#and thank you for all the inspiration you’ve given to me and countless others to create

[manga-panels-daily]

[soapybutt17]

Too Sweet For Me

Summary: It was the annual Military Ball, the fifth one since you and John have been married in secret. With his new promotion as Captain, meant a whole ball park of responsibilities he was still getting used to—but nothing gets to him more than the mere sight of you, his beautiful darling in the dress he always loves. It was also something to prepare for with the new changes that came to this year’s ball. Character: John Price x F!Wife!Reader. Kate Laswell. Word Count: 2,190 Chapter Warnings: None. Author's Note: this was also supposed to be for @glitterypirateduck's O'Captain challenge but my appendix had other plans for me this past few days. Lol.

Inspired by this song (obviously)

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“Darling.” You couldn’t help but smile at your husband’s pained groan.

With a red backless dress, you know you would turn heads with your outfit and even more certain that your husband would be killing a few men if you weren’t too careful about him.

“Behave.” You pulled away from him as soon as you felt his hands hold onto the small of your exposed back. You turned to face him, seeing him so handsome in his ceremonial uniform, an upgrade since his new promotion.

“I don’t think I can see myself behaving with you looking so ravishing.” He muttered approaching you again and pulling you into another kiss, allowing him this one time since you have yet to put your make up on. “Will this be a problem for tonight?” He playfully warned.

“If you keep your hands to yourself it won’t.” You playfully pointed out pecking him on the lips one last time before turning your attention back to your vanity mirror to put on your makeup. “I’m surprised that you actually plan on coming to this year’s event. I’d expect you to just stay home after the last mission.” You pointed out.

Behind the bravado and the handsome uniform your husband had on, was a broken but healing man that just got back from a mission. A few scrapes and bruises you all know too well were hidden perfectly well, but the black eyes was something that would take more than an ice pack and makeup to actually cover.

“Better to be there to see what those muppets have planned.” He grumbled.

You had accidentally let it slip that there was going to be an auction for this year’s event and you had volunteered to be part of the auction. A simple date that you were certain meant absolutely nothing but it was for a great cause and you couldn’t really fault them with.

Your husband was still apprehensive about the fact, especially knowing that no one was made aware of your relationship to each other. Everyone was given the fact that you were both good friends that had been on countless missions together. It was nothing but friendship between the two of you if you were ever spotted in town together even when the both of you knew it was something more.

“It’s just one date, even Kate is joining along.” You tried your best to reassure him but it wasn’t happening whatsoever with the deep frown resting on his lips.

“Just because I agreed to this doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.” He muttered under his breath, finally resigning by your decision, which you were thankful for. No need for you to try to convince him with anything.

“You owe me for this. I need some kind of motivation for tonight not to blow someone’s head.” He muttered.

And you spoke too soon.

“How about a day or two in that ritzy cabin you’ve been pestering me about for weeks now.” You offered.

One thing you truly hated was being too out of touch with society if you could avoid it. You have to do it for work, you weren’t so keen on doing it in your personal time if you didn’t have to. But your husband just was a recluse when he wants to be and this was one of those many instance that he will have his way.

“Deal and the ring stays on so they know you’re mine.” He muttered.

You smiled, lifting your hand up for him to see the sparkle of your engagement and wedding ring still nestled on your finger. Even without him saying it, you wouldn’t even dream of removing it.

~

The newly promoted Captain John Price should have been at the top of the world because of his new title, but it was far from the reality of it as he watched his beloved wife continue to mingle amongst both officials and fellow soldiers. It still shook him to the core how someone like you could command yet bring comfort to anyone that was privileged to be in your presence.

But that was just what made him love you so much. How someone like you, a Lieutenant to his own position as a Sergeant would never once use your position to demean him or treat him as anything less than you were. Some may say your call sign as Rookie to be an insult, a way to make you less than what you truly were, but you proved time and time again that it was a reassurance to anyone lower than you that you will stand on equal footing as them if the need arises especially on missions.

“Rookie’s already stealing the spotlight.”

John turned his attention to one unfortunate woman he had the misfortune of meeting in his life that turned his whole world upside down. Kate Laswell was an intelligent woman—far too much for her own good at times but she was the best of the best in her line of work. She was one of the main reasons why he was placed in a mission that ended with him finally climbing the ranks.

“As she should.” John agreed, subtle in his comments as to avoid anyone, especially Laswell from thinking anything was going on between the two of you.

“I still can’t believe she refused the promotion.” She continued taking a swig at the whiskey she was cradling, only bringing a craving for one in John himself.

“I’ve heard. I don’t think she’d be a good fit with the paperworks from the looks of it.” He added.

Of course he knew the very reason why you had refused the promotion on your own end. You were in all accounts a better fit than him to become a Captain, a rank that had been a well-deserved position for everything you’ve done but every single time the topic would be brought up you had threatened retirement or AWOL if anyone pushes. You never truly saw yourself as someone that would be working behind the desk, you couldn’t help and navigate dealing with officials, you admit you were never built for such capabilities.

“I believe she is. You should have seen her chew on Shepherd during the last mission. She’s got guts and a heart that not something you see in the field often.”

He nodded, that was what made you special. He watched you now begin a lengthy conversation with the well-known and very much feared soldier Ghost. How you had been the only one to hold a conversation and not trembled at the sight of the monster of a killing machine.

“Why am I not even surprise with her.” He chuckled turning his attention away from you and turning towards Laswell. “So, are we just gonna spend the entire night talking about Rookie?”

“That’s not much of an issue for you Captain.” Laswell smirked knowingly.

“Will I ever live that down?” He questioned, jokingly.

He was once again reminded of the time in his drugged state where he was delirious enough to propose to you after a mission gone wrong. To many it was just him too drugged from painkillers but for you it was an intentional proposal that you accepted once you were alone.

“You’re never gonna escape the allegations, John. I will never allow it.” Laswell smirked finally excusing herself when the MC has begun.

He made his way to this designated table, his eyes always following you. He watched as you made your way backstage to prepare for the auction later on tonight. It brought the never ending dread in the pit of his stomach as the staff began distributing the auction paddle around, accepting his own without an ounce of hesitation.

It will be a long night that much he has come to realize.

~

“One Thousand!”

You had faced so much trials and tribulation during your career in the military. The vile and often times immoral acts that was placed against you during interrogations and kidnapping, but nothing in your life could have given you more shame than to be standing in front of the stage as numerous bids have been placed upon your name.

Your eyes had been following along to the numerous of individuals that were bidding, some were colleagues your husband had been all too certain had hots for you, others were top officials that you were more than certain were pigs for involving themselves in the date auction knowing they were married, then there were the guests that had been leering at you all night long.

Maybe your husband was right, the auction was a big mistake.

Your eyes scanned the entire room until they met the familiar eyes of your husband. The reassurance had settled on his eyes as much as the annoyance but he was waiting for you to give him the signal.

Somehow with a simple nod it was all he needed to do to raise the paddle and his booming voice had silence everyone.

“Ten thousand.” His voice had everyone turning.

It was one of the highest bids for the night and it just had to be from the man himself. The rest of the night had been a blur, after the auction and countless of formalities and empty conversations, you had found yourself in the arms of your husband as he helped you back onto the car.

“You alright?” He inquired cupping your cheeks the moment he had helped you with your seatbelt.

“Will get better.” You assured him grounding yourself back to reality as he patted your cheeks and driving the two of you back to your shared apartment.

The car ride was silent, the event with the auction still playing in your head. It could go so wrong in many ways if your husband did not intervene. It was supposed to be for a good cause, but it did not feel like it when you stood in front of the stage. You felt more like meat being prepared to be slaughtered.

Eventually you two had arrived back. Your husband opened the car for you and led you back to you to your apartment. The silence was consuming you more than you expected it to.

“Want to sober up or not?” Your husband inquired.

You turned to look at him as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Sober up would be great right now.” You sighed following him to the kitchen, hopping onto the barstool by the kitchen island. Toeing off your heels in the process, an unintentional moan escaped your lips from the relief on your feet.

“I haven’t done anything yet and you’re already moaning, My Love?” He teased placing a mug of coffee in front of you, from the smell alone you were all too certain was too bitter for your taste.

“Play your cards right and maybe I’ll be the one to make you moan all night.” You quipped right back, cupping the mug and relief of the warmth washing away the events of the night.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He smirked turning towards your mini bar and pour himself a hefty pour of whiskey.

“Surprised you didn’t threatened anyone at the party.” You pointed out.

“I could do lots of things, but I decided it wasn’t worth the hassle for either of us.”

You nodded, watching him unbutton his uniform and sit beside you. Your head immediately finding their way onto his shoulder.

“I’ll pay you back what you paid for the auction.” You promised him.

“You would do no such thing.” He ordered. “You’re worth every pretty penny I’ve paid for tonight.”

You blushed at his words. Even in the years of being with the man, he still has his way of turning you into the girl that had always had a crush on the handsome gruff all only had eyes for you.

Your eyes turned towards your hand, the sparkle of your rings was always present and never once did you remove them even at the party. You wanted to keep your relationship private but never a secret and there are days that you wished to let the world know. But now with his new promotion and you having to lead yet another mission with the help of him now, you doubt it would be a good thing to do.

“You’re too sweet to me sometimes, even after how shitty the night turned out.”

“Nothing shitty about tonight. I get to see you all dressed up and all eyes on you knowing you’re gonna come home to me tonight and do whatever their empty little heads could formulate.”

You rolled your eyes cupping his cheeks and move him slightly too pull him into a kiss that you had desperately wanted to give him all night long. The taste of whiskey brought a sudden thrill through your core.

“Plan on showing it to me, Captain?” You purred and the way his eyes blew out, it was all notification you needed to know as you were unceremoniously lifted into his arms.

Whoever thought your husband had a Captain Kink?

[mintwithchoco]

Epiphyllum

Kim Minju x Male Reader

Word Count: 2280 words

Categories: angst. there is no happiness here.

Inspired from:

Night falls, again.

Through the woods that seems endless, your feet drag your weakened self deeper into the unknown.

The moonlight is brighter today, yet despite the beauty of it shimmering down on the trees surrounding you, you didn’t mind it. Your thoughts are as blank as the clouds—no clear stop or destination appears in your mind.

Yet, you keep walking ahead, when there seems to be no end to your longing journey.

One might say you have reached your bitter ending.

Though the rain is imminent to fall down, bringing along what you once had lost.

All of the sudden, the sky finally becomes clear from the countless branches and leaves, with the cold air breezing through your body and the view being wider than you can ever imagine. Without you realizing it, you’ve arrived at a field full of flowers. 

Seems that fate has brought you here once again.

Regret settles in your soul.

You remember the pain. The longing pain. 

You began running through the field, searching for that flower.

The flower that you had failed to notice back then.

Memories surge through your head in an instant.

—

Never in your life have you expected to be winding down with a member of the royal family right in a casual manner. Yet, here you are, sitting beside the Princess herself. This all started when you randomly spotted her outside the palace during one of your night shifts. Eventually, it became a routine for the both of you to have a little talk whenever the moon showed itself in the sky. This night was no different, except that it sparked an interest inside of you, a newly found desire to connect with her more.

“Your Highness, may I ask you a question?” You looked to your side, and the Princess was still there, her eyes were glued upon the stars.

“Go on then, and just call me Minju.”

Immediately, you were taken aback. “Eh? B-But, Your Highn—”

She sternly repeats, “Minju.” 

You obliged, “M-Minju…” 

“There you go. What was your question again?” Her eyes were locked upon you.

“Why can I only see you around at night?”

A gentle smile was seen on her features. She takes a look at you for a few more seconds, before looking back towards the sky. “The pitch black night, the lone cry of the moon, it is as beautiful as it is sorrowful. That's why I’m here.”

At that moment, your heart trembled.

— 

The faster you run, the further down you go through the field, just like your reminisces that keep getting more potent.

There was no sign of that flower.

Have you lost it?

— 

Once she heard of the amazing scenery that you have witnessed, the Princess insisted you to bring her to the  garden at night. It was a risky move, given that she had her curfews. Thankfully, with the help of your other colleagues, she was able to go out undetected. This was a chance for you as well—the feelings deep inside your heart were growing immensely, but you know that subtlety was the better choice for the moment.

Slowly but steadily, you made yourself present to her. “Your Hi— Minju.”

She turned around to meet you. “Hm? What is it?”

“Here.” You handed her the most beautiful flowers that you have ever seen.

She received them with a wide smile. “Oh, why thank you! Did you just freshly pick this?”

“Of course, my lady.”

“This is a beautiful flower indeed.”

“People named it the ‘Queen of the Night’, because it only blooms at night. A perfect fit for someone like you, my lady.”

She chuckled. “You really know how to charm me.”

“Here, let me put it on you.” You then gently place one of the flowers in between her hair.

One thought stood out in your mind that night.

She looked so beautiful under the moonlight.

— 

Your legs grow weaker, but that doesn't diminish your spirit to push through, despite the agonizing pain and the endless despair that has been brought down upon you.

The black clouds grow closer to cover the beaming moonlight.

— 

A sudden summoning by the King strikes a hint of confusion to you. It was paired with the task that you were given—guide the Princess to his throne as he has an agenda to settle with her. Usually a task done by the maids, you wonder why the King has chosen you for it. Nonetheless, you uttered no complaints and quickly arrived at her room.

You knocked upon the wooden door. “My lady? Minju? Minju?”

Instead of being in the room, she was right behind you. She tapped you on the shoulder. “I’m here.” 

“Oh, there you are! The Lord has sent me to fetch you. It seems that he has something to say to you, but I’m slightly worried. He doesn't look very happy.”

Her face slightly frowned. “I see.”

“Don't worry, my lady. I will be here for you if you ever need me. Shall we get go—”

“Wait!”

“What is it, my lady?”

“...If I ever disappear, will you find me again, amidst all of these flowers?”

It was a good few seconds of silence, before you broke it by asking, “What do you mean by that?”

“N-Nothing! Let's… just go. Yeah.” Minju looked hesitant.

You instantly knew what to do. “Your Highness.”

She sighed. “I told you many times, just call me Minj—”

“Minju. You are like a lonely blossoming flower. If you ever get lost in between those flowers, I will find you. No matter what it takes. I swear with my own life.”

She was stunned. “I…”

“N-Not that I’m implying anything! Please don't get me wrong, my lady!”

She blinked a few times, and smiled softly. “I know. Thank you, I really needed to hear that.”

“Anything for you, my lady.”

— 

You're beginning to slow down. Your physical self is at its limit, and you curse yourself for being too fragile. You're getting closer to the light of truth, and you know it. But it withers away, as you fall to your knees, hitting the ground so hard that you scream out in agony.

Your heartbeat still raced intensely due to the extreme pressure you put on your body. Sweat dripping down profusely, chest heaving up and down, bare feet covered in bruises and cuts—you are in immense pain. 

Your tears began pooling in your eyelids. You wonder what you have done so wrongly that even fate despises your entire being at this moment.

After all, aren’t all humans free to wish what they desire the most?

— 

Somehow you’ve gotten busier than normal. Things escalated from covering other guard's shifts to handling tasks for the higher ups. It wasn't a big deal for you because to be fair, you were competent enough to manage it. Until the King himself has asked you to join the soldiers in the northeast—a request that you cannot deny in any way.

That night, Minju witnessed you preparing for the journey. It was obvious that she wasn't very pleased with the decision. “Do you really have to go?” 

“I’m afraid so. The situation there is getting out of hand, so I have no choice but to oblige.”

Suddenly, she hugged you from behind. “Please, I beg you, don't go! It's too dangerous!”

You gently removed yourself from her embrace and turned around to meet her eye to eye. Your hands found itself on her shoulders. “Minju, I will be fine. I promise I will come back to you, safe and sound. Besides, I’m your moonlight, remember?”

“It was merely a joke,” she said with her cheeks reddening, clearly pointing out the opposite. 

“Your face says otherwise, my lady.”

“Guess it can't be helped.” She gets herself closer to you, holding onto your waist. Your heart began beating fast. “Promise me that you'll be back safe, or else…”

You gulped, “O-Or else?”

Time has stopped. Your breath hitched. You felt the world around you changing as her face moved closer within your sight. 

She plants a kiss on your cheek.

“No more kisses.”

Your heart now belongs to her, and only her.

Kim Minju has marked herself for yours.

— 

No matter how much your mind is relaying back all of your moments with her, it fails to mend the deep scar that is left in your heart, bleeding out the true feelings that you lament not being confessed truly.

No matter how hard you punch the ground angrily, crying out loud in frustration, screaming at the top of your lungs, it’s all proven to be useless as nothing seems to falter at all. 

You look upon the night sky once again.

Darkness envelops the scene as the moon hides away underneath the shrouds.

Nothing is left in your soul, other than a glimpse of hope.

If only I could turn back time, I would've told you everything. 

How warm your hands felt around mine, whenever we used to stay out late in the cold.

How precious your smile was whenever you looked upon these flowers.

How much wonder was filled in your beautiful eyes.

And most of all, 

How much I loved you.

I really, really love you, Kim Minju.

If only I could go back, you wouldn't— 

You realize that the wind is growing rapidly. 

They say that the wind can carry one’s words, even to the deepest parts of the world.

Hope will find a way, even when all is forlorn.

On your hands and knees, you let yourself sink to the ground.

“Oh, dear winds. If you may listen to my cries,”

“Please tell my lover the words I failed to deliver.”

The wind blows further.

The clouds slowly roll away.

The moon reveals itself.

The epiphyllum blooms.

“Why are you crying, my dear?”

A mysterious warmth emanates itself on your shoulder. Your eyes widen as soon as you find the answer to the voice—a lady figure right in front of you.

The winds have heard your call.

Your voice vibrates in shock. “I-Is that you, m-my lady?!”

The lady smiles. “Who else would it be?”

Without any hesitation, you bring her into a hug. You didn't care if it's the reality or merely an illusion, the emptiness where she left is now filled with this presence, and you can't be more than grateful.

“I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have gone that day. I shouldn’t have left you alone.” You tighten your embrace. “If I stayed behind, you would’ve—”

“Shhh, no need to blame yourself.” She calms you down by caressing your head. “It was bound to happen, as if fate had it written.”

Your true feelings are slowly spilling out. “Why…” You couldn’t hold back your tears flowing out, your throat closing up and your body trembling. “Why are we being punished like this?”

She frowns, “Unfortunately, the world doesn't seem to want us to be together.” She stops for a while, trying her best to keep her composure, before continuing, “My curse is a cruel one, but that won’t stop me from keeping you in my heart.”

“Minju…”

She couldn't help but notice the countless injuries that you have picked up on your body. “You're hurt.”

“S-Sorry. It can't be helped.”

“Give me your hand.”

As your hand intertwines with hers, you feel your body being revitalized, despite the wounds still being physically apparent. A calming sense washes over your body in an instant. 

Just like back then, Kim Minju never fails to heal your entire being.

“Do you feel better now?” 

You nod. “Y-You’re too kind, my lady.”

She suddenly looks up towards the moon, as if it’s calling out to her. “The dawn is coming. I have to go.”

“B-But my lady—” You frantically got back on your feet to catch up to her. “When will we meet again?”

She holds onto your arms. “Only time will tell. The moonlight is what guides me. But our paths will cross again. I promise.”

Amidst the tragedy that befalls you, this is the chance that you’ve wanted all along. She seems to have the similar thought as yours as her eyes are already drawing you in to get closer. The ethereal beauty that is Kim Minju—the one who you have missed so dearly, the one who you cared about so thoughtfully, the one who you worship so willingly—is now right in front of your eyes, your faces touching with only a thin ray of moonlight in between.

Your hands slide to the back of her neck and around her waist, gently bringing her soft lips towards yours. She submits to it by closing her eyes, fully weakening under your body when they finally land onto one another. You lean further into her, taking all of her in  as much as you can, knowing the fact that you may never feel this way ever again. It eventually breaks when your lungs give out, and as you desperately catch your breath, you make yourself lost in her dazzling orbs.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you more.”

You did it. You finally did it. 

At last, your journey reaches its true end.

Still in each other’s embrace, you both share a passionate kiss once again, in what would be the last for that night. Her body feels lighter in your arms, and as you pull away, you witness her slowly fading, while still shining so brightly.

“Thank you, for all the memories.”

As her last few words resonate in your ears, her body disintegrates, her petals flowing together with the wind, into the ever so wide sky, far far away from your whole self.

Night falls, again.

===========================================

note; wooooo yeah baby! three fics in this year alone! :D

this is from a little project that i did with a bunch of other writers, and it's been a rollercoaster ride, i had so much fun writing this. i've also been addicted to this song lately so it is only right that i make whole goddamn angst for it.

so next story will definitely be a longer one and smut focused. i'm actually halfway into it as of this post, and it involves another concept that i haven't tried, so i'm very excited and hyped for its release!

hope you guys enjoyed reading this one, have a beautiful day up ahead and thanks for all of your love! <3

[sparrowsage]

Warehouse Drabble: Unsettling Reality - Alex's POV

So, I saw a prompt on here that someone reblogged and it gave me inspiration for this piece! It's set three days after this piece. I also wanted to write Sparrow's POV for this conversation as well and you can find it here. Hope y'all enjoy it! Also, a huge thank you for @oddsconvert for the usage of her oc's Ronan, Henley and Izaak from her series A Taste of Your Own Medicine!

TW: kidnapping implied, reference to past kidnapping, vague reference to past trafficking

“Hello?” Alex said, running his free hand through his hair. It had been a long day at the hospital; he had been too absorbed in his thoughts about Sparrow. He had gone missing three days prior and both Alex and Felix had been a mess trying to work with the FBI on finding him as soon as possible. 

“This is Alex Sharpe, yes?” the voice over the phone asked, his voice low and a bit husky. It reminded Alex of Dr. Greyston and he couldn’t help but frown at the memory of him. 

“It is, yes. Is there something I can help you with?” 

There was a short chuckle on the other end of the line that made the hairs on the back of Alex’s neck stand up. 

“Not really, you’ve been enough help. I just wanted to call and thank you personally for taking such good care of my little Songbird. If it weren’t for you, he’d be dead in a ditch somewhere.” 

Alex was frozen in his chair, his heart pounding. Songbird. Damon’s nickname for Sparrow. 

The doctor grabbed a notepad and a pen as quietly as he could from the corner of his desk, his hands starting to shake, almost too afraid to speak. 

Damon took Alex’s silence as recognition and chuckled again. “I take it you know who I am, that’s good.” 

“I do, yes,” Alex responded slowly. “How’d you get this number?” 

“I have my ways, Dr. Sharpe. How goes the search? I’m sure you’ve gotten some kind of lead on your patient by now.” 

Damon’s remark and patronizing tone made Alex grit his teeth, but his words confirmed his suspicion on where Sparrow was. Felix, Henley and himself had hoped it wasn’t the case, but at least now there could be some kind of lead, even though no one knew where this facility was. 

“It’s going as well as one would expect,” he responded, writing down the time and date in his notepad. “Why are you calling me? Isn’t it a risky move? For all you know, the police are tracing this call.” 

Damon let out a huff of amusement, “You and I both know that is a lie. The FBI isn’t that smart, not this early on in the game. As to why I’m calling? It’s like I said, I wanted to thank you for taking such good care of Sparrow while he was away. There were countless times while he was in your care that he almost took it too far, but you stepped in and made sure that he didn’t.” 

How on Earth could he possibly know about that, Alex thought. They had been at the hospital, which Alex, up to this point, thought was a pretty secure and safe place. He jotted down a small note about it on his notepad as he managed to stop himself from asking how Damon knew about what he and Sparrow had worked through, his mouth hanging open slightly as he tried to find something else to say. 

“I was merely doing my job. He wouldn’t have gone to those lengths if you and the others hadn't treated him the way that you did.” 

“We were merely teaching him what his purpose on this Earth is. I do have to say though, you have given me quite a lot to fix now that he’s back where he belongs. You’ve set back his training a fair bit, but it’ll be righted soon enough.” 

Alex’s whole body was shaking now, doing all that he could to keep his cool. It felt like he was being baited, almost like the Keeper wanted him to lash out. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 

“It won’t last long,” he said finally. “The FBI will find you and shut that place down-”

“Oh, will they?” Damon cut in. “Are you banking on Henley remembering where this place is?” 

“How do you-,” Alex started, his composure slipping. 

“I know a lot of things, Dr. Sharpe. Henley’s owner took measures to prevent both him and Izaak from ever knowing where this place is. Any lead you manage to find, it’ll go cold within days. It would be in your best interest to forget about your patient. He’s back where he belongs and will stay here.” There was a pause, and all Alex could hear was the faint sound of walking before he heard a few low groans in the background as Damon stopped walking. “Have a good night, Dr. Sharpe.” 

Alex was about to say something, but there was a click on the other end before the line went dead. 

Alex stayed frozen in his seat for a couple minutes after the line went dead, not knowing what to do, his body refusing to move no matter how hard Alex willed it to do so. 

He was terrified, to say the least. The groans he heard at the end of the call, they sounded like Sparrow and the doctor’s heart was in pieces knowing he was back with that bastard, enduring only god knows what at the Keeper’s hand. 

It took Alex a bit before he could move again, writing down everything he could about the phone call before he forgot. Once he had everything written down, he picked up his phone again, dialing the number an FBI agent had given him the day before with shaking hands, holding his phone up to his ear as it rang, praying the agent would answer at this hour. Hopefully they could help now that it was confirmed where Sparrow was. 

Taglist: @mannerofwhump, @honey-is-mesi, @painful-pooch, @whumperfully, @hiding-in-the-shadows, @flowersarefreetherapy, @goronska, @blueyellow8green, @darkthingshappen, @oddsconvert, @whumpcereal, (If you'd like to be added, let me know!)

[ashtoninbloom]

i wanted to say thank you to everyone here at @hollywoodfamerp, for being endlessly inspiring and making this hobby of mine so much fun. i don’t wanna blabber too much, but seeing how much love and care everyone puts into their characters, ships and stories makes me want to be a better writer and roleplayer every day.

just wanna highlight a few people here as well that i’ve been lucky enough to write with and learn from.

@tay-hill ida, my nordic sister. i love you like toast loves butter. you’re so sweet and caring, not to mention creative as fuck. you’ve given me a few of my favourite rp friendships ever and seeing your muses on the dash makes me so happy.

@lilyjxmes alison, the emily to my calum. i don’t have words to say how much i love writing with you. you’re also such a beautiful person, always willing to plot and show love to everyone in the group.

@bellsxkhair maria ! the way you’re always willing to try anything and jump into whatever crazy plot i have in mind - i adore you. our ooc chats always make me laugh so much too. 

@margseliserobbie dee, you’re pure sunshine and you spread that around everywhere. you make the dash a little brighter every time you’re around.

@knightsawsten ro, you’re so unbelievably creative and funny to write with. i didn’t know much about awsten before but you’ve made me fall in love with him and the same goes with all of your other muses as well.

@emmack - lu, we’ve only just started really talking and you’re so incredibly sweet and kind, you blow me away! i can’t wait to see what’ll happen with nick and emma ad nick, it’s such a pleasure to write with you.

@dovescamrns s, thaaank you for countless hours of obsessing over 5SOS together. legit some of my fave conversations ever !

@tylrswfts ellie, wow. all of your muses blow me away and i’m in awe of your creativity. your ariana remains one of my fave muses to read on the dash and i always get so excited when i get to write with you.

@sxoiirses marie, you’ve given me some of my fave rp friendships of all time. from sersh and flo to timmy and flo, i adore writing with you and it always makes me smile like a clown. you’re so sweet and kind as well.

@joskriv bee, you’re genuinely one of the nicest people i’ve ever met in the world of roleplay. you don’t have a bad bone in you and you radiate kindness. i appreciate you more than you’ll ever know.

@glen-pcwell jb, the glen to my nick. i can’t even remember how many times i’ve hysterically cried with laughter as i write our interactions. you’re so goddamn funny and such an incredible writer.

@itsmadelyncline mar, thank you for checking up on me when i’ve needed it and thank you for so many awesome rp friendships as well.

@srahpaulsons j, i bow down to you. seriously. you’re an incredible writer. i can’t compliment you enough on your talent, kindness and creativity.

[partyglimpse]

5 Best Speech on Father’s birthday

Today, we celebrate a man who means more to us than words can express—my dad. It’s a day dedicated to honoring someone who has been a pillar of strength, a source of endless inspiration, and, above all, a loving father.

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1. Good [morning/afternoon/evening], everyone,

Today, we’re here to celebrate someone incredibly special—my dad. I’m so grateful for this opportunity to share a few words about the remarkable man we all know and love.

Dad, it’s hard to put into words just how much you mean to me and everyone gathered here. From my earliest memories to this very moment, you’ve been a constant source of strength, wisdom, and unwavering support. Your guidance has shaped who I am today, and your love has been a steady anchor in my life.

One of the things I admire most about you is your ability to face challenges with such resilience and grace. You’ve shown me that true strength isn’t just about overcoming obstacles, but about facing them with courage and a positive attitude. Whether it was tackling a difficult project at work or dealing with life’s ups and downs, you’ve always approached everything with a sense of purpose and determination.

Your sense of humor has also been a gift to all of us. You have an incredible way of making us laugh, even in the toughest times. Your laughter has a way of lifting spirits and turning any ordinary moment into something special. It’s one of the many ways you make life brighter for those around you.

But beyond all of your incredible qualities, what stands out the most is the love and dedication you show to our family. You’ve always put us first, and your sacrifices and hard work haven’t gone unnoticed. You’ve taught us the true meaning of family, and for that, I’m endlessly grateful.

Today, as we celebrate you, I want you to know how much you are appreciated and loved. You’ve been a role model, a mentor, and, most importantly, a friend. As you have given to all of us, I pray this year brings you as much love and happiness.

So let’s raise our glasses and toast to a man who has touched our lives in countless ways. Happy birthday, Dad! May your day be filled with all the love and joy you’ve so generously given to others.

Cheers!

https://partyglimpse.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/08/Speech-on-Fathers-birthday.jpg

2. Good [morning/afternoon/evening], everyone,

Thank you all for being here today to celebrate an extraordinary man—my dad. It’s a special day, and I’m honored to share a few thoughts about someone who has made such a significant impact on my life and on everyone here.

Dad, as I stand here, I’m flooded with so many memories that highlight just how incredible you are. From my childhood days of playing catch in the backyard to late-night talks about dreams and challenges, you’ve always been there. Your patience, wisdom, and unwavering support have guided me through every step of my journey.

One thing I’ll never forget is the way you used to cheer me on during school events or sports games. No matter how big or small the accomplishment, you were always my loudest cheerleader. Your enthusiasm and encouragement gave me the confidence to believe in myself, and for that, I am deeply grateful.

Must Read And Wish 80 Best Funny Birthday Wishes for Dad

I’ve learned the importance of perseverance and hard effort from you. I remember those long days when you’d come home from work, yet still find time to help me with my homework or work on projects together. You’ve shown me that dedication isn’t just about putting in the hours, but about caring deeply and doing things with passion and purpose.

And it’s not just the big moments that stand out. It’s the everyday gestures of kindness and love that have left a lasting impression. Whether it was your thoughtful advice or those simple, reassuring words when I needed them most, you’ve always known how to make me feel valued and understood. Your ability to make ordinary days feel special is truly a gift.

Your sense of humor has also been a beacon of light in our lives. I remember how your jokes and funny stories could instantly lift our spirits. Even in challenging times, you have this amazing ability to make us laugh and remind us that joy can be found even in the smallest moments. It’s a rare and wonderful quality that makes every day brighter.

As we celebrate your birthday today, I want to take a moment to acknowledge how much you mean to each of us. Your love and sacrifice have been the foundation of our family’s happiness. You’ve taught us about resilience, kindness, and the importance of staying true to oneself.

So here’s to you, Dad—the man who has given so much of himself to us. May this year be filled with all the joy, laughter, and love that you so richly deserve. We are all so lucky to have you in our lives, and I hope this day is just the beginning of a year full of wonderful moments and cherished memories.

Let’s raise our glasses and toast to an incredible man. Happy birthday, Dad! Here’s to many more years of happiness, health, and cherished times together.

Cheers!

Speech on Father’s birthday

3. Good [morning/afternoon/evening], everyone,

Today is a wonderful occasion as we come together to celebrate a truly remarkable man—my dad. As I reflect on the years we’ve shared, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for the wisdom, love, and guidance you’ve bestowed upon us.

Dad, you have been the guiding light in our lives, and your wisdom has been a treasure. I often think back to the times when I faced difficult decisions or challenges, and your advice was always the beacon that led me through. Your insights have not only helped me navigate life’s complexities but have also taught me the value of thoughtful reflection and patience.

One of the things I admire most about you is your ability to remain calm under pressure. Your steady demeanor and thoughtful approach have been a source of comfort and strength for all of us. I remember a time when we faced a particularly tough situation, and your reassuring words and wise counsel helped us all stay grounded and focused. It’s moments like those that remind me just how fortunate I am to have you as a father.

You’ve also been a constant source of inspiration, showing us the importance of living with integrity and purpose. Your dedication to your work, your family, and your values is a testament to the kind of person you are. You’ve demonstrated through your actions what it means to live a life of meaning and commitment.

Today, as we celebrate you, I want to express my deepest appreciation for everything you’ve done for us. Your sacrifices, your guidance, and your unwavering love have shaped who we are and made our lives infinitely richer.

Here’s to you, Dad—the man who has been a mentor, a role model, and a friend. I hope that this birthday serves as a reflection of all the happiness and love you have given us. To many more years of good health, joy, and treasured memories!

Happy birthday!

4. Good [morning/afternoon/evening], everyone,

It’s truly a joy to gather here today to celebrate my dad, a man whose love and dedication have touched each of us in profound ways. As I think about what makes this day so special, I’m reminded of the countless ways you’ve enriched our lives with your presence.

Dad, your love for our family is unparalleled. From the little things—like preparing breakfast on lazy Sunday mornings—to the big gestures—like supporting us through life’s major milestones—you’ve always put your heart into everything you do for us. Your dedication is a beautiful reminder of what it means to be a loving and devoted parent.

I often think about the family traditions you’ve created and nurtured. Whether it’s our annual vacations, holiday gatherings, or even simple family dinners, these moments have become cherished memories because of your effort and enthusiasm. You’ve made it a priority to bring us together, and those shared experiences have strengthened our bond in ways words can’t fully capture.

The value of family is among the most important lessons you have ever imparted to me. Your actions have shown me that family isn’t just about being related by blood but about the love and care we give each other. Your selflessness and generosity have set a standard for all of us, and I strive to live by the example you’ve set.

Today, as we celebrate your birthday, I want to acknowledge how much you are loved and appreciated. Your kindness, your strength, and your unwavering support have made our lives richer and more meaningful.

So let’s raise our glasses and toast to the incredible man who has given us so much. Happy birthday, Dad! May your day be filled with the same love and joy you bring into our lives every day.

Cheers to you!

5. Good [morning/afternoon/evening], everyone,

Today, we celebrate a man who means more to us than words can express—my dad. It’s a day dedicated to honoring someone who has been a pillar of strength, a source of endless inspiration, and, above all, a loving father.

Dad, looking back on my life, I see so many moments where your influence has been a guiding force. Your ability to lead by example has taught me the true meaning of character and integrity. You have shown us that being strong doesn’t just mean facing adversity head-on but doing so with compassion and grace.

One of the things I cherish most is the way you’ve always been present. Whether it was a school event, a personal challenge, or just a regular day, you’ve always made time to be there for us. Your presence, whether in celebration or in times of difficulty, has been a constant reminder of your unwavering love and support.

I remember when I faced a tough decision and didn’t know which path to take. Your advice was simple yet profound: “Trust yourself and know that whatever you choose, you have the strength to make it work.” Those words have stayed with me and continue to guide me in moments of uncertainty. You’ve taught me that confidence and self-belief are key to overcoming life’s hurdles.

And let’s not forget the countless fun times we’ve shared. Your sense of adventure and willingness to embrace life’s joys, big or small, has made every experience more memorable. Whether it was a spontaneous road trip or a simple family game night, your enthusiasm has made those moments unforgettable.

Today is not just about celebrating another year of your life but about recognizing the incredible impact you’ve had on all of us. Your kindness, wisdom, and love have shaped our lives in ways that words can barely capture.

So here’s to you, Dad—an extraordinary man who has given so much to his family and continues to inspire us every day. I hope you have the pleasure, joy, and laughter you so wonderfully deserve on this special day.

Let’s raise our glasses to a truly remarkable father. Happy birthday, Dad! I hope we can always and today celebrate you.

Cheers!

[kohiiiro]

Hello again everyone!! Long time no see! Hope you’ve all been doing well (or as well as can be with the pandemic and all) and you’re all looking after yourselves!

This is going to be very sentimental (at times too sentimental lol) but here we go:

I’m making this post as a message to everyone that followed my Gintama art on tumblr up until now, whether that be every single one of my uploads or even just a single like on ONE of my sketches, this message is to you:

When I first started uploading art online, I believe it was mostly Gintama focused. Occasionally I would go to other series to try out something new, but in the end I would always come back home to Gintama.

There’s no doubt in my mind that my art style, my inspirations, my love for anime/manga and Japan in general… all of it stemmed from this amazing series… and I’m so grateful for that… so… so grateful…

Heck, I’m living in Japan now partially thanks to some things Gintama taught me. I learnt Japanese through it and as cheesy as it sounds, it’s somewhat shaped me into who I am today.

I’ve gone through some of the toughest moments in my life with Gintama being the thing that puts a smile on my face. Again… forever grateful.

And to be honest… it’s not just the Gintama that kept me drawing art in the first place, it was mostly you guys.

People like @gintamajustaway , @bossladytae , @gintokiu , @tendogumi and so many others. You’ve supported my work for such a long time and with all of your reblogs and likes, I was able to get great criticism and feedback from everyone! Heck, even now people are reblogging and commenting on my work from years ago.

To all the artist friends on here too! You’ve all given me a bunch of ideas that I loved drawing over the years. I hope you all keep drawing what you love and get better and better too!

I’ve said it countless times to you all but thank you so much! You’ve pushed me and encouraged me to keep pursuing a passion I’ve loved since I was a kid drawing little stick figure dragon ball comics. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Now on to the reason for this message. As you can tell, I haven’t been posting recently, let alone Gintama pieces. After watching the final movie and drawing my last piece for the series, I decided to move on.

Like I said before, Gintama was always the home for me to come back to, but this time it kind of felt like how you turn into an adult and leave home for the first time. That’s been me for this past year or so now. But a home is a home and it’s not going anywhere that’s for sure. If the series I currently enjoy drawing becomes too difficult for me, or the fandom becomes too toxic, home will always be there to go back to.

This is basically a message saying that I won’t be posting any Gintama related things for a while now. I’ll be drawing a bunch of other series and improving my art as I go. But when I feel like I need to come home, expect some Gintama art (or at least sketches) sometime in the future.

For those of you that follow me for Gintama art/related content, first of all I apologize for the absence. You’re more than welcome to unfollow me. And if you do, let me just say thank you for everything up until now!

Until I come home, thank you all so much!

[scuttling]

In Those Jeans

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 2,599 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Blow jobs, Thigh riding, Car sex, Unprotected sex, Semi-public sex Summary: After almost two years of dating, you and Aaron still can't keep your eyes—or hands—off of each other, even at a company picnic; but who could blame you, when he looks like that? *Inspired by this gifset I think we all reblogged last night. I'm feral for Hotch in jeans. 🤤 Link to AO3 or read below! As Aaron’s girlfriend of almost two years, there have been countless times when you’ve gotten to see the rarer sides of his personality, things he doesn’t show at work, or at least not often.

