#Edvard just makes me giggle

[sierradee]

Nothing bad ever happens to Barnaby "The Butcher" Fortescue III

Props to Barnaby for laying out the flag at the start of the whole series to suffer the most traumatic timeline and still end being incredibly unbroken.

[carmesi-butterfly]

twitter

nishimura riki + fem! reader. word count 1,5k. not idols au/school au. warnings stalking (?) this one-shot is probably the most unserious thing i've ever written. not proofread.

"i checked your twitter account," said riki, trying to maintain a serious face and failing miserably, a few giggles came out of his mouth while he attempted to act normal.

"eh? that's not possible, my account is private" you looked at him with confusion, trying to decipher his weird laugh.

your twitter account has been a recurrent topic since both became friends, first of all because; who doesn't have twitter? it was the diary of the new generations, most of the teenagers had a profile in there! of course, you were one of them, but the way that you treated your account like confidential information made the japanese boy pretty suspicious.

it was a private account with no more than 15 followers, most of them probably were internet friends because it wasn't a novelty that you were not social by any means, on the contrary, you could be considered a loner, because of that, the apparent "state secret" hiding in your profile made ni-ki more than curious about what you could be secreting.

"i don't want you to get mad at me" pleaded, following that he proceeded to show you an interesting account that you knew well.

a profile named 'riri', with one of those famous headers with silly quotes you can find on pinterest and as an icon an orange cat with the emoji ☝️ referring to the recent meme that became viral, to finalize the bio was decorated with the phrase 'proud hater'. you got a request from that account just a few weeks ago, it followed most of the people you followed so it wasn't any suspicious to you, besides that's how you made a few of your friends! Following or being followed by oomfs of your oomfs, that's how social media works.

"that's you?" your voice raised annoyed and nervous, "you used that account to stalk me?!" with anger, you got up from your seat on the school rooftop.

"i wanted to know why you're hiding things from me!" his tone matched yours, being not loud enough to be heard by the other students who navigated through the school.

"if i hide things from you there's a reason!" your mood escalated from there, not only did your anger grow bigger but an immense urge to cry hit you.

“i-i know… I’m sorry y/n, i thought it would be something stupid, not that you like me”

riki brings your biggest secret into the conversation without any filter, dropping it like a not-warned bomb that fell into you and unloaded the last level of emotions you were hiding on a facade of pure rage.

now everything made sense, his giggly laugh without a reason while looking at you, the weird things he said that seemed like an inner joke you could not understand, the weird “i know your secret” he released randomly in your conversations... you thought it was all a joke! it's nishimura riki that we’re talking about. He enjoys pranking and tends to do and say weird stuff, it could be a completely normal behavior for him, but no, this time it wasn't.

“why did you think doing this was a good idea?” you claimed, hiding your face between the palms of your hands while a few tears slid down your face.

“sunoo once said that he knows you like me, so heeseung gave me the idea of stalking your accounts for any signal but your accounts are private… so he helped me by making a stalking account, i know it was wrong. i'm sorry, please don't cry” he begged after confessing everything, trying to get near you therefore he could calm you at least a little bit.

“sunoo and heeseung know?!” you blurted, your eyes opened as if you were trying to imitate an owl’s gaze, and your hands transitioned from covering your face to holding it, any similarity with ‘the scream’ by edvard munch is just a coincidence.

“the whole group knows” announced, opening the hell gates with a simple phrase.

“riki are you kidding me?! i don't care that you know even if you violated my privacy, because i would've told you sooner or later, but your friends?! how humiliating, i’m never coming to school again” and the catharsis started, a big flow of verbal vomit came out of your mouth going from ‘they're probably making fun of me right now’ to ‘i’m gonna delete all my social media and never use my phone again’ all of this accompanied by fat tears.

the poor boy felt hopeless, watching you practically going insane in front of him without knowing what to do to help you, or more reasonably: how to amend his mistake. luckily for him, his guardian angels appeared in the scene to help him, hiding behind the door of the rooftop heeseung (the one responsible for this mess) and jungwon (a heart warmed soul who wanted to help his friend) were hiding, their faces full of horror admiring the scene that was unloading in front of them. what happens next is worthy of a comedic movie. His friends started a physical and exaggerated demonstration of how he should calm you, hugging each other and emphasizing comfort acts such as back patting and forehead kissing. ni-ki would've burst out laughing if it wasn't for you crying like a baby.

“please don't cry, i’m sorry, you can beat me all you want if it makes you feel better” proposed completely seriously, while slowly without trying to upset you more he got closer, searching to imitate the “comforting” hug he saw his friends do, let's not lie… it was a bit awkward, but he tried and that's okay.

gradually you ended up relinquishing the embrace, starting by clinging to him delicately and finishing by squeezing his torso the strongest you could.

“beating you is not enough, i need you to die” your voice came out weird because of the amount of strength you were applying to the “hug”, but despite that, your head relied on his chest.

“you will suffer a lot without me!” a small laugh flew out of his mouth, refreshing the conversation. “are you still mad at me?” the nishimura looked down, searching for your face and any kind of reaction from it.

“yes” your response was cut and short, it could've worried your crush if it wasn't for the water dripping off your nose because of all the crying.

“u-uhm, i have something to tell you, maybe this will help you feel better” his heart started to beat faster and you could feel it through the hug, he cleared his throat in a way of trying to shake the nerves out, “the reason i did all of this stupid plan was that… i had hopes that you talked about me there, uhm…” a small pause to take a big breath after the confession interrupted the moment, but he quickly picked up the conversation, “my friends encouraged me to confess, specially sunoo, you know that he has a sixth sense with gossip” joked.

“you're telling me that… you did all of this because you like me?” you asked dumbfounded, the question got him more embarrassed than he already was, why did it make him sound so stupid?

he nodded, ignoring your attempt at visual contact while trying to hold back his smile. “then, do you feel better now?”

“no” denied, “but i know what can make me feel better” and after saying that, a naughty smile appeared on your face.

“what? i will buy you a lot of food from the cafeteria if that's what you want-”

his phrase got interrupted by you, who continued speaking, “do you remember… when i found that folder on your phone that had a ton of pictures of you trying to fake your muscles? how would you feel if i told your friends about it?” ni-ki’s smile disappeared instantly, now his face reflected nothing more than true terror.

in a matter of seconds, your bodies separated and you started running to the rooftop door. riki knew what you were trying to do, getting into the school, searching for his friends, and revealing his shameful secret! this can't be, but after being a bad friend things were not on his side, he tried following you the fast as he could but forgot a small detail, his friends hiding behind the gate. as soon as you got to the exit the spot where the two boys were hiding got exposed and both seemed nervous about that, but you couldn't care less.

“hi, guys! it's so nice to see you, i have something amazing to tell you!” your acting, so giggly and happy relaxed jungwon and heeseung who were scared of being scolded for spying. “did you know that riki-”

at that exact moment, the japanese covered his ears, not wanting to hear all the things you might be saying to his comrades who surely were going to make fun of him until the day he died. well, at least he can make fun of them because he got a girlfriend (even if you aren't his girlfriend yet) and they don't!

[lemoncrushh]

Fratboy Harry - Part 6

Summary: Harry Styles was a boy with a reputation, one that you couldn’t care less about. Yet one night at a frat party changed everything.

Warnings: Smut, drinking, angst, a very cocky Harry. 18+ ONLY!!

Part 6 Word Count: 1891

STORY PAGE

"Hey," Harry breathed, his chest falling.

You sucked in your lips, unable to utter a word.

"Did you just get here?" he asked. "I didn't hear you knock."

You swallowed and nodded. "Yeah, just got here."

Your voice was a bit shaky, but you prayed he didn't pick up on it. A smile slowly spread across his face, instantly melting away some of your fear.

"Come in," he said, stepping back to allow you space to enter.

Once inside, he shut the door behind you and offered you a beverage. This time you took him up on his beer offer, hoping it might help take the edge off. You knew it was none of your business, but whomever he'd been talking to on the phone had really set him off and it unnerved you.

You sat on the edge of Harry's sofa while you waited for him to return from the small kitchen. You spotted his phone on the coffee table, face up. You secretly wondered who the person was he'd spoken so harshly to, if it was male or female, and if they were a saved contact in his phone. You shook your head, cursing yourself for even caring. It didn't concern you.

Just as Harry rounded the counter of the kitchen, you heard a sound and saw his phone light up with a text in the corner of your eye. You didn't have time to read the name entirely before he handed you a beer, but you could have sworn it started with a J and ended in an ie. Jamie? Julie? Jennie?

"Oh, thanks," you muttered, accepting the bottle.

Harry walked around the coffee table and sat beside you, grabbing his phone.

"Shit," he commented under his breath, apparently perturbed about the text.

He shoved his phone in his pocket, his brows furrowed. Sipping on your beer, you decided to finally say something.

"You're angry," you said softly.

Harry rested his forearms on his knees and dropped his head with a sigh.

"Yeah," he admitted. Then he lifted his gaze. "You heard me."

You bit your bottom lip and nodded.

"Yeah...sorry."

Harry shook his head. "Don't be. I'm the one who should be sorry. I didn't mean for you to hear that."

"Someone's harassing you?" you inquired.

Harry sighed again, loudly, as he ran a hand through his hair. "You could say that."

Just then you heard the text alert again and Harry pulled his phone from his pocket.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed through gritted teeth.

"Why don't you just block their number?" you asked before thinking. Realizing you'd let the words slip, you quickly apologized. "Sorry. It's none of my business."

"It's okay," he said, though he offered no further explanation. You decided then to drop it.

You sat back on the sofa, gazing around the room. It looked a bit different in the daylight than it had at 3AM, though to be honest you hadn't spent much time in the living room. There wasn't much to it. It was a tiny room, only slightly bigger than his bedroom, and the only items it housed other than the sofa and coffee table were the television and an old recliner that looked like it had seen better days. On the far end of the room next to the kitchen area was a circular table and two chairs. The only things that adorned the walls were a framed concert poster of The Who and a poster print of Edvard Munch's The Scream. Overall it was a pretty ordinary room, typical of a university student or single guy.

"So," you sounded before turning your head towards him, "what do you feel like doing?"

When Harry didn't reply, you broke your gaze from the painting and looked at him. He was staring at you with his cocky smirk, bringing the inevitable butterflies to your stomach and making you weak in the knees.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, though you couldn't help but giggle. "I suppose that was a stupid question."

"No," he continued to grin, shifting his position on the couch. "Not stupid."

Harry now sat two inches from you, his arm spread across the back of the sofa. Slipping his hand under your ear, you felt his breath brush across your face. His green eyes literally glowed as he leaned in.

"Just wanna kiss you right now," he murmured.

You let out a tiny sound before his lips met yours, kissing you tenderly. Your limbs felt like limp noodles as you tried your best to lift your arms to wrap around his neck. Deepening the kiss with his tongue, Harry pulled you closer, his other arm encircling your waist.

"Mmm," he sounded when your lips separated. "I really like kissing you."

As a smile spread across your face, you heard Harry's phone again. He huffed out a breath, though he didn't make any effort to look at it. Pressing his forehead against yours, he slid his hand down the side of your neck to your chest, cupping your breast. Even through your clothes, his touch was electric. He devoured your lips again as his thumb grazed across your nipple, sending almost a shock to your core. It was so intense you even let out a slight moan. Harry responded by gripping your hip with his other hand, nearly pinching you.

"Wanna go to the bedroom?" he whispered against your mouth.

There was no way you could refuse. You nodded as you gazed into his eyes. Rising from the sofa, Harry held his hand out to you which you took eagerly.

Following him to the bedroom, you closed the door behind you as Harry sat on the edge of the bed. As soon as you sat beside him, he guided you back to lie against the pillows, his lips immediately finding yours again.

In that moment, you realized something. The weight of his body against yours, his mouth claiming yours with fervor, was your favorite thing and you couldn't get enough. You still knew next to nothing about this boy, but it didn't matter. Even if all that ever came from this relationship was sex, you didn't care. You wanted him. You had to have him. How ever much he was willing to give, you'd take it.

It was you that made the next move, slipping your hands underneath his shirt, raking your fingernails back down his chest and stomach. Lifting his body slightly, Harry studied your face for a second before removing his shirt. When your fingertips encountered his skin once again, he growled low, his eyelids heavy.

"Baby..." he breathed before gripping the hem of your shirt. Understanding his intention, you sat up and allowed him to slip it over your head.

As he held you against him, his fingers in your hair, he whispered, "You do something to me, love. I can't seem to get enough of you."

You blushed and bit your lip. "I was just thinking the same thing."

With a grin, Harry laid you back down kissing your throat down to the hollow between your breasts. You felt his hand slide up your thigh as his hips pressed against you. You could already feel how hard he was, even through his jeans.

His fingers found their way underneath your bra, lifting it gently. When the pads of his fingers met your bare skin, you nearly came undone. He squeezed your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, causing you to moan out loud.

Harry lifted his head with a chuckle and reached behind your back to unhook your bra. After tossing it on the floor, he brought his lips to other nipple, giving it similar treatment with his tongue.

"Oh God..." you swallowed.

"You like that baby?" he asked before switching breasts.

Unable to form words, you merely nodded. His wet tongue made you insane as you bucked your hips against his. Harry sat up then, gazing down at you as he began to unbutton his jeans. When you reached your hand out to him, he took it and pressed it against his abs, sliding it down towards his exposed underwear. Just as you reached the waistband, you heard a loud noise.

"What the fuck!" Harry exclaimed.

The noise repeated, an ear-splitting banging and you realized it was coming from the front door.

"Shit!" Harry shouted, climbing off the bed. He swung open his bedroom door with a vengeance, quickly buttoning his jeans.

You laid on the bed in terror before sitting up and reaching for your shirt and bra. You heard the banging once more, this time echoed by a screeching voice yelling out Harry's name.

A girl.

Fuck.

Harry must have reached the front door before she finished banging on it again. You heard him curse again followed by a sound that resembled someone crying.

"Harry!"

"God dammit, Jamie, I told you!"

"Please, Harry, I have to talk to you!"

"I have nothing to say to you!" he argued.

"Please!" she begged. "Please don't end it like this!"

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head. End it? He had a girlfriend? Shit!

"Just...let me in, please, so we can talk," Jamie sniffed.

"No," demanded Harry. "I told you it's over. In fact, it was never anything. We were never anything."

"Don't say that!" she cried.

Although you felt like you might hurl, you managed to rise from the bed and walk to the open doorway of the bedroom. Harry stood at the front door, his bare back blocking your view of the girl.

"It's not gonna happen, Jamie. Just leave me alone."

Harry's tone had calmed a bit, though his voice was still firm.

"Is...is there someone else?"

You saw Harry's shoulder rise and fall with a shrug.

"Maybe. But that's no concern of yours."

You heard a sob come from Jamie's throat as you caught sight of her blonde hair.

"I suggest you leave now before I call the cops," Harry added.

Jamie cried harder and you saw her head shake. She turned to leave just as Harry lowered his arm from the door frame. That was when you recognized her.

The girl from the party.

Harry closed the door, locking it with determination. Turning around, he spotted you in the doorway. His shoulders dropped apologetically, or maybe he was embarrassed. You didn't give him time to explain, however. Crossing the living room, you grabbed your keys from the coffee table where you'd left them when you'd arrived.

"Where are you going?" Harry raised his brows.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. "Seriously?"

"What? What happened?" he asked nervously.

"If I have to spell it out for, Harry, you're even more or a moron than I thought. Goodbye."

Pushing past him to the front door, you fumbled with the lock before finally opening it.

"Y/N, wait!" he begged, reaching for your arm.

"Don't touch me!" you shouted.

"She's nothing!" he exclaimed. "We weren't even dating!"

"Save it!" you held up your hand. "I don't give a shit."

With that, you stormed out the front door to your car. You just happened to see another car leaving the parking lot, and you knew it was her. Turning back, you saw Harry standing dumbfounded on the front porch. You shook your head in disgust.

You should have known.

If you enjoyed, please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[landshorizon]

(Count)Down to Dawntrail // Day One - A Realm Reborn

Shortfic under the read more to go along with the screenies! It's rated T. WoLRaha/Edraha. Eddie is one of my WoLs! Drunk first kisses for the ARR day of the countdown. I was gonna do something Not-Shippy but y'all know me, sucker for romance. Also, I wanted to Gpose them smooching, but Brio and the pose wouldn't cooperate at all so I did some minor editing and came up w/ this instead.

"Nophica's Knockers!"

Edvard laughed raucously at G'raha's poor attempt at a joke, nearly falling off the table he'd perched on somewhere between Horizon and Vesper Bay. You see, he'd drunkenly agreed to take G'raha to see some of his favourite places in between their travails for the Sons of Saint Coinach and all that entailled, and now he was having to make good on his promise with a very tipsy G'raha while not being too far away from paralletic drunk himself.

"Y'can't say that, Ed!"

G'raha swatted at Ed's arm playfully and in doing so lost his balance. He didn't quite tip into the sea off the docks, (though Eddie was keen to see him do so, just for the laughs,) but rather caught his balance on his knees with a 'ta-da' style flourish.

They fell silent a moment then, the characteristic awkward silences that fell over them when they were alone together coming on full force. Ed blushed, and cast his glance away from G'raha, who flirtily tried to catch his eye, the Miqo'te extending his hand out to touch the warm brown leather of Eddie's boot on the foot which dangled from the table.

Edvard eventually looked back at G'raha, catching his eyeline and giving a shy, small smile.

"Since I met you," G'raha hiccoughed, then continued. "Since I met you, my life has been infinitely richer for knowing you, my friend."

Eddie's blush was refusing to subside, even as he closed his eyes and giggled lightly.

"It is a pity, however, that we are both very drunk and you won't remember this tomorrow."

G'raha stood up and closed the gap between them, standing between Ed's legs with a determined look on his face. Edvard's already raised eyebrow raised further, practically shooting into his hairline as G'raha leaned in and kissed him.

Eddie made a surprised, but pleased, noise, one which caught in his chest and was embarassingly feminine in tone. G'raha's lips were rougher than he'd been expecting, he noted.

He wound his arms around Raha's shoulders and leaned up against the Miqo'te, to which G'raha replied by slipping his arms around Ed's waist and leaning hard against the table edge, still standing between Edvard's legs as he tilted his head and kissed Ed properly.

The only times Ed had been kissed, prior to G'raha kissing him, were either pecks on the cheek from his chosen family, (which obviously didn't count, since he saw them all as his siblings or parental figures,) or one occasion previous where he'd been all but forced into kissing a girl. The less said about her, the better, and Ed didn't want to colour this memory by thinking about her, so he swiftly put a stop to that train of thought and went back to just enjoying kissing G'raha.

Raha wasn't a bad kisser at all, which was another thing which surprised Eddie. Considering he was affectionatelly called a 'nerd' by Ed more often than not, and considering Raha's reputation for being acholarly, it was a pleasant surprise that he seemed to know what he was doing. Not that Ed had any frame of reference, of course.

When they broke apart, Edvard was already laughing.

"Was I that bad!?" G'raha excalimed, though he was grinning madly himself, drunkenly teetering about while he waited for Ed to reply.

"Not bad at all, Raha. Not bad at all."

