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#look trigger number 1 is my mother threatening me about coming to them for Father’s Day and July 4th
observethewalrus · 3 years
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It’s totally normal to break down sobbing in a bathroom stall at work because you’re being made to go to your parents house for the weekend right guys??? I’m fine. Completely fine.
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otonymous · 4 years
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Kissed By The Baddest CEO (MLQC Victor x KBTBB - NSFW)
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Description: Old flames and prospective lovers threaten to derail your budding romance with Victor before it even begins.  How will you extricate yourselves from a web of misunderstandings?
Warnings:
NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised.  Potential Trigger Warnings: profanity, jealousy, angst, exes, mentions of alcohol, bone fetishes, rough sex, 69 sex position (oral sex), mirror sex, vaginal intercourse, swallowing, size kink
Mild spoilers for Victor’s family history (MLQC); slight bending of MLQC & KBTBB canon universes via creation of original side character
Word Count: ~10K words (please set aside a good chunk of time for some fluff, angst and smut 🤣)
Author’s Notes:
First of all, a GIANT thank you to the super gracious @lin-ful​ for commissioning this Victor piece from me.  You are an absolute joy to work with and I really appreciate the fact that you gave me carte blanche to basically do whatever I wanted 🤣  I really hope you enjoy the read!  (P.S. I would never be so sadistic as to ever make you choose between Victor and Eisuke, so please rest easy 😆)
This story is especially significant to me as a writer because it represents the culmination of a number of milestones: the first time I’ve created an original character, my first attempt at writing a crossover story, the first time I’ve written in both first- and second-person perspectives.  It is also the longest single piece I’ve ever written.  That being said, please note the warnings listed above and happy reading! 😊
Nb. This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, and incidents are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Chapter 1: Hello Diana
“Really Vic, I thought you were beyond name calling by now.”  
Her voice is sultry and low, smooth in your ears like the whiskey in her tumbler.  Completely at ease in a couture Givenchy pantsuit that likely cost more than one of your production budgets, she sat with her legs elegantly crossed in a leather armchair, tipping her glass to vermillion lips.  And as the flames danced in the imposing marble fireplace of one of Shanghai’s oldest and most exclusive supper clubs, they reflected off an enormous ruby ring gracing her middle finger.
Victor scoffs, taking a sip of his own whisky and glancing at you as you follow suit with the virgin cocktail he ordered on your behalf while you were in the restroom.
He was so infuriating at times, but at least it wasn’t warmed milk.
“First of all, you weren’t meant to hear that.  Secondly, I hardly consider ‘dummy’ name calling.  Far worse exists when it comes to options, as I'm sure you can attest to, Diana. You’ve used quite a few in your day.”
Amusement spreads across her fine features as she throws her head back in laughter, the sound enticing even as it disrupts the low chatter in the room.  However, none of the men looking her way seemed to mind.  She was brimming with so much joie de vivre that even you weren’t immune to her charms, smiling despite the anxiety that sat heavy in your chest from the very moment Victor introduced you to Diana Shum that evening.
You didn’t quite know why you felt ill at ease, especially towards someone who was doing you a favour by brokering a major deal on behalf of your company.  Well, more like doing Victor a favour, since he was the one who made the request.  Perhaps this was how all men felt in the presence of such a woman: elegantly confident and unapologetically vivacious, drawing attention everywhere she went.
“Are you still dredging up stories from our Oxford days, Victor?  Not very gentlemanly of you.  How do you put up with him?”  Diana turns to wink at you and the spotlight of her attention makes you feel like the only other person in the room.  “Let me assure you those boys deserved every insult in the book; one-track minds and transparent to boot.  They should consider themselves lucky I even acknowledged their sad existence.”  
“Di, you made the Prime Minister’s son cry.  You should’ve seen those puffy eyes the next morning at the swim meet against Cambridge."  
Victor raises his brows, subtle amusement colouring his expression.  And simple though it was, the sight of his handsome face so transformed by the faint smile on his lips made your heart race.  
No, there’s no way.  It’s probably just the fatigue catching up to you.  The flight to Shanghai from Loveland City must’ve been more taxing than you initially thought, even though Victor had graciously offered to let you hitch a ride on his private jet.  You place a hand on your chest, trying to calm the frenzied rhythm of your heart.  The gesture goes unnoticed by Diana but Victor throws a worried glance in your direction.  You smile to ease his concerns.  He furrows his brows.
“Oh please, I should’ve ripped him a new one with the way he tried to get frisky on our date.  He’s lucky I didn’t call Soryu to deal with him and his wandering hands.”
A sudden change seeps into Victor’s eyes, dark irises softening as if focused on something miles away.  “Soryu.  How is your cousin doing, by the way?”
Diana leans back, taking another sip of her drink.  “You’ll see for yourself soon enough.  I take it you are accompanying this lovely producer to Tokyo to meet with Eisuke and wherever the Ichinomiya heir is, Soryu isn’t far behind.  In all honesty though, Vic, surely you would know better than I.  Weren’t the three of you thick as thieves during prep school?”
You perk up at the topic of Victor’s childhood.  It was a rare chance to learn about the formative years of this stone-faced man before he became the slave driver of Loveland Financial Group.  
“I was only there for a year and a half with Soryu and Eisuke before…before my mother passed.  My father sent for me shortly afterwards.  I haven't seen them since.”
Deep voice trailing off, Victor’s gaze shifts to the fireplace where it remains, as if hypnotized by the flicker of orange flames.  And as the silence stretches on, you become disconcerted to see him so uncharacteristically lost in his thoughts.  You reach out to touch him but Diana beats you to it, laying a delicate hand on top of his much larger one as it rests on the leather armrest.
The gesture is ridiculously small for how much it blindsides you — the sight of her hand on Victor’s dazzling like the light reflecting off her ruby ring.
He blinks at the touch, long lashes fluttering in the split-second it takes for him to compose himself and suddenly, the unflappable CEO is back again.  
“I’m sorry, it’s been a long day and we should probably call it a night.  But you have my thanks, Diana, for setting up this meeting with the Ichinomiya Group.”
It was Diana’s turn to scoff.  “Can we please dispense with the formalities, Victor?  Soryu mentioned Eisuke was having difficulty finding the right people to make this documentary on the anniversary of his Tres Spades Tokyo hotel, so it was serendipity that we bumped into each while on business in London.  It’s a win-win situation.  Meant to be.”
Meant to be.
There is a spark of something in Diana’s eyes when she makes that last statement.  It stays with you long after you part ways with Victor for the night, lying awake in your hotel room as you wondered whether the LFG CEO was already asleep in his.
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Chapter 2: SOS
“You’re awfully quiet.  Should I take this to mean that you already know everything about Eisuke Ichinomiya and his chain of luxury hotels?"
Victor speaks without raising his head, leafing through the documents on his lap and stopping periodically to leave his signature with the same gold pen that marked up your reports. Its barrel glowed warm, reflecting the soft lights of the cabin of his private jet, en route to Tokyo from Shanghai.
Letting out a shaky breath, you try to steel yourself despite the rising heat in your cheeks.  Because after a night spent tossing and turning in your hotel room, you arrived at a conclusion so absurd it could only be true:  
You were in love with Victor Li.
Against all odds, the bane of your life had become your biggest ally and mentor.  All the pieces of the square puzzle that was the LFG CEO had fallen into place to form one coherent and beautiful picture:
His exacting demands transformed into standards of excellence, his workaholism a paragon of commitment and dedication.
And though you were loathe to admit it, each soft utterance of “dummy” leaving his lips made the corners of yours turn up in the goofiest of grins.
Oh god, how did it ever come to this?!  Where and when along the rocky path of your working relationship with the slave driver did you fall in love with him?  But that wasn’t even the worst of it.  If your intuition about the previous night’s events served you well, the beautiful Diana Shum was also enamoured of him.
You turn to Victor, meaning to inform him with utmost confidence that you had already conducted extensive research on the Ichinomiya Group’s charismatic CEO and his chain of casino hotels.  You even thought to throw in a snarky reminder that he himself had been marginally impressed with the presentation you gave on the topic back in Loveland City.
“Are you close to Diana Shum?”
Was NOT what had you meant to ask.  Especially in a voice that cracked like a 12 year old pubescent boy’s.  And if there was a way by which you could’ve drowned in a bottle of water, you would’ve gladly done so.  Instead, you settle for gulping it down, trying to keep your stupid mouth from spewing more nonsense in front of the man who was your de facto boss.
“Ahem.”  Victor clears his throat, long legs uncrossing as he shifts in his seat.  Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the muscles of that chiseled jaw settling firm.
“I-I’m so sorry.  It’s none of my business.  You don’t have to answer-"
“I’ve known her for a while, if that’s what you’re asking.  She’s a classmate from university and also a cousin of a friend of mine from prep school, as you’ve probably gathered from yesterday’s conversation.  Since graduation, she’s taken over her father’s role as CEO of Shum Property Developments and we’ve partnered periodically on various business ventures…”
He continues and you nod at the appropriate times, half listening as a million thoughts filtered through your head: your surprise at how unusually verbose Victor was being, the relief you felt to see that he was as determined to avoid your gaze as you were his.  Because the truth was that the longer he went on about Diana — so beautiful, polished and charming that you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate her even if you tried — the harder it was to keep the clouds from darkening your face.  And when Victor says,
“Not like it has any bearing on anything now, but we also dated for a short period of time…”
…It hurts to breathe.
Finally turning in your direction, Victor fixes you with a scrutinizing gaze.  “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, um, I just…wanted to know a bit more about the person who helped me and my company.  So I can better thank her later.”
You speak without meeting his eyes, hoping to placate him with a quick smile as you pretend to rummage through your purse.  Thankfully, he drops the topic, returning to his documents.  And though the rest of the plane ride is spent in near silence, the thoughts in your head have never been so loud.
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Chapter 3: Sexy Bones [Victor]
She wore that dress today.  The same one she had on when she impudently stormed my office to insist that I give her company a final chance before pulling funding:
Fitted to conform to every curve, yet formal enough to be professional.  Beautifully sensual in her usual understated way.  My favourite shade of red.
“It’s my go-to outfit when I need a confidence boost,” she told me once in between bites of pudding at Souvenir.  “It makes me feel like a queen, like I can do no wrong.  Perfect for business meetings I just have to nail, you know?”
“Dummy,” I had said then, feigning dismissiveness so she wouldn’t pick up on the way my eyes kept drifting towards her lips, so soft and plush I couldn’t help but wonder if her kisses would carry a hint of caramel sweetness.
It was true that the girl could be incredibly dense at times, playing at being queen when she already ruled my heart.  Or how oblivious she was to the fact that the British doctor was completely smitten with her during today’s meeting at the Tres Spades Tokyo hotel.
Dr. Luke Foster.
Completely absorbed in reading through what looked to be like a stack of medical journals, Dr. Foster had largely ignored us while Eisuke and Soryu made quick work of introducing the eclectic mix of other associates in the room:
Ota Kisaki, the so-called “Angelic Artist” whose work I was well-acquainted with, having previously spent a small fortune on his painting, Koro of My Kokoro.
Baba Mitsunari, a charming man whose handsome features were made all the more striking by the black fedora and red suit he wore.  The girl pointed out that he bore an uncanny resemblance to the cashier we saw at a convenience store earlier that day and I had to agree.
They glossed over a man named Mamoru Kishi, apparently sound asleep in one corner of the room with his face covered by a newspaper and a full ashtray by his side.
Finally, they came to Luke Foster, a blond-haired man with the air of an English gentleman.  Eisuke explained that Dr. Foster was the hotel’s on-site physician as well as a fellow alumnus of our prep school, apparently having left for reasons no one wanted to articulate the year before I transferred in.
And when the doctor finally looked up at us from his readings, his eyes took on an almost maniacal quality to see the girl standing by my side.
“Those proportions, those angles….perfect…absolutely perfect!”  He exclaimed as if in a daze, standing up suddenly and causing the reading materials to spill from his lap in the process.
He looked completely unhinged, almost like a zombie as he reached out a pale hand towards her collarbones of all places.  I stepped in front of her on reflex, only to have the doctor fix me with a piercing gaze as if he had just become aware of my existence and found it thoroughly offensive.
“Annnnd there he goes again,” Ota’s tone was one of exasperation, but there was no mistaking the amusement in the smirk that spread wide across his face.
“Ooh, Lu’s got a new victim!  Maybe now he can finally stop staring at the Boss’s girl every time she comes in to clean the penthouse!”  Baba chimes in, fingers stroking at his chin as if hatching some mischievous plan.
“Will the lot of ya shaddup!?  I’m tryin’ to sleep over here…zzz…” The man with the papers over his head gave a muffled shout before promptly rolling over onto his side.
Soryu just sighed, running a hand over his face.  And just when I began to worry that the girl was scared out of her wits, having wandered into this strange den of wolves, she surprised me by chuckling under her breath.  
Did the dummy find this funny?
“Tch, ignore them, Victor.  Let’s just get on with the presentation,” Eisuke said as he took his seat at the head of a long table.  The girl straightened up and immediately got to work, transforming into the consummate professional she always was when it came down to business.  I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as I watched her nail her pitch.
Taking a surreptitious glance around at her rapt audience, I stopped at Luke.  The intensity of the doctor's stare made me uneasy, the way those blue-grey eyes hovered above the scooped neckline of her red dress, tracing along her collarbones as if he were caressing them with his gaze alone.  I mentally berated myself for not putting my suit jacket over her shoulders before she got up there.
And though it was spoken under his breath, Dr. Foster’s murmur of “sexy bones” rang loud and clear in my ears.
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Chapter 4: In A (Traffic) Jam [Victor]
“Victor, you won’t believe my luck!  Not only did we cinch the Ichinomiya account, I also found the perfect candidate to appear on our Mystery Finder show!”
The girl was practically breathless on the other end of the line, words jumbling together as they came a mile a minute.  And though her enthusiasm is as infectious as it is adorable, I remind myself to play it cool.  “Really.  And who might that be?”
“Dr. Foster!”
HONK!
I swerve back into my lane on reflex, narrowly avoiding an accident as the driver next to me flips me the bird before speeding away.  My heart raced, beating fiercely against the cage of my chest, but it had little to do with my near brush with death.
At this moment, I was more concerned with a man who looked like Death himself.
“Oh my god, Victor, what was that?  Are you okay?”  The concern in her voice is palpable and it makes me think of how kind and tenderhearted she is, of how easily someone could exploit that to their advantage.  “This is a bad time, isn’t it?  I’m so sorry, I’ll call you ba-”
“Don’t worry about it, just some idiot not paying attention on the road.  And what's this about, ahem, Dr. Foster?"  The name itself was unsavoury, sticking in my throat until I spat it out.  I hoped the vitriol escaped her notice.
“Okay Victor, get this: it’s like the man has X-ray vision!”
She whispers for dramatic effect, and my grip tightens on the steering wheel as I picture those slate grey eyes sweeping over the curves of her body, a lewd expression falling over the doctor’s features.  He was a handsome enough man, that much was true; intelligent and a first-rate surgeon according to Eisuke and Soryu.  Goldman confirmed as much when I had him dig up all available information on Luke Foster.  On that basis alone, many women would find him to be an extremely attractive suitor and ludicrous though it is, I can’t help but think the worst.  Luke had been quite open in his admiration of her, especially her collarbones.  What if she returned the sentiment?
In retrospect, it was a horrible idea to leave her to her work (and that wolf) in Tokyo while I returned to mine in Loveland City.  While she had the company of her coworkers, clearly none of them sensed the danger in Luke Foster that I did.  I no longer had the right to call her a dummy when I was obviously the idiot here.
“I’m telling you Victor, he can just look at somebody and tell you everything about their bone structure.  It’s too accurate to just be guesswork!  Apparently, he can remember anyone he's ever laid eyes on based on their bones.  It’s incredible.  I’d love for Professor Lucien to meet him.  If only he had the time to fly out to Tokyo…”
The girl continues and I catch sight of my furrowed brows in the rear-view mirror, deepening the longer she goes on and on about men who weren’t me.
“…He’s already agreed to be a guest on the show!  But…he did make a rather strange request."
For a moment, I can barely breathe.  The skin over my knuckles blanches as it stretches tight, my grip on the wheel growing harder as I brace for unwelcome news.  God knows what she would’ve agreed to in my absence.  Filled with a sense of dread, I had to know all the same.  “Which was?…”
She pauses, the hitch in her breath subtle but speaking volumes nonetheless.
“Just say it, dummy.”  I soften my tone in encouragement though my mind was already racing, thinking of all the ways my legal team could dissolve a contract should the girl have already signed papers.
“Well, he…he asked if he could examine my body in lieu of payment for appearing on the show.  You should’ve seen him!  He was so desperate he was practically begging and I…I just couldn't say no."  
MOTHERFUCK!
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Chapter 5: Role Model
“STUPID VICTOR LI!”
You had meant to throw the rolled-up magazine in dramatic rock star fashion, sending it flying across your suite at the Tres Spades Tokyo hotel to give at least a resounding smack as it hits the wall.  Instead, it flutters to the carpeted floor, barely a few feet from where you lay sprawled out on a bed much too large for a single person.
And from the surface of that glossy cover, Victor’s handsome face — all sharp eyes and chiseled jaw - staring up at you from beneath a headline that read: "Man On Top: How Victor Li Conquered The Business World.”
Man on top.  What a tease if there ever was one — especially since you’ve developed the recent habit of falling asleep to the fantasy of having the broad expanse of Victor’s muscular chest hovering over you.
“The only thing he should be on top of is ME!”
Your voice echoes in the room, empty save for you.  Even still, your cheeks burned from embarrassment over the absurdity of your current situation.  Victor Li didn’t belong to you.  Not when he had someone like Diana in his life.
Victor and Diana.  Diana and Victor.  A perfect match regardless of how the pieces fit.  And for an instant, your anger flares to remember the nonchalance in Victor’s voice when he told you that their past history as lovers had no bearing on the present, as if they didn’t look like they belonged together when you saw them just now in the lobby of the hotel, moments after you purchased the magazine with Victor’s face gracing the cover from one of the shops.
Practically ecstatic in your surprise to see him there at the Tres Spades, you were just about to call out to him when his name died in your throat, choked by the sight of the woman at his side.  Victor was escorting Diana to a limo waiting just beyond the revolving doors.  And the last thing you saw before the chauffeur pulled away was the two of them slipping into the vehicle together.
He hadn’t even told you he was coming to Tokyo.
It was only after you became aware of the fact that you were blocking the entrance to the shop that you recovered from the shock, murmuring apologies as you pulled yourself together just enough to make your way back to the safety of your hotel room.
Rising up off the bed, your feet sink into the lush carpeting as you pad over to where the magazine lay.  You pick it up and smooth out the crinkles, fingers tracing the outline of Victor’s profile as you do — gentle, as if you were touching the man himself.  And when your nose begins to tingle, you know it won’t be long before you feel the familiar sting of tears behind your eyes.
“Think you could stop being so nice to me, Victor?  You’ll give a girl the wrong impression.”  
Heaving a sigh, you slip the magazine beneath a pillow on the bed.  A quick glance at the clock on the bedside table told you it was almost time for your dinner date with Dr. Foster.  Sitting around moping wasn’t an option, at least not tonight.  Lightly slapping your cheeks, you push the image of Victor and Diana out of your head and get ready to step into the shower.
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Chapter 6: Hard To Swallow [Victor]
“I’m glad you remembered that you owe me a dinner, Victor Li.  And though I practically had to drag you to this restaurant, I guess the means don’t really matter if the end result is the same.  But still, what a lucky coincidence that we bumped into each other again at the Tres Spades of all places.  Now that’s something to drink to.”
Diana holds up her glass, Cabernet Sauvignon swirling as it meets mine with a delicate clink.  Under the table, the tip of her stiletto pushes against my oxfords before sliding past my ankle, inching its way up my leg.  I pull away, watching those red lips spread into a smile as I do.
“You might be the first man who’s ever been able to resist me.  Has anyone ever told you you’re one stubborn asshole?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
She laughs at that, taking another sip of her wine before setting it down.  “So, tell me about her.”
“Her?”  I focus on cutting into my Kobe beef, already aware that Diana will see through my bluff.  She always did.
“Surely there must be another woman if you keep turning me down over and over again, Victor.  A girl has her pride too, you know.”
“We are not getting back together, Diana.”
“Tsk, you’re no fun, Vic.  All work and no play, all the time.  I’ll have to remind myself of that the next time I start entertaining thoughts of calling you up again.”
She pouts, but it isn’t long before her eyes take on that familiar spark of mischief as she continues.  
“But seriously, tell me about your cute little producer.  That is the girl you keep rejecting me for, I presume.  I need to know about the woman who’s finally managed to infiltrate the entirety of Victor Li’s notoriously impenetrable heart.  She must be quite the lover if she’s got you wrapped around her little finger like that, pulling strings with all your friends left, right and centre.”
It annoys me to no end that the mere mention of the girl is enough to reduce me to a swooning idiot.  I fight to keep the smile off my face.
“You’ve got the wrong idea.  She’s not my lover.”  
Diana begins to protest, but her words are lost on me because I’ve stopped listening.  In fact, the only thing I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears, propelled by the adrenaline racing through my veins to see him enter the restaurant.
Dr. Luke Foster.  
WITH MY DUMMY, NO LESS.
And my dummy looks…absolutely gorgeous.  Her hair is done up, leaving her graceful neck and collarbones exposed in a little black dress I’ve never seen her wear before, I realize with not an insignificant amount of jealousy.
But wait…collarbones?!
Sure enough, that surgeon is staring at her clavicle like some kind of pervert.  The sight alone incites the beginnings of a dull throbbing in my temples, no doubt exacerbated by the vice-like clench of my jaws.
I follow them with my gaze as they are led to a table for two; fixate on Luke’s face even as the sommelier arrives to make his recommendations to the pair.  The doctor stares at my girl like he couldn’t care less about the meal, as if the only thing he hungered for was precisely what I myself had desired for so long: the woman.  And she—
Just looked my way.
Surprise etches itself onto her beautiful features — the brows I had dreamt of one day lightly running a fingertip over while she sleeps lifting into a delicate arch.  And why shouldn’t she be surprised?  I had given her no indication that I had rushed over to Tokyo from Loveland City as soon as I heard what Luke had requested of her.  
But there is no nod of acknowledgement, no smile in greeting.  Just her, looking away as if she hadn’t seen me at all, her smile apologetic when she retrains her attention on the doctor.  And while it was only for a fraction of a second, I could have sworn her eyes carried a hint of sorrow.
Or perhaps I’m projecting.
Because her obvious avoidance feels like a rebuff, a sucker punch to the gut.  She’s never blatantly ignored me like that, no matter how wound up she was even during those times when I verbally tore her sub-par proposals to shreds.  The feeling of rejection sits heavy on my chest, the tie around my neck much too tight.
“Victor, are you all right?”
Diana’s voice cuts through my thoughts.  She is looking at me curiously.  I reach for my glass of wine, suddenly feeling like I was on the verge of choking.  “Of course, what could possibly be wrong?”
“ ‘What’s wrong’ is the fact that you haven’t listened to a single word I’ve said for the past ten minutes.  Even if there’s no chance we’ll ever get back together again as you so adamantly insist, the least you could do is pay attention to the person you’re sharing a meal with.”
I take a deep breath, more than a little disconcerted by the girl’s ability to affect me.  “Of course.  My apologies, you’re absolutely right.  Please, continue.”
Across the candlelit table, I look Diana in the eye, resolved to keep up at least the pretence of being interested in what she had to say when all I wanted to do was storm the table where Luke sat with my girl.  With each sideways glance in their direction, my grip tightened on my utensils to see them chatting, seemingly engrossed in the world’s most interesting conversation.
And when she hands over a manila envelope to the doctor, my heart skips a beat.
Could it be…marriage documents?!
One tiny corner of my brain berates me for how ridiculous I am being but when it comes to her, I simply can’t help it, and the fantasy in which I casually stroll over, flip the table onto Luke Foster and steal my girl away in a bridal carry becomes so vivid in my mind’s eye, it almost seems like a good idea.
