#it's another thing entirely to just. drop food and trash and toys and other belongings anywhere they happen to fall out of your hands

[queerlyglittering]

some of y'all never had parents who aggressively shamed you for making even a little mess or even just mere evidence of your existence and it shows

[ill-skillsgard]

Can you write something inspired by Bill's look in Do you like the taste of beer?😇 You are his night guest when you are in town for work but he's just a friend of a friend that you think is too pretentious. Cute but nothing special. That's until you see him in just his boxers and without glasses...

The lodging situation was not what you expected at all. Your semi-close friend from school promised a nice, clean apartment where you could spend the weekend with no one to bother you. The apartment belonged to his friend, which made the owner a friend of a friend, and you didn't do so well with people you didn't know. 

Your friend assured you'd be alone for the duration of the weekend, so when a tall, bespectacled man greeted you the moment you unlocked the door with a key you got from a hidden lockbox attached to a pole in the parking lot, your blood drained into your feet. 

"Oh! Oh my God, did I come at the wrong time?" You asked the brown-haired man standing in the hallway. 

"No, no, you're fine. I just wanted to say hi and explain some things to you before you..." he gestured at your arms full of bags. "Do whatever it is you're doing. Getting some work done?" 

You looked down at your overnight bag and satchel full of supplies. "Uh, yeah. I'm passing through and didn't want to pay hotel rates. They're insane in this city."

The tall man nodded broadly, having fully understood your complaint. He tucked his palms into the sleeves of his grey sweater and stepped out of the way. You cringed at the thought of making yourself at home in another person's space, but it was too late now. 

"You can use the entire apartment, of course," the man announced as he padded through the kitchen toward the counter and a cell phone plugged into the wall. "Have anything you want to eat, although there's not a whole lot. If you want to order food, the buzzer number is sixty-two thirty-four. All I ask is you clean up after yourself. Recycling, trash and compost are all under the sink. Dishes go in the washer. There's a gym on the top floor if you want to work out."

"I'll be okay," you said.

The man pressed the bridge of his glasses and motioned you down the hall. You followed him to an open door into a sizeable room. The setting sun blinded you both until he drew the curtains, cutting off the view of the glinting city. "Here's your room. I'm next door, but you don't have to worry about me."

Confused, you said nothing and set your bags down at the foot of the bed. It seemed your friend had misinformed you, but what were you to say? That you were uncomfortable staying in the apartment when the owner was still there? It would be terribly obtuse to show any kind of ungratefulness. After all, you were paying nothing to use the space, and the loft was nicely decorated and warm—the exact kind of place you'd rent out for a weekend of uninterrupted concentration.

He promised not to be a bother, but warned you might cross paths in the kitchen. He had an ensuite bathroom which minimized the chances of you bumping shoulders in the hallway. After his brief rundown, he left you on your own. You sequestered yourself in the room, put on your headset and texted your friend about the presence he'd omitted.

After a few hours, you forgot all about the man and dove into your work, resurfacing only after you'd chipped off a large amount of productivity. When you slipped off your headset to give your ears a break from pressing into your skull, you heard muttering on the other side of the wall. 

He spoke in another language, something Scandinavian and fraught with resentment. You rubbed the shells of your ears to restore blood flow, then replaced the headset and turned the volume up on your favourite song.

The morning forced you out into the kitchen. You could no longer beat your hunger off with a force of will. Shy as ever, even in the empty kitchen, you searched for something to tide you over, then decided you'd pack up your laptop and find the nearest cafe to sit down and order a hot drink and a sandwich. At least there you didn't have to worry about a stranger regarding you in their home.

The door at the end of the hall opened, followed by the slapping of bare feet on the wood floor. The man turned the corner into the kitchen, groggy and without his glasses. Your eyes widened at the sight of him in tight black boxer briefs, cupping a prominent bulge. 

"Good morning," he said.

"Hi."

He turned toward the counter, giving you a full view of his broad back and shoulders, the backs of his thighs and his mussed brown hair. Only then did you notice his true size; how tall the man was compared to you. When you had reached for a cup, you had to stand on your tiptoes, getting a knee up on the counter to propel yourself. He didn't struggle at all. Everything in the high cupboards was easily reachable.

And he caught you staring when he turned around. You pretended like you weren't analyzing his figure, but it was too late. It was your nature to watch, to catalogue the people and features and structures around you. But in the uncertainty of another's territory, your scrutiny was inexcusable.

"See something you like?" He asked.

"What?" You chuffed, cheeks suddenly inflamed.

He stepped away from the open cupboard and motioned toward the array of herbal tea. Your lungs deflated, but your skin remained hot.

"Oh, um... No, thanks."

He toyed with the string on the tea bag he'd selected, reaching to adjust the glasses missing from his face. You noticed the unique golden green of his eyes and how they commanded attention by being the brightest things in the room.

"Well, maybe I can interest you in something else?"

You don't know how it happened, or rather, you wished not to admit how easy it was for you to forget your discomfort in favour of joining him on the sofa. With his little boxers around his ankles and your underwear stretched away from your opening, he placed you on his lap and let his cock find your opening. 

Driven by hormonal impulse and a lust to explore unusual scenarios, you let the man fuck you as hard as he pleased. He clamped his large hands on your hips and pulled you forward, barred your arms behind your back, reached up between your shoulder blades to wind his fingers through your hair, and kissed down your neck and chest, ignoring your nipples in favour of smoother plains of skin. He let you keep your outfit on. All he wanted was your wetness. He didn't even kiss your lips. This wasn't about romance, and he would not make sure you orgasmed after him. 

The only thing he asked was for permission to come inside of you, and when he did, it was no fireworks show. He pumped his cock in and out, enjoying the added lubrication coating his shaft and your insides, then sighed and set you next to him like a used sex doll ready to be packed up and stored away for next time. He stood up and kicked his boxers off his ankles and then swept them off the floor to wipe the residue from his cock.

"I'll get you a towel. Unless you'd rather use the shower?"

Cleanliness was the furthest thing from your mind, but his expectant look made you fear he was dropping a hint.

"Oh... Sure," you said.

"Thanks, by the way. That was nice."

"Was it?"

"I enjoyed myself."

"That's good," you rolled your eyes.

"Sorry, are you not satisfied? You didn't have to ride my dick, you know. You could have said no."

"No, it's fine."

It was awkward to sit on the sofa while he stood nearby, stark naked with one last clear bubble of fluid threatening to plummet from the tip of his spent manhood.

"Oh, I see what's going on here," he stuck his finger in the air. "You wanna come too."

"Doesn't everyone?"

"You're right. How rude of me. Well... If you're spending another night, perhaps we can get together again?"

You said yes, skipped the cafe and waited around until sunset, listening to him argue with someone on the phone out on the balcony. And though you couldn't understand a word he spoke, you knew he spoke to a lover; someone who had no idea you were a pane of glass away and full of this stranger's cum.

[archetypal-archivist]

Sky’s Limit- Hermitcraft- Worldbuilding

Heyo! This was the product of a plot bunny I got while watching the newest animated music video by Porter Robinson, and it features pretty much all the hermits. Long into the distant future, there is a city of gleaming white and technological marvels. Electricity is entirely clean, its people are always happy, and life- as it has always done- goes on. However, for all it seems like a utopia, there is one facet that may seem out of place. The city is truly, utterly silent. Sure, there are voices and happy chatter, laughter on street corners and children running in the streets. But there is no hum, no electric buzz that most crafters of the past would have been familiar with. There is no redstone. For indeed, the red dust is entirely illegal and those who work with it are relegated to the city’s dark underbelly. And not all of them are happy to be there. It is in this city, the city of Sky’s Limit, that I have dropped our hermits. Time will tell what happens next.

----

A story in which the world has been… purified. Think skyblock, portrayed as a world of natural wonder, soft angles and high rises that scrape the clouds above, all in shimmering shades of pearlescent white. The only noise is the rushing of the wind through the grass far, far below and the distant echo of passing conversation and laughter. There are no cars, no chatter of coms, no hissing creepers or vroomping, thieving endermen. Just peace. And sometimes, if you listen carefully enough, the flapping of wings as the most blessed of the city’s inhabitants fly  overhead, the celebrity darlings and envy of everyone below. For some of the hermits, life is good. Bdubs, Xisuma, Grian, and Jevin are all upper nobility. Xisuma and Grian are some of the lucky few with wings (bee and bird respectively for X and G), while Jevin is blessed simply for being sky blue and transparent- and a being so like the sky must surely be worthy of high ranking. Surely. Xisuma is an administrator of the city, one of those who keep track of the nitty-gritty bits, like how much food each sector goes through a month, the efficiency of the watering systems in the fields, etc. Grian is just a straight up celebrity darling, beloved by the people for his pranks and personality. Late at night, he runs a TV talk show. Jevin has a seat on the city governance, one of thirteen “elected” chancellors. Bdubs is another chancellor, low-key the one in charge, as it was his idea to create a city of white, one that ran on clean energy and lawfulness, who drew up the first blueprint and built much of the city himself. It’s said that there’s no corner of it he isn’t aware of, no part that he didn’t have a hand in designing. While this isn’t quite the case, one thing is certain- BDubs certainly has “designs” and they are very grand indeed. After these hermits fall the ones who are upper to middle class. Stress is a well-trusted doctor in the city’s finest hospital. She believes in the system that saved her life so long ago with all her heart and does her best to keep the city and its people running as best as they possibly can. Compassion and lawful goodness fall into the same boat for Stress, which can sometimes end poorly for criminals who go to her for medical care, thinking that surely a doctor as kind as Stress would never turn away someone, even if they have broken the law. What they forget is that becoming a doctor takes a spine of steel, and Stress has gone one step above the rest- she has a spine of chrome, and she will do what she must to keep her city running strong. (Incidentally, that chrome spine of hers? Not hyperbole, an “accident” at 6 made sure of that.) Vintagebeef runs a butcher shop and is mid to low ranking. He serves the best sandwiches in the city, as attested to by his best customers, Rendog and Falsesymmetry. Rendog is a happy go lucky reporter who spends equal time chasing skirts as he does chasing his next scoop. False is a beat cop, one of the best, and she’s gone viral at least once for dumping criminals who think that just because she's a girl that means she can’t fight. She’s particularly embarrassed (and a bit proud) of the video of her literally picking up a criminal and dumping him the nearest trash chute. Welsknight, the unfortunate garbage man, was quite unhappy to have to remove the criminal from the chute, as for all of False’s strength, she wasn’t quite strong enough to pry the man loose again. He now low-key follows False around to clean up all of her messes as while the media at large is quite fond of her feats, the local infrastructure isn’t.  Somehow, he always ends up at the right place at the right time. Scar is a bit down on his luck, but overall is doing pretty well for himself. He’s one of the architects for the city, was in fact famous for a time for creating a specific style of sheer white skyscraper that allowed for more solar panels to be placed along its side. However, 2 years later and people are starting to realize that for some reason, his buildings aren’t as efficient as they ought to be and his designs have since fallen out of favor. Rendog had taken great joy running his name through the muck, unfortunately, as a man’s got to eat and for all the Scar is a nice guy, a renowned architect falling from grace makes for quite the scoop. The two don’t like each other much, but they’ve actually seen each other’s faces. Anyway, Scar has been living off of his savings, hoping that someone up top would care enough about him to fix the issue and find out what went wrong. After 2 years of nothing, however, he has realized that if he ever wants to figure out the mystery of his buildings’ lack of efficiency, he’ll need to find out himself. Little does he know, Keralis, the architect that replaced him, has been doing quite well for himself and the last thing he wants is to lose his position to the guy he had replaced. While a generally nice guy, Keralis has had a taste of the high life and now there’s no going back. He knows what Scar is up to, and is quite… invested in keeping the status quo. No. Matter. What. Joe Hills runs a bookstore. A completely normal bookstore. Yes, really officer, I promise. Just like how XB, his best friend and right hand man, employee of the month, every month, is entirely average in every way and has never done anything wrong in his life, ever. There is one more among the hermits who has wings- Etho. Or rather, had. Etho had his wings cut off for undisclosed crimes against the city and now works in a toy shop on the outskirts of town. He’s thoroughly mysterious and always looks tired, but his toys and trinkets business does surprisingly well and he always seems happy, behind that mask of his. The only hint that this isn’t quite the case is the tightness around his eyes. A secret? When they told him that the pain would never stop, that awful night when they burnt his wings off? He didn’t believe them. (Oh god, the way it smelled.) He really, really should have. 

You’ve heard about the shining white walls, the perfect healthcare, the love the people hold for the city and the rigor with which they defend it. The quiet, the peace, the wonderful golden silence found in its streets and reflecting from its windows. Even the light seems quieter there. If you’re smart, you may have picked up that something isn’t quite right with the city, that 2/3s of our cast seems to be missing. You’d be right, almost. Mumbo, Cub. Cleo? They aren’t missing- they’re hiding. And they have very good reason to do so. 

The city’s name is Sky’s Limit, and it is built on a foundation of marble and hard, cold law. It is a city of white… and black. And lurking in its shadows are all those that do not belong, those whose colors do not fit, those who can’t afford the brilliant marble towers or the plastic smiles popularized by the rich and famous. It is a city choked into silence by its secrets and one thing it cannot abide is the humming electric whine of redstone. And those who practice it are criminals in the eyes of the law, to be persecuted to its fullest extent and often, even beyond. Even to the grave, if needs must or the council orders such. And BDubs is so very, very fond of his restful, quiet beauty sleep. Not everyone agrees with these laws however, and brewing in the black, sunless shadows of the city’s underbelly are those determined to see the city shine red. Zedaph is the closest to legal of the underground hermits- he has to be when he has two more mouths to feed, Tango and Impulse. Although the latter two are redstone geniuses and do well in making food stretch and and make their ramshackle rented apartment livable, it is Zedaph alone who  fake any marketable skills. While Impulse and Tango do their best to keep the lights on and use redstone wiring to steal power from the city’s solar- and wind-powered electrical grid, Zedaph peddles the doodads and toys he makes to the poorest children of the city. Many of them still contain some measure of redstone, as it's nigh-impossible to ignore its thrumming call entirely if you are born to do the stuff, but his target audience is usually too young, too uneducated, and too scared of the law to recognize it or say anything about it. And if a bit of redstone Impulse or Tango put together can help someone make it another day, and Zedaph can make it look passably legal? Well, some of the poorest housewives and mothers can look the other way The trio are happy together, but making ends meet is hard and with summer coming, resources are soon to be harder to get than ever. (A city of light and pure white? Things start to heat up fast, and water becomes more precious than ever. And with summer coming, it means less water gathering in puddles and drain pipes in the city, and thus less water for the underground redstoners and hybrids to tap into.) Little does Zedaph know, however, he’s caught the attention of another toymaker in the city. In addition to this, Tango is getting restless, frustrated with the trio’s lot in life. Even under normal circumstances he can’t sit still, and being cooped up inside all the time because his glowing red eyes give him away as being both a hybrid and really in tune with redstone? It sucks. A lot. Impulse tries to keep his buddy distracted, but there’s only so much he can do, and now, Tango has been disappearing at odd hours, frequently when he and Zedaph are trying to sleep, and coming back with an odd look in his eyes. Just a few days ago he had found the remains of a charred pamphlet in their dumpster out back. Something is coming to head, and Impulse isn’t sure he’s going to like the outcome. Not that he’d ever mention the mounting tension to Zedaph, of course. His buddy has enough to worry about. ZombieCleo… runs a speakeasy/burlesque show underneath Joe’s bookstore. She has his full approval of course, and they’re fast friends under the merits of he’s one of the only decent men she’s ever met. It helps that he’s hardcore aro-ace and has no interest in her or her girls. Cleo, being a zombie hybrid, knows all too well about the tough life being a hybrid is and how it can make people turn to awful things just to make ends meet. She knows that doing sex work is the last thing her girls want to be doing, not that they have a choice, and she does her best to do right by them. She protects her workers viciously, and if any of her patrons try to treat her girls too roughly, or try to skip out on payment? Well, being a hybrid comes with a few perks and a nice pair of teeth and nails is all part of the package. Coincidentally, Joe is awfully good at hiding a body. Doc is perhaps the most down on his luck of the hermits. As both a redstoner and an obvious hybrid, he can’t find work, he can’t find anyone willing to rent to him, he can barely even find food enough to eat. He’s resorted to petty theft and squatting, and if it wasn’t for his ruthless determination that this city would not be the death of him, he would have laid down and given up long ago. Not even the occasional rendezvous with the local garbage cans is enough to deter him (courtesy of the local beat cop. That woman has no right to be as strong as she is). It’s on one such day, trying to pry himself out of yet another trashcan far too small for him, that Doc finally gets his lucky break. The old man to whom the trashcan belongs to comes out, hoping to dispose of his waste for evening, and instead finds the creeper hybrid there, cursing up a storm and angry enough to kill. The sight would almost be threatening to TFC if, you know, he hadn’t seen worse and the hybrid in question looked like he hadn’t had a good meal for years. TFC invites Doc inside after helping to pry him loose, and Doc, while suspicious, accepts. TFC low key makes Doc move in with him and treats the man well, seeing as the poor hybrid reacts to every little thing as if he had never seen kindness. TFC also begins to tell stories to Doc about the time before the city was built, before redstone was outlawed and hybrids were looked down upon as lesser beings. And Doc, utterly enchanted by the concept, begins to have… ideas. Iskall was in the same position as Doc for a while, but they too get their lucky break. They get picked up by Mumbo Jumbo and is introduced to the Cotillion, the rebel group who are out to shake the city to its very foundations and bring about an age of redstone dominance. Mumbo and the hundreds of people under him plan on breaking the social order and instating redstoners and hybrids as the top dogs, and Iskall finds themself shocked that the rebels seem to have the organization and resources to actually do it. Mumbo is witty and charismatic, seemingly always having a plan and a silver-tongued speech to go with it. He also installs Iskall as second in command, much to their shock. Time will tell if the Cotillion is going to succeed. Cub is living in one of Scar’s buildings, along with many other redstoners. Just... Not entirely legally.

This is pretty much the end of the world-building section, I’ll come out with a post on the general plot as soon as I can. TBC :)

[jimlingss]

A Fair(y) Crime

➜ Words: 22k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 45% Crack, 5% Angst

➜ Summary: While you might hate fairytales, it doesn’t change the fact that you are the descendent of the fairy godmother. With a wand in your hand and magic running through your veins, you have to search for your Cinderella and grant them their happily ever after....but things might be a bit more complicated than that when you find out your little Cinderella comes in the form of troublemaker Kim Taehyung.

You hate Cinderella.    Actually, you hate all fairy tales. The storylines are terribly vapid, love made to seem one dimensional, characters awfully helpless that it makes you frustrated. But at the young age of six, none of these thoughts came across your mind nor did you care much for good storytelling. Rather, you didn’t like these stories so much anymore simply for the fact that…   You are the fairy godmother’s descendant.   “What?” You blink in confusion, head lolling to your side. “What’s that mean?”   “It means you have to find your Cinderella and grant them their happily ever after,” your father explains with a bright smile, his cheeks puffing out, eyes crinkled as if he’s trying to convince you to eat broccoli. You are unimpressed, leaning on the table and looking over.   “You know Aunt Yeri?” your mother pipes up.   “Yeah!” You nod enthusiastically, recalling the pretty lady that gave you lots of toys. She visits sometimes with her doggy and you went to her wedding a long time ago. It was at a garden and very pretty.   “Well, she isn’t just my best friend. She was my Cinderella and I helped her to her happy ending.”   You’re silent for a moment, letting it sink in. Your parents wait patiently and you quirk your head to one side. “When will I find my Cinderella?”   “...later.” There’s uncertainty in her voice, unsure. She has the same tone as when she debates if she should give you a snack before dinner. “Maybe in a few years, honey.”   “Will they be my best friend too?”   “That’s entirely up to you.”   “How will I know it’s them?” you ask, firing question after question.   “You’ll just know.” It sounds weird like she doesn’t know herself, and she must read your expression because then she says— “Didn’t you always want to be a fairy godmother?”   “No!” You stand straight on the chair, nearly climbing onto the table even though you’re not supposed to. But no one scolds you, too concerned as you shriek, “I wanna be a princess! Not a fairy!”   “Well….” Your father is at a loss and he smacks his lips together, looking for the right words. “You can still be a princess, sweetheart.”   You pout, suddenly feeling very sad. “I don’t wanna be a fairy godmother…”   “Take a look at this, Y/N.” Your mother draws your attention away before you can burst into a tantrum and immediately, you stop sniffling. You lean fully over, sprawled over the table and the tips of your toes on the chair cushion.   There’s a narrow golden box that she brings up. You’ve seen something before — Valentine’s Day when your father brought you to the store and you helped pick out a gift for your mom.   The necklace you chose ended up in a similar box.   “What is it?” But you’re unsure of what the contents are and you peer over, as close as you can get with your short height.   Exactly as your suspicions, it isn’t gold jewelry. It’s a silver stick. It’s thicker on one end and narrower on the other, coming to a point. The stick seems to shimmer and shine against the fluorescent ceiling light above the table, glimmering as if there are sparkles embedded into the surface.   “It’s a wand.”   “It’s magic?!” Your eyes glimmer, grown wide and your jaw drops.   Both your parents laugh, exchanging relieved expressions. “Kind of.”   “Can I grant wishes then?”   “Only the wishes of your Cinderella. You can’t use it on yourself,” she tells you but you’re too excited to fully understand and be disappointed. “You like it?”   “Yeah! It’s cool!” You take it, waving it straight up in the air like you’re a magician about to conjure a dragon up. It’s heavy, but sits perfectly in your hand.   You were an idiot.   You didn’t know then. At first, it was fun to know you were some sort of secret fairy. That your great-great-great-great-great grandmother’s grandmother was actually the fairy godmother of the fairytale you had read so frequently. You had magic. You had superpowers.   But as you got older, the true gravity of your situation crumbled down onto your shoulders. You were someone’s fairy godmother, forced to serve a random stranger out there. You can’t even grant your own wishes, bring away the suffering that you faced, or fulfill your deepest desires.   You’re someone’s servant.   And with the anger that came with puberty and your teenage years, you threw away that wand. You abandoned it, left it in places, tried donating, throwing it in the dumpster or even a bonfire one summer at camp. But no matter what happened, it always appeared in your surroundings again.   You wish this was an awful prank your parents had set up and continued over the years. But it’s not. And you know that fact deep down — this is very, fucking real. This nightmare is your life.   “Goddammit!”   You’re on the floor of your college dormitory, roommate thankfully out lest she sees the way you’re sobbing and concludes you’re psychotic. The boxes around you circle you, towering like buildings in the city. Yet, on top of all of it, the stupid stick you left back home has somehow appeared in your belongings once more. And you’re aware neither your mom nor dad had anything to do with it.   So here you are, on the ground, gripping it with both hands and trying your best to snap it.   “Break already!”   You’re screaming, teeth gritting down, jaw clenched, face growing red as your muscles strain.    But it won’t. It’s like concrete or made of the strongest material despite being so thin. It’s unyielding, fighting for its survival, not budging or even bending the slightest bit. It mocks you.   You end up flinging the wand to the wall and it makes a dent in the paint. “Who the fucking hell is my Cinderella?!”   The question asked for decades on end isn’t answered and that special someone doesn’t appear until you’re at your absolute lowest.

