#the other 2 arent in it its just rymazian oops

[pinkdalias]

Pretty

one fluffy Rymazian fic locally sourced at 2AM bc im tired and emo abt them ☆

Ryan Dalias was a very pretty person. At least in Akmazian's opinion, he was. 

Ryan Dalias was a very pretty person. At least in Akmazian's opinion, he was. The candy-floss pink hair that swept over his adorable forehead in fluffy waves was pretty. His deep, sparkling blue eyes were pretty, and his creamy skin was very pretty. And the moans that Akmazian was able to pull out from him when Ryan lay under him, the gasps that fell and floated and dripped from his lips like honey were, without a doubt, the prettiest things that Akmazian had ever heard. So were Ryan's smiles, which were as pretty as they were shy and blinding. His laughter was pretty like the clear ringing of bells, and the blush that dusted his cheeks was just pretty, pretty, pretty.

Perhaps Akmazian needed to update his vocabulary.

Because Ryan Dalias could be described in a lot of ways: there were a thousand English words that Akmazian had picked up throughout his life that might be able to come close. Ryan was gorgeous, ethereal and delicate (but, no, that one wasn't quite right; Ryan was one of the strongest men that Akmazian had ever encountered). He was exquisite, a gift from the stars. Ryan was enchanting, alluring, charming, handsome, captivating, dazzling, mesmerising, and so many more things that Akmazian could barely articulate. He was brash and beautiful and frustrating, and Akmazian was so, so in love with him.

His mind always looped back to the word pretty, though.

It was such a simple word. Pretty. A child's word, really. It showed that something was nice on the outside, that it appealed to ones senses and was attractive to their aesthetic. When Akmazian thought of pretty, he pictured pale pink blossoms like the flowers from Earth, and blue like deep oceans, and endless white snow, and then he realised that he was just envisioning Ryan again. He liked to think that the word pretty reflected Ryan pretty accurately, though. Because on the outside it was an easy word, one nobody really thought too much about and everyone believed they knew everything about after the first glance.

But underneath, if you searched a little deeper, could uncover a whole new side of things. For instance, what you thought was a sensible, do-good law abiding doctor with shockingly pink hair, strict morals and a constant calm and professional attitude, could slowly turn out to be witty and charming, with no patience for bullshit and a sharp tongue to bite back at any insult. He could cut deals with men he believed were cosmic terrorists, lie through a smile, have a history of addiction, swear and crack jokes and love small animals and have the nicest smile and the warmest eyes. He could even love a bad person.

Anyway. In comparison, the word pretty. It seems so simple a concept on the outside, but prettiness, as Akmazian has discovered, is relative. Somebody could look to the sky and see opportunity, see beauty in the flecks of silver and feel wistfulness in their bones for adventure and curiosity, while another person could only see the cold harshness of the void and the crushing realisation of everything they don't know. Someone could look at a flower and think it was one of the sweetest, most colourful things they'd ever seen, and another could stomp on it and call it a weed. Sometimes pretty was strange, and its definition changed, and suddenly something that wasn't pretty yesterday is now the most delightful thing anyone knows.

Akmazian has always thought Ryan was pretty, though. Yup, right from the start, Ryan Dalias was a pretty person. That couldn't be just a person opinion, it had to be a fact! Akmazian didn't know how to tell him that naturally, though, so his thoughts whirled around in his mind in a chant of pretty, Ryan, pretty, Ryan, I love him, pretty, Ryan, pretty. He settled for curling tighter around the other man, tracing the letters over the soft skin of his back and murmuring it silently into his hair. He dotted kisses over everything he thought was pretty about Ryan, and when he kissed Ryan's lips he tried to convey everything he felt. He tangled their legs and their fingers and smirked and called Ryan darlin' until he blushed and laughed and swatted at him.

"I love you," Akmazian whispered then, and Ryan stared at him with soft eyes and a gentle smile.

"I love you too," he whispered back, then huffed a laugh, closed his eyes and snuggled closer. Akmazian felt an unbidden smile split his lips, and the sunshine-y feeling that Ryan seemed to bring him burst happily in his chest. He buried his face in rose-coloured hair and said,

"You're the prettiest thing in the universe, Ryan Dalias," over and over until he felt Ryan smile against his chest, fidget in embarrassment, and quickly reach up to steal a kiss from him, effectively cutting off his mantra.

The way Ryan whispered it softly back to him, though, was the prettiest thing of all.