#fic: paint my nails

[yoongihan]

Paint My Nails - HJS - OneShot

pairing: jisung x femreader

genre: f2l, almost pwp probably, slice of life smut, fluffy too

rating: M (so not for minors)

word count: 4.5k or so

warnings: smut in the forms of fingering (fem receiving), penetrative sex (protected - responsible people here in this fic), cursing, a lot of kissing and mc fantasizing about Jisung in ways that are not platonic. They (Felix makes an appearance as the roommate) are all the same age, but mc is older by a few months so they call her 'noona' to annoy her. Mc has a few too many drinks, but most of it is burned off by the time anything provocative occurs. everyone is of age to drink and consent. there's a mention of penance and self-flagelation, but not in a literal sense. mc is just being dramatic.

a/n: i wrote this today. i barely edited it because it was like a race against time because it's still his birthday here where I am and my god, I love this man so much that I hate him (you know what I mean). so in typical me fashion, here's another fic of just pure han jisung adoration, kinda friends to lovers (typical me again), and all inspired by the skz-code episodes of them at the sauna and nail-painting. I'm kind of sure this is just a mess and I apologize for any inconsistencies.

~~~~~~~~~~~

There’s a knock on your apartment door and you lift your eyes from attempting to paint the nails on your right hand (why can’t you be ambidextrous? It’d be so helpful. Like you know…for spy stuff and nail painting) to Felix who is seated on the floor, leaning back against the sofa you’re both using for tonight’s chill night.

“Who’s that?” you ask, squinting at the door now, like you might be able to perceive who’s on the other side. You have had a couple of drinks. Sweet sweet cocktails premade in bottles and cans. Both you and Felix have been indulging in an evening of dumb 80s teen films and self-care. You’d already done his nails, a very pretty lavender, and he was letting them dry.

“Jisungie,” he answers, carefully pushing off the floor to go and answer the door.

“What?”

You don’t mean for your voice to go so shrill, but this is brand new information and there should always be a warning when Felix invites people over.

Especially the Han Jisung.

Felix pauses to look back at you. “Jisung. I invited him over. He was bored at his place.”

“And you didn’t think to let me know?” You gesture wildly. “When I look like…” You wave at yourself, encompassing the loose sweatpants and cropped t-shirt that you definitely first bought in middle school. It wasn’t cropped then. It was normal. You just got taller and a little more…endowed. 

Wearing something like this was fine in front of Felix. Because it’s Felix, your beloved roommate. Yes, he’s one of the prettiest humans on the planet, but because the world is weird, you don’t feel anything but massive amounts of love and affection for him - platonically. Which works out well because romance is the subject you struggle with most. 

Felix cocks his head to the side and you remember that he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how you feel about his friend, Jisung. 

Probably because you keep that shit to yourself because the moment you ever share stuff like that with someone, it comes back to bite you in the ass. Broken and strained friendships, accusations of trying to steal someone’s crush, loss of contact…a mess. 

“You look fine…he knows we’re just hanging out.” 

Oblivious boy.

You huff and close the nail polish bottle tightly (you don’t need to add a tangible mess to this evening’s agenda). You also decide to finish off your off-brand vodka-cocktail-in-a-can as though liquid courage can save this night.

Never mind that you usually say way too much under the influence. 

The door opens and you stare as Felix embraces the newcomer. Jisung’s smile is tired, but warm as his chin rests on his friend’s shoulder. He sees you and mouths a quick ‘hey’. 

You wave. Or you mean to wave, but you actually knock over the empty can instead. 

“Shit,” you mutter, picking it up then cursing again because you definitely messed up a fingernail in your can rescue. 

“Okay there?”

You look up as Jisung slinks off his windbreaker, tossing it on the arm of the sofa and sitting down in the middle. You have one side and Felix was on the floor of the other side. Cuddling would happen after fingernails were dry and safe. 

“Just clumsy,” you say, feeling your face heat up. Hopefully, it shows up just as too much alcohol and not embarrassment. “Hi.”

“Beer?” Felix asks. “Water…Coke?”

“Coke’s good,” Jisung states and glances at the television. “Is this…Teen Witch?”

“Oh my god,” you practically squeal. “How do you know that?”

“My older brother’s girlfriend loves eighties movies. Like…so many…” he glances over at you, grinning. “You know this is like shitty cinema, right?”

You make a face. “You can walk right out that door, Han Jisung, if you’re going to mock our viewing preferences. Tonight is classics,” you point to the screen. “Drinking.” You hold up an unopened bottle. “And nails.” You flash your mostly finished left hand at him. “To stay here you have to participate in at least one of those. Unironically.”

His grin has just widened as he takes a glass of soda from Felix, the latter who plops back down on the floor and unpauses the movie. 

“I do?”

Felix shrugs. “She’s the noona.”

You sigh dramatically, turning back toward your bottle of liquid ‘Starry Night,’ an almost blue-black polish.

“We’re all the same year, losers. I just showed up in the spring instead of the fall like you two.”

Felix and Jisung fist bump (Felix is very careful again because nails) in September solidarity and you huff again. 

“Noona,” Jisung says just to irritate you before taking a swig of coke and reaching into the big bowl on the coffee table in front of him for some trail mix. 

Felix wiggles and groans. “My butt is numb.”

Jisung laughs. “Then sit on the couch, idiot.”

Felix points at you both. “There’s not a lot of room.”

“Since when did you have personal space, Lix,” Jisung scooted closer to you, bumping your arm and you pouted. Another messed up nail. “Sorry.”

“I’d be mad if I actually had had success with this hand,” you reply as Felix plops in the empty space at the end. You can smell Jisung this close. Sort of like cloves and rosemary. He turns to see you sniffing. 

“You okay?”

You are such a moron.

“Sorry…” You stare back at your hand, trying to undo the damage of the last attempt. “You smell good.”

“You can smell me over that?” he points to the open bottle. He has a point, but to explain, you’d have to detail how hyper-aware you are of him and that isn’t going to go well at all. 

Felix pipes up about the movie and Jisung is momentarily distracted from your lack of reply. You try again to paint your right pinkie nail.

“I can do it for you?”

“You can?”

Jisung laughs bashfully, head ducked down as he takes the polish bottle from you. He turns toward you, crossing his legs and patting his knee for you to rest your unpainted hand on. 

“I’m not claiming I’ll be great at it, but I feel like I’ll do a better job than you doing it on your own.” He snorts. “Felix should have offered.”

“I can’t until mine are dry!” The youngest protests. 

“Obviously, Felix is a terrible friend,” you say, placing your hand gently on his jean-clad knee. 

“Both of you suck.”

You and Jisung both coo over Felix’s pout, but Jisung starts painting your nails. You watch his face more than his hands (either feature is one you’re weak about, so it’s really like which type of suffering do you want to inflict on yourself); the furrow in his brow as he concentrates, the pursed lips (okay you cannot stare at those too long because getting horny while drunk is just asking for a restless night), how soft his hair always looks. It’s currently his natural black after having it wavy and orange for a time. He’d worn the unusual color well, but it wasn’t like you could see anything but stars when you looked at him anyway.

