#also i thought my favorite color to use in art was blue but i’m slowly becoming a fan of intense reds

[decadennce]

I want to crack his skull open with a sledgehammer

[yourlocalmintgelato]

Hello again! So I’m both a bit nervous and excited since this is the first time I’m truly posting art online (Or on Tumblr anyway)

But, the good news I guess is that I made my own Hantengu clone OC! (I might change his name in the future)

His name is currently Yamai. It may not be correct but from what I translated it it was either Disease or sick child (Sick child from Yamai-Ji)

((before the translator changed it anyway))

~~~~~~

A little backstory I guess:

(Btw a lot of headcanons for this?)

When Hantengu was a human child he often got sick due to his weak immune system and had to go to the hospital pretty often. His parents didn't think he'd survive since they were poor and couldn't afford his medicine, but he was somehow able to make a full recovery after a year or two.

Hantengu’s long stay in the hospital was also when he started to steal and lie a lot more. (For example, he would steal the medical supplies the doctors used on him and lied that it wasn't him who did it.)

After he got out of the hospital he would continue to commit crimes, lie, and steal. Once he got to his older years, however, his immune system started to fail him again like it did in his childhood and he started to become deathly ill. Luckily that was the time when Muzan showed up and saved him from being executed for his crimes and so he’s no longer sick.

…Unfortunately for one of his clones, they became the sickness/sick clone and now have to deal with all the illnesses Hantengu had when he was human. (He may not look like he’s super sick but he feels it.)

~~~~~~

((The photo quality is poor since I drew it on another device and took the picture on my phone. Also, I did a poor attempt at drawing the Kanji on his tongue lol.)) *Don't repost or steal any of my artwork, please. I don't care if you credit I don't want anyone to post my art on websites or pages I'm not on. Sorry if it came off as rude, but still.*

Yamai as the sickness clone appears to be super tired with his eyes always half open. He will often be far away from the group as he doesn't want to bother them and get them sick. (Although the other clones are demons too.)

(Yamai walks and moves super slowly and so he often seems to be weaker than the other clones or an easy target but, ends up tricking his opponents/enemy by dodging their attacks and quickly hitting them. He's also a bit thinner than the other clones.)

Yamai’s weapons of choice are needles which are filled with powerful medicines and poisons. It's random so you don't know what you'll get so you could either be lucky or unlucky when you fight him.

He also coughs a lot and there's a chance he could get his opponent sick just by being near them and or coughing. (And since he has many illnesses him getting you sick would probably be deadly… His breath smells super bad too so that wouldn't be too pleasant either.)

~~~~~~

Facts About Him:

-He gets very nervous around women and will not attack them if he finds them attractive.

-His favorite clone other than himself is Aizestu since he gives him pity and comforts him.

-He’s really good at victim-blaming and makes his opponents feel bad and give up fighting him.

-Although he mostly wears orange his favorite color is violet. (Or blue) ((Also orange in Japan represents good health I believe so I thought that would be funny.))

-His clothing is based on clothing/kimonos children in Japan would wear in the 1800/1900s and is pretty childish.

-Like Aizestu he is very mentally weak.

-He doesn't like wearing shoes since he finds them uncomfortable and will complain if he's forced to wear them.

-He has more purple veins on his body to show his sickness? Idk.

