#Drawing your character gives me the same feeling I get from having milk chocolate melt on my tounge

[purplebehittindifferent]

I have this cute idea of Data!Frisk trying to help the Fear Flower Frisk overcome their fear by just giving em flower seeds and a pot. See if they can get more used to it by caring for one. If it makes things worse Data!Frisk WILL cry X…D the bean just wants to help.

@ask-dcf

:)

[namelessmewmew]

Old Art Archive Part 1.

I want to keep this old art on this blog but not retag all the original posts, so going to do what I did for my sideblogs and delete the original posts but reupload them in batches with no tags except an archive tag. This also allows me to (even if I don't have the spoons right now, to add image descriptions to these at a later date).

Original captions under the cut.

I have like over 150 ocs that need refs/redesigns [and many in that 150 that whose design is only in my head] but I only seem to be able to make new characters right now so have this kitty! I have been thinking about tv heads alot lately but also really like kitty robots so kitty Tv Head, [They are also based a bit on a heart rate monitor, they might end up being like a walking heart monitor nurse in a hospital or something, I have alot of medical bots because I think thats cool.]

Felt like trying to give this girl digital colours and starting to figure out how this girl will be personality wise. Likely will have this girl be a graphic designer or an artist in some other regard.

The main form in the center is his preferred form, he is a from a shapeshifting species called Nederians/Nederans [not sure about that] and he is part of a group of Nederians/Nederans that theme themselves after sweets/sweet stuff.

Another guy in the same Group as Mallow [The marshmallow guy I posted earlier]. To clear possible confusion shes a guy. [Lesbians and other w|w using He/Him pronouns and Gay men and other m|m using She/Her pronouns is something that has been part of lgbt culture for quite a while!]

Just your local tired catdude [Been wanting a new icon for a while so here it is].

Vanilla + Strawberry icecream themed guy, Of course another one of the sugar group [want to come up with a better name but not sure what yet].

Orange Flavoured Soda themed guy. They are also a very bubbly dude [Yes literally as well]. I have like 3 more members of the sugar group [still need a better name] to draw some concepts for.

This guy was designed at a completely different time and originally was not meant to be part of the same group [sugar group] but decided to have them be a part of it. Instead on being based on a real food or sweet thing, they are based on a in universe food called Starbites  [Either Gum or Lollipops, haven't decided yet, that have starbust in them and are very fizzy]

I am not 100% on its colours [as well their design as a whole] but I just wanted to try to start to figure out how their design may work. It is meant to be different flavours of Gummy bears melted together.

She is meant to be based on chocolate as a whole [white, milk and dark] but She could also work as a Red Velvet or Dark Forest themed character maybe?

She is meant to be based on chocolate as a whole [white, milk and dark] but She could also work as a Red Velvet or Dark Forest themed character maybe?

Make make them into an oc, though might change their colours as its pretty monotone right now. Just a little gif and test how long it takes to make a simple piece like this with a very simple character design. 45 minutes this is based on a random game note I found on my 3DS.

Decided to change the expression and shade the main pic in her concept sheet because it did take me quite a bit to get it done [started it days ago but went into a very bleh feeling phrase again physically]. Im fairly certain Pup counts as a Sparklewolf? Might redesign their tail and add some more colourful markings idk. Love the way her colours look, its like a sunset [and dawn I think]. If the little faces on the side are confusing [I really cant tell if I properly bring the point across with just the drawings]: Top one is Pups being confused/not understanding something Middle is her not being about to concentrate and think as their are too many sources of noise [ I often have this issue ] Her fidgeting with a pop-it, its a really cool thing and has made going out for groceries something a bit less stressful.

Based on a white [and green and yellow greenish] pumpkins. I very much want to make more of these guys. Yeah I dont have much else to say, uh, I like her markings alot. My brain is veery tired so not many words.

Bunny Tv Head! With antenna ears as I just think making animal ears with tv antennas is cool. The magic electricity legs are also very bouncy [so they are also like springs].  My brain is still very tired so dont have anything of substance to say.

So Xe is a Ghost pony but Xe is also part fire? Idk might add more to this "species" if I can think of anything else. I really like xem colours. Adopted from and was originally by ItzAnnaDraws03 [on deviantart]

Very slight redesign [and first digital] concept for them.  Changed her a bit, because despite the fact I think its important to have gnc characters [including gnc transfem characters], there is also important to have well not gnc trans characters. [I dont know if I'm making sense, I guess what I'm saying yes transfem characters liking/being okay with /wanting facial hair is good but the opposite is also important and good]. Love the colours of their outfit, also I really like giving character dangly earrings.

[divinityoswin]

chocolate bar

Commission for: @ask-wbp-b @mushroomgrenade ❤

➵ my commissions are open!

summary: Snapshots of B’s relationship with Roger, told through chocolate.

wordcount: 2024

characters: Roger & B (OC)

Warnings: mild mentions of character death

It’s a day like any other, and yet somehow the captain of the Roger pirates is as exhilarated as ever.  True, B hadn’t exactly had the time to know Gol D. Roger (not Gold Roger, he had made very clear when introducing himself to her for the first time - it didn’t help that when she tried to say she knew already, her fingers glitched) but her knowledge of the future provides insight into the future King’s personality.

He is like a child, almost, in that joyful way he views the world.  Yet there’s something much older and wiser within him, something that calls for allies.�� For every battle won, Roger celebrates their victory - and also their lives.  And they’d only won two battles since B had joined them.

A week has come and gone since Whitebeard gave her his blessing to go sail with Roger, and in that time she’s made friends with most of the crew.  Shanks and Rayleigh were the most welcoming at the time, the latter going as far as to give her a tour of the crew and introduce her to all her new shipmates personally.  Roger, of course, was warm too, but it was hard to talk to him, much less reach him, what with all the commotion happening all.  The damn.  Time.

B sits underneath the mast, relishing in the rare moment of serenity in the Oro Jackson with a cup of tea by her side and notepads on the other.  There is absolutely nothing that could ruin this moment.

“Hey, B!”

Nothing at all.

“B-eeeeeee!”

She refuses to look at the intruder - one because they had just interrupted a very relaxing moment, and two because they’d been getting a resounding headache overtime from the excessive partying.  

The intruder huffs, and from the corner of her eye she sees a pink sleeve with a hand resting on a hip.  Her gaze follows up, frowning, and wondering why that voice is so familiar - and then it hits her.

“Roger!” she exclaims.  He’s never singled her out like this before.  Not even when she begged Pops to let her go with him. “Oh, I thought you were an insect.”

Roger frowns. “What does that mean?”

“Annoying,” she says, poking her tongue out playfully.  

It’s almost surreal to her, that she can banter with Roger like this.  She expects him to shout out a quick “hey!” of defiance, but is caught off-guard when he throws his head back and laughs.  That hearty, deep rumble that somehow sounds like the ocean’s tides echoes throughout the deck, and although she’s used to it by now, the power it wielded was still unfathomable.  Roger’s laughter slowly turns into chuckles, until finally it stops, and he wipes at the corner of his eyes.

“You guys always say that, but you’re the ones following me!” Roger says. “Maybe I ain’t so annoying after all, hm?” He smirks and nudges B with his elbow.

The fact that he includes her in his crew already doesn’t slip past her.  She tilts her head, staring at her new captain with interest. “Did you need something?”

“Nope,” he replies, grinning. “Just checking up on you.  We haven’t had much of a chance to talk yet.”

“You’re always surrounded by adoring fans,” B says.

He feigns a sigh. “It’s tough being so famous.  Marines are always after my autograph.”

The pair glance at each other and hold back laughter - try to, that is.  It doesn’t take long for the two to erupt into giggles, before they begin guffawking and holding in their stomachs.  Roger is the first to recover.  B takes a little while longer, mostly because she couldn’t believe the absurdity of the situation.  When she finally stops, she looks up to him.

Roger is smiling, brighter than even the sun, and she feels as though they could conquer the world together.

Suddenly she understands why so many people were attracted to him.  His personality was like a magnet, drawing people in and sticking them to him.  He isn’t nearly the demon others made him out to be, yet at the same time that power is so terrifying that she understands why.

Mihawk was right.

“So,” Roger begins, “you feeling good about this ship?”

She looks around. “I mean.  It’s nice?  I’m not much of a shipwright, but I like the wood.”

“Tom’ll be glad to hear that!” Roger laughs. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh?”

Roger sits down next to her, his legs crossed and his hands resting on his thighs.  He looks to be deep in thought. “I meant - the crew.  You feeling alright?  It’s a whole new crew for you,” he says.

Ah.  Now that makes sense.  Her now-captain is worried for her wellbeing, making sure she’s getting along well with everyone.  Ensuring that his newest member didn’t feel left out.  A soft giggle passes over B’s lips at the prospect that anyone of Roger’s crew would be unwelcoming.  Even the teenage Buggy had been nothing but warm to her since her arrival on the ship (though, with Buggy he tried to be tough and scary - keyword being tried).  

“It’s a wonderful crew,” she says, “with a wonderful captain.”

Roger’s grin grows even wider, as if that were physically possible.  He shines brighter than the sun. “A wonderful captain, eh?  Now that’s a compliment from a gorgeous lady!”

B doesn’t bother hiding her blush.  Roger would somehow sense it, anyway - he always does have a sixth sense for that kind of thing.  So, instead, she leans against him playfully, feeling the salty ocean breeze across her face as she looks up.  Roger smells of berries and the sea itself, she muses. 

“I brought you a gift,” he says. “Just a small welcoming present.  Don’t feel the need to pay me back.”

In her hands sits a box, placed there by the future Pirate King himself.  It’s a light box, simple, plain - a tangled mess she assumes is supposed to be a bowtie is tied on the front.  

“Rayleigh did that,” Roger lies. 

Curious, she removes the bow and opens the box.  

Chocolates.  Dozens of them littered inside - it’s not exactly a pre-brought box, and she notices a couple of them are half-eaten, but the sentiment is enough for her.  Smiling, she picks up a piece (not one of the half-eaten ones, she doesn’t want to know whose fault that was) and plops it into her mouth.

The chocolate instantly melts inside, the sweet sensation - with a hint of salt from the ocean breeze - bringing pure bliss to her mouth.  B savoured the taste, having not tasted some since - when was the last time she had some?  Whitebeard didn’t usually have it on his ship, so there was a very real possibility it was before then.  She is at least grateful it’s milk chocolate too - not too sweet, and not too bitter.  She swallows, and grins.

“You know the best way to a girl’s heart is by chocolates, huh?” B says, munching down on another one.  

Roger shrugs. “If anyone tells you I only got you them so I could snitch them off you, they’re lying,” he says, but in a playful manner, so B assumes he’s joking around.  

“Oh?  And just who ate half of these already?”

“I told you, Rayleigh.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm,” Roger whistles, averting his eyes from B.  B sets the box of chocolates down and leans over to his field of vision.  He looks the other way, and B leans the other way.  Finally, he looks up, seemingly intently focused on the clouds, and B kicks him in the shin because he’s only looking where B cannot go, and he knows B is not tall enough for that, and - oh, dear God, B just kicked the future King of the Pirates.  The captain of the Roger Pirates.  Roger himself.

He’s hissing in pain, hopping on one leg and holding his other knee close to his chest as he rubs it.  For a moment, B’s confused - honestly, she didn’t hit him that hard, did she?  

But he’s glancing over at her expectantly every-so-often, pausing in-between moans of pain, as if he’s expecting her to do something.  Like nurse him.

B rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” she says, and begins her walk towards the kitchen to get an ice pack.  Not for Roger, of course.  