Diana excuses herself to use the restroom and I pounce on the opportunity to send the dummy a text:
“MEET ME AT THE BAR IN THE TRES SPADES HOTEL IN AN HOUR.  DON’T BE LATE.”
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Chapter 7: Choked Up
“Is there something wrong, Dr. Foster?  You haven’t touched your meal.”
You do your best to school your expression into one of polite neutrality as you take in the strange sight of the pale, blond-haired man shaking out an alarming number of pills onto the palm of his hand, tapping loudly on a bottle seemingly produced out of nowhere.  He pops them all into his mouth at once and you pray you won’t have to perform the Heimlich maneuver as he chases them down with a few gulps of water.
A smile spreads across the doctor’s lips as his eyes fall upon your collarbones once more.  You were used to feeling like a third wheel by now, even when alone with Luke Foster, given his penchant for carrying on conversations while staring intently at your bones.  But you took no offence at his behaviour, especially after Baba’s attempts to give you insight into Luke’s peculiar mannerisms:
“Try not to take it personal, Miss.  Lu will look at anyone who’s got beautiful collarbones.  It’s a well-known fact that he’s obsessed with the boss’s - he's even framed the X-ray films of Eisuke’s bones.  He likely just wants yours to add to his collection.”
Strange though it was, the request that Luke be allowed to have X-rays films of your collarbones in exchange for appearing on Miracle Finder was innocent enough.  Certainly nothing that warranted the stony silence you received on the other end of the line when you called Victor the other day to tell him that Dr. Foster wanted to examine you.  After a brusque “I have to go,” he had hung up.  No goodbyes, not even a mutter of “dummy.”  
But Luke Foster had been nothing short of a perfect gentleman, never once laying a hand on you.  Moreover, he even insisted on paying for tonight’s meal despite the fact that you had invited him as thanks for appearing on the show.  
“Please, just call me Luke.  Vitamins and water are all I need to survive.  I only ordered because Eisuke said it might be awkward if you seemed to be the only one dining.”
“I-I see.”  You smile, taking another bite of wagyu.  And for a moment, you are too wrapped up in the blissful way it seemed to melt on your tongue to be disconcerted by the strange events of the evening.
You weren’t, however, too distracted to continue throwing surreptitious glances in Victor’s direction, fighting to keep composed each time Diana’s laughter carried over to your table.  What were the chances that you’d find yourselves at the same restaurant in all of Tokyo?  You know that he knows you are here; even Chik couldn’t put on a performance convincing enough for the LFG CEO to believe for a second that you didn’t see him.
With your dismal acting skills, you definitely didn’t stand a chance.
“You’re in love with him.”
COUGH, COUGH!
You clear the steak lodged in the back of your throat with a few hacking coughs, half of your face hidden behind your napkin as you tried to be as discreet as possible, the words “Death by Wagyu” flashing through your mind.  After soothing your throat with a sip of wine, you ask:
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’re in love with that man sitting just over there with the woman dressed in red.  That Victor fellow who accompanied you to that first meeting with Eisuke.”
For someone who seemed to pay very little attention to matters that didn’t concern bones, Luke Foster was surprisingly perceptive.  Or maybe you weren’t as discrete as you thought you were and it was obvious to all but yourself that you were staring at the golden couple.
“I…how did you...what makes you—”
“Please pass this message on to him for me.  If he doesn’t treat your collarbones with the respect they deserve, he can’t blame me for swooping in to take his place.”
Then, for the very first time that night, Luke Foster looks you in the eye, the intensity in blue-grey irises making your breath hitch when he says: “Until then, I hope you find happiness with him, Sexy Bones — especially since he also seems to be exceedingly fond of you.  Quite the annoyance, really.”
And for the very first time that night, you smile freely, naturally, at Luke, blushing hard as you contemplate his words.  Suddenly bashful, you drop your gaze only to catch sight of the manila envelope you brought with you.  You pass it across the table to him.
“Here.  Your payment for agreeing to appear on Miracle Finder.”
The expression on Luke’s face can best be described as euphoric when he takes the films from you, momentarily excusing himself from the table as he murmurs something about requiring brighter lighting to examine them.
That is when you hear the buzz of your phone from inside your purse.  And when you finally fish it out, you see a single text from Victor, commanding as always:
“MEET ME AT THE BAR IN THE TRES SPADES HOTEL IN AN HOUR.  DON’T BE LATE.”
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Chapter 8: Green-Eyed Monsters [Victor]
“Another whiskey on the rocks for you, Sir?”
I nod to the bartender, watching as he chips away at a block of ice to produce a perfect crystalline sphere — still spinning in the glass when he pours the amber spirit over it like a libation.  It almost takes my mind off the fact that the girl is late.  By exactly ten minutes, according to my watch.  And for a moment, I’m gripped by a sense of panic when I consider the possibility that she might not come.
She never did answer my text though I knew she saw it — having witnessed her reaching into her purse to pull out her phone seconds after I sent the message.  And while the logical part of my brain is telling me I’m being an absolute idiot, worst-case scenarios are already running through my head: the girl is side-swiped by a car while crossing the street, or somehow managed to fall into an open manhole and is currently standing knee-deep in sewage.
Or maybe she is pinned to the wall in a dark corner somewhere, hemmed in on either side by the gifted hands of a world-class surgeon by the name of Luke Foster.
I lift the glass to my lips, too impatient to even savour the smooth burn of the drink as I reach for my phone to send her another text.  That is when I see her:
Cheeks flushed and chest gently heaving as if she had rushed to get here.  An errant lock of hair falling from her up-do, framing that beautiful face like I had dreamt so many times of doing with the palm of my hand.
She makes her way towards me in that dimly lit bar, and though I’m aware of the faint ticking of the second hand of my watch, time may as well have stood still.  Because I could have lived in that moment forever, gazing upon the light in her eyes as if they held every last star in the sky, as if those heavenly bodies had fallen just for her in precisely the same way I had: deeply, irrevocably.
And I know there is no turning back.
“Victor, sorry I’m late!  What are you doing here in Tok—”  
“Why did you ignore me?”  My voice comes out stern, even to my ears, and I curse myself for losing my cool around her yet again.  The girl furrows her brows, eyes dropping from my face to the half-empty glass of whiskey sitting on the counter.  And when she looks up again, something in her countenance has changed — soft surprise giving way to a hardened expression.
“If it’s the text you’re referring to, I’m here now, aren’t I?”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
She looks away, refusing to meet my gaze as she perches on the stool beside me.  “Surely you wouldn’t have wanted me to interrupt your dinner date, especially when you and Ms. Shum seemed so intimate.”
Intimate?
The bartender approaches, interrupting our conversation before I get the chance to formulate a reply.  “What can I get for you, Miss?”
“She’ll have a glass of warmed milk—”
“Whiskey.  On the rocks, please.”
She speaks over me, turning slightly in my direction as she does.  I ignore the murmur of “Ladies’ choice” from the bartender as well as the smirk on his face as he begins preparing her drink.  The thinly veiled challenge in the girl’s expression — elbow propped up on the counter with her chin resting atop a loose fist — only serves to highlight how incredibly alluring it is when she pushes back.
“Hmm.  Bold.  Since when did you start drinking whiskey?  I don’t think you need me to remind you of your non-existent alcohol tolerance.  Besides, didn’t you already have enough to drink at dinner?”
“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Victor Li,” she says, reaching for the glass the bartender sets down before her.  She takes a moment, staring at the rich, golden hues before finally taking a sip.  I fight to keep the smile off my face when hers pulls into a grimace from the sting of the alcohol she clearly wasn’t familiar with.  Dummy.
“I’m surprised you even noticed me at all, not with the lovely Diana there.  But I guess old wounds really do have difficulty closing, no matter how much we say they’ve healed.”
“You’d have to ask for the expert opinion of your overly friendly doctor about that.”
“Excuse me?”  She sets her drink down a bit harder than likely intended, sending the liquid sloshing about the glass to kiss the pink of her lipstick imprinted on its edge.  
I don’t like where this conversation is going, the ill-disguised barbs only serving to increase the tension between us.  It was foolish to have what should’ve been a very private discussion in a public space but, as always, the thought of her and Luke together is enough to make me forget my place and position, throwing caution to the wind and behaving with reckless abandon.
And still, the heat beneath my collar goads me on.
“Luke Foster.  The one you’re so enthralled with that your manners seem to have been completely swept from memory.  I presume that’s the reason why you didn’t acknowledge my existence when you saw me in the restaurant.”
Her eyes widen in disbelief as she leans in close, voice dripping with sarcasm: “Just like how you didn’t remember to tell me you were coming to Tokyo?  Or maybe you weren’t planning on telling me at all, since it clearly looked like you weren’t here on business.  But then again, I guess your business is none of mine.”
I don’t know whether I want to push back or kiss her senseless.
Instead, I settle for a deep breath, trying to keep my frustration in check.  Having a heated argument with her was not how I had intended my evening to go.  In fact, my entire day had not proceeded as planned, and if I hadn’t been accosted by Diana as soon as I stepped foot in the Tres Spades hotel, I would have been having dinner with the woman who occupied all my thoughts, all the time.  At the very least, I could’ve saved her from the clutches of a pervert doctor.
I glance in her direction, study the beautiful melancholy of her silent profile as she watches the ball of ice slowly melt into her drink.  Then I take another sip of mine, steeling myself for reparations I desperately needed to make.
“I am only going to say this once, so listen closely.  Diana Shum and I dated shortly after graduation for all of two months before we decided to part ways on amicable terms.  We make for much better business partners than we ever did romantically, and while she has expressed occasional interest in rekindling our relationship, I have never been of the same mind.  I can assure you this will never change.
“The reason I came to Tokyo is not because of her — professional or otherwise — but because I was in a rush to prevent a certain dummy from doing anything she’d regret later on.  But…”
I knock back the rest of my whiskey, emptying the glass.
“…I’m afraid I’m too late.”
She looks at me now, eyes wide as if she were still processing the words.  Her next question comes on a whisper: “Why would you be too late?”
And it is my turn to look away.  
“Well, you seemed to be pretty intimate yourself with Dr. Foster during your dinner date.  I can only presume that…”
The girl moves closer and I can’t help the way my eyes are drawn to her mouth — the tremble of her lower lip, full and pink and lush.  Without thought, I allow my gaze to trace along the graceful column of her neck, settling at the delicate notch between her collarbones and in that instant, I come to a visceral understanding of the extent of Luke Foster’s obsession, for mine was magnified a million times over:
I yearned for the entirety of this woman before me — needed her for myself, now and forever.
“Presume what?”  Her voice is low, shaking.
“I can only presume that you’ve already allowed him to…examine your body.”
There is a moment of silence — each torturous second seeming to stretch into eternity to smother the last embers of hope.
“I have…”
Oh god.
“…given him X-ray films of my collarbones as he requested.  That is all.  He’s never touched me, not even once.  I took him out to dinner tonight so I could give them to him as thanks for appearing on the show.”
Petty.  Sheepish.  I felt all these things, but none so powerful as the staggering sense of relief that washes over me to hear her say these words.  Closing my eyes, I let the revelation sink in, finally feeling like I can breathe for the very first time that night.
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Chapter 9: The Big Bang
You don’t quite know what made you do it.  
The ambience of the bar, perhaps: sultry jazz and flickering candles purposefully placed to create just enough shadows for a veil of privacy.
Or maybe it was the crestfallen uncertainty that painted the handsome features of Victor Li’s face, his sudden display of vulnerability both novel and endearing.
Most likely however, it was the way in which his downcast expression morphed into one of ecstatic relief when you told him that Luke Foster had not laid a single finger on you.
Because when Victor tilts his head back, eyes closed and sighing deeply as if some unfathomable burden had been lifted, you cannot help but bring your lips to the Adam’s apple bobbing along the length of that strong, thick neck.
Cedar wood and pine.  
The notes of his cologne are so familiar you didn’t realize how much you missed his scent until you literally came face to face with it.  Victor is warm, so very warm beneath the skin of your lips.  And under your touch, you become vaguely aware of the fact that the rise and fall of his chest has stilled.
At any other time, you would’ve questioned your sanity for how boldly you were behaving, especially towards someone who was your boss.  You had never been one to put yourself out there when it came to matters of the heart.  Something about the moment however, about Victor, made you feel like the one thing you could not do was let this chance pass you by.
So when you hear that shuddering breath, feel the faint scratch of his five o’clock shadow when he nuzzles against you in return, you know you’ve made the right gamble.  Being with Victor Li feels right.  And the surreal sense of belonging you find within the embrace of his muscular arms gives you the courage to say, “You must really believe I’m a dummy if you think I’d let any man other than you touch me.”
He slides a finger beneath your chin, gently lifting until all you can see are those jet black eyes, swimming with heat and emotion.  The sudden silence of your surroundings sinks in: no more music, no idle chatter.  Not even the rustle of limbs moving about in the dimly lit bar.  And there, in the strange privacy of suspended time…
...Victor kisses you.
                        *                                     *                                      *
“Are you sure…this is…what you want?”
The deep timbre of Victor’s voice sends a thrill vibrating along the surface of your skin as he questions you between kisses — laid on your mouth, the line of your jaw, the pulse of your neck.  His firm body presses you into a corner of the elevator, empty save for the two of you writhing in unison against a mirrored wall.
Each movement of his soft lips against yours is purposeful, imbued with meaning: longing in the gentle teeth that nibbled on your lower lip before drawing it into his mouth, in the sensual slide of the tongue that sought yours.  Affection obvious in the hands that rose to cup your face, thumbs tracing circles on the apples of reddened cheeks to tell you in no uncertain terms that Victor Li belonged to you as much as you yearned to belong to him.
So you had no qualms about answering in the affirmative, nodding your head because the press of Victor’s muscular thigh between your legs already left you breathless and wondering whether he could feel your wet heat seeping through your panties.
And all he really did was kiss you.
Ding.
The elevator stops at your floor and even before the doors slide open, Victor has hoisted you up, wrapping your legs tightly about his tapered waist and whispering into your ear, “Which room?”
You knew Victor was fit, had seen him move fast and effortlessly through the waters of his Olympic-sized swimming pool that one time he had you deliver a report to his mansion on a Sunday.  And yet, you could not help but admire the sheer perfection of his physique — the bulk of his biceps, flexed beneath strained layers of clothing; the ease with which he carries you all the way to your suite.
And when he sits you down upon the king-sized bed, you wonder if it is, in fact, too small for all the things you cared to do with him.
The LFG CEO shrugs off his suit jacket, loosening his tie just enough to pull it over his head before dropping to kneel at your feet.  You watch him reach for you, shiver when he caresses the sensitive skin behind your knee with a light graze of gentle fingertips.  Large hands trail down your calf — touch barely there and teasing — until his palm finally cups the heel of your stiletto to slide it off your foot.
He looks up at you then, the intensity in ebony irises rendering you still and mute as you patiently await his next move despite the frenzied pounding in your chest.  There is a stroke of something almost feral in the dark depths of the gaze that falls heavy upon you — searching your eyes, lingering on your lips…tracing the neckline of your dress.
“I’ve never seen you wear this dress before.”  Victor says, taking the same amount of care to remove the shoe from your other foot.
And if you were able to think straight under the influence of his touch — the hands that pushed back the hem of your dress as they roamed higher and higher up your thighs towards your heat — you might have found it strange that Victor was choosing now, of all times, to comment on your wardrobe choices.  As it was, you answered without second thought: “It’s new.  I bought it especially for tonight’s dinner.”
Victor stills and when he speaks again, there is a faint tremble in that voice, as if fighting to contain some unfathomable emotion.  
“The doctor couldn’t stop staring at you.  I know because I was the same way.  I couldn’t look away from the moment you stepped foot in that restaurant.”
The revelation leaves you silent, waiting with bated breath for Victor to continue.
“Forgive me…”
Fingers entwine with fabric, gripping tight.
“…but I can’t stand the thought of you looking so beautiful for anyone else.”
RRRIIIIPPPP!
You fall back, wincing at the sound even as you feel your body respond to the sudden shock of having your dress torn right down the middle.  Victor’s display of brute strength was so at odds with the façade of composure he was synonymous with and yet, there was no denying that you were incredibly aroused by this show of power — by the fact that he was now straddling you on all fours like some wild beast, tearing away the rest of your undergarments to leave you completely bare.
You’ve never been so desperate to feel him inside you, deep and rough and untamed.  The thought throws you into a frenzy of lust.
Digging your fingers into the front of his dress shirt, you yank it open to send buttons flying in haphazard directions, but the only thing that concerned you was the sight of that broad chest and muscular torso, so impressive it actually elicits a moan from your lips and a smile from his in return.
Propping yourself up onto your knees, you press against him, flesh to flesh — one hand running over the burning surface of his skin even as the other tugs at the buckle of his leather belt, impatiently moving to palm him when his dress pants fall and gasping to finally see and feel the full extent of the LFG CEO:
Victor Li is rock hard and intimidatingly large.
And the sight makes your mouth water.
Sinking onto your heels, you trail your lips along Victor’s chiseled body, tongue teasing at his nipples as you do and relishing the catch of his breath in his throat.
But just as you begin to lay kisses along the deep V of his abdomen with the intent of tracing lower and lower, Victor stops you, puling you up for a kiss before laying back on the bed and positioning you above him…
…with his face between your legs.
“This way,” he says, voice muffled, and you might have commented on his inability to relinquish control even in the bedroom were it not for the sensation of his flattened tongue sweeping hot and wet along the seam of your already dripping pussy, teasing from end to end.
The sensation is so intense it’s almost unbearable.  You throw your head back, mouth dropping in a silent scream as you sink onto Victor’s face, fighting the instinct to grinder lower onto that talented tongue despite the encouraging grip of Victor’s hands, strong on your hips and thighs.
“I’ve wanted to taste you…for so long,” he murmurs, sucking the swell of your clit into his mouth and humming in approval against moist flesh to hear you moan above him.  “Your flavour is absolutely exquisite.”
Gathering your wits, you fold forward — intent on giving just as much pleasure as you were receiving.  Victor twitches once within your grip, not quite contained by the circumference of your palm and fingers, running up and down the sizeable length of his cock, hot in your hand like his breath on your slit.  And after placing a few wet kisses on the smooth, hard head, you open your mouth to taste him.
The tepid salt of his arousal.  The groans originating from deep within Victor’s chest each time your lip brushed past the tender underside of his cock.  The subtle rhythm of his pelvis, lifting in time to your mouth swallowing more of that solid shaft, quickly becoming slick with your saliva.
And then you catch sight of your reflection in the mirrored closet.  See the bulge of Victor’s bicep as he grips your hip, the flex in the muscles of his neck when he lifts to bury his face deeper into your folds.  See yourself: hair disheveled and eyes half-lidded, drunk on sex.  Observe the messy smear of your lipstick as your mouth stretches to accommodate more and more of your boss’s cock.  And when the tip of Victor’s tongue begins its relentless tease of your clit, you watch as a most debauched expression falls over your features, the tension in your body breaking as you find release on his lips.
You are still shaking when he enters you, sensitized by an orgasm that left tiny sparks of electricity running along every nerve, priming you for second helpings.  A true paragon of patience, Victor Li takes his time, deliberately slow as he pushes — savouring the sensation of drenched, swollen flesh parting just for him.
It was almost unfathomable that you could experience such extreme pleasure, each powerful swing of Victor’s hips driving him deeper into your body — hitting just the right angles until your very senses were extracted along with your second release of the night, running slick between your legs to ease the slippery slide of your bodies.
It draws out Victor’s own, your lover moving to pull out moments before you surprise him by taking him once more into your mouth — gaze locked onto those dark eyes from below as you taste him on your tongue, euphoric to see him bite his lips when your lick yours to swallow every last drop.
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Chapter 10: Pillow Talk
Beep Beep Beep Beep.
You roll over, eyes still closed as you reach out to hit the snooze button on the alarm clock.
Except your palm comes down on warm flesh with a resounding smack, echoing throughout your hotel room and accompanied by a deep voice that says, “Are you finally awake, Dummy?”
Your eyes shoot open to see Victor lying naked in bed next to you, a splotch of red blooming on his chest where he had been attacked.  He sets his phone down to hand you a glass of water from the bedside table, and even though memories of the previous night come rushing back to burn your cheeks, you cannot help but notice how glorious he looks bathed in morning light.  You hope he doesn’t see the way your hand shakes when you accept the glass from him with a meek “Thanks.”
Victor clears his throat, waiting for you to finish drinking before he says, “That was the fourth time you slept through the alarm.  I’ve already informed your colleagues you’ll be taking the day off.  We didn’t get much sleep last night and I think you’ll need some time to…recover.”
You bite your lip, turning sideways to feign a sudden interest in the curtains so he wouldn’t see the giant smile spreading onto your face.  It was almost surreal that Victor Li was your lover, and if it weren’t for the exquisite soreness you felt between your legs, you would’ve been hard pressed to believe it for yourself.
The sheets rustle and before you know it, Victor has his chest pressed up against your bare back, laying a soft kiss on your shoulder before he rests his chin on it.
“How are you feeling?”  He asks.
“Okay.  Pretty good, actually.”  It was too early in the game to tell him you were already doing cartwheels in your mind.
“Good.  I’m glad to hear that because I found this under your pillow…”
He places something in your hands.  Your eyes widen when you recognize the magazine with his face on the cover.
“…And this ‘man on top’ wants to know what it feels like to have this woman on top of him for the rest of the day.”
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You’ve made it to the end! 🤩 Thank you so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚 
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hayleyb100 · 3 years
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The Ribbon, Part 2
Part 1
❗️ Notes
-TRIGGERS INCLUDED: SCHOOL BULLYING AND ANGST WITH FAMILY -This is a dedicated story of the swap version of my OC Richard(Father of Raihan) and his granddaughter, the shipchild of Leon and Raihan called Ari. -The character Ari belongs to @weclownstoday​. Huge appreciations for letting me add her to the story!
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An uncomfortable silence filled the whole room. Richard saw the girl scanning him from top to bottom, just like how he is doing the same. Without the girl having to explain, Richard could feel in his intuition that she is his granddaughter. She had the purple hair that looks so familiar to him: The unique hair color of the Former Champion of Galar, who got married to his son Raihan. It was on the news headline for years. On top of that, she also had the peculiar turquoise-colored eyes that are passed down in his Pendragon family.
As Richard's face frowned more from trying to investigate who the girl is, she fiddled with her wooden doll nervously. Richard's dragon glare is already scary as it is, so it was far worse for a child who is left alone with a stranger.
"Who are you?" why, that is such a sweet first question for a child.
"......." she only stared back at Richard, grabbing the doll closer.
"......." Richard stared her back, making the atmosphere even more awkward.
The girl finally made a move other than fiddling her doll. She hesitantly put her hand in a pocket, pulled out a slightly crumpled paper, and gave it to Richard.
Richard was pleading his intuition was wrong. A child that resembles him standing in front of a stranger's home in the middle of the night alone with a note to give him? It was obvious but he wished his intuition was wrong and silly for once. But his intuition was written precisely on the paper. Familiar handwriting of his son-in-law, the Champion, he sees as a Gym Leader was there. It claimed they can't care for the child anymore and sending her for his care.
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That short message pushed Richard to the whole chaos of emotions. He first got extremely upset for them deciding this without a word of discussion with him. He was also confused on how to explain this situation to the child since it was obvious they didn't explain this to the child. There was no way a child can be so calm and collected when their parents dumped her in front of a stranger's door. Another wave of rage overwhelmed as Richard realized those two irresponsible parents tossed the hard part of the explanation to him. It was even more difficult since, it may sound ridiculous, but he didn't even know about his granddaughter's existence.
'What a beautiful first encounter for sure,' thought Richard.
'Normally, I expect this kind of the first encounter in the maternity ward, right after their birth, or at least right after they are discharged from the hospital.'
He inhaled deeply, asked the girl to stay here while he went to call alone in the room. The number he desperately wanted to call for decades but honestly scared not to.
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"Hello?" a familiar woman's voice came.
"...Aliyah."
"Richard..." an awkward silence filled the whole atmosphere.
"Did she arrive there well?"
Richard sneered to suppress rage.
