“Figure Study Sessions”
[rafayel x artist!reader x sylus fanfic]
Rafayel has an unconventional approach to figure drawing.
What begins as one awkward misunderstanding slowly turns into months of anatomy studies, shared sketchbooks, impossible poses, and two artists discovering that trust can be just as beautiful as technique.
Eventually, they realise they're missing one thing: another model.
Fortunately, Sylus has never been shy.
🖌️ Teen & Up Audiences ✧ Gen - F/M - M/M ✧ #non-sexual nudity #anatomy #artistic process #professionalism left the studio five minutes in #art nerds share one brain cell #everybody is flustered except sylus #dramatic rafayel #amused sylus #artist!reader is living the artist dream #they're trying so hard to be normal #no one can stop artists once they have an idea #sylus is treated like expensive reference material #rafayel thinks with his paintbrush #artist!reader thinks with charcoal #everyone keeps forgetting the models are naked #three glasses of wine solve everything #the red robe has lore #this started as figure drawing #it ended as a collection of feelings ✧ [6,898 words]
The new set of charcoal pencils she had ordered online had been delivered to her that morning, and she was so enthusiastic about it that she wanted to do the unboxing together with Rafayel. When she cut herself some free time the same afternoon, she headed to the MO Art Studio, her bag heavy with art materials strapped to her shoulder.
Rafayel had given her a copy of the keys because he was inclined to lose his own among his artistic disorder, and also to allow her to visit him even when he closed himself inside to avoid his manager's pressure more often than not.
That was why she hadn't texted him about her arrival, hoping to surprise him with her new purchase, and simply entered.
“Raf…?” She called him out from the entrance.
The odd silence made her frown, and she headed into the main room wondering if-
A loud gasp escaped from her lips as she came to a halt at the doorstep, heat rushing to her face.
The keys fell from her trembling fingers and clattered on the floor. Panic and embarrassment sent her heart into a frenzy. And instinctively she covered her eyes with one hand.
"Cutie-!?" Rafayel squeaked just as flustered as she was for having been caught in such a vulnerable moment.
"I- I saw nothing- I swear…"
She blurted out, but… she did see. More than she was supposed to.
Still, she wouldn't ever admit out loud that in her mind there was now the image of his naked body, pale skin dotted with moles, as he sat on a stool in front of a mirror.
No, she would pretend that it hadn’t ever happened.
“Do you have any idea how long it takes to hold that pose?” He sighed dramatically as he reached for the discarded robe -deep red, silky fabric that was almost too big on him and swallowed his whole figure.
The soft rustle of fabric as he tied the belt at his waist echoed through the studio before careful footsteps approached her.
Her eyes were still covered, but she could feel his presence coming to stand right in front of her.
“You interrupted my anatomy study.” He complained, his fingers brushing against her shoulder before taking off the heavy bag.
“...anatomy study?” She repeated, uncertain.
Rafayel hummed in confirmation and then he walked away from her, bringing the bag with him.
“You can uncover your pretty eyes now, cutie... I'm dressed.”
She hesitated a moment before peeking through her fingers and… he was technically covered by the robe, but she could still retort that the silky fabric was way too flimsy for her to forget the body underneath yet.
Blinking her eyes open, she watched Rafayel take a seat on the sofa and unzip her bag. A satisfied smile tugged at his lips when he immediately found her new purchase.
“Oh, you finally have these…” he marvelled at the simple but fine box, and studied the set of charcoal pencils with curiosity.
“Yeah, I came here to let you see them…” she murmured, finally stepping past the doorway. Still, she couldn't resist stealing a glance at the canvas put in the way between the mirror and the stool. Her cheeks were bright red as she admired the sketches of nudes he had made with a simple palette of blues and yellows.
“You hadn't ever told me... about your unconventional figure study methods.” She said, sheepish but genuinely fascinated by the way he had built muscles through shades of colours instead of harsh lines, portraying his own body as though it were seen through a wall of water. The soft gradients wrapped around the firm planes of his figure like light refracted beneath the sea, a subtle hint of his true nature.
Her words caught his attention, and Rafayel looked up at her, the box of charcoal pencils between his hands. He noticed her lingering in front of the canvas, and he smiled subtly.