You needed this.   A vacation, that is.   The stresses of your life were about to eat you alive. It started a little more than half a decade ago — years of breaking your back to get good grades and obtain your degree. Then it was months of unemployment and crippling debt that forced you to trash your beloved History master’s for a job in the candle industry.   It was temporary, you said. But the bills and debt payments weren’t temporary.   So here you were, dealing with a psychotic boss, doing a job that felt like you were selling your soul to the devil.   Needless to say, you needed a vacation desperately.   So this was perfect. Sort of.   “Is there a purpose for this trip?” the reception of the dingy hotel asks with a bright smile that almost cracks her face. “If it’s for pleasure, there are a lot of fun and adventure packages I can offer you. Macau has plenty to do during your stay here!”   “No, it’s okay.” You hold back a sigh. “It’s for business.”   This place was essentially the Vegas of Asia, but for you, it wasn’t so much of a vacation as it was more a business trip. A trip where you had a budget of less than a hundred dollars for — meant for you to solely buy convenience store food and maybe a tacky shirt as a souvenir. A trip that required you meeting some investor and convincing him to invest in thousands of candles.   “I see.” She nods her head in sympathy, reading your exhausted expression and dead eyes. “I hope you enjoy yourself nonetheless. Here’s your key-card for room two-hundred nine.”   “Thank you.” You take the card off the counter, not sparing another glance. Pulling your baggage behind you and letting the wheels roll, you walk towards the elevator. But something stops you, making your feet halt.   Or rather, a feeling.   It’s intense, pulsating through your veins. It’s as if you’ve been shot or had an orgasm, or both things occurred at once. The tips of your fingers tingle, your muscles tense, core clenching and head aching. The overwhelming emotion ricochets through you, giving you whiplash and it rips the air out of your heaving lungs. Euphoria fills every crevice of your body, intuition screaming out, and it’s like you’ve scratched an inch you didn’t know was there.   Your neck cranes over.   There’s a young girl half across the lobby. She’s in a straw hat decorated with a pink bow, wearing a soft sundress that hugs her curves and cools her skin from the heat of summer. The female is tapping on her phone, looking out the window like she’s waiting for a taxi and immediately, you beeline towards her. She’s the person you’re supposed to meet. She’s your Cinderell—   But she walks away.   The girl walks out the glass doors before you can get to her and you halt again, watching her get in the taxi and how the vehicle pulls away from the curb, taking off. And as you stand there, jaw slack, dazed….the feeling you have still lingers, not fading away. The person you’re really here for cuts through the lobby and exits the same doors you’re staring at.   He’s homeless. Or at least, he looks like it. The man is in rags, wearing oversized bohemian clothing with loose bags slung over his body. A five o’clock shadow is plastered around his mouth and it matches his blonde bed hair that’s in a disarray.   The deadbeat dude is your Cinderella.   And he’s leaving.   “Wait!” you scream across the lobby to no avail. Several tourists and workers turn to stare, but you pay no mind, moving based on animalistic instinct, frightened as the feeling begins to fade the farther he gets. Your luggage is pulled until you get to the bellboy and you pass it towards him. “Can you please bring this up to my room? I’m in four-hundred eight— no, I mean, four-hundred nine!”   “O...o-kay…” He’s bewildered, but before anymore can be said, you’re already out the door.   “Wait! Wait!” You’re screaming at the top of your lungs above the roar of traffic and the engines of motorcycles. The sun beats down on you, causing you to break into a sweat. Your shoes are flimsy and your clothes are wrinkled, the same ones you wore on the entire plane ride.    Still, none of this particularly deters you as you run against the grain of people.   He keeps getting farther and farther away despite your shouting. He doesn’t hear you, or at least he doesn’t know you’re the one calling out to him. Frustration eats at you alive and you stop in your spot, inhaling a large breath to scream—   “Taehyung!”   Miraculous, he hears you calling his name. He halts in his sandals and turns around. In the midst of the people, his brown irises lock right onto yours. You stare at him, lashes fluttering before you run again. By the time you get to him, you’re panting and hyperventilating heavily, crouching over as you feel your lower gut ache from the unprompted exercise.   “Do I know you?” His voice is deeper than expected, taller too, and he’s surprised, wondering how you know his name.   “No.” You shake your head. “No, you don’t know me. I don’t know you. But...I’m about to.”   “Alright…?”   “I know this is going to sound completely insane and crazy and you’re not going to believe it, but I’m your fairy godmother.”   “.....” There’s a long silence. It is awkward. In the middle of the bustling morning, there’s quietness between you and him until he says, “Pardon?”   “I...am a descendant of the fairy godmother.” You cringe but without knowing any other way to say it. And with his expression, you know Taehyung doesn’t believe you. If anything, he thinks you’re legitimately crazy, that you escaped out of the mental ward at the hospital. “And I’m here to grant your wishes.”   “I’m sorry.” He backs away. “I’m not interested.”   “I’m not trying to sell you anything!” you yell in exasperation, knowing you sound less like a saleswoman depending on her commission to make a living and more like a scam. You don’t blame him. You even sound insane to your own ears.   “I-I’m fine. I don’t need any wishes granted. Sorry.”   “No. Wait!” You grab onto his arm before he can run off. “You don’t understand. My entire family are descendants of the fairy godmother. You know Cinderella, right? It’s like that. Everyone in my family has their own Cinderella and it’s one of our life missions to grant their wishes and give them a happy ending. You’re mine.”   “....Umm...are you staying at a hospital right now?” His thick brow quirks. “Need me to call someone for you?”   “No! God!” You give up, arms dropping to your side, at a loss for words. But then there’s a last thought that strikes you, a last hope. “Let me show you. Let me grant a wish of yours.”   Taehyung looks at you, staring directly into your eyes. He’s obviously weirded out, skeptical of the nonsense you’re sprouting. And you’re even more embarrassed and horrified. You were here for a business trip, goddammit. Not to run into your Cinderella. But now that’s here in front of you, you’re not letting go.   You’ve been waiting for him for years now.   He is your obligation. As bullshit as this is, you must honour your family and respect what they’ve given to you.   So, you beg him to trust you one time, “Please. Give me a chance.”   //   As you enter the lobby, the receptionist and bellboy eye you warily, especially considering a young man is trailing after you. It looks like you’ve picked him off the street which is technically true. But unlike their suspicions, you are most definitely not inviting him back to your room and paying him for a night of pleasure.    You give him your name, mumbling a bit about your background to relax him and he says nothing as you take the elevator up to your tiny room. The queen sized bed is clean with sheets tucked in, not as sketchy as that time you went to Iceland. It’s fairly nice for it being such a small space, but the bed takes up most of the area, forcing the single-stalled bathroom in the corner and there’s only a tiny window in the other corner.   There isn’t a chair or desk in sight or even a television like usual rooms.   “Sorry, I’m just here on a business trip. Meeting an investor.”   “Uh-huh.”   Quickly, you drop down to your suitcase, tugging the zipper to dig into your belongings. You’re like a wild animal scavenging for food. “W-what are you looking for?” he asks and you know this doesn’t look good. It’s like you’re about to drug him and someone else will enter the room, help drag his body and the pair of you will harvest his organs.   But you would never resort to such a method to make money….no matter how desperate you are.   “My wand.”   “Wand?”   “There it is!” The silver stick is found in your underwear pocket of your luggage and you pull it out. Taehyung’s brows raise once more and you admit to him, “I..I’ve never used this before. It only works if you’re the one who wishes for something.”   “So...I just make a wish?”   You nod. “You should start off with something small.”   “Then…” He steps back, still on alert. “I wish for a flower.”   The blonde male expects nothing while you’re waiting patiently. It takes a jerk of your hand that the wand begins to quiver in your grasps. Dust and sparkles come from the tip like it’s a bubble gun and you both watch in amazement, breaths hitched. The fairy dust falls on the ground and begins to stick together. It glows white, too bright that you’re forced to look away.    It morphs into a perfect red rose, three leaves on the thornless stem. The hue is strong, reminding you of blood and the petals are abundant, flourishing in front of your very eyes.   “Oh my god!” You fling the wand across the room, hands grabbing fistfuls of your hair. You can’t believe it — some part of your brain always had doubts, but they weren’t lying after all. “It fucking worked!”   “Holy shit!” Taehyung’s jaw is dropped, eyes doubled. “What the fu—! You’re my fairy godmother!”   “I’m your fairy godmother…” you repeat him and allow it to sink in, speaking with bitter acceptance. You’ll get this done and over with. The faster you can give him his happy ending the faster you’ll be free from this obligation.   The two of you try again, making sure this isn’t just an illusion or a one time occurrence. “I wish for a hundred dollars.” And just like that, the crisp bill is conjured up. “Oh my god….oh my god...this is real...this is real, isn’t it? It’s not a dream?”   “It’s not a dream.” The ability for you to grant his wishes is both terribly tragic and ironic. Here he is with a hundred dollar bill that you haven’t been able to see in ages. But you shake off your self-pity, something you’ll reserve for later. “I’m here to give you your happy ending.”   “My happy ending….” The realization hits him and a rectangular grin spreads across his face.   “Yeah.” You shift from sitting on your knees to the floor, seated across from him. “So...you have any ideas what is it you want?”   He hums and shrugs. “Can you make me handsomer?”   The question is odd. As...dirty and disoriented as Taehyung appears, somehow up close he doesn’t appear that bad. But you shrug and try nonetheless….though nothing happens.   You try again, flicking the wand as Taehyung wishes for it aloud. Nothing.   “I think….I can only conjure up physical things….so I can’t alter you or your personality…”   “Or give world peace?” He pouts and sighs. “Oh well, guess we’ll have to make do.”   “Uh-huh.” You wear a blank expression, though internally you glare. Make do? God, he doesn’t know how fortunate he is and how envious you are. “Is there a dream or aspiration I can help you with? You...want me to give you a house or...better clothes?”   “My clothes are fine,” he argues in offense. You mutter an apology and he smiles, carefully considering it. “There’s nothing I particularly want….well...I guess there is one thing…”   It’s the best thing you’ve heard all day. “What is it?”   “You should be asking me ‘who is it?’” A soft smile comes across his features, tinged with a bit of sadness and regret. You recognize it well after considering you see it in the mirror. “You told me you’re here because you...work in the candle industry?”   “Y...yeah?” You’re unsure of where he’s going with this.   You’re not particularly proud of your occupation. The company that you work for isn’t Yankee Candle or Bath and Body Works. It’s for some crazy lady that’s passionate about candles and somehow engineers the worst smelling ones that you’ve ever had the unfortunate opportunity of sniffing.   When you’re in the office, you’re constantly getting migraines and headaches, enough that you have headache relieving medicine in your top drawer at your desk. All year round, they light the campfire roasted blueberries five wick candles — which smell more like the sweetest perfume mixed with axe body spray that boys used to spray around their lockers in high school.   The worst part is that you can’t even openly gag, second to the fact that the awful odor always becomes stuck to your clothing. You can leave your work at work, but you always bring home the scents back into your home, making it linger on your curtains and in your bedroom.   The mere thought of the candles brings shivers to your spine.   “I’m here because I’ve been looking for someone.”   “You’ve been looking for someone?” you echo him with a frown, unsure if you heard correctly, but Taehyung nods.   “I...I wasn’t a good guy back in the day. I’m someone who you might’ve called a….fuckboy….but I swear I’ve straightened out.” His hands lower, slowing down his wild gestures and you patiently wait as he explains himself. “I might or might not have dumped, well, no, that’s not the right word...I...cheated on a girl I really liked.”   You’re unimpressed, but the dots are easily connected. “And you’re here to win her back?”   The bohemian-hobo styled man nods. “When she left, I realized how much I love her. It really broke me and made me think a lot about things.”   He came all the way here to find her and win her back.   You have mixed emotions — not sure if he’s an asshole for cheating in the first place, moved that he’s learnt his lesson the hard way and came all this way, or if he’s just a plain idiot to think anyone would come crawling back after being cheated on. He doesn’t look like he’s been doing well either.   But you don’t know their relationship, so you make no comments.   Instead, you eye him up and down. “How long have you been here for?”   You thought he was a permanent resident. He certainly acts very accustomed to the lifestyle here, enough that he travels around with a few bags from this place to the next.    “A year.”   “You’ve been here for an entire year searching for her?!”    He’s definitely an idiot.   “I don’t know where she lives, only that she’s here in Macau. She doesn’t release a lot of info on social media and all my texts and messages to her are ignored. I think she’s changed her number too. Her friends don’t know much about her whereabouts either and they wouldn’t tell me if they knew.”   You frown, at a loss with his situation. “How long has it been since you….parted ways then?”   “Few years?” He shrugs. “Three or four.”   “Huh. Well, okay then.” It’s not too bad — his issue is simple enough. He just wants to win back this girl. Though you’ll admit, it feels more like Taehyung’s the prince than Cinderella. But you don’t mind what’s been presented in front of you. Through love and romance, he can achieve his happy ending and you'll be set free. You were scared he was interested in a political career which would mean you’d have to stick by his side for the rest of your life or until he retires. “D-do you know where she is now?”   “If I did, she’d be here with me.” He smiles.   “So...you have no clue?”   “No clue!” he chirps back and you’re yet again unimpressed.   “Oh god,” you groan, running a hand over your face in defeat. You’ll do whatever it takes to make it a success, but that means his problems are yours.   “I have a few leads though.” Taehyung smiles again, eyes twinkling like you’re his sun and maybe you are. At this rate, anyone who can help his hopeless ass is his savior. “But I’m starting to think based on your reaction that I should take you on that offer of getting better clothes.” A tinkling laugh spills out of his mouth. “I can’t go to her looking like this, right?”   He puts his arms out, staring down at his own body. It’s comfortable attire, but dirty with many stains and holes as if it’s been his only clothes for the past several months. You sigh, nodding. “It’s good to have some self-awareness.”   Taehyung scoffs playfully. “I’ll let that insult slide because we’re going shopping, my fairy. But I won’t let it happen next time.”   His fairy? You guess he’s not wrong there.   //   You quickly learn that Kim Taehyung likes shopping. He enjoys it enough that he doesn’t want you conjuring up clothes for him and wants to make it a full on activity. He enjoys it enough to hop in a cab with you beside him, looking at the driver and saying “Galaxy Macau, please.”   The two of you are driven to the ritziest part of the city where the most affluent tourists are shopping with one another. It’s grand and beautiful, making you stop to take it all in. The place you were staying at was more dingy, part of a suburban area where there were alleyways and stray dogs, streets emptier and only full during rush hour when citizens go to work or return home.   Here, resorts and five-star hotels are all around you. There’s fine dining restaurants and one of the biggest shopping centers towering above your frame. Here, you learn Kim Taehyung doesn’t just like shopping. He fucking loves it.   “Look at this. It’s cashmere.”   “Cool.” You feel out of place. But Taehyung owns it with his confidence. He has an unlimited amount of money anyways, you’ve conjured up two thousand in the proper currency. There’s no reason for him to feel self-conscious, even if he looks like a caveman — his pocket is literally bursting with bills. It looks like he’s robbed a bank. As he walks past clerks and attendants, their eyeballs nearly fall out of their sockets from the sight of the side bulge of his pants.   “Hello, do you need any help?”   “Yes, hello.” Taehyung flashes an eager smile. “I was actually looking to get your most expensive suit. Could you tailor it right now too?”   “It might be additional costs to get it done right now, but we can certainly do it for you.”   “Awesome. I’ll do it for whatever cost.”   “R-right this way.”   It feels like you’re a mother-in-law, watching the bride try on wedding gowns. You’re sitting on the plush lounge chair, waiting patiently. Three attendants crowd Taehyung, measuring tapes slung by their necks, convincing him to buy these shoes or that belt. When he has a hard time deciding, he decides to take all of it.   “What do you think of this?”   He pulls on the edge of his sleeve, fiddling with it nonchalantly and you’re amazed. “Wow.” It’s the only thing you can utter. The saying that a fitted suit makes any man look good is all too true. The makeover is drastic and despite his hair being disoriented and he still has a five o’clock shadow, he looks like an aged scientist going to a fancy gala. He’s slimmer and taller than you thought too, and you try not to focus on the bulge in his tight trousers. “Yeah, it’s good.”   “Enough to make her speechless.” He laughs heartily, joking around with one of the attendants like she’s his new best friend. All three ladies laugh loudly and it’s obvious that they’re faking it. “I’ll take it.”   “Great choice!”   As she scatters off, another attendant waltzes up to you and hands you some fancy bottled water for free. “Would you like to look for anything, Miss?”   “Oh, I’m fine. Thank you.”   “Are you sure?” Taehyung turns, halting before he goes back into the dressing room.   “Yeah.” You wave him off. At the end of the day, you’re not here for yourself, even if you want to be the one trying on all of this and go shopping to your heart’s content. You’re here for him.   Taehyung ends up picking two suits, two pairs of socks, one belt, and three sets of ties. He’s already wearing his Italian loafers that are personally hand-stitched by some sixty year old man with fifty years of experience. He’s reeking in wealth and one might believe he won the lottery.   The next place the pair of you enter is a salon. You’re ecstatic when he tells you he wants to get a haircut with a blowout style and wants his face shaven. But as he’s getting himself cleaned up, you sit at the waiting area, tapping on your phone. You’re answering texts back from your boss who’s asking if you’ve arrived yet. You can practically hear her squawking voice in your ear.    “Y/N?”   “Hmm?” You look up and you almost drop your phone. “T-Taehyung…?”   “You looked so focused. What’s going on?”   “N...no...nothing.”   You can’t believe your eyes. His hair is cut and styled, slightly swept to the side with part of his bangs down. His face is shaven, skin clean and smooth underneath, showing his sharp jawline. The cherry on top is that he’s changed into his suit too. Holy fuck. You may or may not be salivating. He looks ten years younger than before — princely too.   “What do you think?” He shows himself off, spinning in slow circles without registering that everyone’s eyes in the salon are plastered on him. Those waiting are gawking over their magazines, folks in their chairs have turned around and even the hairstylists are frozen with scissors in mid-air. One accidentally cuts off a chunk of the lady’s curls without realizing.    “Y-yeah. It’s nice.”   “Let’s go. I wanna look for some cologne.”   There’s no time to waste, no more ogling.    If Taehyung wasn’t going to kill you through envy, then you guess he wants to kill you from shopping till you drop. Anything that he likes, he buys. You end up holding all the bags and it doesn’t help when attendants give you looks of pity. To them, you appear as his poor maid that he’s stringing along. In a way, you are his maid…   Well, you’re more like a servant.   You just have a prettier, fancier title of ‘fairy godmother’.   The name bestowed to you makes you bitter, and that bitterness expands tenfolds with the realization of how fucking unfair it is that Taehyung’s beautiful too. Ever since he got his makeover, transforming from head to toe, hoping that girl he’s looking for will accept him back in a blink of an eye, he’s been even more captivating than before. His clothes are well-fitting, aura strong and confident. Taehyung commands attention simply by walking into a room.   “Are you sure you don’t want anything too?”    He glances at you once he hears the sigh you release. Taehyung’s leaving the spa after getting a facial and naturally, you pick up all the bags to follow him out onto the hot street.   “I’m fine.”   He hums a low note and steals another peek at your profile. “So…….what is the candle business like?”   “You’re curious?” You eye him suspiciously, wondering why he’s trying to make small talk with you. Candles are the most boring subject in the world, but when he nods and insists, you tell him, “Well….you sell candles. Every season there are new candles released. You usually have to go to the lab and try out different scents, test which you want, see what the trends are, try mixing things with each other. There’s the whole marketing and sales aspect to it too….”   “What’s your job?”   “I’m an assistant to my boss. I do whatever she doesn’t want to do...so here I am, about to meet an investor.” You give a lifeless laugh that morphs into awkward silence. It’s now that it hits you — you’re a servant through and through. “It’s….as fun as it sounds.”   “It sounds kind of exciting. You don’t like it?”   “God, no.” You scoff, shaking your head.   “Then why are you working there?”   “I need money.”   “Everyone needs money.” His lips are pouty and his eyes twinkle. “Is there something else you like to do?”   “....history,” you murmur, “I have a master’s in it.”   “Really?!” His brown eyes widen, impressed. “That’s so cool!”   “Actually?” It’s your turn to be surprised. “I thought that would sound….lame…”   “Why would it be? Think of it like this, if you end up in a time machine or you fall into some hole and you’re forced to travel to the past, then you know what’s going on. That’s super cool!”   You laugh, caught off guard with how wholesome he is. “I guess. I never thought of that.”   “Why aren’t you doing anything with that degree since you obviously like it so much? Like...be a historian or something.”   “Yeah, that’s easier than it sounds.” You shrug. “People aren’t looking for people with history degrees.”   “I’m sure you can find someone out there. Opportunities always come and go,” he says and looks off into the distance, slightly wistful. “I don’t have any fancy degrees like you, but I went to an art program for a while and I have a few certificates in photography and painting in photorealism.”   “That’s amazing…” And you really mean it too. You took an art class once and it went so atrociously that you have high respect for anyone who pursues that kind of academics. “Think you can paint me?”   “I’d have to charge you.” Taehyung playfully bumps your shoulder with his own. “But because you’re my fairy godmother, maybe I’ll let you have a discount.”   You scoff and your eyes travel down to the numerous bags you’re holding. “Are you done shopping now?’   “Ummm…..one more store.” He leans down and takes the bags off your left hand. Taehyung ends up sauntering off, holding the bags and throwing it over his shoulder casually.   You smile, a tiny scoff coming from your chest before you pick up your pace, catching up with him.   The both of you enter the last store and this time, it’s not for him. Taehyung insists that you wear something half-decent as well. It’s amusing how he rifles through the racks of clothing and hands you things to try — it feels like you’re a poor girl in a drama and he’s the son of a rich mogul. You both end up choosing an expensive black dress and you can’t remember the last time you had something so nice.   It’s been long since you’ve been pampered and you’re surprised at how thoughtful he is.   “Are we going to go look for her yet, Taehyung?”    He has his clothes, he’s cleaned himself up. There’s nothing else missing.   “We can search for her tomorrow.” His arm drapes over your shoulder. “Once I get my happy ending, my little fairy godmother’s going, so I should make the best out of this, right?”   You open your mouth to say something before closing it. You can understand where he’s coming from. Plus, if he finds her tomorrow then your job is done. Tomorrow it will be over.   “Then where are we going next?”   “To the best place here!” Taehyung hollers and cheers, other arm shooting right up. “Venetian Macau!”   //   You end up conjuring some red, obnoxious sports car upon his request, so you have him to blame with why your hair is whipping you in the face and you have yourself to blame on why you chose to envision a vehicle without a roof.   But your parents would be so proud of you right now — you gave your Cinderella the perfect ball gown to wear and provided the pumpkin carriage...metaphorically, of course.   The drive is less than ten minutes and soon, he’s parking in front of the grand hotel that has fountains springing up in front and the bustling sound of ringing and clanging from inside spilling out. The valet happily takes the key and you two cut through the casino to the lobby, taking the largest room they offer — the Presidente, a 12-bay suite with four bedrooms.   It’s at the very top floor and it’s massive, the size of an entire house. You set all the bags down, staring in awe at the rotating bed, the jacuzzi and bathtub out in the open. It’s all white and glass, the mere kitchen the same size as your apartment back at home. But what takes your breath away is the view of the entire city.   The windows take the entire side of the wall, pristine to the point where you feel like with an outstretched arm, you could touch the city with your fingertips. The towers and buildings surround you, the smoke curling up to the blue sky. The entire world is at your feet.   “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Taehyung approaches, standing at your side as you both look out.   “Yeah…” You’re speechless, mouth full of cotton. “It’s gorgeous.”   “I love this city,” he whispers and then turns towards you. “I’m glad you’re here.”   “Because I’m your fairy godmother?”   “No. Just because.” He walks away, leaving you confused, but before you can ask anything, Taehyung throws a glance over his shoulder. “You should change into your dress. It looks weird if I’m the only one in a suit. Makes me look overdressed.”   “Where are we going now?”   “Down to the casino, silly.” He laughs and his gaze intensifies. “We gotta win some, Y/N.”   Taehyung knows fully he doesn’t need to win anything. He has an unlimited supply of money right now, of wishes for that matter. But you give into his will out of defeat. You change into your own dress which is tighter than you remember, though he tells you it’s just fine. And with your wand, you grant him his wish of a hundred thousand dollars.   No sooner are you walking alongside him in the boisterous casino. Taehyung’s hands are dug into his pants pocket like he owns the place and he throws his money carelessly. He acts recklessly and boldly, but in doing so, he wins.   “This gentleman has put fifty thousand on red! Double or nothing on red!   “Let’s go!” he hollers. “Let’s go!”   It feels like you’re babysitting. Taehyung doesn’t need this — he’s simply playing with his money at this point…..no, money is practically useless to him now that he has an infinite amount. Yet, everyone around you is watching with bated breath, egging him on, cheering and clapping. There’s a crowd circling the table and the hype is infectious, making you nervous too.   You’re frozen as the ball is thrown.   It rolls around as the roulette table spins, ticking like a metronome. It lands on red and black and red and blank until it stops…..   Right on red.   “Oh my god!” There’s sharp inhales before it breaks out into applause and cheers. Immediately, Taehyung turns beside him and hugs you as if it was on instinct. He laughs and squeezes you before lifting you off your feet, arms wrapped around your waist. He spins you around in circles, making you giggle. “We did it! We fucking did it!”   You’re still being spun. “Taehyung!”   “Congratulations! You’ve just won a hundred thousand dollars!”   People are congratulating him, watching with envy and clapping. One man smiles and sips on his bourbon. “Is she your lucky charm?”   He finally sets you down on your feet, wearing a ginormous grin. “Oh, she’s my lucky charm, alright. She’s my precious fairy.”   You’re embarrassed by his declaration and others laugh, seeing how close you both are.   “A fairy indeed. I should get a lucky charm myself.”   The lights in the casino whirl around you, neon lights making you dizzy. Your senses are in overdrive, taking in your chaotic surroundings. Without windows, it’s easy to get drunk off the atmosphere, caught up in it without knowing if it’s day or night. There’s a constant barrage of noises, the pink of slot machines accompanying the jittery fall of chips. Levers are pulled, coins flowing through slots, dealers standing back or shuffling their deck of cards.   You’re mesmerized over the bright colours and it’s Taehyung who grounds you. The way he turns around, always checking up and reading your expression, sometimes calling your name — it helps you from being overwhelmed. And you can only stare at the way the vivid lights glow on his skin, thankful that he’s here to tread in this new world with you, a world you are too unfamiliar with.   He lives it up in the casino, gambling and going crazy, popping bottles of champagne. The minute you leave for a bathroom break and return, he’s somehow gotten to know a crowd of young folks. Taehyung’s charming when he wants to be and maybe that’s how you two end up in a limousine on the way to a club with these people.   While you’ve enjoyed yourself thus far, this was most definitely not a fun part for you.   Your feet ache, you’re sweaty and tired….and some girl is perched right on his lap, directly on top of his crotch.   “You should let me come back with you later,” the doll-like girl whispers seductively while twisting a strand of her curly hair with her finger. She knows what she’s doing, you’ll give her that.    There’s hollering all around you, strangers acting idiotically and pouring vodka down their throats. You feel out of place. Too old for this. You’re a woman with a job who pays her own bills and these kids are acting like dogs in heat or it’s the first time their parents aren’t watching them.   But you sit still, narrowing your eyes onto Taehyung and picking up on the private conversation because you’re his fucking servant.   “Sorry, babe. I don’t do that kind of thing anymore.” He flashes a sly smile. “I have someone special to me.”   “But I thought you said she was only your fairy.” The girl gives an exaggerated pout and spins her head around to stare at you. You look back at her impassively and she returns to Taehyung, playing with the collar of his ironed dress shirt. “How about this...if she’s your fairy, I can be your angel. I promise I’m a good girl. I won’t misbehave.”   Taehyung chuckles as he leans back, legs widening a bit more. “No, I have an angel already and it’s not Y/N. This other girl...I love her.”   Despite what he says, you’re beginning to doubt his feelings — otherwise, why would he let some other chick sit on his lap. But you don’t make any comments. Instead, your death glare intensifies and you angrily chew on your chocolate bar that the limousine provided. You haven’t had a proper meal all day and you needed something to bring your blood sugar up.   “Then where is she? She’s obviously not here with you.”   “I’m looking for her.” He grins proudly. “I’m a monogamous man now. I don’t like playing around so much anymore. Sorry to disappoint.”   “Aww...you won’t make an exception for me?” She bats her lashes back and forth.   “I can’t,” he answers and before the girl can huff out and try to coax him otherwise, her friends call her out for being desperate and thirsty. She pouts, sliding off his lap and in the next two minutes, the limo is pulling up at the obnoxious nightclub.   As if the neon lights from the casino weren’t enough, now it was strobe lights flashing to the back of your eye balls and making you see stars. Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind as he dances with his new best friends. On the other hand, you slide up to the bar, making an order of the cheapest drink to sip in. Unfortunately, there’s no food and when you asked to suck on some lemon slices instead, the bartender shot you a weird look and told you they weren’t for sale.   “You’re not gonna dance?” Taehyung joins you briefly, strands of his blonde hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. It was no wonder he was drawing in women and men alike as if he were a magnet — the man looked like a sculpted Greek God that descended from the heavens.    “No!” you shout back, straining your voice against the booming music. The vibrations were shooting all the way up to your bones.   “Why not?! Don’t be a downer! Let’s have some fun!”   You barely finish your drink before he’s pulling you out on the dance floor. It’s terribly awkward and feels like you have two left feet as you stumble out, trying to dance with him. You don’t appreciate others rubbing against you either, so you move close to Taehyung. And he doesn’t have any grievances as he pulls you against him too.   You wish you could shut your eyes and wave your wand around right now. If only your wishes could be granted, you’d hope to be in bed, curled up in the sheets at a cozy house, perhaps a cottage in some secluded place with mountains and a waterfall.    But when midnight strikes the clock, instead of Cinderella rushing back home…..   The both of you end up here.   “Why do you look so sad? Want me to hire a male dancer for you?”   “No.” You’re sitting in the corner with your hands in your lap. It reminds you of when you were put in time-out at home. “And why do you think I look like this? We’re in a strip club, Taehyung.”   “And what’s the issue with that? If girls stripping isn’t your thing, there’s plenty of guys too.” The idiotic boy points off and you don’t even bother looking. “Look, dude’s wearing a thong.”   It was an exclusive booth, the best seat in the house and full view of the stage. Several girls were off to the side, giggling and giving a private show to the ‘friends’ Taehyung had made hours earlier. He paid a lot to get a spot like this in the top strip club of Macau — but of course, money meant nothing to him now that he had an overabundant amount of it.   The more and more you get to know Taehyung, the more disgusted you are. The rich lifestyle doesn’t suit him at all. He was at least cute and somewhat wholesome pre-fairy-godmother-magic. Now that he had endless wishes via you and he’s gotten rich, he’s adopted the ‘fuck bitches, get money’ that rappers promote in mainstream media.    You swear Cinderella’s story had more decency than this.   Should you really be surprised though? Fuck boys never change. And you’re especially witnessing that feat as he cheers on his friends that are trying to slap some asses…..   Before you can get a hernia, you end up falling asleep. The last thing you see is a magician on stage using his thick wand to undo his pants. When you come to consciousness, Taehyung’s shaking you awake, all his ‘friends’ gone and it’s three in the goddamn morning.   Finally, the pair of you are going back to the hotel. Taehyung’s arm is draped around your shoulder as usual and he’s teasing you for being grouchy while petting your bed hair.    But damn straight you’re grumpy. You went gambling, then to a club, then to a strip show. You’re tired and sticky and disgusted with Taehyung. Still, you can’t come to hate him for dragging you around like this or for being an absolute douchebag. He’s too happy with you and the grin on his face is too infectious.   You collapse on the bed as soon as you get in, not having enough energy to wash your grimy skin or peel off your tight dress. Like you, Taehyung simply undoes the top button of his dress shirt and he collapses onto the soft mattress.   There is silence.   You nearly drift off to sleep, but then he interrupts.   “Thanks, Y/N.”   One of your eye opens and you find him staring at you. You stare back at him. “...you’re welcome. Did you have fun?”   “Sort of.”   “Only sort of?”   “It was alright.” The answer takes you by surprise since he seemed to have the time of his life. Taehyung continues to explain, “I wanted to see what it was like — it’s been a long time since I did anything like that. But once you get home….it’s kind of quiet, huh?”   “The quiet’s nice.” You shuffle, getting comfortable and relishing in what he’s most afraid of.   “Makes everything else from earlier seem empty though,” he murmurs softly, but you hear it. He wears a contemplative expression, gazing straight into your eyes. Before your lips can part and you can say anything, he plasters a grin on his face like earlier and changes the subject. “You wanna go eat?”   “Eat?”   “I know you were hungry. I’m sort of hungry too.”   There’s a pause. As tired and sleepy as you were a few minutes ago, you were wide awake again. It was obvious to see that Taehyung’s adrenaline was still coursing through his body too. And he was right — you were starving. You imagine that some food in your system would make sleep even nicer.   So with any determination that you can muster, you haul yourself up, scratching the back of your neck. “Sure. Where to?”   “I know a place.” He tugs on your wrist before you can walk off. “Wait, can I make a wish first?”   “What is it?” You automatically look around for your wand. Of course, it appears on the coffee table, always there no matter where you go off to.   “I was thinking about things and I really want to...travel. I want to make the wish now in case something happens. Y’know, it’s good to be prepared. And I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”   “Alright.” You grab your wand without a second to waste, not thinking twice. “Where to?”   “Umm…..I haven’t decided. Can you just give me tickets to every destination in the world? The most popular places to visit. Two of each in case I want to visit again. And if it’s possible, they don’t have a set time or date, so I can fill it in later and decide whenever I want to go.”   “Sure.” You shrug, finding his specific request achievable. “But can I also make a request?”   “What?” He grins as you look down at yourself, pinching at the skin-tight fabric of the dress.   “I’d really like jeans and a sweater.”   //   It’s not a fancy restaurant. Not in the least bit. There aren’t any lobsters, fresh crabs or truffle for sale. Rather, it’s a run-down burger joint that runs for twenty four hours. He shrugged and told you nothing could beat a good burger and that he was quite the fan of fast food.   You laughed and slid into the booth across from him after picking up the order from the poor teenager working the night shift.   “Are you going to finish all that?” You’re looking right at his two burgers and his mountain of fries.   Taehyung puts a hand on his chest in mock offense. “Are you shaming me right now?”   “No. It’s just a waste to throw away food.”   “Trust me, I’ll eat this all.”   “If you need any help. I’m sittin’ right here for you.” You give him the hint, pretending to nudge him across the table and he grins, sliding the fries in the middle.   “I thought we were sharing anyways.”   “Oh. We were?”   “Course we can share.” He bites into his burger and hums at the taste, having missed it. You eat as well, food tasting glorious on the palette of your tongue. There’s been too many days and nights of nibbling on instant noodles that even greasy, cheap fast food tasted delicious.   “I was staring,” you mumble past a mouthful.    Taehyung stops. His cheeks are puffed up and he stares at you through his thick lashes without you realizing. Slowly, a soft smile spreads into his face, all too fond of you.   “Sorry.” He looks away the same time you glance up at him. “For dragging you around all night. I know you weren’t having that much fun.”   “No. It was alright.” You set down your burger, dusting your fingers off and picking a fry to dip it into ketchup. “I just got tired and I was a bit….bothered.”   “About?”   “This girl you’re searching for….” You don’t mean to question his intentions, but it’s been pressing on your mind ever since you met him. “.....do you actually love her, Taehyung?”   There’s silence in the restaurant.    The fluorescent lights whirr above you, flies circling the light. Taehyung swallows his mouthful, caught off guard. A knot is made between his brows. “What do you mean? Course I love her. Why?”   “I don’t know…” You shrug, trying to brush it off, but he insists you explain.   “Y/N.”   A sigh leaves your mouth and you look directly at him, deciding not to spare the blonde man from your thoughts. “If it were me, Taehyung, if someone I loved was out there and I truly cared about them and I was looking for them — I wouldn’t waste a single second.”   “Well, I’ve been searching for an entire year now.”   “Macau isn’t that big,” you retort. “Have you been looking for her all this time?”   “Yes! I—”   “Then why not search today? Because you wanted a break? Because you wanted to enjoy what I’m giving you before I’m gone?” You’re breathless and the truth of your anger divulges, “If you were in love, you wouldn’t let other girls sit on your lap—”   “She was the one who sat there!” he argues and from an outsider’s view, it looks like you’re both a couple fighting. The teenager standing at the counter stares and eavesdrops like he’s watching a television drama. “It wasn’t my fault!”   “Doesn’t matter. You let her sit there.” Staggering breaths are ripped from your lungs. You’re fighting in place of the girl that Taehyung’s searching for, a girl you don’t even know. “What about the strip club?”   “What about the strip club?!” His arms are thrown in the air, burger nearly flying out of his hand. “That has nothing to do with anything!”   “What about calling me your—” precious fairy.   But the words catch in your throat, caught in your mouth. You lean back and look away. “You know what? Never mind.”   He exhales in frustration, running a hand through his hair and realizes the ruckus the two of you are making. Taehyung leans over the table and speaks in a low voice, “You’re right, okay? I know how it looks…..I was the one who cheated on her at the end of the day and now I’m going around and it looks like I haven’t changed.”   The food becomes more tasteless as he continues, “The moment she left, I knew I fucked up badly. All his bullshit of partying and drinking and girls, it’s fun. But it was fucking worthless. It still is. I don’t expect her to take me back, Y/N. I just...want to apologize and get some closure. I know I’m an ass, but I’d like to think I’m at least trying to improve myself. I don’t want to be the person I was back then. I never want to go back to being that person.”   You eat again, forcing yourself to swallow it down and let the sugary liquid of the soda tingle your tongue. “Then what do you find fulfilling? Painting and photography?”   You’ll always be skeptical at the whole ‘I’ve changed’ narrative, but you can at least understand where he’s coming from. You know most people can’t keep up with the partying lifestyle. At some point, everyone wants more for themselves. More and more. To make the most out of life.   You’re the same — always wanting better.   The problem is if you can ever fulfill those desires.   A twinkle in Taehyung’s eyes ignites, glad you asked and a cute smile comes across his face. “You remembered?”   “You only told me a few hours ago. My mind’s not that of a goldfish. Who do you even take me for, Kim Taehyung? I’m your fairy godmother.”   “You don’t act like you want to be,” he points out and you’re surprised. You look up at him and he smiles as if his intuition senses more about you than you’ll even realize.   “I...just want you to get your happy ending.”   “You seem stressed.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “That’s all. And I guess, you make me feel a bit rushed too.”   “I don’t,” you murmur, finally admitting it aloud. You called him out on his feelings, brought question to his convictions. It’s only fair if you’re honest as well and you have an inkling he might be sympathetic to your situation. “I don’t want to be. You’re not wrong. I never wanted to be anyone’s fairy godmother.”   Taehyung quirks his head to one side. “You don’t like magic? I think it’s pretty cool.”   “Yeah, but I’m your servant,” you mumble with a pout.   He immediately interjects, “You’re not.”   “I can’t make my wishes come true. Do you know what it’s like when it’s your magic, your wand, but you can’t use it for yourself or your family?”   There’s a pause. “Well, when you put it like that, I guess it really sucks.”   A small laugh pulls out of you. “Psh, yeah. I know that sounds incredibly selfish but—”   “It doesn't. It’s completely understandable.” Taehyung’s expression is blank and he blinks innocently at you. “It’s like your lottery ticket is given to someone else.”   “Yeah…” It’s moments like these that he catches you off guard. When he isn’t so unbearable, but sweet, compassionate and empathetic. It’s no wonder so many people are drawn to Taehyung without needing to know him for long. “Since I was young, my parents shoved down my throat that this is the reason I was born...to serve whoever was my Cinderella. This is supposed to be my life purpose.”   “I don’t think so.” His lips are pouty, gaze intense. “Maybe it’s part of what you have to do, but it shouldn't be your sole purpose.”   “Well it isn’t, but sometimes it sure feels like it.”   He hums a low note and chews on a few fries thoughtfully. “What would you wish for? If the tables were turned and I was your fairy godmother.”   “I don’t know.” You haven’t really thought about it. Coming up with desires that couldn’t be fulfilled would leave you even sadder than before. “I guess, I’d want a house and some money. I’d buy a place for my parents and I wouldn’t have to work anymore. I’d take care of their retirement completely. I’d pay off all my loans too and give money to charity.”   Taehyung acknowledges your choices, finding it pretty close to what he’s going to wish for as well.   A thought comes to mind and your eyes light up. “God! I’d quit my job! Yes, I would actually do that first above everything else!”   He laughs, finding your enthusiasm endearing. “You really must hate candles. But what would you do after that?”   “I’d travel. I’d go see the entire world and then eventually, settle down and work as a historian.” The more you think about it, the more eager and energized you become. This fantasy you’re constructing around you sounds so uplifting that the moment reality sets you, you’re guaranteed to be disappointed. But for now, Taehyung gazes at you, admiring how passionate you are. “I’d lead a research team at a university or at a museum. Or maybe I’d work as an archivist and preserve historical pieces. That would be really cool.”   “That sounds really cool. Would you let me work there too?”   “What would you want to do there?”   “I could paint or take photos and you could put it on display at the museum. I’m not half-bad, y’know.”   It’s pleasant to the ears, the mere idea of it sitting well with you. In this fantasy world, you are the princess and it’s a dream you want to relish in. “Sounds like a plan then.”   Taehyung finishes his burger, stuffing his cheeks to the brim. He drinks his soda, sliding the food down his gullet. He hums, thinking of something and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “What about your romantic life?”   “What about my romantic life?” You eye him with feigned suspicion while a smile tickles at the corner of your mouth. “You think I got time for love, Kim? I’m about to make history here.”   He laughs again, heartily and rowdy. His eyes are crinkled, lips spread into a rectangular shape and he nods firmly. “You’re right. I don’t need to find your prince charming when he’s already sitting across from you.”   You grin, finding the situation unbelievable. “Are you flirting with me, Kim Taehyung?”   “I’m stating the truth.”   You scoff. “Aren’t you supposed to be in love with someone else?” The playful question suddenly draws out a silence. He doesn’t say anything, chewing on fries and your brow lifts. “Now that I think about it, you haven’t seen her for years, right?”   “Listen, time makes the heart grow fonder.” His irises twinkle with mischief. “Haven’t you heard of that?”   Another laugh spills out of your body. “Time makes all wounds heal, Taehyung. Time makes you forget.”   “I disagree,” he counters, “I won’t ever forget us.”   Taehyung says it so casually without knowing that the weight of his genuine words makes your cheeks warmer than they should be, You don’t say anything, simply scoffing. But it’s because you’ve been made speechless by him, mouth filling with cotton, caught off guard.    The chatter and banter eventually continues. Conversations come easily between you and him, spilling out without any awkward pauses. He’s charming, a conversationalist that makes you laugh and feel at eased. Soon, the two of you are walking on the street, side by side with synchronized steps. The bustling city is quieter than ever before when it’s four in the morning.   “You won’t leave me as soon as I get my happy ending, right?”   “But what else would you need me to do?”   Taehyung gasps in mock offense. “I thought we were friends!”   “Nah, this is just a business relationship,” you quip.   “Here I thought you were becoming my friend. I can’t believe it’s been one-sided all this time.”   “Thought you’d be used to it by now,” you bite back, this time making him the speechless one.    Taehyung begins to chase you down the street and laughs. “I’m gonna choke you!”   “I bet you like that, huh?!”   Two blocks are made before you’re both tired out from running needlessly. The both of you are less drunk from drinking hours earlier and more off of each other, feeling oddly giddy and happy.   Taehyung walks with his arm draped around your shoulder like that’s the way it should be. At this point, it feels natural even. “You gave me a few ideas.”   “About choking?”   “No! Jeez!” He laughs, the tinkering sound making you giggle. “About wishes. I should prepare more and think about things in the future, not just short-term enjoyment.”   “Wow, Sherlock. You’re a real genius.”   From your sarcastic tone, he pokes your side, tickling you slightly. “I’m being serious here!” He laughs. “I should put some money into my bank. Pay off my loans and buy some stocks or something to make sure my family’s retirement is secure. I want to buy my parents a house and give to charity too.”   “I approve of these wishes.” You bob your head, nodding enough for your neck to break while stumbling in your steps and leaning closer to him without realizing.   “I want to make your wishes come true too,” Taehyung murmurs softly.    Automatically, your head turns and you find him staring down at you. He’s pulled you close and you watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. You could count his lashes if you wanted, see how his cupid’s bow dips, imagine lines through his freckles and moles like it’s stars in the sky and you’re trying to map out constellations.   You look away from him before you do something worthy of regret. “You don’t have to…”   “But I want to.” Taehyung smiles. “It would be an honour to grant your wishes.”   “How would you go about doing that?”   “Well, your wand listens to me and only me. So I can just make your wishes for you. I can say the word.”   You scoff, elbow jutting out to his ribs. Yet, it does nothing to deter him and only puts a wide smile on his face. “You’re going to travel with me?”   Taehyung shrugs. “Sure.”   “Wouldn’t that girl you’re looking for mind?”   “I don’t know and I don’t care if she does or doesn’t. You’re important to me.” He is warm, not just his skin against yours like this, but also in his personality. “You’re my fairy.”   You don’t detest the nickname so much anymore. It’s kind of sweet when he says it like that.   “That’s a big promise to make.”   “Then I’ll have to step up when the time comes.”   “Alright, Kim. Don’t be all talk and no action.”   “I won’t,” he promises. “We should secure a source of money right now though. I don’t feel safe carrying around so much.”   There’s an ATM approaching to the left and the pair of you slow down. Taehyung lets go of you and your hand digs into your pocket, finding the wand magically materializing there. “How much do you want?”   The man hums and picks a number off the top of his head. “A hundred million?”   “You’re going to put a hundred million in your account all at once? That sounds like a bad idea.”   “No one’s going to notice.” He waves his hand off. “Don’t be such a worrier. You’re going to get wrinkles by the time you’re forty.”   “There’s nothing wrong with wrinkles,” you mutter with a sigh. The want trembles in your pocket and a second later, you hand a cheque to him. Taehyung smiles and turns to the ATM. You watch his back, making sure he doesn’t get mugged.   He puts it into his bank, ready to pay off his loans in one go and eventually transfer it to his family and those who are important to him — to charity and to you too.   It was wrong of you to dehumanize Taehyung and boil him down to some ex-fuckboy. He’s more than that, just a little lost, but he’s a ray of sunshine, passionate and eager, thoughtful and sweet. You can feel your heart softening for him and maybe that’s why you’re turning more into an idiot as well.   //   Ken scrolls through his computer.   He’s bored looking through the records and the numerous spreadsheets that have enough numbers to make his brain implode. He blinks wearily, feeling his eye bags deepen in its purple hue. The man has turned off the fluorescent lights, sitting in the darkness. The bright light of the monitor screen casts on his face.   He exhales in exhaustion and drinks his coffee in the thermostat, leaning back in his chair.   But suddenly, there’s a notification on the corner of his screen.   His eyes grow wide on what he sees on the monitor. And Ken spits out his mouthful of coffee. The brown liquid spews off his tongue and drenches his keyboard and all over his dress pants.   He screams, bloodcurdling at the burning temperature and he dabs the mess pathetically with a crumpled tissue while his other hand grabs the phone, going on speed dial. “Boss? Yeah, I’m sorry. But you’re gonna want to see this.”   It goes through a long chain of command. Phone call after phone call until every department is awoken at four thirty. There are grumbles from each person, but the floor becomes alive again. Though there’s more bewilderment and confusion than outright panic.   The phone rings, blaring. It nearly falls off the bedside table.   Seokjin is shocked awake.   He crawls out of his bed, emerging like a bear after a season of hibernation. “What the hell are you calling me for, Namjoon? Do you know that the goddamn time is?” The dark-haired man’s voice is thick and groggy. He scratches his scalp and looks at the time — the red digits reading four thirty seven a.m.    “It’s an emergency.”   “It always is.” Jin stands up nonetheless and switches his lamp on. He grabs his clothes from the closet and sighs, glancing at how puffy his face is in the mirror. “Is it another murder?”   “No. It’s worse.”   It sounds dire and the detective drives quickly to the station. As he arrives, the floor is bustling with people and he doesn’t waste a second to look at the files provided to him. Except—   “This isn’t worse than murder!” he shouts in exasperation, “It’s just some guy under the suspicion of printing money!”   “Yeah, but we’re still part of the investigation team.” Namjoon leans on the desk and takes a sip of his coffee cup like it’s noon and there’s no reason to be grumpy. “It’s still a job.”   “I didn’t even brush my teeth.” Jin glares narrowly at his partner.   “And you still came late,” Namjoon argues back. “I already took a look at his profile and found where he’s staying at. Let’s go.” The older male follows and Namjoon talks as they both walk out. “His name is Kim Taehyung. Male. Late 20’s. Single. Unemployed. But he put a hundred million in his bank account about an hour ago.”   “A hundred million dollars?! Jesus christ, where did he get that?!”   “Yeah, it’s not something you can get from just spending a few nights at the casino. It’s most likely through some kind of money laundering. They’re suspicions that it’s tied with the Jeon family. That’s why our department took the case,” he tells and it all clicks in Jin’s head.   After all, they’ve been investigating gangs and corruption in the city for the better part of two years now.   Though one thing doesn’t make any sense — “But why would they choose this guy?”   “No idea.” Namjoon is honest and as befuddled as the rest of the team. “He’s completely clean as far as we’ve seen. No connection to the family whatsoever, no criminal background, no relations. He came here a year ago and hasn’t been doing much.”   “Is it possible he could be just a new recruit of Jeon’s?”   “To entrust a new recruit with a hundred million dollars?” Namjoon shakes his head. “I’m not sure. Doesn’t sit right with me. We’re going to get him now since there’s reason to believe he might be a flight risk. This Kim Taehyung may be what we need to bust Jeon once and for all.”   Seokjin nods and they both get into the car.   //   At the same time, half across the city in a high-rise building, a shorter man with black hair and frighteningly cold eyes knocks against the door once. It is eerily quiet and after a second, there’s a smooth voice from the other side.   “Come in.”   Jungkook is sitting at his desk, swirling a cup of bourbon in his left hand. The ice clinks against the fragile glass, liquid inside sparkling against the dim chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The person entering automatically lowers his head towards the younger male.   “What’s the matter, Yoongi?” he asks curiously at why he’s being disturbed at this time of night. The walls are dark, expressionless portraits grand, curtains drawn like it’s permanently a state of night in this office.   The man named Yoongi lifts his head. “I received a message from our informant.”   “And?”   “They’re going after an individual named Kim Taehyung. They believe he has connections to us.”   It’s absurd and the leader is made confused. He searches his mind, but is unable to recall such a name. Jungkook has never heard of him in his entire life. “Why would they?”   “This individual deposited a hundred million into his bank account.”   He almost chokes on air. Instead, Jungkook masks a composted exterior he was taught since he was born and sets his drink down. He sits straight and clasps his hand on top of his mahogany desk. “That’s….bold.”   It isn’t idiotic. It’s a tactic. By doing something so brazen, this Kim Taehyung was trying to send a message to everyone else. “Who is this man?”   “We have no idea,” Yoongi answers honestly. “The police force is as confused as we are. He appeared out of nowhere.”   “Then he must be a rival. He may be from Taiwan….” Jungkook considers it and sharply inhales. Kim Tae from Taiwan. This was the Great Gatsby in real life. This mysterious stranger could perhaps have an empire overseas. In less than a day he’s become infamous in Macau. But whatever the case may be….   “Bring him to me.”   “Understood.” Yoongi lowers his head, preparing to leave.   “And whatever information you receive, tell me.” Jungkook stands. “We need to take each threat seriously.”   //   It’s five in the morning when you and Taehyung finally arrive back at the hotel. All the sleep that you had ached for earlier has left your body. You’re past the state of exhaustion and into the stage of deliriousness. But the diminishing logical side of you tells you that you should go to bed anyhow and rest up before going on the search for Taehyung’s girl.   Unfortunately, Taehyung is still hyper energetic, more so than before now that he has two burgers, a mountain of fries and a liter of sugary soda in his gut. He becomes curious of the twenty-four hour gift shop in the lobby, looking at all the knickknacks and snow globes.   You whine to him enough that he laughs and tells you to go up to the room first.   “—floor is he on?”   “Top floor,” the taller one answers and then there’s a pause.    The two males turn their heads to stare at you and it takes a delayed moment for you to enter the elevator. Maybe it’s deliriousness getting to you but both are incredibly handsome men. The slightly shorter one has princely features, full lips and dark hair, clad in a long taupe jacket. The other is a brunette, dressed in a casual topcoat and wearing thick rectangular glasses that reminds you of what a modern spy would wear.   You realize you’ve been drooling when they smile politely at you. “Uh...what floor are you going to miss?”   “Umm…” You swallow your mouthful of saliva, turning to the elevator buttons and finding the top floor already pressed. It strikes you oddly considering you didn’t see anyone else staying there. And for some reason, your mind tickles and you blurt out— “Thirtieth floor, please.”   “Alright.” The brunette presses the button and you watch the metal doors close.   “You know, now that we’re here, we should check out the Paiza Club and Dining lounge. I heard they have something called Chocolate Brioche Bread Pudding that is to die for.”   “We’re here on an investigation, Jin,” the taller one scolds, whispering under his breath.   “You need to lighten up, Namjoon.” He gives an exaggerated and playful sigh, hand plopping on his partner’s shoulder. “When you can have some fun, you should take it! At this rate, you’ll die a workaholic.”   “I’m not going to go eat Bread Pudding.”   “You’re no fun.” He clicks his tongue and stares straight ahead, speaking lowly, “We went all the way here, but we might not even run into Kim Taehyung. Should make the most out of this trip.”   In the midst of their conversation, you’ve turned to stare at them. This time not because you’re marveling at their handsomeness. The name rings in your ears and you don’t realize just how intensive your gaze is, hardcore even. It doesn’t take three seconds before the hair on the back of their necks raise and they crane their necks over.   “Can we help you?” the man named Namjoon asks.   “N-no, I’m okay.”    You whip your head to look forward again. But it only arouses suspicion and the two experienced detectives exchange an array of expressions with one another.    Seokjin smiles and glances at you. “Did you have a fun night tonight?”   You’re shocked that he’s speaking to you, but you manage to scrape up something coherent. “Me? Yes. I was down at the casino.” The corner of your mouth lifts stiffly. “It was fun.”   Jin steps forward, closer, and you feel cornered. His hand slips into his coat pocket and he pulls out a picture of someone you recognize all too well. It’s a fuzzy photo, one that looks like his driver’s license. “Did you happen to see this man?”   You wear a blank look, mind delayed and then you peek up at them both, quirking your head to the side. “Oh. I met him in the lobby earlier this afternoon.”   “So, he’s staying here, correct?”   “Yes, I think so.” You nod once, not sure where all these lies were coming from. It was instinctual to protect Taehyung and your intuition told you not to trust these two men. “We talked briefly when he sat next to me at a slot machine. He seemed fairly nice. Are you looking for him?”   “We’re just searching to inquire about a case he may have witnessed,” Namjoon says simply without revealing much. He turns his body towards you, narrowing his eyes and watching your every movement. “Did he happen to say anything to you? Anything important at all?”   “Not at all. I believe we talked about the….gift shop and the snow globe sales in there. He left afterwards, but he seemed pretty nice.” It’s a good thing your body is too tired to make any suspicious movements. You feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience. Luckily, your concern for Taehyung comes across as concern for society. “Can I ask what happened?”   “It’s a private investigation, we can’t reveal anything.” — “He’s under the suspicion of money laundering.”   Namjoon and Jin answer at the same time. And as it tumbles out of their months, realization sinking in, there’s a suffocating silence drawn out. The two detectives exchange expressions, Namjoon glaring and Jin knowing he fucked up badly.   You give your best gasp that’s not completely fabricated. “T-that’s horrible!”   “Well, hopefully we can catch him soon and make the streets safer.” Jin offers a tense smile to comfort your worries.   The elevators open to the thirtieth floor. “Good luck and good night then.”   “Yes, goodnight.” The handsome investigator nods and you smile, walking away as the doors close and you hear the two men bickering with each other.   The moment it’s quiet again, you whip yourself into the fire escape, running. Your feet shuffle as if you’re doing drills, step after step, leaping down the staircases. You nearly trip and eat shit on the hard ground, but you catch yourself, gripping onto the banister.   It’s thirty levels you have to dive down and you just hope Taehyung hasn’t gone up yet. Every five floors, you peek out to the elevator, finding the numbers increasing to show Namjoon and Jin are continuing upwards. Luckily, the other elevator remains stagnant and you can only wish for the best.   A deep breath is stolen through the seams of your lips and you pass a few drunk people giggling. Sweat drips down your head. Curses spill out of your mouth. You almost start crying, but you make it to the lobby, launching your body out, startling several strangers as you burst out the door.   The person you’re looking for is standing right there.   Taehyung is innocently waiting in front of the elevators, rocking back and forth from his heels to his toes. You don’t waste a second, throwing yourself at him. The second Taehyung sees you, on instinct, a grin spreads across his face. He opens his arms and catches you, hugging you back.   “Y/N? What’s wrong? Did you take the stairs?”   You’re hyperventilating. “T-T-Tae…”   The blonde man has an endeared expression as he looks down at you. His smile softens and he holds your arms before lifting up his left wrist, showing off the plastic bag. “In the end, I couldn’t choose any snow globe or postcard, but I got cat mugs for us. They’re matching and in the shape of a cat! Fifty percent off for the second one too! Cute, huh?”   “T-Taehyung…..th...e….the….p...p-o...lice…”   “What?”   “Th...e...p...o..li….c….e”   “What?”   “The police are here!” you whisper harshly and out of desperation. All at once, his expression falls and he pales.   “What?”   //   The two investigators linger outside the door. They shift the weight of their foot from one to the next, waiting patiently as if they’re trick-or-treaters on Halloween or simply very insistent missionaries who want to enlighten people and lead them away from Hell.   But after a full minute, there’s still silence and no movement made on the other side.   Seokjin leans over and rings the doorbell again. The sound can be heard echoing throughout the suite. Jin rings the bell yet again and this time he knocks five times.   “Police! Open up!”   Silence.   Jin cranes his neck to his frustrated partner. “I don’t think he’s in there.”   There’s no choice and Namjoon’s patience is running too thin. He digs in his pocket, taking the keycard out and he swipes it at the handle. It flashes green and he pushes the door open.   “Ooh, breaking the rules, aren’t we, Joon?” Jin teases, “Look at how bold you’re getting. Barging in without a search warrant? I’m proud. Never thought I’d see the day you’d actually bend the rules a little.”   “Hey…” Namjoon enters the room without looking back.   “Yeah?”   “Can you shut up?”    “Will do.”   The two of them enter, yelling out that they’re police. But like before, there aren’t any responses. They check each room thoroughly, peeking in the closet, looking underneath the bed. It’s empty. There aren’t any suspicious belongings either and when Jin and Namjoon regroup, they suspect this Kim Taehyung must’ve known they were coming and purposely slipped under the radar.   “Damn.”   This person wasn’t to be messed with.   //   “Oh my god, oh my god.” You’re shaking your head, whispering in disbelief. Panic has set over your body and caused you to hyperventilate, blood rushing in your veins, air never staying in your lungs. “We are so fucked, we are so fucked, Taehyung. Holy fucking shit. We’re going to jail.”   “We’re not going to jail,” he counters.   “They think you’re involved in money laundering!” you spit at him. “How are we going to explain the one hundred million dollars?! God, I knew that was a bad idea. I should’ve stopped you. No...it’s not your fault. You wouldn’t blame a four year old for eating candy—”   “I’m not a four year old!”   “—you’d blame the parent that gave it to them. I fucked up.” You’re pacing back and forth, fully aware that it’s not helping, but you don’t know what else to do anymore. In the span of a day, you’ve screwed up your entire life. “I fucked up!”   “Y/N, stop.” His hands drop down to your shoulders, halting you mid-step. “Can’t we just tell them what actually happened? It’s not like you and I did something actually illegal.”   You shove his hands off of you, narrowing your eyes. “You think we can just waltz up to law enforcement and tell them we got a hundred million from magic?!”   “If we show them, they’d believe us.”   “And then they’d take me away!” Your arms in the air, already envisioning you strapped down to a medical table. “They’d take my wand, take my blood and my family, take me in for experimentation! It’s a family secret for a reason, Taehyung! There’s a reason we don’t go around parading we’re the fairy godmother’s descendants!”   The pair of you were hidden in his old apartment. It was a sad and small room, falling apart in the corners. Taehyung was evicted a few months ago, but he knew it was empty and helped you climb the fire escape as he busted a weak spot on the door outside. Despite it being relatively reclusive, there was no possible way that you could stay long.   The police would know this place and come investigating sooner or later. They’d probably pull the floorboards apart to make sure he’s not hiding any money or drugs. And eventually, they were going to find you tied up with him in all this.   There is no escape.   “How do we undo this?” you ask him, completely lost and hysterical.   His eyes spark with an idea. “Can I wish for an invisibility cloak?”   “I can’t grant you something that doesn’t exist,” you sigh out and begin to consider the possibilities. You had magic on your side after all. It was definitely a choice to give him a gun to protect himself, but then that would be an unregistered firearm and could land the two of you in a bigger world of trouble. The car was unregistered as well. Getting a plane or spaceship out of Macau would be impossible as well. If you snuck out of Macau, you don’t know where you’d go.   It’s funny how you can grant any wish, yet you feel so limited.   Cinderella never went like this — she was never chased down by the fucking police.   “Y/N, we’re going to be okay.”   “How can you say that?! We’re not going to be okay. We’re not! That’s a fact! We’re screwed!”   “Can you please just trust me?!” he shouts above you, probably allowing the neighbors to hear. But his deafening volume shocks you to silence and your mouth seals. Taehyung’s gaze is intense and he licks the seam of his lips, swallowing hard. “I trusted you once. So trust me. Can you do that?”   “I...I don’t know….”   The man in front of you reaches down, holding your hand and squeezing it. As he soothes you, he makes a promise, “I won’t let you get hurt.”   “And what about you?”   “I won’t go to prison.” He wears a soft smile. “Why would I? I didn’t do anything wrong but indulge a little with my fairy.”   It’s stupid of you — but you chose to believe him. Taehyung trusted you once. It’s only right if you give him a chance as well, let him prove to you whatever he wants as you once proved to him your abilities.   For now, the two of you have to look for another place to go to and after a bit of rest, he takes your hand and leaves, never once showing any fear for the circumstances ahead.   //   The security room is cozy with monitors all around, staticy screens showing every corner of the casino. The athletic male is leaning over, watching with intensity as the technician delves into the hours of CCTV footage and searches thoroughly.   Namjoon mutters under his breath, obsessed with figuring out this puzzle, “Where did he go?”   Jin hangs up the phone and joins his partner. “Hoseok and Sowon’s patrol car broke down.”   “Again?”   “Yeah. They’re jump starting it now, but the battery might be done for.”   He shakes his head. “Everything always falls on us, huh?”   “Sometimes it can be easier like that.” Jin’s hand plops on his partner’s shoulder, giving a cheesy grin and squeeze. “Remember all those old days when we were new to the department and we dug up cases even when boss said they were done? But we broke the rules and solved them anyhow? Those were the days! Doesn’t it make you feel nostalgic?”    “No.”   “Oh, come on,” Seokjin whines much to the working technician’s amusement. “We solved so many cases with just the two of us! It was fun!”   “We almost got fired.”   “But we didn’t,” he chimes.   “Stop. Right there.” Namjoon’s finger juts at the monitor and the two detectives lean in with their eyes squinting. As far away as the camera is, the features of the male are indistinguishable. He was dressed cleanly, but looked like he had a whole night out, wrinkled dress shirt with the top buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. He definitely looked like a man of money, power, and sophistication. “Huh. He’s right there.”   “And that was at five twenty…...what time did we arrive, Namjoon?”   “Five fifteen.”   “What in the—” The footage continues and the two men watch as you come running from the fire escape door and launch into Taehyung’s arms, observing the way he hugs you. “Oh my god. That’s her! The girl we talked to in the elevator!”   They exchange looks with one another.   A radio call is received that helps piece things together. Earlier yesterday, half across Macau in a lower class hotel, Taehyung was spotted. The people in the lobby said they witnessed Taehyung and thought he was a gigolo. And yet again, you were there with him the entire time.   “Jin. Get those arrest warrants.” His partner nods in response and he turns to the security technician. “Can we see what direction they went?”   “Sure thing.” The man smiles. “Our CCTV goes for blocks.”   //   Taehyung has spent an entire year in Macau. It’s needless to say that he knows all the kind spots — even if those are places are underneath bridges or in secluded alleys. You trust him enough to lead you as you figure out what to do or at least evade the police for long enough and buy some time so you two can somehow figure out what to do with all the money in his account.   If there was a way to get rid of it, you could act like it was never there in the first place or it was soft of mistake that neither you nor Taehyung have anything to do with.   So, you go with Taehyung, never once realizing who was following you two.   It’s not until you’re standing at an alleyway, taking cover after hearing sirens and being relieved that it’s just an ambulance, do you truly come to realize the detrimental state of the situation.   “We’re safe,” he breathes out as the ambulance passes and you nod.   “Are you Kim Taehyung?” A deep, rumbling voice comes from the end of the alley and you both jolt with a scream. A short man emerges from the darkness. His black hair matches his dark eyes and the colour of his clothing. He is in a leather jacket, boots and gloves too.   