[aislingsurrow]

Lalapril Day 30

Departure

"My SWEET BABY," Cecelia Surrow wailed on the docks of Aleport, announcing Aisling's departure to the whole of the seaside. "My ONLY CHILD is LEAVING ME." "Darlin', she'll just be stayin' in the city," Edvard Surrow said softly, not surprised by her outburst but trying to soothe her nonetheless. He always tried- and his success was often based not on his efforts, but Cecelia's mood. And on this morning, when Aisling was finally set to leave for Limsa Lominsa to start working with the Arcanists' and Adventurer's Guilds, Ceclia's mood was not to be turned. "She's going SO FAR AWAY," the woman bellowed, inconsolable. "Malms and MALMS away- so far I won't be able to hear her voice whenever I want, I won't be able to call for her, to see her smiling face, to have my girl with me!" "When I've made enough, I'll get us a Linkshell, Mama," Aisling assured her. She knew her mother would do this; even without Aisling's Certainty, the sureness of the future that sat in the back of her skull, Aisling knew her mother. And so she knew that even this suggestion would be taken, extrapolations made, and-- "MY PUMPKIN WILL BE DOING SUCH DAAANGEROUS WOOOOORK," Cecelia cried. "My darling dumpling will be ADVENTURING! She will be FIGHTING HOOLIGANS and PUTTING HERSELF in MORTAL PERIL! OH! I thought I was free of this HEARTACHE when her FATHER stopped his PIRACY!" "Oh Mama," Aisling said with a bashful giggle. "It won't just be hooligans. I'll fight lots of monsters, too!" Cecelia stopped- the sudden cessation of her wailing a surprise to folks milling around who had no choice but to eavesdrop. And if Cecelia were to turn her gaze upon anyone else, the intensity of her stare would melt them instantly. Thankfully, Aisling was immune. "... Monsters too." "Aye!" "... MY AAAAAANGEL WILL BE FIGHTING MOOOOONSTERS!" As Edvard patted her head, shoulders, and shushed his wife to try and calm her, Aisling only laughed. Soon, the captain would make the final call and she could climb aboard the ship bound for Limsa Lominsa. Aisling had been to the city many a time before, but this was the first time she was leaving home. It was the start of her grand, new adventure.

[davidkarofskyindie]

Brendon panted for air as he just felt Edvard shoot inside him, almost crumbling against the man and letting his body just come down from the insane high. "Remind me to let you feed on me a little more often then... that feels a little too long" he whispered, kissing his partner's neck and just rubbing his arms "You really do surprise me with how damn amazing you make me feel babe... you're incredible" he whispered, kissing his lover again and leaning in to his ear "Though... can you grab me a juice so I can get some sugar back? Pretty sure that much blood loss can't be fully replaced with cum, even though I can tell you tried" he joked, giggling a little as his large body collapsed against the man.

Edvard ran his hands into his husbands hair, gripping it and tugging it to force his head back, taking long deep gulps from him, each gulp pushing more and more of his intoxicating venom into him. He thrust slowly, groaning as he shot his load into him, licking over the wounds in his neck to heal them closed, leaving his man in a woozy euphoric state. “Mmm i haven’t fed since well before the wedding…”

[ariesjupiter]

Astro Notes 5 💫

these are just my observations!

✩ sagittarius mercuries tend to laugh or giggle a lot when they talk

✧ those with mars conjunct neptune usually have many role models and inspirations. they’re also the type of people who like or need to listen to music when studying or doing work.

✩ scorpio placements are so underrated when it comes to their artistic and creative talents. some of the most famous visual artists had major scorpio placements:

Claude Monet - sun and jupiter

Georgia O’Keeffe - rising, sun, moon, mercury, and jupiter

Edvard Munch - venus, mars, and jupiter

Pablo Picasso - sun and mercury

Rene Magritte - sun, midheaven, and jupiter

✧ those with scorpio in the 7th or pluto in the 7th might undergo major transformations in relationships and in marriage. unfortunately, their spouse may accuse them of changing after marriage and being a ‘different person’ than when they first met.

✩ people with uranus opposite north node natal aspect might have trouble making friends. also having scorpio or capricorn in the 11th might make it more challenging.

✧ having saturn in the 29th degree indicates having to learn how to become more responsible and mature. they may also have a habit of procrastinating.

✩ leo moons usually either love or hate tattoos. with those that love them, i’ve found that so many have a tattoo of either a flower or a heart (think megan fox and jungkook)

✧ major sagittarius placements and/or jupiter in the 6th house have very unique or unusual pets

Audrey Hepburn—sagittarius midheaven: had a deer

Miley Cyrus—sagittarius sun: had a pig

Mike Tyson—sagittarius moon: had a tiger

Michael Jackson—sagittarius midheaven and saturn: had a chimpanzee

Paris Hilton—sagittarius rising, uranus, and neptune: had a kinkajou

✩ so many people with capricorn in personal planets love to smoke

✧ aries venus’ are probably the least likely to have a type 🤷‍♀️ they’ll probably like you if you like them. they want someone who will admire them and give them the attention they want without feeling like they’re demanding or begging for it.

✩ this is going to be very specific but if your chart ruler is Jupiter and you have Jupiter in Aries do you completely rewrite your notes to study? i have this and it helps me visualize my notes during the test. i recently heard of someone else who does this and we have this placement in common.

[cicaklah]

WHEN YOU SEE THIS, SHARE 3 RANDOM LINES FROM 3 WIPS

Great thanks for tagging me @alienfuckeronmain!!! Also 3 bits from 3 wips because lines shlines.

1. They drink the pot of tea down to the dregs, and then Lilith takes Zillah’s cup and squints at the dregs like she’s going to tell Zillah’s fortune, so Zillah takes Lilith’s cup and then spend a few minutes giggling, making up futures for each other. Lilith predicts that Zillah will punch a tall, dark stranger, that she will have bountiful coin and those red boots that she’s seen in the window of the cobbler, and Zillah says that Lilith will shag a ghost, and its when they’re giggling about that that she hears Edvard clears his throat. (from watch me 4)

2. Steve aged a hundred years, said goodbye, gave him the shield and fucked off, wouldn't take their calls, went back to the fake life, the apple pie and nuclear family and his now dead wife like Sam was nothing, like Bucky, Bucky the man Steve had torn the world asunder for, was nothing, and Sam was left once again with pieces of a torn up life and a pot of paste, most of the components but none of the instructions, and Bucky Barnes, the star prize somehow turned participation trophy in the light of a true lady-love. (from fuckboi steve rogers)

3. Lucas just stares at him. “I need a drink,” he says to the muddy water beneath them, but he doesn’t leave. “So what, you and Diana just had this little three-day bacchanal and then decided to never talk about it again?”

47 nods.

Lucas blinks and buries his head in his hands, slicking his hair back. “And here me and Olivia thought you would be the one who wouldn’t cope with emotions. You can’t trust the English, how they ever manage to reproduce is beyond me. She looks normal, but Diana fucking Burnwood, she’s more fucked up than you are. Who would have guessed?” (from Undercover Married at Haven AU)

I omnomnominate @deputychairman, @diana-fortyseven and @apricotbones, but just do it if you wanna

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Four Times Nathan Proposed and One Time He Meant it

Hi! This is my humble contribution to @nolypats and @hockeyboysiguess campaign for Nathan MacKinnon for Hockey Boy of the Month. Please see their blogs for more info, also just because they’re amazing writers. This is my first time trying a 4+1, I thought it would be nice to put something out before the next chapter of Flatbush & Atlantic. It was genuinely so much fun writing this, so please let me know what you think!

Wine pairing: Rotari rosé. @hockeyboysiguess and I have started to pair all of our writings with their own wine, bearing in mind that neither of us knows anything about wine. It’s all about the VIBES. 

4 times Nathan proposed and 1 time he meant it

The first time (February)

Jordan knocked on the door, a glass dish balanced precariously on her hip. She and Nathan tried to have a standing date night every week, something that wasn’t grabbing lunch when they were both free or meeting for coffee before she had to head to work and he went to practice. That was, unless there was a game. Or a roadie. Or a team event. So needless to say, the two had been a little strapped for “couple time” recently, and they were both feeling it. She had an article due the next day, a co-write about the use of illegal dark money in a recently-elected congressman’s campaign. Nathan had a long practice that morning and wasn’t feeling too up to anything that would require him to move too far from his couch. 

He opened the door, giving her a quick kiss. “I pulled up a few movies I thought you might be into, but didn’t want to pick anything until you got here.”

“You’re so considerate, I think I’m going to swoon,” Jordan said.

Nathan shrugged. “I’ll catch you if you fall.” Deep down, he really was a romantic, though the boys would chirp him endlessly if they knew. 

Jordan padded into the kitchen, setting the dish onto the counter and opening up the cabinet right above the toaster oven, grabbing two plates. Even apart from date night, it wasn’t uncommon for them to eat in; partly due to the fact that there were few things in this world Nathan loved more than being able to fly under the radar, something that was a little bit difficult to do when you wore the A for the Colorado Avalanche, but partly because in his own way, it was letting Jordan into his life. “What movies were you looking at?”

“Depends what you’re feeling,” Nathan replied. “We’ve got...Star Wars, Captain Marvel, and 10 Things I Hate About You.”

Her ears perked up. “The one with Heath Ledger?”

“That’s the one. Sound good to you?” 

Jordan had always had a penchant for movies of the late-90s and early 2000s, especially if they were romcoms, and especially if said romcoms starred Julia Stiles. As a little girl, there was definitely more than once where she had herself entirely convinced that her life would turn out exactly like The Prince and Me. Minus, of course, the fact that the beginning of Paige and Edvard’s entire relationship was built on lies. Mainly, she was just really into crowns and big poofy dresses as a little girl. “Sounds good to me!” She said brightly. “You want a brownie?”

Nate craned his neck to look at her in the kitchen, looking expectantly at him with one hand holding a spatula. “You made brownies?”

Jordan giggled. “I did. I take it that’s a yes?”

“That’s a definitely, please, my God give me one right this second or I might combust.” She slid the plate onto the side table a minute later, grabbing two napkins. “Are these normal brownies?” Nathan asked, picking one up and inspecting it with a semi-confused look on his face. 

“They’re triple-layer, it’s an old recipe for slutty brownies from when I was in college. Bottom’s cookie dough, then Oreos, then fudge brownie on top of that.”

Nate raised an eyebrow. “Slutty brownies?”

Jordan swatted at his shoulder. “I know it’s a weird name, just give them a chance. I know you’ve been feeling a little down with the losing streak, and thought you could use a pick-me-up. They were my go-to for breakups, always seemed to help the girls feel better, so I thought it might work for you too.”

He wouldn’t admit it, but Nathan’s heart skipped a beat with Jordan’s words. “Guess I’ll have to see,” he said, taking a bite out the corner. His face melted. “This is...literally the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Seriously, it’s so good. So good. Oh my God, marry me.”

Jordan flushed, turning to take a sip of water so he wouldn’t see. “I’m glad you like them.”

The second time (May)

It was 11:38 on a Friday night, and Jordan and Nathan were at a bar. To be precise, Jordan, Nathan, and pretty much the whole team were at a bar, plus what seemed like the entire population of Denver. Springtime meant playoff season for the NHL, and winning a series meant going out. Jordan normally had to pass whenever the team decided to hit up a bar or club after a win; as much as she would have liked to go, she was a journalist who kept a 9-5 job, which meant that she had to at least get some modicum of sleep if she was going to be able to function in the newsroom without an injection of caffeine straight into her veins. But it was the weekend, and she’d be damned if she was going to miss out on this. 

For the most part, the fans weren’t making a fuss; there was the occasional picture taken or pat on the back for winning the conference semifinals for the first time in twenty years, but nothing out of hand. Sipping her Dark & Stormy, she looked fondly over at Nate, who was having what looked to be a very animated conversation with Burky. Already two and a half drinks in, Nathan was starting to act a little tipsy; while he was normally more reserved about public displays of affection, he kissed Jordan more than one as the night went on. Not like she was complaining. Picking up a refill from the bar, she scooted back into the booth next to Nate. He planted a messy kiss on her cheek. “Where’d you go, Jo?”

Jordan rolled her eyes. “Unlike some of us, I can’t just snap my fingers and have alcohol appear at will. I had to actually go to the bar for another drink,” she teased. 

Nathan threw his head back laughing. “‘S’pose you’ve got a point there, babe.” He slung one arm over her shoulders. Jordan unconsciously leaned into his touch. “What’d you think of the game?” She wasn’t able to make it to every game, but was lucky that she could get down to the Pepsi Center more often than not. The Avalanche had beaten the Flames in 6, after dropping the first two games in Calgary and being pegged as another likely sweep, they had come back to win the next four and the series. 

“Just trying to stroke your own ego, eh, MacKinnon?”

“Picking up some Canadian slang, eh, Murphy?”

She tilted her head. “Maybe, maybe not. But the game was amazing. You know that. You did amazing, Nate.” In the 3-1 win, Nathan had scored two points, an assist and an absolute beauty of a power-play goal that just barely squeaked into the top left corner above Rittich’s shoulder. 

“Sure, maybe I do know,” Nathan admitted, “but it’s one thing hearing it from fans and the media and even my teammates. It’s another hearing it from you.” Jordan loved Nathan, but he wasn’t always the best at expressing his feelings out loud. She was the first one to say “I love you, to introduce him to her parents, to take just about any step forward in their relationship. It was something he was getting better at, slowly but surely, and it meant the world to Jordan that he was trying so hard. Maybe it was the liquor, or the atmosphere, or the excitement of the night, but it meant just as much to her to hear it as it probably did for him to say it. 

Half an hour and several drinks later, the last few people left were trickling out. Most had carpooled to the bar, leaving their cars back at the arena to get the next day. Jordan would have ordered Nate an Uber and then just hitched a ride with someone else back towards her apartment west of downtown, but Nate was pretty far gone. And he was a cute drunk, all things considered, but she was on her way to sobering up and felt an obligation to at least get him in bed safe. Their car pulled up, Nathan clumsily ducking in ahead of her as she shut the door behind him, buckling first his seat belt then her own. They walked through his front door fifteen minutes later, Jordan dropping him off in his bedroom to get undressed before grabbing a glass of water and a bottle of Advil. Nathan was in his boxers when she walked in, struggling to pull a t-shirt over his head. Jordan laughed, walking to his side of the bed before gently tugging it, handing him the water and two Advil. “If you take it now, it’ll help with the hangover later.” Kissing his forehead gently, she turned to leave.

“Where are you going, Jo?”

She stopped at the door. “Home?”

“I want you to stay.” 

She sighed gently, smiling at him. “Okay, I’ll spend the night.” 

“No,” Nathan interrupted, grabbing her wrist lightly as she turned to grab one of his old World Cup shirts to sleep in. “Forever. I want you to stay forever.”

The third time (August)

It was the middle of August, and Jordan and Nathan were in Canada. He had invited her earlier in the summer to visit for a few weeks, and as soon as she got the time off approved, she booked her flight. Getting to Springhill wasn’t the easiest — she flew to Toronto, had a layover, flew to Halifax, then got picked up by Nate for the two hour drive to his hometown. He had flown out in June, about a month after the Avs lost to the Kings in the conference finals, so the couple hadn’t seen each other in nearly two months. Jordan wasn’t about to complain about a few more hours. His parents had been so generous letting her stay for two weeks, and hadn’t batted an eye when Nathan had moved her into his old room. “Just don’t wake us up,” his mom had said, causing Nathan’s cheeks to turn scarlet. 

Jordan had met them a few times before; they had flown out for the All-Star game the previous January and had gotten together during the team Moms’ and Dads’ trips. And if she was around when Nathan was FaceTiming them, she always popped in for a few minutes to say hi. But she still hadn’t quite expected the ceaseless hospitality she had been offered over the past week. Maybe Canadians really were just that nice. 

Halfway through Jordan’s trip, they decided to throw a barbeque. And by they, that meant it was Nate’s idea and he roped them all into helping. Jordan had already been introduced to a few of his old friends, they had gone out for drinks to the one bar in town on her second night, but she was excited to meet everyone else. His dad Graham was keeping an eye on the grill, Nathan had filled the cooler with drinks, and Jordan was helping his mom carry out the fruit bowl and salad to the backyard. Nathan ran up to his room to change right as people started trickling in, and came back to a yard full of family and friends. He craned his neck, trying to figure out where Jordan had wandered off too, before his sister pointed to where she sat with a few of his cousins. 

Nathan opened his mouth, about to ask her something, when Jordan quietly brought a finger up to her lips. “She’s sleeping,” she whispered, gesturing to her arms, where a tiny baby was nestled, eyes firmly shut. 

He remembered that his cousin Rachel had had a baby not too long ago, but didn’t realize she’d be old enough to travel yet. “Is this Natalie?” he asked quietly, sitting in the chair next to Jordan. Rachel nodded. For a few moments, Nathan was lost in the scene, lost in how damn perfect Jordan looked with a baby in her arms. They had spoken about those sorts of things — future things — enough to know that marriage and kids were something they both wanted, but this was the first time it had hit him, like really hit him, that that could be them down the line. Over by the fire pit, his mom watched, a soft smile on her face.

Nathan stood in the kitchen with his mom a few hours later, drying off dishes from the party. Handing a plate to him, Kathy shot a curious glance at her son, as if a thought had just popped into her mind that hadn’t been there before. Nate looked back at her, confused. “What is it, mom?

Kathy nodded out the window, where Jordan was laughing at a joke his dad had just made, balancing the last round of dirty plates to bring in on her arm. “When are you going to put a ring on it, Nathan?

Nathan wasn’t particularly prone to blushing, but he had been doing a lot of it lately. “I—uh—” His mom rested a hand on his shoulder with a knowing smile. “Okay, I’ll admit that I’ve been thinking about it.”

Kathy was beaming. “I knew it. When?”

“When am I going to propose?” She nodded. He shrugged. “I don’t know when it’s going to happen, Mom, but it’s going to. I’m going to marry that girl.”

The fourth time (November)

Jordan grimaced, breathing in sharply as she braced her elbows on her desk. Elisa, her friend who worked in the cubicle beside her, looked over, a concerned expression on her face. “You good, hun?” 

Jordan nodded mechanically, opening a drawer and pulling out a bottle of ibuprofen, swallowing three with a gulp of water. “Yeah, I should be fine. I should be starting my period in the next day or two, so I’m pretty sure it’s just cramps.”

“Are they usually this bad though?” Elisa had always been a worrier.

She shook her head. “No, not since I went on birth control a few years ago, but who knows. The ibuprofen will help, and it’s probably normal anyways. I’m sure it’ll go away.”

It didn’t go away. Two hours later, when Elisa was finishing up the last paragraph of her analysis of the Broncos’ new coaching hire, Jordan suddenly shot up from her desk, running at breakneck speed towards the women’s bathroom with a queasy look on her face. Elisa followed, bursting through the door to the unmistakable sharpness of vomit. She knelt down next to Jordan, pulling her hair back with the spare scrunchie she kept on her wrist. “Jordan? Are you okay?”

Jordan shook her head. “I feel awful, El.”

Eliss touched the back of her hand to Jordan’s forehead. “You’re warm. Have the cramps gotten better.”

“Worse,” Jordan admitted, wiping at the beads of sweat that had started to accumulate on her forehead. 

Elisa pulled out her phone from her back pocket. “I’m calling an ambulance. I don’t think this is cramps, Jo.” 

Jordan didn’t have the strength to argue, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to anyways. The ambulance arrived ten minutes later, carting Jordan off to Denver Health Medical Center. “Any chance you could be pregnant?” one EMT asked. 

“I could be, but I shouldn’t. I’m on birth control and my boyfriend always uses protection,” Jordan said weakly. The EMT made a scribble on her paper. She barely registered pulling into the hospital, nurses pulling her into the ER, or a doctor wheeling in an ultrasound machine. She was conscious enough to recite her name, date of birth, and insurance number before being taken into the operating room, and then a mask was placed over her nose and her world went dark.

The first thing Jordan did when she woke up was check the clock in her room. It was 3; from what little she remembered, she had been taken to the hospital sometime a little after noon. “Oh, thank God,” she heard from her left side. She recognized that voice. It was Nathan’s voice. He grabbed her hand — the one that didn’t have an IV drip in it — and kissed it quickly, smoothing back the pieces of her hair that had come out of the hair tie. “Elisa called during practice, and she told me what happened, but she didn’t even know what happened, and then I left and drove over here, but then—”

Jordan laughed softly, feeling a dull pain in her lower abdomen. “It’s fine, Nate, I’m fine. What happened, anyways? I don’t remember anything after I went into surgery, I have no idea what it was even for.”

“You had appendicitis, your appendix was about two seconds away from bursting.”

