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Average lunch break experience in high school

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Therapy? Never heard of her. Is she a celebrity?

silence

[ wanderer!scaramouche x okami!reader ]

summary: completely lost after his defeat in becoming a god, he searches not only for a new purpose but also for a certain someone who brought him comfort greater than his own kin would.

notes: aka scara is a baby and comes crying to you because he's a sore loser /jk | m.list

words: 2933 | warnings: it's scaramouche /jk there's nothing bad here just comfort and shit, also the pacing is kinda shitty cause i wrote this at work lmao

you have always loved the silence.

the eerie silence that enveloped a battlefield after a fight, where one side mourns for the dead and the other celebrates their victory far away. the tranquil noises of nature in the forest, your abode—if you focus enough, you can hear the white noise of the wind rushing above the sky, the flight of birds, the footsteps of every animal within your vicinity, and the gushing waterfall hitting the surface below. the muted thoughts of people, all with voices to scream yet defiance against authority means death, so they choose to silence their cries for help. the stillness of the night, where you can faintly hear the howls of your kin from afar, reminding you of past battles won and lost.

but somewhere in the distant memory of your past, you miss the complaints of a certain boy whose voice never seemed to shut the hell up.

your words, not mine.

he used to be so loud, crying even whilst he slept. whining and complaining about how you imprisoned him in this otherworldly forest of yours, yet he shuts his mouth after being reminded of his reality of being a casualty to those he comes across.

a puppet gone mad, out of its master's control, strings tangled.

"you're not here to be tamed, brat."

"then why are you keeping me here?" kunikuzushi glares at you from the other side of the stone table, a hand gripping the knife you casually gave him so he could practice on his own.

you always seemed to be his dummy target though. not that he could hurt you in the slightest, the gap between your capabilities is that of the height you need to reach celestia. it's quite an exaggeration, but far from a lie.

"so you don't go around accidentally causing more unintentional problems. learn how to use your brain or something, you have one for a reason," was always your answer to his repeated question, laughing at the way his face contorted to apprehension. "i don't have the patience to shape you into whatever humane person or puppet your creator wants you to be. so i'm doing you a favor by letting you be whatever the fuck you want to be. kill whoever you want, destroy whatever you want, go pour your anger as much as you want. it matters little to me."

"doesn't that contradict your past obligation as inazuma's former defender?"

"exactly what the title says," you shrug your shoulders, throwing your hands up without energy, "that is in the past. inazuma's concerns do not matter to me now that my god is gone."

placing your chin on your palm, you send him a knowing smirk, a sight he realizes that he does not like, "you can destroy this nation all you want and i wouldn't mind one bit. it would be interesting to see you as a god and not just a little brat."

he would always grow silent after the nth time you had this conversation, pondering, imagining the imagery of what you just said. it's almost as if he's in a trance.

the silence of someone having an inner conflict in more ways than one, is something that you would say is better than the silence when someone is mourning.

because this kind of silence is always followed by chaos.

"oh? where do you think you're going, little doll?"

"stop calling me that," he hissed, turning his head to glare at you.

for some reason, the change in his personality these past few months was refreshing, so unlike the whiny little brat who used to cower away from you. the same brat who's always frustrated at himself.

but at the same time, it's such a shame that he didn't change his ways. still reckless and careless.

this recklessness will kill him someday, you thought.

"well, answer the question."

he falters, taking a few steps away from you when you tilt your head, urging—demanding for his answer. he still couldn't look you straight in the eyes when you become like this—when your voice goes a little deep, eyes staring him down and the authority in the way you poised yourself.

"to the fatui. i'm not going to let myself rot in here."

"you're a puppet, you're not supposed to rot."

he scoffs at the comment, vile irritation building up his throat at the way you remained unbothered, almost uncaring, indifferent and as if this means little to you. you act more like a puppet than he does, he realizes.

he hates that about you.

it's ironic. he's the same way, more venomous through his words—but with you, it's like talking to a stone cold wall.

"i'm leaving to snezhnaya."

"hm," you turn your head to the vast forest, shrouded with tall trees and thick fog—wait, when did the fog get so thick? kunikuzushi was so sure he could still see far and beyond the first few layers of those trees, why did the forest suddenly seem so eerie and… predatory.

"you can leave."

"huh?" he stares at you in disbelief, with a hint of sadness.

are you… really going to let him go that easily?

for some reason, despite the freedom given to him, he wanted you to stop him.

"find the exit yourself," your trademark grin appeared on your face, challenging and daring him to do so. it's infuriating, makes him feel like you're looking down at him and his capabilities. "if you successfully get out of this forest, then i trust that you can handle the world outside and beyond this nation."

i take back my words, he scoffs, i don't need their permission to leave. they can't stop me.

"i don't need another petty test of yours, i can take care of my own," he sharply turns away and into the direction he swore was the exit just a moment ago.

"oh, trust me, doll," your giggles echoed through the forest, ringing in his ears for the last time, way too close than from where you just stood a moment ago.

"the forest is a cruel place to get lost in."

and since then, your abode returned to the way it was.

placid, motionless, and isolated. just like how it should be.

yet you look forward to the day that he comes back crying—you stifle a laugh at how pitiful he would look—scrunched nose and furrowed eyebrows, grumbling curses to the world as he slumps down on the ground, hissing at you as you tease him for being a baby before he falls asleep on the sprawled blanket you have in the living room of your cabin. your spirit watches over his sleep, dispersing his nightmares before it can even take root in his mind and blanketing him with your tail despite his inability to feel the change in the temperature.

no, he's too deep in his sleep to ever catch you doing such things.

some days, you'd sense a feeling of fear crawling inside the back of your head. it takes a form of visions and voices. it would whisper using the boy's voice, show images using his face, speak in a way he does. it's times like this that you take pride in your strength. you know better than to crumble against fear and its illusions. such emotions are not strong enough to push through the height of your defenses that were built from piles upon piles of lost loved ones.

yet your heart clenches at the thought of this boy, robbed of the opportunity to grow properly, succumbing to the demons of this world.

it's a shame that even you can't be the person to guide him, for you are the same as he.

you can only hope that he finds himself in his journey.

"ah, it seems like it's that time of the year once again."

you stretch your limbs with a pur-like groan, your tail swinging in anticipation behind you. now that the weariness from sleep had faded, your sharp eyes admire the red and orange colors blending within the forest, the sound of leaves crunching beneath your feet every step you take music to your ears and the cold breeze wafting in the air.

the season of fall always brings out the playful side of your soul.

your attentiveness is sharper than usual, eyes turning to every little bit of movement in your surroundings despite knowing that no threat can occur in your abode. you carved its landscape with your very own hand, grew each and every tree rooted on the ground, wrote protective spells into every tree bark to form your very own barrier, opened ponds and breathed life into its very ground through the leylines. it's your safe haven, nothing can disturb your peace and it is a part of you to an extent.

that's way, when a familiar presence stepped inside your abode with no struggles whatsoever, your ears perked up and tail sways in anticipation.

fall is indeed a season for farewells and reunions.

"you're back quite earlier than expected, did the world outside the forest scare you?" you needn't look to know that he's standing right at the entrance of your favorite clearing, your figure sat near the pond with your feet dipped into the clear water.

"you're exaggerating," he grumbles, footsteps getting louder and closer until he's close enough, stopping just next to you.

"most certainly not," you hummed softly, tilting your head up to look at him after a few hundred years of not seeing him. your ears twitched.

instantly, you know something is different about him.

"you've changed."

"hmp, perhaps," he scoffs loudly, taking a seat beside you in a criss-cross position, slouching a little bit. he's barely looking at you, but that's not something new.

the way you imagined he would years ago.

"you're still grumpy though, might want to change that."

"you're still insufferable. i shouldn't have come back."

"yet you're here. i'm surprised you were able to enter without a problem. i was hoping the forest devoured you when you left. turns out you were able to get out, a shame," you sigh, "i should check on my barriers soon."

"you—" he hisses—the same way you adored, like an angry kitten—turning his head to glare at you, forehead scrunched in irritation, "so you don't even know if anyone gets caught in your shithole? did you assume i just up and died right before i got out?"

he can feel something warm in his chest at the way you laughed freely.

he hasn't heard that sound for a long time.

"you're alive though," he groaned at the familiar sly smile on your face. "besides, i wouldn't have let you go if i didn't know that you'd make it out alive."

"you would in a heartbeat."

"hm, if it were someone else, perhaps. but not you," you turn your head back to the pond, a contented smile on your face, voice unintentionally turning soft, "not my brat."

those words were the key to kunikuzushi's vulnerable state.

the silence that followed after your words was… unnerving, for some reason.

yet you felt as if you should give him the time he needs to gather himself, to give him a choice to talk or to keep things to himself. it stayed like that for a while, tuning into the sound of birds above and humming to make him more comfortable—or was it for your own comfort that you tried to fill in the silence? the feeling of being unsure is so… uneasy.

why am i doing so much for his comfort?

just when you're about to speak to change the topic, he opens his mouth—and he speaks.

piles and piles of words upon words, like a scroll being unravel down the flight of stairs to the narukami shrine. his voice, clumsy and blurry words as it may be, sings to you tragedies in a kabuki performance. he opens his doors to you and only you, almost breaking down on the spot if it wasn't for his ridiculous pride—you surmise that you may have influenced him in that case. it plays a theatrical scene that takes eternity to finish dialogues upon dialogues.

he's a puppet whose strings are cut short, but he picks himself up, tangling the fragile strings in the process.

and you are his only audience.

you're his standing ovation when no one bothers to stop and see him for what he is.

perhaps, you are more suited to be sat beside him, joining in his play instead of just a witness—because you are more than just some random bystander who happens to pass by a puppet show.

it took him a while to finish his story. just like any kabuki, time is crucial in the production, and kunikuzushi is a person who barely had the time to see the world in its purest form. yet time is also what brought him his demise.

the gods did not give him enough time to feel and learn.

when he finishes, the sun has already hid itself behind the ocean of trees and the sky is blanketed by a starry void.

a false sky, he said in one of his stories.

somehow, kunikuzushi's head ended up on your lap—he dares not to bring attention to this fact, he already feels embarrassed as it is.