* * *

They’d found themselves soaring high up into the sky, much higher than anything they’d ever seen before -  not even Reverse Mountain, according to those who were there back when they traversed up it - could compare to the sheer height of Skypiea.  The Oro Jackson had survived the knock-up stream (with, thankfully, no one hurt) and the citizens greeted them with curiosity and wonder.

Now, they’re scattered over Angel Beach, sipping on pumpkin smoothies and enjoying the brief period of relaxation that has been bestowed upon them.  The Roger Pirates almost feel right at home here.  Almost.

B sips on her smoothie - it’s okay, she thinks, she doesn’t dislike it.  But she doesn’t particularly love it either.  Pumpkin isn’t exactly a tropical drink.  It doesn’t fit the mood right.  Sighing, she leans back on the lounge chair until she was laying on her back, staring at the cloudless sky.  

If memory serves her correctly - which, honestly, had been somewhat of a struggle as time passed - this is the time that Roger carves his name into the Poneglyph.  Which means that their journey had reached somewhat of a halfway point.  That, eventually, Roger would… well.  The thought sours her mood completely, leaving her brooding away from the rest of the crew and glitching ever-so-slightly.  If the others notice, they don’t say a word - save for Shanks, who wants to know if B would like to watch him drop a crab down Buggy’s shorts.  She denies, and he runs off, looking mildly concerned for her.

A sigh passes through her lips.

“Beli for your thoughts?” The voice of her captain surprises her, almost causing her to drop her smoothie. “Wait - don’t tell me.  I don’t wanna hear spoilers.”

“I almost dropped my smoothie,” B says, turning to give Roger an unamused glance. 

“Ah, but you didn’t!” Roger replies, sipping on his own drink - a conasshu, one of the locals had called it.  He looks a bit ridiculous, with a hibiscus planted in his hair, his open shirt stitched together with a tropical flora pattern, and swimming shorts to top the look all off.  Even his sandals scream tourist. “Shanks told me you were looking a bit down - everyone did, really.”

“Oh.”

There’s an awkward silence that passes between them.  B finishes off the last of her drink, the slurping sound seeming like thunder in her head.  Then, white noise.  Even when  Roger yells something to Buggy, distracting the poor boy for a brief moment.

Buggy yelps in pain.

Almost instantly, the silence is broken, broken by Roger’s laughter and his absolute joy in the scene in front of him, and B forgets about everything, and laughs too.

“By the way, present for you,” Roger says, handing over a piece of chocolate. “We found some on Jaya.  Thought you’d appreciate it.”

B takes it and frowns.

“Someone’s taken a bite out of it,” she says.

“Yeah, I told Rayleigh not to, but you know how he is.”  Roger grins, placing his hands on his hips and shining brighter than even the sun - a difficult thing to do this high up in the atmosphere. “Always stealing food, that damn first mate.”

“Rayleigh, huh,” B repeats.  She takes a bit out of the chocolate - it’s a bit too bitter for her tastes, but it’s fine.

Roger gasps. “Indirect kiss!”

“Oh, shut up.”

* * *

The bell rings.  Once, twice, thrice - then, there’s the muffled jeers, the cries of joy that are distant and oh-so-cruel.  

B sits by herself, alone at a bar, and downs another glass of whiskey.  She doesn’t know where the rest of the crew are now.  Maybe they’ve scattered all over the place.  Maybe some of them have settled down.

A half-melted, half-eaten chocolate, still wrapped in foil, sits in her pocket.

[theladyofdeath]

Alone in the Ashes {12}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click >  Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Isn’t it uncomfortable being in that weird awkward angsty fluff phase of the story

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“Angry people are not always wise.” ― Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice 

Rhysand walked through the front door of their apartment, Feyre right behind.

“Get in bed,” she said, shutting the door behind him. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

Rhysand didn’t have the energy to protest. Instead, he slumped through the hall until he reached his bedroom and slowly lowered himself onto his mattress. 

Every movement brought a stabbing pain, dominantly in his ribs. In his shoes and all, wearing everything he had been taken to the hospital in the night before, Rhysand laid back against his pillows. 

He could hear Feyre poking about in the kitchen. She hadn’t been the same after what she had confessed the night before. Now he’s using you to prove that even though I left him...he can still control me. It’s all my fault. No matter how much he tried to convince her otherwise, she wouldn’t budge. 

She came into his room a minute later with a sandwich and a glass of water. She saw him lying pathetically on his bed, dressed in his filthy clothes, and smiled softly.

He loved that smile. 

“Maybe you should get yourself cleaned up,” she said, setting the plate on his nightstand. “After you eat, so you can take your pain meds.”

“I don’t need them,” Rhysand said, grabbing his sandwich off the plate and taking a bite, still laying down. 

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Stubborn ass. They’ll help.”

Shaking his head, Rhysand said, “I’m fine, really.”

“I could hear you cringing while you laid down from all the way in the kitchen,” Feyre shot back.

Rhysand said nothing.

He took another bite of his sandwich. 

“Listen to your woman,” Feyre said, stalking out of his bedroom and into the bathroom. He could hear the water running, filling up the tub, as he finished off his pb&j. When Feyre came back, Rhysand was drifting into sleep. “No, no. Bathe first. You stink and you’ve got blood everywhere.”

With a groan, Rhysand sat up and lifted his shirt over his head. Feyre must’ve seen the pain in his expression, no matter how much he tried to ignore it, because she was sitting on his bed, helping him take off his shoes, then his socks. Rhysand stood and unbuttoned his jeans as he walked toward the bathroom.

“You going to give me a sponge bath, Nurse Feyre?” he asked.

Feyre laughed from behind him. “Maybe. I even put bubbles in it for you.”

Rhysand grinned. “Now you’re just spoiling me.”

Kicking off his jeans, Rhysand slid into the bath, down into the steaming, bubbly water. He sighed, leaning back. 

Feyre sat next to the bath as his eyes fluttered shut.

“Come in with me,” he muttered.

“You’re in no condition for that,” Feyre mumbled, but he could tell she was smiling. 

Rhysand opened one eye and looked at her. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

With a look that said he was full of shit, Feyre slid off her dirty clothes and stepped into the tub. She sat on his lap, cautiously straddling his waist. Her fingers, softly and slowly, slid down his chest. With his eyes closed, and his hands resting on her ass, Feyre took a cloth and soaked it in soap and warm water before bringing it to his face. She dabbed above his split lip, erasing the dried blood, then moved to his neck, around his scratch, where Eris had pressed the blade into his skin. Once free of blood, she ran the cloth over his chest, his arms, his abdomen, being extra cautious around his broken ribs.

“Lower,” Rhysand begged, and Feyre’s body shook above him.

“You said you’d be good,” she laughed, quietly, dropping the rag in the water.

Rhysand sighed. “I lied.”

She was shaking her head when he opened his eyes. Beautiful, with her hair hanging around her shoulders, her lips parted, eyes watching her own slender fingers draw circles against Rhysand’s chest. 

“I love you,” he breathed.

Feyre’s head shook, slowly, gray-blue eyes growing weary. “You love me too much.” 

“Not possible,” he said, taking her hands from his chest and interlacing his fingers in hers. “I am so in love with you, Feyre.”

She smiled, but her eyes welled up with tears. “Rhys-”

“I love you,” he repeated, holding onto her hands. “I love you.”

A tear slid down her cheek. “I love you, too.”

With a heavy heart, he wiped that tear away, unable to say anything more. He knew she felt guilty, and he also knew that no matter what he said or did, she would continue to feel guilty. It was who she was. She couldn’t help it. 

He pulled her into him, even though she protested, at first. Eventually, she reluctantly obeyed, but the moment her head was lying on his shoulder, her hand lying on his chest, she melted into him. 

They laid like that for a long while, and they had remained silent for so long that Rhysand didn’t realize that Feyre had fallen asleep until the water started to get cold. He shook her body, gently, and when her eyes opened, he suggested, “Bed?”

She nodded, pulled the plug, and got out. He followed, and she wrapped a towel around his waist before drying herself off and following him back to his room, where they laid together, naked, beneath the sheets, clinging to one another as they fell asleep. 

~~~~~

Azriel woke up to the early morning sun peeking in through his blinds. He stayed perfectly still, though, because Elain was sound asleep, cheek resting against his chest.

But he really had to piss.

Slowly, he thought to himself, as he pulled himself out from under her. He let her down, almost as smoothly as he had hoped, but either way, she stayed asleep as Azriel scooted off the edge of his bed and tip-toed quietly to the door. He begged it not to creak as he opened it, slipped out, and shut it with a soft click behind him.

In the hallway, he finally let out a breath as he closed himself inside of the bathroom. In the mirror, his hair was a mess, his eyes still blurred, trying to wake up.

While relieving himself, a loud knock came on the door, making him jump.

“I HAVE TO PEEEEEEE!”

Azriel snorted. “Almost done, Mila.”

“Hurry up!” she cried. “Uuuuuuuuuugh.”

He opened the door and was met with a tiny human, eyes narrowed, hands on her hips, auburn hair in absolute chaos. 

She pushed her uncle out of the way and hurried to the toilet. Azriel cracked the door, giving her privacy. 

“Hungry?” he asked, through the crack.

“Yes,” she said, sighing. “I want pancakes.”

“Of course,” Azriel muttered, heading back down the hallway, toward the kitchen, where Mor was sitting at the table, sipping on a cup of coffee.

Her brows rose. “My back is killing me. There’s a reason I sleep on the couch. Which, I noticed this morning, my dear Azriel, is empty.”

Azriel gave her a look before opening the pantry and pulling out a box of pancake mix.

“Not to pry,” Mor went on, “but when I went to sleep last night, I had offered the couch to Elain, where I know, for a fact, she fell asleep.” 

Azriel didn’t give into her interrogation. “Talk to Rhys this morning?”

“Yes,” Mor sighed, “he called on his way home from the hospital a little while ago. He claims he’s perfectly fine.”

“Of course he does,” Azriel murmured, making a note to call Feyre later to see how he’s really doing. 

“Are you really going to make me ask if Elain is in your bed?” Mor asked, setting down her mug, forcibly, on the table.

Silently, Azriel opened the cabinet and pulled out a bowl. “I would never.”

“Azriel,” she begged.

Azriel laughed. “You can’t stand not knowing shit, can you?”

When he looked over his shoulder, it was written all over her face: no, she couldn’t. 

Shaking his head, Azriel turned back around and found a measuring cup. “Yes, she’s in my bed. No, nothing...happened.”

Mor was instantly on her feet. “You hesitated. You definitely hesitated.” 

She threw open the fridge, grabbed the milk, and met him at the counter.

“I hesitate a lot,” Azriel said, opening the box of pancake mix. “People typically don’t read into it.”

“I’m not people,” Mor said, opening the milk and measuring it out before pouring it into the bowl. “I’m your best friend.”

Azriel glanced at her through his side eye before shaking his head. “I don’t know. We kissed, and we…..cuddled, and it was nice.”

Mor’s smile widened. “Azriel just said cuddle. How sweet.”

Azriel jabbed her in the ribs with his elbow before pouring the mix into the bowl.

Looking his direction, Mor’s smile softened. “Jokes aside, I do think it’s sweet. I like Elain. She’s kind and gentle. The complete opposite of you, and opposites attract.”

Azriel lifted a brow as he pulled out a whisk and pointed it at Mor. “Are you saying that I’m not gentle?”

Mor cackled. “Have you met you? Gentler than Cassian, maybe, but that’s not saying much. No, Az, my love, you are not what I consider to be gentle. Unless it’s with Mila, but everyone’s gentle with that little princess.” 

“Speaking of,” Azriel mumbled, hearing her run down the hall.

Mila came around the corner, bouncing up and down. “Pancakes! And chocolate milk, please.”

“Ah, getting sugared up first thing in the morning,” Azriel laughed, and caught his niece as she jumped into his arms. She climbed onto his back and held him around his neck. “I suppose since it’s Saturday, it’s okay.” 

“Yay!” she yelled, right into his ear. 

Azriel mixed what was in the bowl together as Mila jumped from Azriel’s back into Mor’s arms, who carried her to the couch to watch cartoons, just as Azriel’s bedroom door opened. 

As Elain came around the corner, her cheeks were pink.

Even having just awoken, Azriel was blown away by her beauty.

“Hi,” she said, quietly.

“Hi,” Azriel replied, biting down on his lip to suppress his smile. “You like pancakes?”

Elain hesitated. “Everyone likes pancakes.” 

“Well, you’re in luck, then, because I make phenomenal pancakes….that come from a box.”

Elain laughed, and Azriel noticed Mor peeking over her shoulder at the two of them. 

Mila, just now realizing there was another person in the room, jumped up on the couch. “Lain!”

Elain smiled, brightly. “Good morning.”

“Why are you here?” she asked, still excited, but slightly confused.

A soft laugh tumbled out of Elain as she hesitated. “I...couldn’t wait until later to come see you, so I came a little early.”

“Yay!” Mila yelled, sitting back down beside Mor. “Come on, Lain, we’re watching Looney Tunes.” 

“Looney Tunes still comes on?” Azriel muttered.

“Of course,” Mor called, as Elain joined the girls on the couch. “It’s a classic, Saturday mornings wouldn’t be the same without it.” 

Shaking his head, every woman in the house abandoning him, Azriel made pancakes.

And then the four of them sat down at the table and ate, together, laughing over the sugary breakfast of pancakes with syrup and whipped cream, and chocolate milk. 

Azriel kept catching Elain’s eyes, and all he could think about was the sweet taste of her lips the night before, and how he couldn’t wait to taste them, again. 