You’re alarmed, his piercing gaze sending chills down your spine. You catch the tattoos on his neck, the only skin on his body revealed, and it appears to be symbols spiraling upwards like the tail of a dragon. He’s not holding any weapons as far as you can see, but his presence still sends goosebumps all over your arms.   He’s dangerous — and it’s not only your instincts that scream it.   You and Taehyung are holding onto each other, backing up slightly. “Who are you?”    “Are you or are you not Kim Taehyung?” Yoongi steps forward, coming more into the light and the man holding you pushes you behind him.   “That’s me. What do you want?”   Yoongi scans him up and down as if he’s looking to purchase a fish at the market and is sorely unimpressed with what he sees. There seems to be a glimmer of uncertainty and confusion before he masks it with impassiveness. “There’s someone who wants to speak with you. Come with me.”   “I’m not going anywhere.”   “You don’t have a choice,” the stranger says pressingly. “You can come with me willingly or not. It’s your choice.”   “Who is it?” you pipe up over Taehyung’s shoulder. “Who wants to see us? We’re not going unless you tell us.”   “Jeon Jungkook,” the man becomes tired of the negotiation and hisses the name in a husky timbre like it is a name worthy of a king’s honour.   But there is silence.    You and Taehyung look at each other. “Who?”   The gangster is gawking in disbelief, appalled at this show of ignorance that might be an indication of Taehyung’s sheer power — to not know Jungkook in this world was to either be deaf and blind or high up enough that he never spared a glance at any rival. Just how powerful was this Taehyung? But why is he curled up in an alley with some girl? None of it made sense.   Yoongi is puzzled.   “Jeon Jungkook from the Jeon family.”    Taehyung nudges you. “He sounds familiar. I think I read his page on wikipedia.”   “What did it say?” you whisper despite Yoongi being able to hear everything.   “He’s the leader of a….a….cart.”   “A cart? Like a food cart?”   “No, wait. I think I remember now. Not a cart….a cartel.”   “He’s part of the mob?!” You’re shouting, eyes almost falling out of their sockets. Oh my god. This just got a thousand times worse and you’re starting to wonder if this is a terrible nightmare you’re having on the plane and you haven’t actually landed in Macau yet or maybe this was a hidden camera and you were going to be famous on a variety show. You hoped it was either one...   There was just no way Taehyung could be wanted by the police and now the mafia in Macau.   “You don’t know who Jeon Jungkook is?” Yoongi inquires with raised brows. “Are you sure you’re Kim Taehyung?”   “Yes, but I don’t know who you think I am,” he tries to reason, but it unknowingly sounds like he’s boasting. “I have nothing to do with your cartel.”   “If you show up on our turf, in our space, you are now.”   “What? No! I’m not part of any cartel. I didn’t know this was your turf, but I’m not dealing with any drugs or anything. I am literally not involved in any criminal activity!”   Yoongi’s blank expression is washed over with bewilderment. “Are...you not from Taiwan?”   “No!”   “You….don’t have an empire?”   “What empire?” Taehyung is at a loss as he tries to clarify. “I’m not related to the mafia whatsoever. Not here. Not in Taiwan. Not in Korea. Not anywhere!”   “Then where did you get the money?” The dark-haired individual steps closer, gaze narrowing in. “Where did you get the hundred million dollars from?”   “I...won it at the casino.” Taehyung backs up, holding you close behind him and you shuffle together.   “A hundred million?” The man scoffs before coldly chuckling. “Doubt it. The biggest winning is twenty one million dollars. Yours is almost five times as much.”   “W-what do you want with us? Do you want the money?!”   “No.” He rolls his shoulders and smirks, tugging his gloves to secure them. “At any rate, you should come meet my boss.”   The true lottery that Taehyung won is Kim Seokjin and Kim Namjoon arriving in the nick of time.    He’s down the avenue and flips on his police car siren. Everyone moves out the way and he zips through traffic like he’s part of Fast and Furious. Namjoon leans over and turns it off. Jin turns it back on a second later and flashes a glare.   “Leave it!”   “We’re not chasing anyone! We shouldn’t turn on the siren!”   “But we can avoid all this traffic!” He grips the steering wheel tighter. “My car, my rules.”   “It’s the station’s car.”   “I drive, my rules.” Jin turns his nose up into the air, purposely acting snotty. “If you want to drive, then be my guest. But let me remind you that the last time you did, you hit five trash cans consecutively and skimmed against three other cars.”   “They weren’t parked right at the curb!” he argues and in his rage, turns off the siren.   Seokjin turns it back on, face getting red and hot. He screams, “Hands off my fucking siren, motherfucker!” The warbling pitch of the siren is deafening. It wails in the air, drowning out Namjoon and Jin’s arguing inside the vehicle, while red and blue lights fly into the sky, flashing onto pavement. It comes closer and closer and Yoongi curses underneath his breath. He steps forward, but Taehyung holds you back, making it obvious that he’s not giving you or himself up without a fight.   Your hand wraps around Taehyung’s and you take the opportunity to run. It’s risky to go sprinting across the road while the police car is approaching, but you barely make it and Yoongi has no other choice — forced to retreat and withdraw back into the shadows.   It was amazing, really. In just a few hours, Taehyung became infamous and now everyone wants a piece of him. Too bad you come with him like a buy one, get one free package.   //   The four glass walls trapped you, but not necessarily suffocating your spirit with its transparent surfaces. Instead, it makes you feel vulnerable, like the police or mafia could catch you here.   It was a bit better when Taehyung’s body covered one side of the phone booth, his back towards you as he’s on the lookout. You had conjured a face mask and a dark hoodie for him to cover himself up with, sunglasses as well and you wonder if it just makes him more suspicious.   Thoughts pushed aside, you gain the courage to pick up the handle, slide the coins in and dial the memorized number. It was morning now with people beginning to stir and you know the person on the other line was awake too at this time. But considering the number would appear as unknown on her phone, it’s a streak of luck when the dial tone stops and it’s actually picked up.   “Yeah hello?”   “Hello?”   “Who is this?”   “It’s Y/N….”   It takes one split of a second. Your boss’ chirping morphs into rage, dropping into a deep pitch and growly like a monster. “What are you doing calling me on this number?! I texted you last night several times! Do you think you’re going on vacation, Y/N?! I expected better from you! What time is it over there?! Aren’t you supposed to go to the meeting?!”   Shrill screams ring into your eardrums and you have to pull the handset away from your ear for a moment. This had to be considered as some kind of verbal abuse. “Do you know how important this investor could be to my business?!”   “A-a-about that…”   “What?! Speak up!”   “I...I might have to reschedule,” you murmur, “I...I’m sorry. I don’t think I can meet him today.”   “Are you kidding me?! Y/N!” She’s yelling at the top of her lungs. “What the hell are you doing over there?! Why are you rescheduling?!”   You don’t realize you’re crying until your cheeks feel wet and you wipe your eyes quickly with the sleeve of your sweater. “I’m sorry.” You bow from your waist despite her not being able to see you. It’s instinctual as if you’re part of Pavlov’s Dogs, and she’s trained you to be this way. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”   “I don’t need your apology! I need you to meet him! How will my candles sell now?! Will you buy them?!”   Suddenly, there’s knocking on the glass. You lift your head to find Taehyung worries, his brows knitted together tightly. He mouths ‘are you okay?’ and you nod, wiping your eyes.   “I’m sorry.” Truth be told, you weren’t okay. Not in the least bit. You were on the verge of being fired.   The phone call eventually ends when you run out of coins and you’re no longer able to hear her even when she’s still screaming at you and making you face her wrath and fury. You don’t care about your job or about candles. But you don’t enjoy being humiliated by anyone and at the end of the day, it’s your means of survival. Without your shitty job, you don’t have anything and that’s the sad part.   There’s silence as you sit on the bench, facing the Pearl River Delta and South China Sea. From the distance, you can see the docks of Macau and the shadows of the nearby islands. It’s serene and you feel yourself relaxing, giving up. They could come take you now — arrest Taehyung for money laundering and take you to investigation. He’d be imprisoned and they might take you in for experimentation. Or better yet, the Macau mafia could take you first, kill you and Taehyung, and then steal the money….   This is not what Cinderella was like.   You much prefer the fairytale version that you detested for so long.   “What are you thinking about?” you ask him, breaking the quiet and turning your head to his handsome profile. Taehyung is looking out at the horizon, oddly calm too. No one was freaking out anymore.   “How I don’t want you to get caught up in all of this.”   Even when he’s in this predicament, he’s not thinking about himself — Taehyung’s thinking about you. You admire his selflessness and your hand reaches out, pinky first before your palm slides on top of his. Taehyung gets used to your touch before flipping his hand over and lacing your fingers together. It was comforting to hold his hand like this.   Your gaze softens on his profile and he turns, locking his eyes with yours. “I want to find who I’m looking for.”   “Right now?”    He nods. “If I can get my happy ending, you can escape from all this. You can be free from me.”   “You can’t get your happy ending if you’re being chased by the mafia or by the police, Taehyung.”   He squeezes your palm. “I want to try. I don’t want you to be stuck to me.”   “I can leave, Taehyung,” you tell him in a gentle murmur, “I could leave right now. I’m not stuck to you. I’m choosing to be here.”   “Yeah, but you have an obligation to be with me at the end of the day or at least fulfill my wishes.” The corner of his mouth lifts with a sad smile. “I don’t want you to have to feel that way.”   “I don’t—”    “Let me go find her.”   “Is that what you want?” you question him, searching his expression. “Forget about me for a moment. Think about yourself…”   “I am,” he assures and helps you stand up.   You’re uncertain — you don’t even know what a happy ending means.   //   It’s a slip of paper with an address messily scribbled on it, the blue ink slightly bleeding on the crumpled paper. Taehyung tells you when he came here, he had an old picture of her and asked around the streets of Macau like she was a missing person. He followed faint trails here and there, going on a wild goose chase until someone told him they had seen her before and wrote down where.   And here you were with him — on some dingy street, standing in front of a butcher’s shop.   “She’s supposed to be here?” You stare at the shop, reading the name of it written in bold red.   “Maybe. An old lady at a fish market saw her working here before.” Taehyung glances at you for an extended time and you turn your head, blinking at him.    “Are we going in?”   “Y-yeah….right…” He pulls the door open, letting you in first. The butcher owner is grinning, asking if you two want to buy some meat and what kind, but Taehyung greets him and then slides the picture over to him, explains why he’s here. “Have you seen her?”   “Bae Jenny? Yes. She lives across the street!” The older man points out the window. “Right there.”   You’re surprised. Taehyung seems even more shocked. Her location is finally pinpointed into a definite place, so close. It occurs to you all this trouble so far could’ve been avoided. Heck, Taehyung probably would’ve found her two days ago if you never ran into him….   The man frowns. “But who are you?”   “I...I’m an old friend of her’s.”   He nods in understanding. “She should be home at the moment. I believe it’s her day off of work.”   The bell chimes as you two exit the shop. It’s quiet. Taehyung is contemplative and you’re on autopilot while you cross the street safely, taking the stairs outside the run-down building. You shuffle to the open apartment complex, stopping right in front of the door.   “We’re lucky, huh?”   “I guess.”   You brace yourself with a deep breath, but when Taehyung doesn’t move, you frown. “Well, aren’t you going to knock?”   “Y/N. I need to tell you something.” He turns to face you, swallowing hard like he has something important to say and it’s simply caught in his throat and he’s not used to this kind of thing. “This happy ending that you’re trying to achieve for me. I...I don’t need this. What I want is—”   The door swings open. There’s a girl holding her trash bag. She freezes.   “Taehyung?!”   His eyes are wide, rounded with horror. “Jenny?”   The female is short and petite with long, black hair. She is a doll with delicate features and you wonder if she always looks this amazing at home — dressed like she’s going out, eyeliner and pink lipstick. She is gorgeous and breathtaking. This is what you envisioned your Cinderella to look like.   “What in the ever living fuck.” She glances at you and glances back at him. “What the hell are you doing here?”   He waves meekly. “H-Hi.”   Eventually, the two of you are invited into her cozy home. It’s small, but comfortable. Though you can’t get settled down, feeling too awkward as the third wheel. With a harsh nudge from you, the suffocating silence is interrupted by Taehyung who starts off with, “It’s good to see you.”   “Yeah? Can’t relate. How did you find me in the first place? Last I checked, I ghosted you on everything and I haven’t posted about my whereabouts in a long time.”   “I...I’ve been looking for you. I asked around for a long time.”   “Why?” Her brows raise, genuinely confused and unable to rationalize it.   “I...I’m in love with you…?” The last syllable of Taehyung’s weak declaration has its pitch increasing like he’s unsure of himself and questioning it too. It sounds weird and you don’t know what his issue is. Wasn’t this what he wanted?   Jenny is unimpressed and also unfazed. “Are you serious?”   “I...guess.”   “You know we were together for less than five months?”   “Yeah.”   “You didn’t even consider it official.”   “I..know…”   “And that was four years ago.”   “Uh-huh.”   “You cheated on me, remember?” Jenny looks like she’s five seconds away from slapping him or splashing him with her glass of water and when she puts it like that, your initial disbelief with Taehyung returns. He nods and you realize how ridiculous this all is. It’s obvious — he doesn’t love her. Or whatever he thinks, whatever he feels, it isn’t love.   Jenny sighs tiredly, aged an additional fifty years with him in front of her. “You’re an idiot. An absolute idiot, Taehyung. For coming here. For saying that. I don’t love you. Never had. Never will. We didn’t even have anything special. It was a basic relationship.”   He nods again, unable to say anything.   The girl regards him with narrowed eyes. “If you think it was anything great, then frankly, you’re just idealizing our relationship and romanticizing it after it’s over because you live a fucking sad life. You’re projecting your ideals onto us, onto me, because you’re lonely.”   “That’s….harsh.”   But Taehyung is not surprised. He’s rather unaffected, letting the insults roll off his shoulders, fully aware and even embracing that he is indeed an air-headed dumbass.    “Well, it’s true.” Jenny sets her cup down and leans back in her seat, crossing her arms. “You’re lonely. Always have been. You just never wanted to admit it, so you found all these girls to try to temporarily fix your problems. And once I realized your issues, I dropped you. I’d understand if you came for me to look for closure, but to announce you love me.” She scoffs and rolls her eyes to the back of her skull. “Are you kidding me?”   “Sorry.” He’s fiddling with his fingers and scratching the back of his neck. Taehyung came all this way. This was most definitely not the outcome you were expecting. You thought she’d leap into his arms, that they’d go prancing into the fields together and get married. But you suppose romance never worked like that in real life.   It’s not your place to say anything either.   “I’m sorry for you too.” She sighs again. “Honestly, I couldn’t love you even if I wanted to, Taehyung. I like girls.”   He quirks his head to the side, mildly interested at the new development. “You like girls?”    “Yeah. I mean guys are fine too, but I prefer girls. I can...tolerate them better.” Jenny steals a glance at you, the corner of her mouth curling. “This one’s a cute one.”   “Thanks..?” You’re sheepish, having stayed quiet and out of the conversation. But all the while, she’s noticed you and read your expression like it’s an open book.   “Is that all?” Jenny looks back at Taehyung. “I gotta get ready and leave soon. I got a hot date scheduled and frankly, I think this conversation is over..”   “Yeah, we’ll get going.” He stands up, waltzing outside without begging to stay or pleading with her to be heard. He acts nothing like a person who wants to redeem himself in front of the woman he supposedly loves.    Jenny leans against her door frame. “Hey, Taehyung. Wait.” He hums, spinning on his heel and she smiles. Between the two of them, there aren't any harsh feelings or emotions of resentment left. You can see it on her face that she’s mostly apathetic about his existence and only slightly annoyed by his antics. “If you ever wanna stop being dumb and go clubbing with an old friend some time, call me up. I know a few places.”   He smiles, a puff of air coming from his nose, having expected nothing less. “Okay.”   “And bring this one too.” Jenny smiles at you. “I haven’t seen someone tolerate your bullshit in a long time and she’s a pretty one.”   “Y-yeah.”   The two of you walk without saying anything for an entire block. You’re reeling, not sure what just happened. But Taehyung isn’t heartbroken at all or as devastated as you thought he’d be. He seems to only be embarrassed for the rejection and having his issues said aloud, all the things that haunted his mind coming to confront him.   “So...that was that...are you hungry? I’m sort of. Maybe we should go get some waffles.” The blonde male turns his head and then freezes up. You’re crying silently, tears shedding down your cheeks as if you just splashed your face with water. “Y/N?”   “Fuck, what are we supposed to do now?!” You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. You’ve lost it. Everything was crumbling down onto your shoulders, the weight of what you’ve done heavy. “She was supposed to take you back! But she insulted you and you didn’t even say anything back!”   “Well, what she said was true—”   “No! You’re not that big of a dumbass.”   A smile pulls on his lips, endeared and he wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”   “I failed.”   “You didn’t.”   “I did. I’m supposed to give you a happy ending, but I can’t even do such a simple thing that the rest of my family accomplished! I don’t even know what a happy ending means! What does it mean, Taehyung? What does it mean?! Things don’t end until we die! Life always continues and there will always be issues. How can you have a happy ending? How can you be happy forever?! Do you even want that?!”   “No. I don’t want a happy ending. You’re right.” Taehyung composes you, calming your turmoil and he grins. “I want adventure and I’m having that with you right now. My precious fairy that makes all my wishes come true.”   You’re catching your breath. “This is what you want?”   “Well, maybe not being chased by the police or by the mob, but being with you. It’s fun, right?”   “Fun?!”   “It’s fun,” he assures and his arm slinks off of you. Instead, Taehyung reaches down to hold your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “And it’ll be better when things are okay again. Right now, I can think of one or two ways to make things better...and to solve our little issue. Do you trust me?”    There’s a pause. You sigh and nod once. “I do.”   As distressed as you may be, lying isn’t easy — you’re relieved that Taehyung’s with you.   //   Yoongi follows closely and swiftly, yet discreetly as he remains in the shadows. He’s been tailing the two of you since he parted ways hours ago and it was curious. So many things he was befuddled about despite being so well-informed about this world. You spoke to someone at a telephone booth, to who Yoongi has no idea. But Taehyung watched your back — that means you had an important part to play in all this, important enough that the man has to protect you.   Then the pair of you also sat on a bench for an extended period of time. Perhaps waiting for someone else or maybe signaling to another person nearby that things were progressing. It’s the most mundane activities that often signify the most.    Yoongi followed you to a butcher’s shop, an innocent little place that has potential of being more, perhaps where the money was supposed to be laundered. And then you went to see someone, a woman who quickly shut the door after you entered.   The gangster is intrigued, that much is clear. He doesn’t know what’s going on and the longer he follows after the both of you, the more he’s learning your techniques of getting around Macau. Though it still struck Yoongi as odd as to why this Kim Tae denied coming from Taiwan, refuting that he had any part of the illegal world, of having any affiliation with a family or empire. Perhaps he wanted to remain discreet, to conduct his business without arousing any attention.   Whatever the case may be, he was a man with a talent in lying.   Yoongi almost believed you and him were innocent for a moment.   But what truly provokes his curiosity is when you disappear into an alley and you both come back with a white envelope and purposely let it fall to the ground, walking away without looking back.   Yoongi picks it up after a minute and he isn’t disappointed by what he finds.   “What is this?”   Jungkook’s own question is answered as he opens the envelope and finds a cheque of exactly one hundred million dollars. He glances up at his right-hand man and finds another slip of paper with an address and time written on it.   “I’ve been following them.”   “And?”   “He denied having any affiliations with anyone and from being from Taiwan. I believe he’s lying since he doesn’t want to draw attention from anyone. He seemed to want nothing to do with us. I don’t believe he’s a threat.”   Jungkook nods, taking it all in and Yoongi continues divulging the information he’s collected, “I think he’s targeting police and trying to taunt them more than anything. Though I’m not sure why. I don’t know the specifics of the business they’re conducting, but they went to various locations around Macau while evading the police.”   “He must have some kind of vengeance against the department if he’s willing to go out personally. I wonder if he works for someone….” The leader’s voice draws on and he ends it in a thoughtful hum. “And you were telling me about a girl?”   “Yes. He protects her. I have reason to believe she may even be the mastermind behind these plans.”   Jungkook rolls his tongue inside his cheek, looking at the cheque and the amount of zeros behind the number one. “This money is a sign of an alliance.” It’s a truce, perhaps a request to join hands and destroy the police department once and for all. While the intentions are still unclear to Jungkook, he knows what to do. “Launder this money properly. I’m going to meet this Kim Tae myself.”   He lowers his head and takes the cheque. “Understood.”    Jungkook fixes his suit jacket, tugging on the sleeves as he considers how respectable a character Taehyung is. He has to see this man for himself.   And in the meanwhile….   The department floor comes alive. The ceiling fan whirrs in rhythm with the coffee machine. Phone calls are ringing and officers greet each other as they pass. In the midst of the usual chaos, Namjoon leans back in his swivel chair, feet propped up on his desk and he sips on his caffeine drink. His feet ache, eyes weary, counting the hours since he’s been awake. But as exhausted as he is, he continues to flip through the file and re-reads the profile of the suspects.   He’s brought back to his senses when his partner plops something down. “Hoseok wanted you to see this.”   Namjoon takes it and sits up, looking through the crisp printed pages. It’s information on the nightclub they've been keeping an eye on and that has suspicions of being linked to the Jeon family. The profits aren’t out of the ordinary but for today’s circumstances, it is.   Seokjin adds, “All the money in Kim Taehyung’s account is gone.”   “A hundred million?! Are they tracing it?”   “They don’t know where it went, but we might be getting a sniff of it soon.”   Namjoon scoffs. “I knew it had something to do with Jeon Jungkook.”   “I’m starting to think Kim Taehyung is a red herring.” He meets his partner’s eyes. “A pawn in the grand scheme of things.”   He nods. “Something Jeon threw out to distract us, huh? He must know we’re closing in on them.”   “It doesn’t make sense otherwise. I keep looking into Taehyung and he’s a nobody.”   “They must’ve had internal issues and transferred the money to him and used him to throw us off his scent. Make it so damn obvious by going to the Venetian and having shopping sprees so we can’t ignore him.” Namjoon slams his fist against the desk. “That damn Jeon. We won’t be tricked!”   It’s not worth going after Taehyung — one shouldn’t capture the pawn when they could capture the king.   Yet, it still makes the detectives frustrated. They detect Jungkook’s play, but an entire night and day has been wasted going on a wild goose chase after someone who’s essentially a smoke screen. While they’re thankful they realized this before wasting any more time or investing weeks into Taehyung, they don’t know what to do anymore.   That is until Jung Hoseok comes running towards them. “We just got an anonymous tip.”   //   Jeon Jungkook stands at the docks. His hands are dug within his dress pants pockets and he faces the sea, allowing the cool mist to carve through his hair and recall simpler days when he was just a child innocent of the world he belonged to. His childhood memories only ever consist of his late mother and the nannies, never of his frightening father, a father who seemed absent from all things until he was fourteen and he groomed Jungkook to become what he is today.   As he waits patiently for the infamous man he’s only heard about, he relishes in all these thoughts of a time that was simpler. His men have circled the area, securing it from anything suspicious and Yoongi is standing by, perhaps more alert than Jungkook is.   Suddenly, a black sleek car pulls up. Its wheels dig into the sand and asphalt from the road, stopping harshly without a lurch forward. The windows are tinted and Jungkook raises his left hand up, stopping Yoongi from walking over. Jungkook allows this Kim Tae to approach him first and he listens to the noise of both sides of the door opening.   Then immediately, without time to breathe the ocean’s scent, the two spin around to Jungkook.   Their pistols are pointed right at him.   “Get down on the ground!” Namjoon is shouting, deep within his stomach. “Hands in the air where we can see them!”   “Hands in the air!” Seokjin screams over top of his partner. “Do not reach for anything!”   Yet with one flick of Yoongi’s wrist, his handgun from his back pocket comes to point at the two officers. He cocks the gun back, preparing to fire if need be, but no one shoots.   “You’re surrounded, Jeon Jungkook! Give up! You have nowhere to go!”   The mafia leader’s hands lift in the air lazily, right next to his head. He spins slowly around on his heel to face the undercover officers and the corner of his lip curls. “Really now?”   “The roads are barricaded off. Your men have been identified and are surrounded. We have our officers all over the docks.” Namjoon remains calm and composed. There wasn’t a single fisherman on the docks, all undercover police officers. “It’s over.”   This was the moment they had been working so hard for. The evidence they had compiled are simply missing a few puzzle pieces. If they get Jeon Jungkook and strike a deal with him, they could shut down a chain of underground businesses and corrupt politicians. Everything could come crumbling down.    The man’s brow cocks. “What are you arresting me for?”   “On suspicion of being involved in solicitation, extortion, and embezzlement.”   “And where’s the evidence?” he mocks them, singsonging the question. “None of it has my name on it. None of it connects to me.”   Seokjin smiles. “Yeah? Well, you’re under arrest for money laundering. The evidence is in the hundred million dollars!”   The police department received a tip, a deep voice that mumbled Jungkook’s name, a time and a location. They were hung up on, but tracing the call, it came from a phone booth. The CCTV footage showed a person in a dark sweater, face indistinguishable, more of a shadow than a human. Perhaps it was Taehyung betraying his mafia family, but that wasn’t important — the information was enough to devise a plan. It was the quickest and most hasty thing they’ve come up with in this investigation, but it worked.    They have Jeon Jungkook cornered.   As the muzzle of the gun is pointed at Jungkook, the tunnel of the barrel that seems endless, a chilling chuckle emits from the man’s throat. He knocks his head back and laughs, scaring the two officers. At the same time, more police cars pull up, siren deafening. They truly have him surrounded…   It hits Jungkook like a freight train — it was a trap.   This is the cost of wondering about Kim Tae from Taiwan. This was the repercussions of digging into his business in Macau, meddling in his work. Jungkook doesn’t know if he respects this Kim Tae or finds him truly fearsome.   “Curiosity kills the cat, doesn’t it?” His cold chuckles end and he shakes his head in regret, murmuring, “I should’ve never poked the bear with a stick.”   They’re confused, but there’s no time to react, much less to make sense of his words or respond. In a blink, Jungkook’s smirking again and with the muscle-memory that his father hammered into his skull, he reaches into his inner blazer pocket and has his own handgun.   His smirk morphs into an eerie grin and like a brat, he says, “You’ll have to take me dead.”   Someone shoots first. No one knows who or from what side, but then bullets begin spraying into the air. They take cover, glass of cars shattering, screams of ‘get down!’. It’s chaos and Jungkook’s men run over, protecting their boss with their own bodies, a full shootout erupting.   “This is your anchor Park Jimin, here to deliver some breaking news. Several miles south of Macau Port, several male suspects have opened fire against policemen. As you can see, shots are being fired as we speak—”   You’re watching the news with Taehyung through the window of a store, standing shoulder to shoulder on the street. Your jaw has dropped, mouth full of cotton and Taehyung’s eyes glimmering in equal amazement. It’s something out of a movie and you’re not sure you can believe this is actually happening — but considering you’re a fairy godmother, you guess anything’s possible.    “Do you think this was our doing?” you mumble out the corner of your mouth.   Taehyung grins. “Let’s just say it is. That would make one hell of a story.”   “Yeah, a story I don't think we’ll ever be able to tell anyone.” You look away from the screen towards him, blinking at how blazing he is and how the sun has kissed his skin, making him glow. “I think you might be a goddamn genius, Taehyung.”   “I know.” His grin widens and the sheer size of it might break his face. He looks so happy with your praise and you don’t care that you’re feeding his ego. “You’re only starting to realize?”   You scoff. “I knew you weren’t a complete idiot.”   “Psh. Your expectations for me are too low. I’m going to have to keep trying to impress you, aren’t I?”   “If you want to impress me, you’re going to have to step your game up, Kim.”   “Will do.” His arm slings around your shoulder as you both resume walking down the street.    The money was gone. None of you had it anymore so that problem was solved. The police should be off your tail and as for the mob...you hope they’re too scared of Taehyung to do anything. But you don’t know for sure. Regardless, the two of you will have to leave Macau as soon as possible for the sake of safety.   “What are your plans now?”   You hum, haven’t had time to think about it. “Probably go back home. Catch up on some sleep on the plane considering I’ve been awake for forty-eight hours now...and then, I’ll go crawling back to my job and apologize to my boss again. Assuming I haven’t gotten fired yet.”   “Why would you go back there? You hate it.”   “Where am I supposed to get money to live?”   “I still have the money that I legitimately won from the casino…”   “That’s yours.” You tease, “And you should keep it — it’s not like you have a job.”   He gasps in mock offense, hand over his heart. “I’ll have you know, I make a decent living selling my picture and drawing people on the street.” Taehyung pulls you closer to him, looking down at you. It’s too intimate and to outsiders, the pair of you appear more like a couple than friends. But there’s no time to linger in the way your heart is thundering in your chest when his smile falls and he becomes genuine.   “I’m serious. You shouldn’t go back to that place if it makes you so unhappy. You should….come with me instead.”   “Come with you? Where?”   “I still have my plane tickets. The ones you gave me,” he reminds you and points to the old bag slung across his abdomen. The two of you had ran to get your belongings in the hotel room and got out as quickly as possible. Everything you need is with you and when he puts it like that, he’s technically right. You could go anywhere in the world.   “I asked you for two not because I wanted to go back for a second time, but because I want you to come with me,” he admits as his cheeks begin to deepen in hue, embarrassed that he had thought about this before and many times at that. “I was even happier when you said you wanted to travel too and...I made a promise, right? I...I just want to keep it.”   You’re speechless. “Taehyung…”   “I have to leave anyways. I want to leave with you.” He stops walking and you halt with him. Taehyung is a scrambling, stuttering, nervous mess and you eat it all up. “I know it’s a lot to ask. You technically met me yesterday and now I’m asking you to travel the world with me and we don’t know each other that well—”   “I think we’ve gotten to know each other a lot in these past two days,” you refute. You can’t think of anyone else that’s been chased down by the mob and police with you. The experience definitely drove you closer together and you’re full-aware of his issues as he is aware of yours. Everything is out in the open. There’s nothing to hide and nothing you want to keep hidden from him.   Taehyung laughs and you add, “Too much actually.”   “Will you still come see the world with me?”   You never thought there would be a day where someone would ask you such a thing. It’s mind boggling to consider that you could’ve been with anyone. Anyone in this world that could’ve had unlimited wishes, that would’ve used you until the last moment, that would throw you away afterwards. But it was Taehyung of all people. You’re the one who’s lucky.    And you’re so glad that he’s your Cinderella.   “It would be my honour as your fairy godmother,” you mean it. Nothing excites you more. As long as you’re not chased by the police or the mob, you’re happy to go anywhere with him.   Taehyung’s smile almost makes his cheeks burst and he nods. “But before we go, there’s something I want to do.”   “You know we can’t stay here for long, right?”   “Yeah, but this will only take a second.” Taehyung’s body is facing you and his arm extends, palm opening and pointing towards the sky. You glance up at his face, trying to decipher his blank features, not knowing what he wants or if he wants you to hold his hand again. But what he says is not what you expect. “Give me your wand.”   You trust him enough at this point to hand it over. “You know you can’t do anything with it, right? I’m the only one that can use it.”   “Yeah, I know.” He holds the silver stick. It shimmers and shines against the light, glimmering as if sparkles are embedded into the surface. Taehyung grips your wand with both hands.   “What are you— Taehyung! No! You can’t break it! I tried—”   But the stick bends. And then suddenly it…   Snap.   Much to your horror, he announces it blankly, “I just broke it.”    “What the fuck?!” Your eyes are wide and your hands are curled around his wrist, trying to see the damage done. It’s snapped in half. And you can’t wrap your brain around it. It never even so much budged in your hands. It was concrete, unbending, unyielding. Yet, he snapped it as if it was an uncooked noodle. “How?!”   “I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Wasn’t hard. Maybe I got the power to do it cause I’m Cinderella.” His brows playfully wiggle, joking around, but you aren’t amused. You’re shocked.   “Why?”   “I don’t want you to feel like you’re my servant. I don’t want you to feel obligated towards me.” A shy smile spreads into his face and he lowers his arms, your grip on him loosened. “Happy ending? I’m already happy with you…”   You’re emotional, stunned to silence. But the words that croak out of your lips first is— “Wh-why are you so cheesy?”   His shy smile becomes another enormous grin. “You’re my fairy either way. I don’t need wishes.”   You let out a breathless scoff, walking away from him and trying to ignore the way a lump has formed in your throat, how your chest feels light and fluffy. He quickly catches up to your pace, synchronizing his steps with yours and he steals glances of your profile like he can’t get enough of you. “You’re paying for our taxi ride to the airport, right? Where are we going first?”   “Mumbai or Italy?” He laughs. “Your choice.”   He throws the wand into the nearby trash can, chucking it away and neither of you look back as you continue on your way down the street of Macau.   You’re still not sure what a happy ending entails, but you wonder if this is it — this contentment and bliss of being Taehyung’s fairy and princess.