"how did it felt?"

he stares at you with a grain of salt.

"to what? to almost die? quite the experience, i didn't enjoy falling head first though. would you like to try?"

"no, dumbass," he hisses when your finger flicks against his forehead. before he could even cover the assaulted area, you swat his hand away to replace it with yours. an uncharacteristic gentle touch on his skin, a caress. he resists the urge to melt towards your hand. "how did it feel like to almost have something within your reach but realize it won't do you any better? to learn how to decide for yourself, for the better, after experiencing bitter defeat?"

he purses his lips, turning away from your direction to stare at the pond reflecting the dark sky.

your hand slips across his forehead to his hair, gently caressing the familiar stresses—familiar stresses that reminded you so much of a former dear friend that you lost long ago. you didn't expect him to answer your question yet, to push forward for an answer would be adding salt to an open wound.

and the last thing you want to do is give him a reason to pull away.

"you know, if i was ei, i would have chosen you to rule with me."

"stop saying things to make me feel better, that's not like you," he scoffs—unbeknownst to the way his cheeks turn a little warmer.

such a human feature to have.

"i would love to see you be the god you wanted to be," you continued to mutter with a soft smile, brushing your fingers through his hair.

"stop it."

"i would watch you build yourself higher and have greater goals as a god."

"what is wrong with you!?" he quickly pushes himself off of you, whipping his head to look at you with a bewildered face. "are you out of your mind!?" he glares at the way your smile turns sly.

"i would have chosen you, someone with no human heart yet able to feel what it's like to be human," your hand pats his head playfully, snickering when he swats it away roughly.

"you," growling, he turns away from your direction.

"but alas, i'm not patient enough to baby you or anyone else," you shake your head shamefully, shrugging your shoulders. "go do whatever the fuck you want yourself, learn shit for yourself. but that does not mean you can do it alone, dumbass."

"why are you talking like this?" he mumbles, but you can see the way his shoulder trembled in the slightest, no doubt nibbling on his bottom lip to stop himself from something as 'pitiful' as crying. "shut up, i came here to rest, not to listen to your nonsense musings. i had enough of that already."

"well then," you reach out to his shoulder, gently directing him back on your lap. he faces you this time, eyes clenched tight to avoid looking at you, his only pillar in this world. he feels too light headed, whether if it's from your words or the feeling of finally resting after so many years of suffering, he's not too sure. he'd deny the former with everything he has though. but he cannot deny that he feels safe in your haven, here in the comfort of your arms.

"rest, you can think of the next step after you get some shuteye, don't make me knock you out myself."

he clicked his tongue, before it became quiet again.

this time, it's a comfortable silence. nothing like the tension from the first time you met him, nothing like the few times he spent quietly sobbing on your shoulder every time he awakes from a nightmare—nothing like the eerie quietude in the middle of the eye of the storm, waiting for the real disaster to come surging. soon, the boy falls asleep to the warm and loving touch on his head.

in the silence, you whisper words that you could not tell him.

"i would've gone through celestia and the abyss to give you a heart."

you, despite claiming that you will not baby him, held him in a way a parent would towards their child. with gentle hands and feathery touches, and a heart that you would give him if you could.

taglist: crossed out names mens i can't tag you oof

@thedianaclark @blockswon @thenyxsky @crazypriestess @someone-with-wild-imagination @koi-chairowo @shizunxie @smirpsmirp @brookeisqweer @mariataliya @saoiirsee @atsuki-mitsuri @camzpetite @fandangotales @genshinfinatic @chimsblogg @nette-yang @vienettacream @notyuki @shiragi2 @atsukawolfcat @frzenhans @kkazuyass @tartarsaucechi1de @nunontherun @a-simp-with-daddyissues @thetruepair

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OHMAYGODDDDDDDD QNJSYDGSNSJSHNDNSJAJSHSNMSJSJSNSNSNSKSJ

A Passionate Red

Blade x GN! Reader

Warnings: OOC, self indulgent

AO3 || A/n: Hi, its really outta character because I havent even met Blade yet. But do I care? LMAO no. Please dont repost or ill eat your toe nails

In the dead of night, you awaken to see shiny eyes an unfamiliar color, staring at you from the foot of your bed. Scrambling away, stared at the man in horror.

He merely sits there… staring…. Waiting for you to do something.

You have yet to scream. In fact, you want to scream, but something in your mind tells you not to. Then you realize, for the first time in your life you could see the color they called red. It’s a passionate color, a bold color full of energy that easily draws your attention. You looked around your room in wonder, the new shades of color that adorned the surrounding area enamored you. Just like his eyes.

“Are you… Are you my soulmate?”

You knew it was a stupid question, but you couldn’t help but ask anyway. For as long as you remembered you always dreamed of meeting your soulmate. You dreamed of holding their face, and being all cheesy and sickly cute with them, and now that the chance was presented to you, you didn’t know how to feel. Not when he gave off such a dangerous vibe, not when he was a wanted Stellaron Hunter.

You watch as he stands up from his place on your bed, slowly treading towards you. Your heart rate increases and you take a gulp as he closes in on you. He reaches out to cup your cheek and you can’t help but hold your breath in fear.

Even through his glove you can feel the heat of his hand. It’s intoxicating. It made you feel warm.. It made you feel… whole. You couldn’t resist the sigh that came out of your mouth as you leaned closer into his hand. Closing your eyes, you try to focus on his heat, you try to lean impossibly closer, rubbing your face against his hand trying to absorb his warmth like a starved animal.

“And what if I am…?”

His voice had made your knees weak, it shook you to your very core. His touch, his voice, it was so overwhelming. Never in your life did you think you’d meet the person of your dreams in a situation like this. Him breaking into your room and caressing your face so softly as though you were made of glass. No one had ever treated you this way, so soft and gently but with enough disrespect to have your heart racing. It was exhilarating.

“I’d never expected to meet my soulmate like this… Maybe having a criminal as my soulmate isn’t so bad…”

You whimpered at the loss of heat as he pulled his hand away. Your eyes slowly opened and you stared into his striking red eyes. It was already becoming one of your favorite colors despite only having seen it for a short amount of time.

“I never expected my soulmate to be someone so… compliant, and… soft.”

Despite saying those words with such a harsh tone, you could see in his eyes that he didn’t mean it in a bad way. It felt as though the two of you were connected in a way that wasn’t just being soulmates. You wanted him to touch you so bad, you wanted to feel his radiating heat against your skin again.

“How did you find me?”

You reach out to him, your head resting against his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, Thump…Thump…Thump… This moment felt like eternity. Just the two of you, your newly found soulmate, standing together in your room, your head resting against his chest, listening to the pounding of his heart. Nothing outside of this room felt like it existed.

“I ran past you while escaping with Kafka… I knew it was you as soon as I saw the color of your eyes…”

You could feel yourself relaxing into his touch as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His touch set your whole body alight as he brought you closer to him, your fear long gone as you allowed yourself to be pulled in.

“Stay with me, please? Even if it’s for tonight…”

He nodded, picking you up bridal style before carrying you back to bed. You watched as he took off his shirt and bandages. Scars littered his whole body, your breath hitched as you stared at him in awe.

“... are you scared of me? Disgusted?”

You shook your head hurriedly.

“No! It’s not that… You’re just very… attractive.”

You watched as his eyes widened in disbelief, shaking his head, he neatly folded his clothes and placed them on your bedside table, along with his sword. The bed dipped as he climbed into it with you. His scent made you dizzy as you allowed yourself to be pulled snuggly into his hold.

Trailing your hand along his torso you couldn’t help but trace all his scars. They were proof of his survival despite the odds, you had no idea how he got them, but one day you hoped he would be able to trust you enough to tell you.

Closing your eyes you listened to his heartbeat. You felt his chest rising, up and down, as he breathed. You feel the warmth of his skin as he holds you in his tight embrace as though you’d disappear as soon as he let go.

Despite being a criminal, you couldn’t but fall for the ‘evil’ man destined to be your soulmate. The world be damned.

***

The next morning you are greeted by the sight of your ceiling. You wondered if everything was just a dream, but if it was, you wouldn’t have seen the color you’ve come to love so much. You groan as you try to get up, only to realize you had been tightly tucked into bed. On your bedside table was a glass of water and a red piece of paper that had his contact on it.

Once again you were left all alone, the only remnants left of him was the number on your bedside table and the new color that you now see all around.

Mage x Menace || Jade Leech

You, a struggling mage-in-training, tried to summon a majestic beast to escape your cursed fate in the botany stream.

Instead, you got Jade Leech—chaos incarnate, collector of mysterious jars, and disturbingly enthusiastic about plants.

He now lives in your dorm, calls you "Master" with a straight face and might be seducing you via herbal tea.

this is a present for @hyperfixating-rn <3 I'm very late but happy belated birthday!!

You were going to be a great mage. A legendary one. The kind they wrote poems about—long, rhyming ones with unnecessarily dramatic metaphors. You had dreams. Ambitions. A Pinterest board titled "Epic Wizard Core." You practiced basic spells in your room, blew up your mirror once, and were 96% sure your magical aura was purple (which is obviously the most powerful one, everyone knows that).

So imagine your surprise when your entrance exam results came back and you were… sorted into the Botany stream.

Botany.

As in, plants.

As in, dirt and roots and sunlight and “communing with nature.”

You had never communed with nature. You had once tried to grow a cactus—the most resilient plant known to humankind—and it had withered in protest within a week. You had named that cactus Spiky. Its death was a tragedy. A murder, some said. By you.

So naturally, you stood there on orientation day, holding your shiny new textbook titled “Green is the Heart’s Color: Love and Magic in Leaves”, with the same vibe as someone who had been given a live grenade and told to hug it.

Your fellow classmates looked excited. Eager. Too green, in more ways than one. You watched one of them gently cradle a sproutling like it was a newborn. Another was crying over the “beautiful potential” of transpiration. Meanwhile, you were googling "can you accidentally poison poison ivy."

