Levi Ackerman Drawings Novels & Stories

he stared deeply into my eyes. "But everything you said about having feelings for me was a mistake?" "And it was the most hateful lie I've said," he interjected with a look of disgust on his face. "I'm truly obsessively drawn to you, Amara Lively." He extended a hand to my face and gently moved a lock of hair, placing it behind my right ear. He then spun around and turned his back towards me.

Levi’s tone was thick with pride, and I had to fight to keep from beaming like a fool. “Yep! I’m good at drawing too! And I can sing and dance!” Lebi added, puffing out his chest. I let out a quiet laugh. “Is that right? You take after your Daddy, then.” I snuck a glance at Levi, my heart skipping. His gaze stayed on the road, but joy was etched into every line of his face. I’d had no idea Levi could draw—but I did know he could sing and dance. I’d seen it myself, back in the day.

Hell if I know. “Jeez” I muttered to myself as I came in for a closer look, too afraid to touch any of the electronics I found myself peeking at the balled-up pile of papers instead. Sketches? I thought as I eyed the delicate lines that made up the outline of an oval shaped face. Huh! so Levi was an artist?

She raised a brow at him. “Can you even draw?” Levi puffed his chest and gave a dramatic shrug. “Of course. I can draw... definitely,” he added, his voice full of playful pride. “Okay then, artist Alpha.” She sat up straight, fixing her hair behind her ears, ready to be his muse. Levi placed the sketchbook on his lap, picked up the pencil. “No peeking. I mean it.” He said. She almost laughed. “I won’t look, I promise.”

"What do you have there, big boy?" "It’s my rocket ship!" Leo shouted proudly, holding the paper up high for everyone to see. He had used thick, bright wax crayons to draw a massive, clumsy red triangle with yellow fire coming out of the bottom. Right next to the rocket, there were two small stick figures drawn in black ink, holding hands. "This is me, and this is Mila. We are flying away from the mean boys." Julian walked over, his heavy boots sounding soft against the carpet as he dropped down to his knees next to his family. He reached out, his large hand gently patting Leo’s dark curls. "It looks amazing, Leo. You drew the lines very straight."

One section of the old stone wall had been carefully pulled back, revealing a narrow alcove lurking behind beams and old insulation, as if it had been waiting years for discovery. On a small ledge in the stone sat a weathered tin box, its edges rusty and its lid slightly warped with age. Adrian reached for it slowly, with reverence. Inside, they found a faded bundle of photographs, a time-worn rosary, and a single piece of yellowed paper—an almost-torn child’s drawing. He froze. “I drew this,” he said, his voice distant. “I must have been…five? Maybe six.” Leila leaned in closer. “What is it?”

I was crying over a sketch when Lucien found me. It was past midnight. The building was empty except for security and the cleaning crew. I'd been working on collection details, refining pieces, making sure every element was perfect. Then I'd drawn something without thinking. A small jacket with origami folds, perfectly proportioned for a child. Maybe age five or six. The same age as Leo.

There were many things that were going to be said but I was going to wait first. I pulled out the drawing book from where it was hanging out and began to go through it. Alec was really talented when it came to drawing. No wonder he and my brother clicked. I knew they share the things they drew with each other but this was the first time I will seeing this drawing book. This particular one. It was the regular one he carried around.

Kennedy looked like she finally exhaled. Upstairs, they changed into soft cotton clothes and cracked the window open to let in the evening breeze. Alecia unrolled her sketchbook and set up ink beside it. She began drawing temple rooftops in warm reds and golds. Kennedy watched her from across the room, then picked up another brush and began outlining maple leaves as that was the only thing she could sketch. She didn't want to feel left out. For a while, they sat shoulder to shoulder, sharing ink and space without conversation.

Still, she could not stop looking toward it. At almost the same hour Leo sat cross legged on his bedroom floor working on his own picture. He drew Seraphina first. That part came easily. Then himself beside her.He hesitated longer after that. The third figure remained blank for several minutes. Finally, he drew a tall man.No face. Only height. Broad shoulders.One hand extended.Then he added something near the shoulder. A small star.Leo looked at it. He touched the mark unconsciously through his shirt. “Who are you?” he asked quietly.No answer came.