One-Shot Fanfic Imagines

44th (LUKA DONČIĆ)

>Another one for the 'reader is an artist' and this one is when the reader decides to finally paint a portrait of her boyfriend, Luka, on a blank canvas

>Was totally inspired to write this after listening to Miley Cyrus' Adore You on freakin repeat

WARNINGS: brief mentions of nudity and nude painting

~~~

"Why won't you do a naked one?"

You glared at the man standing beside you, a smirk creeping up to your lips. Though his suggestion was rather scandalous and tempting, you wanted to reserve that notion for another day.

"I never said I don't want to," you sighed under a playful note, and Luka understood as he smirked down to you. "And though I have drawn you for god knows how many times, I wanna immortalize you as you are at this moment inside this canvas."

He pushed his lower lips out in a kiddish pout, letting out an 'aww' after. You quirked your brow to him while you sat down on the director's chair, telling him to take a seat on the high stool you arranged near the window frame by the cute pot of spider plants. You had the windows open, and it was the time of the day when the sun's light was tame yet still shone the brightest. You wanted to capture this moment, but mostly him, in the most beautiful way possible that could do utter justice to the beauty that is the man himself.

Who was also your greatest muse.

"Is this alright?" His voice pulled you out of the trance, smile so big it made his green eyes prance in deep magnitude of hues under the soft rays of light from the ajar windows.

Luka moved and settled one foot down the floor, with the other bent and placed on the lower brace of the stool. His body was slightly facing sideways from where you were, but his face was tilted fully to you. Though that would be nice to look at, you wanted him to look a little more sentimental.

Grabbing your bigger brush, you carefully dipped it on the white paint on the table beside you and you stroke huge lengths and evened it out along the edges of the canvas. You thought of many ways how to portray your man in your art, and you turned your head to look back at his expectant face.

"Look out the window," you mused, "just a little bit. As if...you're seeing something that gives you sense of joy and serenity. Like you're seeing home."

"You mean like I'm looking at you?" Luka countered, beaming a lovesick smile.

He's gonna be the death of you. But he was, at the same time, the life that bloomed your heart with that same sense of 'home.' And it was the ultimate paradox of his existence in the grand scheme of your being.

You chuckled, taking your sharpened pencil as you started to draw soft outlines of the background around him, leaving out some spaces to fill his tall figure in for later. Luka laughed a little, too. Even if he didn't want to look away from your face, watching how every now and then you'd gaze over the outstretched window and to the pots and to the green trees out, your eyes would unmistakenly trail to his own. He loved how you looked away, like how you did in your first date. He loved how things between you two never changed.

As you finished the outlines, and the mere shadow of Luka's figure along the center of your canvas came to life, your eyes fluttered back to him. The board hid half of your face, your orbs only visible to Luka. You arched your brow toward him again, motioning him to turn his head to pretend seeing something interesting outside, and he did as you bid. It made you smile. His face slackened to a peaceful countenance. The juxtaposition of dark and light casted on his visage. His skin almost looked like it absorbed the gentle rays of the sun; his hair was shining in golden brown, eyes burning brighter than they ever had. The sight itself was already art in the best way.

"Stay that way, babe." You said, finally. "You're perfect."

You took a thinner brush and dipped the hair on your chosen color, brushing fine strokes that slowly materialized Luka's face. You liked what he chose to wear for your painting of him. Plain white tees; round collared, and a pair of dark blue rugged denim jeans. He decided it's better to go bare footed, and to be honest, he was right. He looked home-y, the boy-next-door type of style.

Minutes turned to hours, and the outlines of the pencil became solid, vibrant, and realistic shapes and a wholesome image. The dirty white drapes by the window pane, the plants, the scenery outside, the hardwood floors, couple of flower paintings you made yourself some months ago hanging just beside the window frame, and your muse as the star of them all.

You paused first, staring at him. "Water break? I'm afraid you've been sitting for nearly three hours, you must be exhausted."

He shook his head. "Not at all. But okay, break it is." A sheepish smile appeared as he stood and walked closer to where you were. "Can I see?"

"Nah-uh," you chuckled, handing out a water bottle to him, "you can see it later when it's done. Maybe then after framing it, you'll get to decide where you hang it up."

He nodded, taking the bottle from you. Luka's eyes strayed around, an effort to keep his eyes from peaking. "Do I at least look good?"

"You always do, babe." You winked. "But you look extra warm and soft and cuddly and handsome here, I promise."

"Fine, fine," he laughed a little, walking back to his spot after downing a meager of water and placing the bottle on your table. "Enough with the flaterring. But thank you, nonetheless."

You laughed aloud. How he always dodged compliments had you bedazzled of him further. He was never too proud, even with his obviously gorgeous looks, but perhaps aware enough to be assured of himself and his beauty.

You immediately went back to work, and Luka retained his former position, as if he never left the place only seconds ago. You added more colors down his limbs, and you paid more attention on the way his jeans curled, the material tight and carelessly encaging his ankles. Next were his feet. Albeit pale, his toes and heels were adorably pink-ish. His nails were cute, too. You always told him it was the cutest part of his body aside from his ears.

Another hour later, you were almost done. You added more finishing touches, multiplying the depth of the rays of light through his shirt, tips of his hair, the glow in his irises, the faint flexing of muscles on his arms, the small twitch of content on his lips, and the glow on his complexion.

You stared at the canvas, it took you at least four hours and twenty-ish minutes to finish the art, slightly faster than you did with your other pieces. Well, it was different this time. You had been specially motivated with your subject, most especially when he's already walking towards where you sat.

Luka gasped as soon as he laid eyes on the portrait. His own eyes, though more jubilant and full of life than his real ones, breathtakingly mirrored what he just did for the last five hours. It was a facsimile of his existence, the absolute moment of his state of being captured on a painting canvas.

He was looking back at his own image, and he felt like he was the equivalent ersatz of himself even if he was the one breathing. His eyes moved to look at you, lips parted in amusement.

"It's beautiful," he smiled, "thank you, baby."

"You're welcome," you cooed, smiling up to him, "and you're beautiful."

Luka reached his hand out, briefly touching the canvas. "It looks so real. Your talent is amazing. I can't believe I will forever be inside an art piece."

"Well, you best believe it," you bit your lip, "because after we frame this beaut, we're gonna be working on nude ones."