And then, of course, came your professor. You don’t remember much from the orientation speech because you were too busy having a silent breakdown about the phrase "the gentle whisper of chlorophyll." But you do remember one very important thing:

You’re in so much trouble.

You raised your hand at one point to ask if you were allowed to… switch majors. The professor smiled.

A warm, benevolent, lethal smile.

“Oh, dear. The plants have chosen you.”

What does that even mean???

You don’t know. But the tiny seedling on your desk keeps wiggling like it’s happy to see you. You don’t trust it. You name it Vermin and pray it doesn’t unionize with the moss on your windowsill.

You are a mage in training. A powerful wizard in the making.

And now you are at war… with horticulture.

After a week of trying to bond with leaves like they were long-lost family and nearly getting strangled by a particularly enthusiastic vine, you decided you’d had enough.

You needed a way out.

Not in the dramatic “storm out of class, set fire to the greenhouse, and flee into the mountains” way. (Though it was on the table.)

You needed a loophole. An escape clause. A forbidden back door in the curriculum forged in ancient times by other students who had also accidentally murdered cacti.

So you did what any desperate, dignity-depleted mage-in-training would do.

You found a senior.

Now, seniors in mage school are like cryptids. Powerful. Elusive. Sleep-deprived. And terrifying in the way only people who’ve once accidentally turned themselves into a plant can be. Your chosen senior was sitting under a tree, drinking coffee from a mug that said “I survived Magical Ecology II and all I got was this mug and lifelong trauma.”

You approached, clinging to your textbook like it was a lifeline. “Hi. I’m—uh. I’m not vibing with the flora.”

They looked up, eyes dark with knowledge and probably caffeine. “Botany stream?”

“Against my will.”

A pause. A long, sympathetic sip. Then: “You have two options.”

Your heart fluttered. Hope! Salvation! Maybe—

“One: Fail everything, get held back a year, reapply next cycle. Pray the plants forget your face.”

“I can’t afford that. Option two?”

“Summon a familiar so powerful, the faculty has to bump you into a combat-heavy stream for your own safety. And theirs.”

You blinked. “Like. A dragon?”

The senior shrugged. “Sure. Or a demon. Or a vengeful raccoon. Anything above ‘mildly homicidal housecat’ works.”

“And then they’ll just… change my stream?”

“If your familiar is terrifying enough, yes. Preferably something with fire. Fire fixes everything. Except greenhouses.”

You nodded slowly, feeling the stirrings of a Plan™. A terrible, beautiful, questionable plan.

"How hard is it to summon a familiar?" you asked.

They smiled, and it was not comforting.

“Not hard. Doing it without summoning something that wants to eat you is the tricky part.”

You thanked them and walked off into the distance, muttering under your breath and already flipping through your grimoires.

You were going to get out of this stream or die trying.

Hopefully neither.

But if a hellbeast had to be involved, well…

You were prepared to negotiate.

You had one job.

Just one.

Summon a powerful familiar. Save your future career path. Escape the dreaded Botany Stream before you're eaten alive by carnivorous radishes with anger issues and questionable ethics.

You’d studied forbidden texts. You’d drawn your summoning circle to perfect mathematical proportions using a protractor, three compasses, and something called “Manifestation Oil” you bought off a sketchy alchemy influencer.

You even lit candles by hand like a peasant. That’s how serious this was.

You had one last step: focus your intent. Picture what you wanted. Channel all your magic and will into the ritual. A dragon, perhaps. A fearsome spirit. A beast of legend. Maybe even a war general.

Instead, the unagi you were saving for dinner—your actual, literal eel—slid off the table mid-chant and splat landed right in the center of the summoning circle.

The summoning circle hissed.

You had precisely one second to scream “NO, YOU STUPID SLIPPERY FISH—” before the circle detonated.

There was light. Screaming wind. Something smelled vaguely of seaweed and crime.

When your retinas finally stopped sizzling and your ears recovered from their astral slapping, you looked up.

And there he was.

A tall, elegant man standing in the still-smoking circle, dusting off his sleeves like he hadn’t just been yanked across the realms by an overcooked eel. His teal hair shimmered like deep water. Heterochromatic eyes. He looked like a minor sea god and a professional tax evader all rolled into one.

He tilted his head. Smiled. “That was… dramatic.”

You stared. Still holding the empty microwave-safe eel tray like a sacrificial relic.

“I was trying to summon a dragon,” you croaked.

“Ah,” he said, eyeing the smear of soy sauce in the center of the runes. “Then why the seafood?”

You didn’t have an answer. Mostly because you were too busy silently screaming.

“I suppose I’m what happens when your spell gets rerouted mid-delivery,” he continued, delight practically oozing off him. “Fascinating. I'm Jade. Jade Leech.”

You, a mage of great ambition and even greater regret, took a deep breath and said the only thing that made sense.

“…Are you allergic to plants?”

Jade Leech, freshly yanked from the dark, swirling depths of somewhere much cooler than here, watched with the amused detachment of a man who had just witnessed his summoner go through all five stages of grief in under forty seconds.

You cursed the gods.

You cursed the stars.

You cursed your entrance exam, your cactus, your birth, and at one point—yourself in third person.

He said nothing. Simply folded his hands behind his back and watched with the kind of serene interest normally reserved for people observing an exotic animal fling itself against glass.

Eventually, once your vocal cords began to shred from impassioned screaming (and possibly mild sobbing), you whirled toward him, red-eyed and wild-haired, and gestured at him in disbelief.

“Are you—” you wheezed, dragging a sleeve across your face, “perchance a dragon?”

He blinked slowly. His smile widened.

“Perchance?”

“I don’t know!” you shouted. “You’re tall! You appeared in a bunch of smoke! Your hair defies gravity! That could be dragon behavior!”

“Hm.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “And if I say yes?”

You squinted. “...Do you breathe fire?”

“I’m more of a ‘poison your tea and watch what happens’ sort of creature,” he replied, pleasantly.

You screamed again—this time in cosmic betrayal—and stomped your foot so hard the candles trembled.

He made a note of this. You had good stomping technique.

“Well then what are you?!” you demanded.

He shrugged, like this wasn’t a magical emergency and more of a casual day.

“A Moray Eel, technically.”

You stared at him. Then at the summoning circle. Then at the empty microwave eel tray still on the floor. Then back at him.

“Oh my gods,” you whispered in horror. “The unagi redirected the target circle. I was summoning a power dragon and the ritual downgraded to ‘long sea worm.’”

He chuckled. “How dare you.”

“I wanted to cheat the system,” you whispered, falling to your knees like a tragic protagonist. “And the gods sent me seafood.”

“I’m standing right here, you know.”

You threw yourself to the ground and started sobbing into the floor.

Jade’s smile grew wider. He might stay. This was already more entertaining than anything back home.

And honestly, watching you spiral was kind of charming.

Jade made tea.

You weren’t entirely sure how or when. One moment, you were crumpled on the floor, dramatically mourning your dreams of becoming a cool elemental mage with a dragon familiar. The next, he was handing you a dainty teacup on a saucer you definitely didn’t own.

There was a slice of lemon in it. The mug was warm. You were terrified.

“…Did you summon this tea set too?” you asked, eyeing the porcelain like it was going to explode.

“No,” he said pleasantly. “It was in your cupboard.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

He smiled wider. “Was it not?”

You stared at him. He stared back, sipping his tea with the calm of someone who knew exactly where every spoon in your home was and wouldn’t hesitate to replace them with slightly longer spoons just to gaslight you.

You took a sip of the tea to assert dominance. It was delicious. You hated that it was delicious.

He watched you, unblinking. “So. Why the desperate summoning?”

You groaned, slouching like the tea had robbed you of whatever spine you had left. “I got sorted into the botany stream.”

There was a silence. You sipped your tea again to drown in the shame.

Then his eyes sparkled.

You felt it. Like a shift in the atmosphere. Like the moment before a lightning strike. Like the second someone said, “Trust me,” and you woke up four hours later in a tree, covered in glitter and mild regret.

“Oh,” he said, delighted. “Botany.”

“No,” you said immediately. “Don’t do that. Don’t say it like that.”

“Fascinating field, truly.”

“Nope. You’re not going to help me switch out, are you?”

He leaned forward, chin in his hand, elbow balanced too gracefully for someone who had appeared out of eel magic and poor life choices. “Why would I do that? I think you’ll thrive.”

“You don’t understand,” you said, pleading now. “I killed a cactus.”

“Oh, I completely understand,” he said. “And I'm going to help you fulfill your potential.”

You froze. “…You mean, like, help me survive until I transfer?”

“No,” he said.

You dropped your cup. He caught it without looking. You wanted to scream.

The only thing worse than being a botany student… was being a botany student with a chaos eel who found fungi romantically intriguing as your familiar.

You were so doomed.

Unfortunately for everyone involved—and by everyone, specifically you—magic law was a clingy little thing. Once the summoning circle did its sparkly flashbang thing and delivered you one (1) butler-themed eel man, the universe basically clapped its hands, said “it is what it is,” and slapped a contract in your face.

Minimum term of servitude: one year.

“But I didn’t mean to summon him,” you argued to literally no one who cared. “There was fish involved! It was a mishap, not a magical invocation!”

Jade, very unhelpfully sipping tea that you definitely hadn’t bought, slid the scroll across the table toward you like a cheerful IRS agent. “Intent is only one part of the ritual,” he said with the infinite patience of someone who enjoyed watching trainwrecks in slow motion. “The contract is already half-formed. You really should sign it before your house explodes.”

You stared at the scroll.

Then at him.

Then at the scroll again.

“Do I at least get a trial period?” you tried.

“No,” he said, smiling.

“A free return policy?”

“No.”

“Is there, like, an eel clause I can exploit?”

He chuckled. You were going to die in this major.

With the kind of reluctant grace that only someone who’d just accidentally legally bound themselves to a smug sea-creature man could muster, you signed.

The moment the pen left the paper, the air shifted with a cozy little pop, as if magic itself was tucking you both in and whispering “congratulations on your joint custody of chaos.” A faint glow danced around Jade’s shoulders. Your window exploded.

(You’d ask questions about that later.)