“Well... my pearl is clever enough to understand the reason.” He shrugged nonchalantly. And she couldn't retort.
How could someone ever confess to standing naked in front of a mirror just to study anatomy and proportions without sounding like a voyeurist…? It was complicated to admit.
“Have you ever drawn nudes?”
His question made her turn towards him, and she nodded after a beat.
“I searched for photos online but-”
“-but a picture flattens the real physicality of a body.” He completed the sentence for her.
“Exactly…” she murmured under her breath, her gaze wandering back to the canvas.
Unconsciously, she bit the inside of her cheek when an idea crossed her mind. She didn’t know whether she had any right to ask. But maybe if she suggested a fair deal, he could agree.
“Would you…” she started, her fingers reaching for the hem of her shirt and fidgeting with it. “Would you mind if I joined you...?”
Rafayel blinked, stunned by the request, and tilted his head slightly.
His unusually silent reaction made her flush, and she immediately rushed for clarification. “For figure study, of course. But only if you-”
“You want me to model for you?” He questioned, gently cutting her panicked rumblings off.
“...and I can model for you too,” she offered in return.
That brought a pinkish shade of hue on his cheeks too.
Rafayel hesitated a moment, thinking about how intimate the mere idea of staying still in a pose for hours, completely bare for the other to study with careful attention, could be.
They were both artists, he trusted her to be professional during these sessions but… It genuinely surprised him that she was willing to trust him in return -to let him observe her with the same unwavering attention she would give him.
“Are you sure, my pearl?” He asked, wanting to be sure that she was fully convinced about this. Because having models could teach them a lot and improve their artworks, but he cared about her comfort above anything else.
She nodded in agreement, and the determination shining in her shy eyes made his heart skip a beat. Instead of teasing her for being so effortlessly cute like this, Rafayel grinned softly at her.
“Alright, then we have an agreement.” He accepted the deal and patted the empty spot beside him. “If we're doing this properly, we should plan our poses first. You bought those charcoal pencils to use them, didn't you?”
She smiled back at him and went to sit on the sofa next to him. Reaching for her bag, she pulled out her album and flipped through the pages to show him her sketches. But then his fingers gently curled around her wrist and stopped her mid-action.
“We have one rule, though, my pearl.”
His tone turned unexpectedly serious, demanding her full attention.
“If either of us gets uncomfortable, we stop.”
His words made the confusion melt into a soft, grateful expression on her face. She was enthusiastic of the opportunity to work alongside him, but the knowledge that they would be completely transparent with their boundaries reassured her further.
“Now…” he dragged as he opened the box forgotten on his lap and plucked a charcoal pencil from it. “Let’s discuss whether your first masterpiece should capture my good side.”
She chuckled softly at that and picked a blank sheet from her album.
“...You have a bad side?” She asked halfheartedly, accepting the pencil he had handed her.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t ask such difficult questions…” he shook his head in mock despair, and he had to bite down his smile when she broke into a genuine laughter.
The last thing she had expected that day was ending up sitting on the sofa, talking with Rafayel about muscle compositions and weight distributions, but she didn’t regret it.
The deep red robe was discarded on the floor as Rafayel posed for her -his body perched on the stool as his back faced her, his left foot grazing the floor while the other was folded against his chest, his right arm limp along his flank and his left curled atop his knee.
He didn’t waste time challenging her artistic abilities by offering the sight of maybe one of the most complicated body parts to draw: the back.
Trying to put all the details right on the blank sheet would’ve been impossible, so she focused on the way the late afternoon light caressed his skin. Her charcoal pencil drew the shadows of his ribs, the winding path of his spine, and the quiet glance he cast at her over his shoulder beneath his purple bangs.
And she was so focused while she drew that Rafayel didn’t even feel his limbs growing numb as he stayed still in pose for hours because he got distracted in admiring how her creative process reflected in her expressions.
The slight squint of her eyes whenever she measured proportions.
The way her thumb carefully smudged the charcoal across the paper.
The unconscious tilt of her head as she drew, her eyebrows furrowing if the shapes didn’t turn out as she planned to.
They were just starting these figure study sessions but she looked so determined already that pride swelled in his chest.
“Not bad,” Rafayel hummed lowly when she showed him the sketches after the sun went down and left the studio surrounded by the dark. No one of them was a fan of drawing under artificial lights, so he tied the robe back on and lightened up some candles.