~~~~~~

I apologize if the writing was cringy or poorly done. I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless!

~~~~~~

[sneakers-and-shakes]

Starting A Blog: Behind The Scenes of My Blog

Often times I overcome writers block by writing about writing. If I’m writing fiction, I’ll make the plot about a writer struggling with writers block. If I’m writing my blog, well then I write about blogging.

So this month, in an effort to find a topic to write about I’ll be detailing out the bts (behind the scenes and not my favorite kpop boys unfortunately) about how I run my blog.

Now it’s apparent that my blog is far from successful but it does bring me personal fulfillment to put together a post and make my monthly update. I’ll go into more of that later but first let’s start at the beginning.

Blogspot:

I chose to start my blog on blogspot over creating a site on Squarespace or Wix because it was honestly the easier option. Blogspot is completely free to use and pretty intuitive to figure out. Since it’s focused on blogging, posts are super easy to put together. You don’t even have to buy the domain right away if you don’t want to invest any money and are trying to get started.

Naming/Header Art/Logo:

I named my blog sneakersnshakes after two things that I felt really defined me back when I made it four years ago. I still love converse and milkshakes so I’m not upset that I chose this name even though my tastes have evolved. It also is a nice alliteration and made for an easy logo.

There are lots of sites that will make you a logo which you can then buy. I used those an inspiration for my logo and ended up making my own on a drawing app on my ipad. The colors were also inspired from the sites I was using for research. I thought greens and blues would feel a little neutral and fit the idea of a lifestyle blog.

The header art was also made on the drawing app, I am not the best artist but I was able to trace a picture of converse and connect them to the classic image of an old school milkshake.

Blog Posts:

I started the blog because I have been slowly figuring out and evolving my journals, planners and lifestyle updates and changes and wanted to have a way to document them and share them with others.

My blog posts are usually inspired by the things I am currently doing, things I’m trying out or thoughts and concepts relevant to my life. Lately I’ve been struggling to come up with ideas so I’ve used Pinterest to get some inspiration about blog post ideas. A blog is so personal, even if a concept is broad when you actually write it out it becomes unique to you.

I started this post out on pen and paper first then re-wrote it as I typed it up to make it sound better and flow better.

I always recommend waiting overnight or a day after your first draft of any piece of writing before returning to it with fresh eyes. It’ll help you re-write and edit process as you find better ways to phrase your previous sentences.

Pictures/Graphics:

I try to always have a picture or graphic in all my posts so there is a reference image attached to the post on the site.

It’s also good to have a presence on other social media sites and my choice is Instagram. I try to post a new picture once a week. (Obviously I’m not making money off of this, nor is it my job so I know that’s not nearly often enough but it works for my purposes).

(I also cross-post everything on tumblr).

My favorite app for making graphics is Desygner. I absolutely love this app, there are so many templates even if you’re just using the free version (which I am) and I use it to make every graphic for this blog including the Instagram posts that declare I have a new blog post out.

What I have learned:

I mentioned before that this whole process, despite being “unsuccessful” brings me personal fulfillment and it’s because the whole process: writing the post, editing, adding pictures, making the graphics, and finally posting is not just a labor of love but when you see that finished product there is pride in that labor.

It’s challenged me to write in different ways (since I primarily write fiction) and given me an avenue to share my thoughts. It’s also motivated me to actually do and try different things (do it for the blog) and broadened my outlook as I try to come up with topics.

When I go back through all the different posts over the years there is a strong sense of pride for actually accomplishing the full package of everything it takes to get one post out.

This blog will likely never gain popularity or become successful, but it will remain a testament to my effort and thoughts and passion for the craft.

If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! I appreciate it!

[wacky-nameless-inventor-24]

Well... nobody's asked about this but I just wanted to talk about it. Today I'm here to bring you the saga behind my '17 Mad Ducktor design! (Um... this does feature some old art so prepare yourself for how different it is ssdlfkjsd)

So my first Mad Ducktor drawing was this one, and it doubled as a ‘17 redesign using parts from both the comics Mads and the ‘17 Gyro.

I ended up not liking this one all that much, so I redesigned him like the next day. His collar’s a little smaller, he doesn’t have the bands on his gloves, nor the extra straps on his belt. And I messed with the colors.

I had that one for about a month before I decided that I could do better (also, he might look familiar....). I don’t dislike this design, I just thought I could figure out something that looked better. 

THEN I made a few different designs pulling a bunch of different things I liked about the first two while adding in something different. From left to right top to bottom, they’re A (the Topolino design), B (the design I currently had), C, D, E, and F.

At the time, I think my favorite design was D, the one with the goggles (C’s hair looks familiar, doesn’t it? XD). That might just be because of his expression, but I really loved his hair too. I despise E though. 

Then I went around and asked my friends which of the designs (besides A) they liked, and we narrowed it down to three. 

D was still my favorite, but I liked the idea that was used in F of the coat not having any sleeves so it was like Gyro’s vest. I also tried out using some kind of mad scientist jacket on D, and I couldn’t decide which color combo I liked.

Then there’s this, just pulling what I liked from the three of those, where I finally came up with what I called design M.

M was modified a little, and I finally got the design I have now (minus the shoes, they’ve changed a few times, and I’ve changed the color of his pants to grey as well)!

OKAY, and the story of his hair is actually pretty fun. Originally it was going to just be a little floof like that, so it would sort-of realistically look like it was Gyro’s hair just brushed back. It looked odd with just the floof, so it got a flop hanging forward too. 

Then as I drew it...

It slowly just came to overtake his whole head until I have the style it is now. I honestly didn’t mean for it, but I think it looks better this way. 

And as for those other designs, I still liked them (other than E, idk but I DESPISE him). So I gave them all slightly different personalities and actually had one story where they all existed together. 

However, B and D have returned since then, since I still really like both of them. 

B became the design for ego-machine Gyro in Where’s My Mind?

And D returned (sporting a new bow tie) as the design for my Negaverse Mad Ducktor, the Blue Phantom!

[rattyoakenbitch]

youtubers: “don’t touch her” ₊˚ ⸝  corpse husband x reader

❝i don't wanna think about, think about you. drink up, drink up i'm so fucked up, all i want is you.❞

gif credit: n/a song: lykke li - sex money feelings die

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

pairings: corpse husband x reader

warnings: angst, cursing, drinking, smoking, violent language, and minor mentions of anxiety.

summary: i can’t make summaries rn hhh just read it (:

“Sean, there is no way in hell I’m going!”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. It’ll be fun!”

“That’s what you always say!”

“Ugh, you and Corpse are so stubborn. At least I was able to convince him to show up! You know what you need? To get out of the house more often and come hang with us.”

“Uh huh, yeah, y’all have fun, I got some stuff to finish.”

“Yeah? Like what? Your ten hour nap?”

“HEY! Excuse me -”

“7PM, [club address], you’re showing up.”

“Sean - !”

With that, Sean hung up. You let out an exasperated huff, crossing your arms and pouting like a toddler who was just denied a toy. You were invited, or more accurrately forced to celebrate whatever the hell Sean and his friends achieved. With lives like theirs, it seemed like there was always something to celebrate. 

You, on the other hand.. Well, you were just little old you. You met Sean by mere chance. It’s a very long story, but you shared some things in common, like your love for video games. However, that was about the only thing you could relate to with Sean and his little friend circle. You were more passionate about writing, as well as reading short horror stories. 

Now, that’s where you clicked with Corpse Husband. 

He was an underrated YouTuber, whose main uploads were narration videos on creepypastas and horror stories. That’s until he blew up with his Among Us gameplays, collaborating with big names like PewDiePie, Jacksepticeye, and CrankGamePlays (EEF!!!).

You met over an Among Us stream with said YouTubers and immediately hit it off. You shared a dark sense of humor, love for horror, and music. You knew of Corpse before, but only then did you discover that he produced music, which you absolutely enjoyed (and blasted in your house for days on end).

When you found out you lived not even twenty minutes away from each other, you’d occasionally meet up, mostly at his house considering he only went out once in a blue moon. You’d sometimes even spend the night at his place, staying up late, gazing up at the stars, getting deep into conversation and opening up about things you never blurted out to people. But when you were with Corpse, everything just came naturally. You felt safe with him, and hopefully, he felt the same. 

Night approached, the clock striking 5PM. You figured you’d get ready since Sean was dead set on you coming to the party. You showered, did a minimalist glossy makeup look, and chose an outfit, which consisted of a half neon green and black skirt that stopped mid thigh, and an oversized distressed band tee which you tucked into your belt. You slipped on a pair of ripped, striped thigh-highs with mismatched colors, (white stripes on one and neon blue on the other), and your platform boots that made you look like a Bratz Doll. You didn’t bother with your tangled hair. You teased it with a brush but didn’t put any effort into styling it, since it’d get messy anyways. To finish your look, you clipped on a choker and dangled a couple of layered chains around your neck.

Corpse would tease you, saying you had a “dog collar”, but you knew he secretly liked it.

All dolled up and ready to go, you hopped into your car and followed the GPS to the address Sean sent you. Drunk couples stumbled out of the club, dates headed inside, and old wasted guys were thrown out. Oh boy, you were not ready for this.

You were the anxious, anti social type. Not because it was edgy or cool, but you simply didn’t know how to handle social situations. However, it comforted you to know Corpse would be there by your side so you didn’t need to chat and flirt with strangers. 

It’s not like you wanted to meet anybody new, anyways. Though nobody was aware of it, you had feelings for Corpse. Cliche, right? You knew you shouldn’t have, but you developed feelings for him. It made you feel strange and weird, considering you haven’t caught feelings in a while.

You came up with the bright idea of slowly drifting away from Corpse to maybe help de-escalate these feelings, but you were going to run into him at the club, so what the heck.

You headed inside, your eyes scanning the crowd and pushing through, searching for your friend group. You spent a couple minutes cluelessly looking around the club, but to no avail. Then, it was as if a light bulb clicked on over your head; you never thought to phone Sean.

“Ugh, I’m so stupid.” You reached into your purse to get ahold of your phone when a pair of strong, manly hands and cold metal which you assumed to be rings wrapped around your shoulders, gripping you tightly. 

“Boo!” 

You felt your heart stop and ran out of the man’s grasp, spinning around to look at who it was.

“Oh, did I scare you?” 

The man’s deep, monotone voice rumbled above the sound of the music and shouts. Then you recognized that unique and distinctive voice. 

“Corpse!! What the hell?”

His nose and jaw was covered by a black mask, with a print that looked like Frank from Donnie Darko, which was also Corpse’s signature look, seen in his channel art. 

Despite Corpse being a faceless YouTuber, only very few people have seen his face, including you and Glam&Gore who he featured in his narration videos. You thought he was very handsome, his baritone voice matching his appearance. You had to admit, you were a little disappointed he chose to wear a mask. You loved seeing his facial expressions, especially his precious smile that would light up the room when he’d let out little fits of laughter. But you got over it and respected the fact that he wanted to remain anonymous.

“You dickhead,” you scoffed, smacking Corpse lightly on the shoulder. Corpse towered over you, looking admittedly both intimidating and seductive. If you were a stranger, you’d probably be running off, but you weren’t scared of Corpse. He was a big softie and a teddy bear.

Corpse chuckled lowly, slinging his arm over your shoulder and leading you to Sean’s group. He was protective like that, even if you were just friends. Now you could see why Sean, at one point, speculated that you and Corpse had a thing going on. 

“So, Sean forced you to tag along, too?”

“Pfft, yeah, that’s Sean for you.”

“Hey, there’s my favorite couple,” Sean joked, patting your shoulder. You rolled your eyes at his drunk antics.

“Shut up, don’t make me choke you like I hate you,” you mocked in return, eliciting a fit of laughter from the group. 

“Remind me to never hang out with you losers again,” Corpse mumbled sarcastically under his breath.

The night went by in a flash. Sean, Thomas, Felix, and everyone else was blackout drunk. Luckily, Mark was there to assist them. Since Mark couldn’t drink, he would be the designated driver that night. Corpse hung out by himself, sometimes getting approached by women who he politely turned down.

You, on the other hand, were downing alcohol like your life depended on it. For you, it would take more than the average number of drinks for you to get wasted.

“Y/N, don’t you think you should slow down?” Corpse questioned cautiously, resting a hand on the small of your back.

“Does it really look like I’m thinking right now?” you drunkenly slurred, following with a giggle. You waved to the bartender, calling for another shot, which he slid over to you, but not without hesitating after noticing your state. You pushed Corpse off of you, probably more harshly than you intended, and took the shot. 

“Okay, Y/N, fuck this, I’m taking you to my place. We can’t stay here and you certainly can’t drive back home when you’re drunk,” Corpse scowled, stepping closer to you. Again, you shoved him back.

“No.. No..” You sighed, holding your pounding head in your hand. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what? Y/N, you’re drunk -”

“I’m not letting you of all people take me.”

Corpse blinked. “What does that mean?” He knew you were drunk, of course, and you were probably just blurting nonsense.

All of a sudden, tears escaped your eyes, racing down your blushy cheeks.

“No.. I’m so sorry. It’s my fault.” You began to shake and tremble as tears started to uncontrollably spill down your face. Corpse didn’t waste another second to take you in his arms, hushing you. “Your hugs are so warm.. I hate it. I hate feeling this way. It’s all my fault.”

“What did you do, sweetheart? You can tell me.”

Your heart ached when you heard his pet name for you.

“I think I may like you more than you like me.. I-I didn’t mean to! Please don’t leave me. You’re all I have,” you sobbed into his white tee, clinging onto him. “I love you so fucking much, it hurts. I shouldn’t have!”

Corpse stopped for a moment, processing your words.

You.. felt the same?

Corpse had to tell you. You were drunk, but he needed you to know. 

“Y/N, I -”

Suddenly, you had a moment of clarity. Realizing how close you were to Corpse, you backed away, wiping away the mascara tears under your eyes.

“I - I think I had too much to drink.. I just need a smoke..” 

Without giving Corpse the chance to protest, you ran off into the crowd, struggling your way through. 

Corpse began to get worried when you didn’t come back. He waited impatiently on the barstool where you left him, anxiously playing with his rings.

He was just about to get up and look for you, when he caught a glimpse of you stumbling out the exit with another man who guided you, gripping your arm tightly.

Corpse fumed, his face going red and heartbeat speeding up. He went after you, knowing damn well you didn’t know this man. 

The man took you to his car, placing you atop the trunk, your legs dangling over the edge. He stepped in between your legs, caressing your face. Everything was a blur. If your mind was clear, you wouldn’t be stupid enough to trust this random guy, who was probably ten years older than you. 

“You’re too pretty to be crying,” he whispered, leaning in closer to your face, until a yell stopped him from proceeding any further.

“Hey, asshole, she’s drunk! Don’t you fucking touch her!”

“C-Corpse?” You hiccuped, hopping off the trunk to get a look at the approaching figure. It was indeed Corpse. His eyebrows were pressed together angrily at the sight.

“You know this dude?” the man said loudly and smugly, just to get a reaction from Corpse. “Relax, my man, I’m just tryna take this pretty girl home.”

“Well this pretty girl happens to be mine, and I won’t let you take advantage of her,” Corpse growled. 

You stood by the stranger, clinging to him as you watched Corpse’s face twist into an expression of heartbreak when you didn’t budge. He then noticed the bruises around your arms and wrist, supposedly from the man’s strong grip. He was unbelievably furious. 

“Ha, doesn’t look like she’s your girl anymore.” The man’s lips twisted upwards into a devilish smirk, only pissing Corpse off some more. Oh boy, was he ready to snap. He reached into his pocket, when..

“Wait,” you managed to slur out, breaking up the argument. You reached out towards Corpse like a child. His facial expression immediately softened. He gave you a loving smile and immediately took you into his arms, holding you protectively. 

“Now, I suggest you get in your car and never come back,” Corpse threatened.

“Oh, yeah? Or what? I’ll kill you and take your girl, you motherfucker!”

Without hesitation, Corpse took out his switchblade, looking the man in his eyes.

“Say that again?”

You watched as the stranger’s whole tough act fell apart. Without another word, he ran to the driver’s side of his car, fumbling with his keys. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Corpse mumbled, not taking his eyes off the man until he reached his own car. You held his hand the whole way, processing what had just happened. Corpse noticed your distant expression. You got into his car, shutting the door and slumping back into your seat. He tore off his mask, taking in deep breaths to calm himself. Then he looked back to you. 

“Princess?”

You looked to Corpse, your eyes teary. “Hey, Corpse.” You didn’t seem to be as drunk, your mind a lot clearer after the incident. “D-Did you mean anything you said back there? About the..”

“About you being my girl?” 

Corpse took your hand in his, squeezing it comfortingly. He leaned forward and cupped your face with his free hand. “Absolutely.” 

With that, you leaned towards him, hesitantly pressing your lips to his. Your lips tasted of alcohol, but Corpse didn’t care. He was admittedly taken back, his breath hitching, but he released the tension from his body and kissed you back, pulling you over to the driver’s seat atop him. There wasn’t much space, forcing you to press closer to Corpse, deepening the kiss. 

Still being a bit drunk, you were clumsy and kind of ‘out of it’. 

“I’d hold onto something if I were you,” Corpse mumbled, breaking the kiss momentarily to guide your hands to grip his shoulders. But you were impatient and reconnected your lips with his, no doubt causing him to blush even more than he already was.

You couldn’t help yourself and giggled into the kiss, causing Corpse to chuckle along with you, departing from the kiss again and resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry, you’re just so fucking adorable when you giggle.” 

You hummed in response, offering Corpse an innocent grin as you pecked all over his face. 

“I’m so glad you’re mine.”

[worth-more-than-two-thousand]

Returning from the Dead is Easier Said than Done...

Request: Welcome, Shiny! May I request an x Reader (can be fem or gender neutral) where Echo (post-citadel) comes up to their s/o's doorstep to give them flowers and ask them on a date? A plus if the Bad Batch teases him for dressing up nicely and buying flowers. Thank you! (@handmaidenthesimp)

Author’s Note: Enjoy! If anybody wants me to repost with a gender-neutral reader, just let me know. 

Story Notes: Some swearing, not much else to warn you about. Take place in-between Season 7 of CW and The Bad Batch. No Omega this time, sorry! 

🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑

Being declared dead was uncomplicated. Your Republic file was branded with a "KIA" stamp, everyone stoically mourned, and someone just a bit shinier would step in to fill your shoes. 

Being declared undead, however, was decidedly more complicated. Oh, Echo was reassigned to Clone Force 99 easily enough. But it was the little things that seemed to get mired in red tape. Getting his few personal effects back. Re-opening his modest credit account.

Approving a rental application.

Admittedly, it wasn't that Echo really needed his own place; clones were conditioned to be accustomed to share minimalist, often-cramped quarters. And they were always on the move, so it hardly made any financial or practical sense, in the long run. 

But right now, oh, did Echo dearly wish that he was dressing up in the privacy of his own space...and not the shared cabin area of the Havoc Marauder. 

He kept his face stoic, as though readying for battle, refusing to acknowledge his teammates goggling in the background. They had returned early from their supply run. Echo had meant to be out of here an hour ago, but (somehow) hadn’t counted on just how difficult it would be to get dressed into multiple clothing pieces with a scomp link for a hand. 

So that’s how his comrades found him: trying to wrangle a neck accessory into submission by sheer will. 

Oh, if Fives could see him now. 

“You look funny,” Wrecker had declared decisively after an unbearably long silence. “What’s that thing you’ve got on?” 

“It’s a suit,” he grumbled, refusing to look any of them in the eye. “I’m going to see Y/N.”

Wrecker gasped like a fishwife. He leaned forward, and pitched his voice low. As though the others couldn’t still hear him in the tinny space.  “Your girlfriend? You mean you’re going to see her for the first time....since…” Wrecker made a muted cartoonish sound with his mouth, clenching then expanding his fingers in a gesture for ‘explosion’.

Echo stared at him for a moment disbelievingly, before nodding slowly, forcing the sarcastic response he really wanted to say back down. He couldn’t fault Wrecker for being...well, Wrecker. He had all the tact of a rampaging bantha. 

“An’ what’s that? Around your neck?” 

Echo opened his mouth, but someone cut across his response. “A bowtie,” Crosshair drolled, though his eyes glittered with amusement. Echo tensed, knowing that he wasn’t going to like what was coming next. 

“Fifty credits says he chokes, and he ends up strangling himself with it in shame." 

“No way!” Wrecker exclaimed, always the optimist. He clapped Echo on the back, who was unprepared so his knees buckled. He felt his metal joints strain. “Don’t worry, Echo,” his brother rasped in the loudest whisper known to man. “I bet she’s gonna love it!” 

“You know,” Tech piped up unhelpfully, “Your strategy may backfire. The current deviation from your usual appearance may be so jarring for your beloved that she refuses your offer out of simple self-preservation instincts.” 

Echo gritted his teeth. “Right. You have stats to back that up, I suppose?” 

Tech blinked at him owlishly. “Of course I don’t. This is an obvious possible outcome.”

“I’m trying to look nice,” he snapped, scowling. 

There was a loaded pause. “...’trying’ being the objective word here,” Crosshair smirked.  

Before Echo could wipe the look off his comrade’s face with a well-placed ARC trooper punch that would’ve made Hardcase proud, Hunter wedged his way in between them, hands up in a conciliatory gesture. 

“All right, laugh it up, fellas. Personally, I think you’re all jealous because you don’t have a girl waiting for you like Echo does.” Hunter turned to face their newest member, took the bowtie that was clenched in Echo’s fist, and smoothed it out before proceeding to tie it around his neck with surprisingly deft hands. 

Crosshair ‘hmphed’ while Wrecker verbally agreed, looking slightly put out by the undeniable truth. Tech simply nodded in neutral confirmation. The group lapsed into a somewhat awkward (but not unwelcome) silence as Hunter finished tugging at the folded ends of the bow, then double-checking to ensure it was straight. He stepped back to assess his work.

“You look good,” he said sincerely.

Echo thought he was in the clear. 

Hunter frowned. “But...it looks like you’re missing something.” 

Or not. 

“Like dignity?” Crosshair drawled from a dark corner of the ship that Echo frustratingly couldn’t glare at. 

“A sense of self-confidence,” Tech suggested. He wasn’t joking. 

“FLOWERS!” Wrecker boomed confidently. “All girls like flowers. You gotta get her some before you see her!”   

“I...fine.” Echo relented, anything to get his teammates to shut up. He shoved his way through them towards the bridge. “I’ll get her some flowers. You all stay here until I get back. I mean it, Fives!” he warned.

An uneasy silence followed him, which he didn’t register until he reached the landing ramp. 

He shot an exasperated look back at them. “What?’ 

“...Your former comrade is not here, Echo.” Tech finally spoke. His words were clinical, as always, but there was a touch of understanding underlying his tone. 

Echo froze, just for a moment, then shook off the shock of his faux pas as best as he could. 

It wasn’t the first time that had happened, after all. 

Echo descended the landing ramp, squared his shoulders, and marched into town. 

Y/N lived in a run-down but culturally distinct district of Coruscant, characterized by food stalls from species and ethnicities all over the galaxy. Children often ran through the streets, sellers in colorful robes and attire shouting their wares and art for all to peruse. It was one of the nicer markets, he thought, having come here once. He had been accompanying Y/N on her usual run for specialized ingredients that made the diner she worked at the talk of the galaxy. 

Echo elbowed his way through the crowded street, content to simply blend in with the crowd, to forget about being a soldier for a moment. 

He paused at a flower stand and was mindful not to draw too much attention to his scomp-link hand as he ordered a dozen sunflowers, which he remembered were Y/N’s favorite. When his credit chip was declined, however, he sighed and reached into his pocket to see what spare change he could muster up. Being that he was wearing a never-worn suit, however, meant that there was no change to be found, and the unimpressed florist snatched the bouquet away. 

That’s okay, Echo. Y/N doesn't need flowers. She just wants to see you.

At least, he hoped that was the case. He hadn’t exactly written to her yet, unsure that he could sufficiently explain his sudden non-death in typed words...

Surprise! I’m not dead! Hey, you know that explosion on the citadel? Well, I survived! And out of it, I got an all-expenses paid trip to  the Techno Union research facility! Why didn’t I write? Well, I was in stasis most of the time and that part’s a bit fuzzy. I also was responsible for killing my brothers by using their own battle plans against them. Oh, and you might notice that I’m missing most of my fleshy bits these days… 

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, which were more rapid these days thanks to his enhancements. He was good at compartmentalizing, though. He had to be. He was still a soldier, through and through, and no one wanted a soldier who was about two seconds away from a mental breakdown.

Yeah, a letter to Y/N wouldn’t have cut it. But he still felt like maybe he could have sent ahead some sort of...heads up? A warning? A ‘Please don’t scream when you see me because I don’t think my heart could take it?’ 

His feet finally guided him to the front entrance of the building where he knew she lived on the 14th floor. Glancing around, he spotted some blue flowers sprouting in a planter near the entrance. He yanked a fairly healthy-looking handful from the soil, shaking the roots to get most of the dirt off. He tucked the strangled roots into his fist so that they would be less obvious. 

It was time. He nodded to himself, squared his shoulders, and entered the building. 

A short elevator ride later, Echo could feed the sweat beading at his forehead and neck. At least his fight or flight response seemed to be healthy and alive, and Echo tuned out everything but the door in front of him, adorned with a purple wreath of lavender flowers. 

He stood in front of the door, and raised his hand to knock. 

He stood…

In front of the door…

...and raised his hand…

...to knock, you coward. Just fucking knock. 

His raised knuckles, however, refused to move. Echo caught a glimpse of himself in the curtained window panes on the sides of the door, and at the sight of his bloodless face, suddenly felt a whole lot less sure of himself. 

He looked ridiculous. 

He and Y/N had barely gotten to know each other before his untimely death. 

What if she was with someone new? 

This was a terrible idea. Echo should leave now, before he caused himself any more embarrassment. Crosshair might get his fifty credits, after all. 

Echo had just convinced himself to turn around and admit defeat, when the door suddenly swung open. 

Two Y/C/E eyes met his. 

There were points during Echo’s battle career where time slowed to a crawl. When an explosive grenade was thrown just a bit too close, or the comrade you had just exchanged banter with received blaster fire to the face. 

Echo was experiencing the same sensation now, but he would voluntarily stay in this moment forever, if he could. He fervently hoped his nightmares would be replaced with the sight that was etched before him. 

She was wearing her yellow work uniform, white apron pressed crisply with starch...and was as beautiful as ever. Her hair was up in a messy ‘late-for-work’ up-do, a smudge of blushed color not quite within the lines of her lips smearing her cupids’ bow where she had applied it in a rush.

He couldn’t determine whether her reaction to his sudden appearance was positive or not, and so didn’t dare speak first, breathlessly afraid that if he did, the moment would shatter. 

He saw her swallow hard, glancing at him from head to toe, gaze landing on his right hand. 

He guarded his heart. 

“Ech? Echo, is that you?” she whispered. Her eyes tore away from the scomp link hand, and began searching his face as though just as afraid he would disappear. 

He nodded. “Yeah,” he rasped, then cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s me.”

The silence stretched out, and the fight or flight response was creeping back. 

“I know I look a bit different.” He tried for a light-hearted joke, but couldn’t quite get his tone to match. “Had some work done. What do you think?” He winced slightly.

She stepped forward and he froze as Y/N lifted her fingers, hesitating briefly before gently touching one of the metal bolts by his left temple. Her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“...do they hurt?” 

He gasped a little as he remembered to breathe again.

“No,” he reassured her, raising his undamaged hand to steady hers. “No, it doesn’t hurt.” 

“...good.” 

The wind was knocked out of him as Y/N flung her arms around him, burying her face in his neck, tardiness to her job completely forgotten. 

She began sobbing. It wasn’t neat little sobs, like in the scripted holovids, but heaving sobs that wracked her whole body, and he worried slightly that she was going to faint on him. He forgot about his scomp link for the first time as he rubbed it in circles against her back, murmuring nonsense words of comfort in her ear. 

After several minutes, she sniffled, stepping back. She rubbed her nose ungracefully where snot was leaking out, but Echo could have cared less about any of that. He only kept his arms out to steady her, in case she needed support again.

Y/N glanced down suddenly, and flushed.

“Oh. I’ve crushed them.”

Echo followed her gaze and saw that he was still holding the blue flowers from the planter in his good hand, the bouquet having been caught in between their bodies when she had thrown herself at him. They did look a little worse for wear. 

He shrugged unconcernedly. “They were free,” he said, not wanting her to feel guilty. 

She stared at him for a moment before a bubble of laughter burst from her lips. She still looked like she was about to sob at any moment, but she smiled tremulously at him through shining eyes. 

Desperate to make her feel better, he began rambling. 

“I can get you better ones! N-not right now, though,” he stuttered. “Actually, it turns out that I don’t have any credits on me at the moment. Everything’s still kind of backed up at the bank regarding my accounts. Also, this suit is new. Well. Not new. It used to belong to this woman’s father who we rescued during a mission on Bith. Long story.” His brain, which worked faster than usual these days anyways, still couldn’t seem to catch up to his mouth.

He forced himself to get back to the task at hand. “I was actually here to ask you for a date. I mean, assuming there’s no one else at the moment…oh, but you have your job to go do…bantha spit, I forgot about that...” He would have to ask Tech if it was possible for his brain to actually short-circuit.

Echo finally trailed off. Now he was the one blushing. 

The whole of Domino Squad was probably having a good laugh at his expense right about now, wherever they were. 

But Y/N was still smiling at him. And her chin had stopped wobbling. She gently took the flowers from Echo’s hand and placed them on one of the side tables in the hallway before intertwining her fingers with his and grasping his right hand without hesitation. 

“Forget about my job. Let’s go on that date. My treat. Though, if I know Dexter, he’ll give us a free meal, on the house. And the rest of the day off."

For the first time since he had joined Clone Force 99, since he had been rescued on Skako Minor, and even before the Citadel...Echo allowed a true grin of happiness to spread on his face. 

“A free meal,” he echoed. “Sounds like a plan.” 

[quietmyfearswith]

with their little ; preferences

warnings — fluff (?) few hints at sexy times

characters — andy barber, steve rogers,ransom drysdale, bucky barnes, lance tucker, syverson, will shaw, august walker

a/n — THIS IS A DDLG FIC,, the characters will change depending on whether on how i see them fit the theme so yeah,, feedback appreciated

their love language

masterlist

“What are you up to, missy?” Andy asked as he noticed there was a presence who was looking at him as he was busy reading case files. “Nothing dada, I just miss you,” she mumbled as she played with sleeves of one of Andy’s sweatshirts that made her frame even smaller. “Why don’t you come over here then, baby,” Pushing away from the table, he patted on his thighs and turned his chair so he was now facing her. More than happy to oblige, Y/N excitedly crossed the short distance between them and plopped herself down comfortably on his lap. As if it was reflex, she instantly curled her arms around the lawyer’s neck whereas the bearded man circled his arms around her waist. “Are you done with your work dada?” She wondered, truth be told she had been wanting to spend some time with him, but understood well even when she was deep in little space how important it was that Andy remained undisturbed as he worked. Softly stroking her back he answered, “Not yet, baby.” Shoulders dropping, she started to unclasp her arms from where they were enjoying the warmth his body was radiating, “I’ll come back later then,” But as she was making her move to untangle from him he grabbed onto her tighter, “Where do you think you’re going, missy?” HIs fingers grazed her sides and tickled her, giggles erupting from her as she struggled to reply, “Don’t want to bother you work, dada.” Tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, Andy lovingly looked at her, “Work can wait, baby, it’s time to spend some playtime with you.”

“What are you doing?” His voice startled Y/N as she turned to face August, smiling sheepishly hoping that she could charm him enough to distract him. “Hi daddy, how are you?” She greeted him sweetly to which August just curtly nodded, “Hi little one; I’m curious as to what you are up to that got you all messy,” he pointed to her face that was covered in color. Taking this as her cue, Y/N turned and handed him the artworks she was previously focusing on, “Made this for you, daddy; that’s why I’m all messy.”

August managed to mask his facial features from showing how his heart melted at the thought of his little one making two artworks — one that featured the two of them holding hands with hearts littering the background and the other one was just him with a couple of guns in front of room while the words “Greatest Agent, My Hero” written in a banner. “We better clean you up, little one,” Holding out his hand, Y/N was more than happy to take it up seeing how her daddy didn’t seem angry with her as he gently placed the drawing on the desk behind her. As the tub was filling up with water, August gently lifted up Y/N and placed her there, “Did you like my drawings, daddy?” She looked up at him with pure adoration laced with curiosity, and he could not prevent the coo from coming out as he voiced out his gratitude and appreciation for his little one’s creations, “Daddy loved your art, little one. You’re one talented girl, aren’t you?”

As Bucky entered his living quarters, he felt the stress of the day’s workout and training leave him. He dropped the gym bag that his metal hand carried while the other hand wiped the sweat of his forehead with a towel. “Sweetheart, are you in here?” As he called out for her, he heard her excited squeals accompanied by her feet hitting the floor, running towards him. Before he could warn her about how filthy he was, her arms were already wrapping themselves around his waist while her lips were pressing soft, small kisses against his neck. “Hi tătic, I missed you.” He chuckled at how clingy she was and just messed with her a bit as he teased, “I was only gone for a few hours, sweetheart.” She moved her face away from his neck as she pouted, “But you were gone for so long,” she dragged on the last word as if to prove how he took too long to come back to her.

“But I’m here now, sweetheart; have you been good for me?” As soon as the question left his lips, she unclasped her hold from him and sheepishly looked at him she mumbled a soft, “Maybe.” Having suspicions based on how she was acting, Bucky crossed his arms and looked at her, “What were you up to while I was gone, Y/N?” And the girl could only whine as she hated it when Bucky used her real name; but the super soldier knew by doing so he could get her to answer. “Tătic, I only baked you some cupcakes! I knew you were going to be hungry and wanted to make you something,” She confessed as she grabbed one of his hands and led him to the kitchen — where there were around a dozen cupcakes on the counter. Grabbing one, she offered Bucky one cupcake that had blue frosting in it with a huge smile, “Please don’t be mad, tătic.” Taking up her offer, he took the cupcake and tasted it, moaning at the taste he looked at her as he kissed her forehead, relishing in the giggles she let out, “I’ll let it slide how you broke the rules; only because you made such delicious cupcakes.”

With both his hands carrying paper bags, he shut the front door with his foot. Ransom then made his way up to the second floor of his house and went to the room he knew his princess would be cooped up in the study; as she was burying herself in a ridiculous amount of workload. “Princess, are you in here?” He knocked on the door, and when he heard no answer he went ahead and let himself in. The picture of her sitting on the swivel chair as her head and arms were on the desk as she slept greeted him. Setting the paper bags down by the couch, he kneeled down beside her and gently caressed her back. “Wake up, princess,” He quietly tried to wake her up. She mumbled a bit as she slowly opened her eyes, and once she did she smiled, “Hello, my king.” 

Ransom could feel his heart swell double in size as she greeted him; planting his lips down on her nose for a kiss he inquired, “Were you busy with work again, princess?” Nodding, she lifted her head from where it was laying on the desk and sat up straighter while rubbing the sleep off her eyes, “Yes, my king, had a lot of deadlines.” Grabbing one of her hands, he planted a few kisses on her knuckles, “I saw how hard you were working, and thought that my princess deserved a reward,” he chuckled at how her eyes lit up and he pointed to where he put the bags, “Well maybe a few rewards.” Upon seeing how the bags were from her favorite brands and stores, she excitedly leapt out of her seat and launched herself to Ransom so she could hug him tight — the impact making Ransom fall on his bum, but he could only laugh at how she kissed every inch of his face she could get her lips on while repeatedly saying, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Rubbing her back he could only hum, “Anything for you, princess.”

“Baby girl, come back here!” Sy’s booming voice echoed through the walls as he ran after his little girl who managed to sneak away as they both were preparing for bedtime. As she was running through the halls of their home, she was laughing at how she managed to get away past his bear-like grip. Hiding inside the coat closet, Y/N covered her mouth with both her hands as she listened to Sy as he voiced out his thoughts, “I wonder where my baby girl could be.” She heard his footsteps louder, hinting how he was nearby. When the sound was so clear she could also hear his even breathing, she knew he stood right outside the closet, “I know you’re in here, baby girl, I’m giving you one last chance to come out so you’re punishment won’t be too bad.” 