“There we are,” Jade said, clasping his hands. “Familiar and mage, officially contracted. Shall I begin compiling a weekly schedule for our fieldwork?”

“Field—oh no.”

“Oh yes,” he beamed. “We’ll be revisiting the entire kingdom flora catalogue, starting with mosses.”

You suddenly understood the reason why some mages went mad.

And unfortunately, you’d just handed yours the clipboard.

The next morning, you dragged yourself to class like a condemned soul to the gallows, weighed down by a sense of impending doom and also by the deeply unsettling realization that your familiar had organized your bookshelf by spore reproduction categories sometime during the night.

Everyone else looked so normal. There was someone with a fire spirit coiled lazily around their shoulders, someone else with a giant spectral wolf that radiated unbothered energy, and even one smug jerk with a miniature dragon who was definitely using it to cheat on practical tests.

And then there was you.

With him.

Jade stood a respectful half-step behind you, dressed like a mildly menacing butler who might also commit tax fraud if given the opportunity. He carried your books. He bowed to your professor. He smiled at your classmates.

You didn’t trust that smile. That was the smile of a man who had definitely poisoned a royal court and got away with it by turning the queen into a toadstool.

Someone asked what type of spirit you’d summoned.

You opened your mouth to lie.

Jade answered for you. “They were aiming for a dragon,” he said, serene as ever. “But an eel will have to do.”

The entire class stared at you. You stared into the void.

“It was the unagi,” you muttered, already defeated.

No one knew what that meant, but it sounded stupid, so they all laughed.

Jade patted your back like a supportive guardian. You were ninety percent sure it was to check your spine for eventual harvesting.

Gods help you. It was only the first period.

The Academy was in shambles.

Centuries of magical history. Thousands of successfully summoned fire spirits, storm wolves, mildly angry raccoons. And you—a botany major with a dead cactus on your record—had gone and summoned a person.

Not a ghost.

Not an illusion.

Not even a creepy guy pretending to be summonable.

No. A fully functional person.

“Technically,” the Dean said, staring at the magical contract hovering over your heads, “you… own him now.”

You almost threw up on the ornate rug.

Jade Leech, the man in question, just smiled—sharp, calm, entirely too pleased.

“This is so cursed,” you whispered.

“Oh no,” he replied sweetly. “This is fate.”

And that was only the beginning of your descent into contractual hell.

Because Jade? Oh, he thrived under magical servitude. Took to it like a duck to water. Like an eel to crime.

He started calling you Master.

In public. Loudly. With emphasis.

“Good morning, Master,” he purred on the way to breakfast, gliding past stunned first-years who immediately assumed you were either very powerful or very into some stuff they weren’t ready to Google.

“Jade. Stop.”

“As you command, Master.”

You tried reasoning with him. You begged. You threatened to cry in front of the Headmistress.

Didn’t matter.

In fact, the more embarrassed you got, the worse it became.

“Master, shall I carry your books?”

“No.”

“Your lunch?”

“No.”

“Your emotional baggage?”

“Jade—”

“Ah, but you summoned me, Master. Now we’re bonded.”

You looked around, desperate for help, but every professor just kind of shrugged. Magical contracts were sacred. Breakable only through death, divine intervention, or, apparently, a system of interpretive dances before the moon goddess during a blood eclipse. None of which were happening before finals.

So now this was your life.

You were the “owner” of a smug eel man in a waistcoat who made you do your homework, made better tea than your own grandmother, and insisted on calling you Master while looking like a very polite threat.

You used to be a normal student with no future in botany.

You should've just failed your exams like a normal student.

Jade settled into your dorm room like he’d been planning it for years. Which was frankly insane, considering you’d only accidentally summoned him a day ago.

You woke up the morning after signing the magically binding familiar contract to find your room… different. Not horrifyingly so, just enough to make your eye twitch. Your desk had moved three inches to the left. Your bookshelf now had labels. Your cactus—previously deceased—was somehow thriving in a suspiciously fancy ceramic pot.

And then there were the jars. Oh gods, the jars. They lined the shelves now in neat, alphabetized rows. Some were normal—“Chamomile,” “Sea Salt,” “Lavender Sprigs.” Others were less so. “Tooth Collection (Domestic)” sat right next to “Rainwater (For Legal Use Only).” You wanted to ask, but Jade had a look in his eye that said whatever answer you get, you won’t like it.

He also brewed tea every morning. Not the relaxing kind. The existential crisis in a cup kind. You drank one (1) polite sip and suddenly understood what “the color eleven” looked like. Your body remained seated but your soul went on a brief vacation.

You had no idea how, but you were scoring higher in Botany. You still couldn’t identify a single plant, but Jade kept slipping you notes mid-lab with things like “This one bites. Do not sniff.” or “Lick at your own risk.”

So yes, your GPA was rising. Unfortunately, so was your blood pressure. And your heart rate. And your sense that you were, somehow, very much in danger.

Jade simply smiled every time you panicked. “You’re thriving, Master,” he’d say, and sip his tea like he wasn’t actively reorganizing your entire life.

You were not thriving. You were surviving. Barely.

The assignment was simple on paper: identify twenty local plants, label their genus, and list their magical and medicinal properties.

Which was all fine and dandy if you weren’t a person who had accidentally killed a cactus by underwatering it because you “didn’t want to overwhelm it.” 

You’d gotten through most of your academic career via a potent combination of vibes, frantic late-night study sessions, and an almost supernatural level of spite. But this—this was science. With labels. And botanical terminology. And leaves that all looked the same.

So, you did what any sane, desperate mage-in-training with poor decision-making skills and a total lack of botanical knowledge would do.

You brewed a bathtub-sized cauldron of universal poison antidote and decided you’d taste-test each plant to figure out which one was lethal and, by process of elimination, identify the rest.

Jade found you leaning over the cauldron, mumbling something about statistical mortality rates and chewing on a leaf like a feral squirrel trying to beat natural selection.

“I thought you were joking,” he said, in that same unsettlingly pleasant tone he always used when you were actively concerning him.

“I wasn’t!” you declared. “This is science, Jade. And survival. I’ve made enough antidote to survive an assassination attempt—”

“You made it in your bathtub.”

“—and I’m going to lick nature into submission.”

Jade sat you down at the table, folded his hands neatly, and asked you—politely but with the weight of an ancient curse behind it—to repeat your plan.

You did.

He stared at you.

You shifted in your seat.

He continued to stare, like a disappointed headmaster.

“...Okay fine,” you finally muttered. “It is a bad plan.”

“Thank you,” he said calmly. “Would you like to identify your plants using logic, reference books, and assistance from your familiar, or would you prefer a slow and humiliating descent into gastrointestinal regret?”

“I mean, when you say it like that—”

“Wonderful. I’ll prepare the tea.”

You hated how soothing (mostly) his tea was. 

You found out purely by accident.

Your friend sat down at lunch with a heavy sigh and a tear-streaked face, muttering something about how their fox familiar had gone limp and glassy-eyed after being ignored for two days straight in favor of midterms. Apparently, he needed “emotional engagement” and “frequent pets.”

You had not known this. You had not known any of this.

You returned to your dorm in a panic.

Jade, as always, was seated like an eerie portrait come to life, sipping tea and reading a book that looked suspiciously bound in scales. He raised one eyebrow as you burst through the door carrying three different types of fruits and a hand-sewn blanket you’d made in Home Ec two years ago.

“I heard that familiars need enrichment,” you blurted. “Do you—are you enriched? Are you feeling under-enriched? What’s your favorite snack enrichment type? Is it eels? Oh no wait, is that cannibalism? I don’t know your rules!”

Jade blinked slowly. “You believe I am in poor health?”

“I don’t know!” you wailed, thrusting the blanket at him. “I don’t know the maintenance routine for familiars! You could be dying from sadness and I wouldn’t know!”

He looked down at the blanket. It had uneven edges and a sewn-on mushroom that looked like it had witnessed terrible things. Slowly, he took it. Draped it over his lap. Sipped his tea again.

“You are a very considerate Master,” he said with a pleased little smile that absolutely shouldn’t have made you feel like you’d just earned an A+ in Familiar Wellness. “I feel much better already.”

You weren’t sure if he was messing with you or not. But then he let you tuck the blanket around his shoulders like a shawl, and even let you hand-feed him a strawberry.

You decided you didn’t care if he was messing with you. His ears were flushed. That was a win.

You needed Nightshade. Not the safe kind either—the real, reactive stuff that tended to hiss if the humidity wasn’t just right and once exploded in someone's bag for being stared at wrong.

Unfortunately, your professors had firmly, repeatedly, and increasingly frantically refused to let you anywhere near it. Something about “prior incidents,” “a trail of fire ants through the dorm hallway,” and “we are begging you to stop licking mystery leaves.”

But you had an experiment to finish, and a lack of official approval had never stopped a single mage in history. Which was how you found yourself sneaking into the restricted greenhouse under cover of darkness, with your overly smug eel-familiar following like he was on a stroll and not a felonious B&E.

“This is clearly illegal,” Jade said cheerfully, as he helped you pick the lock.

“You’re a summoned being. Laws don’t apply to you,” you muttered, shoving the door open.

“That’s speciesist,” he said mildly, and you ignored him on purpose.

The two of you tiptoed through rows of glowing plants, whisper-bickering the whole way.

“Don’t touch that. It screams.”

“You scream.”

“Yes, and I have a great voice.”

He huffed a laugh. You tried not to grin. You failed.

Honestly, it would’ve been a perfectly stupid and smooth heist—until the Shrike Vine noticed you. Apparently it was pollination season and it was feeling bitey. You froze as a thick green tendril snapped toward you like a whip.

Except it never hit.

Jade moved faster than you thought was possible. One hand caught the vine mid-strike, the other calmly flicked a tiny blade across it like he was trimming hedges instead of saving your life.

And then, because he was a menace, he leaned in close—just enough for you to catch the sharp gleam in his mismatched eyes—and murmured:

“I’m very good at protecting what’s mine.”

You were not about to combust in a greenhouse. You were not. Absolutely not.

Still. Your face was hot. You blamed the bioluminescent plants.

