Hes So Silly, Hes My Silly Little Дорогой 🥹🥹🥹

TAYLOR SWIFT MENTIONED!??!!??????!!!!

You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath

Synopsis: trying to spend time with your boyfriend while keeping your relationship private… or a secret…

Content: Alhaitham x fem!reader, low-profile/secret relationship, angst no comfort, writer!reader,

Warnings: slightly toxic if you squint, guilt-tripping, neglect, arguing, long intro (it gets good i promise), cursing, not proofread

Note: (Title from Taylor Swift’s ‘All Too Well (10 Minute Version) (Taylor’s Version)’) I tried to make this as in-character as possible while trying to convey the conflict of the plot so please let me know if there are any inaccuracies

—

The walls of Lambad’s tavern grew dim as the sun set; you, Tighnari, and Kaveh sat at a table having a little get-together. It didn’t feel complete, though, because two members of the group have yet to arrive. Cyno said he would be late due to an interrogation he has to do. And Alhaitham… he didn’t really give a notice but you all figured he was busy, being the acting grand sage and all that.

After a 30-minute rant about Kaveh’s clients, you talked about writing a new novel but you had no idea how to start it.

“Questions are overrated,” said Kaveh as he downed his drink, “I suggest you start with an at-large murder suspect being chased down by government officials—not guardes or the millelith, literal government officials.”

“You could ask Cyno for inspiration,” Tighnari suggests. You consider the idea but you figured Cyno wouldn’t have the time. “Or you could ask Alhaitham. I remember he has some experience in that field too.”

“Ah, yes,” you reply meekly. “I had forgotten.”

Hearing Alhaitham’s name felt like a stab to the heart, a curse laid upon you. You weren’t sure if it was out of love or suffering. After two years of dating, not a single soul knew about the two of you. As you asked yourself why that is, you give yourself an excuse that he simply wasn’t ready to be out. That he wanted you to make a name for yourself in case people would only remember you as the acting grand sage’s partner and not your rightful title as a writer.

When he first introduced the idea of keeping your relationship low-profile, you thought nothing of it. You knew he had no ill-intentions with the situation, so you agreed. But you thought the coast would be clear 6 months into the relationship.

During that time, the only signs of affection you got from him were when he was seldom tired from work and came home to you, longing for your warmth and drowning you with the most beautifully crafted compliments you could only dream of hearing. It was the side of him only you got to see. It was almost an honor being able to witness such greatness, all the while feeling like a goddess, worshipped and gratified by the gift of your presence.

Nowadays, you no longer felt like a deity worth praying to; that side of him became rarer than it already was.

The times when you were together—together being with the rest of your friends—you would always try to make some sort of contact with him just to feel the thrill of love your heart was aching to have, only for him to starve you of it and leave.

You felt alone, neglected, desperate, nonexistent, like a forgotten dream worth pursuing.

Everytime you thought of leaving, frames and fragments of his flattering psalms and echoing touch seemed worth the mind-numbing pain you’re going through. You’re the only one for me, he’d say. I don’t know what I did to deserve you. He would gaze upon you like you were a full moon, and you would embrace him like he was the sun.

But basking under the sun is bound to get you burned.

About an hour later, already midnight, Cyno had already arrived but Alhaitham was nowhere to be seen. Kaveh has had too many drinks and is now drunk to the core. And with the hopes of seeing Alhaitham’s face for once, you drank your fair share too. Your cheeks glowed with a drunken flush, a fire setting aflame to your frozen heart. Something he could never do.

“Looks like the acting grand sage will not be joining us,” Cyno pointed out.

A guffaw escaped from your throat, “What is there to even expect, Alhaitham has been busy since that damned Azar did… something.”

You can’t think clearly. The laugh you let out almost sounded like a sob, and to be honest, you were on the verge of crying. You were just tired. You needed the warmth only the love of your life could provide.

Then out of the blue, the voice you longed for an eternity echoed through the tavern, tired and monotonous. “Apologies for my utmost tardiness, there were some issues at the akademiya I needed to handle.”

Alhaitham.

Your stomach hurt all of the sudden. You watched as he walked to the seat opposite of you. Shouldn’t you be happy now? You were just about to break down because he wasn’t here. Now that he is, you should be content and watch your boyfriend from afar. But all you could feel was betrayal, the blank agony of despair, the cruel sting of rejection.

He failed to notice the tears that glossed your eyes, assuming it was the reflection of the light. Your gaze pierced his soul with desperation, begging for him to console you and just… do whatever. You were asking for even a squeak, a sliver of concern, the bare minimum.

“Tighnari, how is Collei doing with her studies?” Like he had a shield for your painful daggers, he didn’t even glance at your direction. Disappointment filled you like a glass of wine. You should be used to this by now—the overwhelming weight when he avoided your leg, another desperate cry you needed him to hear.

Tighnari shared Collei’s progress after seeing that you were okay. As much as you were proud of her, you prayed to every archon not to let her be in your situation. Your heart shreds for the other person, it screams his name like a priest in worship, and all that for naught.

The group laughed at something, you weren’t listening all that much. You just felt… empty.

Kaveh’s voice called your name, “Isn’t that right, Y/N?” The group turns to you, who was dazed and distracted. The architect immediately noticed this. He patted your cold hand, “Y/N?”

“Hm? Ah, yes. Yeah, sure.”

Alhaitham laughed, “You seem distracted tonight, Y/N. If you’re looking to write for the akademiya, that kind of attitude will not be tolerated.”

Somehow you got defensive. Was it Alhaitham’s obliviousness? The way he made it seem like you were aloof? His laugh that mocked you in your desolate state? Maybe it was all of the above. Whatever it was, it made you snap.

“Ah, Alhaitham, akademiya this, akademiya that—there are more things to life than work, you know.” Your voice covered up your attacks as simple friendly banter. You’ve gotten good at sucking up your anxieties and steadying your voice all thanks to him. Now you can cover yourself up real nice when you commit a crime. You have a knife in mind, and you’re ready to kill. “Like, I don’t know, a partner, per say.”

Stab.