As he opened the closet, Sy was surprised upon seeing how instead of standing on her feet to apologize; instead his troublemaker decided to crawl beneath his legs that were apart. Her giggles also made the Captain smile but he managed to put up his angry exterior as he grabbed Y/N by the waist and stood her up on her feet. “Now care to explain why you ran away when we were getting ready for bedtime?” With a brow lifted, Y/N knew there was no way she could talk her way out of it, so she dramatically sighed, “I’m sorry Captain, but I just don’t want to sleep yet.” Bringing her hands behind her back, Sy had a firm grip on them so she wouldn’t escape, “Well even though you don’t want to, baby girl, you have to.” She just whined as she turned her head to face him as she pouted to which the soldier just shook his head, “I’m sorry but you can’t charm your way out of this one, baby girl. In fact, I have to punish you for running off.”

“Papa, come look!” When Lance heard his angel call for him, he rushed to end his phone call with an event organizer. Setting his phone down on the accent table he then jogged up to their shared bedroom where he guesses she was at. “What’s wrong, angel?” He wonders as he enters without knocking, she then informs him that she’s in their walk-in closet. And when he does find his way in the closet, he chuckles upon seeing how his angel dressed herself up in his track jacket and pants, the sleeves of his jacket making her appear to have sweater paws. “What do you think, papa? Think I can be a gold medalist like you?” She questioned as she bent down to do a halfway lift as well as some stretches. Laughing at her silly antics, he tickled her sides which made her stand up and playfully hit Lance; but really it was the jacket that grazed his chest.

“What’d you hit me for huh, angel?” He feigned hurt as he pulled her close to him. Giving him a quick peck she sassed back, “What’d you tickle me for, papa?” He squinted his eyes as he teased her even more, “But angel you weren’t doing gymnastics! You were doing yoga!” Pushing away from Lance, Y/N then walked away with a strut, “Bleh, they’re all the same anyway.” Riled up from what she said he tackled her, causing her to land on her back, coming in contact with the soft mattress. “I guess I’m gonna have to show you how you do gymnastics huh,” Lance smirked at her.

“No peeking, doll,” Steve gently reminded her as he covered the sketchbook he was drawing on once he saw her eyes trying to catch a glance of what he was drawing. “Why not, sir? I just wanna see what you have,” she groaned out as she was drawing on her own sketchpad. “Because it ruins the surprise! Plus I’m excited to see what my talented girl came up with,” Steve said as he grabbed for his eraser and removed some of the minimal mistakes he made. Slumping back on her chair, Y/N now started to color her work, “What’s your favorite color, sir?”  Placing down the fineliner he had before answering, “Blue, it’s such a calm color. Also you can use it to portray emotions; you can use it to portray sadness or display tranquility.”

She nodded as he ended his explanation, she opted for the blue color to be the main color for her drawing. The next half hour they were silent as they sat across from each other and focused on their work. “I’m done, sir!” Y/N excitedly declared as she placed the sketchbook down on the table, “As am I, doll,” Steve said as he smiled, “Why don’t you show yours first?” LEtting out a huff to show how he didn’t want to go first, Steve just looked at her pointedly which made her comply, “Okay, sir,” She lifted up her work to show her artwork where she had drawn the two of them inside their house where they are sat together with the words “Best Day with Daddy.” “That’s absolutely good, doll! Those are my best days too, the ones with you.” She felt her chest swelling with pride, “Let’s see yours!” He proceeded to show her his work — a portrait of her. “I drew you, doll, because you’re the prettiest dame I’ve ever seen.” Making grabby hands a him, Steve chuckled as he made his way to her to lift her from her seat, carrying her to the kitchen, “You’re welcome too baby, I’d love to snuggle more with you but we’re on a tight schedule,” This comment made Y/N peer up at Steve, silently asking what he meant, “We need to prepare our dinner doll, we’re having that picnic remember?”

“What’s that, munchkin?” Will wondered as he saw Y/N walk towards him with the iPad on her hand. “Wanted to show you something, bubba; If you’re not too busy,” she cautiously said while approaching him. Patting his thighs, she motioned for him to come, “I always have time for you, munchkin.” With that she then giddily sat down on his lap, “What did you want to show me?” Once he asked that, Y/N unlocked the iPad and showed him a 360 degree view of the interior of the museum, “Wanna go here, bubba.” Will took a peak of the place, humming he pried, “You wanna go away for a vacation huh?”

Nodding, Y/N then explained, “I think a vacation might do us good, bubba. You’re stressed and I missed my fun bubba.” Will then realized that he was in fact quite often buried in work; he was also then thankful about how patient his girl had been with him. “You’re absolutely right, munchkin! We do need to go out and take some time off,” the girl on his lap then excitedly clapped her hands and squealed in excitement. “And what’s this about missing fun bubba? I’ll have you know he never left,” And to prove his claim, he then tickled her sides. This then prompted the start of their playtime — Y/N scrambling to move out of Will’s lap as he her bubba chased her around the house, laughter and joy filling up the place.

[icequeenbae]

Dior Vernis | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Domestic au, husband!Baekhyun, pregnant!Reader, established relationship (obviously), slight angst, fluff, bits of humor (it’s Baek, y’all)

Rated: G

Warnings: husband!Baek’s so sweet you may need to visit your dentist after this

Word Count: ~1.5k finally

Summary: Baekhyun came home to find his pregnant wife crying. He’s ready to do what it takes to make her happy again. And it’s probably not what you think.

© Please do not copy/ post on other platforms without permission.

Author’s Note: This is just a cute little something while I work on bigger stories – those are taking forever to get edited… :( Feel free to DM me in case you want to help out with some of it (check out my beta reader post). I was trying something new in terms of structuring this, I hope it’s not too confusing. Anyways, please enjoy and let me know if you’d like more of these!! Thanks baekshoney for taking a quick look!

Baekhyun was incredibly focused.

The task at hand was not something he was used to undertaking, neither had he expected to be in this position tonight, crouched uncomfortably on the living room floor in front of you. He was pretty tired after work, and the stoop was making both his knee and his neck hurt. Not that he was going to say anything about the inconvenience anyway.

It was strangely quiet, seeing that this was your home, always boisterous. Loud with your laughter, your endless chattering, your purposefully bad singing, or even your arguments. But right now, the only sounds reverberating around the room were your residual sniffling and his concentrated breathing. You tried to take a closer look at his hands, quite unsuccessfully since your massive seven-months pregnant belly was in the way.

‘Don’t move,’ he asked, when you shifted slightly.

You nodded, effectively doing that again, so he shot you a dirty look and held you in place by the ankle, to which you muttered something apologetic.

‘Are you trying to make me mess up?’

‘Sorry,’ you mumbled, chewing on your lip to control your impatience.

You better let your husband do this – he definitely took his mission seriously. Of course, there was no way he’d mess up and make you cry the way you were when he came through the door. Simply no way.

Even if he had to crouch and do this for the next hour.

~

It couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes since he arrived home. At the time, Baekhyun expected you to be happy that he came early to spend some more time together, but instead found you sitting at the edge of the couch, bawling your eyes out.

At the sight of this he felt his heart skip a beat in fear. He very rarely got like this, usually the one to take a step back and look at any issue calmly and with a bit of humor. But now was a special time – you were getting ready to become parents for the very first time – which made him overly cautious and uncharacteristically fussy around you. Hence, while he stood frozen in the doorway, a million scary thoughts went through his panicked mind. His eyes searched your body frantically: there were no visible injuries, no blood, the bump was intact…

‘What’s going on? Y/N?’ He was trying so hard to cover up his terror that he instantly gave himself away by using your name like this. Too serious. ‘Are you hurt?’

He reached you in a second, kneeling in front of you and touching your wrists as you covered your face while crying.

‘Baby, tell me what’s wrong,’ he almost pleaded.

He wanted to help but had no idea what was happening. You looked fine from what he could tell and the TV was off, so it definitely wasn’t due to any tragic plot twist in your favorite series. Your shoulders shook with more sobs and he shifted his palms to rub them in calming motions. There was an unusual lump in his throat. He could barely stand seeing you, his partner and future mother of his child, like this. Sure, these past few months of your regular hormonal crying taught him some resolve, but that dreadful time was over weeks ago. He’d never even seen you this discomposed before, so the reasoning behind your state was to be determined as soon as possible.

‘Hey,’ he tried again, putting his gentle palm on your belly absentmindedly. ‘I need to know if you’re hurt, babe, so that I can help. Do you need me to call someone?’

You shook your head no, and he nodded to himself.

‘Okay. Why don’t you breathe with me for a second?’

With you getting upset during a good portion of your early pregnancy, Baekhyun had to train himself at the art of figuring out the reason and calming you down to talk about it. Breathing exercises seemed quite helpful whenever he could get through to you, and this was one of those cases. You must’ve been crying for a bit, since before he arrived even. That thought made his heart clench.

‘Breathe in with me, like this,’ he took a deep breath through his nose, ‘And exhale from your mouth.’

He guided you by example, and you subconsciously followed the suggested pattern.

A couple minutes later, your sobs were reduced to sniffling, and you lowered your palms enough for Baekhyun to see your red, watery eyes.

‘Aw sweetheart,’ he bemoaned, carefully investigating your blotched face.

He took his time wiping the tears off your cheeks while you sat there with your sweater paw pressed to your runny nose.

His touch was always so comforting in times like this. There was nothing like it. And everything about your husband gave you a sense of tranquility and security when he was near. Even Baekhyun’s breathing was doing its part in relaxing you.

He allowed you to bask in his affection, stroking your arm lingeringly and tracing the remaining wet trails on your cheeks with his fingertips. As your breathing slowly came back to normal, he could finally pay attention to the surroundings. There was a small colorful item on the floor that he’d noticed only now. Curious, he picked it up and read the label.

‘Dior Ver- vernis? Is this nail polish?’ He asked in confusion and received a feeble nod from you.

Baekhyun could barely place this item in ‘the big picture’, so he tried asking you again.

‘So… Can you tell me what happened?’

You looked away, avoiding his eyes. He examined your face and was mystified by the embarrassed look that appeared on it out of the blue.

‘Y/N?’

‘It’s- I think it’s hormones again,’ you croaked and looked away.

While this was an excellent excuse, he’d known you well enough to understand that it was one.

‘Tell me everything, honey. What got you upset?’

His palm went back to caressing your baby bump, and you instantly felt loved and cherished from the simple action. Your fidgety fingers lowered to play with his.

‘It’s- nothing serious,’ you confessed. ‘I just- my feet got hideously swollen today… And I had a pedicure appointment. Had to cancel.’

Baekhyun nodded, still unsure of what exactly caused this outburst. Your feet tended to get swollen often these days, this wasn’t news to either one of you, and it was fine, your doctor had said. It couldn’t have been some randomly cancelled appointment that got you in tears, right? Or could it?

‘I- tried doing it myself,’ you continued reluctantly, noticing his puzzlement. ‘But it’s impossible. I can’t even see anything because- because I’m so huge,’ you stifled a sob. ‘And swollen, and clumsy, and-’

‘And beautiful,’ Baekhyun interrupted your rant that was headed the wrong way already.

He could see it now. This was definitely hormone infused but there was also something else underneath. Your husband hummed, a playful expression creeping up his face.

‘Why would this upset you though? You’re only ‘huge’ because you’re carrying our healthy boy,’ Baekhyun’s tone was thick with fondness as he said that. ‘He’s going to be a big one. At this rate I’m willing to bet that he’s going to be taller than Chanyeol. All thanks to his miracle mother.’

You snorted a laugh at his non-scientific statement, finding his warm palm on your stomach. He just loved touching it at all times.

‘What if it’s a girl?’ You whispered, and your husband gasped, now pressing both hands to your belly protectively.

‘Why would you say that! She’d be a model then, and I don’t want my little girl to be one. She’s mine to look at and cherish,’ he pretend grumbled before adding a softer, ‘Just like you.’

Nudging his shoulder timidly, you giggled and bit your lip to contain your bashful smile.

‘Hm, you know what?’ He clicked his tongue, looking like he’d had a revelation. ‘I’m sure pedicure isn’t rocket science; I can do it.’

You barely reacted as he swiftly took the fluffy slipper off your right foot and rested it over his knee.

‘No!’ You tried to retract the limb but he held you by the ankle. In any case, you were way too lumpish to do it gracefully.

‘Oh, come on! You think this can scare me? Those are just feet, Y/N,’ he scolded and looked down, almost jumping. ‘Holy mother of-!’

You squirmed and hid your eyes in your sleeve as he proceeded to laugh at your reaction.

‘I’m kidding, I’m kidding!’ He said in an amicable tone before continuing, ‘I’m sure I can find your toenails in there, somewhere.’

You whined at this and shoved your mischievous husband in the side with the ball of your foot.

‘Alright, alright, calm down. I’m going to put this exquisite shade of pink onto them as neatly as I can. But you have to promise me that you won’t cry if I mess up!’

‘Don’t you dare mess up. Or else you’ll have to make it up to me with three hundred foot rubs,’ you groused, sniffing again to keep your nose from running.

‘Got it. Phew, glad you won’t be able to see it up close anyways,’ he smirked, expertly shaking the nail polish in preparation.

‘Baekhyun!’ You reproached for his shamelessness.

Your husband let out a cheeky laugh and announced:

‘My foot’s falling asleep, so let’s do this!’

He was fully concentrated on your pedicure after that.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I was blown away by the feedback I received for the Duality of Baekhyunie, so I wanted to keep you entertained while I’m working on the sequel and other stuff. I hope you weren’t disappointed ❤

P.S. Tell me in the comments how fast you realized that it’s all about nail polish 😂

[deathlandsxreaper]

I can always see the moment when love dies.

It’s part of what I am.

That click which feels enormous and heavy and so goddamn silent; a one-sided decision that will bring one individual peace while the other is oblivious to what’s actually going on.

Then comes the cruelty.

My cruelty is sitting across from me, clearing his eyes from whatever my brother shot into his neck earlier.

It takes a full eight seconds of looking at our surroundings before his arctic gaze travels the length of my frame, drinking me in like poison.

The feeling is mutual for very different reasons.

Where he looks like he could kill you with one hit, his mind games are his real art.

And while I appear as lovely as a daisy, I can also tear this imposing man in two physically and mentally.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Not even close.”

He narrows an eye on me, not appreciating the nonexistent bite to my words.

He always did prefer passion over comedy; mix in his favorite amount of angst and we have the walking poster child for a self-obsessed man with little time for anything more than a fuck doll.

“What is it now, Gracey?”

Red.

It’s painfully hot, burning tears behind smeared lashes. That name latches like an inescapable twitch in the base of my neck. A tunnel of breathing, heartbeat thump, thump, thumping, something drips down my fist.

I’m vaguely aware of him yelling, tensing thigh muscles around a blade that has crucified him through the steel chair. There’s an attempt to buck off the metal, cursing my name while he attempts to wrench free.

“You stupid FUCKING BITCH!” He screams without venom. Dragging breaths, broken and furious, yet all I can pay attention to is the steady drizzle of blood coursing from blade to floor.

Plip.. plip…

A yank, tugging free with a squirt that stains my wrist crimson. The knife clatters to the concrete, my gaze moving to the way his veins protrude in such a thick neck while he hurls insults at me.

“What did I ever do to you?” like I hadn’t just stabbed him. My voice is devoid of the same emotion he has; the shell cast over me slowly cracking to give way to a monster I keep locked away.

“Are you fucking– really?! I don’t owe you shit, Lena! You deserved it all, honestly, and don’t try to say you didn’t. Couldn’t even listen for one goddamn-”

My boot slams into his chest, cracking the sternum viciously. A grunt when he hits the wall opposite me, rolling eyes to fight off the concussion beginning to flood his consciousness.

Baby blues close, head tilted back with a deep inhale. Drowning darkness relaxing into my pores, settling at home in my bones. Fury oozes from within, sharp and scented with gunpowder. When my peripheral finally finds him, he’s ringed in the same blistering color as I saw when he used that fucking nickname.

Gracey..

A cool wash of air, the familiar handle of another blade I’ve sparingly used for the demise of humanity. This one is readily sharp and forged from Annihilation’s ambition. He winces away, struggling to keep his composure.

I am rarely the Reaper to anyone.

Until now.

“I could be kind and give you a merciful death, but where is my justice in that? When do I get your repentance for degrading and debasing me needlessly until I was broken down? Nothing was good enough. I can’t be silent anymore; I can’t let you fucking win! Not after everything.”

His hands jolt at the sing of my scythe ripping a hole from one realm to the next. I don’t even turn for the clatter of nails against the stone floor. My fingers twist in grisly fur, petting the creature absentmindedly.

“Eat.”

“What the h-”

He doesn’t get to finish his final thought, her hellish maw clamping and yanking his lower mandible free from his face. Blood rains onto his cheeks like tears, the hole where a handsome jaw used to be quivering in a nervous system memory of how much he liked to run his mouth.

I ignore the blood spatter sticking to my skin and hair, watching grimly as the bones and tendons are torn from this once strong man.

The sounds of a gory feast follow me until they’re a distant slurp; the door open with a dark figure at the opening, silently watching my handiwork.

I would know Death anywhere.

It must be a proud father moment I’ve read about in books.

The air outside is smothered by the scent of hot rain. It’s the thing that calms my senses back to technicolor; the rage I look so pretty in swallowed deep and caged for another day.

[teukyo]

One Warm Spring  — Hamada Asahi

pairing: hamada asahi x reader (gender neutral)

genre: fluff, very cheesy lol

word count: 3.2k

a/n: this had no business being so long i apologize D: i tend to overwrite whoops.. oh this is also my first fic so i hope you enjoy ! i’m still a bit rusty lol

Spring; after long nights of endless slumber, the Sun creeps up to the earth, its rays planting warm yet gentle kisses. The orb’s cheeks fill up in heat, flowers of endearment blooming, butterflies catching in the atmosphere’s stomach.

The Earth smiling back, showing a bright welcoming smile, and with open arms, tells the sun “good morning”. 

The quiet exchange of sweet nothings transferred to the buoyant citizens, as everyone would jump in joy about the newly welcomed season.

And during this time of the year, peoples hopes grew along with the blooming cherry blossoms until, they too, find a loved one

With late march rolling in, comes the blossoms fully bloomed, the arms in everyone’s hearts opening to everyone.

Yet, you often found it a mistake to open up your heart in a time full of tender love like now.

Empty confessions mimicked to be heartfelt at the spur of the moment, fleeing away just as quick as the cherry blossoms came and went. You just never understood it.

Snap!

“Y/N~~ the cherry blossoms are coming soon,” your friend, Jihoon sang into your ear, “And you’re out dozing off into dreamland, are you perhaps thinking about participating in the blossoming of love this year?”

You lightly shoved him away, giving him a glare. Jihoon was always jumping around during this time of the season because he never failed to have a crowd lining up to confess him; his ego flying as high as the newly born butterflies.