~~~~~

The deep blue waters of the Sidra were sparkling as Cassian ran along it in the early morning heat, Bryaxis beside him on his leash, tongue hanging out as he jogged alongside his master.

He didn’t sleep at all, between what happened to Rhys and how he left things with Nesta.

Rhysand could take care of himself, Cassian knew that, but he couldn’t stop his anger. He knew it was a problem, that anger, knew it had often gotten him in trouble in the past, but it was stuck, simmering in the pit of his stomach, making his mind wander and, agonizingly enough, be alert at all times.

As for Nesta, he walked her up to her apartment after Azriel had dropped them off in the middle of the night. They walked in silence until they stood in the space between their doors. Hours before, they were fucking in his office, but before they parted, they just stared at each other awkwardly before saying goodnight.

Maybe it was because they were exhausted.

Or, maybe it was because she regretted it.

Or, even worse, maybe he was overthinking it, which was always a possibility. 

He almost texted her before he left for his run, but he decided against it, assuming he would run into her at some point during the day. 

Hoping to take his mind off everything, he leashed Bryaxis up and took to the riverwalk. It didn’t work, it only made him a little more tired and way more sweaty. 

By the time they reached the little park along the river, in front of the heart of the city, Cassian was exhausted. He must have run at least four miles without even realizing it, although the moment he started to slow down, he was definitely feeling it. 

He walked a little bit before sitting in the grass with Bryaxis and stretching out his long legs. 

“Good boy, Ax,” he mumbled, as the golden retriever laid down next to him. 

And then Cassian caught him, bright red hair, tall frame, jogging toward him.

Eris Vanserra.

Cassian’s blood turned cold. 

He was instantly rising to his feet, whistling for Bryaxis to follow. He did, the good boy he was. Cassian stormed in Eris’ direction, and by the time Eris saw him coming, it was too late for him to turn around. Cassian dropped Bryaxis’ leash, demanding he sit as he came upon Eris and tackled him against the sidewalk. Their skin scraped, blood instantly drawn.

Eris’ eyes blazed as his back hit the pavement. “What the fuck, Nazari?”

But Cassian had his hand against Eris’ throat as he pinned him to the ground. “Stay away from my family.”

Eris pushed back, not the scrawny kid he’d been in high school, anymore. He rolled Cassian over into the grass, his fist hitting Cassian in the jaw. Cassian spat up at him, saliva and blood tainting Eris’ light tanktop. 

To Eris’ surprise, Cassian grinned. Little did Eris know that Cassian thrived on confrontation, thrived on steady competition, thrived on the idea of giving Eris what he gave to Rhys.

They tumbled around in the grass, fists flying, ignoring the cries and glares they got from the few early morning riders that were around.

“Fuck you, Nazari,” Eris spat, elbowing Cassian in the jaw.

Cassian was quick though. He’d been in enough fights throughout his lifetime to make split decisions amidst the chaos. All the anger he had been feeling flooded him, ignited him. He pinned Eris to the ground, pinning him down with his knees as he landed a blow to his eye, another to his cheek, another, another, another, until someone was pulling him off- two someones. 

Eris laid in the grass, hands covering his bloodied face.

“Stay away,” Cassian warned again, spitting in the grass. He shook the joggers, who had pulled him away, off of him and whistled for Bryaxis. 

The pup came running.

Eris was on his feet, blood flowing from his nose. “You just made a huge mistake.”

“Fuck off, Vanserra,” he spat, taking Bryaxis’ leash.

The runners who had pulled Cassian off of Eris were standing between them now, but Cassian stayed, staring Eris down until his message was clear.

Stay away from my family.

Eris shook his head and turned away, walking back the way he had come.

Cassian waited until he was further down the walk until he turned around, too, heading back toward his apartment.

Bryaxis whined, looking up at Cassian.

“I’m okay,” Cassian reassured him, patting him on the head as they walked, along the Sidra.

By the time they reached the apartment complex, Cassian was about to fall over. Blood trickled down to the collar of his t-shirt.

He stomped up the concrete stairs, Bryaxis at his heels, worrying about his dad.

When Cassian reached the second floor landing, Nesta had just stepped out of her door.

She took one look at Cassian and cursed. “What the hell happened to you?”

Cassian shook his head, but Nesta stepped in front of him, blocking him from going into his apartment.

Reluctantly, Cassian stopped.

“I asked you a question,” Nesta hissed.

Cassian met her gaze. “Ran into Eris Vanserra.”

Nesta stilled, then took him by the elbow and pulled him into her apartment. 

“Sit,” she demanded.

Cassian didn’t see a point in fighting it.

He sat on her couch, Bryaxis lying at his feet.

She stomped into the kitchen and soaked a rag with cool water before meeting him on the couch. She sat beside him and pulled his chin toward her. Gently, Nesta wiped the blood from his face. 

“He got you good,” she muttered. 

“He looks worse,” Cassian muttered back.

“Not that point,” she said, adding more pressure as she wiped the blood from his lip.

Cassian hissed.

Nesta didn’t care.

“Be still,” she ordered.

“Then be gentle,” he snapped.

Nesta rolled her eyes as she continued to clean him up. Once she wiped him off, she pulled out some ointment and rubbed it on the parts of him that were split open.

“Violence often makes things worse, you know,” Nesta said, screwing the top back on the tube of the ointment. 

Cassian grunted, watching her walk back into the kitchen to wash her hands. “Going to scold me?”

“No,” Nesta said, drying off her hands, “but I’ll tell you it was stupid, because even you know it was.”

He did, he was grateful that no cops were around, but he couldn’t help it, not after what Eris and Tamlin had done.

“They can’t just get away with doing bad shit,” Cassian mumbled.

Nesta sat on the couch next to him, dressed in her running clothes. He assumed he caught her just before she left, herself, for the walk along the Sidra. 

Nesta didn’t disagree, but she said, “Just don’t do anything stupid.” Then, she added, “Again.”

Cassian looked at her, leaning his head back against the couch. “Holy shit. Nesta Archeron cares about me.” 

Nesta stilled. “No, I don’t.”

But Cassian was grinning. “Yes, you do.”

With narrowed eyes, she jabbed him beneath his eye, where a blue bruise was forming.

“Ow,” he laughed, pushing her back.

Even Nesta couldn’t help but smile as he crawled on top of her and pinned her down.

“Mean,” he muttered, and her eyes lit up. “Cruel.”

“I was going to go for a run,” she said, but her legs wrapped around his waist. 

“It can wait,” he said, voice muffled against the warm skin of her neck. 

