Disclaimer: I do not own Miyavi-sama and his many talents. I do own Yue, though, and I'm not afraid to use her to my advantage. Nyaha!!!

xxxBABYSITTING MIYAVI-SAMAxxx

A Miyavi Oneshot

(Italics are in Yue's POV)

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"M-miyavi-sama, onegai, d-drink your milk."

Miyavi threw his companion a blank stare, then fixed his gaze back onto the tv screen, where "Doraemon" was running.

Yue sighed, then decided to try once more.

"Onegai, Miyavi-sama. It's p-past your bedtime. F-finish your milk."

"Make me," the J-rocker muttered.

Yue nervously pushed her spectacles up her nose. If only she didn't need the money she would earn in babysitting –for there was no more appropriate term for what she was doing –Miyavi so much, she wouldn't have put up with his antics for any longer than 28 seconds. She had extremely short patience, despite her 'patient-nerdy-schoolgirl' image, and was often called antisocial by her family. It's a wonder the expert guitarist wasn't already sprawled on the floor, face blue and, well… dead.

Never mind that he was famous, charming, extremely talented and totally hot (with that flawless, never-been-tanned complexion; those deep, melting, fathomless dark eyes; that perfect nose; those full, inviting lips; that devil-may-care, rock star hairstyle that always, always, seems to be in place…); Yue didn't choose who she was impatient with. She just was.

But tonight, she would have to endure taking care of a twenty-seven-year old rock star who acted like a kid twenty years younger.

Miyavi suddenly trained his (gorgeous) eyes on her, and Yue was snapped out of her reverie.

"I hate your glasses."

"Excuse me?"

Yue gaped at Miyavi, wondering if she heard correctly.

In one fluid movement, Miyavi snatched the hated glasses off of her shocked face.

"G-give those back!"

Instead of following his babysitter's command, however, the childish J-rocker threw said glasses over his shoulder to the far end of the room and promptly threw himself over said babysitter to prevent her from retrieving them.

"Wh-what do you th-think you're d-doing? G-get off me!" Yue demanded, squirming under the guitarist's weight.

Miyavi shifted his weight off of Yue, holding himself up with his arms, but low enough so that she was still trapped under him.

"I love your eyes."

"Eh?"

Yue blinked at Miyavi's statement. Her eyes?

But I hate my eyes. They're as useless as a basketball in a computer shop full of computer geeks.

"Your hair is fine and nice to touch."

At this, Yue realized that the half-Korean, half-Japanese was fingering strands of her hair. Where were these… "compliments" coming from?

My hair is messy and never seems to stay in place.

"Your lips are like sakura petals, just as pink and delectably soft."

"Eh?"

My lips are too small. They couldn't even stretch adequately to any semblance of a real smile. They're barely enough to hide my buckteeth.

"Your skin is smooth and creamy, like that of a newborn's."

Yue stilled as Miyavi grazed the back of his hand across her cheek.

My skin is pale and colorless, as if my body only has half the blood it requires to function properly.

"And your body," the J-rocker's lips curved into a smirk, "Is warm, and inviting, with all the right curves at all the right places."

At this, Yue gasped and, with a sudden burst of strength, shoved Miyavi off her and scrambled as far away as she could from him. Breath coming in gasps, face flaming, she gaped at him.

Miyavi returned her look with a cool, complacent one of his, and declared,

"I'm ready for my milk."

xxxOWARIxxx

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Author's Notes:

Sorry if it was so short. I just noticed that there were too few Miyavi fanfics around, so I decided to make one. Miyavi-sama sure deserves more fanfics of him made!!!

Miyavi is a bit OOC, I guess. So, so sorry about that!

Anyway, as always, reviews are highly appreciated. Thankyousoverymuch!

xxxMIYAVI-SAMA FOR ALL ETERNITY!!!xxx