard,” your dad chimes in, wiping his hands on an old kitchen towel before reaching a hand out towards Matt. “It’s nice to see you again, son,” your dad says, taking Matt’s hand into a firm handshake.

“It’s nice to see you too, sir,” Matt responds, getting up from the couch to properly greet your dad. He felt like he was your boyfriend, meeting your disapproving father for the first time. Your dad nods and exits the room, not interested in conversation. All he wanted was a cold shower and honestly that’s all you wanted too.

“I can come back another time?” Matt suggests, realizing he came unannounced and seemingly at a bad time “Nonsense! Y/n’s got time to chat, don’t you sweetheart?” Your mom interjects, listening to the whole interaction from the kitchen. She was whipping up a snack for you two in hopes that Matt would stay longer. She really liked Matt.

“Uh yeah, I got time,” you answered, too embarrassed to admit that you wanted him to leave so you could shower. “I can wait. If you wanna go get changed?” he says, sitting back down on the couch. You want to get on your knees and praise this man for being so considerate, but instead you give him a thumbs up and run to shower and change.

—

After freshening up you return to the living room where Matt is now talking with your mom. She made him a grilled cheese and cut up some strawberries for him, she even sprinkled sugar on them to make them extra sweet. They’re deep in conversation so you wait by the door to listen. “So, Matt, when are you planning to ask my daughter out?” your mom asks casually, unaware of the weight of her words. This sentence alone almost made you enter the room dancing just to have an excuse to shut her up.

“I’m sorry?” he asks, gulping nervously. “You heard me,” she replies, plopping a strawberry in her mouth and looking at him expectantly. “Oh- I- I thought y/n was married?” He says, unsure of what he’s even saying. Matt feels so awkward, he just takes another bite of the greasy cheese toast on his plate to give him an excuse not to talk.

When your mom hears this she laughs loudly, clearly amused with Matt’s assumption, “I wish!” Matt’s caught a little off guard by this comment, were you not married? Or at least spoken for? You wanted to slap your hand over your mom’s mouth before she said anything too embarrassing, but you decide to see where this conversation is going. You lean against the wall, getting comfortable for the eavesdropping you were about to do.

“I’ve been trying to get that girl to date, but no luck,” your mom continues, putting a smile on Matt’s face. He was both happy and relieved to hear that you weren’t taken. “She used to have a little crush on you in high school. And I’ve seen the way you look at her,” your mom won’t stop talking, she just keeps spilling your secrets. This is the first time Matt’s hearing of this, had you really liked him this whole time?

You decide you’ve heard enough, en entering the room with an awkward cough. “Thanks mom,” you say sarcastically, offering her a tight lipped smile. You look at Matt, trying to read his expression while also signaling to him that you want to leave. He gets the hint, dismissing himself politely from your mom. As the two of you are walking out you send a glare towards your mom and she returns it with a toothy smile and a wink.

“Sorry about that,” you chuckle awkwardly, shutting the door behind you. “No, I like your mom,” he replies, beginning to walk down the dirt road. “I know, but she can be a lot,” you apologize, becoming worried that she over shared and maybe scared Matt. “I can handle a lot,” he shrugs, the two of you now walking towards the old water tower. You smile at him, grateful that he’s not making it awkward. Your mom just confessed your crush to him like an old school girl and here he was being a gentleman about it.

When you two arrive to the water tower he signals for you to climb up first, holding your back securely until you’re high enough, then he follows behind you. You arrive at the top, sitting down carefully and patting the spot next to you so Matt will join. He gladly sits next to you, looking over the vast land in front of you. Miles and miles of green grass, crop fields, and only a few buildings and houses scattered in between.

The both of you talk about everything you’ve missed out on for the past 3 years, his stories being about his adventures in L.A and yours being about your life here. “I haven’t been up here in a long time,” he whispers in awe, taking in the scene in front of him as the sun begins to set. He had to admit that this was a beautiful town, despite it being so boring. “Well, you haven’t been here for a long time,” you reply, leaning against the metal railing as you join him in admiring the view.

“I was really surprised to see you that day. I thought I’d never see you again,” Matt says. After he and his brothers left they had zero contact with you and it always felt like a part of him was missing. “Yeah, it was nice catching up with you guys,” you reply, feeling like these past few days were the best you’ve had in a while. When they leave, you’ll just go back to your normal mundane life.

He can sense the sadness in your tone, feeling bad for leaving you here. “I’m glad you got out,” you admitted, resting your face on the arm that laid on the railing so you could look at Matt. “This town kills everyone’s dreams, I’m glad it didn’t kill yours,” you continued, offering Matt a small, genuine smile. If he was honest, he’d be happy staying here forever as long as it was with you.

“I don’t know. There’s one dream of mine that didn’t come true when I left,” he trails off, watching the as the sun disappears along the horizon. The sky goes from orange to purple as Matt feels the sudden urge to tell you something he’s been holding onto for a long time. “I doubt that,” you chuckle, looking up slightly to see the stars slowly come into view.

He laughs too, unsure if he should be admitting any of this to you right now. “I used to have a big crush on you too,” he admits quietly and casually, looking up at the stars too. Your neck almost snaps off as you turn to look at him, he notices this and laughs again. “It was back in high school… Getting a date with you, even just a kiss, was one of my biggest dreams,” he admits, remembering all those nights when he almost told you. “When your mom mentioned you used to have a crush on me it made me think of how different our lives would’ve been. If we ever acted on it, you know?” he continues, looking at you now.

You had a small, sad smile on your face because you weren’t sure if there was still a possibility at a future with Matt, but you were willing to try. “I mean, we can make the dream come true. If that’s okay?” you ask, leaning into him slowly.

