Reblog To Have Something Lgbt Happen To You This Summer

Pairing: Floyd x GN!Reader Genre: Fluff A/N: This is for @seajellyx for the Secret Santa Project held by @twstedsecretsanta. Happy Holidays, I hope you enjoy this small fluffy-fluff gift!

“Y/n.”

At the call of your name, the large gymnasium is filled with the sounds of gasps and mummering. You stare up at the podium with your face permanently set into a look of utter shock, because there’s no way that your name was just called.

Right?

The last thing you remember before spacing out was that the Christmas Royalties were about to be announced.

It’s apparently a tradition here at NRC: a celebration that’s a combination of what is a prom back on Earth and Valentine’s Day, where the popularly voted Christmas Royalties will have the chance to confess to their crush after being crowned — or challenge their rivals to a fight, for the less romantically inclined.

You always thought it was a ridiculous tradition. Especially when the chances of rejection and embarrassing yourself is ever present.

You’d given a thought before as to who you would confess to — though you’d hope you’d never have to. There is always a chance considering you are pretty well-known amongst the student body, courtesy of your friends’ overblot incidences and your magicless status.

And, as if the Sevens are playing a cruel joke on you, the student who had been called up to the podium first had been none other than your very own crush, Floyd Leech.

You’d met Floyd after your string of bad luck had you paired up with him as an Alchemy lab partner for the year.

At first, you thought he would be a difficult person to work with. The idea formed itself out of your preconceived notion that he is the louder and more uncontrollable of the Leech twins, thus he would never get any actual schoolwork done.

You had only witnessed him spending his free time messing with other students — your friends included — outside of class, after all.

But you were pleasantly surprised when Floyd took the initiative to reach out to you first with an offer to help, especially when the homework load got heavier as the year went by. His assistance, of course, was exchanged for a couple tight squeezes — and heavily dependent on his unpredictable mood.

Sometimes, Floyd could also be a bit flirty. He’d given you cheeky winks every now and then, or you would catch him staring at you in the middle of class with an unfamiliar glint in his heterochromic orbs.

Yet you thought nothing of it.

It was predictable of you to end up developing a crush on the man. It was a reality that your friends encouraged you to confess with the hidden hope that Floyd’s squeezes will only be reserved for you from then on.

But you’d also threaten that you’d transfer over to RSA if Floyd ever found out the truth.

But now? Flyod’s answer to “who would you like to call out to the stage?” was your name.

It was then that you began to wonder if all those times he’d been so cheeky in the middle of class was because he actually like-likes you?

“Is y/n here?” Riddle inquires into the mic again.

“That’s you. Haul ass, pal,” your friend Ace whispers as he elbows your side to bring you back to reality.

“Ugh… right,” you groan as you slowly stand up and make your way towards the stage.

Your body jerks in surprise when the overhead spotlight nearly blinds you, the bright light following your path exactly until you’re finally standing right beside Floyd.

“Well, this is quite the surprise,” you finally comment, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised at the taller man.

In typical Floyd fashion, the man reaches out and envelopes you in his arms. The squeeze he gives your body is much more gentle than normal. You manage to steal a glance at the man and return his wide smile with an amused one of your own.

“Shrimpyyyy,” Floyd coos before clearing his throat and speaking more clearly right by your ear, “sorry for doing this in such a public setting, but you wouldn’t pick up on any of the hints I’ve been giving you.”

“There isn’t much of a difference between the way you flirt and the way you treat your friends,” you chuckle, bending backwards slightly to properly look at Floyd’s face. From this close, you can see just how red his ears have gotten — and just how handsome he looks dressed so formally.

“You look marvelous, by the way. Not that you aren’t always,” Floyd compliments you as if he’d read your mind and wanted to beat you to the punch.

The cheesy words cause your cheeks to start burning up and earns more than an earful of aw’s from your briefly forgotten audience.

“Thank you, so do you— ugh,” you let out a short grunt when Floyd pulls you into another tight hug.

If anyone wanted to laugh at how silly you were making yourselves look, they didn’t. But if you weren’t busy trying not to suffocate in his arms, you’d have noticed how Floyd had thrown your audience a threatening look before they could even inhale.

“Thanks, Shrimpy,” Floyd finally takes a step back and squeezes your cheeks between his hands, tilting your head back so you’d meet his eyes. “How about a dance? I’m kind of tired of these people staring at us.”

Your lips curve up into a grateful smile as you nod, “sure.”

“I’m guessing you already know why you’re standing up here with me, but I do like you, Shrimpy. As more than a friend. I’d love to take you out on a date sometime soon.”

It’s as if those words unlocked a cage filled to the brim with butterflies. They flutter around in your stomach, leaving behind beautiful hues of reds, oranges, and yellows; warm colors that remind you of the beacon of sunshine that is Floyd Leech. You find it ironic, considering he’s from the sea.

You can’t hold back the grin that breaks into your face as you nod your head yes.

“Well, I’m glad you said something first because I like you too. Idiot,” you stubbornly admit with a playful roll of your eyes.

“That’s so cute! Congratulations!” Cater, who’d been standing and watching silently on the sidelines, suddenly yells.

With his lead, the rest of the student body begins to clap and the large gymnasium is filled with the sounds of cheers. Floyd tugs on your hand gently, and you allow him to guide you down the stage and straight to the dance floor. Large clusters of students come along, with most of them throwing confetti over your heads.

You’ve never seen them so lively outside of a good Spelldrive Tournament.

It takes a few minutes for the high energy to settle down, but finally everyone begins to break off into their respective pairs or small groups of friends.

Floyd wraps his arms around your waist, taking the opportunity provided by the slow melody playing to pull you close to him.

“Hi, Shrimpy,” Floyd beams, any signs and feelings of shyness already washed away.

“Hey,” you giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck and begin to sway together. “You sure know how to make a scene, huh?”

“I’m sorry, but you didn’t give me much of a choice. I thought I was being pretty obvious about it,” Floyd huffs, his lower lip jutting out into a pout.

“Well, I’m sorry too. For not noticing sooner,” you offer the man an apologetic smile.

Floyd hums for a moment before the mischievous glint is back in his eyes, “you can make it up to me somehow.”

“Didn’t I already agree to a date, sir?”

“But that’s different!” Floyd practically whines, and you’re surprised he’s not stomping his feet to match his tone.

You find him adorable, albeit a bit childish.

“I think I could get used to you being so cute,” you speak your thoughts aloud without meaning to. One of your hands moves to cover your mouth as you meet Floyd’s widened eyes. “I—I mean… what do you want?”

“How about…” Floyd pauses before his eyes travel up above your heads. You follow his gaze up to find multiple mistletoes dangling from the ceiling, “but only if you’re comfortable with it.”

Wordlessly, you place your arm back around Floyd’s neck and gently pull him closer to you. Your faces are mere centimeters apart, just a breath away from your lips touching.

“You know it’s bad luck to not kiss under a mistletoe, right? We shouldn’t risk it.”

“No, we shouldn’t,” Floyd mutters before he makes the first move to close the distance between you two.

Your eyes flutter shut right as your lips meet in a chaste and brief kiss. You couldn’t even hear the sound of your friends cheering from the top of their lungs over how hard your heart was beating.

“Floyd, don’t forget about us forever!” one of the Octavinelle residents in the crowd yells dramatically once the two of you finally pull apart.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave. I’m sorry,” Floyd rolls his eyes at his friend’s antics, but doesn’t let go of your hands despite his apology.

“I’ll see you tomorrow anyways, don’t look so sad to go!”

“You’re right, but I’ll still kick their ass for interrupting our moment.”

You laugh and nod slowly, “I can get behind that.”

“That’s my Shrimpy,” Floyd grins before planting a quick kiss onto your cheek. He finally lets go of your hands and takes a few steps backwards towards his waiting friends, “maybe I’ll come find you again for another dance?”

“I’d love that. I’ll be waiting.”

Hi first time reading your stories and I love them! thx for writing:)

Hi! Thank you so much, I’m glad you enjoyed them. 🥹🫶🏼

(via Twisted Wonderland Matchups! - Who would love you? | Jack Howl)

Pairing: Epel x GN!Reader Genre: Fluff

In this world, soulmates do exist.

No one knows when they will meet theirs or if they ever will, but chances of the latter is very unlikely.

See, the universe has a funny way of bringing two destined souls together; in this case, soulmates are brought together through music.

As a result, it isn’t strange for one, or two, or even a dozen people to suddenly start singing in the middle of the street. The more fortunate members of society are able to contain this urge, and you’re fortunately one of them.