“So…” you begin. “Drinking, movie-watching or nails?”

“Hmm?” He lifts his head to meet your gaze and you want to just openly stare (you are the heart-eyes emoji). He has such big pretty brown eyes and when they’re focused on you, you lose all ability to function.  

“Which are you going to do? To stay?”

He smirks at your persistence. “I guess nails. I drank too much last night and still feel like I need to recover.”

Felix holds up his nails. “She does a pretty good job, Sungie.”

You preen at the compliment, making them both laugh. 

It gets quiet (except the movie) as he continues your nails. You press your lips together to not speak, because having his hand holding each of your fingers might be the most erotic moment of your life.

Which is just sad when you think about the last time you had sex. 

“Why were you out drinking?”

“Bin and Hyunjinnie won their bowling league tournament thingy.”

“Why didn’t you go, Lix?” you ask, looking over at your roommate.

“I didn’t get the text until I woke up the next morning,” he says. “Also, are you both going to talk through this…the whole time?”

You and Jisung share a smile. 

“Does it bother you?”

Felix shoots you an unamused look. “I’m going to grab us more drinks and food if you both are going to talk over this.”

“And miss the witty dialogue?” Jisung mocks. You smack his arm with your already dried and done hand and he winks at you.

Fuck. Why is everything he does so impactful?

“Are you okay to drive?”

Your roommate rolls his eyes. “I've had two of those…the rest…was all you.”

You look at the empty cans. “Oops.”

You’re rewarded with laughter from both of them as Felix grabs Jisung’s windbreaker and heads to the door, slipping on shoes. 

“Stealing this, Sung.” 

“It swallows you.” The owner of said windbreaker seems unperturbed by the theft. 

“Because Felix is a delicate flower.”

You get a defiant middle-finger from Felix as he shuts the door behind him. 

Leaving you alone with Jisung.

Which you just realized. 

“How’d I do?” he asks as he holds up your right hand, looking at it with critical eyes. 

“Much better than I was doing.”

He grins at you. “That was a pretty low bar, noona.”

You pull away your hand, mock-annoyed. “I guess, thank you.”

He leans back on the sofa as you screw the cap to the polish back on and set it on the side table. You lift up a green bottle for his inspection.

“This color?”

“For what?”

“For you, Han Jisung.”

“Oh….” He crosses his arms over his chest, drawing your eyes to the width and breadth (is that the same thing, your brain questions) of his torso. He’s not a big guy, not like Chan or Bin, but Jisung works out at the same gym as them and my god, you can tell. 

He once wore a sleeveless t-shirt at a cook-out and you nearly fainted. 

Felix thought it was just the heat and humidity, but you knew it was Jisung’s glorious shoulders. 

“I think I’m going to be super basic and go with black nail polish.”

You grimace. “Ugh, why so boring?”

His eyes are warm. “Cause I am boring.”

“Bullshit.” You hold out your last can of whatever you’ve been drinking. “Please open.”

He pops the top and hands it back to you. You take a long swallow, knowing you’re flushed with his proximity more than anything else. 

“You don’t think I’m boring?”

“Are you fishing for a compliment?”

He straightens up and leans toward you as you continue to look through your supply of polishes. “If I am?”

He probably has no idea that his breath has hit the exposed skin of your neck. Like there’s no way he knows that you shiver because of him.

“If you want me to wax poetic about you, just say the word.”

You can hear his chuckle as you finally find your black polish and turn. He’s only half a foot away and you see his eyes widen at how close you are. 

“Really?” He swallows and draws back just a little, which reminds you that he most definitely does not feel about you the way you feel about him. 

You shrug and hold out your hand. “Hand please.”

He doesn’t immediately do as you ask, and it makes you look up at him. He isn’t smiling, he’s not frowning either. He looks thoughtful, like he’s trying to put together the pieces of a puzzle. 

“What?”

“You can’t see the movie like this.” He says it slowly, as though he’s testing…something. 

You look at the television then back at him. “So?”

“I thought movie-watching was vital to this evening’s plans.” One corner of his mouth lifts and there’s the beginnings of a smirk. “I wouldn’t want to mess that up.”

You roll your eyes, a little nervous for some reason you can’t really explain. “What do you suggest then?”

He adjusts so he’s facing the screen, leaning against the cushiony back of the couch, and then pats the space between his legs. 

“Sit here. Then we both can watch.”

If he sees how wide your eyes get then he doesn’t show it. He just looks at you expectantly, innocently like sitting on his lap, in between his legs is the most normal of things to do.

Which…with Felix, yeah, you totally have. But Felix isn’t Jisung.

Jisung is not Felix. 

It’s probably only a few seconds (it feels like an hour) but you shrug again and move to sit right there.

Oh this is a bad bad idea.

He curls around you, hands coming to set upon your thighs, ready to be decorated. One of your friends might diatribe about Minho’s thighs and you never really got it, but sitting with Jisung’s flush against yours is up there with all transcendent experiences; seeing the Sistine Chapel, getting high in a field at sunset, hearing Led Zeppelin live…

You shake the bottle and undo the cap, placing the bottle in one of his hands before taking the other in yours. 

“You have nice hands, Ji.”

You feel his chin touch your shoulder before resting fully. He’s so close to your neck that he could press his lips (those perfect lips - full bottom and sharp top lip) without having to move much. 

“Thanks.” His voice seems deeper but that’s probably because he’s so close. You start with his thumb, trying to focus on doing a good job and not that your body temperature went up a million degrees in the last two seconds. 

A few minutes pass, not that you’re watching the movie because nail-painting takes all your concentration. You don’t know if he is and if you try and look, your faces would be so close and you don’t think your self-control is that good. 

You know it’s not.

“Are you cold?”

“No, why?”

“Your legs are shaking,” he says softly and you look past his hand to where your legs, clad still in sweatpants are indeed trembling.

Yeah, you’re not cold. You’re so turned on that your body is about to go into a lust-frenzy. 

“Just fidgety,” is all you can come up with.

His head moves on your shoulder, turning a bit more toward you. “Yeah? Do you need to get up, move around?”

God, he’s so nice. Worrying that you might be atrophying and here you are, trying to imagine his hands were under your shirt. 

You might need to do some major penance after this. Some self-flagelation too. 

“I’m good.”

Yeah, you’re so good. All you want to do is turn your face and kiss one of his beautiful cheeks, trail along his jawline, nip a little at that neck, climb him like a fucking tree…

You squeeze your eyes tight in an effort to calm the fuck down. 

You finish one coat on both hands despite your wandering mind. You take the bottle out of his hands, recapping it and shaking it well. He shifts, one hand (the first, the drier one) touching your waist which is bare because of the way too small t-shirt you still have on. 

His touch is scorching. 

“Um,” you squeak. “Do you need to get up and move around? Legs falling asleep?”

You feel his chest move against your back as he takes a deep breath. “No.”

You do turn (stupid really) to see him, confused as to why he’s now gripping your waist as though to keep you in place.

“Jisung?”