“That could be fun,” he whispers, quoting what you told him that one night under the stars. He leans in and captures your lips in his, his last dream finally coming true.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

Boop another Matt story for the girlies.

Thank you anon for the nice compliment 🩷🩷 I hope you enjoy this Matt story and that it was everything you hoped for haha.

This took me so long to write idk why. Anywaysss I mentioned im writing a Nick story WELL IM PROBS SCRAPPING IT AND STARTING OVER. I find it so easy to write Nick in my other fics but for some reason when he’s the main “character” i struggleeee.

Okay I’m done now, enjoy reading. k byeeee

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

[guppybibi]

how they react to artist!reader

✧┊ft: akaashi keiji & kōtarō bokuto

❁ཻུ۪۪♡

❥ akaashi keiji

- thinks everything that you make is an absolute masterpiece, but if you do ask him for critique prepare yourself for his blunt honesty.

- though it isn't obvious from his stoic face, he goes into overthinking mode whenever you ask him for suggestions.

- hurting someone's feelings because he said something wrong is the last thing he wants.

- if you wanted to do some sort of art challenge with him he'll happily comply. i think he'd be pretty good at arts, not the best but definitely not the worst.

- when you compare each other's works, he always lets out a laugh when he sees how much of a downgrade his work is.

“Alright, I’m done! How ‘bout you, Keiji?” You giggle, holding the canvas against your chest secretively. Snooping was for sure, not allowed! “Just a few more finishing touches.” He mumbles, painting a few more brush strokes. His eyes full of pure concentration, laser focused on the piece he was making.

After a few extra minutes of waiting for Akaashi to finish, he places the paintbrush down on the small coffee table. “Okay, on the count of 3! 1, 2, 3!” You counted down, excitedly flipping over your canvas once the count ends. Keiji follows and does the same, both of your paintings being revealed at the same time.

An amazed look comes up on your face, nodding approvingly as you look at Akaashi’s piece. “Wow Keiji! Your art is improving, I see you're following my tips!” You compliment, your eyes filled to the brim with awe. “Yes, I’ve been putting your suggestions into mind. But my work is nothing compared to yours. It's wonderful as usual and expected.” He admired, adoring your creation.

“Well, I don't really care about whose work is better right now. We spent time together, considering your busy schedule, I’m really grateful.” You spoke softly, fingers fiddling around with the bristles of a random paintbrush as a content smile made its way to your lips.

❥ kōtarō bokuto

- basically obsesses over everything you make, it can be a work in progress or a literal fail yet he still has a compliment to say about it.

- a walking ego boost for you to be honest.

- not..the best in arts. though overtime as he practices with you, he's gotten better! practice makes perfect after all. so if you want someone to draw around with, he's just one call away!

“Y/N, I’m done! I’m sure I’ve outdone myself this time yet again, I’m not only an ace in volleyball but in drawing as well!” He brags, his confidence overflowing. While you just laugh in response, still focusing on putting the finishing touches. “I’m sure it's gonna be great Boku, you've been improving recently.” You comment, at this point you were sure his head was growing bigger from the amount of compliments he was receiving..

He patiently waited for you to finish, not rushing you as he started to chat about random things. Like how Keiji won't wear the t-shirts he suggests even though he has worn equally weird t-shirts before and whatnot. You chuckle, despite being pretty stoic; Keiji was probably evenly as weird as Bokuto. Once you are satisfied with your work, you place the pen back to its designated spot. Crossing your legs as you held the sketchbook close to you, you looked up to Bokuto with a smirk.

“Ya ready?” You ask, which you immediately get a nod in reply. After a countdown, the both of you flip your sketchbooks and show each other your work. It took you a moment to realize what who Bokuto drew, it was you in a meadow. It wasn't the best piece in the world, but to you it felt like it surpassed even the Starry Night. “Woah..you're right. You did outdo yourself this time..”

“Of course! An ace like me never fails to disappoint.” He boasts proudly with a grin, throwing the sketchbook aside and pulling you in for a hug..

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

A cute story where the bittersweet boys have an artist listener and they find a book full of sketches and paintings of them that their listeners was too shy to show them

My muses, who fill my pages and books with their beauty.

Okay ngl I feel like I ate this title. That lil 1, 2 piece y'know?

Alphonse and Seth walked through the front door, slightly suprised seeing Boo on the couch. The baker and artist usually is there after work doodling in their sketch book. Speaking of said book, it was on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"Is that?..." Wondering put loud, Alphonse placed the bag he was carrying on the coffee table. Picking up the sketch book and cracking it open, Seth gave him a look.

"Al, come on leave Sug's book alone. We gotta put the food away-" Seth's talking was interrupted by Al gasping loudly. Looking in awe at the sketch book in his hands, then snapping his head to the brunette.

"Seth, holy fuck?! look at this!" Excitedly shouting a bit, the pinkette shoved the book into Seth's face. The shorter man flinched back seeing the book shoot forward, then blinked before processing what was one the pages.

Letting out a silent gasp, Seth saw the sketches of him doing things. Then to the left side of the book where it had Alphonse doing the same. Gently placing down the bags he held, Seth took the sketchbook from Alphonse.

"See! Holy shit, Boo loves drawing us." Whispering Alphonse came up next to Seth. Looking over his shoulder as he flipped through the pages of the sketchbook.

Quickly flipping through the book, Seth was mindful of the pages. Not wanting to accidently rip any of them, but the need to see more of the drawings were begging him to flip faster. Alphonse smiled as his face got a but hotter, Boo really did draw a lot of them.

