pharahjoy

[pharahjoy]

Floyd locked up the little shrimp to make them fall into the water and play with them.🦐💫🌊

Fortunately, Azul was nearby.🐙

[pharahjoy]

Kpop Demon Hunter Idea

Thinking about a K-pop demon hunter AU. But the reader is the top K-pop singer of the moment, not even Huntrix can defeat them. The reader goes by the stage name (S/N), they have the most fans, and everyone who likes Saja Boys or Huntrix has heard of (S/N) and is probably a fan too. I was thinking like Lady Gaga because everyone love Lady Gaga, my queen.

But there's a secret: you're actually half demon oops.

I'm new to writing so it might be ooc.

One night, Rumi, the workaholic that she is, is the only one awake, working on the lyrics of her new song. That is, until she feels a disturbance in the air. There, outside the window a small red spot in the middle of Seoul.

She decides to venture out alone since Mira and Zoey totally deserve a break. The tear is was small, so there shouldn't be too many demons.

----

Well, that’s unexpected. The tear is right above K Entertainment, one of the biggest K-pop companies in Korea. That's where big singers get signed in, if you're with KE then your life career is only about to go up.

That's where you were signed at, the biggest idol in Korea right now, not even Huntrix or Saja boys can get on your level. She never met you before but your works has always inspired her and other Huntrix members to keep going. You're the K Entertainment golden child.

She needs to enter the building fast. Who knows what star is inside getting their soul sucked right now? But just as she starts to climb up-

“So you're here too, huh?”

“Jinu? What are you doing here, demon?” she says while pointing her sword at him.

“Woah woah, demon girl—” The blade gets closer to his neck, poking his skin. He lifts both arms. “I mean—Gwi-Ma sent me here. There’s a portal that’s opened in this building under his control. I was sent to investigate since I'm already in the human world.”

"Another demon ? Who's not controlled by Gwi-Ma...?" She slowly lower her swords.

"That's what I thought too, I thought you were the only one but perhaps there's a another one that Gwi-Ma can't control "

"We need to investigate "

"That's what I was sent to do"

He received a hit to the side.

----

Inside the building, there are no signs of life at all. Every worker has probably gone home by now. But it doesn’t stop the strange feeling that settles in both their hearts. Something isn’t right.Rumi turns to Jinu.

“Are you sure this isn’t some plan by Gwi-Ma—”

“My, my.”

They both jump and turn around.

Jinu in a fighting stance, his nails sharpening, and Rumi with her sword ready to strike, until she sees who it is. You.

There you are.

The golden child of K Entertainment. Idol of the century.

Even though Huntrix has won a lot of awards, you’ve won higher-prestige ones and have far more influence than they’ll ever have. A star-born singer whose career skyrocketed since your teenage years, and still going strong.

Rumi can’t stop her giddy expression; her eyes turn into stars. You were her favorite K-idol– hell, maybe her favorite idol, period. She debuted not long after you, but seeing your solo success surpass her group’s so quickly made her form a bit of disdain at first.

But after watching your interviews and fancams… she slowly fell in love.(Oohh 👀)

Jinu quickly noticed her facial expression and threw an annoyed look at you, who were you and how come you made someone like Rumi so... Charmed? By you with a single look.

In front of you stood two weirdos. Sure, they’re good-looking, but one is holding a sword, and the other literally grew claws.

You recognize both of them from the trending K-pop groups, Jinu from Saja Boys who looked super confused, and Rumi from Huntrix who looked like she could explode from joy (still holding her sword towards you).

You obviously know what they are. But let’s entertain them, why don’t we?

“May I know why you’re trespassing the building...with a sword, no less?”

“OMG you’re (S/N). Zoey would be so jealous…”

“Who?” A big gasp leaves Rumi’s throat. She’s shocked and in disbelief.

“How can you be a K-pop idol without knowing the king/queen of our generation!?”

“Alright, calm down. You guys are lucky I recognize you, or I would’ve called the cops by now. Rumi from Huntrix, right?” She nods.

She knows you probably knew her, but hearing her idol say her name still makes her proud of Huntrix popularity.

“And you’re from that new group… Soja Boys?” Rumi almost chokes laughing as Jinu sweat drop.

“Actually, it’s Saja Boys…” says Jinu.

You look at him, perplexed. “Strange name…”

Before holding a serious expression. “What are you guys doing here? You know it’s totally off-limits to non-workers. Doesn’t matter if you’re famous idols or not.”

Rumi and Jinu share a look. They need to find a way out of this without raising suspicion, a look you don’t miss.

“Um… we’re here to meet with an contractor! And hmm… oh! I think we got the wrong time, haha…”

Rumi quirks a wobbly smile. Jinu nods beside her, even though he doesn’t believe the lie himself.

“Really now…”

You can feel the mark pattern slowly spreading under your clothes, from your torso up toward your neck.

“Yup! But since we’re wrong- we’re gonna leave now!”Rumi quickly grabs Jinu’s arm who was surprised, as she makes him turn around with her.

Your hands begin to thin, and sharp nails start growing out.

"Wait.."

Your voice sounds ominous and slow, sending a chill down their spines. They freeze and slowly turn around.

There you are, in your demon form. Your once bright eyes are now yellow with slits, purple/blue marks spread beautifully along your neck and face.

“A demon…?” they both whisper.

You smile.

There they are, your next prey.

“I’ve been waiting"

[pharahjoy]

Super important compilation of the girls looking completely unhinged.

[pharahjoy]

I had this thought that Mydei would be the type to pick up stray animals off the side of the road and take them home and now I really wanna make a request for Mydei x reader with that prompt in mind if that’s ok

I just can’t get the image of him snuggling a scraggly, ugly, dirty little kitten he found while telling us that it’ll become a vicious protector for us while he’s away (he can’t argue with the cat distribution system lol)

The Lion and the Kitten

Returning home after a long day, Mydei couldn't pass by a homeless, soaking wet kitten, which he decided to bring to his beloved.

The rain lashed down, blurring the road and turning Okhema's familiar streets into shining, winding streams. Mydei, accustomed to the harsher waters of the Sea of Souls, still felt the penetrating cold. Each step echoed dully in the approaching twilight. His mind was filled with thoughts of the upcoming dinner, the warmth of his home, and the anticipation of seeing the one whose laughter was his greatest reward after a long day. He imagined the scent of freshly baked golden pancakes and smiled.

And then, in the alleyway where empty barrels and broken carts usually lay piled, he noticed something. Something small, trembling, curled up into a wet ball. He slowed his pace, then stopped altogether. At first, he thought it was a discarded rag, but on closer inspection, he made out pointy ears and a thin tail.

It was a kitten. Tiny, impossibly thin, soaked to the bone and covered in mud. Its fur was matted, revealing protruding ribs. Its eyes, if they could even be seen through the caked-on dirt, seemed enormous and full of despair. Apparently, someone had pushed it into a puddle or simply abandoned it in the rain, leaving it to die.

All the harshness, all the ruthlessness that had been forged in him by years of battles and survival, momentarily gave way to an unexpected feeling. This tiny ball of life, so vulnerable and miserable, evoked in him what no army of enemies, no prophecy, could: pure, unfeigned pity. Mydei couldn't just walk past. It was simply impossible.

He crouched down, oblivious to the puddle he knelt in. He extended a hand. The kitten hissed in fright but didn't move, as if it had no strength left even to flee. Mydei spoke to it softly, almost a whisper, words he didn't even utter before his soldiers. Words of comfort, tenderness, and promise.

"Hey there, little one," he murmured, gently scooping up the trembling body. The kitten was lighter than he expected, and colder than it should have been. Mud left traces on his armor, but Mydei paid no attention. He pressed the kitten to his broad chest, trying to warm it with his own body heat. The little one trembled but didn't resist, burying its face in his damp clothing.

Lost in his thoughts, Mydei continued on his way. Images of battles, strategic plans, senatorial letters accusing him of treason, receded into the background. Now, only one thought occupied him: how to bring this tiny creature home without scaring it even more, and how to explain its sudden appearance.

The door to their home swung open, and warmth immediately enveloped him. Candles glowed with a soft light, and the scent of stewed meat and cinnamon filled the air. His beloved stood by the hearth, her back to him. Hearing his footsteps, she turned.

Her eyes, usually full of light and laughter, widened when she saw him. Or rather, what he held in his arms.

"Mydei?" Her voice held surprise mixed with slight bewilderment.

He coughed awkwardly. "I... I found him. Out there. On the street. He's... very small." He carefully offered her the kitten. The little one let out a weak squeak.

She took him, and her fingers gently stroked its matted fur. Her face softened. "Oh, my poor dear..." She looked at Mydei, and a mischievous spark flickered in her eyes. "Did you bring home a lion cub, Mydei?"