Nesta didn’t protest as her eyes fell shut. 

~~~~~

Rhysand was fast asleep as Feyre scribbled a note and put it on his nightstand.

Running to the store. Be back soon. Stay in bed. Love you.

She hurried out of the apartment, careful to keep quiet, careful not to wake him. 

As she got in her car and headed for the grocery store, Feyre decided to take the long way around. She stopped short at an apartment complex she was all too familiar with.

Before she could convince herself otherwise, Feyre hopped out of her car and walked up the stairs, down the landing, until she was standing in front of her old front door.

She pounded her first against the thick wood. 

He opened it, a minute later, looking like he just woke up. His golden eyebrows rose. “Feyre?”

She shook her head, fists shaking at her sides as she looked at Tamlin. A thousand thoughts ran through her mind, but only one word came out, full of anger and hostility and judgment.

“Why?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

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Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

[akaanonymouth]

Berena/ Holby City World Book Day Snippet

“Enough!” Serena throws up her hands. “This madness has to stop!” She jams her hat firmly on her head and stalks to the lift, the stuffed cat jammed firmly under her armpit. “It’d be quicker if you used the broom!” Fletch calls, ensuring the doors are closing before she can fly back out and hit him with it. Ignoring the almost frightened looks she is garnering from people she passes, she steadfastly makes her way to Keller, all the while muttering furiously. Sacha, sitting by the desk, gets to his feet slowly, hands outstretched. “Please, Ms. Campbell, I didn’t mean it. Don’t turn me into anything… unnatural, like!” he pleads, high pitched and trembling. Serena comes to a dead stop, and looks him up and down darkly. “Rather large for a hobbit, aren’t we, Mr. Levy?” “Gamgee,” he corrects, smiling rakishly. “And my mother said I could be anything I want.” Serena almost loses herself in the banter, but her mood is too established to be overcome even by a six foot halfling. “Have you seen Ms. Wolfe?” Sacha’s eyebrows raise. “Yes. I found her on the second turn. Won a Dairy Milk. Haven’t had any luck since, though. So I’m not giving any clues, if that’s what you’re after,” Serena almost growls. Since when,” she says, too measured, too calm, “does dressing up as a character mean embodying it so completely? I mean, you don’t see me flying about the place, cackling spells left right and centre; this is still a hospital,” Sacha opens his mouth, promptly closes it again as Serena’s face dares him to even try. She pinches the bridge of her nose. “I waded through half a ward full of Hogwarts wannabes down on E.D., AAU sent me on a wild goose chase, quite literally, I might add, thanks to the wonderful patient dressed as Peter Rabbit who brought a real life Jemima Puddleduck with him, Darwin… Well, does embodying an evil queen really constitute dressing up for Ms. Naylor, or just a well overdue coming out? Anyway, the Italian is quite the infuriating riddler, too – it seems the same person that explained World Book Day to Bernie, also explained it to him – and so…” she takes a deep, fortifying breath, and bestows a sickly, false smile upon Sacha, who has backed up a few paces. “I am still none the wiser as to where, exactly, Wally is, and, as you can probably tell, entirely unamused that the entire hospital has somehow become an embodiment of a bloody activity illustration!” “Maybe it would have been easier if you used your broom!” he chuckles, the humour almost literally melting from his face under Serena’s acerbic eyebrows.

He nods placatingly, his lips moving for a few seconds before forming words again. “You know, not all ice queens are evil, just… umm, just an aside,” he adds, quickly. “And you might want to cast your…umm, net, your net!… A bit wider. Think outside the box,” Serena’s arms cross almost violently. “Mr. Levy, apparently I need to spell it out to you, I am not in the mood. Where. Is. Bernie?” The Wally, Serena’s mind supplies, and she rolls her eyes at herself, at the fact that, even when she’s exasperating, Bernie can still slip past her facades and make her smile, even if not entirely happily. She feels a hand on her arm, and turns her head slowly. “Follow me,” Essie smiles, and Serena arches an eyebrow. Sacha barely contains a snort as Serena takes in Essie’s deep red cloak, the hood pulled up over her plait, the apron and the basket hanging at her waist. “Obviously,” Serena mutters, rolling her eyes.

They reach paediatrics to find as many beds and chairs as possible gathered around the windows, and other patients, carers and nurses navigating the mesh of machines and wires to find a space. “What-” Serena breaks off as a youngster squeals and points through the window, only for the various gasps of delight to melt away into disappointment. “The building opposite is empty, being demolished soon,” Essie explains. “This morning, the builders dressed up as Harry Potter characters, did a bit of a skit from a cherry picker. Kids were delighted. Some of them can’t leave, and can’t dress up themselves for various reasons,” Serena softens as she watches everyone staring avidly out of the window. She frowns minutely. “This morning? So, what are they doing now?” “Ah,” Essie smiles. “They’re looking for our big bad Wolfe, currently known as Wally.” Serena, thoroughly confused as well as exasperated again, sighs. “Oh, don’t you start. Simple sentences, please, for a simple mind, it’s been a long day.” “Ms. Wolfe went out for a break earlier, and a couple of kids spotted her. Started betting that so-and-so couldn’t find Wally, too. The nurses offered up prizes. Gave the kids something fun to do. The ones that could leave the ward came looking on Darwin, Rossini riddled them to Keller, Sacha found them, they found Bernie, and since then, every half hour or so, she pops up in one of the windows of the building opposite, in various shapes and sizes. She didn’t want to do it all round the hospital, said it wasn’t fair on the kids that couldn’t leave the ward. So,” Essie shrugs, beaming. “There she is,” Serena’s hand moves to her chest as she takes in the children, pointing and whispering and poking each other excitedly. “Yes,” she says, wonderingly. “There she is,”

Serena marches determinedly up to the builders, thankful that some of them, at least, are still dressed up, so that they don’t look at her as though she’s completely batty. At least, until she opens her mouth. “Fifth floor, third window, please, quick as you can,” she stands in front of the cherry picker, hands on hips, tapping her foot expectantly. “‘Scuse me?” one asks, a blonde fringe poking out from underneath his hard hat. “I need you to take me up to the fifth floor, third window in from the right, the one without the glass,” she explains, patiently. He looks between her, the machine, the window, her again. “Couldn’t ya just fly up, Professor?” he grins. “Very droll, haven’t heard that once today. And there are other literary witches outside the Harry Potter universe, you know,” she huffs, somewhat indignantly. He smiles, shakes his head. “Sorry, darlin’, no can do. It’s not really allowed,” “Oh, come now, Mr. Malfoy,” she drawls, hooking her arm in his, oozing charm. “Slytherins aren’t ones for cow-towing to petty regulations, are they? I won’t tell if you don’t. I really need to find Wally, or Wanda, or whatever the stripy hero is calling herself. She’s rather a big deal around here. Besides,” she squeezes his arm, breaths deeply enough to draw his attention to the pendant dangling tantalisingly on her chest. “You wouldn’t want your father to hear about this, would you?” He barks a laugh, untangling himself from her, and has a quick word with a couple of other men who have been watching their interaction with some amusement. “Alright,” he relents, unlocking the cage and ushering her in. “But if my father does hear about this, it’s your guts I’m offering him for garters, capiche?” She winks at him, and holds on to her hat as the wind picks up around the second floor. “What Professor did you have me down as, anyway?” she asks, a glint in her eye. He gulps and looks desperately up. “Let’s Obliviate it,” he says, hopefully, and she laughs, the final tendrils of the days annoyances flying away. The ascent is excruciatingly slow, but finally, they reach the fifth floor. Serena turns to face the hospital, an exaggerated frown on her face. She holds her hands up in the universal “Where?” sign, and after some jostling and earnestly searching faces, they start pointing frantically. Serena turns slowly, moves closer to the window as a red bobble hat comes poking up from the sill. When Bernie’s head follows, she is momentarily taken aback at coming face to face, quite literally mere inches apart, with Serena. “Bloody hell!” she exclaims, and leans out of the window to look around. “Contrary to the apparently universal belief, my preferred mode of transport is not a broomstick,” Serena remarks, drily. Bernie blushes, but recovers quickly. “Well no,” she says, smirking. “Go big or go home; good motto,” she gestures to the cherry picker. Serena arches a brow. “I wore out the broom flying around the entire hospital looking for you,”

Bernie laughs, and Draco Malfoy hangs over the edge to hide his silent chuckles. He pulls out his wand and starts entertaining the onlookers with some intricate, clumsy movements. “Well,” Bernie laughs more gently now, holding her arms out in surrender. “Here I am. What can I do you for, Meg on the Moon?” Serena’s quite forgotten why, exactly, she was so intently searching for Bernie; knows she can’t hide the fact, as Bernie’s eyes are sparkling and a smile just clinging to the corners of her mouth. So she ducks her head, smiles disarmingly. “Treasure,” she breathes. Then, more loudly, with a nonchalant quirk of her shoulders, before Bernie’s eyes widen impossibly. “I found you. I heard there’s a prize. And you know how I love a good prize.” They’re vaguely aware of Builder-Malfoy’s movements, of very distant yells and cheers as he riles up the crowd of spectators. “Sacha ate the chocolate,” Bernie whispers, her tone light and playful, laced with undertones. “And wine would have been unethical, illegal, cruel…” “A good prize, Ms. Wolfe,” Serena repeats, stepping as close as she can to the to the edge of the cage. “I don’t fly, not even for chocolate. Not even for Shiraz,” Her face is full of challenge, and Bernie’s be-striped chest rises and falls visibly faster. They see Builder-Malfoy’s wand waving dangerously over them, then jabbing at the air above them quite insistently. Bernie’s lashes flutter, her teeth worrying her bottom lip until she releases it, excruciatingly slowly. “Nope,” she says finally, a smile spreading lazily over her entire face, holding out her arms. Serena leans into them, her own coming up to reach out. “Seems I was all out of Protego charms.” They pull each other close, and capture adoring laughter in a kiss.

[hanyamiya]

Fic: Free-falling

Summary: Kuroko has never liked Valentine’s Day. Today was no exception. Teikou era, ftm!Kuroko.

Wordcount: 5864.

For @inkanspider. Happy Valentine’s Day, Akashi-kun!

-

The class after lunch was always the hardest to stay awake through, and this day was no exception. Kuroko found himself nodding off as the teacher circled in chalk past participles in each example sentence. But his mind was filled with fluttering, anxious thoughts, and he dozed lightly, a strange, heavy feeling keeping him grounded in consciousness. Noises filtered through the haze of half-sleep, muffled as though he were underwater. The stuttered clanking of the radiator, interrupting the teacher’s readings every few minutes. His own heartbeat: a steady one-two, one-two.

An image surfaced in his mind: the back of a crisp white blazer, and expertly trimmed spikes of red hair just long enough to reach the collar. Something within his chest tightened painfully. His pulse thrummed in his ears.

Everything had been thrown into disarray just thirty minutes ago. Trying not to think about it was the same as thinking about it, so Kuroko let his mind wander.

Of course, he had made a plan for today. A poorly-constructed plan for an ill-conceived day. Valentine’s Day. The day had been of… particular significance to him for years. It was something he dreaded. The chocolates he’d handed out to classmates were out of an obligation that he could not find the courage to rebel against, an obligation that ate away at him from the inside out and made him feel less and less like a person with each passing February.

They were always simple store-bought ones, milk chocolate molded in cute animal shapes. His mother picked them out, helped him wrap them up in little pink and red gift bags. He didn’t know how to tell her he hated it, couldn’t even put into words why, but she found out anyway. The last time was in grade school, just last year. Even as his fingers methodically tied the ribbons into symmetrical little bows, the same way he had done for years, tears began to well up in his eyes.

“Tecchan? What’s wrong?” His mother’s voice was so soft. Something suddenly broke inside of him, and he cried, harder than he had ever done before. Words tumbled out of him. Everything felt wrong. He didn’t like any of it. He didn’t understand why he had to be the way he was. She held him for a long time. They ate the chocolates together after that, and the sweetness was almost unbearable.