Sure there was other sketches of things but Seth and Alphonse were prominent in that book. The pinkette couldn't help but wonder if the others he knows Boo has is filled of them?

"We....we're their muses?" Mumbling out, Seth turned to Alphonse. Who nodded happily, giggling as he took the sketchbook back. Realizing this, Seth felt his face get hotter as he thought of all the sketches Boo has of him.

"We really are! Now I wanna see the other sketchbooks- oh!" Giggling out Alphonse then was startled as the book was snatched out his hands. Looking up he saw Boo, who's face was flushed and covering their face with the book.

Seth turned and saw Boo, closing his mouth as he looked at them give a slight glare at the duo. Opening his mouth to try and defuse the situation, Boo beat him to it.

"You went through my sketchbook?! Without asking?!" Shrieking a bit Sugarboo frowned. Alphonse and Seth started explaining why they were, slowly they calmed Sugarboo down.

"...Boo why did ya never show us them?" Gently asking Alphonse went to Boo. Holding their arm, to stop clenching the sketchbook. Seth then came up next to him and smiled at Sugarboo.

"Yeah their so well drawn, sug!" Throwing a complement, smiling more and Sugarboo gave them both a small smile.

"I just....I'm just shy at showing the art I made of you guys. Dont want you to think I'm weird...." Mumbling out Boo looked at the floor. Both men shot a glance at each other before hugging them.

"Babe. Your literally Leonardo Da Vinchi. Or whatever his name is. You could literally draw anything and itd be better than most people's!" Exclaiming dramatically, Alphonse made his lover laugh a bit. Seth rolled his eyes at that and added his two cents.

"What we're trying to say, dont be shy showing us things sugar. We love your art when you so show us." Calmly talking, Seth hugged Sugarboo again. Alphonse then looked at the groceries on the floor and gasoed.

"Shit the bread!" Bending down he hurried and grabbed the bags. Causing the other two to laugh at him, making the pinkette pout at them.

"Told ya! Now let's put these away." Hmfing at Alphonse, Seth then walked to the kitchen. After the two finally put away the groceries both went and sat down with Boo on the couch.

Deciding to show them more, getting happy reactions out of both of them. Sugarboo got a big box of old sketchbooks they had and gave them both to go through.

[stinkysam]

Buggy the Clown - This is you.

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : "Imagine if you will a scenario where a character finds out the reader is an artist (or has knowledge of it) and mentions it in passing or brags about it to everyone else. Then, per everyone's curiosity the reader is forced to pull the sketchbook out from his bag and is like "okay but I'll only show you the pages *I* like" before someone immediately wrestles it out from his grasp (and trust me I played tug-o-war for a good five seconds). Nothing too embarrassing was in it thank goodness but mayhaps there's a fluffy twist where it turns out the reader has numerous doodles or candid sketches of the person he likes in there? Cue a confession sequence lolol" - @intrepid-captain

Reader : gender neutral (you/yours)

You had briefly mentioned to Mohji you liked to draw in your spare time. He repeated it to Cabaji, who told Alvida you knew how to draw. And Alvida told the others she saw your drawings -she saw one from afar- and that they were the prettiest and most beautiful things.

And of course, it ended up falling in your captain's ears who now wanted to see them too.

But you did everything you could to hide your sketchbooks away from him.

Not because you weren't confident in your art, but because in all of your sketchbooks there was his face every few pages. If not on almost all of them.

You had clearly underestimated him. Or overestimated, as he sneaked into your room to rummage through your things.

"Captain !" You called out, making him jump. "There's a creep in my room ! Ah. No, it's just you." You joked as you watched him from the entrance of your tent.

"Eeeh !? Do I look like a creep !?" He stomped, his hands flying to your direction to shake you by the collar but you grabbed them first.

"We're holding hands !" You say, acting shy, but there's nothing shy about your sly smile. "What are you looking for ?" You ask, laughing a bit at his unamused expression, and get in, throwing him back his hands.

"Your sketchbook." He simply said and you froze as he went back to searching, looking under your pillow.

"Why ?" You smiled nervously.

"Can't I be interested in what my freaks do in their spare time ?"

"I… guess… ?"

"Well then ? Where it is ?"

"Uh… okay, but only the pages I want, okay ?"

He frowns and raises an eyebrow, not understanding why such a rule.

"Okay." He said, but you could tell he was lying.

"Turn around. I don't want you to see where I hide 'em."

He huffed, really not liking all those rules but accepted anyway, turning around and crossing his arms as his hands flew to hide his eyes.

"Fine."

Quickly you took the pillowcase from under your bed, opening it to reveal a bunch of sketchbooks. You chose the first one, the oldest, where you were still in denial of your feelings for him so there wasn't as much art of him as in nowadays' sketchbook and put back the others under your bed.

"Are you done yet ?" He grumbled, not wanting to wait any longer.

"Yeah." You say, opening it to a certain page.

He stared at it, grabbing the sketchbook while you still held it up. He said nothing, his eyes analyzing every little thing on your drawing. It was Mohji with a big lion. God it was beautiful. Alvida was right. And it reminded him he wanted that fucking lion.

He tried to turn the page but you stopped him, going to another page instead. He frowned, not understanding and not liking the restriction, clicking his tongue in distaste.

When he looked at you, you smiled as innocently as you could.

He watched your sketches this time, the Big Top from several angles. Like a plan.

"Fuck, you're even good at perspective ?" He said and you snorted.

He tried to turn the page once again but you turned it to another one. A realistic portrait of Alvida.

His eyes twitched. This was getting on his nerves. Not only he can't see everything but you draw "some other" captain ? And not even him ?