[need-a-fugue]

Why Not? - Chapter Five

Summary: With a garage to run and a young daughter to, well… run after, Bucky Barnes doesn’t exactly have time for dating. And with his relationship track record – and the constant meddling of a certain overbearing best friend – he’s not so sure that’s a bad thing. But then he meets Annie – a rather insistent, pretty damn cute fellow car enthusiast – and it’s got him asking himself, despite all his hesitations, why not?

Author’s Note: Written for Little Darlin’s Mystery AU Challenge. Thanks to @sourpatchkidsandacokecan​ for triggering this… sprawling thing simply by supplying me with the prompt of Mechanic!AU for Bucky. It’s taken on a life of its own already… look at what you’ve done!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: Bit of angst, mostly fluff.

Chapter Five

They end up driving around the city until the sun begins to set, stopping only once along the way to partake of some ice cream – double fudge for Annie and butter pecan for Bucky – which they end up swapping halfway through. A quick scrub down with loads of napkins and hand sanitizer – I should’ve just brought baby wipes, you’re as bad as Lana – and more than a few raucous laughs and self-deprecating smiles – You’re the one who wore strawberry jam to dinner – and they find themselves back on the road, heading in the direction of his place. 

It’s almost nine by the time they get there, Annie not paying any attention at all as she steps through the door, too focused on making sure the Chinese delivery order is correct before hitting accept on her phone. “You don’t have to do that,” he tells her, a genuine lilt to his voice. “I can just make us something.”

“Oh,” she mutters without looking up. “Like waffles?”

He stops short in the small entryway, spinning to face her with a serious stare. “Do not think you’re leaving here without at least a dozen to take home with you.”

She snorts out a giggle, but doesn’t bother looking up until he flips on the lights and ushers her all the way in, softly closing the door behind her. Then… her eyes widen in both shock and awe.

“I know,” he murmurs, sounding utterly dejected. “I told you, the place is a wreck.” He kicks aside a stuffed monkey, launching it into the air and sending it somewhere back behind the couch. “Lana was with me all week so I didn’t really get a chance to clean.” He leans down and gathers a handful of toys into his arms – another monkey, some sort of dog-like action figures, a doll with a missing head – and spins awkwardly in a circle before dumping them back behind a shelf in the corner.

She glances at her phone just long enough to send the delivery order through and sputters out a laugh, turning in a lazy circle herself to take in the sheer chaos of the place. Her mouth drops as a thick chuckle dies in her throat. “My God… you are a slob!”

He grinds to a halt, brow furrowing, face twisting in a wholly incredulous expression. “Hey, most of this stuff isn’t mine.”

She immediately points to the small kitchen table, half of it taken up with what looks to be a turbo sitting atop oil-pocked newspapers, and raises an accusatory brow.

“I’ll have you know, that’s for a friend’s bike. Like I said, almost all of this crap belongs to… someone else,” he finishes, lips puckering with confusion when his gaze lands on the head of the aforementioned doll, placed precariously atop a box of Froot Loops. He quickly swipes both items, chucking the head into the trash – and internally dreading the possibility of having to explain where it went later – and shoving the sugary cereal into the pantry.

“Oh, I see,” Annie intones teasingly, stepping carefully over a pile of storybooks collapsed in the center of the living room. “Yes. I suppose that Lana went out and bought all of these things herself, brought everything home and then… decorated the house with them. All on her own.” She cocks a sly brow at him along with closed-lip smirk.

“Yeah,” he replies coolly, running a hand through his hair and looking sheepishly around the room, taking everything in and seeming a bit… lost for what to do. “Yeah, that’s about right.”

She spurts out a laugh and makes her way to the sofa, collapsing back and reclining into the fuzzy purple throw pillow behind her. “Food should be here in about an hour,” she breathes out, snuggling in deep to make herself comfortable.

Bucky disappears into the small kitchen, heading for the fridge that she can just make out from over the top of the breakfast bar. Something shimmers in her periphery and she shifts to see what it is, sliding further down the couch and twisting to her right to settle her back against the armrest. Frowning curiously, she tugs at the bright yellow fabric, plucking a sparkly princess dress from between the cushions.

“You into Belle?” Bucky asks casually as he returns to the living room to find her gently fingering the tulle skirt. He’s got two beers in hand, leans over to offer her one before he rather indelicately flops down beside her. A sharp wince pulls from between his teeth and he twists around to pull a plastic toy screwdriver out from beneath his hip, small growl sounding as he tosses it aside.

“I love Belle.” She sets her beer onto the floor by the sofa, carefully lays the glittery dress out over her chest and beams up at him. “Do I look pretty?”

He nods simply – appreciatively – and bites back a chuckle as he takes a quick swig from his beer. “Yeah, doll,” he replies, twisting around to set the bottle on the side table. “You look real pretty.”

She hums out a small laugh and lets her eyes slowly blink shut. “Once I get some kung pow chicken in me, I’ll be revived enough to clean this place up for you.”

“The hell you will,” he mutters, reaching out and pulling her feet into his lap. “You’re a guest here.” He tugs at her boots, almost smacking himself in the face with one when it comes off too suddenly, and then actually dragging her further down the couch – bright, melodic giggles spilling out of her – as he struggles with the other. “Jesus,” he intones, flinging the other boot across the room once she’s finally free.

“I hope you know where that landed,” she muses, letting herself melt a little further into the overstuffed sofa as he begins gently massaging her feet. “I’m a little worried I might never find it in here.”

“I’ll buy you a new pair. It’ll probably be easier.”

Her eyes drift shut again, the long day finally catching up with her. She hadn’t been back home since yesterday afternoon, crashing on her sister’s couch after gabbing all night about her date – the first date she’d been on since moving to the city well over a year ago. And of course, her six-month-old nephew had her up by five, which really wasn’t that big of a deal anyway, considering she had to be at work by six thirty to get Tony prepped for an impromptu trip to Sri Lanka.

Annie worked long enough – and strange enough – hours at Stark Industries to necessitate an entire closet full of attire in her small first-floor office, so changing out of her sister’s proffered sweats was no big deal. But running all over town in the short skirt and ankle boots – admittedly chosen for their cute factor and not any sort of utilitarian measure – while helping Pepper out with wedding things had left her craving those sweats like nobody’s business.

She lets out an involuntary moan when Bucky hits just the right spot, his thumb pressing into her instep in a way both painful and magical. “Where did you learn to do this?” she asks with an almost astonished cadence.

“The internet,” he replies blithely. She opens her eyes and lifts herself onto her elbows to glare at him, earning little more than a sheepish shrug in response. “When Nat was pregnant,” he mutters, voice low, almost shy, “she was waiting tables for a while… on her feet all day… said they always hurt. So I hit up YouTube for some tips.”

A small, tender smile splits her face. “Lucky lady.”

He shrugs again, scoffs as well. “I don’t know about that. She got stuck with me. For a while anyway.”

Her brow furrows and she hauls herself up a little higher, awkwardly tucking the fluffy purple back pillow behind her. “Why do you say that?” she asks, voice aching with sincerity. “Why do you say it like that… stuck with you?”

Another shrug. “We never meant… I mean… we were just friends. We fooled around some. Then… boom. Baby.”

“Yeah, but… still. She married you. I can’t imagine she ever thought she was stuck with you.” She flops back a bit, lets her eyes linger on the stark white ceiling above. “Not when you give foot rubs like this.”

A shy, almost nervous-sounding laugh burbles out of him, one that he quickly tries to cover by changing the subject, emitting with a lilt, “Why the hell would you wear those shoes all day if they’re so uncomfortable anyway?”

She lets out a small hum. “You have got a lot to learn about women.”

“Not something I haven’t heard before.”

She pulls herself upright and looks at him with a crooked smile. “You’re doing alright right now, though,” she offers with a wink before falling back into the pillow again. “I’m sorry,” she says after a moment. “I shouldn’t be this tired. It was just a looooong day.”

“Yeah? What’d you do?”

A short scoff spills from her lips. “You don’t want to know,” following it out along with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Bucky drops her foot and leans over to take hold of the flippant hand – along with her other wrist – hauling her up into a sitting position. She lets out a small squeak in protest and proceeds to collapse sideways into the rear cushions of the couch, remaining upright, though just barely. He stifles a laugh and gently swipes her mussed hair back behind her ear, fingers – admittedly – lingering longer than needed. “I want to know,” he says, voice slow and low, as his thumb drops to trace lazily down her neck before his hand finally falls away altogether, nervously coming back to rest on his thigh.

It takes her a moment to recover, the chill left behind from that single, slow touch sending a small shockwave through her that leaves her temporarily speechless. “Um,” she mutters amid a timid laugh. “Well… today, I mostly helped Pepper – Ms. Potts – out with some wedding arrangements.”

“That’s Stark’s fiancée?”

She nods.

“The one who used to have your job?” he asks with a teasing brow cocked.

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, technically. But that was a long time ago. Now she’s the CEO of Stark Industries.”

His brows twist in confusion. “What the hell is Stark then?”

She shrugs – “Figurehead.” – then cracks a smile at her own joke. “He’s still on the board. Still has his hands in pretty much everything.” A long, languid sigh rolls out of her. “And he does a lot of charity stuff, believe it or not. You know, everyone thinks that he’s just this vapid, selfish billionaire. But he’s given away millions in scholarship funds and endowments. And when he isn’t actively looking for businesses – and people – to invest in, he’s doing his own fundraising, setting up new grants and projects.” Her eyes tick away, stare shifting almost dreamily off into the distance. “He’s a really good person. Sometimes you just have to… dig a little to find it.”

Bucky nods – slowly, appreciatively – as he watches her far-off gaze with a sort of distant fondness of his own. Then, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips, he asks, “Are you one of his projects?”

Her head spins round in a flash, long hair flying and settling at her shoulders, revealing a look of absolute astonishment on her face. “What?”

He laughs – nervous, stilted. “No. No, I just meant… him trying to get you a date. Or…” His forehead furrows – the expression quickly becoming one of her favorite sights – as he finishes with, “Or deciding if I was… what? Good enough to go on a date with you?”

Her shoulders relax, tension quickly melting away. “Ah, that. Yeah, well… truthfully, he’s been trying to set me up for… well about as long as I’ve known him. All work and no play, he likes to say. Of course, he says that and then immediately sends me out on some impossible task that takes ‘til midnight to complete.” She shakes her head, ratcheting side to side to reset her thoughts and get back to the point. “I haven’t really dated anyone since moving to the city. And I think Tony views celibacy as some kind of personal affront. Or… sacrilege.”

“So sex is God?” he asks with a laugh.

“To Tony Stark? Yes. Sex, money, and power.”

“Yeah, he sounds like a real great guy,” he mocks. “How long have you been in the city?”

She drops her head, that beautiful blush blooming along her neck and cheeks as she utters shyly, “A little over a year. And I was commuting before that, which took up even more time. So, really… well, it’s been a while since I was… involved with anyone.”

He nods simply, lips pulling into a tight-lipped frown as he debates whether or not to tell her that, “I haven’t dated anyone in years. Haven’t gotten laid in a long-ass time either.” Then, snorting indelicately and dropping his head in a regretful shake, he mutters, “Shit. Why did I say that?”

A loud and boisterous chortle spills out of her. “I don’t know. But it made me feel better.”

“Yeah?” He looks over at her, crooked smile seeming cocky on the surface, but clearly covering a bundle of nerves as he gazes up at her, bright blue eyes glistening in the dim lamplight.

“Yeah,” she confirms lightly, turning away just a bit, that beautiful stare almost too much to take.

“So, where were you commuting from?” he asks then, awkwardly clearing his throat. “Please don’t say Long Island.”

Her mouth drops, gaping wide. “Why does everyone have such a problem with Long Island?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

“And I suppose you’ve always been in Brooklyn?” she snipes in return.

“Born and raised. Steve and I grew up on this same block.”

“Wow,” she mutters, a teasing lilt to the word. “So you and Steve have known each other… forever then?”

“Pretty much,” he replies, his eyes shifting away as a sudden darkness rolls over them.

She rather quickly recalls the incident from earlier, the palpable tension rolling off of him when discussing Steve taking Lana home. “And he’s… with your ex now?” she asks, showing hardly any hesitation.

Admittedly, thinking before speaking has never been one of Annie’s strong suits. Oh, she knows when it’s not her place to say something. She knows when subjects are better left untouched. But all too often, that little voice inside that tells her to shut her damn mouth sounds after she’s already spilled. Hell, that’s how Tony found out about her little crush to begin with, when she couldn’t stop prattling on about the cute guy who fawned over her Bronco, not even thinking about who she was sharing all of this with.

Bucky hesitates, gnawing on the corner of his lip as he – presumably – thinks on what to say. And, for a moment, she fears that her big mouth may have gotten her into trouble once again. But when he does speak, he doesn’t sound angry at all, not irritated nor annoyed with her inquiry in the least. Rather he seems… earnest. Candid, even.

“He moved in with Nat a few months ago,” he starts, shifting beside her. “They’ve been dating a while.” A long, deflating sigh billows out of him and he reaches for his beer, takes a nice, long swig before going on. “Didn’t really bother me much when they started. They’re a hell of lot better matched than we ever were. But… moving in…”

Annie hikes her shoulders up a bit, sitting a little straighter, pulling herself a little closer to him before asking, “It’s just… weird?”

He nods, takes another pull, then crinkles his brow and shakes his head instead. “No. Actually it’s not. I think maybe that’s the problem. This thing with them… it’s real. And that means… I guess that means…” He lets out a short, sardonic laugh and slams the bottle back down onto the side table, runs his hands through his hair in an almost violent way. “I don’t know what it means.”

She licks her lips slowly, eyes still trained on his fractious face. But for once, she says nothing.

Bucky’s gaze falls to the floor as his elbows drop to his knees. “It means he gets it all,” he mutters softly, voice barely a whisper. He shrugs, lets out a long sigh. “He’ll be Svetlana’s…” he utters in an almost despondent tone. “I don’t know. More than Uncle Steve.”

She slowly shifts on the couch next to him, folding her legs up beneath her. “And that worries you?”

“I don’t know,” he breathes out, sitting back and shaking his head languidly before sinking into the cushions. He stretches casually, reaching an arm back behind her and wrapping it loosely over her shoulders, the gesture seeming utterly ordinary and natural.

Without thinking, she settles in, leans her head back onto his bicep. “You trust him with her?”

Wide eyes shoot her way. “Yeah, of course. He loves her like crazy. And he’s great with her.” He looks away, gaze turning a bit pensive, melancholy even. “No, it’s not that. It’s just…”

“He might get to spend more time with her than you?” she asks, already knowing the answer. He bites down on his bottom lip, clearly not wanting to offer any kind of confirmation. “You mentioned that when she starts school, she’ll probably spend more time at her mom’s,” she mentions casually.

He nods, lets his lip slowly pop free from the tightly clenched teeth. “Yeah.”

“But,” she starts, turning bodily to face him. “Does he make waffles like you do? Dozens at a time with every topping imaginable?”

The tiniest smile quirks on his face. “No. No, Steve can barely boil water. When he has to feed her breakfast it’s usually donuts.”

“And what about…” she reaches down and plucks the felled princess costume from the floor, smoothing it out across her lap. “Dress up… does he play princess dress up with her?”

He cocks his head to the side, single brow raised high. “I never said I play dress up with her.”

“Oh so you’ve never put on a tiara just because that little girl asked you to?” His lips press into a tight, firm line, only barely managing to hide the telling smile breaking underneath. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She gives a single, definitive nod. “And would he let her completely trash the place like this?” she asks with a smirk.

“Oh, Steve definitely would. But he lives with Natasha now and she runs a tight ship, so he’s shit outta luck there.”

She leans back again and snuggles close to him, gently running her cheek along the smooth fabric of his T-shirt as her head lazily drops to his shoulder, and then to his chest. “But could he ever be her dad?” she asks, feeling him stiffen beneath her for a long, agonizing moment before his muscles loosen and he lets out a sigh.

“No. No one else could be,” he says, a hint of doubt still lingering in the forlorn words.

“My sister’s on her second husband,” she blurts out then. “So I know… I mean, I can see how hard divorce is on people. Well, actually, my parents split when I was a kid too. So… yeah…” She twitches nervously and he brings his hand down off the side of the couch, lays a giant palm atop her upper arm and slowly, soothingly rakes his thumb along her shoulder.

“And you turned out okay?”

“Well, I know how to pick up after myself at least.”

He snorts out a small laugh. “Guess there’s something you can teach me then, huh?”

“Guess so,” she mutters, snuggling deeper into his chest and letting her lids lazily drift shut. The soft, slow rhythm of his heart beats steadily beneath her ear, his breath warm atop her head, and before she even has the chance to second guess what’s about to happen, she drifts off to sleep.

000

He wakes her when the food arrives, shrugging off her wholehearted embarrassment when she spies a line of drool pocking his T-shirt as they get set up at the kitchen table. “I spent almost two years of my life covered in drool,” he mutters, unpacking the takeout. “Frankly, it’s the least disgusting bodily fluid I’ve gotten on me.”

Her face pinches in repulsion, rosy blush still nipping at the tops of her ears. “It’s a little different when it’s your kid, though.”

He waits for her to drop into a seat before flopping down himself, holding out a fork with one hand and a set of chopsticks with the other. “Who said all of that was from my kid?”

She chuckles shyly and plucks the proffered fork from his hand. “Good choice,” he mutters, tossing the chopsticks aside and grabbing another fork to dig into some lo mien. “No need to show off for me.”

“Oh, believe me, I wouldn’t be showing off. I’d only be embarrassing myself more.” She shovels some broccoli onto her plate, waiting patiently with a small, crooked grin as he casually reaches over to dump some fried rice out for her as well. “I went with Tony to Shanghai last month and we got hot pot. Which I had never had before.” From the corner of her eye, she continues to watch as he fills in her plate, spooning on some chicken and an eggroll. “We were halfway through the meal, I’d managed to eat maybe two pieces of… whatever it was I could actually catch with the chopsticks, when the waiter came over and set down a fork beside me. Just me. No one else. Didn’t even say a word, just kind of looked at me in that way you look at a child who’s having trouble tying his shoes as you take over and do it for him. You know the way? Like, good try, sport, but let me help you out here.”

He lets out a hearty laugh and slumps back in his chair, finally serving himself a heaping helping of each and every dish. She continues to watch him, a soft twinkle in her eye, one that only grows when he glances up and catches her staring, his eyes shifting nervously as he asks, “What?”

“Nothing.” She shakes her head, coy smile still pulling at the corner of her mouth. “It’s just… I don’t usually get served takeout.”

“Ah, yeah,” he breathes out self-consciously, setting down the final container and absently twirling his fork between his fingers. “I guess I’m just used to making up someone’s plate when sitting down to eat.”

“It’s cute,” she quips before popping a giant chunk of chicken into her mouth.

He quirks a side-eye at her as she struggles to chew around the bite. “You want me to cut it all up for you too? I’m pretty good at it.”

She snorts out a laugh, finally swallowing everything down and finishing it off with a quick swig of lukewarm beer. “I’m sure you are. Lots of practice, I imagine.”

His lips purse, head nodding purposively, and he points at her meal with his fork, single brow raised high. “You just let me know if you need more,” he says, mirthful expression cracking at the edges of his face. “But no fortune cookie ‘til you clean your plate.”

She hums out another laugh, scoops up another forkful of food. “Do you and Lana get Chinese a lot?”

He shrugs, swallows down his bite, and mutters. “Not too much. She’ll only eat white rice. And the cookies.”

“I went through a nothing-but-white-rice phase,” she says with a slow nod.

“Yeah? When you were a kid?”

“When I was 27.”

His brows curl together, pure amusement shining through the bewilderment. And he shakes his head fondly. “So, Stark took you to China,” he muses, swirling together some of the food on his plate. “You get to travel with him a lot?”

He catches her off guard, another too-large mouthful of food being slowly macerated. She smiles shyly, lips tightly closed as she struggles to finish chewing, to steadily swallow as he stares at her with an expression of mock impatience, his bright blue eyes positively swimming in a hypnotizing sort of joy. Finally, finally, she’s able to choke out, “Some. Not a lot. Just depends what he needs.”

Bucky nods, a long, languid bobbing of his head as he seems to think on her words. “You do whatever he needs? I mean… like you’re at his beckon call?”

Her forehead furrows a bit, eyes narrowing. “No, not really,” she offers with a shrug. “I mean… sometimes I work kind of crazy hours. And sometimes I’ll travel with him. But he’s pretty good about… understanding.”

He cocks his head. “Understanding what?”

She lets loose with a soft chortle. “Understanding what us real humans need. That man can go for days without a break. He doesn’t even need coffee to keep him going. If he’s on to something… some kind of great idea… he’ll run with it, forgoing sleep, food… making me cancel all of his appointments.” She looks back up at him, waving her empty fork absently through the air. “That’s actually the toughest part of my job… keeping track of all the excuses I’m forced to make on his behalf. Making sure no one catches us in a lie.”

He goes strangely silent for a long moment, eyes dropping to the still-full plate in front of him. “He makes you lie for him?”

The tenor of his voice makes it clear that he doesn’t like that one bit, the way his jaw stiffly sets and shifts when she chances a glance at him only confirming his disapproval. “No,” she says amid a nervous-sounding cough. “No, I mean… sometimes I have to make up excuses for him. But…” She shrugs then, realizing that, “It’s just part of the job.”

He looks up at her then, the blue of his eyes shifting in shade, making his gaze deep, bottomless, darkly profound. “Is that the job you want, Annie?” he asks, voice low and sincere.

Her mouth gapes, bobs open and closed for a moment before, “I… I don’t know,” spills out of her.

“You just… you don’t to seem to have a problem going after what you want,” he intones, dropping a short chuckle and a sly wink at the end.

She drops her head a bit, turning away to stave off the blush that she’s fairly certain would burn at any woman’s cheeks after encountering that sultry, blue-eyed wink. “Yeah, yeah,” she breathes out with a slight chuckle. “I don’t know why you even let me in here. I’m obviously stalker material.”