“Haha, very funny.” You deadpanned, leaving him behind to go to the cafeteria. 

“Hey, you get the drinks and i’ll get the food!” Jihoon shouted, you simply responding with an ‘okay’ symbol with your hand.

Because this was a routine everyday, you had your exact footsteps to the vending machine engraved in your head.

‘11:43—by now everyone should have already gotten their drinks’

‘1, 2, 3, 4.. don’t trip over the crack.. 5, 6, 7—’ beep!

That beep.. wasn’t part of your procedure.

You looked up, your eyes landing on an unfamiliar figure in front of your destination.

Focusing your vision on him, he was made out to be a raven haired boy, his posture slightly hunched over focusing on the number combination assigned to each drink.

His dainty fingers lightly pressing the right combo, pressing each digit carefully like his joints were made of glass

Shoving the crumpled up $5 bill into the slot, his eyebrows furrowing when the machine rejected it

5-5-6-2— banana milk?

You hadn’t realized you’ve been staring at him the entire time until he started walking away, a banana milk in his hand, accidentally brushing past you.

“Ah, sorry” he simply muttered under his breath before continuing on his path. His voice, a deep contrast to the season; hearing his hushed voice chilling you like a midwinter night. His entire presence stood out, almost like a wilted flower amongst the blossoming ones. Yet here you are, warm as ever, feeling the sun pressing warm gentle kisses on the place his fingertips brushed yours.

—

“Y/N? banana milk? you seem to be switching it up today” Jihoon said when you set your drinks down on the table.

“Ah.. i just — maybe i needed a change for the season” you simply responded because, you too, didn’t know why you had a banana milk in front of you instead of your usual chocolate milk.

Throwing your half empty banana milk carton to the trash after lunch, you heard a voice peer behind you.

“Oh! you drink banana milk too! it’s my favorite!” a student you knew the name by Jaehyuk vocalized. You snuck a peek back at the banana milk slowly spilling out of the tiny straw, smiling back at Jaehyuk looking at you with hopeful eyes.

“Ah— this is actually my first time trying it! And it’s.. good!” you returned, attention on Jaehyuk until you see a much smaller figure peer behind him, a chocolate milk in hand.

“Of course it’s good! don’t buy too much of it though— don’t need it going out of stock on me! cmon Asahi”

Asahi. Asahi is his name.

You took one last quick glance at him, watching him throw the empty chocolate milk carton in the bin.

“Yeah.. The banana milk was too sweet for me anyway.”

—

Squatting down to touch the freshly grown flowers outside the school yard, you had recalled the times of your youth as a child running so eagerly to the same flowers in your hand right now.

Gazing at the pretty pink petals in awe as you wiping the morning dew slightly so it can slide off the petals, dripping to the ground.

Running back into your home, crying for a bandaid because you accidentally poked your hand with one of the thorns on accident.

Such simple yet vivid times you remember that made you cherish life a little more.

“Y/N? what are you doing here— our last class is gonna start soon” you heard your classmate Hyunsuk call. you spotting an ever so familiar figure behind him.

Small yet vivid moments.. how does this remind you of—

“Y/N what are you doing cmon!”

—

After school, you sneakily slid into the art classroom after realizing you left your phone in there. Checking the clock, you had 15 minutes before art club would commence, assuming you had 5 minutes to find your phone before members of the club would start arriving.

You observed the colorful classroom with the array of paintings laying on the drying rack, the paint brushes laying on the counter to dry, the sink covered in copious amounts of colors with its original silver color peeking through. The room gave off the feel of an elementary school art classroom. You guess the term “art is timeless” applies to the setting art is made in too.

“Ah there it is!” you whispered to yourself, snatching it off of the teacher’s desk. The sound of the door sliding open shocked you, ducking down under the table out of instinct.

‘Crap—how do i get out of here’ you thought before hearing a tiny tap on the desk.

And during this time of the year, peoples hopes grew along with the blooming cherry blossoms until, they too, find a loved one

“Uhm.. are you okay?” you looked up, seeing him.

With late march rolling in, comes the blossoms fully bloomed, the arms in everyone’s hearts opening to everyone.

“Oh sorry! I just- I forgot my phone during class so I just came in here to grab it..” you trailed off, quickly getting out of your ducked position and brushing the dust off of you.

You just never understood it.

“I should get going since art club is starting soon” you mustered. Before you could open the door you heard him speak.

“Are you looking to join the art club by any chance?” he said. You looked back at him, unable to scramble words together.

‘Just say yes, say yes, say yes, say yes say-‘

—

You handed out the application form to the leader of the art club, Yoshinori was it?

“Thank you thank you! You can join us for today to see the gist of what goes on” he said while giving you a smile that can easily flutter the hearts of others.

You looked at the room around you seeing Asahi and Jaehyuk, and a freshman that went by Haruto.

To be honest, why did you apply? Your experiences in art were little to none and your current piece you were working on in class was a “dog”— at least that’s what you called it.

“There should be one more person arriving and then we can start” Yoshinori said whilst you and him took a seat.

You stared at Asahi across from you who was absent mindedly looking down at the table, fiddling with his fingers.

‘Cute’ you thought before getting interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

“oh! Y/N what brings you here?” you looked behind you to see Jihoon at the entrance, giving Yoshinori a polite smile.

“I think i should be asking what are YOU doing here,” you retorted, knowing very well that both you and him had the same level of art skill, “and I just joined because i’ve been interested in art.”

“Sure—“ Jihoon scoffed, “Asahi told me about this today so i decided to join—“

‘Asahi. How does he know Jihoon?’

“And you’re not even listening to me!” he exclaimed, ruffling your hair roughly, you lightly punching him in the gut in return.

After the commotion died down, everyone went in session, drawing on a piece of paper whatever went into mind. It definitely meditated your mind but it wasn’t appealing— visually.

The room was filled with small chatter, Jihoon’s voice overbearing everyone else’s.

“Your doodles are very cute” you heard him softly speak. You looked up at his paper, your eyes widening at the sheer talent that bestowed upon your eyes.

“You’re a funny jokester” you simply replied, looking at your own paper with a tight lipped smile. You heard him stifle a laugh, warmth flooding throughout your veins.

“It’s amusing to look at— i like the dog” he said, pointing at one of the drawings.

“It’s supposed to be a zebra >:(“ you looked up at him, trying to contain his laughter before calming himself down and continuing to draw on his paper.

“Well it’s fine because art club isn’t necessarily based on skill. i mean, if we have Jaehyuk in here then that says something” he responded pointing at Jaehyuk’s paper. You couldn’t quite comprehend what he was drawing— a person playing baseball??

“It’s a frog by the way”

“HUH?!”

—

You hadn’t realized how late art club ended, but when you walked out of school, you saw the once blue sky turned into an orange hue indicating the late time.

“We hope to see you again Y/N” Yoshinori said. You nodded and hummed in response before taking your leave with Jihoon.

You took one last glimpse of Asahi, sticking out amongst the orange sky. The sun was setting yet— looking at him gave you the exact warmth you would feel on a midsummer day. You watched his mouth slowly bloom into a smile when made eye contact. You think in your mind that spring has never felt so warm.

—

You looked up at the trees in the process of blooming, white buds formulating on the branches.

“The trees are gonna be really pretty in about two weeks or so” you heard a voice from behind you. Him. You clenched the chocolate milk in your hand before turning towards him.

“Yeah— oh sorry i’m blocking the vending machine” you murmured, sliding away.

“Oh no no,, it’s fine,” he said before taking your spot and getting the same drink in your hand, “Are you by any chance— planning to confess to anybody?”

Oh, right. You looked up at the blossoming trees once again. The time of the season you once never understood. The time of the season you once could say you despised. Yet here you are, having the rush of spring flowing down your veins. Is this the adrenaline that everyone feels? The unknown feeling gave you goosebumps throughout your body as he asked you that question.

“I don’t quite know yet,” you simply responded, looking back at him taking the drink out of the machine, “What about you?”

A sheepish smile wiped on his face, his dimple showing ever so slightly. He shrugged before looking at you.

“Only my heart knows the answer to that question.”

—

Over the so little time you’ve known Asahi, you’ve picked up on his mannerisms and his actions.

For one, he was more on the reserved side, and even when he talked his voice would always be on the softer side. You unknowingly started to associate him with winter because he gave off the cold feeling of a winter night. It was also your favorite season.

Most people knew him because he was friends with Jaehyuk, one who was very popular amongst the school. You had heard a couple times in the hallway about how handsome Asahi was. The feeling you felt when hearing that was unknown to you.

He enjoyed drawing a lot; him and Yoshinori were the best out of the club (though you’d be a bit biased if asked whose art you liked more), and he was always focused on his work, always scrunching in a little corner tending to his painting. But yet he always complimented your drawings no matter how bad they were, never failing to give you a warm feeling right after.

You could say you had developed an endearment towards asahi.

You stepped out your home, looking at the once bare trees flutter into pink hues, you thought the cherry blossoms were beautiful.

Today you decided not to walk out with Jihoon because well— confession season is always different with that boy. You had no intentions to get caught up in his relations.

You took timid and slow steps towards school. Taking your time looking at the petals and happy groups walking and aweing at the blossoms. Your mind was also off somewhere— of course it was, it always was.

Arriving at school, you saw Jihoon getting flooded by countless individuals, a letter in most of their hands. You could say the same to Jaehyuk on the other side who was also getting bomboarded. You took your routined steps to your locker, opening it as per usual except— it wasn’t usual.

You watched the letter flutter out, swaying to the floor imitating a loose flower petal. Picking it up with a shaked up expression, you carefully opened it up.

You saw the scribbled up lines at the top of the letter, indicating that the said person was trying to make a poem.

‘ah— who am i kidding? i’m not one with words. i never was. yet here i am trying to pour my feelings out on this letter. but i cant seem to combine the right words to express it. maybe because my feelings could not be described in the first place. maybe my feelings are best not worded out on this crumpled up piece of notebook paper. because if i’m being honest— this is my 27th time writing this and yet i still cant get it down. just.. meet me at class 104B? 4:15 pm after school today? please? -♡

Your grip on the paper tightened, the heart fluttering confession bringing a small smile to your face. You looked back at your locker seeing chocolate milk in sitting atop. You grasped it in your hand, taking it out before closing the locker and heading to class, your hands gripping tightly onto the objects. Unknown to you a figure watching your every move with focused eyes.

As time went by in school awfully slowly, your mind went off to one person only. You had foolishly deluded yourself into thinking that the letter and milk was from him. well— he did see you buy chocolate milk that one time. And well,, the handwriting did have a print of him.

‘Enough thoughts. just wait until school ends and your mind can finally-‘ ring!

You looked up at the clock in shock, realizing that it was, in fact, 4:00pm.

You purposefully gathered up your belongings slowly, trying to pass as much time as possible. Putting your care into every single step taken, from the 1st floor to the second.

Taking a deep breath, you slid open the empty classroom door. It was very convenient that it was just across the art classroom as the club did have a meeting today.

You traveled across the room to look out the window, seeing someone announce their feelings to another under the cherry blossoms. Just last spring you would stick your tongue out in disgust yet here you are somewhat in the same position, your heart aching as each second ticks by.

You watched them hug each other, their feelings being reciprocated, a petal getting caught in ones hair. You looked at the trees and how it really set the mood, almost getting lost in the alluring sight until you heard someone clear their breath.

You turned around deliberately, looking down at your shoes before looking up.

Yet, you often found it as a mistake to open up your heart in a time full of tender love like now. well— maybe not.

It’s him. The person right in front of your eyes is him.

You felt like the sun had just rose, your heart beating out of your chest almost like it was about to burst and run away. You felt the butterflies prance around in your stomach, feeling like you could cough one up right now. Does he feel the same right now?

“Ah,,, hello” he mustered shyly. You clenched the letter in your hand.

“Did you perhaps—“ though it was quite obvious, the slight nod from him gave you your answer.

You observed him, his hair slightly covering his eyes. Lightly kicking at his feet, you had figured he couldn’t compromise the right words.

“I have something for you” he spoke out after what seemed like a few minutes. He reached his hand out, silently telling you to take the initiative to grab it. You placed your hand in his, feeling like your hand was molded perfectly just to cusp his. His grip so gentle you could barely feel him grasp your hand.

Leading you to the art classroom across, your eyes spotting on the covered canvas on an easel. Using his other hand, he took off the cloth, your eyes widening in awe.

Your mouth laid agape as you looked at the drawing of a portrait of you with cherry blossoms in the background. Your heart stammering in your chest.

“Is this what you’ve been working on the entire time in art club?” you asked, eyes still on the painting. He hummed and nodded his head.

“Do you like it? Or is it a bit too—“

“No no! I like it a lot— Actually I love it. I love it so much” you cut him off, looking at him with excitement evident in your eyes. Words couldn’t describe the feeling flowing through you. Is this real?

“Well, I like you a lot too. I was trying to find a way to tell you, so I used my strong suit which is art” he proceeded to tell you, taking your other hand in his. He smiled tenderly at you, his signature dimple showing once more.

“Asahi— I like you too” you beamed, staring straight into his eyes. His smile widened more, his teeth showing. You took this as the initiative to hug him, arms wrapping around his neck, his wrapping around your waist.

You felt the sun shine on you, the warmth of spring immersing through you, your heart feeling more than alive as ever. The cherry blossoms you once thought as a mistake becoming the blessing in disguise for you. You think in the time of the moment that Spring has never felt so warm for you.

[lemonlushff-iy]

Chapter 1

Inuyasha burst into the men's bathroom, bracing his shaky hands on the ledge of the sink.

This...This couldn't be happening. Could it? It...He knew it was possible...That it would happen one day...But...now?

He reached over the sink to turn on the faucet, splashing cold water onto his face and dampening his silver bangs. He'd hoped it would help...But...He still felt lightheaded. Shaken. Trembling. His breathing was ragged, and he looked...about as big a mess as he felt.

Because the shirt he was wearing...

His shirt was red.

"It's...it's ok," he mumbled, looking at himself in the mirror - the bright red of his cotton button down glaring back at him like a beacon in the night. It was the most jarring thing in his world. His hair was still the same silvery grey it had always been. His eyes, the same shade of grey.

The rest of his world...it was still...

Grey.

But his shirt...

No...his fucking shirt.

It was bright fucking red.

The first color he had ever seen that wasn't grey scale.

He ran his clawed fingers through his bangs, trying to get a hold of himself, but it was hard. It was like his thoughts weren't connecting in his brain, and everything had just gone...blank. He should be excited. Thrilled. Instead, he was fucking terrified.

Because his soulmate was nearby...

...And today was the fucking biggest day of his professional life.

The door to the bathroom burst open, and Inuyasha could smell Sesshomaru before he could see him.

"What the fuck man? Why the hell did y—" he demanded, stopping mid sentence when he could smell his younger brother's nervousness. See the water on his face and clothes. "Yash...what...Are you ok?"

Inuyasha slowly shook his head, swallowing. He tried to open his mouth and tell his brother, but the words caught in his throat and he was left floundering. His lips were trying to form sentences he couldn't actually articulate.

"Inuyasha, what happened," Sesshomaru pressed, taking his shoulders between his large hands. It should have felt comforting...but all it did was make him feel smaller. Like he was a child again, needing his older brother to protect him from the kids at school that made fun of him.

Because he was color blind.

They'd called him a freak. A weirdo. Strange.

All because he couldn't relate to simple questions, like - What's your favorite color? Can you pass me the yellow marker? What do these four things have in common?

Hint - they were all blue.

Something he couldn't see.

Because he hadn't met his soulmate yet.

But now...now he was seeing red.

Literally.

"My shirt," he breathed, and Sesshomaru's face furrowed in confusion.

"What about it? Did you spill something on it? Rip a hole in it? Do we need to trade?"

Inuyasha rapidly shook his head, running his hands down his face.

"It's red," he muttered, and Sesshomaru blinked slowly at him.

"Yeah? So? You knew that when mom gave it to you. What's the big deal?"

"I...No. Sesshomaru. My shirt. It's red."

That time when he said it, really stressing the word "red", he could see it click in his brother's brain.

"Oh...shit..."

"Yeah. I know."

"...Shit!"

"I know!"

"What are you going to do?"

"I have no fucking idea Sessh! How the hell am I supposed to go out there and try to sell myself and my art in this fucking show, when my fucking soulmate is here!"

"Shit..."

"I know!" he repeated, his ire growing the more they stood there in the bathroom. He was starting to panic. Inuyasha needed to mix and mingle and socialize...but he had zero desire to do so. Now that he was at least a little calmer over the absolute fucking shock of seeing color for the first time in his life, he only had one desire.

Find his soulmate.

But...if he fucked this show up, he might never be invited to show at this gallery again. He'd spent a good chunk of his career as a painter working to get into this place. It was known for its exclusivity. You couldn't be just anyone to show here.

You had to be someone.

And he was finally someone...And it had been a hard fucking road to get here. He couldn't fuck this up...but...He also couldn't lose whoever his soulmate was.

Inuyasha watched his brother's lips press into a thin line as he tried to think of a solution, before finally coming to a decision.

"Trade shirts with me."

"I...What?"

"I'm going to pretend to be you," Sesshomaru explained, untucking his shirt from his pants. "You're going to pretend to be me. Just for now. We look almost the same anyways. That's what mom and dad always say."

"We do not! You have a fucking moon in the center of your head, and two stripes on your cheeks - I only have the one. And then there are the ears..."

"I know but...Most people aren't going to remember that shit anyways," he continued, handing his brother his shirt. "If someone knows who you are, what are they going to say? 'He's the dog demon in the red shirt.' I can be the dog demon in the red shirt. It's the best we've got right now...And you haven't been formally introduced yet. You said you never even met the gallery owner!"

"Only assistants," he nodded weakly as Sesshomaru started unbuttoning Inuyasha’s shirt for him.

"Perfect. I think we can pull this off for now. It's going to be fine. You just...Need to try and find her. Fast."

Inuyasha nodded numbly as he shrugged his shirt off, trading with his brother. Sesshomaru's shirt felt warm as he slipped his arms into it. It was an odd thing to notice, but...it felt oddly comforting, as did the scent of his brother enveloping him. It was like being wrapped in a calming layer of reassurance while his entire world was being turned unexpectedly upside down. Even if they couldn't pull this off...he was thankful for his brother and his crazy idea. It was making him feel calmer, at least.