The grand sage scoffed, “You know very well I don’t have time for such trivial things.” His muscles flex as he crossed his arms. So these were the words he chose to say to you, after centuries of broken promises and empty plates.

“Maybe you would if you actually made the time for one.”

Stab.

“You are aware that you just ignored what I just said, right? Are you even listening?”

Stab.

“Oh, I’ve been listening. For the past two years, I’ve been listening my butt out for you.” It was scarring how unbothered Alhaitham was; you wanted to scream at him. The tightening of your chest, the prickling of tears behind your eyes, the weight of despair settling in your stomach, could he see what you’re going through? “Now, all I ask is a little bit of sympathy because I have been suffering all alone, waking up to an empty bed, not even a-“

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” Alhaitham interrupted you, somewhat panicked. You didn’t realize how loud you were being, up from your seat with your palm stinging from how hard it hit the table. “You know, if you’re having boy problems, you don’t have to take it out on me. It’s not like I’m your boyfriend.”

Right then and there, your world began crashing down. “Alhaitham,” Cyno muttered disapprovingly, making Alhaitham realize how rude he sounded. The tavern’s customers hushed to listen to your table. You hadn’t realized there were so many people.

Without even looking around, you could feel their eyes on you, whispers riddled with scandal.

“They’re being so loud.”

“Has she no shame?”

“In the presence of Acting Grand Sage Alhaitham, too.”

“Look, the general mahamatra is there; she really needs to watch herself.”

The embarrassment, the anger; it all fuelled you with a feeling you could not explain. No metaphor could capture the entirety of the wickedness of a man. How come he gets to sit there with everyone’s respect while you grovel in your puddle of tears? How come he’s having the time of his life while you’re burning in hell?

“You’re right,” you began, eyes dulled and void of life—of love, “You’re not. Okay, that’s all the liquor I can handle, guys. I think I’ll be heading home now.”

“Y/N,” Kaveh called, standing from his seat to escort you on your way out.

“I can walk myself, Kaveh.” You grabbed your things and took a sip of water. “Acting Grand Sage, humblest apologies.” Once again, you looked at him with utmost disappointment before leaving the tavern and heading home.

—

I am adrift in a sea of longing, drowning in the silence of his absence, clutching to memories like driftwood in a storm-tossed ocean. Yet still, I cling to the fading embers of our love, fearing the darkness that awaits should I let them fade to ash.

Hours after you returned home, sleep had not been your friend. As much as it would be typical, you cried until your eyes stung. It was now 4am, the time Alhaitham usually wakes up. Lost in your never-ending, ever-agonizing thoughts, you stared blankly at the dining room, wondering if he will finally recognize his mistakes, how much pain you’ve been in.

The knob of your front door twisted open, and surprise, surprise, it was Alhaitham who entered your apartment. “What the FUCK was that, Y/N?” He was not one to raise his voice like that, or even curse.

“Of all the nights I was available, this was when and how you choose to talk to me?” Your voice was the opposite—calm, sad, empty.

“Do you realize you nearly told everyone about our relationship?” He spotted a notebook on your crossed lap and grabbed it. “What’s that, ‘I am adrift in a sea of..’ what? Y/N, is there something you’re not telling me?”

“You specialized in languages, Alhaitham, you’ll figure it out.”

The man scoffed, “I’m not a mind reader, Y/N, if you could stop being immature-“

“You’re calling me immature? Okay, what about you keeping our two-year relationship a fucking secret?” The both of you continued raising your voices at each other. If people in the tavern hadn’t already spread rumors, this will surely start them. “Just tell me you’re ashamed of me, Alhaitham!” Then the man fell silent. Serves him right. “Tell me you don’t love me, so you can have a concrete reason to leave!”

“You know being the acting grand sage was never an easy task. The Fatui and other rebelling organizations have me as their number one target, and they are more than willing to hurt anyone to get their way! I was keeping us a secret to protect you! Seeing you getting hurt would mean the end of the world.”

“Getting hurt?” You scoff, “If you never wanted me to get hurt, you’re doing a terrible fucking job. I had to sit through multiple tables with empty seats because you were never home. Do you know how embarrassing that is for myself? I had to tolerate every ounce of contact you avoided because ‘someone might see us.’ In case you couldn’t get how much pain I’m in, let me sum it up for you—IT HURTS MORE THAN DEATH, ALHAITHAM!”

As the last echoes of your argument faded into the silence of the empty apartment, it felt as though the very foundations of your world was crumbling around them. Each word spoken was like a dagger to the heart, tearing apart the fragile bonds of love that had once held you together.

Every word you said stung his chest, the last part beating him to a pulp. It was too late for regret to cross his mind. “I really did love you, Alhaitham, more than anything.”

Those words… he hadn’t heard them in what felt like eternity. All he wanted to do was melt into your arms and apologize endlessly for all his wrongdoings, the times he barely came home, the mornings he could’ve spent with you. He’s been feeling this way for what feels like centuries. If he opened his arms to you, would you still embrace him? Would you still forgive him?

“But I can’t keep giving myself excuses to tolerate all of this.”

He looked at you, your eyes that were once so full of light now dimming of any source. The desperation, the longing you both share. There was so much sadness in your eyes. Have you always looked at him that way? Alhaitham was always quick on his feet—he had to find a way to convince you to stay!

“Y/N,” he began, “We can’t just give up on everything we’ve been through. All the dates, anniversaries, everything we took our time to make—it will all be a waste if we give up now.”

“I think you gave up on us the first time you dropped my hand when I reached for you.”

You were slowly slipping from his grasp, from his future. “I’m willing to give you all the time you need. Every meal, every date, every word you desire, I will make time for all of it. I promise you.”

“How can I know this will be another empty promise? How will I know you won’t do this again? You were never the type to offer everything so helplessly, Alhaitham.”

“Y/N, can’t you see-“

“Where were you during my sleepless nights? Where were you when I had prepared the perfect dinner for us? Where were you when I stood in the middle of the park, waiting for a certain someone to show up?

You were never there, Alhaitham. But I forgave you for all of that. I gave you a million last chances.”