You’ve seen his silly side with Jack when he builds pillow forts, plays tag in the backyard, makes messes in the kitchen. You’ve seen his sweet side when he gives you a back rub just because, makes your favorite dinner when you’ve had a stressful week, when he’s there to talk or just cuddle after appointments with your therapist, which he knows can bring your mood down a little.

You’ve seen him tender, romantic, playful, emotional, loving and caring and capable, but nothing compares to the hidden knowledge you have of one aspect of his personality: your man is horny as hell, and also kind of a freak.

At work, of course, he is the epitome of stoic, expressionless, buttoned-up suit, but a little flash of panty, or a sultry look, or even a well-timed innuendo is enough to have you knees up in the backseat of a government-owned SUV before the rest of your team even leaves the parking garage.

You silently thank god for tinted windows; you not-so-silently thank god for Aaron.

It’s amazing, because you are the same way, half turned-on at any given time of the day, catapulted to full on horny mess depending on the look on his face, the outfit he’s wearing, whether or not he calls you by your last name—before you were dating, you longed to hear him say your first name, but now it’s the impersonal bark of your surname that really gets you going.

Because you share the same predisposition for being down to fuck most of the time, all it takes is a raised eyebrow or a sway of the hips to signal you’re in the mood for something to happen, and if it’s physically feasible and won’t get you arrested, you usually follow through.

It’s how you end up getting absolutely wrecked in the back of the SUV at an FBI family picnic event—you don’t feel great about it, but it is what it is, and it all started with a pair of jeans. Aaron is hot. There’s no doubt about it, and it’s not up for debate. He doesn’t see it, but that just makes him hotter; if other people don’t see it, that just makes them stupid. You see it, though, everyday, in the smallest of ways, can’t stop seeing it. When he gets ready for the picnic, throws on a soft, worn t-shirt and a pair of jeans that fit him so well it’s almost criminal, you make a noise in the back of your throat, and Aaron grins.

“What’s happening over there?” he asks as you sit on the edge of the bed, hooking the strap of your sandal over your heel. You exhale, scowl.

“I think you know very well what’s happening.” He chooses a belt from the back of the door, slides it through the loops on the jeans, and your mouth waters. “Fuck, Aaron.”

“No time for that,” he says, looking up at you through his stupidly dark eyelashes, and he clasps the buckle, smooths his hands down his thighs. You’re going to be soaked before you even leave the house.

“I beg to differ.” You stand from the bed, twirl a little in a blue sundress you know Aaron won’t be able to resist for long. Two can play at this game: if he wants to watch you slowly lose your composure in public, you’re sure as hell not going to make it easy.

“Ugh. Love those little dresses,” he murmurs, stepping toward you, but you shake your head and wag a finger at him.

“Nope, no time for that,” you say, but you giggle when he narrows his eyes and stalks closer anyway.

He tackles you, tosses you back on the bed, kisses your mouth and neck, then whispers dirty things into your ear and rubs you through your panties until you come so loud it could wake the dead. You undo that stupid belt, tug his jeans down just enough to free his cock, toss your hair over your shoulder, and blow him like you’re being graded on it—if that were the case, you’d be getting extra credit for technique, no doubt about it.

You leave a little later than intended, and you know you just made a huge mistake, because getting him out of those jeans again is going to be all you can think about for the rest of the day; you’re not certain what’s going through his head, but you know for a fact he’s thinking pretty much the same thing.

Even though you’re both bummed that it’s Jack’s weekend with Haley and he's missing the picnic, you have to admit it’s kind of good timing, because you don’t let yourself get distracted when he is with you, but Aaron is looking so damn distracting today. You sit at a picnic table with JJ and Garcia, drinking iced tea and watching Will and Aaron play catch with Henry and a couple other kids. You’d say this is just a tactic, because seeing Aaron interact with kids always gives you baby (and babymaking) fever, but you know deep down he just loves children, and that makes your heart warm more than anything.

When he lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face? Now that’s a tactic, and a damn good one. You can’t hold back your whimper, and your friends take one look at you and share an amused glance.

“It’s a family picnic,” JJ says, scolding and teasing all at once. “Keep it in your pants.”

“It’s his pants you need to be worried about,” you mutter, and you fan yourself with your hand to try to bring yourself down a notch. That, of course, does not work, so you sigh, stand from the table, pour a cup of lemonade, and give them a wink before walking over to Aaron’s side. You get his attention with an innocent look, hand over the lemonade with a sweet smile.

“You look hot. And thirsty,” you tell him, and he smiles, tips his head back, and drinks it all in one gulp. You watch him swallow, squeeze your thighs together.

“So do you,” he says with a hint of a smirk, handing back the cup, and he leans in to whisper in your ear. “Thanks for the lemonade; now let me watch you walk away.” You pull back, lick your lips slowly and turn around, throwing him a look over your shoulder as you make your way back to the picnic table. Emily and Derek are there now too, and Emily laughs when you take your seat.

“Two years in and you still look at each other like that? Please tell me your secret,” she says with a grin, taking a sip of her iced tea.

“Tons of quality orgasms,” you answer with a fond sigh, tucking your chin in the palm of your hand and watching Aaron cross the lot. There’s something so powerful about his stride that it makes you horny just to watch him walk; your downstairs brain is so stupid. “He also makes really good jalapeno mac and cheese.” The answer to your question, when am I going to get fucked by my gorgeous boyfriend?, will be answered shortly, you’re fairly certain; you have a good feeling, because you’re talking to an agent that works on the floor above yours, and the strap of your dress has fallen down your shoulder, and he keeps glancing at it. You’d fix it, but that would only draw more attention to it, and you can already feel Aaron looking at you.

He doesn’t get jealous often, but get him in the right mood and his dumb caveman instincts switch from fight or flight to fight or fuck pretty quickly; when he heads your way with swift, purposeful steps, you’re pretty sure you know which one has been activated today.

“Hey. Time to go,” he says, looking over your face; he turns to nod at the guy you’re talking to, then very slowly hooks his finger in the strap of your dress and slides it back into place, making eye contact with you while he does it. You don’t know why that makes you so goddamn hot, but your breathing picks up and you bite your lip, take his hand when he offers it.

You don’t say goodbye to anyone, just follow him quickly to the car and climb into the backseat when he opens the door. The second he closes it behind him, his mouth is on yours, and you fist your fingers in his t-shirt, hitch a leg over his hip, and pull him closer.

“I want you, I need you,” you breathe into the kiss, and he slides one hand around your back, uses the other to push up your dress and grab a palmful of your ass.

“I know, baby. God, I want you. You look fucking perfect in that dress; I want to tear it off.” It’s sort of expensive, and pretty, but fuck, you’re going to let him. He shifts so his back is against the seat, pulls you into his lap, and you moan when he presses you right on top of his cock, hard and bulging against the seam of his jeans. “Feel what you do to me, when you’re looking like a goddamn angel and other men can’t take their eyes off of you?” You tug on his hair, kiss him roughly, move your hands to his belt, but he stops you with gentle fingers. “First I want you to ride my thigh. You’ve been staring at them all day; do you want to?”

“Fuck, absolutely,” you whine, and he puts his hands on your hips, shifts you so your knees are on either side of his perfect, firm, denim clad thigh and encourages you to grind against it. You don’t need much encouragement, but he eases down one of the straps of your dress and maneuvers it so that he can bare your breast, get his lips around your nipple while you work to get yourself off. “Oh, god yeah.”

You plant your hands on his shoulders, dig your nails in through the soft fabric, and slide against him like a needy, horny teenager. You’re wet, and he’s undoubtedly going to be wet too by the time you’re done with him, leg soaked with your come—god, that’s a hot prospect. Both of you are panting, not from exertion but arousal, and you move a hand to the back of his head, grip his hair in your fingers while he sucks and softly bites your nipple. When he pulls back, his lips are wet, and you capture them in a kiss.

“Yeah, you’re doing so good, keep going. Keep humping, baby, come on me.” He gets a hand in your hair, kisses your neck, and you cling to him for dear life, broad back and shoulders beneath your hands as you work your hips desperately in pursuit of your orgasm. “So fucking perfect, come on me,” he mutters against your throat, and you hug him close, absolutely lose it as your climax makes your body tense from shoulders to toes.

You moan in his ear like an absolute slut—if you are one, he’s made you that way, so it’s only fair—and he kisses your mouth, deep, rough, wet kisses that ensure your desire does not dip in the slightest. You feel dirty and incredible, but no more relieved or satisfied than you were ten minutes ago.

A little bit of Aaron is never enough; no amount of Aaron is ever enough.

He makes sure you can hold yourself up and then takes his hands off of you, opens his belt and his pants and pushes them down his thighs far enough that you’ll be comfortable. You slide off of his leg to slip your panties off—they’re useless at this point anyway—and he gets his hands on your hips and puts you in his lap, holds you up so you can line his cock up with your entrance and let him press inside.

“Mmh, fuck, Aaron,” you gasp, and with the way he looks at you, eyes dark and serious and possessive, you know this will be quick for the both of you. You wrap one hand around his bicep, press back against his knee with the other; he slides his hands up to your waist, dragging the skirt of your dress up with him so he can watch himself disappear inside you, which is ten different kinds of sexy.

“Thinking about this all day—burying my cock inside your sweet, tight pussy, coming deep inside you. Do you like it, getting fucked here because I want you so bad I can’t stand to wait?” Even though you know you shouldn’t, you do, and you nod, moan yes when he fucks up inside you, strong thighs flexing. “Me too, love it, love you.”

“Love you,” you murmur while you bounce in his lap, eyes on his, tongue slipping over your lips while you snap your hips against his thrusts. “Gonna milk your cock, take every last drop; greedy for it.” Aaron groans, tightens his hands on your waist, and you clench around him when he comes, riding him fast and thorough; you follow quickly, leaning forward to rest your head against his shoulder while you shudder through the pleasure.

His hands are gentle after, smoothing up your back, around your neck, and he pulls you closer for a soft, sweet, passionate kiss. When it breaks, you smile against each other's lips.

“Tease,” you whisper, smoothing your hands over his throat, his jaw. “New unwritten rule: if you wear those jeans in public, I get as much sex as I want for the rest of the night.” He chuckles, but ultimately nods.

“Deal. New unwritten rule: when we’re out in public and someone is looking at you like that guy was looking at you, I have permission to throw you over my shoulder and take you home and remind you why it is that you belong with me.” You pull him close for a hard kiss and grin.

“Deal, caveman. So what do you want to do now?” He wrinkles his nose in contemplation, straightens up the top half of your dress.

“I think I want to go home and tear this off of you as previously mentioned,” he says; you bite your lip and nod. “What do you want to do?”

That’s a loaded question, but at the moment, only one thing really comes to mind.

“Fuck me wearing these clothes again; I don’t care where or how, you can surprise me.”

Aaron is, unsurprisingly, on board with that plan; you slip off of him, smooth out your dress, and he pulls his pants up—they are still very wet from your first orgasm, and you rub the spot with the edge of your dress to no avail.

“Don’t get pulled over, Agent,” you joke, because that would be both very hard and very easy to explain, and he groans like you’ve just done something very sexy.

“Love it when you call me Agent,” he says, pulling you in for a kiss, and you plan some super hot roleplay for later and hop out of the car so you can climb into the front seat like the fully-functioning, non-horny adult that you are.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner

[peaches-writes]

heart attack!

description: han jisung can charm any heart if he wants to but he just wants one, whether he admits it to your face or not. 

member: jisung / han

genre: fluff, fantasy, rivals to lovers au, childhood friends to lovers au, witch / wizard au (sugar sugar rune-inspired), royal au, college au, roommates / housemates au, slice of life format, a side of hwang siblings, sunshine twins, cousin chan, and minchan (!!)

word count: 25.1k i’m so sorry

warnings: explicit language, alcohol, some mentions of injuries, a brief episode of someone getting abducted, mentions of a creep being,,,well a creep at public transportation, self-indulgent tooth-rotting cheesiness, idk if i should put a warning for unconscious emotional manipulation but im gonna write that in here anw

note: idk if i want to write little drabbles w this same pairing again since it ended up being so long but i kinda lost the plot halfway lmao lmk if u guys want additional lil drabbles for this hehe + again happy 1k yay!

You don’t always get along with Han Jisung, crown prince of the Eastern Kingdom, for reasons you simply can't limit to the number of fingers and toes that you have. He loves annoying you for the sake of getting a reaction, bratty as far as a wizard prince goes, and prideful among many traits that you were forced to grow up alongside with.

These days, however, you hate the way that he is the only other candidate alongside yourself for the High Crown of the magical world. As if fate didn't just want the two of you to butt heads in school and at royal social functions all the time, suddenly you're pushed to compete with him for something much greater.

For the record, though, it's tradition that all firstborn heirs of the 4 major kingdoms are considered eligible for the highest throne that unites all of your domains. You were going to compete with him either way, just with other people initially involved. However, with prince Hyunjin of the Southern kingdom mysteriously disappearing over a month ago and princess Lia of the Western kingdom subsequently refusing the candidacy, suddenly there was only you and the Eastern prince for the high jury to challenge in their Crown Candidacy exam. Fate and circumstance clearly love you with the way Jisung is always in your line of sight when all you want for yourself is to not be on the receiving end of his teasings and competititve streak all the time.

Though you yourself didn't desire the High Crown at first, the elders continuously pressuring you eventually pushed you into accepting the task. Plus, knowing that it's Jisung—the brat who pulled on your hair during those silly etiquette lessons the high jury made you and the other royals take as kids and embarrassed you when you once confessed your past crush to him in middle school—who would be automatically crowned without a test if Hyunjin isn't found in time and you also refuse made you go forward with it. After all, as much as you personally don't want to answer to Jisung as the next High King, you also think that entrusting the entire magical realm to him is simply not right. You would know, you had to grow up with him.

So, here you are on the night that the Crown Candidacy exam begins, receiving the final blessing from your mother and the high jury with Jisung who has been sneakily trying to poke on your side and get a reaction out of you since the ceremony began. If 15 elders and your mentors aren't surrounding the two of you with their scrutinizing eyes right this very moment, you would've easily snapped on the first poke and blasted the blue-haired boy.

"Stop that," You instead gritted your teeth next to him with the 17th poke to your waist, lowering your voice that only he can hear. "Ji, I swear to the gods—"

Among the circle of witches and wizards chanting ritual protection spells over the two of you, your mentor Younghyun glares at you and Jisung as if in a non-verbal scolding that the two of you should stop "playing around" as he would usually word it. You simply roll your eyes at this in response, earning you more quizzical looks from the other elders.

You also hate the way that Han Jisung keeps stringing you into his antics as his favourite person to mess with. If anything, you're most often in trouble with the elders because of him.

"This part of the ceremony is so unnecessary. I'm bored" He murmurs tiredly under his breath, bringing his hands back inside his black cape and pushing his shoulders back as he stands up straighter once more. "It's not like humans can hurt us. We're the magical ones, hello? Besides, the jury’s already cut the one-year exam by half. What could even happen in that time?”

"Stray monsters can still hunt you there if you don’t stand still." You correct immediately, earning you a look from your own mother this time as she finishes leading the last of the spells. At this point in your unwanted association with him, you don't even care much anymore that you get in trouble because you entertain his antics. You just want him to shut up. "Whatever. It's done."

The prince then giddily springs up in place once all of the spells are casted, suddenly looking more awake than the past 5 minutes of ceremony. "Finally! Okay, thanks for that! We'll be going now!"

"Wait." Your mother calmly interrupts him, perfectly hiding her slight annoyance over you and Jisung as she whips out her blue wand from the pockets of her ceremonial robes. "For the high jury to properly tally the ecure that you'll collect in the human world after this task, we'll be providing you with vessels to keep them."

As she mentions the vessels, a sapphire locket and an emerald ring materialize in front of you and Jisung respectively before settling at the palms of your hands. You're then quick to notice the way that the diamond-cut sapphire encrusted at the center of your locket emits warmth as you place it around your neck, indicating its magical properties.

"These vessels have been modified further to record everything that you collect and any spell or potion that you might use them on while undertaking in this task." Your mother then continues. Simultaneously, Younghyun gestures for you and Jisung to mount your brooms and prepare to fly off into the yellow crescent moon where the portal to the human world lies on its other side. "Though the ecure that you lose is not counted in the final tally, knowing how you used or lost them also contributes to the jury's examination of your magical skills and knowledge."

Jisung chuckles, bumping the bristle end of his broom with yours playfully. "And to see what kind of trouble we'll get ourselves into, right?"

In response, you simply roll your eyes. Your mother, on the other hand, purposely tunes out Jisung's usual antics and continues, "Remember, this exam will determine the next monarch that unites all of the 4 major domains. Collect as much ecure as you can from the humans in the 6 months that you're given with them and you will be rewarded greatly. Until then, have a safe journey to the human world, candidates."

With that, you and Jisung push yourselves off from the castle balcony, heading straight to the crescent moon.

"Last to the other side is a lousy flyer!" Jisung yells playfully into the quiet night, speeding ahead before you could even process his words. “And has to pay for a meal sometime!”

"Ya! Han Jisung!" You increase your speed yourself anyway despite knowing that his words don’t have any ill meaning, catching up to him with ease just as the two of you pass into the portal. “I paid for the meals last time!” 

-

Han Jisung isn't always fond of you, the heir to the Northern Kingdom, for reasons he simply can't limit to the number of fingers and toes that he has. He thinks you're too uptight (especially in the presence of the high jury and the other elders of the bigger royal circle), easily irritable, and surprisingly a bit of a pushover to your kingdom's advisors ever since your cousin, Chan, renounced his royal title and settled in the human world.

These days, however, he hates the way that you've suddenly taken up an interest in competing for the high crown of the magical world alongside him even when you've made it clear countless times before that you only wanted to rule your own kingdom. You only started showing interest after Lia formally refused her candidacy and the elders pushed you more into changing your mind, clearly hinting that you don't want Jisung to automatically be crowned High King.

Do they really think that terribly of me? Jisung has resorted to thinking a lot about these days, even now as the two of you arrive at Chan’s place where you would be staying for the duration of the test. I make a good high king as much as I do the king of my own people! Hmp!

It shouldn't bother him this much, it's just you anyway. But at the same time, it bothers him for this very same reason: because it's you, the know-it-all who always busted his antics to the teachers back in school and embarrassed him to his friends when you confessed your past crush to him back in middle school. Jisung hates the way you challenge and compel him to be petty and competitive all the time, especially in the little things. Like right now, as the two of you argue on who gets the bigger bedroom in Chan's house right after you arrived.

"You know, I was just holding back a while ago because we were in front of the elders but I swear, I won't hesitate to blast you now that we're away." You warn as you try your best to stare him down while he blocks the bedroom door you both want. You have your hands raised to the side, sparks of a spell encircling our fingers and the space between your hands. "Move, Jisung!"

Still, Jisung stubbornly refuses. You two have bickered enough to last you all of your lifetimes and for him to know that you won't really do it. "I was here first! You go to the other room!"

The blue ball of energy in your hands begins to shape itself into a more tangible shape as your brows furrow even deeper in frustration. "But I called dibs on this room to Chan firs—!"

Before you could finish your words, however, Chan peeks his head out from the opposite end of the hallway with a pile of blankets in his hands. "You two still going at it? It's almost 2 AM." He teases in feigned disapproval, approaching the two of you to throw a blanket each of your way. "Come on, give it up, Sung. Y/N gets the big room."

Jisung's initial smug expression contorts into disbelief in an instant while you celebrate with a wide grin and a teasing tongue stuck out at him. "What?!"

"Ha! Thanks, Channie!" You clasp your hands together in satisfaction, the red sparks in your hands disappearing into thin air as you do so, before pushing the paralyzed Jisung out of the way and locking yourself in the bedroom. Once Jisung's pulled himself together at the betrayal, you then briefly peek your head out of the door, sticking your tongue out for the last time before greeting the two boys with a quick, "Goodnight!"

Jisung glares and purses his lips in front of Chan who chuckles at this. "Hyung!" He whines, grabbing the older boy by his biceps and shaking him wildly like how a child would throw a tantrum. "I don't see you for three years and when I do, I get treated like this?!"

"Exactly." Chan nods with an amused smile, tugging Jisung to his side and leading him to his room across from yours. "Y/N was kind enough to visit me here while you didn't even send a letter. I think that's enough to give them the big room."

"Aah, but you already know why I couldn't! I was busy with all the prince stuff!"

"Y/N was too, though? And they’re doing twice the work than you."

"But Y/N's more organized than me!"

"So you agree? My cousin earned the bigger room?"

"No, it’s not th—aish! Bang Chan!" When the older boy in question tries pushing Jisung back to the smaller bedroom, the latter childishly protests by gripping onto the doorframe. "I'm making it up to you now! I'm literally staying here for 6 months!"

"Yeah and I'll definitely treat you to lots of other things for that later. Seriously, Ji, give it a rest. It's just your temporary room for the exam." Chan sighs with a tired laugh, prying the younger wizard's hands off of the doorframe and shoving him inside the room. "Unpack your things and get some sleep. We're having a welcoming party for you two on the weekend."

"You're supposed to side with me here."

"Don't pull that face, you're not kids anymore." Chan chuckles, ruffling the younger boy's hair. "And I'm not siding with anyone. It’s just a room! Night, Sungie."

Jisung opens his mouth to protest, only for Chan to close the door on him and walk back to his own room. With a sigh, the boy defeatedly trudges to his new bed and, after taking out his expandable pouch from his pockets, jumps to the mattress with a muffled groan to the plush pillows.

Jisung also hates how one of his best friends favors you better just because you're cousins first. He's had enough of Chan coddling you before from when you were kids, always taking your side when the two of you bicker and offering you his extra food when the three of you are together, and he would much prefer it if he doesn't see it now that the two of you are undergoing an important exam.

"At least the view's nice." He pouts to himself once he's seated up once more, facing the window that overlooks the city. After just spending ten minutes flying over Seoul and exploring Chan's vast mansion, Jisung gets it a little now. Chan definitely didn't choose this realm over their home for no reason.

If I'm not in line to be king, Jisung thinks to himself, this life also seems nice.

Hovering his hands over the enchanted green pouch, its neatly packed contents of clothes and other personal belongings then emerge from its seemingly tiny space before levitating to their respective places. "Aish, that Y/N!" Jisung yells loudly on purpose, leaning on his side closer to the door to hear your reaction.

Across the hall, while you make a fuss out of unpacking and changing the appearance of some furniture, you yell back, "Shut up, Ji!"

Jisung has many reasons for disliking you at times but, if anything, he lives for your reactions when he purposely annoys you. Even when he knows you’re always a spell away from actually snapping at him, you never actually do and it never fails to amuse him. Scoffing, he lets it slide for now and quietly unpacks.

-

If attending social functions as a royal has taught you anything over the years, it's to avoid being within reach of Jisung at a party before, during, and after he makes a huge mess of things. You've had your own fair share of spilled drinks to your dress robes, purposely getting embarrassed in front of the elders and other important public officials, and even a huge fight over not wanting to be his dance partner to remind you of this at all times.

Of the places that you and Jisung have to be standing next to each other, it's the parties that you hate having to see him at the most because they bring you nothing but trouble. Chan's welcoming party for the two of you, with witches and wizards living in the human world as well as Chan's own human friends in attendance, is no exception.

"What do you think he's going to do this time?" Yeji snickers next to you on the makeshift dance floor of the house's backyard. Ever since her brother disappeared, she's been staying in the human world combing through every inch of Seoul and trying to retrace what is little known of the steps he took. Naturally, you've stuck to each other like glue since she arrived. "It's been two hours since this party started and all he's doing is—"

"Flirt with every human on the dance floor. I know, that's why I'm not looking over my shoulder. I think that's all he's planning to do in this party, given that we've started with the test." You frown, taking a sip of your beer as the song changes to a more lively one. "This guy's never taken any exam back in school seriously but now he suddenly wants to win this one exam. Weird, right?"

"Hm, maybe he really wants to win this exam and become high king. You can never really tell what goes on in that head of his." Yeji shrugs, blinking twice in quick succession to make her eyes turn red, an indication that she's scanning the venue for the humans' ecures. "Anyway, he's definitely working hard. I see a lot of orange hearts for him as much as there are for you."

Only then do you also turn your head around the place, your own eyes turning blue as you collect the orange hearts of infatuation and green hearts of friendship that people you've met tonight have for you with a non-verbal spell. As you catch these little crystal hearts into your locket, you briefly catch a glimpse of Jisung at one of the foldable tables chatting with three human girls. It somehow irritates you.

"He never lost that cringey fuckboy persona, huh?" Yeji points out once you're done with your collecting, shaking her now empty bottle and frowning once she realizes that it's already empty. "I guess I didn't miss out on much even after being away for a few weeks."

"You talk like you were gone for a year, not 3 weeks." You laugh. When she then asks you if you want to get new beer bottles, you follow her back to the coolers behind Chan's DJ set. "I hate how we'll be seeing more of those again when we start attending uni to collect more hearts."

"Oh, right! You're attending mine, right? You'll be with me, Seungmin, and Ryujin?" When you nod once more, she links her arms with yours and adds, “Gosh, I can just see it now, girls from the different departments flocking the two of you on the first day but especially Sung. A lot of girls I know from uni really dig that e-boy thing he has going on."

You pretend to gag, making her throw her head back in a cackle of laughs. "Humans and their weird tastes in men." You scrunch up your nose, the two of you briefly pausing to politely wave at Chan as you pass by his booth.

Your cousin doesn't hesitate to wave back at you both before going back to his spinning. You and Yeji then head to the back of his area where the coolers of different beverages have been placed.

"Oh shush, didn't you too also have a crush on him way back then?" Yeji teases the moment the two of you are alone again, opening the cooler with a simple flick of her hand. You follow along despite the glare you send her way, your empty beer bottles getting replaced by new ones. "Sometimes, Ryujin and I like to think that you still have a little bit of that."

"No way." You shake your head in denial, picking up a bottle opener from one of the closed coolers and using it over yours and Yeji's. "Middle school was a long time ago. Jisung just irritates the hell out of me now."

"Who irritates who now?" A voice behind you perks up almost immediately, causing you to jump and spill a little of your beer on the grass. When you glance over your shoulder, Jisung's white bucket hat comes into your vision, eventually uncovering his mischievous smile. "Ah, so clumsy. Look, you spilled a little beer on the grass.” 

Next to you, Yeji giggles behind her hand while greeting Jisung. You glare at her in response.

"You're annoying." You point out with a pout, thrusting the bottle opener to his chest before linking arms with Yeji. "We're going."

Jisung only shrugs with a smirk, waving goodbye to Yeji as the two of you pass by him to go back to the dance floor. "It makes you look, doesn't it?"

"Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that." You roll your eyes before disappearing back into the crowd with Yeji.

Once Jisung is out of earshot, Yeji then nudges your side with your linked arms. "I'm telling you, there's still a little something. Deep, deep down there." She teases in a singsong. “That’s probably why the banter just won’t die out.”

"Nope, definitely not." You shake your head. "Have you been watching too much of those human dramas while you’re here? It’s playing with your judgement."

-

It comes even as a surprise to Jisung himself that he hasn't caused a major mishap in this welcoming party so far. Since the majority of the guests started arriving two hours ago, he hasn't done anything troubling besides losing to Ryujin at beer pong and finishing a whole red cup of Chan's jungle juice concoction as punishment almost an hour ago.

It doesn't bother his "instincts for mischief" that much—his mentor's words not his. It means that he's more focused on collecting ecures at the moment with the amount of humans he's mingled with at this party, especially the girls who have taken it upon themselves to flirt with him.

What does bother him slightly, however, is the way you occasionally glance over to him knowingly from across the lawn, as if you're expecting him to do something. You always seem to do that after years of getting roped into his troubles, much like a lot of your childhood friends who'd frequently end up in similar predicaments. Somehow, however, it's always intimidating when it's you looking at him. He personally hates that, the look in your eyes when you're trying to catch him in his mischievous acts.

"Who are you and what have you done to my twin brother?" Felix has been teasing the entire night every time he encounters Jisung. When Jisung pouts this time, while the two share a drink on a couch that was brought out for this party, Felix laughs over his drink and adds, "Oh, so you're really focused on this test, huh? No trouble until this party's over?"

"Why do you guys think I'm not?" Jisung frowns, elbowing his brother by his side. "Geez, Lix, you're supposed to root for me here. If I win, you get to be king too."

In response, Felix waves his solo cup dismissively. "No, no, I think you're doing great! You've caught how much already? Twenty hearts in this party? That's a great start, bro." He comments with a proud smile. "It's just a little new, seeing you all so serious and focused. It's not because you're up against Y/N, right?"

"Ha? Nope, definitely not. It's barely a competition when I'm clearly winning." Jisung shakes his head a little too defensively as he sinks into the soft velvet couch. "I just think it's natural that another kingdom should get the high crown this time and since it's only me and Y/N competing, unless we also find Hyunjin while we're here I should work hard and make it happen."

Just then, Seungmin sits down on his other side with a cup of punch and a small paper plate of sweets from the chocolate fountain. "If Hyunjin was here, he would've whipped your asses in this party by getting all of the human guys and girls with one smile." He points out matter-of-factly. "Plus, if Lia accepted the candidacy, all three of you would've lost even before you left home."

"You never really rooted for me, huh, Minnie?" Jisung feigns sad eyes as he rests his head on Seungmin's shoulder. "And here I thought we're best friends."

"Oh no, I'm totally rooting for you now." Seungmin replies with a dry chuckle, passing his paper plate over to Felix when he holds his hands out in a motion asking for food. "But if the gang was complete, I would've changed to team Hyunjin."

Jisung scoffs at this, swiping a marshmallow covered in chocolate from Seungmin's plate. "Fine, I won’t hold it against you. I miss Hyunjin too."

"Yeji and Chae are doing everything they can to look for him. He'll turn up somewhere, he just has to. Until then, you should just focus more on your exam. Hyunnie would want that." Felix quips in before turning his attention over to you and Yeji at the nearby karaoke mini bar. "Look, that's what Y/N and Yeji are doing right now."

When Jisung looks through the crowd that has gathered around you, his eyes turning a deep green, he sees a lot of orange hearts gravitate over to you, mostly from the uni boys and girls that Yeji, Seungmin, and Ryujin have invited to this party.

"You guys are seeing it too, right?" Felix asks, his own eyes a matching shade of green when he tilts his head over to Seungmin and Jisung. "At least twenty new hearts in a span of 10 minutes, right after they just gave Y/N a bunch of green hearts."

Seungmin nods, his head movements making Jisung's head shake a little on his shoulder. "Yeah. Y/N's really working extra on this." He notes in complete awe. "The competition's really close, don't you think so Lix?"

"Definitely. What do you think, Ji?"

"Nope, definitely not." Jisung crosses his arms and shakes his head in disagreement. "It's impressive but not enough to catch up to me."

But the smallest hint of a frown gracing his features is enough to give his feelings away to his friends. Only now does it fully sink in that it���s definitely a tight competition between the two of you.

one out of six months

At one point, you understood why people would foolishly fall for Jisung. On a really good day, when he's not causing you or anyone too much trouble, you could see his playful side as charming, maybe even too cute for you to admit it out loud. A long time ago, back when you were still so naïve, you had a small playground crush on him too, after all; a crush that ended so badly you're convinced it's where your bickering naturally escalated.

But now, as your days in the human world turn into a month spent fulfilling your Crown Candidacy exam at university with your friends, you just wish that not a lot of humans are so insanely attracted to Jisung. It's nothing personal, of course, you're not jealous at all in that way. Whenever you sit in the library to study, attend classes from late in the morning to early afternoons, or even just sit in the quad with your shared friend group discussing updates on Yeji's search for Hyunjin, however, your competitor is just always being followed by flocks of smitten girls with their orange and pink ecures of crushes on their sleeves, ready to be collected by Jisung's emerald ring.

And you're not going to get started on the rainbow-colored hearts that send him little gifts and love letters at least once a week before classes, sometimes even directly to Chan's house where the third kitchen fridge is now filled with bakery goods stashed along with Chan's fan gifts. Not wanting to admit it to him or any of your friends, you're admittedly quite jealous because he attracts the ecures from the humans so easily while you have to work extra harder in socializing with your human peers to garner even just pink hearts. You hate having to work extra, extra harder just to be on par with him all the time, especially when he seems to be effortless in his ways.

"Before Lix went back to the magical realm, he relayed that Changbin from back home suggested that we start expanding our search for Hyunjin to—" For the sixth time since your group met up at the quad after classes this particular afternoon, another group of girls pass by and greet Jisung, interrupting Yeji in her explanations. Pouting slightly, she then turns to Jisung and pokes him with her pen, snapping the smirk off of his face. "Sung, focus."

Jisung nods quickly, waving Yeji's pen away from his side. "Yeah, let me just collect their hearts real quick."

You roll your eyes in response, nudging Yeji to resume her updates. "Just go on, Yeji." You encourage her, Seungmin and Ryujin nodding along in agreement. For emphasis, you make sure to tap Jisung's hand on the grass with your own pen harshly, making him wince dramatically in pain. "You're extending the search to Incheon, right?"

"Oh, uh yeah. Like I said, Lix said that Changbin suggested Incheon since Hyunjin briefly mentioned it in one of his letters. We'll start looking into it ourselves before this semester is over." Yeji continues on, ignoring the next group of passing girls that Jisung gets distracted over again this time around. "Chaeryoung is going there in the following months, though, to scout the places first. Then, we'll try and follow up with a search of our own. I'll have to ask Chan and the jury back at home if you and Jisung are allowed to go, though, since you're taking your exam."

"Among those places, Hyunjin often went to this stretch of the beach because he was investigating a monster from home who escaped here and took an artifact from our kingdom." Seungmin added, pointing to a location on Yeji's map sprawled over your laptops at the very center of your circle. "It was one of his last assignments here before he suddenly disappeared. We'll probably stay here the longest."

You try your best to listen, adding your own inputs to how your search operations would go while also noticing a couple of people who recognize you and wave your way, but Jisung somehow keeps grabbing your attention by the way he entertains his admirers who greet him shyly as they pass by you group. The playful smirks he sends their way, the polite waves, and the way his hand keeps twitching in between the two of you as he collects the ecures with his own spell keep eating away at your attention span, pressuring you that he's taking the lead in your race.

You also try discreetly collecting your own share of hearts under your breath whenever someone you know passes by but you eventually find it hard finding people while trying to listen to your friends. "Ji, focus." You mumble under your breath after a while, breaking his focus as he collects two more orange hearts.

"Y/N, keep up with me here." He smirks, just as the orange hearts disappear into his ring. "Why are you so distracted by me, anyway? Jealous?"

"I’m not jealous!” 

"Guys focus." Ryujin snaps at the two of you this time, chuckling in amusement when you and Jisung both glare at her. "Hey, easy on the stink eyes. I'm just telling you two to listen over here."

"Do as I do, Ryujin, and just tune them out." Seungmin jabs nonchalantly as he and Yeji take down notes of their discussion, not even once looking up at you nor Jisung. "It works out splendidly once you've mastered it."

"Hearing them bicker over random things before was one thing. Hearing them bicker over ecures now is a whole new playing field." Ryujin smirks, particularly to you. "Ah, you guys sound even more like a married couple now that you're competing. Tsk, tsk..."

"No, we're not!" You and Jisung answer in chorus, looking incredulously at each other after. "Ya!"

"Seungmin's right. Just tune them out, Ryujin." Yeji points out without missing a beat, a small smile taking out the initial annoyance from her face. "Anyway, what's important is we settle our plans first. Let the married couple race for the crown."

"Ya! Hwang Yeji!" You scold, flinging your notebook towards her which she dodges swiftly. "I'm listening, I swear."

Yeji gives you a look of mock disbelief in response before chuckling and going back to her work. "Whatever you say."

-

Jisung won’t admit it to any of you nor his friends’ faces but he may be just a little jealous that you’re catching onto him at a great speed and looking surprisingly nonchalant about it on the outside. You work extremely hard, that’s a given and Jisung respects that as much as the two of you annoy each other. But he doesn’t even have to sneak over to your room at night and check your locket for your ecure count; the boys and girls from uni, the market where Chan forces the two of you to run errands on weekends, and even at Ryujin’s favorite skate park who always take two glances your way wherever you go are enough giveaway to the amount you’re collecting everyday. And it’s a whole lot of hearts. He won’t even be surprised if you’ve managed to collect 300 hearts by now.

And he’s not even going to get started on how fast you manage to take ecures from the same people twice in less than a week, managing to charm same-age neighbors and classmates from good friends to secret admirers in a span of a few days and getting you at least twice the amount for your tally. You have enough hearts on your locket to keep up with Jisung’s count and use your magic leisurely at home. You definitely keep your competitor up on his toes all the time with how you’re giving your all in this competition and it’s gnawing at him to do even better. 

What annoys him on top of this, however, are certain kinds of people that look your way, or even Yeji’s and Ryujin’s for that matter. When the three of you aren’t looking and a bunch of passing jocks would eye you weirdly on the quad or at the library, especially since you’re new to the school, his natural instinct is to glare them down until they’re looking away. He sees their purple ecures from where he would sit across from you as you study, a sign of a lusting kind of feeling, and it does nothing but to tick him off into intimidating them until the color fades out. 

Seungmin thinks that, in a way, this is cheating and that you’d probably think the same way if you find out since purple ecures are ranked quite high in the tally, just above pink hearts (”Y/N’s gotten mad at you before for going too far or breaking the rules. You, of all people, should know not to get on their bad side.”). When Jisung writes to Felix back home after, however, his twin naturally defends him and says that he’s just looking out for you. 

“You guys don’t always see eye to eye, even now that you’re competing against each other,” Felix recorded over the enchanted mail that arrived after your meeting at the quad, Jisung and Seungmin separating from your group to do some more studying at the library. “but you’re just looking out for Y/N and protecting them from any weirdos, like for Ryujin and Yeji. Just tone it down a bit and let them handle it sometimes.” 

“See? Lix thinks I’m doing something right.” Jisung sticks his tongue out at Seungmin who simply shakes his head in stubborn disagreement before returning back to his class notes. “I’m telling you, I’m not sabotaging Y/N on purpose.” 

“Still, whether they want to collect those purple ecures or not is not your choice to make.” Seungmin points out. Though he agrees with Jisung’s intentions, as he’s been doing the same and looking out for you and your friends in his own ways as well, he also trusts that you can take care of yourself. “Just let them handle it next time, unless they actually do need your help.”

“But—“

“Consider the guys that passed by at the quad the last time you’ll mess with Y/N’s ecures.” “You saw that?!”

Still, it gnaws on Jisung’s conscience when he takes the train home with you later that day, when another purple heart springs up for you as he checks your surroundings and finds it to be from a stranger. What a creep, Jisung cringes internally with disgust before strategically blocking the man out from your sight and standing closer to you, Y/N’s competition but I’m a decent being! Be the bigger person or whatever bullshit.

“Ya, what are you doing?” You push him away with your index finger to his stomach, leaving a bigger gap between the two of you as you stand on the moving train. “Ji, personal space.” 

“We’re literally cramped in this train like canned sardines, Y/N. I’m just trying to make space for the people coming in.” Jisung fibs in retort, unknowingly timing his words perfectly with the train making a stop and justifying his next action of taking a step closer to you. This time, he makes sure that he’s towering over you and blocking the creep behind him completely by moving his hand over to the train handle right next to where your hand is. “Don’t make it weird!”

Your expression is surprisingly unwavering now, clearly unamused by his boyish quips. “You’re the one making it weird! You keep hovering over me.” 