"So, the first thing you ask from getting a call from your ex-husband after decades is how is your abandoned granddaughter?" a clear snap with rage. Richard couldn't help it.
"It would have been nice of you to at least told me of her existence before doing something so reckless. What is all this?"
"Richard, please don't say that... We didn't have a choice."
"Oh? I heard the Chairman, your father, passed away three years ago. So who ordered you to do this now? Are you still the same old woman who can't decide anything on your own?"
"......." after a brief silence, Richard hears someone snatching the phone.
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"Hello?"
Richard's heart drops, as the voice pierces into his ears and tears his heart in two.
"...Raihan."
"I'm surprised you remember my name, considering you abandoned me for your career as a Gym Leader."
Richard was lost for words.
"Is that what your mother told you?" even at Richard's shaky voice, Raihan interrupted.
"Doesn't matter who says what now, is it? You abandoned me, and that's the only fact here."
Richard falls into silence since it's true. No matter if it was his shitty father-in-law who threatened him, his wife wasn't cooperative, and the world turning a cold shoulder, he DID leave his son behind.
"Well? You did me wrong, so at least take care of my mistake."
"...Please do not tell me that you just addressed your daughter as a mistake."
"What? It's what you think of me, so can't I say the same? It's what I learned from you."
NO, RAIHAN, NO!! Richard nearly screamed, but something stopped him.
"I don't even know if I'll ever forgive you for caring about my mistake, but eh... Whatever." with that as of last, the long-overdue phone call ends.
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Richard couldn't breathe from the pain. He thought he did what was right to protect his son, but he is now engraved in his son's heart as a horrible father and the butterfly effect from that is about to tear his grandchild's life apart. He started to question all his decisions and motives. His life is about to crumble down. But the grimmest thing of all is that he isn't even allowed to do that. He knew that girl needs a caretaker and there is no way he'll send her away somewhere else. Not after what happened to him and his son.
He stroked his face to calm down and went out to the living room where his granddaughter is.
________________________________
She was still fiddling her doll, showing a clear sign of anxiety. Richard took a sharp inhale and called her.
"Umm... Your name is?"
"Ari..." she said shortly, looking down at her tip of the toes.
"I see... Greetings. My name is Richard Pendragon."
He was as anxious as the girl, since judging from Raihan's attitude, it was obvious how Aliyah and his son described him to his daughter.
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"...Ari. Please listen to me carefully." another inhale.
"From today onward, I will take care of you. You are staying here with me, your grandfather. Alright?"
Richard thought it would be better for Ari's sake to open everything up before she finds out everything later and gets more pain.
"O... Okay..." Ari said nervously. "For how long?"
Richard's throat got blocked with intense torment. How can he dare to just bluntly answer 'forever' when she has no idea that her parents abandoned her and she is solely believing her parents would get her later?
"For... as long as we have to." Richard ended up giving a vague answer where he didn't lie but wasn't clear either.
Richard had no idea what to do with a little girl, so he started by shopping the stuff for her like clothes and children's books. She came with a suitcase of clothes but that was not enough. He didn't know what's popular among girls these days so he bought a pink ribbon as an accessory. 
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 Ari had no idea why her grandpa was buying so many clothes when she's just going to stay for a couple of days until her dads come to get her. But since she heard all the horrible and scary things about her grandpa from her father, she just listened and followed him around without arguing. Sooner or later, the old storage room next to Richard's room turned into a lovely room for a little girl. Ari still was in wonder, but just watched how things go. She realized her grandpa wasn't too awful like her father described. He cooked some delicious food for all three meals and although clumsy, he tried his best to tie her hair and dress her. He also registered her to the local trainer's school to get appropriate lessons.
But that's when Ari started to feel something's wrong.
If dad is coming to get her soon, why would her grandpa register her to a school?
________________________________
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She still was in denial until days turned into months and months turned into years without any contact from her parents.
"Umm, s, sir?" Ari nervously called him.
"Yes, Ari?"
"Can I call my father?"
"............."
Richard hesitated. But in his head, he knew the answer. He can't hoard a secret like this. Look how keeping that secret from his son ruined the relationship between him and his son.
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"Ari, umm... Your father will not come for you. Do you remember I said you will have to stay here as long as you have to? It means..." Richard just couldn't continue. The pain came back at his granddaughter's frowning face.
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"N- no!" Ari shook her head in denial. But deep within, she already knows what her grandpa is telling her is true. She tumbled on the floor and started wailing.
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"Dad! Father! I'm sorry, I won't be naughty again! Please come and get me!"
Ari's helpless tears brought Richard down to his knees too. He was so sorry for her, thinking everything that happened is because of his foolish choice.
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Nothing's Going To Hurt You- a Kiribaku Oneshot
I posted this a while ago but can't find it anywhere, so here it is again! Check tags for trigger warnings
The dream started out familiar enough. The class was in the middle of training, and Bakugo had just blown through a row of cement blocks. He shouted triumphantly. That was the fastest he’d been in a week.
Then All Might came into the room.
No, Bakugo decided. He could do better. He tried again, but instead of exploding like the previous shot, the blocks absorbed the explosions and transformed into hands.
At first, the hands came towards him in a motherly caress. Then they turned gnarled, grabbing him and forcing him into a chair and merging to form a body.
“You want to be a hero?” Shigaraki said in his mother’s voice. “Let’s see what you can do.” His grip turned to iron as the scene changed once again.
Now Bakugo was at the sports festival, his body chained to the pole, thunderous applause deafening his ears. The crowd around him faded and solidified into a person- first Half-and-Half, then Deku, then All Might. They extended a hand, the temperature rising around them.
“Let’s see what you can do.”
The heat grew from intense to suffocating, until soon enough it became so hot that the world around him contracted into a ball. No, the magician’s ball. He was trapped again, but this time Bakugo was too big to fit. Too big, yet so, so small. No matter how hard he punched and kicked and hit the walls, they only got harder, thicker, absorbing all the air. Bakugo’s face watered. If he didn’t find a way to get out now, he would die.
The walls expanded, turning into a stern hand that slapped his cheek.
“You think talking will get you what you want?” his mother scolded. “No. If you speak so quietly, cry so often, you will never get what you want. Stand up, Katsuki. Your crying is pathetic.”
But Bakugo couldn’t stop the tears from falling. It wasn’t his fault Half-and-Half didn’t try. It wasn’t his fault he got kidnapped. It wasn’t his fault Deku got chosen over him. So why was everyone in his life blaming him?
Bakugo shoved the hand aside and started running. A laugh echoed around him as the hand melted into a new, expanding darkness, taking a new form in vague but recognizable blobs- his classmates. As he ran forward, they moved further ahead. Bakugo jumped into the air and used explosions to propel himself, but to no avail. They surpassed him, and he was left behind. No. Not like this.
He extended his arm out and grabbed one. When it turned around, its face was made of tape. Bakugo jerked his hand back. The fire in his second hand sputtered out, landing on another blob, this one pink. Another seized him from behind, this one sparking. As he got pushed into the darkness, the blob turned bright red.
No. He couldn’t take this anymore. His limbs were numb, hair matted to his face with sweat and tears. But he had to endure it. He had to get through this. He couldn’t lose; not to All Might, not to Deku, and certainly not to some dream.
The darkness became more pressured as he fell. Bits of the blobs fell with him, turning into staticy bits of memory. The pressure increased as he took them in-a glimpse of his kindergarten teacher whispering a warning to his mother: “be careful around Bakugo, his behavior lately is erratic,” one of his mother and father shutting the door to his room until he could “get over himself” after a tantrum, one of All Might, pulling him away from Deku, not saying anything, but his expression saying enough.
As Bakugo fell down, the pressure in his ears turned to humming whispers, all saying one thing: you’re worthless.
Then, as a final parting gift, the dream changed one last time. He saw the bits of static form into one large person, floating towards the almost microscopic Bakugo-different now, older, but with the same evil, chilling smile. It wasn’t until his body started crumbling into dust that he recognized it as Shigaraki’s.
“You’d make a fine villain someday.”
Even though Bakugo knew it was a dream, he could still feel the tingling of Decay working its way up his body. His lungs were constricting, filling with sand. He couldn’t breathe, no matter how hard he tried. Around him, the darkness became crushing, creating a void in his mind, threatening to suck up everything until he became an insignificant speck. But wasn’t that all he was? Katsuki Bakugo would never be a hero, never rise to the top and become number one (1). Why should he even try? If all he would amount to would be worth too little, why should anyone believe in him? It was his fault All Might chose Deku. If only he had trained faster, stronger, pushed himself harder, maybe he would have-
“Bakugo?”
The pressure eased, but the Decay didn’t stop. His lungs began to dissolve, droplets of blood filling the air. This was it.
“Bakugo, listen to me.”
Something came out of the darkness. A hand, unfurling in his direction. After what he’d seen, Bakugo should have run away as far as he could. But this hand was different. Gentle.
He felt something on his arm. A faint pressure, keeping him from fully drifting away. The hand moved closer.
“Focus on my hand. It’s warm, right?” Closer.
“It’s warm, just like the room. You’re in the common room, on the couch that faces the TV. The heater is going off, and it’s making a rumbling noise.” Closer.
The voice continued. “You’re lying down, and one of your hands is on the floor. Can you feel it?” Closer. Slowly, the darkness faded to a lighter gray.
“It’s 1:24 a.m. No one else is here. It’s just you and me.” The hand was so close that Bakugo could almost see its jagged lines. If he jumped up now, he would reach it.
“You’re fine. You’re safe. You can open your eyes and nothing’s going to hurt you.” The hand became attached to a torso, which became attached to a face. Unlike the others, he could see this one clearly.
“Nothing’s going to hurt you.”
As Bakugo jumped from the ground, the face called out. Come on!
“Nothing’s going to hurt you.” The darkness turned to white as Bakugo took the hand. The common room came into focus, and with that, someone else.
“Sh*tty Hair?”
“Yep.” He moved closer. “How do you feel?”
“Why do you care?” Bakugo sat up. Someone had set a glass of water on the coffee table in front of him.
“Drink this.” Sh*tty Hair handed him the glass. Bakugo downed it gratefully. With a start, he realized that Sh*tty Hair’s hand was still intertwined in his.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” Bakugo asked, tearing his hand away. He decided to ignore the look of hurt on Sh*tty Hair’s face.
“I was getting water and saw you fell asleep. I was gonna leave you be, but you were breathing so quickly…” Sh*tty Hair trailed off. “A panic attack,” he finally said. “I get those sometimes, too. What I just did is called grounding. It helps.” His gaze went to the glass. “Oh, are you finished? I’ll get you some more water. And then,” he said, “we can talk about what happened? If you want?”
Bakugo said nothing. Why had he stepped in? His dream, or panic attack, or whatever it was, wasn’t any of his business.
Sh*tty Hair shrugged. “I don't know. It helps me to talk about it, sometimes.” He went over to the kitchen area, first grabbing another glass, then filling both with water from the sink. It wasn’t until he came back that Bakugo asked his question.
“Why did you help me?” he grumbled.
“What?”
“Why did you help me?” You’d think he told Sh*tty Hair he wanted to play chess, he was so shocked.
“Why wouldn’t I?” He chuckled. “You needed help-and there’s nothing wrong with that- and I know how it feels when you’re alone and panicking, so…”
What had he said? Nothing’s going to hurt you. Tch. Like he would know. But still, if what he’d said was true…
“I need to be alone.” Luckily, Sh*tty Hair seemed to understand.
“I’ll be in my room if you need me. Door’s unlocked.” He set off towards the staircase.
Bakugo hesitated. Nothing’s going to hurt you.
“Sh*tty Hair?”
He turned around. “Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
A small smile spread across his face. “Anytime.”
9 notes · View notes
axwalker · 4 years
Text
The Trade 7
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Synopsis:  Liam is running for Cordonia’s presidency. To assure his victory, Constantine makes an arraignment behind his back for him to marry the rich ambassador’s daughter: Alexis O’Brien. Due to her father’s threats, she has no other option that seduce Liam and make him fall in love with her. But what does she really feel? (AU)
Pairings: LiamxMC DrakexMC
Warnings: I love drama and chaos so this will probably get a bit dark. In this chapter there is mention of rape, if you get triggered by this issue, don’t hesitate to send me a message and I’ll be glad to explain what happens without reading it.
Please note that this is my first series and English is not my first language. I really love ALL kinds of feedback.  Don’t hesitate to comment!
Disclaimer: Some of the dialogues and settings as well as most of the characters belong to Pixelberry (except for Alexis O’Brien and her evil father George O’Brien). I also used a line from Grey’s Anatomy that really made me think about Drake.
To catch up: Masterlist
Thanks to @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld​ for being my incredible beta reader and always being there to answer my questions and her support,  to  @burnsoslow​ for helping with the first part of this episode, it was very difficult to write. and to  @mskaneko​  for the beautiful edit of Drake and Alexis in the mood-board  (I can’t stop looking at it) ❤️ ❤️ ❤️
I'm only tagging those who asked if you want to be tagged, I will be happy to add you to the list
@mskaneko​ @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld​ @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore​ @burnsoslow​ @pug-bitch​ @pedudley​ @msjr0119​ @lauzales​ @yukinagato2012​ @kingliam2019​ @texaskitten30​ @desiree-0816​
The debutant’s ball was all Sienna O’Brien could think about. She adored her granddaughter and was absolutely proud to present her to her high society friends. Alexis was a smart, poised and beautiful young woman; Sienna couldn’t understand why her son had been adamant to send her to that French boarding school. The old woman admired how the sunny fifteen-year-old girl managed to make everyone around her happy. It was a miracle considering her father’s coldness and her mother’s inattention. Sienna knew that deep down, Elena loved her daughter but after years of living with George, she had become a ghost of herself, always drunk or heavily medicated. It all broke her heart, so when George took some interest in Alexis’ date to the ball, the old woman felt almost happy thinking that her son might love his daughter after all. They had finally agreed that she was going to be escorted by Bradford Davenport III, the son of a wealthy and renowned businessman. Alexis couldn’t believe her luck, Brad was extremely handsome and, even if she didn’t go to his school, she knew he was the most popular boy there; that all the girls at the cotillion wanted to be escorted by him. According to her grandmother, he was a true gentleman; the heir of a very good family. Even her father was pleased with the choice. The young girl had learned a long time ago not to seek his approval, but she was thrilled to get it when she could. As the date of the ball approached, Alexis was so excited about it that she had tried her white gown a hundred times and rehearsed more different hairstyles that she would ever admit. She felt like a princess.
Finally, the day had arrived. It had started as a dream. Brad was certainly good-looking and could dance perfectly, spinning her all over the dancefloor while he made her laugh. He took care of her, making sure she always had something to drink and he didn’t leave her side for a second. The adults left the ball early so he promised her father that he would drive her before 1 o’clock. Alexis was feeling too drunk, so she asked him to take her home at midnight. They hopped in the backseat of the car, so she could recover a little before getting back. Brad gave her a soft kiss that made Alexis feel like she was floating. Emboldened by her response he kissed her again, harder this time. Then he went further and grabbed her by her waist knowing that she was almost out of it after all the alcohol he had given her. Brad was convinced that she desired it as much as he did. After a few seconds of kissing her she started to resist him, she didn’t want this, her first time had to be special, not in the backseat of a car. Alexis could smell the alcohol in his breath, feel his sweat, and his hands everywhere. She tried to fight against him, but she wasn’t a match for him. He didn’t want to listen to her cries or see her tears. He ripped her dress and after he took what he wanted, he drove her home."
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Alexis had woken up happy and excited. The moment she had spent with Drake gazing the stars had been incredible. He was all she had imagined, behind that brooding and strong façade hid a sensitive man and she couldn’t deny any longer the indescribable power he had over her. She shivered remembering his touch when he held her hand and the warmth emanating from his body when he had hugged her after she had almost fallen.
It had been the first time in her life that she had felt completely safe.
Suddenly, she thought about Liam, and a pang of overwhelming guilt replaced the excitement. Alexis knew what a good man he was, but now she was sure she would never love him back. Maybe Liam’s interest in her was simple infatuation, but she didn’t want to make him suffer. The seed of a solution started to grow in her mind, it was a long shot but maybe if she asked him for help, he would do it. She would have to arrange a meeting and make him understand that it was in his own son’s best interest.
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Constantine decided to wait for George’s daughter in the breakfast room.
“Good Morning, Alexis.” He smiled politely pointing to the seat across the table so she’d sit. “How can I help you?”
“I need to ask you for something” She didn’t have the energy to be polite anymore. “It’s not for me, it’s for your own son, but maybe this is not the best place to talk.” She paused looking around her
“Don’t worry, the staff won’t bother us. I ordered them to leave us alone when you called.”
“I wanted to talk about Liam, about what you and my father are trying to make me do to him.” She sighed trying to compose herself. “Please Constantine, think about your son. He’s an amazing man, he deserves a woman who loves him. I’m not, or never will be, that woman.” She stopped talking to gauge his reaction. “I know you made a deal with my father but I’m sure you can continue without me. If you tell him you don’t need me, he will let me go-”
He interrupted her smirking “Oh, but I do need you, Alexis. First, because as you can see the press is already starting to associate the two of you as a couple.” He showed her the paper he was reading with pictures of her and Liam at the Masquerade ball and paparazzi’s photos of their date at the Mexican restaurant. “That was brilliant by the way, taking him to such a poor place, they’re presenting him as the people’s candidate.” She rolled her eyes as he continued, “but I’m digressing. I also need you as a guarantee that your father will complete his part of the bargain.”
She couldn’t help but snicker at him. “If you are thinking to use me as leverage, you’re sorely mistaken, Constantine. You can be sure, that if my father thinks is in his best interest to throw me under a bus, he would be driving that bus himself. Having me does not give you any advantage.”
“I’m not going to discuss this any further with you. If you’re having doubts about my son because is too soon just give it time” He stood behind Alexis putting his hands on her bare shoulders. She shuddered at the contact. “However, if it’s because there’s someone else, that could be dangerous for everyone involved. I hope you fully understand me.”
She realized how stupid she had been to believe Constantine would help her. “Yes, I do. Perfectly.” After that, she left the room, leaving the ex-president alone. He picked up the phone and called his associate number.
“George, we have a problem. I need you to control your daughter”
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Since he had met Alexis O’Brien, Liam had been feeling like a 15-year-old teenager again. He couldn’t stop thinking about her day and night, and he was really excited to start working with her on the campaign. He had read all the articles she had wrote and they had fascinated him even more.
With his heart threatening to go out of his chest, he heard the soft knock on the door and opened it.
“Hi Alexis, please, come on in.”
“Thanks, Liam.” She sat in the chair across from him. “Are you ready for me to pick your brain?”
He smiled gently “Of course. What do you need?”
She ran her hand through her hair “Well, I’d like to know more about your motivations as a candidate, about what drives you. A good speech has to reflect your personality above everything else. If it feels fake, you’ll lose the public’s trust immediately.”
“Yes, of course. Let’s see, when we met, I told you that it wasn’t until I became senator that I truly understood the value of politics” She nodded “For the campaign, I had to visit all these neighborhoods that I didn’t even know existed before. I had the chance to see real people facing problems that were completely alien to me” He sighed “There was this school we visited. There were 45 children in a class with only one teacher, and the conditions weren’t the best either: no computers, the state of the desks and chairs were deplorable, the teachers seemed completely overwhelmed by the whole situation. They were teaching, but they didn’t believe they could actually help these kids anymore” He paused again thinking “Here I was, this privileged man thinking he was living in a great country, one that gave everyone the same opportunities to go far in life, but actually ignoring everything about the people he wanted to rule. That day was the day I knew I wanted to make a change. Starting with the reform of the education’s program of Cordonia”
Alexis looked at him impressed. His passion was contagious, he had a real desire to make things better, to help others, and to improve his country. He would be an outstanding president.
“Let’s start with the anecdote and then we will move forward to explaining your education reform.” She smiled.
After a few hours exchanging ideas, they had finally written a speech draft they were equally satisfied with. They were both tired, but Liam didn’t want their time together to end so fast.
“How about we take a break before the ball?” He stood up and walk around the desk to sit on it, in front of Alexis’ chair.
Remembering the earlier conversation with Constantine, she answered trying to seem joyful “Sure! What do you have in mind?”
“There’s this amazing terrace in my room, maybe we can have a few drinks there, the view is incredible.”
Alexis' eyebrows almost touched her scalp. “Your room?”
“Hey, I’m a gentleman” He winked. “If you want me to be one of course.”
She let out a hearty laugh that almost made his heart stop. “Aren’t you smooth?” She sighed amused “Let’s go have that drink.”
Liam smiled relieved “Just give me five minutes, I have to make a call.”
Fifteen minutes later, they entered the room to access the terrace. It was magnificent. The beautiful panoramic was breathtaking, they could see the huge snowy Lythiko’s mountains, the shimmering lake that surrounded Olivia’s property, the hundreds of pines that seemed to have been planted in the snow, the wooden cabins all around the place. It felt like a Christmas fairytale. And the terrace was incredible too. Awfully sunny even in the wintery day, spacious, and luxuriously decorated. It had an outdoor couch full of beautiful cushions, and the small table in front of it was set with a rose’s bouquet, some candles, and a bucket containing a freezing bottle of champagne.
Alexis was in awe at the view. “Wow, Li. It is amazing”
“Beautiful, isn’t it? Now you see why I wanted to share it with someone.” He stood close to her, brushing her hand with his thumb
“And all of this?” She pointed at the table “You were with me the whole time”
“I have my ways,” he said grinning “and I wanted this to be magical for us”
They sat on the couch.
“You didn’t tell me if you liked it” He was looking softly at her
“Liam…” Touched by the gesture, she wasn’t sure how to answer “It’s very nice. I love red roses”
“I have to be honest with you Alexis. I’ve never really had someone I wanted so badly to please. I feel like I would do anything to make you smile and know that I am the cause”
Another pang of guilt in Alexis’ chest almost made her jump “Liam…”
He blushed “Ahem, anyway, what if we open this bottle of champagne”
After uncorking it and pouring two glasses, they toasted.
“To a great life” He clinked her glass without taking his eyes off her.
“To a great life” She repeated smiling and drank “This is so good Liam; I love it”
“There are few things better in life than a good bottle of champagne shared in good company” He took one of Alexis’ hands and kissed her palm “Alexis, I feel like I’ve been waiting for this moment the entire trip”
She smiled at him, unsure of how to behave, torn between her task of making him love her and her reluctance to hurt him.
Liam put his drink at the table and turned to watch her “You make me want so many things, things I never wanted before. I want to be careful with you, I’d hate to hurt you in any way”
“Don’t worry about me, Liam. I will be fine. I know what I’m getting myself into. Besides, you’re the model of a good person” Even if she was certain that her heart wasn’t hers to give anymore, she sincerely liked him and knew that if she hadn’t met Drake before, she would have fallen for Liam.
He caressed her cheek “If I’m not, I hope I will be, for you. You inspire me to be a better man”
He leaned to kiss her when the room’s phone rang.
“Well, if that’s not bad timing” He smiled taking her chin between his fingers “I do not know what is. “Wait here, love”
She waited a while but when it became evident that the call was going to last more than a few minutes, Alexis went into the room and waved her hand to say good-bye. They would see each other at the ball.
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Kiara left her lover’s room as quietly as she could. Even if she was perfectly aware that Rashad couldn’t care less who she was sleeping with, and if It had been months since the last time he had touched her, she couldn’t, and wouldn’t, face the scandal. She had too much to lose.
Rashad was also very careful when he left the room at the end of the hall that afternoon, if Kiara or her family knew who he had been sleeping with, he will lose everything.
They almost crashed into each other in the hall.
“Darling, what are you doing here?” And with last night’s clothes.
Kiara looked angrily at him “I… I don’t want to lie anymore Rashad. If you’re so interested in my life you should come to my bed more often. If you can’t do that, we’ll continue our relationship because that’s what’s best for us, but we will lead separate lives. I’ll go prepare for the ball, we have to arrive together. See you at 7 at my door”
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Olivia was more than content with the result of Max’s and Penelope’s work. With a bit of luck, they would be able to attract the most prominent men in Lythikos and make them contribute to Liam’s campaign. She sighed when she saw Drake arriving without a bow tie.