But balance is a must.

So, while most soulmates will start singing the same song no matter where or how far apart they are, you have to deal with a song playing on repeat in your head for an undisclosed amount of time. It’s similar to how people say they have a catchy song stuck in their head, but you hear your soulmate’s voice singing to you instead.

Luck is truly on your side though, because you think that your soulmate has one of the loveliest voices that you’ve ever heard.

Or do you only think that because it’s your soulmate?

You wonder what they must be like. Definitely an interesting person based only on their music taste — which is completely random. They could be singing a tune that probably should belong in an opera and suddenly change to a song about baking a cake the next.

You never knew what to expect from them, least of all silence.

But that’s exactly what you got today.

If this wasn’t something out of the ordinary, you wouldn’t have been so worried. But you couldn’t help but think of all the things that could be wrong.

It’s for this reason that you’ve dragged your friends out to the nearest tea shop: to worry incessantly about someone you haven’t even met yet.

“No, I’m telling you that they have never not sung, Ace,” you groan while rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands. “What if they tripped on their way to work and cracked multiple teeth, or something?”

Ace looks up at you with utter unamusement on his face as he takes another sip of his bubble tea, “that’s pretty dramatic, y/n. Maybe they’re just busy.”

“I mean, isn’t it nice to have some peace and quiet? They’ll probably go back to singing by tonight,” Jack offers before you could say anything else. “It could be worse.”

“How’s that?” you sigh before occupying yourself by taking small sips of your matcha latte.

“Our friend from college has never heard his soulmate’s voice — well, not since he was little.”

“Are you serious?” you raise an eyebrow, feeling a bit skeptical about this information.

But you weren’t one to talk; you’d always opted to wait until the late hours of the night to sing. A small part of you reasoned that you only did so to not disturb your soulmate throughout the day. But the bigger part of you knows that you’re just afraid to embarrass yourself.

“Yeah, you can ask him yourself,” Jack nods before nudging his chin towards the space behind you.

“What?”

You turn around to see a young man at the cash register paying for his drink. You can only make out the top half of his face due to his face mask, but you can already tell that he’s attractive — with wavy lavender locks that perfectly frames his face and double-lidded eyes that curve slightly at the ends, as if he has a natural wing.

You’re not sure why you can’t take your eyes off of him. You’ve seen plenty of attractive men in your life, yet…

Jack clears his throat at the same time Ace pokes at your forearm, forcing you to divert your attention back to the two.

“What?” you ask again, your eyes shifting between your friends who keep exchanging knowing looks with one-another. “Why do you look like that?”

The pair don’t answer you and instead wave over the handsome stranger that’s caught your attention. He immediately makes his way over to your table and places his hands on the chair right next to yours.

“May I sit here?” he asks, his eyes curving into crescent moons as he smiles — though it’s not visible to anyone.

You look up and accidentally make eye contact with him; and that alone is enough to make a comforting warmth spread from your heart to the rest of your body.

Both of your eyes widen in surprise, though you don’t realize that the stranger is experiencing the same exact warm comfort as you.

But why?

Jack and Ace exchange another set of knowing looks before Ace pats the table loud enough to snap you both out of your trances.

“Oh, um… y—yeah, go ahead,” you manage to stammer out, your hands nervously tucking loose strands of hair behind your ears as you turn to sit upright again.

What is wrong with you all of the sudden?

“Thank you,” the man clears his throat and moves to situate himself onto the empty seat before extending a hand out towards you, “I’m Epel, by the way.”

“O—oh,” you hesitantly reach out to wrap your fingers around Epel’s hand in a handshake, your skin immediately tingles upon contact. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m y/n.”

“‘Y/n’? That’s very pretty,” Epel says as his eyes curve into crescent moons once more.

“Th—thank you,” you bow your head in hopes that the shadows will conceal the blush creeping up your cheeks.

“Epel, you have a pretty name too,” Ace comments in a playful tone as he pats the said man’s cheeks.

You shoot a glare at your friend, mentally cursing him for teasing you at such a time, but he only smiles innocently at you in response.

“Call me ‘pretty’ again and you’ll never see the daylight again,” Epel chuckles. “How are y’all?”

“We’re good. What’s with the mask?” Jack gestures towards Epel’s face, and he assumes that he must mean the face mask.

“I caught a cold — just my luck,” Epel sighs.

“Is Vil going to cut you some slack today then?”

Epel shakes his head, “nah… I just won’t be able to sing as much as I usually do. Which is why I’m saving my voice as much as I can.”

“What if they’re sick?!” you suddenly exclaim, prompting Epel to turn towards you with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Excuse me?”

“They’re talking about their soulmate again,” Ace whines before planting his face onto Jack’s shoulder.

“Oh? Why, what’s up? Did you finally meet them?”

“No…” you shake your head before giving your friends an apologetic look, “they’ve just stopped singing — and they always sing. So maybe they’re sick!”

“Sounds like me,” Epel says jokingly with a grin, but his laugh is cut short by the alarmed look on your face. “I—I’m kidding. I just meant that I sing all the time too for—well, really because Housewarden Vil asks me to.”

Watching the awkward exchange prompts Ace to hunch over and start coughing, but you can hear his hidden “smooth” in between the sharp sounds. You shoot your friend a glare before placing a hand on top of Epel’s — and it’s just a gesture of reassurance.

At least that’s what you try convincing yourself of.

“So,” you start, hoping to change the conversation’s topic for everyone’s sake, “is there any particular reason why you’re being made to focus on your singing skills?”

“Oh!” you can see the glimmers of happiness in Epel’s eyes as he begins to talk animatedly about his hobby. “It’s ‘cause of my family’s apple farm. Which, hear me out, ‘cause I know you’re prolly thinkin’ ‘how is that even related’? But…”

Then Epel begins to explain how his family business experienced a boom in business after this year’s SDC, and he saw this as motivation to work on strengthening his charms. After all, Harveston isn’t a well-known part of Twisted Wonderland; and if he works hard enough, he could help not only his family, but the other elders in the village as well.

“Then Vil had this great idea that we should start an NRC radio show. I like to call it the Epel Farm but Vil was not a fan of that. And, well— it’s more of a ‘daily podcast’ than it is a radio show. I do a lot of different things depending on my mood; sometimes I’ll give advice to my listeners or just play music — and sing, of course. I surprisingly like it a lot.”

“You seem to be very passionate about your family and apples. It’s wonderful that you’ve got such a strong source of motivation,” you can only offer a sheepish smile as your head is still spinning from the overload of information Epel just spilled onto you. “I haven’t gotten the chance to tune in yet, but your radio show sounds great.”

And the two of you continue your conversation just like that, completely forgetting that you have other friends sitting right across the table. Too enamored with one-another to even notice their amused stares.

Truth be told, Ace and Jack had a sneaking suspicion that they knew who your soulmate was for a while now. Epel’s too.

At first, it seemed like a coincidence. You’d whine about the fact that you couldn’t focus well when your soulmate keeps singing a song about washing the dishes. Then that same night, they would hear Epel singing a similar song in a pre-recording of Epel Farm.

When asked, Epel had told them that he rarely hears his soulmate’s voice unless he stayed up late enough. He’d wake up with swollen eyes the morning after and was surely scolded by Vil, but he always thought that it was worth it.

They connected the distant grey dots when you told them you try not to sing until nightfall in fear of disturbing your soulmate’s day.

The coincidences continued to pile on from there, and Ace finally convinced Epel to meet you for confirmation.

Except he left out the part where you were going to be here today.

But Epel is smart and he catches on very quickly. It also helps that your friends were not very subtle with the way they were gawking at you two as you conversed.

You must be someone special. He could tell from the moment you made eye contact earlier.

Whereas your parents never told you the feeling of meeting your soulmate — not to mention your friends haven’t experienced such things either — Epel was more blessed.

He’s been excited to meet you since the moment his parents recounted the day that they met. The feeling of comfort and warmth, like basking under the hot summer sun or wrapping yourself up in your favorite blanket on a snowy day.

The same exact feeling he had when he first saw you.

But he’s not one to jump to conclusions. He needed solid evidence, and there’s only one way he knows how to collect it. Subtly.

“Do you want to come back to Pomefiore with me then? I’m about to head down, and it’ll give you a chance to finally listen in,” Epel offers, holding his breath as he waits for your answer.

You hum in thought, glancing over at your friends for their confirmation before nodding, “sure, I would love to.”

“Perfect, I’ll go grab my drink and we can go.”