“Sure, sure, whatever you say.” He rolls his eyes, instinctively steadying you with one hand when the abrupt movements of the train pushes you slightly forwards. “Oops, careful there.” 

When Jisung takes one last glance at the creep and finds him still looking over your general direction, the boy finally snaps and sends a little spell over the man’s way, one that makes him itch all over and ties his shoelaces together. This is the last time, Jisung swears to himself with a chuckle under his breath, oh what the hell? Punishing creeps is kinda funny.

two out of six months

The first time Han Jisung spots a red heart that he can collect, it’s 2 months into your candidacy exam and he makes the surprising decision to prolong collecting it by several days. It’s not that Soonyoung from your Math class is aware of this. As far as she knows, Jisung is simply stringing her along much like he does with every other girl he’s flirting with and she doesn’t seem to mind this fact. 

But you mind, you and your other friends do a lot. “It’s a powerful heart and costs 5000 points on the point system.” Seungmin even noted himself once on another day that Jisung left your class without Soonyoung’s crystal red heart. You mostly agree on this, coupled with the fact that you can’t steal the heart for yourself to gain more points in the race since it’s not for you. “Just take it, it’s not going to get any higher than that.”

No matter how much you or any of your friends nag, however, Jisung simply lets the days pass doing nothing much about it besides entertain Soonyoung whenever the girl approaches. As his sole competitor in your candidacy exam, you visibly feel the most frustrated out of everyone else by each passing day, especially at the thought that you yourself haven’t managed any red hearts yet. 

“It is weird, very not like him but also a bit like him if that makes sense?” Ryujin notes by the 10th day, after you recounted Math class to her as you take a short break together. Today, Jisung agreed to go to lunch with Soonyoung, only to tell you and Seungmin that even then he’s not going to take her heart today. “I mean knowing what happened between you two in middle sch—” 

You immediately shake your head before she could even finish her thought, “No, I don’t think that has anything to do with now. Definitely not.” 

“It’s not like that! I meant to say that this is even worse than when you had a crush on Jisung. The girl’s ecure is as red as red could go!” Ryujin exclaims, forcing you to cover her mouth with your hand just as Soonyoung and Jisung comically pass by your table at the kiosk to eat lunch together. Slowly prying your hands off once the pair in question are out of earshot, Ryujin then leans over the table and continues, “But even then, he’s not taking it to gain momentum in your exam. Aren’t you a little bit curious why?” 

You hesitantly shrug, “I mean, a little...but honestly I think he’s just being stupid. If I were him, I won’t string the girl along, not for this long anyway. It’s a waste of time and effort when he can just pick up the heart and reject her carefully.” 

“Then, maybe he has his reasons. If you know about it, you might get an advantage!” Yeji speaks up this time, joining your table late with a huge pile of library books on top of her laptop bag in her hands. As much as this girl has been busy looking for her brother, she also keeps up with her human world cover surprisingly well even when she doesn’t have to with all the studying that she does on the side. “One way to find out, right? I heard Felix’s not that busy these days back home.”

You feign a frown at the two girls agreeing in unison, especially at Yeji as she takes out her phone from the magical realm. “You know, you’re really good at sticking your head into a lot of things even when you’re busy looking for your brother.” You note dryly, making Yeji laugh while dialling Felix’s phone on the other side. “That was sarcastic, Yeji.” 

“I’m a great multitasker.” She winks before placing her phone at the center of your table then scooting her chair closer to you and Ryujin, effectively hiding the odd-looking device that projects Felix’s face almost immediately. “Hey Lix!”

“Hi Lix!” You politely greet along with Ryujin anyway, waving to the small projection of the prince on Yeji’s phone. By the faint greenery that surrounds him, you immediately assume that he’s back at home and tending to his personal garden. 

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” The younger Eastern prince jokes, greeting the three of you individually after. “What’s up? Seungmo and Sungie not with you three today?” 

“Seungmin got held back in class today for a TA offering and your brother’s on a date! Can you believe it? A lunch date with a human girl!” Yeji explains a little too excitedly, you and Ryujin immediately shushing her up. Giggling, the princess continues anyway, “Which is why we called! We just thought it’s a little weird that Jisung’s not trying to catch this red heart when it’s a clear advantage to his tally and maybe you’d know why.” 

All the while Yeji explains your purpose for calling, you slowly observe how Felix’s own expression morphs into that of genuine surprise. “What? He hasn’t taken it?!” He exclaims in response after Yeji finishes speaking. “Are you sure? That’s not very like him.” 

“Well, why do you think he hasn’t taken it, then?” You suddenly find yourself asking this time, earning you incredulous looks from your peers. Brushing them off, you simply glance over at Felix as he tries thinking of a reason himself. 

“Maybe he still can’t reject admirers for shit.” Ryujin snickers under her breath, making you elbow the girl harshly on her side. 

But surprisingly, Felix nods absentmindedly to this. “Maybe…”

“Are you seriously agreeing with that, Lix?” You frown. “I think he’s just up to no good.” 

“Hey, Ji can act weird and not be up to trouble too, you know.” Felix pouts back. “But honestly, I don’t know why he’s not thinking of taking it either, especially knowing how he’s so proud of getting to receive it alone. Maybe he likes this person, who knows?” 

The thought feels so foreign to you, Jisung genuinely liking someone, especially knowing what he did when you were much younger. But when you glance over to your friends, you also notice the same confused looks on their faces. 

“Han Jisung...liking someone? Enough to respect their feelings?” Ryujin muses out loud before eventually shaking her head. “Nope, sounds weird. Dangerous! Alien! Y/N, have you been noticing any other weird things from your housemate lately? Maybe he’s been secretly abducted by aliens!” 

“Oh stop it, Ryujin! Whatever it is my brother’s planning, I trust that he at least has an idea what he’s doing.” Felix sighs, running a hand through his blonde locks. In the background of his end, the faint voice of Changbin beckoning him over momentarily catches his attention. “If he’s being stupid again, then just let him be. If he does like this person, though, I just hope that he treads carefully while he’s at it. You know how precious witch ecures are.” 

“Oh, I know…” You murmur under your breath as you scrunch up your nose, unconsciously glancing over to Jisung and Soonyoung’s table where the two are laughing over something you can’t hear from across the room. When Changbin’s voice grows louder on Felix’s end, you then smoothly steer the topic to a close, “Anyway, sorry for bothering you at this time. Bin’s calling for you.” 

Next to you, Ryujin and Yeji agree with nods and smiles as Felix waves his free hand dismissively at this. “No, it’s okay! Just look out for my brother, yeah? I gotta go, Queen Lia just arrived for tea with me and my mom!” 

“Oh, then we’ll see you!” “Have fun at tea!” “Say hi to Lia for us!” 

Felix waves one last goodbye before ending the call. As his image disappears from Yeji’s phone, the princess is quick to pocket her phone back and turn to you with a raised brow, “So, what do you think? Even Lix finds it weird.” 

Personally, you think it’s odd. The thought that Jisung could easily be developing feelings for someone while taking your exam, to someone human no less.  You’ll probably never admit it to him but he’s been working hard in collecting hearts up to this point and you know him enough to know that he won’t let himself get distracted with something like this. “What is he planning exactly?” 

-

You’re giving Jisung that look again, through the boy’s reflection on the bus mirror no less as the two of you head to Chan’s studio where he has promised the two of you dinner. The same look you kept giving him during your welcome party just last month, probably without you knowing, rests on your tired features as you listen to music on your phone and rest your cheek against your propped up hand on the window seat you almost threw him out of the bus for. What did I do now? The boy can’t help but whine pitifully to himself as he steals another glance at your direction while scrolling through his phone. 

Jisung helplessly rakes his brain for anything that he’s done today that could’ve possibly pissed you off while pretending to look down on his phone, missing the way you shift uncomfortably in your seat as if you were going to ask a question. 

“So—” “I meant to ask—”

Jisung’s immediately closes his mouth shut when the two of you speak at the same time, eyes widening when he looks up and sees you already looking over at him directly. Simultaneously, you’re quick to look away from him and cough awkwardly, quietly mumbling out that Jisung speaks first. “Go ahead.” 

“What did I do this time?” Jisung immediately goes for it, pouting and sinking into his seat for extra emphasis. This visibly surprises you by the way your eyes widen slightly and you visibly freeze in front of him. “You’ve been glaring at me from the window since it started getting dark outside and it’s starting to get annoying but I’m too tired from today to think of everything that I did today to pinpoint where I ticked you off again.” 

Your lips curl down to a frown and you bring your propped up arm back to your side, sinking down your own seat to his level. “I wasn’t glaring at you!” 

“Yes you were—” “—No, I wasn’t!” “Yes you—”

“Okay, then, if I was glaring at you like you said, it’s because I meant to ask you something.” You huff before shyly looking away, gazing out of the window again. “W-Why haven’t you...whyhaventyoutakenthatgirlsheart?”

Now, Jisung is even more confused than ever from not understanding a word you just said. Raising a curious brow, the prince nudges you by your shoulder with his own until you look back at him again, uttering a slow, “What?!” 

You inhale slowly, as if holding your embarrassment in, before repeating, “Why haven’t you taken Soonyoung’s heart?” 

“I—really? That’s what you wanted to ask?” That’s it? So I didn’t do shit? Whew...

You nod, crossing your arms and looking away. “Well, don’t act so smug now! I’m just curious, it’s powerful and worth a lot of points, after all.”

Caught off-guard, it takes Jisung a worryingly long time to answer your question. He looks down on his phone first, with his emerald ring right next to it, before glancing over to the distant LED screen at the very front of the bus, announcing the next stop. “Just because…” He trails off with a reluctant shrug, avoiding the feeling of your curious gaze. If it were any other situation, maybe involving a lower-ranking heart like a yellow, green, or even an orange one, he would be laughing at you and teasing that you’re obsessed with his count or trying to compare it with your own. “You, of all people should know…” 

But it’s a red heart, one that’s made him a bit too flustered for him to admit to anyone, even to his own brother. “I don’t know what I’ll do with it.” He answers vaguely because of this, hearing a little ‘oh’ from your side. “I already told Soonyoung over lunch that I don’t see her like that but it’s still red. Her feelings are too sincere for me and I feel like I can’t take advantage of that, not for a competition.” 

Jisung doesn’t hear any verbal response from your side after this, not even when the LED screen ahead announces that you’re nearing your stop. When he glances over to you through the window, however, he catches a glimpse of the smallest hint of a content smile on your features. 

Only when the two of you arrive at your stop, while you’re following him down the stairs down from the bus, do you nudge him on his side once more and say, “I guess that’s sweet of you. Plus, you’re actually using your head for once.” 

Your soft smile momentarily catches him off-guard, freezing him on the sidewalk, until a passerby brushes him by his shoulder and snaps him back to reality. “Y-Ya! What’s that supposed to mean?!” 

You wave your hand dismissively at him with a laugh, running off ahead to Chan’s studio. “Last one to the studio is a lousy runner and won’t get dessert!” 

“Hey! Y/N! What’s that supposed to mean? Did you just call me stupid?!” 

-

The next day, a ‘secret admirer’ leaves a red apple, a milk box, and an unsigned heart-shaped note on your usual table as you enter Math class. Though the note has your name and its message typed and printed, a simple nonverbal spell that you cast over the gifts reveal a familiar fingerprint. 

“So, who’s it from?” Jisung asks, swiftly swiping the apple from your table and taking a huge bite. “How many points are we looking at here?” 

You scoff at his action, taking the apple for yourself and biting on the opposite side. “It’s from Soonyoung.” You answer with a mischievous smile, causing your competitor to choke. When you glance over at the girl’s table, your eyes briefly turn blue to see a pinkish heart for you. “I guess you don’t want her red heart, huh? Mind if I make a pink one from her into a red for me?” 

Jisung coughs violently, thumping his fist against his chest as he recovers. “Y-Ya! Don’t you dare!” 

three out of six months 

One thing you’ve been most looking forward to in this Crown Candidacy exam, besides seeing your cousin and friends currently staying in the human world and helping with Hyunjin’s search, is getting to see your cousin’s boyfriend again. Though the rest of your family doesn’t really approve of Minho, mostly since he’s the reason why Chan renounced his duke title in the first place and why your cousin might be permanently tied to the human world in the future, you’ve taken a liking to the guy since you first met him on a short visit 2 years ago and have been looking forward to hanging out in person once more after a long while. 

Minho makes Chan the happiest you’ve ever seen him since you were kids, cooks really well, travels the world as a performing artist, and is totally cool with the idea that his boyfriend is a wizard from another realm. Plus, he catches onto magical items really quick, having adapted quickly to using your realm’s inter-world mailing system hence how you’ve been keeping in touch up until this point. You honestly don’t see any reason to hate him, even before meeting him in person. If anything, knowing that it’s Minho that’s keeping Chan from fulfilling his royal duties makes you support your cousin’s decision even more than before. 

However, you’re already halfway done with your exam and Minho is still nowhere to be seen. He initially promised you that he’ll cook you and Jisung a meal as soon as you arrived but last-minute plans in his touring schedule with a ballet company held him back abroad, postponing this plan indefinitely and making you focus more on school and helping look for Hyunjin. 

That is until you and Jisung came home from your usual Saturday grocery errands to inhale the smell of meat and mushroom soup coming from the kitchen. 

“Is Chan cooking?” Jisung raised a brow at this, closing the door behind you and walking further inside the house. “It smells nice, though. So it’s not him?” 

You roll your eyes, biting down a laugh at this surprisingly funny quip. “That’s definitely not Chan.” You affirm anyways, excitedly walking past him to the kitchen where you find the familiar back of a person stirring a big pot of soup next to Chan who’s chopping up side dishes. “Minho!” 

Jisung follows you to the kitchen and watches from the doorframe as this said Minho turns around, opening his arms out to hug you as you quickly drop your groceries on the dining table and run towards him. Next to you two, Chan stops his own work and laughs at the sight, prying you away after a moment and reminding you, “Hey, hey, Minho’s tired from his flight!”

“Tired? Then you make him cook dinner? I don’t think so!” You giggle, clutching onto Minho like a koala while the said boy pretends to shrug you off. “I was wondering when you’re coming home! You haven’t even written since I came here, you jerk!” 

“My schedule was jam-packed until the other day but I promised some magic freaks that I’ll cook them dinner so I came home as soon as I can.” Minho laughs, hugging you back and only then catching sight of a confused Jisung. “Oh, hi there! You must be Han Jisung?” 

“Y-Yeah?” Jisung nods slowly in confusion, raising one hand holding multiple eco-bags up in a wave. He hates it when he’s not in the loop of things but more importantly, he hates it when it’s you keeping him out of the loop in particular. Who’s this guy?! “Sorry, and you are?” 

“Lee Minho! I’m keeping Chan hostage here on Earth.” Minho formally introduces himself, earning him a nudge from both you and Chan. “What? Should I curtsy? I know your family and Hyunjin’s doesn’t really require it but I don’t know about the others so—” 

Oh. At this, Jisung visibly relaxes with a chuckle and finally approaches your little group, settling his own share of the groceries down on the dining table before sitting down himself. Chan then takes this as his cue to reluctantly drag you over next to Jisung while he and Minho finish cooking. “No, no, it’s cool! We’re not at home, anyway.” 

“Okay, then, cool. You guys are okay with waiting for a little bit, right? The lamb’s not fully cooked yet.” Minho explains. “I was going to make you two a meal when your exam started but I got caught up in work so—”

“Yeah it’s fine!” You agree eagerly, taking out your groceries and organizing them on the table. “We’ll just fix up the groceries.” 

Jisung side-eyes you with an incredulous look in his eyes, something Chan definitely notices as his lips quirk up into a knowing grin before whispering something to Minho. “Why are you so chirpy all of a sudden?” He asks you, helping you take out the groceries and arrange them into their respective shelves. 

“What do you mean? I’ve been chirpy since this morning.” You scoff. “Why do you even keep track? I told you not to stare at me, weirdo.”

“Um no, you weren’t. You were complaining about me breathing next to you on the bus a while ago. ‘You’re not helping me get any hearts’ or whatever it was you were rambling about a while back.” Jisung points out with a huff. “And I don’t stare, that’s you! If anything, you’re the weirdo, always up my business!”

“Well, why wouldn’t I complain? I was at the market with you all day! You don’t know how to pick good vegetables and you kept flirting with the store clerks to try and up their orange hearts to pink ones! Then, you wore that stupid perfume again when I told you already that it smells bad! Now we’re at home and you can stay the fuck away from me.” 

“Ya, you little sh—” 

Across the kitchen, Minho giggles in amusement at hearing you and Jisung bicker live for the first time. You’ve always complained about this Jisung fellow in your correspondence and he’s never had a clear grasp as to why you’re always at this boy’s neck but now that he’s meet Jisung in the flesh and is starting to hear what you two are exactly fighting about, Minho can’t help but laugh into the mushroom soup. “So this is the troublemaker who’s been bugging our Y/N.” He ends up musing out loud. “I see why you need me home now.”

“Believe me, you should’ve seen them grow up together with the other kids. Always fighting over the smallest of things, competing on who’s better, and all that.” Chan rolls his eyes in disinterest, glancing over to you and Jisung as the latter starts chasing you around the dining area with a bundle of scallions. “What you’re seeing right now is barely the tip of the iceberg, Min.”

“Reminds you a little bit of us back then, don’t you think?” 

“Ya, and which one am I supposed to be?” 

The couple glances over their shoulders to see that you’ve now successfully snatched the scallions from Jisung with your magic and have started to hit him over the head with it. This then makes Chan squint his eyes suspiciously at Minho who only chuckles. “Babe, you and Y/N are definitely related, don’t you think?” 

“Do you also want to get hit with scallions?” 

-

Though Jisung was initially wary of Minho at the start of the evening, having only heard of him vaguely from gossip among the other royal kids prior, your cousin’s boyfriend slowly and naturally transitioned over the prince’s good graces as soon as the lamb chops and mushroom soup were served along with stories of Minho’s own adventures and questions about the magical realm. Now that he’s put a name and a face to the person that people back home simply referred to as the reason why Chan left (and who he’s admittedly been blaming as well for the sudden shift in your attitude at the royal courts), Jisung now genuinely believes that the people back at home jumped to their conclusions quickly about Minho. 

Minho’s really nice, Chan is really fond of him and you clearly support the two. In return, Minho looks out for you and Chan, you in particular as the older guy proceeds to drill Jisung shamelessly with questions on whatever it is that you’ve mentioned about him in your letters. 

Jisung didn’t even know a lot of the things Minho kept rambling on about while you tried so hard to keep his mouth shut next to him by helplessly trying to cover his mouth.

“Y/N talks about you a whoooooooole lot. Like, a minor inconvenience during their royal duties then they’re quick to talk to me about it.” Minho grins playfully, dodging your attempts at shutting him up while he eats his share of the pastry dessert. “When we first met and this candidate exam thing was first brought up, they talked about the other royals briefly but they talked about you in super great detail! Oh, and Y/N was rambling a lot about how you reacted to when they confessed to you in middle school and everything, it was so funn—” 

“Minho shut up!” 

“It was really funny!” Minho pins your wrists to the table after a while, gesturing towards Chan, sitting next to Jisung across the table, who then uses his magic to switch your places. This then effectively shuts you up as your flustered expression overcomes your face upon accidentally locking eyes with Jisung right after. “But I want to know what actually happened when you rejected Y/N at your magic school? I want the full scope of what happened just so I get both sides!”

“Y-Ya!” You protest, only to be silenced by Jisung this time who laughs as he swallows a mouthful of food. “Ugh, you’re enjoying this aren’t you?”

“Why do you still talk about that, anyway? It was a long time ago.” Jisung chuckles, propping an elbow up on the table and resting his cheek on his palm as he glances over to you with a smirk. “God, you’re in love with me, aren’t you?” 

“No, I’m no—” “So, Minho hyung, what did Y/N tell you about that?” 

-

It was in the 7th grade, on Valentine’s Day of all days even, when you confessed your crush to Han Jisung. You actually didn’t plan any of it to happen because you just thought of it as stupid, especially at the thought that almost everything Jisung used to do back then annoyed you and made you think of him as childish. 

But Hyunjin somehow slipped you an enchanted cookie on that day as a prank after you confessed at Ryujin’s party the previous weekend that you thought that Jisung was cute sometimes (”I specifically said sometimes and it was one time. Clearly, it wasn’t me who had a problem, right?” “That still doesn’t change the fact that 12-year-old you had a crush on me, Y/N.”). He told you that it was from a batch Felix made for their baking class, bluffing about its distinct strong vanilla scent as a mistake on the younger Eastern prince’s end. 

As it then turned out, however, the cookie was laced with a potion that forcefully exposed the true color that your heart reflected towards Jisung in front of the entire cafeteria while the two of you bickered over some mishap that happened in one of your shared potion classes. Being young as he was as well and feeling embarrassed of all the passersby that looked at you both, Jisung’s fight or flight response made him visibly cringe at seeing the surprisingly pink, bordering red, heart and childishly berated you for it until the potion wore off and your ecure disappeared back into the sleeves of your robes. You ran away crying while Jisung didn’t go to school for the few days that followed in embarrassment.

“You were like 12 back then, it happens.” Minho shrugs after yours and Jisung’s messy storytelling. “And for the record, Y/N, if Chan did that to me as Jisung, I would’ve been annoyed at him too. Your rants are totally valid.” 

“I’m eating my croissants in peace.” Chan complains, slapping the younger man’s arm. “Don’t drag me into this.” 

Simultaneously, Jisung glances over to you and sees a small pout rest on your features. “Well, I don’t know, it’s not really an ‘it happens’ kind of situation if you come from our world.” You point out, glaring at Jisung when you feel him staring at you. “Especially back then. My heart was looking pink and a little reddish for Jisung at the time—ew—which gave him the power to take it if he wanted to.”

Now, this is apparently new information to Minho as he then asks, “You can do that? I thought witches only have one heart so it can’t be taken away?”

“Yeah, exactly.” You nod. “Since we don’t produce the crystal hearts as infinitely as you humans do, it could only be taken if it’s pink or a higher color. It’s the natural law in our world.”

“And if that happens, the witch could become weak, controlled by the other witch who takes their heart, or killed.” Chan quips in this time. “That’s why marriage is sort of a permanent commitment back at home and witches are more encouraged to use human ecure when performing higher-level magic.” 

“That’s a bit of a stretch in our case, though! It’s not like 12-year-old me would think of killing Y/N back then.” Jisung purses his lips into a thin line at you, unamused. “You really are a bit dramatic sometimes, you know? What would I even do with your heart?”

“You were 12, Jisung. Who knows what you were thinking back then...if you were thinking at all.” You retort immediately, turning to Minho again after. “That’s why my family’s a bit wary about you, Min, no offense. With you and Chan in a relationship, he can give up his heart to you but if you don’t reciprocate it by exchanging with one of your own, he might get weak or die.” 

This then makes Jisung turn to Minho as well, curious as to what his response would be. 

Unfazed, Minho smiles and turns lovingly to his boyfriend. “Then, aren’t you lucky I’m obsessed with you, huh?” 

“Really now?” Chan chuckles, slinging his arm over Minho’s shoulder and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Then I guess I can stay here permanently, right?” 

You pretend to gag as you sip on your water, reminding the older guys that there are “children” in front of them. Jisung rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair at this scene, looking away at the tender display of affection across the table. The two of you don’t even have to check how the pair’s ecures reflect towards each other with your magic to know that they’re a matching bright red. 

When he looks over to you, he catches the briefest and fondest smile gracing your expression as you mumble about how “stupidly cute” Chan and Minho are being. Jisung knows he shouldn’t look, not in this moment when he sees you at a vulnerable state and you would slap him over the head if he teases you about it, but his eyes unconsciously turn green and peeks over at your ecure as it watches over your favourite cousin and his boyfriend. 

It’s a bright blue, a sign of deep respect and familial love for Chan and Minho. Jisung looks away immediately when you glance up at him curiously, forcing his eyes back to their natural color before he could accidentally see how your heart reflects to him. “What?” 

He gets it now. Why you’ve been so uptight in fulfilling your royal duties, snapping just a little more easily these days whenever he annoys you, and acting like a pushover to the elders who keep ordering you around back at home. You’ve been shouldering a lot of the responsibilities back home, both yours and the ones that Chan has left behind, all because you want your cousin to be happy in this world without worries. 

“Why were you looking at me?” You pout. “You didn’t check my—ya, Han Jisung!”

“I wasn’t looking at you like that! I was gonna ask you to pass me the cream puffs!”

You begrudgingly pass him the bowl of cream puffs, rolling your eyes before smiling at Minho and Chan again and changing the conversation to something else. “Anyway, Minho, you’re staying longer now, right?”  

- 

“I saw what you did at dinner, by the way. Y/N would beat you to a pulp if they knew you were looking into their heart, especially since we were just talking about it.” Chan speaks up after a moment of walking around Jisung’s room, tidying up the fallen music sheets on the ground and closing the curtains for the night. You’ve long stolen Minho from your cousin right after dinner hours ago to binge his tour videos and so he’s resorted to hanging out with Jisung, playing video games until the clock struck midnight.  

Jisung pouts as he tucks himself away in bed, turning to his side to face Chan as the older boy continues arranging his “messy” work table. “I looked at how it reflects for you and Minho, not at how it looks at me. Just that, swear.” He clarifies in between protesting over Chan’s actions (“It’s an organized mess!” “It’s a mess, Jisung.”) “It’s almost like your family’s sapphire when it looks at the two of you, bluer than how it looks when Y/N’s with the King and the High Queen. You’re more family to them than their own parents.”

This effectively freezes Chan in place for a moment, a small smile gracing the former duke’s features. “Of course I know that.” He replies, almost as an inaudible mumble from across the room. “That’s why it was so hard to leave at first.”

“Then why did you—?” 

“Because Y/N told me to.” Moving to the door and preparing to leave, Chan sees Jisung’s face and continues, “Believe me, I was even more conflicted than you’re being right now back then. We both know that my own siblings are too young to shoulder the job I’ll leave behind but Y/N told me that they’ll gladly handle it if it meant that I can be happy here. We argued about it a lot, I kept telling them that I can just juggle moving between the two realms, but you know how persuasive and stubborn Y/N can be.” 

The last comment makes Jisung chuckle. Of all people, he should know of it the best. “It’s just hard to argue with them.” He nods in agreement. “I heard they’re the one who got you this house and everything.” 

Chan nods, slowly putting one foot out of the door. “Y/N cares a lot, sometimes a little too much, that they end up sacrificing a lot and putting their own feelings last because of it. Since I went away, I’ve only ever been worried that they’ll just explode one day, actually, but I know you and the other kids keep them in check.” 

“I’d hardly call Y/N relaxed with me.” Jisung pouts, fiddling with his fingers nervously as he confesses this shyly. “I think they just find me annoying…” 

“Oh you definitely annoy each other but that’s just how you two are together. It’s all in good fun and that’s good, especially now that you’re going to take much more responsibilities once you go back home.” Chan notes with a shrug, briefly glancing over his shoulder as you and Minho arrive on the second floor. “Just be a little gentler with them. Night, Sung.” 

four out of six months

You know better than to expect nothing less from Lee Chaeryoung, one of the best investigators from your realm, as she helped Yeji lead Hyunjin’s search party. When you initially expected that she would finish scouting Incheon before the end of the semester, she came back with the most solid lead that anyone’s picked up since the start of the search party around Seoul with 2 months left on your time in the human world. 

Apparently, from the scouring she’s done beyond the initial parameters of the search, a few magic and non-magic folk living around the beach area have seen the Southern kingdom’s prince at a party on the night he disappeared, interacting with a strange group of people they only described by their unusually white hairs, matching snake tattoos, and icy blue eyes. What was even more interesting is that these people were still around the area when Chaeryoung visited but without any sign of Hyunjin. With this, she could only confirm that they’re also from the magical realm.

“They could only be Northwestern ogre witches, I’m sure of it.” Chan commented after hearing Chaeryoung’s report over dinner with everyone present. When Minho then asked about it, your cousin didn’t hesitate to explain, “A group of witches back home who were initially banished to the wastelands because they practiced darker arts and only collected black ecures. Lately, a lot of them have been turning up here and doing gods-know-what.” 

“But if they only want the artifact that Hyunjin recovered, why would they still keep him?” You ask, crossing your arms over the dining table as Chaeryoung showed you photos of the location she ascouted on her phone. “Hyunjin’s high-profile too, yes, but unless they want him to collect colored ecures for them, there’s no other reason to keep him captive when there are other magic folk there. Why him?” 

“Unless they have something bigger up their sleeves.” Seungmin notes with a frown, closing Chaeryoung’s phone as he grows more and more upset from across the table. When you and Jisung glance over to him curiously, he then meets your eyes and adds, “Maybe we shouldn’t let you two go with us on this.” 

“What?! Why?” Jisung is the first to instinctively speak up against this, sitting up taller in his seat. You echo the same question, albeit a little quieter when you see Chan nodding worriedly on your side. 

“I have a feeling that they might be after the two of you too from this.” Seungmin explains once Jisung calmed down a bit from his sudden outburst. “Like Y/N said, keeping Hyunjin to collect colored ecures against his will doesn’t seem like a good enough reason, at least not this long.”

“It’s timed perfectly, too, that they caught Hyunjin right before the candidacy exam.” Yeji quips in, belatedly nodding in agreement to Seungmin’s suggestion. “They might be luring you two specifically by using my brother.” 

“But that’s just a hunch for now! We don’t know th—” 

Chan’s entire disposition in a flash, slamming his hand down on the table a little too loudly and effectively shutting everyone up around the table including Minho. “That’s exactly why we can’t risk it.” He counters firmly and you know, just by the tone of your cousin’s voice, that he already has the final word. “Remember, you and Y/N are here first and foremost because you’re taking your exam. Keeping you on wraps with this search is formalities, at most. Anyway, there’s enough of us here who can look for Hyunjin. You two just stay put until we can sort this out and ensure that this problem stops interfering with the exam any further.”

When you peek over to your right to glance at Jisung’s reaction two seats away, you see him glancing back at you from the corner of his eyes before sighing in defeat. “And if they want our group separated?” 

“The house’s enchanted with protective spells. Minho and Ryujin will also stay and watch over you two while we extract Hyunjin over the weekend.” Chan notes, continuing before Jisung could complain further. “That’s final, Ji. We’ll take over from here.” 

“Don’t fret too much, Sung.” Seungmin adds comfortingly. “Anyway, if we find Hyunjin, we’ll all stay here for a few days before going back home.” 

In response, you hear Jisung slam his back on his seat hard before huffing childishly, glancing over to you as he opens his mouth. Knowing that he’ll throw a fit, you immediately shake your head, forbidding him from doing so. “Fine...” He murmurs under his breath with a sigh, knowing better than to start an argument with one of his best friends at this time. “Just—just bring Hyunjin back quickly.” 

Somehow, even when you understand where Chan’s coming from, you also feel somewhat bad for Jisung. You want to see Hyunjin too but your circumstances aren’t exactly favourable to let you be of much help. 

- 

As much as Jisung used to hate how Chan coddled you, he hates it even more now that the same behavior is directed towards him, especially in situations like this when he wants to actively help in Hyunjin’s search. The circumstances couldn’t have been more unfavorable to him now: the group finding a lead but at a time when he’s participating in an exam that has him more at risk of being targeted by creatures from the magical realm that have strayed to this world. 

On top of this, he hates how he can clearly see that you want to see Hyunjin just as much as he and everyone else does but you’re quicker to comply the moment Chan, and eventually even Yeji, put the two of you on house arrest for the weekend while the rest of the group goes to Incheon. It frustrates him to no end that you keep quietly complying to everyone else when you clearly want to do something else. And, as a result, you end up channeling your energy aggressively elsewhere much like today as you spend most of your Sunday cleaning and redecorating around the expansive house with Minho. 

“Can’t you two like, tone it down a bit?” Jisung complains for the third time this afternoon as he plays with the music software on Chan’s laptop, lifting his feet off of the coffee table in the living room when Minho passes by with a vacuum before pushing a levitating plant that hovers too close for comfort to his face. Somewhere, Ryujin has retreated outside to the garden in order to tend to more plants. “The house’s going to get thrashed after a while anyway.” 

“And why can’t you help clean?” You ask back in retort, fluffing up the pillows next to him as you occasionally glance over your shoulder to make sure that the levitating objects around the room aren’t falling over. “If you’re just going to complain while we’re cleaning here, you can just go up to your room since we’re done upstairs, anyway.” 

Jisung pouts, crawling over to the other side of the sofa anyway when you gesture for him to move. “The sunlight’s better here at this time.” He points to the glass windows. “Just finish up quickly already.” 

“If you want to get some sun, you can help Ryujin outside.” You poke back, moving over to the sofa across the coffee table. As you move, the hovering plant pots slowly move to where you want to relocate them to, one moving next to the sofa almost hitting Jisung in the face once more with its leaves. “Make yourself useful, Jisung.” 

The witch in question scoffs, closing Chan’s laptop and finally planting his feet back on the floor to a stand. Jisung also hates that tone you use when you order him around because it always makes him do whatever you ask without fail. “Fine, I’m going outside.” He grumbles, trudging to the direction of the back door leading outside and making sure to close the door with a loud thud. 

Out in the gardens, Ryujin is busy reviving dried up leaves and flowers while a few watering cans go around to water the trees and bushes. Upon seeing Jisung walking down the mini stairs with a pout and furrowed brows, the younger witch can’t help but laugh, “Y/N banished you outside?” 

“I’m supposed to help you but you don’t even look like you need help at all.” The prince continues to grumble, setting himself down on a foldable chair and crossing his bare arms over his chest. “If I do help, I might actually kill the plants. You already know how I’m terrible I am at healing magic.” 

Ryujin acknowledges with a hum, turning her attention back to Chan’s mini garden of camellias. “Just sunbathe, look around or whatever, I can handle this.” She assures with a smile. “I won’t tell Y/N too, don’t worry.” 

“I think I’ll take you up on that looking around thing later.” Jisung sighs, sinking into his seat and closing his eyes. “I’ll nap for now.” 

- 

“He just does whatever you say, huh?” Minho points out to you as soon as you finish cleaning the living room, tiredly taking up the empty space next to you on the couch with two pillows hugged close to his chest. When you open your mouth to protest, “I know I said it’s amusing when you two bicker over stupid things but it’s actually really nice and quiet when you two reach compromise like this. So peaceful.” 

“He just knows when to not mess with me. Don’t exaggerate it.” You scoff at this, pushing Minho away from you as you lift your legs up to the coffee table. “He knows that I feel the need to be busy when I’m on edge like this but he was in the way. The least he could do is either be useful around the house too or just stay out of my sight for a while.” 

“Don’t be too worried, I’m sure they’re all being careful and getting to Hyunjin soon.” Minho assures you with a small smile, waving his human world phone in front of you as it displays a flurry of messages from Chan. “If it makes you feel better, your cousin’s been asking me about you and Jisung as much as he’s been updating me of what’s happening.”

You frown at this, making Minho chuckle. “He’s been talking to you but not to me? I’m his cousin!” 

“He knows you’re redecorating his house in 50 different styles while you wait for him so he just asks about you through me. Don’t get it twisted, Y/N.” The older boy continues laughing, carefully shoving a pillow away from his face when you levitate it closer to him. “Anyway, they said that they’ve confirmed that the ogres are still staying at the beach resort so they’re planning to get to them tonight and confirm if they really took Hyunjin.”

Your expression visibly shifts more positively, eyes widening and mouth hanging agape. “Really?” 

“If things go smoothly, everyone, including Hyunjin, would be home really soon. Until then, Chan has asked me to make sure that you and Jisung don’t kill each other or go outside without permission.” 

You shove Minho once more at the last statement, mustering up a laugh this time. “Hey, we’re not that childish.” You point out with a pout before another thought crosses your mind. “Oh, right, I can tell Jisung, right? I mean, it’s just an update anyway.” 

“Yeah, go ahead.” Minho nods, poking you on your side to get you to stand up. “It’s also getting dark out, call Ryujin in too so we can reheat some leftovers for dinner.” 

You scoff at the thought of leftovers for dinner, standing up anyway and heading outside where the sun has indeed set on the horizon. As you walk down the steps leading down to the backyard, you easily spot Ryujin by the back gate as she flirts with one of your neighbors who holds an orange heart up her sleeve but it takes you a moment to see Jisung fast asleep under one of the outdoor umbrellas. 

“Ryujin!” You call for your friend, biting down your lip when the girl she’s been flirting with awkwardly looks away and your friend in question consequently glares at you for interrupting her. “Where’s Jisung?” 

“There.” Ryujin quickly points towards the outdoor umbrellas on the far corner of the backyard before turning her gaze back on your neighbor whose heart immediately turns a shy pink at this. 

You roll your eyes at this with a chuckle before heading over to Jisung, finding him snoring lightly and snuggling into a pillow despite the cold evening breeze. He doesn’t budge an inch when you call his name or poke his side, stirring only when you slap his cheek gently awake by instinctively swatting your hand away and mumbling a string of curses for you to go away. “What?!” 

“It’s starting to get cold out here. Come on, we’re eating dinner in a while.” You respond, taking the pillow from him and grabbing him by the arm to help him stand up. When he doesn’t budge, you resort to adjusting his hoodie at least so he doesn’t freeze himself to death. “Minho also said that Chan’s been texting him. Everyone’s okay so far and they’ll interrogate the ogres tonight, maybe even get Hyunjin if they really took him.” 

Jisung finally springs awake at this, jumping to a stand in surprise. “What? Really? Is there—well, is there anything else?” He asks quickly, stumbling over his words in shock while you drag him back inside. 

Ryujin follows along after a while, running to the kitchen to check what you’re having for dinner. You and Jisung walk a little slower as he rubs his eyes from his surprisingly long nap next to you, somehow not making a fuss this time about your linked arms. 

“Sadly, that’s only what I got from Minho a while back so I guess we’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning for anything new.” You answer his previous question as you head to the kitchen where Ryujin and Minho reheat leftovers and make some new side dishes. When you see Jisung’s ears perk up slightly at your words, you quickly add, “Don’t try staying up late just for an update. You should get some more sleep after dinner so you don’t look like a ghost when we see Hyunjin again.” 

He scoffs at this, sitting down on the dining table and dragging you along with him on the adjacent seat. “How can I sleep if I know that we’re so close to seeing Hyunjin again after months? I’ll stay up late if I want to!”

“And I’ll kill you two if you stay up all night then get all cranky tomorrow when you have to get to class.” Minho cuts you off before you could even speak, setting the dishes down on the table. “Okay, eat up!” 

“That was him, not me.” You shrug at Jisung’s semi-permanent pout with a chuckle, receiving a plate and utensils before thanking Minho for the food. “Eat up, Ji.” 

You don’t even have to glance back over to his direction to know that he has his usual determined look plastered over his face again. Because of the new update on Hyunjin’s situation, he’s suddenly more alert now that he might actually take you up on staying awake the entire night. 

-

“Jisung, are you awake?” 

Jisung doesn’t really expect you to hold true to your word and check up on him at 3 AM when Ryujin and Minho have both gone to sleep. You suddenly knock on his door while he’s in the middle of a song he’s been trying to write on his guitar lately, startling the poor boy who almost falls off of the window and causes a big fuss about it. 

“Are you okay in there?” You ask worriedly from outside after knocking for the 4th time, the doorknob clicking gently after. When only shuffles reach your ear on the other side, you immediately add, “Hey, I’m coming in!” 