Nobody asked why he hadn’t brought chocolates. In fact, hardly anyone even noticed. None of his classmates did. The teacher had made eye contact with him as the girls in their class went around to each table during lunch break with their neatly packaged chocolates. Some of them looked shy, others proud. Kuroko looked defiant. The teacher smiled, perhaps knowingly, or perhaps politely, and then went back to marking assignments.

A weight had suddenly been lifted.

When his mother enrolled him in middle school, they decided together that it would be a new beginning. A new name, too. Tetsuya. It was a name that seemed to carry weight; a name he could be proud of. His mother still called him Tecchan when she wanted to fuss over him the way she always did, though never in front of his friends, and he shyly allowed it.

Ogiwara had been the one to tell him to sign up for the boys’ basketball team.

“Why not?” Ogiwara had asked, as if things were really that simple. Kuroko smacked the ball out of Ogiwara’s hands, dribbled right along the edge of the key, and missed his lay-up. A light huff of frustration escaped him as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

“I… I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep up,” Kuroko admitted. “Plus there’s just… I don’t know. I’d like to, Ogiwara-kun. I really would, but…”

“Hey, you won’t know unless you try, right? We could even end up facing off in the Nationals! Imagine that!” Ogiwara flashed him a smile. Despite the uncertainties, despite his anxiety and hesitation, Kuroko found himself smiling back.

And the rest was history. His first year at Teikou had been tumultuous, and he hadn’t been able to play against Ogiwara in the Nationals like they had both dreamt of doing, but for better or for worse, it was finally drawing to an end with just a little over a month before final exams. Whether it was fate or sheer determination, he had made it into the first string. Under Coach Shirogane’s strict training regime, there was hardly even a moment to catch his own breath, but it was all worth it when he was on the court, standing alongside the rest of the team.

Aomine’s pace matched his own like a river rolling over smooth stones. Kuroko could always count on him to be where he expected him to be, and their passes had the highest rate of success as a simple matter of course. Midorima was the most finicky, requiring precision beyond measure, but it was eerie the way his three-pointers literally never missed. Kuroko had learned to stop questioning it; if they were behind in points, he knew Midorima could pull them back into the lead. And when they had the momentum again, Haizaki could be counted upon to wreak havoc as soon as he got the ball, running their opponents’ morale into the ground with his relentless offense. Murasakibara asked Kuroko never to pass to him unless absolutely, absolutely necessary, and gave him a bag of curry-flavoured potato chips to seal their deal.

Then, there was Akashi. Every now and then, Kuroko found himself staring into a pair of striking red eyes for a split second before his pass connected. Where it went from there, Kuroko could rarely ever say. The only consistency about Akashi’s play was that he was unpredictable. Sometimes, Kuroko would even find himself in the path of the ball again. Despite his insistence that Kuroko handle the ball as little as possible in order to keep a low profile, Akashi was, paradoxically, the only one to ever pass back to him. They wove between the other players on the court like kites in the wind. A two-man, two-point play. It was so simple, yet exhilarating beyond measure. It made Kuroko feel integral to the team, wiped all doubt from his mind about whether he belonged or whether he could live up to expectations. It was what drove him to keep honing his unique skill on the court.

In a lot of ways, it also proved to be his downfall on this day. Between basketball practice, and, well, basketball practice, the fourteenth had snuck up on him. It was just yesterday that Aomine had ribbed him about being too invisible to get any chocolates from girls. They were walking home with paper cups filled with hot cocoa, and the sidewalk was still covered in icy slush in mid-February. The comment had caught him off-guard, and as if a character in a sketch, Kuroko abruptly slipped on a patch of black ice, his cup flying into the air.

“Whoa!” Aomine grabbed onto Kuroko’s scarf, righting him, while with his other hand he somehow miraculously caught the paper cup, the hot liquid still sloshing inside it, by balancing it on the lid of his own. “Careful, geez.”

“Um. Thanks.” Kuroko took back his own cup, a little awestruck from what had just happened. Aomine’s reflexes really were something else.

They walked awhile in silence. His mind was still somewhere far, far away. He had forgotten all about Valentine’s Day.

Aomine suddenly piped up again. “Hey, don’t feel too bad. I’ll probably get a ton of chocolates so you can have some of mine. Wait, I know!” He dug out a half-melted chocolate bar from his coat pocket. “You can have this right now, to safeguard against tomorrow.”

Kuroko shook his head. “I don’t want it.”

“Suit yourself,” Aomine began ripping into the wrapper with his teeth. “Oh yeah, if Momoi tries to give you anything, don’t eat it. You’ll die.”

Kuroko pinched his lips together, suddenly remembering the last time Momoi had brought in a ‘healthy snack’ for the team, only for the victims to spend the rest of practice in the nurse’s office.

“Duly noted,” Kuroko muttered. He chewed his bottom lip in thought.

“… Look, Tetsu, I’m not gonna push you to say it, but you’ve got this look on your face like you really need to get somethin’ off your mind,” said Aomine. He chewed his chocolate bar open-mouthed, and then pointed the mangled end at Kuroko. “You know me. No judgment.”

Kuroko held back a small smile. “Thanks, Aomine-kun.” A deep breath. “I’m just… not really sure what to do.”

“About what?”

Kuroko suddenly looked grim, a shadow seeming to loom over him. “It’s more like, about whom.”

Aomine’s jaw hung slack. “Seriously?!”

“It’s not Momoi-san, if that’s what you’re concerned about.” Kuroko quickly added.

Aomine waved his chocolate bar dismissively. “I know that much! Give me some credit, would you?” He looked pensive. “Man, iron-willed, stone-faced Tetsu… with a crush on some poor idiot.”

“He’s not an idiot.” Kuroko sniffed. “Meaning, you can rule yourself out.”

Aomine rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. So?”

Kuroko sighed. He might as well just get it over with. “I don’t know, lately, I’ve found myself thinking… Akashi-kun looks very cool when he’s on the court.”

There was a tense moment of silence, Kuroko’s cheeks growing redder by the second, before Aomine erupted with a howl of laughter. “Are you gonna say that to him? Because you should. It’d be hilarious.”

“Be serious.” Kuroko tried not to pout. He was definitely pouting, though.

“Akashi ‘I’m-so-rich-and-fancy-all-the-girls-think-I’m-royalty-and-they-might-actually-be-right’ Seijuurou. That’s who you like.” Aomine said, as if in disbelief. Kuroko didn’t respond. Aomine cackled for a solid ten seconds or so, before wheezing out, “Okay, okay. I’m done. So, you like him. Then tell him! Tomorrow’s the perfect chance, right?”

“I completely forgot that tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.” Kuroko wilted. “I didn’t prepare anything.”

Aomine shrugged. “Just, like… buy some chocolates I guess?”

“The chocolates are not the problem.” Kuroko stared into his drink. “Well, okay, so they are the problem. I don’t want to give him chocolates.”

Aomine blinked. “Uh?”

Kuroko cleared his throat. “I don’t… want to ruin what I’ve worked so hard to build.” A pause. The brisk winter air felt so much colder all of a sudden. “I don’t want him or anyone else on the team to think I’m…” He trailed off. The words were caught in his throat. His cheeks felt prickly and hot.

A long silence stretched between them. They were nearing the place where they would normally part ways. Kuroko wished he could find something to say, but Aomine beat him to the punch, speaking more quietly than Kuroko imagined possible, “Tetsu, I don’t think Akashi is that stupid.”

“Eh?” Kuroko blinked.

“What I’m saying is,” Aomine made a vague gesture with his hand. “Just be yourself. If he doesn’t get it, then he doesn’t get it. But, it’s Akashi, y’know? He’s probably the smartest kid in the whole school.” He paused. “Or second smartest, at least. Anyway, you know what I mean.”

Kuroko took a deep breath. “Yeah. I suppose I do.”

Aomine held out his gloved fist. Kuroko tapped his own against it. Maybe Aomine was right.

Or, maybe he was horribly wrong, Kuroko found himself thinking miserably the very next day. It was lunchtime, and he had slipped away from the usual lunchtime rush to find Akashi at his classroom, wanting to walk with him to the cafeteria and present his gift to him casually, away from the prying eyes of his teammates (especially Aomine), whom they usually ate lunch with. Yet, his usual shock of red hair was nowhere to be found, though there were certainly plenty of red and pink themed decorations plastered all over the walls and scattered along desks.

There was a small commotion happening in the far corner of the room, and it took Kuroko all of two seconds to figure out what was happening. Girls were crowded around Akashi’s desk, piling chocolates and cards, stuffed toys and baked goods, and all manner of other presents in front of him, each more sickeningly cute than the last. Kuroko had already seen the shoe locker stuffed full of confession letters earlier that morning, which had elicited little more than an amused chuckle from Akashi as he methodically tucked all the letters into his bag, taking care not to fold or damage a single envelope. In fact, Akashi took it all in stride, thanking each girl individually and politely, and worst of all, giving them that killer smile that made Kuroko’s heart sink faster than a ship shot full of holes.

His clammy hands gripped the humble little box of chocolates he’d bought yesterday after parting with Aomine. What was he thinking? Was Aomine’s stupidity rubbing off on him? That had to be it. There was really no other explanation.

Of course Akashi was insanely, unreasonably, unfairly popular. Of course. Being on the court, playing basketball as equals, it hadn’t even occurred to Kuroko until the events unfolding before his very eyes that there was such an unimaginable gap between them. How could he possibly compete? His head swam with all of the insecurities he’d thought he was rid of. Stepping out of the room, he closed his eyes. It drowned out all the colour (mostly red, Kuroko lamented), but he could hear the buzz of voices growing all around him, suddenly threatening to swallow him up. Breathe, he repeated to himself, like a mantra, just breathe.

“So, it was you after all,” Strange, how he could pick out Akashi’s voice from all the noise. Stranger still, how close he sounded. Kuroko’s eyes snapped open, and it took all his years of practiced nonchalance to maintain a blank expression upon seeing Akashi standing directly in front of him. Before he could speak, Akashi put a hand on his shoulder, and gently steered him into the throng of students in the hallway. “Let’s get moving quickly, before I am accosted again.”

Kuroko tried desperately to regain his bearings. He had to keep things from getting awkward. He settled with a safe jab. “It seems Akashi-kun is quite popular.”

Akashi laughed quietly, a sound that Kuroko imagined haunting him for years. “It seems so.” Akashi’s gaze fell to the box in Kuroko’s hands. A billion sirens went off in Kuroko’s head as he scrambled to find an excuse. Then, in a carefully measured tone, Akashi said, “If that is from Momoi, I would implore you to consider your own health above her feelings.”

“Oh.” Was all that Kuroko could manage. After a moment, he couldn’t help but to add, “It’s not.”

Akashi hummed, but said nothing. His hand felt warm on Kuroko’s shoulder. They made it to the cafeteria, and stood in the lineup together, even though Akashi had a neatly wrapped bentou with him. Kuroko spotted Aomine at their usual table, waving his arms at him like a madman, having no doubt spotted him only because he was by Akashi’s side. Kuroko bought a ham sandwich and yogurt drink, Akashi a bottle of unsweetened green tea, and then they made their way through the crowd to their teammates.

“Yo,” Aomine greeted them casually. He then proceeded to raise his eyebrows extremely conspicuously at Kuroko. Akashi glanced from Aomine to Kuroko with barely concealed interest, a patient look in his eyes, waiting for one of them to say something. Kuroko kicked Aomine in the shins underneath the table. Aomine whispered loudly, “Ow, Tetsu, what the hell?”

“Mind your language, nanodayo.” Midorima snapped, looking up from his food. “And you! How many times do I have to tell you, that’s not the correct way to hold chopsticks, nanodayo!”

Murasakibara was too engrossed in his food to even reply. Midorima scrunched his face up as though he were physically in pain.

Kuroko watched from the corner of his eye as Akashi unfolded his expertly prepared meal beside him. The box of chocolates sat on the bench at his other side. What was he supposed to do now? Kuroko stared into his sandwich. The ham and mayo had no answer for him.

Then, arriving like a hurricane, and looking rather like he’d just taken a stroll through one, with his clothes ruffled and his shirt misbuttoned, Haizaki plopped himself down beside Kuroko.

“What the hell? You look like shit,” Aomine snickered. Beside him, Midorima bristled, and opened his mouth to chastise Aomine again, but Haizaki was faster and louder.