“God Walker! Couldn’t you make a fucking effort and dress properly for this?” She rolled her eyes, giving him his accustomed glass of whiskey “If he wins, you’re going to be the new Chief of staff”
Drake chuckled “Ha! If Liam chose me for my fashion sense, he’s gonna be in a lot of trouble”
“I think it will always be a mystery for all of us why he chose you,” she answered teasingly. “By the way, as you can’t behave like an adult around that toad Neville, and Kiara bores you to death, I seated you with Hana Lee and the new ‘speechwriter’” She almost spits the last word
“I can tell you really like her, Livvie” He smirked at her and then added more seriously “Be careful with her though” he looked pointedly at her “she’s…not bad”
Her eyes narrowed to slits “Why are you protecting her? And what have I told you about calling me that?” She arched her brows “Do you want everyone to know your nickname? Little marsh-“
“Shut up, Olivia. I’ll go find my seat” He watched her knowingly and pointed his index at her “And you better behave”
Drake was nervous to see Alexis again but with Hana acting as an unknowing buffer, the diner had gone smoothly. After it, the girls had stood up to dance, so he moved to his favorite spot at the bar and watched the dancefloor, his eyes irremediably going to her. He wasn’t disappointed at the sight; she was dancing like a goddess in Maxwell’s arms. Iit made his heart swell to see her smiling and laughing freely. Sometimes he got the feeling that there was something haunting her; some dark secret that prevented her from being truly happy.
He saw his best friend take a stool next to him, then look around the dance floor until he found her too. The goofy smile on his face while he watched her move let no doubt about Liam’s feelings. The waiter gave Liam a glass of scotch that he downed in one gulp.
“I’m falling hard for that woman,” he told Drake, nodding in Alexis' direction.
Drake’s heart literally stopped at Liam’s words, in almost 23 years of friendship, it was the first time Drake wanted the same thing that Liam did.
He sighed before answering “I know”
“Do you think she feels the same?” Liam smiled sheepishly
Drake knew that any other woman in Cordonia would have fallen instantly in love with the rich and promising candidate but he wasn’t so sure about O’Brien.  In all the moments they had shared together, even the one where she had rejected him, he had felt something strong brewing between them, something he couldn’t quite define.
He exhaled. “I have no idea, Liam. I think she’s very closed-off.” Then remembering that morning’s newspaper, he added unhappily, “but she seemed to be having fun with you in those pictures.”
“Yes, my father had us followed. I was very angry at first but as he pointed out, it all turned out well.”
Drake growled. “What do you mean it turned out well? They followed you, took pictures of you… of her, of a private moment. Doesn’t it drive you crazy that your father is trying to use Alexis like that? Like she’s a pretty object that he can use for your advantage?” Drake knew he had sounded angrier than he had intended.
Liam stared at his best friend coolly. “I don’t understand why are you angry Drake; you know perfectly how a campaign works. You know I was trying to find someone to help me boost my image. I would’ve thought you were happy that I found someone that I actually like,” he paused, “that I’m starting to love.”
Drake knew Liam was right, his biggest fear since he had entered the campaign had been to live trapped in a loveless marriage, it looked like he was going to be able to avoid it, and as his best friend, he should be happy about it.
Before answering, Drake allowed himself to look at her one last time “I apologize Li. I’m actually happy for you.” Trying to hide the pain he was inexplicably feeling he stood up patting his friend in the back, “you deserve the best and she seems… incredible.”
“Thanks, Drake, I know you only want what’s best for me.” Liam was grinning again
“Of course, Liam.” Drake felt a sudden urge to breathe fresh air. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Without waiting for Liam’s answer, Drake left the ballroom.  
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Alexis was dancing with Maxwell again, but despite the fact that he was trying to be as joking and chatty as usual she could see that something was tormenting him. It killed Alexis how hard he was trying to hide his misery, so she finally grabbed him by his hand, stole a bottle of champagne from the bar, and took him out of the ballroom into the library.
“Ok Max, you’re gonna tell me exactly what is going on,” She said passing him the bottle after drinking from it.
“What do you mean Lexie? I’m fine, just a little tired. I’m sorry if I’m not a lot of fun tonight, though.”
“Maxwell! You’re under no obligation to be fun and sparkly all the time. And you certainly don’t need to apologize for having a night off. I only brought you here because I thought that you might want to talk to someone.”
Max sighed sadly “Remember when I told you yesterday that I was sort of in a relationship?”
She nodded
“Well... I’m not anymore”
“Aw Max I’m so sorry,” she said hugging him “I remember how happy you were. Are you sure it is final?”
“Actually, is not. I can even bet that he will be calling me tonight to patch things over but,” He took a large sip of champagne, “I don’t think I can take it anymore.”
“What do you mean Max?”
“People see me like this immature boy, but the truth is that I’m proud of myself. I came out when I was sixteen, and I’ve never looked back, but now here I am 12 years later struggling in a relationship with a man that can’t accept himself” he sounded almost angry “I love him but I just can’t do this any longer”
“If you love him and he loves you back, and I can’t imagine him not to” she smiled at him “Maybe you should give him some time. Not all of us are as comfortable with ourselves as you are, Max. If he comes from a more traditional family than yours, then he needs love and support to take that step. I know it’s not fair. How long have you been together?”
“Uh, almost a year” He drank again.
She put her arms around him “Maybe you can give him a deadline, like six more months, a little time to think. If he doesn’t do it, then you’ll probably have to move on; But at least you’ll know that you did everything that you could”
Max nodded pensively “Yes, I’ll talk to him tonight. Thank you, blossom, you’re the best” He hugged her, then offered her his arm “Want to be my lady for the rest of the evening?”
“Go on without me and find him. I’ll take a tour through Lythikos mansion, it seems fascinating”
“Ok, but don’t get lost” He shuddered a little scared “The Nevrakis love secret passages”
She winked at him “Don’t worry. I will”
She started walking, lost in her thoughts until she saw a light at the end of the corridor. She approached it to discover a spiraling staircase. Without thinking it twice, she climbed it down and found a cellar at the end of it. Her heart missed a beat when she saw Drake sitting there, looking at an empty glass.
He looked up when she entered, his heart missing a beat as well. “First the snow and now here, I’m starting to think that you’re stalking me, O’Brien”
“You wish Walker.” She arched her brow smirking “Drinking alone?”
“I needed to get out of that ballroom for a second”
“Yeah, I know the feeling. Can I sit?” She asked, smiling.
-God that smile is going to be the death of me- He moved to let her seat next to him on the floor, immediately drunk with her scent.
“What are you having?”
“Nothing yet. Olivia has a very extensive collection of fine Cordonian wines, nothing here is under a thousand dollars”
“You want to drink Olivia’s wine?” She added playfully “I thought you were more of a whiskey guy, Drake.”
They both looked at each other thinking about the night they had met, an electric tension starting to grow.
Drake broke the stare clearing his throat “Ahem, I brought this bottle of Dalwhinnie, here, taste it” he poured her a glass.
She licked her lips before taking the glass to her mouth savoring the sour smell of the beverage. It took all of Drake’s willpower not to throw the glass away and kiss those full lips until she couldn’t breathe anymore.
“So?” He asked arching a brow, trying to hide his thoughts.
“Delicious.” She gazed at him thoroughly “Care to tell me why did you want to get out? “
There was no way in hell that Drake was going to tell her the real reason “I wanted to be alone in a place where I don’t have to bow and kiss ass for five minutes. It’s fucking exhausting trying to get all those rich bastards to donate to Liam’s campaign.”
“Please Drake, tell me what you really think,” She said playfully.
He snickered and the wrinkles around his eyes made him look so handsome when he smiled that she couldn’t stop herself from carefully putting her hand in his arm, savoring the electricity that immediately passed between them. “Seriously though, if you hate politics so much, why do you stick around?”
He looked at her cautiously, her opinion mattered to him much more than anyone else’s “It must seem ridiculous to you.”
She stared at him. “No, it’s not ridiculous, Drake. I’m just trying to understand why a brilliant man as yourself is wasting his life doing something he so clearly hates.”
“It’s for Liam, it has always been for him. I would’ve left a long time ago, but Liam needs me. Growing with Constantine was especially hard for me and Olivia. My sister was so obedient that he never had to complain about her, and Leo and Liam were his sons. But the old man was very hard on them too. Eventually, Li, Liv and I became very close and we swore we would always protect each other”
Alexis looked at him with piercing eyes, biting her bottom lip, clearly wanting to say something.
He stared at her amused. “I know you’re dying to say something O’Briens. Spill it”
“Well, it seems to me that you and Olivia do all the protecting” When she saw he was about to protest, she added “Don’t get me wrong, Li is a very good and caring man. It’s just that I have the feeling that you were raised to move around him like he was the sun. And now, you’re stuck in that role. But you’re an extraordinary man, handsome, brilliant and funny. He’s not the sun Drake. You are” She blushed to realize she had said much more than she had intended.
Her words melted all of Drake’s resolutions to keep her at arm’s length, he reached her face with his thumb stroking first her cheek, then her nose and mouth, his heart threatening to go out of his chest as he looked her bright eyes and that smile he had learned to adore.
He approached her gently, pulling her to him with his left arm. Suddenly Drake felt her hands around his neck; he heard her breathing accelerate and he smelled her cherry fragrance. He stopped to inhale it and savor every single second. His eyes fixed the mouth that was driving him slowly crazy and kissed a corner of it, making Alexis softly moan, he smiled to himself and kissed the other corner, producing another tender moan. Finally, he couldn’t take it any longer and crashed his mouth with hers, trying to convey everything with a single kiss. He kissed her with all the passion, the desperation, and the pain he was feeling, he kissed her knowing that it would be the last time. After a while, the need for air made them break the kiss, and the spell was broken.
“I’m sorry Drake.” She struggled to breathe normally again. “I don’t know what we were thinking, we can’t do this anymore. “I- I should go.”
He stood up first, giving her his hand to pull her up.
“I know Lexie,” he said softly. “I know we can’t. I just needed one more time” He caressed her face with the back of his hand “Come on, we have to go back to the ball, everyone must be looking for you.”
“You go first, my father is waiting for me at the office Olivia lend him.”
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George knew that her daughter’s secret was the only means he had to control her. He had lost all of her respect after that debutant’s ball ten years ago and the truth was, he didn’t care. His daughter only existed to remind him about the worst mistake of his life. As he poured brandy into his old associate’s son glass, he congratulated himself. Calling him had been the right move. After seeing him, Alexis wouldn’t have any other choice, but to do what she was told. 
At 9 pm sharp, his daughter knocked on the door. Alexis entered the office where his father was talking to another man turning his back at her.
“Good evening, Alexis. I called you because there is an old friend of yours visiting Cordonia, and I thought you would enjoy reminiscing; he’ll be staying here with us.”
The man turned and Alexis couldn’t believe her eyes. Even if she was aware that her father didn’t have any limits and that he would do anything to assure her cooperation, she didn’t want to believe he would go that far.
However, there was no denying it. Bradford Davenport, her abuser,  was standing in front of her, his obnoxious hand reaching hers. She jerked away stupefied. The hatred was consuming her entirely. She looked at one then the other contemptuously.
“I will never, hear me, well father. Never sleep under the same roof that this excuse of a human being”
“Always so dramatic. Bradford is an associate and a friend; I couldn’t care less of your little teenage romance”  
Maybe it was the fact that her father has referred to the second most horrible experience of her life as a “teenage romance” but Alexis was so filled with rage that the next thing she knew she was slapping Brad.
His father was furious. “Alexis, apologize, now!”
She turned around slamming the door after her and ran to the garden.
When she was sure that they couldn’t see her any longer, she fell into the grass and the tears started to come. All the old feelings resurfaced: the shame of the next day, the acute pain, nausea, the deep sadness that would become depression, the sensation of being dirty all the time. In a few minutes, the tears had muted into gut-wrenching sobs, until suddenly she felt his presence standing a few inches of her.
“O’Brien?” in two steps he was on his knees next to her caressing her hair  “God! What’s going on?”
As she continued to cry Drake took her in his arms and rocked her. “Oh, Lexie, baby, please tell me what happened”
Suddenly she knew there was only one thing that would make her feel safe again.
“Please, Drake, take me far away from all of this. I just can’t take it. I know I can’t”
Drake looked at the damaged woman before him and his heart broke. He stood up determined.
“Come on, I know where we can go”
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When Love Walks In - Chpt 1
Chapter One - The Accident
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(Hi there.  This is my first fanfiction and writing of any kind really.  I’ve been inspired by those writers who have gone before me.  Thank you for your incredible efforts, talent and bravery.   This will be a multi-chapter love story and work of pure fiction using Auston Matthews as the inspiration for the main character of the same name and Dr Quinn Tolpa as a character I created myself. I’ve purposely refrained from describing the appearance of the female lead character, Dr Quinn, as I want you to imagine her as you see her in your mind. Also, please keep in mind that I am in no way knowledgable about the medical profession and have based any medical references on my own minor research.  So please forgive any inaccuracies. Potential triggers:  Life-threatening hockey accident involving the throat.  Coma.  Surgery.  Ventilator.  Some swear words.  I will mark when Sex/Smut Scenes are coming up.  I hope you enjoy the ride.  It’s going to be a good one and worth getting past the setup chapters.)  3389 words
Chapter One - The Accident 
It is late in the third period of a tied Game 7 of the 2024/25 Stanley Cup finals between the Toronto Maple Leafs, and the New Jersey Devils when 27-year-old Auston Matthews of the Leafs, takes a puck, from the Devils’ defence, squarely to his throat.
The Toronto home crowd falls eerily silent and holds a collective, horrified breath.  You can tell that the Leaf players on the ice are not aware that the puck hit Auston directly in the throat.  As the whistle blows, the Leafs’ trainers and medical staff rush to help Auston, who is thrashing in pain on the ice.  Everyone now has a chance to look up at the replay on the JumboTron.  The mouths of Auston’s teammates and coaches drop in unison along with the crowd, followed by audible gasps of, “My God!”
As soon as the trainers can get to Auston, he manages to stand up but then immediately collapses into unconsciousness.  The capacity crowd’s screams echo throughout the arena at the drama of it all.  As everyone watches, four of Auston’s teammates rush to pick up their friend and get him to the Leafs’ medical room as quickly as possible.  
What is sure at this point, is that Auston’s airway has been cut off from the impact of the shot to his Larynx.  He is unconscious and not breathing as he lays on the treatment table in the dressing room.  An emergency Tracheotomy is performed on-site by the team’s medical doctor, to get Auston breathing again.  
Auston is still unconscious, but breathing with the help of the Thrach, oxygen supply and EMS, as he is rushed by ambulance to Mount Sinai Hospital for life-saving surgery.
Auston’s parents, Brian and Ema and his two sisters, Alexandria (older) and Breyana (younger), manage to get down to the Leafs’ dressing room within minutes of the accident and are ushered straightaway to a police car which escorts them to join up with Auston at the hospital.  Upon their arrival, Auston’s parents are signing releases and authorizations on behalf of their son, for the hospital medical staff. 
A still unconscious Auston arrives at the Emergency Department of Mount Sinai Hospital, with Leafs’ medical staff in tow, to a team of surgeons and medical staff awaiting his arrival.  They immediately usher Auston, via stretcher, into an exam room where what remains of his hockey equipment is cut off.  They first ensure that Auston’s airway is maintained.  The staff take Auston’s vitals along with scans and a full body assessment.  Since it is immediately clear that Auston is suffering from a crushed Larynx and likely vocal cord damage, the doctors on duty, without hesitation, summon Dr Quinn Tolpa.  
Dr Quinn, as she prefers to be called, lives in a high rise condo located within 10 minutes of the hospital.  It’s around 10 pm, and she has just returned home from a late Pilate’s class and subsequent shower.  As she thinks to go turn on the TV to see if the City is going to erupt any time soon by the Leafs winning the Stanley Cup for the first time in over 50 years, her pager goes off.   The message reads, Paging Dr Quinn Tolpa, Medical Emergency, Laryngeal Trauma, etc., Theatre 3, M.S.H, time 10:03.  She replies, texting her ETA and hurries to change her clothes, feeling relieved that she already showered at the gym.  She rushes to her car in the parking garage and begins to wonder about road conditions. If the Leafs have already won the Cup, then she will be in trouble as the traffic will be insane.  As she drives out of the garage, she sees it is quiet on the streets, almost eerily quiet.  
In little time, Dr Quinn arrives on-site and starts getting into her scrubs in the room attached to Theatre 3.  The other doctors and medical staff greet her and thank her for coming so quickly.
“We have ourselves a VIP of sorts in there, Dr Quinn, so no pressure”, an attending doctor jokes nervously to ease the tension.
“I’m sorry, Doctor, what?” Quinn replies, confused as she starts to prep.
Realizing there is no time to get into who the patient is, the attending physician replies, “Not important, Dr Quinn.  NHL hockey player is all.”  He begins briefing her on what transpired and his assessment.
Dr Quinn has just finished scrubbing up when the doctor completes his briefing. She has a few questions for the doctor and medical staff about Auston’s vitals and how he is responding to treatments already given, which they answer to her satisfaction.
She takes a look at Auston’s scan results as well as the results from his standard tests and then moves over to where he lays on the operating table. She quickly runs her own physical evaluation.  All indications are that Auston’s Larynx has been severely crushed and will need intricate repair before the bleeding stops.  She will address his airway, breathing and collapsed lung to get him stabilized.   
The attending doctor notes, “We understand he was about 4 feet from the player who fired the puck.”
Dr Quinn is shocked by the image that races across her mind. “Four feet away! Dear Lord!”  She draws in a deep breath and exhales.  
All the medical support staff have eyes on Dr Quinn as they assume their positions.  Taking command of the room, she rallies, “Okay, everyone, let’s save this young man’s life.”
After 2 hours of her expert, delicate and intricate surgery, Auston is in stable condition.  It is time for her to speak with his family.  But before Dr Quinn can find them, the other doctor pulls her aside to explain who, precisely, this patient is that she just finished operating on.
“Auston Matthews?” She repeats as a question.  She has heard the name before but had never paid much attention as she had been focused intensely on her career over the last number of years.  But, having been born and raised in the City of Toronto, she, of course, knows who the Leafs are and how important they are to the City.  She also knows that the Leafs were playing in the final game of the Stanley Cup playoffs because, unless you live under a rock, no one in the City could be unaware of that fact.  
Dr Quinn is a bit embarrassed to be a Torontonian at this moment; not knowing much about the City’s esteemed hockey superstar who she has just helped. She has to remind herself that during the past nine years of her life, she did not have the luxury of dividing her time and energy to much outside of her education and career.  Becoming a Medical Doctor, surgeon and then rising through the ranks at breakneck speed to become Canada’s youngest specialist in the field of Otolaryngology-Head and Neck Surgery as well as an internationally recognised leader in the field of vocal cord reconstruction had been her focus and a huge one at that.
Dr Quinn walks towards the ‘family quiet room’ where she’s told Auston’s family are waiting.  She taps on the door, and it is opened by a tall, broad-shouldered man who Dr Quinn assumes to be Auston’s father.  There are three women in the room whom she believes to be Auston’s mother and sisters, as well as a few men wearing Leafs’ jackets whom she guesses are from the Leafs’ organization. There is no escaping that they are all torn apart by Auston’s accident. Their wet, swollen eyes and red faces reflect their intense pain and fear.  Dr Quinn’s heart sinks to see them all in such distress.  She wants desperately to reassure them.
“Hello, my name is Dr Quinn Tolpa, please call me Dr Quinn.  I just performed surgery on Auston”, she announces as she reaches her hand out to shake hands with and learn the names of the loved ones of her newest patient.
“He’s in stable condition right now, and staff are currently transferring him to the Intensive Care Unit on the 4th floor.  The 2-hour surgery included completing a Tracheostomy and hooking him up to a Ventilator.  A cuffed tube was inserted and inflated to make sure that the only air in his throat is coming from the Ventilator, which will allow Auston’s throat and Larynx to heal without interference.  I repaired Auston’s Larynx.  I also drained blood from his lungs as it had caused one of his lungs to collapse.”
There is a burst of relief, followed by a lot of ‘thanks to God’.  They hug each other and sob in relief.  
Dr Quinn continues, “I understand how scary this all must be for you.  Please know that Auston is in the best possible place given his type of injury and that we will do everything within our power to help Auston make as full a recovery as possible.  I can tell you that the surgery was successful in repairing his damaged Larynx and in doing so, we removed the obstruction from his airway and stopped the bleeding.  While Auston is in a stable state right now, that is not of his own doing.  We have him on a Ventilator and have placed him in a medically induced Coma, which is giving him a chance to heal his Larynx and vocal cords as well as to stave off any brain damage.  We can’t rule out brain damage or a concussion since he stopped receiving oxygen for a time at the arena and he hit his head on the ice after he passed out.  He is going to stay in the induced Coma for at least five days, and at such time we will be able to assess his progress and alleviate any further issues he may present.”
“I know I’m overloading you with information right now but want you to know where things stand at the moment and what to expect in the next little while where Auston’s concerned. Since I will be Auston’s attending medical specialist, please know that you can consult with me on his condition at any time.  I am perfectly happy to repeat any of this information back to you, so don’t hesitate to ask me any questions you may have.   Here is my card with my contact information.  Day or night, please know that I am here for you all.”  Dr Quinn reassures them as she hands each of them her card.
Dr Quinn continues, “Okay, so specifically, we diagnosed Auston with Laryngeal Trauma, which means a crushed Larynx, which I understand was caused by a puck hitting his throat at high speed and close range.  The priority was to secure his airway, which was done by the Leafs’ medical staff at the arena by performing a crude Tracheotomy.  By accounts, it appears that this procedure was done within the time limits to avoid brain damage, but we will not know for certain until Auston regains consciousness.  When Auston arrived here, we ran scans, X-rays, tests and assessments to determine the extent of the damage to his Larynx.  His Larynx was so badly crushed it was by far the most challenging surgical repair of fractured and internal lacerations I have ever had to make, but I’m pleased with how well it went.”
“Also, in 5 days, I expect to perform what is called a Microlaryngoscopy and Bronchoscopy, in order to re-assess the healing process and attend to any issues that may present themselves by that time.  If all goes well then, Auston should be cleared to be woken from his Coma.  At that time, we will have him on complete voice rest until he can breathe on his own and his airway heals.  Also, we should be able to evaluate any brain damage, concussion symptoms, how well or not his vocal cords are mending and whether he has any diminished breathing abilities or difficulties swallowing”, she explains.
Now she has to tell them what they need to know but will scare the hell out of them.    “Since vocal cords are next to the Larynx and Auston’s are severely crushed, there is a chance that they will not be able to join together as they heal, which will cause Auston to have trouble speaking. But, I want you to know that I have been heading a team that has been pioneering research in the area of vocal cord rejuvenation and there is a new technique that we have developed that is providing a chance where there was none previously.  If it comes down to that, I want you to know there is some hope. Results of applying this new technique have proven to be highly successful in trials.  It is ground-breaking, and I want you to know about it as it has been my primary objective to find a way to bring hope to patients who previously had none in such cases.  Oh, and last thing, Auston’s collapsed lung should recover in a couple of days and is common when there is bleeding from trauma to the Larynx. We will, of course, monitor Auston for everything”, Dr Quinn draws in a deep breath and waits a moment for a response.
“Can we see him now?” They plead in unison.
Relieved that they seem to have accepted what she just told them, she answers, “Yes, I’ll take you up in a moment.  You can stay in the room with Auston, day and night.  You can sleep in the reclining chairs in the room.  Unfortunately, there are only two reclining chairs that will fit in the space, but they are more comfy and supportive than you might expect.   I believe it is of great importance that family be able to stay with their loved ones overnight and get as good a sleep as possible.  Families provide love and support, which is essential in speeding up the healing process. Being close to the patient also gives families some measure of control in an often uncontrollable situation.  We have pillows and blankets, so please ask the nurse.”
“Doctor?  When my son is in Coma, can he hear me?”  Auston’s mother asks hopefully in her broken English.