Jisung doesn’t even have time to protest, catching a glimpse of you going in and closing the door as a tray of mugs trails behind you. Quickly hiding the guitar by the curtains, he clumsily scrambles up to a stand and retrieves the tray from the air, “H-Hi! You made...tea?” 

“Those two mugs are for me.” You pretend to swat his hand away jokingly, joining him on the small balcony on the other side of his window. Spotting his guitar hidden haphazardly on the side, you’re quick to pick it up and slide it over your lap while Jisung’s occupied with the tea, strumming a few chords. Only then, do you also notice his music sheets strewn across the balcony, all labelled with the word ‘sunshine.’ “I didn’t know you brought this along. It still plays good, I suppose, but do you still play badly?” 

Jisung scowls at you as he sets the tray down next to his notebook, sitting down criss cross once more before swiftly snatching the guitar from your hands. “I play better than you, at least.” Ignoring your protests, he then strums a few chords of his own and continues, “Why are you still awake, anyway? Don’t you have a 9 AM later?” 

When he turns to you, he sees you taking a sip of your tea first before answering, “I feel like ditching,” a statement he’s definitely never heard from you before by the way his eyes widen in surprise. “Don’t act so surprised! Uni’s just a cover and a way to get hearts while we’re here in the human world, anyway. Since everyone could be here later and there’s a possibility that we’ll see Hyunjin again with them, I wouldn’t want to miss a second of him back.” 

“Don’t tell me, am I rubbing off on you?” Jisung snickers playfully. Deep inside, however, he’s undoubtedly a little impressed. After all, it’s been a while since he’s seen you so carefree outside of royal duties. “This is bad. We’re still competing, you know!”

“Tch, don’t push it. My current count’s quite high so I’m not that worried.” You shake your head in disbelief, leaning back against the windowsill and gazing ahead to the brightly-lit city. “It’s just that it’s been 5 months since Hyunjin’s gone missing and Yeji started combing every inch of Seoul, only to find a lead out in Incheon. I want to see him as much as you do.” 

Jisung nods slowly in agreement, picking up the second mug of tea and taking a sip. It’s chocolate matcha, the flavour you always craved on elementary school field trips back in the magical realm whenever you missed home or so Felix once said. “It’s been that long, huh? And we’ve been here taking our exam for 4 months now.” He muses out loud between sips of tea, warming him up in an instant against the unusually cold night. “Time flies a little weirder when you’re on the other side of the moon, don’t you think?” 

“I think you’ve just been having too much fun flirting with humans.” You point out, gesturing over to his emerald ring. Over the months, you’ve noticed that the vessels grow warmer every time you reach a thousand points which is roughly every 100 hearts or so. In the rare moments these days that Jisung’s ring has accidentally brushed against your skin, usually at the bus or when passing dishes along, the stone feels intimidatingly hot and almost burning. “How much do you have already?” 

“Enough to win against you.” He teases playfully as he hums along to his song, making you scoff. “I mean, it’s been fun. Gaining a lot of ecure here has made my magic feel more powerful but, still, I can’t help but think sometimes that this whole exam would’ve been fun if the 4 of us were complete.” 

You take another sip of your tea, listening along to Jisung’s humming. “If Hyunjin didn’t disappear beforehand and scared off Lia and her parents from letting her compete...yeah, I guess it would’ve been much more fun if we’re all competing together and the exam duration was 1 year like normal.” Thinking about it more, you end up chuckling at imagining how this whole exam could’ve gone differently. “But, at the same time, it’s been fun competing with you so far.” 

“Going soft on me?” He raises a brow with a smirk. “I know we’ve been stuck to each other like glue for the past months but you should look out for that heart of yours, it might turn pink for me again.”

“I mean you’ve put up a fight so far. It’s a professional compliment, don’t exaggerate it.” You roll your eyes with a slight snicker, making him laugh. You purposely ignore his last comment, though, knowing that he wouldn’t really look into your feelings for him, anything but that. “Maybe you’re the one who’s going soft on me. Seungmin told me about the purple hearts.” 

“He what?!” Jisung exclaims, his smug expression instantly morphing into panic as he almost throws his guitar off of the balcony. “Wait, I can explain!” 

You shake your head and wave your hand dismissively. “No, you don’t have to! I understand.” You assure with a laugh, placing your hand on his nearest shoulder and making him sit back down when he wobbles over the messy and narrow space. “Though, yeah, I probably would’ve yelled at you if Seungmin told me any earlier but it’s all said and done now, anyway. I appreciate it, actually.” 

“A lot of guys were being creeps to you so I thought...I got protective, okay? Ryujin and Yeji were getting stares too so even Seungmin would do the same thing to protect them.” Jisung pouts. “I know we’re in a competition and we’re supposed to rake up a bunch of hearts but your dignity’s much more important than some stupid crown...” 

“I know, and I also know that you would’ve done it for Lia if she were here.” You nod understandingly, mustering up a small appreciative smile. Jisung can be sweet if he wants to, you conclude internally. “Ah, seriously, just imagine if there was 4 of us competing. This would���ve been much more fun and less stressful. You would’ve gotten your ass handed to you when you wanted to race to the moon.” 

“Tch, Hyunjin would’ve taken all of the red ecures for himself.” Jisung adds, sharing in your quiet laughs now that the conversation’s shifted once more. “Much like how he charms everyone back home. He might even win, like he always does in every challenge the elders give us. He’s just the favourite!” 

“I can’t wait for him to come home safely. He’s been gone for too long.” You sigh against your tea, tiredly adjusting to the uncomfortable space of the window. Seeing this from the corner of his eyes, Jisung doesn’t hesitate to pass you a pillow and nearby blankets this time which you’re more than grateful for. “I can’t wait for all of this to be over and go home, just visit again when I feel like it.” 

“Me too. I can’t wait to see him.” Jisung sighs, peering down onto the balcony as he adjusts his guitar on his lap. “And I can’t wait to go home, too.” 

And just then, the car that Chan used to drive everyone over to Incheon materializes at the front porch, spewing out Chan, your friends, and Hyunjin who’s supported by Seungmin and Yeji.

five out of six months 

Hyunjin sports distinctly black cuts and gashes across his arms and legs when you greet the group in front of the house, similar to the ones Chan and Changbin also sported one time when the two also had an encounter with dark magic. Limping on his right leg and supported by his arms, Yeji and Seungmin used their magic to lift him over to the nearest sofa once they’ve reached the other side of Chan’s protective spell from the front door while the rest of the group crash into the vast expanse of the living room. 

“I tried healing him as much as I can so it’s easier for you and Ryujin.” Seungmin huffs, tiredly sitting down on the ground by the coffee table. “He’s mostly fine, just exposed to a lot of dark magic.” 

“And you guys? Are you okay? Is anyone else hurt?” You ask worriedly, darting your eyes over to Chan, Yeji, and Chaeryoung who all individually affirm to you that they’re not nursing any big injuries. “What happened?” 

At that moment, Jisung arrives in the living room with a half-sleepy Minho and a frantically running Ryujin who immediately makes a beeline to Hyunjin and Yeji. Standing next to you, he echoes the exact same question to Seungmin. “What happened? Is Hyunjin going to be okay?” 

You kneel down in front of Hyunjin, right next to Ryujin, and examine the cuts and gashes. Meanwhile, Jisung sits next to Seungmin while Minho runs over to Chan. “Turns out, they’ve been keeping Hyunjin to try and get him to activate the artifact.” Seungmin answers Jisung’s question after a moment, taking out the stolen compass that Hyunjin was supposed to retrieve from this world. “Then they heard that you and Jisung were going to proceed with the exam. So they tried using him as bait as well but the protective spells the elders casted on you two made it hard for them to find you even when they planned to separate our group.” 

“We got there before they could manipulate my brother into it with dark magic.” Yeji continues tiredly in between casting her own spells, making her smaller wounds and a sprained ankle disappear. “They were quite hostile but we managed. It’s just that Hyunjin still hasn’t woken up since we took him.” 

“Then aren’t you glad we stayed at home, Ji?” You mumbled under your breath as you and Ryujin casted spells to identify the magic needed to heal the half-conscious Hyunjin’s injuries. “Hyunjin’s probably not waking up because of exposure. We’ll have to determine just how much dark magic those witches used.” 

Behind you, Jisung grumbles stubbornly at your comment. “So, is Hyunjin okay? What’s the diagnosis?”

Hovering your hand over Hyunjin’s chest, his heart suddenly reflects a horrifying black over your magic and making yours and Ryujin’s eyes widen. “Oh no…” 

“What?” Suddenly, Jisung’s next to you and peering over Hyunjin’s ecure. “What the hell? Why is his heart black?” 

Ryujin then places her hands over Hyunjin’s forehead, going through his fresher memories as her eyes turn a bright blue. “He’s...it’s an ancient spell, a really powerful one.” She eventually concludes, turning to Chan after. “Chan, do you think you can take a look at this?” 

Across the room, Chan stands up with Minho’s help, having just treated a healing cut on his leg, and sits on Ryujin’s other side to briefly access the same memories. “The three of us can do it,” He gestures to you and Ryujin with pursed lips. “But it’ll take hours and a whole lot of ecure. We’ll need to purify his heart with an equally powerful spell.” 

From the corner of your eye, you see Jisung immediately turn to you in worry, as if he already knows what you’re going to say. “Y/N, don’t—”

But you’re already reaching for your locket, forcing the stone to reveal its contents. “I can give up mine. It’ll save you both your energies and time.” You assure, tuning out Jisung’s protests.

“A-Are you sure?” Ryujin asks worriedly, echoing Jisung’s concerns. Next to her, Chan shakes his head at you in equal concern. “Y/N, these are your ecures for the candidacy exam, you can’t just—not right now when you’re almost do—”

“That’s not important right now. What’s important is that we save Hyunjin.” You nod without any hesitation. “Anyway, I have enough for both purifying Hyunjin’s heart and healing his wounds. It’s fine.” 

You then take out more hearts from your locket, the clumped crystals of oranges, greens, pinks, and reds hovering above Hyunjin as he continues lulling in and out of consciousness and his body tries rejecting the prior spells Yeji casted to help him heal. Before you could fully empty out the vessel, however, Jisung’s hand with his emerald ring flies over yours to stop you. “Wait!” He exclaims, startling you, Ryujin, and Chan. “I’ll give up some of mine too. Don’t empty yours out.”

“Ji—” 

“—Y/N.” He snaps frustratingly, raising his voice and confusing you further. “Please, let me help! I don’t want you to empty your count, I’m not letting you.” 

This seems to effectively catch you off-guard. Jisung then takes this as an opportunity to stop you, not letting your hand go while he summons his own collected hearts out from his ring and firmly making sure that you don’t argue with him further until Chan has reluctantly made sure that you have enough ecures to convert into magic. Even then, he doesn’t let you go by your hand and instead moves his over to your free hand while Chan instructs you and Ryujin on how to purify a black heart. 

“J-Jisung.” You call for him once your initial annoyance of him stopping you has died down, eyes widening when he glances back at you with worry. “I need my two hands.” 

“Oh, shit. Sorry.” He lets go of your hand immediately, keeping his hands down on his lap before leaving the three of you to check on Seungmin, Yeji, and Chaeryoung. “Sorry…”

You cough out awkwardly as he leaves, glaring at Ryujin when she musters up a teasing smile despite your current predicament. 

“He’s right, you know.” Chan comments after a while, instructing you the following spells while the dark color of Hyunjin’s ecure fades to a glowing white. 

“Don’t start.” When you send a glare over your own cousin’s way, however, he quickly drops the subject with a shrug. 

Purifying a darkened heart, as it turns out, lasts until the very break of dawn as the three of you exhaust the ecures you and Jisung have put out to heal Hyunjin. As time ticks by agonizingly slow for Hyunjin who could only lay back on the sofa and absorb all of your energies to heal himself, Minho eventually gets everyone to clear the living room and sleep in the much more comfortable guest rooms after making sure that no one is greatly injured before hurling himself to the kitchen and make breakfast. 

But you see Jisung stay from the corner of your eye, taking up space on your opposite side to steal glances at you or comfort Hyunjin. From the way his eyebrows furrow over his sleepy eyes and how he refuses to leave even when you awkwardly tell him off, you could tell that he too can’t make out your previous exchange. 

“—Y/N. Please, let me help! I don’t want you to empty your count, I’m not letting you.” You know that he acted the way he did because it was Hyunjin that you were trying to save, one of his best friends. But the way he sounded so angry, the way he snapped at you in the spur of the moment, a small part of your thoughts wants to make you think that he had other reasons for doing what he did. 

“Hyunjin? How are you feeling?” Chan asks after 2 hours of nonstop spellcasting, halting you and Ryujin in your steps after. “Can you sit up?” 

Your eyes turn blue at the same time you see Jisung’s turn green, surveying Hyunjin’s heart for any hints of leftover dark magic. Meanwhile, Hyunjin struggles to sit up with Jisung’s help, tiredly groaning under his breath. “Much b-better.” He manages to stumble out after a moment, mustering up a small smile despite the dizzying and overwhelming fel. “Thanks, you guys.” 

You sigh in relief, resting your back against the coffee table behind you before nodding. “Finally…” 

“Come on, Hyunnie, I’ll move you upstairs.” Chan volunteers, standing up from his position on the floor and briefly stretching his arms out. Turning to you, Ryujin, and Jisung, he then adds, “You guys get some rest too. Just skip for today and tomorrow. I’ll write to everyone back home.” 

You don’t even argue against your cousin this time, finding yourself nodding when he gives you the same look he always does whenever you intend on shouldering some work for him. Standing up from the floor, you, Ryujin, and Jisung then head upstairs in silence. 

The entire walk, you feel Jisung stealing glances over to you but you decide to not act on it, shaking your head when he suddenly opens his mouth to speak before the two of you could go on your separate ways. 

“Y/N, wait—” “Goodnight, Jisung.” 

-

Growing up, Jisung has always relied on two people in helping him through the crisis of accidentally going too far with you: Chan and Felix. Chan, obviously, because he’s your cousin and the only other friend he has who harbors an inkling of a braincell and Felix because he’s everyone’s favourite and he knows the kinds of snacks that get on your good graces. These moments when he’s actually pushed your buttons too far are rare (as much as the two of you like to express your annoyance over each other, you’ve actually come to understand that this is just your dynamic growing up), but Jisung personally keeps a list of steps to do in situations like this anyway. Now more than ever, it seems, because suddenly, it feels weird and awkward being around each other—and not the usual kind. 

But as fate would have it, Chan is busy working out how to safely get Hyunjin home and explaining to the elders what happened. If normally Jisung would be asking Chan first about you and what he could say when he confronts you, this time he’s asking all of them to his twin brother who’s more than willing to listen (after listening to Yeji, Ryujin, and Chaeryoung gossip everything to him prior, of course).

“Why did you do that anyway?” Felix points out on the other side of the call, snuggling into a pillow as night falls on both realms. It’s been 3 days since Hyunjin returned and both the house and the officials back at home have been busy arranging his return with Yeji, Seungmin, Ryujin, and Chaeryoung; only allowing for the twins to talk in the late hours of the night. “And you said it angrily too from what Ryujin told me. No offense, bro, I’d feel a little weird if you raised your voice at me, too, then offered up half of your collection on their behalf.” 

Jisung groans in frustration, running his hand through his hair as he shuffles uncomfortably around his bed sheets. “I don’t know, it’s just...I was thinking of a lot of things.” 

“Like what?” 

“This candidacy exam, what Chan told me beforehand, Hyunjin, Y/N…” The older twin purses his lips, taking his eyes away from Felix to gaze down at his hands. The emerald ring is much cooler now after losing ecure but somehow, it feels heavy on Jisung’s ring finger. “I thought that it’d be unfair if they lose all of their ecure at this point in the race, trying to save Hyunjin, then the elders might not be too pleased about it when we return. But most importantly, I thought about what Chan told me when Minho first arrived, about how Y/N’s always jumping at every opportunity to help other people without thinking too much of themself. I was right there with my own vessel of hearts for them to use and if I just let them empty out theirs, then I’d be letting them get the short end of the stick in the long run again.” 

Felix nods along understandingly at his brother’s words, all the while trying to hide a smile behind his hand. So Yeji was right! “So why did you call me, then? You seem to have your reasons sorted out, just tell Y/N what you told me.” He shrugs after Jisung’s extensive speech, giggling at the dramatic reaction that he receives from his brother after. “I know you guys aren’t those emotional kinds of people to each other but you said so yourself that Y/N’s been quieter these days and that it’s been eating at your conscience. I say you just go for it and tell them how you feel.” 

“I’m not you, Lix. Y/N’s going to laugh at me.” Jisung pouts helplessly. “I can’t just tell them that.” 

“You’re so dramatic! It just implies that you care about Y/N like a decent human being. Anyone in your situation who knows what you know about them would’ve been considerate enough to do the same thing.” Felix argues back, rubbing his temples at how the older boy’s acting. “Don’t get it twisted, brother...unless you want it to, of course.” 

“Ya, and what’s that supposed to mean?!” 

“Figure it out yourself.” Felix sticks his tongue out teasingly before laughing and waving a dismissive hand. “Anyway, Yeji told me that Y/N’s been craving blueberry pancakes lately. You can just make them right now and give it tomorrow so you don’t have to go out.” 

“If anything, I want to leave the house right now and never come back.” Jisung grumbles back in frustration before sighing in defeat. “For the first time, I can’t believe you’re no help at all, Lix. I’m hanging up.” 

“Tch, you just can’t handle the truth, Sung. Anyway, I have to go too, mom and dad are asking me to come to this thing. I’ll update you on it later! Love you! Bye!” Felix then waves to the call one last time before hanging up, leaving Jisung in the uncomfortable silence of his room. 

Jisung sighs against the heavy blankets, throwing his phone to the other side of the mattress before ultimately deciding on standing up and heading to your room across the hall. Fuck it, he thinks to himself, it’s not like I like them or anything like that! Nothing to worry about! Let’s not get it twisted. 

When he opens the door, however, the first person he unexpectedly sees outside the hallways is you just as you close the door behind your own room. “Y/N!” He ends up blurting out loud in the moment, catching your attention with wide eyes. Not knowing what else to say, the first thought that comes to mind is, “Are you going to Hyunjin’s room?” 

You furrow your brows in confusion, shaking your head slowly. “No, I’m going to the kitchen?” 

“O-Oh.” He runs his hand through his hair once more in nervousness, nodding along and hiding the heat rising up his neck in embarrassment. “Well, I’m going there too. Mind if I join you?” 

You simply nod in response, walking down the end of the hallway with him in relative silence. He hasn’t seen you much since Hyunjin’s arrived either since you spent most of your time checking your mutual friend for his condition and brewing tea. The dramatic gears in Jisung’s head would like to think that it’s just pure convenience. 

“So, what did you and Felix talk about?” “How’s Hyunjin?” 

Jisung glances over to you on his right just as you mirror his actions, the gesture somehow making him flustered this time around as he’s quick to look away. “S-Sorry. Um, we just—talked about how things are back home.” He shrugs in his best feigned nonchalance, mentally cringing at how visibly awkward he looks as the two of you go down the stairs anyway. Not that it’s a lie, anyway, he and Felix did talk about other topics besides you. “Everything’s pretty busy back home since the elders are talking about how Hyunjin coming back is going to affect the exam now.” 

“Oh.” You nod along almost absentmindedly. “That’s...yeah, I’ve heard about it too. It’s pretty hectic on my mom’s end right now.” 

“So...how’s Hyunjin?” Jisung chimes in almost a little too quickly, feeling even more awkward that he accidentally brought up your candidacy exam again. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

You purposely pretend to not notice anyway, answering his questions carefully as you approach a curve into the spiral staircase. “He’s regaining his strength at least. Still on bedrest but he should be okay by the weekend when Changbin fetches him and the others.” The two of you then pass through the living room to get to the kitchen, finding Minho and Chan cuddled up on one of the sofas as they watch a movie on the television. 

The kitchen, on the other hand, is deserted when you turn on the lights which Jisung internally thanks every guest in the house for before taking a deep breath. “About what I said back then, by the way…” He starts carefully, catching your attention before you could even detach yourself from him to open the nearby fridge. You freeze a few steps ahead of him, making the poor boy gulp nervously. “Um, I’m sorry that I raised my voice at you. I shouldn’t have done that, even when I was stressing out.” 

Much like when he actually did raise his voice, you momentarily freeze in your spot before eventually shaking your head reassuringly and moving over to the fridge. “It’s alright, you don’t need to apologize for that.” You add with a small smile, taking out the fruit bowl from the fridge. “Is that why you’ve been quiet these past days? It’s okay, really.” 

“I haven’t been—it’s you who’s—” Jisung stops himself halfway before he could even start another argument, biting down his lip before shaking his head. Walking over to the stove area, he then opens a few cabinets in search of the pancake mix while you shuffle around the area behind him. “A little, yeah. It’s just that it looked like it bothered you so it bothered me too.”

When Jisung then glances over his shoulder, he sees you approaching with the fruit bowl hugged close to your chest. “I thought about it a few times. After that, I just thought that you were bothered so I couldn’t talk to you after.” You explain slowly, voice growing louder as you set the bowl next to him. In the dim lights of the kitchen, he suddenly can’t tell if you’re lying or not. “But it’s all good now. Are you making pancakes?” 

Jisung nods sheepishly, finally finding the pancake mix in the deeper crevices of the cabinet and taking it out with a pan and spatula from the adjacent cabinet. “No, but you have to know that—that—”

“Hm? What?” You raise your brows curiously, taking the pan and spatula for him before proceeding to the stove and twisting the knobs to preheat. 

“You’re not letting me finish.” Jisung points out with a feigned disapproving situation while quickly preparing the pancake mix, one which you somehow find amusing enough to laugh at. “Come on, don’t laugh, my twin made me say a bunch of things then coerced me into telling you so I’d—”

“Yeah, I know.” 

“—So, I appreciate it if you’d lis—wait, you know?!” His feigned expression then turns into one of surprise once more as you nod and break into giggles. “W-What?!” 

“You were being really loud, Hyunjin was even complaining to me from the next room by phone that he can’t sleep because of you.” You chuckle in amusement, nudging him by the arm when you notice that he’s slowed down his mixing. “He said something about you complaining to Felix about something or whatever. I don’t know, I was on a call with Lia.” 

“Then why did you—? So, you just came out here for pancakes?!” 

“No! I wanted to hear what you were going to say! I didn’t hear any word besides the pancakes, I swear...well, not clearly at least.” 

By now, all of the awkwardness has immediately dissipated as Jisung stops mixing the pancake mix altogether to turn to you and cross his arms. “You’re unbelievable.” He pretends to roll his eyes and scoff at you, earning him a glare.  You then swipe the pancake mix from his hands, pouring them into the pan in big circles. “And you still have the audacity to make me do this pancake mix.” 

“Well, you’re already mixing it so might as well.” You shrug with a knowing smile before nudging him again by the handle of the spatula. “Now, go on, what were you going to say?” 

Jisung shoots you one last incredulous look but you effectively counter it by encouraging him, promising that you “won’t laugh.” “Ah, well...I just wanted to say that you shouldn’t go all out wasting all of your collected hearts at this point, not when we’re almost done with the exam.” He blurts out, gazing down and fiddling with the fruit bowl while you take spoonfuls of blueberries from it to mix with the pancakes. “I want to win but it won’t be fun if your tally suddenly drops, right?” 

When he looks up, you’re raising your brow at his last comment as you make more pancakes. “I mean, I know you want to do what’s best for everyone but you have to look out for yourself too. Geez.” With a sigh, he then corrects which makes you nod in agreement. “A-And I guess lean on us too. We’re your family and friends, don’t shoulder all of the work for us all the time.” 

“I doubt I can lean on you.” You tease, flipping through your second batch of pancakes to cook. When Jisung sends a glare your way, you simply stick your tongue out at him. “Kidding.”  

“I get all emotional and all you say is that you doubt you can lean on me. Unbelievable…” Jisung scoffs, stuffing his mouth with more blueberries in feigned annoyance. 

The blueberry-filled pancakes are all eventually set on a plate you find on your opposite side, stacked up as a tall tower leaning on one side. Carefully passing Jisung the plate, you then twist the stove’s knobs off and reply, “You also made me cook the pancakes you wanted to make for me so I think that makes us even.” 

“Y/N!” He whines between mouthfuls of blueberries as you move around him to transfer the pan and spatula to the sink. 

You sigh in defeat, chuckling when you meet gazes once more and see him sulking with his cheeks full. “Right, right, I’m sorry!” You then beckon him over to the dining table, taking the fruit bowl on his side. “A-And...you know, thank you for that. We’re all good now, right?” 

“If you are.” 

“Definitely. Want to eat with me? I still owe you that meal from our first day.” 

six out of six months

Your mother as well as the high jury of elders from back home eventually proposed that you and Jisung finish your Crown Candidacy exam while Hyunjin, should he eventually announce that he wants to participate as well in the incoming 6 months, do his under stricter supervision in the following year. This ensures fairness in your situations, that yours and Jisung’s efforts aren’t wasted in the past 5 months while also thinking of Hyunjin who wasn’t around in time for the traditional schedule of the exam. When Hyunjin was escorted home by Changbin and Felix, however, he briefly hinted towards a plan on refusing the candidacy and the exam. He left with the others before you or Jisung could even ask him about it. 

Regardless, you and your sole competitor easily fall back into the race as soon as Hyunjin, Yeji, Seungmin, and Chaeryoung have settled their business in the human world and went home, returning to university over a week later to regain the ecures that you lost. Not that it’s suddenly harder, anyway. Timely as it is, an announcement for a school festival at the end of the month has Jisung signing up to perform while you join the organizing committee to spend more time with your human friends. 

In the time that you’ve spent in the human world, you’ve made many genuine friends beyond collecting their ecure for your exam, especially in your classmates Yuna and Jeongin. Though they don’t know about your true nature, the two have unknowingly aided you a lot in your mission by accompanying you through the different activities around university. 

Yuna, in particular, was even the one who first mentioned the school festival to you, encouraging you to join the events committee with her and invite Jisung to perform. “It’s free backstage passes and we can see all of the artists up close!” She sighed dreamily on the day she showed you the gold and red poster that she picked up from the department bulletin board. “And come on, you’re really good at organizing stuff! We should do it together!”

And more hearts to collect, you thought to yourself when you accepted and attended the orientation.

And more hearts it was, indeed, as you spend the next 3 weeks meeting people from different colleges as you and Yuna are assigned to helping organize the music performance for the end of the festival. With your previous experience fulfilling your duties back at home, it’s unsurprisingly easier for you to juggle the work assigned to you—contacting students to perform, arranging the program flow, and turning the university football field into a makeshift mini concert stadium—with socializing and fulfilling your original mission of collecting hearts. 

Across from your room at home, on the other hand, Jisung has been busy spending the same time making his own music to perform at the music festival. You invited him to perform some time after starting your work with the festival committee—well, your friends insisted that you invite him and Chan after finding out that the famous DJ, CB97, is your cousin and that you and the “College of Psychology Cutie” commute home together (“Don’t tell me...are you guys secretly dating?!” Yuna had shamelessly asked during one of your meetings, to which you had to smack your hand over her mouth and improvise a cover story for you and Jisung that you live in the same neighbourhood). 

Jisung accepted at the thought that he could garner a huge crowd of hearts from this opportunity, cooping himself up in his room right after the following days that followed to complete his 15-minute set. Ever since, all you’ve heard coming from his room in the middle of the night would be guitar strums, drum loops, and the faintest hints of Jisung’s voice singing along to freestyle raps and lines. 

He mostly sang about love, of all things; something you, Minho, and Chan immediately noticed in the next 3 Friday nights that the three of you would be huddled in the living room to watch a movie, only to hear Jisung repeating lines as if he was talking to someone in Chan’s home studio. You wanted to ask about it out of pure curiosity, and just the general worry that he might not be looking after his heart while finishing your exam after all, but decided against it in favor of waiting for the final product at the music festival.

Fortunately, the month somehow went by in almost a flash as you and Jisung both got busy preparing and collecting more hearts on the side. Before you know it, it was the afternoon of the music festival and Felix is suddenly back in the human realm to accompany you and Minho to the school festival. 

“So, did he tell you what he prepared for tonight?” Felix asks you as the three of you walk around the festival grounds. Over the course of 3 weeks, you and a large team of student volunteers have managed to haul in food stalls, arcade booths, and rides from the quad all the way to the football field for this festival, amenities which you yourself haven’t tried yet because of your busy schedule but Felix and Minho have both been so overwhelmingly excited to check out even on the bus trip to your university. 

In response to the prince’s answer, you shake your head with a small pout. “I just hear him all over the house and I didn’t really want to pry if he didn't want to tell me anything.” You point out, the two of you suddenly changing the course of your mindless walk as Minho points to a crossbow shoot booth. “Why? Doesn’t he tell you what he’s been working on?” 

“No! He stops whatever he’s doing whenever we call, even when I ask him to play just a little bit of his work.” Felix is quick to mirror your pout, only for it to disappear when Minho jokes that the two of you help him cheat in the booth as he picks up a crossbow. “I thought since you guys are living together, you’d know better than me.” 

“Ah, you kids just wait until Jisung and Chan perform later.” Minho dismisses your concerns, holding the fake crossbow up properly while the staff manning the booth prepares the targets on the other side. “Now, help me win Chan a giant wolf.” 

You roll your eyes at Minho, shrugging at Felix. “I guess he’s right. Let’s just help Minho get a giant wolf first.” 

-

Chan and Jisung arrive at university 10 minutes before the music festival from Chan’s studio halfway across the city, initially unable to find you in the crowd of organizers as they set up backstage with Yuna and Jeongin’s help until you call Chan late that you’re “babysitting” Minho and Felix. 

“They’ve somehow teamed up and have been competing with the rigged booths since we arrived.” You explained over the voice call, the distant sounds of Minho and Felix yelling while tossing metal rings around almost muffling your own. “I’ll be on my way in a while as soon as Minho leaves the ring toss alone but Yuna and Jeongin are there. Just ask them if you guys need anyth—oh my gods, Felix, you won another plushie? That’s so cool! Wait, I’m on a call with Chan!—uh, yeah. I’ll be there in a second!” 

The commotion on your end makes the two boys laugh, even as you bid your goodbyes and end the call, but especially Jisung who’s been looking nervous since he arrived. Throwing his head back in a laugh as he tunes his guitar, he comments, “That’s a bit unexpected. I didn’t know my brother and your boyfriend would get along like that, and this quickly!” 

“Beating out rigged games sounds about right.” Chan chuckles along, seated on a plastic chair and running a quick check on his equipment. Turning to the younger boy, he then asks, “Are you still nervous?” 

“Me? Nah, I wasn’t even nervous to begin with!” At this, Jisung’s laughs naturally die down to an uncertain shake of his head. He dismisses with a scrunch up nose which Chan immediately raises a brow at. 

“Come on, Sung, I practically raised you with the other kids.” Chan proceeds to roll his eyes as Jisung’s brief confident facade crumbles down slowly. “What’s up?” 

The boy in question eventually sighs in defeat, shoulders slumping against the plastic chair he occupies. “Fine, maybe I’m a bit nervous! Just a little bit, though, I can still get on stage later! I mean, it’s not like performing here is gonna be different from back home like you said on the way here but…”

“But what?” Chan asks patiently, glancing up to see Jisung’s gaze fixed down on his yellow acoustic guitar. When the younger boy doesn’t respond immediately, he then continues, “I’ve heard bits and pieces of what you’ve been working on this month and all of the songs sound great. You’ll catch a lot of hearts tonight with them, I’m sure. What are you worried about?”

Jisung looks up from his guitar and opens his mouth to speak, only to get cut off when you come in the performer’s tent running and balancing different kinds of microphones in your hands. “Sorry I’m late!” You announce in between tired pants, catching both his and Chan’s attention as you pass the microphones around the artists with Jeongin who instinctively comes to your aid. “I was with my friends and they wouldn’t budge from the ring toss!” 

“I think I’m going to faint.” Jisung mumbles under his breath with furrowed brows, loud enough for only Chan to hear, until you approach them last with their microphones. 

“Mics?” You offer obliviously, holding up the last 2 hand mics in your possession. Passing one to Chan quickly, you then sit down next to Jisung and pass him his hand mic. “Hey, you’re up fourth, right?” 

Jisung glances over to Chan with a panicked look but the older boy simply shakes his head with a chuckle and focuses on his keyboard. Turning to you, Jisung then nods quickly with a hum before gazing down at his guitar and the laptop he’s set up on the table in front of you two. 

Immediately sensing his odd behavior, you then hover your hands in the space between the two of you in a quick spell, eventually verifying his nervous feelings. “Yeah, totally not nervous.” You chuckle in amusement, laughing even more when he turns to you and whines in complaint. 

“Ya! Don’t do that!” 

“Well, it’s not like you’re that good at hiding your nervousness!” You point out in defense, holding your hands up in front of you in between uncontrollable fits of giggles. When the glare he sends your way doesn’t relax one bit, you then fish out a small quokka plush from your backpack. “Anyway, Felix was kinda expecting that you’d be a little nervous so wanted me to give you this plushie he won at the milk bottle game with Minho for good luck. He would’ve given it himself but LUCY was already performing when we came here so he dragged Minho to the audience area before I could even bring him here.” 

You then place the plush toy on the table right next to his laptop, looking around once to make sure that no one is looking your way before mouthing a quick spell to shrink the quokka into something smaller that he can hang on his guitar strap. As you do so, Chan notices how Jisung’s ears are quick to turn red as he follows your every movement. “You can stick it to your guitar strap and bring it with you to the stage.” You point out once you’re done, only then noticing his stares. “What?” 

“Huh?” Jisung shakes his head absentmindedly, mentally slapping himself back to reality before scrambling to pick up the plush toy by the chain you added on top of its head and tying it to the small hole along the edge of his guitar strap. “O-Oh, yeah, thanks!”

You chuckle, just as Yuna suddenly calls for you to help in getting the next act’s microphone stands on stage. Standing up, you then pat Jisung’s shoulder reassuringly, saying one last, “Don’t be nervous!” before running off again to where most of your committee members are. 

Once you’re out of earshot, only then does Chan look up from his equipment once more but this time with a knowing grin and squinted eyes. “Yeah, Sung, don’t be nervous!” 

Jisung rolls his eyes in front of the older boy at this, securing the quokka plushie on his guitar strap one last time. “Shut up.” 

-

Your committee heads lay you off of work just as Jisung heads to the stage for his set, the small quokka plush you gave him dangling behind his fretboard with a toothy grin while he sets up his laptop and greets the energetic crowd. When you discreetly scan the people’s ecures while standing behind the curtains, you quickly spot a growing number of pinks and oranges. “Such a charmer.” Chan notes, eyes also blue when you look up at him. 

You nod in agreement, reverting back to your original color as more of your peers gather around the curtains to listen to Jisung’s introduction. “Um, hi, I’m Han Jisung from the Psych department.” You hear him greet with a shy chuckle over the microphone, earning him another wave of cheers. Behind you, even Yuna and Jeongin cheer despite Jisung having his back partially facing you. “This is my first time performing here at uni and the songs that I’ve prepared so please go easy on me.” 

You then turn to Chan again, taking a sideways step closer to him as a thought crosses your mind. “Hey, Chan,” You call for him in a lower voice, craning your head up when he leans towards you. “Have you heard of the songs he’s going to perform tonight? You were together before coming here, right?” 

“Only a little bit. We mostly talked while we were at the studio.” Chan shrugs in response. “I think he wanted it to be a surprise to everyone.” 

On stage, Jisung then checks his guitar one last time before announcing the name of the first song. “So, this first song is something that I’ve been thinking about since I moved here. It’s called ‘Close.’” He says, pressing play on his loops and singing the first lines of the song. “Can you tell me about you? You, seen from afar. I just don't want to watch. Yeah Just tell me about you.”

Jisung is a great performer, there’s no doubt about it. Though you’ve grown up hearing him sing and rap at your more casual events back at home, he always manages to surprise you every time he performs just with the way he enjoys himself on stage. You can see him smile widely from the side of the stage, his nervousness long gone as he interacts with the crowd and collects the pink crystal hearts that float above your heads. 

“He’s really good…” You murmur, more to yourself than to Chan, as you find yourself gently swaying to the song. “What was he even worried about? It’s a great song…” 

Chan glances knowingly at you, a small smile playing on his lips as you sing along to the next round of the chorus. “I don’t think he has nothing to worry about too, not right now at least.” 

“Hm?” “Nothing.” 

-

In truth, even with the positive response from the crowd and the amount of ecures he’s collected from this set alone, Jisung is still nervous for his last song. “Sunshine” was supposed to be just another warm-up song with barely a cohesive topic, a compilation of sketches about his experiences in the human world that he spent his free time on when he wasn’t collecting hearts these past 6 months. As more time passed by, however, and the time of your exam was suddenly coming to a close, they eventually took a different direction without him even realizing it until you were inviting him to perform at this music festival. 

The times that the two of you would bicker just to laugh at each other in the end, the competition that brought the bests and worsts in you, and your chocolate matcha tea and musings on the one time you sat down with him on his balcony. Eventually, you were all he was writing about. On top of the nervousness that comes with finishing the competition you’ve found yourselves in for half a year and finding out who will be declared the winner, Jisung was more nervous about the thought that you’re just behind the stage curtains with Chan, anticipating his next song. 

“For my last song, I picked this one for someone I know whom I’ve spent a lot of time with these past few months.” He confesses shyly in front of the crowds. Among the hundreds of people that came tonight, he easily spots his twin brother in front of the barriers with Minho, sporting the most exaggerated surprised face ever. “I was hoping that when all of this is said and over, we’d get well-deserved breaks...maybe music and tea at night again or something.” 

Jisung doesn’t have to turn around to gauge your initial reaction as he begins the song, Felix’s expression turning into that of giddiness as he looks over at the stage curtains is enough to set every gear in his head to pump out more nervousness. Instead, he pushes through until halfway to the song before he could steal his first glance over to you since beginning his set. 

With his eyes still an emerald green from scanning the crowd’s ecures, your eyes meet under the harsh stage lights as he sings the bridge. “This place is quiet without a sound ye ye ye. Quiet except for the sound of our breaths ye ye ye.” He doesn’t intend to look again, not in that split second before he’s turning his gaze back to the crowd of cellphone lights and LED signs, but he sees your heart’s reflection once more. 

Reminiscent of when you first confessed in middle school, a pinkish heart floats by the sleeves of your sweater, almost looking red if he just looked longer. You didn’t even turn away this time and simply just stood there, heat visibly rising up your neck. 

Reminiscent of when you first confessed in middle school, a pinkish heart floats by the sleeves of your sweater, almost looking red if he just looked longer. This time around, however, you don’t turn away to try and hide it. 

And this time around, Jisung doesn’t childishly call you out for it or ignores it. This time, it makes his own heart swell at the thought. 

-

The car ride home, with Chan on the wheel and three extra boxes of equipment most of the backseats in his SUV, is a comfortable and awkward mix of quiet between you and Jisung as the two of you are forced to sit next to each other in the cramped space. You sit by the window, using it as an excuse to peer outside and avoid any kind of small talk from the boys, while Jisung has hisi eyes glued to his phone while a sleeping Felix snuggles into his shoulder. The only human noise in the car, as it seems, is coming from Minho and Chan as the two recall the songs the latter and Jisung performed at the program. 

It’s even quieter at the thought that you, Jisung, and Felix will fly back to the magical realm tomorrow, something that Minho reminds you when he suddenly asks, “Right, what do you kids want me to cook for lunch later, by the way?” 