“Yeah well, that’s just ‘cause my girl had to be hasty. Didn’t want to get caught, y’know? Oh wait, you probably have no idea what I’m even talking about, do you, Ahomine?” Haizaki sneered at him. “Didja even get any chocolates? No? That’s what I thought.”

“Haizaki-kun, did you get any chocolates?” Kuroko cut in before Aomine could make the situation any worse.

Haizaki blinked. “Well, no, but I got somethin’ better, from my girl–”

“Was this the same girl that broke up with you after school last week?” Akashi asked, his tone perfectly even.

“What? How do you know about that?” Haizaki balked. He slouched a little lower in his seat. “I mean, I was the one who dumped her, but whatever. I don’t need her.” He sniffed. “Damn it, okay, fine, you got me! She dumped me. So what? She was fucking cheating on me with Tanaka. Tanaka!”

“Language, nanodayo.” Midorima muttered quietly.

“I just. I thought she was the one, y’know?” Haizaki grumbled. Kuroko patted Haizaki on the back consolingly. Aomine looked unconvinced by the act, but refrained from further escalation, settling for a silent glare instead. Haizaki ran a hand through his unruly hair, and sucked in a sharp breath. “Whatever. I’m over it.”

He clearly was not, but he put on the act anyway, glancing around the table, looking for food he could snag without much fuss. His eyes landed on the box on the bench, something he hadn’t noticed when he’d first sat down. “Oh, dude, you got chocolates? Why didn’t you say so?” He made a grab for them.

“Haizaki, wait,” Kuroko’s hand shot out, holding the chocolates in place. Haizaki looked down at him in irritation. Kuroko met his gaze. “Don’t.”

“C’mon man, sharing is caring,” Haizaki insisted.

“I wouldn’t touch those if I were you, Haizaki.” Akashi said. For a moment, Kuroko swore his heart had leapt straight into his throat. Then, Akashi continued, “Unless you’re looking for a second trip to the nurse’s office.”

Haizaki’s face turned pale. “Ew! These are from Momoi?! Get that shit away from me! I think I’m gonna be sick just from touching the box, oh my god…” he mimed choking, then clutched his stomach and doubled over as if in pain. No one laughed. Haizaki glanced up at them. “Man, you guys are no fun. Kuroko, throw me a bone here.”

Kuroko had been holding his breath during the entire exchange. His chocolates were saved, but for what purpose? He’d almost wished Haizaki would have eaten them all and given him a different reason to be upset. Sighing, he passed his untouched sandwich and drink to Haizaki, whose eyes lit up immediately.

“I’m not really hungry.” Kuroko murmured, and stood up to leave, tucking the unopened box under an arm. Murasakibara was staring at him, frowning deeply and looking betrayed that Kuroko had given Haizaki food and not him, even though he still had three bowls of fried rice on his tray.

“You’re never hungry,” Haizaki said around a mouthful of bread and ham. “Gotta eat, else you’ll stay short forever.”

“Says the person eating Tetsu’s food!” Aomine growled.

Haizaki shrugged. “He gave it to me. Right, Kuroko?”

They both turned toward Kuroko, but he was already gone.

Midorima merely shook his head in exasperation. “You’re all idiots.”

Abruptly, Akashi stood up, setting his chopsticks down with a resounding clack. “You might be right,” he muttered, before departing, leaving the rest of them baffled speechless. Midorima called after him to take his bentou with him, but when it was clear that Akashi was not coming back, he grumbled something under his breath and packed the box back up, sharply smacking Murasakibara’s reaching hands away from the remainder of the food inside.

Kuroko had, in fact, caught the tail end of the conversation as he drifted away into the crowd. Had heard Midorima calling Akashi’s name in that exasperated tone of his. He willed himself to walk faster, but the ocean of bodies crowded around him only allowed so much movement in any given direction. In contrast, the students seemed to part naturally around Akashi, giving him ample space to maneuver. Kuroko glanced over his shoulder and saw the sea of uniforms shuffling out of the way for the young heir who had already made himself known schoolwide to be flawless in all aspects. Their eyes met, and Akashi spoke, his voice getting lost in the cacophony of the cafeteria, but the syllables formed by his lips were as clear as chiseled stone: Te-tsu-ya.

It was just for a second, but Kuroko glanced to his right, lips parting as if startled. Akashi’s gaze followed. A moment later, someone, evidently in a great hurry, pushed past Akashi from his blind spot, nearly knocking him over. She whirled around and began apologizing profusely. The moment was broken, and Kuroko vanished into the crowd. Akashi found himself smiling in spite of himself as he quickly reassured the girl that he was fine.

Kuroko had made it up two flights of stairs before stopping to catch his breath. A hand landed on his shoulder.

“Aka–” Kuroko cut himself off. It was Momoi. He coughed, then cleared his throat. “Hello, Momoi-san.”

“Tetsu-kun! I’ve been looking for you all day!” Momoi chirped. She handed him a professionally wrapped package. “This is for you. Um, I hope you like it. I bought it from a really famous chocolatier in Tokyo, you know? I had to bug Mukkun for weeks to get him to tell me about it!”

“Oh.” Kuroko blinked. A genuine smile came to his lips. “Thank you. That’s very thoughtful of you.”

Momoi blushed. “It’s nothing, really. I got one for everyone on the team.” She flushed a little darker. “You know, to make up for… that one time…”

Kuroko looked amused. “I’m sure they’ll love it.”

“I hope so,” Momoi sighed. She then noticed the box in Kuroko’s other hand. “Ooh! Did you get chocolates from someone else, too?”

Kuroko suddenly wanted to cry. A year ago, he couldn’t have imagined a day when others would be asking him if the chocolates in his hands were from some secret admirer, and not whose secret admirer he was.

Momoi was staring at him with large, concerned eyes. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

Kuroko exhaled quietly. “Roof?”

There were three floors to the building, which meant that the roof constituted the fourth floor, technically speaking. Of course, the day being what it was, they were not alone on the rooftop. A few students were scattered here and there, talking in hushed tones. Some of them were holding hands.

It was chilly outside. Momoi stuffed her hands into her sleeves, and in silence, they looked out over the school grounds. The sports fields and the roofs of the houses around them were all still blanketed in snow.

“I think Akashi-kun was looking for you,” Momoi said quietly. Kuroko bit his lip. Momoi continued to peer at him, looking pensive as she observed Kuroko’s minute changes in facial expression. The way his gaze slowly swept over the scenery. His lower lip was a little chapped, as if he’d been chewing on it frequently. She resisted the urge to sigh. Why did people think Kuroko was unreadable? Momoi cleared her throat. “You could try talking to him.”

“I’m not sure I would know what to say,” said Kuroko.

Momoi offered him a reassuring smile. “Tetsu-kun, just be yourself.”

Kuroko looked at his shoes. “Aomine-kun said the same thing, but… somehow, I don’t think that’s enough.”

Momoi’s hands were suddenly at his shoulders, gripping him gently, but firmly. She looked as shocked as she did hurt, as though he’d just struck her across the face. Her voice was soft. “Tetsu-kun… Why would you say something like that?”

He told her the truth. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t really like myself, so why would he?”

Her reaction was exactly as he’d expected, but it made him feel raw with emotion, the strength with which she embraced him. Her voice cracked as she spoke, and Kuroko vaguely realized that she must be crying. He hugged her back, and it took every ounce of willpower he had to keep himself from breaking down. “It must be so hard. But, I think Tetsu-kun is really, really brave, and really amazing.” She squeezed him tightly. “It’s not that you never give up. It’s that you never give up in spite of everything the world throws against you. So, I’m always going to be rooting for you, okay?”

The field beyond them was a smear of snowy white and grey. His vision was blurry, distorted by the tears in his eyes. He wasn’t sure when he’d began crying. “Thank you, Momoi-san.” He said into the fluffy collar of her coat. She squeezed him harder, making indecipherable, exasperated yet endearing noises.

They stood there for what feels like a long time, soothing over the frayed edges of their nerves, and when they drew apart, they both quickly rubbed at their eyes somewhat sheepishly. Kuroko smiled, cherishing the way she pouted at him so fondly. He remembered the box of chocolates, which was looking a little dilapidated after all it had been through, but still presentable. Suddenly feeling whimsical after such emotional vulnerability, he cleared his throat and picked at the ribbon on top, trying to arrange it to look a little neater. Maybe today just wasn’t his day, but that didn’t mean it had to end on a sour note. “Momoi-san, this isn’t much, but if you’d like to…”

The words died in his throat. Over Momoi’s shoulder, Kuroko suddenly saw him standing by the door. An indecipherable expression etched on his face, Akashi spun around and disappeared down the stairs, the image of his receding back suddenly threatening to bring fresh tears to Kuroko’s eyes. Momoi blinked up at him, then whirled around, just in time to catch a flash of red. She gasped, both hands over her mouth.

“Oh my gosh, Tetsu-kun! What are you doing just standing there?!” Momoi shook him by the shoulders. Kuroko was still unresponsive, so she grabbed his arm to drag him over to the door.

“What– Momoi-san–” Kuroko spluttered.

“Hurry up and go!” She insisted, without explanation. Kuroko was mildly dazed by how quickly she’d figured out what was going on, but quickly thanked her, then dashed down the stairs.

Catching up with Akashi was a surprisingly easy task. Kuroko belatedly realized, as he found Akashi waiting for him around the corner of a hallway, that he had fallen into a trap.

“Akashi-kun,” Kuroko said uneasily, regretting this already.

Akashi folded his arms across his chest, and cast him a look. Kuroko deflated a little. This was his signature pose, the one Akashi used to intimidate his opponents before the start of a match. Kuroko now understood why it worked so well.

“You ran away, earlier,” Akashi stated. “What is it now?”

“I’m sorry about that. About everything. I mean, not, everything,” Kuroko said, stumbling over his own words. No, this wasn’t right. He struggled to find the words to say. I got these chocolates for you. I like you. You mean everything to me. Please like me back.

In the end, he said nothing, and the bell rang, signalling the end of lunchtime and jolting him out of his own thoughts.

Akashi exhaled slowly. His gaze flickered briefly upwards, glancing at something behind Kuroko.

“I’ll see you at practice, Kuroko,” he said, then turned, and walked away. Kuroko felt the ground falling out from below his feet.

Aomine was abruptly at his side, and grabbed his arm, steadying him. “Tetsu?”

Kuroko looked miserable. Felt miserable. Sounded miserable. He murmured something, a goodbye or a thank you, or possibly just a meaningless noise to Aomine, and returned to his classroom, whereupon sitting down, he suddenly felt exhausted.

Everything had been thrown into disarray.

Classes ended without him having absorbed a single tidbit of knowledge. His feet dragged as he went into the nurse’s office to change, the same as he’d always done. By the time he was finished, he was already a few minutes late, and he mentally prepared himself for the lecture and penalty laps he’d no doubt get. Captain Nijimura did not mess around.

Kuroko reached the doors of the gymnasium and took a deep breath, focusing on the sound of his own heartbeat to calm down. It was quiet. There was no squeaking of sneakers against the polished floor, no shouts of encouragement or grunts of dismay. All he could make out were the even bounces of a single basketball. His heart beat a little faster– a counterpoint to the rhythm of the ball.

Kuroko pushed the doors open. He didn’t know how he’d done it, but considering this was Akashi Seijuurou, Kuroko wondered if he should even be surprised. The gym was entirely empty, save for Akashi himself, who was standing in the center of the court, dribbling a ball with habit-formed precision.

“Shall we play, Kuroko?” Akashi said, and though it was phrased as a question, Kuroko knew he had no choice in the matter. He dropped his bag off by the bench, his heart beating a mile a minute as Akashi led them over to the half-court. “Ten tries. A single basket, and you win.”

Kuroko looked defeated even before they began. Akashi passed him the ball. He held it in both his hands, staring at the the little individual bumps that made up the textured surface. “Akashi-kun, I have something I need to tell you.” He started to dribble, feinting left before going right, only to have Akashi knock the ball right out of his hands at the turn.

“Tell me with your play,” said Akashi, tossing the ball back to Kuroko.

Gritting his teeth, Kuroko squared his shoulders, and brought his center of gravity lower. He’d seen Aomine do this about a thousand times, could almost imagine the exact angles of his limbs and the velocity of the ball with his eyes closed. Left again, then right. Akashi intercepted him with ease.

And again, and again. He just wasn’t good enough. His arms weren’t long enough. His legs wouldn’t move fast enough. Everything was wrong, and it was all his fault. Akashi clicked his tongue in disappointment. “You’re going to have to try something different if you want to win.”