“Mrs Matthews, I am sorry that he will not be able to understand what you say since a medically induced coma is a deep state of unconsciousness, leaving the sounds with no consciousness to reach.  However, please do not let that deter you from talking, singing or reading to Auston. There have been claims that other senses are at work that pick up on vibrations, energy etc. and may subconsciously bring peace and comfort to your boy.  It can also be comforting to you as well”, Dr Quinn explains with compassion that the family can feel.
“If you would like to follow me, I can take you upstairs to Intensive Care now.” Dr Quinn leads the group to the elevator and up to the 4th floor. Everyone is silent as they all try to process the information they have just received.
“Please stay in the waiting room for one moment while I confirm that things are ready”, She asks the group as she heads into the Intensive Care Unit.  
Auston’s family is too worked up to sit down, so they stand there while the team staff members take a seat as they plan to give the family privacy to visit Auston and make their update calls to Leafs’ management.
“Hi, Angels?  How’s it going with our patient, Mr Matthews?” Dr Quinn asks the two attending nurses, Nicole and Kelly.
“He’s all set up Dr Quinn,” Nicole informs.
“Doctor, are you aware that this is Auston Matthews?  You know, the superstar hockey player that plays for the Leafs?” Kelly asks.
“Yeah, that’s what they tell me.  Auston was playing in the Stanley Cup final game and got a puck to the throat”, Dr Quinn shivers as she reacts to her own words.   “Poor guy, eh?  Hey, do you know if the Leafs ended up winning?” She asks.
“No, we haven’t heard anything.  It’s been pretty busy in here tonight”, both nurses chime in.
Dr Quinn adds, “Well, I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.  I don’t know what to hope for because if the team won, then Auston missed out and if the team lost, then he’ll be devastated and so will the City. What a no-win situation.  In any event, I’m going to get Auston’s family now.  They are lovely people.  Afterwards, I will get the attending doctor up to speed and fill out some paperwork. Any questions before I go?”
“No, we read the file and know what to do.  Should be fine Dr Quinn”, the nurses confirm with confidence.
“Okay, good.  I’ll go get the family”, Dr Quinn announces.
“Thanks, Doctor”, the nurses replied.
“Thank you, Angels!” Quinn adds, as she always does, to show her appreciation for all they do. “Ha, so I guess you’re Auston’s Angels now ladies”, she jokes to lighten the mood, and they chuckle.
Dr Quinn returns to Auston’s waiting family and announces that the room and Auston are ready for them.
“I just want to give you a heads up that Auston is hooked up to some large machines to help him breathe, monitor his vitals, give him his fluids and administer his medications.  Please don’t be alarmed as this is all normal procedure in such cases”, Dr Quinn informs them.
“Thank you, Dr Quinn, from the bottom of our hearts for everything you have done and will do for our boy”, Auston’s father says as his voice drips with emotion.  The rest of the family mumble the same, sniffling as they each take turns hugging Quinn tight, trying to convey their appreciation.
“Please call us by our first names, Dr Quinn.  We are family now”, Ema insists.
“Sure.  I’m happy to be able to help.  Please follow me”, Dr Quinn instructs as she leads them towards Auston’s room.  
The family pass in front of Dr Quinn to get to Auston’s bed.  Quiet gasps and sobs from the group mingle with the pulse and hiss of the breathing machine keeping Auston alive.  Ema hugs and kisses her son, crying she tells him in Spanish that she doesn’t know what she’ll do if he doesn’t pull through.  Brian, standing behind Ema with his hand on her back has tears pouring down his devastated, hand covered face.  Alex and Bre approach Auston from the other side of the bed, youngest wrapped in the arm of the oldest.  Standing next to their brother, they take hold of his hand and wipe tears from their red cheeks.  As they gasp for air, they tell Auston they love him, know he will triumph over this like he does everything and that he is the best brother ever.
Dr Quinn tries to remain stoic.  After making sure everyone is okay and settled, she excuses herself from the room and heads over to the Intensive Care station to speak to the attending doctor, finish up some paperwork and make some calls.  Then she hears it.
“They lost!” one of the nurses announces loudly.  
Dr Quinn rushes over to the nurse standing about 5 feet from her, to explain the situation and ask her to please keep the news to herself.  
Although the news crushes Dr Quinn, she also has a strong feeling wash over her that it will all be okay in the end.  She has no idea why she feels this way, but it calms her entire being.  
Dr Quinn informs Auston’s family that she is going home to get some sleep as she has worked 13 hours in the last 24 hour period.  She introduces them to the attending Doctor, Dr Higgins and reassures them that she is merely a phone call away if they need to speak to her before her 9 am return.
Dr Quinn returns to her condo.  She knows this upcoming week will be a trying one for her, Auston’s family and the City of Toronto.  Tired, Dr Quinn rests in the knowledge that her hard work and studies might be able to turn this tragic situation into a positive outcome.  She resolves that she is determined to do that for Auston, his family and the City of Toronto.  She will be the Superstar that everyone needs right now.  This is her chance to do what she has been training for her whole life. This is her Cup moment, so to speak.
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#1/?
I'm kinda planning of writing a Percy Jackson fic? So excuse my rant here of what I have planned I just kinda wanna have it written out and given some feedback hopefully before I really start. Some stuff might be triggering for some people. Including drugs, alcohol, rape, abuse, and self hate so far. Percy isn't a go happy guy, and hasn't been for awhile in the books. Btw REALLY LONG OMG.
Percy is gonna be a bit younger because I for some reason wanna have it cross over with marvel. Sorry. And ship him with Peter. Also sorry but not really.
The first changes is gonna be with Sally and a little bit of how she raised Percy. She teaches him of mythology and languages because she also knows many and knows it'll do him good because they're in the same area of where Greek is commonly used. Italian, Crotian, and Romanian, her family went around and had good taste. I wanna have Sally be a Roman legacy but I'm not sure of who just yet.
The second chapter would be his early preteens and his love/addiction of blue food. Kinda innocent and his relation of blue foods and his love for his Ma. As he grows older and Gabe gets in the picture his addiction of blue foods changes to drugs and alcohol from Gabe threatening them. He wants them to depend on them and him. The rape starts from the beginning of Gabe's relationship/marriage with Sally to be honest. Maternity rape is real and I doubt she always meant yes but would say it so he wouldn't hurt her more. He definitely would threaten the other (Sally / Percy) of harm of the other (Percy / Sally) if they were to misbehave. He'll eventually get himself out of it and help Sally recover while they're still stuck with Gabe. He goes back to loving blue food and uses it as a replacement whenever he has a craving.
The third would be his experience with school. Dyslexia and ADHD shows up right when he starts and some teachers reach out to Sally on ways to "fix him". She doesn't wanna have him depend on medication, definitely happy with that when Gabe happens, so he suffers with explaining " yes I have ADHD and dyslexia, no I'm not making it up to not pay attention" to everyone in every school he ever goes to. Some schools he has good teachers that believe him and wanna help him find ways to learn with his different types of dyslexia because of course he'll have more than what's common in a demigod. Sometimes he wouldn't get expelled from school but would have to deal with a suspension and have to find a way to hide it from Sally and Gabe. He learns better with facial reading and lying throughout these years. He'll have good relations with history, language, tech, and music teachers. Also the lunch and security and front desk people. He got along better with people older then him than people in his class.
The next might just be various moments with Gabe and his friends with either Sally saving him, one of Gabe's okay friends helping him, him turning things for the worse before he learns "the system*1", or with Gabe winning. Includes him learning how to apply makeup to hide bruises, lying about marks and cuts, how to heal stuff quicker, getting rid of smells, sewing, packing clothes tightly, and emergency numbers and places. Thoughts of running away and making things better for his Ma. Self hate and doubt of his reasons for living any longer. Decides running away would be better but he can't bring himself because he loves, is loyal to, her. That's brings MONEY MAKING. I grew up with people making money selling anything in school so he will too and will market off of this for any emergency because Gabe always takes his and Sally's money. Selling simple things like pencils and gum, later cool erasers that teachers confescated that he stole in return. Eventually he had to stop and find new ways to make money, and what's one quick way in New York? Drugs. NO!!.
*1 the system is based on what I learned growing up. If I had a good morning then I'll have a terrible night, Terrible morning then a good night. But sometimes you had to look for signs when it might just be a bad day overall. Conversations, how the person is acting (agitated, short temper, not patient), moody with everything from; lights, sounds, smells, how things are organized, nothing is good enough, privacy. The slightest thing that was good meant nothing when that person had more control of how your day would go. Of course this is my experience personally and I'ma add this in this fic.
He goes about using his talents with music to make some money. He can't risk Gabe, his friends, or even sally recognizing him so he always hides himself and would freestyle on the violin or guitar that he is able to keep at school because he's part of band. It keeps his away from home till Sally is out of work. He got into music because it was always calming to him and helps him concentrate. Sally was able to get him a chance to learn some before Gabe stopped them. Sometimes if there's a piano he'll play that too. Once he's makes money he carefully and reluctantly uses some for better equipment such as speakers and a microphone. His friendship with Peter is helpful with making it easy to bring around or stash at his place once he drops out of band or doesn't even joins his new schools band.*2. They would sometimes go out and just be dumb boys and fool around, Peter for fun and Percy for future possible survival and fun. Who can I connect with that will give me a discount? Who is less attentive of their stock? Where does the best wallets come from? Who accepts homeless and when? Libraries?
*2 this goes with my headcannon of Percy having more power, specifically pertaining to Sirens. Overall his voice is pleasing to listen to. When he's young it's nothing exceptional and are expecting someone to try and make him famous but as he grows up and sings more and gets more comfortable his voice is more smooth and silky. The mood of the songs can also affect people listening and draws people's attention and usually leads to him having people crowd around him whenever he's performing. He sometimes works with Peter with him dancing. He doesn't typically do pop songs since he likes rock music more so he'll change songs to him mood and tempo more fitting to what he enjoys.
He meets Peter when he and Sally are recovering. To disguise their time using money for drugs they'll go around walking or making up for lost time. She treats Percy as a silent thank you to a trip to the aquarium in Queens. There he meets Peter who is recovering from his traumatic friendship with Skip. They make quick friends and Sally and May and Ben make plans because they haven't seen their kid be this happy in a long time.
He becomes insomniac pretty early on even before the horrors of being a demigod. Someone once broke in their apartment and Gabe took it out on them so now he's even more sensetive to any sounds he hears at night. Either from his Ma crying, Gabe and his friends, or nightmares keeping him up. He usually sleeps under his bed because of Gabe putting his stuff on his bed and trashing his room. He'll wake up and go under the blankets when he hears Sally's footsteps coming to his room to not worry her.
Going to school is a blessing and a curse because that means no Gabe but that also means no Sally sadly. He constantly has to make a choice be happy for now? Or prepare for when that happiness goes away later. Meaning, do I hang out with Peter or do I go and make money street performing. Do I go to a school far from home so that I don't have to see Gabe but not see Sally, but that means she won't have to worry.
Once he finds out he's a demigod imagine all the self hate he gets. Any possible talents he thought he had. Anything that made him him, his love of blue, the sea, his features ( sure Sally would say he looks like his father he hoped he still had something that was from her, something that was just him ). But nope it all connects to Poseidon. Everything he likes and was confident about came from him. He wasn't anything special. He was just made to be used for their wars and fights and prophecy since they can't be involved but they don't wanna die from at the same time.
He knows of mythology with the help of his small closest group of friends and family, not what's taught at camp. He treats Medusa kinder and begs her to understand why he needs to continue and relates to her pain and apologies for what his birth father did to her. She allows him to kill her for a way to get rid of his pain Gabe. At camp he puts on a different kind of mask because he has no idea who he is at the beginning. A demigod? What the fuck?? What does that mean for him then? He's lost so he dumbs himself down. He has street smarts so he needs to get a layout of the place and the people. What's the stereotypes of groups. Who's the outliers. Where can I be me and with who. With Clarisse he hides what experience he has with fighting to seem weaker, the talk of prophecy can't be good and he didn't want anything with it. And with the talk of prophecy from the girl with blonde princess curls, and he feels used throughout their journey for a bit because this is what she wanted isn't it? To go out in the world and use her brain for better things. He's worried that she'll be like this onwards that this friendship is temporary just for her gain. Thankfully she stays. Watching his mother "die" from the Minotaur hurts him terribly because of course it's gonna be his fault that she dies. When he falls from his fight against Ecihdina and Chimera it pushes him to embracing the water side of him more and look tried gettingcontrol of it. Although the trap set by Hephaestus is rigged it doesn't push for Aphrodite to ship Percy with Annabeth. She can see he has doubt of even friendship and she stays respectful of that. Not everyone can cope with grief with romance. He meets Nico and Bianca at the casino but isn't able to pull them out. He doesn't make the connection till the next time he meets them. His loyalty brings him to the underworld wanting his mother back and his growing loyalty to the camp with the date drawing near for the solstice. He knew Hades couldn't be at fault and explaining so to him and Persephone builds his future relationship with them. His fight against Ares is helped by Posedion but also his growing anger of him wanting to endanger his friends. Luke still betrays everyone and everyone knows. He returns to his mom and Peter and life goes on.
Okay this a part one for a planning rant I'm going to sleep now
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blossomhcney · 4 years
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( hannah john-kamen. thirty three. cis female. she/her. ) in texas, evie macdonald is more commonly known as eve. they’ve been living in stratford for thirty three years and currently a dancer at deseo. some say they are secretive & petty but i’m more inclined to believe those that say they’re passionate & organised. if you walk by their house, you can sometimes hear my boy by billie eilish playing from their window. ( cherry red lips, heels click against the hard floor, half used bottles of perfume, stained ripped jeans, old fashioned jewellery hangs loose around her neck. )
hi all ! i’m lucy, i’m twenty three years old (oof an old lady in here apologies if anybody is older lmao but you definitely know how i feel !) and i use she/her pronouns. i am from england (press f in the chat yikes), so i am in gmt timezone !  i am always up for plotting, so do not hesitate to message me here or ask for my discord ! uhhh i am terrible at talking about myself so i’m just gonna get on and introduce evie ! also do not come for me for randomly waking up at 5:40am and coming on here to post these because i was so excited lmao bye
PINTEREST BOARD !
NAME. evie spencer macdonald. NICKNAME. eve. AGE. thirty three. GENDER. cis female. PRONOUNS. she/her. SEXUAL ORIENTATION. bisexual. ROMANTIC ORIENTATION. biromantic. HOMETOWN. stratford. OCCUPATION. dancer at deseo. AFFILIATION. none.
ZODIAC. aries. POSITIVE TRAITS. passionate, organised, determined. NEGATIVE TRAITS. secretive, petty, impatient. LANGUAGES SPOKEN. english, norwegian, italian.
HEIGHT. 5′6 EYE COLOR. blue. HAIR COLOR. brunette. TATTOOS. can be found on the pinterest board !
QUICK INFO.
trigger warnings: none, i think
from the day she was born, evie was doted on. her parents, francesca and marcus macdonald had tried for years to have a child. evie was considered their miracle baby, not just by her parents, but by the doctors who had delivered her. francesca had been forty four when evie was born, considered to be far too old to bring a child into the world and yet, against the odds, she had succeeded. 
of course, growing up in stratford was never easy. not with her mild mannered and sweet parents. evie spent a fair amount of time with her nanny, her parents had careers that, despite having their miracle baby, they could (would) not give up. for evie, it was the time of her life, being taught swedish as soon as she could grasp words. it was like having her very own best friend that she could share secrets with and talk in private. 
despite being called a miracle baby twice a day, evie is thirteen when she truly begins to notice how her mother declines to look at her unless she is forced to. the way she winces each time evie talks to nova, the nanny, in norwegian. she asked nova one night, why her mother hated her so much. the broken words of a child, breaking the heart of herself and her closest friend in one question. she finds herself with no answer, just the calming words of a mother figure as she tucks her into bed and says good night. 
she realises how much she enjoys sex at sixteen. rebelling had never been so sweet. her father had tried to be strict with her, tell her when she could go out and where she could not go. she had felt sorry for him, sitting there as he wagged his finger in her face and gave her instructions not to attend parties with the boys in her classes and not to be late home for her curfew. evie was patient (for the last time), as he listed off everything he did not want her to do. and then she stood, smiled sweetly and told him that he had nothing to worry about. of course he did, but the soft words of his only child soothed him for a night or two. nobody was ever awake past evie’s curfew, so they would never know if she came home late. until marcus had cameras installed and he could see her sneaking boys and girls into her home two hours past her curfew, only to kick them out three hours later. the punishment he tries to enforce is laughable at best, she is to go to school and back, no extracurricular activities and no more nights out with friends. they both know she will never listen, but if it makes him feel manly to yell, she won’t fight it. 
she is eighteen when she stops going by evie. some boy makes the mistake of comparing her to a toddler and she grabs his finger when he waves it in her face and threatens to break it. by some, she is dubbed a psychopath, others a hero. that day,  she introduces herself as eve and politely asks her family and friends to address her as eve. 
it has been years since nova stopped working for her family and left to work for another family, but eve misses her dearly. she was her closest friend, the person she could tell every secret. in the most cliche way, she discovers she was so much more. a letter arrives one morning, addressed to eve. it contains detailed experts of what she can only assume was a journal, depicting how nova was her mother, not francesca. it explains why she felt so hated and alienated by her mother and why their marriage was nothing more than a farce. confronting her parents would feel good, but they barely talk to one another now and they hardly even look at her. she feels like a stranger in her own home and now, it all makes sense. 
it just so happens that, even after twenty one years, the idea of the town finding out who her biological mother actually was, terrified her parents. an argument had ensued and eve had not been able to catch herself, blurting out that she knew she was not really a byproduct of their love, but of her father and another woman. oh god, the tears. the screams. you would have thought that she had threatened to kill them both and then herself the way her mother had acted. they practically beg her to keep quiet, they’ll give her anything to never say another word about it again. as sickening as it is, she needs out and if they will pay for it, wouldn’t she be stupid to say no?
she is twenty three when she becomes a dancer at deseo. she had frequented the strip club a number of times over the years, always so fascinated with the way those women moved and swayed with the music. she had sometimes imagined herself up there, eyes all on her as she showed them what they wanted. and now, it was a reality. at least she would no longer need to take the money from her parents each other. of course, she hadn’t really needed it before, they had forced their money upon her with the fear that she would spill their deepest, darkest secret. she settles easily into her new job, enticing men and women with her looks and then her charms. soft edges and wide eyes, she had the perfect look. 
and she still does. she’s been a dancer for ten years, even better than when she started. whoever said the younger the better was sorely mistaken. women like eve aged like fine wine; they only got better with age.
WANTED CONNECTIONS.
best friends / ride or die - who doesn’t know the deal with this by now??? somebody that eve can rely on and tell all her dirty little secrets !
reliable customers - eve is most definitely one of those dancers who, for the right price, can be yours for the night. of course, that is dependent on the person, but eve is a very lovable person.... anyway , i would love to plot this out for many reasons (1/4)
the one that got away - pretty obvious, but somebody that eve actually let in for once and it didn’t end well (she knew it wouldn’t), but this is one that she always regrets not fighting for 
exes - as the above would suggest, eve is not the type to let anybody in, so these would be far and few between, but meaningful enough that she classes them as an ex (1/?)
childhood friends - she has lived in stratford all her life, so she very likely has friends that she may have drifted apart from over the years, but they can always reminisce over their childhoods together (2/?)
hook ups / one night stands - ahh so much easier than dating, eve will take a one night stand over a prolonged experience of feelings any day (4/?)
flirtationship - somebody she lives to tease and poke fun at, but in a far more friendly way than people presume two friends would 
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Tomorrow Never Came PT. 12
Now that you’ve done what you came to do, what comes next? Where do you go? How do you cope?
Read PT. 1 here | Read PT. 2 here | Read PT. 3 here | Read PT. 4 here | Read PT. 5 here | Read PT. 6 here | Read PT. 7 here | Read PT. 8 here | Read PT. 9 here | Read PT. 10 here | Read PT. 10.5 here | Read PT. 11 here
TRIGGER WARNING: BIG SAD. also low quality pic of roger hehe
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The last of your measly belongings were packed tightly into that folded up box you’d stuffed into the closet a year ago, the clock reading some time around 2 in the morning as you took a deep, shuddering breath. A few tears escaped your eyes, and you reached up to quickly wipe them away. This was it.
Weston had explained everything from the beginning, pausing only to let you cry it out. He was patient – a bit irritable, but not outwardly, and he always waited until you were calmed down a bit to continue. He was understanding, you thought, as you made your way down the hallway to Roger’s room, which was still empty. Roger wouldn’t be back for a good 6 or 7 hours, leaving you plenty of time to process what Weston had said.
Roger was the universe’s punishment for your involvement in Weston’s creation. He had manifested the time portal, through some sort of quantum physics mumbo-jumbo you hadn’t even pretended to understand. He did it for his childhood friend, a redhead that went by the name of Abigail. She was beautiful, and all the boys chased after her, including Weston. But he had the upper hand as her best friend, and he squandered it away by pining after her silently until it was too late – Abigail was gone, victim to an IRA car bomb that detonated yards from where she was standing, outside of a pub. She was killed at the ripe age of 16, before he could even say goodbye.
“So you made a time machine to save a girl you were obsessed with,” you deadpanned in between crying sessions, Weston’s face twisting up in annoyance and agreement as he struggled to form a comeback.
“Well, when you put it that way…. I guess.”
He’d studied for years, running algorithm after algorithm, test after test, until a successful run in 1993 – he found himself thrust back into the 1970s, at the same exact time, in the same exact place. Roger and Freddie became background characters in his quest to fix what he saw as an error in the timeline, people who just happened to be there every time he came back to try and fix it again.
But that was the problem both of you had – you saw the tragedies as erroneous, but as traumatic as they were, they were not errors. It took Weston years to finally realize there was no way to fix it.
“I spent all of my time from 1993 to 2010 trying to figure out what I was doing wrong,” he’d quietly remarked, tugging on a string that was frayed off of the knee of his baggy jeans. “Turns out, it wasn’t my place to try and change history anyways. Abi wasn’t meant to be with me, as much as I wanted it to be true.”
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, not sure what to say. It was overwhelming, all of it, and an excessive amount of shame and pain washed over you as you realized that you were not the only one chasing something that wasn’t yours, that didn’t belong to you. A small part of you still wanted Roger, but the common sense in you knew it wasn’t in the cards.
Weston was silent as he stared at the floor just past his knees, chewing on the inside of his lip before he stood up and brushed his jeans off absentmindedly. “I spent 2010 and on trying to convince Dan that it wasn’t worth it. He caught me one time, coming out of the closet door. Wouldn’t leave until I explained, shit a brick when I did.”
“But you let him?” you countered, furrowing your eyebrows as you looked up at Weston.
“It’s hard to say no to someone who offers to pay double the rent for an apartment that only offers you pain because of a time portal you can’t get rid of. And I figured he’d get the message eventually. I never imagined….” He trailed off, looking down at you as he tried to find the words to say that wouldn’t offend you. It was clear that he found you incapable of dealing with the consequences, but he didn’t say it. Instead, he cleared his throat and shook his head. “I didn’t think he’d send anyone else.”
“I get it,” you muttered, standing up as well as tears once again threatened to spill out of your eyes. “I’ll just pack up my things.”
And now here you were, standing in the middle of Roger’s room, silently crying as you took one last look. It was a mess, clothes laying across the bed that wasn’t made, an ashtray with an abundance of cigarette butts near the window, and tons of crumpled papers with scrapped songs on them – but it was home to you. You approached the desk, picking one paper up that seemed to be an abandoned love song. Those weren’t typical of Roger, so you folded it up slowly and pushed it into your pocket, sniffling once before grabbing the pen and a discarded paper, writing out a note to your boyfriend. Could you call him a boyfriend now? It was all so confusing.
I did it. I love you forever. Please keep writing music, and don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine – you just keep being the best drummer out there. Queen is going to do numbers, I promise. Gotta go now.
Placing the note on his bed, you walked back out of his room to where Weston was waiting, his arms crossed as he watched you wipe away the last of your tears.
“Ready to go?”
