Blushing Drawing Novels & Stories

I answer him as I shove my makeup bag in my small duffle bag. “So, what did you want to give me?” he asks, and I blush for no apparent reason. He makes me blush a lot. “It’s nothing special really… I just know how much you love Thor, so I thought maybe you’d prefer something related to him. I’m not really the best at drawing, so you may notice a few mistakes here and there…” I’m rambling and I’m suddenly so nervous.

Just thinking of his face made Lihus blush. While lost in her own daydreaming, she didn't realize and felt that someone was staring at her in the hallway. His pair of green eyes full of admiration as he was watching the girl's red face, "Is she blushing?" he thought to himself. Just thinking of the fact that someone is making her blush made his blood boil, he is the only one who has the right to make her blush.

His face is emotionless, and you can't guess his thoughts. I quickly removed my eyes away from him when he glanced at me and resumed my drawing. I glanced at James, and he smiled when he caught me glancing at him. I blushed and quickly removed my eyes away from him. I thought I would struggle painting in James's presence, but I was wrong. I draw smoothly, and the only thing that gives me a creep is the burning eyes of James's Assistant. I caught him looking at me many times when he thought I wasn't looking but moved his eyes away when I looked at him, and I wondered why he kept looking at me.

A white rose lay on the floor dripping with blood. A small, shiny blade lay beside it. A beautiful object in such a terrible and painful condition. The blood stain on it did not hide it's immaculate and beautiful nature. She puffed smoke in the air and took a sip of the liquor beside her, as she glared at the bleeding rose with sad and anguish filled eyes, it told a lot about her and her agony. She was as beautiful as the rose in front of her.

She huffed out a sigh as she reached out and the charcoal in her hand broke the deep silence in her studio as it scrapped against the canvas. Shina tilted her head to the side and nodded as she made a few more strokes and then passed her shading tool over the area to blur the edges of the image she had just created. She had made the stable image of a deer but it was looking down into a pool of water and now she was blurring the mirrored image she had created in the pool of water. She felt it would be a closer match to the other images she had submited and hoped they would just accept it and move on. She finished up and carefully covered the piece and put a sign up for her Agent to take the p

Simple and complex at the same time. Back in my room, I sat at my desk. The black-covered notebook was already open, a pencil beside it. I looked at the blank page for a few seconds and, without thinking too much, began to draw. The lines appeared almost by themselves. First, a feminine gaze, with long eyelashes. Then, the outline of a smiling mouth. My fingers kept moving, adding subtle details — a scarf over her shoulders, a book in her hands. It wasn't Giulia. Not exactly. But somehow, it seemed to have something of her in it.

When there were only a few pages left, the tone of my drawings changed. The objects and animals that I drew were not alone this time. I no longer drew a stormy or dark night, but a scenery with sunlight and good weather. The flower was accompanied by a dancing butterfly. The bear cub has found another little bear. The rabbit was happily nibbling on a carrot. Ah. This was the time when Layla and I started to be together. At the end of the page, I was surprised to find out an outline of a person's face. Since the sketchbook was old, the paper was slightly yellowed which affected the clarity of the drawing. I could barely see the outline.

Or maybe the wind had pushed them shut the way it sometimes did in this old house, as if even the weather understood shame. She sat cross-legged on the carpet in her room, an open sketchpad in her lap and charcoal dust on her fingertips. The page stared back at her, half-finished, like always. A single eye. A curl of hair. A mouth, slightly parted. The kind of face people might stop for. She always stopped before the rest of it came. Because she never knew how to draw the other side. Her hand paused near her cheek. The skin there always felt warmer. She didn’t need to look to know it was red today. It always flared up when she was nervous. Or sad. Or simply… breathing.

A gasp escaped my lips immediately as I saw what he had been busy with and I turned to look at him before facing the canvas again. On the canvas was a drawing of me and my wolf, my hand over her white fur, my hair, a mixture of brown and white flowing over my shoulders, touching her fur to make a combination. There was a look of intrigue on both our faces, as if we had seen something, as if we had seen the love of our lives standing somewhere close. “It's lovely.” I stammered, looking away as I could not bear to look any more without falling for the artist who had drawn it. “You just saw Lia once and you already know what she looked like.”

My whole body buzzed like I’d swallowed lightning. I could still see her face—Natalie’s face. Lila’s face. No. Not Lila. I began to sketch. The lines came fast at first—angled, angry strokes, more emotion than form. But as my hand steadied, the features took shape: the high cheekbones, the heart-shaped mouth, the sweep of dark lashes. The expression was serene. Regal. Infuriatingly familiar. Too familiar. My fingers smudged the charcoal to shade beneath her chin. I added the glint of moonlight to her hair, a suggestion of sapphire fabric around her shoulders. The more I drew, the colder I became. The heat of my earlier fury hardened into something sharper. Controlled. Useful.