“Wh—That’s not—you can’t just say things like that,” you hissed.

He tilted his head, looking unbothered and devastatingly pleased. “Why not?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Pointed at the vine. “Is that one safe to lick?”

“Absolutely not.”

“…Cool, cool, just checking.”

The incident itself wasn’t even your fault this time, which was frankly insulting, considering you usually caused at least 70% of the department's arcane emergencies. 

No, this time it was Jeremy from Spell Calculus who accidentally overcharged a fire enhancement glyph and sent a wayward jet of magic careening through the lab like a feral gremlin. It ping-ponged off three protective wards, vaporized a desk plant, and promptly singed your familiar.

Specifically: Jade’s sleeve caught a little fire. For exactly three seconds.

The sleeve was barely charred. His skin wasn’t even red. He smirked.

You, however, reacted like you’d just watched him be stabbed in the heart by a divine lance.

“OH MY GOD YOU’RE BURNING—ARE YOU OKAY?! Is it fatal? It’s fatal, isn’t it?! What’s the protocol for familiar injury?! Do you need a resurrection spell?? Should I call the nurse or the exorcist—?!”

Jade, blinked once. Then calmly patted the faintest whiff of smoke from his robe and said, “I believe I’ll live.”

But the glint in his eyes said he smelled weakness. And he would absolutely exploit it.

The next morning, you showed up with a full care basket: enchanted cooling balm, a wonky scarf you’d panic-crocheted in the night, a potion for nerve regeneration (completely unnecessary), and a whole assortment of healing snacks from the infirmary vending machine.

You even hand-fed him a soothing honey drop.

That was your next mistake.

Because the very next day, Jade reclined across your bed like a drama major rehearsing for a role in “The Dying Swan: A Magical Tragedy.” He had a lukewarm towel across his forehead, your blanket wrapped dramatically around his shoulders like a cape, and a very deliberate look of fragile suffering.

“Alas,” he whispered, placing the back of his hand to his (completely fine) forehead, “I fear the lingering effects of the trauma are… worsening. There’s a tightness in my chest. I may never wield a kettle again. My tea senses are dulled.”

You squinted at him, deadpan. “You brewed two pots this morning.”

“For you, dearest Master,” he said, with an exaggerated wince. “But at what cost?”

You refused to indulge him. For about ten minutes.

Then he started coughing. Badly. Into a silk handkerchief. That you were pretty sure he’d dabbed with food coloring beforehand to resemble blood.

“Do you think you can bring… strawberry lollipops?” he asked, voice trembling. “Before I pass on to the next world.”

You shoved five into his mouth. “You’re not dying. But you are insufferable.”

He sucked dramatically on the sweets, sighing. “I find this treatment emotionally compromising.”

You fed him another one.

And started plotting your revenge with a very bitter herbal “recovery” tea. It smelled like wet moss and tasted like betrayal.

He drank it all. Smiled. Said it “added intrigue to the healing experience.”

You were no longer sure who was winning this war. But you were definitely losing your mind.

It started subtly. Jade would casually set a teacup in front of you in the mornings, unprompted. You’d ignore it. He’d raise an eyebrow. You’d argue that caffeine was a food group and you didn’t need anything else, thank you very much. 

He’d say something cryptic like “I’d rather not have to explain malnutrition-related hallucinations to the administration,” and then slide you a plate of suspiciously elegant finger sandwiches.

Somehow, you’d end up eating them.

A week later, you found yourself sitting down for actual breakfast—tea, toast, even fruit—without remembering how it happened. He’d simply adjusted your routine. Quietly. Steadily. Like a moss infestation with an agenda.

He began packing you lunch. Bento-style. With little hand-drawn labels.

You didn’t even know when he started doing it. You just opened your bag one day, reached for your emergency gummy stash, and pulled out a thermos of miso soup and a side of rice balls shaped like sea creatures.

He started accompanying you to the dining hall under the excuse of "needing seaweed access." He monitored your meals. Commented on vitamin intake. Replaced your sugar gummies with dried fruit. Told you that if he caught you drinking energy drinks for dinner again, he’d report you to botanical safety for trying to poison a living plant (Vermin had still not recovered from the one time you tried to share a Monster with it).

Eventually, your friend—sweet, concerned, possibly one skipped breakfast away from passing out—cornered you between lectures.

"Hey," she said, tugging your sleeve with wide eyes. “I need to ask you something and I don’t want you to freak out.”

You, holding a bento box labeled ‘Don’t Forget to Finish Your Spinach, Master’ with a small smiling mushroom drawn on it, tilted your head. “Okay?”

She glanced around, lowered her voice, and whispered, “Who’s the familiar here?”

You stared at her.

She stared back.

In the distance, Jade waved at you politely while handing a professor a jar of suspicious glowing jam.

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Thought about how he’d reorganized your pantry by nutritional pyramid. Thought about how your life had improved and yet somehow spiraled out of your control in the exact same breath.

“I… don’t know anymore,” you whispered back.

And that was the beginning of your existential crisis about power dynamics, dietary fiber, and eel-based emotional manipulation.

The more you thought about it, the more the terrible, horrifying truth settled in: Jade had been slowly taming you.

Not in a leash-and-collar kind of way (though you weren’t entirely convinced he wouldn’t enjoy that visual), but in the slow, methodical way one might tame a particularly wild housecat. One that hissed at vegetables and believed microwaved instant noodles were the pinnacle of culinary achievement.

When you’d first summoned him—on accident, via unagi-induced chaos and a summoning circle that was technically illegal in five countries—you’d been expecting a fae general. A terrifying beast of war. A dragon, maybe. 

What you got was a polite, well-dressed man with a smile that could curdle milk and the calm demeanor of someone who’d enjoy watching your academic career spontaneously combust. 

You were sure he would spend his time reclining in your dorm like some cryptid, sipping tea while you panicked over assignments and singlehandedly ruined your chances at survival in botany.

That had been your first impression.

But it wasn’t what happened.

Instead, Jade made it his mission to ruin you in the most terrifying way imaginable: through care.

He made sure you ate. He brewed tea tailored to your stress levels. He reorganized your notebooks by topic and color-coded them while claiming he was “bored.” He calmly extracted you from five different poison ivy incidents. He taught you how to pronounce “photosynthesis” correctly after you spent an entire presentation calling it “plant vibes.”

And you hated to admit it—but it worked.

You stopped waking up in a panic. You stopped considering glitter glue a legitimate potion ingredient. You even passed a midterm without attempting to bribe a forest fairy.

It was subtle. Devious. Soft.

And worst of all, it was making you feel warm. Cared for. Grounded.

You used to dream of summoning a dragon—a grand, legendary familiar that would impress the entire academy and maybe light your homework on fire for dramatic effect. But now?

Now you watched Jade hum to himself in your kitchen, cooking something that smelled like lemon and dreams, and you didn’t care about dragons. Or status. Or changing streams.

You just wanted to figure out if there was a spell that could describe the exact way your heart skipped when he smiled at you and called you “Master” with that infuriating glint in his eye.

And if not… well. Maybe you’d make one.

From Jade’s point of view, your summoning had all the signs of an impending disaster—and thus, a highly enjoyable evening.

The circle was sloppy, the candles were the wrong color, and the ambient magical pressure was off by several kilopascals. The unagi that had plummeted into the center as a last-minute offering had been particularly concerning. Jade had arrived in a flash of light and fish-scented smoke, bracing for either mortal peril or at least a good laugh.

And then he saw you.

Wide-eyed. Covered in ink. Mumbling about “hoping for a dragon or something.” The perfect storm of magical desperation and zero planning skills. He had thought you’d be amusing. A novelty. A fun little side project to pass the time while bound by contract for a year.

And at first, that was exactly what you were. You were so spectacularly bad at botany that Jade was convinced you were a social experiment.

You called mushrooms “leaf meat.” You once referred to an entire genus of plants as “the crunchy ones.” And your plan to identify herbs by tasting them like a medieval poison tester had nearly given him a stroke. (Emotionally. He’s far too composed for physical symptoms.)

But somewhere between force-feeding you actual meals and dragging you out of exploding greenhouses, Jade started feeling… something. Not just amusement. Not just secondhand horror.

Affection.

It was awful.

So naturally, he did what any emotionally stunted eel-man would do—he ramped up the teasing. Called you “Master” in public. Smiled just a little too sharply. Hovered with a quiet attentiveness he pretended wasn’t genuine.

But when he thought back to that summoning—your hopeful eyes, the half-charred fish, the complete magical disaster—Jade realized something horrifying.

He owed his current happiness to a piece of grilled eel.

The next time he saw unagi on a menu, he gave it a respectful nod. After all, not every familiar bond is forged through fate, fire, and ancient prophecy.

Some are forged through sheer dumb luck and seafood.

You had always believed, deep in your feral little heart, that if you ever fell in love, it would be with the intensity of a meteor crashing into the earth. There would be pyrotechnics. An orchestra. Maybe a cursed bouquet of sentient mushrooms arranged in the shape of your initials. Something properly dramatic.

You were prepared for a sweeping romance. A declaration shouted from a balcony. A confession under a blood moon. At the very least, a sword fight followed by heavy breathing and an emotionally repressed kiss.

What you were not prepared for was... a random morning.

More specifically: today morning at 6:42 a.m., in your tragically unventilated dorm kitchen, where you shuffled in half-awake, wearing a blanket like a disgruntled ghost. Your hair looked like it had seen war. Your socks didn’t match. You were only conscious due to residual academic panic and caffeine withdrawal.

And there Jade was. Crisp and awake and annoyingly gorgeous, as usual, humming some eerie little tune while cooking god-knows-what on your stove. The sunlight framed him like he was in a toothpaste commercial. There were suspicious jars open on the counter labeled things like “Fenugreek??? (Maybe)” and “Do Not Inhale.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder, amused. “Good morning, Master.”

You grunted. It was too early for sarcasm or formal titles.

So, with the sleep-deprived logic of a creature who had survived exclusively on coffee and academic desperation, you trudged over to him, latched onto his waist like a needy koala, and rested your cheek against his back.

You did not plan this. Your body moved on its own, possessed by the Spirit of Affection.