He blushed slightly. "He... he needed help. He was soaked. And hungry." He shuffled his feet, then added with unexpected seriousness: "When he grows up, he will protect you. From everything. He will be your personal guardian."

She looked at him, her eyes filled with tenderness and barely suppressed laughter. She looked at the kitten, then shifted her gaze to Mydei, surveying him from head to toe as if evaluating him.

"My dear," she said, and her voice held genuine love. "You know, you yourself look like a wet kitten right now. Big, but still a kitten who needs a home and care."

Mydei blinked in surprise. He – a kitten? A warrior who defied gods, called a kitten? But there was no mockery in her words, only warmth and affection. He suddenly realized that in her eyes, he was always something more than just a killing machine or the heir to a cursed throne. He was the one she loved, with all his weaknesses and contradictions.

"Well, as for this little one," she looked at the kitten again, which had already begun purring softly under her gentle touches. "I don't mind. He's certainly dirty and looks like he hasn't eaten in a long time. But we'll wash him, feed him, and take him to the vet tomorrow. We'll check if he has any illnesses. And then he'll become part of our home."

Mydei felt a strange, unaccustomed warmth spread through his chest, stronger than any hearth fire. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in the Sea of Souls, nor in battles, nor even at the thought of Kremnos. It was the feeling of home. And perhaps, at that moment, holding the dirty kitten he had saved from certain death, Mydei, the "lion without a pride," finally found his own, true pride.

[pharahjoy]

Y/N was panting heavily, gripping tight on her two rapiers with both hands. Around her surroundings were a group of Alpeca and Farbauti Ethereals lying down on the ground before fading away. Her dark feather wings slowly turn pale white on her back. The liquid dripped down from her head from a hit of one ethereal.

She heard the sound of running footsteps approaching, belonging to two people. Y/N turns her head to look at visitors to find two familiar people. Vivian and, of course, Hugo. Her lips perked up at the sight of them but more happy to see the blonde gentlemen she falls in love with. "Vivian... Hugo..." her eyes weakly shut, fell to the ground, and went unconscious.

Hugo’s breath catches in his throat. He shouts your name and dashes into your direction.

He kneels before you, checking your pulse, and takes you by the shoulders.

“...You’re so reckless,” he breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that you’re alive, just lost consciousness. 

Vivian hands him a handkerchief, and he wipes the blood from your forehead and temple.

“Next time,” he murmurs in a concerned voice even though you most likely can’t hear him. “Call me. I’ll save you no matter what.”

He hooks his arm under your knees and lifts you up in his arms.

“I will never forgive myself if something like this happens to you again.”

[pharahjoy]

"My, Mr. Hugo. You seem to have a lot of admirers, huh?" Y/N, the bird thiren, glances over a crowd of ladies whispering while giggling at the sight of Hugo. "I must admit you have a charm ladies would fall for.." she smiles softly, her feather wings fluttered a bit from her back. "Yet I still feel like I'm not your type.." One of her wings covers her face, hiding her reddened cheeks. "Even though I wish since you're my type. I'm a bit unladylike, not like Vivian.."

Hugo chuckles softly and flashes you a polite smile.

“Dear,” he says your name with a faint amusement. “You think too little of yourself.”

He takes a step closer, lifts his hand, but not to push away your wing but to carefully touch the soft feathers, respectful of the space you’ve created between you two.

“You say you’re not ladylike,” he murmurs. “But I see how you carry yourself with grace…”

He withdrawals his hand back.

“You’re real, you’re alive, your wings are fluttering with every emotion, eyes full of meaning, not pretense. I admire these things about you.”

His smile softens, it’s sincere and warm.

“Please, don’t doubt yourself. Sometimes it’s the unexpected that’s the most admirable.”

[pharahjoy]

Reader flinches during an argument😩🤚

You cna make it just flinching or them actually accidentally hurting reader, whatever you're more comfortable with

Characters: Jing Yuan, Aventurine, Dan Heng, Kaveh and Therta (get it? Cuz The Herta can be shortened to Therta... haha... ha)

Trust Reforged in the Quiet

Tags: Jing Yuan x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Kaveh x Reader, The Herta x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Emotional Vulnerability, Arguments, Flinching Reaction, Apologies, Reconciliation, Romantic Tension, Communication, Soft Moments.

Warnings: Emotional conflict, Raised voices, Accidental intimidation, Mentions of guilt and emotional vulnerability. (No physical harm or abuse.)

A/N: yeah... I totally got it, ahahaha.. ha 🧍‍♀️

The peaceful glow of the Luofu was overshadowed by the tense atmosphere between you and Jing Yuan. The General stood in his study, his eyes fixed on you, frustration flickering behind their usual calm. The argument had started small, but it spiraled into something you hadn’t anticipated.

“You don’t understand the weight of these decisions,” Jing Yuan said, his tone sharper than usual. “Every action has consequences—not just for us, but for the entire Alliance.”

“I’m trying to help you!” you shot back, voice trembling. “But you keep shutting me out like I’m just an outsider!”

Jing Yuan ran a hand through his long hair, visibly exasperated. “It’s not about shutting you out—it’s about protecting you. Don’t you see that?”

When he suddenly stepped closer, his voice louder than before, you instinctively flinched, taking a step back. His eyes widened, his anger evaporating in an instant.

“Wait…” His voice softened. “Did you just flinch?”

You looked down, ashamed. The moment hung heavy in the air. Jing Yuan’s heart ached at the sight of you retreating from him, and he cursed himself for letting his emotions overwhelm his judgment.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently, his hands hovering before dropping to his sides. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He took a step back himself, giving you space. “I would never hurt you.”

You hesitated before nodding, your eyes still wary. Jing Yuan took a deep breath, his usual calm returning. He walked to his desk, retrieved a cup of tea, and set it down in front of you.

“Let’s talk—properly this time,” he said, his voice steady but laced with remorse. “I want to listen to you, truly.”

And for the first time that evening, you felt safe enough to let him in.

The opulent office felt suffocating as Aventurine paced back and forth, his normally suave demeanor unraveling. You had challenged one of his high-stakes decisions, and he hadn’t taken it well.

“You think I didn’t calculate the risks?” he barked, his voice sharp as a blade. “You think I don’t know exactly what I’m doing?”

“I’m saying it’s dangerous, Aventurine!” you shot back, your voice rising to match his. “You can’t keep gambling with people’s lives like this!”

His eyes burned with frustration. “You don’t understand the game I’m playing! Every move I make is—”

When he spun to face you, gesturing emphatically, you flinched, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. The slight recoil stopped Aventurine mid-sentence. His hand, frozen mid-air, dropped to his side.

For a moment, silence reigned. Then, his voice came out softer, almost unsure. “Did I… scare you?”

You didn’t respond immediately, and that was answer enough. Aventurine’s usually confident mask cracked, revealing the guilt underneath. He stepped back, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his tone devoid of its usual bravado. “I let my temper get the better of me.”

You crossed your arms, your voice shaky. “I just want you to see that I care, Aventurine. You don’t have to face everything alone.”

He chuckled dryly, his smile weak but genuine. “It seems I’m the one who needs a reminder of that sometimes.” He reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing yours. “Can we try this again? No shouting this time.”

You nodded, and as he led you to sit beside him, the gambler seemed determined to show you he was more than just his sharp words and risky strategies.

The gentle hum of the Astral Express felt distant as you and Dan Heng faced off in the library. He rarely raised his voice, but tonight, his frustration was palpable.

“You can’t just rush into danger like that!” Dan Heng exclaimed, his voice uncharacteristically forceful. “Do you have any idea how reckless that was?”

“I was trying to help!” you defended, equally upset. “You always act like I can’t handle myself!”

“Because you don’t see the risks!” He stepped forward, his hand clutching his spear. “What if something had happened to you? Do you think I could—”

When his voice rose further, and his spear clinked against the floor as he adjusted his grip, you flinched, taking a step back. Dan Heng immediately froze, his sharp eyes widening in realization. The air grew heavy with the weight of what had just happened.

“You…” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He set his spear down, his hands shaking slightly. “I didn’t mean to… I would never—”

You looked away, biting your lip. “It’s fine. I just… wasn’t expecting you to—”

“No, it’s not fine,” he interrupted, his voice steady but filled with guilt. “I lost control. That’s on me.”

Dan Heng lowered himself to sit on the edge of the table, his posture uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I don’t want to push you away. I’m just… scared of losing you.”

You hesitated before stepping closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m scared too, but we need to face this together. You don’t have to carry everything on your own.”

He nodded, his usual calm slowly returning. “You’re right. I’ll… do better.”