"It's going to be fine Yash...Alright?"

He nodded numbly again.

"Hey. Look at me," Sesshomaru repeated, taking his brother's chin between his fingers. "Let me hear you say it."

"I-it's going to be fine."

Sesshomaru nodded and the corners of his lips quirked up into the slightest of smiles.

"Good."

They quickly finished dressing and gave each other a once over before deeming they were ready to face the world.

"Hey...Sessh?"

"Mmm?" his bother replied, before grabbing his shoulders. Inuyasha felt Sesshomaru's finger's in his hair - fixing his bangs, pulling his locks into a ponytail with the hair band he had been wearing...

"What...what if my soulmate...isn't a woman?"

Sesshomaru paused, tilting his head to the side.

"You mean if it's a man?"

"Y-yeah. I mean...I never really thought about a man before? Or was interested in one, but what if—"

"We won't love you any less, if that's the case. You know that, right? It's ok, if that's what happens. We love you. And if your soulmate isn't...what or who we always pictured...It won't change you for us, alright? We just want you to be happy, so stop worrying."

Inuyasha could only shakily exhale and nod his head, allowing his older brother to continue fussing over him.

"I feel like you might be a bottom though."

Inuyasha shoved him away and turned towards the door, ignoring his brother's laughter.

He had a unique way of pissing him off and calming him down all at the same time.

***

There were little hints of red everywhere he went now. He hadn't realized just how colorful the world was until he could see red. It was in the wine. The strawberries. The carpet near the glass doors. Outside he could see streaks of it in the distance from street lights and in flowers. He could see it in the glow of the exit sign near a stairwell.

It was distracting...but...it was also fading.

That meant he was losing her. Or him.

It made his stomach twist into knots.

Extended teaser on: Facebook | Instagram

Full teaser on: Patreon

[unsaid-stardust]

Heart and Sole

huge shoutout to @lydias--stiles​ for the idea! 💜

It didn’t take long for Julie to bend her “stay out of my room” rules for Luke. It also didn’t take long for Julie’s room to become Luke’s favorite room of the entire Molina house. No longer was it the studio, oh no. And that was because of one very very clear difference: it was never just the two of them in the studio. 

But, in Julie’s room--it was always just the two of them. And Luke loved every minute. Especially when it looked the way it did now with Luke sitting on the chair by Julie’s desk, strumming his guitar mindlessly and Julie on her bed, covering her plain white converse with colorful pieces of art.

Julie would say they were just doodles, but Luke thought Julie was wrong because of course it was art. Anything Julie did was art, really. He’s tried to tell her before. Loads of times (Pretty much every day--sometimes twice in a day. He just needed to make sure she knew, ok?). But, even so, Julie can be stubborn when she wants to be, and with her “doodles” as she so passionately calls them, she wanted to be.  

Luke loves her so-called doodles. It was one of his favorite things about his day; seeing what new design was left on new lyrics or imprinted on her shoe when she got home from school (Because chances were, when she left for school with white converse, they wouldn’t come back as white as snow). 

His absolute favorite thing about Julie’s doodles though was that everything that was drawn by her, especially on her shoes, seemed like a piece of her. Every stroke, every sketch was just an imprint of Julie’s DNA. Another mark on the map that led to Julie’s soul (He was one of the lucky few that had already seen into Julie’s soul, that night in the kitchen, so he didn’t need some pair of white converse to tell him what it looked like. He knew for himself. And it was beautiful--that was an understatement of the century). 

“Can you pass me that marker on the desk there?” Julie’s voice snaps Luke out of his trance that he had no knowledge of being in (It happened a lot around Julie, more times than Luke would like to admit).

Luke nods and immediately reaches behind him to grab said purple marker, handing it off to Julie with a soft smile. He sets his guitar off to the side then, a rare action coming from the guy who once stated “it’s like I always thought! Our instruments are attached to our souls”. But that was his old philosophy--the philosophy before he met Julie. And now that he had met her and they had this “interesting little relationship”....well--the guitar was in second place when it came to who had his attention.

(He wouldn’t admit that to anyone of course, but his body language said it all. His chin is literally in the palm of his hands as he watchers for crying out loud)

“Have I told you how talented you are?” Luke questions, gazing up at her as if she were a masterpiece at The Louvre. Julie lets a giggle escape her lips.

“Not in the last five minutes,” She shoots back teasingly. Luke can’t help, but chuckle as he shakes his head and rolls his eyes, tossing a pen at her in the process. 

“No, but seriously, Jules, you have to know that those doodles aren’t just doodles. They’re works of art” Luke explains. Julie scoffs and looks right away 

“You call butterflies marked on a shoe art?” Julie inquires, her eyes smiling down at him (Luke could’ve sworn he saw a glimpse of Heaven swimming in those eyes of hers). 

“Yeah! Are you kidding?! Absolutely,” He states earning him an eye roll from Julie. 

“Alright so, if you draw a butterfly on my shoe, that’s still art?” She inquires and suddenly, Luke felt like he was at a crossroad.

He knew the answer to that-- it would in fact not be art. One look at his handwriting could testify that. But, this question appears to have two meanings. The literal and the figurative. The literal being “would Luke’s doodles count as art?” and the figurative being an invitation to draw on her shoes. 

So, does he lie and say “yes”? And if he draws on her shoes...would that make him...a. part of her like all her doodles were? Does it matter who does the doodling? Is Luke overthinking? (yes, yes he is, just doodle on her shoes Luke!)

“Guess you’ll be the judge,” He states and then he goes for it. He grabs the blue marker sitting next to her and pulls the cap off. 

It’s sometime during then that his brain recognizes Julie placing her foot on his lap and for the first time in his afterlife, Luke felt he had a breath, one that hitches at her close contact. 

He tries to ignore the sound of a faint drumming in his ears (was that...no it couldn’t be....) as he touches the marker carefully on-top of the toe and makes his first imprint. He dares his eyes to look up at Julie as he sketches, her lips slightly agape. Luke holds the marker tighter, as if that would stop the spell her lips had on him, before finishing his artwork. 

“Uh, Luke? I know I'm not wearing my glasses, but that doesn’t look like a butterfly to me,” Julie comments, bringing her foot back towards her so that she could inspect the new drawing. Luke shakes his head, biting back his lips with a small laugh.

“It’s not! It’s a star for a star!” He answers, his lips creasing into a wide smile. Julie rolls her eyes, but Luke can tell that she’s fighting a smile. She reaches over then and playfully punches Luke in the shoulder.

“You’re such a dork. You know you don’t have to keep calling me that, right?” Julie questions. Luke felt his eyebrows crease. Of course he had to keep calling her that--in fact, he’s a bit bewildered on why she thinks he should stop. But, is she ready--is he ready--to tell her why?

Maybe...just maybe he could...

“’course I do. You’re the literal embodiment of a star, Jules. The stars in the sky? They’re jealous of you because even they can’t shine as bright as you....”Luke finds himself trailing off, pausing to swallow back any fear. It’s now or never, Luke. 

“Remember when I said that I gave you ‘bright’ because it was perfect for your vocal range?” Luke inquires. He takes his own dare then and looks over at Julie, who can only nod her head slowly. He licks his lips before he continues.

“Well that’s not...entirely the truth. I did think it was perfect for your vocal range, but, Jules...when we landed in the studio....I kinda of thought that you were um, an angel because you were just so...bright. And yeah, when I say you’re a star I do also mean when you’re shining on stage, but you shine all the time. So, when you told us--” Suddenly, Luke was cut off, but not by words. 

Julie’s lips. 

Pressed against his.

It was happening. The moment that Luke had imagined over and over and over again was happening. 

The warmth he had always imagined radiates from her lips onto his. Her hands caressing his cheeks, electricity sparking from her fingertips. The gravity that had always been there between them, the one that Luke was never quite sure if he made it up in his head, finally coming into full vision, melting away as Luke places his hands on Julie’s waist. 

Luke doesn’t know how long they stayed like that; Melting into one another, savoring the taste of every little kiss. Luke didn’t even know that time had existed in that moment. All Luke could think about was Julie and her art that was a part of her. Because that star wasn’t the only thing that had been added to her shoes. No, his heart went along with it.

tagging: @willexx​ @blush-and-books​ @littledancersun​ @moony221b​

[thebluesideofmyworld]

What Nico Remembered

Summary:

The five things that Nico remembered about Will. And one thing that he would never forget.

Word count: 3400 words || Rating: Teenage and Up Audiences || Read on AO3

Notes:

1. My small contribution for the Nico di Angelo Birthday Event 21, held by @solangeloweek ​ on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy this one :)

2. One of the scenes in this one-shot, the (#5) is inspired by a fanart created by @anxiousstar that you can see here.

(1) This was what Nico remembered:  the feeling of skeletal butterflies doing some stupid dancing in his stomach. It felt so foreign, but if Nico had to be honest, it wasn't unpleasant.

As he sat on the cot in the infirmary, he tried telling those butterflies to calm down. Will was sitting on the chair next to the cot, jotting things down on the writing board that he had.

“So what is it that I have to do during this three-day stay, then?” Nico asked, trying to keep his scowl while at the same time, trying not to get distracted by the way Will’s golden curls fell over his head.

“Rest, of course,” Will answered, and lifted his eyes up from the board. "Sleep is, of course, our first priority. A well-balanced diet is next on the list."

Nico raised his eyebrows. “You have a list?” He asked in disbelief, this time managed to hold his eyes at Will’s blue eyes.

(That was another thing that Nico remembered: Will’s blue eyes)

Will’s lips curled up a little into a small smirk. “Of course I do, Death Boy.”

“What’s next on the list, then?”

“Well,” Will tapped his chin with the pen that he was holding, pretending like he was thinking hard about something. “Considering that based on your answers, you were practically an old man-“

“And thus you have to show me more respect that you’re doing now”

Will ignored Nico’s remark and continued. “And those years that lost on you while you were in The Lotus Casino means you have a lot to catch up with some cultural stuff.”

Nico snorted. “What, you mean like fine art and paintings and stuff?”

Will laughed. He leaned forward just a little. “Well, I’m not talking about that kind of art.”

There it was again. Those stupid skeletal butterflies were doing that stupid dance again in his stomach, as Nico stared at the ink of freckles on Will’s face.

“What are you talking about, then?”

“I’m talking about Star Wars.”

Nico scowled. “Isn’t it the movie with the… the light swords and that dude in a black robe?”

Will’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? So you have watched it?”

Nico shrugged his shoulders. “No,” he said. “But I think I’ve heard about it.”

“Well, then,” Will leaned back on his chair. His grin was wide and there was this excitement in his eyes. “It is decided then. The next thing on your to-do list while you’re here is having a Star Wars marathon.”

So the fact that Will loved Star Wars was one thing that Nico remembered. But the thing that he also remembered, was the way some stupid skeletal butterflies danced in his stomach, when Will fell asleep with his head on Nico’s shoulder, in the middle of Attack of The Clones.

***

(2) This was what Nico remembered: Nico didn’t ask Will to stay.

It was December. Nico had always dreaded the cold that December brought. And ever since Bianca passed away, December felt like the epitome of misery for Nico.

It was December. Nico lied down on his bed. It’s way past breakfast time, but Nico just didn’t have the energy to get up, let alone go out of his cabin.

When he heard the knocking, he wasn't exactly surprised. He had a pretty good guess on who's knocking and why. Also, he knew that the person knocking on the door would stubbornly refuse to leave anyway. So Nico sighed, and forced himself to sit down on his bed, leaning his back on the headboard.

“Come in,” he said and closed his eyes. He heard the door opened, and a second later it closed again with a soft thudding sound. He could hear Will’s footsteps but he kept his eyes closed. The footsteps stopped right next to his bed.

“Hey,” Will said, voice much gentler than usual.

Nico opened his eyes but stared at the dark wooden wall in front of him. He took a deep breath and sighed.

“What do you want?”

Will didn’t say anything for a while. The silence hung heavy between them. Nico turned his head to Will.

“What do you want?” He asked again.

Will slipped his hands into the pocket of his jeans. He bit his lower lip and looked hesitant for two seconds.

“Listen. Annabeth told me that this… this particular day might be hard for you.”

Icy cold feelings stabbed Nico’s chest. He could feel tears formed in his eyes. He turned his head away from Will, trying to blink away the tears.

“And?” He asked sharply, as he turned his head back at Will. “What you are going to do about it?”

“I want to make sure that you know that it’s okay-“

“No, it’s not, Solace! I lost my sister, do you think it’s okay? Do you think I’m okay with it?”

Will didn’t say anything. He didn’t look like he wanted to say anything. He just kept his eyes at Nico’s, with a look that Nico couldn’t understand.

Nico looked away again, hating himself for starting to cry again. Hating himself for shouting at Will. Hating himself for…everything.

“It’s not okay…” he whispered to the silence of the room, this time letting a tear fell down from his eyes.

“It’s not.”

Nico turned his head again, staring at Will.

Will slid down to sit on the floor, right next to the bed. He folded his arms on the bed.

"It's not okay. It hurts. To lose the people that we love. And it feels so unfair, isn't it?"

Will paused for a moment. “But, I mean… It’s okay to feel that way. To think that it’s not okay. To think that the world sucks.”

It's unexpected, to say the least. To hear those words coming from the Apollo's son who always seemed to see a silver line in everything. But at the same time, it made a thought cross his mind.

Maybe Will would understand.

Nico chewed his lower lip, still staring at the dark blue sheet covering his bed. He took a deep breath and let it out in a shaky breath.

“I miss her,” he whispered. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Will nodded.

“I’m sure you do.”

Silence again. But this time, it felt just a little bit lighter.

“Can you tell me about her?”

Nico turned his head slowly to Will. “What?”

There was this soft, gentle smile on Will’s lips. “Tell me about her. About your sister.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s an important person to you. Because you love her. Because I want to know about her, more than just a name.”

It didn’t make sense to Nico. It didn’t make sense and Nico didn’t know how to.

Then again, when Nico closed his eyes, he could see her smile. He could almost hear her voice, laughing as they ran through the alleys back in Venice.

Nico slowly opened his eyes back. “Bianca’s favorite color was green,” he started.

He didn’t know why and how but he kept on talking. He kept on talking about Bianca and pieces and fragments of memories that he remembered. He kept on talking to Will, who was sitting on the floor, arms folded on the bed, listening to every single word tumbling down from Nico.

At one point, Will’s hand crept down to hold Nico’s hand.

Nico didn’t hold his hand back. He just kept on talking about Bianca and the song that she used to sing and her favorite gelato in Venice.

But Will kept on holding his hand and he kept on listening to Nico’s words.

And that was what Nico remembered. Nico didn’t ask Will to stay, but Will stayed anyway.

Nico also remembered another thing: he didn’t hold Will’s hand back. But Will didn’t let go, and kept on holding his hand.

***

(3) This was what Nico remembered: Will Solace cried in silence.

Nico stood at the doorway to the emergency room in the infirmary. Will was there, totally focusing on the girl lying on the cot.

But now, Nico had his eyes on Thanatos, who was standing in the other corner of the room.

He stared at Thanatos, with pleading eyes.

But he knew it was useless.

Thanatos shook his head, a grim expression on his face.

Nico took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened his eyes again, Thanatos already stood just two steps away from him.

“I’m sorry, My Prince,” Thanatos said, bowing his head a little.

“Well...,” Nico said. “You’re just doing your job.”

“Some death-“

"Cannot be avoided. Yes, I know that, Thanatos," Nico cut him sharply. His eyes quickly darted to where Will was. The healer didn’t seem to hear their conversation though (nor did he seem to care about anything else other than the girl on the cot, for that matter).

Thanatos’s lips thinned into a line, but he gave Nico a single nod.

Nico let out a small shaky breath. He knew that. He already knew that death was a certainty, anyway. But knowing how much it hurt Will to lose another patient? That’s another thing.

Nico made a small dismissive gesture with his hand. “Just… do what you have to do. Please make sure that it’s…in the least painful way for her.”

“She will no longer be in pain, My Prince,” Thanatos assured him. And with that last remark, he disappeared, leaving only a small trace of black smoke.

Nico took another deep breath and slowly let it out. Carefully, he made his way to the cot. When he was only a step away from Will, he stopped.

He watched the way Will’s chest moved heavily for a few silent moments. Then Will leaned forward, to gently closed the girl's head with the pale blue blanket.

Nico carefully placed his hand over Will's shoulder, squeezing it just a bit.

“We lost her,” Will said in a shaky whisper. “I lost her,” he added, voice even lower.

A steel fist clenched Nico’s heart. He squeezed Will’s shoulder again. The blond still had his eyes fixed on the body on the cot, now covered with a blue pale blanket.

“It’s not your fault, Will,” Nico said. There was a growing lump in his throat, but he forced himself to say it again. “It’s not your fault.”

Nico felt Will’s shoulder trembled as he took a deep, shaky breath. He kissed the top of Will’s head, mumbling against the curls again, “It’s not your fault, Tesoro. It’s not.”

Oh, how Nico would keep on saying it again and again, until Will really, truly believed in those words.

They burned the body the next morning, so early, the sun was nothing but pale purple light in the sky. Nico watched the fire burned the black and green shroud, Will stood silently next to him

And that was what Nico remembered: Will cried in silence. He didn’t weep, not even a sob. He cried by schooling his face into a blank canvas. Will shed no tears, but the color of his eyes turned into a dull shade of blue.

***

(4) This was what Nico remembered: Will tasted like strawberries with a touch of mint.

“Here, eat some,” Will shoved the bar of Kit Kat into Nico’s hand.

Nico raised his eyebrows but quickly unwrapped the chocolate bar. Will took a seat next to the cot, where Nico was sitting with crossed legs.

“Wow,” he said. “So McDonald’s chicken nugget is bad so you’re telling me to eat chocolate bar instead? Are you trying to give me a sugar rush or something?”

Will huffed. "McDonalds' gives you high blood pressure and a bigger risk of stroke and heart diseases. Kit-Kat, and chocolate bars, for that matter, are quick sources of energy. Exactly what you need after shadow-traveling."

Nico nodded, mouth still full with chocolate.

“You know what? I am not complaining. And maybe we should do more research on that.”

“On what?”

“Which kind of chocolate bars is the best one to give me after shadow-traveling,” Nico proposed, and took another bite of the Kit Kat.

Will chuckled, but his eyes softened. “Yeah, that sounds like a very intriguing research indeed.”

Nico continued eating the chocolate, but the way Will was staring at him almost made him squirmed.

“What?” Nico asked.

Will blinked. “Huh? What?”

Nico huffed. “You’re staring at me. Do I have chocolate on my face?” Nico’s index finger flew to his cheek and rubbed it.

Will smiled. And somehow, it’s not that brilliant smile that he usually had. This was different. This was a soft, gentle smile. A smile that made Nico forgot how to breathe for a second.

“You’re cute, do you know that?”