“Are you for real?” She stared at him expectantly, holding her breath as she waited to hear his criticism.
“Mh-mh… but you see, you forgot the most important part.” A pout tugged at his lips while he returned her drawings.
The next time was her turn to pose, and she lingered in the bathroom, clutching the robe tight over her body. She stared at her clothes neatly folded over the counter, and she let out a long sigh. She was trembling, but not for the cold.
On the other side of the door, in the main room, Rafayel was waiting for her, and very likely he had already prepared everything -the colour palette, the canvas, the upholstered bench she was supposed to sit on for hours. While he studied her closely. As bare as the day she was born.
“Cutie…? Are you alright in there?”
His worried voice blinked her out of her spiralling thoughts, and she cleared her throat, her fingers smothering the wrinkles of the robe in a nervous manner.
“I am… yeah, I’m fine.” She answered. Before she could hesitate any longer, she forced herself to open the door and face him.
Rafayel stood right in front of the doorstep, and even if he didn’t believe her at all, he smiled softly at her.
“I almost fell asleep on the sofa while I waited,” he joked halfheartedly while his hand pried hers from the tight grip on the robe’s belt and interlaced their fingers together.
“That’s alright.” He said, shaking his head, refusing her apology when she hadn’t done anything wrong, and squeezing her hand comfortingly.
She bit the inside of her cheek as she tried to come up with any excuse that could justify her behaviour, but she felt guilty. He had posed for her without any issues, exposing himself for her to study and draw. While now she was-
“I’d like you to sit here like this… and then lay down on your stomach…”
Before she could realise what was happening, Rafayel guided her in position over the upholstered bench without asking her to take off her robe first. She blinked in confusion, but her body trusted the gentle touch of his hands, his palms gliding down her spine deliberately slow to feel her muscles relax beneath the silk and reaching lower to cross her ankles.
“And you can hug the pillow so you’re more comfortable.” He put the soft cushion between her arms before he took a step back to look at her in pose and hummed approvingly. “Perfect.”
“But- but I’m still covered…” she mumbled without moving an inch from her position. She was indeed comfortable, but this wasn’t what they had agreed on.
“You can tug down as much fabric as you want. What matters to me is to have you like this, my pearl.” Rafayel gave her full control of the situation and went behind his canvas to begin painting the base.
Her cheeks warmed slightly as she remembered the rule they established from the start, and she appreciated the fact that he was willing to take a little step at a time for this if it meant her being at ease.
She glanced down at herself and imagined what kind of sight Rafayel could have -a three-quarter view of her figure, her head resting on the pillow between her arms, the sinuous line of her spine and backside, and her crossed ankles that left her feet dangling over the end of the upholstered bench. The soft cushions of the furniture kept her comfortable and also hid nicely the most intimate parts of her body that she could feel shy to show off yet.
Rafayel heard the swish of fabric against skin, and his paintbrush stopped midair as he peeked at her over his canvas. A big, satisfied smile tugged at his lips as he watched her understand the assignment perfectly.
"My pearl..." He laughed softly. "You really do think like an artist."
Because now the robe left her skin for the morning light to caress tenderly, only one of its arms clinging onto her right shoulder as the silky fabric pooled over the upholstered bench. The drapery offered a water-like movement, softening the sharp edges of the furniture and making her look as if she had been too tired to slip the robe off properly before laying down -exactly the kind of leisure atmosphere he wanted for this piece.
“Now rotate your hips slightly away from me, so I can see better your pretty waist-” he instructed her from afar, nodding when she moved in the right direction but immediately raising his free hand to stop her where he wanted her to be.
“Nuh-huh... don't slouch.”
“I'm not slouching,” she frowned at the correction.
“You are, and your scapula just disappeared. Show it to me, straight-up... right like this. Stay still.” Rafayel approved her decision to tug the pillow closer beneath her chest so her elbows rested over it instead of the side.
“The curve of your back flows into your shoulder now.”
She hummed in understanding as she lifted one of her hands and rested her chin on her palm, offering him a bored expression.
“Oh, you just read my mind!” He praised her genuinely, and then he finally began painting her.