His eyes, closed when you turned, now open and stare into yours in a way that makes you forget how to breathe. 

You turn a bit more and as you do, you realize why he’s holding you still. So you couldn’t feel him.

You’re not the only one stimulated right now.

His cheeks are red and he drops his gaze. 

“M’ sorry. I wasn’t…”

With guys, you know that anything can encourage such a response physically. It doesn’t mean that he likes you back. That he even really thinks of you like that. Your nearness to his dick and movement might just be all it is.

But you prefer a different interpretation. Fueled by alcohol and your overactive imagination. 

You kiss him.

Just a light kiss because he’s embarrassed and though you really want to like go full ‘rip off clothing and fuck’ mode, your heart is pretty soft for him. And you just want him to be okay. To know that he’s wonderful and every part of him is wonderful and he doesn’t have to be embarrassed around you.

Because he’s wonderful.

You draw back and offer him a smile. His eyes are wide again, looking at you like you might be speaking in a foreign language. 

“It’s all good, beautiful.”

You’ve never called him that before, but you don’t take it back. Because it’s true and even sober you wouldn’t argue that fact. 

He’s really just beautiful. 

You hear and feel him take another breath, this time a bit shaky. 

“How drunk are you?” His voice isn’t much more than a rumble. 

“Not enough to pass this off as just a drunk mistake.” You fiddle with the closed polish bottle. “Unless you want me to.”

His mouth covers yours in less than a millisecond and you’re too stunned to react immediately. The bottle of nail polish falls from your hand, you hear it plunk on the floor as he turns you around, lifting you so you face him, straddling him. Any worry of the damage to his unfinished nails flies out of your head because holy shit, Jisung is kissing you. 

His mouth is so warm, tongue wet and slick. You fist the front of his tshirt, your other hand tracing his ear and down his jaw. He hums at this, holding you by the hips, pressing you down so you can feel exactly what he wants you to feel. 

“Fuck,” you breathe against his lips. He’s hard and when his hips roll, the contact is delicious. Your head falls back when he does it again, a moan that echoes in the empty apartment. 

He presses kisses to your neck, his teeth catching slightly and you tremble. 

“So damn cute,” he mutters into your skin. He lifts his head, pulling you back down for another kiss. “Cute as fuck, telling me I’m beautiful, watching me like I’m special… I really hope you aren’t drunk because I want you so bad.”

Super reluctant, you draw back, staring at him. His hands have drifted; one is up and under the back of your shirt tracing along your spine. The other has spread over your ass. 

“Not drunk…a little bewildered.” 

He grins up at you, pressing a kiss to your chin. “You didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

His eyes are nearly black, blown out with as much desire as you feel. Lips bright red, plump. Skin flushed. 

“That I see you.” He lets go of your ass, cupping the back of your neck to maneuver you into another kiss. “That the moment Lix said that it was just him and you hanging out, I wanted to come over.” He tugs on your lower lip with his teeth, making you whimper. “That I really hope he gets stuck in traffic and doesn’t come back for several hours.”

“That’s not very nice of you to say about one of your best friends.” You brush his hair back out of his eyes. 

“Yeah, well, I’ve never wanted to fuck Felix.” 

The sentiment reverberates through your body and you wrap your arms around his neck, mouth finding whatever skin available. He holds you like that for a while, groaning when you suck a bruise in the curve of his neck. He stands up, letting you slide down his body until your feet touch the floor.

“But you know, in case the universe isn’t listening and there isn’t any traffic, can we go to your room?”

You laugh at his sheepish expression.

“If you want, I mean.”

You link your fingers with his, tugging him away from the living room and down the hall. You gesture to your open door, but he backs in, pulling you to him, one arm wrapping around your waist. Another kiss or five as he shoves close the door. 

He laughs when he falls back onto your bed, letting you straddle him and start untucking his shirt. 

“How long?”

“Hmmm?” he replies to your question. He’s secured you by your hips, only letting go so you can pull off his shirt. You trace one finger down the center of his chest. 

“How long have you–?” Liked you? Just wanted to fuck you? 

“Wanted you?” He watches as you smooth his tousled hair before you lean down and kiss his forehead then his nose then his lips. “You remember when you took one more green tea shot than Bin?”

You raise up to meet his eyes. “Then? Like the fact that I drank too much?”

He smiles, clasping his hands together at your lower back. “You got pretty sick after that, but you didn’t care. You were so happy to beat Bin.” His fingers slide down past the back of your sweatpants’ waistband. “Fuck…you aren’t wearing anything?”

“I mean…it was just a hangout night…with my roommate. I didn’t expect you to show up.”

He pouts as he pinches your butt. “You’re saying you’d have on underwear and a bra if you’d known?”

“You knew I wasn’t wearing a bra?”

He rolls his eyes. “Duh.”

You try to smack him on the arm, but he catches you by the wrist. He props himself up (hand leaving your un-underweared butt) on one elbow before kissing the hand he’s captured. Just one peck in the middle of your palm. Then he rolls you over, tugging on your shirt. 

You dutifully raise your arms as he rids you of it. Watching his eyes sweep over your half-naked form will live in your memories eternally. He has the most expressive face.

“I…um…” It’s dawning on you that you are definitely about to have sex with Han Jisung. You have not prepared for this at all. “There’s…condoms in the bottom drawer.”

His eyes pull from your chest to your face before he leans down to kiss you softly. 

“Baby, are you shy now?”

“A little.”

He rolls off of you, grabbing a condom before slipping a finger under the waistband of your pants. “Can I take these off?”

“Yep, sure.”

He laughs again before lying down next to you, his hand resting on your stomach. “Why are you nervous?”

“Maybe because we’ve never done this before. I mean, us. Together.”

He nods solemnly. “But I like you, you know. I want you to feel good, so I think it’s gonna be okay. Hopefully more than okay.”

He likes you. 

You roll to your side to face him, mouth meeting his. You undo the button of his jeans, the zipper, hand wrapping around him. He curses. 

“Fuck, your hand feels so good.”

“Ji…it’s your dick. Any hand feels good.”

He makes a face at you before kissing you again. He works to shove off his jeans and boxers.

“Feels way better than my hand.”

You snort as you stroke him, carefully, listening to his breathing, his gasps. After a minute or two his hand encircles yours and he pulls you off.

“I’d like our first time to not have me embarrassing myself.”

You can’t help but look at him fondly as he pushes down your sweatpants, those big brown eyes of his fiery and dark. He cups you before raising one eyebrow.

“Was this just from sitting on my lap?”

“Your very existence is a turn-on.”

He laughs at your petulant tone before sliding one finger into you. You grip his wrist, eyes on his. He moves close, tongue finding yours as he matches the rhythm of his finger with his kissing. It feels good, even if it’s not getting you there. Kissing Jisung could last for days and you think you’d be this content. 

You jolt when his thumb presses on your clit and you feel his smirk against your mouth.

“Cocky bastard.”

“Sounds mean, but your breathy voice tells me I’m doing it right.” He adds another finger and you moan. “You close?”

You nod, which is insane because you’re not usually this primed. 