A million last chances… you were thinking of leaving him beforehand? When he couldn’t seem to move his mouth, you decided you’ve had enough.

“Please, leave.”

It was too late for him now. He was long gone from saving you, from saving this relationship. There was nothing left to say, or do.

In the dim light of dawn, you both stood alone, tears a silent testament to the shattered dreams and broken promises that littered the floor like shards of glass. And as you watched your former lover walk away, a part of you knew that the wounds inflicted that night would never fully heal, leaving behind nothing but the bitter taste of regret and the haunting echo of what could have been.

(Part 2 coming soon!)

RIDDSIES MY BBG❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️♥️❤️♥️

May I request a Maid!Yuu x Riddle Rosehearts with the classic trope of “keeping the relationship a secret until they can’t,” please?

feat. Riddles Mom as the antagonist

I could not ignore how good this sounded

The Help

"Your mother? That's wonderful, I'd love to meet her." Yuu said cheerfully as they took an apron off the hook.

"No, you don't. I don't even want to see her but she's coming to visit." Riddle said stepping behind his partner and tying the apron snugly at the waist. "You do remember what I said about my upbringing right?"

"Of course I do. But we can't change her coming so we can't worry about that. We can only remain hopeful that the visit will be pleasant. Even if it isn't being polite is important. After all meeting your in-laws is very important for every relationship." Yuu said sagely.

"...about that." Riddle said nervously.

Almost immediately Yuu narrowed their eyes. They didn't like the sound of that.

Riddle sighed.

"I dont want her to know about us." Riddle said flinching waiting for Yuu to yell at him.

Of course that never came. They would never raise their voice, especially not at Riddle. Yuu only sighed sadly, their shoulder slumped in disappointment.

"I'm sorry." Riddle help one on Yuu's hands.

"Are you ashamed of us?" They asked.

"NO! Never!" Riddle shouted quickly "I just- just don't want her to hurt you. She'd hate anyone I date if she didn't choose them. She would threaten you. She might even get Crowley to keep you from me or worse kick you out of the school."

Yuu didn't like hearing this but relented.

"Fine...fine ugh." Yuu let out a huff of exhaustion. "what's your plan?"

Riddle's plan while not ingenious it was practical. Just pretend we aren't dating. Simple and easy.

Yuu when about their business as usual as they served tea and food in the garden. They kept their head down as they worked.

"I heard you won first place in the equestrian show as expected." Ms.Rosehesrts said over her cup of Earl Gray.

Yuu's mouth twitched in irritation. They chalked it up to the choice of tea the woman asked for.

Did she really ask for the acidic bergamot Earl Grey when the spread clearly called for something less intense? The fruit tarts and chocolate cakes just don't go with that tea. Fortunately, Yuu knew Riddle's tastes well and added vanilla and cream to his cup.

"Do you usually drink such sugary drinks? I swear without me you can't manage yourself." His mother sighed as she looked at the light-colored tea compared to her dark sugarless cup.

Riddle opened his mouth to respond be he was interrupted.

"I'm apologies Mr.Rosehearts. But as the head of the Heartslabyul dorm Master Riddle must set an example. He takes his tea as the great Queen herself did. It is his cross to bear as dutifully follows the rules." Yuu said their head bowed.

The mother shifted her gaze to the servant and glared.

"And who are you?" She asked. The question was rhetorical, she was very aware that Yuu was serving them but her question was more to remind the servent of their place.

"I'm a student here. I work as a maid as well to earn extra money Ms.Rosehearts." Yuu said timidly.

"Oh, I see. Well isn't that lovely but you would do well to mind your own business. It would serve you well in your future line of work." The mother stated.

Riddle tried to interrupt to take his mother's attention away but before he could Yuu spoke.

"I understand. I will keep that in mind." Yuu said looking at the ground.

That clearly wasn't what Riddle's mother wanted to hear as she frowned.

"You understand what? Speak up child and look me in the eye. Perhaps it's too much to expect a servant even an amateur would know how to answer properly. Honestly, even poor parenting is no excuse." She continued.

Yuu nodded and lifted their head. Their face was red and their lower lip trembled.

"My apologies again ma'am. I understand that I shouldn't interpret or comment on your discussions. I also understand that I should properly address you." Yuu said their voice wavering.

"Really then? Then how can you address me as Mr.Rosehearts? You call my son master but fail to show me proper respect. You will call me Mistress as you should." She demanded.

"Mother!" Riddle cut in.

"Quiet! How dare you speak over me! And you!" Ms.Rosehearts pointed at Yuu. "I'm waiting and I'm losing patience with you!"

Yuu felt like a stone was lodged in their throat. Their face felt hot and their eyes stung.

"I-Im sorry. May I b-be excused? I should g-get back." Yuu wanted to leave as quickly as possible.

Riddle's heart dropped into his stomach as he saw the fearful expression on Yuu's face.

"No, you may not! Honestly how useless can you be? This is why I never raised my son to be like people like you. Weak, sniveling, and worst of all failures!" Ms.Rosehearts lips curled in disgust.

Tears streamed down Yuu's face as they tried to keep a straight face.

"Mother! You've gone too far! You have no right to talk to them that way!" Riddle pushed his mother aside as he stood between them. "Yuu don't listen to her. She knows nothing about you, about us."

"Riddle, how dare yo-"

"Be quiet! You have said enough! You have not only embarrassed me as your son but you have thoughtlessly insulted my partner! Do you have any empathy at all? Do you think of anyone else but yourself?!" Riddle turned on his mother as he yelled in her face.

"Riddle!" She tried to yell back.

"I said stop talking! Perhaps it was too much to hope that you would act like someone with basic human decency let alone like a proper mother! Do you think this is how you should act toward someone I love? You talked alot about respect but you don’t even know what that means! You only know fear! I want you gone now!" Riddle pointed to the exit as he held Yuu close as they cried.

Riddle's mother turned bright red as she prepared to lash out at the pair. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. She whipped around to see no other than the college's potions professor.