She couldn't see the canvas but only him moving behind it -one arm raising to paint something here and there, and his purple hair peering past the edge every once in a while. And she noticed that they had two different approaches to observation.
Rafayel would spend long stretches simply looking, letting every curve, shadow, and colour settle in his mind before the first brushstroke ever touched the canvas. Once he began, his movements were fluid and decisive, as though the painting had already existed inside him.
While she was the opposite. Her gaze darted constantly between model and page, solving one shape at a time. Every line became the answer to a small visual puzzle before she moved on to the next.
And she wondered if she should try his approach next time he was the one posing.
As hours passed even the comfortable cushions of the upholstered bench began to feel rigid beneath her. She didn’t complain and remained in pose for Rafayel. But he did notice and after a bit, he put down the brush.
“Would you like some water?” He questioned as he went towards the coffee table and filled a glass for her.
“Yes, please.” She answered without moving an inch from her position, and her stubborn professionalism to not ruin the image he was portraying made him laugh in amusement.
“Are you doing this because you want to be as beautiful as ever in my painting or because you want me to spoil you?” He teased her, and she stuck her tongue out at him.
“You're taking this model business a little too seriously.”
She rolled her eyes at his gentle scolding but she couldn’t retort.
“You're lucky I like taking care of my favourite model.” He sighed dramatically and kindly cupped her chin to lift her head up before tilting the glass towards her lips.
But she didn’t ask him to lower it. She drank all the water in one go, and his eyes widened.
“Cutie!? Why didn’t you tell me you were dying of thirst?”
“I didn’t want to disturb your creative process.”
“Lift your chin. Up. Higher- no, a bit lower... Stop just like this!”
“Cutie, I feel like an invisible hand is choking me.” Rafayel complained through gritted teeth as stood up, giving her a clear view of his profile against the light.
“I’ll be quick with this. I like the shadow over your Adam’s apple…” she offered as she stared at his stretched neck, the cut of his jawline perfectly aligned with the hint of collarbone his dropped shoulder let her see.
She could tell that the position of his head was too uncomfortable to keep, so she planned to sketch it before moving down to the rest of his body. Her hand scribbled quite fast on the page, her thumbs smudging the charcoal to create the shadows before she cut the lights with the tip of an eraser.
“Okay, you can relax now.”
Rafael let out a sigh of relief as he almost slumped to his knees before catching himself at the last moment.
“Thank you for holding the pose,” she chuckled in amusement as she shifted her attention to his twisted torso. “...Raf?”
“Are you flexing your abs?” Her eyebrow lifted inquisitively, her gaze flitting between his abdomen and his blushing face.
“Of course not,” he retorted as he pouted and looked away from her.
She laughed, shaking her head, and let him have this for once. After all, the small bumps of muscle created a nice shadow over his navel, and the flex accentuated the narrowness of his hip bones just right.
When only the scribble of her charcoal pencil against the page filled the silence, Rafayel turned his face to find her completely focused on sketching the lower half of his body.
Even from afar, he could see that she had improved a lot in portraying bodies. In her previous drawings scattered over the coffee table, he could see the way she had familiarised herself with the muscles and tendons enough to be able to catch the shifts of light with naturalness as his body assumed different kinds of positions.
But then he realised something that made him look into the opposite direction of the studio, where his paintings of her body were. They had been so excited for the opportunity to have a model that they ended up making an amateur’s mistake.
“My pearl, we did wrong.”
Her complaint about his lost position and his realisation clashed as they spoke at the same time, and they looked at each other with the same disappointed expression, even if for different reasons.
His words, though, cut deeper. And she lowered her unfinished sketch on the coffee table before rising from the sofa.
“What do you mean?” She questioned curiously, grabbing the red robe from the armrest and holding it out for Rafayel to slip in once she was close enough.
“We ended up drawing the same body type over and over again,” he pointed out as he put the robe around his arms and then shifted onto his bare feet to face her again. “We need something new for improvement.”
“A new model…” she nodded in agreement as she followed his train of thought, her hands unconsciously tying the belt for him.
The silk slipped from her fingers when an idea crossed her mind.
And Rafayel glanced down at the robe too.
After tilting the corner slightly, she took some steps back and looked at the series of paintings and drawings hanging on the wall. She smiled as she admired their combined artworks and remembered the story behind each one -like the painting where Rafayel had made her curl onto herself almost like a shrimp, or the sketch she outlined as he precariously balanced himself on a chair.