Underneath the face mask, Epel is absolutely beaming in delight but he tries his best not to jump for joy right away. Instead, he counts to ten in his head to calm his nerves before he gets up from his seat, “oh— Ace and Jack, you guys can come too. Just don’t break anything this time.”

“Wh— it was totally Jack’s fault for scaring me!” Ace tries to defend himself but the shorter man is already out of earshot. He sighs, lips jutting out into a pout as he crosses his arms and slumps back down his seat.

“Your soulmate sucks, y/n,” Ace grumbles due to his hurt pride, the weight of his words not registering until he notices the way you stare at him with raised eyebrows.

“Who’s my soulmate?” you snort and lean forward to gently smack Ace’s hand. “Don’t joke around like that!”

“S—sorry,” Ace scratches the back of his head, the toothy smile he offers you filled with awkwardness.

Were you always this naive, or pretending to ignore the fact that he just slipped up?

His eyes shift up to look at something behind you and he breathes a sigh of relief before jumping out of his seat, “Epel! Great! Let’s get going before you’re late!”

“Uh— Okay, okay,” Epel holds his hands up in defeat as he allows Ace to usher him out of the tea shop.

You and Jack follow not too far behind, with you clinging onto your friend’s arm for warmth and protection against the chilly autumn breeze.

Thankfully — and surprisingly — the walk back to the Pomefiore dorm was only about one mile, tops. It was still a half an hour walk, but you can’t complain in the presence of good company. Plus, it probably would be a few days’ walk if you didn’t have a mirror to transport you to anywhere you want to go.

“Here we are,” Epel announces, his voice quieter and a softer tone than it had been at the tea shop. He stops walking right outside a door to a room marked with a medium-sized apple sign. “Please come in.”

Epel hurries to hold the door open for you, and you can’t hold back the giggle that bubbles up your throat as you walk past him.

How adorable, you think to yourself.

You absolutely adored the way that he so enthusiastically talked about his radio show earlier, and you can see now that he truly treats this place like his second home.

True to its name, the interior of the room is decorated with shades of green and various apple drawings randomly placed on the wall. Just like an apple orchard.

The environment is bright and warm, and if Epel was a room this is what you imagine he would look like. Is that strange?

“Okay, follow me. You guys can sit right outside of the broadcasting booth, and we’ll be able to see each other,” Epel gestures for your trio to follow him deeper into the room.

His face mask is pulled down now, exposing the lower half of his face, and you can’t help but to steal glances at him every few seconds. You had the gut feeling that he would be attractive, but nothing could prepare you for how pretty the man truly was.

Lost in thought — well, more like Epel’s face — you don’t notice that your friends have stopped walking and you face plant directly into Jack’s shoulder, causing you to stumble back ungracefully.

“Are you okay?” he looks back in concern.

“Uh, yes,” you affirm, a hand rubbing at your sore forehead.

“Be careful,” Epel comments before reaching out and taking a hold of your hand. He gently pries it off your forehead and leans forward to study the blanket of red on your skin. “It doesn’t look bad, but if it still hurts and you want to ice it, please let me know.”

“Okay, t—thank you,” you whisper.

From the close proximity, you have the opportunity to see his features more clearly — from his piercing light blue orbs to his adorable plump cheeks down to his rosy lips.

You’re not sure why you couldn’t stop staring at him, or why the same warmth as before is spreading through your body again. But the feeling is very much welcomed.

Unbeknownst to you, Epel feels the same way.

The sound of someone clearing their throat pops the momentary bubble you were encased in, causing the two of you to take a step away from one-another.

“Epel. We need to go check the sounds now,” a very familiar man stands off to the side, his face seeming as if he’d showed up someplace he wasn’t supposed to.

“Thank you, Housewarden Vil. I’ll be right there.”

“Alright. And Jack. Ace. Y/n. It’s a pleasure to see you all again,” Vil greets you all politely before he turns on his heels and hurries back inside what you presume is the broadcasting booth.

“Have a seat. You should be able to hear the broadcast through the speaker here,” Epel gestures towards a seemingly misplaced large speaker just outside of the broadcasting booth. When he turns back to you, he flashes a bright smile that has your heart suddenly skipping a beat. “I hope you’ll like it.”

With that, you both part ways. Epel walks to the broadcast booth while you walk over to where your friends have retreated minutes earlier.

“I feel strange,” you confess after situating yourself in a seat facing the glass door to the booth.

Jack and Ace exchange looks for what seems like the hundredth time that day before Jack says, “a good strange? Or did you already catch Epel’s cold?”

“I don’t know, but… I feel so warm and fuzzy. So I guess that’s good? I—” your sentence is cut off by a familiar voice in your head, and you let out a short sound of relief.

Your friends give you looks of confusion mixed with worry, mostly because your mood suddenly changed and they can’t tell if you’ve suddenly lost your mind. But you shake your head and whisper, “my soulmate is singing again!”

Jack eyes flicker briefly towards Epel, who seems to be speaking into a mic, before coming back to you, “what’s he singing?”

“Actually, it’s not a made-up song for chores this time,” you hum along to the lyrics in your head, your brain working to figure out what song is playing before it clicks. “Ah! It’s ‘Piece of My World’.”

Jack nods as he hops off his seat and makes his way to the speaker Epel pointed out earlier. His fingers fumble with the controls before you suddenly hear the same song blasting through them as the one in your head.

“How?” you ask, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you stare at the speaker. “That’s such a weird coincidence.”

Surely this was just a coincidence, right? But the more you listen, the farther away the voice in your head gets, the voice coming from the speaker replacing it instead.

The same voice that you’ve heard every day for as long as you can remember.

Your soulmate’s voice.

You stand up, hesitantly inching closer to the speaker, where Jack is giving you an apologetic look. How long had he known?

A million thoughts were running through your mind per second, faster than your heart is racing at the moment.

But when you’re a few feet away from the glass door, it suddenly makes sense to you. The way you felt so comfortable around him, how easily attracted you were to him, and why your friends had insisted you meet him all those times before.

Somehow they always knew, but now you know too.

Feeling eyes on him, Epel looks towards the door and makes eye contact with you. His mouth falls open to a small “o” when he sees the look of utter astonishment on your face.

Did you figure it out? Was he right?

Your lips moved, though he couldn’t hear what you were saying through the soundproof walls. That didn’t matter, however, because suddenly a voice greets his mind. One that he hasn’t heard sing to him when the sun is still up in years.

“You’re my soulmate.”

FUN FACT: I found your writings through google and been reading it from there. Haven’t used tumblr since 2017 LOL. So I just made a blog to chat with you.☺️ - Cotton Candy

PS. We need a cotton candy emoji. :[

Really? Oh, my gosh, what did you look up? 😆 I’m honoured, please feel free to message me whenever. I’ll try to get back to you quickly. 🥺🫶🏼

I know, right? I could’ve sworn there was one but maybe I was imagining it. 😵‍💫

I hope every writer who sees this writes LOADS the next few months. Like freetime opens up, no writers block, the ability to focus, etc etc you're able to write loads & make lots of progress <3

Which TWST Character Are You?

This is not a fic exactly, but... I made a quiz! It's 50 questions, so it's pretty long too!

If anyone is interested in taking it, I'd love to hear what result you all received and if you agree with it or not? I'm thinking I might have to revamp this quiz a little because I'm not so sure I agree with the result I got, personally. Then again, I tried to make it accurate, so mayhaps I am just in denial.

Here is the link for anyone interested! Much love, always ♡

(P.S. - I also considered making a 'TWST soulmate' quiz--I'd love to hear thoughts on that too! Thanks ♡)

gladiator lilia.. JUST A DASH OF ANGST?? I FELT MY HEART CRUMBLE AND BREAK TO AOTA NOOOOOOOO LILIAAAA DEUCEEE

it doesnt help that ive studied the destruction of pompeii for years 😭😭😭 - eve

AAAAAAAA I initially was going to make it open-ended but decided to torture myself instead. ;_;

That’s so cool though! It was definitely an interesting event to research, so I hope I did it an ounce of justice!

THE GANG'S ALL HERE

Pairing: Jamil x GN!Reader Genre: Fantasy, Fluff A/N: This fic is set in modern-day Japan where the NRC boys are magicless and you are the magical being. :^) I'm also today years-old when I realized I really put Ace as a side character for all of my fics.

Growing up, Jamil used to wish upon a star.

That star was always the brightest one in the night sky, yet it never seemed to stay up there for very long. But Jamil never minded that because to him, it was like that star disappeared to work on his wishes every time.

After some time, as Jamil grew older and became more preoccupied with the challenges life provided him, he stopped making wishes.