To his credit, he didn’t question it. Jade simply chuckled, adjusted his stance, and offered you a spoonful of something suspiciously green and steaming.

You tasted it. Your neurons barely fired. It was delicious and probably illegal.

And then, without thought, without warning, still pressed against him and one brain cell away from sleep, you mumbled, “I love you.”

There was a beat of silence.

You blinked.

Wait.

Wait—

What the hell did you just say—

YOU SAID THAT OUT LOUD—

Jade paused with the spoon still in his hand, his entire body going still like a predator that just heard something interesting. Then—slowly, like he was savoring it—he turned.

He looked at you. He really looked at you. And then, in true chaos spirit fashion, he grinned.

Not his usual polite smile. No. This was different. This one had teeth.

“Oh?” he said, softly. “Oh?”

And that was the moment you realized: you had said those three words to a man who considered emotional vulnerability an invitation to hunt.

You tried to backtrack. Tried to say you meant “I love you—r soup.”

Or “I love you as a friend. A colleague. A sentient eel.”

But before you could decide on your lie of choice, he leaned down and kissed you.

It started sweet. Gentle. Thoughtful, like maybe he was giving you time to flee.

You didn’t. That was your mistake.

Because then his hand slid around your waist, and the kiss deepened, and suddenly your kitchen felt too small, and too warm, and definitely not rated for public indecency. Your legs threatened to give out. Your brain flatlined.

When he pulled away, you were breathless and dazed. You looked at him, heart hammering, pupils blown wide.

He tilted his head, still grinning, and said, “You taste like honesty. How rare.”

You briefly considered combusting on the spot.

And as he turned back to the stove like nothing had happened, humming again, you realized something terrifying:

You were in love.

And you were the prey.

And you were kind of okay with that.

When familiar contract renewal season arrived—accompanied by the usual administrative chaos, enchanted paperwork that bit fingers, and panicked first-years realizing their mushroom toadlings had exploded again—you were… calm.

Weirdly, suspiciously calm.

You should have been stressed. You were, after all, still a mage in training with a botany grade being held together by duct tape, blind luck, and the sheer force of your familiar’s passive-aggressive hovering.

But no. You weren’t worried. Because somehow, over the past year of accidental poisonings, illegal greenhouse heists, and near-romantic tea-induced hallucinations, you and Jade had fallen into something far more dangerous than summoning magic: mutual affection. Possibly even love. Terrifying.

And yet, when the day came, you expected a conversation. A little back and forth. Maybe some dramatic flourish on his part—Jade had a flair for drama and mild emotional terrorism, after all. At the very least, you thought he’d present a contract with a smirk and some cryptic line about “servitude never being quite so delightful.”

But he didn’t.

You woke up one morning to find him already seated at your desk, as if he’d been waiting all night. The early sun filtered through your window, highlighting the soft teal of his hair and the amused glint in his eyes. You were still blinking the sleep out of yours, shuffling over in your raccoon-print pajamas with all the grace of a zombie when he slid the document toward you.

A thick, arcane-heavy contract. One that glowed softly at the edges. Titled:

“PERMANENT FAMILIAR CONTRACT — LIFELONG BOND”

Your eyes snagged on the signature line.

His name was already there.

Signed in an elegant, curling script with a wax seal that looked like an eel tail. No jokes. No teasing. No loopholes.

You stared at the paper. Then at him.

“…You want to be stuck with me forever?” you asked, because your brain short-circuited and apparently decided that was the most romantic response it could muster.

Jade raised a brow. “You make life—interesting,” he said, voice inflected with all the warmth and amusement of someone who once watched you attempt to eat a venomous berry “for science.”

You blinked again. “That’s not a no.”

“It’s a yes,” he said easily, his smile softening. “I’d like to be yours. If you’ll have me.”

You didn’t even hesitate.

You picked up the pen and signed your name beneath his. The moment the ink dried, the paper vanished in a swirl of moss-green smoke, the pact sealed with a pleasant little magical ding.

“So,” you said, heart thudding in your chest as you looked up at him, “we’re really doing this.”

“We are,” he said.

“Forever is a long time.”

“Not nearly long enough.”

And you had to kiss him after that, because what else do you do when your familiar—not-quite-boyfriend-but-very-possibly-soulmate says something like that?

He kissed you back like he’d been waiting years. And you let him, sinking into his arms like it was the only place you’d ever belonged.

You, a chaotic disaster of a botany student. Him, a merman familiar who brewed tea that could bend time.

A perfect, absurd, slightly terrifying match.

Later that evening, when you sat together on the windowsill, legs tangled and laughter echoing, you realized something else: you'd meant to find a way out of the botany stream. A bigger future. A stronger school of magic.

But with Jade by your side, maybe botany wasn’t a prison—it was just where you bloomed.

It started, as most disasters in your life did, with you tripping over your own feet. Specifically, you’d tripped face-first into a rare carnivorous plant while trying to impress your professor with your “innovative approach to hands-on learning.” (Your professor had screamed. The plant had screamed louder. You still didn’t know plants could do that.)

And while you were nursing your slightly-bitten pride and applying salve to your dignity, some golden-haired, obnoxiously perfect fourth-year had wandered over, all pristine robes and condescending smiles.

“You know,” he said to Jade, completely ignoring you like you were a decorative shrub, “it’s a shame. A familiar with your magical potential? Tied to someone who’s clearly... not invested in their future.”

You scoffed. Loudly. “Excuse you. I am very invested in my future. I just think the universe should meet me halfway and stop putting venomous moss in my study patch.”

The student didn’t even blink. “You deserve a master who challenges you. Who brings out your best.”

Jade tilted his head, politely smiling the way a shark might if it had impeccable manners and was about to swallow a surfer whole.

“I see,” he said, sipping his tea. “And that would be… you?”

“Why not?” the student said, and you hated how confident he sounded. “They're wasting you.”

You froze.

You knew it wasn’t true. Jade had chosen you. Signed a lifelong contract. Literally brewed you soup after you set your eyebrows on fire.

But the words stung in a way you hadn’t expected.

You tried to play it cool. Shrugged. “If he wants to leave, he can. No one’s stopping him.”

Jade’s eyes flicked toward you, a tiny crease between his brows. “Is that what you think?”

You shrugged again. Forced a smile. “Why wouldn’t it be? Go ahead. Take your tea. Find a master who challenges you.”

And with that, you walked away, head high, hands clenched so tight your knuckles cracked.

You spent the rest of the night trying not to cry into your pillow.

The next morning, your pillow was suspiciously warm. And breathing.

You cracked open one eye to find Jade wrapped around you like a clingy snake with boundary issues and an attitude problem.

“What—Jade—get off—!”

“I’m sleeping,” he said.

“You are not! You’re emotionally ambushing me!”

He didn’t move. Just curled tighter.

You squirmed, shoved, flailed. Nothing worked. The man had the tensile strength of a vine and the stubbornness of ten toddlers.

Eventually, you gave up and pouted at him. “You were mean yesterday.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” he admitted cheerfully, his tone dangerously close to smug. “But in my defense, I expected my master to realize I have taste.”

You sulked harder. “You owe me.”

“Oh?”

“And I’m cashing it in later.”

“Of course, Master.”

“…Stop calling me that in the dorm.”

“No.”

You didn’t bring it up again. But the next day, as you passed that fourth-year in the hallway, he looked pale, shaken, and was clutching a charm pouch so tightly it might’ve become a fossil.

You glanced at Jade. He looked serene. Suspiciously serene.

“…What did you do?” you whispered.

“Me?” he smiled. “Nothing serious.”

You stared at him. He sipped his tea.

You decided you definitely weren’t asking.

But later, when he draped himself across your bed again and offered you a cup of calming lavender-citrus tea with a wink, you realized one thing:

You may be a borderline disaster of a mage, but Jade Leech was yours. And gods help anyone who forgot it.

You'd been holding back.

It wasn't that you were scared. Okay, no—you were absolutely terrified. Because the “what are we” question carried the weight of galaxies, of shifting dynamics and possible heartbreak, and you weren’t emotionally prepared to deal with that when you were already behind on your fungal studies and had just accidentally set your robe on fire trying to dry herbs.

Still, it was getting harder and harder to ignore the fact that Jade Leech, your familiar, your chaos partner, your maybe-something-more, had kissed you good morning again that day. Just a soft brush of lips while you were half-asleep, before you could even form coherent thought. And you’d just blinked at him, dazed and blushing and maybe a little dead inside.

And then that horrible, arrogant, no-chin-having senior from the advanced familiar studies track said—loudly—that if someone like Jade were his familiar, he’d “treat him properly” and “not waste potential on a person who still mistakes fertilizer for potion ingredients.”

You saw red. Possibly green. Maybe fuchsia, depending on how much of Jade’s tea was still in your system. But whatever the color, something snapped in your soul.

Because no one was taking Jade from you.

Not when he brewed you anti-headache tea with honey because he knew you hated bitter things. Not when he cleaned your desk with the gentleness of a man legally married to your organization system. Not when he smiled at you like you were a curious algae bloom he couldn't stop poking at. Not when he kissed your forehead, your temple, your nose, your cheek—like loving you was as natural as breathing.

So.

You marched.

You stormed into your dorm room where he was casually rearranging his jar collection (you didn’t ask, you'd learned not to the hard way.) and pointed an aggressively trembling finger at him.

“Be mine!” you shouted.

Jade blinked once. Then tilted his head, that infuriatingly pretty smile already forming. “I thought I already was, Master.”

Your brain combusted. You flailed. “Huh?!”

“I assumed the constant kissing and emotional intimacy might have been a clue.” His eyes sparkled. “Should I have drawn a diagram? I could make a chart—”

You launched yourself at him in mortified fury. “No charts!”

He caught you with practiced ease, laughed that horrible, lovely laugh of his, and kissed you again—this time slower, deeper, like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

You melted. Fully collapsed like overwatered moss in his arms.

When you finally came up for air, dizzy and giddy and mildly offended at how good he was at this, he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and murmured, “Now that we’ve established that… shall we discuss what we’re calling the wedding mushrooms?”