In that moment, you saw the real Dan Heng—not the stoic guardian, but the man who carried the weight of the past and feared losing the one person who made him feel safe.

The grandiose living room of Alhaitham's home felt oppressive as your argument with Kaveh escalated. He stood in the middle of the room, his expressive eyes alight with frustration. You had challenged one of his decisions, and his idealistic nature didn’t take it lightly.

“You don’t understand what this means to me!” Kaveh exclaimed, his voice shaking. “I worked my entire life to make a difference through my designs! And now you’re questioning that?”

“I’m not questioning your work, Kaveh,” you said, your voice tinged with desperation. “I’m worried about you! You’re pushing yourself too hard, taking on too much—”

“Because I have to!” he shouted, his hands flaring in an animated gesture. “If I don’t, who will? Do you think anyone else cares as much as I do?” He stepped closer, his tone growing sharper as he continued. “Stop acting like you—”

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up. You flinched, taking a small step back as his voice rose and his movements became more animated. The action stopped him in his tracks, the weight of the moment crashing down around him like a crumbling structure.

His arms dropped to his sides, and his face fell. “Did… did I scare you?” he asked, his voice suddenly quiet and laced with regret.

You didn’t reply immediately, your throat tight with emotion. “I—I didn’t mean to—” you started, but Kaveh shook his head, cutting you off.

“No,” he said firmly, his tone filled with self-reproach. “This isn’t on you. I… I shouldn’t have yelled like that.” He took a step back, giving you space, his eyes filled with guilt. “I never meant to make you feel unsafe.”

“Kaveh…” you began, your voice softening.

He turned away briefly, running a hand through his hair. “I let my emotions get the better of me. Again. It’s just… everything feels like it’s falling apart, and I’m trying so hard to hold it together.”

You stepped forward hesitantly, placing a hand on his arm. “I know you’re trying, Kaveh. But you don’t have to do it alone. You don’t have to carry this weight by yourself.”

He looked at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I just… I don’t know how to let go. But I don’t ever want to hurt you, not even by accident.”

“You won’t,” you assured him, squeezing his arm gently. “But you need to let yourself rest, Kaveh. Let yourself breathe.”

He nodded slowly, his usual dramatic flair subdued by the gravity of the moment. “You’re right. I’ll… I’ll try. For you.”

And as the tension eased, you saw in his eyes the vulnerability he often tried to mask with passion and idealism—a man who cared so deeply, it sometimes consumed him.

The sterile halls of Herta’s spaceship echoed with the sharp edge of your argument. Herta stood before her console, her fingers tapping impatiently on its surface as she glared at you.

“Do you even understand the magnitude of what I’m trying to achieve here?” she asked, her tone biting. “This isn’t just some experiment—it’s a breakthrough!”

“I do understand,” you replied, your voice raised. “But you’re so focused on the outcome that you’re ignoring the risks!”

Herta’s eyes narrowed as she whirled around to face you, her movements swift and deliberate. “Risks are inevitable in science! If I stopped every time something was dangerous, we wouldn’t even have the Simulated Universe! You—” She gestured sharply, stepping closer as her voice grew louder.

The suddenness of her movement made you flinch, your shoulders tensing as you instinctively stepped back. The reaction was subtle but unmistakable. Herta froze mid-sentence, her eyes widening in realization.

She stared at you for a long moment, the tension in her posture dissipating. “Wait… did I just… scare you?” she asked, her voice unusually soft.

You looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean to.”

But Herta shook her head, her usual detached demeanor cracking. “No, it’s not fine,” she said, setting her clipboard aside. “I might be a genius, but that doesn’t give me the right to… intimidate you like that.”

You glanced at her, surprised by the remorse in her tone. “Herta…”

She crossed her arms, avoiding your eyes as she spoke. “I get so caught up in my work, I forget about the people around me. I’m sorry.” She sighed, her sharp wit returning slightly. “It seems even I have room for improvement.”

You chuckled softly despite the tension. “You think?”

She smiled faintly, stepping closer but keeping her movements slow and deliberate. “Let me make it up to you. I’ll explain everything properly this time—no yelling, no dramatics.”

You nodded, the knot in your chest loosening. “I’d like that.”

As she guided you to her desk, the usual confidence in her demeanor was tempered by a quiet sincerity. For the first time, you saw the side of Herta that wasn’t just a genius or a scientist, but someone who valued your trust more than any experiment.

[pharahjoy]

launch our love jade leech x reader

summary: You and Jade send out your wedding invitations. (Almost) nobody knew you two were dating in the first place

author's note: written for a discord server event! bc june is wedding szn. and also because i realized i needed more silly (and domestic) jade in my life. this is sillier than most of my writings bc i wrote it to destress from my finals hehe

tags: gender neutral reader, sfw, fluff, established relationship, marriage, weddings, some cursing, 6.7k+ words, not beta read

you can also read this on AO3

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM (CAUSED BY YOU AND JADE)

“Jade, you’re smiling. Is something funny?”

“Aren’t I always smiling, my dear?”

“Not always, not with your teeth.” So you said, but weren’t you the one baring your teeth at him right now? “You’re amused by something. Care to share?”

Maybe Jade didn’t seem like the type, but he loved jokes—stupid jokes, and even funny things that weren’t actually jokes. He just liked being able to laugh at something, someone, and oh, he was going to have the biggest laugh of his twenty something years of life—both on land and in sea. 

In fact, he might have been laughing right now just at the very thought of the situation.

“Perhaps I’m just happy?” he mused, knowing for certain that you didn’t buy it. You knew him too well, for too long—sometimes he still found himself thinking just how odd it was for the two of you to have gotten so close, but it certainly made things more interesting, didn’t it? It would be difficult to imagine how he’d be living his life now if you weren’t by his side. “You bring me happiness. Is that so unbelievable?”

“No, but isn’t it weird that years ago I would have thought your words were some ploy to tease me, or make fun of my feelings for you?” you said, a laugh escaping your lips. “I can’t believe I fell for you first. So cringe of me, honestly.”

“Yes, but I had been the one to ask you out first,” he reminded you, clicking his tongue in the process, “really, you made your feelings so obvious but you simply wouldn’t do anything. Did you ever feel bad for me, poor Jade Leech who knew nothing about human romance customs, having to do all the hard work in courting you?”

“Yes, and in my pity I stayed with you for eight years,” you deadpanned, clearly enjoying the joke as much as he was. That was something about you he’d always loved—you always got a chuckle out of him, not merely from your words, but even your mannerisms and willingness to just go along with whatever he was saying, inserting your own quips as well. “And will continue to for even more years than that.”

“My love is so gracious,” he praised, clearly teasing but voice laced with unmistakable affection, “if this is what it feels to be pitied by you, then I’ll simply have to have your pity all to myself, hmm?”

“You…” 

Jade really couldn’t help himself then, laughing as you were torn between letting him know he was being infuriating, or saying something terribly sappy yourself.

“I still don’t believe you, by the way,” you said, returning back to the original topic of conversation, “but I think I know why you’re so excited now. It has to do with the invites we sent out earlier this morning, doesn’t it?”

“Heheh. I might be losing my touch if it’s that obvious,” he replied, both of you knowing it had more to do with you than him. 

The invites. They were pretty things—pearl white envelopes with intricate calligraphy at the very center, something formal to fit both Jade’s disposition and the event, but the design of the letter inside clearly had your touch. He actually still had a few unsent ones himself, ones he would deliver himself once he returned to the Coral Sea.

Save the best for last, of course.

“You think any of them would have gotten it by now?” He responded to your question with a smile that showed his teeth, he was certain of it this time. Oh, he was more than sure at least one person would have gotten it, received by the ones that lived closer, already opened by the ones a little less busier, and he was elated in anticipation of their responses. “Judging by the look on your face, that’s a yes. Should I mute my phone?”

“Absolutely not,” he replied immediately, and then added for good measure, “additionally, could you make sure every call is on speaker phone?”

As though simply waiting for his cue, your phone began to ring, and Jade had no doubts someone had already read the invite and was more than ready to make a complaint, or ask for an explanation, or both.

“Is it–” he looked over your shoulder to read the caller ID– “ah, I was wondering which one of the two. Go on and answer. I’ll just be here, listening attentively.”

“Fine, fine, but get ready. Once this call ends we’re clearly going to get them non-stop, either from your phone or mine.” You took a deep breath, as if to prepare yourself for your impending doom, before pressing the answer button.