He began to pull on your sketchbook and quickly you did the same, followed by five good seconds of silent struggling before one of his hands let go of it to stab a finger in your side. Making you yelp and pull away, giving him free access to your drawings.

"Ahhh !" He laughed, his hands flying above your reach, turning pages and pages how he wanted. Until he stopped at a colored page. A red thing catching his eyes. His… nose.

More accurately, a watercolor work of his face.

He stared at it, bringing the sketchbook closer to his face as you hid yours with your clothes.

There was a silence as he admired himself. Why did he look so… good ?

He turned the page again and…

There were multiple portraits of himself. Sketches of his eyes, his nose, his lips, there even were comments on his make-up when he changed it. It was scribbled and hard to read but they were compliments. Compliments you never said to him.

His heart was beating loudly as he stared at himself and your pretty words.

He turned to you.

"Why did you never tell me this ?"

You finally looked at him and shrugged. Buggy closed the sketchbook.

"Can you… draw me. With… a normal nose ?" He asked quietly, looking into your eyes, hoping you'd say yes and let him see how he would be if he didn't have this atrocious and ridiculous nose. Would he look prettier ?

You stare back, a bit taken aback and you don't know how to answer for a moment.

"No." You finally say, but your tone sounds almost insulted.

He frowned immediately, not pleased by your answer.

"What, can't-"

"I like your nose." You say, ignoring him.

You stare at each other in silence, and you continue.

"I know you don't like your nose. Always thinking we're talking about it. But I like it." You step closer, and he looks at your face for any sign of lie, mockery. But there is none. "I don't want to change it. I don't want to change your face or anything about you."

His heart almost melts at your words. But he's still mad you won't grant him what he's asking. It's just one small drawing. What bad could it do ?

He opens his mouth to talk but you cut him off.

"No. I won't obey this order. I won't help you compare yourself to a drawing of someone who looks like you with a different nose. I'm not gonna help your insecurities."

He scoffs and reopens the sketchbook, pointing at drawings of him. Him ? Insecure ? Fine, let's use that word then.

"How can I not be insecure when you draw me like this !?"

"What ?" You stared at him, confused. "You think I add some sort of magic to make you look more handsome or prettier ? Buggy, that's how you look, I'm just putting it on paper. But thank you, I accept the compliment."

"No, you-"

"You are handsome. Buggy. You're the prettiest man I've ever laid my eyes on." You say, trying to ignore your heart beating crazily in your chest.

His was beating just as fast and loudly as he stared at you, your words slowly sinking in.

You grabbed the sketchbook, turning to another page of him.

"This is you."

You bent down, throwing it on the bed and grabbing the pillowcase with your other sketchbooks inside before pushing them into his arms.

"Here. Take these. You're in it too. You."

He looked at them, not daring to open them and looked back at you. Unsure of what to say.

"Keep them."

"No, they're-"

"I insist, captain."

"Why are you doing this ? Why are you being so…" He grimaced, unsure of how to finish his sentence.

You hesitated for a few seconds.

"Because I love you." You said with a shrug. "I thought that was obvious." You chuckled. "Or it'll be once you open these. It's a bit embarrassing how much you're in it."

He smiles.

"You could've just said you don't take commissions. No need to get sappy on me."

You snort.

"To never get paid ?"

"I would've paid you." He said, almost offended. "Can I really keep them ?"

"Yeah."

[redheadspark]

Can i have prompt #6 with Benedict Bridgerton?

A/N - I do like this request! Thanks for requesting this, my friend!

Funny Thing

Summary - Beneditc's childhood crush comes back, and Eloise calls him out because of it

Warnings - Just some fluff

“Benedict, we need to discuss this nonsense,”

“It’s not nonsense, sister, I wish not to discuss it any further,”

“Truth be told, your own scowl and bitter energy must be addressed before our guests are to arrive,” 

That made Benedict look up from his sketch pad, seeing his younger sister with her book in hand waltz over to plop down on the chair next to his own in their sitting room.  He saw the smirk she was giving him, to which he snapped his sketchbook shut and stuck the pencil in the back of his ear as Eloise spoke up again with the smirk even heard in her voice.

“Tell me, dear brother, when was the last time we spoke to the Hamptons?” She asked Benedict, who was thinking to himself for a long moment.  It has been some time since the Hampton family has had relations with the Bridgerton, given the fact that they had to move away with their father’s new business opportunities that were on the other side of the country.  In fact, the Bridgertons and the Hamptons grew up as neighbors, their parents were cordial with one another, and the children played together.  The Hamptons had 4 children, 2 boys and 2 girls.  You, being the youngest girl and the third eldest, was close in age with Benedict and was more of a tomboy and willing to get dirty compared to your elder sister.  Nonetheless, your childhood as neighbors and childhood friends was amazing and filled with laughter.

Benedict, like the rest of his siblings, felt his heartbreak when you and your family had to move away.  He was almost a teenager at the time, already developing feelings for you around the same time your father shared the news with his own father about his new job.  He thought of you as someone filled with adventure, not wishing to be the dainty flower that your mother wanted you to be, and you were never afraid to speak your mind.  Holding back was never your nature, and Benedict found that enduring and perhaps attractive.

But as time went on, he found other girls and young women to fan the flame that was deep inside of him.  But one afternoon, reading the paper in the social section merely because he was bored and looking at future galleries and upcoming events, he recognized a name.

Your family name.  You all were coming back to your old stomping grounds for a few balls.

“Back when we were teens,” He replied, Eloise grinning as Benedtic shrugged, “You were far too young remember them,”

“Oh, I remember them far too well, especially the certain young daughter who made you trip over your own feet and fall face first in the mud,” Eloise reminded him, Benedict instantly throwing the pillow that his elbow was perched out in her direction.  Thankfully, she ducked it just in time as she laughed, Benedict huffed and shot up from the couch, moving over to place his sketchbook on the mantel as Eloise spoke again.