Kuroko sucked in a sharp breath. Whatever it was that Akashi expected of him, saw in him, thought of him, Kuroko felt like he was going to ruin all of it. Everything was unravelling before his eyes. Left, then right, but again, at the turn, Akashi caught him.

“I can’t do this,” Kuroko said, his voice as bitter as ash. He was pleading with his eyes to be let go. To be spared from this humiliation.

Akashi only watched him in silence. He dribbled the ball a bit, then passed it to Kuroko.

Frustrated beyond measure, Kuroko hit it back towards him.

Akashi caught it with both hands. The light in his eyes burned like a roaring inferno. There was just a slight inclination of his head, a nod towards the basket on the other side of the court. Kuroko’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. He suddenly understood.

Akashi moved first, Kuroko just barely keeping up. They were racing towards the other end. Akashi’s dribbling was seamless, and he was tearing down the floor with such speed Kuroko swore if he stopped it would have left skid marks. The ball zigzagged through the air, coming back into Kuroko’s hands, leaving, and returning once more before Kuroko tossed it far down the court with as much strength as he could muster. Akashi was there in a heartbeat, transitioning into a lay-up with practiced ease. The ball swooshed through the net, hitting the ground with a resounding thud.

Kuroko blinked back tears. Akashi was smiling at him from across the court. Kuroko broke into a light jog to meet him under the net.

“Akashi-kun,” Kuroko said, breathless. “I like you.”

“I like you too, Kuroko.” Akashi replied easily. He smiled fondly at Kuroko, and Kuroko felt like he wanted to disappear and never be seen again.

“No, but, I like you.” Kuroko’s voice turned softer. “I might even love you.”

Akashi’s brows knitted together. He looked confused. Kuroko felt the very edges of a crushing despair beginning to weigh upon him, but then, Akashi said, “Like I just said, I like you too, Kuroko. And, I know for a fact that I love you.”

The words echoed in his mind. He was floating. Free-falling. “Wh-what?”

Akashi was beginning to look impatient. He sighed. “I said, I like you too, Kuroko, and I know for a fact–”

“Stop! Stop, Akashi-kun, please.” Kuroko held up a hand, covering his flushed face with the other.

Akashi approached him, concerned. “Kuroko, are you alright?”

“No.” Kuroko whispered. Akashi’s eyes widened. “I mean, yes!” Kuroko peered at Akashi nervously. This boy was dangerous. His heart was doing strange things in his chest. If he dropped dead in the next five minutes, Akashi would have to be convicted of manslaughter. Kuroko quickly changed the subject, asking out of genuine confusion, “Where is everyone else?”

Akashi looked puzzled. “If you’re talking about practice, it was cancelled. There was an announcement on the intercom during last period.”

“Oh,” was all Kuroko could think of to say.

“And here I had thought you had come here just to see me, but it was merely because you thought we had practice…” Akashi said, feigning a dejected look. It was too much for Kuroko to bear.

“Um. I’m sorry. Please don’t look at me like that, Akashi-kun.” Kuroko said very seriously. “I might die if you do.”

“Very well,” Akashi nodded, returning to a serious expression for just a moment, before smiling again. He picked up the ball from under the net, and tossed it to Kuroko. “Since we’re already here, why don’t we practice for a bit longer? I don’t get to receive your passes very often in games, so I’m still not quite used to them.”

Kuroko nodded. His heart was positively brimming with hope, and the chocolates were left forgotten in his bag until the next day. Too embarrassed to bother, Kuroko simply kept them for himself. He’d do a better job next year.

He hadn’t known that three years would pass before he would find a reason to give Akashi chocolates again. -

END(?)

[wordsofphandom]

What I Wouldn’t Do - A Phanfiction Part II

At a book signing, Phil, a succesful author of children’s books, meets the five-year-old Dylan and his gorgeous single father Dan. Though they are instantly drawn to each other, certain issues, let alone a lively five-year-old complicate things for Dan and Phil, and they have to find out just what they would - or wouldn’t do, to be together.

parent!phan / fluff/ angst/ singlefather!Dan / children’s author!Phil / Dil Howlter (kind of)

Wordcount: 4.2k Warnings: none

Part II

A week went by, but Phil didn’t hear from Dan and on Sunday, he was beginning to think he never would. Nevertheless, he found himself doing sketches of the same two characters: a white kitten with red and brown patches and a striped tomcat. He drew the kitten playing in autumn leaves, while its father kept a watchful eye on it. He drew them drinking milk from the same bowl and cuddling on a velvet pillow. You didn’t have to be Sigmund Freud to know who he was really drawing. However, Phil never drew himself into the pictures. He had a meeting with his agent on Thursday, and they discussed the possibility of doing a Lion and Lioness Movie. An American major studio was keenly interested in buying the rights, but it was difficult for Phil to sign them away. If they did make a film, Phil would want to be involved, and he knew very little about animation. When he was still thinking of nothing but Dan and Dylan on Friday, Phil decided to drive up north and spend the week-end with his parents. In these cases, distance was always a good idea. He had a wonderful time and when he came back, he was almost ready to forget about the Howells. On Tuesday afternoon, however, his phone rang. And it was Dan calling. Curious, he answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, Phil. It’s Dan. Dan Howell, Dylan’s father”. “Of course, I remember you” Phil said, bemused. “Right… uh, listen, do you have any plans on Friday afternoon?” “This Friday?” “Yes” “No, I don’t think so… why d’you ask?” “Because I have a problem, and I’d like to abuse your offer of being Dylan’s friend. My boss scheduled a meeting on Friday from 4 to 5 pm, so I can’t pick up Dylan from school. None of his friends can take him, and I really don’t want to ask Jess… so I thought that maybe you could pick him up and bring him home?” “Yeah, I’d love that” Phil said. “Do you want me to take him to my place or bring him to yours?”. “Our place, I think. Or you could go to the park for a while… It’s going to be very easy, and it’s just for a few hours”. “Sure, don’t worry” Phil said. “Just tell me where and when to pick him up and I’ll be there. Does he have a key for your flat?” “He’s five” retorted Dan. “So, no?” “He’d lose it on the playground, or when he’s running, or something… And anyway, I don’t want to burden him with that responsibility yet”. Phil felt stupid. “Of course” he said; he should have thought of that. “The neighbour has a spare key. He’ll let you in”.

On Wednesday and Thursday, Phil was nervously looking forward to his time with Dylan. The last time he’d spend the day with a five-year old had to be years and years ago, when Phil had been a child himself; unless, of course, you counted last Sunday. So, what were him and Dylan going to do? In preparation, he called his Mum and discussed the matter with her. Also, he bought some picture books and a Children’s-Experiments-Box, as well as a football, because he didn’t know what Dylan was into and he wanted him to have a good time. When Friday had come, he packed all of those things into a big bag and took the Tube to Dylan’s school. Dylan was overjoyed to see him. The first to leave the class room, he ran out of the door and hugged Phil’s legs enthusiastically. “Phil!” he squealed. “Hello, Dylan” Phil laughed and somewhat awkwardly petted his head. “You got your things?”. They collected Dylan’s reading bag and his coat. Phil also made Dylan wear the woolly hat and the scarf, although Dylan insisted that Daddy never cared about that. “I just don’t want you to be cold” Phil explained, but Dylan just shrugged. “I’m never cold” he explained. They left the school and visited Dylan’s favourite play ground on the way home. In the wet and muddy park, Dylan met a few of his school friends and Phil waited with some other mothers at the side. But just as the conversation got too awkward (“Are you Mr Howell’s brother? A friend? His boyfriend?”), Dylan asked Phil to play with him, which Phil gladly did. Dylan loved the new football. He appointed Phil goalie and he and his friends kicked penalty-shots. Only when both Phil and Dylan were thoroughly cold and dirty, did they walk home. Dylan was holding Phil’s hand and skipping along the way, all the time chatting about his school and his friends. When they arrived, they got the keys from the middle aged guy who lived in the flat above Dan and Dylan’s; Dan would be home in an hour.

For homework, Dylan was supposed to read a picture book, so Phil gave him one of the new ones he’d bought and went to prepare supper. He had brought ingredients for both pancakes and Spaghetti Bolognese. “Which do you prefer?” he asked Dylan. The little boy looked up from his book. “Pancakes, please” he said. “May I flip them?”. His question made Phil chuckle. “I have to make the batter, first”. “Okay” Dylan went back to his book. When Dan came home, Phil and Dylan had made a big stack of pancakes, had squeezed some lemons and had set the table for three. “Wow, it smells delicious” Dan commented when he came in. He gave Dylan a kiss on the head. “Did you have a nice time with Phil?”. “Yes!” Dylan shouted. “Look what he got me!” he handed him the picture book. Dan studied it. “That was really kind, Phil” he looked at him “You shouldn’t have”. “It’s nothing, really”. “Still, thank you very much” Dan said. “Dylan, did you say thank you?”. “Thank you, Phil!” Dylan said again. Phil smiled at the both of them. “You’re very welcome” Yet the atmosphere was somewhat awkward. “Shall we eat?”.

After supper, Dan checked whether Dylan had done his homework and invited Phil to stay for a movie. They cuddled up on the sofa – Dylan between the two men – drank hot chocolate and watched Howl’s Moving Castle. During the scary scenes, Dylan alternated between Dan and Phil to hide his face against. After the film was over, it was bed time for Dylan. “Can Phil bring me to bed? Please, Daddy, please” he pleaded, giving both Dan and Phil huge puppy dog eyes. Dan chuckled. “You’ll have to ask Phil. Maybe he’s got plans for tonight”. “May you please stay, Phil?” Dylan said, concentrating his efforts on Phil, whose heart melted a little bit at the sight of the pouting boy. “Yes, I can stay” he promised. As the day had been long and exhausting, Dylan fell asleep quickly. Technically, Phil’s job was done now, but the thought of his empty flat in Islington made him sad. “Would you like a glass of wine?” Dan asked. It was a relief that apparently, Dan didn’t want him to leave, either. “Yes, please” Phil said. So, Dan opened a bottle of red wine and they sat down on the couch again. Casually, Dan swung his legs over Phil’s lap. “Did you have a nice day?” he asked. “Probably the best I’ve had in weeks” Phil admitted. Dan grinned at him. “You’re your own boss, how can you even have bad days?” “True, I never really have bad days… I just rarely have a day as good as this one”. “That’s nice to hear” Dan took a sip from his glass. “I can tell that Dylan had a really good day, too”. Phil beamed. “Next time, though, please don’t buy him stuff” When Dan realized, that Phil’s smile had shrunk a little, he hurried to say “Don’t get me wrong. I think it’s so kind of you to give him a present, thank you again, I just wouldn’t want him to get used to it, you know what I mean? He shouldn’t see you as, I don’t know, his fairy godmother”. For a brief moment, Phil pictured himself in a blue cloak with a wand. The idea was funny, but Dan was right. “I get it” he said. “Thank you” Dan said, “that seems to be all I’m saying, today”. “I don’t mind” Phil answered, teasing “You wouldn’t, would you?” Dan grinned, before his expression got a bit more mellow “I’d forgotten how nice it is to come home to someone that isn’t five years old”. “How long has it been?” Phil asked. “Since uni – I used to share a flat with a couple of friends. Well, I did live with Jess for 6 months, after Dylan was born. But that was only aggravating”. “What were you studying?” Dan laughed dryly. “Law” he said curtly. “Wasn’t one of my brightest ideas”. “You didn’t like it?” Phil asked. “I hated it. I mean, Criminal Law was interesting, but Corporate Law was literally killing me. I dropped out when Dylan was born, so I could work full time. But, honestly, that was just an excuse... How about you? Did you go to uni?”. “Yes, I did. I studied English Literature and Linguistics in York. When that was done, I didn’t feel ready to find a proper job, so I did a Master’s degree in Graphic Design here in London”.   Looking amused, Dan shook his head. “What?” Phil wanted to know. “It’s just… Is there anything you’re not great at?” Dan said. “Of course!” Phil exclaimed, his cheeks reddening. “Oh yeah, like what?” Dan counted down on his fingers. “You’re a fantastic story teller, a great artist, an intellectual with two degrees, the best kisser I’ve ever had, you’re good with kids and an overall wonderful person”. Phil’s face was positively burning now. “I’m rubbish at most sports, I don’t play an instrument and if you ever saw me dancing, you’d never think I was perfect again” he said meekly. “Shut up!” Dan laughed. “And for the record; you’re a great kisser, too”. They looked at each other. Dan’s lower lip was dark from the wine; his eyes were sparkling. Never had anybody looked as kissable as Dan looked in this moment. But then, Dan lowered his gaze and the moment was over. To cover up his disappointment, Phil emptied his glass. “More wine?” Dan asked, but Phil shook his head. “The Tube is closing soon… I think I should probably go home”. “Yeah, I guess you’re right…” Dan said, yawning. Reluctantly, the two of them got to their feet. While Phil was packing his things, Dan was yawning even more, which gave Phil a bad conscience. Of course, Dan was tired; he had had a long day; Phil should have gone home and let him sleep hours ago. “When will I see you again?” Phil asked, before he left. “Don’t know. May I call you again, if I need someone to pick Dylan up from school?” “Yes, of course! Please do!”. Dan smiled. “And may I call you, if I need you to spend time with me, too?” “You absolutely may” Phil said. “Thank you, Phil” Quickly, Dan kissed him on the cheek. “You’re the best”.