THE CALL WHERE HIS SIGNIFICANT OTHER GETS CURSED AT (AND HE LETS IT HAPPEN)

“You fucking fuck,” Ace said, slowly and almost threateningly, and Jade almost let out a huff of laughter at that alone. Only almost, for he had wanted to stay silent for a little longer just to hear what either one of you would talk about. “I raised and looked after you for over three years–”

“Now who’s doing the raising in the group, you say? If not me, it’s obviously–”

“Shut up! I need to tell you how disappointedI am!”

Jade threw you a look and you only shrugged. Ace always seemed like the annoying older brother type of friend, but was he actually some secret mother hen type? He always pictured that role for… essentially every other close friend you had, but he supposed distance could bring the fretting out of anyone.

“As I was saying, you know how much I L-word you, you little shit, but what is this behavior? Is this how you repay me?” On second thought, this was annoying older brother behavior. “How could you do this to your best friend—no, absolutely no oh, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Ortho, Sebek, is my blah blah now! Betrayal! One second I have Jade’s contact name renamed to your TOTGA, next second you’re getting married to him?”

At Ace’s exclamation Jade allowed himself to unstifle his laughter, slapping his thigh with the free hand, the one not attached to the arm that was draped around your own laughter-induced quivering shoulders.

“TOTGA?”

“The One That Got Away. Coined by Cater, but Ace found it too funny so it stuck as an inside joke about… well, obviously about you,” you explained, near groaning at the reminder, “basically, Ace thinks you were incapable of returning my feelings.”

“Hey, I never said that! I just said you were too much of a wuss to actually do anything. You cried when he became a fourth year, remember? Ace… I want to see Jade, huhu. I’m so sadddd, wah wah wah, wah, wah.”

“What a subpar impersonation. I wish I was there to witness it myself.” It was a little hard to shake off the image in his head once Ace got it in there—he hated seeing you upset of course, but you crying because you missed him? That would have certainly been a cute sight. He wondered if Ace or one of your other friends had managed to have that, or any other similar event, recorded on video. 

He’s not quite Azul but he’s made his fair share of deals, too.

“And for your information, Ace, you might like to know that it was I who made the first move, so you would be right about your assumptions.”

“Thank you for your service. My dear friend would have stayed single, still living in the college, doing nothing but taking care of Grim until the ripe old age of a hundred and one otherwise,” Ace might have sounded like he had significantly calmed down, but you seemed to know better. 

Ace was never particular about the respect for seniority, and while some parts of him had already matured, according to you that is, some parts were bound to stay the same. 

“But also, I just know you’re part of the reason why I never found out the two of you got in a relationship in the first place! So what was the reason? A prank?”

“Of course not. What kind of man would have a joke run for as long as eight years?” Jade said, pretending he wasn’t that type of man. Honestly speaking, he really never intended it to be secret or anything. Azul and Floyd knew because it was impossible to hide things from either one—the latter being his brother, the other being your supplier of potions in your earlier years of visiting him and his family.

It just so happened that with a strange set of circumstances it would appear you never got the chance to tell anyone, he was too private a person to share the more intimate details of his life, and the two of you decided to just stick with it for as long as either one of you didn’t get caught.

“Okay, fine, I know why Jade wouldn’t say anything… but you, don’t think I have forgotten about you. Actually, shit, I’m tired of shouting. Give me a sec.”

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“Giving the phone to our favorite Deucey-Weucey. Nice going with the invites by the way—flying envelope followed me around in the middle of the street until I opened it. I thought my unpaid taxes were haunting me!”

Ah, yes, the wonderful flying tracker envelopes. Jade had paid good money for those—for convenience, else it would have been too difficult sending formal, non-digital invites to everyone all across the land, but he would not deny that the idea of an envelope hunting and chasing down your mutual friends was fun to imagine. 

“You were shouting that loud in public? Also… are you joking? Ace, pay your taxes?”

“Pass. Oh, and don’t tell Deuce I said that, by the way. He’s freaking out more than me—he’s been spamming me with texts because I got to call you first—and we don’t need the policeman to freak out even more because of my inability to be a law-abiding citizen. He just finished his shift, too! … Yo, Deuce! Guess who I’m on the phone with—Oi! At least ask before–”

“First of all, congratulations,” a different voice came out of the phone speaker this time, a little gentler and kinder but clearly holding back. Ah, Jade thought to himself, here was the other one he was waiting on for your end.  “Bet you Ace didn’t even say that, right?”

“He didn’t,” the two of you replied at the same time, much to the chagrin of the voice whining at an audible distance.

“Oh, hello,” Deuce greeted, oddly politely, “you don’t mind if I shout at your spouse-to-be, right? I’ve been holding back from doing so for about twenty or so minutes now.”

Well, Jade always liked politeness. Why, it reminded him of himself, after all.

“Fufu… go for it,” he said, but honestly you could have been the one to agree to it yourself with the way you readied yourself by pushing the phone slightly further away than when you were talking to Ace. Interesting reaction.

“You can cover your ears, I just need to get this out of my system… WHAT THE HELL? THIS IS WORSE THAN ANY OF ACE’S PRANKS!” Jade had to wonder if that was more compliment or insult. Deuce was less harsh than Ace with his wording, but the tone of voice was more intimidating, a little delinquent-like. You seemed used to it, though, maybe even a little fond and reminiscent.

“We kept comforting you because we… okay fine, Ace, shut up, because I thought you kept getting rejected, but not only have you been together all this time, the two of you are getting married? Also meaning, time had passed since you proposed… or Jade proposed to you?”

“Actually,” Ace interjected, loud enough to be picked up by the microphone, “since when did the two of you get together? This is very important by the way, please answer correctly.”

“Answering correctly… ah, I see what’s going on here,” Jade replied with an amused laugh, “I hope you got the right answer, then. The last week of my third year, so before the summer of yours.”

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line before the two of them began making a ruckus once more.

“Fucking Ortho?! Out of all of us, Ortho gets it right?” Ace bemoaned, “The way we dissed him too for guessing incorrectly. Of course he knew without actually knowing. I mean thank the Seven it wasn’t Sebek or Jack or I would never let myself live it down, and if it was Epel he would never let us live it down, but wow.”

“They made me bet as well, by the way,” you told Jade, “betting on my own love life… or lack of, at the time.”

“And you got it wrong?” he snickered, always happy for something new to tease you about. “Please do tell, when did you think we would get together?”

“Uh… I don’t remember?”

“Never. You said the two of you were never, ever, ever, getting together,” Deuce reminded you, pretending to simply be helpful even though it was obvious he was attempting to get back at you one way or another. Well, it was helpful to Jade, at least. He’s not surprised by the answer, it would have been rather typical considering your mindset back then, but your reaction right now was very adorable. 

He had no plans of teasing you about it at this very moment, but he stored that information for another time.

“Wait, I just realized something. You were also crying to us that time, so then… you were crying because–”

“Oh,” you sounded a little bashful, “it was because I thought we wouldn’t be together because… you know, Jade would be out there in some mountain, probably without phone reception, and I would be stuck in NRC, so…”

“...so you didn’t think you two were actually in a relationship,” your statement was finished for you by Deuce, who sounded, and probably looked, exasperated, “and then you two actually were, but you were either still sad about the distance or too embarrassed to tell us you were mistaken that you never told us.”

“Yeah, something like that, and also I kept getting teased about it so as payback I kept holding off telling all of you, until…”

“Until you literally forgot to ever tell us,” Ace groaned, “shit, that’s one long grudge.”

Well, Jade might have had some part to do with you not talking about it after your third year. He was the one who convinced you it’d be fun to let them figure it out for themselves. If they weren’t able to tell while they still got to see you every day, how much harder would it be for them once you all went your separate ways all over Twisted Wonderland?

“Okay, maybe deserved on our end, but I don’t want to take responsibility so fuck you… oh, and congratulations to both of you lovebirds… er, fish?”

THE CALL WHERE HE MESSES WITH SOMEONE (AS USUAL)

You were still in the middle of your call with Ace and Deuce, voice call turned video call as the three of you planned a pre-wedding meet-up with the rest of your friend circle for the purpose of deciding who your best man would be (thankfully not a problem he has to deal with, considering Floyd was the only real choice), when he received a call on his phone.

“Who is it?” you asked, breaking away from the conversation for a few seconds.

“Trey,” he replied, quite normally if he would say so himself, although you must have known better based on the way you were looking at him.

“Don’t stress him out too much, Jade.” He agreed, although he certainly didn’t promise anything. If he was being honest, one of the calls he was anticipating getting was from the bakers’ son. Perhaps because it was interesting seeing the seemingly ordinary people break out of their restraints and say something funny. 

“Say hi to Trey for me! Or tell him to call me… not any time for the rest of the day or night, if I’m being honest.”

With that he slinked away from the bedroom to the living room, letting himself relax atop the sofa as he answered the call. 