Jordan let out a low whistle. “Glad that didn’t happen. Hey,” she added as an afterthought, “I thought visiting hours here didn’t start until 4?” Jordan had visited a college friend of hers who had had a baby a few weeks prior, and could have sworn that she wasn’t let in until later. 

Nate smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, they do. I couldn’t even figure out what room you were in at first. They wouldn’t tell me anything, so I told them I was your fiancé.”

“Oh, did you now?”

Nathan rubbed his thumb over her finger. Her ring finger. “I mean, it’s pretty much true. All I’ve got left to do now is ask you.”

“And get the ring,” Jordan added. 

“Nope.”

+1 (January) 

Family skates had quickly grown to be one of Jordan’s favorite parts of the season. She had loved the first one, but had felt just a tiny bit out of place; her and Nathan had only been dating for a little over six months, and it seemed like almost everyone else had known each other for years. But she’d forged some amazing friendships with other WAGs over the past year, trading babysitting duties for pies and meeting to watch the game while the boys were on a road trip, sharing new Spotify playlists and learning how to support each other along the way. The team had become her second family, even though her parents only lived an hour and a half away. 

Jordan had been a competitive figure skater throughout high school and into college, so she was no stranger to the ice. She obviously couldn’t get out nearly as often as she had before, but her skates still fit and she could still land a triple salchow after warming up. She and Nate had been skating around for an hour or so, taking a break after some “friendly competition” where Josty had made the mistake of challenging Jordan to a race around the rink. She beat him by two seconds. 

Jordan unscrewed the top of her water bottle, taking a few grateful sips before putting it back in her bag. “Babe!” Nate called from a few rows away, where some of the younger kids were gathered next to what looked like pastels. “Want to face paint?” 

She smiled, raising her eyes playfully as she popped on her blade guards and walked over towards the bench. “You sure about that one, MacKinnon? I’m not much of an artist.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “It’s okay, I bet you’ll be great!” He was so sweet for believing in her. 

“Alright,” Jordan said, straddling the bench and picking up the box. “What would his highness like for the design? Bear in mind you’re working with a beginner here.”

“Butterfly!” He chirped excitedly. “There’s been a whole bird and insect theme going on here,” he pointed at the kids’ cheeks, covered in bees, ladybugs, and one demonic-looking...crow? Was it a crow? Did they even get crows at this time of year? “and I wouldn’t want to break the trend.”

“We couldn’t have that,” Jordan agreed. Ten minutes later Nathan had a very blue, barely-acceptable-looking butterfly on his right cheek, but he was beaming like the sun as soon as he pulled up his camera to look at it. “I love it, Jo. Thank you,” Nate said, giving her a quick kiss. 

Activities wrapped up not too long after, and Jordan and Nathan walked out of the rink hand-in-hand towards his car. They had moved in together two months earlier, and Jordan had been more than happy to move out of her tiny studio into Nate’s giant apartment, where you could see the Rockies from the rooftop on clear days. Plus, his building allowed dogs. As Nathan drove home, one hand on the steering wheel and the other tangled with hers by the center console, Jordan looked over at him, with the little blue butterfly on his cheek, and she suddenly felt so unbelievably happy. So unbelievably full. It went without saying that she loved Nate. She loved him like she had never loved anyone before, and never would again. 

At the same time, Nate’s heart was beating faster than it ever had in his life. He wasn’t scared, he wasn’t surprised, but he had just realized something. He already knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Jordan. Nathan had realized that months ago. And he hadn’t been lying at the hospital, he had already bought the ring. But Nathan wanted everything to be perfect when he proposed; it couldn’t be rainy outside, because what if she wanted pictures? It couldn’t be too soon after her older brother’s wedding, because then she might think that was the reason why. It couldn’t be in the summer, because then he’d go back to Nova Scotia for the summer and his mom might scalp him for leaving his fiancée in another country. But, Nathan realized as they pulled into the underground lot, there never was going to be a perfect time. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wanted to be Jordan’s husband. There shouldn’t be anything stopping him. There wasn’t anything stopping him. 

“I’m going to run to the bathroom,” Nate said as Jordan slipped off her shoes. She nodded. Nathan went up the stairs, but past the bathroom. He walked into their bedroom, into his closet, to the shoebox that had his old atom league medals. He grabbed the velvet box, opening it and taking one last look before taking a deep breath and putting it in his pocket. 

“You want to watch SVU reruns?” Jordan asked as he ambled back into the living room. 

His mouth opened and closed like a fish. “Uh—can I say something?”

Jordan looked over. “Yeah, go ahead? We can totally watch something else if you’re not feeling Law & Order, I think I saw Chopped on the Food Network, or Jurassic Park is halfway through…” She trailed off. 

Nathan shoved his hands in his pockets, turning the ring box over and over. He bit his lip. “You know how much you mean to me, right?” Jordan nodded slowly. “When I met you, I wasn’t looking for anything. I had just had my heart broken by someone who I thought would be my forever, but then you came into my life and suddenly...suddenly, it all made sense. I thought I knew love, I thought I knew what it was to be in love, but I didn’t, really. Not until you. You bring me down to earth, Jordan, when I’m too far in my head. I know you’re on my team even when we’re losing, even when it seems like nothing in my life is going right I know you’ll always be there to pick me up when I fall. And I don’t ever want to take that for granted. You challenge me in the best way, you always push me to be a better partner, a better teammate, and a better man. I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for you.” Jordan was tearing up, starting to figure out where his whole speech was going and hoping beyond hope that she was right.

“I know I’m not always physically here, but I promise to always be there for you, Jordan. I’ll hold you when you’re crying, I’ll buy your favorite chips when we’re out, I’ll pay the utility bills because I know you’re terrible with remembering dates. It was eight months in when I realized you were the one.” Nathan bent down on one knee. One of Jordan’s hands was over her mouth, the remote having long since been abandoned on the couch. “I can’t wait to see where we go, Jordan. I can’t wait to get a nice house with a big backyard, go down to the animal shelter saying we’re only going to adopt one dog but come back with three. I can’t wait for the day you tell me you’re pregnant, and we get to hold our child for the first time and I get to see you be a mother. I can’t wait for us to start our lives together. I can’t wait for you to be Jordan MacKinnon.” He opened up the ring box. “Will you marry me?”

Jordan fell on her knees, hands on both sides of Nathan’s face. “Yes.”

[tres-spades-hotel]

Becoming the Perfect Father: Making Time for You

Thanks to @leoamber66 @flatsuke and @otomemonogatari for having our conversation about Eisuke and families within the Bidder Universe. Apparently this is a famous blog so I thought I should try not to disappoint! Hope you all enjoy it!

We moved to New York recently and I met my new tutor. I kicked up a fuss when Daddy said I had to go to school so he hired an elderly woman to tutor me and a few other children from rich families for a while as I get comfortable with the city. But every time I come home, this happens…

I open the penthouse door, feeling the weight of my backpack on my back. Daddy and all my uncles are inside.

“Daddy! I’m home!” I squeal out happily. I ran to my adoptive father, Eisuke Ichinomiya, and kissed him lightly on his cheek.

“Hm, how was your day?” He asks.

“It was good!” I respond. Uncle Baba and Uncle Ota wave at me with exasperated looks while standing by the windows.

“Hello?! What about us?” Uncle Baba asks with a frown on his face. I giggle and run over to them, hugging them each.

“Hello to both of you!” I say.

“At least acknowledge our presence. We matter too!” Uncle Baba says dramatically.

I laugh and look around. Everyone rolls their eyes and shakes their heads. I run over to Dad, putting my backpack down by the couch, and tug on his sleeve.

“Daddy, will you play with me now?” I ask hopefully. To my disappointment, Dad says:

“I’m busy.” And promptly returns his eyes to his tablet. This happens almost all the time whenever I want to spend time with my father. The man who saved me from the streets. So I decide to do what any kid would do. Get revenge.

The next day…

“I’m home!” I skip into the penthouse as usual and see the usual faces. Like every day, I greet everyone starting with Dad, then put my bag down. But instead of asking Daddy if he would play with me, I walk over to Uncle Soryu. He looks up from his phone as I approach him.

“Uncle Soryu! Could you help me read some books my tutor gave me? They’re really hard and I need help.” I ask. I once found Uncle Soryu’s book collection and spent the whole day reading with him so, whenever I need help learning to read harder books for homework, he helps me as much as he can.

He smiles softly at me. “Of course Kiki. Let’s go to my room, it’ll be quieter in there.”

“Yay!” I take his hand when he stands up and pick up my backpack. As I pass by Dad, I see an annoyed face in the corner of my eye. And I know that Dad is watching us leave.

When we got into Uncle Sor’s room, I take out the books I was given by Mrs Sands.

“Too bad they’re not detective stories, I would have aced them no problem!” I say, pouting slightly as Uncle Soryu opens the book to the first page.

“Hm, too bad indeed. Still, the detective genre in itself is a hard-fictional topic to read so I think you’re already well on your way to becoming a reading star.” He says, patting my head.

“Thanks Sor!”

The next day…

I was given homework to learn about famous artists in history. Luckily enough for me, I have an uncle who is a famous artist.

“Uncle Ota!” I shout as I run into Uncle Ota’s suite. I find him and Uncle Baba sitting on the couch in the living room, looking bored as usual.

“What?”

“I have homework that I need help with.” I say.

“I think you came to the wrong person for that.” Uncle Baba says as he frowns and Uncle Ota narrows his eyes in response.

“Excuse me? I can help Kiki with her homework.”

“It’s my art homework.”

“See? I’m the expert in art.”

“I could help you Kiki. I know a few things about art.”

“Stealing paintings isn’t the same as knowing art Baba.” Uncle Ota mutters something under his breath.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing! What’s the homework on?” Uncle Ota says, flashing me his signature smile even though I know it’s a devil in angel attire.

“I need to research 5 famous artists in history. I figured you would know about that kind of thing.” I say, sitting in between them on the soft couch.

“I know a few. Which one do you want to learn?”

“Which one will get me praise from my tutor?”

Later that night, I’m sitting in my room writing up the information Uncle Ota told me.

“So Edvard Munch painted the Scream which is the second most famous painting after the Mona Lisa by Leonardo da Vinci…” I mutter to myself. Suddenly, Dad walks into my room and I look up.

“Hi Dad!”

“Hm, what are you doing?” He sits on my bed and I turn towards him from my desk.

“I’m doing my art homework.”

“Why did you have Ota help you with your homework? I would have helped you.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Because you would have said you were busy.” I respond in the same matter-of-fact tone. He narrows his eyes before chuckling.

“I would have helped.”

“Sure you would have Dad.” I turn back around to my homework and roll my eyes. Once I hear his light footsteps and the closing of my bedroom door, I sigh.

I knew this would happen eventually since it was my plan to spend time with everyone except for Dad. This would make him feel bad about not spending time with me and in turn, make him spend more time with me when I ask.

The next day…

I come home to find Dad on the phone to someone.

“No, put pressure on them to do this…” Dad glances at me and I wave at him. He continues with his conversation so I decide to go over to Uncle Shuichi, who is reading a newspaper.

I sit next to him and whisper, “Are you busy Uncle Shu?”

He folds his newspaper away.

“Not particularly. Why?” He responds. “Well, some of my friends were teasing me yesterday because I don’t know how to play chess.”

“I suppose you would like me to teach you?” I nod a yes and he picks up his newspaper.

“Alright, let’s go to my room. I have a chess set in there.” I smile and follow Uncle Shuichi out of the penthouse, feeling Dad’s eyes on my back as I leave the room.

“So, the bishop cannot move forward or back directly. They can only move diagonally?” I ask, looking over the chess board as Uncle Shuichi plays a match with Uncle Hikaru.

“Yes, the bishop has to move diagonally and can replace any other piece that is in its way.”

“Chess becomes easier when you understand and play it enough Kiki.” Uncle Hikaru says, moving his pawn forward.

“I see…” I mutter to myself while taking a mental note of the basics. Suddenly, Dad walks into the room.

“Kiki, let’s go.”

“Why? Where?” He takes my hand and pulls me out of the room. I hear Uncle Shuichi whisper, “That possessive….” before the door shut.

“What were you doing with them?” Dad demanded.

“We were playing chess. Why?”

“You could have asked me to teach you to play chess.”

“But you were on the phone to someone. And you were busy.” He frowns in response and I skip ahead into the penthouse lounge.

The next day…

I walk slowly down the stairs from Dad’s penthouse suite, carrying some textbooks on biology, and hear Dad talking sternly to Uncle Luke.  

“Luke? Are you listening to me? You have some surgeries to do next week and…” Dad continues to talk but Uncle Luke, like always, ignores Dad as if he isn’t there and carries on reading his medical book. I take the opportunity to tap Uncle Luke lightly on his shoulder.

“Uncle Luke?” I ask and he looks up from his book.

“Yes Kiki?”

“I was hoping you could teach me some stuff about the human body? My tutor taught me some things but I want to learn it in more detail since it sounded interesting to me.”

In response, Uncle Luke smiles at me.

“Of course. Let’s go to my clinic.”

“Why does Luke only listen to Kiki? He ignores us all the time but as soon as she starts talking to him, he starts listening to her.” Uncle Ota complains. Everyone sighs as Uncle Luke takes my hand and as we leave the penthouse, I swing our arms.

“The human body is quite extraordinary. There are 300 bones in the human body from birth.”

“Really?! That’s a lot!” I exclaim to him. I’m sitting on the bed in the clinic as Uncle Luke points to various places on the fake (?) skeleton.

“Once the body has reached adulthood at the age of 25, we are left with 206 bones.”

“How 206 from 300?” I ask.

“Because some bones fuse together during the development years. But make sure you remember that 206 is not the total. There are many other bones in the human body which are not counted.”

“So we have more than 206 bones technically?”

“Yes. Give or take.”

“Wow!”

“Yes, the human body is very fascinating.”

“Hey doc I need some help.” Suddenly, Uncle Mamoru walks in with blood on his arm.

“Mamoru? What happened? Sit down.” Uncle Mamoru sits next to me holding his arm.

“Hey kid.”

“Hello, what happened? Why are you bleeding?” I ask.

“Ah it’s complicated kid.” Uncle Luke comes over with some bandages.

“I was doing some work for Eisuke and he tried legging it. I caught him but he was swinging a knife around. I was lucky not to get stabbed that hard.” Uncle Mamoru explains.

“I see, well it’s not a deep cut so it will heal soon.”

“Thanks doc. And kid, what are you doing here?”

“I’m learning science.”

“Science makes my head hurt.” He says, rubbing his eye.

“Pfft, you know, it’s funny to see you talk about work Uncle Mamo when you sleep so much!” Luke and I giggle and he huffs in response.

The next day…

Grandpa Eiji came to visit us while I was in my lessons. So when I opened the door to see him with Dad and the others, I was visibly shocked. Dad turned his head to see me and he laughed.

“What a funny face.” I pout in response but run inside anyway, leaving my bag at the door.

“Grandpa!” I scream and run right into his outstretched arms.

“Haha, hello there Kiki! How are you?” He asks, kissing my forehead.

“I’m okay! I just finished learning about electricity!”

“Oh really? And what exactly did you learn?”

“That it doesn’t take much to make a lightbulb work.”

“Haha! It took quite a lot to make it work when it was being invented Kiki. But that’s for another time, come sit.”

I noticed Dad was looking as sour as a lemon so I kissed his cheek like I always do.

“Turn that frown upside down!” I say and he pinches my cheeks in response.

“Stwap ift Ded!” I tried to say. Suddenly, a video call request popped up onto Dad’s tablet screen and he promptly removed his thin fingers from my face. I rub my cheeks, pouting as I know what’s going to happen next.

“Hm, I’ll be back soon.” Dad says and goes into his office, shutting the door.

“Is your father always like this?” Grandpa Eiji asks. I nod and I crawl onto his lap.

“Every time I want to play with Daddy, all he does is say that he’s working.”

He was quiet for a moment before speaking. “When I was a little older than your father, I always put down my work for him whenever he wanted to play or my wife, his mother, needed some time to herself. There was never a point that I said my work was more important than him or our family. Remember Kiki, family is the most important thing to anyone. So always treasure the time you have.”

“How can I do that if Dad won’t even play with me?” He only sighed. “Do you remember when we first met?”

“In the restaurant? Yes. I was very nervous to meet you that I stayed around the corner of the wall even when Dad told me to come out.”

“It wasn’t that long ago was it?”

“Nope! But now I love you very much!” I said, getting up and hugging him with all my might.

He laughed and asked, “May I ask, why were you so nervous that day?”

I looked down onto my lap and fiddled with my fingers. I mumbled, “I was afraid you wouldn’t like me.”

“Why?”

“Because Dad adopted me. Because I’m not actually his daughter. And that you would say I’m not worthy to be his daughter. And I love being his daughter! I take a lot of pride in being his daughter!”

“You have every right to be proud of being Eisuke’s child. I have never and will never say or think such things. You know Eisuke is adopted to?”

“Yes, to Grandpa Akira.”

“Akira raised Eisuke while I was… away but that doesn’t mean I’m upset that he did that in place of me. In the same way, I am not upset that Eisuke is raising you in place your parents. In fact, I am very proud that he is doing it, like Akira did for him.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now…’ Grandpa Eiji boops my nose and says, ‘Let me tell you some stories from when Eisuke was a kid...”

A few hours later…

When I come downstairs in the afternoon, there is no one to be found. I sit on the couch and think about the past week. I know Dad is annoyed with how much time I’m spending with everyone. But this is payback for his constant refusal to play or hang out with me. Suddenly, someone walks into the lounge.

“Hi, I’m here to clean the room….” She walks in with her maid trolley and I jump off the couch.

“Mummy!” I run over to her and hug her tightly.

“Hello hon, where is everyone?” I shrug my shoulders.

“I don’t know, I just came down for a break from my homework. Grandpa Eiji went off for some work or something.”

“I see, well I suppose I should start cleaning. This is probably the only time I’ll have to some peace and quiet! Do you want anything?” She asked, smiling down at me.

“Some apple juice please!” I say and sit back down on the couch. Mum walks over with juice and some snacks.

“Thank you!” I say happily. She kisses my head and starts to clean the room. Mama isn’t really my mum yet. She’s still engaged to Dad but I already consider her my mother. We talk about lots of things, including talk about Dad.

“You know sweetheart, your Dad is quite upset since you’ve been ‘distancing’ yourself from him.” Mum uses the bunny rabbit fingers and I giggle.

“It’s not my fault Daddy doesn’t make time for me.” I pout in response. She gives me a look and I just shrug in response.

“Are you going shopping later Mum?” I ask, wiping my face of crumbs.

“Yes sweetie. I have to buy some coffee beans plus some vegetables for dinner tonight. Why?”

“Can I come with you? I haven’t left the hotel in forever!” I exaggerate, opening my arms as if the length of my hands apart shows time. Mama giggles at me.

“Well… as long as you’ve finished your homework…” She decides.

“Sure! I’m almost done anyway.”

Later, Mum picks me up and we go to the nearest supermarket. When we leave, laughing about something that Uncle Baba and Uncle Ota did to Uncle Sor, we see a limo parked by the kerb.

“There you both are. What took you so long?” Dad emerges from the car and I run to him.

“Daddy!” I hug him tightly.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to pick you both up. Who knows what would happen if I continue to leave you both on your own?” I huff in response and he lightly pushes me into the car.

While we’re on our way home, I look out the window. All the buildings, people, trees and cars passing by in a flash, sort of like the superhero. Everything went by in a blink of an eye. It felt like a few seconds went by rather than a few minutes.

As Mama and Grandpa Eiji were in the kitchen, Dad pulled me onto his lap.

“You’ve been spending far too much time with the others. When will I get my share of time with you?” He asked.

“Well….” I hesitated for a moment before saying, “Will you say that you’re too busy?”

“No.”

“No?!” I quickly turned my head, nearly headbutting Dad on his chin.

“I’ve finished all my work for a few weeks. I’ll spend all the time you want with you, Kiki.”

“Really? For real?”

“Yes. For real.”

