Just a random artist who loves fictional characters and draws self-shipping art! Mareen / 21 / she/her https://mareensships.carrd.co/ Tag for all self-insert art: #moonsinorbit
Tried posting this on the 21st, but I kept getting an error. I had to draw her quickly since it was a last-minute idea, too! Since we share a birthday, it also means I turn 20, wacky!
VA: Maaya Sakamoto (Kaguya Hayashi from Fune wo Ame)
Decided to make an icon card for her! I'm really happy with how it turned out. Thought I'd share the video and the picture itself (hoping it's not blurry).
Eventually, I'll make her full character card, but that's going to take a while. Designing clothes is hard for me! Maybe I'll even drop some lore about her, but maybe not, we'll see!
Looks like these little prompts will continue into next month. I'm very slow and keep jumping around projects I have. I'm still excited to work on these and still have a lot of fun doing so!
It's been a while since I posted anything. Here's my comeback with what I call "Fluff February" (I'm sure someone has already said this) featuring my new s/i, Yumiko, and D.iluc from Gen.shin Im.pact!
Day 1: Kiss on the cheek
I'm planning to post 28 of these drawings. I'll draw a simple and cute art style and then my regular art style. It won't be every day though since I'm already behind, but I'll try my best!
Summary: Osamu has some important news to share with his friends and it results in group tears and a group hug
Word count: 1.3k
Genre: fluff; reader is referred to as she/her; Inarizaki things
There’s a rare delicateness in the air after you’ve closed the door. Osamu’s friends had picked up on his apprehension, waiting with bated breath when he whispered ‘I have something to tell ya guys’ the first time you disappeared from the kitchen to grab your bag and now that you’ve closed the door and officially left the apartment, everyone waits impatiently.
Atsumu taps his feet, antsy, and Suna cannot help but close and reopen apps aimlessly on his phone. Kita, whose idle hands are usually disciplined, rip napkins to even pieces and Aran has resorted to pacing the living room.
Osamu steps out of his slippers and slides down the wooden flooring with socked feet and stealth. He places a careful hand to the doorframe to stabilize himself and tilts to the side. One index finger pulls a singular blind down that has Atsumu counting seconds. It’s not until he gets to eight does Osamu turn around with a breath of relief.
“Alright,” he heaves, and just that breath balances the heavy pressure in the air, “she’s gone.”
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Atsumu starts muttering under his breath. He begins pacing with Aran, hands on his hips and eyes downward. Osamu wants to tell him to calm down but even he can’t steady the beating in his heart.
“I can’t take this!” Aran’s the first to break, lashing out. “Come on now. Out with what ya got to say.”
Kita takes a calm hand and grabs his old friend’s wrist. The simple touch calms Aran down, but with the words out in the air, Osamu’s garnered everyone’s rapt attention.
“Spill when ya ready,” Kita offers, “but just know ya driving us crazy.” Then he nudges Suna with his foot, “Keep 119 ready. I feel like Tsumu’s seconds away from passing out.”
Suna grunts in accord, nimble fingers tapping the screen while eyes follow Atsumu who is no longer contained in the living room, venturing the whole perimeter of Osamu’s apartment, mutterings trailing behind him.
Osamu walks back to the kitchen, bracing his hands on the edge of the island before bending his elbows and leaning down on it. The cold stone is hard against his belly and so he stands, crossing his arms across his chest. Nothing feels comfortable.
“You’re making me anxious,” Suna shifts in his seat.
“Fuck, sorry, shit,” Osamu says, using his foot to slide his joggers down. “I’m nervous because fuck, when I say it, it’s gonna be real.”
Atsumu’s done a full round and he’s back in the kitchen. Osamu takes one final breath and he glances at the friends that have gathered at his table, the ones he knows he wants by his side now and forever.
Suna still has his phone in his hands, obviously peeved even if he’s doing his best to remain expressionless. Kita is seated next to him and he’s taken to tracing the condensation on his glass. Aran is statuesque beside them, standing with his arms crossed, head down, and eyes closed. His jaw flexes at every breath and he sincerely looks like he might explode from anticipation. Lastly, he meets his brother’s eyes. They’re expectant and Osamu can assume he already knows what he’s going to say, gaze glassy and ready. Before Atsumu can escape to pacing again, he pulls his brother to his side, an arm around his shoulder, strength renewed at Atsumu’s touch.
When the bones of their hips bump, Atsumu immediately stiffens at the feel of it. He looks at his brother, wide, golden eyes full of hope. They speak paragraphs in a single second glance, and with a nod, he fills the rest of his friends in.
