Smile Graphic Novels & Stories

I looked back trying to act like I was avoiding him but the smile still creeps me out. "Why are you smiling? It's creepy so stop it." I said, trying to avoid him. He's been smiling ever since we left the hospital. It's just creepy seeing a smile from him. That rarely happens when he is around me. It was either a smirk or a stupid grin saying he proved me wrong. I hate that stupid grin.

Amber What kind of smile would I wear for my mugshot? I’d been asking myself that for the past thirty seconds ever since Evalie opened her little mouth and let a nuclear bomb drop on my sanity. Would it be a crazed, Joker-like grin? Teeth bared, eyes wide, insanity seeping through the cracks? Or maybe a dead-eyed smirk, cold and distant, the kind of smile you wear when your soul's been flattened by bullshit so often, it’s just muscle memory now.

, he asked. Immediately after he asked, my stomach growled in response before I could say anything, and that made Alexander smile. It was not a smirk, a mocking smile, a sinister smile, or an I-know-it-all smile. It was a genuine, heartwarming smile. He found my stomach growl funny, while I found it embarrassing. The smile faded in less than fifteen seconds, but at least there was progress. He had not held back from smiling, trying to press his lips together even when they tried to curl up, like he had done before. He did not maintain a straight and expressionless face like he normally did, or smirk like he was my evil superior who found more ways to demean me. So, yes, I liked that he smile

For Stephanie, that smile was a silent message amid the ordinary rhythm of office life. After this encounter, Stephanie felt as if time had slowed. She returned to her work, her heart beating in quiet celebration. She thought back to the smile over and over. It was a signal that spoke to her in a language beyond words. Even if it lasted only a moment, it made her believe that somewhere beneath his professional exterior lay a softer side.

Don’t forget milk on the way home. I smiled despite myself. A second text came through. Ella’s mom says thank you again for helping fix their mailbox. That smile lingered for another second before I shoved the phone back into my locker. It was ridiculous how seeing Ella’s name—even in a text from my mom—could improve my mood. “Look who finally learned to smile.” Sean dropped onto the bench beside me, already dressed for practice. “I smile.” “You used to smirk.” “Same thing.” “No.” He shook his head. “Smirks are annoying. Smiles mean Ella.”

“Up to how many levels?” Smart and Smiley surprisingly so engaging in awe. “Only up to 30% and I am ashamed.” Orange’s face flushed with pity. “Why should you?” Smiley was tiny, a bit frowning under his mask. “For a matter of fact, it’s powerful enough.” “Enough to buy time in case of emergency.” Sleepy that stayed silent from the start had to open his mouth to acknowledge and validate his power, admiring the man. Orange reflexively scratched his head, unable to react properly at the sudden compliment that he least expected.

I uttered, lifting my gaze back at her. Her eyes were dimmed and fixed directly at my mouth. She pointed at it and said, "It doesn't suit you, one bit." "Really?" I chuckled, finding her words funny. "Yeah. You look weird when you grin. Maybe a smirk would be better, not a smile, " She advised. I found myself cackling at her words. It was just hilarious. Maybe it's because of the completed work that's why I'm feeling so jovial today. "Tell me, what do you want me to get for you? " I asked both Brielle and Tania.

I can't breathe. A hidden platform beneath the stage slowly lifts her up, like a corpse rising from the dead. And when she sees me, she smiles. Shit. That smile. It’s not just any smile; it’s the kind that takes your breath away, leaving you frozen in place. Her lips curve upward in a way that feels both intimate and electrifying, like a secret only we share. It’s a smile that reaches her eyes, making them sparkle with a mischievous glint, as if she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

Slim I stared down at her, waiting for her to speak. Her eyes widened just a bit, and I knew I caught her off-guard. But as she laughed, I raised an eyebrow. "That," she paused to laugh. "That was smooth," she said, pulling away from me as she laughed. I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back against the railing, waiting for her to sober up. As untimely as this was, it amused me how she could laugh in serious situations. It seemed like the only time she was genuinely happy.

Habitually, my gaze was drawn to the painting on the wall, just as it was every night. The painting of Neil still shone with that radiant smile, as if, in the quiet of the night, he were softly speaking to me. I stared into his eyes; his smile, so pure and sincere, only deepened the ache in my heart. The painting was something I had commissioned specifically, investing a great deal of time and thought to ensure the artist captured Neil’s most genuine essence. In the painting, Neil’s smile is unguarded, his eyes clear and sparkling like morning dew. His brows are slightly arched, and his lips are gently curved. I remember this expression vividly; it was from a sunny afternoon when he was hold