“You know, Jade, most people send in their order forms online these days. Or in person, if they want a taste test first.”

“Oh, do you not want to comment on the invite first? The RSVP is included in the envelope, but you could let me know right now. How many guests do you intend on bringing? You could always bring your siblings—given my being a twin, I’ve always been fond–”

“Jade,” Trey interrupted, already sounding exasperated, “am I really a guest when you’re asking me to make your wedding cake?”

“And the wedding favor pastries as well, if you don’t mind,” Jade supplied, smiling to himself. Good, Trey was reacting exactly how he wanted him to. Sure, he did not doubt the man probably had some degree of surprise regarding his relationship status, but that seemed to be a second thought in the dread of dealing with what would presumably be at least a medium sized order. 

“We would appreciate your suggestions as well. Which do you think would be better: cupcakes, quite overused but popular for a reason; small cakes, so we don’t have to go through the hassle of giving away slices of the wedding cake; or something a little less fancy, like cookies or brownies?

“Also, what do you think about the cake itself? How many tiers are the norm for wedding cakes? Why is it that most people go for height when you can go for width and length? What do you think about including mushrooms–”

“Jade, absolutely not. We can add the fake sugary ones if you want, but no real mushrooms,” Trey sounded somewhere in between flabbergasted and disgusted at the suggestion. Now, wasn’t it obvious he was just joking? He wasn’t really going to insist on adding mushrooms in the cake… unless it was actually an unfounded good combination?

“Also, for the love of the Queen, please just go to the bakery for a taste test… ugh, I can’t believe you’re getting married before me. What in Wonderland…”

“Really makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” And because Jade was secure with his sense of humor, he laughed at his own joke. What Jade would give to be able to see the look on his face right now, curious about what sort of face he must have pulled in that dead silence of five seconds. “Oh, and I just thought of something… what do you think about mushroom shaped biscuits as wedding favors?”

THE CALL WHERE YOU GET A PART-TIME WEDDING PLANNER (BUT WHO DOESN’T LOVE FREEBIES?)

You had received a few more calls last night, mostly quick congratulations paired with a “but… have you always been together with Jade? Somehow, I always thought…” 

Those people never pried too much, likely to save themselves from the potential embarrassment of having forgotten such an important detail about a friend, maybe preferring to ask someone else about the details. None of them were too interesting so Jade didn’t mind much. 

The real fun continued the very next day. The intended guests seemed to have enough decency to not call past midnight, although he did spot a few 3 a.m. text messages sent to some group chat you happened to be in, so the night was relatively peaceful. Someone, however, seemed to be a particularly early riser, dragging the both of you with him with one notification.

Not a call, just a notification that somehow jolted you awake, your sudden movement waking him as well.

“What–”

“I thought it was for work… I panicked.” Despite the fact that it was very much a weekend, it seemed that it was hard to get rid of habits. “Who else just sends sudden calendar invites to unplanned video calls aside from… oh, this makes sense, actually.”

You suddenly got up from bed and Jade, admittedly still a little sleepily, watched as you tried to fix yourself up—slowly walking to the bathroom as you washed your face, even brushing your teeth. That told Jade he would not be expecting you to head back to sleep despite the fact that the sun had likely risen at most about half an hour ago. If it weren’t for the fact that you were just straightening out your rumpled sleepwear, he would have thought you had planned on going out.

“Already so energetic in the morning,” Jade commented. For a busy man like him, he quite liked getting to sleep in whenever he could with his beloved at his side, but he was just as content watching you in the early hours of the day. Seeing you go about your morning, yes, but more so waking up in the same room as you, something that would become more common once the two of you got married.

He had always missed mornings with you whenever he was under the sea instead of by your side.

“Jade, do I look presentable?” you suddenly asked, plopping back down on the bed, lowering your head to lock eyes with him. He’s not quite sure what you’re expecting out of him considering the biased lens he views you in.

“You know my heart is aflutter whenever I see you,” he answered, not dishonest in the slightest but always worded in a way he knew you would like, “my darling is as beautiful as usual, brilliant and timeless like the most precious pearl.”

“And that’s not what I was asking. Presentable is different from beautiful.” Still, you looked appreciative of his praise, allowing yourself to accept it instead of turning it down, and really, that’s the reception Jade likes the most from you. “Oh well. Vil will probably understand anyway.”

Oh? He knew you and Vil kept in touch even after his graduation, but among his list of people who he thought would contact you next, he had not considered someone as busy as Vil Schoenheit to be next. Not that he had any plans of going back to sleep when you were already awake, but now he was more enthused to listen in—intrigued in all matters that had to do with you, and he supposed because it had to do with him, as well.

He doesn’t even have to tell you—you put it on speaker immediately.

“You know, most people these days try to soft launch their relationships on MagiCam, but you did not even do a normal hard launch, no, you went all the way with a wedding announcement. Do you think yourself a celebrity with this kind of secrecy?”

“Ahaha, well–”

“Oh, and before I forget, I’ll be sending you my work schedule. We can’t have you looking like a potato on your wedding day, can we? Do you already have something to wear? If not, I can introduce you to some designers, no need to worry I still remember what styles you like best, and then we can choose which outfit you’ll want to wear best during the ceremony itself, and then the reception—

And we can’t forget about make-up! You–ah, Jade, hello, I just noticed the top of your head peeking near out of frame. I can send you both some palettes that would work best with your skin, the Seven knows I have too much unused make-up from brand deals, and–”

“Vil,” you interrupted suddenly, “not that I don’t appreciate the help, because I do, I mean I haven’t even thought of getting into more comfortable clothes for the reception? But why are you doing so much? Aren’t you busy?”

“I would have to agree. It’s as if you have chosen to take up the task of being our wedding planner.”

“Because it’s bad manners to outdress the newlyweds,” Vil explained, as if it was the simplest thing in the world to understand, “so just this once, the both of you have to look better than me. Understood?”

THE CALL WHERE YOU AND A CROW ARGUE ABOUT WHO WALKS DOWN THE AISLE AS YOUR GUARDIAN (SPOILER: IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN TREIN)

Jade took over the kitchen most days, for as long as he had the time for it. Not only was he confident in his skills but he enjoyed the act of cooking just as much as getting to show off his skills for you.

And of course, because there was the thrill of letting slip that there was some special secret ingredient that always left you slightly perturbed or excited. Not that there was any most of the time, he just wanted to see if you would keep buying it, and he would eat up the slightest hesitation before you eventually gave in because A) you trusted him and knew deep down he was either playing with you or added something he knew you liked, or B) you just wanted to eat your meal already.

One of those was more romantic than the other.

Regardless, he was cooking for you because you seemed like you needed the energy. While the both of you agreed on wanting to get married soon—considering the two of you lived together and were as domestic as couples could get to the point that it was as if he was already a married man anyway—you seemed to wonder if there was enough time to plan everything that still needed to be planned. 

“Of course there will be,” he reassured you, momentarily abandoning the meals he had not finished plating to step closer to you, “we still have four months to go, and I’m here to help you, remember?”

“I know, and I love you even more for it.” You don’t waste a single second after he places his hand atop yours, turning your palm over to interlock fingers properly. That’s another thing Jade adores about you—how easily you can confess and show your feelings for him. “A part of me was just hoping wedding planning would be a little easier than it actually is.”

“I’m sure it’s made easier with magic involved,” Jade said with a laugh, “although ceremonies are much simpler under the sea.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean that kind of preparation.” You seemed to be experiencing some degree of unease, likely at the thought of something. “More so… people.”

Jade smiled. Close-lipped.

“If there’s anyone being a bother, or being troublesome–”

“Jade, no,” you interrupted quickly, as if suddenly fearing for the lives of several people. “Not like that. I received an email from Professor Crewel a while ago. Apparently our wedding has become a hot topic in the staff room.”

He blinked, pretending to be surprised.

“Oh my, now why would that be?”

You need not answer that question, not when it was so obvious. You had wormed your way into their hearts in the span of four years, perhaps even more considering how often you visited for the sake of Grim, and now they were attached to ex-Ramshackle Prefect, current pseudo-NRC staff. 

(Neither of you were really sure if beast caretaker was a real position considering Crowley had yet to house any beasts beyond Grim, but you liked the allowance and the ability to come and get your cat-not-cat whenever you wanted.)

“I don’t know,” you sighed, legitimately looking a little confused, “but Professor Crewel… he offered to help with the clothes, but I said Vil was already doing that, so instead he said he’d send over some gifts. I mean I expect that on the ceremony day itself, but not months before?”

“May I ask… did you happen to have a favorite professor?” Because it was easy to tell why one of them was buttering you up so suddenly, although he was a tad unsure if it would be for naught. Perhaps you already had someone in mind.