His fingers curl and his thumb presses just right and you break. He swallows your cries, kissing you as your body quivers with the aftershocks of a very good orgasm. When your heartbeat starts to slow down, he pulls his fingers out of you, drawing you close to kiss your cheek and forehead.

“Okay?”

You push him so he’s on his back, your meager strength enough because you’ve surprised him. You move to cradle his hips between your thighs before looking for the condom he’s dropped on the bed. You open it and roll it on him, seeing his eyes close the moment your hands are back on him. 

He lifts up, resting on his elbows when you position him. HIs fingers grip your hip so tight, you think there might be bruises tomorrow, but it feels good. 

As you sink down on him, he raises up more, almost sitting so he can kiss you, holding your face in his hand. 

“Okay?” he asks softly when you don’t move anymore.

“You feel really good,” you whisper against his lips. 

“Not to try and one-up you, but you feel amazing,” he says, making you smile even though all you want to do is have him move. “Can I?”

Your nod is enough for him and the rhythm for you both takes a few tries to get in sync, but his little laughs when it goes wrong are almost as good as when it finally goes right. He’s sweaty and flushed and panting and when his eyes open to see you, you’re overwhelmed. Because he likes you, he laughs with you, he paints your nails…lets you paint his. 

He likes you because you outdrank one of his friends. 

He comes first, a full-body shudder as he falls back onto the bed, you in his arms. You rest your head on his chest, hearing his heart. 

It’s quiet, even though the movie credits are rolling in the other room with some very poppy eighties one-hit wonder creating the soundtrack to this moment. 

You wonder if you should get off of him, let him clean up when his hand comes back to help you find your own end…again.

“Ji, you don’t have to–” He pushes just enough with his thumb that you squeak. His laugh is weary, but happy. He lifts his head to look at you.

“I don’t, but I want to.”

When Felix does come back, he says nothing about the fact that you are in a different set of pajamas, that Jisung’s t-shirt is backward, and that you are still painting his nails. 

He drops the bags on the coffee table and plops on the floor. 

“You didn’t do it on the couch at least, did you?”

--

(c) yoongihan 2023. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. stray kids belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans.

[skyrigel]

Simon who just can't say no to you.

It has been like this from the moment his eyes met yours, a very terrible Monday morning if he hadn't met you but now that you remembered, it's the most beautiful day of both of your lives.

“Is that seat taken ?” Simon looked up at the small morning roused and still sleep laden voice, you were as knackered as you sounded, probably runnin’ on black coffee and cuppa noodles.

“Yeah.” He wasn't even aware how quickly he said it, “Yes, ofcourse miss.”

He scooted his big thighs together, trying to make as much space as possible for you and as if some divine thought struck him, he looked up — cheeks tinting with red.

“Would ya’ like window ?”

“No, But thankyou for asking.” You answered, sitting next to him and making sure to leave some space because those legs were thick and definitely his big cock needed some room.

Fuck, look away —

“Ghost...” Another man climbed inside bus, his eyes trained on you and your partner who's apparently Ghost ?!?!

“Wot ?” He said roughly, his shoulders pressed against yours

“Nothin’ old man.” The other man smirked and sat next to a Grandma who knitted half a sweater.

“Your friend?” You asked.

“ A little...Simon.” He said, “Simon Riley.”

“Oh.” You smiled, feeling blush creep up your neck and cheeks.“I like Ghost better.” you would've booed if you weren't feeling so tingly and nervy.

“You would like Simon more.”

“I would like that.” You couldn't believe you were flirting on a Monday morning.

One month later

“Ghost...” John horribly snorted, sprawling on couch as Simon paid him no attention.

“Wot ?” He asked, giving you his pinky as you painted the last letter ‘Y’ over hot pink nail polish, completing your H-E-L-L-O K-I-T-T-Y nail art, every letter on each nail.

“Nothin’ old man.” John smirked as you clicked your tongue, beaming up at Simon.

“Done !” You blew air and flashed a grin as Simon brought his hand up to examine your work.

“Done Luvie.” He smiled, bumping your nose with ‘I’ on his nail.

And you also liked Simon better.

Grim Reaper! Simon

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[hballegro]

"It's more than something. It's everything."

s8e11 "Life Time"

painted screenshot. cannot give a time estimate, i lost track long ago. still gouache brush, my beloved, with blur tools to fade edges and so on

i have to go to the zoo now and will be making the version with the clock later [i cannot express how long ive been battling with hawkeye's face, gamers]. background went very fast like i said it would lol

version 2 [as in, w/ clock] will probably be done later today, and i will edit this and add it when that happens [and prolly make a separate post too, for celebration purposes, and will link them]. i will also compile progress pics for that post. they are terrifying early on lmao

"A lot of very touching songs came outta that war" previous painting

"It was pink, and perfect, and I tossed it in the scrap bucket" previous painting

everyone say thank you to bj to being a perfect painting subject today he was very polite and he looks about how i wanted unlike SOME PEOPLE

that was me to my sibling last night, and i stayed up til 1:10ish and still didnt finish the final pass over hawkeye's eye. everything else took like 5ish minutes

also everyone say thank you to margaret and nurse kellye for also being perfect and lovely and pleasant to work with

photo used blatantly stolen from this post thank you again @remyfire i owe you my life

update edit;

clock back

[kitnita]

happy last-stretch-of-baseball-season-before-hockey-season-starts to all who celebrate. can i interest you in an improved take on baseball au robotter?

[scribefindegil]

my thoughts on most crossovers are "wow what if all these characters were friends" but I do have a soft spot for the genre of GF crossover art that's "oh, this media has a teenage boy in it? Mabel Pines IS going to have a very earnest one-sided crush on him"

[odoraful]

sneak peek at my next love & deepspace fic 😳 it's an au where zayne and fem!reader grow up together based on a request ! it's definitely getting up there in terms of word count, but here's a snippet from a moment in highschool:

Zayne never wished to draw attention to himself, but it seemed to follow him regardless. He preferred to keep his head in a book (study book, sketchbook or otherwise), and he sometimes wished his fellow peers would do the same. Instead, he was the choice of conversation among the cohorts for being an enigma. Teenagers were not the most subtle people, and whispers would follow everywhere he walked. He made mental notes of what was being said. After all, those who were quiet were often the most observant.  

“He’s the one who skipped a year right?” No, that isn’t true. 

“One year? I thought it was two!” That would be more accurate. 

“The serious guy with glasses?” At least they know what I look like.

“I heard that he thinks he’s better than everyone.” Now that really isn’t true. 

“No way… is that why he’s a loner?” A loner…?

“Doesn’t he always hang out with that one girl though?”

He stopped spinning his pen around his fingers. Study period was usually the time where people would get updated on the latest news. His focus pulled away from his notes to the conversation happening behind his seat. The irony of the situation was not lost on Zayne, people were quite literally talking about him behind his back. Careful to not signal that he was eavesdropping, Zayne began to write on his page, summarising information from the textbook. Unfortunately, the pair had become more hushed, and he could barely make out what was being said. One word did slip from the conversation, however. Said in a surprised, high-pitched tone: your name. 