“Benedict, we all knew you liked her,” She explained as Benedict scoffed.

“I never liked her in such a manner, merely as a friend,” He reasoned, though his sister was not buying it for one moment.

“Denial is not an attractive trait, Benedict.  I should now, being the reader and all,” She advised him as he looked over his shoulder and glared at her, “Come now, I’ve heard she has taken to the arts and is quite good at identifying an original masterpiece and a fake.  Being in a male-dominated field, I must say that is quite amazing and an eminence feet to conquer at one’s age.”

“I don’t wish to discuss it anymore,” Benedict said in a scoff, though Eloise eyed him in suspicion.

“Sounds like someone is still horning some pent-up feelings—“

“I do not want to see their face, hear their voice or their name for that matter.  Stop talking about them,” Benedict said in a warning tone, but there was no real heat in it.  He was defensive of course, merely because he had no clue as to how he was going to act in front of his old childhood friend and old crush.  He merely never had someone as close to his heart as you, no one who seemed to know Benedict deeply and with affection.  Other women tried to come close, and although the pleasure was amazing at the time, he still never felt that kind of affection when he did with you.  

“Denial is a funny thing, brother.  But it won’t last forever,” Eloise advised him calmly.  Benedict could hear the sincerity in his sister’s tone, knowing that Eloise would never steer him wrong since she admired him as her older brother.  As much as a pain that she was, Eloise still had pearls of wisdom that she would bring to her family in times of need.  Maybe she sensed that he was using denial to hide the fact that he was nervous about seeing you, and she saw right through it. 

Bless her.

“Ah, there you two are!”  Benedict and Eloise looked over to see their mother and Matriarch, Violet Bridgerton, waltz into the room with two people behind her.  Benedict knew it was the Hamptons, both himself and Eloise stood tall in greeting as your mother and father smiled at the two siblings, “I must have missed the pair of you.  Our guests have arrived,”

Both Benedict and Eloise walked over to bow and shake hands with your parents, who smiled widely in greeting.

“I hope your travels were in your favor, Sir Hampton,” Benedict said to your father.

“Quite pleasant, actually.  My wife and I are glad to be back at our stomping grounds,” your father replied, then looking over his shoulder, “You remember my daughter?”

Benedict looked, and his breath was instantly lost.

You were walking down the hallway in a mint green dress and curls in an elegant bun. The highlights in your hair, the softness of your skin with a hint of blush on your cheeks, even the infamous smile that Benedict knew you’d had all your life was etched on your face.  You were taller, the twinkle in your eye and your smile as you two locked gazes at one another.  No longer was he thinking of the young girl with gangly elbows, the young girl who could outrun him tenfold in a foot race.

He saw you as an ethereal being with the same smile that shined like the stars.

“I do,” Benedict replied in a breath as you approached him, bowing slightly as him as he did the same.  When you two locked eyes again, it felt as if you two were young again.  But it was different, the smile on Benedict’s face was infectious as he found his voice once more, “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Lady Hampton,”

“The same to you, Mr. Bridgerton,” You replied, Benedict, feeling his heart flutter from hearing your voice. 

Eloise merely grinned, hiding her giggling behind her book.  

The End.

January Prompt Session

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

IOTA Reviews: Pretension

Oh joy, another Felix episode. Because the last one was just so good, wasn't it?

Let's get into the nineteenth episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fifth season: Pretension

We start off with Kagami and Adrien heading to school, with the former making plans with Marinette to spend a little time together, all while Argos stalks them. We then cut to Gabriel, who's attempting to heal his Cataclysm wound with a machine that drains the energy from his imprisoned Kwamis. It fails because... uh... uhhhh... it just doesn't?

Kaalki: I told you. No magic can heal this wound.

Barkk: A Cat Noir Cataclysm can't be healed!

Yeah, they just say nothing can heal the wound, and don't even mention the fact that we've already seen the Ladybug Miraculous heal Adren when he was wounded by his own Cataclysm in “Miraculer”. And before you say it was a weaker version of the attack, check out what Astruc said a few years ago when the subject was brought up.

Whether you want to take this as fact or not since it wasn't explained in the show itself, the point is that we've seen Ladybug heal someone who was wounded by Cataclysm before. Then again, considering the recent reveal, that episode only opens up another can of worms.

Back at school, Marinette talks with Adrien and Kagami about how Gabriel only sees her as some crazy fan, though she doesn't do a lot to help her case.

Tomoe arrives, and just like she's done this whole season, is only here to provide exposition while nagging Gabriel to get Ladybug and Cat Noir's Miraculous already. Gabriel comes up with a plan involving a gadget Felix accidentally dropped at the end of the last season. If you forgot, I understand, since it's a pretty weird thing to call back to.

Marinette: He feels worried and I would be too if I were him. He thinks I'm one of those fans who follows you everywhere, showers you with hand-knitted gifts and knows every single one of your middle name days.

Kagami: Isn't that what you used to do, Marinette?

Marinette: Yes... except no! I mean, yes, but I was doing it out of love and, besides, I've changed a lot.

Kagami: You are correct.

Marinette: Really? You think I've changed a lot?

Kagami: No. Well, not that much.

I love when even the show points out how little character development there is. Makes my job a lot easier.

Adrien goes with Marinette to talk to Gabriel about their relationship. We get a pretty somewhat chilling moment where Gabriel's kind father facade briefly fades as he orders Adrien to go to his room so he and Marinette can talk, all while he still puts on a welcoming image. After Plagg reminds Adrien that all Gabriel knows how to cook is pancakes, Gabriel then lectures Marinette about why he doesn't want her to see Adrien.