Long forgotten was the brightest star in the sky — though it continued to sparkle, watching over Jamil every night as if it was a sort of guardian angel.

He didn’t even notice that the star never left the sky anymore after he’d stopped making wishes.

That is, until one day, Jamil finally remembered the star.

It’s just past sunset on a Thursday evening when Jamil’s friend Ace comes strutting into his shared dorm room. He’s twirling a set of keys in his index finger while the other hand is shoved inside the pocket of his denim pants.

“Hey,” Ace greets as he leans against the wall next to Jamil’s desk. “Are you busy tonight?”

Jamil hums in response without taking his eyes off his laptop. He remains silent while his fingers are busy rapidly typing the last sentences to his history paper.

“Okay,” Jamil breathes out as he finally shuts off his laptop with a sharp click. He briefly rubs circles on his temple before glancing over at Ace. “What were you saying?”

“Are you free tonight? Deuce wants us to accompany him tonight for a project for his planet-something class,” Ace waves his hand dismissively in the air, the keys in his hand jingling along with the motion.

“We’re architecture majors. Why would he ask us for help?” Jamil asks as his face twists into a mixture of confusion and disgust.

“No, not help— unless he really wants to fail his class. He has to go look at some constellations or something, and he doesn’t want to do it alone. So can you come or not?”

Jamil chews on his lower lip as he thinks. He’d just finished the last assignment that’s due this week and he’s got no other plans for the weekend besides to catch up on sleep.

“Fine, I’m in,” Jamil rolls his eyes before getting up and trailing behind a much-too-giddy Ace.

He follows the male out of the dormitory to where his car is parked. In the backseat is seated a napping Deuce whose head is resting on Lilia’s shoulder. Meanwhile, Lilia is busy playing a game on his phone, and Jamil has to wonder how Deuce’s able to sleep when Lilia’s arms are shaking at 50 kilometers per hour.

“Sevens, Lilia. Could you be any more aggressive?” Ace asks once he’s situated in the driver’s seat.

“Sorry,” Lilia grins without a hint of guilt on his face. “Hey, Jamil.”

“Hey,” Jamil nods towards the older male after securing his seatbelt across his chest. “So… where are we going, exactly?”

“Shizuoka prefecture. It’s going to be quite the drive, so feel free to take a nap if you need it. I’m loaded on Red Bull too,” Ace enters the coordinates into his GPS before propping his phone up on a car phone mount.

Accompanying the monotone voice of the GPS is a playlist filled with piano covers of Studio Ghibli movies’ soundtracks.

It doesn’t take long for the gentle melodies to lull Jamil to sleep. His head gently and rhythmically taps against the cold surface of the car window as Ace cruises past the few hours’ drive to Gekko Observatory.

It feels like only a handful of minutes have passed by when Jamil is shaken awake by Ace. He groans as he stretches his arms out from his sides, his eyes blinking rapidly until his vision finally adjusts to the dark surroundings.

“We’re here?” Jamil asks, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

“Yes, we’re here. You wouldn’t wake up earlier, so I gave you an extra ten minutes,” Ace steps back and closes the car door once Jamil finally stumbles out of his seat. “Come on. Let’s go before I forget where Deuce dragged us off to.”

Jamil follows Ace as he makes his way past the main observatory buildings. They walk away from the well lit areas towards a much darker space, somewhere that allows them to see the stars in the night sky that much better.

They slowly approach a relatively large red tent set up in the middle of a grassy field. Beside it lay a still-gaming Lilia and Deuce setting up his telescope.

“Is this allowed?” Jamil asks as he plops down onto the grass next to Lilia.

“Yeah! As long as we don’t disturb the youth camp, I’m sure there’s no problem,” Deuce briefly nudges his head to the left before turning his attention back to his telescope.

Everyone sits in silence for a few minutes. For the small group of four, the silence is uncommon but it isn’t uncomfortable.

It gives them the chance to take in the fresh air and peaceful atmosphere that’s a stark contrast to life at university.

Jamil could hear crickets chirping, and it’s accompanied by the distant sound of children’s yells and laughter. The mental image of their carefree spirit brings a smile to his face without him even realizing it.

“So… what is it that you’re looking for, Deuce?” Lilia’s question cuts through the quietness first.

“Stars, Lilia. I’m looking for stars,” Deuce chuckles as he peers through the eyepiece of the telescope.

Jamil lays down onto the grass, his ears completely blocking out Lilia’s onslaught of questions for Deuce and his eyes trained on the dark night sky.

And there it was: a familiar bright twinkle in the sky.

Out of all the stars that he could see — and yes, there were many — that one shines the brightest of them all.

Then Jamil remembers that particular habit he had of wishing upon a star when he was younger. It’s been such a long time that he’d almost forgotten all about it.

But he feels certain that that star is the same star from his childhood.

A small smile plays on Jamil’s lips as he thinks back to all the wishes he’s made in the past. Most of them were silly, he was only a child after all.

His very first wish was for a plate of sushi in the middle of the night when he was only 7 years-old. It was on a night when he couldn’t fall asleep and decided to find his father who was still working in his home office.

“Dad?” Jamil whispers as he carefully opens the door and peeks into the dimly lit room.

Jamil’s father glances up from the pile of paperwork he’d been sorting through and smiles softly when he sees Jamil standing awkwardly at the entrance of his office, “hey, how long have you been standing there for? Come in, son.”

“I’m sorry… I couldn’t sleep,” Jamil scratches at the nape of his neck, a nervous habit he’d picked up on recently.

“That’s alright, I was just about done here anyways,” his father shakes his head and closes a thick manila folder shut. “How about we go out back? Maybe it’ll help you clear your head.”

“‘Clear my head’?” Jamil echoes, the curiosity clearly etched onto his face.

“Yes. Sometimes when I can’t sleep, it’s because I’m thinking too much about something. So we have to do something to help fix that,” Jamil’s father gets up from his seat and holds a hand out towards Jamil.

“Okay, what are we doing?” Jamil places his hand in his father’s much larger one and follows the man out of his home office.

They walk towards the back of the house, towards the French doors that open up to a generously spacious backyard.

Jamil and his father take a seat on one of the benches there, and for a moment, no one says anything.

But, unlike how he is today, 7 year-old Jamil cannot sit still — at least, not in silence — for very long. Not even when there’s an ensemble of crickets surrounding him.

“Dad?” Jamil pokes at his father’s shoulder, “what are we doing out here?”

“Well…” his father sighs before gazing up at the night sky. Jamil’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion before he followed his father’s gaze. “We’re stargazing.”

“Why?” the question comes out sounding a bit meaner than Jamil intended it to. He shakes his head quickly, as if to dismiss the question. “I—I’m sorry, I mean…”

His father chuckles before placing a hand on Jamil’s shoulder, “it’s okay, I understand what you meant. Have you heard about making wishes on stars?”

“Like that one song? From Cinderella?” he tries to say it rather nonchalantly, but due to his younger sister’s recent obsession with Disney princesses and their movies, Jamil begrudgingly has the song lyrics memorized at this point.

“Just like that,” his father chuckles again, his eyes sparkling in amusement as if he could read Jamil’s thoughts. “Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I’ll just sit out here and look at the stars. It’s very relaxing to me. And sometimes, maybe on the days when I feel too stressed out about something, I’ll make a wish on one.”

“Why are you stressed out, dad?” Jamil inquires with a prominent frown to his face.

“Because… of adult things that you don’t have to worry about for now.”

“Oh… but can I still make a wish anyways?”

“Of course, you can. Just pick a star and think about your wish. You can’t say it out loud or it won’t come true,” his father ruffles his hair and gives him a kind smile before returning his attention back to the sky.

Jamil also looks up at the sky where a bright star immediately catches his attention. Perhaps it was because he didn’t take the time to look elsewhere, but he could have sworn that one was the brightest of them all.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted to wish for. Heck, he wasn’t even sure he believed in wishing on a star.

But there’s a first for everything, right?

So, with his dark orbs fixed on that bright star and his stomach inaudibly grumbling, Jamil wishes for the first thing that comes to mind: sushi.

He didn’t say it out loud and there weren't any special occasions coming up that would warrant it — but when Jamil woke up the next morning, he found a wide assortment of sushi rolls laid out on the kitchen table.

He thought that there was no way it could have been a coincidence, that the star must have heard him and granted him his wish. That moment made him a believer, and he began to make wishes more frequently.

“Deuce, what’s the name of that star? That really bright one,” Jamil asks without thinking, the question interrupting the conversation his friends had been having.

