Musical theatre one shots

Art project ~ JD x reader

 At the beginning of the year, you had an assignment to draw what you saw. Your main focus was your peers: the students of Westerburg. Your art teacher thought your artwork was gorgeous. She wanted to display some of your work in the annual art show, but you refused. You were ridiculed enough as is. You could practically hear the insults, feel the torment. You would lose any scrap of a social life you had. Maybe continuing the portraits of your peers after the class had ended wasn't the best idea. But, it gave you something to do seeing as you had no friends to talk to.

This particular day you were mildly distraught. Somehow, you've lost your sketchbook. The last you'd used it was during the past days lunch period, which you'd spent in the library. You got to school early, but your librarian said she'd found nothing. Same message in the office. Your entire day was spent stressing over your lost prized possession. Your eyes were downcast as you walked to the library. As you approached the doors, you saw a sign.

"'Library closed for the day'?" you groaned. This meant that you would have to spend lunch in your personal hell: The lunchroom. It isn't that it makes you an open target for ridicule, in all honesty, you usually would just blend in. The issue was the sheer magnitude of your peers. The lunchroom was crowded. It reeked of B.O.. And you had nowhere to sit. You hoped that no one would notice you. That they were too wrapped up in their own conversations to pay attention to you. You should've known better.

After a few minutes of searching for somewhere to take a seat, you settle on a mostly empty table in the back corner. You realised your mistake once the sight of a black trenchcoat enters your peripheral vision. You glance over to see none other than Jason Dean smiling at you.

"Greetings and salutations," he greets. Did I mention that the main subject of your artwork happened to be the very boy sitting next to you? Before you can get a word out, the malicious voice of Heather Chandler surrounds you.

"Hello, (Y/N), JD," You look over to the she-devil and her crew with fear in your eyes.

"What do you want Heather?" he asked sardonically.

"Well, Heather here was in the library for Yearbook and she found this!" Heather Mcnamara holds up a book of sorts. That's when you realise that it's your book. Your sketchbook. Your mouth drops open.

"And what exactly is that, Heather?" he rolls his eyes.

"See for yourself." My body freezes as she slides the sketchbook over to JD. He raises an eyebrow before flipping to one of the many pages of his portrait.

"I believe that belongs to (Y/N) here," Heather Duke says with and evil smirk. Jd turns to me with questioning eyes. I grab my bag and run.

Tears blur your vision as you come to a stop in an empty corridor. Pulling your knees to your chest, you let out a sob. By tomorrow, your drawings were bound to be all over school. You're so caught up in your emotions that you don't even hear the footsteps.

"I believe that this belongs to you," a deep voice says. Wiping the tears from your eyes, you look up to see JD holding your sketchbook out to you. Trepidatiously, you take your personal effect from his hands. You mumble a thank you as he takes a seat next to you on the floor.

"You're an amazing artist, by the way," he says

"I'm really sorry, I know that me drawing you in very creepy and I'll stop-" you're stumbling over your words as JD cuts you off.

"You're an amazing artist, I'm honored to be your model, babe," he said as he winked. You blushed at the pet name.

"So..." JD began

"What?" you questioned, still sniffling a little.

"You wanna get out of here?" he smirked. You answered not with words, but with a smile. You grabbed his outheld hand and did exactly as he suggested.