Before you could answer, a song he could not recall having heard before rang out in the room. It was, for a lack of a better term, the type of tune that would be catchy at first until it inevitably became the most annoying sound in existence. Earworm might have been the word for it.

“Ah, Crowley is calling. I forgot that was the ringtone I set for him,” you said, as if that was enough to explain everything. 

It was.

“Headmaster–”

“My child, who has grown up so fast to the point of finally getting married.” You exchanged looks with Jade, and while he was evidently more amused than you, he understood the incoming headache. Crowley himself was the incoming headache. “I would just like to remind you that this most generous, gracious, giving headmaster of yours is also your guardian by law, yes?”

As much of a secretive man the headmaster could be, now was certainly not one of those times, and the realization of what your old professors were up to had dawned on you.

“Professor Crewel’s quite generous as well,” you said, “you know, he offered to buy me a few things for the wedding”. It was as if you were pretending to be deep in thought, when in reality you were baiting the crow into either telling you what he wanted outright, or at least offering you something a stingy man like him normally wouldn’t. 

Then again, Jade was just a little concerned that even if Crowley did get you something, it would come from NRC’s budget. None of his business, but there was the probability of you feeling guilty over that. 

“What, so are you choosing Divus then?”

“Who said I would be choosing Professor Crewel?” 

Truthfully Jade did think that, among the whole staff, Headmaster Crowley or Professor Crewel would have been the best choices to take the position of your guardian down the aisle, but perhaps that was merely his impression of who would most want to be in that position as opposed to who you would want.

“See, I was just thinking of having Grim stroll down the aisle considering he’s the closest I have to family, but Jade and I have been talking about whether he should be a flower boy or the ring bearer.” 

Yes, that much was true, and while a basket would have been heavy he was partial to flower boy simply because it would be funny to watch him throw petals around the beach, accidentally having his paws sink in the sand, but he could not say that or else be accused of bullying your beloved beast by you.

“So since it can’t be Grim… since he looks after Grim when I can’t, I thought Professor Trein–”

“Absolutely not!” You had ruffled the feathers of the headmaster with one utterance of a name, as though you and the senior professor had personally offended him. With how dramatic he used to be, and seemingly still is, it was very likely he felt that way, Jade thought. “Trein has already walked down the aisle for SO many weddings! This is incredibly unfair for the childless like me.”

“Isn’t Professor Crewel in the exact same situation?” 

“No, he has his puppies. That makes him a father. Meanwhile there’s me. I am alone and childless and you are the closest thing I have to a child, will you deprive me of the opportunity to flaunt–ahem, to show my support for the marriage of two very wonderful NRC alumni?”

“Wow,” Jade said, almost in disbelief at such a poor excuse, “that sounded very convincing and not at all falsified. I might ask you to replace my father at this point.”

THE ONE WHERE SOMEONE STRESSES ABOUT HIS WEDDING MORE THAN HIS FAMILY (AND HIM)

Jade had expected that his brother would momentarily make a fuss, that his twin would be filled to the brim with excitement while complaining about how the wedding date was too far and how he should have it sooner. 

He also anticipated his parents' congratulations, their happiness in spite of wanting a ceremony under the sea as well, their wishes that you had visited with him today so that they could spoil you with something extravagant for the occasion.

But Azul? Sure, he had expected some degree of fretting, but the octomer was stressing about the wedding as if he was the one getting married. Dear Sea Witch, if this was how Azul was going to act at being his wedding’s caterer, just how much worse would he fuss if he ever got married?

“You should have told me sooner, Jade!” Azul exclaimed, already grabbing a scroll with one tentacle to jot down estimates—Jade was unsure of the specifics but it figured it must have been the usual: assumed guest count (Azul had not even bothered to ask, somehow he just put a number eerily close to the own estimate you and Jade had in your heads), times and dates, which foods and drinks he’ll likely end up having prepared, even from where best to source ingredients around June, the month of the wedding.

“Ah, Trey’s handling the wedding cake and favors, but not the desserts themselves, so feel free to cancel those two out,” the moray added, stifling a laugh at how cross Azul suddenly looked with him.

“I don’t know if I’m more upset at you going to Trey for that when I’m perfectly capable, or for not telling me before I finished the estimate costing. Do you know how difficult it is to cater for big events?”

“With the amount of experience I’ve had assisting you? Of course I know,” Jade pointed out dryly, “and I know just as well that you are incredibly capable. This is simply a small feat for you, Azul.”

“Most caterers in the industry ask for six to twelve months in leeway preparation time when it comes to reservations.” It was phrased to be informative, but really it sounded like he was being chided. “If you had not come to me, I am certain everyone else would have rejected you. Aren’t you fortunate to have me as a… to have connections to someone as capable as me?”

A part of him still hesitated to call Azul a friend. Perhaps it was a case of old habits dying hard, or just for the sake of either one of their prides, but he would never call Azul a friend to his face. Azul was just Azul, who he and his brother stuck around with since childhood because he was interesting, but–

“And congratulations, Jade. I’m happy for you. Who would have thought you would ever marry,” Azul said, smirking and yet refusing to lock eyes with him. Jade thought he might have been a little teary-eyed, but it was harder to tell underwater. Even if he was sure, he had no plans of making fun of Azul for it, just this once.

Just this once, he might admit to himself that Azul was a friend.

THE ONE WHERE HE SURPRISES EVERYONE ONE LAST TIME (BUT IS THERE EVER REALLY A LAST TIME?)

Jade has long prepared for his speech, has it memorized down to the very last word. Even if he hadn’t, it would be relatively easy to say everything on the spot—discuss how he fell for you, the story of how you two got together, the love he did and does and forever will have for you, and of course, how the two of you managed to keep everything a secret until recently. Still, he prepared for it, mostly because he had one last surprise saved for the very end. 

You’re a little teary-eyed near the end, what people thought was the end, of his speech; he thinks he can spot his father crying as well, and he wonders if that’ll stop or worsen by the time he has to give out his speech. Azul’s there, nodding his head in approval and clapping as if he had just finished giving a business presentation instead, while Floyd is cheering and hollering and amazingly, his tie has yet to be fully discarded.

On your end of guests, he can spot a few of your friends be mildly surprised from witnessing how heartwarming he could be when he felt like showing it; Malleus Draconia simply radiating joy from being present, still really odd to know his significant other was friends with a future King; Leona, placed at the table farthest from Malleus’, not looking particularly enthused, almost as if he hadn’t brought an expensive gift in hopes of one-upping his fellow prince (although he was certain Kalim had one-upped them both on accident).

The professors were also there, and he had overheard them (rather, Crowley and Crewel, who you eventually decided both got to represent you down the aisle) arguing amongst themselves earlier about who got to dance with you first.

The answer was him, your groom, quite clearly, and perhaps Floyd will want to steal either him or you away for a little bit.

When the clapping ceases he lets out a most bright grin, then again when was he not genuinely smiling and laughing today, before speaking into the microphone once more.

“Once more, I thank all of you for attending this special day. You have all helped make this a memory-filled day… but before I hand the microphone over to my father, I have an announcement to make.” He turned to look at you, still seated beside him and beaming in approval, even throwing a little thumbs up from beneath the table. 

He loved you even more for not only letting him, but encouraging him to have one last hurrah.

“I have heard a lot of complaints regarding how sudden we announced our wedding, or perhaps more appropriate to say our relationship status.” He had received a few chuckles out of that one, but who was Jade if not someone who wanted the last laugh? “We, my beloved and I, understand your complaints, and so we took your feedback, went over it carefully, and decided to do better next time.

“That is to say, you are all invited to our second wedding in the Coral Sea. Same date next year, no dress or tail code this time, fufu…”

He loved it—the commotion it caused, the way his father was weeping a little harder, he did wish for the two of them to have the Coral Sea ceremony; the way Azul was calculating the costs of everything again, now with the included costs of actually having the guests be able to breathe; party animals like his brother, Kalim, and Cater easily anticipating another celebration; Ace, Deuce, and Jack having war flashbacks to what happened the first time they visited the place; and most importantly, your reaction.

You already knew what was coming, but he always loved watching the different expressions bleed into your face, and there was just something about how happy you were at the reminder that you’d get to celebrate your union again, but this time in his culture.

With the microphone safely out of his hands and plopped in front of his father, his lips near your ear. The world may already know, but even then he whispers the words themselves as though they were still a secret—

“I love you.”

“You only love me because chaos always follows me around,” you said, clearly joking. Because he’s him, he returns the favor.

“Oh yes, because I stayed in this relationship for over eight years for a joke. I pity you, my dear.”