The question comes right as the car suddenly comes to an abrupt stop at Chan’s garage, masking the way you and Jisung simultaneously jump in surprise. You instinctively glance over to him after with wide eyes, before gazing over at Minho who has a poorly-hidden snicker on his expression from the front passenger seat. “Um,” You stutter out awkwardly, glaring at Minho when he smirks teasingly over your way. “Anything’s fine for me.” 

Jisung nods over to your direction in agreement. “Yeah, anything’s fine.” 

Minho nods with pursed lips, as if he was biting down a laugh. “Does crispy pork belly sound good?” He asks, earning him nods from you. “Okay. You guys have been quiet back here this entire time, you guys good?” 

“Yeah?” “Totally.” 

Clearly unconvinced, Minho shakes his head and scoffs before twisting his upper body to face front once more, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the car door next to him. “Oh, kids…” 

You roll your eyes at the comment before stealing a glance over at Jisung again, only to find the boy already staring at you. “W-What?” You manage to ask this time despite your initial surprise. In front of you, Chan has already turned the engine off and left the driver’s seat to open the back of the car. “You okay, Ji?” 

He hums almost absentmindedly, phone now set down on his lap as he fiddles with his hands nervously. “Yeah, um—” He stutters out, biting his lips down once. Briefly glancing at his side, he then gestures towards his twin and adds, “Wait, sorry, um, let me wake Lix first.” 

“Okay.” You nod awkwardly, deciding to unbuckle your own seatbelt and open the car door next to you. Jisung then gently shakes Felix awake, leading his brother out through the same car door since the opposite one’s blocked by more of his and Chan’s equipment. 

“You go on ahead, Lix, I’ll just talk to Y/N.” You hear Jisung say as the three of you now stand outside in the cold, levitating boxes of instruments and computers flying over your head and heading inside the house. 

Felix nods at this immediately, sleepily bidding you and Jisung with loose hugs before trudging back inside the house with Chan and Minho. 

Once the doors leading back to the house fully close on the two of you, only then are you engulfed in the same awkward silence again and the two of you, for the third time in the past 6 months, speak up at the same time. 

“So um—” “—Yeah, a while ago—” 

This time, the two of you chuckle awkwardly over speaking at the same time again. You then gesture for him to go ahead and speak first as you adjust your sweater’s placement on your shoulder. 

Instinctively, Jisung fixes your sweater for you before speaking, causing him to stutter a little. “S-Sorry, um…” He licks his lip awkwardly, retracting his hand as fast as he can and moving a step back. “Yeah, I meant to say that I didn’t...I didn’t mean to look at your heart.” 

Suddenly, at such an important moment, you’re speechless and frozen in front of Jisung. Your hands find their way down the hem of your sweater, absentmindedly playing with the loose threads as you shift your weight on the balls of your feet and stutter out your response. “I-I um…” 

Simultaneously, Jisung takes in a huge intake of breath and continues, “I looked at you because I actually made the song for you—well, about you but not in a weird way! It can be for you too, that is if you want it!—”

“Jisung?” 

“Ah, anyway, I’m losing track! Just, I looked at you because I wanted to know what you thought of it the most in the moment, you know—”

“Jisung…”

“And I didn’t realize that my eyes were still green and I saw so I looked away as fast as I could, I swear—!” 

“Ji.” 

“I know you don’t want me looking into your heart and stuff because of before. I promise I won’t do it again—” 

Realizing that he’s not going to stop in his ramblings, you then impulsively take a step towards him and grab him by his arms. “Ji, it’s fine.” You shake him gently, effectively stopping the endless flow of thought. “I mean, you already saw it and everything.” 

“But I—” 

“Just don’t lash out or stop talking to me again while I sort it out.” You shrug reassuringly with a sigh, reluctantly sliding your hands off of him and taking a step back again as you see him listen intently to your words. “It’s just pink, anyway, it can still go away like before. Just don’t avoid me again this time.” 

Though he’s clearly been listening intently, you see his brows furrow and his expression suddenly becomes confused towards the end of your words. “What?” He echoes helplessly after you. “No, I...why would I stop talking to you? That was a long time ago. I won’t do that now, I...” 

“Then just don’t take my heart or something.” You point out, almost like a question as his reaction confuses you similarly. “Anyway, that’s not the point, like I said, I’ll sort it ou—”

“Don’t.” He cuts you off immediately this time with more conviction, shaking his head and suddenly taking your hand. “Don’t sort it out. Don’t make it go away or anything.”  

“What? Why?” 

You’re pulled closer again, Jisung mumbling an incantation to show his ecure under his breath. “Look at mine.” He points out, a pink crystal heart floating over to your upturned palm as he holds onto you by your wrist. “If anything, I should be the one telling you to not take mine on the spot or something.” 

“It’s pink.” You muse out loud in surprise, the warmth of his ecure feeling overwhelming as it floats above your hand. “And it’s for me…?” 

Jisung rolls his eyes at this in disbelief, nodding patiently anyway. “Who else would it be for?” He scoffs gently, making the heart disappear before it could burn your palm. “I don’t know since when it’s been like that, maybe it’s been like that for a long time even I don’t know I’ve only looked at it while Chan and I were at the studio. All I’m sure is that suddenly I was writing a song for you and sacrificing half of my ecure count so you don’t lose easily in the exam and looking out for you and—just, this time it’s me who’s afraid that you’ll run away or disappear for a while if you knew.”

“So don’t...sort it out.” He concludes after unknowingly speaking at such a fast rate, heaving belatedly from this. “I like you now, I like you a lot, and I’m not going to lash out like when we were kids. Take my heart if you want just don’t change your feelings for me, please.” 

There’s a brief pause that follows, the only noise ringing in your ears being the unusually loud beating of your own heart as the two of you freeze in place. Jisung tries waiting as patiently as he visibly can in this silence, puffing air in and out of his lips as he fails at trying to conceal his recurring nervous feelings, while you gaze at anywhere but him because of the heat rising up your neck. 

“Listen…” He speaks up after a while. “I’m sorry, I—”

Fuck it, you think to yourself before stepping forward, shakily cupping his cheeks, and pressing a kiss to his lips. “Don’t say sorry.” You muster up a shy smile in between brief kisses. “You already know that I like you too.” 

bonus epilogue

When you return to the magical realm to the news that Hyunjin won’t be taking his own candidacy exam next year in favor of his own kingdom’s crown, the elders are quick to take your locket and Jisung’s ring to proceed with the final results. Since the decision takes at least 3 days, coupled with the fact that a major complication arose in the 6 months that you were given, Jisung was asked to stay at your castle until the jury could come to a conclusion and crown either one of you. 

The others would also occasionally come and visit (especially Lia who’s mostly kept up with your trip through Yeji and Ryujin) but since confessing to Jisung, the boy has been doing the most trying to sneak you away from everyone and your regular royal duties just to spend more time with you. 

“So this is what you meant with Sunshine?” You ask in the afternoon before the elders would summon you back to the throne room, the two of you hidden away in your favourite greenhouse garden. Today, Jisung has somehow convinced you to ditch a visit to Chan’s family in favor of just sitting on your greenhouse’s cushioned sofas and listening to him hum his songs until your mentors would eventually come looking for you. “Chocolate matcha and your guitar?” 

“Yeah, just a relaxing rest date with your crush.” Jisung points out next to you, his head snuggled into the crook of your neck as much as the guitar in between the two of you could allow him. On your opposite side, his cuddle rival, the quokka plush toy you’ve somehow managed to turn into a life-size pillow today, sits on your lap and occasionally pokes on the end of his guitar. “Why? Do you want to refill your tea? I’ve been getting Felix to teach me this spell to refill tea, you know. I’m getting it but chocolate matcha’s kinda hard to replicate.” 

You shake your head in disbelief with a chuckle, a stark contrast to how you’re internally flustered over the small comment on your favourite tea flavor. “Who said you’re my crush? Bold of you to even assume, Ji…” You pretend to roll your eyes, sinking deeper into the soft cushions behind you. 

“Baby, you’ll be taking those words back when I get crowned tonight.” He pouts, elbowing you gently before shifting to place his guitar on the side. With his hands now free, the prince then resorts to linking his arms with your free one and intertwining your hands together on top of the plush quokka. “If I win, I’ll make sure to banish this quokka first so you’ll be forced to cuddle with only me.” 

“Tch, Felix won you this quokka. You’ll have to duel with him first if you want this gone.” You argue, sliding the quokka closer to him so its face is adjacent to Jisung. “Plus, it kinda looks like you. If I get crowned and you’ll be away doing your own duties back East, I have something of yours.” 

“I think you meant that if I win and you’ll be staying here doing your own duties, you’ll have something of mine.” Jisung huffs pettily. “Maybe we should keep the quokka, after all. You might get lonely if I get busy.” 

You shake your head immediately with a chuckle, leaning more of your weight on his side. “Oh, no, no, no.” You correct teasingly, making him giggle along against your shoulder. “Who said you’re going to win later?” 

“Wanna bet?” He raises a brow and smirks, lifting his head briefly to glance over to you.

You roll your eyes at this, leaning forward to meet his lips. “You’re so competitive, babe. Give it a rest, you know I’ll win anyway.” 

[wings-flames-and-thirium]

drive through

a/n: this was inspired by @jellyjulep's post on twitter about making fast food stops on your way home with hawks. hope you enjoy that as a little briding drabble before i'll post the dryhumping headcanons ^^

warning(s): hawks with a tummy, slight belly kink, handjob

You and Hawks had gone on countless dates together already, more often than not it was to a restaurant but that didn’t matter. You were glad you could spend at least some time with your hero boyfriend, so even those small trips for dinner were more than enjoyable for the both of you. This time, the restaurant Hawks chose looked promising, but you two quickly came to realize that it was one of those fancier restaurants where you would get the smallest portions for triple the price. And so you both find yourself in the car, hungry and a bit grumpy about the experience but one smirk and two words from Hawks turned everything around. “Drive through” had been the idea that set everything into motion and soon you were finding yourself stopping at multiple places on the way home to get all of the yummy, fatty goodness that you often denied yourself. Hawks devoured his chicken nuggets like the starving bird he was while you were occupied by fries and the different types of sauces.

Eventually, you came to a stop, Hawks could feel his belt getting tight as well as the buttons on his white shirt as he licked his fingers clean of the last remnants of delicious chicken crumbs. You two really went all out tonight and that 4+1 special deal gave you the rest. Hawks relaxed into his seat, the tightness of his clothes getting a little too uncomfortable for his liking so he unbuttoned his shirt, his belt coming loose soon after that, leaving him exposed to the air. His seat goes back as he fully lays into it, revealing his swollen belly. His muscular physique was still there, but it was something else seeing him content with his tummy sticking out ever so slightly while the piercings on his nipples glistened under the car’s indoor lights.

“Oh FUCK that was good,” he groaned, a smile spreading as he faces you.

You could only return the expression, running your fingers through his hair, however, your mind soon starts to wander, which was almost inevitable given that Hawks is presenting himself to you like that. Your gaze drifted lower, down his pecs and to that healthy pudgy tummy, past to where his unzipped jeans revealed his boxers.

“You know, I know we ate a lot, but I wouldn’t mind some dessert right now,” you teased, wasting no time slipping your hand past the waistband of his boxers.

Even in his narcotic-like state, he could feel the twitch his cock gave when your warm hand brushed over it, feel how his whole body shuddered in arousal. “Damn baby bird, in the car? You definitely have a talent for catching me off-guard.” The next pair of witty remarks got stuck in his throat, replaced by a low groan and followed by him biting down on his lower lip.

Skillfully you worked his cock to full hardness, giving how he slowly bucked into your hand, it wasn’t really difficult and soon you were finding yourself stroking him in a pleasant rhythm with your thumb occasionally brushing over the tip.

Hawks didn’t have the energy to admire your work, so he gave up and closed his eyes so he could focus on how your hand was feeling around his cock. It was enough to drive him crazy and had he eaten less, you would already be laying on your back and spread out beneath him. “Oh you’re really getting right into it I see? You’re really spoiling me tonight pretty bird, fuck…”

For once you were thankful that it was already late and the parking lot at the fast food place you stopped at wasn’t too crowded anymore, but on the other hand, it would have certainly added some more excitement into all of this. Slowly, you increased the speed of your hand, working his shaft in more powerful strokes and massaged the tip more frequently which had already begun to leak pre-cum. There was a generous amount this time, it slipped through your fingers and added to the overall hot sound of you squeezing his cock more from time to time.

Hawks started to whine and whimper, eyes still closed as he sprawled out on his seat, blissful and needy. “D-don't stop. Ohh please don’t stop.” He chanted as his hips desperately tried to make you increase the speed once more, yet the fullness of his stomach prevented more extensive movement, so he had to wait and lay there ‘till you decided to give him mercy. The fact that he was moaning so sweetly made that hard for you, but you held out a little longer to watch him. “F-Fuck it feels so good baby bird. More. P-please more, ahh…”

With a sly grin, you reached over, gently gripping his full tummy and rubbing it, earning you a content “mhhh” followed by a couple of chirps. You turned over and lowered your head, peppering kisses on his belly all the way up to his blissful face where you pressed a kiss against his lips. He returned it eagerly, gasping as he can feel your other hand on his chest, two fingers twisting his sensitive nipple. You took the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth, tasting his sweet moans and swallowing them up one by one. With every new drag along his cock or each new tug at his nipple he gets messier, sloppier in kissing you back and in rutting into your hand. You’ve never seen him in such a blissful state before but it made everything even more worthwhile. Each new pump of his cock started a chain reaction: his hips stuttering, his tummy gently shaking with the movement he made and his mouth opening to let out more moans.

You can now feel his wings begin to flap helplessly, the pressure steadily building in his abdomen getting too strong, almost unbearable. “P-please baby bird I need to cum, please do it now, I can’t, I-” He’s once again interrupted by a series of moans which get higher and louder as you start stroking him at a relentless pace, your slick palm slapping against his balls with every stroke and your thumb rubbing gentle circles over his sensitive head.

“Go ahead, Keigo, cum for me.” And even though you kept your voice shallow, you could hear how much Hawks was focused on it even in what you thought would be a state that would be too far away for you to reach. A few moments later he spilled into your palm with a high keen and beautifully parted lips, each drop sending another throb through his cock and his body. His hips are still jerking and bucking into you as he rides out his orgasm, enjoying the warmth pooling down his cock just like the fullness and warmness that was seated in his stomach.

A few more hiccups and quiet groans slipped past his lips before he opened his eyes and you met his handsome golden orbs, hazy from the high and filled with so much satisfaction and happiness. Finally, he managed to move and placed his shaking hand on your cheek, pulling you down into another soft kiss.

When you pulled away you grinned as you saw Hawks with that same expression, lips parted slightly as he leaned back into his seat. “Satisfied?” You asked as you started cleaning him up with napkins.

“Mhh, definitely,” he murmured, barely able to hold back a jawn. “What about you?”

“Best dessert I’ve ever had.”

[thefirsttree]

A personal update + my next game

OK, time to do this. I’ve been meaning to do a big DAVID WEHLE™ update for a while now and explain why I haven’t released a new game yet, but you know how life gets in the way. Especially when life is a quarantine hellscape, you have three beautiful, amazing, exhausting kids to raise, a spouse’s job you support, a viral YouTube channel that turns your brain to mush, a thousand emails waiting in your inbox since your game is free on the Epic Games Store (with an impressive number of redemptions too! … meaning lots of emails and customer support issues), etc., etc. What also contributes to my lack of updates is because… I just don’t really like posting online. Fascinating correlation, I know!

Don’t worry, this isn’t going to be a venting/ranting blog post (well, maybe a bit), because my life is seriously AMAZING and INSANELY BLESSED and LUCKY. I can’t believe how many dreams keep coming true, so much so that I feel I don’t deserve it and I really pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes… but I did want to at least be honest, because I owe that to myself.

Wow, where do I even begin? Well, how about we start with the reason I’m even a full-time indie game dev now: The First Tree. This small hobby project I worked on at night morphed into this gargantuan beast (or fox) that took over my life the past 5 years. Which is great! I’m living the dream! And yet, I really didn’t expect it to do as well as it did. At its core, my game is a slow-paced, sad walking simulator (ahem, I prefer the term “exploration game,” but you know what I mean) that somehow seemed to launch at the right time to the right audience. It resonated deeply with some of you, and for that I’m eternally grateful. I still get emails almost daily how my game changed their lives in some formative way. I’m beyond honored.

However, with that spotlight came criticism and demands from the ever-present, insatiable internet. I would randomly be surfing the gamedev subreddit trying to decompress, and I would see a comment by some rando saying how much I didn’t deserve my success, and how it was all one huge lucky fluke. And I believed them!

And to add to it, some devs considered me an indie marketing “guru”, which I was uncomfortable with. I worked hard to market my game every week, and after my GDC talk, people assumed marketing was my passion; the reason I got up every morning. Just to clarify… NO, I don’t like marketing, and I hate being the center of attention. I don’t like asking people for money and wishlists. But I did what was necessary because I was passionate about telling stories, and I wanted to give my story a fighting chance to be seen on the crowded pages of Steam.

So now, you’re probably wondering “well then David, why did you make fancy YouTube videos showing off your success? Not very modest if you ask me.” This honestly could be a long blog post all on its own, because my experience of putting myself in the spotlight and becoming a “content creator” is… complicated. It was an unusual step for me, especially since I never even showed my face online (as a game developer) until my GDC talk.

First off, I always wanted to teach and start a YouTube channel. I love video editing, especially since I’ve been doing it longer than making games! It’s a huge passion of mine. And teaching people who didn’t know they could make and finish games was a huge motivator (and it’s been so rewarding already). But the second reason is, I was scared. I was self-employed, and I was riding the success of a “huge lucky fluke” that would probably not happen again. I wanted to make sure I could provide for my amazing family, and give them food and health insurance and security in these tumultuous times. I was turning my lifelong passions and hobbies into a business, and it wasn’t as simple of a mental transition as I thought.

So, I went all in on YouTube and the accompanying online course called Game Dev Unlocked. I spent years editing the scripts and videos, and polishing them to a shine. At first, no one watched my videos, no one was buying… and in the blink of an eye, the YouTube algorithm picked up my main autobiographical video (“How Making Indie Games Changed My Life”), and I started getting 5,000 subscribers a day. Right now, I’m at 150,000 subs, which is still hard for me to believe. I always had a dream of earning 100k subs on YouTube, so I was pretty happy with the whole thing. Sales were OK, but mostly people didn’t want to buy the course. Then the emails came in…

Something you should know about me: I am a textbook “people pleaser,” and if someone asks for my help, I take it very seriously. If someone is mad at me, even if I didn’t do anything wrong, it’s all I can think about, and it ruins my day. So, taking an onslaught of people begging for help and multiplying that by an impossible amount of people for my brain to truly comprehend thanks to the internet… and let’s just say it wasn’t a healthy mix.

I received thousands of emails from people who were begging me for some kind of reassurance that everything would be OK. That their dreams would come true too. And I wanted to help every single one of them. I went from a nobody working on a game for fun to becoming a spokesperson for the indie game dream. I couldn’t even get a shake from the Chick-Fil-A drive-thru without someone recognizing me and asking for game dev advice. And it didn’t stop there… I would get emails from suicidal kids asking for help, teenagers from Afghanistan asking me to get them out of their country, and on one occasion I received an email from a hopeful game developer in a war-torn country who had just experienced a bomb blowing up their neighboring village. His friends were dead, and he was hoping he could finish a game before he died too, and he needed my help. How do you say no to something like that? Didn’t I owe it to everyone because I was lucky with my hit game and I needed to “pay it forward”? (Something people constantly reminded me of)

And then to top it off, after you’ve given everything you’ve got to other people in need… you get hate mail in your inbox. You spend the whole day serving your children and strangers on the internet, then when the kids are finally asleep, you hit the bed to relax and take a look at your phone to decompress, and you randomly come across an angry gamer in your Twitter mentions telling you your game they got for free sucks, and that you took away a potentially great game from them and that your apology isn’t good enough.

Long story short, I went to a mental therapist for the first time in my life. I was broken trying to care for two toddlers and a new baby in a pandemic (which is very, very hard), taking care of my course students who gave me their hard-earned money and demanded results, and the countless people begging for help on the internet. I was this introverted, internet-lurker trying to take on the weight of the world. I was so tired and hurt that no one cared about me and my needs… only what I could do for them.

Quitting my day job and making this hobby my full-time job has stirred up… mixed emotions. This statement may disturb some of you, but I was definitely 100% happier when I had a full-time job and I was working on my game at night. I missed working with the amazing team at The VOID, working on Star Wars… back when the success of my game was this abstract thing I could only daydream about. Mostly, I was making my game for me with no outside expectations to pay the bills or satisfy the ever-demanding internet, and that brought me a lot of joy.

It’s not all doom and gloom though! I’m actually very happy now and in the best shape I’ve been since the pandemic started. I’ve had to confront my weaknesses and personality quirks, but I’m a better person for it (and I’m sure these issues would’ve come out eventually). I hired an awesome community manager for Game Dev Unlocked who is helping SO MUCH with the emails, I can’t even tell you the mental burden it alleviates. I even leased a co-working office to help separate work from my home, and that’s been a huge help too. I’ve decided to work with my old friends from The VOID on a cool, new VR experience. It will take me away from my projects a bit, but I’m ecstatic to work with a great team again (and not manage anything, whew).

These are all things I would’ve never guessed I needed, because I thought I knew myself pretty well… turns out I didn’t.

The reality is: running a business is HARD. Running it solo is even harder. You have to remember, I was burnt out on The First Tree well into the Steam release in 2017, but I kept working on it for 4 more years due to my fears of failing again and not earning enough money for my family.

So, I was wrestling with the age-old concept of commercialism and art. There was this dichotomy of doing whatever I wanted and being true to my vision (what most people assume the indie dev dream is like), and doing only what customers wanted to buy. This is something that has killed me with YouTube… in one specific instance, I was super excited to make the exact video I wanted to make. I loved every part of its creation, and I thought it had a message that would inspire everyone. I lovingly edited it over several weeks, posted it, and excitedly waited for the stats… and it was by far my worst performing video.

This is not a new problem. Even the Sistine Chapel by Michelangelo was a commission forced upon him by the very violent Pope Julius II. My wife and I regularly talk about the fine balance between artistic integrity and commercialism, a problem she is very familiar with as an artist who constantly needs to balance what she wants to make with what the customer wants to hang up in their home.

For The First Tree, I was lucky. It was pretty much what I wanted to make (I had to compromise a lot of things of course), and it turned out millions of people wanted it too. Recently, I thought the safe business decision would be to do it all over again, so I started work on a spiritual successor to The First Tree (an idea that I may revisit one day since I do love the story idea). But that isn’t happening anytime soon. Trust me when I say I am now currently burnt out on animal exploration games.

So that realization left me with a question: what do I do next?

I’ve decided I need to make a game that I want to make, for me. It will be a bit different and I’m almost certain most fans of The First Tree will not love it… but it’s an idea that gets me super excited. It’s an idea that could help me fall in love with game development again.

A few more details: this game will be story-driven, first-person, and will use the Unreal Engine. That means development is gonna be slow going, because I have to learn a whole new tool. The “smart business” decision would be to make something quickly in Unity which I’m already familiar with… but I want to do this for me, and UE5 looks like a lot of fun. I’m also shooting for an early-ish release date so I avoid burn out and I keep the game short: I want to release it in Fall 2022, but knowing game development, it will probably take longer.

With the help of my therapist, I’ve also concluded that I’ve been too accessible on the internet and that my self-worth isn’t determined by the amount of people I try to help online. Of course, I love helping people and seeing them succeed, but I need to step back and focus on my family and myself. I will delete my social media apps on my phone (I will still post big updates occasionally) and stop responding to most emails, tweets, DMs, etc. It’s not that I’m ungrateful… in fact, if I don’t say thank you or at least acknowledge the incredibly nice people who share a sweet message about my game or want to tell me how I inspire them (still hard for me to believe, lol), I feel a ton of guilt… but I need to let that go. Please know I’m extremely grateful to all the fans who follow my work, so even if I don’t thank you directly, I truly mean it: thank you.

I will still post and stream occasionally on YouTube when I want to (and I still do live Q&A’s for my GDU students). The online course sales will help support my family as I work on a potentially risky game idea (and my new job will help alleviate the risk too). I’m gonna try one more marketing experiment and sell a mini-course soon (and add an Unreal section), and after that I’m done working on it. A gigantic thank you to the people who bought my course and are part of the amazing community, it has helped me and my family tremendously, and it’s inspiring seeing the games you make!

I’m a bit worried about the whole thing since this new game idea could flop, which could definitely affect my family. But a sappy, high-school yearbook quote is coming to mind…  I think it applies here: “A ship in harbor is safe—but that is not what ships are built for.”

Thanks for reading,

David

[salty-rey]

Singing for the Troops

Pairing: Fives x Reader

Words: 3948

Warnings: Fluff! Open-ending (sexual mention???)

A/N: Hello everyone! This is the first time I do a fic for Star Wars, so I apologize in advance if I mislabeled certain ships. Or if I didn’t do the boys’ personalities any justice. 

I was inspired by old performances/entertainment for the Allied troops in WWII, and after watching Christina Aguilera’s Candyman music video. Then I thought, “do the clones get any kind of entertainment like this?” So I took it upon myself to make a fan fic!

Hope you guys like it!

I don’t know how to end a fic....

Playlist: Something’s Got a Hold On Me | Candyman | Ain’t No Other Man

Your dream is to become a famous singer, and you have been working hard for years to reach this goal. You have been visiting various bars and cantinas, singing for patrons whenever the owner allowed it. Even if you were paid or not, you still sang. If a bar had an open mic night, you were there. Out of all the bars you’ve been to, 79s has always been a favorite. It was always packed, and the owner was happy to have you sing for the guests. It always brought more patrons, which meant more money for the establishment. Plus, you were even paid, unlike previous locations. 

After a few months of you visiting 79s, you attracted the attention of a particular ARC trooper. When you finished your playlist of songs, both originals and covers, you were given a glass of whiskey. 

“Compliments from the ARC trooper,” the droid server told you before gesturing to the said trooper in blue. 

Looking over, you spotted the clone who raised their glass to you, sending a wink your way. Even though they all share the same face, this clone had a distinctive number tattoo on the side of his head and a classic goatee hugging his chin. It wasn’t the first time that someone bought a drink for you. Troopers before had attempted to grab your attention, even tried to get lucky for a night, but you brushed them off. But there was something about this trooper that was welcoming. Perhaps the way he smiled at you or the way he spoke to you. He was causal yet not dull. Flirty, too but it didn’t make you uncomfortable. You become bashful at his witty comments. It felt as though the two of you were long-time friends. 

The ARC Trooper introduced himself as Fives and greeted you to his fellow brothers. There, you met Echo, Jesse, Kix, and Hardcase. They all serve under Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, aka “Skyguy,” as to how Padawan Learner Ahsoka Tano calls him. They had stories to share with you; their missions on other planets engrossed you. In turn, you told them about your dreams to become a singer. 

“It’s silly, I know. Been lectured by my parents for years.” You lightly laughed, only to become surprised at the boys’ reactions.

“No dream is silly!” “Anyone who says otherwise is just jealous of your voice!” “I don’t know what it’s like to have parents, but they should be supportive of you.”

“If that’s your dream, then go after it. To kriff what other people say.” Fives huffed before fully turning to you. “Who can say that they had dreams but didn’t achieve them because they thought it was unrealistic? I’m going to see you on a big stage one day, and I’m going to say, “That’s our songbird.” Because you will always have us cheering you on.” The trooper said with a soft smile.

A blush crept onto your face, and a smile was spreading cheek to cheek. “Thanks, Fives!”

After that night, you and the boys exchanged your private commlinks. Soon enough than anyone would like, they were shipped back to the battlefield. While they were away, if there were any downtime between missions and work, you would hear your holoprojector beeping. You spent hours talking to each trooper, glad to see that they were doing well. Fives was the one who spent the most time with you, almost talking the night away. He would only stop when he saw your head dipping and your eyes blinking to stay awake.

“Go to sleep, songbird. I’ll talk to you as soon as I can. With any luck, we should be landing back to Coruscant within the month.” So fives said, his holo-imagine occasionally flickering due to the distance. 

After letting out a yawn, you rubbed your eyes and smile at him. “Okay. Be safe out there, okay?”

“Anything for my songbird,” Fives smirked. He then bid you goodnight with a soft smile, and he was gone. 

Within the month, the 501st had returned to Coruscant, and you met up with the boys back at 79s. The bar 79s was packed as usual, especially on a weekend evening. Troopers from all kinds of battalions were here, drinking and dancing, retelling stories with their brothers and civilians. The music was pumping, and the dance floor was full of slightly or fully intoxicated soldiers. 

Tight hugs and smiles were exchanged when you were reunited with the boys at the bar before entering and finding an empty booth for you all to sit. Echo had left the table to get everyone their drinks as you and boys caught up. 

“I heard that there this campaign being made for singers by singers and that they want to sing for you troopers.” So you told them, raising for your a bit so that they can hear you over the music. 

Singing for the Troops was a campaign created by independent singers on Coruscant. Singers who supported the clones and believed that the troops deserve a moment of peace and perhaps experience some form of normality, which may be entirely new to them. What clone can say that they have been to a concert? Plus, it would give the artists a moment to shine and perhaps score big with a sponsor. It’s a win-win situation! 

“The campaign reached several Republic-allied planets, encouraging other singers to sign up. Not just that, but it’s was being crowdfunded, and it reached its price goal! Also, I heard that a famous singer is the main supporter of the campaign,” you informed as Echo passed around everyone’s drinks.

“You should sign up!” Kix said after taking a sip of his drink.

“I don’t know. I never sang for a large crowd. Let alone been off-world.” You replied nervously, your hands fiddling with the glass of liquor.

“That never stopped you singing at bars!” Hardcase responded before downing his drink in one gulp. 

“Just imagine that you’re singing to us! We already have the same faces.” Jesse joked before wincing at the sudden punch to the shoulder. 

“Look, songbird; you’re a great singer. And you’ve sung in front of countless drunken troops. So singing in front of a bunch of sober soldiers will be easy,” Fives chimed in, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. “All those other singers will be lucky to have you join them.” He said before winking, a smirk on his face.

Your cheeks felt warm, and it wasn’t because of the liquor. “Thanks, Fives.” A soft smile formed on your lips, happy to hear his compliments. You then sighed before downing the rest of your drink. “Alright. I’ll do it!”

“Alright. A toast to (Y/N)!” Kix cheered, raising his glass, and the rest joined in. 

The next day, you wasted no time in signing up for a chance to sing in the campaign. The requirements are to submit a recording of your singing, and if you are selected, you will receive a message at the earliest notice. When you waited for a response, you and the boys roam the upper mid-levels of Coruscant, taking time to hang out before the boys were shipped back to war. It always felt bittersweet saying goodbye, but you knew that it wouldn’t be for long. 

It will be much longer. 

Arriving at your apartment from working your day job, you noticed that your holoprojector was blinking; someone left a message for you. A tightening sensation was felt in the pit of your stomach, your heart racing as you approached your holoprojector. You stared at the blinking light. Did one of the boys leave a message for you? No, they know your schedule, so it possible it isn’t them. 

Is it from the campaign? Your heart hammered hard against your ribcage as your hand reached over. Then, what felt like many minutes, you finally pressed the button, the image of a well-dressed man appearing. 

“Evening, miss (Y/N). I am the manager of the campaign Singing for the Troops, and I’m here to congratulate you. You have been selected to be one of our singers! We hope to hear from you soon.” The recording ended with a courtesy bow from the man, leaving you standing there in shock. 

Did he just say that you were accepted? Does that mean you get to go off-world and sing?!

A squeal of joy echoed throughout your apartment, you jumping in place. “I did it!!” You cheered before reaching for your holoprojector. You had to tell the boys! You had to tell Fives!

After several minutes to reach them, no one answered your calls. Your smile slowly turned into a frown before sighing in defeat. “They’re at war, (Y/N)... they’re probably outside of their base. I’ll just leave them a message about the good news.” 

Later in the day, you contacted the campaign manager and agreed to meet with them for further instruction. The plan was to visit various battalions and sing for them during downtime. It will be difficult, and the campaign will have to plan, seeing battalion will go first. During those long weeks of planning, meeting other artists, and vocal practices, there still was no response from the boys. It wouldn’t be the first time you didn’t hear from Fives and the others, although you couldn’t help but worry. 

“Once everyone arrives onto Coruscant, we will first visit the 104th Battalion,” the campaign manager informed everyone via holoprojector. 

“The Wolfpack Co.,” you whispered to yourself. Fives told you about this battalion, having pointed a couple of them out back at 79’s. Fives said to you that the unit within the 104th was a serious, no-nonsense type of group. Entertaining this group and the rest of the battalion will be a challenge. 

The manager continued to list other battalions and legions until one of them caught your attention. “501st and finally, the 212th.” 

“Bottom of the list...” You whispered, frowning lightly. How long will it take for you to reach the 501st Legion? 

The meeting concluded with a buzz of excitement. It was happening. For reals! In a few days, you will be flying out of Coruscant for the first time, following your dreams. 

Before the faithful day could arrive, you decided to reach the boys once more. You sat with anticipation, your knee bouncing as you waited for someone to answer. Finally, after several beeps, the projector came to life, and standing before you was Fives. 

“Fives! Thank the Maker,” you sighed in relief before glaring up at him. “Why hasn’t anyone returned my messages?”

The ARC Trooper lightly winced at your tone before smiling apologetically. “Sorry, songbird. The mission was a lot tougher than we first thought. But we finally liberated the planet from Separatist control. The boys and I are fine. I’m sorry for worrying you.” He said, frowning and eyes cast downward.

You opened your mouth to speak before shutting, looking away as well. “No, it’s not your fault. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. We’re at war, and I know that you won’t always be there for our calls. I just....” You began to say but couldn’t finish your sentence.

“I know.” Fives stared at you, eyebrows knitted. “(Y/N)?” Looking back up, he was now smiling at you ever so sweetly that it made you blush. “Congrats on getting picked. I knew you would get in.”

You blinked up at the ARC trooper before smiling. The two of you spend a couple of hours talking, quickly making up for the lost time. You told him the battalions that you were going to visit, and he groaned in annoyance. “Why do we have to be at the bottom of the list?”

“I guess the 104th battalion are in dire need to put some smile on their faces—especially that sourpuss Wolffe.” You teased, causing Fives to laugh. 

“That’s going to be one hell of a challenge. I don’t think I saw Commander Wolffe smile before.”

“I welcome a challenge. And I’ll sure be the one to turn his scowl into a grin.” You puffed out your chest in pride.

Fives chuckles at your comical posture, lightly shaking his head. “If anyone can, it’s you.” You relax, returning to an upright position, looking back up at the trooper. The two of you stare at each other in silence, observing each other’s features. 

His armor was scuffed and dirtied. There are new scratches and dents throughout, roughing his paint job. His face looked tired, yet there was a glow in his eyes, staring at you in what it appears to be loving. 

“I can’t wait to see you again, pretty girl,” Fives spoke, breaking the silence.

That was a new nickname, and it caused you to blush once more. Despite feeling embarrassed, you smiled back. “Me too. Take care, okay?”

“Anything for my songbird,” he repeated all those weeks ago. 

.

.

.

.

Who knew participating in a singing campaign would last for so long. Then again, the war is still going on, so landing on Star Destroyers only happens when the surrounding area was safe. But it was all worth it. Seeing the joy on the troops’ faces and feeling their excitement as the music vibrated throughout the hanger was rewarding.

Working with the manager and group of artists was a great experience as well. Many of the singers were friendly, sharing their stories of how they got into music. Many of them were humans; one was a Twi’lek, another was a Pantoran, and a couple more alien species. Listening to them sing in their native tongue was thrilling, giving you goosebumps at the realization that there are so many cultures out there. So much more for you to learn, and what better place than here. 

As the list of locations was getting shorter, you felt more nervous and excited as you got closer to the 501st legion. You were going to see Fives and the others soon. It’s been months since you last saw them. I tried staying in touch with them via holoprojector, but it was getting more complicated since you were busy as well. But that will all change as you near the Star Destroyer that the famous boys in blue occupied. Although, you were nervous for an entirely different reason. You would do something big, having already talked about it to the manager, band, and fellow singers would help be your backup singers. You’re taking a big chance, and there’s no turning back now. 

The ship that you and the rest of the artist travel on docked, allowing the whole group to exit. The hangar will house the concert. That same space will also enable the troopers can dance and sing along. In a matter of hours, the soldiers set the stage, and the singers filed onto the hanger. Just like every other Star Destroyer, the stage is decked with standing spotlights and a curtain to act as a background. It also shields the rest of the group whenever they’re not performing.

You watched your fellow singers perform on stage, peeking from the corner of the curtain where the rest of the artists prepared themselves. As the crowd cheered and danced in place, your eyes scanned around the group. But at your current angle, you can’t see past the first few rows of troopers. So the only way to spot your boys is when you perform on stage. And it was happening real soon. 

Three more singers performed, some of them accompanied by background singers or dancers. Then, it was your turn. 

“Now, please welcome (Y/N)!” The manager introduced, and the crowd cheered as you walked on stage. Dressed in your performance outfit, you approached the microphone stand. Your eyes quickly scanned around the group, searching until a voice rang out from the sea of white and blue. 

“That’s my songbird!!!” 

Your eyes snapped to the source, and you softly gasped. There he was—your favorite ARC trooper.

Fives was waving his hands at you, a broad grin on his face. Standing by his sides were Echo, Hardcase, Jesse, and Kix. They were waving at you too, whistling and clapping their hands. They were all here. They are all safe and sound. You felt a weight come off your shoulders, blinking your eyes to fight back the tears. 

Gripping the microphone, you paused for a second before opening your mouth. Your voice projected throughout the hangar as you sang out your first couple of lyrics. “Oh, sometimes I get a good feeling, yeah/I get a feeling that I never, never, never had before no, no/And I just wanna tell you right now that I-/I believe, I really do believe that/Something’s got a hold on me.”

“(Oh, it must be love),” your backup singers sang softly after you. Drums began to play. A soft bass followed along as you continued to sing. Your feet carried you around the stage, feeling the beat. The large crowd of troopers resumed their dancing, stomping their feet and cheering as you reached the middle of your song. Standing at the center of the stage and facing forward, your eyes then locked to Fives’s as you sang out the next couple of lyrics. 

“My heart feels heavy, my feet feel light/I shake all over, but I feel alright/I never felt like this before/Something’s got a hold on me that won’t let go/I never thought it could happen to me/Got me happy when I’m in misery/I never thought it could be this way/Love’s sure gonna put a hurting on me.” 

The whole time, neither one of you broke eye contact. You can see the look of surprise appearing on the ARC trooper’s face before shifting to one of love, a smile decorating his face. The other boys looked surprised at your words before looking at Fives. It was evident that their brother had a thing for you since day one, but to have you tell him of your feelings ---incredibly so bold like this--- was shocking. But they began to cheer, Echo smacking Jesse’s back as his brother rolled his eyes before depositing a small number of credits. 

You grinned at the end of your song. Then, having witnessed the reaction from the boys, you blushed a bit. Glancing back at the band, you nodded your head. Drums began to play, followed by a couple of trumpets. “I met him out for dinner on a Friday night/He really got me working up an appetite,” you began to sing, moving your hips to the beat. The crowd started up again, dancing along to the sound of your voice. “He’s a one stop shop, makes my cherry pop/He’s a sweet talkin’, sugar coated candyman!”