"Ms. Rosehearts I had the displeasure of watching you not only make a fool of yourself but you had the nerve to insult my pup." Crewel growled "You have a lot of nerve to speak to someone else's child like that let alone your own. I hope that in the future you will rethink coming to this campus and my child."

Riddle's mother clenched her jaw as she saw Riddle comforting his beloved. She then huffed and turned to exit.

"Before you go I wanted to tell you that I got in contact with father. Don't worry about me coming home. I won't be living with you anymore." Riddle said glaring at her.

"Are you okay?" Yuu asked gently running a hand down Riddle's back as he buried his face in Yuu's chest.

"I should be asking you that. I'm sorry. I should have stood up for you earlier." Riddle said.

Yuu laughed.

"You stood up to her though. That's more than I could do; she isn't even my mother. Riddle you were courageous." Yuu said kissing Riddle's cheek. " I may not have a mother-in-law but I'm sure we can manage when we become a family."

Riddle buried himself further, his ear were bright red.

"I haven't even proposed yet. We are hardly family. I still need Crewel's blessing and you know he's hard to please." Riddle can already feel the glare the professor would give.

"On the bright side, it'll be easier than asking your mother for the family ring." Yuu laughed.

(If it helps you can imagine Crewel standing behind Riddle's mother with a chair aimed at her head the entire time. Made me feel better at least)

What gets the two top models of Japan and a streamer to start dating? Obviously it's being shipped with someone you hate and a stalker! Wait what?

Sakusa Kiyoomi and Suna Rintaru are the top two male models of Japan, they're also a couple known to be poly. Something their fans are using to ship them with someone they hate. Y/n L/n, a growing streamer, has a stalker. She would do anything for a sense of safety. Hence a Not fake dating fake dating scheme.

The Main Cast

Part One: Well, now you know!

Part Two: Ground Rules

Part Three: Who's Pixie?

Part Four: Tonight

Part Five: Matching Banners

Part Six: Only a Whole Would Say That

Part Seven: Chia (Warning: Stalker heaving)

Part Eight: [Redacted]

Tbc...

Originally I was going to take a break from posting for a bit since I had to get a new phone, none of my smau stuff transfered. But then i started reading haikyuu smaus because i ran out of DC ones and the parasites would not let me rest until I made this :) Please save me.

This series is inspired by @/idlerin 's series Nonsense, Ikarus Incident, and love sick as well as @/lenaariewrld 's series Dream Girl

Make sure you go read them if you haven't!!! They're so good!!

Taglist:

@mysteriousballer1na @punkhazardlaw @3lectraheart @yuminako @soobinsbreadscrumbs @rebirthbunbun @ast4rg1rl @sp1ng @m3lonss @diorzs @mimisweetz @theycallmenanamisgirl

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IN IT TO WIN IT. — a childe × gn!reader smau

synopsis. fake-dating for a month, no strings attached. first one to catch feelings loses, and the winner takes home a prize. a dare's a dare — it should be easy, no? except, childe's playboy status didn't just come out of his ass, and somehow, it feels as if the game's rigged in his favour. but you won't go down without a fight either, because winning would ensure your continued enrollment in the prestigious teyvat u. — why else would you have taken his offer up? both of you are in it to win it, yet ‘it’ seems to have a different definition for him that it is for you...

content. smau + written, fake dating, one-sided pining, college au, slowburn, fluff, crack, angst

warnings. cursing, detailed warnings will be given at each specific chapter.

updates. a chapter a day at the most, a chapter a month at the very least. all chapters will be uploaded at 11PM GMT+8 no matter the day.

taglist. @qingxinnies @d-luc @intothegenshinworld @abyssals-prince @i23kazu @aeongiies @theblueblub @akagism2 @letthewindlead @pyrrhicgaze @raingoesboomboom @duckyyyx @yakshaas @ilyuu @ajaxstar @versadies @aimynx

( send an ask to be added/removed, or if you've changed your url )

reblogs help a lot ty <333

MASTERLIST + EXTRAS UTC.

meet the gang. broke bitches // dicks(z)

PART ONE — THE DARE.

genius.

broke bitches.

tba...

---

modern au high school hcs for my fav haikyuu boys based on my high school experiences + romance hcs <3

[miya osamu, sakusa kiyoomi, oikawa torū, iwaizumi haijime]

a/n- part one + my asks are open bc i do not know what to write but im down for mostly anything tbh so ASK AWAY PLS

miya osamu

he has a similar gpa to his brother [gpa at a 2.5 😔]

is in culinary club and the president

since atsumu is a drake glazer, osamu makes sure to bring up kendrick everytime he hears a drake song

he had a field day when “not like us” mv dropped

even though his brother and him are opposites in a way, that hasn’t stopped osamu from being submitted on ‘inarizaki.bops’

he was most likely talking to a teacher

private insta with 300 followers

doesn’t give a fuck abt p.e and would be enjoying basketball if they weren’t able to play volleyball

osamu would probably also have a very casual way of dressing — stussy and abrocrombie fiend

steals from his brother’s nike collection while owning several pairs adidas gazelles and new balances himself

as for with his s/o, he would be more of a soft launch guy and would post stories of you two holding hands or the two of you in a mirror pic

he would def be holding your hand in the halls and having his arm around you

imagine peter k lara jean moment

your friends would find him to be a green flag

the two of you would use study hall to not study at all but use his little crock pot thing he got from tiktok shop and make food

would try to be nara smith one day and fail miserably

very much would wear ‘aqua de gio’ bc i said so (n would find atsumu’s cologne to be too strong)

dates would include: cooking at his place and eating your masterpieces while watching movies (esp spider-man bc he seems the type)

artists he would listen to: kendrick lamar, joey bada$$, childish gambino, doja cat

sakusa kiyoomi

annoyingly smart (3.6 gpa) and would probably get a 4/5 avg on his ap tests

if he wasn’t on volleyball, he seems the type to be in academic decathlon or science olympiad

would be keeping to himself but if he were to play a sport, it would be smt like lacrosse or tennis

he’s rich. like RICH RICH. (he goes to itachiyama with three siblings or smt)

so he’d wear like club monaco, j. crew, or like ralph lauren

would have a specific rotation of shoes that would be asics or new balance in white

insta would be like 700 followers and 32 following

for him and his s/o, he’d be like osamu and would be very much soft launch you

even though he hates crowds, he would very much like to go out with you shopping (in a shopping center that has nobody/barely anyone)

kiyoomi may be presenting himself as a cold and calculating and he can be, but he’s a soft to ppl he’s close with

him and komori would use brain rot language ironically (I just see that lemme elaborate) after komori would use brain rot language unironically

he would use it with you once “by accident”

he kept hearing komori say it and said it subconsciously

and then never again after the second hand embarrassment he got

“on skibidi…?”