He shrugs, turns back to his food and absently twirls his fork through some lo mien. “I was afraid you’d find some other powerful billionaire to sic on me if I turned you down.”

“I really only know the one,” she says with a sigh. “Met others in passing, but I don’t think they’d commit like Tony did.”

He snorts out a quick laugh, taking a beat to stare absently down at his plate as he seems to mull something over in his head. “It’s just…” he mutters vaguely. “You just… seem like you should be the high-powered billionaire.” A swift, surprised laugh chokes out of her, causing his lips to unconsciously quirk upwards despite his gaze never leaving the pile of food before him. “Really, though. You seem like you could do more… so much more, than just clean up after some selfish – ”

“Careful,” she interrupts, a hint of sincerity to her otherwise light tone.

“You know what I mean.”

“I’ll have you know, I’m very good at cleaning up after people,” she teases, slowly shoving aside a small wrench and absently rubbing at the grease smear it leaves behind on the table. “As you will see later.”

��I’m serious,” he declares, pulling his shoulders straight and tall to validate his statement. “You… you’re smart and driven… and sweet and funny. Patient.”

“Easy to talk to,” she interjects, repeating his comment from the other night, the one she immediately – and proudly – committed to memory.

He nods, rolling his eyes just a little. “Easy to talk to,” he affirms before falling silent for another long moment. “What do you want to do? I mean… I’m guessing you didn’t exactly dream of being a personal assistant when you were little?”

Her brows lift and drop in rapid succession, as she takes a second to reflect. “No,” she drawls out finally. “No, when I was little I dreamt of being a princess.” Her eyes positively gleam as she tosses a quick glance over her shoulder at the yellow dress draped over the couch in the other room.

He snorts a laugh, shaking his head tenderly as he digs up another forkful of fried rice. “I’m gonna have to take you and Svetlana to Disney World, aren’t I?”

Her breath catches in her chest at the seemingly blasé comment. Eyes widening despite every attempt to hide her surprise – and glee – as she looks over at him. He’s busy staring at his plate, still swirling the different dishes together into some sort of Chinese mélange. She gratefully accepts the brief moment of diversion to quell her stuttering heart, clearing her throat to gather her words. “I wish someone would,” she murmurs, aiming for joking but landing somewhere in the realm of positively wistful.

If he picks up on her surprise or excitement – or her pathetic attempt at covering them – it doesn’t show, a simple, “Really though,” falling from his lips amid a quick hiss after downing the rest of his beer. He quirks his head at her, holding up his empty bottle to wordlessly ask if she’d like another. She nods and he pushes up from the table, turning to reach into the fridge, his face buried behind the open door as he asks, “Once you realized that wasn’t gonna work out, what’d you want to do?”

She waits for him to sit back down, feels her face flush when he directs all of his attention – and those deep ocean eyes – her way. “Well, um,” she sputters. “Well, I went to school… I actually have a degree in organizational psychology.”

He pulls back, face twisting into a frown. “What’s that?”

“It’s basically just applying psychological principles to the workplace. I found it interesting. You know… figuring out how people operate, how best to communicate with them, how to determine if they fit into certain workplace dynamics.” She shrugs. “But I didn’t really give much thought to what I might do with it.”

“What can you do with it?”

She hums thoughtfully, dropping her chin to her open palm. “I could do something in human resources… maybe consulting. Could always go back and get my masters too, I guess.” She shrugs again before pulling upright and returning to her food. “I don’t know.”

He blows a long, slow breath out of his nose and leans back in his chair, his gaze still trained on her. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised about the psych part.” She raises an inquiring brow at him, forkful of rice halfway to her mouth. “You’ve obviously psychoanalyzed the shit outta Stark. You got me to talk about stuff that… that I don’t talk about.” He takes a quick swig of his beer and tips the bottle towards her. “You got a gift there, Annie.”

Her face remains slack and emotionless as her gut fills with an odd mix of pride and delight… and trepidation. It’s strange, talking about this side of herself… this part of her life that she’d made off limits with her family some time ago – quickly tiring of their inquiries about just what she planned to do with her life. But the truth is, this is something she’s been thinking about a lot lately, questioning ever since she made the decision to move out to the city and devote herself wholly to being Tony Stark’s aide. Because a part of her – a big part of her – took that leap in the hopes that working for the brilliant entrepreneur might somehow lead to something more.

The only problem is, she doesn’t have a clue what that more might be.

Bucky shifts in his seat, setting down his beer and picking back up his fork, shoving it indelicately into the kung pow chicken on his plate. “If you’re happy doing what you’re doing, just ignore me,” he says before taking a huge mouthful.

She watches him with a deep sort of interest, as though this veritable stranger might just be able to help her find her path in life. Maybe. Somehow. “When did you know you wanted to be a mechanic?” she asks simply.

He shrugs, swallows down his food. “I didn’t. I just… was. I mean, I like cars. I guess I’m good at it.” Another blithe shrug. “I worked at a garage for a while as a kid and then… I don’t know… Steve started talking about starting up our own. I guess I figured… why not?”

“Why not?” she repeats dully. “You chose a career, invested in a business… cemented your life in place, and you’re reasoning behind it was why not?”

He smiles slyly at her, the expression causing a pool of warmth to gather in her gut. “Sometimes that’s all there is to it, doll. You don’t have to overthink everything. Sometimes things happen – an offer on a garage or an unplanned baby or… what the hell ever – and you just gotta decide to either roll with it or… I don’t know, shut it all down.”

“And you rolled with it,” she mutters, more so to herself as she mulls over his words.

“Yeah,” he breathes out amid a soft laugh. “Sometimes that’s the way to go. So you don’t miss out on something… great. Sometimes you just gotta say to yourself, why the hell not?”

[vagrantblvrd]

Avenues (1/1)

Summary: The way Jeremy and Matt meet – it’s kind of a disaster.

Well, okay, not a disaster, just.

Par for the course for them, which is more or less the same when you think about it.

Notes: For @cool-loser who asked for Jeremy/Matt and FAHC first meeting. :D?

(Read on AO3)

Jeremy’s new to Los Santos and low in the pecking order of his crew.

Small-time criminals just trying to get by in Los Santos and smart enough to avoid trouble with other gangs and crews by sticking to their little corner of the city.

It’s a step up for him from throwing himself into the ring night after night and hoping to make it out with no serious injuries just to make rent.

The tiniest step up, anyway.

He’s gotten better at stealing cars, faster.

Fills the quota his boss sets for them with time to spare to pick up side jobs here and there. Earn enough to so he can splurge on little luxuries like food that doesn’t come out of a box or a can.

He’s on his last car of the night, some idiot who parked their car in shady looking parking lot down on the east side of the city.

Older model missing its hubcaps and obvious that it hasn’t been washed in far too long. There’s rust creeping up in spots and overall it’s in pretty shit condition. Might get a few hundred on some used car lot, but it’s more likely it’ll just get parted out in a chop shop somewhere.

Jeremy checks the area for witnesses, but aside from a few workers on their way to a bar after work there’s no one around.

The door to the car isn’t locked, which makes Jeremy pause.

Because one, what kind of idiot leaves their car in a place like this, let alone leaves it unlocked?

And two, the inside of the car is a mess.

Cracked upholstery with padding poking up in spots, sure, but there’s trash and other shit everywhere. Empty food container from takeout placed and boxes piled up on the passenger seat toppled over to spill their contents across the driver’s side. Unused napkins (thank God) on the floorboard and when he peeks into the backseat it’s more of the same with clothes and blankets mixed in.

“Jesus Christ,” Jeremy mutters, knowing he’ll get an earful for stealing a hunk of junk like this.

It’s one thing to bring his boss a piece of shit car on its last legs, and another thing entirely to bring one as messy as this one since it means extra work on their part. Jeremy shakes his head and gets to work, wincing when the car’s engine groans to life, alarming noises coming from under its hood.

It isn’t until he’s at a red light half a mile down the road that he realizes he’s not alone in the car.

Hears faint shifting, sliding, but figured it was all the crap in the car moving around with the way it shakes when he goes anywhere near the posted speed limit. Doesn’t think much of it as he tries to map out a route to the location he’s supposed to bring the car without risking taking it on the freeway in his head when he hears someone clearing their throat.

“Uh, so,” someone says, sleep-thick voice mild confusion.  “I’m pretty sure I don’t know you?”

Jeremy would like to say he doesn’t let out a startled yelp, but that would be a boldfaced lie, wouldn’t it.

Has a fucking heart attack as he turns around to see some skinny fuck blinking owlishly at him, still half-buried in the pile of crap in the backseat.

“What the fuck?”

The guy just stares at Jeremy for the longest time, and then reaches up to push his glasses up. Eyes flicking to something behind Jeremy, and coughs.

“Light’s green, dude.”

Jeremy -

“What the fuck.”

The guy’s just watching him, not alarmed in the least at waking up to discover someone’s not only broken into the car he was sleeping in, but is actively stealing it.

With him in it.

Jeremy looks around the neighborhood they’re in, notices a few familiar landmarks that help ground him.

“I’m just,” Jeremy says, brain working overtime to process the situation, looking around the neighborhood they’re in and spotting familiar landmarks that help ground him. “I’m gonna take us. Over there.”

========

Over there is an all-night diner. Greasy spoon kind of place Jeremy’s gone to a before after a few rounds in the ring. The staff have seen just about everything there is to see in Los Santos.

Stands to reason if they didn’t give him a second glance when he was fresh from a fight they won’t bat an eye when he comes in with some scruffy looking semi-hobo trailing after him.

He gets them a booth in the back, and thanks the waitress who brings them water and coffee without being asked.

Jeremy toys with the corner of his menu while the guy studies his. Makes these little noises every so often like he’s considering each item on it as though it’s some kind of major life decision.

Who can say, given what little Jeremy knows of him so far it might be.

“So, uh,” Jeremy says when he can’t not anymore. “What’s up. You know, with you?”

The guy glances up, head tilted to the side.

“What?”

Jeremy stares at the guy.

The guy stares back.

“Do you - “ Jeremy trails off, not sure how to ask the guy if he has any idea how stupid he was sleeping  in his car like that, in a neighborhood like that without coming off as an asshole, but. “Uh.”

The guy keeps staring at him, and Jeremy goes from fidgeting with his menu to holding on to it as if it’s a lifeline. Or you know, rather than straight up throttling this guy because Los Santos is going to eat him alive.

And oh boy does the guy notice.

Eyes dropping to Jeremy hands and back up to meet his eyes.

Raises his eyebrows, and then that weirdly apathetic expression of his cracks, this slow smile spreading over his face as he laughs.

And laughs and laughs and laughs.

It’s not an unpleasant thing, makes Jeremy want to laugh too, but you know. The whole thing about this guy being a complete moron.

After a moment the guy gets himself back under control, leans his face in his hand as he regards Jeremy.

“This is by far the best carjacking I’ve experienced since I got here. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Jeremy is beyond lost, and a little concerned at the implication the guy’s been carjacked before, because Los Santos.

“What?”

========

So.

The guy’s name is Matt and Jeremy was one hundred percent right about him being an idiot.

New transplant to Los Santos like Jeremy, and somehow made the cross-country drive here in his junker of a car.

Claims he’s good with computers although Jeremy’s yet to see him in action, and also -

“Oh, dude, nice.”

He’s Jeremy’s roommate?

Something like that, since he has nowhere else to go and Jeremy’s got a couch he can sleep on and he thinks he’s still in shock about accidentally kidnapping Matt. (Kidnapping, abducting, Jeremy’s not a fucking lawyer.)

Feels a little weird about letting him fend for himself in Los Santos, and anyway, what harm could it do? Matt’s taller than Jeremy, sure, but he’s a twig.

Jeremy pokes his head out of his tiny kitchen to see Matt looking through his game collection, and shoves that twinge of guilt he gets every time he sees it.

He should trade them in along with the console since he doesn’t have a lot of time to play in between everything else. That, and it’d help take some of the strain off when it comes to bills and food and whatever else, but it’s nice to have something that’s not connected to the shit he does for a living these days.

Matt’s looking more animated than he has since Jeremy met him, that moment where he cracked the hell up in the diner aside.

“You can play if you want, just don’t delete my saves,” Jeremy says, because he’s got groceries to deal with first.

When Jeremy explained the whole bit about stealing his car, Matt had laughed and told Jeremy he could still have it since it didn’t belong to him anyway.

Which.

Not like Jeremy can judge him, and it had been a weird enough night as it was, so.

He got the lecture of a lifetime from his boss, but he also got his cut and that had been enough to cover bills and food for the week for him and Matt and that’s all he cares about for the moment.

“You don’t mind?” Matt asks, thread of uncertainty to it like he’s finally realized how bizarre this whole thing is.

“Just play the damn thing,” Jeremy says, smiling to to take the sting out of words because Matt -

There’s something kind of lost about him that Jeremy recognizes in himself, and figures it won’t hurt to stick together for now.

They can hardly do worse for themselves, and who knows where it could take them one day?

[catch22inareddress]

Kismet

Della Fontaine is the typical girl next door. Fresh from North Carolina and coming to the Big Apple for the change of scenery. However, her next door neighbor, Sebastian, is the opposite of her. Outgoing, handsome, popular, with a twinge of heartbreaker lurking around his soft edges. 

His ex is the epitome of everything she’s not. A model, vicious to the core, and willing to go to extremes to make sure that Sebastian’s sees Della for what she isn’t. Her. 

 What happens when neighbors become friends while trying to ignore the chemistry between them? Will the stars keep pushing them together or will it all come crashing down?

Chapter One: Designed by Destiny

1. Fate; a predetermined or unavoidable destiny.

I never believed in fate or kismet or whatever the hell you want to call actions or consequences that makeup one's life. It's arduous to think that no matter what you do, no matter what decision you made you will end up at the exact same point because it was by fate's design. I've made selfless choices and been a reasonable person in hopes that the next person would pay it forward, not to benefit myself or my situation. Other times, I've been selfish and made a decision only to help myself, I'm human. Yet, none of these choices that I have ever made hurt anyone.

Every break up I've ever had has been amicable. Although, it probably helped that it lacked in all things passion and was more practical than anything else.

The reason I'm currently mulling over my belief in kismet is the fact that my very handsome and recently unattached neighbor is doing pull-ups from his balcony while I'm pretending to read my book.

While I could say that me choosing to sell all of my belongings and leaving all of my friends behind in North Carolina to move to New York was just an arbitrary decision. That this building that my new boss just happened to need to sublet was a fluke when I had no place set up to live. I could also say that the fact that my neighbor being non-other than Sebastian Stan, the walking lady boner, was just pure luck and nothing else.

Kismet? Luck? At this point, do I really care? Not particularly. He's single, sure. However, let's be realistic. I'm not like his last drop dead modelesque Brazilian style girlfriend. I'm the girl next door type who works mostly from home as a graphic designer who decided that for whatever reason, wanted to work closer to the actual office when I don't EVER go into said office. Him just being single means I don't feel guilty for eye diddling him from the next balcony.

I've been here for a few months and still haven't gotten used to his god-like perfection. I keep thinking that staring at him more will help with that but ...no, not yet. Like many other women, I am not immune to his charms.  At our first encounter, I nearly was a stuttering mess of goo all over the floor. The mere recollection of it makes me turn shades of pink.

3 months ago:

"Hmm, box number 5?" I said looking for my mailbox. The numbers were worn off even though the building was newly renovated and in near pristine condition.  

I spotted it and inserted the key, but it got stuck to my dismay. "Seriously?" As I grunted and tugged at the key, I heard a girlish giggle from behind me.

"Have you never worked a mailbox before?" I turned to see this 5'10'' model that was apparently a mean girl in school. I gave her my best smile despite myself.

"I have, but it would seem the ones in New York are sooo different from North Carolina....and I just can't figure it out." I drew out my southern accent for effect.

Just as I said it a broad-shouldered man with a baseball cap came around the corner chuckling at my statement, while his girl toy was huffing at my sarcastic remark. To be frank, I was surprised she even picked up on the sarcasm. "Not funny, Sebby."

He shrugged. "Funny, especially because you were being rude, Sophia." Hmmm. Sophia. Sounds exotic. As soon as my eyes meet his bright blue orbs, all my snark went straight back to the Carolina's in a handbasket. "H-Hi."

He held out his hand. "Sebastian. We're neighbors. This is my girlfriend. Sophia. I apologize for her manners, she can help it, but she chooses not to."

My slack jaw must've thrown him off because he just smirked and stared at me. I managed to garner some of my wits back, yay for womanhood everywhere. "Well, that sounds like a personal problem. I'm sure she'll do great things in life.." He smiled as we both took in her making funny faces at her selfie camera. He grunted out a sarcastic yea as I tried to hide my snicker.

He reached over my shoulder while I held my breath wondering what in the good gravy he was doing. Unfortunately, he didn't grab a lock of my hair and gently put it behind my ear, he did do the next best thing. At least, that's what I will keep telling myself. He grabbed the key that was currently within the grips of hell, otherwise known as my antique mailbox.

He laughed while he gently tried not to manhandle the government's property while I ogled him and his primadonna princess stared at her snapchat and took selfies behind us. "All the boxes get stuck occasionally. You have to pull the key out just a bit, then turn." I tried to hold my breath versus breathing the scent of him in. All woodsy pine and pure deliciousness. "Ah. Thank you for letting me in on the building secret. And here I thought I would have to move." He instantly frowned.

"Now we can't have that, neighbor. The last woman that lived here was a wallbanger and kept me up most nights." Had I been drinking the pretentious drink that his girl was drinking, I would've spewed it all over his preposterously handsome face.

"Sorry, wallbanger? Loud?" He chuckled while Sophia cleared her throat showing her readiness to leave. Slowly,  the three of us made our way to the elevator while she remained transfixed on her social media app. I couldn't help but think that if this were my man, I would put my phone in the sink disposal for more talk time with him, yet here she was squandering precious minutes. Like they say, 'One man's trash is another man's treasure.'

He blushed a bit before continuing his explanation. "Yea. She had a few boyfriends throughout the few years she lived here. But man was she noisy,  the walls aren't thick just so you know. Our beds are on the same one, and her frame would knock the wall and wake me up. I was sooo happy when she moved." I couldn't contain the laugh that bubbled up from within my noticeably smaller chest. Damn Sophia and her genetics....or surgeon.

"Well, that's just fantastic. I'm never gonna look at my boss the same way." He looked at me with his brow furrowed. "Oh, I'm subletting from her. She's..my boss." He let out this heartstopping laughter that made my cheeks hurt I smiled so hard. I probably looked like the Chesire Cat just got a catnip toy, but I didn't care. I risked a glance at Sophia, and she seemed annoyed at his larger than life presence and laughter. He held his stomach as his laughter quieted down.

"That is rich. Please, tell me how that goes." The elevator came to a stop on our floors, and he gestured for Sophia and me to get off before him. I walked past him to go to my door and looked back after he let her inside. He spoke a bit softer to my surprise.

"Sorry about her. She's...well nevermind. Just sorry. But hey, don't be a stranger." I smiled as I tried and failed miserably to be casual and missed my door, nearly falling into my apartment. Sebastian, thankfully, stifled his laughter and only smiled at my clumsiness. "Thanks, but I don't want the fake nails to come out. Oh! That was mean. I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "No worries. What's your name, Carolina?" I smiled. "Della, Della Fontaine." He went closer into his apartment. "Sebastian Stan. Nice to meet you, Della Fontaine."

Present:

He was the most genuine person I had met since coming to New York. Well, his whole crew was pretty straightforward, to be fair. He took me under his wing and showed me the best food trucks and places to gorge myself properly.  

"Hey, Della!" He ripped me from my thoughts as he threw a pen at my head from his balcony, missing me entirely but scaring my cat Hagrid. Sebastian yelled out a sorry to the beautiful Maine Coon as he skirted inside to find sanctity.

"You shouldn't throw things, Seb. Last time you pegged Will, and it poked Chris in the eye. Not even sure how that happened." He shrugged and wiped the sweat off his brow while leaning on the railing; naturally, I ogle. I give good ogle.

"What are you doin' tonight, Carolina?" I put my book down, sitting up and shrugging. "I'm suupppooossseee to be setting up my dating profile, but if someone dangles a twinkie in front of me with better plans, I'm game. By better plans I mean laundry, grocery shopping, moving, even driving you to the airport." He frowned but then smiled at my ridiculousness.

"You can't do online dating in New York. So I will definitely rope you in on something better." He stood up stretching. Was he purposely trying to torture the women and me across the street? I know at least two of them have binoculars. One of which is his ex. Yep. Different story, another time.

"First, thank you for whatever plans you have pre-emptively made for me. Second, why can't I date online in New York?" I stood up and wandered over to my side of the balcony to be closer to him.

He gave me his famous, "Are you serious?" look, like that was going to provide me with allll the answers to the universe. My rebuttal was a challenging, yet mature, raising of the eyebrows.

"Alright, you want me to say it? You're too sweet and good, the girl next door. Wallstreet will devour you. Which means you'll have to bail me out for kicking the douchebags ass for hurting you." Part of me jumped for joy at the thought of my very own knight in shining armor, but then the nail in my coffin came.

"Look, if you really wanna date someone. I can set you up." What's that? Oh sure. I love roses on my headstone. Red, please.

I cleared my throat and tried to sound sprightly. "Only if I get to screen them like online dating can. I don't want to be set up with your dry cleaner or shoe repair guy. Not when you have people like Evans in your arsenal of friends. Not sayin' Evan's would go for a girl like me, just don't set me up with a dumpy loser or I'll cut you. Or at the very least jump on my bed all night long."

He narrowed his eyes, daring my sauciness. "You wouldn't." I nodded. "Oh, one bad date and trust me, I would. Chose wisely." As I turned to sashay into my flat. "Text me my plans tonight, so I know what to wear."

I felt like I won this round as I looked back at the playful glint in his baby blues.

The strikethroughs below didn’t work so head on over to the tag list and take a peek or make corrections.

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PLEASE COMMENT AND MY ASK BOX IS ALWAYS OPEN. I’M A LOVER OF ALL MY READERS SO FEEL  FREE TO HIT ME UP ANYTIME!!! THANK YOU!!!

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[sending-the-message]

I Have the Worst Fucking Roommate in the World by AsDeathBeckons

I know, I know. A lot of you will say I’m being sensational or I’m using hyperbole. But I’m not. I’m really not. This guy is literally going to drive me insane. Allow me to explain.

I met Gordon back when we were kids in elementary school. He was even weird back then. He was small and thin, with big, gray eyes and hair that was never combed. He didn’t have any friends and he always smelled like cheese.

No, he and I didn’t grow closer together over the years; This isn’t one of those stories. I graduated high school and went to a prodigious university for a few semesters before the stress got to me and I dropped out. I returned to town and, because my folks wouldn’t take me back, I had to find a roommate. Well, unfortunately for me, Gordon was looking for one as well. He was living in a two-bedroom house with an attic and a basement, and I figured I wouldn’t have to deal with him much given how much space we both would have in the house.

Everything was okay the first few months, aside from a few things. One, Gordon was the type to use ten different dishes in a single day and never wash them. Like, ever. So I found myself scrubbing ceramic way more often than I should have. Another thing was the fact that Gordon, although private, seemed to take certain liberties just because we were living in “his house.” I once walked into the livingroom, a girl accompanying me, and saw Gordon beating his meat to anime characters. Gordon looked at me, literally made eye contact, and then glanced back at the television, continuing his session. The girl went home in quite a hurry, and I was forced to follow Gordon’s example that night. Gordon also walked around in his underwear, sometimes wearing the same pair three days in a row. I never saw him leave the house, so I had no idea how the hell he was paying his half of the rent. But the worst part? Gordon was a hoarder.

The guy hated to throw anything away. I would come home and find empty McDonald’s cups or UPS boxes that had already been emptied of their contents and left haphazardly on the coffee table. After throwing them out, I would wake up the next day and find the trash can tipped over, with the cups either back on the table, stuffed in the closet, or put in the back of the refrigerator, even though they were empty. This was the case for practically everything Gordon owned; Clothes too small to fit him protruded from under the couch or the closet in the hallway; old papers and binders from as far back as his middle school days were up in the attic, along with who knows what else; broken foosball tables and empty potato chip bags had been tossed into the basement. And, speaking of the basement, the place was so stuffed with random shit that I avoided it altogether. Going down there, or even to the attic, was a health risk.

One day, Gordon and I got into it. I had had a long day at work, and I was looking forward to going home and eating my leftover pulled pork sandwich and drinking a couple beers. I walked into the house to find Gordon sitting on the couch, his hairy feet resting on the coffee table, with my whole six pack of Shiner (he doesn’t even drink) empty next to them, and the leftovers of my pulled pork sandwich on a plate next to him on the couch. I lost it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, man? We have all that food in there and you decided to eat my shit?”

Gordon looked at me as though I was the one who had offended him. “I didn’t see your name on it. You should leave a note if you don’t want other people eating your food.”

“I have! This isn’t the first time, Gordon! I had a terrible day today-“

“Oh, you didn’t enjoy work? Boohoo, that’s why it’s called work!” Gordon muttered, turning back to the T.V. I was angry, and wasn’t holding back any longer.

“At least I have a job. How the hell do you pay for anything anyway?”

“My mother helps me out, actually, asshole. I find such things as ‘work’ undesirable. Clearly ‘work’ can make people act irrational and childish.”

I would’ve kicked his ass, but a voice in my head told me that it wasn’t the right thing to do. This was his house, after all. I wasn’t trying to get kicked out. I swallowed my curses, stormed to my bedroom, and slammed the door behind me. I went to bed hungry and angry that night.

A few days later, I was doing the dishes and Gordon was holed up in his room. There was a knock on the door, and I turned off the sink, wondering what the hell Gordon had ordered this time. You can imagine my surprise when I found a gorgeous blonde woman standing in the doorway, her gray eyes full of joy and excitement.

“Hi!” she said, and, still dumbfounded, I only stared at her for a few seconds. Those beautiful eyes of hers narrowed and she asked, “Are you okay?”

“Uhh, yeah, of course. Are you looking for someone?”

“Yes, I am. Don’t you remember me? I’m Gordon’s sister, Serena.”

“Serena?” I said aloud, and then it came back to me. Gordon did have a little sister that I remembered distinctly. But she definitely didn’t look like this back then.

“Yeah…can I come in?”

“Sure, yeah, come in.”

Serena went to Gordon’s door and knocked. When there was no response, she returned to the livingroom.

“He must be asleep.”

“No, I doubt it. I think he goes into legit hibernation sometimes. He can go for days in there.”

“Right. He’s been that way ever since our mom died. He’s been so withdrawn emotionally, but the Gordon I know is still in there.”

I would’ve told her that Gordon had been weird his entire life, but decided against it. If I was ever going to have a chance with this beautiful woman, insulting her brother wasn’t the way to go.

“Tell him I came by, will you? I may be able to stop by again on Friday.”

“Yeah, of course. It was good seeing you again, Serena!”

Serena smiled and left the house. I watched her go from the window, then went back to my show. A couple of days later, I found myself dogsitting a friend’s Poodle named Nancy. Nancy was more trouble than she was worth. She shit on the floor less than ten minutes after I brought her back inside from her walk, she chewed a hole through my shoe, and she managed to unplug the microwave and nearly crushed herself with it before I dived down to save for her. My own head aching and stars swimming in my vision, I heard, somewhere far off in the distance, the sound of the basement door creaking. I sat up just in time to see Nancy vanish through a crack in the door.

“No! Nancy, come back, dammit!”

I chased after her, flinging the door open. The Poodle was gone; She had managed to disappear into the sea of shit that didn’t belong that Gordon had accrued. I cursed again and promised Nancy that this might be her last day if she didn’t come back from down there. The little shit ignored me and I was forced to make my way down the rickety flight of stairs. “Nancy! Nancy come here, damn it!”

It really was a maze down there. I could see old toys, rocking chairs, broken dressers, tennis tables, furniture, rusted kitchen appliances, coat racks, and all manners of things down there. The only thing I couldn’t see was Nancy. I stumbled around for a bit before the inevitable happened. I stepped on a rubber duck and slipped, landing flat on my back. Groaning and promising myself that Gordon was going to be paying my hospital bill, I turned over and finally noticed Nancy. She was in a dark corner, beside a broken canoe, chewing on a bone. “There you are, you little shit.”

I stood back up and walked, a little more carefully now, towards the dog.

“Where’d you get that bone Nan…” I trailed off as I caught sight of what was in the canoe. It was a corpse, dressed in a purple dress, white pearls around her neck. She still had hair, though it was all gray now. I was going to scream, but I covered my mouth with my hand. I shouldn’t have been surprised, honestly. Gordon never could get rid of things.

[soto-translates]

Saiyuki Crossroaders ch2 pt1

This is chapter 2 of the online novel Minekura sensei began posting on the Zero Sum website. 