The apartment wasn’t like you remembered it. When you and Weston walked back through, it was an unfamiliar layout, complete with a mirror in front of the door that you nearly broke upon opening the door outward. But Weston shoved through, strolling into the bedroom as if it was his own. Which, you quickly realized, it was. Pictures of him with a strange redhead girl you recognized as Abigail were on the dresser, coupled with some stacks of papers with equations and diagrams that looked like another language to you.
“Wow. Guess you really did do it. Wonder where Dan is,” he remarked, mostly unfazed by the fact that it had returned to his own apartment. He looked around for a moment, then turned to you and nodded. “Uh, sorry about your boyfriend. I know what it’s like, so if you ever need anyone to, uh, talk to-“
“It’s okay,” you cut him off, a bit more sharply than you intended, but the rim of red around your eyes was enough to keep him from being offended. “I’m just going to go.”
He was quiet, just nodding in response and heading for the door so he could open it for you. “Okay. Hope everything works out.”
“Okay.” You took a deep breath, then hurried out of the door with your box of belongings. It felt heavy in your arms, heavier now that you had the weight of the world on your shoulders, but you managed to make your way down to the street, the church’s shadow looming over you like a death sentence as you hailed a cab that took you all the way to your mom’s house. It wasn’t home. Not anymore.
When you arrived at the small house on the other side of the city, you saw the driveway had your car in it, plus an unfamiliar junker that looked like it might fall apart if you shook it a little bit. Furrowing your eyebrows, you eyed the car suspiciously as you paid the cabbie with the pocket money you had left. It wasn’t yours, and it sure as hell wasn’t your father or mother’s, so whose was it?
Stepping out of the car, you shifted the box to your hip and stared up at the house. It seemed dirtier than you remembered, but maybe it was a year without seeing it that stained your eyesight, so you walked up to the door without another thought. Your feet dragged just a bit as you ascended the stairs, the reality of finally seeing your mom again after a whole year hitting you like a freight train. What if she was still an invalid? What if nothing had changed?
“Y/N?”
The front door swung open before you could even get to it, the familiar voice of your mom flooding your ears. But there was something off about it, a slowness to the way she spoke your name that made your ears ring as you looked up to find her standing in the doorway, leaned up against the frame.
Jesus, she was a mess. She looked at least 20 years older than she should have been, her collarbones jutting out of what used to be a healthy, toned body. In fact, all of her bones were sticking out, a sickly pallor discoloring her face and making her seem as if she was a ghost as she smiled lazily at you, her eyes a bit bleary and unfocused as she searched your face.
“Mum?” you asked unsurely, still standing at the top of the stairs as you stared at the woman who had taken care of you for the last 20-something years, a shell of what she’d been when you saw her literally hours ago, young and relatively unscathed.
“Can you go get me some Guinness? I’ll give you the cash.”
Staring blankly at her, you sat the box down on the porch and nodded slowly. She wasn’t drunk. This wasn’t the body of an alcoholic. This was something else you couldn’t put your finger on, something worse. Registering your nod slowly, she shut the door again and left you out on the porch, reeling from the interaction that had just taken place. Seconds later, she came back with a wad of cash, your phone, and your keys. Walking out to you, or rather, wobbling, she gave the handful to you with a shaking hand, then picked up your box and carried it inside without another word.
“What the fuck?” you whispered once she’d shut the door, still shocked from what had just happened. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?” you continued anxiously, slowly turning on your heels to walk out to your car that was waiting in the drive. What in the fuck had just happened?
Opening the car door, the familiar peony and cherry car freshener assaulted your nostrils as you dropped in, closing the door behind you and shakily unlocking your phone. It was still March, maybe 30 minutes after you’d went in to the portal, and yet, you felt like it had been forever since you’d been here. There weren’t any notifications, just the time and the date staring you back in the face from your iPhone.
Dan. He would know what’s going on. Opening your phone, you quickly pulled up his contact, calling him and pressing it to your ear as you listened to it ring, ring, ring. But he never answered, eliciting a string of curses out of you as you called him again, refusing to quit. And he finally answered on the third ring, sounding thoroughly annoyed.
“What d’you want?”
The words tumbled out of you before you could even think, pouring out of your mouth like a torrential waterfall of stupidity. You would regret it in a moment. “I did it, I went back and stopped William and Ted, and I thought mum would be alright, but now I’m here again in 2018 and I just-“
“Jesus, what are you on about? Did your mum let you shoot up with her, finally? She let you in on her stash of smack? Fuck, no wonder your dad took off, you’re both so cracked out. You both still owe me.”
“Wha- I-“ You were floored, so many truths attacking you at once you could barely comprehend the situation. “Smack? Owe you?”
“You’re high,” he accused, sounding even more annoyed than before, if that was possible at all. “And you owe me 700 fucking pounds. Remember that? Don’t fucking call back until you got it, you and your fucking thief of a mum. Fuck you.”
The line went dead. Stunned, you stared at your phone as it returned to the home screen, still devoid of notifications, and for some reason, you didn’t cry. You just breathed slowly, almost heavily, a hundred needles poking into your heart while you watched the screen go black after your inactivity. Smack? Your mom was a heroin addict? That explained the sluggishness, the harrowed appearance, but didn’t explain why? What had you done wrong? This wasn’t supposed to be how it happened. You were supposed to come back to a normal family, a normal life, not an addict mother and an uncle that despised you, plus a still-absent father.
No tears came, still. All that overtook you was a need, a desperate one at that. You needed his name to pop up on that phone, to call you and ask you if you were okay, because you weren’t, not anymore.
You needed Roger.
Roger. Roger, fuck, where is he? Scrambling to open up your phone, you opened Chrome and typed in his name faster than you’d ever typed in your life, hitting search even though you misspelled his last name in your haste, and feeling a flood of relief when you saw his Wikipedia page pull up. For a moment, you felt like at least something went right. But, as your luck would have it, you were wrong.
Roger Meddows Taylor was an English musician, singer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist, best known as the drummer for the rock band Queen.
Was?
Clicking on the Wikipedia link, you waited a few seconds for the page to load before you were met with a picture of Roger, one that was slightly unfamiliar due to the shorter length of his hair. He looked middle-aged in the photo, the caption indicating it was taken around the mid-90’s, but you didn’t pay attention to it for too long before the death date caught your eye.
August 3, 2000
“No, no, no, no,” you whined, a tear immediately springing forth out of your eye as you scrolled down to the Personal Life section of his Wikipedia. What awaited you there was crushing, and you continually swept tears out of your eyes as you read it, so distraught you couldn’t even make a sound.
Following the 1997 release of No-One but You (Only the Good Die Young) and Deacon’s departure from Queen, Taylor unexpectedly committed himself to an unnamed institute, allegedly in the countryside near London unexpectedly. Remaining Queen member Brian May, speaking about the situation on a talk show later in 2000, cited ‘personal issues related to grieving,’ mentioning Freddie by name. He also briefly mentioned an old girlfriend from the early days of Queen, although this story is unconfirmed and no evidence of this relationship was brought forth upon public doubt. Taylor passed in 2000, leaving behind five children with two ex-wives.
“Oh, fuck me,” you sobbed as the tears finally began to fall in full force, your phone dropping to your lap as you pressed your hands to your face. Roger was dead. Your mom was just as fucked. Dan wanted nothing to do with you. Your dad? Might as well not exist. Everything was somehow worse than before.
Forgetting completely about the Guinness, you curled up in your car and sobbed for a good hour, the sky darkening to the point where you could barely see your hands in front of your face when you finally pulled yourself together, sniffling and wiping your nose on the back of your hand. Locating your phone, you grabbed it and shoved it into your pocket, neglecting to grab the keys out of the ignition before you wobbled back inside, overwhelmed with grief for both of the lives you had lost – one here, and one with Roger.
When the door on the porch opened again and you saw the outline of your mom lit by a single dim hallway light, you cursed yourself silently for completely forgetting what she’d sent you to do.
“Did you get it? Took you long enough.”
Her selfish, stinging words hit you like a slap to the face as you fully stopped in your ascension of the stairs. In her hand, she held the dress from Biba, the one Roger had bought you. “Give me my dress,” you immediately demanded, hopping the rest of the steps in one leap and coming to stand in front of her. She stared at you like an alien, eyes still bleary, probably from shooting up while you were busy mourning all of your mistakes in the car. This was not her fault, but as you stared at her offended expression that was chastising you for what you did, you couldn’t help but feel like it was.
“Where’s the fucking beer?”
“Fuck you!” you spat, snatching the dress from her hands and taking off for your car again as she yelled after you, berating you for being ungrateful and a thief and every nasty name under the moon. But you ignored her, climbing back into your car and starting it before ripping out of the driveway and peeling off down the street. Fuck her.
The dress laid in a pretty pink heap on the passenger seat, tossed over there hastily and taunting you as you drove aimlessly through the London night, not sure where to go. You didn’t even know where your dad was, so that was out of the question. And you were as good as dead to Dan. Maybe your friends? But how would you explain that? Hey, so I went back to 1971 to save my mom, but then I came back and she’s just a fucking druggie now, and my boyfriend from the 70’s is dead, and my uncle hates me, so can I crash on your couch? No. You were officially homeless.
So you went back to Weston’s. Parking on the street outside the building, you stared up at that church, the same one that had been so lofty and imposing in the 70’s now seeming small and pathetic as you examined the cracked brick, the crumbling stairs leading up to it surely being a safety violation. Your hand found the dress blindly, resting on the soft, velvety fabric and giving it a small pet. God, how desperately you could use a hug from Roger right now.
You weren’t sure was propelled you up to Weston’s door, or how you even made it up there, but a few minutes later, you were knocking on his door rapidly, your free hand clutching onto the dress desperately. When he opened the door, he didn’t even look remotely surprised to see you, though his words were polite enough.
“Hey. Back so soon?”
You groaned softly at the greeting, not sure whether to smack him or run away or both, but you shook your head and pressed your palm to your forehead. “I have to undo it. Everything. You were….. you were right.”
“Could have listened to me half a year ago, but okay,” he sighed, opening the door fully and letting you in. You beelined for the bedroom, not even stopping for a moment to explain the situation to him. It had to be done. You had to erase this reality, to start over. Your mom was too important. Roger was too important. Everything was too different. You should have listened.
And so, in you went again, plunging in to the darkness of the closet with only a few pounds and a dress on you, plus an all-too-familiar idea of what came next. As you opened the door to the 70’s décor in the hallway of the building you’d come to adore over the past year, you sighed.
Here we go again.
PT. 1 PT. 2 PT. 3 PT. 4 PT. 5 PT. 6 PT. 7 PT. 8 PT. 9 PT. 10 PT. 10.5 PT. 11
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mystblbk · 5 years
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La Hija--Chapter 5(part1)
1 YEAR AGO: MEXICO CITY, MEXICO
“Over there Juliana,” my mother’s brother tells me.
“Alright,” I respond with a grunt.
I drop the large box I’m carrying next to the large bookcases inside the office. I turn around and rub my hands against each other, my callous hands make a scratching sound as I do. I look over at my uncle and see him looking out of the office windows with an awed look.
“So, just in case I didn’t say this before,” I smirk to my uncle as he turns to me, “Congrats, Dr. Flores. You earned it.”
The man gin’s at me, “Gracias mi niña.”
I grin and allow him to pull me into a hug. We stay embraced for a moment until he pulls away with a pat on my back. I watch as he moves about his new office, arranging his décor and papers. I take this queue and do as he does. Like twisted fate, I open a box with picture frames. I pull out the top one and see that it’s the family portrait from before my father’s passing. I sigh and trace my father’s figure. The sound of footsteps comes up behind me and I look up and see Tio Beltran watching me with sad eyes. He smiles sadly and speaks up.
“He was what I always wanted for Lupe,” Tio points to the picture.
I raise my eyebrows and he lets out a laugh.
“I know. I’m always the first to say that he was smart but stupid,” he winks at me and I giggle, “But you know what? He kept her on her toes. He could follow through with everything my father wanted me to do. He was a replacement of sorts but also the most perfect brother I could have asked for. He was ready for a night of watching the game but also for taking down anyone threatening our family. He was hard but soft when needed. I can see it in you too.”
I smile and look back down only for my smile to turn sad. In the picture is all of us Flores-Valdés family members except for Javier who would be born a year later.
“They tell me I’m like him,” I trail off.
“You are in some ways,” my uncle nods, “But some things I can see are pure ‘Juliana.’”
I raise a brow at him, “Like what?”
“Well for one,” he snorts, “You’re a genius.”
I roll my eyes, “Just because I can memorize things at first glance, doesn't mean I’m a genius—”
“You graduated from this university at the same time you graduated high school,” my uncle cuts me off, “It's more than photographic memory, mija.”
I sigh and nod, “It didn’t help much though.”
“What do you mean,” he frowns at me.
“Well,” I huff, “It was a couple of rough months at the company after dad died.”
“That’s mostly their faults,” my uncle says referring to the shareholders, “They love you now.”
I laugh, “Oh yeah, they do! Tripling stock numbers every quarter does that to people!”
My tio laughs and looks like he’s about to speak but is cut off from his secretary.
“Señor Flores,” Maria pops in with a small smile, “I just received some papers for you to go over and there are three interviews about for replacement…”
My uncle snaps his fingers, “That’s right. I had them scheduled for right now.”
I watch as my uncle turns to me with a sorry look. I shake my head.
“It’s okay,” I raise a hand, “I’ve got to get going anyway. I’ll see you at dinner this Friday?”
My uncle nods and pats my back as I turn to leave. I kiss Maria’s cheek as I pass by and exit the office. The lobby to the administration hall is empty except for the few offices of secretaries that are outside each room. I smile to the women and men on my way out, most of them have known me from a young age and others had even met me during my time going to school here.
The administration hall is all the way in the front of the building but the parking area is all the way in the back, so I take a scenic route passing the art and history hallways. I stop at a few of my favorite spots: a mural of a coastal town and one of Frida Kalo, as well as a section of ancient artifacts from Brazil Professor Jimenez, brought back from a school trip on year. My eyes read over the small plaques next to the new donated pieces that had been received when the bell of class to end rings high and loud through the buildings.
I stay standing there with my hands in my jacket pockets. I pay no mind to the curious looks I receive as well as ones of recognition. There are a few professors that pass by and smile or nod at me, I repay them in kind politely. The five minutes for class exchange passes and I continue walking the history hall and turn into the art hallway. There are a few pictures from the journalism classrooms that make me stop, their pictures are always the most mobile and dynamic. The one that had stopped me was a picture of a riot outside a government building, a group of peaceful protesters turned angry due to no answers and little interest to their problems outside the community.
“Lucho, let me get to class!”
I blink and furrow my brows. The woman’s voice sounds distressed and annoyed, close to hysterics but mostly out of annoyance then danger. I raise a brow and look around, seeing a small hidden corner nearby. I walk towards it while making sure to not make noise as I do. The voice of this ‘Lucho’ reaches me and upon hearing his whiny voice my eyes narrow in distaste.
“Come on Valentina! You promised me you’d come with us this time!”
“I did but afterschool! How am I going to explain to my papá the reason for not going to class? He’s already on my ass because you had me sneak out last Saturday,” the girl huffs back, an angry stomp can be heard.
I smirk as they go back and forth. The girl seems to be unmoving for her decision if her constant pushing harshly against the taller young adult’s chest has anything to tell about it. I bite my lip and try to hold back a smirk at the girl’s fiery attitude. I finally reach the small closed off section and my eyes widen for a second before hardening into a glare.
In front of me stood a tall imposing young man and a gorgeous young woman. The young man has his hands clenched and has his shoulders squared in a way to look bigger. The woman, however, seems unfazed. Her lips were pursed and her curelian eyes narrowed in an annoyed and fed up expression, one they somehow reminded me of an angry kitten.
“If you don’t come with us,” the guy growls down to her, “We won’t hang out with you anymore!”
"That sounds perfect," I say with an icy voice.
My response makes both of them jump and they turn around to look at me. I stay standing at the entrance of the small corner with my hands in my pockets, I can feel my mother’s presents strapped to my sides and am comforted that I have them with me as the guy’s face shifts to one of anger and danger.
“Who the hell are you,” the guy huffs.
I roll my eyes, “If I had ten pesos.”
“Juliana,” the girl asks with confused eyes, “How…”
I smile at her, “I’ll tell you later. How about you get to class?”
The girl looks at me then to the giant next to us. She bites her lip and makes a decision. Valentina slowly walks around Lucho and towards me. Just as she’s passing him, he grabs her wrist tightly enough to make Val gasp with pain. I growl and walk a few steps forward to him until the tip of my shoes are touching his.
“Let her go.”
“NO! We’re having—”
He shuts up as I move my jacket off my shoulders. My twin guns are visible, two Desert Eagles with gold triggers and two gold Santa Muertes stamped onto the guns’ butt end. The kid’s eyes widen and he lets go of Val to shuffle back while breathing heavily. I smirk as he stares at the small figures on my guns with fear. I walk forward a few paces. For each step I take, he would take two back. A tugging on my jacket forces me to stop and I follow the silent plea I have the boy just where I want him: back against the wall with his books and messenger back tossed to the floor and hands held out in front of him.
“Well,” I chuckle, “It looks like you do know me.”
“Wait—please—”
“What’s your name,” I press, “I bet it’s much more interesting than mine.”
“I—I—”
“Cut your stupid stuttering,” I growl at him, “You were such a tough guy before? Why the change of attitude?”
The guy simply shakes his head, the color in his face turning much more pale at my suggestion. I step forward one more step with steal in my glare before I feel another small tug at the end of my jacket makes me stop.
“Juliana?”
The voice is scared and small. I grit my teeth, knowing full well it's directed at me and most likely will result of me never seeing the girl behind me again. My protectiveness is stronger than my fear of seeing her expression, so I still look over my shoulder to give her my attention. What I see shocks me enough to release my glare. Valentina’s soulful eyes look at me in concern but in a protective way. Her hands grip onto my jacket as if to stop me from doing anything further then scaring her classmate. Her stare shifts into one that for some reason reminds me of my mother, a scolding but amused stare.
I sigh in relief but understand her plea. I turn back to the boy who is practically pissing in his pants across from us.
“Leave,” I scoff, “If I hear or see you with her again…”
He nods furiously and pushes past us to run out of the hidden corner, caring little to pick up his fallen things. I smirk as I hear the sounds of retreating sneakers quiet down as they retreat. With a shake of my head, I turn around to face Valentina again. I give her the stink eye but the girl smiles back at me.
“I hope you’re happy,” I huff.
She smirks, “I didn’t want you doing something you might regret.”
I raise a brow, “Him? No, I wouldn’t have. I never regret getting rid of men like him, especially when they act like that towards a lady.”
I try to hold back a grin as the girl blushes deeply and looks away. I watch her for a moment and then take her hand that is still clutching my jacket. The action gains her attention and so she watches me. I flip her hand over and allow myself a moment to trace the path of deep lines on her palm. With a smirk, I look up at her surprised eyes.
“You need to go to class,” I whisper, “Tell your professor you were with the dean.”
“The dean,” she asks, “Why him?”
“He owes me a favor,” I smirk.
“What?”
I sigh, “He’s my uncle. But you really do have to go. You’ll get in trouble.”
“Fine,” she huffs, “But you have to tell me exactly what that was all about. Lucho doesn't just run off like that, he’s too much of a macho man.”
I bite my lip and shake my head in an attempt not to look at her. Val narrows her eyes at me and forces me to look at her by tugging my jacket again. I can’t help but chuckle at her action. I raise the small hand I’m holding and kiss the reddened wrist. With a quick decision, I drop her hand and pull a pen and notebook from the scattered remains around us. I quickly scribble down my number at the top of an empty page then rip it out and hand it to Valentina with a charming smile.
“There. Now get to class,” I wink at her, “I’ll see you later.”
“When,” she whispers, glancing down at the spot I kissed.
“We’ll talk about it,” I promise, “I’m a busy woman, Miss Carvajal.”
With that I drop her hand and walk out of the small hallway. I hear taps of boots against the floor that don’t belong to me. I smile to myself and don’t turn around as Valentina watches me walk out of the building.
-----------------------------------------------
ELEVEN MONTHS AGO: MEXICO CITY, MEXICO
“Miss Valdes. Your visitor is here and inside the elevator. Should I let her go through when she arrives?”
I look up from the papers on my desk and pull off my glasses, “Yes. Santos. You may go out to lunch as well.”
My secretary nods and quickly walks out of my office. I quickly stand and run over to the bathroom I have in my office. I look over my clothes, a crisp white button up, slim black slacks and black heeled boots, and sigh with relief to find everything in order. I quickly brush of teeth and combing my hair before looking at the reflection of myself. I take a deep breath and let it out with a gasp.
“It's just lunch, Juls,” I tell myself, “Just lunch. With a pretty girl. Just...lunch...”
I growl and force myself to leave the room. I hear talking behind my door along with ‘clicks’ of high heels. In a panic, I half-jog back to my desk and make myself look busy. The sound of stilettos stop near my door then become louder as my door opens. I look up, feigning surprise, and stare as my lunch date walks in.
My eyes trail her form and my teeth automatically hold onto my bottom lip, the sight is a beautiful one after all. The tall blue-eyed woman’s neck is on full display from the tight bun on top of her head. My eyes trail down to the two spiky earrings that sway back and forth as she walks in with a sway of her hips. The flower imprinted blouse Val is wearing fits perfectly on her frame and matches perfectly with the black skirt she has on. My eyes finally reach the deep navy blue stilettos on her feet as they ‘click’ on the marble flooring. I slowly trail my eyes back up to turquoise eyes and feel a deep blush run through my cheeks as a coy smile shines at me.
“I’m here for my appointment, Miss Valdes,” the woman winks at me.
I shake my head, nervous and gitty energy flowing through me as I stand up to meet her at the center of the room. I feel Val’s eyes look me over so I walk with a little more swagger than needed. This causes Val to giggle once I'm standing in front of her. I grin back at her and take her black purse while signaling her to follow me to my private meeting room. Her hand falls automatically over my arm as we walk to the room. I place her bag near the middle of the table and pull out her chair for her.
“Quite the gentleman,” Val teases.
I grin but don’t respond. Instead, I grab the two bags of food I had ordered a while ago and unpack what’s inside.
“Pick whatever you want,” I tell her, “If you want to take some with you, go ahead.”
Val grins in thanks as I hand her a plate and utensils. I take my seat and we each grab a sealed meal to eat. We sit in silence for a moment until Val turns to me.
“I know I told you that I eat a lot, Juls,” she smirks, “But I’m a little offended you ordered so much!”
I laugh, “I just wanted you to have enough to pick from.”
Her expression turns serious, “I did.”
The tension builds as we watch each other inside the quiet room. Val finally concedes and starts eating the food in front of her, avoiding my gaze. I can’t help but feel like I lost something for the rest of our lunch and the feeling turns into helpless as she leaves me in my office.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/19186732/chapters/46216516
5 notes · View notes
lonelypond · 5 years
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Pancakes And Planning
Love Live, NicoMaki, 1.6K, 1/1
Summary: Nishikino Maki has proposed, Yazawa Nico has accepted, and the next step is...pancakes on the couch.
Pancakes and Planning
Nishikino Maki sat with her legs pulled up on the comfiest couch in the media room, watching her FIANCÈE Yazawa Nico use a fork to deftly cut through a stack of blueberry pancakes the multi talented, multi tasking, multi cuteness personified Idol had cooked herself. This was her second stack, Nico demolishing food in record time, wearing an old, way too baggy 𝝁‘s Nico Nico Ni t-shirt over borrowed boxers that barely stayed up, sliding down to reveal the slight curve where her abs met...and Maki stopped there, her heart still on doki doki overflow post engagement exuberance. She and Nico had come as close as they ever had to THAT, the big step, and somehow Maki’s entire nervous and circulatory system was still pounding wildly against her skin, surging again every time she had a flash of the fierceness in Nico’s eyes or a tactile shiver at the thought of how adept both her hands and Nico’s had been at finding curves and creases that threatened to push them beyond the boundaries they had agreed on in New York City, what seemed ten years ago. Was Nico this hot then? Did steam practically rise off both their skins when Maki had slid a little closer all those movie nights on this couch? Had Maki’s hands tingled so much at the thought of sweeping over the bare skin of Nico’s back....Maki jumped back, Nico looked startled.