Nico’s heart skipped a beat. He could feel heat rushing into his face, burning the back of his neck.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” Will insisted. He leaned forward a little, bringing his face closer to Nico’s. This time, there was a glint in his eyes, the smile turned into a playful smirk.

Nico huffed, trying his best to look annoyed. But inside, his heart was beating so fast, so fast with something he faintly recognized as a mix of nervousness and excitement.

“Oh yeah? So what?”

“So maybe it makes me want to kiss you.”

It wasn’t like Nico has never imagined this before. It wasn’t like Nico has never spent too much time wondering whether he read it all wrong. Then again, really hearing the words coming from Will instead of just some imaginary dialogues that he had in his mind still caught Nico off-guard. Nico inhaled sharply but he couldn’t seem to look away from Will.

“So maybe you should,” he said, half-whispering. He was almost proud that his voice was just a bit shaky, even though his heart was jumping like crazy in his chest.

For just a second, Will seemed surprised, like he didn’t expect Nico’s reply. But then the soft smile returned to his face, his blue eyes like a clear morning sky. He leaned forward even closer.

“Well, then maybe I will,” he whispered.

Nico closed his eyes as Will leaned even closer, his breath warm and light, a faint tickle over Nico’s skin.

The next second, he felt Will’s lips over his, a warm, sweet pressure that lingered for a short, fragile moment.

Will pulled away, and Nico opened his eyes. They stared at each other in silence, both breathing heavily. And it was Nico who spoke first.

“Hey, Will?”

“Hm?”

“Can you kiss me again?”

Will smiled and leaned forward again. He cupped Nico’s cheek in his hand that felt warm on Nico’s skin.

“Do you want me to?” He asked, his blue eyes gentle, sparkled with glee.

Nico hummed, and gave him a single nod. He didn’t even realize that the tips of his lips curled up into a small smile.

“Okay, then.”

Will kissed him again, and this time, Nico kissed him back. He let his fingers buried between the soft curls of Will’s golden hair and he let himself lost in the kiss.

Will slowly pulled away, only to gently pressed his forehead against Nico’s.

“You taste like Kit-Kat,” he said.

Nico chuckled. He pulled himself a bit from Will, and carefully traced Will’s lips with his finger.

“And you, Solace. You taste like strawberry and mint. Must have been your toothpaste.”

And that was what Nico remembered. Will tasted like strawberry, with a touch of mint.

***

(5) This was what Nico remembered: Will felt like home.

Nico walked out of the shadow to the coolness of his own cabin. He put his sword under his bed, and with wide steps, he made his way to the door. The afternoon sunlight was warm on his skin as he walked to the tree near the strawberry field.

Will was sitting under the tree, sitting cross-legged with a book on his lap. It was probably one of those medical textbooks that Will strangely enjoyed so much, as he didn’t seem to hear Nico’s footsteps. Nico stopped, and took a moment to stare at Will. It was almost ridiculous, that even with that hideous orange t-shirt that he was wearing, the sight of Will still made Nico strangely breathless.

“Hey,” Nico called.

Will looked up. When his eyes met Nico’s, the blue eyes sparkle as a smile light up his face.

“Neeks! You’re back!”

“Hmph.”

Will closed his book and put it aside.

“I’m tired,” Nico said, half-whining as he plopped himself down to sit right next to Will.

Will opened his arms invitingly, his eyes as warm as his smile. “Rest, then. Just lay down here on me.”

“Say no more, Solace,” Nico said. He scooted even closer to Will, and rest his head against Will’s chest. He closed his eyes as Will wrapped an arm around him. Nico let himself melt into the familiar warmth of Will’s embrace. As he started drifting off to sleep, he felt Will’s fingers gently going through his hair.

“Welcome home, darling,” Will whispered softly, and Nico felt Will’s lips gently pressed on the side of his head. “Now rest. You’re here now. You’re home. With me.”

And that was the last thing that Nico remembered before he fell asleep: He’s home now, in Will’s embrace. Will felt like home.

***

(+1) This was what Nico would never forget: he loved Will.

It was dark inside Cabin 13. A sliver of moonlight sneaked in from the window and fell on Will's hair. With the soft moonlight illuminating it, the golden curls looked more like silvery strands between Nico's fingers.

Playing with some strands of Will's hair, Nico let himself enjoyed the sight of his boyfriend, lying peacefully next to him. Will's eyes were closed, but there was a small, barely-there smile on his lips. And Nico knew that behind those eyelids, Will's blue eyes were smiling too.

Will opened his eyes, and shifted so now he’s lying on his side, facing Nico.

“It’s past midnight now,” he said softly.

Nico hummed. “And?” he asked, pulling his finger away and started tracing Will’s jawline.

“And it means that you’re officially 18 now.”

“Technically-“

Before he finished his sentence, Will already pressed a finger on his lips, shutting him down.

“Nope. None of that born-in-the-30’s shit now. Let me just enjoy the fact that it’s my boyfriend’s birthday now.”

Nico rolled his eyes. Will pulled his finger away, then leaned forward to place a soft, gentle kiss on Nico’s lips. He pulled away just a little, and placed another gentle kiss on the soft skin near Nico’s ear.

“Happy birthday, love,” he whispered. Nico shivered. The genuine sincerity in Will’s voice made him felt warm and giddy and just so inexplicably happy.

He cupped Will's cheek. Will was staring at him like Nico was the only thing in the world that he cared about. But he knew that he's also staring at Will in the same way.

“Kiss me again? As a birthday gift?”

Will smiled and even in the dim, soft light of the moon, that smile made Nico’s heart skipped a beat.

Will leaned forward again, kissing him again. Nico kissed him back, fingers buried between Will’s soft curls. And for a while, the whole world was reduced into just the two of them and the kiss that they were sharing.

For a while, there were only the two of them and nothing else mattered. Nothing could hurt them as long as they’re together like this, lost in the kiss.

Nico pulled away. Slightly panting, he stared at Will. Will smiled, and placed a quick, chaste kiss on Nico’s nose.

“What else that you want for your birthday?”

“More birthday with you. More days and years to spend with you. More memories to be made with you.”

Will laughed. He wrapped an arm around Nico, and pulled him so Nico was half-lying on his chest. He kissed the crown of Nico’s head.

“I love you so much, you know that, right?”

Nico looked up. “And I love you too. You know that, right?”

Will hummed, and wrapped his arms around Nico, enveloping him in his warm embrace.

There were a lot of things that Nico remembered about Will. And there was this one thing that he would never, ever forget: he loved Will. And Will loved him back.

***

Author’s Notes:

1. Thank you for reading :D

2. Any notes (likes, reblog, replies or a message to me) are cherished so much

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #16

Feel free to message me about possible corrections, and please consider supporting the creators by purchasing digital copies of the official releases: Novel || Manga || Fanbook. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

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Colombo’s Bookstore

Sri Lanka didn’t have as many bookstores as Japan. It had about three times as many used car shops as in Japan, I believed. But there were few bookstores.

In the first place, be them used car stores or bookstores, the shops were by no means big. This country was a tiny island with a national territory smaller than Japan’s, so lands that had forest reserves of local nature in them and real estate were probably valuable. If anything, I had an affinity for the place. But it was a pity that the bookstores were so few.

I often spent my time alone nowadays, so above all else, I appreciated having anything to read. I wasn’t the bookworm type, but there were just too many book-selling places in Japan. If you were getting off at some notable station in Tokyo, no matter which one it was, there would be at least one bookstore within walking distance. I also had a fresh memory of Saul-san telling me that “Japanese people really like their books”.

A street vendor was selling scissors in front of a bookstore in the sunlit streets of Colombo, the capital of Sri Lanka. Why did he decide to sell scissors by the road? And right before my eyes, a person on a bus riding slowly down the avenue was buying a pair of scissors from him. Did they have some bag that they wanted to cut open no matter what or something? I had no idea, but anyway, this was a world that operated with standards different from Japan’s, in which supply and demand were apparently well-established.

With glass doors, the bookstore had a magnificent structure and felt nice and cold when I stepped in. The study reference books were on the second floor, so I went up the arched stairs that parted to left and right, searching for the shelf that I was aiming for.

There you are.

I took three books from it, and when I went to the checkout, the female clerk, dressed in a sari, asked me, “Is this all?” in English. The official languages ​​of this country were English, Sinhala and Tamil, with English being spoken by both Sinhalese and Tamils. I believed she was Sinhalese. Because the sari was not a Hindu but a Buddhist thing.

“These are volumes 2, 3 and 4. What about volume 1?”

“I bought just volume 1 a while ago. And it was really good, so I also wanted to learn the rest from this book series.”

“So you’re studying Sinhala. That’s rare. Where are you from?”

“I’m Japanese,” I answered.

What I had come to buy was a Sinhala language study reference book. It was a book for people who couldn’t read Sinhala, so it was, of course, written in English. Even so, I had read it a little before traveling. I also found and purchased a Sinhala language study reference book written by a Japanese scholar, which I was able to buy in Japan.

Regardless, it was kind of useless for my range of understanding, so I almost felt like throwing it away before I could learn anything. I told Saul-san about this when asking him for advice, at which he burst into laughter and then bought me a red paperback book.

A Sinhala book written in English.

The letters were very large and there weren’t too many words. As for the quality of the paper, on the bright side, it was straw paper, and on the downside, it was gray and flimsy. But the contents were very easy to understand and the insides were firmly packed.

This reference book taught Sinhala letters first, as well as the meaning and pronunciation of each one. From that point onward, I couldn’t be more thankful for it. Sinhala was a language written with a Sinhalese alphabet, after all. In addition to vowels such as A, I, U, E and O, it jumped on to a variety of consonants and other symbols that stuck one letter to another like joints. It explained each of them carefully so that even people who didn’t know Sinhalese at all could understand them. This book solved a large percentage of the problem that I had stumbled upon, namely “I can’t find the commonalities and differences between letters, so I don’t know how to tell them apart and can’t organize them in my head”. I was grateful for that. There was no need to ask Richard-sensei for a foreign language course via international call all the time anymore.

That being said, there were many letters in Sinhala. Meaning that there were several pronunciations. You’d think that the Japanese syllabary was cute in comparison. Not all of it could be explained in one book, and the lectures were extended over to the second volume, but Saul-san had bought only one book, in case it didn’t suit me. The results were as could be seen. It was the same kind of joy as reading one book from a novel series and then buying all the sequels.

Learning languages was fun. By the looks of it, learning how to link them directly to communication was what worked for me.

“But can’t you live in Sri Lanka while speaking English, even if you don’t understand Sinhala? Are you on a business trip?”

“Something like that, but if possible, I’d like to talk to people using a Sri Lankan language. I’m Japanese, but I’ve had the experience of being a bit happy when someone from a foreign country spoke in Japanese to me, so now I guess it’s my turn.”

“You have so much free time, huh!”

I had no words to reply. The clerk and I burst into laughter without any reserve and finished the checkout. As I went down the arched stairs, I found a space where they were selling festival tools, stationery and picture books. Many of the same books were arranged on two sides.

Or so I thought.

But that was apparently not it. What I thought to be the exact same large-format picture books were the English version and the Sinhala version. You’d miss it if you were distracted because the pictures were the same, but the picture book, which was probably a Sri Lankan version of a “Japanese folktale”-like work, was published in two languages.

“Y’see, the ones who buy these are parents who want their kids to learn English. ‘Cause speaking English comes in handy.”

When I turned around, the clerk who had been at the cash register on the second floor was right behind me. It seemed she had come to see me off. Apparently, the cashier on the first floor called out to her, telling her to go back to work or something like that, to which she replied at length, and the two exchanged laughs. Maybe the people in this bookstore were cheerful, as not all Sri Lankans expressed their emotions so openly.

“This one is the ‘Mean Old Man’. This one is ‘The Perahera Festival’.”

“Can even a small child understand it well?”

“Of course. This book is big so that it’s easy to read to them.”

Indeed, it was a thin picture book of a size larger than A4. In Japan, it wouldn’t be strange for it to have an anime or manga-style art, but the art of this one had an ethnic touch to it, perhaps to match the contents. The colors were rich, the mean old man was drawn in a vile yet comical way, and the blue gradation of the feathers in a bird’s tail looked tasteful.

“Hum, excuse me. Can I buy this too?”

“You’re going to buy it? Do you have children?”

“I’ll read it myself.”

The clerk laughed again, but after a moment, she made a straight face and told me that it certainly might be perfect for studying. I bought the picture book at the cash register on the first floor. Either way, it cost about 500 Sri Lankan rupees, which was about 600 Japanese yen, but in the eyes of this country’s people, that was probably quite a high price. This was a world of 10 rupees for a loaf of bread and 3 rupees for a cup of tea. Thinking like that, I could understand why there weren’t many bookstores and why there were so few people here.

You can’t eat or drink books. They’re not daily necessities either, like clothes, scissors or toothbrushes. Being able to spend money on such things as if it were obvious must be a sign of wealth. My country was all the more disagreeable for having bookstores everywhere. I’d never thought about it that way.

As I took the receipt and said, “Stūtiyi”, which was “thank you” in Sinhala, the black-haired woman smiled, looked at my face and said in Japanese, “Thank you very much. We will be awaiting your return.”

“Amazing!”

“Thanks.”

And so, she told me that her husband had been working with sheet metal in Ibaraki, Japan, for a while. Her pronunciation of the words “Ibaraki” and “sheet metal” was really good. Apparently, her husband had started up a small company with the money he had earned as an immigrant worker and was its president.

With her waving a hand at me and telling me to be careful, I left the store.

Even though it was early spring, the sunlight in Colombo felt like that of midsummer in Japan. But I was growing quite fond of this glare. Everyone walking in the streets was wearing mid-sleeves, and if they were so inclined, beach sandals too, but the humidity wasn’t as high as in Japan, so I could think that, indeed, this was also spring. The white of the temple flowers blooming along the road was refreshing as well. They reminded me just a little bit of cherry blossoms. And from this street, I could clearly see my favorite landmark.

Colombo Tower, a tower that had the lotus flower as its motif.

It was a Tokyo Tower-like landmark, not visible from my base camp, the mountain town of Kandy, and although the shape was grandiose, it was still under construction and nobody could enter it. However, one day – I didn’t know whether that would be while I was still in Sri Lanka or after I had settled somewhere else, but – I definitely wanted to climb that. I would.

May I be a little more proficient in the language of this country than I am now by then, and if possible, may I get to have small talk in the tower.

With a modest goal and a new book, I treaded the way to Saul-san’s office.

[vminity21]

The Art of You | myg

Pairing: artist!yoongi x universitystudent!reader, friendshiptolovers!au

Word Count: 1,578

Genre: fluff/soft

Warning(s): None, Rated: pg

Summary: A painting Yoongi has been working on reveals his true feelings that he has for you in the most beautiful way imagined. Dedicated and was requested by @suhdays​ , who also created the beautiful banner for this blurb. Thank you.

A tan apron clings to Yoongi’s frame while he scrunches the sleeves of his sweatshirt halfway up his arms. Converse pat along the plastic flooring while he settles the painting onto the ground. It is nearly finished, and the inspiration is revealed in just the smallest intricacies- details that remind him of you.  Gentle transmits of music reverberate within the small space, and he readies his paint upon the palette you gifted him a year prior before he discovered the budding emotions, he has for you.

Aligning a picture of what he plans on adding to the main canvas, he carefully traces the lining with his fingers, concentrating solely on whatever he intends on creating to make the masterpiece complete. Dark strands flop past his eyes while he positions himself over the canvas, palette steady in his left hand while his free hand grips the handle of a petite paintbrush. Two bracelets decorate his painting wrist, but he is ever so careful than to let them touch any part of the dampened streaks.

Heavy footsteps trample into the room, slinging your bookbag over a chair in the corner, a brief sigh brushes your lips. Yoongi knew you would be due soon from your class at university, and you are too exhausted to fully pay attention to what Yoongi is finalizing. He has been working on a new project for weeks now, but he refuses to tell you who it is for. Sometimes, Yoongi likes to keep to himself, especially when it comes to his art, yet he has been quite successful with some of the artwork he has accomplished and sold within the past year.

His lips grace a small smirk, happiness spreading along his chest with being in your presence- something he has been looking forward to all day. “Yoongi, I’m home,” you bellow, stacking a few notebooks onto the tiny table in preparation to continue the homework you would so graciously like not to do.

“About time you showed up,” he teases, swiping a bigger paintbrush along a plain sheet of paper to observe if this is the color he would like to use. Noticing the palette, he had set down for the moment, you smile to yourself. He really loves his palette- the only one he owns that you happened to give him, yet he refuses to buy more, especially since the one you bought him is covered in faint stains from past achievements. You never understood it, but he takes it with him everywhere he goes, and the one time he thought he forgot it, he almost lost his mind. Thankfully, Namjoon, Yoongi’s roommate, found it behind a dresser where it must have fallen without Yoongi’s knowledge.

“I still don’t get why you are panicking, Yoons. I am sure there are some palettes in one of these stores here,” plus you did not have any issue with purchasing him another one, “Want to check them out?”

“Not really,” he murmured, timidly looking away from you while he anxiously awaited the doting text from Namjoon. What you are unaware of, is that palette you surprised him with is the truest good luck charm he has ever received. Because of you, every time he used that specific palette, his artwork has been recognized by thousands of individuals throughout the country. Because of you, he is determined to continue his passion with the gift you gave him held firmly in his left hand.

“Okay,” you sigh softly in confusion, “Well then would you like to grab some coffee until Joon replies? I’m sure it will turn up.”

Yoongi shakes his head briefly to situate his hair while the memory dissipates for the time being. “How long have you been in here? Have you even eaten anything?” You always worry about him because when he gets too focused into what he is doing, sometimes he may forget to hydrate, as well as eat, yet you can relate due to college being so overwhelming. You notice the white mask tucked under his chin, his earrings gleam beneath the light, and you cannot help but fondly gaze at how handsome your friend is. You met him a year ago, and although you have always had feelings for him, you feared that he didn’t feel the same, and when you stumbled upon his talent for the arts, you were determined to gift him with something related to what he loves to do.

“I was thinking we could grab dinner as soon…” his words trail as he dots the brush along certain areas of the canvas. You can’t help but curiously tilt your head to see if you can figure out what it is, he is creating, but from the angle and distance from where Yoongi is, you can’t quite see it yet. “… as I am…” He is so enraptured in his work that he forgets to finish his sentence and you playfully shake your head at him before turning to your studies.