You can read my translations of chapter one here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 

 The Sanzo Ikkou stopped in Maakou Town, Shangri-la's Las Vegas, to get Sanzo's gun fixed, but now the gold card is missing...

Image: The Sanzo Ikkou has set food in “Maakou Town”, Shangri-la’s greatest pleasure fortress.  In this town dominated by the Snake’s Head mafia and whirling with desire, what is the test that awaits the four men...? Sink, swim, or break.

Chapter 2: The Sleepless People

The room was filled with light from the elegant ceiling fixture.  However, the vulgar neon from the pleasure district flooded in through the drawn curtains of the large in-set window, and rapidly colored the stock-still Sanzo Ikkou red, blue and green as though toying with them.  Amidst the heavy silence and frivolous colors, one man deepened the wrinkle between his brows and traced back over the day’s memories; one man turned his mind to previous developments; one man peered into the others’ faces one after another; one man stopped thinking and played with the damaged ends of red hair.

“...... There’s nothing to be done if it’s been lost.”  The first one to calmly break the current tension was, of course, Hakkai.

The credit card - their lifeline - had disappeared.  Nothing could begin without accepting this fact.

“We have lost the card many times before.  It’s been damaged in battle, too.  Luckily this is Shangri-la’s largest pleasure district; the system for reissuing it should be smooth.”

“Yeah, yeah you’re right.”

When Goku smiled, relieved, Gojyo followed his lead, pulling at the tips of his bangs.  “I mean, this hotel has you pay at the end, right?  Same with the restaurant we ate dinner at.  So we don’t need any cash to eat or drink within the hotel’s facilities.”

“.....  Looks like we’ll be spending unnecessary time here until the card gets reissued,”  Sanzo whispered, extremely displeased with the misfortunes that had come pouring out.  But he couldn’t be angry at anyone because he was the one who had decided to come to this town.

......However.

“The problem for now is payment for the gun repair.  I’d made arrangements to pick up and pay for it tomorrow.”

“For how much?”

“Don’t know.  He said it wouldn’t be cheap.”

“...... ‘Not cheap’ in this town means you’re gettin’ gouged.”  Gojyo, having just experienced the expensive reality of this town, furrowed his brown anxiously.

“Then there is no way we could possibly pay for it with the cash we have on hand.  ...Sanzo, do you think you could negotiate a hold on payment?”

“...... I don’t look forward to it.”  Sanzo clicked his tongue and lifted a cigarette to his lips.

 --- “Leave as soon as your gun is fixed.”

The old man was probably worried for Sanzo’s safety when he gave that warning.  It would be far too embarrassing to give him a stupidly honest explanation like “I lost my card so I’ll be staying here a while”.  Even if the old man agreed to wait on payment, there’s no way he would return the gun until paid in full.  It would be incredibly reckless to be unarmed for several days in this strange town where youkai freely came and went.

“... ‘s that okay, Sanzo?”

“No.  But we have no choice,” Sanzo self-deprecatingly answered Goku, worry shining in the younger man’s eyes for some reason.

“At any rate, I’ll go contact the card company and put in an application to have the card reissued.  ... It may take a few days though.”

“Yeah.”

Hakkai turned and left the room.

Their belongings and trash lay where they been scattered over the expensive carpet.  Gojyo began haphazardly shoving them back into their rucksack.  Suddenly he noticed something strange about the little monkey squatting next to him.

“What’s up, Goku?”

“ -- I’m gonna go look for the card,” Goku declared, suddenly leaping to his feet as though he’d been pulled and turning his gaze to the window flooded with light.

“Now?  No way, you’ll never find it now.”

“But it’s still super bright all over town.”

“You have no idea where it mighta dropped, right?”

“Sanzo, when was the last time you saw the card?”

“... Last time was during the screening to enter town, and Hakkai suggested using it as proof of identity.  They returned it there, and I put it back in the pocket of the bag.”

“So that means it’s somewhere in this town.  You never know.”

“Ah, hey, monkey!”  Gojyo watched in surprise as the small figure dashed out of the room.  “Jeez, what’s with him all of a sudden?  What kinda education did you give him?”  Gojyo placed his hands on the carpet and leaned back to look up at Goku’s ‘owner’, teasing him with a wry smile.

“Permissive parenting.”

“That’s why he grew up uninhibited.  ... No helpin’ it, guess I’ll go with --”  the little monkey for a bit.  Gojyo paused in standing before he could finish his thought.  If he left right now, Sanzo would be alone here.  No matter if he was a battle-worn high ranking monk, right now Sanzo was an unarmed human.  If something should happen, at the very least Hakkai would give him a proper scolding.

“ -- Don’t get any stupid ideas.  I’ll kill you.”  Sanzo’s sullen voice came from behind as though he had seen through Gojyo’s hesitation.

“... I ain’t gettin’ ideas.  Just decided it’s too much of a pain to babysit the kid.”  Snorting, Gojyo heaved himself up with an ‘oof’.

“...Old man.”

“I don’t wanna hear that from you of all people!!”  Leaving behind that straight-forward abuse, the broad-shouldered red head exited the room.

Left alone in the too-spacious room, Sanzo bit down on his cigarette and unconsciously reached a hand into the sleeve of his robe -- only to remember that his gun was not there.  Double-checking the whereabouts of his gun was a habit long ingrained into his body.  Ever since setting out for the West and always being in the company of others, as soon as he was left alone he always double-checked his gun.  As a man facing down danger in this chaotic world, that was the obvious course of action.