“Sorry…” Maki muttered, feeling the blush.
Nico quirked an eyebrow, “Want some of Nico’s pancakes?”
Maki tried not to cough as her brain took that thought and ran through mental doors into candlelit rooms, large fluffy covers on a bed big enough to sprawl across, no potential cameos from parents or Yazawa siblings threatening, her mouth now watering with thirst more than hunger.
“Idols don’t eat.” Nico continued matter-of-factly, giving Maki a chance to recover from whatever mental cul de sac she’d wandered into. Nico had learned to recognize the signs.
Nico leaned over, offering her fork to Maki, who opened her mouth to say, “You nev…” but then Nico shoved the pancakes in. Maki chewed quickly and continued, suddenly worried that Idol House and the pressures of living on camera was having a negative effect on Nico, “You never diet, you always say it’s unhealthy, Nico-chan.”
Nico sighed, and grumpily chomped a forkful of pancakes, “Idols don’t eat, Maki-chan, because they don’t have time.”
Maki might have laughed, but as Nico’s post high school career path became clearer, time they had together like this had become so much rarer. So Maki’s sigh was the match of Nico’s and she scooted closer on the couch, dropping her head on Nico’s shoulder as the Number One Idol in Any Universe continued to channel her inner lumberjack and got down to crumbs on the plate. Nico set it aside on the coffee table and turned to face Maki, settling into the lotus position. Nico really was tiny, but Maki only noticed on nights like this, when Nico was relaxed and at ease, Nico sized, casual, comfortable...at home, Maki wanted that Nico, every day, in THEIR home, on THEIR couch, discussing THEIR day.
Even if she asked questions like this. “So, are you really doing that poorly in school?”
Maki shrugged.
Nico shook her head, all the hard angles in her face softened with loving concern. “Your parents are going to blame Nico.”
Maki knew that wasn’t true, “My parents are going to blame me.”
“And tell you to stop seeing Nico so much.” There was still sharpness in her tone. Both their parents had been causing just enough friction that triggering genuine worries about Maki’s future was problematic.
“I hardly see Nico-chan at all.” Maki twisted her hair, not aware of the gesture, Nico smiled at the habit.
Nico turned the new ring on her finger, watching the pink gems sparkle, “Nico will make sure you don’t forget what she looks like before the wedding.”
Maki took Nico’s face in both her hands, kissing her fiancèe impulsively, fueled by the lingering allure of the Nico who visited her dreams near nightly, “I couldn’t.”
The pauses for kissing in their conversations had been getting longer for months now so when the front door closed and parental Nishikinos could be heard in the hall, Maki and Nico were horizontal on the couch. Nico jumped up, startled, but Maki was stubbornly glaring at the door through the couch.
“We need a place of our own.” Maki muttered.
“Nico doesn’t disagree but…” Nico settled in, fixing her hair, tilting her head back to cheerfully greet Maki’s parents with an upside down smile as they hesitated in the doorway, “Welcome home! Nico has some pancake mix left in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
“Nico…” Maki’s mother sounded harried, Maki’s father yawning behind her, “We weren’t expecting you.”
“No.” Nico looked pointedly at Maki, “but Maki was having an academic crisis so I came by to fix her.”
Maki’s father spoke, stern, “What happened, Maki?”
“My project didn’t go as well as it could have, but I passed.” Maki crawled up next to Nico, arms hanging over the couch back as she scowled at the intruders.
“Passing is not an acceptable grade for a Nishikino.” Disapproval boomed, filling the room, but glancing off its intended target.
Maki decided to follow up the bad news for her grades with the best news for her future, “Nico and I are engaged.” Silence. Also booming. And three people staring at Maki, who pushed off the couch and stood, feeling a surge of confidence, although when her legs trembled slightly she thought it might have been better if she’d eaten a few more bites of pancakes. “I asked Nico to marry me and she said yes.”
Nico flashed the ring over the couch back with an even more incandescent smile, “Welcome to the family. Nico Nico Ni.”
Maki giggled as Nico raised her left hand to her temple with her signature move.
The Drs. Nishikino let out simultaneous exasperated noises, but Maki’s father spoke first, “Your mother and I have had an exhausting day. Nico is welcome to stay in a guest room and we will discuss this in the morning.”
Maki glanced at Nico, who seemed doubtful. “Nico-chan?”
“Sorry, Maki, I can’t stay for breakfast negotiations. Classes with a famous K-Pop dance studio at dawn.” Nico bopped up and kissed Maki on the cheek, “but Nico trusts you.”
“This is a family conversation anyway.” The grumpier Dr. Nishikino had his arms crossed petulantly.
“Nico is family,” Maki snapped at her father, who gaped in surprise at his suddenly wayward child.
“Let’s go upstairs and let the girls say goodnight, dear. Be careful getting back home, Nico. We’ll see you soon,” Maki’s mother was trying to soothe things over, her arm wrapping around her husband’s waist but everyone could see the sparks coming off the two redheads in the room, “Don’t stay up too late, Maki.”
“Good night, Mama. Papa.” Maki’s dismissal was peremptory as she took Nico’s hand, feeling the stones of the ring she’d found solid against her palm, eyes only for Nico.
“You are the bravest,” Nico whispered, rising on her tiptoes to kiss Maki gently. “I love you.”
Maki shook her head, hair falling over her eyes, full of the brash confidence that took over when she didn’t think, just acted. “It’s not brave. I don’t care what they think about us getting married. What matters is that we want to.”
“Maki…” Nico caressed Maki’s cheek with her free hand, “be a little patient. You’re their baby. Parents get attached.”
Frustrated by the lack of parental empathy and Nico’s reasonableness about it, Maki changed the topic again, “Do you really have to leave, Nico-chan?”
Nico’s eyebrows raised, and she considered for a long moment before replying, but Maki could see the eagerness coming through the thoughtful.“Yeah...but I’m going to cancel everything after Thursday so we can have a long weekend and talk about EVERYTHING.”
Maki felt more awake as she stopped worrying about practical things, realizing how close Nico was to her right now, feeling Nico’s fingers brush through her hair, as their bodies angled nearer to each other...maybe she could reserve a suite somewhere in downtown Tokyo...and she and Nico could finally have some privacy…
“Maki-chan?”A hip nudge. Maki thrilled at the sensation. Almost dancing, but secret, just between them.
Maki grinned at Nico, suddenly daring, “Want to hide out in a comfy suite somewhere, order room service all weekend, and not tell anyone?”
Before Maki could even blink, Nico had slid her hand to the back of Maki’s neck, and yanked the redhead to her, lips so insistent that Maki thought she was going to swoon. Then Nico whispered, hushed, heated, “more than anything” and Maki did, Nico guiding her back to the couch as her legs buckled.
“Nico’s going to have to tuck you in, can’t have my super hot, super talented bride to be get a concussion falling down the stairs.” Nico had Maki in her lap, wiry arms keeping the redhead from canting off the front of the couch as the practiced smile became a perfect one.
Definitely reserving a suite at the Granbell for the weekend, Maki decided as she slid her arms around Nico’s shoulders, losing count of the embers smoldering in fiery eyes as her fingers stroked through the silken, sable strands seducing the rest of her senses. Maki could feel the trust, the love, the strength banked between them. It was time to let THAT blaze.
12 notes · View notes
authoratmidnight · 6 years
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BB’s Anime Rec List
Because I do in fact watch more than just Fullmetal Alchemist, Yu-Gi-Oh! and Cardfight!! Vanguard, I thought I’d share with you some other ones I’ve watched and enjoyed.
The vast majority of these can be found on Crunchyroll.
Pokémon Sun and Moon
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Genre: Adventure
Rating: G (General)
Length: Ongoing (73 episodes currently)
Subbed: Yes
Dubbed: Yes
Pokemon Sun and Moon follows the adventures of Satoshi/Ash in the Alola region when he decides to stay after visiting it for a vacation. Eventually he decides to take on the Island Challenge, taking on the Trials and Island Kahunas.
The story weaves together Ash’s Island Challenge, the mystery that is Nebby and UBs(Ultra Beasts), along with general slice of life activities. And yes, Ash does go back to school.
This was a surprise addition to the list to be honest. When the Sun and Moon anime was announced, along with stills of the new art style, I, like a number of fans, was wary. The art was so different from any of the other series, far more, cartoonish and stylized. And I have been turned off shows due to art style before.
And then I actually watched it, and was taken in. It’s lighthearted (for the most part) and fun, the characters are all likeable and a treat. The art style actually works, especially when animated and is honestly, really cute, and very expressive, and used to great effect for stylistic and exaggerated expressions.
Even if you’ve never watched any of the other seasons, or stopped a long time ago, this one is definitely worth giving a shot.
Natsume Yuujinchou (lit. Natsume’s Book of Friends)
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Genre: Slice of Life, Supernatural, Drama
Rating: T (Teen)
Length: 74 episodes (spread over 6 seasons) + 5 OVAs
Subbed: Yes
Dubbed: No
Slice of life and supernatural don’t normally seem like two genre that would go together, but in this series they do.
Takashi Natsume has the ability to see spirits, an ability also possessed by his grandmother, Reiko Natsume. Unfortunately, this ability led to him being ostracized by his peers and passed from family member to family member after the death of his parents.
The story follows 16 year old Natsume after he comes into possession of a powerful item that once belonged to his grandmother, the Book of Friends, a notebook full of names of spirits that Reiko caught and bound. He is joined on this journey to return these names by Madara (also called Nyanko-sensei) a powerful yokai that becomes his ‘bodyguard’ in exchange for the Book of Friends upon Natsume’s death(though it’s fairly clear that he is quite attached to Natsume).
On top of this, the series is a story of healing, of Natsume overcoming years of isolation and bullying and learning how to form friendships, both with humans and yokai alike. A story about family and home.
It’s what I call a ‘soft’ anime; the art style, the music, it’s never loud or in your face. There’s never any large, world ending sorts of stakes. Even when there are stakes, you always know things will work out in the end.
Kyoukai no Rinne
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Genre: Slice of Life, Supernatural, Comedy, Romance
Rating: T (Teen)
Length: 75 episodes (spread over 3 seasons)
Subbed: Yes
Dubbed: No
If you think the art style looks similar that’s because this is another series by Rumiko Takahashi, the brains behind Inuyasha, Ranma 1/2 and many others.
The story centers around Mamiya Sakura, a normal human girl who can see ghosts, and Rokudo Rinne, a perpetually broke, down on his luck part human, part shinigami, who is also her classmate.
Do not let the OPs fool you, this series does not take itself seriously. At all. It’s vaguely self-aware at times and pokes fun at itself constantly.
Through the course of the series we meet other shinigami, demons, damashigami (basically, an unscrupulous shinigami that takes takes people to the afterlife before they die, a “bad” shinigami) and a wide variety of spirits, good and bad.
The romance is very will they-won’t they. Or to quote the back of the DVD
“Two’s company, Three’s a crowd and Four…. is just the start of another Rumiko Takahashi romance.”
It’s a fairly enjoyable watch over all and the lighthearted humour helps keep it from being *to* serious all the time.
Hell Girl
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Genre: Horror, Dark
Rating: M (Mature audiences)
Probably the only thing on this list that requires trigger warning for, pretty much everything. It has dark themes and I advise using extreme caution when watching as some episodes may be highly upsetting. If any of the following are triggering or highly upsetting to you I’d advise probably avoiding this one.
Warning for (but not limited to): Assault, Stalking, Rape, Attempted Rape, Animal abuse, Murder, Abuse(pretty much all kinds), Bullying.
Length: 90 Episodes (over 4 seasons, season 1-3 have 26 episodes each, season 4 has 12)
Subbed: Yes
Dubbed: Yes (but only the first two seasons)
Hell Correspondence is a website accessible only at midnight, and if you put in the name of your tormentor Hell Girl will come and drag them to hell for you. But at a price, your soul belongs to hell when you die.
This is the overarching premise of the entire series as unlike the rest of the shows on this list, it is very much like an anthology. For the most part each episode is self contained, the only characters that appear more than once are Hell Girl herself and her associates. 
The first season does have an overarching plotline later on focusing on a character trying to stop Hell Girl and figure out the mysterious connection between her and his daughter.
Many of the episodes are centered on seeking revenge upon one’s tormentor and as mentioned in the rating above, it is very dark. If you can think of it, it has probably happened at least once. It’s not gory but it just deals with heavy subject matter.
So if you like dark shows and like watching people get their just desserts then, this is probably one you’ll enjoy.
Hoozuki no Reitetsu
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Genre: Dark Comedy, Demons, Supernatural, Fantasy
Rating: T
Length: 31 Episodes + OVAs (currently ongoing)
Subbed: Yes
Dubbed: No
The story follows the demon Hozuki, Japanese Hell’s second in command to King Enma. It’s almost slice of life, if slice of life took place in hell and followed the life of a demon as he deals with Hell’s unusual cases and inhabitants. 
I specified Japanese Hell as we meet characters from the Heaven/Hell/Afterlife of various religions/mythologies (Anubis for Egyptian afterlife, Satan and Beelzebub from European Hell for example).
There isn’t to much of an overarching storyline to this one either and despite the subject matter (demons and hell) it’s not all that dark and fairly amusing.
Elegant Yokai Apartment Life
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Genre: Supernatural
Rating: T
Length: 26 episodes
Subbed: Yes
Dubbed: No
Elegant Yokai Apartment Life is a fairly lighthearted anime following the (mis?)adventures of highschool Inaba Yushi after, not wishing to burden his aunt and uncle any longer by living with them, moves into an apartment populated by ghosts and yokai(and the rare human). Most of the adventures take place AT the apartment involving the residents there as well as Inaba’s budding supernatural abilities.
While generally a fairly light-hearted and fun series, it does occasionally touch on slightly more serious subject matter such as death and abuse.
Miira No Kaikata/How to Keep a Mummy
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Genre: Supernatural, Slice of Life
Rating: G
Length: Not long enough 12 episodes
Subbed: Yes
Dubbed: No
Much like Natsume, this series blends supernatural elements with a very slice of life tone as we follow Kashiwagi Sora after he receives a tiny mummy from his globe trotting father. As the title suggests the story follows Sora as he navigates life caring for the tiny mummy. Through out the story we are introduced to more creatures including an oni child, a dragon and a baku, all of which end up in the care of Sora’s friends.
The show is incredibly sweet and a very good mood lifter if one is feeling down. And 12 episodes isn’t nearly enough for it imo.
Erased
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Genre: Psychological Thriller, Magic/Fantasy
Rating: T
Length: 12 episodes
Subbed: Yes
Dubbed: Yes
Psychological Thrillers aren’t normally my types of anime. Or any series really. But this one hooked me so hard that I just had to keep watching to see what would happen next.
Our protagonist, 29 year old Satoru Fujinuma, has an ability that allows him to return to a point in time just before a life-threatening disaster in order to prevent it. Usually it only sends him back a few minutes. One day, after discovering his mother murdered, he’s sent back in time 18 years, to when he was 11 years old, to a time just before one of his classmates was kidnapped and murdered.
The story follows Satoru as he works to try to save his classmate from this fate, discover who the killer is and figure out how to prevent his mother’s murder(and how all of this is connected).
D. Gray-Man
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Genre: Dark, Fantasy, Action-Adventure, Tragedy
Rating: T
Length: 103 episodes
Subbed: Yes
Dubbed: Yes (and second half is actually being dubbed at long last!)
Set in an alternate version of the 19th century, a group of Exorcists known as the Black Order fight monsters called Akuma, weapons created by the Millennium Earl and powered by the souls of the deceased.
Allen Walker is one of these exorcists, using the anti-Akuma weapon in his left arm and his cursed left eye that can see the trapped souls to fight against Akuma and help lay their souls to rest. 
They also fight against the Millennium Earl and the Clan of Noah who intend to destroy the world.
This is also a sequel/continuation series called D. Gray-Man Hallow that picks up exactly where this one leaves off(but has a different voice cast) though watching it not required.
Caligula
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Genre: Action, Sci-Fi
Rating: T
Length: 5/12 Ongoing
Subbed: Yes
Dubbed: No
The series is currently ongoing so the entire plot is not yet known but what is know is that μ(Mu) an AI idol gained sentience and self awareness and in deciding to help alleviate humanity’s suffering created Mobius. Mobius is a near perfect virtual world wherein are trapped the minds of the deeply troubled and/or suffering.
Ritsu Shikishima is among those that has awakened and begun to notice that the world they are in is not real. Unfortunately for him, and everyone else who has “awakened” and wants out, the Ostinato Musicians, a group that are working for/with μ, block the way, doing everything in their power to stop anyone from leaving μ‘s perfect world.
Caligula is, it’s interesting. It’s hard to describe since it’s still ongoing but each episode keeps you hooked and wanting for answers and the animation and music are gorgeous.
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aftgficlibrary · 6 years
Text
Soulmates
Apparently it was meant to be (Note: this post was long so it for now only includes completed fics. Will be updated when others are completed)
last updated: 31 January 2019
Coming Home by wesawbears (T | 1,235 | 1/1)
Kevin, Jean, and Jeremy are all born with two soulmate marks instead of one. It takes them a while to find each other.
Falls by nekojita for ApprenticedMagician (M |  7,002 | 1/1)
Nathaniel ends up at Edgar Allan/the Nest after all, and what helps him through everything (Tetsuji's abusive demands, RIKO, being pushed to his limits to be the best) is often the dreams he has of the young French boy whose name is embellished on his wrist - Jean. The boy whom his mother told him to never mention to anyone, especially his father.
So what happens when that boy ends up at Evermore one day?
A soul mate/Neil/Jean fic for apprenticedmagician on Tumblr for ATFG_Exchange's winter gift exchange.
Your Face by lanalua (T | 1,464 | 1/1)
Each of Andrew's drawings of his soulmate is different: different haircut, hair color, eye color... That can't be good. 
this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart by giucorreias (Not Rated | 483 | 1/1)
it's the small details
I felt your pain when you were gone byElfo98 (G | 3,533 | 1/1)
Another Soulmate AU where Neil and Andrew can feel each other's pain and how the Foxes find out.
Or: my take on the Baltimore incident because I can't seem to get enough of it.
Paint Splatter Freckles and Godly Go Fishby Issylang for quensty (G | 1,115 | 1/1)
"When Jean was younger, much younger, he would sit in his mother’s lap while she traced the sun on his left shoulder blade and sang love songs in soft French. He would stare at the black heart on her wrist, the one that perfectly matched his father’s, and imagine the little girl that shared his sun. When Jeremy was very little his mom and dad would corral him and his older sister into the living room after dinner. With a child in each lap, they would recount the history of soulmates; how Zeus, in fear of their power, had split the people of earth in half, and they were destined to spend the rest of their lives in search for their other half. How, in a moment of kindness, Zeus had marked the pairs, so that they could follow their symbol to their other half." Just a cute, short Jerejean Soul mate au. 
Marked by beautifulmagick (G | 1,164 | 1/1)
Neil Josten's soulmate mark is on his shoulder. Andrew can never forget that.
Empty Kiss by Leahelisabeth (fortheloveofcamelot) for ApprenticedMagician (M | 1,987 | 1/1)
Based on a Tumblr prompt for an empty kiss.
met you in the dark (you lit me up) byharrytomlinsonwhoops (M | 3,085 | 1/1)
it starts like this:
the elevator doors are closing, and aaron, after seeing one of the cheerleaders inside, doesn't bother running for it.
she holds the door for him anyway. she's got curly hair, and dark brown skin. her eyes are a bright green that he doesn't expect when she stares down at him. she's half a head taller, but he finds that he doesn't mind looking up to her.
"hello," she says, her eyes lighting up, and aaron thinks: oh. oh no.
a memory unrepressed by orphan_account (T | 7,387 | 1/1)
“So, what, you think I’m real, you’re real? That we’ve somehow… I don’t know, astral projected to this place?”
“I don’t know what I think,” Thea said slowly, a strain on her voice as if she hated to admit it.
“Well, the sun is– Fuck.”
“What?” Thea looked around as well, then froze.
There was no sun. There were no clouds. No shadows. It was indisputably light out, as if it were day, but the light seemed to have no source.
Groaning, Dan buried her face in her hands. “What is this, I don’t like it.”
let me love the pain you're going through by MadHatterNO7 (T | 1,526 | 1/1)
Neil remembers his mother saying, "Soulmates don’t exist. They aren’t real. They are a burden that would get you killed."
Neil supposes he knows why.
His mother's soulmate was never his father.
Watermark by fairietailed (T | 4,689 | 1/1)
He hops into the kitchen on one foot, catching his mother before she carries the bowl of peas she’s holding into the dining room.
“Jeremy?” Her eyebrows pull together in concern at the look on his face. “What is it?”
“I don’t know,” he says, sticking out his foot. “I think it’s my soul mate?”
--
In which bruises and scars from your soulmate appear on your skin, and Jeremy's skin is a myriad of colored stains.
What are you scared of? by shipsgalore (T | 1,704 | 1/1)
“I couldn’t -- you weren’t supposed to be real. I didn’t think that I would ever have somebody love me, Jeremy. I’m just broken. I’m broken and you can’t love something that’s broken.” He wants to take his hand out of Jeremy’s, to end this entire discussion, but the burning of his nerve endings is welcoming. He wants to feel this every day of his life. 
hard to find by jaylocked (M | 3,199 | 1/1)
Jean has learned to hate the letters on his ribs.
He can remember a time before, back when he still had the sky above him and his future before him, when the letters fueled his insatiable, childish imagination. But then he lost the sky, lost his future, lost his language, and the letters changed.
accept yourself by jaylocked (T | 6,498 | 1/1)
In which Jeremy Knox tries to figure out what soulmates mean in a world of divorced parents, sappy best friends, Exy, and scowling, abused backliners.
My Own by hazelNuts (T | 728 | 1/1)
Andrew doesn't believe in soulmates, so what's the point of having a soulmate mark?
I keep a close watch on this heart of mine by A_Nobelmonster (Not Rated | 839 | 1/1)
Prompt: Andrew and Aaron are platonic soulmates that can feel each others pain.
Pain by ke_xia (M | 810 | /1)
There’d been a point once, when Andrew was a boy, that he’d been told stories of soulmates and had had grand visions of finding his own. Sharing a soul with one person who could feel your pain and whose pain you felt in return- now that felt like true love. And a soulmate had to love you; that was their entire reason for existing. Not like his mom or his dad, whoever they were, nor any number of the foster parents he’d gone through, nor any of the “brothers” and “sisters” he’d had throughout his few years in the system. No, none of them had ever loved him, but there was someone out there, someone who did even though they didn’t even know him yet.
/Graphic Depictions Of Violence /Rape/Non-Con
Exactly by jostenminyard (onceuponahundred) (G | 783 | 1/1)
A soulmate au where all the foxes (minus Nicky). But Neil broke his because its dangerous to love. Andrew broke his because fuck love. Aaron broke his because Andrew made him as part of the promise. Dan broke hers because of the man hating thing. Matt's broke on accident while he was high. Riko forced Kevin to break his. Renee broke hers in the gang. Allison broke hers to piss off her parents and the "I chose this one" thing. Seth broke his because he wasn't gonna let a clock decide his life.
a new kind of grace by starfleetbanana (T | 1,997 | 1/1)
'“You got it wrong, Josten. She keeps me on a leash” She said and left Neil to his own very dramatic and tragic existence.
Allison was fearless and, even though Renee had a soft spot for her foxes, she was deadly and sharp-edged. They fit together like a Swiss knife next to a gun'.
Soulmates AU where they see in black and white until they meet their soulmates and stop seeing colours when they die.
we're here to see the colour grey bystarfleetbanana (E | 2,143 | 1/1)
Neil had grown up sure he was the kind of person who’d never get to see in colour. There were people who spent their entire lives without knowing what colour was like, and he’d already accepted a life on the run wouldn’t give him a chance to even figure out who had made his entire world change.
Soulmates AU where they see in black and white until they meet their soulmates and stop seeing colour when their soulmates die.
when the world turns grey bystarfleetbanana (G | 1,972 | 1/1)
Allison had never seen colour in her life until she'd stepped into the Foxhole Court. But then Seth Gordon died. He’d died and she’d kept dancing in the middle of the dance floor with one of his friends while the colourful lights swirled around them. She’d drunk a blue cocktail and smeared her dark red lipstick on a napkin.