“Well, by now, I’m getting all bothered and hot/When he kissed my mouth, it really hit the spot/He had lips like sugarcane/Good things come for boys who wait!” So you sang, smiling at Fives, who smirked back at you. The crowd was getting excited as you moved your hips rather proactively, your confidence rising after seeing Fives’s responses to your words. 

“He’s a one stop shop with a real big (ugh)/He’s a sweet-talkin’, sugar-coated candyman.” The crowd wolf-whistled at those words, but your focus was on Fives. You can see him biting his bottom lip, eyes heatedly watching you now. 

When the song finished, the band continued onto your final piece. You had perfectly planned this night. Your choice of songs were different than the ones from previous performances. This was your love letter to Fives. You love him, and it appears that he feels the same way. You don’t know when will be the next time that the two of you will see each other. You would have loved to tell him your feelings differently, but like how you said before, singing is what you know best.

“Ain’t no other man can stand up next to you/Ain’t no other man on the planet does what you do/You’re the kinda guy a girl finds in a blue moon/You got soul, you got class, you got style with your bad ass/Ain’t no other man, it’s true/Ain’t no other man but you!”

Your performance ended with a loud round of applause. You were softly panting, sweat trickling down your neck, eyes watching Fives. He was clapping the hardest, using two fingers to whistle. A bright smile came to your face, thanking everyone before retreating to the back of the stage. 

“What are you waiting for?!” Jesse shouted, a smirk on his face before lightly shoving Fives. “Go after her!” Echo encouraged, followed by a thumbs up from Hardcase and a nod from Kix. 

Without wasting another second, Fives rush past his brothers, being careful not to bump into anyone as the next singer came to the stage. It didn’t take him long to reach the side of the stage, but two non-clone guards stopped him. “Sorry, sir, but no one is allowed back here.”

“It’s okay! He’s a friend,” you quickly intervene. The guards relaxed, allowing you to approach the ARC trooper. All that confidence from being on stage was dripping away. Now, your heart was racing, and your cheeks felt like they were on fire. Fives smirked as your cheeks darken in color, your blush reaching down your neck to the tips of your ears. 

“Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed now, cyar’ika.” Fives chuckled as he took his hand in his. 

You laughed nervously, letting Fives pull you away from the group of singers and towards a more secluded area of the hangar. “M-maybe a little,” you admitted before rounding a corner. Both of you were now hiding the two of you behind a starfighter, Fives gently pressing you against a stack of heavy crates. A hand laid on your hip while the other laid on the containers, trapping you in place. “I told you never sang in front of a large crowd.”

“Could have fooled me,” he responded as his hand on the crates moved to cup the side of your face. You slowly relaxed under his touch before gently leaning into his palm, looking up at him with hooded eyes. 

“I meant every word, Fives.” You said in a hushed tone, your cheeks still flushed. You raised your hands up, before wrapping your arms around his neck, gently pulling him down to you, until the tip of your noses brushed. “I love you.”

“Say it again,” Fives moaned, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flushed against his armor. 

“I love you, Fives.” 

What little space was between you two was gone, as Fives leaned forward, capturing your lips. It wasn’t a light kiss nor a deep one, but still full of passion. It was something that the two of you wanted. A moan escaped you as Fives pressed his tongue into your mouth, your hands moved to cup his cheeks, his hand cradling the back of your neck. “Ner cyar'ika laar senaar,” he purred against your lips after parting to breathe, before pecking your lips a couple of times. Hearing speak in Mando’a caused you to shiver in excitement, which he felt against his hands. 

“You liked that?” He growled before nipping your neck, causing you to gasp. “There’s more where that came from.” You then felt his hips press and grind against yours, releasing another moan from you. 

“There a few more singers left. Plenty of time for it,” you smirked before taking his hand. “And I know the perfect place where you can show me everything.” You both raced back to the ship that you arrived in. You both definitely had enough time, returning back to the hangar but the way you were walking, it was obvious what had occurred. 

You didn’t care how the boys teased you, or how the other singers looked shock, or flustered. You are in complete bliss, having Fives at your side and holding his hand for the rest of the evening. 

---------

A/N: Thanks again for reading! I have another fan fic in mind, but I should really focus on my finals first!

Ner cyar'ika laar senaar = My darling song bird

[peeterparkr]

invisible string;tom holland.

summary:  life has a way of pulling you and Tom close to each other, then it pulls you apart. 

 “It is like an invisible red cord or thread which connects you to that one person you’re destined to meet, your true love.” 

soulmate au

word count: 6.4k

pairing: tom holland x reader

warnings: breakup mention, fluff, angst. fluffy angst. 

LOOK I TRIED TO WRITE FLUFF BUT I’M NOT GOOD AT IT SO ANGST CAME BUT I TRIED BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT

heavily inspired by folklore and evermore by taylor

thanks @jambrosemc for helping me you’re amazing

So, this is for one of my best friends here, @badhollandfluff, Delaney I’m sorry this took so long but I wanted it to be perfect for you, surprise!!! I’m your secret Santa! Love you, hope you had an amazing Christmas and I wish you a happy new year, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

Thanks to everyone who joined, happy holidays!! 

No one ever has time. We’re always running and rushing and trying to save a little, it’s always like we have it counted and we never truly realize time is passing by. The clock keeps ticking. You were a victim of that, sometimes, always running, never knowing why. Time always going faster than you wanted it to be. 

Until it stopped, it had stopped since last year. 

There you were now. A white mug. These days you don’t really see that. Everyone has the paper cups with the coffee collar. Their names scribbled on black that probably still smells like sharpie. But you were holding a white mug, that now was just slightly stained by your pink lipstick. 

The mug was stained inside too, with the leftover foam of your capuchino. You were letting it set cold, watching as the people would walk in. Waiting. 

You trailed your gaze around the room, there are some couples around you.

You liked the idea of this café, with people gathering around just for the simple fact of drinking a hot coffee out of a mug. You like to come here, to sit out your thoughts, sometimes you’ll find some time to work, read. But you’d be alone. You’ve been lonely lately. 

It didn’t matter, it’s fair to point that out. But today, you were going to meet him. Again. 

But you didn’t know that yet. 

You had once read about soul connections, interested if you’d ever find your own, seemed like most people around had met them. You hadn't. Not the one you were longing to find, that is. 

Bizarre. 

Honestly, you didn’t believe in them. Or you liked to say that to yourself, sad enough to admit you hadn’t found any type of strong connection. 

Or maybe you had. 

But it made absolutely remotely no sense, at all. 

How could you? There was absolutely no scientific proof that there were soulmates, and though everyone said you could feel them, that you’d sense it, and though the extinguished sadness on your friends could be proof enough, you were still sceptic. Maybe just doubting if you’d find yours. Or maybe you didn’t want to accept who was yours. 

Because Tom had left. 

Your friends had assured you that when they’d found it the world had turned idyllic, a pink life. 

Yeah, it had felt like that when you’d found Tom, but now everything was gray. 

However, you knew more about them than anyone else. You had researched about them, you had read about them and you were so informed that you sometimes didn’t even believe it. 

Though you liked to ignore that sometimes there was a song stuck in your head without reason or there was a sudden joy, that had no possible explanation. 

“It’s your soulmate,” someone would point out. 

It wasn’t, it’s just Tom’s favorite song. 

There was also a sense of pain, sometimes you didn’t understand why you felt such a heartbreak, how bad had they hurt them? If they did exist, that is. 

They didn’t, though. 

You’d read about that heart connection, that feelings connect trying to understand how it comes and goes.  

There are three types of connections. Karmic partnership, soulmates and twin flames. Different types of connections. 

First ones, karmic partnership, and it is as bad as it sounds. They’re often confused as soulmates and people like to cling to them. They’re… awful,  being the one heartache that is there to teach a lesson, the one person that is there to show you something about yourself, the one person who is strictly there for character development, let’s say. The one person you fall in love with and keep falling in love, but it’s not love,  no matter how many times they hurt each other they go back. It’s not love, though. Or maybe it is, but there reason they exist is strictly to make you reason. It becomes….Cyclic. Until you finally decide to break the cycle. Intense transformation, the one person that makes you see yourself from a different perspective and change. There is, however, no compatibility. 

Probably what you had with Tom. But… no, it wasn’t… There was too much compatibility. 

You’ve had your fair share of them, maybe you’ve had 

Then there are the soulmates. The perfect compatibility. 

The one connection that is beautiful, a person that you just… feel it. The one person you feel like you’ve waited for them your whole life. Strong compatibility, there are more than one soulmate, that is to say, it could be friends, it could be family. It doesn’t have to be a romantic partner. There are soulmates that you wonder how they can be such an incredible connection. 

Everyone has soulmates. You knew you’d met some of them, the friends one that is. None of them a connection strong enough to be your partner. Not that you didn’t want to, though. 

Or maybe you didn’t want to acknowledge it. 

You’ve read somewhere in the internet that there are connections that go beyond your wildest imagination. Go beyond soulmates. The… twin flames, the one your soul is so attached to, you can feel their pain, their joy. 

Journeys end when lovers meet. 

It’s fair to say, you’ve never believed in that information. Less after a heartbreak. 

You had a million thoughts over your head, oozing you with stress and feeding your not long enough sleep schedule. You were slightly angry, you’d say. You didn’t like him anymore. 

There are two kinds of people when it comes to liking someone. The ones who go forward it, fighting for it, hinting on it. Flirting as if there was no tomorrow. People like Tom. 

And then there’s people who run away from feelings and try to pretend to act natural around their crushes. People who definitely don’t want to overstep boundaries and are afraid of ruining friendships. People like you. 

But there was nothing to ruin now, was there? 

Because there’s also people who give up. People like him. And people who never dare to forget. People like you. 

It was never even. 

But you keep daydreaming about him and can’t help that tinge of red spreading across your cheekbones every time he was near you. You shouldn’t have given in. You should’ve fought, but you were reckless. A sunrise dropping by again, and you wondered what had gone wrong.

Tom wanted to talk, you didn’t. You loved him, he didn’t love you. 

Tom was gone. For good.

An unstoppable force meets an immovable object. 

It’s the kind of love that you’d probably want to avoid. You at least, avoided all kinds. After him, who’d want to love anyone else? He was the only one who could tell if you dared to smile with your eyes only. 

How stupid were you to believe he was your soulmate. 

But no, this wasn’t right. Because feelings make everything blurry and it’s something not exact. If it wasn’t for science and numbers you didn’t like to believe anything.  If you don’t know how it’ll turn out then you’ll probably avoid it. And when it comes to relationships, you never truly know. Or sometimes you do, but it’s usually... not pretty. You’d learned that with him. 

Relationships end, and while you don’t want them to. You’ve sensed it, from the beginning. And you just hope that they’ll remember you in a nice way. Did he? Or had he just passed the page. 

You still felt stuck in a chapter. He had stopped reading. So hard to be on different books now. 

But with him, He was an exception. He was pushy and wasn’t giving up at the beginning until he did. You had seen him fall out of love, and that’s the worst kind of thing you get to face, when you see them slowly trailing far from you. 

Plans? Dreams? The willow tree in that park when you had first kissed was still crying over your breakup. Your head had been low since you’d last kissed him. Had you known it was your last, you’d probably would’ve made it last longer, you would’ve held him for more time. You wouldn’t have let him leave. 

But you had had your moment with him. It had been the last time you saw him. The one moment when you realized that his  fake smile was just that, how convenient and cliche. But you didn’t want to give you in, just yet. No, you wouldn’t. He’d changed, and you didn’t like who he was now. Too changed, too built up, too busy, too whatever you could come up with. 

You got tired of begging, and then he was easy to forget, you hadn’t forgotten. Just two years ago you thought he’d made a decision, you had made it. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. But he didn’t. And you couldn’t stop him, he was growing and growing and simply he escaped from your touch. 

Then it had been a goodbye, and nobody had seen it coming. You had, you’d known it for a long time. And it was weird, you were so in love with him that you knew that it was the best for you both, to get away because though you loved him, you knew he wouldn’t be happy with you. It’s difficult to let go of what makes you happy. 

You remembered it, how both of you would only smile at each other, like damn strangers, say a few hellos, and a fews how’s the weather, as if you hadn’t spent countless nights in between the sheets, as if you hadn’t danced in the middle of the night, as if you hadn’t given him each of the stars in the night sky, as if you hadn’t shared enough drinks together. Or as if you hadn’t fought for your love. You with that red jacket of his. How every path led to him. How every stupid weekend belonged to him, but now you wished they’d pass by sooner. 

Maybe that’s why you were always rushing, so you wouldn’t feel it. You didn’t like the weekends anymore. 

And now, she looked at him the way you were supposed to look at him. At first, it had hurt just a little, you hadn’t believed it. You knew it, everybody wanted to love him, but nobody knew what it felt, the crushing feeling that was loving him. How much it hurt, to watch him paddling with a precious smile, and those pair of angelic eyes, so pure and then turn into a devil just for you. 

Nobody knew how it felt. Anticipating a heartbreak every time he walked in, and to pretend that you didn’t feel that anymore. 

Last time only you thought you’d give him your heart, and he had pushed you away because his heart belonged to someone else. Then it was forbidden, to think about him, to dream about him, to still smell his scent on your pillows. It wasn’t right. 

How could his heart ever belong to someone else but you? 

And you had to smile, to say you were happy for him. Because you were, and that new girl was a fool because anyone who dares to fall for him is a fool, tangled in between lies. She who dares to love him is willing to have her heart crushed by him. And who but a fool is willing to let your heart be crushed by him. 

Last time you’d seen him had been a friday night, 10pm on that one pub he liked going to. You had gone out with your friends, and he was there, with her against his shoulder, her with the long hair and the perfect smile, perfect laugh. 

To think that had been your place once. You had avoided his gaze, ignored he was there. Pretending he hadn’t seen you. But he had. Pretending you hadn’t seen him. But you had. 

Someone had said there is life after love, but there is not love after him. It’s like you’d thrown everything to the fire, and he had watched it burn. Everyone said it: you’ll be happy. 

When? 

Sure, it’d come, eventually. But it had been a year. 

You’d heard he had broken up with her, a while ago. Then it was that hope again, probably why you were recurring to that café. 

It’s funny to think you’ll love someone forever, and then it just… disappears. Every promise eventually breaks, every kiss eventually fades, and love is eventually gone.

Then why wasn’t it? 

Time was your biggest enemy. 

Your story with him, from the moment you’d first seen him, he was just—perfect, you thought about it, how everyone said it was your soulmate. And you believed it. From the moment you’d met him, you had finally believed in soulmates, because it made sense. How your story had been built up to him, and how many times of sudden joy had you had before meeting him because of how close you were. 

Life had been so reckless. You were supposed to meet him several times before you actually met. It was stupid to think, how you were always thinking about it, now that you were apart. 

The first time you’d ever crossed paths had been when you had been very, very young. You didn’t know he had been there, not aware, at a park. And there had been this sudden joy. You remembered feeling it, you’d said it, felt a spark. 

Just children unaware of a flame burning too deep inside of you. 

That other time, at the supermarket when both of you had gone with each other’s mothers and both of you had been playing with the toys. 

You’d never forgotten that one very time, first time your hands ever touched, and it had felt like electricity. Two kids very confused by that spark, when both of them had reached to that one toy, confused. 

Or that one time at the café when he had walked in, you were sure he had walked in, you’d felt it, how your heart had started to beat so fast,  but before you could even glance at him he had walked out. Lost in the crowds, always. 

How both of you had had a broken heart at the same time. First kiss had been almost at the same time, just blocks away, actually. 

Or how you’d both been at that one party, but didn’t know about it. It made no sense how life had been so desperate to get you together but both your surroundings pulled you away. That night had been so close, both dancing behind each other, singing on top of your lungs to the same stupid song. 

Or that one time when someone had pointed him to you when you were at that one pub, “look, that guy is cute.” 

You had looked at him, he was. Shy smiles had only been directed in each other’s direction. 

You’d later learned he’d sent you a drink but the waiter had mistaken the table. 

That one time when you had run out of cash at that sandwich place because their card machine had stopped working, you were rushing, and you were missing only cents, and Tom had come to your rescue. 

Or how he worked near you and his dad had been friends with your mom at some point. How his favorite song was the same as yours, and how often you’d be at the same park, him on his phone, you reading a book. 

How you’d once met his dog that had run over to you. A dog that would learn to love you and did miss you from time to time. 

How Tom had randomly found that one book you’d lost at the park once, under that willow tree and he’d read it. Loved it and then lost it again at that same park, with a random paper note that read: “Jerry’s 8pm, wine.” he’d used as a book separator. 

Who was Jerry? What would happen at 8pm? Wine? What type? Red? Rose? White? Why were you so intrigued by that note? 

You’d kept it to this day. Still didn’t know what it was. You knew Jerry now, though, he was a friend.  And now you knew that he liked wine but preferred beer. 

You’d given him a pretty book separator. He still had kept it to this day, never used it, he always used random notes or napkins or whatever he found. At first it stressed you, how many book separators did you not have and he’d use napkins or those fortune papers that come with fortune cookies. So you had transformed into a better habit, you would write notes so he’d used them. You’d order chinese food more often, too. 

He said he’d always remember that, your little notes, the way you always stained your cup of coffee with lipstick, your two left feet when you danced, or the fact that your laugh would be heard across a room. He’d always recognize your laugh. 

What a Whimsical thing love is when it’s not the right time. 

How many times have you not felt like there was something missing? Until he appeared, at that one park near the cafe where you are sitting right now. The first time you’d ever officially met. Nothing out of a book, something very casual. Both of you at that café, it had been crowded that one day and the only chair available was the one in front of you. 

“I’m sorry, hello,” he had said, making you look up from your book. “May—I sit here?” He asked. “There’s no other chair left in the room and—“

“Yeah, yeah, hi, you can sit,” you had said, without really looking at him, but the moment you had, the moment your eyes had met his, you had…. felt like the whole surrounding had disappeared and you were the only people in the room, it seemed he had also noticed something.

A cold november evening, both of you had a reason to go home yet neither of you had  gone home. Both of you had found a way to that café, with coffees in a mug. The leaves falling outside.

He had sat right in front of you, you couldn’t help but blush when noticing he was attractive, very attractive. But there was something else about him, maybe it had been the way he couldn’t sit still. He had stared at you, and smiled. 

From the very first time you’d ever seen his smile, you knew three things,

His smile was the prettiest thing you’d ever laid your eyes on

His smile was so familiar 

His smile would eventually break your heart.

The third one wasn’t as cheerful but you could tell, he was one of those guys who could easily break someone’s heart in a blink. 

It didn’t take him a blink to break yours. You’d need a lifetime to break his. 

“I’m Tom.” 

“Y/N.” 

Both of you liked to debate over who’d talk to who first, it didn’t matter honestly. You both remembered how both of you had ordered the same drink, a cappuccino. Neither of you liked it, but apparently both of you had wanted to ask for something new. 

You’d always do that. Taste new drinks. 

And it had been… as if you’d met before. You had, multiple times before, but neither one knew, of course. Not at that point, but like you were meant to find him. The sun had gone down and it had been hours and hours of you talking to each other, like old friends who knew their deepest secrets and were catching up, laughs becoming one melody, and both of you had soon realized the cafe hadn’t been that crowded. Maybe it had been the damn destiny pulling you together. To that cafe near the park with that willow tree. 

He had asked questions you didn’t have the answers to back then. You did now. 

Before you knew it, you were walking with a stranger through the London night, seeing people walk by and not looking at them, because somehow you’d both walked to that one park. Both of you had discovered you both liked to sit on that one bench near the willow tree. How many times had you missed the other jusy by a matter of minutes. 

“You’re kidding, I love this place, I’m always here,” he had said. 

“I am, too, weird we’d never met before,” you had chuckled. 

You honestly didn’t remember how or why it had happened. A kiss. You’d kissed a stranger who didn’t feel like a stranger at all. 

“I’m sorry, I-” He had started. 

“No, it’s--” 

And then kissed again. Your stomach had dropped and had been replaced with butterflies. How had a simple cappuccino led to this? 

He’d given you a smile and a promise. You’d met him the next day, and the other one, and the next one. With that stupid smile of his. 

You missed that smile, or how he flirted with you, make you giggle with a stupid joke, or how he’d open his arms to you and kiss you, tumbling down to the couch. The way he’d make you listen to him ramble about his latest discovery. How he always found a way to make you smile in the crowds, always holding your hand, new dates in different places.

“What do you mean you’ve never gone paintball?” 

Weekends only for him, going for breakfast, for dinner, for lunch, for tea, for this, for that. . Then it was the weeknights too, always finding time for you, traditions you created and that you got rid off. Laying down on the grass, looking at stars, kissing in bars, dancing in his living room, your head on his shoulder in movie theatres, his scent on your pillow, his favorite movies next to your dvd, your perfume in his closet and your toothbrush in his bathroom. Notes he’d written to remember things all around your place. Birthdays, new year, parties. 

Endless nights of laugh, of wine and of nothing at all. Kissing. Video Games you didn’t understand, failed attempts to bake, watching sport games he loved and you… tolerated. Him finally agreeing to watch that movie with Ryan Gosling. 

“Why Ryan Gosling?” 

Building plans together, nights of both of you debating on something stupid. Singing on top of your lungs without knowing the lyrics. Getting lost together, that one roadtrip where neither of you knew the way and ended up at that one hotel in the middle of the road. Kissing. Learning to read every emotion, and being each other’s blankets. Hearing each other’s ugly laughs, and crying in front of the other. Being each other’s confort. Hugging him when you were scared at the movie. Meeting the parents. 

“They loved you, don't worry.” 

Always holding each other’s hands.  Fights under the rain. Making up hours later and cuddling to let go of it. Being friends with each other’s friends. Seeing friends getting engaged, going to the weddings. Talking about a wedding. Learning, becoming their best selves. 

Then…. Cold. 

He’d left you when you had been the most in love with him. When you thought he’d shows up with a ring. But he had said goodbye instead. With his picture on your phone and your hand cold with no one to hold. He’d changed your life, completely. 

You’d learned so, so, so much. And at some point you…. Realized it. 

You should’ve known, he was not your soulmate. 

You’d read somewhere about twin flames. Yeah… you had, about the one soul that changes your life. 

You’d learned about the importance of the sunrise and the sunset, how beautiful both of them are, and how dizzy you can get when you get to see both because you didn’t get to sleep because you had laughed and kissed all night. 

They say time is wise, yet you still were hurting and you still loved him. Because it was like his love was a thread still engraved to your own very soul. And though when you were with him it was timeless, you’d learned to give more minutes to the hours you were with him so you spend just a little bit more time staring into his eyes. How you’d learned about the importance of one’s sight, and how the eyes are the doors to the soul, he’d opened his soul completely to yours. And it was so beautiful and so easy to read. 

You’d learned a lot of things, like how to throw pebbles in the ‘right way’ to the river. You’d learned how to lie to your friends so you could go see him, late at night when the moon is the only light shining above yours. You’d learned that mistakes aren’t the end of the world and that you actually are very good at baseball. 

Tom had shown you how to distinguish between a guitar and a bass, not sure why you’d always confused them. And that it’s okay to sometimes leave the clothes on the floor if you’re rushing to get somewhere. Or that sometimes the clothes end up on the floor because you’re both… rushing. That it’s okay to have breakfast for dinner and that you can have dessert before the actual main course. He’d also taught you that facetime isn’t as good as being together but it’s enough to listen to each other’s voice. He had shown you that it’s okay to laugh at sex and that sometimes it’s not as romantic as it should be, that sometimes it is silly and other times it’s passionate. That it’s okay sometimes to say what you want to say before thinking. 

And you’d shown him how to enjoy a bad movie, or how to tie his shoes this other way, and that though the night kept changing, and you both kept growing and learning, you were still the same. You taught him that it’s okay not to know the lyrics and still sing the song, and that if you add a pinch of salt to the cookies you’re baking it’d make it sweeter. 

You’d taught him that Chinese legend. The red thread. 

“It is like an invisible red cord or thread which connects you to that one person you’re destined to meet, your true love,” you had told him. “In China it’s around your ankle, I believe… In Japan, male’s thumb and the female's little fingers, and in Korea are both little fingers.” 

He’d once, jokingly but not really wrapped around both of your pinkies a red thread. 

“I made it visible, see?” He had said. 

“You’re an idiot,” you had chuckled. 

“What happens if you’re apart?” He had wondered. 

“It’s supposed to bring you back together, it…” 

“Can I pull it, if I ever need you?” 

“I guess,” you chuckled. “I’m not sure.” 

“Can it break?” He asked. 

“I… don’t know,” you had confessed with fear.

Because you didn’t know. Maybe yours had been broken. 

But you kept teaching him things, and he kept teaching you other things. You’d also taught him not to never mistake salt for sugar to add to your tea. 

“They’re both a white powder I thought-” 

“Yeah I can think of more white powders that would’ve also gotten us in trouble.” 

You’d taught him that as long as you were his and he was yours, you’d shine as bright as stars. He’d shown you how to say ‘I love you’ to someone for the first time. Because you had, when you least had expected it, just about a weeks after you’d first dated. 

You wanted to order something for dinner, that one night, he was on his laptop ordering food,  you were cuddled against him reading who knows what. 

“Is it weird I want more fortune cookies? Would you be weirded out if someone was asking for more fortune cookies?” He had asked. 

You chuckled. “To get more fortune?” 

“To get more cookies, darling,” he had grinned. “Can’t be more fortunate than this, I am dating you, ain’t I?” 

“Very fortunate” you chuckled as he was ordering. 

“How much food would I have to order for them to send us like ten cookies?” He asked, mostly to himself. 

You laughed, “why don’t you bake them yourself?” 

“We both know we suck at baking, baby,” he reminded you as he kept adding food to the cart. “Besides we wouldn’t get the fortune paper thing, I like those as book separators.” 

He did use them as book separators and liked to randomly leave them on your nightstand  

“Why do you want them? We could buy them next week at the supermarket 

“They’re so good, darling and it’s not the same, they’re not fate then.” 

You only smiled, watching him. 

“Why don’t they sell like… the cookies?” He asked again. 

“They do—“

“No, not but like at the restaurants because they choose which ones to give you, that is fate,”  he continued. “Or like… Okay is this enough food so they think we are like ten  people here? Like if I order enough food they’ll send it to us, right?” He kept rambling to himself. “Like okay, we’d have to eat this for a while but baby look at the bright side we’d have more cookies and that would make me happy because I like the cookies, plus I wouldn’t steal your notes to use as a book separator and we could have like enough fortune things to… I don’t know wrap presents with.” 

And it had come out, so easily, “I love you,” you’d said without thinking about it, interrupting his rambling. You’d felt it for long enough, first time you’d ever kissed him  but somehow you’d never said it. 

And he had stopped worrying for the cookies suddenly, as he only looked at you, he hadn’t been prepared. He had only opened his mouth with surprise. He wasn’t as hungry anymore. 

“I--” he hadn’t said it back. 

“No, I’m sorry, no, no I’m sorry,” you gulped and sat up to get away. “No I didn’t--No, I don’t… I mean, no, yeah I do, I’m… Look you don’t have to… say it…I don’t love—No, I do, I do—“

He had smiled and took a deep breath, with surprise. 

You walked away. “No, baby, sorry—Tom, I’m sorry you don’t have to say anything I’ll just—Yeah.” 

You had tried to walk away but he had tackled you from behind, and turned you around to kiss you in his very way.  “I love you, too.” 

And the food had eventually arrived after kissing for god knows how long and you remembered opening that one fortune cookie. 

“Love, because is the only true adventure.” 

And it had been. The greatest adventure of your life, and it hadn’t been one of those crazy adventures. It had been small, but great. Good enough He’d forgotten one thing, he’d never shown you how to get over him. How to live without him. 

And you had said it, how it would never be too late for him to come back. He wouldn’t, you know. But he knew it, you’d always have each other. 

You had read about twin flames. How the compatibility and energy is so strong, so, so strong, so meant to be.  An intense soul connection, sometimes called a "mirror soul," thought to be a person's other half.  A same soul. And at times it did feel like it. 

But it doesn’t have to be forever. 

It should’ve been, though. 

But Tom was easily scared, and maybe he’d felt like his life with you would be forever, and you didn’t blame him for being scared. Finding the love of your life doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll have to spend your whole life with them. 

“I’m always going to love you,” he had said. You knew he wouldn’t. 

But he’d never leave your heart or your mind, no matter what, day, noon, midnight. He was always there, but he had moved on. Or had he, really? 

He hadn’t. But both of you had a very different version of the relationship. He had waited for you at that willow tree, you’d waited for him at that café. And it had been like that for a while, both of you waiting at the wrong place, at the wrong time. 

He did miss you, very, very much and he also couldn’t get over you. You didn’t know, but even when he was dating this other girl he kept going back to you. He had kept his promise, he would always love you. With every cell, with every bone on his body. With his entire soul, because it felt like it was missing its other half. 

He had stopped burning when he was apart from you. No light, no nothing.

Because everything led back to you, everything was about you. And he had bumped into you several more times, you hadn’t seen him, but he’d seen you walking in the rain, and he’d seen you when he stared at himself in the mirror. He saw you in every fortune cookie he ate, or in every book separator he found. He had felt incomplete when he wasn’t with you. 

And after you’d broken up, Tom had felt incredibly numb and sad, your pain combined with his. He’d always wondered why that happened how he knew how you were feeling, a hunch he’d say. 

He’d always have a song stuck in his head, and he’d be thinking of you at the most random times. He’d always expect to find your lipstick stain on his mugs 

He always wanted to call, he never did though. But he was there, even if you didn’t notice. Like how he’d randomly send you a coffee with your friends, asking them not to tell you it came from him, or how if he ever walked by your place, he’d clean the dust from the mailbox because he knew how much you hated when it got dirty. How he had become friends with that guy from the Chinese place you liked to order from and he’d told him to always give you extra fortune cookies.

Tom wasn’t the same when he was apart from you, he hadn’t slept, he hadn’t smiled. But he did see one bright thing because it felt like he was being pulled back to you. 

He regretted breaking up because he’d been too scared to admit you were on the other side of the string. He feared it could break. But he was also scared that he would become the person he was before you, and how you probably wouldn’t like who he was before that. 

He also didn’t believe in soulmates, until you came. Because he thought And he thought your connection was too strong to be a simple soulmate. His soul and yours were one. 

But he’d left because he had to learn the last lesson, the one lesson you couldn’t technically teach him, and that lesson could only be taught by missing you. And damn, did he miss you. 

Because no one was you, no one knew his smile like you did and no one could read him like you. Your perfume still lingered and he missed your toothbrush in his bathroom. He missed having to get your hair out of his face when you were asleep. He missed the way you’d leave your books around his house or the way that he heard you sing the wrong lyrics. Tom missed the way you’d kiss his temple when you woke up earlier than him and how you always covered him with blankets. Tom missed looking into your eyes and making you laugh by making a stupid joke, knowing you’d be the only one laughing. 

He missed having you around at parties, when all of his friends were talking about things he didn’t like and he looked for you to give you that one knowing look but you weren’t there. He missed you when he got drunk, he missed you when you he woke up, when he wanted to run to you and kiss your cheek from behind. When he wanted to watch a bad movie and laugh at it, he’d miss you all the time. 

Tom was gone, yes. But Tom was gone because he wasn’t with you, and he couldn’t be himself again. How could he after you? 

Was there life after love? 

And eventually he’d seen you, always running into you but not letting you see him because he knew it would hurt you, it hurt him too. But how many times had his shoulder not bumped into yours without you noticing because your head was low. Or how many times had he not heard your laugh across the room and seen you. You were everywhere. 

And he didn’t know why he couldn’t get the courage like that one first time when he’d first asked to sit with you, that one time when he’d first kissed you. No other pair of lips deserved to be kissed after he had kissed you. 

And life was pulling him back to you but he didn’t know if you’d take him. He was scared that you had moved on, but something told him you couldn’t. He somehow knew that you still loved him because he loved you too. 

So he’d sit there, under that willow tree waiting for you to come back. But he was always running out of time, always having elsewhere to be. Because no one ever has time. 

You did, too, always rushing and that’s why you never saw him. Until today, with that mug in your hands, watching people, couples. Soulmates. And there you were, at that cafe, waiting for him to come, near that one park with the willow tree where you’d first kissed. 

Wishing he would come. 

But life is a strange thing, and maybe it had been the fact that the foam on your cappuccino had spoken to you, or the fact that you’d still kept that one fortune paper on the back of your phone, hidden underneath the case, or the fact that you had almost poured salt into your coffee instead of sugar, or maybe it had been  that thread around your finger or maybe a coincidence by itself, but somehow you’d left that café that day, willing to go to that willow tree for the first time.

Because no one ever truly has time, but he had pulled the string. 

tagging some other people who might like this: tag list   @spidxrparkxr​ @mukesnugget @anxiousdesignerdancerbandlover​ @happywolves81   @happywolves81 @applenter @silver-winter-wolf    @applenter @claredolphinbear24​ @bookgirlunicorn​   @tomshufflepuff @avengersgirllorianna​ @nevertoofarfromivar @saintlavrents​ @herofiennestiffinashardinscott.  @tomzfrog @dark-infernal-instruments​ @awkwardfangirl2014 @spideysimpossiblegirl  @tomzfrog  @xapham @awkwardfangirl2014​ @xapham @tomhollandisagod @xapham​ @laurfangirl424 @vintageroses1014516 @cinnamon-roll-peter​   @the-lost-fairy-tale @the-lost-fairy-tale @lala-florez​ @lala-florez​    @ilcveyou3000 @xxtomxo @socorroann​ @muffinmari25   @cassindeansass  @rogers-obsessed-barnes-curious​ @southsidespideyy @southsidespideyy​ @nathaliabakes​ @nathaliabakes​ @embrace-themagic @embrace-themagic​ @sanniegirl1214 @sanniegirl1214​  @softholand @fairytaleparker @underooling​ @griff1ndor @griff1ndor @thatweirdomimic​ @avengersgirllorianna​ @reginalaufeyson-holmes @better-daisy @yeahimcrying @allmonstersxarehuman @spider-manholland @better-daisy​ @itstaskeen @georiaang @sebxstianbarnes @kissingtrutharchives  @snoopy3000 @prettymessygurl @spideyparkerstark @fanfic-4-you @lexshead @officiallyunofficialperson​ @mannien @whitewolfandthefox​ @melodiclovesong @bizzlepotter​ @bizzlepotter​  @localfangirlx @acceptance07 @witchythingscore @witchythingscore @swaggyspiderman @localfangirlx​  @queengemsworld @liberty0123 @stiles-banshees @itsjusttor @stretchkingblog97 @annathesillyfriend @itsjusttor​ @tomshufflepuff @thewayilookatbacon @petersdiaries @emjaywrites @emjaywrites @thewayilookatbacon​ @jungeunave @emjaywrites​ @ispiderdudei @ispiderdudei @literalfsngirltrash @quacksonhq​ @it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes​ @desir-ae @desir-ae​ @desir-ae​ @peterporkpie @peterporkpie​ @smolpeachees @thenoddingbunny-blog @quackeroos @quackeroos​ @spideyyeet @astoldbydanid @astoldbydanid @hollandcreep @hollandcreep @astoldbydanid​ @hollandcreep @rebekkah4766 @farfromtommy  @rubberducky-jrr @oh-whatabeautiful-parker​ @coveredinthemessimade​  @shameless-self-promo-of-a-shrub @sweetiesangster​ @thatdamjoke​ @annathesillyfriend @annathesillyfriend​ @witchythingscore​ @witchythingscore @bookworm06  @bookworm06  @lala-florez @lala-florez @chaoticpete @bookworm06​ @peeterparkr @chaoticpete @shezzalocked​ @cosmichollands-blog @frenchfrostpudding @badbitchydecisions @w4ybefor3nir4na jj @saintlavrents @americaswritings @ilovepeterparker13 @lukesbabylon @lukesbabylon @iamaunicorn4704 @simple-things @simple-things @sip-portteam  @herondale-snow-carstairs @tony-starks-ego @quaksonhehe0 @stargazerholland @marvelslut-musicalnerd @hotrubycrab @sovereignparker @peter-parker-tony-stank-trash @belleknows @mysticalinsomniac @nycparkers @nycparkers @anythingthaticareabout @spn-assemble-seven @tanyalooovesyou @somethingchaotic  @heartofholland @peachybloomss @youcompletemesk @emyla3305 @emyla3305–butt  @hollandstanevans @farfromtommy @farfromtommy @southbeachfeeling @eridanuswave @tonguetiedholland @wolvesofthewinter @quacksonobrien @dcnerd98 @ifntelyinspirit @electraheart-3174 @julialucena5 @itsmilamawson @harryssuckz @harryssuckz @xstarbae @xstarbae @xstarbae @peterbparkerrwrites   @averyfosterthoughts @darethedragonknights  @hannahholland1811 @justanamesstuff @emyla3305 @abbiefangirls247 @onewithnomightypowers @itscaminow @youllbmineandillbeyoursbabelove @hotrubycrab  @spidey-holland-96 @awkwardnesshabitat @geminiparkers@primadonnasdream @slytherinambitious @maybecharming @where-art-thau-romeo @viagracex @viagracex @sspidermanss @pcterparxer @whatevshollandarchive @aleyabee @aleyabee @lovewolfspirit @viagracex  @xallyouneedislovexx @panicattheeverywherekid  @pcterparxer @thehauntingofmymind @redhoodparker @redhoodparker @cakepopcriss @allthisfortommy @aleyabee @perspectiveparker @let-me-luve-you @xxpeachyxo @m-a-r-i-n-t-p @superstarchick @notjustpenandpaper @morbiddanvers @runaway3 @runaway3 @runaway3  @lu-morningstar @th0ttie4tommy @riasaurusrex @riasaurusrex @frustratingpaperclip @readheadwriter @geesquariid @noxceleste @noxceleste   @peterparker-rickybowen-mybabies @witchything @peterporkpie @bookworm06 @panicattheeverywherekid @imthefloor @ohmyquackson @seaveyheartful @wangtan-boys @obiwanownsmyass @sadisticfries @not-some-docile-teenager @galaxystern08 @lovemarvelousfics @tomzfrog @calsthomas @thearchersupremacy @nikitajackson @dayazenn @the-fandom-life-forever @just-kickin-ass @quaksonhehe @dummiesshort @samaratheweirdo @fr3akingphantrash @i-love-superhero @mandeeleebeebee @captainamirica @dramaticdiva @halparkebitch @uglypastels​ 

[fangirlovestuff]

littera scripta manet - steve rogers x reader

a/n - hey lovely people!! first of all, this is based on a moodboard by the amazing @cloudystevie​, which inspired this whole fic, thank you!! the picture above is how i imagined steve in this one, but you can imagine him however you want:) also, there’s a list of meanings of the flowers i mention at the end because i’m a sucker for the language of flowers (the flowers are in bold in the fic). i love the dark academia aesthetic and i hope i did it justice:) enjoy!!<3

title means ‘the written letter remains’

summary: unlike you, steve doesn’t have a problem admitting to himself he has feelings for his best friend. that’s what makes it so painful when it seems like you don’t.

word count: 7k (oops?)

warnings / tags: friends to lovers, Pining™ , angst with a happy ending, as slow burn as a one shot can be, an obnoxious amount of clichés but i’m not sorry, no plot just vibes (i mean there’s like,,, some plot i guess), the songs/quotes i used in this aren’t mine!!!

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You watched as the morning mist slowly faded, the sun showing it away. You watched as the curtains fluttered against the touch of a delicate wind. You watched as the sparks of dawn came to life under the sky's watchful eye. You watched the tree beneath your window in the glory of its blossom.