I jumped up into his arms and hugged Dad to my hearts content. Unknown to me, Mama and Grandpa Eiji were smiling at us from the kitchen. Sometimes, just sometimes, it’s worth waiting for something special.

[hmel78]

In conversation with Doogie White ...

Circa 1994, when it was announced that guitarist Ritchie Blackmore was reforming Rainbow, rumours flooded the music community regarding who might feature in the line-up, but ultimately it was a collective of relative unknowns who made it onto the new record, and the tour bus ...

The album, “Stranger In Us All”, was issued under the name “Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow” in August 1995, and features Paul Morris on keyboards, Greg Smith on bass, John O’Reilly on drums, Blackmore’s Night’s Candice Night on background vocals, and fronted by Doogie White, the singer was an inspired choice; a huge fan of Ritchie’s career in both Purple and Rainbow, the singer formed a strong writing partnership with the guitarist. The album includes a reworking of The Yardbirds’ ‘Still I’m Sad’, which had been recorded for Rainbow’s debut, 20 years earlier ; Ritchie’s classical flights of fancy are truly achieved on his arrangement of Edvard Grieg’s ‘Hall Of The Mountain King’, and tracks such as ‘Wolf To the Moon’, ‘Hunting Humans (Insatiable)’ and ‘Ariel’ proved themselves to be worthy additions to the Rainbow catalogue. When it came to playing live, songs from both Rainbow and Purple were revisited, and fans are lucky enough - on the re-issue of “Stranger In Us All” -  to be presented with a unique live recording from a 1995 Swedish concert, of ‘The Temple Of The King’ - it also features a radio edit of the single ‘Ariel’, plus the song ‘Emotional Crime’ that has previously only been released in Japan.

Accompanying the extensive liner notes is a personal account from singer Doogie White, plus plenty of artwork and memorabilia from Doogie’s own Rainbow collection.

Doogie White has had a pretty extensive career as a singer / songwriter since his days with Rainbow - We caught up with him whilst on a train to Mannheim to find out more ...

HR : Having been a fan of Rainbow prior to joining them in 1994, how did it feel to suddenly have such a prominent role in the band?

Doogie White : It was a huge moment for me in every way.   There I was, a cheeky upstart who had long admired all that Ritchie did, being personally asked by him to come to America and join his band. He knew nothing about me and I thought I knew all about him. We hit it off straight away from the first notes we played together. We played old Purple and Rainbow songs and some bar band standards and jammed a few ideas just for him to see what I could do on the improvisation front.

I was only supposed to be there 4 days but he asked me to stay for a week. We discussed what kind of album we wanted to make. We played football. He did some magic tricks and we jammed for hours.

We had a good and healthy working relationship and a fine friendship. I knew my place and was happy to be part of his new adventure. He shared his hopes and fears. He trusted me.

I think we made a fine album with some good songs and a couple of real Rainbow classics. There were a couple we compromised on and we did have better ideas but we never finished them so that they could not be released as “bonus” tracks at a later date. I know how much he hated the re released Purple stuff with alternate takes.

I have hours of material but it’s in the Loft ...

HR : Despite the sudden nature of the break-up in 1997, was the overall experience of those 3 years a positive one?

DW : Yes!  Even at the very end when I decided it was here and no further,  it was all good and positive. It was sad of course as I felt there was more work to do and I had given him a tape with 6 song ideas for the next album. Some ended up on Cornerstone’s HUMAN STAIN and another on a TANK album. I treated my time in Rainbow like Ali treated the Heavyweight Crown.   It was the wrong time for the kind of music we were doing but we did it anyway.

Despite what Ritchie says, or in most cases does not say, we got on well until we did not.  His choice not mine. HR : To me it has always seemed strange that it literally ended over night - like a political coup d’etat! - Especially as You seemed to fit Ritchies criteria perfectly ; with what you contributed as both performer and writer. There are many citations which suggest that through Your input, there was a wider range of material that could be performed live, and also Ritchie stated [at the time] that Stranger In Us All was the best thing he had recorded to date - does  that reflect how You felt whilst working with him and Rainbow?  

DW : I don’t think Stranger In Us All is the best thing he did. I don’t even think it’s the best thing I have done. That’s just him promoting the album. It has its place and that is for others to judge. It was a good album though!

I just followed his lead. If he wanted to go off and jam some blues of folk or silly songs I was there as were the rest of the band (Greg Smith, John O’Reilly or Chuck Burgi, Paul Morris, and others) to back him up. He knew that we knew what was required, and also knew what I could bring to the party - he exploited that to the max some nights! He has said he does not like fun and that music is a serious business, but for anyone who saw that ‘95 tour you know that there was some serious music and some serious fun on stage! We were enjoying each other and pushing each other. He’s quite talented like that.

Then others got his ear and were feeding him negative stuff, whispering’s, designed to disrupt him, for his ears only and that was unhelpful - but it suited their agenda and just made him more suspicious, which he had never been with me before.

No one in the band was doing anything other than enjoying being in the band and RAWKin on stage every night. There were no egos just a happy band doing the best they could every night,  and those who saw it knew it was good. I did say if he had a problem with me, for him to come to me and we could sort it out - But that is not his nature and he never did. So when it came down to it he was prepared to believe what he wanted and what he was being told and have things done in his name that were quite frankly beneath the man. When his management were being obstructive I wrote directly to him and he honoured all his commitments to me and made sure that his management paid what was due at the time. That’s how it should be.

HR : And that’s where it stopped  - until now ... “Stranger In Us All” has just been re-released and given a new lease of life?

DW : Yes they have pumped out the frequencies and it really sounds lot better than the flat linear sound of the original.

We should have added some of the extra tracks I have of the demos. But there are far too many hoops to jump through and it would mean new agreements between him and I. That’s not a path he wants to walk. HR : No, understood - but going back to when the original album was released - Obviously you were unaware of the fact that it would be the only recording that Rainbow would make at the time (possibly the last ever one?)  - does it change the way that you feel about it? Do you ever listen to it?

DW : I don’t listen to it at all. I don’t listen to anything I have done other than a couple of times when I get it. Occasionally something will pop up randomly on my iTunes and and a wee nostalgic smile passes my lips. But actually with SIUA - I remember every ounce of effort ; every change of lyric, key, tempo - So it has a different flavour for me than for others. I am proud of it, yet I know that we could have done better. But I was new to the big spotlight and while I stood my ground for a bit every now and again, it was Ritchie’s band and he got to do what he wanted.  Pat [Regan] was producing it and had his instructions on how to guide me.   I was just happy to be waking up every day knowing that today was going to be a new adventure.

I had so much fun all the time. Even when the dark clouds were hovering as they kinda did for the last while. His management did go out of their way to make band, and on the road, life a little less inclusive or welcoming ... But It was that 90 mins on stage that made anything worthwhile.

From what people have told me it’s a shame he now has such a distorted view of our time together. But it’s not my business and I don’t care what he thinks about it or how he feels about me.  I have seen some of the comments attributed to him that people send me. He really does re write his own history and I always have a good giggle at some of the nonsense he comes out with.   He loved it at the time, but to be fair it was a long long time ago and perhaps NOT the most important endeavour he has done musically. I look back at it slightly differently because it was VERY important to me. It was the best of times and will never be repeated for him, or for me.

HR : Well thankfully it didn’t deter you from carrying on! You have been involved with many great artists and projects during your career - have you any particular favourite memories?

DW : My memory palace is overflowing with errr memories from my times with LA PAZ  and CORNERSTONE, YNGWIE and SCHENKER, through TANK and beyond. I have a wonderful life and I am having a wonderful career - And if I am honest, really honest, my career would have been very different had it not been for that one tape I passed to Colin Hart who passed it to Ritchie Blackmore,  who made that fateful call one Saturday night in April 1994. I am forever in his debt and do you know what? He will get no joy at all from me saying that, and that is kind of pleasing!

HR : [laughs] Now I don’t mean to offend you by comparing you to a musical nomad, but you do seem to have moved around quite a bit -  If you could have settled for any greater length of time, or even permanently with one of those bands, who would it have been?

DW : I always have plenty to do recording and writing and performing. There is no dirt on the back of my shoes.

I was with Ritchie for 3 years, Yngwie for 6, Schenker now for 5. I would have been happy to do another album with Ritchie but he had a time machine and went away to his beloved middle ages with all the comforts of the 21Century.

With Yngwie we had run our course but remain friends, if not in touch much.

With Michael I hope to continue our successful partnership. We needed time away to do other things after the 4 years of intense touring/recording - Just to get some fresh experiences and know what side the bread is buttered.

HR : That’s always a bonus! What about future plans? Any more solo work or new collaborations in the pipeline?

DW : I am doing an album with a Bulgarian metal band called John Steel. (Blaze did their first) I will be finishing it when I am back from my short run of solos shows with my band WHITE NOISE (Italian Chapter).

I am always working. Sometimes under the radar sometime soaring like an eagle. Its all good and its all fun.

HR : You always look content to be on stage, and just take it all in your rock stride! Ha! What’s the strangest gig you’ve ever played?

DW : With La Paz in the 80’s at a place called ‘Roots of Cleghorn’ run by a lad called “Chicken George”. It was farming country and George was the only black guy for 100 miles. We played to a farmer in a bunnet and his sheep dog,  and George was the door man collecting the money! HR : Haha! No way!? Well from ‘Roots Of Cleghorn’ to Stockholm Circus -  If you could take a ‘dream’ band on the road, who would be your line-up, and what songs would make it to the setlist?

DW : I would just want to be backing singer for David Bowie, and cover  anything from “Love you til Tuesday” to “Blackstar”.

[justwritingscibbles]

Much Needed Inspiration

Thank you so much to @milky-chxnce for the purchase of this commission. It was so relaxing to write with Robbie and Antisepticeye. 

Hope you enjoy!!

Want a Commission? Find the Costs here

Want to buy me a coffee? Or a cookie? Support me here!!

Colours.  Shades.  Lines and blank canvas’.

You’ve worked with it all. And the art you produced has brought you much happiness and relaxation. You practically breathed sketches and paints. Sometimes accidentally drank it in the water you mistook for a coffee mug.

But it was all worth the end result. Even if a certain detail was a little too round. Or a shade was too dark against the rest of the piece.

Sometimes, it was better leaving the mistakes. It gave you something to learn from. And also gave the artwork some personality.

But even with all the ideas and fantasies; sometimes you ran low on inspiration. And when you did; it hit HARD.

It would go on for days. Sometimes weeks on end your hand would never stray near a pencil or a brush. And it would weigh heavy on you sometimes. What if there was a reason you stopped drawing? Maybe you’re not good enough. You were losing interest in the thing you loved because you couldn’t see your artwork getting any better. No one would notice your silly little paintings. Nor give compliments to how hard you worked.

You sighed and rolled over to press your face into the pillows of your couch. A low groan of irritation rippled from your chest; muffled by the plush material that smothered your mouth.

“This is so annoying. I want to paint but my mind doesn’t remember how to draw!” You grumbled. Frustration biting at your words, despite the gentle cool hand that filtered through your wavy strands of hair.

“I think your mind just needs to rest.” Robbie murmured softly. Not wanting to upset you anymore than you already were with yourself. “Everyone needs a break from what they enjoy.”

“Yeah,” You reluctantly agreed. “But I want to do something! I hate sitting still; but I also kind of don’t want to go anywhere.”

Robbie wheezed a gentle laugh. His fingers freezing to detangle a knot from your hair before continuing the comforting motions. “Lets go to the art museum. I know that sometimes helps with your art-blocks.”

You lifted your head from the stuffy confinements of the pillow to rest your chin on Robbie’s lap. He smelt almost overwhelmingly like pine today. Obviously he had used half a bottle of fragrance to cover the smell of decay. “I don’t think that’ll help. We’ve gone loads of times already. I know you’re getting bored of staring at the same art pieces.”

Robbie was a terrible liar. Everyone knew that. His eye twitched and he couldn’t look you in the eye. But he always tried his best; just so your feelings weren’t hurt. Not that Robbie could ever do such a thing.

“I like the ex..ex..exhi-bits.” Robbie’s face scrunched up in concentration as he forced the word through his pale lips. “It just confuses me that people would pay so much money for a splatter of red. Or a weird painting of a dog.”

“Because it’s art, Dead-Man. People don’t need to understand it. They only need to think it’s pretty.” Anti huffed as he wandered back into the lounge-room. Taking a seat on the arm of the couch near your feet. A warm cup of black coffee wrapped between his hands. “Take the guy who made that scream painting or whatever-”

“Edvard Munch,” You butted in.

“The fuck kind of name is that? Anyway. People don’t understand why he painted such a horrific painting. It’s popular because it’s weird. Cool looking. And no one understands it.” Anti said, taking a moment to sip his coffee. Stretching out the moment now he had your attention on him. “The same goes for art these days. People just need to like it, it doesn’t need to be good.”

You huffed a soft sigh and shrugged. “That doesn’t help my burnout situation.”

“Like Corpse said, ya brain just needs to rest.” Anti took another sip of coffee. Smacking his lips together in a dramatic way before nodding down at your discarded sketchbook. The same one that you had thrown down in frustration after attempting to draw the same accursed hand for the past hour. “Maybe Walker and I can try. You can teach us.”

Robbie tried, very hard, not to look excited by the suggestion. He loved watching you work on your art. He’d curl up next to you with his head resting against your shoulder or nuzzled into your side. His grey eyes following your hands as they glide across the paper. Robbie was absolutely enraptured by how you could turn a white slate of paper into a colourful picture.

And with Anti’s suggestion, his leg started to bounce and a wide smile stretched across his lips. His way of showing excitement, while trying valiantly to sound uncertain.

“Only if Sam wants too. I’m not very good, but I’ve always wanted to learn.”

You couldn’t help but grin up at Robbie. He was too damn adorable for you to resist him. To Anti however, you gave a warily raised eyebrow. As if suspicious of his suggestion. “You hate art! Why would you want to learn?”

Anti was one of those people that tried to draw once, failed, and then called quits. Whenever you were doing something, he’d try to distract you. Growing bored with idly sitting near you, waiting for you to finish. He’d chat with you. Occasionally knocking whatever surface you were drawing on to make you stuff up your work. Snatch your pencils and paper. He has even swapped the labels of your paints before, and hidden your sketch pads until he was satisfied with the time you’ve spent with him. Never once in your friendship, has Anti asked you to teach him to draw.

At your question; Anti shrugged. A disdained expression crossing his face as he hid his answer behind his mug of coffee. “Because I wanna draw but I suck. And you’re really good.”

You heard him nonetheless. But decided not to push your luck on getting the compliment spoken out loud. You nodded and pushed up from Robbie’s lap to pick up your fallen sketch-book. Beside you, Robbie was eagerly bouncing in his seat. Smiling so wide you could see most of his teeth. You laughed and scooched aside to give room to Anti. Who slid down onto the couch beside you as you tore some empty pages from your sketch-book and handed one each to the egos.

“Ok, so we’ll start off simple. Drawing eyes is a pretty good start. Since you can make them as little detailed as you want.” You explained. Getting up from the couch to go and get some pencils and erasers for the egos. Also snatching up something for them to lean their pages on and draw somewhat more accurately.

“Before I start to get annoyed,” Anti started. Placing down his coffee to position his paper on his lap, resting against the hard surface you handed him. “How long have you been practising your art?”

“A few years.” You replied. Smiling at the low groan of exasperation from Anti. “Also you’re the first person to actually say ‘practising’. Not called it talent or ignored the length of time I’ve been doing this.”

Anti gave you a small wink and shrugged a one shoulder shrug. “I got that screwed into me from Marvin and Schneep. Marvin has been practising Magic for years. He had the talent to begin practising. And the passion to learn through those practices. But he didn’t get as good as he is today because of that talent. It was because of the time he dedicated to his work.”

Anti very rarely rambled on about a subject. But when he did; you were reminded just how deep his personality was. He wasn’t just an annoyance. Which he sometimes stretched out to be all he was to you. “Must have been a pretty bad curse if you remember to talk like that about Marvin.” You teased. And Anti grimaced in a threatric way.

“I saw things I never want to see again.” He murmured. His voice a low drawl that matched the long distance stare he plastered onto his face. You laughed and waved dismissively. Turning back to the papers in the egos hands, you started to instruct them on how to draw an eye. Halfway through you decided it was better to actually show them and let them follow along with your instructions.

Anti was quiet with concentration. His fingers held the pencil carefully but with a white knuckle grip. After a few attempts at making an oval like shape, Anti found it easier to sketch the shape than try to draw the shape in one movement.

Robbie had a harder time. His hand shook alot when he was excited. And with the big puppy grin and eager expression, you could tell his drawings were going to be a little more than scribbles. He managed to get the shape correct after a few attempts. The lines weren’t smooth, but he was very happy with how it looked. And his smile was contagious. Plus, art was different for everyone. So, they didn’t need to follow your instructions to the absolute point. Which you needed to explain to Anti after he started to glitch a little from frustration. Causing his eye to become misshapen and a little misformed.

“Look, Sam! Mine sort of looks like Septic Sam.” Robbie exclaimed happily. You leaned over his shoulder and smiled. You had been helping Anti so much with his eye that you had left Robbie to his own devices for a few minutes. And he had gone off on his own to start another drawing. This one was wider and more round. It was smudged in places, but you could see the resemblance to the green eye that zoomed around the Septic House.

“That’s really good, Rob.” You cooed softly. Ruffling his hair as Robbie giggled softly. His trembling hand picking the pencil back up to start drawing again. This time, you could tell he was attempting to shade the edges of the eye. Which indicated that Robbie had been listening in on your instructions to Anti about his eye. That was complete with a pupil, the iris and a border of eyelashes. But Anti was frowning down at it. His green eyes flashing every once in a while as he scanned the sketch in his lap.

“What’s up, Anti?” You asked softly. “You did really well for your first try.”

“Thanks.” It was a forced reply. He was trying to be polite, and you could tell Anti was struggling with keeping his irritation from making his words sound harsh. You didn’t miss how his gaze flickered from your page to his. And you didn’t need to ask why he looked so disheartened after taking a glance at yours.

“Would you like to start again? Drawing is learning from your previous artworks. Or you could try to put some colour in it.” You suggested the last bit because now your mind was urging you to put colour in your own sketched eye. Anti sighed and grabbed the eraser. He scrubbed away the sketch and flicked the remnants of the rubber from the page with a glitching hand.

“Mind if I try drawing something else?” Anti asked, and you nodded. Although, his hand was already beginning to glide across the page. His concentration now on the paper in front of him, you turned to Robbie. Who was gently poking your arm to get your attention.

“Can I colour my drawing in? I want to make it purple.” Robbie said. Clapping happily when you nodded and he followed you to your room to get the coloured pencils you keep on your desk. He ran back with the colours firmly hugged to his chest. This time he sat crossed legged on the floor with the pencils set down beside him. He looked like a toddler now. And it was adorable.

Anti looked like a moody teenager slouched over his drawing. Shoulders stooped down, bottom lip in between his teeth as he traced the shapes of his sketch.

You’ve never seen them working together. Nor sat beside one another without Anti picking on Robbie or Rob getting a little anxious around the Glitch. So, it was a relaxing image to you. And it was definitely a nice space to be in as you sat beside Robbie and picked up one of the colours.

By the time you had finished shading and colouring, your back ached and your fingers were close to cramping. Poor Robbie wasn’t so lucky. His hands had seized up ages ago. The pencil still clutched in his stiff fingers, he tried his best to finish his purple Sam drawing. He had added another Sam, this one wasn’t coloured yet. But Robbie had explained that he wanted it to be the green Sam. So, then purple Sam would have a friend and green Sam wouldn’t be alone anymore.

It was an adorable little sentiment. And by that time, you realised that you’ve thought Robbie was adorable alot lately. But he was. So, you can excuse yourself by this point.

Anti didn’t want to show you his drawing. Not yet at least. When you attempted to sneak a peek, Anti had basically crushed the piece of paper against his chest. Glaring at you with sparking green eyes. You instantly backed away with your hands up in a surrender like gesture. But the way he was acting made you laugh nonetheless. It had been how you had acted when you first started drawing.