She felt confident that having a proof of their creativity would be a good reason to accept the offer they were going to make to-
“My pearl… why haven't you changed yet?”
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Rafayel and had to make a double-take because he was dressed way too nicely.
“Why do you have a bottle of wine?” She turned to face him fully, her gaze travelling up and down his figure to admire the way the black trouser and the burgundy blouse he chose to wear fitted him like a glove.
Shaking the inappropriate thoughts from her mind, she reminded him -and herself too at this point. “We have to make a deal. No romance him.”
Rafayel blinked at that, slowly and lazily, before crossing his arms.
“We have to persuade him to accept,” he stated their goal with calm determination and then nodded the way towards his bedroom. “So now go, cutie. There’s a dress for you to wear.”
“No buts. I want you to be more gorgeous than usual when you’re going to proudly talk about your artwork.” Rafayel cut any complaints off, effectively urging her to go change.
“And don’t take too long!”
He chuckled to himself as he watched her stomp towards the bedroom with her red cheeks, satisfied to have won this argument. And when his indigo eyes trailed to the wall in front of him, his smirk only widened.
There was something different in seeing his works accompanied by hers. It filled him with a sense of achievement that was more tender than the usual he felt after having created a good piece.
“We made these together…” he murmured lowly as he reached out and dusted invisible specks off one of her framed sketches -his favourite, actually. The one where he floated into the bathtub, and she had surprised him by catching the way ripples of water slid from his skin, how she had noticed the scars behind his ear shell and had given them the most gentle shadows.
A sharp knock echoed from the entrance, jolting Rafayel from his thoughts. Gasping, he straightened his shoulders and stared at the bottle of wine still in his hands.
“Cutie! He’s here!” He called out for her because the fact that she wasn’t already there with him sent his heart into a frenzy.
Rafayel wasn’t ready to face him alone. He would crumple and make a fool of himself when those crimson eyes-
“I’m here!” She rushed barefoot, her hands fisting the side of the long skirt to not trip onto it.
“Hurry up! He knocked. I should- no, we should open the-”
“Isn’t this too much for-?”
“Good evening, my little artists.”
His head whipped towards the bedroom’s direction as she hurried to reach him, and at the same time, another figure came to stand at the main doorstep. Rafayel froze as he found himself cornered all of a sudden.
Noticing his tight grip on the bottle, she decided to break the ice first.
“Someone would like some wine?” Rafayel questioned, and the two looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
A beat of silence passed, and she sighed as she stepped closer with the intention to take that bottle away from his hands.
“That would be nice, yes.” Sylus hummed approvingly.
For a heartbeat, both of them simply stared at him.
Then she blinked at Rafayel, who blinked back with equal disbelief.
Against the odds, it kind of worked.
“I’ll bring the glasses then!” She went with it because… of course, Sylus would keep his cool even in the most embarrassing encounter.
And a glass of wine on each of their hands managed to ease the initial awkwardness within a sip at a time. Both Rafayel and she cared about making a good impression, but Sylus had been secretly interested in their project long before they invited him to the Studio.
He had found out that lately they were spending a lot of time together, and his curiosity had only grown when Mephisto couldn't report any valuable information about it. Sylus hadn’t pried, though. He wanted them to tell him what was going on, so he patiently waited until that evening.
Seeing the collection they had produced together stunned him. His gaze diverted a moment from the bare bodies portrayed in different positions because he immediately recognised them.
“We modelled for one another. And since these artworks are particularly meaningful for us… we didn’t want anyone to have them,” she explained honestly, reminding Sylus the reason for his invitation.
He had been kind of suspicious when Rafayel had called, telling him that he had a collaboration he was willing to sell exclusively to his favourite auction buyer. And Sylus had thought that he was up to no good -probably doing something for the art’ sake only to test his manager’s infinite patience.
But now that he stood in front of the pieces of their collaboration, everything made sense.
As he studied each artwork with intense stares, Rafayel and she whispered between them.
“His deltoid is as big as my head!”
“Cutie, we’re going to draw muscles that we had only seen in anatomical textbooks!”
“Do you think his broad shoulders could ever fit in a single page?”