“Shh! Not so loud!” One of them scolded. 

Zayne quietly sighed, the breath slipping out between his lips. He got up, making little effort to subdue the sound of the chair’s legs scraping against the floorboards. After packing things away in his bag, he strode past the table behind him, the people seated there already peeking at him leaving. He levelled a look at them as he walked, adjusting his glasses. The students turned further inwards, completely blocking any prying eyes and ears. He casted the interaction aside. It was almost the end of school day anyway, which meant he could finally meet with you. 

[uva124]

What better way to start making animatics than with angst from KOW yay :D! Hope you like

@emillyverse @annymation Even though it's fictional I still feel a little guilty for drawing you guys like that ^^;

I never thought I would draw angst of ourselves lmao

[thestarlightforge]

“COME WITH ME”

[milarepas]

Will and Mike as parents always make sure nothing is missing, but there are some things that can get out of their hands

May was always an energetic baby, excited to run around and talk non-stop, but as she grew up, she began to develop small insecurities, insecurities that she hid from her parents

Mike is a little strict at times, one of the reasons they can get into arguments, but at the end of the day she's still his baby

[eddie4bat-president]

I'm not a writer but i had this thought so- bear with me, yeah?

For months Eddie hears all about how cool and badass Steve Harrington is, yeah, but you know what he also hears about? How Steve and Robin are made for each other and how cool and pretty Robin is and how stupid it is that they're not a couple for some dumb reason, like Steve not wanting to be with a band geek and still clinging to high school hierarchy. And in all of the things Dustin says about Steeeve Harrington, that last part is the only thing that fits into the Munson Doctrine, so obviously everything else Henderson is saying is what's skewed in his little shrimp world view.

Steve Harrington thinks he's better than a band geek and that's why we won't look twice at a girl that would be perfect for him (according to Dustin Henderson, so... still questionably trustworthy information). Eddie probably assumes Dustin is talking up how close Steve and Robin actually are, just how he's exaggerating how close Dustin himself is to Harrington (like that would impress Eddie and the rest of Hellfire??? He really doesn't know how to get through to the little sheep that his worship of Hawkins' most notorious square is a detriment to his character and not something Eddie would find impressive. If it was real. Which it obviously isn't. Anyway-)

Turns out? Steve Harrington? Actually a cool dude. Not cool as in popular but cool as in "holy shit did he just bite that thing's head off???? Oh and he's not even gonna brag about that, it's just nbd, yeah sure, cool cool cool be fucking cool Eddie, oh god he's talking to me why is he talking to me" and just, chill to hang out with. After the whole shit show went down. Who would have fucking thought, huh? (except for Dustin Henderson, yeah yeah yeah, shut up)

So now Eddie has to reevaluate some other assumptions he made. Maybe Dustin was right and Steve actually is cool and badass, and he and Buckley actually are as close as he had said (and they really fucking are! He has seen them give Keith eerily matching bitchy looks for trying to schedule them on opposing shifts and basically bully the guy into changing the schedule around so they can spend as much time as possible in each other's presence. It's enough to make a guy question his own friendships when sometimes a few hours of band practice are enough to make him want to never see any of those chucklefucks again. Of course, that feeling abates but seriously, how are those two never sick of each other??)

So if they're as close as advertised but not a couple (and after meeting everyone Steve cares about and they're basically all nerds so the "Harrington thinks he's too good for a band geek" thing can't actually hold true-) what is the hold-up? Why aren't they a couple? And somehow, somehow Eddie comes to the conclusion that Steve is in love with Robin. Steve is a serial romantic (emphasis on romantic) and while his love life isn't the talk of the town post-earthquakes as it would have been before, people do still talk about the fact that he hasn't taken out a girl since it happened.

Which brings us to a day in summer, maybe fall, after Eddie has seen Steve look wistfully at a young couple with a baby, that he shows up at Robin's door step.

"Eddie? Hey what's up?"

"Good, good, how are you? Uhh can I... can I come in?" There's a nervous energy around him that is immediately infectious and she leads him to the living room where he immediately starts walking back and forth in front of the couch. She watches him for a moment, hands fluttering through different motions trying to find one that might calm him down before giving up on that. Instead Robin swerves around him, clambering onto the couch and wrapping her arms around her right leg, putting her head on her knee. She follows Eddie's path with her eyes and decides to wait before quickly realizing that she can't, actually.

"As riveting as it is watching you walk a groove into my parents' rug, do you maybe want to say something? I mean I can definitely talk enough for the both if us if that's what you want it's just that I have the slight suspicion you've got something you need to get off your chest" Eddie stopped walking halfway through her monologue and starts nodding.

"Yeah. Yeah yeah yes you're right it's just- I haven't a hundred percent made up my mind about saying something", Eddie has one arm wrapped around himself and uses the other to alternately play with his hair and gesticulate at her, "because on the one hand it's a little bit driving me crazy, maybe, but on the other hand this is none of my fucking business" And Robin who was worried at first just because Eddie is nervous, then for a second because she was scared he was going to confess to a very ill-advised crush on her, is stumped. What the fuck is this about and why did it bring him to her of all people?

"Just say it you weirdo", is what decides to comes out of her mouth but it doesn't even matter because half of her sentence is layered with his "Are you aware Steve is in love with you?"

[here we're facing the issue of me not actually being a writer and pretty much running out of steam but we also haven't reached the part that sparked this whole thing yet, which is wild - let's just pretend I wrote a very funny dialogue between those two in which Eddie confronts Robin for stringing poor Steve along ]

There's a moment when they're both silent and there's a moment when they're both talking and then there are steps coming down the stairs. They make a smirk grow on Robin's face that is starting to worry Eddie when not a parental figure but Steve Harrington steps through the doorway. He's wearing sweatpants and a shirt that might be Robin's and there's a headband pushing his hair away from his face.

"Don't yell at me for coming downstairs, you took forever and the first layer... is... dry....", he stops in his tracks the moment he looks up from his bare toes and sees Eddie. Then he very quickly rips off the headband and slings it somewhere to his right into the unknown of the hallway.

"Hi Eddie. What's... up" Eddie is going to sink into the floor and never come up for air again.

In the meantime Robin stood up on the couch to sit cross-legged on the back of it for a better vantage point and is steepling her fingers in front of her face. Eddie is getting the distinct impression he's missing some crucial information here.

"Stevie, babe, platonic love of my life-", Steve nods for her to go on, "you know how we decided I get a veto on your romantic life because we realized droves of suboptimal dates actually make you miserable so we're going for quality over quanity for the first time in your small-town Casanova life?" Steve has that cute little crease between his eyebrows while he's looking back and forth between Eddie and Robin, trying to figure out what's going on but he rolls his eyes at the end of her sentence, back in familiar territory. "Yes, Robin-"

She interrupts: "And you know how I also reserved the right to give a shovel slash molotov cocktail talk to anyone we deemed worthy of being a potential future partner?" Steve's face somehow shows an emotion that can only be encapsulated by "?!" as he glances to Eddie before shifting back to Robin with just the "?" remaining.