“Which one?” Deuce looks towards the sky, trying to pinpoint exactly where Jamil’s index finger was gesturing towards. “I think you may be looking at Arcturus. It’s the brightest star in the Boötes constellation.”

“So that’s its name,” Jamil mumbles to himself.

“What was that?” Deuce asks with his head tilted slightly.

“No, it’s nothing. Thank you,” Jamil shakes his head dismissively.

His silence after that is enough of a signal to his friends that he was done with the brief conversation. If he tries to explain his attachment to the star, would his friends think that he was being silly?

He thinks even Deuce, the one who is absolutely in love with them, would think that it was weird.

So, Jamil keeps the star as a secret to himself.

Perhaps he isn’t afraid of his friends thinking of him as foolish. No, perhaps it is merely a part of his selfishness that if the star could truly grant wishes, he wanted to keep that ability all to himself.

That brings him to a wish that suddenly blossoms inside his heart. He’s not sure when the seed was planted there, but a sudden thought occurs to him.

If the star could really hear me now, I wish I could meet them and say ‘thank you’ to them.

Jamil has to fight the sudden urge to slap himself because of how silly he finds the thought. Where did it even come from?

The lack of sleep and feelings of nostalgia must be causing him to think irrationally.

He finally sits up and scoots himself closer to the small circle his friends have formed around Deuce’s telescope.

“Do you want to take a look?” Deuce asks when he notices the thoughtful look on Jamil’s face. His body is slightly turned towards him as he nudges his telescope’s eyepiece aside. “At the stars, I mean.”

“Can I?”

“Sure. If it was Lilia, I’d think twice.”

“Hey! I’m not the one that spilled spaghetti on Ace’s laptop!” Lilia protests loudly which causes the other three men to shush him before they receive a complaint. He grimaces before lowering his voice, “sorry, sorry.”

“I only spilled it because someone decided it was the perfect time to body slam me in the cafeteria,” Jamil jokingly bites back before getting up and making his way towards Deuce.

“Arcturus, right? I adjusted the telescope so if you look, you can see it even more closely,” Deuce takes a seat on a short bench besides the telescope, watching as Jamil closes one eye and peers through the eyepiece with the other.

“Whoa,” Jamil says in awe under his breath once his eyes have adjusted to the new way of seeing the night sky, “it’s even prettier through a telescope. I can see why you enjoy this so much.”

“It’s never too late to change your major if you want to join the dark side,” Deuce chuckles as his head tilts back to look at the sky as well.

“In your dreams,” Jamil mumbles with a grin on his face when he finally leans away from the telescope. “Plus, Ace would literally bury me ten feet under if I left him in the program by himself.”

“I heard that,” Ace calls out before chucking a handful of grass towards Jamil’s head that falls down almost as quickly as it was sent up.

Deuce laughs again and sends Ace an apologetic look, “don’t worry, your best friend is safe and sound in the architecture department with you.”

Ace immediately makes a gagging sound at the mention of “best friend” before turning his attention back to the game he and Lilia were busy playing.

“Well, I’m just about done here. Maybe another hour and we can start heading back,” Deuce announces. “And… thanks for coming out here with me tonight, guys.”

The news is met with an unanimous “okay” from the rest of the group. Jamil moves away from the telescope so Deuce could take his place and continue whatever project he’d been working on prior.

“Huh, that’s weird. Arcturus is gone,” Deuce says aloud, mostly to himself, but the words capture Jamil’s attention.

Jamil’s gaze trails up to where he’d been captivated by the bright star mere moments ago, only to find that it was truly gone.

Just like before. How strange…

❥

The following Monday, there’s someone Jamil has never seen before sitting at the seat next to his usual one in one of his classes. He makes eye contact with them almost immediately after walking into the room and thinks they definitely must be a new student.

There’s no way I’d forget such an attractive face like that.

Someone behind Jamil clears their throat, signaling for him to move, because he’s blocking the flow of traffic by standing right in the middle of the doorway.

“Oh, sorry,” Jamil mumbles and bows his head apologetically.

He makes his way towards his seat with his eyes glued to his shoes, all of his usual confidence slowly leaking out. He’s not sure why the unknown person beside him is making him feel so nervous, and he’s not quite sure how to deal with it.

Lucky for Jamil, he doesn’t have to make the first move today.

“Um… excuse me?”

Jamil feels a poke on his upper arm. It makes him look up and make eye contact with you once again.

“Yes?” Jamil answers, his voice barely above a whisper.

You laugh lightheartedly and lower your voice’s volume to match his, “Jamil Viper, right? I’m Arcturus, but you can call me y/n.”

Jamil blinks rapidly while his mouth continuously opens and closes. He’s clearly caught off guard by the mention of the bright star, but you seem completely unphased by his reaction.

“You’re pranking me, right? Did Ace tell you to say that?”

“Who— ah, your friend with the heart marking? No, he didn’t.”

“Then Deuce did?”

“Not him either. This isn’t a prank, Jamil. I’m really Arcturus,” you state firmly.

The man narrows his eyes suspiciously at you, “prove it.”

“Hm… let’s see,” you tap your chin as you mentally sort through the many wishes Jamil has made as a child. “Ah! When you were 10 years-old, you wished for a pet tyrannosaurus rex after watching the Jurassic Park movies.”

“That’s a lucky guess.”

“Fine. Wouldn’t it be better if you made a wish now and I grant it? You can’t tell me I just got lucky then.”

“Are you tricking me into making a wish? Are you sure you’re not just a sneaky little genie?” Jamil asks playfully.

“I can see why you’d think that I’m a genie, but as you can see: there’s no magic lamps involved here,” you state with a bright smile, one that doesn’t do justice to how brightly you shine in the sky. “And I wouldn’t trick you like they would either. Just tell me your wishes as they come to your heart, and I’ll make them come true. That’s what I’ve always done, right?”

Jamil wasn’t expecting for you to answer so genuinely. They were just rhetorical questions he asked without thinking, but he could tell that you were being truthful.

Still, a big part of him is suspicious.

In what world would a star become a human? And out of all the things they could do, why would they come and find him?

The other, smaller part of him wants to believe you. So he plays along and decides to humor you.

“Just like that?” Jamil asks with an eyebrow cocked up apprehensively.

“Well, you know, there are rules. But yes: just like that.”

“Okay… and what are the rules?”

“They’re exactly what you’d think they’d be: nothing illegal, nothing that can harm others— which, uh, I guess ties into the first rule.”

“And how many do I get?”

“Three.”

“Ahah, so you admit that you’re a genie.”

“Not a genie,” you giggle before tapping the tip of Jamil’s nose gently. “So, what would you like to wish for first?”

“That’s a very important decision, Arct—”

“Y/n,” you quickly interrupt the man to correct him.

“Y/n,” Jamil articulates with a raise of his eyebrows and a nod, “you’ll have to give me some time to think. I’m not even sure what I want to wish for yet.”

“Boo!” you whine, leaning over the long desk with your arms stretched out in front of you. “Well, if I have to wait then it shouldn’t be in the middle of a boring history lecture.”

As if on cue, the screen of Jamil’s phone lights up to indicate that he has a missed notification. He narrows his eyes at you one last time before unlocking his phone.

“Huh,” Jamil makes a sound that's mixed with surprise and confusion when he reads a new email on his phone. “My professor has never canceled class before. Did you… did you do this?”

You shrug when Jamil points his phone at you accusingly. But you’re pleased to see that he seems to believe you a bit more now.

There’s loud shuffling noises coming from all around you as students busy themselves by cheering for their canceled lecture and packing up their untouched laptops.

“So?” you ask, an expectant look on your face.

Jamil bites on his lower lip and taps the cap of a pen on the desk rhythmically. He stares off into space, seemingly deep in thought, and you wait patiently for him to sort through his predictably long lists of possibilities.

“Would it…” you start, poking at Jamil’s forearm to make him look at you. “Would it help if I mention that you can still make wishes even after the three?”

“What do you mean?” Jamil tilts his head, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“I mean, I only came down here because hanging out in the sky all night long is so boring. You try doing it for a countless amount of centuries, then trust me — you’ll understand,” you wave your hands dismissively. “Anyways, that’s besides the point. The point is: you had unlimited wishes when you were a child, and you’ll still have unlimited wishes after I finish granting the three here.”

Jamil nods in understanding before abruptly standing up and slinging a backpack strap over his shoulder, “you should’ve led with that, y/n.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to speaking to humans directly,” you say before your eyes shift between Jamil’s face and the hand he’s holding out towards you. “What?”

“I think I might know what my first wish is, so come on,” Jamil inches his hand closer to you, a signal for you to place yours in his.