You screamed into his shoulder.

He laughed again.

And that night, you dreamed of rings made of sea glass and mushrooms that glowed softly in the dark.

Masterlist

---

pride month

ride month

ride mont

ride ont

ride on

---

Real

i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin i love rin

LONELINESS OF EVENING !

a. ashengrotto x reader smau

synopsis: as childhood enemies, it is azul and mc's duty to argue with one another and attempt to defeat each other in every way possible, from academics to extracurriculars to magic. but what happens when their rivalry turns into something deeper, something more heartfelt?

genre: smau, enemies/academic rivals to lovers, slowburn, angst, crack, fluff.

warnings: mc is the diasomnia housewarden, a lot of cursing.

note: welcome back, here we are with another smau and this time, it's azul !! obviously this one is not planned entirely either although i do know where i want to go with the story so just bear with me </3 once again, do not be surprised if i delete some chapters in case i don't have anything to write for that chapter. dm me, send an ask, or comment under any chapter/this masterlist to be added to the taglist!

sour patch kids | bank of the bastards

act one.

i. a bean for your thoughts

ii. gmfu (get my fellow underlings)

iii. bottomless pitcher of rage

iv. experimental failures

v. ya like jazz?

vi. anywhere cold as you

vii. SCRATCH ATTACK

viii. call the UN, jade has escaped containment

vix. alexa, play stadium rave

x. glimpse of party rock

xi. volleyball and an octopus

xii. what the fuck is a kilometer!!!

xiii. i do what i WANT

xiv. bibbidi bobbidi boo bitch

xv. shots and swears

act two.

xvi. boogie fever

xvii. shut up, do not dance with me

xviii. to be announced...

act three.

to be announced...

---

when he's a ten <3

AZUL MY OCTOBABYYYY

[The Boyfriend Contract] Ch. 1 - The Cost of Opportunity

This is The Boyfriend Contract series, Chapter One. Inspired by The Love Hypothesis and The Business Proposal. Azul Ashengrotto x fem! Yuu (reader) You can view this on ao3. Part Two (TBA)

Opportunity Cost in economics is defined as the highest-valued alternative that is sacrificed when making a decision-- in this case, it's my dignity... and possibly my freedom.

In Yuu’s defense, it was his fault.

She was supposed to be aiming for his cheek, if only he hadn’t turned his head to look at her, she wouldn’t have accidentally kissed him on the lips after claiming to some obsessed guy that she was dating him.

But she had to make it look natural, so deepening the kiss was the only way to go.

Thank the Sevens that Azul was a good actor— after hearing her ridiculous claim and feeling their lips together, he couldn’t look like the fool in the situation, so he adjusted himself to her kiss. His tense shoulders lowered, making it look like he was somewhat relaxed and he leaned closer to her. The kiss felt awkward, uncomfortable, fucking painful— but some delusional and lonely ass part of her thought it felt somewhat nice. Had Azul always been this tall? Although she was shorter than almost everyone in NRC (Riddle and Epel included), she had to tiptoe even further and crane her neck just to deepen the kiss, and that was kind of hot—

Nope. No no no no NO. She shouldn’t be enjoying this, not when she’s literally kissing one of the biggest red flags in all of NRC.

When the pain in the ass was gone, she pulled away— giving him the chance to finally stare at her in disbelief.

“…Did you just…?”

Simply hearing his voice made her want to jump into a ditch and die right there, but since they were still surrounded by people, she had to pull him outside and into some secluded corner before—

“I’M SO SORRY!”

He flinched as she bowed deeply, apologizing with all her remaining energy. As much as she wanted to bury herself six feet under, this was reality, and reality states that she couldn’t do that.

Maybe not now.

She heard him clear his throat. Maybe he was disgusted? Repulsed? She doesn’t know what her current relationship status was with Azul, though she had called him a friend once, she wasn’t really sure if he saw her that way.

“Can I get an explanation?” His voice sounded the way it normally was. Serene, like ocean waves on a nice summer day. The kind you can relax to, and it was suave, somehow. Befitting of a handsome businessman like him.

Did she just say ‘handsome’? Did she just think ‘handsome’?

Well. In all honesty, it was the truth. She was sure that anyone could admit that. If she didn’t know him personally, she might have been attracted to him. Azul was no average face after all— and if he was, he would be the “super handsome” average type.

“I—“ She stood up properly as she covered her face. It was hot. Her face was hot. Or maybe her hands were just cold. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Is...that so?” His words drawled on as he looked at her skeptically, or uncertainly, she actually didn’t know. Normally she could read people well, but her brain was too messed up to understand what his face was trying to do. “Perhaps you can explain to me what’s going on?”

Ah, so he was trying to discern why the fuck she just kissed him. Easy enough.

“Well, um…”

Okay, not easy enough.

She suddenly remembered that this was Azul Ashengrotto she was talking to. If she decided to vent to HIM of ALL PEOPLE about a guy who wouldn’t leave her the hell alone, he would have taken the kiss as leverage for him helping her, and in turn, make her feel indebted to him for allowing her to use him to get away from a suitor.

Everyone knows that there will always be a catch when someone becomes indebted to Azul.

“Look,” She sighed, “No offense but this is really none of your business.”

He stared at her for a moment before nodding, returning to his ‘serious businessman mode’ (that’s what she and her friends called it), “I understand.”

She sighed, one of relief this time. She wanted to just walk away and forget everything.

“I suppose I’ll just go back to school and file a complaint on sexual misconduct with academic peers.”

She nodded, “Yeah, okay I’ll— wait…what?!”

“I’ll be on my way.”

“WAIT!” She grabbed his hand to stop him from walking away. It was easy enough for him to shrug her off, but he didn’t. Instead, he actually stopped and turned back to look at her, as though to consider her desperation.

“Explain the kiss.”

She groaned, letting go of his hand in order to fiddle with her own. Even if she ran away from him now, he would investigate her matter later. No one kisses Azul Ashengrotto out of nowhere, after all. Unless you want to be in complete debt to him or…you know, in love with him. Highly unlikely. For her, at least.

“Kelvin Watson,” She told him.

He raised a brow, giving no indication of knowing the name.

“He’s a regular in the cafe I work at during the weekends.”

“It’s Friday today.”

“Yeah, I know, but I told the owner in advance that I would be able to work today since classes ended early and he needed more hands. Anyway, I came to work today and for some reason, Kelvin knew I was going to be there. He always seems to know whenever I’m there, and the owner says he only goes to the cafe during the weekends, aka during my shifts. Isn't that kinda weird??”

He nodded slowly as if to process every word she uttered.

“He was nice at first, really sweet and all that. But then he tried to court me, and I’m not really into that whole dating scene right now —school, Grim, trying to get back to my world and all that— so I rejected him. But the guy just wouldn’t get the memo and kept trying to ask me out whenever he had the chance.”

He just…stared at her.

“And…what does that have to do with me?”

“I— ugh—“ she covered her face, dragging her hands down in exasperation, “After my shift ended earlier he tried to ask me out AGAIN and I was so sick of his advances that I got desperate, and I—“

She hesitated for a bit, only to continue when Azul’s eyes narrowed.

“…I saw you come in and thought to pretend that you were my boyfriend or something to drive him away since you were a familiar face, so I… I didn’t really think?”

“Obviously,” He muttered under his breath.

“Hey! I was only supposed to kiss your cheek, okay? I didn’t know you were suddenly gonna turn your head!”

“And your instinct was to continue kissing me?”

“I just—! I was trying to make it look natural! It’s not like I wanted to kiss—“ She felt her cheeks heat up at the memory, and she tried desperately to shake it from her head. “Listen, I’m so, so, so sorry about that, okay?”

“Are you really?” He crossed his arms.

“Please don’t report me,” She pleaded as she looked up at him, “I really meant to just go for your cheek. I’m sorry if I made you really uncomfortable…” and please don’t drag me into a contract.

Now that she had the time to think about it a bit better (without the stress of having an obsessive boy trying to get her attention), she realized the abomination of her situation. She really had just grabbed a random guy from her school, claimed she was dating him, and kissed him on the lips (even though it wasn’t her intention).

Not to mention, this guy was literally on the list of top students not to mess with unless you wanted a death wish (or everything you cherished taken away from you). Notorious for his elaborate and sly schemes, his greediness for money, and his perfectly put-together demeanor that made him appear like an angel. It doesn’t help that he was blessed with such a handsome face—

Ugh. There she was again.

There was no excuse for what she had done. She had practically harassed him by kissing him without his consent, intentional or not, so he had every right to report her if he wanted. Knowing Azul though, he would do anything to make sure he gains the upper hand in the situation, even if it cost her her time.

(One thing, however, is that she knows that she would agree to it as long as it didn’t involve handing him Ramshackle Dorm. Because at that point she will actually beat the shit out of him if he pulls that shit again.)

“No, I’m sorry. You have every right to report me… intentional or not, I’m sure you felt uncomfortable. I just… I didn’t…” She just wanted to go back home and sleep, maybe forget about the whole thing. “Look, I’m going to leave now, okay? Thanks and… I’m so, so, so, so sorry.”

She turned on her heel and ran away, leaving the Octavinelle housewarden in his own thoughts.

She sprinted through the streets, passing by stalls, shops, passersby, and some students from Night Raven who were still in their uniforms. She ran past a middle-aged lady walking her dog, a classic red car zoomed past her, and suddenly the next bus stopped at the station where she arrived just in time.

She made sure to sit at the very back, ignoring every other passenger as she pulled out her headphones and proceeded to lose herself in her own thoughts and guilt.

What a shitty day.

Unbeknownst to her, Azul Ashengrotto was still standing right where she left him— thinking about her. Her eyes, her red cheeks, her predicament, her cute face, her soft, soft lips… And the things she told him when they were in the Atlantica Memorial Museum…

A/N - hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter of The Boyfriend Contract. This is mainly a passion project of some sort. Updates will be pretty slow since I'm a busy student, please be understanding.

Hear me out

More on the Blk×hp crossover because it has taken over my life

Okay, Kaiser hears a rumour that you and isagi are dating.