"First I have to say I'm personally very pro, I loved this experience; Eddie here really made a fool of himself, very worried for your delicate sensibilities and how I'm breaking your sweet little heart." "...what...?"

"So: what's the verdict on a potential future partner giving me the shovel talk?"

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Hi!! Congratulations on passing 1,000 followers! I thought, maybe something cool to write about would be...

Ed and Jim talking about their feelings on gender expression/presentation, and Ed realizing they are more similar than he first thought? Maybe post season 2?

This one took a sec to ferment in my brain but when it did. ooooh when it did. Trans people talking about gender is the fuckin BEST.

Send me a prompt and I'll write a 1k word fic!

--

Ed wasn’t even sure why he’d bought the little bottle of nail polish.

The crew had come round to visit for a few days - earlier than they’d expected when they got the letter from Lucius around the start of the spring, so they had to cram them into the two guest rooms they’d been able to finish. Still, Ed had enjoyed showing them around, showing off how the master bedroom was coming along, and the kitchen (Roach promised to help furnish their growing spice rack), and Stede’s garden out front.

They’d treated everyone for lunch at their favorite fish spot down near the docks, then wandered around the market stalls, everyone offering their opinions on potential new pieces of decor for the inn.

And Ed had found the nail polish at a little stall selling cosmetics and medicines and all sorts of little trinkets. It was purple, and sparkly, with little bits of shiny glitter worked into it, and he held the bottle up, admiring how the color turned rich in the sunlight.

“That’s a nice one,” the nice old shopkeeper said. “I’m sure your girlfriend would like it, too.”

He’d winked, and Ed’s stomach had turned, and he’d almost put the bottle back. He knew the shopkeeper was just trying to make a sale, but it just reminded him - it was something Ed shouldn’t want.

He bought the nail polish, tucking it quickly into his pocket before anyone could notice.

Now, here he was, standing in the bedroom and chewing on his bottom lip, unsure what to do with it. He could hide it away, like a shameful little secret, but it would eat away at him. He could put it in the bathroom, but Stede would ask where he’d gotten it, maybe even ask if he wanted to wear it.

Wearing it seemed like a whole other can of worms.

Ed remembered the first, and last, time he’d worn nail polish. He’d painted his nails somewhere between all the poetry, after he came back to the ship alone, before the bad times. And then…yeah. All that had happened, and he was reminded that wasn’t something he got to do. He’d tried to scrape it off with a knife, back then, but he’d given up after he’d nicked his fingers too many times - hadn’t been able to keep his hands steady, for some fucking reason. He’d worn those full-fingered gloves to hide it until it had peeled off.

That was just the way it was, for people like Ed-

“Hey, man.” Jim’s voice in the doorway made Ed jump - they were as quiet as a fucking cat. 

Ed let out an extremely dignified squeak of terror, moving to reflexively hide the bottle and accidentally just tossing it away from him. It landed on the bed, thankfully, instead of shattering on the floor.

“Stede was wondering where you were - dinner’s ready.” Jim, in their infinite mercy, chose not to make fun of him, but their eyes flicked to the bed. “Why are you being so weird about nail polish?”

“Not being weird,” Ed deflected, trying to think of any good excuses for why he was being weird. “I just. Uh. Trying to decide if I want to wear it.”

Jim shrugged, bending to pick it up. They nodded at the color. “It’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Ed mumbled, looking at the floor. 

It was the caginess, maybe, that did it, but Ed could practically feel the second Jim got it.

“Oh,” they said, and then, “look, you don’t have to tell me, it’s no one’s fucking business, but - if you’re like me, then, fuck, I get it.”

“Not exactly like you.” Ed hadn’t realized how nice it would feel, to talk with someone who got it, and the little relieved smile felt good in his mouth. “I’m a man, people just thought I was a girl when I was born.”

“You know, I paint my nails, sometimes,” Jim told him. They sat on the bed, still holding the nail polish, and Ed followed them down, relaxing into the pillows.

“Are you…” Ed took a deep breath. “I’m scared, sometimes, that things like that will make people think I’m not enough of a man.”

“That’s the fuckin’ bitch, isn’t it?” Jim shook their head. “Lucius paints his nails all the time, and he’s fine. But people like us, we have to be so much more careful.”

“Yeah,” Ed nodded. “It’s like some people are just waiting for any chance to tell us we’re not actually who we say we are.”

“Fuckin’ exactly!” Jim thumped his shoulder in agreement. “It’s like, hello, I think I know myself better than you do, and I can paint my nails if I fuckin’ want!”

Ed’s laugh felt light. 

“Hey,” Jim said, passing the nail polish to Ed. “You wanna give it a try?”

Ed let his breath out, slowly. “I don’t know.”

“If you want, I’ll do it with you,” Jim offered. “And if you don’t like it, y’know, alcohol can get it off pretty easy, and we can take it off while it’s still wet. You’re a man, you’ll just be a man wearing nail polish. If other people can do it, why can’t we?”

They sat on the bedroom floor so they wouldn’t get anything on the nice sheets, and they painted each other’s nails. Ed tried to be careful to get Jim’s just right, and they didn’t complain when his hands were still a little shaky.

They were a bit late to dinner, and Ed felt a little awkward as Jim showed off their nail polish to their partners. Archie thought it was a fuckin’ dope color, apparently, but Ed hung back until Jim said “and look at Ed’s! Doesn’t he look fuckin’ cool!”

The round of agreement from the crew as they made him pose so they could all get a good look was more than Ed had expected.

Jim caught his eye over the dinner table. They winked, and Ed winked back.

[liamlawsonlesbian]

jo liamlawsonlesbian's f1 fics

because I didn't join f1blr until several months after I started writing f1 fic, I thought I would make a masterlist of what I've written for this fandom thus far

(why now? because I'm procrastinating, of course)

In the order I wrote them:

when we're cheek to cheek (i feel it in my teeth): Max Verstappen has become a little obsessed with Charles Leclerc's neck. The day after Monaco 2023, Max and Charles go for a drive. - lestappen, 1.8k, rated M.