You comply, allowing the man to pull you out of the empty classroom and towards an unknown location.

It’s a sunny day, a perfect day for an afternoon stroll. And despite it being the middle of the fall semester, there’s more than a handful of students frolicking in the spacious college yard instead of studying.

The sight of them being so happy and carefree brings a smile to your face. It’s rare for you to see humans during the day time — and even more rare for you to see them not stressed out by something when you do get the chance.

Really, most of the time the bright sun rays block the sight of earth from you. It restricts you to only observing them during the nighttime, when most of the population is already asleep.

Soon, the large crowds of students become much more sparse until only a few of them are left hanging around.

“Um, Jamil? Where are we going exactly?” you chime up.

It takes a few more minutes of walking before Jamil finally stops, and your shoulder accidentally bumps into his back from your lack of attention.

“Here,” Jamil turns around to face you, his ears completely blocking out your murmured apology.

You lean over to the side to peek behind Jamil only to straighten up and raise an eyebrow at the man a second after, “and what are we doing standing by this long stretch of pavement?”

“We’re here for my first wish: I wish to learn how to roller skate.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“That’s… a very tame wish,” you state plainly.

You take Jamil’s backpack off his shoulder before squatting down and unzipping it. Your hand digs into the textbook filled space and pulls out a pair of roller skates.

Jamil’s eyes practically bulge out in shock when he sees them, because there’s no way something like that could have fit inside his small backpack.

“But as you wish,” you grin as you hold the roller skates up towards Jamil.

“Whoa, how’d you do that?” Jamil gasps as he takes them from you.

“Do you believe me now?” you counter, crossing your arms and watching as Jamil hurries to replace his tennis shoes.

“I’m ninety-nine percent convinced. Just depends on how quickly I learn how to roller skate now.”

“You know that I’m not a miracle worker, right?” you stand up quickly, your arms reaching out just in time to catch Jamil as he slips forward.

When the man turns his head, your faces are so close to one-another that the tips of your noses touch.

“S—sorry. Tha—thank you,” Jamil manages to stammer out, his ears immediately turning a bright shade of red from embarrassment as he straightens up.

You’re undeterred from the close proximity, human feelings of embarrassment or shyness not a part of your vocabulary. So you giggle and merely find Jamil’s reaction dramatic and adorable.

“Don’t be so jumpy. How am I supposed to teach you if you don’t let me get close enough to do so?” you stand behind Jamil’s wobbly frame, your hands placed on either side of his waist to steady him.

“Well, I thought you’d snap your fingers and I’d just magically know,” Jamil mumbles.

“I could, but that’s no fun, Jamil. And I came here to have fun.”

“I thought you came here to grant my wishes.”

“Oh, that too,” you nod, though the carefree tone of your voice does nothing to convince Jamil of your intentions. “Now, we’ll start off by teaching you the correct posture. The most important thing here is balance, so I’ll have to let you go now.”

“Perfect,” Jamil’s body stiffens once he feels your warmth leave his body.

The chilly autumn air does nothing to help him from missing your earlier proximity. But the more you try to coach him through the basics of roller skating, the warmer his body gets.

To anyone on the outside looking in, it may seem that Jamil is a natural at the sport. But, as fast a learner Jamil is regularly, there is no way he’s able to pick up on things as quickly as he did today.

Not to mention, his friends have already tried multiple times to teach him how to roller skate before with minimal success.

Who would have thought all-rounder Jamil Viper actually had a weakness?

Now it feels as if Jamil is moving off of muscle memory. The things that you instruct him to do sounds unfamiliar to his ears, but his body follows everything to a T.

You watch like a proud parent while Jamil glides up and down the long walk of pavement as if he’s been doing it his entire life. The sound of his gleeful laughter ringing through the air makes you smile brightly in response.

“Should we try doing some tricks now?” you ask as Jamil passes by you again.

At your question, Jamil presses down hard on his right toe to break and gives you a panicked look, “are you serious?”

“I’m serious and I haven’t failed you yet,” you place your hands on your hips, the determined look on your face telling Jamil that he couldn’t back down now.

“If you can actually teach me how to do tricks by the end of the day, then I’ll believe you.”

“Oh, done deal!” you clap in excitement, “let’s get started then!”

❥

“Remind me again why we’re here, Jamil?” you ask as you gaze up at the intricate entrance to the Centre Pompidou.

“I’m studying architecture. I wanted to see all the famous monuments of France for my studies since my classmate Rook wouldn’t stop talking about it,” Jamil replies, his hands busy taking pictures of the complex building with his phone.

“And here I thought you were just making any excuse to miss your classes.”

“Would you judge me if I say that’s kind of true?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” you shake your head before holding your hands out. “Here: do you want me to take a picture for you?”

“Oh, sure. Thank you,” Jamil hands you his phone before jogging a few feet forward and facing you.

With a few clicks of the Camera app, you complete the routine that’s been established for the past few days since you’ve arrived in Paris, France.

Jamil’s second wish was quickly made the day after you taught him how to roller skate. After spending the night thinking about all the things he never got the chance to do, he went out to find you again.

It wasn’t hard for him to, you’d already told him that you’d be hanging around one of the many coffee shops surrounding the college campus.

“Oh, thank goodness you found me. I was starting to get bored,” you sigh in relief when you look up from your laptop to find Jamil sliding into the seat across from yours.

He doesn’t bother to ask where your laptop came from, or how you have the money to pay for the mocha latte in your hands. At this point, he believes that you’re capable of more things than he could possibly ever understand.

“Are you okay? Is there something on my face?” you ask when Jamil doesn’t say anything.

You gently pat your cheeks in search of anything that feels out of place, assuming that’s why Jamil is staring at you wordlessly.

“What? Oh. No. Sorry, no. You, uh, you— you look great,” Jamil shakes his head quickly before he presses his lips into a thin line and averts his eyes down to the coffee table. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

You know that Jamil is usually not shy, usually not someone who stammers unless he’s nervous — it’s a rare occurrence.

So, you think perhaps he finds you intimidating: a celestial body who could probably strike him down if he’s not being too careful with himself.

It could explain why he treats you like one of his friends one minute but becomes flustered the next.

“You know that I’m not going to strike you down with lightning, right?” you lean forward with your arms crossed on the table and your lips curved up into an amused smile.

“L—lightning?” Jamil asks nervously as he scratches the nape of his neck. “Would you be able to? Strike me with lightning, I mean.”

“My name isn’t ‘Malleus’, but yes: I could if I really wanted to,” you shrug nonchalantly. A horrified look appears on Jamil’s face, and you would have found it comical if he didn’t look exactly like a deer in headlights. “But you haven’t done anything to warrant that, so don’t be so scared.”

“I’m not scared. It’s just that you’re… kind of intimidating,” Jamil huffs.

“Are you intimidated because I’m not actually human, or because your charmingly good looks don’t have any affect on me?”

“Um…” Jamil looks at you in the same way a guilty child would look at their parents during a scolding: with wide puppy dog eyes and lips jutting out into a pout. “The first one?”

“You mean the second one,” you correct the man confidently. “It’s not the first option because you still don’t believe me yet, but you will soon.

“Speaking of which,” you clear your throat before leaning in closer and lowering your voice, “do you have any ideas for your second wish?”

“Oh. Actually, y—yeah, I do,” Jamil says slowly, almost hesitantly.

“You don’t sound very confident about that.”

“Well, it’s a very big wish. I, uh… I wish I could go to France.”

“Now that’s the kind of wish I’ve been waiting for,” you nod in approval before taking your last sip of coffee and firmly placing the cup down. “Let’s go.”

“What, now?” Jamil emphasizes the last word with the raise of his eyebrows. “Y/n, you’re always in a rush, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry, I’m just used to getting these wishes done right away. So… not right now?”

“Oh, no, we can go today. I’d just need to pack some stuff first.”

“Ah, that’s right,” your mouth opens into a small ‘o’ when you realize you’ve been rushing to get moving without thinking first. “Yes, go pack whatever you need and come find me again when you’re ready to go.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later?” Jamil is already up from his chair before he could finish the question.

The excitement he exudes is contagious and you couldn’t hold back the giggle bubbling up in your chest.

“You know where to find me,” you wave the man off, gesturing for him to leave the coffee shop quickly.

Less than a week has passed since Jamil made the wish that has you turning into a tourist, but it feels like you’ve spent at least a month together.

You spend every day in the same fashion as you did today: head off to a famous French monument that was in a far too long list Rook provided Jamil, he takes who knows how many pictures for future references, and then you offer to take his pictures.