You turned your body in the other direction, the one facing not the east window but the bed. And there, beside you, you watched as he stirred hazily, his body still clad in yesterday's clothes, huffing out a quiet breath before his eyelashes fluttered open to reveal the pair of familiar blue eyes.

You watched, and his eyes told you the most amazing story – his look was disoriented, then bewildered, and then, well, the most gorgeous smile stretched onto his features, and it told the rest – love, and hope, and home.

That story is the one I will tell you today.

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The first day of school was always a straining one. All the way from elementary school to high school, it was a constant in your life.

There was, however, one more constant. Your best friend.

Steve Rogers was truly the most wonderful of boys.

You two met when you were very young, your mothers getting along well, so you had no choice but to do so as well. And you did get along, splendidly. You became fast friends, not stopping even when his other friends were telling him about 'girl germs' or when your other friends were constantly asking if you wanted him to be your boyfriend, or if he was. What you and Steve had transcended it, in a way.

You grew together, and you watched as Steve Rogers became the most wonderful of men. He was your best friend, and you loved him with your whole heart. Platonically, of course.

You smiled at him fondly as the both of you stepped into your new college, in through the big iron gates. As far as you looked there was grass, trees, flowers. The big cobblestone building stood tall in the distance, and if you listened carefully, you could hear the chatter of students above the sound of the wind that was gently ruffling your uniform skirt.  

"Excited?" Steve asked, smiling back at you.

"Nervous," you let out a quiet laugh.

"You shouldn't be," he answered, "look at this place!" he gestured around, "you fit right in here with all the-" he cut himself off, closing his mouth before continuing, "you fit right in!"

"Yeah, maybe. This place is just… dreamy," you smiled. "But that doesn't stop me from being nervous."

"Well, you have no reason to be," he took your hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly.

You hoped he was right. You never liked being far away from home, but this school was truly the school of your dreams, and well, with Steve by your side… you could never be that far away from home.

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Adjusting was… an experience, certainly. This school was like nothing you've known before, the uniform seemed a bit excessive, the school halls were so incredibly long, and the grounds so vast you could barely see the outside. And yet, it felt like something about this place was magical. Like it accepted you right in, it wanted you to be there. The library was huge, and you've already spent countless hours digging away for course related materials and, well, less course related materials. The vast grounds meant you could walk out every day in a different direction, if you wanted to, and find a new hidden treasure.

You shared your thoughts with Steve when you discovered one of these treasures together. It was fairly early evening, you two had just gotten out of class and were walking off the long day you've had, and you suddenly came across some high rose bushes. Steve tried to see what was on the other side of them, but it was too tall even for him, so you circled around and found a small, rusty gate. You went through it to discover a small fountain, with a marble statue of a mermaid in the center.

You gasped in delight, unable to contain yourself from running to kneel on the grass next to it, looking into the water curiously. Dipping your hand in tentatively, you shivered at the touch of the chilly water, and immediately took out your hand, massaging it in your other one to warm it up.

Steve laughed as he finally caught up with you, not running but walking calmly. He dipped his hand in the water as well, before raising his brow mischievously. Before you could ask him what's going on, he took his hand out of the water and sprayed the cold droplets of water right on your face.

"Steven Grant Rogers!" you said, shocked, "You did not just do that," you glared at him.

"You know what, you're right," he began shuffling away, "I didn't," he stood up with a cheeky smile as you continued to glare at him, "It was a happy accident."

"Oh I'll show you happy accident!" you couldn't contain your laughter anymore as you dipped your hand in the water again, getting up to chase him around the little garden. He managed to evade you for a bit, and then you finally caught up to him, placing your cold hand right on the back of his neck. He turned around, making him lose his balance and fall down onto the grass, which in turn made you topple over him, stopping your fall with your hands just when you were about to fall onto his chest.

"Alright, I surrender!" he lifted his hands up.

"Good," you smirked.

There was a moment where you just stared into each other's eyes, each sparkling with a smile. It was broken when Steve asked, "Well, can I, uh, get up now?"

You noticed you ended up straddling his hips, which you then fumbled to undo, standing back up hastily. You dusted your skirt a little awkwardly, avoiding Steve's eyes as he got up too. You didn't even know why you were feeling so awkward. You've had plenty of play fights with Steve, there was no reason for this one to be different.

But Steve just extended his arm to you, like he did on the first day you were here. You took it, and just like that, you were fine again.

"Do you know, Stevie, I think there's something magical about this school," you told him as you were walking.

"Really? Why do you think that?"

"Well, the library's huge a-"

Steve burst into laughter, and once it died down a little, he said, "I'm sorry, it's just so… like you to say a big room full of books is magical. It's true, don't get me wrong," he said before you could get annoyed, "but I feel like no one but you would have vocalized that truth."

"Well then, lucky I'm here," you smiled.

"Yeah," he said softly, "very lucky."

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About a month later it turned out the school holds a ball twice a year, at the start of winter and at the end of spring, right before the school year ends. At first you were a little shocked, but you quickly warmed up to the idea, given that it was very much on brand with everything else in the school.

You did obviously make more friends than just Steve, so you and your friends went to get dresses together. Roaming between the big expansive stores was fun, but after a while you all realized it wasn't very affordable, and not really your style. You wandered into a small, secluded second hand shop, where you found the perfect dress – fancy but not overly glamorous, a color that suited you beautifully, and not too bad of a price. It made you feel like a princess, the long skirts shuffling gently behind you as you stepped out of the fitting room to show it to your friends, who were just in love with it as you were and told you to buy it right away.

That night you went home with a dress in your hand and a smile in your heart.

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As the school year progressed, you started picking up and drying different flowers you found on the grounds, keeping them between pages of your notebooks. A bit of a messy hobby at times, but it made you happy.

You were just writing a letter to your family, trying to figure out if and which flower you should attach to it, when you heard a knock on your dorm door.

"Just a second!" you called out before shutting the ink box, putting down the dip pen before getting up and opening your door. There, you found a flustered Steve, smiling at you with a few honeysuckle flowers in his hand.

"I, uh, brought these for you," he said timidly, "I know you collect flowers and I don't think you have some of these yet."

"I don't!" you smiled and took them from Steve's hand, "thank you!"

You ushered him in before putting the honeysuckles on your desk. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," he shrugged. He saw the letter and pen on your desk. "Oh, am I interrupting you? I'm sorry, I could come back later if y-"

"It's alright Stevie," you chuckled, "I was just writing home. Anything you'd want me to tell my family for you?"

"Ummm… hi?" he smiled bashfully and you both laughed.

"Well, that's just too long! I don't have any more place on the page for such eloquent greetings!" you teased.

"Alright, then no, I don't have anything to say to them. I wrote my family a few days ago already, so if you wanted to say anything to them, you'll just have to wait till next time."

"Anyways," you smiled, "did you need anything?"

"Not really," he shook his head, "I just, well, I don't really have a person to go with to, you know, the ball thing, so i-"

"So you want me to set you up?" you giggled. "Is it Ella? Or is it Kathrine?"

"No, let me finish," he half heartedly grumbled. "I was thinking, I wanted to ask you to come with me," he smiled timidly, averting his gaze. After you didn't say anything, he continued, "I mean, I didn't think you had anyone to go with either, and since we've been friends since forever, I thought-"

"No, yeah, that's a great idea!" you spoke up quickly, "Sorry, I just spaced for a moment, I think that'd be great, since no one really asked me and stuff," you shrugged and smiled.

"Great!" he smiled.

"Great," you nodded. You both chuckled, not really knowing what to say.

"I should leave you to get back to your letter," Steve said after a moment. "I'll, um, see you around."

You told him goodbye before shutting the door behind him and sitting back down at your desk. But you found you didn't have it in you to pick up your pen. No, your train of thought was lost, and was now racing a hundred miles per hour, because –

Because why would he ask you. Because he could've asked any other girl and they would've probably said yes, yet the thought of him going with another girl made your stomach drop in a peculiar way. The obvious answer was that it was just about his comfort zone, which you knew Steve was prone to staying in.

Yeah, that's it. It's just comfortable. Familiar.

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The night before the ball, you found yourself tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. At around 2 am, you officially gave up and traded in your pajamas for some more presentable clothes in case someone is also awake, and made your way to the library.

Over the few months you've been here, the library has become somewhat of an escape for you. Sure, it was where you did a large amount of your schoolwork, but it was also the place that allowed you to 'travel' to several magnificent worlds.

You made your way as quietly as you could, picking up one of your favorite classics. It was an old, worn in version of Dumas' "The Count of Monte Cristo", a book which you vaguely remembered reading in your childhood and, when you stumbled upon it here, fell in love with all over again.

The place was dark, and you wanted to keep it like that, giving you less of a chance to be disturbed by others. You sat down and lit a candle, getting immersed in your book. So immersed, you didn't notice the sound of footsteps coming up behind you.

"I figured I'd find you here," Steve smiled, sitting down on the wooden chair next to yours.

"How come?" you smiled back and closed the book, not before putting a bookmark in it.

"I went up to your room to see if you were still awake because I wanted to show you something. When you didn't answer my knock, I guessed you were either in extremely deep sleep or you were here. And would you look at that, I was right," he smirked.

You chuckled. "What did you want to show me?"

"Come on," he stood up and extended his hand to you, "I can show you right now."

You smiled and followed him as he led you outside, into the chilly night. You shivered slightly as the cold air hit your face. "Steve," you complained, "I wasn't really planning on going outside. I don't have my jacket."

"Oh, right," he said, stopping in his tracks, "sorry. But you could just take mine," he said, while already shrugging it off.

"No, Steve, then you'll get-"

"Come on!" he smiled, wrapping the jacket around your shoulders, "let's go!"

You giggled at his excitement, adjusting his jacket a little before following him further away. He took you somewhere you had shockingly never been before, a small, secluded field of hydrangeas, peaceful in the moonlight. You looked around in awe.

"I knew you'd like it," he smiled. "And look," he gestured upwards, "it's far enough from the building so we can really see the stars."

You looked up and your breath caught in your throat at the sight. He was right. The stars never seemed so many or so bright to you than in the moment.

"See right there? That's Ursa Major, and that-"

You looked to him, and his words faded away in your mind, becoming a low stream of sounds. Everything seemed to become softer, distant, while he flooded your mind.

In that instant, it looked like Steve had the moon in him. Soft, and bright, and beautiful. His pale skin glistened under the moonlight, but when his eyes turned to meet yours, you thought you may have been wrong.

Because in them, you found the stars.

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And there it was, the big night, the night of the ball. You were nearly ready to put on your dress when you heard a knock at your door. You opened it to find Steve there, smiling.

"I just came to check in on you," he said, handing you a few hibiscus flowers. You smiled, taking them from him, your fingers brushing against his.

"Well, I'm doing quite well," you said, and wordlessly invited him in. He followed you inside and shut the door behind him.

"You look great," he said.

"I'm not even wearing my dress yet," you giggled. Squinting, you tried to figure out what about him seemed off to you. Then, when you realized it, you stepped up to him and brought up your hand to fix his shirt collar, which was partly stuffed under his tie. You then rested your hand next to his collarbone, above his heart.

"You look great too," you said softly, smiling a small smile up at him.

"Thanks," he breathed.

"Alright, I better get ready," you chuckled, stepping away from him. "I'll see you there."

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Steve didn't think of himself as a very sophisticated guy. Sure, he was smart enough, but he was no match to you, for example. He wasn't that big on words or analogies.

And yet, when he saw you step down the stairs into the ballroom, his first thought was that you looked like the sun, ethereal and radiant in your beauty, almost blindingly so; your hair was styled in a simple manner, your face stretched in a soft smile as your wonderous eyes roamed around the room. Your dress created an angelic sort of look, and as you gently walked down each step, your hand delicately gliding on the banister, he nearly couldn't believe you were real, that you were making your way to him.

The moment your eyes met his, your smile became bigger, your steps quickened, much like his heartbeat. When you arrived, he extended his arm to you, like he has a habit of doing, and greeted you a soft hello over the sounds of the dainty music.

The night went great, it really did. You two danced together, ate some of the fancy food, laughed. It was… magical. There was one point, when you were swaying together to a slow song, when he thought –

Well, it didn't matter what he thought, didn't it? Because at the end of the night, you didn't wait on him. No, you sneaked out with some guy in the year above you.

Steve wanted to be angry. He couldn't, not at you anyways.

Ever since a year ago, when you found out you were going to the same college, he knew. The relief that washed over him when he heard the news, the gratitude of being able to be by your side – he didn’t understand how he didn't see it sooner.

He assumed, sooner or later, you'd see in him what he sees in you. The sun. Happiness; bright, celestial, divine.

But maybe you can't see what's simply not there.

Steve went to his dorm. He went to sleep, but his nightmares awakened him again and again. Nightmares of losing you. So, without any other choice, at around 5 am he decided to give up and get up, maybe take a shower.

At the moment, it felt like real life wasn't any better than his nightmares. He hoped at some point, that would change.

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"Damien!" you laughed breathlessly as he pulled you through the endless corridors.  

"What?" he chuckled, stopping and turning back towards you, pulling you a little closer to him by your joint hands. You panted a little in an attempt to catch your breath before you spoke.

"Where are we going?"

"Oh, wherever you want to! Just away from that stuffy ballroom," he grinned.

"It wasn't stuffy, I thought it was very pretty!" you defended it with a smile.

"Not as pretty as you," he softly said, bringing his hand to cup your cheek. He's been complimenting you like that since you two met an hour ago at the ball, and well, you were a simple girl; you really wanted him to kiss you right now.

He took a step closer and his hand traveled to your chin, holding it and gently tilting your face up. Just as his lips touched yours, your eyes fluttered shut, allowing yourself to succumb to his embrace, your lips moving against his. You broke apart for air, and you opened your eyes when you remembered.

"Damien," you said, "I just remembered, I was with my friend at the ball and I didn't tell him I was going… can we go back for a second?"

He examined your face for a second before smiling and saying, "Sure. Just for a bit though," he winked.

You made your way back in silence, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the carpets below you. Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you found him looking ahead with a smile. Bashfully, you smiled too, slightly biting your lower lip. Soon enough, you arrived.

Staying close to the ballroom doors, Damien asked you, "Can you see him?"

"I don't think so," you said with a frown, scanning the dancing crowd with your eyes. Steve was tall, usually you were able to easily pick out his frame from any crowd, but you couldn't see him anywhere nearby.

"Well," you said after a couple more moments passed, "he probably realized it and went already," you shrugged.

"In that case," Damien gestured at the exit, "After you, madam."

You giggled and bowed a small bow before exiting, Damien on your heels. You spent the night walking the grounds, talking to each other over the sound of the wind. When it was getting late, he escorted you to your room and gave you a good night's kiss, a perfect gentleman, just like you read about in books.

That night you slept peacefully, no dreams, good or bad, plaguing your consciousness. The next morning you woke up refreshed, ready to take on the day.

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You and Steve were still friends, but something changed. You didn't really see it, too occupied with school and Damien to notice, but there was a shift, a distance that wasn't there before. You still talked, you still hung out from time to time, it just… wasn't the same.

One day, when you were in the library together, one cold February night, Steve asked you a peculiar question.

"What do you think is the best way to tell someone you love them?"

"Why, any Valentine's day plans?" you joked.

"Nothing in particular," he shrugged.

"Well, I think the best way to tell someone you love them is with words. Just… say it, or write it, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess that's nice," he smiled, returning to his book.

"So, who's the lucky lady, huh?" you nudged him with your elbow, "is it Kathrine? Because I'm telling you, I really think if you'd ask h-"

"It's not Kathrine, because it's no one," he cut you off with a chuckle. "It was just a general question."

You never bugged him about it again, quite honestly you forgot about the whole ordeal.

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The months of the winter passed, and lo and behold, the spring settled over you. The winds were less harsh, the flowers were blooming again, the sun was shining brightly. With only a few scattered days of still wintery weather, you mostly studied outside on the grass, maybe under a tree. You were making the best of it, inviting your friends of Damien to study with you too. You felt like bursting into song.

One day, when you and Damien were sitting on the grass, studying together, he picked a rhododendron, sticking it behind your ear. The large flower didn't hold on for long, and fell down after a couple of seconds. You laughed, and he chuckled. Picking it up, you tried to put it on once more, but it just wouldn't stay. Then, you took it again and this time, stuck it behind his ear. Somehow, it managed to stay on.

You laughed, "You look very pretty."

"I do?" he asked, fluttering his lashes playfully, "why thank you darling."

After a while, he took it off and pressed in between the pages of his notebook. "Like you always do," he smiled, showing off the closed notebook before putting it back into his bag.

"Be careful," you giggled, "if it falls out the entire bag will be full of petals, and even when you’d think you got them all out, you'd find a couple more a few days later."

"Are you speaking from experience?" he asked cheekily.

"Why of course not! I was born a professional," you stuck your nose up indignantly, making him laugh.

"Of course you were, how could I forget," he offered you his hand and helped you up.

As you walked together back to the school building, you had a feeling you forgot something, or like something was missing. You looked back at the place you were sitting in seconds ago, but there was nothing there.

"Everything alright?" Damien asked.

"Yeah, everything's great," you answered, squeezing his hand that was clutched in yours.

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When the second ball was approaching, Damien had started to send you love letters. Every time you had gotten one, you felt your heart pick up its pace, a smile stretching on your face. Some of them were poems, some quotes, some just sentences, you didn't know which he wrote and which he read and thought of you. You took to the habit of saving them all in a small box in your room, going through them every couple of days.

I see you everywhere, in the stars, in the river, to me you're everything that exists, the reality of everything ~Virginia Woolf  

Every one of them was simply signed with three x's, signifying kisses. You smiled as you put the most recent one into your pocket, intent on putting it with the rest later.

Some days, you'd get small notes, and some days would be a rather large page. You loved both.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

~Elizabeth Barrett Browning 

You resonated with the words, you've always loved poems. Weirdly, you've never talked to Damien about your love of them, but you guessed he just… knew. That's what made him so special.  

If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk in my garden forever. ~Alfred Lord Tennyson

That one made you stop in your tracks for a moment. It made you think of Steve. He didn't really bring you flowers anymore. Well, maybe he just didn't find any new ones.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom.      If this be error and upon me proved,      I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

~Shakespeare

You smiled brightly as you read the note. You were getting new ones every other day. Amongst the chaos of exams, it was nice, knowing that's the way he had to keep in touch with you. You were just done reading it when your friend came up behind your back, reading over your shoulder.

"Oh, did Damien bring you this?" she smiled. "You guys are so cute together."

Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you The love of all man’s days both past and forever: Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life. The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours – And the songs of every poet past and forever.

~ Rabindranath Tagore

That last one you found in the library copy of "The Count of Monte Cristo". You gravitated towards it every time you were anxious, or couldn't sleep, or both. It was a comfort. Finding the note there nearly made you cry; the long day you've had mixed with the love you felt bringing tears to your eyes. You blinked them away with a smile, stuffing the note in your pocket before starting to read the book.

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Steve saw you open the book and get the note. He smiled to himself.

He didn't know if this would work, or if you'd think your boyfriend wrote them. He just wanted to make you smile.

He also wanted to make you know, make you understand what he was feeling. But you weren't exactly emotionally available right now, so Steve did the best he could; he waited.

In the meantime, he went to search for another poetry book. He was surprised you hadn't recognized his handwriting yet. He did write it a bit more neatly than he usually did, with more careful attention.

Maybe she recognized it but didn't want to say anything. Maybe that was a pitying smile, whispered a voice in his head. He shook it off.

He knew you weren't his, but he couldn't give up hope. He could wait some more.

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The spring / end of the year ball was approaching in giant steps. You were done with your exams, and already had a dress, which you adamantly refused to show Damien despite his repeated pleas. Now, you were spending an afternoon outside, enjoying the fresh air picnicking with some of your friends, who were playing a card game you couldn't care to learn the rules of. You were taking photos instead, borrowing one of your friends' camera and taking some pictures of them playing, of the scenery.

"Has Damien asked you to the ball yet?" one of them asked.

"Oh, not yet," you shrugged, "I'm sure he will though. I mean, you've seen the notes he sent me," you giggled, "I don't see another option."

Just then, you saw a figure coming towards you from afar. In the other direction, you saw Damien approaching, and before you had a chance to wonder about the other person, he was there, planting a kiss on your cheek. You put the camera down on the blanket and smiled at him.

"Speaking of the devil," your friend chuckled.

"Only good things, I hope," he sat down next to you.

"Of course," you laughed and leaned away from him to snap his picture, "what else could we have said?"

"Well, that's great, because I was wondering," he took a breath, "do you want to see me do a card trick?"

"Yes, sure," you said, slightly confused but still smiling.

He held up a card. "Could you tell me what card this is?"

"A leaf ace," you said.

"Great," he flipped it around in his hands a couple of times, before pulling off a complicated hand movement you couldn't keep track of, and was now holding a small, card sized mirror. "Now, could you tell me what card this is?"

"It's… a mirror," you said, puzzled.

"Look closer," he encouraged.

"Still a mirror, Dames," you chuckled.

"No, it’s a queen of hearts!" he laughed, "my heart, more specifically," he leaned in closer and smiled. "Would you go to the ball with me?"

"Yes! Of course I will!" you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. Just then, you heard the shutter of the camera clicking, and broke apart from him, laughing.

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The night of the ball finally arrived. You were in Damien's room, getting ready, when you finally had the mind to say, "Oh, Damien, I don't think I ever thanked you for the notes," you smiled at him from the other corner of the room. He was standing in front of the mirror, tying his tie, while you were sitting on the bed, already in your dress, which you finally let him see.

"Oh, from last week's lecture? No problem love," he smiled at you, your eyes meeting through the mirror.

"No," you giggled, "I meant the notes you've been leaving me."

He looked at you, puzzled. "You know, the notes with the– oh come on, don’t play dumb," you scoffed playfully.

"I'm not," he said, "I genuinely have no idea what you're talking about." He finished the knot and came to stand in front of you, offering you his hand and helping you up. You stood in front of him, squinting.

"Okay," you said after a few moments. Smiling, you noticed his collar was partly stuffed under his tie, raising your hand to fix it and –

"Oh," you frowned softly.

You knew who wrote the notes. You knew all along. I mean, how couldn't you recognize the handwriting of the person you know the best? Who knows you better than anyone else?

The person you've been neglecting the past few months. And yet, he was sending you love letters. You felt like crying, because you should've known it was him. More than that, you should've realized; you love him too.  

You love him so much it nearly hurts. The man with flowers in his hand and stars in his eyes, the one who took you to every bookstore you ever wanted to visit, who gave you his jacket when you were cold, who knew not only what your favorite book was, but also what copy of it you would take.

As good as Damien was to you, he was never the one for you. He was charming, lovable for sure.

But he wasn't your Steve.

Your Steve who was probably going to the ball alone, or maybe not even going.

"Is everything okay?" Damien asked, a concerned frown on his features.

"No, I- look, Damien," you took a deep breath. "I owe you an explanation, and I swear, I will give it to you, but I just… I can't do this anymore."

"What do you mean can't do this anymore? Do you not want to go to the ball or-"

"No," you closed your eyes forcefully before opening them, "us. I don't think we should be together anymore."

"Where is this coming from? Love, is everything o-"

"It's not okay, Damien!" tears welled up in your eyes, "It's not fair to you, I know. But I just… I have to go," you stepped away from his embrace.

"Go where? You're not making any sense, please, can you just-"

"I'm sorry, I am so, so sorry, but I have to go. I promise I'll explain everything, just… not right now," you said shakily, fumbling to collect your things before leaving the dorm, and a stunned Damien in your wake.

You weren't sure where you were going, you just knew you had to find him.

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You roamed the corridors in a bit of a daze until you finally realized your legs were carrying you to the library, and shook your head, deciding to go there anyway since there was a decent chance Steve was there.

He wasn't. You knocked on his dorm room door, but he didn't answer it, so he probably wasn't there either. You went to sneak a look at the ball, but you didn't find him there too.

You were just about to give up when you looked out of one of the windows. There, you saw the small glass gazebo that was a little further away from the building. The light was on, and there was someone there. You couldn't tell if it was Steve, but you figured it wouldn't hurt to try.

You went down the stairs and outside. The night was surprisingly crisp, and the dress you were wearing had short sleeves, but you continued anyway. As you got closer, you could see the silhouette clearer; it was indeed Steve.

You stopped a few yards next to it. Now that you found him, you didn't know what to say. I'm sorry didn't feel like enough, and –

Your train of thought was cut off by Steve turning around, his eyes locking with yours through the large glass windows. You swallowed heavily.

He went outside, crossing the distance and standing in front of you. Both of you were quiet for a moment before he spoke up.

"Not going to the ball?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I feel like it's obvious I'm not going. Where's your boyfriend?"

"I don't know."

Silence settled between you for a couple of minutes, each one of you absorbed in your own thoughts. Eventually, you were the one to speak up this time.

"I know you wrote them, Steve."

He chuckled. "Okay. What do you want me to say?"

"That you meant them," your voice broke with emotion, not knowing how true the words were until your lips uttered them out loud.

"I did. I do. I can't say I'm sorry for that."

"You shouldn't be," you said, "I'm that one that should be sorry. I am sorry," you looked up at him, your eyes sincere. "I'm sorry I didn't realize it was you sooner. And I don't mean the notes, Steve," you stepped closer to him.

"Then what do you mean?"

You licked your lips hesitantly, bringing your face closer to his. You didn't know which one of you finally broke the distance, but suddenly his lips were on yours, and it's all you could think about. You were kissing Steve Rogers, and it was enchanting. You wrapped your hands around his neck as he wrapped his around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You melted into his touch as your hands tangled in the soft hair on the nape of his neck. One of his hands came up to cup your cheek gently, and suddenly you were both smiling so hard you broke apart, gasping for air. Your foreheads stayed connected, leaning on each other as you slowly opened your eyes.

"This," you whispered, "I mean this. I love you, Steve."

"I love you too," Steve laughed, "so much. I was afraid you will never say that. That I'd never get to hear you say that to me. I love you," he said again, his eyes looking into yours.

Just at that moment, it bizarrely started to rain. "Really?" you looked up at the sky, "it's spring! Hell, it's almost summer!"

"Maybe it's summer rain," Steve suggested with a smile.

"But it ruined our moment," you playfully pouted.

"We always have another one," he smiled, pulling you in for another kiss, not minding the rain that was now wetting your dress, his suit. You felt the raindrops fall on the top of your heads, but the sensation was a thin echo compared to Steve's lips on yours.

A thunder roared, and you broke apart once again.

"Maybe we should get inside," you suggested.

"Maybe we should," he grinned, "last one there is a rotten egg!"

He started running before you could even register what he said. Just like he did when you were kids.

"Wait!" you laughed, running after him, gathering your skirt in your hands, "Not fair! I have a dress!"

He stopped and ran back to you before picking you up with ease, carrying you bridal style to the entrance and putting you down right on the threshold.

"You're a rotten egg, Stevie," you giggled.

He looked down to see that indeed, your legs were technically inside while his weren't.

"Don't worry," you cupped his cheek and tilted it upwards so he'd meet your gaze, "you're my rotten egg."

You both laughed before you went inside. He offered you his arm and you wove yours through it, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Taking your time, you strolled through the corridors in comfortable silence until you reached your room. You came inside and turned on the heating, Steve right on your heels, hugging you from behind.

"I can't believe it's raining," you looked out of the window with a smile.

"I can't believe you're mine," he whispered into your neck.

You tilted your head back to kiss him softly before you involuntarily shivered. Wordlessly, Steve guided you to the bed, tucking you into the blanket. He was about to leave, but you opened your blanket and gestured for him to come cuddle you. He chuckled and climbed in next to you, wrapping his arms around you again.

"Tell me a story," you said as you laid your head on his chest.

"Once upon a time," he started, "there was a very beautiful princess. And she chose a normal boy. No one knew why she did it. They asked her, 'why not a prince?' and sh-"

"And she said she didn't like princes, but she loved the boy more than anything else," you smiled.

"Wow, more than big libraries?" he chuckled.

"Yes, even more than big libraries," you giggled. Humming contently, you snuggled even closer to him, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a peaceful sleep.

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Which brings us to where we started this story, the next morning.

The story Steve's eyes told you that morning was better than any other story you've ever heard. It was a love story that you would tell your children, and your grandchildren.

And every time Steve heard you telling it, he sat and listened with a smile.

You once asked him why he always listens to that story, it's not like he didn't know it, he lived it.

"I did live it," he answered, "but I still live it, every single day. And it gets better with each day," he leaned down to kiss you.

Steve Rogers was the most wonderful of men, and over the years he grew to be the most wonderful of husbands, of fathers and of grandfathers.

You both grew, but there was one thing that stayed the same – his heart was yours, and your heart was his; forever.

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flower meanings:

Rose – love.

Honeysuckle - pure happiness, sweet love, devoted affection.

Hydrangea - gratitude, grace, beauty, abundance. some colors also symbolize bad luck.

Hibiscus - variously symbolizes health, delicacy, beauty, respect and hospitality.

Rhododendron – beware.  

p.s. - the meanings are based on my limited searches, also there are some flowers with more than one meaning:)

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i’d love it if you’d want to tell me your thoughts!! if you’ve stuck through this entire thing - thank you!!!<3

Taglist:  @horny-nd-bored​ @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds​ @wintersoldierslut​ @iceebabies​  @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree​ @kaitcordx25 @bequeening​ @steve-barry-damon-logan​ @itscrazycherryblossomcollection​ @hollandxmarvel​ @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland @jazbot2000 @anobscurename @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @peggycarter-steverogers @evansphnx12 @starlightcrystalline @procrastinatingsapphictrash

if you wanna join / be removed from a taglist, comment/message me! much love <3

[moonbeamsung]

Winter Nights & City Lights

Because nothing says ‘Christmas’ like spending the big day (and not to mention the whole holiday season) in the Big Apple living with your high school friend-turned-roommate, Mark Lee.

member: mark (featuring johnny)

au: roommate!mark x gn!reader, college roommate au, christmas au, ‘the gift of the magi’ au/inspired

word count: 9.5k

genre: fluff, angst, slice of life

warnings: profanity, underage drinking, hangovers, insecurities, mentions of food and drink, money issues, embarrassing moments

author’s note: This fic is close to becoming my favorite that I’ve ever written. It’s also almost twice as long as I planned, not to mention that tumblr crashed right as I tried to post it so here I am, two hours later. Overall I had a blast writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it! Please let me know what you think, too! :,) Happy holidays! <3

taglist: @astroboy-lele​ @kisshim​ @radiorenjun​

network tags: @kpopscape​ @neo-constellations​ @starryktown​ @culture-cafe​ @dreamlab-nct​

“That parade was so cool! I mean, did you see the size of all those balloons? They were huge! I’ve never seen so many people all in one place before,” Mark chatters away like an excited child as you navigate through the crowd that always seems to grow bigger year after year, gathered along the curbs of the New York streets to watch the famed Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

“How are you not more excited about this?” He questions, and you stifle an amused giggle. “I’ve lived in the city for over a year, Mark. I’ve seen a thing or two.”

“Oh, right. I knew that.” The cold air only accentuates the blush on his face as he remembers that particular detail about you. It isn’t often that it’s demonstrated, however, considering you spend so much time cooped up inside of your shared apartment cramming in university work and studying. There are hardly any opportunities during the year to take in the sights of the concrete jungle you live in the very heart of, but luckily, one of your long-awaited breaks is coming up soon.

Thoughts of Christmas vacation are the only things keeping you going, along with countless cups of steaming hot coffee, as you prepare for exams in just a few weeks, weeks that seem to go by in a flurry of snow.

There’s less than three days left until your first one, but you’re nothing short of drained after pulling so many all-nighters, and you need a break. A breath of fresh air seems like just the cure for your burnout, so you slam your textbook shut and lethargically drag yourself off of the soft comforter you’ve been sitting on for the past two hours. You grimace at the deep imprint left behind.

Trudging through the living area, you knock softly on Mark’s bedroom door. A tired “Come in” sounds from the other side, and you push it open, immediately noticing his disheveled state. Eyes heavy with fatigue and lacking their usual sparkle of youthful innocence, he blinks back at you, “What’s up?”

“You look like you need a break just as much as I do,” you insist. His already-open mouth widens a bit more, “But... our first exam is on Monday, we can’t just—”

“Mark, come on, you’re one of the smartest people in our class. If anyone’s going to pass, it’s you.”

He huffs, “Maybe you have a point.”

“I do have a point, and you know it. A little walk in the park never hurt anyone, right?”

Mark rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, fingers raking through his dark locks before he musters up enough strength to push himself off of his bed and into a standing position.

“I’ll get my jacket.”

Central Park is a sight to behold on its own all year round, but something about the Christmas season makes it even more magical. You and Mark step at the same pace, your paths lined by metal benches blanketed in fresh snow. Even through the many layers of warmth you’re both wearing, the chilly air still nips at your skin. It’s Mark’s first time experiencing the holidays in New York City, and you’re determined to show him everything this real-life winter wonderland has to offer.

The story of how you two came to be roommates in the first place is an extremely lucky one. You met in high school, and had been part of the same group of friends along with six younger boys. Both Canadian, you’d been hoping to get into the same New York college since what felt like forever. The day that you received your acceptance letters in the mail was full of joy and celebration, but not even a week later, Mark got an unexpected scholarship to a local but prestigious university not far from where you lived that he simply couldn’t pass up.

Parting ways after graduation, you had thought you might never see each other again until you got a call from him. It was the day after your last exam of the spring semester in college and you were sitting on your two-person couch, feeling rather lonely. The number seemed too familiar, too good to be true, and scrambling to pick up the phone as it blared throughout your fairly small apartment, you answered with a shaky voice. Mark’s recognizable tone met your ears, and a wide smile met your face. Though he couldn’t see it, he could hear the happiness in your words.

As it turned out, his college had given him the opportunity to transfer to yours for the remainder of his four years, as their programs were closely linked and on similar levels. Graciously, he had accepted, and wanted you to be the first to know.

“So, uh... are you living with anyone?”

The question he dreaded asking more than anything else. Call him cliché, but he had the biggest crush on you in high school, much to his dismay and to the rest of his friends’ excitement. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to like you, but he feared that college could tear a potential relationship apart, regardless of whether or not you went to the same one.

As a result of this, he had never acted on his emotions. But he’s older now, and wiser, which leads him to believe that maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to maintain one, should he ever gain enough courage to ask you out.

“No, actually, I have my own apartment.”

Silence.

“...Are you looking for somewhere to stay?”

“Yes! Yes,” he replied a little too quickly, eager to accept what would hopefully be an invitation from you. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Well, my place isn’t the biggest, but you can live with me if you want to. Plus, we could split the rent between us!”

You’ve always liked Mark. He’s hardworking, kind, and humble, maybe a little too much of all these things for his own good. Even back in high school, you spent endless nights and very early mornings on the phone with him, trying to convince him to go to bed after he refused to stop studying. To reassure him that he did the right thing by ending that friendship, or to insist that he tell the teacher no one worked on the group project, so he did everything himself. You’ve been his shoulder to cry on for years, you’ve seen a side of him that he’s never been brave enough to show anyone else because they expect so much of him.

Mark knows he’s blessed to have had a picture-perfect childhood, a good family, and an education that was rigorous yet rewarding enough to prepare him for his next chapter in life. The pressures that came with being so lucky just got to him sometimes, and they made four years of high school seem more like fourteen.

You, on the other hand, didn’t quite have all the same luxuries that he did, but you still managed. He’s been there for you plenty of times, too. In your opinion, though, he’s the much more vulnerable one of the two of you, mainly to his cumbersome insecurities and shortcomings, however rare those shortcomings may be.

So in your mind, Mark Lee deserves the entire world and then some. The least you can do is share your apartment with him, either until he finds what you’re sure would be a much more desirable place to live, or if he wants to stay with you indefinitely.

What you don’t realize, and will eventually struggle to admit to yourself, is that your admiration for his perseverance and endless generosity is teetering rather precariously on the edge of blossoming into something more than just platonic.

“Sounds good, then. Thanks so much!” He had exclaimed, the sound of his pure excitement and gratefulness bringing a wave of heat to your face, and you were glad he wasn’t there in front of you to see it.

You talked a little bit more for the next few minutes, catching up and enjoying a lighthearted conversation about what you had both been up to. These sessions on the phone began to occur more and more frequently, turning into weekly, and soon daily, affairs. Mark planned to move in a couple weeks before school started again, giving himself some time to settle in and adapt to urban life in general. The calls became a highlight of your summer vacation, and every day without fail, you found yourself waiting to hear the unique ringtone you had set his contact to.

Less than twelve hours before Mark was scheduled to arrive at New York’s largest airport, you were on the phone with him just like always. The clock in your apartment chimed eleven o’clock, and as reluctant as you were to hang up, you knew you should turn in for the night. After all, the sooner you went to sleep, the sooner the morning would come. The morning you would meet him at the airport.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His voice was hopeful. Slightly unsteady, but hopeful all the same.

“I guess so. What time does your plane land, again?” You confirmed the time you had scribbled down onto a neon yellow sticky note a few days earlier as he repeated the short string of numbers, nodding to no one in particular. Why did you feel so nervous? It’s just Mark, you had told yourself.

“Have a safe flight!”

He bade you goodnight in return, accidentally throwing in a “sweet dreams” before he could stop himself. When you put your phones down, you were both too busy trying to calm your racing pulses, however, so it didn’t matter. Mark collapsed onto his bed, hand bumping his duffel bag and heaving a sigh. You sank down into the couch cushion, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the back of the furniture. Neither of you could find the strength to stand in those moments, scared that your legs would give in from the unsteadiness of your nerves, your hearts, your emotions.

A singular worry occupied both of your minds from that point on until you greeted him in the JFK airport terminal the next morning, shy smiles on your faces: is it dangerous to enter into the impending situation of living together? Are you really ready to be in such constant close proximity to the object of your affections, however oblivious you might be to them?

Before his brain could talk his heart out of it, Mark had wrapped you in a tight hug, extra thankful for the welcome since you were all he had here, in the city. You wouldn’t have missed his arrival for the world, and you told him so. You also wouldn’t have missed the chance to make him flush a deep but adorable shade of red, reaching from his rounded cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears.

In your long-term rental car, you drove him back to your apartment, enjoying the quiet sounds of surprise and amazement that spilled from his lips, generated by the city’s sights. As you passed underneath towering skyscrapers, navigated bustling avenues, and caught glimpses of world-renowned landmarks that you both had seen only in the movies when you were younger, you just knew Mark’s eyes held their signature sparkle, despite your inability to see the dark brown orbs glimmer with wonder. You kept yours on the road ahead.

His first day was spent unpacking his suitcases and bags full of possessions, one of which was his most prized: an acoustic guitar.

It had been a gift from his parents when he finished the eighth grade, and all throughout high school, he had turned to music as an escape whenever he needed it. As any new musician does, Mark had played around with chords, experimenting and seeing what sounded good, and before you knew it he had composed a song. Another one followed, then another, and by the end of his freshman year he had written enough to fill an entire album if he so wished.

The guitar had heard every note, every lyric, carried every melody from his heart into the world. It had grown to be a part of him, a worldly sliver of his soul in the form of a simple musical instrument that could convey every hope and every dream, every concern or every frustration. Every love confession. Though that wasn’t saying much, since he only had eyes for you. You didn’t know it, but one of those songs was about you. For you.