“............”  Stubbing out his cigarette with the hand that had lost its purpose, he slowly turned to the window at his back.

~~~

20 years earlier, Priest Koumyou Sanzo had been here.

That wasn’t so unusual.  He was a man who simply liked new and interesting things.  ... What did Sanzo’s master see, what did he hear, what did he think here in this artificial town?  His one and only master, who left a towering and unscalable wall within Sanzo’s heart before being taken from this world.  The man who, at the cost of his own life, pulled Sanzo up from the brink of death and tossed him back out into the chaotic world.  And Sanzo had to shoulder this heavy destiny, even now continuing his journey to take back the Seiten Suture that was his right.

It’s no exaggeration that half of Sanzo’s life was formed by his fate with Koumyou.  Amid the loneliness, fear and thirst he’d experienced, it would be a lie to say that he never resented his master’s selfishness.  Even so, that carefree smile passing through the back of his mind could leave Sanzo dumbfounded.

Even now he wondered.  Why did his master pass on the role of Sanzo priest?

Suddenly, the sickening nightmare of this afternoon revived.

It wasn’t a dream.  It was truth that had happened in the past.

So many times he had wished for death by that gun.  So many times he had struggled to live on using that gun.

The karma left to him at the cost of his master’s life was far too heavy for him to carry, young as he had been.  At that time, only the gun in his hand was real; he grasped his own fate.

A bright neon billboard blinked like a subliminal message, dyeing Sanzo’s entire body with the color of blood.  After a tongue click directed at no one, he pulled the thick curtain and blocked it out.

▪️　　　▪️　　　▪️

Stepping out onto the main street, Goku was hit by the heat of the town that had only grown livelier as night deepened.  The ominous light put out by the stand of buildings burned itself into golden eyes.  Passerby’s conversations, and the music and announcements playing from all directions melted together and numbed his ears.  Goku, with his heightened senses, grew dizzy with the attack on his inner ear.

Is this really the same continent they normally live on?  It was as though he’d been thrown into the world of a surreal picture book.

Overwhelmed by the dizzying lights and sounds, Goku stood firm on the prettily paved street and began to backtrack the route he and the others had taken that afternoon.  He hadn’t noticed during the day, but suspicious sex shops cluttered the side street running next to the casino-lined main road.  Signs and phrases that even Goku knew to be sexy danced, flashy women baring a lot of skin called out to male customers, sweet invitations soared.

“Is that the kinda stuff Gojyo likes? ... I don’ really get it,” Goku mumbled to himself, deeply perplexed.  But then he rationalized it by using food as an example.  “There’s people who hate foods that I love though.”

Goku traced the surrounding ground with large eyes, searching for one tiny card as he walked.  However, the innumerable feet passing by got in his way.  He didn’t remember swinging the bag around in a way that would drop the card back then.  It was so strange, but he had been distracted staring at everything around him.

......It wasn’t that he felt responsible for losing the card.  Just, he wanted to return Sanzo’s gun to his hand as soon as possible.  Goku had glimpsed the minute anxiety that appeared on Sanzo’s face in that back alley gun shop.  That may have been the first time he’d sensed such uneasiness from Sanzo in all the years they’d been together.

Sanzo was a man who possessed Matterhorn-level self confidence and pride, who wouldn’t falter no matter what dire straits he found himself in -- even if he was in the middle of an enemy camp without any bullets.  One wouldn’t think Sanzo weak in the face of battle; as long as Goku and the others were with him he could clear a few accidents without a gun or two.

Even so.

For Sanzo, that gun was not just for self defense.  Goku couldn’t explain it well but ...... he thought it might be something like a good luck charm.  For Sanzo, it might be the symbol that he had continued to live.

Suddenly his shoulder was thumped and he was pulled up from his stooped position.  The man he had bumped into glanced at Goku’s strange traveling garb, then disappeared once again into the flow of people.

“ -- Ah...”  Caught by a strange sense of deja vu, Goku accidentally swallowed his apology.  When a light sparkled at the edge of his vision, Goku’s eyes, wide as a full moon, slowly sought out that glimmer.  It was a blinking, tiny gold light.  A single golden butterfly flew through the shadow picture created by the crowd.

He thought it was an illusion.

It was a beautiful butterfly, leaving behind scales of light in its orbit as it fluttered along.

Finally he realized it was actually a reflection made by the neon lights bounding off a golden butterfly hair decoration.

That butterfly was familiar.

That’s right ......  It was the same as the one belonging to the girl he had bumped into this afternoon in this very spot --

“--ku, hey Goku!”  A far too familiar voice wound its way through the noise of the crowd, the sound of which had grown faint to Goku’s ears.

Unconsciously Goku turned around to see Gojyo’s face, standing a head above the crowd, coming toward him.  Hastily he returned his eyes to the front.  The golden butterfly had already disappeared.

Even though he cast his eyes around in a full 360, he couldn’t spy the light butterfly in the middle of the squirming shadow picture of the crowd.

“...Jeez, no way we’re gonna find it.  Give it up.”

Goku was still standing, staring off into the distance when Gojyo grabbed his head with a violent gesture.

“...... Back then,”

“Yeah?”

“The bag got heavy for just a moment,” Goku said, turning just his fact to look up into Gojyo’s eyes.  “I think it mighta been stolen by a butterfly.”

“...... What’re you talkin’ about?”

Goku looked up at him with a face like a brave shiba inu.  Gojyo, turned into a dog owner, furrowed his brows.

▪️　　　▪️　　　▪️

“We’re in quite a pinch, aren’t we.”  Contrary to his words, Hakkai looked rather calm as he made his pronouncement.  Don’t be fooled; he was the type of man who, the more awkward the situation, the calmer and more balanced he would appear.  Of course, being with him for so long, his companions were fully aware of this fact, and all reacted nervously.

As before, they were gathered in the living area of their deluxe twin room.  Unable to find the card, Goku and Gojyo had returned to the room only to be greeted by Hakkai’s cruel statement that he was “unable to get the card reissued.”  Sanzo’s expression was as sour as though he’d eaten 54 stink bugs(※１).

“...... So, what’s that mean?”

“I don’t know why, but it seems that someone other than us has applied to have the card suspended.”

“Who, and for what reason.”  Sanzo turned a sharp gaze on Hakkai from his spot on the sofa.

“Originally the card was in the name of the Sanbutsushin, so theoretically the only ones who could suspend or cancel the card would be them.”

“............ uh, so, what?”

“In conclusion, we are penniless.  Checkmate.”  Hakkai mimicked a foreigner, spreading both palms wide.  His eyes were not smiling.

“...... Seriously?”

“We’re in quite a pinch, aren’t we.”  Here was that line again.

For what possible reason had the card been suspended, whether by the Sanbutsushin or by some unknown party?  ... But that wasn’t the current issue.  First, they needed funds.  That was all.

Jeep, who had been sitting bored next to Sanzo, uttered a small, worried-sounding “pyui” into the deep silence.  Goku clumsily pet the small head as he muttered to no one in particular, “What’re we gonna do?”

“... Hey, Sanzo-sama.  We gotta do that thing, doncha think?”

“... Don’t ask me.  Talk to Hakkai.”  Unable to think of an alternate method, Sanzo passed over responsibility for what Gojyo was implying.

“ We have no other choice.”  Hakkai sighed as though forced into a corner, and prepared himself.  “I’ll allow use of the casino.”

“All right!”

“Really?!”

“Don’t be so happy, idiots.  We’re starting from zero,” Sanzo warned, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray on the low table.  The exquisitely crafted glass container was already overflowing with butts.

“Doesn’t make much difference if we lose, since we’ve got nothing...”

“Okay everyone, this is a bad example.”  Hakkai switched to lecture mode, indicating Gojyo as the bad example.  “...... All right.  This hotel’s fee; Sanzo’s gun maintenance; and living expenses for the time being.  Right now we only need to cover these costs.”  Hakkai admonished his companions, holding up three fingers and folding them down in order.  “Do not wish for more than that.  Gambling will bankrupt you as soon as your greed goes too far.”

“Yeah.  That’s why gamblers dare to spend their earnings in the same day.  It’s like, earn what you need for today, today.”

“... You’re just careless with your money.”

That being said, it was true that they needed a considerable sum of money.  Was it possible to accumulate that amount in the few hours left before morning?

It might be.  Compared to an ordinary gambling party, money had an extremely different value here in the entertainment fortress Maakou Town.  The amounts moved in one night throughout the town were most likely huge.  So it might be possible to accumulate a suitable amount without drawing any unwanted attention.

Worst case scenario, they could extend the pick up of the gun a bit and earn the money little by little over the course of a few days in the casino.  However, they wanted to avoid that option if possible; all their instincts told them not to linger in this town.

All in all, they had no choice but to bet tonight.

“Well, there’s nothing for it but to try.  There is the rule of beginner’s luck, so we may be able to depend on Sanzo and Goku as well.”

“Yeah!  I don’ really get it, but leave it to me!”

“...... Hey, wait, don’t just --” involve me, Sanzo began to say.  This one time, however, he kept his mouth shut.

“Right.  So what do we start with?”  Taking Sanzo’s silence as compliance, Gojyo lit a cigarette and prompted Hakkai for a plan of action.  At some point he had entered work mode, his eyes calm and focused.

Sanzo and Goku, unaccustomed to gambling, had to trust the other two in this matter.  Gojyo had grown up on the outskirts of town and made a living by gambling.  Hakkai was skilled at gambling for reasons no one knew.

“Let’s see...” Hakkai cast green eyes to the ceiling for a few seconds, then turned his gaze back to Sanzo and the others with a calm smile.

TBC

※１ Stink bugs:  I’m not actually sure 苦虫(nigamushi) translates to stink bugs.  All I could find was that they’re bugs that taste bitter when eaten.  I’ve never eaten a stink bug, but I imagine I’d make the appropriate face if I ate 54 of them.

[thekimmiandjackieshow]

Chris from Orlando’s Enchanting Shift

After a successful shift in Tomorrowland, I went back to working at my home location for a good portion of March. I had requested quite a bit of time off for the various visitors that were in town, so keeping my shifts at Animal Kingdom was easiest. I thought with some time off my perception of my home location would change. When it didn’t, I went for a shift in Fantasyland.

Fantasyland was one of the more intriguing places in Magic Kingdom for me. It seemed the most magical because you got to work right behind the castle, and what could be more magical than that? I picked up a shift in Zone 1, which meant I’d pretty much be at the two major shops right behind the castle, helping princes and princesses dress like the royalty they were. I was also excited to finally ditch grandpa pants and wear a skirt to work.

I got to costuming early and walked in with way more confidence than I had the time before. Originally I believed the flowing white sleeves were part of a plain white shirt, and the vest piece fit over that. I was wrong though, the vest was the main part and the flowing sleeves were sewn in right under the vest’s shoulders. It was incredibly uncomfortable. My costume at Animal Kingdom may have been ugly but at least it was soft. While uncomfortable, the skirt did have pockets, so at least there was that.

The purple and gold getup was also fairly unflattering. It didn’t help that the elastic on the sleeves was completely stretched out. At some point I realized I didn’t have my name tag with me. At Animal Kingdom, my location had name tags to sign out. The name on the borrowed tags was Peyton. At Magic Kingdom, though, you have to check one out at costuming. 

Chris Orlando, FL The infamous borrowed name tag. “Chris from Orlando”. The day was getting interesting already. But, I was excited to help pixie dust princesses all day, so I headed off to the tunnels and got ready for work in the locker rooms.

I had figured that Fantasyland would be the easiest of the lands to navigate. The tunnels are kind of weird in that you’re dropped off just behind Fantasyland, so it’s the first land you see when you go into the tunnels. Someone was even nice enough to give me directions before I got there. “Go under the castle and follow a small hallway to your left. Open that door and there you are.” Sounded easy enough.

Except I didn’t know what “under the castle” meant. So I walked all the way under the castle, down the straight long pathway until the walls were a deep red. Main Street. I had obviously gone too far, but I didn’t see any hallways on that long stretch. A leader spotted my confusion from a mile away and asked me if I was lost. The thing is, she was a leader in Main Street and only knew how to get to one of the Fantasyland shops. As we were walking up the steps, I asked her where I could put my bag, knowing full well that we are absolutely not supposed to carry personal belongings with us on stage when we are in costume. I kid you not, this leader took my bag in her hands and said, “I’ll carry it. We’re lost and just have to get you where you need to be. If someone gets in trouble, it will be me.” We went through the doorway and ended up on stage. The leader asked a Cast Member where we needed to be, and the Cast Member looked absolutely horrified that this leader was casually holding a random tote bag with my change of clothes. The Cast Member got somebody to cover her and she walked us over to the other Fantasyland store where we walked through the “Cast Members only” door and found the CDS station where I needed to clock in. The leader waited with me until we could find a coordinator to put me into the system. 

At some point during this fiasco, my shift was changed from Fantasyland Zone 1 to Fantasyland Zone 2. Not a big deal, but I had no idea where to go next. A coordinator finally arrived and looked completely overwhelmed. The leader introduced me to him and took off, heading back to wherever she was supposed to be. 

By this point I knew that the coordinator needed to put me in the system so I could work at the registers. He handed me a booklet that had information on it for my shift. In addition to the stores I’d be working in, there was also a passcode on it. That passcode opened the door from the hallway I was supposed to find the first time, and the second stockroom I’d be going through to get to the second store on my rotation. Then he grabbed a random Cast Member from the stock room and told him to give me a tour. The Cast Member tried to get out of it because they were literally surrounded by boxes and was right in the middle of organizing everything, but the coordinator flat out ignored him. I apologized to the Cast Member and he was super nice about it. I asked the coordinator if I was put into the system and he insisted that I didn’t need to be and that all was fine. 

We walked down the stairs, through the mystery hallway I was originally looking for, around a corner towards the main entrance of the tunnels, and down another hallway to some lockers. Then we walked back up and he showed me where I’d be working as part of Zone 2: Enchanted Grove Cart and Hundred Acre Goods.

Hundred Acre Goods was the Winnie-the-Pooh store that was the ride dump for Winnie-the-Pooh. From there we walked through the stock room, down a hallway that was level with Magic Kingdom and had another clock-in area, down a flight of stairs, and through a door until we were walking right along the base of the castle. I had never realized that all the bushes there hid an entire cast pathway and an outdoor break room for people who wanted to smoke. A small “Cast Members only” gate dumped us out by the bathrooms across from Cosmic Ray’s. We walked down the ramp and arrived at Enchanted Grove Cart, a small cart next to the Merida meet and greet in the strange pass that is both Tomorrowland and Fantasyland. We then walked back up to CDS and I pulled an assignment, “Have a magical stock shift”. I went back to the coordinator to ask what I was supposed to do as a stocker, and he moved things around so I would have a register shift the rest of the time. My first assignment was at the "E-grove” cart where I ran into another Cast Member with a “Chris from Orlando” name tag. I attempted to sign in to the register and was promptly locked out because I wasn’t put in correctly. It took a while to track down another coordinator and explain to them how to put me into the system. As soon as that was taken care of, I was back at the cart with Chris Number 2. 

About 1,000 guests took notice of us both being “Chris from Orlando” and asked us if those were our real names. Chris Number 2 said no. One cynical guest assumed it was “the mouse” taking away our individuality by giving us all the same name. I still haven’t figured out how they thought that would work out.

Throughout my time at the cart I was asked a large number of odd questions. I had heard some interesting questions working at Animal Kingdom Main Entrance, so I thought nothing could surprise me.  “How do I get to Jungle Cruise?” and “Where’s the monorail to Universal?” were two of the amazingly popular questions I was asked. But while working at the cart (at the base of Cinderella Castle) I was thoroughly impressed with how little guests know about the parks before taking them on.

“Where’s the castle?” was SO common. The first time someone asked me, I thought they were joking. I should’ve known better. I literally just looked up, saw the top of a turret above me, and just looked back at the guest. I pointed my thumb over my shoulder and said, “Right there.” They were amazed. Originally I had been worried about not being able to answer their questions since I didn’t know the area that well. After a handful of guests asked me that, I felt much more confident.

Another guest asked me where the Rapunzel restaurant was. She was SO disappointed to learn that they were actually restROOMS. 

I was also amazed at the number of guests who didn’t appear to know how to read a map. So many people asked me where Big Thunder Mountain was. When I told them how to get there (to walk across the entire park) they said they had just come from that direction to try to find it on this side of the park. I double checked to make sure they weren’t looking for Space Mountain, but they weren’t. I don’t know why they thought Big Thunder Mountain would be in Tomorrowland or how they got so turned around, but I quickly caught on to the fact that most people just held on to a map for show.

The only thing I truly couldn’t stand about the cart were the Brave bow and arrows we sold. The amount of plastic in those toys is insane and people would buy them with the expectation that we would unwrap everything so their kid could hold onto it at that moment in time. The problem is, the only trash can the cart got was a tiny trash can that one may keep at their office desk. Literally a waste paper basket, and we’d be shoving tons of stiff plastic into it, hoping that the stocker would come by soon to empty it. I didn’t love it.

It was then “tea time”, Fantasyland’s way of releasing people to go on break. This one was less of a surprise to me than Tomorrowland’s “feeding Stitch” break time, but it was still fun to at least have some themed language. That’s one of the things that separates working for Disney from working any other retail job. I had no idea how much I was missing out until I picked up shifts in other places. 

I took my 30 minute break in the Mousecateria. Every park has a backstage cafeteria for Cast Members. Most, if not all, also have a small convenience store type thing that sells food for Cast Members who don’t take breaks anywhere near the main cafeteria. The Mousecateria was the break room for Fantasyland Cast Members, at least for those who worked merchandise in “old Fantasyland”. It was located right at the front of the tunnels, directly in Fantasyland. The layout of Fantasyland underground is super weird to me. Tomorrowland has it set up so that once you go down the flight of stairs to get to the tunnels, you’re directly at your lockers and break room. Fantasyland, however, had their lockers nowhere near their staircase and not even really close to their break room to be honest. It was just overall more inconvenient to stop at your locker during breaks. That being said though, they still get 30 minute breaks instead of 15 minute breaks. 

The other store I worked at was Hundred Acre Goods, the ride dump for Winnie-the-Pooh. No pixie dusting for me. I was actually kind of relieved. I was somehow already covered in the stuff, even without working in any of the shops that pixie dusted people. I guess it just showers from the skies in Fantasyland or something. The shop was small but at least a little bit busier than the Tomorrowland stores. The middle-of-the-day lull wasn’t quite as common in Fantasyland for some reason. Being a Winnie-the-Pooh themed shop, you can imagine that we sold predominantly Winnie-the-Pooh themed merchandise. Actually the shop even sold some Animal Kingdom merchandise, which bothered me to no end. Some of the Cast Members were like, “Well it has Tigger on it so it’s fine”. 

And here lies my weird nit-picky issue with Walt Disney World. Not to get too off topic here but in my head, walking into Magic Kingdom is an experience where you are transported to a completely different realm. Almost as if when you are in Magic Kingdom, the outside world doesn’t exist. When you are in Tomorrowland, it’s all about a fantastically technologically advanced future, and the people who live in Tomorrowland know nothing about the royalty that live next door in Fantasyland. Obviously this illusion has to get shattered a little bit because guests will ask questions about how to get to the other side of the park but ultimately, I always thought that Cast Members were supposed to get really immersed in the story and truly BE space cadets or princesses or cowboys or WHATEVER. So with that in mind, Magic Kingdom and Animal Kingdom are on two separate planets to me. Magic Kingdom shouldn’t be selling Animal Kingdom merchandise because in my head, the people who work in the castle have no idea about the exploration realm that is Animal Kingdom. The thing is, because Walt Disney World Resort is so huge, a lot of merchandise boasts all 4 parks. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan of all four parks and I think they should be represented. Business-wise it only makes sense to offer that as frequently as you can so that customers don’t have to go to Disney Springs to get those things, but it still bothers me a little bit because it takes you out of that realm for a second. It’s an issue that I’ve never really noticed in Disneyland, but is EVERYWHERE in Walt Disney World. I KNOW that it’s a SUPER nit-picky thing, but I just really, truly think that’s part of the magic of the parks. 

Anyway, beyond that, I loved the shop. It was so cute! I’m a huge fan of Winnie-the-Pooh so it was easy for me to fall in love with it. I didn’t get as many laughable questions in that shop although one guest DID complain (and I mean full on WHINING) that there was too much Winnie-the-Pooh merchandise. She literally said to me, “UGH Does Magic Kingdom sell anything OTHER than Winnie-the-Pooh stuff???” and I’m thinking, “Yeah... literally everywhere else.”

My shift ended and it was time to walk back through the tunnels towards the overcrowded bus full of cowboys, space cadets, princesses, bakers, and ghost hosts. 

This should have been weird. This should have been different. This should have been the moment I thought, “Wow, I work on the most magical place on Earth”. And instead I sat down and flipped through my phone just like every other tired Cast Member did. Perhaps this is because I’m incredibly empathetic and have a tendency to get my energy from other people, or perhaps I had been there so long that this was all normal to me now. Overall, my shift hadn’t been quite as magical as I had expected. I still had fun pretending to work in the castle for a day, though, and spending some extra time in Magic Kingdom. It was definitely worth picking up the extra shift just to test it out and try on the costume. But, I was thankful I wouldn’t always have to be “Chris from Orlando” working in the castle.

[easkyrah]

Elorcan Werewolf AU Part 3

Summary: Frankly, this is just a filler, but full of info. Elide’s gone and Lorcan’s a whipped bitch, so what can a male do?

“Everything I’ve ever let go

has claw marks on it”

Elorcan Werewolf 3

Elide hated that she loved how Lorcan fit against her chest. His entire body was a furnace, warming not just her body in this night cold, but her heart as her mate. His muscular arms and broad shoulders engulfed her small frame, wrapping around her. Never had she felt so safe and content.

She wondered how many other females he had comforted.

Lorcan noticed her abrupt stiffness. “Mate,” he growled. “Mine.”

Elide slowly inched away him as far as she could in the seat. “You damaged the car.”

He pulled her towards his chest, growling softly. “You ran away from me, little mate.”

Little, her ass. If anything, he had felt so little he had to fuck half of the she-wolf population so his cock wouldn’t feel so little.

Rather than risk capital punishment, she settled for slapping his hard arm, which did more damage to her knuckle. “Maybe because someone was going to whip me again?”

The male’s eyes turned pitch dark at again. “Who hurt you.” A command.

Her attempts to push him off her lap failed. His hulking size covered half her seat and the emergency brake. Clearly he had done more damaging in his life than healing.

He let out a low, guttural noise, a sound that resounded to her very core.

“Who touched you.”

When Elide remained silent, his claws slid out, slashing against the seats. She swallowed. Hopefully Aelin wouldn’t be too pissed. She wouldn’t mind if her Alpha set this male in front of her on fire. Her pyro tendencies earned her the pack name right from the start.

Elide started up at the male that shadowed her. She felt zero attraction other than the desire to reject him. This male had no more claim on her than any other dirty one. If he had truly treasured the mate bond, then he would have never laid a hand on any other female.

But here she was, looking straight into the dark eyes of the Lycan who had laid with half of the she-wolf population.

Disgust rippled through her.

Lorcan took it the wrong way, and let out a fearsome roar. “Who hurt you.” His actions caused the entire car to, goddess forbid, shake. Elide let out a whimper as he gripped the glove box with unnecessary force, leaving an indent.

He must have realized the Elide was shaking with fear because he immediately fell silent. Slowly, he reached out to touch her cheek. Her traitorous hands reached up and cupped his palm.

A purring noise erupted from Lorcan’s throat. Stars above, she was barely touching him. Had not one of his past lovers ever shown him affection?

Lorcan’s eyes dropped as she stroked his hand.

“Elide,” he murmured.

That was the last straw for Elide. How many other female’s names had he cooed and how many other females had he seduced that was not her, his mate?

She ripped Lorcan’s hand away from her, and yanked the gear violently on drive. She ignored Lorcan’s bark of protest as she slammed on the pedal as hard as her tiny body could manage, and jerked the wheel to the left, watching in satisfaction as Lorcan’s body flew out the hole where the door would have been.

Serves him right for tearing apart the door. From a rutting camaro.

Elide didn’t look back and she pushed the car to its limits. It was time for plan B. Flipping open the sunglasses container, she pressed her thumb against a button along the rim. After a beep, a second set of controls appeared on her right.

Without a blink, she slammed her palm on the red button. A vapor mask instantly dropped from the ceiling, and Elide quickly tied it around her face. Seconds later, smoke of wolfs-bane flooded from the car and erupted in the surrounding air.

A howl of pain and longing pierced the air as the car speed away, and a piece of Elide ripped away as she felt Lorcan losing distance on her.

She didn’t blame the horrified glances directed her way as she pulled up the to hotel. She chose the most the most run-down looking one as so much to not rouse suspicion, but humans were curious things.

The valet worker stuttered out his greetings as Elide parked the now three-door car into an empty slot. She ripped the mask off her face and dropped it into a trash bin. He quickly opened the door for her as she stalked in towards the front.

“No luggage, miss?” the clerk said, eyeing her almost suspiciously.

The only baggage I’m carrying is my mate, she thought bitterly to herself. 

Elide merely shook her head. “A room just for one night, is all.”

The clerk nervously entered the information into the computer. “I’m guessing you’re paying with cash.”

She pulled out the wad of bills she found stuffed from the glove container. The clerk’s eyes widened to saucers. 

Great, she felt like an assassin completing her assignment, rewarded with none other than hard cash. She almost felt compelled to add to the clerk that she had about two knives shoved down each boot and that Aelin’s ruined camara itself was a weapon with a nuke in the trunk. Aelin never did anything by halves, and Elide supposed it had its perks. 

The clerk eyed her grimy hands, and chipped nails. She wondered if he’d call the police for murder.

Well, you did just about reject our mate, running from him, her wolf scolded her. That’s as good as killing him.

Elide almost puked. Her wolf had long been absent ever since Vernon had chained her up.

He lost us as soon as he laid with the first female, Elide said firmly.

Her wolf had nothing to say after that.

The clerk took the bills quickly, and slid the key across the counter tops. He dismissed her with a quick glance, and before Elide headed up the stairs, she gave a quick glance back.

No one was on her tail. 

She made it out. 

A flood of relief poured through her. Lorcan couldn’t bother get her now in the human city. She belonged to no one without her permission, much less a higher force determining her chance of love.

The sound of the clerk loosing a dramatic sigh caught her attention. Elide turned around, watching with little amusement as he dabbed his head with a handkerchief.

I thought she was going to kill me!” he let out a tiny wail, fanning himself.

Good riddance, Elide thought to herself as she went up the stairs. Humans were so extra.

Elide couldn’t sleep. For once, no nightmares of her Uncle Vernon plagued her, nor the memory of pain and loneliness. No一she kept expecting the searing pain in her stomach that would occur whenever a mate cheated on his other significant other.

Surprisingly, none came.

Are you rutting alive? Manon blasted down the pack link. If Lorcan touched you in any way, I’ll chop off his tiny balls and feed it to the rats.

Aelin pitched in. Lorcan is sitting on his ass in your rutting room, waiting for you to return like a pathetic gods-damned dog.

Elide frowned. Why isn’t he going back to any of his female toys?

A pause. Then一

Maybe because you’re his mate? Aelin sighed.

Manon huffed. You don’t need a mate given by the moon goddess to determine love. If the boy loved you, he would have kept his cock in his pants and waited. I don’t care if he’s almost as old as I am by eons. If you love someone, you will wait an eternity.

Elide groaned into her pillow. What about Rowan?

Stop rutting setting the walls on fire! Manon roared, and Elide stifled laughter hearing Aelin’s protest. Rowan apparently hates Aelin as much as she does he. He thinks she’s too improper to be princess but Aelin keeps throwing into his face that he has consorts, another improper act. So they’re at a stalemate.

At least Aelin is loyal in every way, Elide said firmly. Please kick Lorcan out. I don’t want to see him when I get back.

This is what we have to talk to you about, Elide. Aelin let out a nervous sound Elide felt even through the bond. I think it’s best if you finish your medicinal studies in the human realm. If you come back, Lorcan will mark you. And then you can never escape him again.

Elide yanked the blankets off the bed. Are you kicking me out of the pack? Her heart beat faster. Stupid Lorcan for ruining her life. She wanted someone to love her without doubt, and make her feel like a queen not with materialistic things, but clear actions.

And Lorcan had already ruined that.

No, no. Aelin reassured her. Once you finish your studies, still see if you want Lorcan. Once you finish your studies, come back. Then decide if you want to reject Lorcan or accept him as your mate.

Elide looked out the window where glimpses of the sun’s rays were already rising. She had a future already planned out, one with hope and one without fear. She was no longer that naive girl that trusted and would give herself over wholeheartedly without a reason. Life in the dungeons of the Morath Pack taught her that. If that was even considered life.

Realizing that she wouldn’t be getting much sleep, she walked to the bathroom and splashed water on her face. Staring at her rugged reflection in mirror, she opened the pack link.

Relay the following message to Lorcan for me.

Lorcan had reached an all-time low. His once chance at happiness did not want to love him. He hated the Alpha bitch for feeding his precious, little mate Elide with barbed words for her to hate him even more. Then his gods-damned friend Rowan had to have his mate as none-other than the entitled bitch.

He felt the sympathy the others from the cadre shot down the bond. Gavriel had empathized with Lorcan the most.

Fenrhys, however, had been absolutely delighted. You have lost your charm! She probably finds another more manly than you! You and Rowan can chew on your own wolf dicks because now no one will want to!

Rowan had tackled Fenrhys, and Lorcan had tossed him out the window. Vaughan was wisely chosen to remain silent, merely shaking his head in distaste, and then went to the kitchen to search for food. Gavriel had mended Fenrhys’ shattered elbow.

Elide’s door banged open, and his heart soared.

And then sank.

The hybrid beta stalked him, snarling at him. “I am going to rip off your balls. And it’s not going to hurt you, because you’ve had other females touch your junior.”

“Junior?” Lorcan snarled.

The half-witch paced around the bed. “You don’t deserve her. None of you rutting Lycans do. Sticking your nasty stick wherever you can find a hole.”

It took all of Lorcan’s will to not crack Elide’s headboard. The audacity of this filth—

“Lycan’s urges are different from werewolves’, mutt. We have casual fucks because our Lycan side needs to be soothed that way if we don’t have a mate. You think we have a rutting choice? You think I like touching another female other than my little mate? Seek the moon goddess if you don’t believe me. You wouldn’t know only being half-Lycan.”

Manon cocked her head. “You better hope what you’re saying is true. Even then, you’re too late.”

He breathed in Elide’s scent permeating the room, calming down the murderous rage seeping through him. His Lycan side jerked around inside of him, demanding to cut off the half-witch’s tongue and hunt down his mate. Even if it broke down every law. “Too late for what?” he snapped.

“Elide’s gone to the mortal cities.” Lorcan’s heart stalled. He could not protect his mate within human infested cities lest he break Council laws. “So if you really want her, then you’re going to have to win her love not through the bond, but through love. And I don’t know how long she’s going to be there. It’s your move now, junior.”

Elide inspected the cottage. It was on the outskirts of the city, but close enough that no Lycan could trespass. The landlord had agreed for Elide to rent it out without a set date as soon as she accidentally spilled a pouch of money across the table.

The place was dimly lit with comfy looking furniture. She lit the fireplace, soaking in the warmth. Manon and Aelin had promised to keep her updated with any pack new from small to urgent. Sorscha had instructed her to seek out the Terrance Dome Hospital, where other immortal or supernatural creatures worked. If she managed to acquire a degree there, then she’d be ranked as a Healer without a doubt.

Sighing, Elide slid the couch along the floor. She’d focus on re-decorating tomorrow and have to buy some more knick-knacks to liven up the place.

A thud against the door had Elide palming a knife. She slowly crept to the door, and peeked through the door. Seeing no one there, she uncertainly opened the door. If Manon was playing a prank on her—

A bark had the knife sliding out of her hand.

Elide looked down.

Sitting on her front porch was a massive, midnight pelted dog wagging his enormous tail. A coo went through Elide’s throat before she could help it and the dog’s tongue lolled out. A thick collar wrapped around his neck, and Elide hesitantly reached out for it.

When she bent down, the brutish dog licked her palm eagerly, settling onto its hind legs. Elide turned the collar over, scratching the soft skin between his ears, reading the letters engraved onto the leather.

Lory.

[yeehawbisexualold]

Emma Swan—Definitely a Dog Person

anon asked for CS getting a dog

If asked, Emma Swan would say that she considers herself a dog person. At least, in theory. She had never had a dog of her own before. The most time she's probably spent around a dog was with Pongo. One of the fosters families she lived with had owned one but the kids weren't allowed to play with it and it wasn't allowed in the house (which, looking back on it now, probably says a lot about them as people) and, well, she didn’t spend much time with them.

She could say that she was just an animal person. She liked most animals equally. And she’d never actually owned any pets before so she couldn’t speak from experience. But dogs just seemed like her thing.

Cats were cute enough and they didn’t seem to require as strict of care and attention as some animals. But they also tended to be assholes. She considered herself to also be a bit of an asshole and while their asshole personalities might actually mix well—forming some kind of asshole bond—she’s unsure she would take the risk of them clashing and the battle that would ensue to become the alpha asshole.

Horses tended to be strong and confident, traits she attributed to herself, but they were a bit too rich for her blood. She had only ever known one person, in the land without magic, that owned horses. Her name was Amanda, they shared an English class her sophomore year of high school, and she enjoyed talking about her daddy's money.

Reptiles were cool and all but yeah, that's not gonna happen.

She had explained all of this to Killian one night after a commercial for BarkBox. “Dog person? What in the bloody hell does that mean? Is it some sort of creature, like a merperson?”

His questions had seemed innocent enough and they had gotten to that place where sharing just came naturally. So, she took pity on the man and told him that no, there is not any form of weird human/dog hybrid in this land. And that yes, she does prefer dogs to other animals for reasons a, b, and c.

So, Emma Swan—a dog person.

Or that’s what she thought.

—

Henry brought up the idea of getting a dog at one point in time. Somewhere between their return from Neverland and the defeat of Zelena (the first time around.) He hadn’t had his memories back yet so it was easy for her to put if off, to tell him they would discuss it once they returned to New York.

He hadn’t brought it up since and she assumed (she knows what they say about people who assume things) that he had given up on the idea. Now she’s realizing that he had just been distracted by other things. Things like his mother becoming the Dark One, Killian's multiple deaths, their trip to the Underworld, and Regina splitting herself in half.

At this point, everyone is alive and Regina is back to being one person and there’s no sign of any big bads on the horizon. Henry has clearly set his mind on a dog and this time, he has help.

It starts subtly at first. Killian spends more time watching Animal Planet, specifically, Too Cute and It’s Me Or the Dog. He leaves the laptop open to the Storybrooke animal shelter’s website. His eyes stray when passing the pet section of the grocery store. She finds him in front of Granny's, asking Archie about his dog.

She writes it off as him being curious.

He had once lamented about a dog he had come across in one of his journeys. It was a kind creature and stayed with him for a few months but once he set out to sea again, he was forced to leave the little guy behind.

He had explained to her how few breeds of dog there are in the Enchanted Forest compared to this world. It would make sense for him to take interest in the creatures of his current realm. And at the top of the list of things that Killian Jones did not enjoy is being uninformed about anything.

She doesn’t pay too much mind to his interest, which partially makes this her fault. She was a bail bonds person and is now the sheriff of Storybrooke. Observation skills have been a key part of her life for long enough now, she should have easily taken note that Killian's curiosity was something a little more suspect.

If she had noticed earlier on, she could have nipped this thing in the bud before it took root. But now it has planted and grown into a large tree, rivaling the size of Merlin's, and she is facing down two immovable forces.

She comes home one day to a quiet house—not an entirely unusual thing when both of her boys are home but still unexpected.

Henry and Killian are sitting at the kitchen table, matching poses of straight back and folded arms.  They fix her with a serious expression and she in turn eyes them warily.

“We need to talk,” Killian intones and Henry nods solemnly.

“Oook,” she drawls. She decides to approach this with humor, a good defensive shield. "This isn't you breaking up with me, is it? Because I went to the Underworld for you and to do it with my son in the room would just be bad form."

Killian sighs heavily and gives her a look that clearly states he is not here for her antics.

"This might be easier if you sit down," Henry says and she rolls her eyes at his dramatics because she is already pulling out a chair.

"Henry and I have been talking, and we've decided to get a dog."

"Oh? You've decided? That's interesting." Her tone suggests that it is anything but.

"Here us out, mom," Henry begins. "We have more than enough room in the house and a large yard. Things we didn't have in our apartment in New York. I promise I'll take care of it. I'll feed it, bathe it, walk it, train it, you name it."

"And we both know that I get up early enough in the morning to let it out," Killian interjects and Henry gives him a thumbs up.

She seriously contemplates shutting them down. But it's two against one. It's clear this is something they've been planning for a while. They both look entirely too hopeful to say no to. And she can tell that this is something they won't give up on easily—both of them too stubborn for their own good.

So, she says yes and the way they tackle her from both sides and tell her they love her makes it feel less like a loss.

—

They (Killian and Henry, Emma herself has no stance in the decision-making process other than to veto the too big ones—small dogs eat less and poop less) decide on a Portuguese Pondengo. The best way to describe him is scruffy with his long, wild fur that sticks out in all directions. The space between his eyes, down the bridge of his nose, the front of his chest, and his two front legs are white and the rest of him tan.

They are told that he was found on the side of the road, right on the edge of town and that his chip showed he previously belonged to another shelter, a few cities over, who wasn't too keen on his return. He'd run away from his adopted family and had been returned for a more toy sized option by the family before that and the shelter made it none too subtle that they were glad to have him off their hands.

He's got a lovable face and a little bit of spunk. And he's small enough that Emma doesn't worry about needing a shovel to clean up his droppings. And her boys fall madly in love with him on sight.

For some reason, they choose a Greek theme when deliberating names. Killian jokes that they should name him Cerberus (Henry finds it funny; Emma does not.) Henry then suggests Fluffy (still not funny but doesn't deliver the same wrenching feeling in her gut as the actual name of the hellhound.) Kyon Khryseos is next. Henry explains it is the name of the golden dog sent to guard Zeus as an infant. "What a perfect tribute to the God who assured our lives together. And look, Swan, he's even gold in color!" Emma does have to admit that the name is pretty clever but it's impossible to pronounce and she'd rather not have to explain it to every single person who asks the name of their dog.

They finally decide on Sirius. It's simple enough to say and ties into both mythology and Harry Potter, which pleases Henry greatly.

Emma doesn't have second thoughts when they're at the shelter. Her true loves grins and excited chattering, as they scope out the cages for the perfect pet, would make it impossible to regret anything.

She doesn't have second thoughts on the ride home, as she looks into the rearview mirror and sees Henry's cheeks about to split while he pets the dog, as she watches Killian watch her son with a smile just as ecstatic.

She doesn't even have second thoughts as they unload the dog from the car and it takes off running, tangling it's leash around her legs in the process.

No, Emma doesn't have second thoughts until she comes home the next day and, with the intent of getting a glass of water, finds a puddle—a puddle that goes unnoticed until stepped on with a sock-clad foot—on the floor, in the kitchen.

She does have second thoughts then and the piss puddles are only the beginning.

Potty training is a nightmare. The dog has separation anxiety and howls horribly when left alone. It begs for food, a trait which neither Killian nor Henry discourages. It doesn't understand that the only pieces of furniture which are to be sat upon are couches and chairs; the kitchen table is his favorite resting place.

Her son and pirate are over the moon though and refuse to see reason when it comes to their new pet. "He's in a new home. He's bound to be nervous." Killian will say. "Give him some slack, mom. He probably hasn't had a decent meal his entire life." Henry will whine. They continue to defend his crimes upon their home, choosing to instead play with him more and shower him with more affection.

But the list goes on and his atrocities only get worse.

At the end of the list, is his chewing habits. He chews on everything he can get his dirty little paws on: boots, toilet paper, trash, underwear, the leg of one of the dining room chairs, and the final straw one of her leather jackets.

Emma Swan does not consider herself a materialistic person. Even though their house is now filled with many more luxuries than she has ever owned, at heart, she is still the same girl with the small box of memories. But this is a leather jacket here—her go-to outerwear, always in style and a great shield against the cold, and more importantly, emotional threats. She may no longer need the defenses she once held onto with such rigorous strength but it's still a symbol of comfort. A symbol of comfort which is now lying in shreds, on the kitchen table.

She gently picks up the drool encrusted jacket and storms into the living room where the mangy mutt is resting on the back of the couch, perched like a king on his throne.  When he eyes the item in her hands, his expression shifts from lazed contentment to one of guilt and he takes off running.

"Not so fast, you brat!" she threatens and takes off after the damned thing.

She corners him in the upstairs hallway and is about to give him the verbal assault of a lifetime. But as she hovers over him, tattered leather remains in hand, she sees a look of fear in his eyes that she is all too familiar with.

It's a look that, to this day, brings forth a hollowness in her chest that makes her feel dizzy. It's the look of a little girl who got caught sneaking a cookie out of the cabinet by her foster mother and smacked on the back of the hand, a little girl who got lost on her first day returning from a new school to a new home and was locked in her room every evening for the next week, a look of a girl who just got the pages her only book ripped to pieces by her foster brother and was yelled at to "stop being a damn cry baby" by her foster father.

It's a look of fear of rejection—of thinking finally, somewhere to call home, only to discover it won't last and she'll be shipped off to the next miserable place.

With the look in the dog’s eyes, she recognizes a kinship that she had not previously been aware of. It suddenly becomes so clear to her how much she and the dog have in common.

He's spent the majority of his life in a shelter, her in orphanages and foster homes. He's run away from owners that more than likely didn't treat him with the care that he deserved and she's run away from families who couldn't even bare to show common decency. They've both been bounced around, without a place to call home for too long. He'd even been found on the side of the road for god's sake.

She feels an overwhelming sadness for this creature, so alike herself.

She slowly turns away and walks down to the kitchen to deposit the jacket in the trash. She grabs a treat from atop the fridge and a blanket from the back of the couch and finds him, still cowering upstairs. She first offers him the treat and then wraps him up in the blanket to take him back down to the couch.

Once he's realized that she's not going to yell at him, not going to hurt him, he settles down with his head in her lap.

That's where Killian finds them an hour later, resting on the couch and watching Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (she'd wanted to introduce him to his namesake.)

"I'm sorry, love," he calls from the kitchen and she knows he's seen the leather in the trash. His face is puzzled—lips pursed and brow furrowed—as he takes them in, cuddled up together.

She pats the cushion beside her, a silent invitation for him to sit, and sighs lightly when he wraps his arm around her, hand coming to rest on the dogs head.

"You're not upset?" he prods gently, pulling his arm a little tighter around her.

She shakes her head and smiles at him gently.

He must understand because he nods saying, "So, you finally see."

"How long have you known?" she asks, leaning her head into the crook oh his neck.

"From the very beginning," he murmurs and runs the curve of his hook up and down her arm. "He had the same caged expression, of a wild animal, as you when we first met... and he was found on the side of the road, Emma."

They chuckle lightly.

"He's pretty similar to you too, ya know," she comments with a smirk. "Our histories of abandonment aren't too different. And he's a cocky little shit."

"You'll regret that remark, you beast."

He begins to tickle her but it doesn't last long. Sirius must see his wriggling fingers as an attack and he begins to growl ferociously at Killian. Killian immediately backs off, putting his hand and hook up in a gesture of surrender.

"That's actually nice," he remarks and, when she gives him a bewildered head tilt, explains, "It's nice to have someone else in the house to look after your wellbeing."

She smacks his arm and returns her head to it's resting spot on his shoulder.

Henry comes home at the end of the film, disappointed to learn that they watched the movie without him and insists on them starting another. He sits on the other side of Sirius and begins to pet him, whispering in his ear about how cool Sirius Black is.

—

Emma knows that although the wounds have healed, she will never forget the feeling of being that lost little girl. But sitting there one the couch, snuggled between her three boys, another piece added to the puzzle of her happily ever after, she knows her heart is the most at ease it's ever been and she will never have to feel like that girl again. And she hopes that Sirius, the lost little dog, knows he will never have to feel that way again either.

[wonderlust-and-mild-anxiety]

Life Story- a recap of the last 21 years and counting

I was born at 4:52 AM on a rainy Sunday morning on September 28, 1997 to a nineteen and twenty-three year old couple. I was the first born, a brother would follow almost three years later. My childhood consisted mainly of a plethora of cousins, my father rarely being around, and my mother trying to handle raising two children while still being a child herself.

When I was in third grade my family dropped a bombshell- my mother was getting a job as a custodian in the neighboring town, not far enough to move but for convenience I had to change schools. In Mrs. Sherry’s fourth grade class I was deemed weird and lower-class because my mother cleaned up after my peers as a job.

That was also the year that I met Cory, Jonathan, Brady, and Colton Baird- my mother’s best friend’s children. With Brady being the only girl even similar to my age we instantly clicked. Our afternoons consisted of us discussing boys, Brady’s horses, and my crush on her brother Cory whom I had “dated” on and off til I left the school.

Summers were mucking stalls, hauling hay, and mending fences on their farm. Summer nights were long horse shows watching my best friend’s win trophy after trophy. It was a city kid’s dream. I loved it because it gave me a chance to spend time with my best friends, they loved it because it was four more hands (including my brother’s) and they generally thought of me as one of the family. I rode horses eventually, but I enjoyed the identity that farm work gave me and the ache of my muscles after a good day’s work.

I knew about this guy Lee through Cory and his girlfriend and my friend Kaitlyn. I didn’t realize until much later that I would have wished that we never crossed paths. It started because Lee didn’t want to ride the bus anymore and Cory had asked my mom as a favor for him. She said yes, soon we’d wish she hadn’t.

In the beginning it was fun. I developed a crush on him so to me it was a blast when she would drive us down back roads in her mini-van, when she’d take us to the mall on the weekends, when she would let us all pick up breakfast at the local Marathon that sat a quarter mile from the school. When my mom and I would get our nails done every week, Lee was there making all of us laugh.

It wasn’t until we stopped having money for food that I started to sense something was wrong. Lee was getting new clothes, going out with Mom without me or my brother. Dad started calling her, she wouldn’t pick up and would make excuses. I started to distance myself from Lee. He was fifteen at this point and I was only twelve. Mom insisted that he liked me and that I needed to stick around, and being the naive child I was, I believed her.

I didn’t understand what was going on til she got arrested. I don’t really think I understood then. I took up for her, because she was my mother and he was my best-friend-that’s-a-boy. They would never. Then she took the plea deal, that’s when I really understood that yeah, it happened. I spent the rest of my eighth grade year being made fun of, then it was back to my previous school to finish up high school.

When I got there, I didn’t know anyone except one person- Susan. She was my little blonde angel in this 1000 member body of students. She introduced me to her friends, made me feel like I belonged. I automatically stuck to one of her friends, a person named Momo that at the beginning I honestly didn’t know if they were a boy or a girl.

This was also the same time that I was discovering my sexuality. I liked boys, I liked girls, I liked people who were neither. I confided this in Momo, who I found out was biologically a girl. They said that they liked me, I said I liked them to. Tada! A couple of months later they told me that they were transgender and wanted to be called Aidan- and that was the short token paragraph of my gayness. Psych!

Aidan and I lasted ten months, the entirety of  my freshmen year of high school. My parents didn’t approve, at all. In their words they didn’t “agree with my lifestyle”, but in all honesty they were just trying to shut me up because I was raising my brother. I would wake myself and my brother up, get both of us ready for school, get us on the bus, make sure Zack had his homework done, make dinner, do my own homework, and do housework.

I broke up with Aidan during the summer between my freshman and sophomore year, I said it was because of the church I was attending and it was partly true. Partly it was because of a boy there, Ryan. I went to church camp that June and I fell head over heels in love. We sat across from our two cabins in a kid's jungle gym. We talked for hours til our councilors forced us to come inside. I loved Aidan, but we constantly fought and I was "too rough" for him. Ryan made me feel normal and loved.

We would watch movies in the park, he'd whisper that I was beautiful and that he loved me as he nibbled on my ear lobes. He made me feel like I was flying, I was so in love. He was the reason I knew that I wanted to get married some day. We would hold hands in church, my palms so sweaty and shaky because oh my god did I love this boy. It was perfect, til it wasn't.

We split in August after school started, his step mother caught us kissing in the park close to his house. She called me a whore and that I was dressing inappropriately and was too young to be kissing boys. I called my father to come pick me up, we broke up two weeks later when he asked my brother to give me the message during church. I was devastated and on my way to a downward spiral quickly.

During my exploration of my sexuality, I had one person that I could rely on exclusively- that was my lesbian aunt Mariea. She was also a black sheep of the family, we had a lot of similar interests, most of the family said we might as well had been mother and daughter which I agree with whole heartedly. She was my rock and there wasn’t anything in me that doubted she was always on my side.

She was the aunt that took me and my entire group of friends swimming, even though there was seven of us and her truck only sat six. She was the type that would bring me money for a school trip while she was still in her pajamas. She sent me cute little things to school for my birthday and even my brother’s birthday because she knew that I would feel left out. She fussed over my every detail and shaped me into the female that I am today.

She got sick my freshmen year of high school, melanoma skin cancer found on a mole in her back caused by tanning beds. She didn’t let it kick her, she kicked ass from beginning to end. It wasn’t until my sophomore year  that she got worse, and she died in February. I remember attending the funeral, Aidan on one side and Susan on the other- all three of us holding hands and sobbing while my great aunts talked through the entire funeral.

Aidan and I broke up for good shortly afterwards, and I met someone new.  Before that though, I was raped and sexually assaulted by someone I thought I could trust, while being held down by someone who I thought was my friend. I fell pregnant as a product of the assault. Everything was completely normal up until the night of February 10th, 2012. I had severe pain, but I couldn’t tell anyone but up until this point, fifteen weeks into my pregnancy, I hadn’t told anyone about the rape, let alone my condition.

I went to sleep and woke up in sheer agony. I was going into labor, and I couldn’t stop it. I gave birth to a daughter, Raini Delaine on February 11th. Even though she was conceived of rape, she was mine and I loved her with all of my being. I still do.

So much happening in a short period of time. My first love came back, the loss of my daughter and my aunt, and love leaving again was too much for a sixteen year old to handle. I was dealing with anxiety, bipolar disorder, depression. I was so scared and alone, who could deal with the mess I was?

The new boy I was dating, his name was Logan. He swept me off of my feet and made everything sorta kinda okay? He held me tightly when my mom went to jail for being with another registered sex offender, a man that had asked me if I used sex toys and if I’d allow him to buy me one. It wasn’t until six months into the relationship that he started getting abusive.

It just started with making suggestions of suicide if I left him, or he’d break up with me “to make me listen to what he was saying”. Then it was the controlling. I had to tell him what I did, when I did it. He picked out everything I wore, what I ate, when I ate, when I went to the bathroom even. I stayed out of being scared to be alone, and afraid that he was going to kill himself if I decided to leave him.

He then turned to abuse. Forcing me into anal sex, beating me when I didn't do the chores he asked of me. I was so scared that I couldn't tell anyone, I let him be the hero and I was the bad girlfriend. His older brother knew, he didn't say much about it though we got along really well. I didn't tell my father in fear that he might do something to him and I couldn't let that happen either.

I finally broke free of this the summer after I graduated high school, two and a half years after I started dating him. I was eighteen and moved out with my best friend at the time, Haley. I had dated her brother when I was sixteen and on my downward spiral, he was addicted to drugs and drinking but he made me feel like a badass and treated me like a woman so I was all game for whatever he wanted.

I was romanticizing living like white trash, but at the time the run down mobile home was my palace and I was its queen. Nevermind the constant use of drugs, going to jail, losing people, and getting the lights shut off. I was playing cops and robbers. I eventually left because I met someone knew, Jacob.

I met Jacob through Haley, I didn't know him well but I thought he was cute so why not? He was homeless, I moved back to my father's house with him in tow. He slept in a tent in our woods until it got cold where he officially moved to my room and we were officially together. He was battling legal issues, I stood by him even though he had anger problems.

We eventually moved out together, he was now on probation but in general life was good. He couldn't hold down a job but I always had work, busting ass for just enough to scrap by. I met his friends, whom soon became my family.