you still bring it up to this day (he blames komori)

dates would include movie nights and making pillow forts

artists he would listen to: sza, 21 savage, kanye west, playboi carti

oikawa torū

would be a note taking fiend and be an honors/ap student with a 3.4

he would be on a ‘bop’ page for volleyball in general

great king? nah great bop

instead of being a wyll warrior, he’d be one of the mfks on insta that would slide up with a 😍 then ghost you after dm-ing

another dior sauvage user and on some days, versace eros…

caught up in the central cee madz drama

also obsessed with watching nara smith (me too)

he’s team ice spice

would be very persistent in taking 0.5s

though because of this, he purposely fluffs up his bangs and hair for him to not fall victim to 0.5s

if he didn’t play volleyball, he would play badminton/tennis

would be a SLUTTTT for pinterest clean boy fits

very clean boy core with his lululemon mens shit and would be shopping at alo with urban outfitters fits

also ralph lauren teddy bear sweaters n golden gooses

his insta user would be smt like “theyenvy_.toruuu” or basic like his full name and he would have more than 3k followers

THOUGH HE WOULD BE MAKING THOSE SHARED POSTS W YOU.

his finsta would be very full of you and spams of volleyball

nle choppa slut me out 2 glazer

dates would include: self care day at either one of your places while watching baddies or real housewives +shopping

artists he would listen to: laufey, cigarettes after sex, olivia rodrigo, megan thee stallion, nle choppa

iwaizumi hajime

he went to uci so he has his shit tgt (nhs and 3.9 type shit w aps)

though, he would definitely be apart of debate club and a lacrosse person if he didn’t do volleyball

shops at psycho bunny or hollister. the occasional lululemon shirt bc oikawa put him on

would wear yeezys and supreme, i fear

i can see him being into watching the “who tf did I marry” series

massive gym bro

would have his finsta tracking his gains

his fyp would also probably be workouts and those “baby don’t hurt me” meme tiktoks (idk how to explain)

would be the winner of senior assassin

he would def shoot oikawa first

type of person to wear ‘obession’ by calvin klein mixed with axe body spray

as for insta, he would def have a good 1k

would post you to the cutest songs ever and collab on posts

HARD LAUNCH TYPA GUY

yall would have like a specific song that would make him be like “this is our songgg”

in his head

most likely a tyler song

aka ‘sweet/i thought you wanted to dance’

he’d be the okokok to your lalalala

dates would include: him just spoiling you and dinner dates

artists he would listen to: tyler the creator, metro boomin, 21 savage, kendrick lamar, j. cole

---

Over

synopsis: WAKE UP, EAT, GET READY, STREAM, EAT, TALK WITH FRIENDS, RINSE, REPEAT... SIMPLY A MUNDANE LIFE, SOMETHING THAT YOU CRAVED FOR A FEW YEARS BACK. BUT HOW WILL LIFE PLAY OUT WHEN YOU SOMEHOW BECOME FRIENDS AND FANS GO WILD? HOW WILL IT ALL PLAY OUT?

status: COMING SOON

pairing: STREAMER! SCARAMOUCHE X STREAMER! FEM! READER

warnings: MDNI SWEARING, KYS "JOKES", DRAMA, DARK HUMOR, BROKEN HUMOR, HEAVY TOPICS, BETRAYAL

main characters:

CLD HOUSE

ARENA HOUSE

extras:

NEWS ACCOUNTS

FAN ACCOUNTS

ACT ONE:

who?

what tf is up childe

TBA

---

PLEASE more rin x reader with the friends to lovers trope

₊˚⊹♡ 0x1=lovesong?!

the three times your childhood best friend itoshi rin realizes that he loves you + the one time he says it

warnings: none // wc: 3.8k

note: hai i hope this delivers what you wanted! fic + title loosely inspired by txt's 0x1=lovesong. female reader, kinda messy writing & ik that sae returns to japan when its winter but i make the rules here so it's actually summer. badly proofread!

one.

the first time itoshi rin met you was when he was a toddler, on a sunny, cloudless day at the park.

rin stared dejectedly at the bright green, now malformed, chunk of plastic he held in his tiny hands. it had previously been a dinosaur figure, possibly his favorite one so far too.

of course he had to break it and ruin the fun for himself.

rin's head whipped around, left, right, left, right—he was looking for comfort, in the form of his older brother sae—who was nowhere to be found. it dawned on him that even then, in a bustling playground full of lively kindergarteners, itoshi rin found himself alone. a zero in a world of ones.

as he sat there on the sidewalk, mourning his latest tragedy, the last thing he expected was for a little girl to approach him.

"hi," you said shyly. rin tore his gaze away from the broken pieces of his toy and looked up at you, curiousity in his eyes. you were pretty, he thought immediately. although you were both barely four, there was a simple elegance in the way you held yourself, and an obvious kindness in your delicate features. he wondered why you had chosen to approach him when so few of his peers ever did.

"hi," rin repeated back at you, exhaling sharply.

"um, do you want to play family with us?" you stuttered a little as you asked, motioning to three other children behind you. even at the age of four, rin's teal eyed gaze was still piercing. "we need someone to be the dad."

you wanted him to be the dad? rin rarely recieved invitations to play with other children, let alone was he well-versed in this game called family. but for some strange reason, he really wanted to try it. maybe it was because of you. you who had noticed his despair and tried to save him, in your own way.