Osamu reaches into his pocket and pulls out a velvet box. The pull is magnetic as he and all his friends lean over the table to gather a closer glimpse.
“I’m going to propose. She’s the love of my life and I can’t imagine a life without her,” Osamu murmurs. When he looks up, he finds out that diamonds aren’t the only things that glitter. Tears gather in his friend’s gazes. They build in his too. Love comes in various ways, he realizes, and he’s very lucky to experience it in all aspects of his life.
“Fuck, I knew it! I knew it!” Atsumu wails, clinging both arms around his brother’s neck and sobbing into his shoulder, “I just knew ya was gonna say something like this but dammit, I didn’t expect ya to have the ring already.”
Aran’s beside them, lips in a trembling line, doing his best to withhold his outburst and be the rock he’s always been all their lives. He rubs a hand up and down Atsumu’s back. “Calm yaself. This is ya brother’s moment. It ain’t yours.”
Atsumu turns to cry into their childhood friend’s chest, “I’m just so happy. They’re perfect for each other.”
“I know,” Aran agrees. Osamu meets his gaze, “we knew the moment ya two met. Ya two are good for each other.”
“Stop, ya guys are making me emotional.” Osamu catches a tear with his index finger, but breaks when Aran’s finally slips past his lash line.
“Damn it” Aran warbles, “thought I could hold it in.”
“Keep going,” Suna stands so he has a better view, veering his camera over the fruit bowl in the middle of the table and zooming in on Atsumu’s pink face, “this is perfect content right here.”
“Turn that camera around!” Atsumu berates though it’s muffled by Aran’s chest, “I know ya crying over there, too!”
“We all are. Ain’t no reason to be ashamed,” Kita says calmly. He moves to Osamu’s side and grips his shoulder. Maybe it’s the recognition from his captain that has another fat tear running down Osamu’s cheek. He looks down at the box in the restauranteur’s hand, “ya made a good choice. Rock and partner.”
“Yeah?” Osamu asks.
Kita chuckles quietly, “ya second guessing now?”
“Not even,” Osamu shakes his head, “I’ve never been more sure in my life.”
“Good.”
They’re too caught up in the moment that they register you opening the door way too late. Five pairs of teary eyes look at you, growing wide with what you assume is embarrassment.
“I forgot my wallet. Am I–” the incredulity of the situation interrupts you. Atsumu’s a mess and Osamu’s shuffling in his spot, ducking his head down as Kita stands in front of him. “–am I interrupting something?”
“No, not at all,” Kita says.
“Are you sure? You guys are crying.”
“Osamu was cutting onions,” Suna answers coolly, dropping his phone back into his jacket pocket.
You give him a perplexed expression and take tentative steps into the kitchen. Osamu pops back up with eyes rimmed with red.
“Where are the onions?” you direct the question to your boyfriend. With how weird all his friends are acting, his answer is the only one you trust.
“Threw them away,” Suna replies quickly.
“What?” you glance around now but it seems none of the boys can meet your eyes. “Why would you do that?”
You reach for Osamu’s face. His hand meets you halfway, placing it on his chest, “was making us cry too much.”
“In this economy?”
“In this economy?” Atsumu repeats, your words prompting more tears to fall. He latches onto you, your shoulder quickly going damp from his hot breath, “God, ya so stupid. I love ya.”
“What the–?”
You can’t even finish your sentence when Aran pulls all three of you in. Kita joins and now you’re flush against Osamu’s chest. It’s muggy and none of them can stop sniffling. Suna finally completes the group hug and the group of you simply stand there in the kitchen.
You look up at Osamu, helpless and in need of answers. He simply replies with a quiet, lovesick smile. You notice then, that even he, the experienced chef he is, the one that brags about how he’s immune to the power of onions, has tears pooling in his eyes.
“Let ‘em be,” he places a tender kiss to your temple, “just wanna show ya that we love ya.”
Imagine a ballroom setting and seeing your F/O through the crowd. When they spot you, they smile at the sight of you and start making their way through the throngs of people. Are they walking slow, reveling in the buildup of tension before they finally reach you? Or are they nearly running towards you, foregoing propriety in order to reach you faster? Or are you the one making your way to them?
When they do reach you, they hold out their hand and ask you dance with them. (If you approached them, you do this)
If you accept, you spend the evening in each other’s arms, dancing with eyes only for the one you love.
If you don’t (i.e. you’re not one for ballroom dancing or you can’t dance for whatever reason), perhaps a stroll through the nearby gardens under the moonlight?
Either way, your F/O wants to spend the entire evening by your side.
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