baby, why don't you come over?: Max sends Charles a drunken booty call, even though they're just friends. The next day, when they're sober, Charles calls his bluff. - lestappen, 3.4k, rated E

maybe the sky might not always be blue: Once upon a time, Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc were on a short-lived Disney Channel show together, and Max had a crush on Charles. Now, they're successful adult actors, and Charles is cast as Max's love interest in a movie. - lestappen, 8.8k, rated T

powerful, with a little bit of tender: Pierre wants to make Yuki feel good. - yukierre, 2.1k, rated E

"Lance Moi" (n): Deux Moi but Good, Actually: Frustrated with the unseriousness of Deux Moi, Lance starts an F1 gossip account. (Saw Leclerc in Monaco - Anon pls). - lance & everyone, 3.5k, rated G

canine teeth in the side of my neck: Charles starts biting Max when Max wins races. Max might spiral, a bit. (alt-2024 season) - lestappen, 7.2k, rated E

would have loved you (in a day or two): Yuki tells Pierre that in another universe, they're in love. Pierre can't stop thinking about Other Pierre and Yuki. - yukierre, 2.2k, rated E

no such friend: Charles is in his head, and asks Max to fuck him out of it. It goes differently than he expects. - lestappen, 2.9k, rated E

i can feel the sun on you: Charles is a prince under pressure. Alex is an aspiring novelist trying to make ends meet. They find each other in Buenos Aires. (Chalex Roman Holiday AU). - chalex, 12k, rated T

i don't wanna miss you tonight: Before the Las Vegas Grand Prix, Fernando sends Max a tiktok compilation highlighting how comfortable Charles is touching Max. Max can't stop thinking about it. - lestappen, 1.8k, rated T

are you down? (can you let me know): Oscar doesn't want to feel like a rookie anymore. He decides to fuck Fernando Alonso about it. - oscar/fernando, 2.5k, rated E

you don't have to know that it's haunted: Charles is a witch. Max finds out. - lestappen, 8.3k, rated T

still high (with a little feeling): Lando has a revelation about himself. Yuki helps him out. - tsando, 4.4k, rated T

grow the apple, keep all the seeds: Nico Rosberg, second ever female WDC, visits Charles the day before her first grand prix weekend. - rule 63 charles/nico, 2k, rated E

(don't read) the last page: Dr. Max Verstappen gets hired as the expert medical consultant for a new Netflix show. Charles Leclerc, former teen heartthrob, stars. - lestappen, 7.4k, rated E

[nonranghaes]

“gimme your hand.”

without looking up, you do. hyunsuk takes it in his own, looking over your nails as you continue to scroll through social media on your phone. he hums to himself for a moment, reaching out vaguely to the small box of nail polish he’d toted out with him.

he smiles at you, eyes twinkling, “baby?” he drags out the word, always so happy to call you any and every term of endearment under the sun. “what color do you want?”

you look up for a moment with a hum, and shrug. “surprise me.”

he smiles wider, and already reaches for the black bottle of nail polish that matches some of his own. and when he starts to look at his own nails so that the two of you match...

well. you aren’t surprised when he’s proudly taking pictures with your hands side by side, blasting it all over his social media while proudly calling you his baby.

[nateezfics]

the painted nails….what a man 💅🏻😍

[angstigone]

WARNINGS: discussion of toxic masculinity, denji being a teen, implied that reader has anxiety and they paint their nails.

«alrightie, I am all done» you said promptly, setting aside everything on the table and meticulously closing the nail polish bottle «... tell me how you like them».

denji was quick to arch his fingertips as he had seen power do, after the torture that you had made him go through for the past half an hour, by filing his nails, coating them with transparent shit before passing the bright orange.

"it isn't too girly, right?" he had questioned you after he had chosen the color, attentive to your reaction as you good-naturedly shook your head and went to retrieve the bottle "... although it's already bad I allowed you so far".

still, although denji couldn't help but worry he'd be emasculated by wearing nail polish on your existence - "denji, anymore neglect and you'll have paws not hands!" - the result wasn't half bad with the color being bright enough to match his personality.

«I like them!» he promptly screeched, getting up while you urged him to stay seated, grabbing him by the hem of his sweatpants « do you think I'll pick many chicks with it?».

«first you need to let it dry, ladykiller» you ushered him, as he plopped himself down, holding his hand in front of his chest as if it was radioactive «and I am glad you enjoyed it. I do destress by putting on nail polish and as aki isn't around...».

«you pant aki's nails?» the thought startled denji, or better it unsettled him as if the sole notion had him confused «... he lets you?».

«mmh» you nodded lightly as if it was obvious, instead «girlfriend privileges».

«so... if I get a girl, she'll... she'll do this every month?» it hadn't been so bad and maybe he'd have some 'boyfriend privileges'.

«more like each week, as that's normal nail polish and it'll chip within the hour» you said slightly grimly. and not answering his question at all.

«then why do you do them?» your nails were always impeccable and albeit denji had noticed a few chips, you'd have a fresh color by the next day. maybe the toxic fumes from the nail polish had fucked with your brain.

and hayakawa's that allowed you to paint his nails.

«... if they don't last».

«because I like them».

it felt like such a silly reply and denji lightly tilted his head in confusion as if the answer itself felt like a question.

«... panting nails makes me feel good with myself and I think that's all that should matter. whether you are a boy or a girl».

«power isn't either. and I am not human... anymore» denji pointed out on the monster that had been your previous test subject, who sported pretty barbie pink nails and you had had to lock down the nail polishes so she wouldn't paint meowy's nails of the matching color.

«alright, alright. whether you are human or not» you lightly showed your tongue to him which had denji lightly fluster.

still, he couldn't protest anymore as the door opened, signaling that aki was likely off work.

and he could now be the one indulging you, although denji couldn't see how he'd allow you to paint his nails.

he didn't think that he had even seen a speck of color on aki's nails, although they were indeed groomed far more properly than his own; still, they didn't hold a candle to your colorful ones.

«I am home!» that confirmed it as denji did scatter off, a bit still ashamed of being caught with his painted nails by the sole other male member of the hayakawa household, although you cursed out to him to remind him that the nail polish was still fresh.

all of this conversation went back to denji once, after a mission, when aki went to retrieve his pack of smokes, he noticed something on his pinkie finger.

a black stain that got him thinking it might be a weird bruise or something. but upon coming closer he noticed that it had a strange shape.

an heart.

he wanted to tease him lightly, but he couldn't help but think it was cute.

strange on hayakawa, but definitely cute.

and it made him feel even more like he might just need a girlfriend.

[vivitalks]

like a burst of technicolor in a world of black and white

for the prompt "painting nails" on my @jasico-challenges bingo card. guys i am really having fun with this bingo thing have yall heard about this. this shit rules anyway imagine an AU where trials of apollo is a collective hallucination we all experienced and then decided never to speak of again. and instead jason stayed at CHB after the showdown w gaea. okay you are now prepared for the events of this fic xoxo

title from extraordinary magic by ben rector :) read here on ao3

“How come you didn't go to school?”

Fair question, but pretty random.

They're spread out on the floor of Cabin One. When Nico marched in armed with a bottle of nail polish the color of a cloudless sky and insisted on painting Jason's nails, Jason tossed his sketchbook aside. Any activity with Nico is better than drawing shrines alone. 

Nico got to work and they descended into easy silence. Jason figured that was for Nico's focus, so he didn't break it, just allowed his mind to wander aimlessly.

When he tunes back in at Nico's inquiry, he sees two nails painted — left index and middle, coated in light blue. Jason has never had his nails painted. He doesn't know if it's always this soothing, but if it is, he can understand why so many people do it.

“You mean instead of staying at camp year-round?”

Nico nods and takes the brush to Jason's next finger. His face of concentration is extremely cute: narrowed eyes, teeth digging into his lower lip, one rebellious strand of dark hair he keeps blowing out of his face only for it to fall right back in his eyes.

“You could have,” he says. “You’d only have two years before graduation. Could get a diploma.”

Jason shrugs. “Yeah, but why would I? It’s not like I was getting a formal education before. Praetor was a year-round job.”