Now, with your nicely coloured eye done and the shading how you wanted it; you turned around to look at Anti. His legs were propped up on the couch. Back pressed against the back of the chair but he was horrible hunched with the paper resting against his thighs. He had been tapping the top of his pencil against the paper for half a minute now. Obviously deep in thought. But when he noticed you looking at him, the tapping stopped and his green eyes flashed a warning.

“I’m not done.” He said before you could speak. You chuckled and tilted your head, almost in a pleading manner.

“Come on, Glitch. Show me what you’ve been doing. I promise I will love it no matter what.” You said. Flashing him your best puppy eyes and pouty lips.

Anti grumbled and inched up into a more sensible sitting position. He gave his draw one final look over before sighing heavily and handing you the paper. You eagerly snatched it up and turned so Robbie could see over your shoulder.

“It’s meant to be you drawing us.” Anti said. His voice huffed and he scratched the back of his neck in slight embarrassment. “The first time I saw you drawing us, I thought it was really cool. So, I kinda wanted to try to draw you. But I fucking suck at drawing….”

You could definitely see that it was you. The hair on the person’s head was wavy and shaded in a way that was obviously meant to make it a darker shade. The facial features were blank and you could see the many attempts Anti did at drawing your face. The imprints of the previous mouth and nose were still embedded into the paper. But now, even though it was heavily smudged. Anti had left your face blank with no details. But even so, your sketched body and even the canvas that was propped up on a easel, was drawn well enough you could tell what they were.

“Aww Anti, this is so sweet.” You said. Smiling as you looked back at Anti. “And I mean it. I love it. And if you ever think of trying to rub this one out, I will destroy you.”

Anti chuckled and nodded. Handing you the pencil to add to the pile on the floor. “Thank you. And I am done for the day. I can feel my hand bones aching now. Also, are you feeling like drawing again?”

You rolled your eyes and shrugged. Glancing down at your sketched eye, the shaded colours and darkened tints were definitely scratching that urge that’s been annoying you for the past few days. “A little. But this helped. Thank you. Also it was fun drawing with you guys. We should make this a thing.”

“Oh, yes! I’d love that!” Robbie peaked excitedly. Though his gaze was now back on his drawing, adding some more purple to the eye he sketched.

“I wouldn’t mind either. Stops me from harassing you, right Sammy.” Anti shot you a wink, leaning down to pick up his coffee mug and take a sip. But as soon as the beverage struck his lips, he spat it back into the mug. “Holy fuck. Cold coffee is disgusting.”

You chuckled and nodded. “It happens. You start drawing, you gotta remind yourself that you have a drink next to you. Otherwise it goes to waste.” Anti mumbled his annoyance and got up to go back to the kitchen. No doubt to make himself another cup of dirty bean juice.

[dianaagron]

untitled unfinished doctors au

fandom: digimon pairing: mimi/taichi word count: 5k of glorious basically unrevised drafts summary: digimonless au where everyone is a doctor and they’re in their 30s cause that’s fun warnings: it has sex in it because apparently other than finishing stuff i’m also unable to not write mature bits in them additional: but it’s been sitting in my computer for years and it’s so long so i might as well share what i have cause at least this way i won’t feel like i completely wasted 5k of writing you know 

hello friends i’m alive and sad so i thought why not make everyone else sad as well with this piece i started writing like three summers ago and never finished because i’m unable to write a chaptered story and my mind has an attention span of 12 days after which my creativity just goes blank. happy new year tho! 

Looking out of the only window in the small room she shares with one other fellow neurosurgeon of the National Center for Global Health and Medicine Hospital, Tachikawa Mimi sees a clear blue sky painted with just enough fluffy clouds to make her feel lighter after pulling her third all nighter of the week.

The desk calendar is still telling her that it’s July, and if it wasn’t for her mobile phone lighting up on its own and showing her the date, she would’ve still believed that sunny, summer day belonged to the previous month. As it turns out, it wasn’t just her phone coming to life on its own, but as distracted as she was (between the lack of sleep and the clouds) she hadn’t noticed someone was calling her.

“Is there an emergency?” She asks, a little worried, phone propped between her ear and her left shoulder to be able to get the white coat she’d left resting on the small couch on the opposite side of the room.

“No, I was just checking if you were still here.” The deep voice coming from her phone explains. She grabs the coat, and fiddles with it until she finds the badge (she almost curses when she spots it in between the two cushions of the couch).

“Yeah, I’m in the office.” She replies, with her half-whiny tone she’s sure he’s grown accustomed to by now.

“I can see that.”

Mimi’s hand flies to her chest, the sudden noise of his voice behind her startling her and making her drop her phone to the floor. This time she curses out loud, not bothering to turn to him until she checks that the phone is still intact (thank god her mother sent her that pink rubber case last month); when she does, he’s scratching the back of his head, waiting for her acknowledgement.

“Sorry.” He tries, an apologetic smile masking what she knows is complete, utter fear of an outburst. It’s funny, because she is the fellow, and not him. She thinks she might as well just spare him for today, so she turns around, making her long hair flow in the air and meeting his eyes with a bright smile, surprising him.

“Did you know it’s August?” She absentmindedly asks him while wearing the white coat at last.

“How long has it been since you last slept in your bed?” His tone is worried, but she’s already walked past him and out of the door of the studio, and she doesn’t look back to check how his dark brows are furrowed and his arms crossed against his chest. She knows all that, and she also knows he’s going to follow her out on the corridor and down on the first floor, up until they reach the cafeteria.

“I can tell the head supervisor a word, you know.” He doesn’t ask, and she only mumbles a “mmh” in response.

Grabbing two trays from the stack, she keeps one for herself and shoves - a little too hard, and on purpose - the other to him.

“You should really get something other than coffee.” He tries again and this time as they wait for the order she has already placed. She turns around to face him, honey irises staring into a pair of grey ones, completely blank.

“Jyou,” she starts, voice so promising that his brows shoot up in amazement, “don’t dad me.”

Jyou’s facial expression falls in what Mimi has taken a habit of calling the ‘staring into the void mode’, which is one of the three common reactions she gets when they talk (she keeps track).

“Then you might as well just refer to me as Doctor Kido if you don’t want me to be considerate of you.”

He’s pouting, and she giggles. That’s the Jyou she knows, the Jyou she’s known for more than half of her life. Mimi grabs the coffee, now waiting for her on the counter, and the chamomile, placing both of them on her own tray and moving fast to the self service area with sugar and spices. Soy milk, two shakes of sugar and many of cinnamon after, Mimi meets her attending supervisor at the table on the far left, the one near the window. It’s their favorite, and she can’t remember ever having sat on another table.

“You know,” she starts, mixing her coffee before closing the cup with the plastic lid, “you should step up your game a little. That chamomile isn’t going to bring the chicks to your yard.”

He frowns, and she stares at him until he feels the urge to fix his glasses on the crook of his nose. That’s how she knows she’s won, again.

“Who even puts cinnamon in their coffee?” He pouts, again, and even if he didn’t intend the retort to come out as a question she answers him nonetheless, which she knows is a way to annoy him and make him wish he had just kept his mouth shut, for once.

“It’s perfectly normal, you know? You wouldn’t have the option of getting coffee with cinnamon syrup if people didn’t like it, and what can you do if the cafeteria of the place where you’re employed doesn’t include flavors? You add powdered cinnamon, that’s what you do.” Mimi takes a sip of her drink, savoring it with her eyes closed even after she puts the cup down on the table again. When she opens her eyes, Jyou is holding his cheeks with his hands, stretching the skin of his face downwards in the Jyou Kido certified basic reaction number two: The Scream, a painting by Norwegian expressionist Edvard Munch (yes, art was her favorite subject back in the day, that decade and a half ago, more or less). “Besides, you’re glad you have me as your fellow. The whole hospital knows I’m the prettiest one.”

Jyou breathes out loudly, and then grimaces before gulping down his chamomile as if he was gulping down his sorrows.

-

Jyou’s sitting on the metal bench just a couple of feet away from Mimi’s open locker where she’s hanging the white coat, now replaced by the blue scrubs. She walks to him, sitting next to him and mimicking his hand movements, thoroughly massaging the insides of her palms, not bothering to turn to him.

“Sora asked me if we want to get some drinks later. They’re meeting at The Island at eleven.”

“Who’s them?” Mimi wonders out loud, curious. The three of them - herself, Jyou and Sora, who had been one of Jyou’s best friend since med school - usually tried to meet at least once a week at the cocktail bar not far from NCGM, a cute place popular among the doctors of their hospital. Yes, there had been times when other friends tagged along, but that “they” wasn’t so easy to figure out, given the number of mutual colleagues the three of them shared.

Jyou shrugs, unable to give her an actual answer.

“I have no idea. It’ll probably be just us and her colleague in cardio - you know, that one whom you said looked like a lizard. She said you can tell Koushiro and Miyako about it, if you want.”

Typical Sora, Mimi thinks, always trying to look out for others. She makes the mental note of sending a text in the group chat she shares with her ex classmates, and then she stands up, holding out a hand for Jyou to grab, helping him to sit up and walk to the operating room.

-

As it turns out, it wasn’t the lizard colleague Sora brought to the little gathering, but a much younger guy none of them had ever met. The young man, messy blonde hair half hidden by a baseball cap worn backwards, is sitting next to Sora, laughing fondly when Mimi and Jyou, with Miyako and Koushiro, sit down at the table they had reserved.

“You’ve made it!” Is Sora’s delighted comment as Mimi plops down on the chair across from her, feeling the weight of the accumulated tiredness of a week of all-nighters and naps on the uncomfortable couch of her studio finally down on her shoulders. She lets her head rest on the wooden table, arms left hanging down and swinging.

“I’m exhausted.” She lets out as her last dying breath.

Miyako hops down on the spot to her left, stretching her arm to reach Mimi’s hair, moving a wavy lock away from the eyes of her friend to check if she had fallen asleep as soon as she’d hit the wooden surface.

“Hi exhausted -” the voice belonging to the young man speaks up, and the beginning of the joke is all it takes for Mimi to come to life again, raise her head as well as her hand, surfacing from behind the table, to shoot a dangerous look to the newcomer and try to stop him before he can say “ - I’m Takeru.”

Takeru smiles, his eyes curving into two cute half moons, and Mimi’s head falls back to the table with a loud noise.

“Damn.” Miyako comments, arms crossing over her chest and eyes checking out Takeru, looking clueless there right next to Sora. “I didn’t think anyone else under their forties would ever dare to pull a dad joke.” She grabs one of the open beer bottles in the center of the table and lifts it up in Takeru’s direction. “Impressing. I’ve only ever seen Taichi look cool with a dad joke up until now.”

The younger one raises his brows, visibly pleased by the unexpected compliment coming from Miyako. “Why, thank you.” He replies, lifting his own glass to exchange the unspoken toast between the two of them.

“Yagami tells dad jokes?” Jyou asks, a little incredulous. Miyako nods while still sipping down her beer.

“Mmmh. Pretty often. Turns out the patients like it. Makes him look goofy.”

Mimi opens an eye, sneaking a look at her friend explaining. “Who’s Yagami?” She asks weakly, but curious nonetheless, still half lost in the conversation. She tries to sit up, feeling her head hurt as soon as she comes to an almost standing position with her back, so much she has to hold her forehead with her hand to put some pressure on it and relieve the momentary pain.

“Yagami from Trauma and Emergency.” It’s Jyou who replies her, but Miyako who specifies. “I’m his fellow.”

“Aaaah.” Mimi finally understands, turning to face Sora right across the table. “The hot one.”

Sora nods, a finger pointing in her direction in a sign of understanding. They had seen him in the cafeteria a couple of times, or walking through the corridors to get to the Trauma and Emergency Center, and she remembers Mimi’s open remarks about the width of his biceps.

“Is he single?” Mimi asks, now turning to Miyako. On the other side of the purple haired girl, Koushiro shakes his head incredulous. “Really.”

Mimi shoots him a look, showing him a grimace. “Yes, really.”

MIyako shrugs, holding out her hands on each side of her as to push back her two friends.

“How would I know? I’m his fellow, not his trustee.”

Mimi nudges her waist, glancing maliciously at her. “You call him Taichi.”

Miyako scoots left, getting out of Mimi’s reach only to find Koushiro, on that side, already showing her a mischievous grin that mirrors the one of his best friend, and he’s ready to attack. “Does Taichi let all the fellows call him that?” And again, Mimi, “Does Taichi like it when you call him that?” And Miyako has to slam down her now empty beer bottle on the table, so hard that Jyou is already halfway through the panicking mode as he foresees the bottle being broken into hundreds of tiny little pieces of glass, scattered everywhere in the bar, resulting in a lifelong ban from The Island impending on them. And Jyou doesn’t want that.

The glass of the bottle doesn’t crack, but the noise is loud enough to make the group - and the entire place - go silent for a couple of slow, embarrassing seconds. Sora mutters an “Incredibly sorry”, or something along those lines, and it’s Miyako the first one to break the ice again, wanting to have the last word.

“I’m his fellow.” She starts, talking fast with her lips drawn into a thin line, eyes moving quickly from Mimi on her right to Koushiro on her left to not give them the opportunity to stop her once more. “I’m well past the crush stage, believe me, after you see his eating habits during break everyone would be past it.” Miyako stares in front of her lost in her thoughts, before turning one last time to Mimi, and looking a great deal more calm, to add: “Besides, he’s more of your type.”

Mimi just stares at her.

“My type?” She asks, unsure.

It’s Koushiro the one to answer her, butting in the conversation he was not long before a part of. “You know, buff.”

“Hunky.” Sora continues.

“Remember the body builder?” Jyou adds turning from Sora to Miyako and Koushiro. Koushiro points at him, his eyes going wide. Then, he oppresses a snort only because of the look Mimi flashes him.

“How do you all even know my type?” Mimi demands, an octave higher. Miyako shrugs back, clearly not impressed by how offended her friend is pretending to be.

“We all know each other’s type. It’s, like, basic knowledge. Jyou’s type is the down-to-earth woman that can take care of him (here, Jyou grimaces, turning away the bottle he’s holding in a defeated manner), Sora wants the family oriented and -”

Miyako’s explanation is cut short by Takeru, who’s now fixing the hair free from his cap, turning to Sora as fast as a lightning bolt and putting a hand on her shoulder, shaking her lightly to turn her attention to him.

“You like family oriented guys?” He asks her directly.

Sora starts with a “Well…”, but it’s Mimi who replies, confirming Miyako’s statement. “She does.”

Takeru’s eyes widen together with his smile, and the rest of the table is left wondering how exactly can Sora’s taste in men bring so much joy to a guy much younger than her as Takeru.

“Do you want me to introduce you to my brother? I’ve been trying to hook him up with someone for years but he just doesn’t want to hear it.”

Takeru’s smile is expectant, and Sora has to blink a couple of times before coming to the conclusion that one of the residents in cardiology that she’s in charge of just offered her a possible date. But Mimi is faster than her again, and before Sora can remember how to make her vocal cords work again, she’s already asking the important question to Takeru.

“Who’s your brother? Do you have a picture of him?”

Takeru nods, taking out his phone from the pocket of the jeans he’s wearing.

“Do you know Doctor Ishida? He works at the hospital as well.” He lets out casually while unlocking the phone.

Sora’s eyes widen as she turns to Mimi, and at the same time Miyako’s hand flies to Mimi’s shoulder, shaking her with force. The reply to Takeru’s answer comes in unison from the three women, taking the clueless resident by surprise.

“The god?”

Takeru looks up from his phone, startled.

“Doctor Ishida from oncology?” Jyou comes to their aid, and Takeru nods. Then Koushiro wonders: “Ishida is family oriented? I’d never tell.”

“Is that what he goes by now?” He chuckles. “I know, he gives off that vampire vibe sometimes. But he’s actually nice.”

“One of the few associates with some logic.” Jyou comments.

“So,” Takeru turns to Sora again, showing her the lit screen of his phone, “do you want his number?”

-

Nightshifts can be quite endearing, if you ask her. Sure, she’d rather be home snuggling her favorite pillow as she lies down on her own, oh-so-comfortable bed (or, as a variation, as she is being laid down on her own, oh-so-comfortable bed), but night duty is not too terrible when the hospital offers those Oscar-worthy performances.

Like this couple who’s yelling at each other as they wait in the hall, the man laying on the stretcher and the woman beside him hitting him repeatedly with her purse, and the first aid doctors pleading her to stop just as many times as she releases her frustration at - as Mimi had guessed he was - her husband. On the other side of the man, another woman is standing, her own hands stroking her arms crossed over the chest; everything about her screams “uncomfortable”, and the sight does nothing but fuel the entertainment of the row of employees behind the front acceptation desk.

“What’s going on?”

A male doctor approaches the bunch, but Mimi doesn’t turn to check who it is, afraid she’ll miss a turn of events from the show unfolding before her eyes. She does answer him nonetheless, though, as everybody else seems too interested in what’s happening to reply.

“Are you asking for the medical report or the facts?”

“Whatever’s more fun.” Replies the doctor. Mimi grins, and she notices with the corner of her eyes the secretary who had been standing next to her making space for the doctor, and the latter bending his back and resting his elbows on the desk to enjoy the show more comfortably.

“Dude broke his weenie during an encounter with his girlfriend. They had to call his wife. He’ll probably need two operations if she keeps hitting him like that.” Mimi explains, trying to stay cool as she reveals what the party had gathered up until then.

“Her bag seems heavy.” A resident behind her adds, and she thoughtfully nods.

“Ouch. That’s harsh.” The doctor comments.

“I mean, it’s understandable.” Mimi points out, her shoulders raising and then dropping again. She feels the man beside her turn his head to her, but she keeps her gaze fixed on the wife who’s now yelling something along the lines of “I would too if I were twenty! It’s you who should’ve kept it in your pants!”.

“Been cheated on?” He asks Mimi.

“I was the other woman.” She admits easily, without putting too much weight on it.

“Impressive.” He replies. When Mimi turns her head to the right where he’s placed next to her, her eyebrows raise in pleasant surprise.

There are three things she notices, in the following order. First, his face is relaxed, and he’s offering a smile different from those ones she’s used to get whenever the news of her having been the lover of a taken man slips out (God, if she’s so over those). Second, he’s closer to her than she’d expected; he’s still laying his forearms on the surface of the desk, hands collected, but his head is tilted to her side not far from her, and Mimi quickly wonders about how tall he can be, if even bent down he’s still at her eye level. Third, and most importantly, she realizes who exactly he is.

“Wanna go get coffee?”

And just like that, at 1:05 am of a heated August night Taichi Yagami is offering a way out of her night shift, and in all honesty Mimi is not really sure she can say yes, but that doesn’t stop her from turning around and leading the way to the cafeteria on the other side of the building (when she gets home, in the morning, she tells herself that everyone was gathered at the front desk anyway, so it wasn’t like they’d notice her missing).

As it turns out, Yagami Taichi of the Trauma and Emergency Center ("aspiring head of the department") had been an associate at NCGM for a couple of years already, though he was not much older than Mimi, with only a two years difference. Mimi had lightly bowed when he had properly introduced himself, reminding herself that he was an actual surgeon, and she was still a fellow, and as unused to good custom as she was, the image of Jyou scolding her had been too clear in her mind to skip formalities. But then Doctor Yagami had waved his hand so hurriedly to stop her from bending further that she had to go for the good, old, western way, offering her hand and waiting for him to squeeze it.

"I have a feeling we're a little past the formal stage, with you telling me about your past choices and all that." His comment had earned an earnest chuckle from her, and he had payed it back with a smirk of his own before adding an "I'm not judging" as he had turned to get the two coffees they had ordered.

"Didn't think you would." She had answered.

Mimi had observed him ask for their drinks in a charming way, different from how she'd seen other men flirt with employees in bars. He had been offering a bright smile with his requests, and it felt like his voice was genuinely interested when he had asked how it was going or said the usual thank you after getting the coffees. And there she was now, sitting next to him on one of the benches in the backyard just out of the cafeteria, sipping her cinnamon flavored coffee at past 1am with a doctor of a higher rank that up until that morning she had been labelling as "the hot one".