“Mhmm, if this is what it feels to be pitied by you, I can’t wait to experience it for the rest of our lives.” He’s unsure of who laughed first, but what does it matter, really? 

A few of your fingers slipped underneath his gloved hand, idly writing something against his skin that warmed his heart—your new initials. 

“I love you too,” you whispered back, and he smiled because he knew. Beneath the politeness and the jokes, the truth was not something that he had to wrangle out of you, but something easily seen and easily told.

“So… how are we pranking them next?”

masterlist

[pharahjoy]

drawing floyd playing the ukulele made me laugh too much

[pharahjoy]

washed away by the tides ꒰ ᝬ amphoreus men

you live on in the shards scattered around amphoreus. spoilers for 3.3 trailblaze mission: the fall at dawn’s rise. features phainon, mydei and anaxa. 2.7k words. angst. fluff.

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧

“only the best for you," he says jokingly, stepping into the elevator and pulling you along with him. you’ve been a victim to his ideas before. secret moments in between his daily patrols, seen him in the most atrocious of outfits that he declares the pinnacle of fashion, watch him haggle for hours over an artifact. sneaking into the bathhouse after hours wasn’t really a crime, just something that was frowned upon. but being somewhere you shouldn’t was an entirely different story. 

you’re staring at PHAINON in disbelief, mouth parting slightly as he practically forces you in along with him. you shouldn’t be here, you feel; the hero’s bath was reserved for chrysos heirs and you most definitely were not one. your gaze is questioning, almost, unsure if he was breaking a rule by bringing you with him.

“the hero’s bath?” your breath hitches as the elevator ascends. immediately you think of the consequences of getting caught; you’d probably be breaking an unspoken law by being here without the permission of the lady goldweaver. 

he catches your questioning gaze, noticing the disbelief and uncertainty in your expression, chuckling softly at your questioning expression, and squeezes your hand reassuringly. "don’t worry; i’m allowed to bring guests. besides, i’m the only one here right now, so no harm in having some company."

it’s quiet and ambient without the sounds of the other patrons, only the two of you here. the water looks almost magical, tiny gold flecks shimmering beneath the surface. the tranquil atmosphere is a stark contrast to the crowded main bath area, and he enjoys having the entire place to himself. he’s even more gorgeous you realise suddenly when he beams at you, you don’t mind getting lectured now, if it means he’ll smile at you like you’re his world. 

looking at you with a cheeky grin, he sheds his tunic and enters the pool, the water lapping at his waist. "are you coming in?" he teases.

when you finally emerge from behind the shade, he takes in the sight of you, sitting at the edge of the pool, with your toes touching the water. with a teasing glint in his eyes, PHAINON pads over to you and stops by the edge, his hands on either side of your thighs. so he inches even more closer to the edge of the pool where you are, resting his chin on your knee and looking up at you with feigned innocence. instinctively your palm reaches out to cup his face; his cheeks puff at the gesture of affection. only to you would he melt in your hands, the blazing sun destined to rise now the moon aching for the presence of warmth.

he leans into your soothing motions as you thread your fingers through his wet hair, a small shiver running down his spine. you could’ve sworn the low hum rumbling in his throat sounds like a purr or maybe a moan, you’re not too sure with the sound of water rushing from the waterfalls. closing his eyes for a moment, savouring the feeling of your touch before opening them again, his gaze fixes on you. 

he clears his throat, beautiful ocean eyes sparkling in the night like stars in the sky, wet hair covering his gaze before your other hand gently brushes it away.

"it isn’t fair, i know," he says suddenly, the conflict in his voice palpable, catching you off guard from the sudden turn of a conversation. "but please, believe me when i say that my heart is yours."

you’re quick to reassure him, thumbs rubbing gentle circles onto his dimples as if soothing him with your mere touch alone. “i don’t doubt you for a second. so…don’t take it upon yourself to hold the weight of the world alone. i’m here if you ever need anything.”

he nods, his voice taking a tone that was gentle but yet intense. "i know you do," PHAINON whispers, his voice soft but firm. "and i’ll always be grateful for it. but i wish it could be different—that i could promise you more than just my heart."

“you’ve given me your time; that’s more than enough to me.” your words cut deep through your shared bond. his expression falters at the implication of your silent affirmations, so you take it upon yourself to turn that frown upside down.

so you splash water at him playfully, and he sputters as he’s caught off guard, water spraying his already damp hair, looking more like a wet puppy as he pouts at you. before he retaliates, of course, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you in with him.

you shriek while PHAINON laughs, a husky yet melodious sound that echoes through the empty bathhouse. for just a second, everything feels perfect when your eyes meet his, the purest blue you’ve ever seen, and his lips touch yours reverently.

══════════════════

“actually, i was wondering if you could try this. was thinking about replicating your own, but i think it's about the same.” you perk up, pulling out a plate of honey cakes coloured pink from behind your back, the same he usually prides himself with baking.

his golden eyes fixate on the pink-tinted honey cakes that you're presenting to MYDEI, his features subtly shifting to a state of perplexity and caution. a small wrinkle appears on his usually smooth forehead.

he observes the pastry with wariness, the sudden feeling of dread sending a chilling sensation down his tenth thoracic vertebrae. "i see," he begins slowly, his voice a mere hum, "where did you obtain these?"

“i made them, of course.” you’re a little puzzled now by his reaction, sparing a glance at the honey cakes before turning back to him.

“you made them?” he reiterates, his response tinged with disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite fathom the words you were speaking.

with slight hesitation, he picks up a honey cake from the plate, observing its appearance with a mixture of curiosity and caution. sniffing it carefully like a chimera cat, it smells the same as the ones he’d make.

yet, something nagged at him.

“tell me," MYDEI continues, his voice stern, “what did you add to these cakes?”

“pomegranate milk like you usually do? i know you like your treats pink.” you’re getting more confused by the minute, unsure why he was acting so off. guarded as if he was facing a titankin and not a plate of desserts.

“why don’t you try them? i really want to get your input.” you press on, looking at him intently as you hold the plate out to him.

his eyes harden at your insistence. sighing and looking at the pastries, he knew you meant no harm, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to doubt you.

“alright.” he relents, picking up one of the pink cakes and taking a tentative bite, his expression unreadable.

it’s like an assault on his taste buds. he’s died before, multiple times. that’s the reason why one of his many names was ‘MYDEIMOS the undying’, but he thinks this, has been the closest to actual irreversible and absolute death that he will ever get. instantaneously, his jaw locks as if preventing him from taking another bite.

his mouth is dry from the horrendous flavour that attacks his tongue, and the lump in his throat makes it difficult to swallow. wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he tries to eradicate the taste that lingers there, only to be left with a nauseatingly sweet aftertaste that clings to the inside of his cheeks.

you look at him expectantly, eyes sparkling innocently as you wait for his opinion, oblivious to the fact that you nearly sent him alone to the sea of flowers. “so…how does it taste?”

he swallows once, twice, to moisten his throat. his voice is hoarse as he responds, "it’s... wonderful."

“you’re sure? it seems like you didn’t like it. did i do something wrong?” you ask in scepticism, the paleness of his expression not reflecting the praise he’s just given you. looking back at the plate of pink cakes, pondering an idea for a moment. “maybe i should try just to be sure.”

his face contorts into one of mild panic, and his mind races.

so MYDEI quickly snatches the plate out of your hands and, in a twist of events, starts scarfing down the pink pancakes at an alarming rate.

his stomach aches with every bite he takes of the cakes, the sweet flavour now a torment he can’t escape. the texture, so soft and spongy, feels like sandpaper against his throat.

but, he manages to keep a calm demeanour as he swallows the last bite, his heart pounding as he looks at you, a forced smile plastered on his face.

"delicious," he manages to choke out, trying to sound convincing.

“really? i’ll get you something to wash away the taste. i have some juice.” you nod with a relieved sigh, about to make a beeline to the kitchen. he’s learnt his lesson, four times actually, with each honeycake he’s gagged over, catching your wrist before you leave and pulling you flush back to him. chests touching, your eyes are wide at the sudden proximity, and your hand brushes his bare chest where tattoos ink his skin.

“i have an idea of something that’ll help.” this is his revenge, MYDEI thinks; he’ll scrape the taste of those vile cakes away with a kiss, maybe one for each bite he's taken. he’s gentle as he can be, gloved hands tilting your chin up as his lips brush yours. you don’t notice the flavour of your failed attempt at desserts, addicted to the taste of him as your eyes shut.