“Oh, that’s the challenge.”
Unfortunately for them, Sylus heard every single comment and cleared his throat to catch their attention. Amusement shone in his gaze when they immediately perked up and looked at him with wide, innocent eyes.
“Am I being… inspected?” He asked bluntly, and he saw the moment they both gave up the pretence and decided to spill it out.
“Yes.” Rafayel answered, nodding without shame.
“Professionally!” She added right away with her flushed cheeks.
Sylus hummed lowly, his hand gently swirling the last of wine in his glass, as he stared at them both. He didn’t need to say anything to make them cave in because they were already fidgeting on the spot.
“You just had the chance to admire our collection…” Rafayel started, his arm gesturing to the wall where their artworks were so carefully displayed.
“But you see… this collection is- how can I say it?” He turned towards her for support but she raised her hands, too flustered to understand where he was going with his monologue.
“This collection is…?” Sylus echoed back, encouraging him to keep going.
“It’s incomplete.” He blurted out.
That made a lightbulb turn on in her head, and her arms wrapped around Rafayel’s to be closer to his side as they talked about their offer to Sylus together.
“It’s incomplete because… we would like you to be a part of it.” She concluded for him.
Sylus blinked, taken aback from their suggestion. His gaze moved past them, towards the paintings beyond their shoulders, and the realisation settled in.
Hours spent taking turns in showing themselves vulnerable in the most primal way.
All the patience it demanded, and the strength required to hold every pose.
The creativity to bring out something more profound from skin and bones.
A subtle grin tugged at his lips as he finally understood what this evening was about. No wonder they had both looked so terrified to ask.
“You want me to undress and pose for you two.”
“Only if you’re comfortable with this,” she reassured him.
“I think you notice that at some point the lines kind of repeat themselves over and over,” Rafayel pointed out their artistic issues and honestly shared the reason behind their offer.
“Having another body type to study will help us improve. And you’re the only one we trust asking to.”
Sylus didn't feel a hint of shame in taking off his clothes and showing his body. He simply didn't see any reason to. Everybody was made of flesh and bones. Only body fat percentage and muscle mass varied.
For him, his body was only another set of exuviae to wear for this lifetime.
“So I was thinking about starting with something easy for the beginning-”
She got interrupted when a hand came to cover her eyes and she huffed in annoyance.
Sylus stopped mid-action as he heard the commotion. His briefs fell onto the floor with a soft thud, and his gaze met the Rafayel’s wide eyes.
“We were talking about the terms. Why did you undress yourself already?”
The question made her stop trying to peel off his hand from her face, and her fingers held onto his palm instead. She got so caught up explaining the poses she had planned -flipping through the sketches in the album tucked beneath her arm- that she hadn't even noticed Sylus had finished undressing.
“Isn’t the only rule you have about comfort?” He raised an eyebrow at Rafayel while he finished undressing, slipping his socks off one at a time as if his bending position didn’t let the other see everything was unnecessary for a figure study session.
“I’m comfortable. And ready.” Sylus said, standing tall and confident in all his naked glory.
She slowly lowered Rafayel’s hand from her eyes as she heard that, and glanced at the defined muscles of his abdomen, the strong tendons on his neck that enhanced his collarbones. She could already imagine how sharply Sylus’ body was going to cut the lights and shadows in her drawings, and she couldn’t wait any longer to sketch him.
“Yeah, he’s definitely ready-” she stood on his side of the discussion, letting go of Rafayel’s hand and stepping forward to get a closer look at Sylus.
“Not so fast, my pearl.” He frowned at her sudden eagerness, and readily caught her arm to hold her firm in place. The slight pout on his face gave his true feeling away, and Sylus grinned knowingly at him.
“We’re going to be professional about this. No matter how comfortable you are… models wear robes to meet the artists in the studio.” Rafayel stood his ground, holding his chin up in defiance because he wouldn’t let Sylus parading like that and distracting them from their main goal -studying anatomy and improving their artworks.
“Is it really necessary…? He’s going to take it off anyway,” she murmured close to his ear, confused by his sudden firmness and trying to talk Rafayel out of this.
Sylus rolled his eyes in amusement and nodded slowly as he headed towards the bed where the robe he was supposed to wear was. But his fingers hesitated before picking the silk fabric from the mattress -soft, expensive, so coincidentally his size and his favourite colour.