She had found talking to Doctor Yagami as easy as conversing with every other of her old time friends, and there, under the stars of that heated night, as he was telling her about how this one time a fifteen year old patient had developed this huge crush on him during the time she had spent in the hospital recovering, Mimi had thought that that patient was pretty relatable.

Yagami Taichi was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. With his tanned skin and longish hair pulled back in a casual way, now that Mimi had the opportunity to watch him from a close perspective he was handsome in a particular way, with his kind brown eyes and dimples showing whenever he laughed. But, above everything else, it had been his straightforwardness and openness to attract Mimi closer to him as they had been sipping their respective coffees, how he’d casually touched her shoulder after a joke, or how his leg had moved to graze hers as he had asked for a question about her hair she doesn’t really remember now.

And there she is, asking herself how long she'll be able to last sitting there like that - their knees casually touching as he keeps a strand of her hair between his fingers - before this all becomes uncomfortable. But then, she's surprised to realize that instead of uneasiness, she's feeling that sudden rush of excitement through her body, starting from the spot where his warm leg is touching hers, to the tips of her fingers.

And maybe he's thinking the same, because when their eyes meet he lets her hair go only to bring his hand to her cheek, sliding down until he's cupping her neck and his thumb is moving cautiously over her earlobe, causing her breathing to become more irregular, and her eyes to lower on his lips.

The thought of how inappropriate this whole thing is doesn’t even cross her mind as he brings her face closer to his own, and she's actually the one to dive in and close the distance between them to find out his lips are soft, and just right, and when he parts them his tongue is sweet and warm and she can taste the coffee they had been sipping until only minutes before.

He does something with his tongue that makes her want more and then she's grabbing his white coat with both of her hands to bring his whole body closer, because his mouth is not enough anymore. He complies, and she feels his right hand tightening its grip on the back of her neck, and the other one traveling over her leg and up, up, up, until she feels pressure right where she really needs him.

"Where's your office?" She breathes between one kiss and the next, and it takes her all she’s got to do so and not let the urge of laying down on that bench get the best of her.

"Trauma and Emergency is too crowded at night." He barely manages to give her a coherent answer, and Mimi is quick to reply: "Neurosurgery isn't."

His lips are on hers again just as soon as she turns around after locking the door of her office behind her, and then he's pinning her between himself and the door, her small body covered by his slightly bent one. She swings one leg around his hips to give him the clue, and readily he takes it and picks her up only to stumble through a desk and a pile of boxes before making it to the couch.

"Do you have condoms?" She asks him when she's sitting on top of him, one shoulder of her white coat together with the one of her dress down her arm showing her bare skin, and she sees him fixing her naked spot and squeezing her bottom before trying to reply.

"I really didn't think I'd be doing this at work." It comes out with a somewhat apologetic tone, but Mimi is more concentrated on the way he's looking at her, his eyes burning and fingers sliding to her front to deepen into her. She moans, half biting her bottom lip, letting her head fall and rest on his shoulder, hiding her face on the crook of his neck and kissing him in that spot as he lightly bites the skin of her shoulder.

"I should have a couple in my purse." She manages to say with some difficulty, distracted by how he in thrusting inside her with his fingers. And, unable to part from her, he lifts himself and her from the couch to reach for the bag sitting on the desk on the other side of the room.

He lays her on the desk, moving the stack of papers and other objects his mind is not quick enough to recognize on the side, and he starts kissing her cheek and her ear, traveling down to her neck. With the hand that is not holding the hair on the back of his head, she blindly looks for the condoms in the inside pocket of her purse.

Then there is not enough to time to do things properly, to get rid of their clothing or to move back on the couch to be more comfortable. All she feels is anticipation and electricity running through her veins, and she only registers him kneeling down to bother with removing her underwear only with his teeth before he sinks himself inside her, and she clings to him with all her body.

-

The last week of August brings with itself a slightly cooler wind, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity Mimi is able to leave the windows open in each room she stops by. With the end of the month comes the end of some of the doctors’ vacations, and the pace at the hospital seems to slowly go back to its normal state. She spends her days between the hospital, The Island and - finally - her flat, staying by Jyou for the most time, catching up with Sora during those breaks they share, dropping by the Laboratory to check if Koushiro is feeding himself properly, and making sure she doesn’t visit Miyako during her work hours.

Not that she’s ever wondered around the Trauma and Emergency Center that often, ever. She and Miyako had made the pact of trying to stay out of each other’s way as much as possible during work hours ever since her younger friend had started her fellowship, and the reason behind it had been quite simple: they were both very talkative people, and being good friends as they were it wasn’t hard to find ways to waste time. In addition to that, they also used to share an apartment up until Miyako had moved back with one of her sisters the previous fall, when her other sister had gotten married and moved out.

Miyako leaving the flat had been quite disrupting back then. Mimi remembers a time when she’d needed her friend’s presence after a date turned particularly wrong, and found emptiness in what used to be her room. Granted - she still had Koushiro with her, and as her best friend he had been there for her during all those so called emergencies when Miyako couldn’t teleport herself from one side of town to the other, but Mimi had come to the conclusion, one day, than more than Miyako’s mere presence, she missed the flat dynamic that there had been for many years between herself, Koushiro and Miyako.

And now, roughly one year later, Miyako’s room is still free, and Mimi and Koushiro still reject an average of 1.5 flatmate applications a week because even though they have no intention of letting anyone other than their former flatmate in, they still keep the notice of a room up for rent out. Which doesn’t make sense, as Mimi’s heard so many times form Jyou, but that didn’t mind. She’d found her safe haven in that shared apartment with Koushiro, and while she had always been the right girl for an adventure, now she was at a time in her life that asked for stability, calm, and a sense of belonging.

(All of which she doesn’t have, or at least she doesn’t feel so, as if she’s hanging in there even if there aren’t storms around her. She feels like she’s still, and everything else moves around her, and in everything, she doesn’t feel the need of taking action. She simply doesn’t feel.)

“So I’ve heard —“

There’s a look of pure horror in Mimi’s eyes when she looks up from the tray full of empty dishes of what had been her lunch to find Takeru’s beaming eyes. In a split second, she wonders just how fast gossip can travel between the walls of that stupid hospital, also trying to figure out a way to disagree and change topics almost immediately.

“— that you’re trying to find a new housemate.”

A sigh leaves Mimi’s rosy lips and it’s then that she takes in the scene unfolding before her eyes: Takeru - in contrary to what she believed - isn’t alone. There’s another guy right next to him, propped on the chair in front of her as he’s trying to climb it in a funny sort of way. His hair’s so spiky she wonders if that’s a way he likes to style it or that’s just the way it is - much like Koushiro, that no matter how many products she decides to try on him, his hair won’t flatten.

“Trying is a big word.” She simply comments, resolving into pouring herself the last drops of soda there’s left in the can into the empty glass.

[aleinnilatibae]

Bleikur Kjóll

A bit of Jól Í Latabæ fic that I just wrote because I can’t get the HC out of my head that Halla bought Solla that pink dress.

“H-Halla…” Solla said, pressing her whole face against the nearest store window, “W-wow! Look at that beautiful pink dress!”

Hall stopped, and turned to look at her friend in disbelief. “Pink dress?” she asked, incredulously, “You think that the mayor would want a pink dress?”

Looking at the dress in the window, it looked a bit too SMALL for their dear old mayor, too.

“No, Halla,” Solla said, finally breaking her gaze away from it, “For ME, you sill goose! Look, it even comes with shoes and a bag!”

Halla suddenly got an idea.

“Look, I can’t hold all of these packages for much longer!” Halla complained, ushering her friend along, but a plan was hatching in her mind…

-

As they passed that same store again on the way to the mayor’s house, Halla put her plan into action.

“Uh, Solla? I have to used the bathroom,” Halla said, placing all her bags down on the ground. “Would you watch these for a minute?”

“Sure, Halla,” Solla said, “But remember, we have to get to the mayor’s house soon!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Halla said, ducking into the clothes shop.

“Hello, little one!” boomed the shopkeeper, “Can I help you find something?”

“Listen, buster,” Halla said, cutting directly to the chase, “I am GOING to buy that pink dress you have in the window, and there is NOTHING you can do about it!”

The shopkeeper blinked, looking slightly taken aback. “Um. That is…fine? That’ll be…that’ll be 3500 króna.

Halla shook her head. “No, no, I’ll give you 2500 for it. No more.”

He looked even more confused. “This…this isn’t a store where you can really HAGGLE,” he said carefully, looking at her like she would fly off the handle at any moment.

He wasn’t far off.

“Well tough bananas…EDVARD,” she said after squinting at the name on his name tag, “Because I’m not leaving here without that dress!” she exclaimed, pointing dramatically at it. “My best friend in the whole world wants that pink dress, and she deserves that pink dress for being so nice and kind, and I am going to give it to her, no matter what!!”

Edvard furrowed his brow, considering for a moment, and then sighed. “Okay, fine. I think I can get you a…discount. Because it’s Christmas Eve and all. But I can’t go ANY lower than 3000 króna.”

“What?! Are you CRAZY??” Halla said incredulously, gesturing at the patch on the front of her overalls. “Does it LOOK like I get a lot of pocket money?!”

“Um,” he said, visibly sweating, “Okay. I can take 2800, but that’s the LOWEST I can go.  We have to make money TOO, you understand.”

Halla rolled her eyes. “Aw, come on, I saw you sell THAT dress earlier, and I KNOW it cost ten THOUSAND króna! I know you will hardly even notice ONE little thousand…or two.”

He crossed his arms, and dnarrowed his eyes. “I told you before, I can’t go any lower than 2800.”

“Well, you’re gonna HAVE to,” Halla said menacingly.

“Look,” Edvard leaned forward on the counter. “I played your little game, but this is where I draw the line. I’m NOT going under 2800, and I’m NOT taking orders from some little BRAT!”

Halla gasped and pulled her slingshot out of her pocket. “Twenty-five hundred króna, mister, and I WON’T shoot you in the eye with a HUNDRED króna! Take it or leave it!” she demanded, putting the coin inside her slingshot and stretching back the rubber.

Edvard stared at her.

Halla stared back, and stretched the rubber band back a little further.

Finally, Edvard sighed, slumping in defeat.

“You drive a hard bargain, kid,” he said, “but you’ve got determination, and that’s admirable.”

He held out his hand.

Halla lowered her slingshot and puffed out her chest. “Iþróttaálfurinn says, never give up, and always stick to your goals!” she beamed, shaking his hand with vigor.

“What do you mean íþrótta…you know what, nevermind,” he muttered, walking to the window and taking down the pink dress.

Halla watched him, bouncing up and down in excitement. She did it! She was going to get Solla exactly what she wanted!

“Now,” Edvard said, wrapping up the dress in brown paper, “We offer free delivery service to anywhere in Latabæ, would you like to have it delivered?”

“Yes! Please deliver it to the mayor’s house, as soon as possible,” she said, standing on tiptoes to see what he was writing.

Edvard looked up in shock, but shook his head and looked back down, labelling the gift “MAYOR’S HOUSE”.

“Okay, that’ll be…2500 króna,” he sighed, ringing her up.

Halla counted out four 500 króna notes, and five hundred-króna coins, including the one that she had just threatened him with.

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you,” she said, extra sweetly.

Edvard sighed again. “Merry Christmas,” he said then turned away from her.

“Omar! We have another delivery for the Mayor’s house!” she heard Edvard say as she bounded out the door, back to Solla.

Who was looking…a little sad.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Halla,” Solla lamented, “Someone bought the pink dress while you were in the bathroom! I saw them take it down!” she said sadly, gesturing to the empty child mannequin in the window.

Halla called on ALL of her strength to stop herself from smiling wide and giggling, despite the excited feeling bubbling up within her.

“Aw, cheer up, it’s Christmas!” Halla finally said, putting a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “You never know what will happen on Christmas.  Maybe there will be a miracle!”

Solla smiled, and Halla picked up all of the packages again as they made their way through the snowy town.

[mrkwonandmrchoibabygirl]

50 DARKER SHADES OF KWON JI YONG PT.7

Description:Daunted by the singular tastes and dark secrets of the beautiful, tormented young entrepreneur Kwon Ji Yong, Y/N Y/L/N has broken off their relationship to start a new career with a Seoul publishing house.But desire for Jiyong still dominates her every waking thought, and when he proposes a new arrangement,Y/N cannot resist. They rekindle their searing sensual affair, and Y/N learns more about the harrowing past of her damaged, driven and demanding Fifty Shades.While Jiyong wrestles with his inner demons, Jiyong must confront the anger and envy of the women who came before her, and make the most important decision of her life. (let me know what you think in the ask box!)

Genre:Smut/Angst/Fluff

Rated:NC-17

Pairing: G-Dragon x Reader

Wordcount:8,882

(remember this is and edit of the original book called fifty shades darker thanks!)

Masterlist

Holy shit, did I really just do that? It must be the alcohol. I’ve had champagne plus four glasses of four different wines. I glance up at Jiyong, who’s busy applauding. Crap, he’s going to be so angry, and we’ve been getting along so well. My subconscious has finally decided to make an appearance, and she’s wearing her Edvard Munch The Scream face. Jiyong leans over to me, a large, fake smile plastered across his face. He kisses my cheek and then moves closer to whisper in my ear in a very cold, controlled voice. “I don���t know whether to worship at your feet or spank the living shit out of you.” Oh, I know what I want right now. I gaze up at him, blinking through my mask. I just wish I could read what’s in his eyes. “I’ll take option two, please,” I whisper frantically as the applause dies down. His lips part as he inhales sharply. Oh, that chiseled mouth—I want it on me, now. I ache for him. He gives me a radiant sincere smile that leaves me breathless. “Suffering, are you? We’ll have to see what we can do about that,” he murmurs as he runs his fingers along my jaw. His touch resonates deep, deep inside where that ache has spawned and grown. I want to jump him right here, right now, but we sit back to watch the auction of the next lot. I can barely sit still. Jiyong drapes an arm around my shoulders, his thumb rhythmically stroking my back, sending delicious tingles down my spine. His free hand clasps mine, bringing it to his lips, then letting it rest on his lap. Slowly and surreptitiously, so I don’t realize his game until it’s too late, he eases my hand up his leg and against his erection. I gasp, and my eyes dart in panic around the table, but all eyes are fixed on the stage. Thank heavens for my mask. Taking full advantage, I slowly caress him, letting my fingers explore. Jiyong keeps his hand over mine, hiding my bold fingers, while his thumb skates softly over the nape of my neck. His mouth opens as he gasps softly, and it’s the only reaction I can see to my inexperienced touch. But it means so much. He wants me. Everything south of my navel contracts. This is becoming unbearable. A week by Lake Adriana in Montana is the final lot for auction. Of course Mr. and Dr.Kwon have a house in Montana, and the bidding escalates rapidly, but I am barely aware of it. I feel him growing beneath my fingers, and it makes me feel so powerful. “Sold, for one hundred ten thousand dollars!” the MC declares victoriously. The whole room bursts into applause, and reluctantly I follow as does Jiyong, ruining our fun. He turns to me and his lips twitch. “Ready?” he mouths over the rapturous cheering.