══════════════════

"one wish, no boundaries, no limits. what would it be?” your voice a low hum that echoes across the room of his laboratory, feet barely touching the ground as you sit on the edge of his desk, watching curiously as he sifts through the papers. you’re not sure how he keeps track of his documents, from the essays of his students, his own personal experiments, and receipts for droma merchandise that he’s had shipped to the grove.

his gaze lingers on you for a moment as ANAXA pauses, breaking down your question into pieces before he carefully crafts his answer to fit his ideals.

"i want a world where truth,” he begins, “where truth isn’t locked away beneath the weight of power. where people could learn and understand without the fear of retribution."

“that sounds like a very… you answer, professor. you’re not scared of it? the truth and the consequences it may bring, i mean. sometimes…they don’t hold the answer you want.”

a faint, amused smile touches his lips. it was an answer he was accustomed to hearing, and yet, there was something about the way you said it that made it sound less like a rebuke and more like a warning.

"not scared?" he repeats, the words rolling off his tongue like a quiet laugh, "perhaps i’m not… or perhaps i’m simply too tired to fear anything any more."

he tilts his head slightly, gaze flickering over you again. "i never said the answer would be one you wanted.”

“you’re perceptive as always; it’s infuriating. i’d expect no less from one of the seven sages. you make the rest of us look like naive chimera cats next to a verax leo with your insights and observations, don’t you?” a huff of exasperation leaves your lips, shaking your head at ANAXA. there’s dry humour in your tone, a hint of sarcasm that he finds almost refreshing.

"am i now? i think you give me too much credit. i am but a feeble scholar with too much time in his hands." his faint smile deepens into a barely audible chuckle, a rare display of amusement. while many others might have bristled at your words, he only seems mildly amused.

he regards the night sky out the window as if for guidance, stars mocking. "naive chimera kittens, you say? i don’t doubt they’d scratch just as fiercely given the chance."

“didn’t answer my question. are you scared about what the truth brings? not everything’s sunshine and rainbows, especially in amphoreus. never here.” you roll your eyes at him, fingers digging into the side of the desk as you wait pointedly for his reply. a truthful one this time instead of an attempt at deflection.

he sighs, dry humour and nonchalance giving way to seriousness once more. "of course i’m not scared," he says quietly, his words a mere breath on the wind. "the truth is always a risk. it could be a miracle; it could be a nightmare. it could free us or condemn us."

he finally peels himself away from whatever he was doing, straightening to his full height from his previous slouching position over one of the laboratory tables as he approaches you. in the softly dancing light, he seems to cast shadows, a reflection of dark uncertainty that he’s familiar with all too well.

"but some risks", he murmurs, "are worth taking."

“even if it means losing everything along the way. even if it means you’ll pay the price with your soul?” you asks hesitantly, yelling inwardly at yourself for letting your guard down. you can’t help but lay your heart bare to him; it’s a curse in itself, one you can’t cure.

his gaze softens ever so slightly, the crimson of his eye flashing with a hint of something—understanding, perhaps. ANAXA took another step forward, closing the distance between you.

"even then," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "even if the world turns against me, i will not shy away from the truth. too long have i lived in the shadows, in deceit and lies. better death, better damnation, than to live in ignorance."

his words hang in the air like a promise, or maybe a threat. you’re not too sure, he wants you to figure it out on your own. 

“you’ve thought long about this, haven’t you? you’re always two steps ahead of me.” you nod quietly. your own confession is reluctant; you don’t know how he’ll respond to it, but that shouldn’t worry you. everyone has their own opinions and beliefs, but some part of you wants your answer to please him, but you speak up regardless. “i don’t know what i’d do actually. is that so bad?”

he seems to consider your question more carefully this time, and you hope he won’t go overboard with his reactions like he usually does, cackling himself into a frenzy out of his own lectures. "not bad," he says finally, "just...surprising."

reaching out, his fingertips barely skimming the edge of your cheek, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to touch you. his fingers lingered there, in that space just millimetres from your skin, and you resist the urge to lean your cheek into his palm to close the distance between you both. "you, with your secrets and half-truths..." he murmurs, words a breath against your ear.

“then i hope you don’t mind if you unravel the truth, with me by your side then?” another question, this one soft and gentle that it tugs on the heartstrings he thought he had severed long ago.

he purses his lips thoughtfully. he looks away, a glint of something in his scarlet eye.

"with you by my side..." he echoes thoughtfully. "i suppose i could make an exception."

he steps closer, his presence closer than ever before. eye lingering on your mouth for a moment before returning to your gaze. hand curling to cup your face, you feel the cold metal of the rings on his finger against your cheek.

"i think it would be...enlightening. shall we give it a try?” ANAXA murmurs, noses brushing and lips tantalising.

══════════════════

the memory shard whirs, crystals forever frozen in time as the pink creature floats around the two figures. it’s a stark contrast against the red sky and the fire falling from the horizon.

“do you think they got their happy ending?” the creature called mem asks, blue curious eyes staring intently at the memory, itching to replay it again despite knowing how the story ends.

with a heavy heart, the shard hums to a close, sealing whatever wish it carried. some romance stories end with tragedy after all, like how not all dreams come true. and this was just another memory lost to the black tides and cruel fate.

© FROSTYRESOLVE 2025. DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REUPLOAD OR FEED MY WORKS INTO AI

[pharahjoy]

The art style is a bit unconscious because there are older drawings and a bit more recent ones. I have a lot of LeoYur drawings that I would like to upload ♡

Edit: Oh, I almost forgot, I did a little writing in Ao3 for the first drawing: here ✨️

[pharahjoy]

orphic. — (adj.) mysterious and entrancing, beyond ordinary understanding.

summary: when you, a final-year student at the grove, get assigned to study under anaxagoras—one of the legendary seven sages—you know things are about to get interesting. but as the weeks go by, the line between correlation and causation starts to blur, and the more time you spend with professor anaxagoras, the more drawn to him you become in ways you never expected. the rules of the academy are clear, and the risks are an unfortunate possibility, but curiosity is a dangerous thing. and maybe, just maybe, some risks are worth taking. after all, isn’t every great discovery just a leap of faith?

pairing: anaxa x gn!reader.

tropes: professor x student, slow burn, forbidden romance.

updates: sporadic.

warnings: potential hsr spoilers from TB mission: "Light Slips the Gate, Shadow Greets the Throne" (3.1 update). main character is written to be 21+ years of age, at the very least. (anaxa is written to be around 26-27 years of age.) swearing, mature themes, suggestive content.

taglist: open.

a/n: i managed to write 20k words in one day (i was driven to the brink of madness by this.) quick fyi and slight warning for absolute physics NONSENSE, i had no idea what i was writing, haha... anyways, i had so much fun writing some of this, i hope everyone here likes it too!! do rb and interact, it makes my day ! <3

αʹ : 001 - the professor. - the student. βʹ : 002 - the assignment. γʹ : 003 - the framework. δʹ : 004 - the blueprint. εʹ : 005 - the barista. ϛʹ : 006 - the phenomenologist. ζʹ : 007 - the paper. ηʹ : 008 - the email. θʹ : 009 - to be added . . . ιʹ : 010 - to be added . . . ιαʹ : 011 - to be added . . . ιβʹ : 012 - to be added . . . ιγʹ : 013 - to be added . . . ιδʹ : 014 - to be added . . . ιεʹ : 015 - to be added . . . ιϛʹ : 016 - to be added . . . ιζʹ : 017 - to be added . . . ιηʹ : 018 - to be added . . . ιθʹ : 019 - to be added . . . κʹ : 020 - to be added . . .

taglist: @starglitterz @kazumist @naraven @cozyunderworld @pinksaiyans @pearlm00n @your-sleeparalysisdem0n @francisnyx @qwnelisa @chessitune @leafythat @cursedneuvillette @hanakokunzz @nellqzz @ladymothbeth @chokifandom @yourfavouritecitizen @sugarlol12345 @aspiring-bookworm @kad0o @yourfavoritefreakyhan @mavuika-marquez @fellow-anime-weeb927 @beateater @bothsacredanddust @acrylicxu @average-scara-fan @pinkytoxichearts @amorismujica @luciliae @paleocarcharias @chuuya-san @https-seishu @feliju @duckydee-0 @dei-lilxc @eliawis @strawb3rri-bliss @khoiyyu @somatchajade @tremendoustragedybard @serena6728 @ameili @aominehaven @skeele @thelightofmylife @casualgalaxystrawberry @sigma-s-wife @nvlusdei @sc4r4luv @revverrist

(send an ask or comment to be added!)

[pharahjoy]

versatile

[pharahjoy]

the deliverer

[pharahjoy]

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

[pharahjoy]

Anaxagoras ✨

[pharahjoy]

Trusting the Prefect is really something.

@ducksido this really made me laugh, I hope you see this.

This drawing is inspired by their writing, the link is under the cut if you guys are interested on reading it.