You have the steadiest hands out of anyone you know — which, to be fair, isn’t that many humans in the first place — yet those pictures always turn out somewhat blurry.

Today’s pictures at the Centre Pompidou is no exception to this.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I bother anymore. You should just delete those,” you sigh, your shoulders drooping in defeat as you watch Jamil swipe through his camera roll.

Despite you telling him that every single time, Jamil always keeps the pictures that you take of him.

Then, when you aren’t looking, when you’re busy taking in the beautiful sights around you, Jamil sneaks in a few pictures of you.

He’s not sure what will happen to them once you’re gone. Would they stay on his phone and you simply become a J. Doe to the rest of the world? Or would they disappear forever as if you were never there to begin with?

He bets if he asked you nicely, you’d allow him to keep those memories with him.

“So, shall we go inside?” you ask as you shove your hands into the pockets of your wool overcoat.

Your question interrupts Jamil’s brief thoughts, who merely blinks before he turns his attention to you, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Do you want to go inside?” you reword and repeat your question.

“Oh. Yeah, let’s go,” Jamil nods and holds a hand out towards you.

You hesitate for only a moment before you take a hand out of your pocket and place it in his. Your skin feels cold against Jamil’s, though it’s uncertain if it’s because of the weather or something else.

Still, in an attempt to keep you warm, Jamil intertwines his fingers with yours and sticks your hands into his kangaroo pocket.

How did Jamil get from jumpy and intimidated to becoming comfortable enough to hold your hands in a matter of a week? Even he wouldn’t be able to give you an answer for that.

Perhaps his courage is influenced by the atmosphere that the city of love provides; it’s where couples in love roam freely, they hold hands and sneak in kisses whenever they can.

Jamil tells himself that the two of you are merely blending in with the crowd — that there’s no way he has a crush on you.

But as he watches you studying the artwork displayed neatly along cream-colored walls, he finds that he’d prefer to look at you instead of the exhibitions.

Snap out of it, Jamil Viper.

As if you could read his thoughts, you defy him, appearing in front of the man like an unexpected dream. Like always, there’s a beautifully wide smile on your face that makes Jamil’s heart skip a beat just at the sight of it.

“Are you okay? You’re all spaced out today.”

“What? No, I’m not,” Jamil huffs before he steps aside to let a group of tourists walk past.

“No, you’re not okay or no, you’re not spacing out?”

“No, I’m not spacing out. I was just deep in thought— yeah, deep in thoughts of what this painting could possibly mean,” Jamil gestures towards a medium-sized canvas to his right without really looking at it.

“That’s a painting of the Mona Lisa holding a chubby ginger cat. I’m not really sure that there’s any special meaning to it,” you chuckle briefly before you reach out to gently tug at the sleeve of Jamil’s hoodie. “Come on, mister, let’s go.”

“Where are we going, exactly?” Jamil asks as he uncrosses his arms and allows you to drag him past the long and heavily populated hallways of the art gallery.

“I figured you could use a change of pace from all the art museums and history— not that there’s anything wrong with any of those places. But I planned a little surprise for you.”

“You did?” Jamil’s eyebrows quirk up in surprise.

“Okay, I admit the idea just popped into my head,” you glare playfully at the man. “But I’m not the one trying to find a deeper meaning to a cat painting.”

Jamil doesn’t say anything in response, doesn’t try to tell you that he finds you even more mesmerizing than all the artwork in the building combined — and that he’d been staring at you this entire time.

He just lets out a short laugh and nods in agreement.

You stop in front of an emergency exit door before turning around to face Jamil. The serious look on your face is a rare sight to see and the man knows that he should take your next words seriously.

“Don’t freak out when I open this door,” you say slowly, making sure to enunciate every word.

Jamil nods again before his eyes trail up to the bright exit sign above the door, “are we… going to trigger the fire alarm for fun?”

“Definitely not. I’m sure that actually goes against both of my rules,” you take a few steps backwards until your back is pressed against the push pad of the exit device.

Jamil braces himself for bright flashing lights and loud alarms when you push the door open, but he’s met with neither of those things.

Instead, he sees beautiful shades of orange on the other side of the door. There’s a generously wide and long stretch of grass lined with various types of trees, and both locals and tourists lounging about the large space.

“Don’t worry, we’re here for a picnic,” you nod your head towards the scene, waiting for Jamil to walk past the threshold of the door to follow him out.

Jamil glances back when the door softly shuts behind you, the surprise evident on his face when he finds that it’s been replaced by a black Peugeot 208.

“Sometimes I forget that you’re actually a magical being who can do stuff like that.”

“And you don’t seem as shocked as you should be for a human being,” you shoot back with a grin. “Not that I’m complaining. I’d much prefer that to you screaming in fear.”

Jamil looks unamused at your last sentence. He knows exactly what you are referring to: the first time he experienced the unexplainable things that you are capable of.

That experience was similar to what you’d done just now, and it was what solidified his belief in you.

“Okay, but you didn’t warn me that opening the door to a washroom was going to lead me to the top of the Eiffel Tower. This is a lot more acceptable.”

“Well, I figured we could make the journey a lot easier and faster by doing that,” you shrug, the contents of the picnic basket in your hands making soft shuffling noises as you move. “Now, let’s go find an open space to sit.”

You follow closely behind Jamil as he maneuvers around small clusters of chatty folks, most of which doesn't hear his muttered “excuse me.”

You follow him until you reach nearly the end of the grassy terrain where there is a decent amount of available space for you to lay a blanket on top.

“Where are we anyways?” Jamil asks once you’re situated on top of the thick blanket protecting your clothes from the damp grass.

“The Luxembourg Gardens. I overheard someone saying that it’s the perfect spot for a picnic, and figured you could use the change in scenery.”

Jamil has to admit that you’re right about that.

The much needed fresh air aside, Jamil finds that he surprisingly enjoys seeing all the beauty that nature has to offer as much as he enjoys studying the intricate ways buildings can be made.

Or, at least, he used to enjoy it.

That was before he decided to take on as many classes as he could in a single semester when he started college. All his time is spent on studying and making sure he got all his assignments done on time.

Somewhere along the way, he even managed to secure an internship that took up even more of his time and attention.

What little free time he earned would be spent on making sure his friends knew that he was still a functioning member of society. Even then, Jamil would spend the entire time thinking about both the assignments he’s already completed and the ones he left for later.

Ace would say that he’s burned out and needs to step foot outside of the college grounds more often.

Now he’s really taken that advice to heart, because how much farther away from college could he get than Paris, France?

“Clear your head and eat a carrot, Jamil,” you interrupt the man’s thoughts by waving a baby carrot in front of his face.

“Veggies,” Jamil groans before a look of utter disgust overtakes his features.

“What?” you ask in the most innocent tone you could muster up and bring the carrot closer to Jamil’s face.

“Please, I’ll literally eat anything else,” Jamil sticks his tongue out in a mock gagging motion as he leans further away from your hand.

“You mean you’ll eat anything that’s not fruits or vegetables, right? That’s bad, you know,” you click your tongue in disapproval before taking a small bite of the baby carrot. “Maybe you should use your last wish to make all of it taste like pasta.”

“Can you do that?”

“I could but I won’t.”

“Why not?!”

“Because I will not be the person responsible for you getting tired of eating pasta. You’ll hate me forever and I don’t want that.”

“Well, I’ll hate you anyways if there’s no pasta in that basket,” Jamil says jokingly, his teasing causing you to throw the baby carrot towards his chest in retaliation. “Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

You narrow your eyes at the man before you stick a hand inside the picnic basket and pull out a plastic container filled with chicken alfredo. Jamil lets out a loud cheer at the sight and smell of the food, his abrupt holler earning him a few glances from nearby visitors.

“You get so excited about food, Jamil. I remember you used to wish for sushi and ramen all the time as a child,” you giggle, watching with sparkling eyes as Jamil takes the container from your hands and hurriedly opens it.

“Well, the purpose of life is to eat and enjoy as much food as you can, you know?”

“Oh, is it now?”

“It sure as heck is the purpose of mine,” Jamil nods firmly.

You hum in response and curl up into a loose ball with your arms hugging your legs and chin resting on top of your knees. Your eyes flutter shut just as a gentle breeze begins to blow.

The sun is setting behind Jamil’s hunched over figure, the warm sunlight illuminating your figure and making you appear nearly ethereal in Jamil’s eyes.

You’re so beautiful.

Jamil averts his eyes just as quickly as the thought enters his mind; and as he shoves forkfuls of pasta into his mouth, he tries hard to ignore the warm feeling igniting inside his chest.