“This robe?” Sylus asked, his voice lowering into an almost mocking tone.
“Yes, it’s comfy. We all wore it during these sessions as we took turns modelling.” She answered innocently.
“Interesting…” Sylus hummed thoughtfully as he turned to face them both, holding the silky piece of clothing in his hands.
Unfolding the robe, he eyed at the embroidery near the collar -a fine overtone work that could be unnoticed if someone didn’t pay attention, but clearly stated who was the owner.
Rafayel gasped out loud and grabbed her by her shoulders to usher her out of the bedroom as soon as possible.
“Cutie, we have to prepare the material!” He turned just as red as the robe, catching up with the Sylus’ intention to make him regret his early bossiness.
“Haven’t we already-? …oh.”
A low, warm chuckle echoed into the hall as they both flitted into the main room to avoid getting more flustered than they were already.
“No. Slightly forward… no like that! Now you’re too close.”
Hearing Sylus grumbling, she decided to intervene before Rafayel tested his patience further. Leaving her album on the stool, she went to stand in front of Sylus and, with careful hands, she guided his body into position.
“It’s almost like boxing… keep in mind your position so you can prevent the rival from seeing your weak points,” she explained to him through an analogy that could help him understand what Rafayel and she were asking him too. “But since this is art, you choose your position to show off your assets instead.”
Behind his canvas, Rafayel smiled while he watched Sylus so pliant for her to manhandle as she pleased. His head tilted to the side when he noticed the way her fingers barely wrapped around the other’s biceps, and an idea formed into his mind.
“Cutie, stop right there.”
“Like this?” She questioned, stunned because she was holding Sylus’ arm in the air in an unnatural position. She was too close to have a proper perspective but she was sure that this wasn’t a good position to draw yet.
“Why don’t you model too?” Rafayel suggested.
Sylus blinked at that and looked down at her, finding her gaze already on him. But she wasn’t looking at his face. Her hands cradled his forearm while the muscles shifted almost imperceptibly beneath her fingertips as he adjusted his balance.
“...know what?” Sylus asked, feeling like he was missing something important going on there.
“That would be so cool!” She marvelled as she caught up with Rafayel’s artistic vision.
“Sy… do you think you can balance me middair?”
Sylus looked from one artist to the other before letting out a quiet sigh.
“...Tell me where you want me.”
Sylus couldn’t keep up with the both of them but simply let them have their way. Posing together with someone was less boring for him, and also brought a new series of drawings and paintings to the collection.
Their creativity seemed to know no end as Rafayel and she constantly invented new body compositions, each pose more ambitious than the last. And honestly, it made Sylus proud of them as he admired the results while they slept soundly, exhausted from hours of work.
“Can you roll your shoulders slightly back? Yes, exactly like that-”
“No. Sit straighter.” Rafayel retorted, earning a glare from her.
“I don’t want him to sit straighter. I want a clear view of his pecs.” She complained and frowned when he shook his head.
“But if he leans back against the armchair, then his body would look like a rock in my painting!” He argued, pointing at his own canvas, drips of colour splattering on the floor because of the sharp movement.
“But I want him to look as if he’s carved out from the armchair…” she muttered as she turned her own sketch towards Rafayel and let him see the negative space portrait she was making.
Sylus rolled his eyes as they kept arguing non-stop since he had sat on the armchair. His hand raised to pinch at the bridge of his nose while each artist justified the validity of their own interpretation and asked the other to adapt. Too bad they were both incredibly stubborn about this.
“What am I supposed to do then?”
At least, they agreed on something.
But his patience had already worn thin, so Sylus shook his head and stood up, ignoring their groans and moans of protests.
“I’m going to drink. You two-” he glanced at Rafayel and her with a serious expression that made them both quiet. “-think about something you can work on together without any further complaints.”
Once they nodded in agreement, Sylus left them alone for five minutes, going to the kitchen to fill himself a glass of water. He could hear a hushed exchange coming from the main room, but he couldn’t make a word of it. When silence that followed stretched for longer than usual, he left the empty glass in the sink and went to check on them.
His eyebrow quirked up when he noticed that the armchair he was sitting on disappeared. Slowly, he came to stand in front of a small box on the floor, and his head tilted slightly to the side.