You and Mark’s circle of friends tried to set you two up one day in the school’s band room after hours, with the excuse that the second-youngest of the group, Chenle, had forgotten his piano sheet music in there. They sent you to retrieve it, which you only agreed to do after being persuaded by the boy’s intimidating but still lovable pout.

With no sheet music in sight, your eyes landed instead on a diligent Mark that appeared to be the only sign of life in the room, plucking away at the strings as the sun set outside. You had sat with him for a while, neglecting your task and listening to him strum gracefully, softly murmuring lyrics that sounded like your name at one point. You didn’t think much of it, though, not making the connection behind the rest of the words coming out of his mouth and accompanying the chords. His love song was left unacknowledged by the subject of it themselves, and that was both the first and last time he ever attempted to confess to you.

He wondered if now that you were sharing an apartment, he would let something slip by accident. What would he do then?

University had other plans, though, and his fears were temporarily relieved. So fortunately and unfortunately, you were so occupied with schoolwork that trying to balance dating, or even mere thoughts of doing so, with all of your other responsibilities would have been exhausting, not to mention impossible.

Snapping out of your memory-induced daze, you realize that you nearly wandered off the path into a deep snowbank, only aware of this fact because Mark catches you by the wrist and pulls you back toward him to walk at his side. His fingers stay curled around your forearm as you approach a famous bridge, stepping to the side and gazing down at the icy waters below, calm and rippling with the chilly breeze.

“What do you want for Christmas?”

You honestly haven’t thought about it yet, so you can’t give Mark a definite answer. The same goes for him, both of you leaning against the brick railing in a comfortable silence.

In Mark’s mind though, he knows what he wants to give you: something to complement your own equivalent of his guitar, a large collection of handwritten letters and notes from your childhood and school days. Sentimental by nature, you had saved every colorful post-it note one of your friends would slip through the narrow slats of your locker, every birthday card received over the years, every thoughtful postcard from someone’s vacation.

Your favorites are undoubtedly the always-awkward Christmas cards that your friends’ families consistently mail out each December, by far the most humorous parts of your growing collection. You always found yourself chuckling at the pictures displayed on the front. Eyes bright with mirth, you would observe their forced smiles and arms slung carelessly over siblings’ shoulders, their eyes flickering between the camera and something going on behind it, probably the family pet getting into trouble across the yard. You pitied the photographers, surely beyond frustrated as they would try to get everyone to stand still for more than five measly seconds. Mouths were clamped shut and for a brief moment, the air was void of complaints of how itchy someone’s sweater was.

Then the camera would snap, capturing an image that was simply “good enough.” They’d plaster it on the card and in a few days, it would magically appear in the mailboxes of relatives and close friends. Grandparents would overlook the uncomfortable expressions and focus instead on how fast the kids were growing up. You didn’t blame them. Even in four years’ worth of cards, so much could change. In between fits of laughter, you’d stare in awe at the way your friends grew into their features, only becoming more handsome with time and some growing so tall that they even towered over their fathers. You always kept the letters they included, too, detailing the highlights of the year that was soon to come to an end by the time they dropped it into a nearby mailbox.

And like he could read your mind, Mark makes an offhand comment right then and there. “My folks texted me the other day to ask for our address. You know, for the Christmas card.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Shame I couldn’t be there for the family photos this year.”

“Is it really a shame, though?” You prod, tilting your head a bit at the boy. “You always told me you couldn’t stand waiting around for the so-called ‘right lighting’ and all that.”

“Well, I couldn’t, but now that I’m not there I wish I could go back to those days. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know?”

“Right,” you sigh, thinking about how the same saying could easily apply to the way you felt about Mark all throughout your first year of university.

You have a box, made of a dark mahogany wood and lined with elegant golden trim, where you keep all of these letters, these handwritten memories and souvenirs from some of the happiest moments in your life. A gift from a past Christmas, your family had your initials engraved onto the front in a loopy cursive font, making it truly unique and utterly irreplaceable. And, you’ll soon come to realize, valuable.

Mark remembers it well, remembers the many times you’ve shown him its contents, remembers how his eyes sometimes land on the delicate container resting beneath the windowsill in your room, sunlight catching the accents. He knows how much those letters mean to you, and he also knows how much you love returning the favor.

That’s why he wants to give you the tools you need to do just that, and to do it well.

You’ve always been one for writing thank-you notes for any and every gift you receive, your parents having ingrained the habit in you since you were very young. Slowly, crayons turned into pencils and lead became ink. To this day you remain unfazed by the increasing amount of yellowing papers residing in the letter box, but the words imprinted on them never quite fade, strong enough to withstand the test of time.

Too many times in high school Mark would find you, hunched over your dining room table in frustration with a stack of letters beside your arm that you deemed “failed” because your handwriting was bad, or something of the sort. Usually it was the other way around, him being the one in need of comfort, but on those days your roles were reversed.

He had always wondered why you didn’t have fancier supplies that were more suited to your task, but he supposes now that maybe it simply wasn’t an option for you and your family. So a stationery set seems like the perfect gift for you this year.

On a similar note, you’ve already decided what you’re getting him: a guitar case. You happened upon a sleek leather one while browsing the website of a popular music store, coincidentally with a location not too far from your apartment.

Now it’s no longer a question of what to get the other, but how. As university students living on your own, money is scarce. Unknowingly, you both contemplate this concern as you walk side by side, returning to the start of the path that you set out on at least a half hour ago.

This stroll of yours was supposed to clear your minds, but why are they racing even more than before?

There’s no time to worry now, though, and for the next week, your thoughts are forced to shift back to the topic of school and midterms and all your academic endeavors.

Your exam week is over before you know it, and the two of you return to your apartment after the last one only to collapse onto your respective beds, beyond exhausted.

The dreary Friday afternoon clearly calls for a nap, but unbeknownst to you, Mark decides to seize the opportunity that has so conveniently presented itself to him: a chance for him to go out and buy your gift without suspicion. He drops his backpack on the carpet next to his dresser and sighs, wondering if what he’s about to do will be worth it. But it’s you, of course it’ll be worth it.

Thus, his next move is done with a heavy heart. He’s been forced by a lack of funds to come to a decision about your gift, and a difficult one at that. The only thing he can think of doing to even come close to affording a nice stationery set is to sell some things in exchange for cash. Namely, the most valuable item he owns: his beloved guitar. He doesn’t really want to, but deep down he knows that a true friendship warrants the occasional sacrifice. He’s done some research on a nearby pawn shop, and however sketchy those kinds of places may seem, it’s his only feasible option at the moment, with just a week left until Christmas Day.

After making sure you’re fast asleep, he not-so-stealthily slips out of your shared flat, his actions far from silent but even so, you don’t wake up. Mark winces at the unintended high volume of pulling the front door shut behind him, sticking his hand into his jeans pocket and relaxing when he feels his keys at the bottom of the fabric compartment. Guitar strung over his shoulder by the flimsy, fraying strap, he sets off.

With his phone in hand and directions to the pawn shop displayed on the screen, he strides through the lobby of the apartment building and pushes the revolving door, stepping onto the busy sidewalk and into the cold winter air. Shoppers crowd the pavement with hands full of department store tote bags, crinkling loudly as they pass by one another. Shoulders knock together and heels click against the concrete, just some of the many sounds of the city that Mark is still growing used to hearing.

A few blocks and several wrong turns later, he finds himself on a quieter street, standing in front of the shop. It’s dimly lit inside and looks almost abandoned, the letters painted on the window chipped and faded from the wear and weather of past years. A soft bell rings when he lets himself in, searching for some sort of employee.

From behind a cluttered shelf a tall man emerges, the shabby name tag pinned to his vest reading “Johnny.” Well, he’s not some shifty-eyed, balding man wearing a muscle shirt stained with grease. New York continues to be full of surprises.

His dark hair looks neat, the jacket he’s wearing free of any wrinkles and face young but chiseled, high cheekbones prominent.

“How can I help you today?” Johnny booms, stepping behind the counter and absentmindedly sifting through some loose change in bottom of the cash register.

Mark gulps, “I’d like to sell something.” Still not entirely sure he wants to do this, he instinctively tugs on the strap resting atop the fabric of his wool jacket.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Johnny assures with a small laugh. “What did you have in mind?”

Taking a deep breath, Mark slides the guitar off his shoulder and holds it near his chest for a moment, before extending his arms out towards the counter.

“A guitar, huh? We don’t see many of these,” the tall man comments. “Are you sure? It seems pretty valuable to you in more ways than one.”

Mark’s fingertips trace the strings for the last time and he decides to just get it over with, before he can change his mind. His hands are shaky as he gently places the instrument down on the counter in front of Johnny, taking a step back once he’s done so. “I don’t have much of a choice. I need the money to buy a gift for my… uh, my friend.”

Johnny raises an eyebrow, “Just a friend? Or a special someone?”

“They are special,” Mark confirms, noncommittal to either title that Johnny suggested.

“They must be if you’re willing to give up something like this for them. Okay, that’ll be…”

Johnny tells him what the guitar is worth, matching the amount with a stack of cash and a few old coins, rusty but still holding their value.

Despite the pain of letting something so meaningful go, a bit of joy creeps into Mark’s heart as he realizes that now he can give you a gift that will hopefully become just as meaningful to you as his guitar was to him.

He thanks Johnny and bids him goodbye, step lighter than when he entered, much to his surprise.

It’s the next day when you and Mark find yourselves getting into the Christmas spirit for the first time this season. After he had returned yesterday, you were still out cold on your bed, so he chose to follow your example and do the same. The both of you had slept the rest of the day and almost the entirety of the following morning away, waking up just before noon.

With a sudden burst of energy you spring up from the sheets, overtaken by your excitement for the nearing holiday as you dig out the artificial Christmas tree you had bought last year from your closet. Sure, it may seem lazy of you, but let’s face it: there was no easy way to find a real one in New York City, let alone lug it down the streets, through an elevator and down a narrow hallway to a door it wouldn’t even fit through.

Mark hears the loud rustling of various decorations as he begins to stir, leisurely getting out of bed and checking one of his dresser drawers to make sure he hadn’t merely dreamed up his shopping adventure of the previous evening. There the stationery set sits, tucked safely at the back of the wooden cabinet.

The bookstore he stopped at on his way back last night had many different options to choose from, so he made sure to get one that both matched your box of letters and reminded him of you, with its color scheme and style. A surge of pride brings a smile to his features, pleased with his choice, and he pushes the drawer shut before joining you in the living area.

Your knees brush as he sits down next to you to help unpack the large but manageable box, taking out the tiers of the tree to eventually stack on top of one another. Working more quickly than usual (and probably necessary, there are six days left after all), you assign Mark to stringing the lights across your small balcony while you finish setting up the tree. You knew you shouldn’t have let him do it alone, though, because when you look over at his progress you find more lights wrapped around his body than the metal railing.

“Do you need a hand?” You question, holding back a laugh at the way the cord restricts his arm movements to the point where he can’t even reach for the handle on the sliding door.

From outside he opens his mouth to reply, but pauses, looking down at himself and the mess he’s made of the lights before meeting your eyes once more. His voice is muffled by the glass, but you hear him shout playfully, “I’m the tree now! We don’t need that one.” He tries to gesture to the one you’re currently decorating, but fails, and this time you aren’t able to contain your amusement.

“Let me help you,” you offer, joining him on the balcony and helping him untangle himself from the glowing strands. “Thanks,” Mark replies, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck. With your combined efforts, you manage to thread the string of lights through the railing with little to no mishaps, and both of you continue decking out the apartment with other seasonal items for the next several hours.

At some point during the afternoon one of you decided to connect their phone to a speaker and play some music, all Christmas songs of course. As the classic version of “Jingle Bell Rock” begins to blare throughout the living room, Mark abandons his task momentarily to walk over to you. He extends a hand down to you, sitting on the floor, and you accept the invitation to stand up with a questioning look.

“Dance with me?”

It’s hardly a platonic request, Mark realizes once the words leave his lips, but even so you don’t shy away, glancing down at your feet with a slight trace of bashfulness in the action.

He intertwines your fingers somewhat loosely, placing his non-dominant hand on your waist and beginning to sway, slowly at first but then his movements become more exaggerated, shoulders tilting dramatically to one side after the other and straying from the rhythm of the music. You join Mark in drawing out the jesting movements, losing yourself in laughter and leaning forward to bury your face in his shoulder, the heat of your breath hitting his skin through the thin t-shirt he’s wearing. In one last attempt to keep the joyful smile on your face, he steps back a bit and holds your wrist above your head to twirl you in a circle.

The electric guitar in the song fades as you collapse onto the carpet, recovering from your fit of giggles. The sun has begun to sink in the sky, you can tell by the gold and orange glow that your apartment becomes bathed in as it sets, inching closer to the horizon and eventually becoming hidden by tall skyscrapers in the distance.

Satisfied with your progress so far, you both decide to call it a day, though in truth there aren’t many decorations left to put out. A few stray ornaments and some garlands remain, still packed up in boxes that you would need help reaching. You’re also eager to get your mind off of the way your heart was palpitating as you danced with Mark, your roommate and friend but nothing more, nothing less. You have enough to worry about at the moment, not wanting to add potential feelings for the boy into the mix. Shit, you think, you still need to buy his gift.

“What should we watch?” Mark asks, scrolling through the list of movie choices on the TV screen.

“I don’t really care, anything’s fine.”

His finger presses a button on the remote to select a film at random, the intro playing as you scan the refrigerator shelves for a frozen meal. Hopefully it’s not one of those cheesy holiday romances.

Settling down on the couch a few minutes later, you with the warmed-up container in your lap and Mark holding a cup of ramen noodles, both of you fall into a comfortable chatter about the movie. Thank god it’s a comedy.

Occasionally you find yourself diverting your attention from the harsh display and directing it over to the panes of floor-to-ceiling windows, where you watch more and more lights flicker on in the distance, illuminating the urban landscape as night falls. The view is breathtaking, but so is the way your face softly glows with their warmth, even from blocks away. Not that Mark would ever tell you that, of course.

“I’m going out!” Mark hears shuffling from outside his bedroom the next morning, your voice instantly bringing him to his senses. Curious, he shoots out of bed and flings the door open to find you, one arm stuck through the sleeve of your coat and the other buried in a bag, but it’s not the one you usually bring when you leave the flat. Eyes wide and panicked at the boy’s unexpected appearance, you clutch it to your chest with a visible amount of difficulty, Mark notices.

“Where are you off to?” He squints at the brightness of the living room, the early morning light pouring in through the glass on the far wall.

“...Maybe I can’t tell you,” you respond with a huff, slinging the heavy bag over your shoulder and pulling the rest of your coat on.

“What do you mean, you can’t—oh.”

“Nice going, genius,” you shake your head, feigning disappointment. “It’s not like it’s Christmas this week or anything.”

“My bad, sorry.” Mark winces and rakes a hand through his bedhead, abashed.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

With that, you step into the hallway and offer a parting smile over your shoulder, shutting the front door behind you.

At least your being out of the apartment gives Mark time to wrap your gift. All he has to do is figure out how.

Johnny gets a familiar feeling when he sees you enter the pawn shop, fumbling with your things and reluctantly gazing at whatever’s in the tote you’re holding. Are you also about to make an exchange you could potentially regret?

“One second,” you excuse yourself as you step up to the counter, placing the heavy bag down and removing the large item from inside: your letter box, minus its contents. Of course you would never get rid of those, but despite the letters and notes being so special to you, the box they were always kept in is also a significant part of your attachment and the memories you hold dear.

With a thud you set it down, Johnny glancing between the hesitation on your face and the wooden container on the counter in front of him. “Let me guess, you want to exchange this for cash?”

“Yes, sir, that’s exactly what I—” You pause, biting your tongue. “Hold on… Look, I know this is a pawn shop and that’s what people do here, but how are you so sure?”

Johnny’s gut tells him he shouldn’t give away the fact that a boy wearing the very same expression and with the same sense of purpose and determination was in here just two days earlier. So he corrects his mistake with a simple “Lucky guess” and a hearty chuckle.

Without Johnny even asking, you tell him that you’re also looking for some extra cash in order to afford a gift for your “friend,” and you say the word with so much conviction and certainty that it’s almost laughable. The information given to Johnny helps him fully connect the dots in his mind, realizing that each of you are the one the other talked about.

Before handing you the money, Johnny tears off a sheet of paper from a nearby notepad and asks you to fill out your information, most importantly your address. He has to lie a bit, saying it’s for contact purposes, but his heart is in the right place nonetheless. Just in case something goes south (and the sinking feeling in his stomach tells him that it will somehow), doing so gives him an option, even if he doesn’t know what that option might be yet.

“Thank you, Johnny, and Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas!” He returns your wish cheerfully as you push the door open to leave.

“Good luck finding a gift for your ‘friend,’ too.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks when you see his teasing use of air quotes, but still smile.

On your way back to the apartment Mark texts you and asks you to check the mail, saying he forgot to do so yesterday. When you arrive in the lobby and make your way over to the cluster of mailboxes, you’re instantly shocked to find a large cardboard box shoved into the small cubby with your and Mark’s name on it. You’re already struggling to carry the guitar case you bought for him, so you decide to make a second trip later.

A few moments after stepping out of the elevator, you knock on the door to your apartment, hoping with all your might that Mark won’t actually open it and instead just answer with a “Come in” as he always does. Your wish is, thankfully, granted, but it’s quickly followed by “Wait, wait, wait!” As it happens, he just finished wrapping your gift and needs another minute or two to tuck it away somewhere until the big day arrives. “Can you stay out there until I say?”

“Sure,” you reply, “but I’m going to have to ask you to do the same.”

“How about I stay in my room while you come in and do… whatever you need to?”

“Sounds good.”

With his door closed, Mark hears the front one open and shut as you enter. Trying not to make any noise that would give away the size of the item you just bought, you finally settle for hiding the leather case underneath your bed, concealed by the drapery attached to its frame that hovers just above the floor.

Mark had hastily placed the now-wrapped (though not elegantly so) stationery set back into his dresser, so he’s already out of his room by the time you leave yours. “Any letters or packages?” He questions when he sees you.

“Oh, right!” You snap your fingers, “We do have a package but my hands were full, so I’ll bring it up right now.”

“Eggnog?”

While the box had looked fairly ordinary from the outside, upon opening it and glancing at the return address you learned it was actually anything but that. Mark’s and your parents had sent a holiday care package of sorts, including both of your families’ Christmas cards and a carton of eggnog, along with some small gifts that are meant to be saved for the morning of the 25th. Also mixed in are a few small decorations (not that you need more), some baking supplies complete with a copy of the recipe for the cookies you make every year, and a soft pair of mittens for each of you. He hopes you don’t realize that one of the items is a sprig of mistletoe.

“You don’t like eggnog?” You ask, stunned. Mark shrugs, “I don’t really care for milk but it’s the thought that counts, I guess.”

That evening you and Mark take another stroll, this time choosing to stay on the streets and admire the festively adorned buildings and shops as you pass by them. Admiring Christmas lights at this time of year is nothing new to you and Mark. In fact, when you lived in Canada you would do the same thing. The only difference is that back then, it involved driving through quiet suburban neighborhoods and not ambling through crowded city streets and alleyways on foot.

Snowflakes begin to cascade from the heavens as you make your way back around to the block where you live. Mark sticks his tongue out to catch one of the small crystals, and it immediately melts in his mouth, eliciting a high-pitched laugh from the boy. Snow is also something you both are more than used to by now, having grown up with white Christmases all your lives. It makes you wonder if the holiday season would be the same without it.

“You know what we should do?” Mark turns to you just as you’re about to enter the apartment building again. “Go ice skating at Rockefeller Center.”

“Mark, c’mon, you know stuff like that is overpriced. And besides, I can’t skate to save my life. Remember—”

“That time in sophomore year? You bet I do,” he laughs as he remembers how you clumsily fell not even two seconds after stepping onto the ice with your skates, and then refused to let go of the railing for the rest of the day. The elevator whirs to life, climbing floor after floor with ease.

“Hey,” you offer, “we can still go and watch people skate, I’m sure there’s some place to sit.”

“And we can look at the Christmas tree, too,” Mark adds, eyes brightening at the idea.

“Right. I forget you haven’t seen it in person before.” The cabin doors open with a ding and you step out, your eyes landing on the door to your apartment a few yards away.

When you turn on the TV, Mark becomes mesmerized by the movie that’s playing, since it takes place in NYC and he recognizes so many places from actually being there. He scrambles to remove his jacket and beanie, plopping down onto the couch once they’re safely hooked on the coat rack.

Watching him, you sigh. Would anything really change if you were dating? Assuming your feelings were returned, of course, but you can’t imagine that your relationship would differ much. You certainly wouldn’t go on extravagant dates, or buy expensive gifts for each other, but that’s not what love is about, anyway. With the exception of a few extra hugs and the addition of kisses, along with more forms of physical affection in general (actually, scratch that, Mark’s always been awkward with those kinds of things), you’d still be by each other’s side just like always.

As you sit down next to him and feel an arm wrap around your shoulder, you don’t shrug it off, instead embracing the warm and fuzzy feeling in your heart that you can’t blame on the holiday season this time.

Mark’s glad, too. He’s been working up the courage to do that all day.

Late that night, you quietly tiptoe into the living area, retrieving an old box from your move-in last year that will fit his gift perfectly, and won’t give away what’s inside. Your hands fold and tape the wrapping paper with care, tying a neat ribbon once you’re done. Sure, you had to give up something that meant a lot to you in order to afford Mark’s present, but the gains outweigh the losses. You find comfort in imagining the way his face will surely light up with pure joy on Christmas morning, drifting off to sleep with ease once you’ve hidden the rectangular parcel back underneath your bed.

A few days pass and soon it’s the 23rd, and you join Mark at the railing of the ice rink, of course on the side with solid ground. “Ice is solid ground,” Mark had corrected, but you stood firm in your words. “More like slippery ground, if you ask me.”

Luckily you had been allowed to stand here for free, because god only knows what small, simple thing someone would be charged for in New York. It’s happened to you before, and you’re not even a tourist.

Mark’s dark eyes gaze up at the 75-foot-tall tree in wonder, pupils dilating and reflecting the tens of thousands of bright lights strung through the dark green branches. They seem to sparkle with sheer amazement. Just then someone skates a little too close to the section of railing you’re leaning on, startling Mark out of his LED-induced daze and putting the most adorable look of surprise on his face.

His focus shifts to the people on the ice, wearing sweaters and jackets of every color imaginable, and the sight is still as beautiful as the looming Christmas tree above. He notices some couples, holding onto one another or skating hand-in-hand, and it makes him wonder if that could be you two someday, at a future Christmas, or if it’s an idea absurd enough for an alternate reality.

Mark sees you shiver out of the corner of his eye, and it’s his cue to suggest returning home for the evening. In a very cliché and boyfriend-esque gesture he offers you his jacket, but you decline, insisting that it’s not far and assuring him that you’ll be okay.

Back in your heated flat, you twist open the lid of the eggnog carton and pour a small glass for yourself. “Are you sure you don’t want some?” You call out to Mark from the kitchen, snatching one of the cookies you made the other day and finding a paper plate for the thin shortbread wafer, lined with elegant white icing and dusted with sprinkles.

“I already told you, I don’t like eggnog!”

“Have you even tried it before?” Mark grumbles at your nagging. You really sound like his mom right now.

“No…”

You appear at the other end of the couch, holding out a small cup with just a sip or two of eggnog in it. “Try it. You never know.”

He knows you won’t leave until you see him lift it to his lips for yourself, so he does. Immediately the sweet drink overwhelms his taste buds, and also leaves a slight sting on his tongue.

“What’s in this stuff?” He coughs, nose scrunching a bit from the strong taste. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t hate it. Following you back to the kitchen, Mark pours a full glass this time, already gulping it down.

“Uh,” you scan the ingredients on the back of the carton once he sets it down on the counter, “milk, cream, sugar, eggs…”

“...whiskey? What the hell?”

“It has alcohol,” Mark slurs, his giggling interrupted by a hiccup. Having never drank before, he’s undeniably a lightweight, and even a little bit can get him wasted almost instantly.

“Mom and Dad must have mixed something up, because they definitely didn’t mean to send us alcoholic eggnog.”

Sure enough, back home in Canada your parents are wondering why they only have the kid-friendly stuff in their fridge.

Mark latches on to you, arm curling lazily around your waist. Great, he’s one of those people that gets clingy when they’re drunk. “Try some,” he whines, nuzzling into your shoulder a little.

“Are you crazy?”

“No one will know,” he laughs, hiccuping again. Giving in to his adorably drunken pout, you take one sip from your original glass but no more, an unpleasant buzz taking over your whole mouth.

Not looking forward to finding a hangover cure on Christmas Eve of all days, you pray that you’ll stay sober enough to take care of the tipsy boy, who’s currently pressing his face into the back of your neck and—shit, did he just kiss you there? You really don’t need this right now.

“Mark, you’re drunk, okay? Stop it,” you caution.

“But I love you,” he murmurs, warm breath fanning your skin, and you want to kick yourself for almost saying it back. Does he even mean it, though? Alcohol makes people say crazy things, things they don’t mean, so you shouldn’t get your hopes up. You unhook his arm from your torso and turn around to push against his chest, frustrated. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He seems to have just remembered something, because he ignores you and instead goes over to where the care package was still sitting, digging into the bottom and pulling out something you hadn’t noticed before. “Look,” Mark declares in a nasal voice, “mistletoe.”

You exasperatedly hang your head, desperate to slam it into the nearest wall. With much difficulty, you eventually manage to get him tucked underneath the blanket, leaving a glass of water on his nightstand for when he wakes up. “Get some sleep,” you say simply.

He tells you goodnight with a fond mumble of your name as you shut the bedroom door behind you. Rubbing your eyes, you yawn before turning off the lights and heading to bed yourself, trying to block out the events that had just taken place.

Your head aches when you wake up the next morning, and you feel like garbage, so you can only imagine how much worse Mark must be doing. Quickly chugging a water bottle, you reluctantly go to knock on his door, hearing a pained groan once you enter. He’s sitting up, chin resting in one hand and the other anchored onto the heavy comforter covering his legs.

“How are you feeling?” The obvious question with an even more obvious answer makes Mark wince. “Awful.”

“Sorry.” It’s silent for a moment, Mark pressing three fingers to his throbbing forehead and you staring aimlessly at the wall. “I knew that eggnog was a bad idea.”

“You were the one that told me to try it!”

“I didn't know it had alcohol in it!”

You sigh, dejected. Something tells Mark that your head isn’t the only thing hurting.

“Hey, I know that look. What’s wrong?” He prods, voice soft and gentle and altogether unlike how it had been last night. You meet his eyes for a moment, about to speak but biting your lip at the last second. Mark’s brain puts two and two together at your expression.

“Oh god, did I say something? Do something?”

“Yeah, actually,” you reply in a huff. “First you kissed my neck, then you told me you loved me, and then you held up a clump of mistletoe and implied that we should kiss underneath it.”

His memories of the previous evening are all a blur, so he truly would have no idea what happened if you hadn’t just said something. Mark knows he screwed up, bad.

You tense when you feel him place his hand over yours, but you don’t snatch it away. After collecting his thoughts, Mark clears his throat.

“Look, I… I know that’s not the best way for you to find out how someone feels about you. But I’m completely sober, and I can tell you that I meant what I said last night.”

“You promise?”

“Promise,” Mark replies.

“...Can you say it again, then?”

He blushes, “That I…?”

You nod, the corners of your lips lifting into a small smile.

“I love you,” Mark tells you for the second time in the last 24 hours, but this time you know you can believe him. The pain of your hangover goes away for a moment as he takes your jaw in his hands and connects your lips, just barely retaining the buzz of the alcohol but not enough to bother you. Slowly you kiss him back, sinking down onto the mattress beside him.

Mark pulls away for air a few seconds later, thumb grazing your cheek lovingly. “Does this mean we’re—”

“Dating? If you want it to, then sure,” your finger traces swirly shapes on the small of his back while you assure him that neither of you need to rush into anything if you aren’t ready.

“I don’t want things to change, though.”

“Who said they have to? I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and we’re already pretty close, you know? Making it ‘official’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘different,’ so...”

Mark hums in agreement, “You’re right. Okay, I can live with that.”

“And I can’t live another second without food. I’m making breakfast,” you quip, reverting back to the usual banter between you and him.

“I’ll cook the eggs,” Mark insists as you both make your way out of his bedroom and into the kitchen.

“You absolutely will not!”

The night before Christmas had started out unlike any that you’d ever experienced before, with you confronting your now-boyfriend about a drunken love confession the previous day. But now, it’s ending just like every year, with you cozy and curled up in front of the television as the last few segments of the news play.

It’s the coldest Christmas Eve in years. You learned this after the meteorologist had informed viewers of the record only a few minutes earlier, inadvertently planting an idea in Mark’s mind.

Right as you’re about to turn in for the night, setting a plate of decorated cookies and a glass of milk down on the end table (as is tradition in your families, no matter how old you are), Mark holds out his arms like a child might. “Can we…?” He asks in a quiet voice, nervous to finish his sentence.

“Huh?”

The boy inhales sharply, “It’s freezing. Do you wanna sleep in my bed tonight?” His cheeks flush a deep red that’s almost the color of Christmas itself.

You’re slightly taken aback, and then you remember it’s just Mark. “Sure, why not,” you answer with a light shrug and a smile on your face.

“But no funny business,” you inform him as you climb under the sheets together, instantly happy with your choice to join him because double the people means double the body heat. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Mark replies, pecking your lips. His wrist finds the warm skin of your neck and you flinch away.

“Your hands are cold!” He just snickers at your whining.

The two of you fall asleep more quickly than you ever have on Christmas Eve, usually overcome with nerves and excitement, but now, as two college-aged kids, you’re comfortable and not rushing the morning’s arrival at all, content in each other’s arms for the moment.

You feel like you’re 10 years old again as you rush into the living room at 8am the next day, the bright, early morning sky lighting up your entire apartment. At the base of your Christmas tree sits a humble amount of presents, composed of the two that you bought for each other plus the half-dozen small ones from your parents.

You hand Mark one of the cookies from the end table and grab one for yourself, taking a bite of the sweet treat as you sit down and motioning for him to do the same.

“Open yours first,” you say eagerly, referring to your gift for him. Mark shakes his head and points to what he got you, “No, you go first.”

“Fine, we’ll open them at the same time.” Mark nods, satisfied with the compromise and handing you both the packages.

“On three. One, two…”

The final number barely leaves your lips before you both begin tearing into the paper excitedly, Mark reaching for the flaps on the box and you unfolding the tissue paper.

When you each see what the other gifted you with, it’s completely silent, save for the TV playing a Christmas Day special in the background.

He gazes blankly at you, licking his lips as his eyes dart between the guitar case and your expression.

“I appreciate the gift, but I…” Mark pauses, unsure how to tell you this.

You don’t say a word, raising your eyebrows as a signal for him to continue.

“I sold my guitar to pay for your gift,” he breathes.

“You what? Mark, that guitar means everything to you! Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re worth it, of course!”

“Well, I did the same thing,” you break the news with an unamused expression. “I sold my letter box to pay for that case.”

His eyes become impossibly wider at that, nearly bulging out of their sockets. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

You groan and lie down on the floor, beyond discouraged. “Let me guess, the pawn shop on 23rd?”

“Yep.”

“Hey, wait a minute.” An idea hits Mark like a rush of cold air. “Maybe we can work out a deal or something.”

“Meaning?”

“We go back and see if we can trade in our new gifts for enough money to get our old things back.”

“One, I doubt it’s that easy, and two, pretty much everything is closed on Christmas Day.” You’re half tempted to laugh because of how ironic this situation is.

Mark sighs, “I guess that makes sense.”

“We can still try, though.”

Sure enough, the pawn shop is dark, even more so than usual, and the door doesn’t budge. A sign taped to the window from the inside confirms your fear: Closed on Christmas. Gloved hands pressed onto the glass, you and Mark admit your defeat. You had been bested by the giving spirit of the holiday season, almost too generous for your own good.

But it’s the message that the day itself stands for after all, for putting aside material value and doing something out of the kindness of your heart just to make someone else happy. That’s what it’s all about, and you and Mark had personally experienced it this year.

So you’re surprised to find two boxes leaning on the wall beside the door to your apartment the next morning, shapes oddly familiar. Could it be?

Just hours earlier, the hallway surveillance cameras caught a tall man striding down the corridor, carrying those exact packages under his arms. In the video he pulls out a scrap of paper and a pen from his coat pocket, scribbling a short message before tucking it underneath the ribbon of the larger parcel and leaving the building just as quickly as he came.

You and Mark’s only clue as to who had returned your items is a messy ‘J’ at the end of the note attached to the box containing his guitar. Exchanging knowing glances, you both grin, squeezing your intertwined hands with the same name in mind.

...So what if Johnny had to take a bit of money out of his own paycheck to cover the cost of the items? Besides, it’s Christmas. And his boss never has to know.

[teawaffles]

There’s No Business Like Show Business: Chapter 4

As Maya staggered away, the other members of the company sat down where they were, as if their strings had been cut. The large man who had praised Maya previously now pounded his fists on the floor in anguish.

“Goddammit…… not again.”

“…… ‘Again’?”

As Bond gave him a puzzled look, the man tried to explain in detail.

“Actually, this kind of thing has been going on for a while. Like he said, we’re quite famous in Whitechapel, so nobles who’ve heard of our reputation come asking us to perform on a whim. But they always cancel at the last minute, giving some reason about us being poor.”

“That’s horrible……”

“I haven’t been with this company long, but it’s already happened two or three times while I’ve been here. So for Maya, who’s been here since it was established, she’s probably seen these promises broken countless more times. But every time this happens, she always clutches on to some glimmer of hope and tries to encourage everyone. For her, I think, she’s probably been pushing herself way too hard.”

Bond thought back to how she’d looked when they first met at this theatre. Her brave figure as she’d clung on to the few chances they were given surfaced in his mind, and his heart was lanced with pain.

A sense of helplessness seized hold of him.

“Sorry, but could you go see if she’s alright? She probably wants to be alone right now, but it seems she trusts you quite a bit too.”

Bond nodded, and headed for the dressing room.

It was a narrow space. Seated on a chair, sunk into despondency, was Maya.

“Miss Maya. Are you alright?”

He knew there was no way she was alright, even as he’d asked that, but Maya returned him a slight smile nevertheless. Even now, it seemed as though she was on the verge of collapse.

“I’m, alright. But I’m sorry that you’ve wasted your time with us, Mr Bond.”

“I don’t care about that. It’s you and your company who’s hurting right now, isn’t it?” he asked with concern.

She shook her head.

“It’s okay. Somehow, I had a feeling, about this.”

Her smile turned into a lonely self-mockery.

“We’ve been here so many times, I think I’ve finally learned something. This time, too, I thought I could just give it my all, but somewhere deep down it’s grown cold. There’s no point in hoping anymore. Nobles would never give people like us a chance anyway. I knew that already, yet I still drew you into this…… Honestly, I’ve just come to hate myself.”

Perhaps it was because she was revealing her true emotions, for she sounded just like when she’d stood on stage: her words betraying no hesitation, and piercing straight through his chest. Those vacant eyes finally led him to understand why she’d chosen those three fairytales to perform.

“The Red Shoes”, “The Little Mermaid”, and “The Little Match Girl” — the protagonists of all three stories had one thing in common: they each met a harsh fate from which they could not be saved.

Maya herself loved children’s literature, and possessed a kindness in wanting to make her stories understandable by everyone. But on the other hand, perhaps unconsciously, she held sympathy for stories of tragedy.

“Even that nobleman said so himself, at the end. That at least, it was a nice dream. ……I think so too. For people like us, we just have to be satisfied with dreams. Even if we play kings and queens on stage, once the show is over, we actors will just go back to being helpless commoners. The thought of us succeeding in this world, will forever be a pipe dream.”

“That’s—”

“—absolutely right. Because reality is cruel like that. We should take these fairytales, these tragedies, and use them as lessons. ‘The poor should live their lives as befits their station.’ ‘Just perform the role you have been given.’ These rules have never once changed for a very long time.”

“…………”

You just have to perform the role you’ve been given.

Not too long ago, similar words had passed his own lips. [1]

In response to that, Moran had taught him to think and act for himself. And by immediately putting that lesson into practice, he’d finally been accepted by Moran as a colleague.

However, that lesson did not apply here: even if they wanted to do so, Maya and her company were not even afforded the opportunity to show it.

Their dreams had been trampled upon by an absurd reality. Yet despite his anguish, he was also at his wit’s end.

“——Bond.”

Just as he’d grit his teeth at his own inadequacy, he heard a voice from behind him.

Turning around, he saw Moran standing in the doorway of the dressing room.

“Wanna go outside for some fresh air?”

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

“What a bind, huh. Even though he’d cancelled on them unreasonably, since he manages the entire venue, they can’t do anything about it.”

Moran summarised their plight as he and Bond stood outside the theatre. The sky above Whitechapel was blanketed in smog brought in by the prevailing westerly winds, blocking the sunlight that should have been shining onto the streets.

“What will you do now?” Moran asked, as he lighted a cigarette.

“I don’t know. I want the world to recognise their talent and sheer effort, though it’s not like there isn’t a way to do that……”

Moran caught on to the ‘way’ Bond had been considering.

“With the help of Albert and the others, we might just be able to set up one licensed theatre for them.”

“But it would be meaningless if we did so.”

Using unlawful methods, or simply brandishing authority to solve their problems would be nothing more than plain arrogance. That, would be no different from how the nobleman had conducted himself.

“In the end, they must prove their ability using their own strength. We could help them as individuals, but recklessly employing any higher power than that would not be in their interest.”

“Yeah, I’m with you on that.”

Maya and her company had to fight on with their innate power.

Moran blew out a thin trail of smoke.

“Well then, other than their acting chops, I wonder what else they can use to show what they can do,” he said in a low voice.

Bond put a hand to his chin as he pondered.

“What else…… Well, they do have the trust of the East End residents——”

Just as he said those words, he was struck by a flash of inspiration. He turned to Moran, half in surprise, and the corner of Moran’s mouth twitched upwards.

“Thought of a good plan?”

Bond dropped his gaze to the floor as he mulled over his idea once more.

“If anything, it’s a strange one. But I have a plan. ……Moran-kun, did you know that I’d come to this conclusion beforehand?”

Moran flashed him a wry smile.

“’Course not. I just thought, if it’s you, you’d be able to come up with something no one else can think of.”

“…………”

It had not been calculation, but trust. Trust that he would be able to break them out of their quandary.

Bond chuckled in astonishment. That’s right — what had he been fretting about all this while? It was in his very nature to abhor doing things conventionally. In that case, he should break out of the rigid box he’d been pacing within, and seek out a solution within a larger scheme.

He gazed at the heavens. The sun was still on the other side of the grey, but he could feel a single ray of light shining through.

“Thank you, Moran-kun.”

With a wink, Bond thanked him from the bottom of his heart.

“Don’t thank me, you’re the one who thought of this. But from the looks of it, it seems you’re gonna do something interesting.”

“You could say that. But I may need you and the rest to do me a favour.”

“Got it. We’ve come this far — use me as you wish.”

With their conversation at an end, Bond entered the theatre once more. Now, he had neither doubt nor hesitation: the fog within his heart had lifted.

He headed to the stage with sure steps. There, the company, with Maya included, was in the midst of packing up.

“Mr Bond, has something happened?”

He looked much more determined than he did just minutes ago. For a moment, Maya’s doubts overshadowed her despair.

Bond faced them all, speaking clearly and with conviction.

“If you’re willing—— I have a plan.”

Footnotes:

[1] See Chapter 24 of the manga (“The Adventure of the Four Servants”).