"okay," he said decidedly, looking at you and your group of friends with wide eyes.

"yay! we can play for real now!" you squealed to the kids behind you. "my name is l/n y/n," you stated, staring at him expectantly. oh. you wanted to know what his name was.

"itoshi. itoshi rin."

"okay itoshi-chan, let's go!" and then you were dragging him off to the playstructure and under the slides, where your "house" was.

"just rin is okay," rin blurted out. "i have a brother so itoshi is confusing anyway."

"okay, rin-chan it is then! let's be friends!" your joyful grin made rin's tiny heart twist with a feeling he didn't understand. why did it make him so happy to be wanted by you? why did you even want to be his friend in the first place?

"alright!" he replied with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

rin doesn't remember much else from that day, but he knows that it was one of the better memories he holds from his childhood.

two.

a lot had transpired since that fateful day at the park, and the two of you were attending the same junior high as first-years. somehow, you had wound up in a majority of the same elementary school classes as well, thus you and rin formed a tight-knit friendship. twelve year old rin was going through somewhat of an edgy phase (that he never really grew out of.) hence, he was also going through a period where he was even more tight-lipped in class, despite his growing popularity. recruited by his older brother sae, rin had fallen into the clutches of soccer since first grade, and he had something that could only be described as a genius talent for the ball game. he was the only first-year who had made the soccer team, and rumors were that he was likely next in line for the position of captain, which was usually exclusively given to third years. he had soccer practice almost daily now, and you had art club after school, meaning your schedules aligned. as soccer practice often ran late, you developed a habit of making your way over to the fields after art club was finished to wait for rin. then the two of you would walk home together. rin never put too much thought into the simple act of you waiting for him, until one afternoon, you weren't there.

huh? he had thought. maybe you were running late or something? rin had just finished the last of his laps around the grassy field, and he surveyed his suroundings with slight dissapontment. you really weren't there?

"itoshi-kun, what's up?" a second year asked him, noticing his odd demeanor.

"nothing," rin quickly answered. but a slight frown stuck to his face, though the older decided not to push it. rin found himself yearning to see your face, missing the back and forth banter that was so ingrained into his day.

"right well, happy birthday! get home soon," his teammate wished him, walking away. birthday? with a jolt, rin realized that the boy was right, it was, in fact, september ninth. he had never really enjoyed his birthday that much, given it was too close to the beginning of the new school year and just reminded him of how much longer he would have to suffer before summer break. rin started for the cool metal benches where his soccer bag was, beginning to pack up his things and change out of his cleats.

"hey, underlashes!" a voice suddenly cut through his thoughts. so you were here after all? rin dropped his shoes.

"y/n, i really don't appreciate the brother reference," he complained. secretly, he was relieved to hear your teasing. he'd never admit that he didn't mind the nickname that you had given him after you proclaimed that the itoshi brothers had under eyelashes longer than should be humanly possible. something about it was rather endearing.

"oh, cheer up," you began. "you'll be thanking me after this one." rin took a proper look at you and bit back a laugh. you looked like you had just run a marathon given how your red your face was, paired with the small beads of sweat trickling past your forehead. yet somehow, each lock of your hair still fell perfectly to frame your face. you smirked and shoved a small white box into his hands. "i had to run to get here in time, ya know?"

rin looked at the box quizically, recognizing the logo of his favorite bakery in an instant. he untied the pale blue ribbon holding it together and inhaled deeply, content.

happy birthday rin! was written on the small matcha cheesecake that you had gifted him. the small motion makes his heart swell.

"i thought you might like matcha since you like ochazuke so much," you explained.

"i do like it," rin's voice comes out softer than he meant it to. the same old odd feeling was back in his chest. he still couldn't quite place it. it made him naseous and somewhat giddy, like a kid high on cotton candy. he didn't know if he hated it or loved it.

"happy thirteenth, rin!" he felt the familiar, inviting warmth of your smile, and suddenly all was right in the world. as you sang happy birthday to him and slapped a party hat atop his messy dark hair, rin felt like you were the only two people on earth. he felt like he was home, more so than he ever did in his own room. you had a way of bringing that sensation to him, through the nine years he had known you.

after you had finished belting out the last notes of the melody, rin said with a slight grimace, "thirteen is an unlucky number."

"you're not superstitious, so shut it! don't jinx yourself!" you reprimanded him. "oh, but speaking of, i got you that new horror game that you wanted. it hasn't come yet though, it's still being shipped."

"really?" oh how rin's eyes and facade lit up at the mention of the video game.

"yeah, you can go curse yourself all you want once it's here."

"...thanks." itoshi rin was often described as a cold boy. and you were just about the only person he could open up to. rin questioned for a second if it was normal for him to feel that ecstatic over a mere video game.

"hey, look! the sun's setting!" you exclaimed, poking his shoulder lightly. rin's train of thought stalled, instead choosing to direct his attention towards the patch of sky which you were pointing at. streaks of yellow, orange, and red danced across his vision as the sun became slowly swallowed by the earth. "it's beautiful, isn't it?" you asked him.

rin turned to meet your gaze and almost passed out. he swore you looked like an angel sent from heaven itself in the glowing warmth of the sunset, you beamed at him. had you always looked like this? your eyes shone like a million stars, and he felt a smile tugging at the corner of his own mouth. if you had asked him if he was blushing, he'd say no way in hell, but truthfully his face was a little red and it definitely wasn't from his previous workout. rin was suddenly reminded of how he felt when he met you.