❥

“This is a dream, isn’t it?”

“What?” you ask, turning your head to look at Jamil who is laying towards the opposite direction of you but with his head resting right by yours.

“I keep thinking that this entire trip — and you — are all just part of a really long dream,” Jamil sighs before he also turns his head towards you.

“Would you like me to pinch you? Isn’t that what people do when they think they’re dreaming?”

Jamil laughs at your questions, his warm breath fanning across your face and his eyes curving into rainbows. He knows that you’re genuinely asking, but he still finds you too innocent and adorable for your own good.

“No, I think I’d like to stay inside this dream. But thank you for the offer.”

“You’re welcome.”

Comfortable silence blankets over the two of you as you resume your previous activities of stargazing. At least, an attempt is made because there aren't as many stars in the Paris night sky as you’d like there to be.

Regardless of that, Jamil tries to savor every moment of relaxation he’s been awarded since you’ve come into his life.

He can’t remember the last time he’s been able to take a step back to just breathe like this.

His normal life has no time for hobbies — there isn’t any time to spare to learn how to ice skate, roller skate, snowboard, or any other fun activities his friends like to do.

This is the first time he’s been able to travel out of the country, for vacation no less, and he isn’t even stressed out about the schoolwork he’s probably missing out on right now.

It feels like a dream: being able to lay on the grass of the Luxembourg Gardens with no worries and with you by his side.

“I wish that this dream would last forever,” Jamil whispers, his voice barely audible but you’re close enough that you can still hear him. “Can you make that happen?”

“You’ll have to be more specific, Jamil.”

“It’s just that… since you came along, I feel like I can finally breathe again. This is the most relaxed and carefree I’ve felt in a very long time. I didn’t even realize how stressed out I was before, and—and I don’t want to go back. ”

You had an inkling that Jamil may have gotten attached to you, may have gotten used to having your constant presence by his side. That’s why he feels so comfortable around you now — at least, enough to make jokes and tease you when he could.

It never occurred to you that he may want to keep you by his side when you’re not able to do so. Not until now.

“I wish…”

You hold your breath as you wait for Jamil to continue his sentence. You know that once he makes his third and final wish, you’ll immediately and completely disappear from his life.

Perhaps, it is for the better that he’ll have no recollection of you besides as a star in the sky.

“I wish I could continue to feel this way. I wish, among all the stress and madness, I’ll also have the time to be free and enjoy life,” Jamil laughs at himself, finding himself silly for saying the words out loud. He turns to you with a soft smile on his face, “can you make that happen? It’s a pretty tall order.”

You nod slowly, refusing to look at the man as you mumble, “as you wish.”

With those words, your body begins to emit a gentle white glow.

At first, Jamil thinks it’s a reaction of you granting his wish. But as your body becomes more and more transparent, the panic settles more and more inside his heart.

“Y/n?” Jamil calls out, his voice shaky as he reaches out to cup your cheek. His hand passes through your disappearing body, causing him to panic even more and the volume of his voice rising as he calls out for you again. “Y/n!”

A final burst of bright white light makes Jamil shut his eyes tightly and shield them with his hands. Just as quickly as the light came, he finds himself surrounded by darkness and quiet once again.

When Jamil finally opens his eyes, he finds himself lying down in the backseat of Ace’s car. He groans, carefully getting up without moving Lilia’s sleeping figure too much.

He rests his friend’s head on his shoulder after he sits up and looks out the car window, “where are we?”

“Oh, you’re up?” Ace replies as he glances up at the rear-view mirror to look at Jamil’s dark silhouette.

“Yeah, I had the strangest dream: I was in Paris.”

“You must have been hanging out with some mimes because you were laughing a lot in your sleep.”

“Was I?” Jamil raises an eyebrow skeptically. “I can’t even remember what the dream was about anymore. All I remember is standing on top of the Eiffel Tower.”

“Well, don’t go back to sleep because we’re about half an hour away from the dorm now.”

“Sure,” Jamil adjusts his position so he can prop his elbow and chin up on an arm rest.

He watches as they drive past a handful of traffic lights and countless street lights, a strange feeling of being out of place poking at him.

But he pushes the feeling away for the remainder of the drive back to the dorms. He continues to push it away when he sinks into his dorm bed in exhaustion 30 minutes later and dreams of seeing Paris from the top of the Eiffel Tower.

The next morning, Jamil wakes up to about a dozen emails that all include some sort of revision to the class syllabi.

“What in the world?” Jamil asks, his voice groggy from sleep and his eyes blinking against the bright light of his phone screen.

Once his eyes have adjusted, Jamil scrolls through the emails before logging into every student portal available to him. He double, triple, and quadruple-checks every platform to make sure his professors weren’t simply playing a trick on him.

“Good morning, Jamil!” a familiar voice gleefully calls out.

Light pours into the room as the door is opened by none other than a smiling Ace. His cheerful demeanor further confirms that Jamil wasn’t simply imagining the emails.

“Did you hear the good news yet?” Ace ignores the protests of Jamil’s roommate as he prances into the room and plops down on the edge of his friend’s bed. He doesn’t wait for Jamil to answer before he continues talking, “now we have all this free time outside of getting our major projects done. What are we gonna do with ourselves?”

Despite still being half-asleep, Jamil can’t deny that he’s also filled with delight at the unexpected news. His mind is already going through all the things he’s been holding off on doing — but he can’t seem to wave off a major sense of déjà vu as he does so.

“Oh, wait. How about we finally teach you how to roller skate?” Ace pats Jamil’s shoulder to catch his attention.

“No offense, Ace, but you’re way too energetic in the morning,” Jamil groans and pulls his blanket up to his chin. He squints at Ace’s unwavering grin for a few silent seconds before he finally sighs and rolls his eyes. “Okay, I’m in.”

“That’s the spirit! I’ll let the guys know,” Ace silently cheers, saving Jamil’s roommate from the unwelcomed noise before he saunters out just as quickly as he came in.

On a normal day, even if Jamil said that he was in, he still wouldn’t have enough free time to actually learn anything besides the basics — if that.

So it’s a nice change of pace when, less than an hour later, he meets his friends besides the same stretch of pavement as where you granted him his first wish.

He doesn’t remember those events in detail, only as fleeting events of a strange dream, and dismisses his sense of déjà vu as having been at this spot many times before.

“You still remember the basics, right?” his friend Kalim asks as he holds his arms out towards Jamil.

Jamil gratefully grabs onto the long limbs for support as he slowly gets up, his legs wobbling while he tries to balance himself on the roller skates.

“Have you been practicing without us?” Lilia asks with his gaze fixed on Jamil’s legs.

It’s a harmless question that’s only asked because Jamil’s not very big on balance. No, usually he and Kalim would have to keep a close eye on their friend to make sure his legs aren’t floundering like fish on dry land.

But today, Jamil seems stable on his own, and they step back and watch in surprise as Jamil glides freely without them.

“Oh, Ace’s not going to believe this,” Lilia laughs before dragging Jamil’s backpack to his side and rummaging through the pockets for his phone.

Lilia unlocks the phone with every intent to take a video of Jamil acing the Basics of Roller Skating 101. But a recent picture displayed on the lower left hand corner of the Camera app catches his attention.

“Jamil, do you have a partner? They’re cute,” Lilia comments after he’s clicked on the display and enlarges the photograph. “I mean, thanks a lot for not telling us though.”

“What? Where? Who?” Kalim quickly appears behind Lilia to peer over the shorter man’s shoulder.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. When do I have the time for a partner?” Jamil furrows his eyebrows in confusion as he makes his way over to his huddled up friends.

Kalim and Lilia exchange looks of disbelief before Lilia holds the phone out so Jamil could look at what’s displayed on the screen.

His breath hitches when he sees a picture of you.

They’re the same photographs that you didn’t know he’d taken of you. They’re proof that you were real — and you existed in this world briefly although Jamil has no recollection of who you are.

And if you’d known those pictures existed, they’d have been erased from Jamil’s memory just like everything else had been.

“I… I have no idea who this is,” Jamil says unconvincingly as he takes his phone away from Lilia.

He can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the still of your face. The bright smile you’ve always graced him with is permanently captured within a photograph of a J. Doe.

Jamil can’t remember meeting someone with your face. He certainly doesn’t remember your name or why he would have your picture on his phone.

But the longer he stares at the pictures, the farther the warmth igniting in his chest spreads throughout his body.

A single, short thought enters his mind.

Thank you.

And although he doesn’t know why he thought that, he has the sneaking suspicion it has something to do with the person in the photographs.