Gabriel: I don't think you understand, child, so let me put things differently. Life is like fashion. You think you have a choice, but all you have is the illusion of choice. And I decide what choices are given to you.

Marinette: You're wrong! (Shows Gabriel her sketchbook with her designs) Fashion is about listening to people, it's about understanding who they are, what excites them and creating the clothes that will help them express their inner world. Help them connect with others and make their dreams come true.

Gabriel: (Laughs and looks over Marinette's sketchbook) No, that's not fashion. That's making dresses for your dolls. Fashion is a product, a marketing strategy, an industry that relies on uninterrupted trend renewal that forces you to either throw away everything you have and buy more or, worse, to be out of fashion.

That bastard! I can't believe Gabriel wants to make an honest living by using market research data to his advantage! What a piece of scum...

I joke, but the rest of Gabriel's little rant is even worse, as he acts as if he decides what people like and don't like, even though he just mentioned the importance of keeping up with current trends. Seriously, this dude's talking as if the entire world revolves around his brand.

Gabriel: Thanks to the clothes I create, the celebrities who wear them, the advertisements I design and the Alliance rings that broadcast them, I create an idyllic vision. A perfection that everyone aspires to achieve, while keeping it just out of their grasp. You finally understand the difference, don't you? You listen to people's desires and create what they want. Somehow, people make you. Whereas I create people's desires. They buy what I decide to buy. They think what I want them to think. I'm the one who makes people. You think you love Adrien, but you're just under the spell of this world I've created. A world where Adrien is the star, shining high above. A world where you're just part of the crowd below looking up at him.

Let's see... a complete narcissist with an obsession with controlling others, puts on a facade to make himself look more approachable, uses his influence to sell something to the masses that are part of his greater operation, and acts as if his products are necessary for society to function when they're more of a luxury than anything else? Where have I seen this before?

Marinette goes against Gabriel's wishes and tells Adrien she loves him before rightfully telling him to piss off... through a pancake metaphor, for some reason.

Marinette: You know what the problem is with your pancakes? Way too much flour, not enough butter. You're using an old, completely outdated recipe. No one likes them like that anymore. And that's the good thing about being a baker's daughter. I don't even need to try them to know that they're tasteless.

You know, I could make so many jokes about the state of the show with this little speech, but I feel like it'd be too easy.

Meanwhile, Kagami tries to tell her mother that she's not interested in Adrien anymore, but we get the same crap Tomoe has been saying ever since Season 3. “You must follow our family legacy, Kagami!”, “Stop letting your emotions control you, Kagami!”, “I'm only blind for a cheap visual metaphor, Kagami!”, yadda, yadda, yadda. During this, Argos overhears this and outright kidnaps Kagami. Rather than call the police to report a kidnapping, Tomoe calls Gabriel, who had transformed into Monarch offscreen, and tells him to akumatize him (even though she's still carrying her useless Magical Charm), which he does, turning her into Matagi Gozen.

Matagi Gozen is basically Ikari Gozen, only instead of a centaur, she now rides a robot dog for some reason and has a bow and arrow now. Her powers are basically related to her size and riding a robot dog, mostly so we can focus on her Miraculous powers for the day. Even though Tomoe was seen wearing six Alliance rings before she called Gabriel, she only gets three powers, the Bee Miraculous' Venom, the Rooster Miraculous' Sublimation (which she uses to give herself an enhanced sense of smell), and the Mouse Miraculous' Multitude. It's really just the same setup we got in “Multiplication” with a few changes, and it's nothing special. Although, it's too bad that Monarch doesn't have the Dog Miraculous, as that would have really gone well with her powers.

As the four Matagi Gozen clones go on the hunt, Argos takes Kagami to the Eiffel Tower to hide out, where we get—wait, it's, it's, BY GOD, IT'S KAGAMI WITH A WOODEN CHAIR!

Argos transforms back into Felix, and unintentionally throws Matagi Gozen off the trail since she was tracking him through one of the feathers on his fan. It turns out that after that single conversation they shared last episode, Felix is suddenly developing feelings for Kagami, and the whole reason he kidnapped her, aside from “protecting her from her mother”, is to get to talk to her again.

Felix: We have so much in common, and yet, you're also so different. I've never met someone like you.

Kagami: We don't even know each other!

Felix: I know you. I've been following you non-stop.

Kagami: Even better! You follow me, you spy on me and now you've kidnapped me to get to know me?!

Felix: Uh... yes?

Kagami: You are utterly incompetent at social relations.

See? Felix isn't a sociopath who just tried to wipe out all of humanity last episode! He just needs to make friends, that's all.

Yeah, in case you can't tell, it seems like the show is still trying to course correct the characterization of Felix. Rather than the overconfident and manipulative wild card he was for his last five appearances, the episode is now trying to make Felix out to be a secretly awkward person with noble goals. Afterall, he saved Kagami, so by that logic, he has to be a good guy. Yeah, he technically stalked her like a creep, but it ended up being good in the end, didn't it?

After Marinette and Adrien transform into Ladybug and Cat Noir respectively, the Matagi Gozen clones start to track Felix through the scent of the aforementioned gadget. Right as Matagi Gozen finds Felix, Ladybug and Cat Noir arrive on the scene, giving Felix the chance to transform into Argos and escape with Kagami again.

Matagi Gozen: This is what heroes do? Not only did you help that monster escape, but now you're going to fight me? A mother trying to save her daughter?

Cat Noir: Hey, my lady. When you think about it, they're not wrong. We all want the same thing. If we let them save Kagami, we could seize the opportunity to get Felix's Miraculous back.