“Yes,” I mouth back. “Y/N!” Mia calls. “It’s time!” What? No. Not again! “Time for what?” “The First Dance Auction. Come on!” She stands and holds out her hand. I glance at Jiyong , who is, I think, scowling at Mia, and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, but it’s laughter that wins. I succumb to a cathartic bubble of schoolgirl giggles, as we are thwarted once more by the tall, pink powerhouse that is Mia Kwon. Jiyong peers at me, and after a beat, there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips. “The first dance will be with me, okay? And it won’t be on the dance floor,” he murmurs lasciviously into my ear. My giggles subside as anticipation fans the flames of my need. Oh yes! My inner goddess performs a perfect triple Salchow in her ice skates. “I look forward to it.” I lean over and plant a soft, chaste kiss on his mouth. Glancing around, I realize that our fellow guests at the table are astonished. Of course, they’ve never seen Jiyong with a date before. He smiles broadly. And he looks … happy. “Come on, Y/N,” Mia nags. Taking her outstretched hand, I follow her onto the stage, where ten more young women have assembled, and I note with vague unease that Lily is one of them. “Gentlemen, the highlight of the evening!” the MC booms over the babble of voices. “The moment you’ve all been waiting for! These twelve lovely ladies have all agreed to auction their first dance to the highest bidder!” Oh no. I blush from head to toe. I hadn’t realized what this meant. How humiliating! “It’s for a good cause,” Mia hisses at me, sensing my discomfort. “Besides, Jiyong will win.” She rolls her eyes. “I can’t imagine him letting anyone outbid him. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you all evening.” Yes, focus on the good cause, and Jiyong is bound to win. Let’s face it, he’s not short of a dime or two. But it means spending more money on you! my subconscious snarls at me. But I don’t want to dance with anyone else—I can’t dance with anyone else—and it’s not spending money on me, he’s donating it to the charity. Like the $24,000 he’s already spent? My subconscious narrows her eyes. Shit. I seem to have gotten away with my impulsive bid. Why am I arguing with myself? “Now, gentlemen, pray gather around, and take a good look at what could be yours for the first dance. Twelve comely and compliant wenches.” Jeez! I feel like I’m in a meat market. I watch, horrified, as at least twenty men make their way to the stage area, Jiyong included, moving with easy grace between the tables and pausing to say a few hellos on the way. Once the bidders are assembled, the MC begins. “Ladies and gentlemen, in the tradition of the masquerade we shall maintain the mystery behind the masks and stick to first names only. First up we have the lovely Jada.” Jada is giggling like a schoolgirl, too. Maybe I won’t be so out of place. She’s dressed head to foot in navy taffeta with a matching mask. Two young men step forward expectantly. Lucky Jada. “Jada speaks fluent Japanese, is a qualified fighter pilot, and an Olympic gymnast … hmm.” The MC winks. “Gentlemen, what am I bid?” Jada gapes, astounded at the MC; obviously, he’s talking complete garbage. She grins shyly back at the two contenders. “A thousand bucks!” one calls. Very quickly the bidding escalates to $5,000. “Going once … going twice … sold!” the MC declares loudly, “to the gentleman in the mask!” And of course, all the men are wearing masks so there are hoots of laughter, applause, and cheering. Jada beams at her purchaser and quickly exits the stage. “See? This is fun!” whispers Mia. “I hope Jiyong wins you, though … We don’t want a brawl,” she adds. “Brawl?” I answer horrified. “Oh yes. He was very hotheaded when he was younger.” She shudders. Jiyong brawling? Refined, sophisticated, likes-Tudor-choral-music Jiyong? I can’t see it. The MC distracts me with his next introduction—a young woman in red, with long jet-black hair. “Gentlemen, may I present the wonderful Mariah. What are we going to do about Mariah? She’s an experienced matador, plays the cello to concert standard, and she’s a champion pole-vaulter … how about that, gentlemen? What am I bid, please, for a dance with the delightful Mariah?” Mariah glares at the MC and someone yells, very loudly, “Three thousand dollars!” It’s a masked man with blond hair and beard. There is one counterbid, but Mariah sells for $4,000. Jiyong is watching me like a hawk. Brawler Trevelyan-Kwon—who would have known? “How long ago?” I ask Mia. She glances at me, nonplussed. “How long ago was Jiyong brawling?” “Early teens. Drove my parents crazy, coming home with cut lips and black eyes. He was expelled from two schools. He inflicted some serious damage on his opponents.” I gape at her. “Hasn’t he told you?” She sighs. “He got quite a bad rep among my friends. He was really persona non grata for a few years. But it stopped when he was about fifteen or sixteen.” She shrugs. Holy fuck. Another piece of the jigsaw falls into place. “So, what am I bid for the gorgeous Jill?” “Four thousand dollars,” a deep voice calls from the left side. Jill squeals in delight. I stop paying attention to the auction. So Jiyong was in that kind of trouble at school, fighting. I wonder why. I stare at him. Lily is watching us closely. “And now, allow me to introduce the beautiful Y/N.” Oh, shit, that’s me. I glance nervously at Mia, and she shoos me center stage. Fortunately I don’t fall over, but stand embarrassed as hell on display for everyone. When I look at Jiyong, he’s smirking at me. The bastard. “Beautiful Y/N plays six musical instruments, speaks fluent Mandarin, and is keen on yoga … well, gentlemen—” Before he can even finish his sentence Jiyong interrupts him, glaring at the MC through his mask. “Ten thousand dollars.” I hear Lily’s gasp of disbelief behind me. Oh, fuck. “Fifteen.” What? We all turn as one to a tall, impeccably dressed man standing to the left of the stage. I blink at Fifty. Shit, what will he make of this? But he’s scratching his chin and giving the stranger an ironic smile. It’s obvious Jiyong knows him. The stranger nods politely at Jiyong. “Well, gentlemen! We have high rollers in the house this evening.” The MC’s excitement emanates through his harlequin mask as he turns to beam at Jiyong. This is a great show, but it’s at my expense. I want to wail. “Twenty,” counters Jiyong quietly. The babble of the crowd has died. Everyone is staring at me, Jiyong, and Mr. Mysterious by the stage. “Twenty-five,” the stranger says. Could this be any more embarrassing? Jiyong stares at him impassively, but he’s amused. All eyes are on Jiyong. What’s he going to do? My heart is in my mouth. I feel sick. “One hundred thousand dollars,” he says, his voice ringing clear and loud through the tent. “What the fuck?” Lily hisses audibly behind me, and a general gasp of dismay and amusement ripples through the crowd. The stranger holds his hands up in defeat, laughing, and Jiyong smirks at him. From the corner of my eye, I can see Mia bouncing up and down with glee. “One hundred thousand dollars for the lovely Y/N! Going once … going twice …” The MC stares at the stranger, who shakes his head with mock regret and bows chivalrously. “Sold!” the MC cries out triumphantly. In a deafening round of applause and cheering, Jiyong steps forward to take my hand and help me from the stage. He gazes at me with an amused grin as I make my way down, kisses the back of my hand then tucks it into the crook of his arm, and leads me toward the tent’s exit. “Who was that?” I ask. He gazes down at me. “Someone you can meet later. Right now, I want to show you something. We have about thirty minutes until the First Dance Auction finishes. Then we have to be back on the dance floor so that I can enjoy that dance I’ve paid for.” “A very expensive dance,” I mutter disapprovingly. “I’m sure it’ll be worth every single cent.” He smiles down at me wickedly. Oh, he has a glorious smile, and the ache is back, blossoming in my body. We’re out on the lawn. I thought we would be heading to the boathouse, but disappointingly we seem to be heading for the dance floor where the big band is now setting up. There are at least twenty musicians, and a few guests are milling about, furtively smoking—but since most of the action is back in the tent, we don’t attract too much attention. Jiyong leads me to the rear of the house and opens a French window leading into a large comfortable sitting room that I’ve not seen before. He walks through the deserted hall toward the sweeping staircase with its elegant, polished wooden balustrade. Taking my hand from the crook of his arm, he leads me up to the second floor and up another flight of stairs to the third. Opening a white door, he ushers me into one of the bedrooms. “This was my room,” he says quietly, standing by the door and locking it behind him. It’s large, stark, and sparsely furnished. The walls are white, as is the furniture; a double bed, a desk and chair, shelves crammed with books and lined with various trophies for kickboxing, by the look of them. The walls are hung with movie posters: The Matrix, Fight Club, The Truman Show, and two framed posters featuring kickboxers. One is named Guiseppe DeNatale—I’ve never heard of him. But what catches my eye is the white bulletin board above the desk, studded with myriad photographs, Mariners pennants, and ticket stubs. It’s a slice of young Jiyong. My eyes come back to the magnificent man now standing in the center of the room. He looks at me darkly, brooding and sexy. “I’ve never brought a girl in here,” he murmurs. “Never?” I whisper. He shakes his head. I swallow convulsively, and the ache that has been bothering me for the last couple of hours is roaring now, raw and wanting. Seeing him standing there on the royal blue carpet in that mask … it’s beyond erotic. I want him. Now. Any way I can get him. I have to resist launching myself at him and ripping his clothes off. He waltzes over to me slowly. “We don’t have long, Y/N, and the way I’m feeling right this moment, we won’t need long. Turn around. Let me get you out of that dress.” I turn and stare at the door, grateful that he’s locked it. Bending down he whispers softly in my ear, “Keep the mask on.” I groan as my body clenches in response. He’s not even touched me yet. He grasps the top of my dress, his fingers sliding against my skin, and the touch reverberates through my body. In one swift move, he opens the zipper. Holding my dress, he helps me to step out of it, then turns and drapes it artfully over the back of a chair. Removing his jacket, he places it over my dress. He pauses, and stares at me for a moment, drinking me in. I’m in the basque and matching panties, and I revel in his sensuous gaze. “You know, Y/N,” he says softly as he stalks toward me, undoing his bow tie so it hangs from either side of his neck, then undoing the top three buttons of his shirt. “I was so mad when you bought my auction lot. All manner of ideas ran through my head. I had to remind myself that punishment is off the menu. But then you volunteered.” He gazes down at me through his mask. “Why did you do that?” he whispers. “Volunteer? I don’t know. Frustration … too much alcohol … worthy cause,” I mutter meekly, shrugging. Maybe to get his attention? I needed him then. I need him more now. The ache is worse, and I know he can soothe it, calm this roaring, salivating beast in me with the beast in him. His mouth presses into a line, and he slowly licks his upper lip. I want that tongue on me. “I vowed to myself I would not spank you again, even if you begged me.” “Please,” I beg. “But then I realized you’re probably very uncomfortable at the moment, and it’s not something you’re used to.” He smirks knowingly at me, arrogant bastard, but I don’t care because he’s absolutely right. “Yes,” I breathe. “So, there might be a certain … latitude. If I do this, you must promise me one thing.” “Anything.” “You will safe-word if you need to, and I will just make love to you, okay?” “Yes.” I’m panting. I want his hands on me. He swallows, then takes my hand, and moves toward the bed. Throwing the duvet aside, he sits down, grabs a pillow, and places it beside him. He gazes up at me standing beside him and suddenly tugs hard on my hand so that I fall across his lap. He shifts slightly so my body is resting on the bed, my chest on the pillow, my face to one side. Leaning over, he sweeps my hair over my shoulder and runs his fingers through the plume of feathers on my mask. “Put your hands behind your back,” he murmurs. Oh! He removes his bow tie and uses it to quickly bind my wrists so that my hands are tied behind me, resting in the small of my back. “You really want this, Y/N?” I close my eyes. This is the first time since I met him that I really want this. I need it. “Yes,” I whisper. “Why?” he asks softly as he caresses my behind with his palm. I groan as soon as his hand makes contact with my skin. I don’t know why … You tell me not to overthink. After a day like today—arguing about the money, Leila, Mrs. Robinson, the dossier on me, the road map, this lavish party, the masks, the alcohol, the silver balls, the auction … I want this. “Do I need a reason?” “No, baby, you don’t,” he says. “I’m just trying to understand you.” His left hand curls around my waist, holding me in place as his palm leaves my behind and lands hard, just above the junction of my thighs. The pain connects directly with the ache in my belly Oh, man … I moan loudly. He hits me again, in exactly the same place. I groan again. “Two,” he murmurs. “We’ll go with twelve.” Oh my! This feels different than the last time—so carnal, so … necessary. He caresses my behind with his long-fingered hands, and I’m helpless, trussed up and pressed into the mattress, at his mercy, and of my own free will. He hits me again, slightly to the side, and again, to the other side, then pauses as he slowly peels my panties down and pulls them off. He gently trails his palm across my behind again before continuing my spanking—each stinging smack taking the edge off my need—or fueling it—I don’t know. I surrender myself to the rhythm of blows, absorbing each one, savoring each one. “Twelve,” he murmurs his voice low and harsh. He caresses my behind again and trails his fingers down toward my sex and slowly sinks two fingers inside me, moving them in a circle, around and around and around, torturing me. I moan loudly as my body takes over, and I come and come, convulsing around his fingers. It’s so intense, unexpected, and quick. “That’s right, baby,” he murmurs appreciatively. He unties my wrists, keeping his fingers inside me as I lie panting and spent over him. “I’ve not finished with you yet, Anastasia,” he says and shifts without removing his fingers. He eases my knees onto the floor so that now I’m leaning over the bed. He kneels on the floor behind me and undoes his zipper. He slides his fingers out of me, and I hear the familiar tear of a foil packet. “Open your legs,” he growls, and I comply. He strokes my behind and eases into me. “This is going to be quick, baby,” he murmurs and grabbing my hips, he eases out then slams into me. “Ah!” I cry out, but the fullness is heavenly. He’s hitting the bellyache square on, again and again, eradicating it with each sharp, sweet thrust. The feeling is mindblowing, just what I need. I push back to meet him, thrust for thrust. “Ana, no,” he grunts, trying to still me. But I want him too much, and I grind against him, matching him thrust for thrust. “Ana, shit,” he hisses as he comes, and the tortured sound sets me off again, spiraling into a healing orgasm that goes on and on and wrings me out and leaves me spent and breathless. Jiyong bends and kisses my shoulder, then pulls out of me. Placing his arms around me, he rests his head in the middle of my back, and we lie like this, both kneeling at the bedside, for what? Seconds? Minutes, even, as our breathing calms. My bellyache has disappeared, and all I feel is a soothing, satisfying serenity. Jiyong stirs and kisses my back. “I believe you owe me a dance, Miss Y/L/N,” he murmurs. “Hmm,” I respond, savoring the absence of achiness and basking in the afterglow. He sits back on his heels and pulls me off the bed onto his lap. “We don’t have long. Come on.” He kisses my hair and forces me to stand. I grumble but sit back down on the bed and collect my panties from the floor and scoop them on. Lazily I walk to the chair to retrieve my dress. I note with dispassionate interest that I did not remove my shoes during our illicit tryst. Jiyong is tying his bow tie, having finished straightening himself and the bed. As I slip my dress back on, I check out the photographs on the bulletin board. Jiyong as a sullen teen was gorgeous even then: with Taeyang and Mia on the ski slopes; on his own in Paris, the Arc de Triomphe serving as a giveaway to his location; in London; New York; the Grand Canyon; Sydney Opera House; even the Great Wall of China. Master Kwon was well traveled at a young age. There are ticket stubs to various concerts: U2, Metallica, the Verve, Sheryl Crow, the New York Philharmonic performing Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet—what an eclectic mix! And in the corner, there’s a passport-sized photograph of a young woman. It’s in black and white. She looks familiar, but for the life of me, I can’t place her. Not Mrs. Robinson, thank heavens. “Who’s this?” I ask. “No one of consequence,” he mutters as he slips on his jacket and straightens his bow tie. “Shall I zip you up?” “Please. Then why is she on your bulletin board?” “An oversight on my part. How’s my tie?” He raises his chin like a small boy, and I grin and straighten it for him. “Now it’s perfect.” “Like you,” he murmurs and grabs me, kissing me passionately. “Feeling better?” “Much, thank you, Mr. Kwon.” “The pleasure was all mine, Miss Y/L/N.” THE GUESTS ARE ASSEMBLING on the dance floor. Jiyong grins at me—we’ve made it just in time —and he leads me onto the checkered floor. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the first dance. Mr. and Dr. Kwon, are you ready?” Carrick nods in agreement, his arms around Gi-ran. “Ladies and gentlemen of the First Dance Auction, are you ready?” We all nod in agreement. Mia is with someone I don’t recognize. I wonder what happened to Sean? “Then we shall begin. Take it away, Sam!” A young man strolls onto the stage amid warm applause, turns to the band behind him, and snaps his fingers. The familiar strains of “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” fill the air. Jiyong smiles down at me, takes me in his arms, and starts to move. Oh, he dances so well, making it easy to follow. We grin at each other like idiots as he whirls me around the dance floor. “I love this song,” Jiyong murmurs, gazing down at me. “Seems very fitting.” He’s no longer grinning, but serious. “You’re under my skin, too,” I respond. “Or you were in your bedroom.” He purses his lips but he’s unable to hide his amusement. “Miss Y/L/N,” he admonishes me teasingly, “I had no idea you could be so crude.” “Mr. Kwon, neither did I. I think it’s all my recent experiences. They’ve been an education.” “For both of us.” Jiyong is serious again, and it could just be the two of us and the band. We are in our own private bubble. As the song finishes we both applaud. Sam the singer bows graciously and introduces his band. “May I cut in?” I recognize the man who bid on me at the auction. Jiyong grudgingly lets me go, but he’s amused, too. “Be my guest. Y/N, this is John Flynn. John, Y/N.” Shit! Jiyong grins and wanders off to one side of the dance floor. “How do you do, Y/N?” Dr. Flynn says smoothly, and I realize he’s British. “Hello,” I stutter. The band strikes up another song, and Dr. Flynn pulls me into his arms. He’s much younger than I imagined, though I can’t see his face. He’s wearing a mask similar to Jiyong’s. He’s tall, but not as tall as Jiyong, and he doesn’t move with Christian’s easy grace. What do I say to him? Why is Jiyong so fucked-up? Why did he bid on me? It’s the only thing I want to ask him, but somehow that seems rude. “I’m glad to finally meet you, Y/N. Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks. “I was,” I whisper. “Oh. I hope I’m not responsible for your change of heart.” He gives me a brief, warm smile that puts me a little more at ease. “Dr. Flynn, you’re the shrink. You tell me.” He grins. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? The shrink bit?” I giggle. “I’m worried what I might reveal, so I’m a little self-conscious and intimidated. And really I only want to ask you about Jiyong.” He smiles. “First, this is a party so I’m not on duty,” he whispers conspiratorially. “And second, I really can’t talk to you about Jiyong. Besides,” he teases, “we’d need until Christmas.” I gasp in shock. “That’s a doctor’s joke, Y/N.” I flush, embarrassed, and then feel slightly resentful. He’s making a joke at Jiyong’s expense. “You’ve just confirmed what I’ve been saying to Jiyong … that you’re an expensive charlatan,” I admonish him. Dr. Flynn snorts with laughter. “You could be on to something there.” “You’re British?” “Yes. Originally from London.” “How did you find yourself here?” “Happy circumstance.” “You don’t give much away, do you?” “There’s not much to give away. I’m really a very dull person.” “That’s very self-deprecating.” “It’s a British trait. Part of our national character.” “Oh.” “And I could accuse you of the same, Y/N .” “That I’m a dull person, too, Dr. Flynn?” He snorts. “No, Y/N. That you don’t give much away.” “There’s not much to give away.” I smile. “I sincerely doubt that.” He unexpectedly frowns. I flush, but the music finishes and Jiyong is once more by my side. Dr. Flynn releases me. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” He gives me his warm smile again, and I feel that I’ve passed some kind of hidden test. “John.” Jiyong nods at him. “ Jiyong .” Dr. Flynn returns his nod, turns on his heel, and disappears through the crowd. Jiyong pulls me into his arms for the next dance. “He’s much younger than I expected,” I murmur to him. “And terribly indiscreet.” Jiyong cocks his head to one side. “Indiscreet?” “Oh yes, he told me everything,” I tease. Jiyong tenses. “Well, in that case, I’ll get your bag. I’m sure you want nothing more to do with me,” he says softly. I stop. “He didn’t tell me anything!” My voice fills with panic. Jiyong blinks before relief floods his face. He pulls me into his arms again. “Then let’s enjoy this dance.” He beams down at me, reassuring me, and then spins me around. Why would he think that I’d want to leave? It makes no sense. We dance for two more numbers, and I realize I need the restroom. “I won’t be long.” As I make my way to the powder room, I remember I have left my purse on the dinner table, so I head down to the tent. When I enter, it’s still lit but quite deserted, except for a couple at the other end, who really ought to get a room! I reach for my bag. “ Y/N?” A soft voice startles me, and I turn to see a woman dressed in a long, tight, black velvet gown. Her mask is unique. It covers her face to her nose but also covers her hair. It’s stunning, with elaborate gold filigree. “I’m so glad you’re on your own,” she says softly. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you all evening.” “I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are.” She pulls the mask from her face and releases her hair. Shit! It’s Mrs. Robinson. “I’m sorry, I startled you.” I gape at her. Holy cow—what the fuck does this woman want? I don’t know what the social conventions are for meeting known molesters of children. She’s smiling sweetly and gesturing for me to sit at the table. And because I am lacking any sphere of reference, I do as she asks out of stunned politeness, grateful that I am still wearing my mask. “I’ll be brief, Y/N. I know what you think of me … Jiyong’s told me.” I gaze at her impassively, giving nothing away, but I’m pleased that she knows. It saves me telling her, and she’s cutting to the chase. Part of me is beyond intrigued as to what she could have to say. She pauses, glancing over my shoulder. “Taylor’s watching us.” I peek around to see him scanning the tent by the doorway. Sawyer is with him. They are looking anywhere but at us. “Look, we don’t have long,” she says hurriedly. “It must be obvious to you that Jiyong is in love with you. I have never seen him like this, ever.” She emphasizes the last word. What? Loves me? No. Why is she telling me? To reassure me? I don’t understand. “He won’t tell you because he probably doesn’t realize it himself, notwithstanding what I’ve said to him, but that’s Jiyong. He’s not very attuned to any positive feelings and emotions he may have. He dwells far too much on the negative. But then, you’ve probably worked that out for yourself. He doesn’t think he’s worthy.” I am reeling. Jiyong loves me? He hasn’t said it, and this woman has told him that’s how he feels? How bizarre. A hundred images dance through my head: the iPad, the gliding, flying to see me, all his actions, his possessiveness, $100,000 for a dance. Is this love? And hearing it from this woman, having her confirm it for me is, frankly, unwelcome. I’d rather hear it from him. My heart constricts. He feels unworthy? Why? “I’ve never seen him so happy, and it’s obvious that you have feelings for him, too.” A brief smile flits across her lips. “That’s great, and I wish you both the best of everything. But what I wanted to say is if you hurt him again, I will find you, lady, and it won’t be pleasant when I do.” She stares at me, ice-cold blue eyes boring into my skull, trying to get under my mask. Her threat is so astonishing, so off the wall, that an involuntary, disbelieving giggle escapes me. Of all the things she could say to me, this is the least expected. “You think this is funny, Y/N?” she splutters in dismay. “You didn’t see him last Saturday.” My face falls and darkens. The thought of Jiyong unhappy is not a palatable one, and last Saturday I left him. He must have gone to her. The idea makes me queasy. Why am I sitting here, listening to this shit from her, of all people? I slowly rise, gazing at her intently. “I’m laughing at your audacity, Mrs. Lincoln. Jiyong and I have nothing to do with you. And if I do leave him and you come looking for me, I’ll be waiting—don’t doubt it. And maybe I’ll give you a taste of your own medicine on behalf of the fifteen-year-old child you molested and probably fucked up even more than he already was.” Her mouth falls open. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do than waste my time with you.” I turn on my heel, adrenaline and anger coursing through my body, and stalk toward the entrance of the tent where Taylor is standing just as Jiyong arrives, looking flustered and worried. “There you are,” he mutters, then frowns when he sees Chaerin. I stride past him, saying nothing, giving him the opportunity to choose—her or me. He makes the right choice. “ Y/N,” he calls. I stop and face him as he catches up with me. “What’s wrong?” He gazes down at me, concern etched on his face. “Why don’t you ask your ex?” I hiss acidly. His mouth twists and his eyes frost. “I’m asking you,” he says, his voice soft but with an undertone of something far more menacing. We glare at each other. Okay, I can see this will end in a fight if I don’t tell him. “She’s threatening to come after me if I hurt you again—probably with a whip,” I snap at him. Relief flashes across his face, his mouth softening with humor. “Surely the irony of that isn’t lost on you?” he says, and I can tell he’s trying hard to stifle his amusement. “This isn’t funny, Jiyong!” “No, you’re right. I’ll talk to her.” He adopts his serious face, though he’s still suppressing his amusement. “You will do no such thing.” I cross my arms, my anger spiking again. He blinks at me, surprised by my outburst. “Look, I know you’re tied up with her financially, forgive the pun, but—” I stop. What am I asking him to do? Give her up? Stop seeing her? Can I do that? “I need the restroom.” I glare up at him, my mouth set in a grim line. He sighs and cocks his head to one side. Could he look any hotter? Is it the mask or just him? “Please don’t be mad. I didn’t know she was here. She said she wasn’t coming.” His tone is placating as if he’s talking to a child. Reaching up he runs his thumb along my pouting bottom lip. “Don’t let Chaerin ruin our evening, please, Y/N. She’s really old news.” “Old” being the operative word, I think uncharitably, as he tips my chin up and gently grazes his lips against mine. I sigh in agreement, blinking up at him. He straightens and takes my elbow. “I’ll accompany you to the powder room so you don’t get interrupted again.” He leads me across the lawn toward the luxurious temporary restrooms. Mia said they had been delivered for the occasion, but I had no idea they came in deluxe versions. “I’ll wait here for you, baby,” he murmurs. When I come out, my mood has moderated. I have decided not to let Mrs. Robinson blight my evening because that’s probably what she wants. Jiyong is on the phone some distance away and out of earshot of the few people laughing and chatting nearby. As I get closer, I can hear him. He’s very terse. “Why did you change your mind? I thought we’d agreed. Well, leave her alone … This is the first regular relationship I’ve ever had, and I don’t want you jeopardizing it through some misplaced concern for me. Leave. Her. Alone. I mean it, Chaerin.” He pauses, listening. “No, of course not.” He frowns deeply as he says this. Glancing up, he sees me regarding him. “I have to go. Good night.” He presses the off button. I cock my head to one side and raise an eyebrow at him. Why is he phoning her? “How’s the old news?” “Cranky,” he replies sardonically. “Do you want to dance some more? Or would you like to go?” He glances at his watch. “The fireworks start in five minutes.” “I love fireworks.” “We’ll stay and watch them, then.” He puts his arms around me and pulls me close. “Don’t let her come between us, please.” “She cares about you,” I mutter. “Yes, and I her … as a friend.” “I think it’s more than a friendship to her.” His brow furrows. “ Y/N, Chaerin and I … it’s complicated. We have a shared history. But it is just that, history. As I’ve said to you time and time again, she’s a good friend. That’s all. Please, forget about her.” He kisses my hair, and in the interest of not ruining our evening, I let it go. I am just trying to understand. We wander hand in hand back to the dance floor. The band is still in full swing. “ Y/N .” I turn to find Carrick standing behind us. “I wondered if you’d do me the honor of the next dance.” Carrick holds his hand out to me. Jiyong shrugs and smiles, releasing my hand, and I let Carrick lead me onto the dance floor. Sam the bandleader launches into “Come Fly with Me,” and Carrick puts his arm around my waist and gently whirls me into the throng. “I wanted to thank you for the generous contribution to our charity, Y/N.” From his tone, I suspect this is his roundabout way of asking whether I can afford it. “Mr. Kwon—” “Call me Carrick, please, Y/N .” “I’m delighted to be able to contribute. I unexpectedly came into some money. I don’t need it. And it’s such a worthy cause.” He smiles down at me, and I seize the opportunity for some innocent inquiries. Carpe diem, my subconscious hisses from behind her hand. “ Jiyong told me a little about his past, so I think it’s appropriate to support your work,” I add, hoping that this might encourage Carrick to give me a small insight into the mystery that is his son. Carrick is surprised. “Did he? That’s unusual. You certainly have had a very positive effect on him, Y/N. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so, so … buoyant.” I flush. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” “Well, in my limited experience, he’s a very unusual man,” I murmur. “He is,” Carrick agrees quietly. “ Jiyong ’s early childhood sounds hideously traumatic, from what he’s told me.” Carrick frowns, and I worry if I’ve overstepped the mark. “My wife was the doctor on duty when the police brought him in. He was skin and bones, and badly dehydrated. He wouldn’t speak.” Carrick frowns again, lost in the awful memory, despite the up-tempo music surrounding us. “In fact, he didn’t speak for nearly two years. It was playing the piano that eventually brought him out of himself. Oh, and Mia’s arrival, of course.” He smiles down at me fondly. “He plays beautifully. And he’s accomplished so much, you must be very proud of him.” I sound distracted. Holy Shit. Didn’t speak for two years. “Immensely so. He’s a very determined, very capable, very bright young man. But between you and me, Y/N , it’s seeing him like he is this evening—carefree, acting his age—that’s the real thrill for his mother and me. We were both commenting on it today. I believe we have you to thank for that.” I think I blush to my roots. What am I supposed to say to this? “He’s always been such a loner. We never thought we’d see him with anyone. Whatever you’re doing, please don’t stop. We’d like to see him happy.” He stops suddenly, as if he’s overstepped the mark. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” I shake my head. “I’d like to see him happy, too,” I mutter, unsure of what else to say. “Well, I’m very glad you came this evening. It’s been a real pleasure seeing the two of you together.” As the final strains of “Come Fly with Me” fade away, Carrick releases me and bows, and I curtsy, mirroring his civility. “That’s enough dancing with old men.” Jiyong is at my side again. Carrick laughs. “Less of the ‘old,’ son. I’ve been known to have my moments.” Carrick winks at me playfully and saunters into the crowd. “I think my dad likes you,” Christian mutters as he watches his father mingle with the crowd. “What’s not to like?” I peek coquettishly up at him through my lashes. “Good point well made, Miss Y/L/N.” He pulls me into an embrace as the band starts to play “It Had to Be You.” “Dance with me,” he whispers seductively. “With pleasure, Mr. Kwon.” I smile in response, and he sweeps me across the dance floor once more. AT MIDNIGHT WE STROLL down toward the shore between the tent and the boathouse where the other partygoers are gathered to watch the fireworks. The MC, back in charge, has permitted the removal of masks, the better to see the display. Jiyong has his arm around me, but I’m aware that Taylor and Sawyer are close by, probably because we’re in the crowd now. They are looking anywhere but at the dockside where two technicians dressed in black are making their final preparations. Seeing Taylor reminds me of Leila. Perhaps she’s here. Shit. The thought chills my blood, and I huddle closer to Jiyong. He gazes down at me as he pulls me closer. “You okay, baby? Cold?” “I’m fine.” I glance quickly behind us and see the other two security guys, whose names I forget, standing close by. Moving me in front of him, Jiyong puts both his arms around me over my shoulders. Suddenly a stirring classical soundtrack booms over the dock and two rockets soar into the air, exploding with a deafening bang over the bay, lighting it all in a dazzling canopy of sparkling orange and white that’s reflected in a glittering shower over the still calm water of the bay. My jaw drops as several more rockets fire into the air and explode in a kaleidoscope of color. I can’t recall ever seeing a display this impressive, except perhaps on television, and it never looks this good on TV. It’s all in time to the music. Volley after volley, bang after bang, and light after light as the crowd answers with gasps and oohs and ahs. It is out of this world. On the pontoon in the bay several silver fountains of light shoot up twenty feet in the air, changing color through blue, red, orange, and back to silver—and yet more rockets explode as the music reaches its crescendo. My face is beginning to ache from the ridiculous grin of wonder plastered across it. I glance at Fifty, and he’s the same, marveling like a child at the sensational show. For the finale a volley of six rockets shoot into the dark and explode simultaneously, bathing us in a glorious golden light as the crowd erupts into frantic, enthusiastic applause. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the MC calls out as the cheers and whistles fade. “Just one note to add at the end of this wonderful evening; your generosity has raised a total of one million eight hundred and fifty-three thousand dollars!” Spontaneous applause erupts again, and out on the pontoon, a message lights up in silver streams of sparks forming the words “Thank You from Coping Together,” sparkling and shimmering over the water. “Oh, Jiyong … that was wonderful.” I grin up at him and he bends down to kiss me. “Time to go,” he murmurs, a broad smile on his beautiful face, and his words hold so much promise. Suddenly, I feel very tired. He glances up again, and Taylor is close, the crowd dispersing around us. They don’t speak but something passes between them. “Stay with me a moment. Taylor wants us to wait while the crowd disperses.” Oh. “I think that fireworks display probably aged him a hundred years,” he adds. “Doesn’t he like fireworks?” Jiyong gazes down at me fondly and shakes his head but doesn’t elaborate. “So, Aspen,” he says, and I know he’s trying to distract me from something. It works. “Oh … I haven’t paid for my bid,” I gasp. “You can send a check. I have the address.” “You were really mad.” “Yes, I was.” I grin. “I blame you and your toys.” “You were quite overcome, Miss Y/L/N. A most satisfactory outcome if I recall.” He smiles salaciously. “Incidentally, where are they?” “The silver balls? In my bag.” “I’d like them back. They are far too potent a device to be left in your innocent hands.” “Worried I might be quite overcome again, maybe with somebody else?” His eyes glitter dangerously. “I hope that’s not going to happen,” he says, a cool edge to his voice. “But no, Y/N . I want all your pleasure.” Whoa. “Don’t you trust me?” “Implicitly. Now, can I have them back?” “I’ll think about it.” He narrows his eyes at me. There’s music once more from the dance floor but it’s a DJ playing a thumping dance number, the bass pounding out a relentless beat. “Do you want to dance?” “I’m really tired, Jiyong. I’d like to go, if that’s okay.” Jiyong glances at Taylor, who nods, and we set off toward the house, following a couple of drunken guests. I’m grateful when Jiyong takes my hand—my feet are aching from the dizzying height and tight confinement of my shoes. Mia comes bounding up to us. “You’re not going, are you? The real music’s just beginning. Come on, Y/N .” She grabs my hand. “Mia,” Jiyong admonishes her. “ Y/N’stired. We’re going home. Besides, we have a big day tomorrow.” We do? Mia pouts but surprisingly doesn’t push Jiyong. “You must come by sometime next week. Maybe we can hit the mall?” “Sure, Mia.” I grin, though in the back of my mind I’m wondering how since I have to work for a living. She gives me a quick kiss then hugs Jiyong fiercely, taking us both by surprise. More astoundingly still, she places her hands directly on the lapels of his jacket, and he just gazes down at her, indulgently. “I like seeing you this happy,” she says sweetly and kisses him on the cheek. “Bye. You guys have fun.” She skips off toward her waiting friends—among them Lily, who looks even more sour-faced without her mask. I wonder idly where Sean is. “We’ll say good night to my parents before we leave. Come.” Jiyong leads me through a gaggle of guests to Gi-ran and Carrick, who wish us fond and warm farewells. “Please do come again, Y/N, it’s been lovely having you here,” says Gi-ran kindly. I am a little overwhelmed by both her and Carrick’s reaction. Fortunately, Gi-ra’s parents have retired for the evening, so at least I am spared their enthusiasm. In a relaxed, weary silence, Jiyong and I walk hand in hand to the front of the house, where countless cars are lined up waiting to collect guests. I glance up at Fifty. He looks happy. It’s a real pleasure to see him this way, though I suspect it’s unusual after such an extraordinary day. “Are you warm enough?” he asks. “Yes, thank you.” I clasp my satin wrap. “I really enjoyed this evening, Y/N. Thank you.” “Me too, some parts more than others.” I grin. He grins and nods, then his brow creases. “Don’t bite your lip,” he warns in a way that makes my blood sing. “What did you mean about a big day tomorrow?” I ask to distract myself. “Dr. Greene is coming to sort you out. Plus, I have a surprise for you.” “Dr. Greene!” I halt. “Yes.” “Why?” “Because I hate condoms,” he says quietly. His eyes glint in the soft light from the paper lanterns, gauging my reaction. “It’s my body,” I mutter, annoyed that he hasn’t asked me. “It’s mine, too,” he whispers. I gaze up at him as various guests pass by, ignoring us. He looks so earnest. Yes, my body is his … he knows it better than I do. I reach up, and he flinches ever so slightly but stays still. Grasping the corner of his bow tie, I pull so it unravels, revealing the top button of his shirt. Gently I undo it. “You look hot like this,” I whisper. Actually he looks hot all the time, but really hot like this. He smiles. “I need to get you home. Come.” At the car, Sawyer hands Jiyong an envelope. He frowns at it and glances at me as Taylor ushers me into the car. Taylor looks relieved for some reason. Jiyong climbs in and hands me the envelope, unopened, as Taylor and Sawyer take their seats in the front. “It’s addressed to you. One of the staff gave it to Sawyer. No doubt from yet another ensnared heart.” Jiyong’s mouth twists. It’s obvious this is an unpleasant concept to him. I stare at the note. Who is this from? Ripping it open, I read it quickly in the dim light. Holy shit, it’s from her! Why won’t she leave me alone? I may have misjudged you. And you have definitely misjudged me. Call me if you need to fill in any of the blanks—we could have lunch. Jiyong doesn’t want me talking to you, but I would be more than happy to help. Don’t get me wrong, I approve, believe me—but so help me, if you hurt him … He’s been hurt enough. Call me: (206) 279-6261 Mrs. Robinson Fuck, she’s signed it Mrs. Robinson! He told her. The bastard. “You told her?” “Told who, what?” “That I call her Mrs. Robinson,” I snap. “It’s from Chaerin?” Jiyong is shocked. “This is ridiculous,” he grumbles, running a hand through his hair, and I can tell he’s irritated. “I’ll deal with her tomorrow. Or Monday,” he mutters bitterly. And though I’m ashamed to admit it, a very small part of me is pleased. My subconscious nods sagely. Chaerin is pissing him off, and this can only be good—surely. I decide to say nothing for now but stash her note in my bag, and in a gesture guaranteed to lighten his mood, I hand him back the balls. “Until next time,” I murmur. He glances at me, and it’s hard to see his face in the dark, but I think he’s smirking. He reaches for my hand and squeezes it. I gaze out of the window into the darkness, reflecting on this long day. I’ve learned so much about him, gleaned many missing details—the salons, the road map, his childhood—but there’s still much more to discover. And what about Mrs. R? Yes, she cares for him, and deeply, it would appear. I can see that, and he cares for her—but not in the same way. I don’t know what to think anymore. All this information is making my head hurt. JIYONG WAKES ME JUST as we pull up outside Escala. “Do I need to carry you in?” he asks gently. I shake my head sleepily. No way. As we stand in the elevator, I lean against him, putting my head against his shoulder. Sawyer stands in front of us, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s been a long day, eh, Y/N?” I nod. “Tired?” I nod. “You’re not very talkative.” I nod and he grins. “Come. I’ll put you to bed.” He takes my hand as we exit the elevator, but we stop in the foyer when Sawyer holds up his hand. In that split second, I am instantly wide awake. Sawyer talks into his sleeve. I had no idea that he was wearing a radio. “Will do, T,” he says and turns to face us. “Mr. Kwon, the tires on Ms. Y/L/N’s Audi have been slashed and paint thrown all over it.” Holy shit. My car! Who would do that? And I know the answer as soon as the question materializes in my mind. Leila. I glance up at Jiyong , and he blanches. “Taylor is concerned that the perp may have entered the apartment and may still be there. He wants to make sure.” “I see,” Jiyong whispers. “What’s Taylor’s plan?” “He’s coming up in the service elevator with Ryan and Reynolds. They’ll do a sweep, then give us the all clear. I’m to wait with you, sir.” “Thank you, Sawyer.” Jiyong tightens his arm around me. “This day just gets better and better,” he sighs bitterly, nuzzling my hair. “Listen, I can’t stand here and wait. Sawyer, take care of Miss Y/L/N. Don’t let her in until you have the all clear. I am sure Taylor is overreacting. She can’t get into the apartment.” What? “No, Jiyong —you have to stay with me,” I plead. Jiyong releases me. “Do as you’re told, Y/N. Wait here.” No! “Sawyer?” Jiyong says. Sawyer opens the foyer door to let Jiyong enter the apartment then shuts the door behind him and stands in front of it, staring impassively down at me. Holy shit. Jiyong! All manner of horrific outcomes run through my mind, but all I can do is stand and wait.