This infuriates kaiser to no end. He doesn't know why it pisses him off. He's being extra mean to you, and you can't seem to figure out why. Don't even get me started on Quidditch. He's got it out for Isagi, he's more aggressive towards poor isagi. What if Isagi gets hurt? You're tending to him and omgg it gets him . Bro is loosing his shit atp.

If he sees you guys together at Hogsmeade on Valentine's day...

I just want to see his ass suffer and when he realizes that it's false information lmfao 🤣 and bro was torturing himself (and poor Ness #nessdeservesbetter😔 #justiceforness) over nothing

Yeahh that's it. Please forgive me if there're any grammatical errors

Take care.

Happy Valentines 💝

characters ; michael kaiser

contains ; hogwarts au, slytherin!kaiser, ravenclaw!reader, gryffindor!isagi, mild violence

happy (late) valentine's day, angel! you've put me in a ditzy because of this ask, so i thank you kindly for feeding into my daydreams i quite like this stupid little white boy <3 (also i said in a previous post that yoichi would be a ravenclaw, but i think he suits gryffindor a lil more ngl esp after ch293 :P)

kaiser would most DEFINITELY be the type of person to let out his anger through his playing, so expect there to be a ton of fouls from him during the gryffindor vs. slytherin match because he just "accidentally" keeps running into isagi, nearly knocking him off his broom more than ounce. it doesn't help that there's been whispers circulating that there's been confirmation of you and isagi officially being a couple after the many speculations from stray eyes that keep a rather close eye on you and him. the golden boy of gryffindor and the ace of ravenclaw... many would agree that you and him would be power couple in the halls of hogwarts, completely disregarding kaiser. it didn't help that evidently, you and isagi got along much better than you and kaiser did, sharing soft smiles and joyous laughter amongst each other rather than hardened glares and quick-witted insults. you were best friends after all, not sworn rivals like you and he were.

slytherin ends up winning the match, kaiser rising victorious by scoring the winning goal to break the tie, but he can't really celebrate his win in full because he sees you later tidying up some wounds and scratches isagi had gotten from the match in the preparation tent. his jaw grits, watching the intimate scene unfurl before him.

isagi hisses through his teeth when you gently place the cotton bud on an open wound on his elbow.

you wince, pulling your hand back. "i'm sorry..."

"no," isagi shakes his head, encouraging you to keep going. "i'm fine, it just stings a bit, 's all..."

you look at him with a doubtful countenance, but dab the alcohol-soaked cotton bud anyway, trying not to notice the way isagi's eyes close in pain. tenderly, you place a band-aid on the skin before you soak another cotton bud and move to the scratch on his cheek, your fingers brushing his reddened cheek (the hue unnoticed by you) when you repeat the process to help disinfect and clean up the small gash.

"he's such a bastard," you mutter softly, "he should've gotten a foul when he nearly knocked you into the hufflepuff stands."

isagi shrugs, "it is what it is."

"is it me or did he seem more pissed than usual?" you inquire, your fingers smoothing over the bandage you've placed over the cut. "like he was taking his anger on you specifically. did you do something to him?"

"hell if i know," isagi sighs, rolling his eyes. "it's hard to read kaiser."

kaiser's eyes narrow as you hold isagi's face in your palm, his nails digging into his palms as he watches you examine him for any spare injuries you didn't tend to. not wanting to infuriate himself with this meddling nonsense, he decides to replace the feeling with pride and glory, stomping out of the tent and replacing the loud throbbing in his ears with the cheers of his fellow slytherins that shout his name in a steady beat as he appears before him.

he bathes in the glory for a bit, letting his ego fill with the approvals of his audience, though from the corner of his eye, he catches a blur of blue and red walk side by side together out of the arena, arm in arm.

on valentine's day, kaiser receives bucketloads of chocolates from his admirers, both known and unknown. he waves them off when ness presents them, going downstairs to fetch some breakfast, only for him to see you hand isagi a medium-sized golden box of chocolates shaped in a diamond that he accepts gratefully, a large smile on his face before he gives you a bag of candies. you go and give your other friends the same chocolates, a small personalized envelope with a card glued onto the front of it, their names all written in a pretty cursive.

he ditches breakfast, deciding he'll eat later and runs up back to his dorm. for some reason this year, unlike the prior ones, he actually shuffles through all the boxes trying to look for a peculiar, diamond shaped one, and he does find it to his satisfaction. he pulls it out so fast from the pile and rips open the card, anticipating a specific someone's name to be signed at the bottom.

... but his face contorts into irritation when an unknown girl's name is read. who the hell is "imogen?"

he tosses the letter over his shoulder, thinking this was stupid. no way did he just spend fifteen minutes attempting to find a box of chocolates from you, knowing the tense relationship between you and him. of course you wouldn't give him any—you weren't even friends! so why the sudden spark of hope...?

kaiser's valentine's day turns even more sour when he tries to distract himself and goes to hogsmeade to fix himself up some firewhiskey, only to see you and isagi in the window of honeydukes, examining candy together. this didn't seem to be a group trip either, considering he didn't recognize anyone else that you were friends with in the store, so you and him must've went together.

right—he nearly forgot. you were a couple now. of course you'd be spending the holiday of love together. that's just common sense.

"you think she'll like this?" isagi asks you, holding up a basket assortment of many candies. "i don't know what she really likes, so i was thinking i'd play it safe and just get her everything."

you grin and throw him a thumbs up. "good move, i think she'd quite like that. maybe throw in that teddy bear we saw earlier."

he nods with a blush on his face that you can only giggle at. you've never seen your best friend so giddy before, especially since he'll be having his first date with the hufflepuff girl in his astronomy class he's been admiring, a pride within you blooming when he told you excitedly this morning that he'd be going to madame puddifoot's soon with her.

"i'm gonna go pay and then go get ready back at my dorm," says isagi as he nudges his head towards the cash register, the gifts he holds in his hands starting to tumble out of his grasp a little. "i'll see you later at dinner to tell you how everything went!"

"good luck! don't be nervous!" you call out to him when he shuffles through the crowd before returning your attention to examine the luxury chocolates they had just imported from belgium.

a shadow looms over you suddenly, and you feel the temperature drop a bit from the air around you. there's an impending sense of doom that pits itself in your stomach, so it doesn't take you too long to discover the identity of the tattooed hand that snatches the box of chocolates you were examining away.

your jaw ticks.

"i was looking at that," you mutter with irritation, slowly turning back around to face a familiar blonde. "... kaiser."

"hm," kaiser merely hums back nonchalantly, eyes flickering over the assortment of flavors indicated on the back. "never thought you'd have such a sophisticated sweet tooth," he mutters as he reads over the unique flavor profiles of each chocolate.

"god forbid someone wants to go out of their comfort zone," you roll your eyes obnoxiously before picking up another box to assess, not wanting to bother to get back the previous one you were holding. of course somehow kaiser makes your life ten times more difficult whenever he was around, even off campus grounds.

the assortments look so tasty, you think, reading over the details of the feuilletine truffle. maybe you should treat yourself this valentine's day, relishing in fancy chocolates and curling up with a good book sounds like your ideal day of rest. you think you deserve an upgrade from the casual chocolates you were used to purchasing for a quick fix...

... until you look at the price of the box of chocolates.

your eyes nearly bulge out of their head when you read the price.

"forty five galleons?!" you whisper-shout under your breath, only loud enough for the man behind you to hear. kaiser's eyes flicker towards your astonished visage. "merlin, was this made out of unicorn hair or something?!"

you sigh and place the box down on the shelf again, choosing to return back to the safety of the generic honeydukes chocolate bar instead of wasting your money on something that'd disappear all too quickly.

"you're not gonna get it?" kaiser inquires as you begin to look for a way out of the chocolates area.

"as if i have that kind of money," you snort haughtily.

"then ask your boyfriend to buy it. it's valentine's day after all," kaiser snarks back, the words coming out of his lips faster than he's able to fully process them. he curses himself in his mind when he realizes what he's said, revealing the fact that your status as a couple wasn't as hidden as some may say.

"huh?" you turn back with a confused look. "boyfriend? what?"

it's kaiser's turn to look perplexed. "your boyfriend?" he repeats and pokes a stray strand of hair from the top of his head to mimic an ahoge. "yoichi isagi? golden boy of gryffindor? sound familiar?"

your brows furrow and you wonder if he's making fun of you.

"yoichi and i aren't dating," you counter back. "who told you that?"

the way kaiser feels relieved feels unnatural, like a giant weight had just been unburdened from his shoulders. he shouldn't even be feeling this heaviness in the first place, but he did and now it's gone just from the mere words that counter his initial belief.

... he still feels relieved, oddly enough.

"i—" kaiser starts, but draws blanks when he attempts to cover up his nasty acceptance of a mere rumor, feeling idiotic he had believed such a thing so fast and so intently. "it's just floating about. since y'know, you guys are so close... and stuff," he mutters hotly.

your lip curls in annoyance. "never thought you'd be one to accept rumors so loosely," you mimic his tone from earlier, crossing your arms. a vein pops in kaiser's forehead at your arrogance, and he opens his mouth to give you a snide response back, but you begin to turn on your heel.

"don't believe such stupid shit so fast," you say, waving a hand to indicate your leave. "it won't do you good in the long-run."

kaiser is eventually left alone in the chocolate aisle, a little flabbergasted at what just happened. he watches you as you exit the store by yourself, choosing not to buy anything while he's in the vicinity. a warmth blooms within kaiser's chest however, when he repeats your denial of a relationship in his head.

"yoichi and i aren't dating."

"they're not dating," kaiser mumbles to himself as he grips the box of expensive chocolates in his hands with a small smile. "yeah... they're not dating."

that evening, you later find a delicately wrapped box placed on your desk with your name on it. you take off the green ribbon and rip open the white wrapping paper and widen your eyes to what's revealed from inside.

it was the box of expensive belgian chocolates you were looking at just hours beforehand. you're astonished, thinking who on earth had spend this much money on you when you try and find the sender of the package, only to be met with a short, mysterious inscription on the back of the box's lid.

"happy valentine's day. eat well and enjoy." —🌹

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