Ladybug: Too risky. They're under Monarch's influence.

Yeah, but you can't even try to negotiate a temporary alliance between Matagi Gozen? Yes, we know that she's working for Monarch, but the heroes don't know that. All we get is Ladybug asking Matagi Gozen to reject the Megakuma, and she goes back to fighting them. How interesting would it have been for Ladybug and Cat Noir to make an uneasy alliance with someone they don't know is working for Monarch?

After Cat Noir gets ignored during one of the few times he makes a decent point, he escapes to the sewer and detransforms, Matagi Gozen losing their scent trail. Matagi Gozen goes back to looking for Kagami, and decides to shoot her with some arrows tipped with Venom. Argos defends Kagami, and breaks up his fan to throw the pieces around and create multiple fake scent trails to throw off Matagi Gozen before detransforming. How Argos even came came up with this plan when I don't think he figured out Matagi Gozen could smell really good is anyone's guess.

As Kagami and Felix keep running away, Kagami asks the question I'm sure you've all been thinking.

Kagami: I don't understand. You have the Miraculous of the peacock, why don't you create a Sentimonster to get us out of here?

Felix: First of all, don't call them that.

Fine, “walking sin against nature” it is. Got anything else to say there, buddy? Maybe anything that isn't a half-assed speech meant to make the audience sympathize with you?

Felix: I refuse to create a being to manipulate them, control them, abuse them, and end up destroying them. When you bring a living being into this world, you have a responsibility towards them. Your duty is to protect them, love them, help them discover the true meaning of their existence. To deprive them of that... is monstrous.

Kagami: Are you talking about... yourself?

Felix: I'm talking about... us.

Come on dude! I said anything that isn't a half-assed speech meant to make the audience sympathize with you!

Okay, I've been putting this off long enough. Let's talk about Felix's ideology, his little speech, and, how it contradicts his previous appearances.

First off, for someone who refuses to create a Sentimonster to control and abuse, Felix had no trouble screwing around with Adrien in his first episode when his main goal was to get one of the rings from Gabriel. Hell, it makes even less sense why he'd keep that ring that we know can be used to control Adrien if his plan ultimately amounted to trading it away along with the fifteen Miraculous in Ladybug's possession.

Second, Felix literally created a Sentimonster to destroy humanity with just last episode, and he doesn't even mention that. Yeah, you can chalk it up to character development, but we don't even get a line about learning about the burden of ending a life you yourself created. It just feels like a way to make him seem more sympathetic after he went all “I'M THE GOD! I'M THE GOD!” last episode.

Third, and I'm just going to be honest about this, but why should I care about the life of a Sentimonster when the show has shown it doesn't care either? Ever since the end of Season 2, we've seen Sentimonsters be summoned and erased from existence left and right, and other than a single occasion (Ladybug), nobody has really brought up the fact that Sentimonsters are living beings too. Even putting that aside, most of the Sentimonsters we've seen have either been giant monsters, clones of other people, or mindless tools, none of which showed any desire to be alive other than to serve their purpose. It's only because Adrien, Felix, and now Kagami are revealed to be Sentimonsters that we should care about the ethics of summoning a Sentimonster in battle. Even in the last episode, Felix never brought up than Ladybug is essentially taking innocent lives whenever she de-evilizes an Amok.

And finally, the fact that this speech was used to set up a romance between Felix and Kagami, not because he saw a kindred spirit in her, but rather, because he believes that she's a Sentimonster too. You know that episode of South Park where Cartman tried to set up Token with a new girl, where the entire joke was that it was because Cartman believed that black people can only date other black people? This is basically that story with none of the irony. The episode seriously treats Felix taking an interest in Kagami specifically on the basis that she may be the same kind of artificial creation as him, as if he isn't capable of relating to anyone who also has to deal with abusive parents and isn't a Sentimonster. On a completely unrelated note, isn't it funny how out of the four rich kids with abusive or neglectful parents, Chloe is the only one who isn't a Sentimonster and is the least sympathetic?

Ladybug (having gotten a pair of scissors from activating her Lucky Charm offscreen) and Cat Noir try to stop Felix, but after a single speech from him, Kagami is now completely on his side for some reason.

Kagami: Felix is not your enemy! He's like me! He doesn't know how to express himself. Everyone is wrong about him! Including me.

Funny, I don't seem to remember you dooming all of Paris by giving over a dozen magical artifacts to a supervillain. Also, speaking from someone who struggles to socialize in real life, I can confirm that social awkwardness isn't really an excuse to kidnap someone. Just remember what happened in Misery.

Ladybug realizes that Felix and Kagami are vital to her Lucky Charm working, she decides to trust Felix. Felix then transforms into Argos and immediately escapes without contributing to the plan, while Kagami uses the scissors to cut the string of Matagi Gozen's bow after Ladybug and Cat Noir restrain the Akuma.

Ladybug then de-evilizes the Megakuma, uses Miraculous Ladybug to fix the damage caused by the fight, gives Tomoe yet another useless Magical Charm after the last useless one broke because it was completely useless, and Argos once got away without facing any consequences for his actions.

Afterwards, Kagami tries to stand up to Tomoe, but she orders her to hand over her ring containing her Amok—I mean, her ring that has absolutely no control over her, and is part of this thrilling mystery. Adrien also tries to stand up for Marinette, and Gabriel tells him to enjoy her time with Marinette... before saying he's moving to London next year. This is supposed to be a dick move, but with how often Adrien gets caught in the crossfire of Akuma attacks, with or without the mask, this is arguably the smartest thing Gabriel has done for the past five seasons. Adrien chooses not to tell Marinette about London, because I guess all that whining about hating secrets only mattered when someone else was withholding information from him.