"yeah," he breathed. "it's nice." what he really wanted to say was that you were nice, not the sunset. the sunset, for all its glory, was barely lukewarm compared to you. no, that wasn't it. you were radiant, and rin had known that from the very moment he saw you, so many years ago. but for now, he'd have to settle for just this, whatever your friendship was, he was much too scared to lose it.

three.

a little over two years had gone by since that evening when you had celebrated his birthday with him, and the end of rin's third, final year in junior high was approaching. sae had left for spain, scouted by the top soccer club there, and rin wanted more than anything to follow in his footsteps, to be the second best striker in the world after his brother itoshi sae. though sae's leaving had left him a bit lonelier, your friendship was still as easy-going as ever, and rin prayed that it would never change, as sappy as it sounded. he also tried (and failed) to ignore the increased stares between you two, that seemed to take place everywhere. sometimes, he thought that there was some sort of romantic tension between you two, and there had definitely been no shortage of mixed signals. maybe there was a hint of yearning in both your expressions? that year, the only class you shared with him was advanced mathematics, and he loathed the subject immensely. he likely would have cut class entirely if it weren't the only time of day he saw you that wasn't during lunch.

and it's during lunch one day in the month of february that you asked rin something, almost causing him to choke on his noodles.

"she what?" rin askwed between strangled coughs.

"yumi-chan wants to know if you're thinking of giving anyone chocolates for valentine's day," you repeated to him. was rin dense or something? either he was just that, extremely dense, or he chose to ignore his ever-growing fanclub. girls had begun to gush over him after he had been picked for the soccer team's captain last year, and it was also that previous valentine's that rin had recieved about a hundred confessions, ranging from girls in your grade to underclassmen, to even your seniors. you tried to pretend like the fact didn’t bug you, but it nagged you in all the wrong ways. your only saving grace is your recollection of how last year, rin had just stood there awkwardly, accepting gifts yet not seeming satisfied with any of them. he looked as if he were waiting for someone's confession, one that never came.

you never asked him about it though, not wanting to dance between the border of normal questioning from a friend and being plain nosy. however, you did mull over it from time to time. was it possible that rin really had been waiting for someone? or had he just been pissed off?

"you can tell yumi that i don't plan on giving anyone anything, especially her," rin spat with distaste, bringing you back to the present.

"the poor girl has done nothing wrong to you," you tried to defend her.

"doesn't mean i have to like her," rin retorted.

"i'll tell her, in gentler wording that is. you know this won't stop anyone from giving you chocolates next week anyway, right?" you wondered if he heard the slight grimace in your voice.

"on feburary fourteenth i will have suddenly been in a very tragic car crash and unable to attend school," rin declared. you could tell from the conviction in his voice that he might actually be plotting a way to skip that day.

"righttt, whatever you say."

unfortunately for rin, he suffered no such vehicular accident and was, rather angrily, perfectly healthy and in attendance at school that valentine's day. it was time for math class, again, and rin had already recieved eighty two chocolates. he thought he might break his own record that year given the school day had barely begun. what he was not prepared for was the sight of you, standing in front of your desk as a boy, whom rin could not remember the name of (he's sure it was some npc anyway) thrusted a pink heart shaped box towards your body. no, there could be no mistaking it, that boy had just confessed to you.

something akin to envy took over rin's body and before he was even aware of it himself, he was standing next to you, glowering at the boy. rin had been mad plenty of times, but he was practically ready to spit fire right then.

the boy hurriedly scurried away, like a mouse, and rin stared daggers at his back.

"hey rin!" you greeted him, as if nothing was wrong.

"who. was. that." not a question but a demand came from the boy with the blunt bangs in front of you.

"rin, it's fine. that's just tokimitsu, and i swear he's harmless," you answered quickly, doing a poor job of concealing the excitement bubbling up inside of you that rin cared. “he was probably just being nice anyway."

"sure didn't look like it, he was blushing like he walked into a makeup store and fell in that damn pink powder," rin griped.

"why's that bothering you anyhow?"

"i- uh," rin didn't know how to answer that. he didn't even know that he could get jealous over you until then. and how would he tell his best friend that? after all, friends weren't supposed to feel that way for each other. it was wrong for him to be this possessive over you. rin assumed that it was just because he had known you for so long, and that he didn't trust this half-baked tokimitsu guy. he's lying to himself.

"he just pisses me off, i guess," was the answer that rin gave you.

"so what'cha got there?" you motioned at his bag, obviously stuffed full of confessions and candy. "sharing is caring..." rin wondered if you were frowning as he unzipped the backpack and told you to take anything you wanted, hiding under an excuse that the chocolate would ruin his diet as an athelte.

when the final bell tolled for the end of school, rin was waiting outside your class.

"rin? don't you have practice?" you were surprised at his sudden appearance.

"nope, cancelled." rin lied through his teeth. he then dragged you away, setting a brisk walking pace that was opposite from the direction of his and your houses. you shrugged and followed. you didn't have anything planned so you assumed it would be fine.

you were about a block away when you realized where rin was headed towards: your favorite cafe. oddly, he didn't even enjoy their pastries, he had told you they were too sweet for his liking multiple times.

rin led you past the door, weaving through a small crowd of poeple, and stopped abruptly at a table for two. he nodded at the light pink menu that sat atop the marbled top.

"you order," he announced. rin still couldn't take his mind off that infuriating moment in math, and had he been compelled, almost possesed, by a strong urge to take you to the cafe you frequented on that valentine's day. i'll one up you tokimitsu, he thought.

you were still scanning the menu when the waitress approached you, notepad in hand.

"if you're having trouble deciding, we're doing a special promotion for couples today on the strawberry snow parfait for two!" she suggested, looking at you both.

couple? you guessed that you could see where she was coming from. you and rin might have looked like a couple, but before you could clear up the misunderstanding, rin interjected. he knew that strawberries were your favorite fruit, given how often you brought them to school.

"sounds perfect, thanks," he said, and the waiter was off with a nod of her head, scribbling something down. hold on a minute. rin had agreed that you two were a couple to her? you wondered if he was that desperate to get the promotion.