Nico hums. He's really very good at this. If the demigod thing doesn't pan out, he has a future as a manicurist.

“Plus,” Jason adds gamely, “I don't exactly have a parent or guardian to enroll me anywhere.”

“I'm sure Chiron would be more than happy to falsify some legal documents.”

Jason chuckles. “You think so?”

“Are you kidding?” Nico snorts. “Percy told me Chiron posed as his Latin teacher for a full year when he was younger. He would love to invent a transcript for you.”

Jason gives this a dismissive laugh so they can put the topic to rest. He thought about trying to go to school, for sure. He spent about six minutes seriously considering it. I could have some normalcy, he'd mused. Be a high school kid. Sure, I don't have any surviving mortal parents, or anywhere to live during the school year, or any money, or any previous course credits, or any documents to prove I'm a real person, but. Those are solvable problems.

Then he’d thought, Or I could stay at camp, and the decision made itself.

Maybe it's bleak to say, but there's nothing for him out there. In the real world. He has no memory of being a baby living with Thalia and his mother, and after that, his whole life was the legion. Training with Lupa was the closest thing Jason had to elementary school. Everything that matters to him — his friends, his family, his sworn duty to the minor gods — starts and ends in camp. His youth is tattooed with the brand of Camp Jupiter. His freedom is a leather necklace tied by Camp Half-Blood.

Why leave?

“I'm good here,” is all he says.

Nico isn't ready to drop it. “But then why stay here? You didn't want to go back to Camp Jupiter?”

Jason raises both eyebrows. “Did you want me to?”

“No!” Nico scowls. “I'm just curious.”

Methodical brush strokes turn Jason's fourth fingernail blue. It's a pretty color; Jason wonders what inspired Nico to choose it. It's probably not Nico's first time painting someone's nails, because he's very skillfully managing not to get any polish on Jason's skin. He has good hands for the job — thin and precise. Careful. Deliberate.

“The plan was really to split my time,” Jason says, just as careful, just as deliberate. “I was already at Camp Half-Blood, so I figured I'd spend a little while here, then a while at Camp Jupiter, and, you know, so on.”

“But…it's been two months,” Nico says.

The unspoken question: why haven't you gone back yet?

“Well, yeah,” Jason says. His own stillness is becoming uncomfortable. If he moves, he risks ruining Nico's artwork, but sitting this stationary isn't in his nature. Like most demigods, he has a compulsion to fidget. It's less noticeable in him — less than, say, Leo — but in moments of extreme stagnancy, it doubles down.

“Are you planning to go back at all?”

It's not an interrogation. At least, Jason doesn't think so. It's not small talk, either. Nico is his friend. This is a friendly conversation. There are no wrong answers here.

“Eventually,” Jason says. “To visit. But…to stay?” He shakes his head. “I don't think so.”

“All your friends are there,” Nico says, and he's still looking down, focused on his task, like this statement is a reflex, requiring no thought.

“Not all,” Jason says, watching him. “You're here.”

That gets Nico’s attention. He looks up. “Me?”

“You're my friend,” Jason says.

“Don't tell me you stayed here just for me.” It comes out like a bad joke. Like it couldn't possibly be true.

“Well…” Jason pauses. “I don't know if that's the only reason, but it definitely helped.”

“What? Are you joking?”

“Why would I be joking?”

“Because that's—” Nico stops halfway through painting Jason’s little finger. He gestures like words aren't enough. “That's crazy!”

“You just said I should go to Camp Jupiter because my friends are there,” Jason says, puzzled. “Why is it crazy to stay at Camp Half-Blood for the same reason?”

“I’m one person. Friend, singular. Meanwhile your entire cohort of friends is over in California.”

“Yeah, but…” Jason gnaws his cheek. He has this suspicion Nico won't like any of his answers, then decides he doesn't care. “They don't need me over there. I gave my praetorship to Frank, so I'm officially released from leadership duty, and I don't regret it for a second. It makes no difference to the legion if I'm there or not, except as this— I don't know, symbol of greatness that I…really am not.” He grimaces, examining his semi-painted pinky nail, this half-finished, imperfect thing. “Here, I feel like…maybe it matters if I'm here or not. And not because of who my dad is or my rank or anything, just because…well, we're friends.”

Nico stares. Then he lifts Jason's hand and starts painting again, picking up where he left off. With his gaze trained downward, away from Jason's, he says, “It does matter. To me.”

Jason smiles. He gets the same feeling as stepping outside in the morning into perfect weather — pleasantly, comfortably surprised.

“There you go, then,” he says. “I mean, if you want me to leave—”

“No,” Nico says quickly, then glares as if he's mad about being tricked into admitting he wants Jason to stay. Recovering, he snarks, “If you leave, I won’t have anyone to subject to my nail-polish schemes.”

“I bet Will would let you paint his nails.”

“Will wouldn't let me anywhere near him with any kind of artistic implement, as well he shouldn’t. I would absolutely deface him.”

“Honored that you've elected not to deface me.”

Nico turns a rosy shade of pink. “This time.”

This is that other kind of Nico threat, the kind reserved for friends. For Jason. The kind that, underneath, isn't a threat at all, but a promise.

This time means there will be a next time. That's Jason's favorite kind of threat.

“You're weirdly good at this,” Jason says. Nico has finished his left hand by now and moved on to the right. “Since when is this in your skill set?”

“Bianca,” Nico says. Matter-of-fact, without room to grieve. “A couple nights when we were in the Lotus Hotel, she asked me to paint hers. First time I tried, it was such a mess. She did mine to show me how, so I could learn.”

Jason catches his breath. “Clearly it paid off, ‘cause you're killing it.”

This was something Nico did with Bianca. And now he's sharing it with Jason. That gives Jason a feeling in his gut that's both warm and heavy, like a big dog is curled up in there, taking a sunbeam nap.

“You'll have to do mine after,” Nico says, still no-nonsense. “Black, obviously.”

“I don't have any nail polish.”

“I brought some. Lacy gave it to me. From Cabin Ten. Magical, so it doesn't smudge or chip.”

“I didn't even realize nail polish did that.”

“You have a lot to learn.” Nico nods sagely. “That's okay. Everyone starts somewhere.”

“It is very relaxing. I can see the appeal,” Jason admits. He wiggles the fingers of his finished hand, admiring them. “How’d you land on this color, though? Or was it just a random pick?”

 Nico looks strangely at Jason. Some of that blush from earlier returns. “You're…the son of the sky god.”

Jason studies the color. It's not quite sky blue, but close enough. “Huh,” he says, feeling silly for not having made the connection. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“Besides,” Nico says, a little quieter like it's not exactly for Jason to hear, but not not for him to hear, either, “it's the color of your eyes.”

That sleeping dog behind Jason's navel starts thumping its tail.

“Oh,” Jason says. He's not sure he could confirm that, but Nico sounds utterly certain. The fact that Nico has spent enough time looking at Jason's eyes that he can pinpoint their exact shade is its own can of worms. For future opening. At a later date. “Well, I like it. It's pretty.”

“Yeah,” Nico says, and his fingers press gently into Jason's palm as he continues to paint. “It is.”