The episode ends with Felix revealing that the ring Kagami gave her mother was a fake. Of course, this makes no sense because not only did we never see Felix steal the ring from Kagami, but Tomoe has a mental connection to Kagami, she should notice the ring is a fake. Also, you know how Kagami's arc so far has been a mixture of finding independence from her controlling mother while coming to terms with her breakup with Adrien? Get ready for all of that to be thrown out the window, because the writers are desperate to make him look good, Felix is now the one to save her from her mother and give her independence back, while also hinting at a relationship starting between the two. I'd say this episode fumbled the landing, but I haven't even gotten to the season finale yet.

This episode started out pretty poorly, and quickly went downhill afterwards. The idea of explaining why Gabriel's Cataclysm wound can't be healed was convoluted, Felix continues to be unlikable, Tomoe once again shows how terrible of an antagonist she is.

I'll admit, the chemistry between Marinette and Adrien was decent, but it's far too late to really establish a proper rivalry between her and Gabriel more than halfway through the fifth season, especially while discussing fashion when it's only been used to justify plots where she tries to make stuff for Adrien. The writers had plenty of time, yet rather than build up tension between the main hero and main villain, they decided we needed more episodes revolving around Chloe, Lila, and Felix.

Speaking of, Felix once again shows how poorly written he is. He was the one to instigate the conflict, it wasn't established if he even had a plan on what to do once he gets away with Kagami, and if anything, only made things worse because of his refusal to surrender, much less acknowledge his fault in this situation when the Akuma chasing after him is only as powerful as she is now because he gave his evil uncle multiple Miraculous to use for his Akumas. But no, he has to be the one to wreck Kagami's character arc and be the one to try and liberate her from Tomoe's influence because he's a good guy now! It says a lot when Cat Noir is the only one who still isn't trusting Felix at this point.

While it's nowhere near as bad as “Emotion”, this was still a really bad episode to follow up on.

THE BIGGEST IDIOT OF THE EPISODE IS...TOMOE

While Felix came dangerously close to winning the award, he at least showed more restraint here, and was able to throw off both Matagi Gozen a few times. Tomoe, on the other hand, got nothing to show any real intelligence, and if anything, proved she was just as incompetent as Gabriel is. She chose to nag Gabriel while he was suffering from the effects of his fatal wound, decided to akumatize herself instead of even considering contacting the cops to stop a single kidnapping, while ironically drawing more attention to herself in her attempt to save Kagami and stop Felix, decided to try shooting her daughter instead of the one who abducted her, and didn't even realize the ring capable of controlling her daughter was replaced by a fake when she should obviously be able to sense something.

[vasyandii]

how'd your art get to where it is now? as in, how did you learn? do you have any tips?

Howdy Anon! Thank you for the ask :) I've been drawing since I was 9-10, so I've learned a few things and done a few things! I'll try to condense it down as much as I can!

How I learned to draw (In no particular order)

1.) Speedpaints

I watched a lot of speed paints, a lot. Any style that I found appealing I would just watch for hours on end to see how those artists applied their techniques in practice. ((I also watched a lot of sketchbook tours and animation short films))

2.) Imitation

I would try my best to imitate the art styles I liked at the time, I wouldn't post the art, obviously but it was good practice that I sought out.

3.) Consistency

Drawing is one of the easiest things to get into, you can draw on any surface as long as your medium can leave marks, and if you mess up? You just throw away the paper and start again. I drew whenever I felt like it and it really helped :)

4.) Art Books/Tutorials

It ultimately depends on what style you wish to have, I usually strive between the line of Cartoon/semi-realism so I recommend Books like Morpho and Websites like Lineofaction.com :)

Art (Not really art) Tips!

1.) Supplies ≠ Skill

Understand that your art supplies/program does not equate to your abilities as an artist. You can spend a million dollars on the best supplies and equipment, but it won't be worth shit if you don't have the technical skills to use them. Upgrade gradually as you go.

2.) DON'T FORCE YOURSELF TO DRAW!!

A lot of artists struggle with Executive dysfunction and Art block. Just like exercise, your mind needs rest and recovery! If you don't let it, you'll further strain that muscle! Watch your favourite shows, eat good food (this also applies to foods that make you FEEL GOOD!)

3.) Don't complain

This is just a personal tip xD You don't draw because it's easy, you draw because it's hard. Don't complain about having Art Block.

I'm not saying you shouldn't ever be capable of having a creative block, I'm aware there's going to be periods of time where you can't seem to get your art right. But you shouldn't complain about your body signaling you to take a break or how your art "sucks".

Creating art to me is like a workout (for your brain and hands), so when I hear someone complaining about having Art block I hear the artist equivalent of "UGHHH I hate the gym, I wanna work out but I caaaan't I could neeever exercise."

4.) "Just Practice lol" is bullshit.

I hate this response, really. It's an "easy way out" half-assed answer that doesn't help artists that start out. While consistency is key, You can draw and "practice" your fundamentals as much as you want, but you wont improve as much as you would when you draw the things that YOU enjoy. Once you do that, the improvement comes naturally.

You like drawing faces? You start learning how to make your faces look better. You like drawing clothes? You leave to improve in drawing clothes. And so on.

You need to ACTIVELY SEEK it out yk

5.) Growth is never Exponential.

Never EVER be afraid that your art "doesn't look as good as it did" the last time you drew, you just got back from your break, ease into it! You need to roll with the punches, and try your best to fight back!

Hope this helps! I'm not sure how helpful this advice is, since I'm not a professional artist, but these are what work for me :D