Soulmate AU where they see in black and white until they meet their soulmates and stop when their soulmates die.
with the lights on by starfleetbanana (T | 1,801 | 1/1)
'Medical professionals classify hysterical blindness as “conversion disorder,” a condition that causes you to show psychological stress in a physical manner. While there are many causes of this disorder, most of them point to some type of anxiety or other psychological trauma that triggers this temporary blindness'
'When the haze went away he tried to focus his vision on something more familiar. Everything that surrounded him was a deep shade of black that threatened to swallow him up, and it didn’t take him long to notice he was at Castle Evermore.'
Part of the Soulmates AU where you see in black and white until you meet your soulmate and stop seeing colours when they die.
your crown of thorns holds roses by quensty (T | 4,444 | 1/1)
Three days after he signs his death sentence to Palmetto State, five after Andrew Minyard sends him flying breathless to the ground, Neil's gaze snaps to the locker room mirror and stares, frozen, at the word threat scrawled along his spinal cord in terrifying, heavy bold.
All in all, he isn’t thrilled about the situation this puts him in, but, based off the negative connotation, it isn’t one-sided either. On the bright side, at least this means his soulmate doesn’t harbor any grandeur delusions about him.
Like fields of poppies by A_Nobelmonster (M | 3,340 | 1/1)
Soul mate au . Andrew has always had more dark soul marks than most adults see in their life. He's used to it. Used to a life based on survival . And then he turns fifteen, a red dot appears. the color of a romantic soul mate. Suddenly the thought of living for the person that gave him his mark is the only thing keeping him alive. Just one chance to know the poor fucker meant for him. As usual It's more than he bargains for.
/Rape/Non-Con /Underage /Self-Harm
To die by your side would be such a heavenly way to go by A_Nobelmonster (T | 494 | 1/1)
Short drabble about the beautiful pain of a fictional person made real by his friends love.
/Major Character Death
The Story of My (Loveless) Life byconstellationsofsentences (G | 3,281 | 4/4)
If there's one thing Jean hates more than Riko and the rest of the Ravens, it's his soulmate and their inability to listen to anything but Taylor Swift. Jean thinks his head's going to explode.
starring Jeremy and his basic white girl music.
when the lights go out by flybbfly (T | 1,705 | 1/1)
Neil wakes up gasping in a bed next to Andrew, unsure if in this lifetime they love or hate each other, are meant to murder or save, and Andrew rolls over and presses closer to Neil in his sleep. His armbands, some form of them omnipresent in every lifetime, are poking out from beneath a pillow.
one of many by Saul (T | 2,859 | 1/1)
They first meet in their dreams.
It isn't as miraculous or smooth a transition as the How To Be Fated: A Guide on Soulmates made it out to be.
The mirrors of our skin. by IceBreeze (T | 862 | 1/1)
When night falls, they remind themselves of who they are.
Ask the Messenger by Metis_Ink (T | 32,614 | 5/5)
Jeremy Knox and the soulmate.
Guest starring: Exy, a transfer student, generalized anxiety, older sisters, drunk lesbians, bread, cake, a shed, the beach, the absence of Hennessy, Star Wars, Renee Walker, self-taught smooth talking, gratuitous French, No. 1 Trojans fan Kevin Day, relationship drama, general drama, the power of Friendship, questions, answers, team spirit!, and, of course, romance.
Bleed for you. by IceBreeze (T | 860 | 1/1)
When you meet your soulmate, you get a nosebleed. It makes every meeting messy and leaves little room for subtlety. 
in this world, there's no such thing as soulmates by kwritten for growlery (G | 801 | 1/1)
for the prompt: what disasters we live
Now I'm Covered in the Colors by alaynes (T | 9,752 | 6/6)
Nathaniel Wesninski is six years old when his first soulmate mark comes in. 
A name was just a name until you said it by maeusetod (Not Rated | 5,106 | 1/1)
Andrew Minyard did not believe in fate, but for a moment it seemed fate did believe in him.
Colours by Q_Jem_Bee (T | 2685 | 1/1)
Colours were splashed across your skin at another being's touch: They were the colour of your soul.Neil's was blue, but no one knew that. No one was going to know.
Careful Hands by fairietailed ( M | 13,797 | 4/4)
“You’ll probably never meet them,” his mother said one day at a diner in Texas. It caught him off guard.
“What?”
“You’ll probably never meet them,” she repeated, nodding in the direction of the lilac bruise splashed across his forearm. “Your soulmate. You’ll most likely never live that long.”
“I know,” he said, and hoped that she believed him.
In which bruises and scars from your soulmate appear on your skin, and both Neil and Andrew paint each other like a canvas.
/Violence
Crystal Clear by exactly13percent (superagentwolf) ( T | 3,114 | 1/1)
Your crystal is your heart and soul, manifested. You must keep it safe. Neil and Andrew don’t have typical crystals. For one, they aren’t whole. They’re little pieces, broken by years of wrong. But Kevin’s magic shop brings them together, and they figure maybe broken doesn’t mean destroyed.
Marked by justdk ( T | 2,488 | 1/1)
Neil Josten does not believe in soulmates
Empty Kiss (Filling the Void Remix) by Dancyon ( T | 1,604 | 1/1)
Neil sometimes wonders where it all went wrong. (In the quiet spaces between his breath and Andrew’s, he already knows.)
Soulmate au where Neil should really know better.
/Violence
Life After the Fire (The “Like Fields of Poppies” Remix) by Leahelisabeth (fortheloveofcamelot) for A_Nobelmonster ( T | 2,542 | 1/1)
very first touch leaves a mark, a colour on another’s skin, marks of love or hate, family or anger, friendship or lust. Neil is the boy without colours on his skin, with scars instead of marks. All he wants is to leave his mark, to be real, to be remembered.
/Violence
written in the stars by cloudtalking ( T | 2,095 | 1/1)
this is the boy that turned andrew’s world from night to day. the boy that turned shades of gray to blinding colors, and never seemed to notice nor care.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAX!!!!
paint my skin in painful truths by Dancyon ( Not Rated | 1,115 | 1/1)
a world where every time someone touches you, they leave a tiny tattoo that represents you and them and your future. Neil doesn’t remember a lot of good touches, and he doesn’t have a lot of happy tattoos, but with Andrew by his side he thinks he might like himself a little bit more.
This is mostly fluff with some angst, because this is still me.
Black and White until Tonight by booksareourlove for queenofseventeen ( T | 508 | 1/1)
His mother told him colours weren’t real. His mother told him she had never seen the colours of the sky. His mother told him that they were broken. People like them weren’t meant for something as delicate as colours. As soulmates. Colours weren’t real but he would still like to imagine the colours of the sky.
The world is black and white until you meet your soulmate. For some, seeing colour is not like jumping into water, but rather walking through mist until you realise it’s actually raining and your clothes are soaked.
stay as long as you need. by lolainslackss ( T | 2,995 | 1/1)
The soulmate timer counts down to your soulmate’s death. Apparently, Andrew’s soulmate doesn’t have long to live.
in pieces by archieknight ( G | 6,146 | 1/1)
Was it this difficult for everyone, or were they all just so broken that their pieces couldn’t fit the way destiny wanted anymore?
paint my body gold by cave_canem (T | 12,050 | 1/1)
That winter, Jean comes close to his soulmate for the first time in years. He knows this because his side is burning where the mark is branded in his skin. It’s pain unlike anything he’s ever felt: pulsing with his heartbeat and glowing through the skin; almost soft with something like a forgotten childhood memory.
never an empty room by cloudtalking (T | 6,510 | 1/1)
for @kevinyard: a trans neil kandreil soulmate au
soulmate (noun): a person or persons with whom one shares a soul with.
visit (noun): 1. an act of going or coming to see a person or place socially, as a tourist, or for some other purpose. 2. when a soul is stretched thin and snaps closed, causing one to see and be seen by their soulmate
/Graphic Depictions of Violence
A Home, for the Holidays by zen_fox (M | 3,321 | 1/1)
Three Christmases, in the lives of three soulmates.
good game by unrain (T | 1,996 | 1/1)
I don’t like you, but I can’t deny that your shot was a game winner sprawls around Kevin’s throat.
Neil’s words are a fucking joke in comparison. It’s not quite the death sentence that is a simple hi or a hello—which is a soulmark that’s kind of pathetically tragic to have in this day and age, because it just makes everything a trillion times more difficult and is basically the equivalent of your soulmate kissing you goodbye and saying see you never. But Neil’s words are pretty damn close to being that pathetically tragic. If only his soulmate wasn’t so unimaginative and dull.
Speak easy to me by The_time_it_takes (Not Rated | 3,370 | 1/1)
between hoping and believing by cryptidkidprem (T | 47,332 | 16/16)
Jean convinced himself a long time ago that he doesn't have a soulmate. Or maybe he just wants to believe that. Things would be easier if he was destined to be alone. It will at least hurt less when he inevitably winds up that way anyway.
And then there's Jeremy, who's been dreaming of meeting his match for years. For some reason, Jeremy seems determined to convince Jean that sometimes he might actually be able to have the things he hopes for, and that soulmate or no, Jean Moreau has people who will stick with him.
You're a flashlight in a dark room by trubenblack (Not Rated | 1,712 | 1/1)
The foxes in a world where everyone has their soulmates name written on them in their soulmates handwriting and the stories of how each of them dealt with them.
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giancarlonicoli · 3 years
Link
December 13, 2019
Scott Galloway
@profgalloway
5-min read
The Dunning-Kruger effect posits that dumb people are too stupid to know they are dumb. They are not perplexed by difficult situations but overconfident — not knowing what they don’t know. As few people believe they are stupid, or a bad driver, a more relatable component of Dunning-Kruger is incorrectly believing one area of skill translates to another.
I suffer massively from this. I’m smarter than your average bear when it comes to marketing, so I’ve come to believe that makes me an expert on pretty much anything. I don’t know much about physics but constantly reference Galileo despite knowing little besides the fact that he dared challenge the church.
There is evidence of this all over the marketplace. Great P/E guys believe they would make great VCs and vice versa. Hedge fund managers believe two years of above-market returns means they are also great operators. To disabuse anybody of this notion, take them to a Sears. Billionaires running for president, actors starting skincare lines, and tech CEOs founding media firms. Being rich also naturally makes you a great film producer.
Masayoshi Son created $64 billion in shareholder value, mostly through deft acquisitions. Mr. Son can also boast of perhaps the best venture investment in history, $20 million into Alibaba that became $100 billion. That investment is tantamount to Michael Jordan hitting a grand slam on his first at bat wearing a Birmingham Barons hat.
Mr. Son has mistaken luck in venture investing for the ability to responsibly allocate billions based on a gut feeling. The size of SoftBank investments, relative to the diligence, now looks stupid, if not negligent. A writedown on an investment in a dog-walking app may have been avoided had someone in the SoftBank diligence team taken the time to discover they were investing $300 million in … a dog-walking app.
Conflating luck and talent is dangerous. As I get older, I’m struck by how big a part luck played in my life, and how much I mistook it for skill, well into my forties. The Pareto principle shows that even if competence is evenly distributed, 80% of effects stem from 20% of the causes.
Not recognizing your blessings feeds into the dark side of capitalism and meritocracy: the notion that success is a choice, and that those who haven’t achieved success are not unlucky, but unworthy. This leads to regressive policies that further reward the perceived winners and punish the perceived losers based on income level. The most recent example of our belief that poor people are guilty: The US now has the fourth-lowest tax rate in the world, and billionaires have the lowest tax rate of any cohort.
First Base
I constantly humblebrag that I was raised by a single immigrant mother who lived and died a secretary. But truth is I was born on third base. My parents got me to first base before I was born, immigrating to the US. This took courage, desire, and a dose of selfishness. Both left families that needed them. My mom left London when her two youngest siblings were still in an orphanage.
In Europe I’d make much less money being an entrepreneur and challenging institutions. In China I’d likely be in jail. Having one of my companies fail would have bankrupted me in Europe, as the tolerance for risk or failure is scant. I have no idea what would have happened in China. In the US, a tolerance for failure meant a lifestyle my parents couldn’t have imagined crossing the Atlantic on a steamship in 1961.
Second Base
I have some talent and have worked really hard, but mostly my success is due to being born in the right place at the right time, and being a white heterosexual male. Coming of professional age as a white male in the nineties was the greatest economic arbitrage in history. Today’s 54-to-70-year-olds saw the Dow Jones increase an average of 445% from 25-40, their prime working years. For other ages, it doubles at most.
Economic liberalization (globalization, technology, market deregulation) coupled with social norms that clung to the past meant 31% of America (white males) were given license over a lion’s share of the spoils. In nineties San Francisco, I raised over $100 million for my start-ups. I didn’t know a single woman under 40 who raised more than a million. And it seemed normal. Even today, white men hold 65% of elected offices despite being 31% of the population.
Third Base
Rich, fabulous people are the ideal billboards for luxury brands. Our nation’s best universities have adopted the same strategy. Universities are no longer nonprofits, but the highest-gross-margin luxury brands in the world. Another trait of a luxury brand is the illusion of scarcity. Over the last 30 years, the number of applicants to Stanford has tripled, while the size of the freshman class has remained static. Harvard and Stanford have become finishing school for the global wealthy.
In the class of 2013 in the Ivy League, five of the eight colleges (Dartmouth, Princeton, Yale, Penn, and Brown) had more students from the top 1% of the income scale than the bottom 60%.
Fast and Slow Thinking
According to @thetweetofgod, intelligence looks in the mirror and sees ignorance; ignorance looks in the mirror and sees intelligence. The sectors that have enjoyed the greatest prosperity spread across increasingly few people — technology and finance — have created an unprecedented level of arrogance among people born on third base.
When we feel threatened, we are more prone to see each other as an enemy, rather than someone who has a different opinion. We want to dismiss and fight the whole person, rather than just what they said. From primeval times, our brains have been set up to identify “enemy” or “one of us,” that simple binary distinction. Do I trust them as a person or are they not “one of us.” When we are in our more evolved, slow thinking mode (Daniel Kahneman), we evaluate arguments. When we are in our knee-jerk, threatened fast thinking, we decide the person is our enemy and argue from our amygdala, not our forebrain.
When we are threatened, we are also less empathic. Altruistic behavior decreases in times of greater income inequality. The rich are more generous in times of lesser inequality and less generous when inequality grows more extreme. When the poor need our help more, we are less likely to offer it, because we don’t see the poor as one of us. They become “them.”
Michael Lewis writes, “The problem is caused by the inequality itself: it triggers a chemical reaction in the privileged few. It tilts their brains. It causes them to be less likely to care about anyone but themselves or to experience the moral sentiments needed to be a decent citizen.”
Old Age
My dad is not doing well. We think it’s dementia, but it’s more just that he’s 89. He has never asked me for much, but he needs me now. I don’t do as much for him as I did for my mom at the end of her life, as I don’t feel the same goodwill toward him — my mother raised me. It’s easier to be generous with him when I look at his life. He was physically abused by his father and had no education. Despite this, his courage and wits (immigrating to America) put his son and daughter on first base.
Life is so rich,
P.S. Last week I wrote a letter asking the board of Twitter to replace Jack Dorsey. On Wednesday, Mr. Dorsey announced Twitter is possibly moving to an open standard. This is a good strategy. However, assigning five developers to a project with no timeline feels like big-tech delay and obfuscation (“we’re working on it”) and reflects an unwillingness to make the requisite investment of time and resources in open APIs. His other actions confirm he isn’t willing to make the requisite investment of time and resources in Twitter.
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A life worth living: Choosing happiness & beating the odds
Have you ever heard of an ACE score? Well, ACE stands for Adverse Childhood Experience. It gives you a score based on childhood trauma. According to the CDC, childhood experiences can have a tremendous impact. 
Adverse Childhood Experiences have been linked to
risky health behaviors,
chronic health conditions,
low life potential, and
early death.
(Source: https://www.cdc.gov/violenceprevention/acestudy/about_ace.html) 
Studies show that the higher the ace score, the higher risk you have of developing anxiety, depression, health issues, developing addictions, etc.. The ACE score doesn't cover all forms of trauma. It does however, tally up a number based on 10 forms of childhood trauma events. The score goes from zero to ten. With a score of four or above the likelihood of chronic pulmonary lung disease increases 390 percent; hepatitis, 240 percent; depression 460 percent; suicide, 1,220 percent. (Source:https://acestoohigh.com/got-your-ace-score/) 
You can take the test yourself below. (Continue reading to find out my score and how I handle the stress) 
While you were growing up, during your first 18 years of life:
  1. Did a parent or other adult in the household often or very often Swear at you, insult you, put you down, or humiliate you?  or  Act in a way that made you afraid that you might be physically hurt?  If yes enter 1 ________ 2. Did a parent or other adult in the household often or very often Push, grab, slap, or throw something at you?  or  Ever hit you so hard that you had marks or were injured?  If yes enter 1 ________ 3. Did an adult person at least 5 years older than you ever Touch or fondle you or have you touch their body in a sexual way?  or Attempt or actually have oral, anal, or vaginal intercourse with you?  If yes enter 1 ________  4. Did you often or very often feel that No one in your family loved you or thought you were important or special?  or  Your family didn’t look out for each other, feel close to each other, or support each other? If yes enter 1 ________  5. Did you often or very often feel that You didn’t have enough to eat, had to wear dirty clothes, and had no one to protect you? or Your parents were too drunk or high to take care of you or take you to the doctor if you needed it? If yes enter 1 ________ 6. Were your parents ever separated or divorced? If yes enter 1 ________ 7. Was your mother or stepmother: Often or very often pushed, grabbed, slapped, or had something thrown at her? or Sometimes, often, or very often kicked, bitten, hit with a fist, or hit with something hard? or Ever repeatedly hit at least a few minutes or threatened with a gun or knife?  If yes enter 1 ________  8. Did you live with anyone who was a problem drinker or alcoholic or who used street drugs? If yes enter 1 ________ 9. Was a household member depressed or mentally ill, or did a household member attempt suicide?  If yes enter 1 ________ 10. Did a household member go to prison?  If yes enter 1 _______  Now add up your answers: _______ This is your ACE Score.
 My ACE score is 8. It is hard to officially admit that I have experienced some of these things. Thinking back on the past can be quite difficult.  It's not easy dredging up old feelings of guilt, pain, sadness, anger, etc.
You might be wondering, what traumatic experiences could I have possibly lived through and are they similar to yours. I have never listed them out for the world to see but I think it's time to stop living in denial and open up about some of them. Opening up about real-life experience can be a form of coping and can help someone else who is going through what you have been through. Honestly, many of the things you are about to read are things I have never allowed myself to fully heal from. Instead, I pushed them into the blackest part of my mind and forgot about them. Today you will be reading about some of my adverse childhood experiences.   
[CAUTION: If you are easily triggered by childhood experiences such as sexual abuse, suicide, or other forms of trauma please STOP here. This blog contains part of my story which includes some negative and possibly triggering things]
I can't recall the number of times I was put down and called fat and stupid. When I was a kid I constantly was told how dumb I was. My parents and siblings most likely never realized the true damage they were causing on my self-esteem and confidence.  Other kids at school picked on me and bullied me often. My grades and motivation for classes suffered greatly. Because of this I dropped out of high school and didn't get my GED until age 24. I never thought I could make it to college nor did I want to. I didn't think I was smart enough because I had always been told so. Here I am almost 30 years old and a sophomore in college.  I remember my mother once saying that I was too stupid to go to college. 
There aren't many good moments to remember when I look back on my childhood. When I was 12 years old I attempted suicide. I had no clue what I was doing. I just didn't want to feel the hurt and pain anymore. I mixed bleach with Windex cleaner in my mouthwash and drank a cup full. I had hoped that I wouldn't wake up the next morning. I woke up with the worst case of diarrhea I had ever had, I was throwing up, and had pains in my stomach. I never told anyone because I was afraid I would get in trouble and no one would understand. I think a part of me chose this route as a way to reach out for help yet simultaneously hoping for the end. I was embarrassed that I failed at yet another thing. I couldn't even kill myself so I started cutting myself to numb the pain. I wanted to feel anything but what I felt. I wanted to bleed because bleeding meant that I was still alive. This is pretty intense for a 12-year-old huh? I stopped cutting for a few years after this for fear of being caught. 
I remember being bullied and made fun of a lot in school and even at home. My brother used to tell me that I was fat and everyone called me stupid all the time. He even used to tell me that I should just quit life. He may not have known what he was saying or meant it but it was devastating to my already fragile state of mind. 
When I was about 15 years old my mother attempted suicide. I remember that summer being very hot. My sister and I were kicked out of the house in the middle of the afternoon. Our mother then threw all of her clothes on the front lawn and locked us out. Later, she told me that she had tried to drown herself in the bathtub, saying that God told her she had three reasons to live. The three reasons would be my siblings and I. A few days later I came home from school and the front door of the trailer we lived in was wide open. Her pocket book and phone were on the counter. I panicked and went to the neighbor's house down the road. I found out an ambulance had come and took her to the psychiatric hospital, something I was all too familiar with. This wasn't the first time and wouldn't be the last time my mother went away. When I was in elementary school she went to the "hospital" often from what I remember. I didn't know until later in life that the "hospital" was a special facility for people with mental illness. I don't think my father ever realized how traumatic this was for us kids. If he did, he would have left a lot sooner than he did. 
At about 16 years old I was already struggling with depression. At this time, I had lived with my father and step mom and stepsisters. We took a trip to Kentucky to visit some of their family. I was molested on this trip. I froze in terror when it happened and couldn't bring myself to speak up and say no. If it weren't for wearing a pad for my period I may have been raped. He pulled my panties down and stepped back when he saw it. I sat down on the couch, panties at my knees, and contemplated running but I couldn't bring myself to move. I guess he thought about what he was doing and took me back upstairs after I pulled my panties back up. The next morning, I took a scalding hot shower to wash the dirty feeling away. It didn't work and I got sick. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. It was just the first time I realized it wasn't right. That's when the cutting really started. I would wear long sleeves and hoodies to cover my cuts and scars. When everyone found out that I was harming myself I started cutting my legs because no one would see my secret then. For a very long time I didn't feel like I had worth. I was broken and used up.  
I could sit here and go through all of the trauma I have experienced in my life but that could turn into a novel. The reason I am sharing this part of my story is so that someone out there going through things like I went through will know that they are not alone. You are NEVER alone! You may feel like it now but I promise there are other people just like you. I wish I had a voice as a child. I wish I had stood up for myself. I wish someone would have told me that I had worth. It wasn't until my mid-20's that I started to believe in myself and try to undo the mind set I had learned as a child.  
Here I am almost 30 years old and despite who "statistics" say I should be, I have overcome the things that held me back as a child. I am stronger, more confident, and brave. It took a lot of time for me to learn who I am as a person and stop allowing my past to define who I am.  I choose happiness.
If you are struggling or are contemplating suicide please reach out and ask for help. There will be better days ahead! Life won't always knock you down. You can overcome the challenges you face and you will be stronger for it. I refuse to allow my adverse childhood experiences define who I am as a woman. Giving up is NOT an option and I am proof of that. You can beat the odds and overcome! If I can do it then you can too. You have a life worth living. The experiences you have could help someone else one day.
If you know of someone who is thinking about hurting themselves please get help. Reach out to them and be a light to them. You never know if you could be the last person they needed to reach out and show them they have a life worth living.
I went from being a scared and hurting child to a strong and independent woman, wife, and mother. There are times in my life when I still struggle with the past but I refuse to go backwards. We all are going through life trying to pick up the pieces. (my friend Chandler taught me that) If you have similar experience, need someone to talk to, or want to learn how I have coped with trauma please email [email protected] and share your story with me. *I won't use your story unless given permission.  
Thank you for reading this blog post. It isn't easy allowing yourself to be vulnerable and opening up about things. If you help just one person in the world then you are making a difference. 
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deztinywarriors · 5 years
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The Linked Charms - Episode 8 (Multi Liverpool players)
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