"rin," you hissed. "we're not technically a coup-"

"shhhh!" he shushed you. and as if compelled by an yet another mysterious force, rin took your hands in his. "they don't know that, and you like strawberries, right?" he finished with a wink.

maybe you had died and been brought back to life by that wink, because with the way your heart threatened to explode back then, you definitely shouldn't have lived through it. knowing that he remembered your love of strawberries made you somewhat giddy.

you didn't trust yourself to say anything back yet, only nodding in silent agreement. it was also that day when you realized that you might really, really have feelings for the boy sitting across from you with the compelling cerulean eyes.

plus one more.

you since graduated junior high and somehow beat the paper thin odds, winding up in the same high school as itoshi rin. and you never stopped thinking back to that february fourteenth, even after months had past and it was now novemember of your first year as a high schooler. rin only became better and better at soccer, so naturally you, his best friend, were present at every home game he had. but rin had changed that summer before the start of first year, on an oddly cold night where sae had returned to japan earlier than expected. rin refused to mention much about it to you, but you knew. it had scarred and changed him, his attitude was at its worst and he played with a newfound rage, something that demanded people to notice him. really look at who was going to surpass itoshi sae, his tepid excuse for a big brother.

it was only a few short months after the start of high school and rin's debut as the star striker of the soccer team. rin had been seen and scouted by countless numbers of japanese clubs at this point, just like he'd hoped, and you had encouraged him to go wherever he thought would be best. even if it meant going far from home, and far from you. but for rin, no offer was good enough to surpass sae's yet. so he stayed in place, until he had called you abruptly today at seven in the night. the call had been brief and rin failed to mention anything of importance except telling you to meet him at the park immediately.

he never specified which park, but you knew for him that there could only be one.

when you arrive at the now faded playstructure that you first met itoshi rin at, you're hit by a wave of nostalgia. the sky is exactly as cloudless as it was in your memories, and the crescent moon smiles down at you. were you two really sixteen already? had it been twelve years since you befriended the slightly teary eyed boy with the broken dinosaur figurine?

"hey, y/n." rin's voice is oddly lower, and his tone is serious.

"rin," you smile at him. "did something happen? why'd you wanna meet here all of a sudden?"

"this is it," he whispered, showing you an enveloped containing a letter that read with "the JFU invites you to an elite training camp for the national team…" in glittering gold letters. "my chance to become the world's number one striker, to finally being recognized by sae again..." he trails off, the hurt in his voice all too obvious and too painful for you to hear. "it'll be far, and i probably won't be able to come to school for a while. won't be able to see you for a while."

"rin, you have to go," you steal glance at the boy who had been by your side for all of these years. you wish you could tell him that you'd be okay without him, but there was no point in lying. that's why he had called you all the way over here.

"just- just promise me one thing y/n," rin says, practically commanding you to look at him again. you're enthralled by the deep blues of his irises, and you think that you might never be able to look away.

rin doesn't ever want to look away either. he's at a crossroads right now, he's more aware of that than ever. rin doesn't think he can go down the right path in peace unless he tells you this one thing, what he's been wanting to say from the very instant you made his life worth living.

"please, don't leave me behind," he begs, his voice hushed but urgent. "i can't lose someone else i care about." shit, he has to tell you the truth now. "the boy you met at the park that day, the one that you wanted to play with, he's been in love with you ever since." its a quiet admission of what was so obvious to everyone else, but so incomprehensible to you two.

rin thinks that he’s ruined it all, this was the end of the line for you and he’d just have to live with that rejection.

on the other hand. you're stunned into silence, entranced by the boy who had drawn your attention since you were four, and you know that your words will fail you again. in the pale moonlight, he looks perfect, sculpted by michelangelo himself. so, you do the only thing that you know can express what you feel for rin. you screw your eyes shut and press your lips onto his, gripping the edge of his soft gray hoodie.

a gush of relief floods rin and reacts a second later. you swear you see fireworks erupting. the kiss nothing less than movie worthy, he's the male lead, you're the main love interest, and the world fades to nothing around you two as you're consumed by rin's love.

when you suddenly realize you're not breathing and neither is he, you push away in a rush. rin's cheeks are hopelessly red, and you assume your own aren't much better off.

"wait, let's do that again, please," rin gasps, breathing heavily while tugging you towards his chest. his black bangs cover his eyes just a bit, and you reach to swipe them out of his face.

rin thinks that he is going to melt, more helpless than a popsicle left out in the sweltering suimmer sunlight. he cradles your face gently, kissing you once again.

the two of you stay like that for a while, and you're not sure how late it is when he pulls away for the final time, but all the stars are out in the sky now, glinting and sparkling.

you hope that there were no children left playing around at this hour.

"so, you'll send me off tomorrow morning?" rin asks. it's unfathomable to him how you can make him feel so complete, so full. you're definitely the one for him.

"that's a promise."

"and you love me?" he asks again.

"even after the end of the world, i will," you assure rin, tracing the grooves on the palm of his hand.

zero multiplied by one should always equal zero. at least, that's what the fundamentals of mathematics declare. but with you as the one, rin thinks that zero times one might equal something else: love.

a/n: if u made it here MWAHH big kiss. probably the longest thing i've written in a while and not planned out at ALL, sorry for the crappy world building and stuff, i tried... also tried to keep it more in line with canon. i’ve never written with japanese honorifics hopefully i didn’t mess up too badly 🙁 side note i think rin would actually enjoy 0x1=lovesong vibes

---

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

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✦❘༻𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝙼𝚢 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝༺❘✦

Malleus Draconia x fem!reader

Summary: Congratulations! Out of all the noble ladies that were in line to become a princess and soon-to-be queen consort, you had been chosen. Oh, what's this? But you aren't married off to your kingdom and is, in fact, married to another country whom raged war with yours for decades on end?

You find yourself face-to-face with an enemy of your homeland, hands held in marriage and surrounded in a pretty little illusion of a happy wedding with flowers and smiles of all whom watched. You begin to wonder if your life had already ended the moment you stepped foot outside your homeland, taking a gulp at the frightening look on the prince of this twisted kingdom that you'll be ruling alongside him. Maybe you should try to get to know him and make peace.. Maybe he might turn out to be not so scary after all.

⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱

Chapter 1 - The Beginning of an End

Chapter 2 - The Day I've Been Betrothed

Chapter 3 - Teas, Cakes, and the Sleeping Beauty

Chapter 3.5 - A Step Into the Social Circle

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⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱

Tags: If you wish to be notified when I upload a chapter, please let me know in the comment section of this post.

⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱

Updates will be slow since I want to try to push forth quality content so it might help you to get notified!

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