Sketches Naruto Novels & Stories

Suddenly she was aware of everything—the sound of the tea being poured, the rustle of his jacket as he leaned forward, the quiet between sentences that never felt awkward. They talked easily while they ate. Kyoto’s quiet corners, the structure of old rooftops, the way her sketches caught stillness. Satoshi told them about his work as a local photographer. His focus, he said, had always been on silence more than spectacle. When Alecia mentioned sketching temples in her notebook, he reached into his pocket and unfolded a small white paper crane. He placed it in her palm, explaining that he’d folded it earlier that morning, on a walk.

Maybe years. And then I see the drawings. Taped to the walls, scattered across tables, covering nearly every surface I can see. Sketches in charcoal and pencil, some detailed and finished, most of them half-done like he started and couldn’t bring himself to continue. All of them are the same person. A girl. Young, fourteen or fifteen maybe, with long dark hair and this smile that looks like it could light up an entire room. In some of the drawings she’s laughing at something off the page. In others she’s concentrating hard, her tongue stuck between her teeth the way kids do when they’re focused.

I sketched that at least a couple of weeks before Orlando got the call about his father. "Oh, I must see the others," Charles says. "I'd love it if you could send them to me." "I actually have my sketchbook right here," I admit, tentatively reaching into my bag. "But I'll warn you again - they're nothing special. Just little things I did for fun." I flip through my notebook until I find one of my other pictures of Orlando. I didn't know how to draw him as a sexy alpha wolf, so instead, I sketched him morphing from a man into a half-man, half-wolf, werecreature.

We watch and take notes like the rest of the class, until Tyler decides he’s over it. He nudges my arm lightly. I glance at him. “What?” Looking pretty proud of himself, he tilts his notebook slightly toward me. Instead of notes, there’s a badly drawn sketch of two stick figures. One is labeled You, and the other is labeled Me. The “me” stick figure is significantly taller. I bite down on a smile. “Don’t quit your day job, Brooks.” He grins, completely unbothered, and adds a tiny heart between them.

Useful. When I finished the sketch, I sat back and stared at it. Natalie looked back at me, soft and beautiful, caught in stillness forever. Just like Damon wanted her. I swallowed hard. The sharp edge of jealousy pressed against my ribs again, but I refused to let it take me under. No tears. Not ever again. I reached for a second sheet of parchment. This one was for me. The plan poured out in clipped, ruthless lines. No flowery language. No sentiment.

he declared triumphantly. Sharon caught the sketch book, her heart leaping when he cautioned her what she'd find inside. Every single page held a group of wolves, some hurried sketches done apparently in a rush, as though he couldn't get the image from his mind and onto paper quick enough. Other sketches were more precise than she would have imagined—hulking, sharp-eyed, living in a manner that made it harder to breathe. She gazed down at Alexander, displaying the sketchbook, "You're a wolf fan, huh?"

And I know that he wouldn't betray me. I push the thought away and grab a sketchbook from my bag. I get another cup of coffee and start sketching on the big book. Lately, my fingers have been itching to sketch crop tops and miniskirts. Ideas are burning in my head and I'm pouring all of them into this book. I don't even notice when someone sits on my table and calls my name. I look up to see Nate. "Hey!" I say in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

I’d never finished it, never showed him. My pencil moved faster, shading the muscles on his chest, the V dipping into his pants. My mind wandered to what his cock would look like hard, thick and ready for me. I lost track of time, the condo quiet except for the shower running earlier. When it stopped I kept drawing, adding more detail to his hips, imagining gripping them while he thrust into me deep and rough. I looked up from the sketchbook and realized Nate was standing there in the doorway, towel around his waist, water still dripping down his chest. His eyes were locked on the page in my lap, the drawing of him I was never supposed to finish.

Chloe burst out, excited as she grabbed the magazine. Ethan chuckled. "Didn't quite fancy you as a nerd." "Me neither," Chloe said complacently. "We all know only nerds can spend ten dollars getting a five pages magazine only to find out bizarre challenges." "How many challenges have you done?" "None. Not since our parent's demise." She opened the front page and saw a cartooned picture of a ninja with purple eyes holding two long swords and wearing black cloaks. By her right-hand side, she could see a silver-haired man with a crown on his head, holding a green jewel in hand, and on the other side is a man in a hat, having a scarred face and stripes all over his neck.

Pulled out a sketchpad from his backpack and stared at the empty page, imagining what perfect autumn would be. The pencil might have heard its plea as his hand moved in its own accord in perfect harmony. One stroke after the other, the pen worked in a sweeping motion, playing along with Suho’s emotion. “Done.” Suho held the sketch up in the sky, praying that his plea be heard.