As his gaze raised to meet theirs, he found wide smiles plastered on their faces, and he knew that they were up to no good.
“I won’t balance myself atop of it like a circus’ animal.” He grumbled as he crossed his arms and glared towards them.
"Excellent. He's beginning to pose instinctively." Rafayel hummed lowly approvingly, and she nodded in agreement because Sylus had just unconsciously given them the pose they were going to ask him.
“Don’t worry, Sy…” she reassured him with a small chuckle, and then began instructing him through the right position. “You just need to put your left foot on the box. Keep your arms crossed… yes, like that. Now tilt your hips slightly back but keep your torso facing us. Perfect.”
“Keep your angry frown on. It’s hot,” Rafayel added at last, and Sylus sighed heavily through his nose.
He didn’t know for how long he was keeping his stance like that, but his back began to hurt at some point and his arms weighed uncomfortably against his chest. He was mentally mourning the armchair’s pose when he saw that even the two artists were getting tired after a long afternoon.
Her charcoal pencil glided lazily across the page, and her free hand lifted up to rub her eyes more often than not, smudging copper stains on her upper cheek. While Rafayel stopped painting for a while and stared at his half-finished canvas instead of him.
“You know, Sylus…” he drawled, catching his attention.
Sylus hummed lowly as he stood still nevertheless.
“I can already picture this one hanging right beyond your desk.” Rafayel said completely serious while she glanced up at him with wide eyes, her bottom lip caught between her teeth to restrain her bubbling chuckles.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Onychinus Boss…” He impersonated a random man’s voice, doing a half-bow in mock respect as he continued his playful joke under Sylus’ unimpressed stare.
“Magnificent portrait, sir.” Rafayel gestured grandly to half-finished painting before turning the canvas towards him so he could see it himself.
“Interesting… lack of trousers.”
She couldn’t breathe anymore and exploded into a genuine, ugly laugh as tears collected in the corner of her eyes.
Rafayel chuckled alongside her, finding the scenario hilariously absurd.
And Sylus, despite himself, laughed together with them.
“It would certainly shorten most meetings.”
Looking at them doubled over with laughter, charcoal forgotten on the floor and paint drying untouched on the canvas, Sylus realized something.
Despite having accepted to be a mannequin for their artistic whims to play with, these kinds of moments were what made numb muscles after interminable hours of posing worth it.
After months of figure study sessions, there were paintings and drawings everywhere.
Her charcoal studies. Rafayel’s oil paintings.
Different poses. Unique lighting. Unrepeatable moods.
Some were technically impressive. Some were messy experiments.
Some had fingerprints of paint or charcoal on the edges.
Some were unfinished because they got distracted teasing each other and laughing halfway through.
Sylus grinned, satisfied with himself, as he managed to dedicate a place for them in his private room. Among precious jewels, vintage pieces, and old-fashioned weapons, there were things that actually mattered to him -their collection included.
Every artwork reminded him of the evening they had trusted him enough to become part of a project that had always been more personal than artistic.
His gaze lingered on the silly doodles they had sketched in an album page he took for himself. There was the close-up drawing she made of Rafayel laughing halfway through a pose; and lower the silly revenge he took drawing her asleep on the sofa, curled beneath the robe, after an exhausting session… and beside the drawing of him they sketched together -two different charcoal pencils combining to create his sharp profile, and cute hearts hovering next the feature of him they liked drawing the most.
Sylus's gaze travelled slowly across the wall.
“Now it’s completed.” He said proudly as he stepped back, glancing at the collection one last time before leaving.
The door locked automatically behind him while he headed to the stairs.
In his bedroom, they were already waiting for him, dressed in deep red robes just like his own, and three glasses beside a nice bottle of wine.
Artist!Reader, very nervously: “So... technically this is yours now.”
Sylus looks at every painting and raises an eyebrow: “So I purchased several portraits of two people I know...and a number of myself.”
Rafayel nods proudly: “Limited edition.”
I had so much fun writing this, and I hope that you enjoyed reading it too.
This was supposed to be a small one-shot inspired from this headcanon of @snoozer-crow but as I wrote... somehow it turned out into a full fic! 😂💙
[This fanfic is also published on AO3]
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