[fabsailing-blog]

What is your full name? Fabrice Peng~

Peng Feng-Liang My Chinese name, it’s fine only my family call me Feng-Liang Usually

Any nicknames? Fabbie,

Xixi,: this one is what Grandma has called me since I was a baby. or so mom says. It’s the sound of giggling. Because even dad says I was always laughing as a kid

When and where were you born? 24th May 1993. Cannes, France

What is your family life like? Grandma: straightforward, no fuss, says it like it is. sometimes sounds rude. No wonder dad’s so stubborn.

Grandpa: Lively even though he’s old! Very brave, never stops always riding his bicycle everywhere. Enjoys gardening, he’s always planing a new herb in the window box of his apart meany. Once He even planted a CHINESE CABBAGE!. Granda uses his herbs and Vegetables.

Mother: Strong-willed, She moved to Lyon from Changsha, after University. A real tiger mother, very strict always made sure I and my cousins were doing our homework. She enjoys babies, makes mooncakes every new year, for us and the extended Family.

Father: Granda always calls him Xiao Gui, and dad laughs and says it’s what she has always called him it means (little devil) He’s a prankster who’s always scaring my mom and grandma. Grandpa and my cousin find it so funny though.

Marie: JeiJei! she’s my eldest cousin though she’s only just under a year older than me. She’s like a mother hen, patient and caring. to expected my Grandpa says after all. they are his sister’s kids. She’s always had the most amazing voice, used to sing to her brothers so they’d sleep.

Jean: Hot-headed and loud, very loud. He boxes and plays the drums. he’s the eldest of Jeijei’s brothers though he’s three years younger than me. He’s rough and has always loved to wrestle with me, though that was never my thing.

Francios: Distant, not cold just very distant, always in his room, playing with his Chemistry set or telescope. Looks a lot like Auntie Fei.

Faun: the youngest brother. still only in elementary school. He’s from Auntie Fei’s second marriage. I have a good feeling about him, He sits had Auntie Fei’s grand piano, chanting “”listen, Listen” He doesn’t exactly play Chopin or Beethoven yet, but his Twinkle twinkle little star is almost perfect.

Any favourite quotes? Work delivers us from three great evils: boredom, vice and want. ― Voltaire It’s quite stunning, how true this one is

爱不是占有,是欣赏 (Love is not about possession, it's all about appreciation) The Principle my Grandparents live by. It’s actually quite beautiful.

"A man's home is his castle." James Otis. Not quite sure why I love this one so much, but I do.

Favourite music All of it

Favourite food

Cherry parfait, Crapes With honey and blueberries, Char Siu (Chinese BBQ pork belly)

Favourite show/movie Farewell my Concubine

Most overused word I don’t think I have one.

Any tattoos or piercings? My years one in each lobe.

What type of clothing are you most comfortable in? Suit funny enough, I’ve performed since being in middle school, so suits and tuxes are my things. make me feel confident.

Most disliked saying Anything along the lines, of “Trust only yourself.”

When you are angry, where do you go? When on the cruise ship?  Usually, the Dulux suite if it isn’t occupied. it had the most comfortable bed.I prefer to sleep off the anger than subject people to it.

At Home though, Usually I just go for a walk, I know the city like the back of my hand, as cliche as that sounds.

What is one strong memory that has stuck with you from childhood? Why is it so 

Flute recital from my final year in elementary school, Mom wasn’t there, but Grandpa was. He said I did my best, even though I didn’t place in the top three. Afterwards, he rode the market on his bicycle, and got the biggest ice cream cones I ever remember seeing or have seen since! I got my cone and started laughing that day was the first time he ever called me Xixi.

I remember that day because of the Giant ice cream cones and Grandpa calling me Xix for the first time.

powerful and lasting? I was Six when that happened, I’d say it’s the last memory.  

Where in the world would you like to travel to most?

Norway, Bergan. I desperately want to see where my favourite composer Edvard Greig grew up.