The next morning, Phil slept in. He prepared oatmeal and coffee and had breakfast in the living room, watching animes on his TV. At around noon, he went into his study and took another look at the tomcat and kitten pictures he had drawn after he had first met Dylan and Dan. He really liked the characters and fuelled by an intense happiness he felt since yesterday, he drew some proper character studies. The kitten, he decided, should be called Felix; playful, excitable but also somewhat pragmatic. The father he called Maximilian and he changed his fur colour to black, with a white belly, paws and snout. Maximilian shared his son’s pragmatisms, but he was more resigned. Also, he loved his son very much. Characters always came easy to Phil, but the story he wanted to tell was often more difficult to come up with. Were Maximilian and Felix street cats? Did they live with a family? In a shelter? He drew them in various surroundings and scenarios, but nothing really stuck. Phil didn’t mind; it was always useful to try out loads of things until he figured out what he wanted. Just as he put away the sketches, his phone started ringing and instantly, his heart beat picked up. Maybe Dan was calling. But, alas, it was his agent. Hazel had been with him from the very start. When he had finished his first book “The Little Lion” shortly after graduating, he had contacted about half a dozen agents, but only Hazel had been interested. Since then, they had worked on every project together. “Hey Phil” she said. “Have you had any more thoughts about the movie rights?”. “Not really, to be honest” he admitted. “Well, how about that: 20th Century Fox would like to invite you to their headquarters in L.A. to discuss the offer. 3-day trip, all expenses covered, no strings attached. They really, really want to make this film”. “And when do they want to schedule this trip?” Phil asked. “At your earliest convenience” Hazel said and Phil could clearly hear the air quotes she would have made if they were having a face-to-face conversation. “Hmm, do you think I should do it?”. “What, the trip or the movie?” “Both, I guess…” “I’d say do the trip, hear them out, then decide. And if you don’t want to sell the rights, you still got a free trip to L.A.” Phil looked out of the window; the sky was grey and miserable and it was drizzling. “Okay, I’ll do the trip. Do you want to come?” “I’d love to! I’ll check back with them if that’s okay, though… When do you want to go?”. They picked out the weekend before the first Advent, so that the trip was to be in three weeks. In the remaining weeks, Dan kept his promise and asked Phil to pick up Dylan from school twice. Both times, Phil and Dylan had a wonderful time, but because it was always on a school night, Phil never got to stay as long as he did the first time. Sadly, he saw very little of Dan – he usually left right after Dan came home, and Dan had yet to ask him to spend time with him, like he had said he would. It was the day before he was to fly to L.A. when it finally happened. Phil had spent the afternoon packing his suitcase and looking forward to sunny Californian weather, when his phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a text from Dan:

jess is taking dyl home tonight and i’m worried crazy distract me

Without hesitation, Phil picked out a video he had saved and send it to Dan; a compilation of baby animals doing cute stuff. The video lasted ten minutes; enough time for Phil to find his trunks and his goggles. He reckoned it would not be extremely hot in California, but maybe the hotel had a pool. When the ten minutes were up, Dan texted him again.

Cute but not long enough wanna go for drinks tonight?

There was nothing Phil would like to do better, so he texted back enthusiastically

I’d love to!!! When and where?

half seven ish? is there a pub you like near you i'd like to get to know your london

Phil knew exactly what Dan meant when he referred to “his London”. The city was so vast and so multicultural that you often had to only walk a few hundred yards to be in a completely different world. And the thought that Dan wanted to see his was wonderful to him. He texted him back the name and address of a cosy, elegant pub that, above a variety of beers, ciders and wines, served also quite a lot of food and snacks. Suddenly, he felt nervous. Time with Dan alone. It was almost like a date, wasn’t it? Of course, they hadn’t specified it to be, but for the first time, they were meeting just for the sake of it. And there was no Dylan to think about. Phil felt glad for it, and then guilty for that. He loved Dylan, it was just that, well… At quarter to seven, he opened his closet and looked through his clothes. He wanted to look good today, he wanted Dan to notice he had made an effort. So, he put on one of his nicer shirts and dark jeans. At a whim, he also put on a bow tie and a jacket, but then took off both. That was too much effort. Finally, he combed through his hair once more and left his flat. It was five past seven, and since he didn’t want to be this early, Phil decided to make a detour to the park. Luckily, he had his mobile and his headphones with him, so he walked twice around the park pond, listening to music. When he arrived at the pub 20 minutes later, he felt relaxed and happy. He only had to wait for a short while until Dan arrived, too. They hugged each other as they said hello, then went in. “Did you find it well?” Phil asked. “I always get lost when I go somewhere new”. Dan laughed. “’Course you do. But, yeah, I found it well - I used my phone”. They found a nice secluded place in a corner; on the table, two tealights were burning. “Can I get you something to drink?” Phil asked, while Dan was studying the menu. “Yeah, thanks”. So, Phil got himself a raspberry cider and a lager for Dan. They started talking about their respective weeks, though Phil neglected to mention that he would fly to L.A. in the morning. For some reason, it seemed like a bad idea to him. “Oh, by the way” Dan said and retrieved a piece of paper from his shoulder bag, “Dylan wanted me to give you this. He was quite jealous I get to see you tonight and he doesn’t”. “Aw, thanks” Phil took the paper. It was a drawing that Dylan had made, showing what was probably supposed to be himself and Phil, playing football. “That’s so sweet, tell him I said thank you”. Dan took a large gulp from his drink. “He’ll be fine at Jess’s, right?” Pitying him, Phil put his hand on Dan’s. “Of course he’ll be”. “She’s such an awful mother!” “How long has it been since he’s seen her?” Dan thought for a moment. “I think he last saw her on that Sunday when we met you. I haven’t allowed her near him since then… But, you know, she is his mum”. “If I were her, I’d put a lot of effort in this meeting, then… I wouldn’t want to mess it up, again” Phil said. “Yeah, let’s hope that’s the case” Dan smiled meekly. “Why did you have Dylan in the first place?” Phil was genuinely curious, but when he saw how Dan’s smile, however small it might have been, vanished, he quickly added: “I mean, I’ very happy that you did. Dylan is wonderful…” “I get it” Dan shrugged. “Remember I told you Jess was just the rebound? Well, we didn’t last long and when she discovered she was pregnant, she didn’t tell me for weeks… When a friend finally told me, it was already too late for an abortion” “Oh” Dan chuckled. “My mum was fuming when she found out. When I told her I’d drop out of uni, she wanted to sue Jess”. “And did she?” “Nah, she didn’t. And she still doesn’t like Jess, but she adores Dylan”. Phil chuckled. “My mum wants grandchildren, too”. “Oh yeah?” Dan asked, grinning “Why haven’t you complied yet?”. “I never met anyone I wanted to have kids with” Phil shrugged. “But I think I’d be a great Dad”. “I think so, too” Dan smiled warmly, making Phil’s heart skip a beat and butterflies flutter in his tummy. They were being playful, Phil knew that, but he still got his hopes up. For the first time he realized, he not only wanted to be with Dan, he also wanted to be Dylan’s dad. The palm of his hand was still resting on the back of Dan’s, but before he could squeeze it, Dan pulled it away to take a sip from his bottle. There was something nervous about him all of a sudden, and he avoided Phil’s gaze. It seemed fairly obvious to Phil that Dan was, for some reason, uncomfortable, so he changed topics. “Video games” he said. “What about them?” Dan asked, surprised. “You said you liked them. Got a favourite?” As they were discussing video games, the tension eased. After about an hour, they ordered another drink and shared some chips, their conversation having drifted to books, films and TV shows. So far, Phil thought, the evening was going swimmingly. There had been that awkward moment, and they hadn’t ventured into that area of conversation again, but the butterflies from earlier hadn’t disappeared. “Hey, so” Dan said, having emptied his second beer, “why did you pick out this pub?”. Phil shrugged. “I like it here, don’t you?” “Sure” “Besides, it’s close to my flat…” Lifting his head a bit, Dan smiled at him. “May I see it?” “My flat?” Phil swallowed dryly. “Yeah…” “’course, we can go now, if you want to…”

They grabbed their coats and headed into the street. Despite the cold, Phil felt warm, in fact, he felt like he was burning up; probably because Dan was walking right next to him, their hands brushing occasionally. The building of Phil’s flat was old but grand; when it had been renovated last, a small elevator had been installed, which they used to ride to the upmost storey. They stood so close together that Phil feared Dan could feel the heat radiating from him. Luckily, they arrived at the fifth floor soon enough and Phil led Dan through the curt hallway and into his flat. Kitchen and lounge were a single large, open-spaced room with a glass front on the backside of the room. “Wow” Dan said upon entering. “The view’s amazing”. London’s lights were glimmering; the night sky was velvet. “If you go to the window and turn your head left, you can just see the Shard” Phil said. “Can I take your coat?” “How very gentlemanly of you” Dan grinned, his eyes sparkling, but he took off his parka and gave it to Phil before he went to try and see the Shard. “I never realized you could make so much money by writing children’s books!” he mumbled, not taking his gaze of the view. “Yeah, uh, most people don’t… I’ve just been very lucky” Phil explained, turning his back towards Dan to put both of their coats into the closet. Facing him again, suddenly, took courage. But when he did, Dan was smiling at him apologetically. “So” Phil cleared his throat, “do you want something to drink? I’ve got water, Ribena, coffee, tea, coke, wine…?” “Yeah, wine’d be great” “Red or white?” “Uh, red” Phil got the glasses and uncorked the bottle, while Dan sat down on the couch facing the window. “Do you get someone to clean your windows or do you do that yourself? Oh, thanks” He took the glass from Phil. “Yeah, no, my landlord hires a company to do that every two months” Phil sat next to Dan carefully. For a while, they just sipped wine from their glasses, their gazes meeting occasionally. “So, your kitchen is nice” Dan commented. “Do you like cooking?” “Uh, sometimes…” Silence again. It was surprising to Phil how awkward they suddenly were. What had changed when they came to the flat? “With an open room like this, you probably do a lot of hoovering, don’t you?” Phil shook his head. “What’s going on?”.

In a swift move, Dan put his glass onto the table, leaned in and kissed Phil on the mouth. The kiss was heated and intense and it made Phil’s heart beat faster and all the blood in his body rush towards his crotch. Forgetting he was holding a wine glass himself, Phil leaned in closer and promptly spilled wine over himself and Dan. “Ah, shoot!” They pulled apart a bit. “I’m so sorry, Dan!” “It’s fine” Dan murmured. Slowly, he started unbuttoning his shirt. Phil’s eyes followed Dan’s fingers for two buttons, then he reached out and helped him, revealing Dan’s smooth chest underneath. Almost in awe, Phil slid his hands over the newly exposed skin, then planted a kiss just above his collar bone. Surprised, Dan breathed in deeply. While Phil’s lips were working their way up towards his neck and his Adam’s apple, Dan busied himself by unbuttoning Phil’s shirt. They kissed again, slowly but deeply and Dan swung a leg over Phil’s lap. Placing his hands on Dan’s hips, Phil pulled him onto his lap completely, so that Dan was now straddling him. They grinded into each other, both rock hard, and Phil kissed Dan’s neck again, sucking and almost bruising. A moan escaped from Dan’s lips. “Phil!” He cupped Phil’s face, making him look at him directly. They stared into each other’s eyes for a second, and briefly, Phil feared that Dan wanted to stop. “Show me your bed!” Dan said instead.