Uncertain of how much time has ticked away into the evening, you do not understand how Yoon’s thighs cannot be burning from how long he poses in deep concentration. “Who needs exercise,” you joke, running your fingertips along your eyes to awake them if even possible. “You know,” you bring your voice up in volume for Yoongi to hear, “I’m not going to lie, I’m actually excited to see what you’ve conjured up,” you confess; there has not been a completion that you haven’t loved from Yoongi’s extraordinary talent.

“It’s definitely different from what I’ve done before,”

“Oh really?” Your attention is now returned to your notebook and with pencil in hand, you scribble random lines along the sides to prevent yourself from blushing. He has such an effect on you, and you wonder how he hasn’t realized it. “What inspired it? Give me a clue.”

“You mean, who?”

Pausing, with furrowed eyebrows, you ponder through your brain on who Yoongi could be referring to. “It’s a who this time?”

“Believe it or not,” he says, and you hadn’t taken into account the way he places his hands on his hips, longingly staring at you while you rack your thoughts with whatever guess you can muster.

“Okay but where’s my clue?”

“Hm,” he hums to himself trying to not make it as obvious as he would like to, especially if it risks scaring you away. “She loves to getaway. More so when it’s cold and the atmosphere contains the scenery she needs.”

A she? Surprised by the revelation, your heart shatters in different directions, yet you compile yourself enough to remain composure. “A getaway?” You choke, trying to lower your voice to not appear as shocked as you feel. “I’m assuming in the winter?”

“Mhm,” Yoongi responds, “Sometimes she wishes that she could see flowers there though, especially the ones that are her favorite. It’s simply hard when there is always so much snow.”

“Um, is it-?” Despite the tears wanting to burn down your cheeks, you guess a few names that come to mind, hardly being able to realize that Yoongi is talking about you. Exasperated after you have guessed so many wrong answers, Yoongi’s arms drop to his sides while he exhales slowly, gathering himself before sauntering to you. When a soft hand presses to your cheek, you lose all track of sanity; his lips touch yours so gently, it takes you a moment to realize what is happening. Oh! You gasp inwardly. Oh, you want to laugh at yourself for now you see that every fact he uncovered about his painting was him hinting about you.

Your fingers curl into his sweatshirt while you pull him closer, deepening the kiss while your heart flies sporadically along your ribcage. This whole entire time- he has been working on a painting inspired by you. And, this entirety of your friendship, he has thought of you lovingly as much as you have thought about him?

Breathless, he pulls away, but just enough to rest his forehead upon yours, his bangs tickle your face. “Are you ready to see the painting?”

Nodding, you are at a loss for words, the sensation of his kiss still lingering while he takes your hand. Following suit, he bends swiftly to lean the piece against the wall, accepting your hand in his once again as soon as it steadies. Gasping, your eyes widen at the most beautiful scenery you have ever witnessed. Snow capped mountains sketched meticulously with splashes of blues and greys mingle in precise detail to the sparse blades of grass poking from the blanket of white covering the ground. The sky alludes to the beginning of a snowfall, but what your vision gathers in the center of the painting is what touches your heart in ways Yoongi has always been able to prompt.

A bundle of magenta peonies are painted to be growing in resistant to the brutal winds of winter, and in tiny, neatly stroked letters exposes the words you never thought you would hear, or in this case, read.

“I love you.” Yoongi whispers, squeezing your hand as you take it all in.

“Yoongi, it’s- it’s the most beautiful gift.” You cry, him embracing you immediately, the scent of his sweatshirt reaching your nostrils as you cuddle into his frame. “I love you so much.”

And with that, forever awaits, Yoongi expressing his love in a way only he knows how- painted contentedly to the art of you.

[dancingazaleas]

jeankasa | guidance

yeah i gave them a header what abt it⁉️

this ship is gonna be coming up a lot on this page because i have immense love for this pair

also, i would just like to make it clear that i do know eremika is canon. i don’t ship it personally. pls don’t attack me

warnings/notes: modern au!, blind!mikasa, cursing, mentions of bullying, mentions of insecurity, hints of depression, shit ending

if someone had ever told mikasa that she’d lose her sight at the age of 19, she would’ve brushed it off.

but now here she was at 19, service dog attached to her hip as she navigated through the streets. her clumber spaniel dog, who she named vanilla, turned her to the left, trying to lead mikasa to the her favorite coffee shop. when she felt a small wave of air and heard the sound of vanilla’s nails clinking on metal, she knew that she was at her desired location.

with caution, she walks inside the shop and turns her head to the side to figure out where she was from muscle memory. before she could contemplate, vanilla lead her through the webs of the tables and to the counter to order. she put out her left hand, trying to feel for the edge of the counter so she could hear the cashier.

she felt at ease when she felt the cold metal on her fingertips, inching her feet forward to let them bump into the counter as well.

“hello,” mikasa said to the cashier, praying that there was one actually there, “i’m blind, so i apologize if i seem to be difficult.”

“it’s alright!” the cheery cashier said back, “let me know if you need help with the menu.”

mikasa thanks her and orders herself a vanilla bean frappe, even though she thinks it’s basic; she quite enjoys it. vanilla leads mikasa to a table and she cautiously sits down in her seat in fear of that there might not actually be one there.

“oh, did you need something,” she heard a baritone voice ask her when she plopped her butt in the seat.

“oh! i didn’t know there was anyone sitting here. i’m blind and vanilla led me to this seat,” she explains, getting ready to get up to find another seat.

“y-you don’t have to leave..!” he suddenly shouts, startling mikasa, “i mean... you don’t have to leave, you can sit here. i’m jean kirstein.”

mikasa’s face heats up as she sits back down, “i’m mikasa ackerman.”

“i’m going to grab your hand to shake it, is that alright,” jean asks and he smiles at mikasa’s nod.

when jean touches mikasa, she feels a jolt of electricity run down her spine that makes her shiver.

his skin is rough against his own and her hand is small in comparison. her hand is encased in warmth while his is encased in cold.

jean’s face was a cherry red as he stares at mikasa. she’s honestly gorgeous, black lipstick on her plump lips with a small blush running across her cheeks. her hair ebony and was a tiny mullet, bangs spread across her forehead.

her hand accidentally came into contact with his sketch paper, and she quickly yanks her hand back towards her in fear.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to touch that.”

“don’t worry, it’s just my sketch pad. i’m an art student at trost university,” he waved his hand, despite her lack of sight.

“my brother and our friend go to trost. our friend, armin, is a marine biologist students. he’s really sweet. my brother’s name is eren, he’s studying criminology,” mikasa gives a sad smile and jean knows it’s because she wants to go to trost too.

“oh i know them. i don’t... exactly get along with your brother a lot,” it manages to make mikasa crack a real smile.

“i’m not exactly surprised, he’s a very brash person,” he watches her hands lean down to pet vanilla.

before he’s able to get a word in, her name is being called for her to get her drink. her eyebrows furrow from frustration, she doesn’t know where to go.

“i’ll get it for you,” jean’s already getting out of his chair, walking over to the counter with her drink on it.

she thanks him when he guides her hand to hold it.

“so,” jean doesn’t know what to say, “shouldn’t you be getting back to... your house?”

“i should, but i don’t want to. i don’t get to go out alone much,” he nods at her.

“i’m sorry if this is rude, but were you always... blind,” jean asks slowly, gesturing his large hands in a circle.

“no, i haven’t. i started losing my vision around my 13th birthday. it was gradual and by the time i was 16 i could barely see anything, now i can’t see at all,” mikasa seems sad as she explains her situation, dejectedly sipping out of her straw.

“i’m so sorry, i couldn’t imagine going through that. you’re strong for enduring that,” jean puts his hand on top of her’s, flinching at mikasa’s flinching.

“i don’t feel strong,” she frowns, “i’m always being coddled and i can only talk about it with armin and vanilla, even if she’s a dog. you barely even know me and i’m dumping my baggage onto you.”

jean’s face flushes at the realization, “no, no, no! don’t worry, i-i asked! if anything, i should apologize for asking so much.”

mikasa shakes her head, earrings clinking as they dangle down.

“it’s alright, i haven’t gotten to talk to many people like this is a while. what’s your number,” she’s taking out a phone with a light purple phone case.

he doesn’t know how she uses it, but he’s not going to ask. he takes and when his thumb presses against the contact app, he jumps at the robotic female voice telling him ‘contacts’. guess he got his question answered.

he types in his number, trying to get used to the robot calling out each letter and number as he types.

he never thought he could learn so much in such little time.

————

jean never thought that him and mikasa would become friends. if he were being honest, he thought that mikasa wouldn’t text him after he gave her his number. he’s not that interesting in his opinion.

but luckily, she did. and now, a couple of months later, he’s guiding her hands to paint on a canvas in front of her. she’s anxious and hesitant as jean helps her swipe the paintbrush across the canvas.

“relax your body, i’ve got you. the picture will look weird if you’re too stiff,” he rubs his thumbs in circles over her wrists.

she takes a deep breath and jean can feel most of the tension leaving her body. he guides her hand to paint a large stripe in the color of a peach, hands warm against her cold skin.

“paint what feels right, let your body move on its own,” his hands slowly leave her wrists, and he watches as she runs the brush across the canvas with relaxation.

back and forth her brush runs, lips parted in slight relaxation and concentration. her face has splotches of lavender and bubblegum pink on it, and her hands are covered in a maya blue mixed with the purples and pinks.

jean can’t help but feel himself swoon at the sight, milky grey eyes darting around the canvas aimlessly and her reluctant free hand feeling for the edge of the canvas to let her know how far away she is. she’s in a loose white button up where the sleeve are cut at her elbows. her vancouver blue skirt ends at her scraped knees and her feet are bare, making her toes curl around the stretcher of the stool she’s sitting in.

“i think i’m finished,” she says as her fingers loosely hold the paintbrush in her hand.

jean looks at the painting and he feels a sense of pride in his gut at the sight. despite how much he guided her hands, she still managed to create a masterpiece all on her own.

the painting is messy, but jean loves it nonetheless. the painting is of a mix of pink peonies arranged in a vase with hydrangeas and himilayan blue poppies, peach ranunculus flowers with their petals spread in blossoming. there’s a dash and a mix of different colors in each flower that makes it feel completed and some of the colors dash out of the lines of the flowers and mixed into the honey brown background.

it’s messy and choppy, and if mikasa were an art student, she’d get a 68% on this painting. but in jean’s eyes, she’s scored a 100%.

“it’s beautiful,” he smiles, taking the paintbrush out of her hands and onto the cart of paint supplies next to the easel.

he grabs a thin brush and dips it into a black, signing it as ‘m.a.’ in the right hand corner.

“i doubt it,” she shrugs, “when will i be able to hang it up?”

“probably in a few days. i’ll text you when and i’ll come over and hang it up,” he helps her off of the stool.

“thanks,” she nods hand now reaching up to search for his own.

he puts his palm against her’s, taking note of how much smaller her dainty, yet tough, hands were against his own. their fingers intertwine perfectly and their temperatures contrast each other’s.

mikasa’s got a small blush as she stares at jean’s chest. jean lets go of her hand, moving it to her cheek along with his free hand and tilts her head up to look at his own.

jean leans down a bit and their lips connect in a sweet kiss. mikasa’s lips are soft and wet against jean’s. they shiver at the other’s contrasting temperature, but deepen the kiss anyways. jean pulls away and watches mikasa’s eyes flutter open and her face get even more red.

it has him kissing her again.

————

mikasa’s giving small chuckles and smiles as jean walks behind her and holds her hands up above her head in his own, guiding her bare feet through the runny sand. vanilla is running circles around the two of them, barking and partly happily.

jean’s making arrogant comments, which is why mikasa’s smiling, as he leads her over back to their group of friends sitting in a sandy fire pit. mikasa’s smile fades when jean sits her down on a bench in front of the fire, the sound of voices flooding her sensitive ears.

it’s mostly sasha and connie, cackling at one another obnoxiously. jean sits on mikasa’s left and eren is at her right.

“we can roast marshmallows now that the lovebirds are back,” connie snickers and it has everyone but eren, mikasa, and jean laughing.

eren’s pretending to gag as he bumps his shoulder into mikasa’s to look over at jean above her head. mikasa doesn’t need sight to know that there’s a sneer on jean’s blushing face when he also pushes his shoulder to her’s.

“stop it,” she says, “i need help with my marshmallow.”

“even blind, mikasa still scares you,” armin laughs to eren, taking a metal stick and a marshmallow from sasha’s outreached hands.

“it’s not like i’m the only one scared of her. jean’s quaking in his boots!”

jean ignores and stabs a marshmallow onto his own metal stick, guiding mikasa’s hand to grip around the wooden handle at the end. he positions her arms to hold the marshmallow over the crackling flames of the fire, and then starts to put his own marshmallow on a stick.

the conversation continues on without comments of both jean and mikasa, now focused on teasing eren. when mikasa’s marshmallow is finished, jean puts the handle of his metal stick between his knees. he’s taking ahold of graham crackers and hershey’s chocolate after he pulls mikasa’s stick away from the fire. he holds her stick at the handle and guides her with his voice to arrange herself a s’more.

“now close it carefully around the marshmallow,” he says and she obliges with caution.

he puts the metal rod on the bench beside his thigh, kissing her cheek as she bites on the s’more.

“it’s messy, be careful,” he’s holding his marshmallow back out over the flames.

she turns her head towards him, giving a small pucker of her messy lips. he kisses her lips, the sticky residue of the marshmallow sticking to his own. he laughs when he pulls away and licks his lips, enjoying the gooey treat.

he’s putting together his own s’more now, occasionally looking towards mikasa, who’s listening to sasha and eren’s conversation with rapt attention. she’s got chocolate, crumbs, and melted marshmallow spread across her mouth.

“babe, let me wipe your face off,” he’s grabbing a paper plate and sitting the s’more on it, then place the plate on the bench.

her eyes look downwards as jean wipes off her messy face with the sleeve of his shirt; something he doesn’t usually do.

“thank you,” she turns her head away, hand patting his thigh in search for his hand.

with his left hand, he holds his s’more. he gives his right to mikasa, who leads it to put his arm around her shoulders. he smiles and tugs her closer to him, kissing the crown of her head before he eats his s’more.

he groans when the flavors hit his tongue, going in to take another bite but stops at mikasa’s head turning to him.

“can i have a bite,” she asks innocently, like she didn’t just have one of her own.

“you just ate one,” he furrows an eyebrow.

instead of a reply, she opens her mouth in hopes for jean to put the s’more against her lips. he rolls his eyes while shaking his head, putting a corner of the s’more against her pretty pink lips. she bites down and he revels at the sight of her small smile.

“thank you.”

“whatever, you would’ve kept bugging me if i hadn’t,” jean snickers, pecking continuously at the crown of her head.

“true,” she smirks and nuzzles her head against his lips.

he shoves the rest of the s’more in his mouth, mikasa only knows because the everyone laughs at the sight. when he’s done chewing, he leans close to her ear to whisper to her.

“i’m gonna go to the car real quick and get a blanket. even with the fire it’s starting to get colder, and you’re wearing a sundress.”

mikasa gives a silent nod, and feels her mood dampen whenever he gets up and leaves.

“can i talk to you,” she lifts her head a bit while she processes the voice.

“yeah, what’s up marco,” he sits next to her.

“nothing’s up. i just wanted to thank you, i guess,” he gives a breathy laugh.

“what for? i didn’t do anything.”

marco put a hand on her shoulder while he smiles, ignoring the fact that she cannot see.

“mikasa,” he starts, “jean’s a lot happier because of you.”

“oh,” she blinks, “i didn’t do anything. if anything, it’s the opposite. he helped me accept and love myself even though i was blind. he guided me.”

marco laughs, “mikasa, while he may have guided you and your hands, you guided him into becoming a better person. he was so lonely and sad before you. he would have one night stands a lot of the time just so he wouldn’t have to sleep alone. his sketchbooks used to be so gloomy and bitter before you and now his sketchbook radiates life. there are so many sketches of you and the people around him, and he hadn’t done that since sophomore year of high school. he paints with light colors instead of the gloomy grey’s and blue’s he used to paint with. he’s so comfortable and content with you, and i’ve never seen him act that way with another person besides myself. he loves you, mikasa.”

mikasa feels herself crying at the speech. ever since mikasa was little, she always felt out of place, even with eren and armin. they were so vibrant and passionate to the point where mikasa could barely comprehend it. mikasa felt she had never made an impact of anyone, not even eren.

in high school, kids would whisper about her in the hall. she always acted unbothered but late at night she would cry silently under her blanket. mikasa never thought of herself as special, even if she was blind. mikasa often felt ashamed of herself for so many reasons; her lack of passion, lack of speech, lack of emotion, and her blindness. she often felt suffocated by the coddling and unsaid expectations eren’s dad left on her shoulders.

when she met jean, it was a breath of fresh air. someone treated her normally and would make her feel free. she felt like she fit in with jean, that he didn’t think she was weird for flaws. she asked him about it once, and he replied that when he said he loves her, he meant her flaws as well. jean made her feel special yet normal at the same time. he never let her lack of sight become a hinderance, instead guiding her with his hands and his voice.

to find out she impacted the person who changed her whole world made her emotional and happy beyond belief. she was also bewildered at the discovery because not once had she impacted someone to her knowledge.

“oh my god! i’m so sorry, i-i didn’t mean to make yoy cry!!!” marco’s freaking out and mikasa doesn’t need sight to know that all eyes are on her.

“mikasa?! what’s wrong?!” eren’s booming voice fills her ears.

“just happy,” she sobs and rubs away her tears.

“hey babe, i got a thin blanket so it might not warm you up too mu— what happened?!!” mikasa hear’s jean’s voice getting closer.

“i’m okay,” she sniffles, but jean ignores her and pulls her onto her feet. it has vanilla following behind.

jean leads her further from the group, stuttering out apologies as if he had done anything wrong. when he stops, he turns around and cups mikasa’s damp cheeks and kisses her nose.

“what’s wrong? what happened? are you okay,” he worries, voice cracking.

“i just,” her own sob cuts her off, “marco told me that i guided you into changing a-and i’ve just never had a-an impact on anyone.”

jean relaxes with a sigh, kissing her softly on the lips.

“he’s not wrong, you’ve impacted me in a way i can’t explain. i’m also sure that you’ve impacted so many people, you just don’t know it. you are so special,” he smile fondly, wiping away her tears.

“you make me feel special,” she laughs through her tears, “and i’ve never felt that, and you know that.”

he hums while he nods.

“cause, again, you are special. my special girl,” he murmurs to her right before he kisses her.

“you’re special because you guided me in the right direction of happiness,” he mumbles against her lips.

“ditto,” mikasa gives a small smile, “thank you for guiding me.”