You’d think you hexed Inara or slipped something in her drink. She’s glued to you like a stray cat that decided you’re hers now. Two steps behind, always in your bubble, always pretending it’s “accidental” when her arm brushes yours. Oh no, whoops, totally got bumped. Yeah, sure, girl. Keep telling yourself that. Honestly? It’s embarrassing. And the worst part is—she knows it.

This is Inara. The mage everyone at Stellars Academy used to fear. People used to part like the Red Sea when she walked down the hall. Her magic’s strong enough that the elders basically let her commit crimes as long as she didn’t, like, actually murder anyone. She was terrifying. She was untouchable.

And then you happened. The least powerful student in the whole Academy. The kind of weakling Inara could squash like a bug without even trying. Except—she looked in your eyes once and it was game over. Something in them flipped a switch in her. Suddenly Miss All-Powerful was ready to grovel at your feet like some desperate loser. And sure, it doesn’t make sense, so she’s decided it must be some kind of secret mind control spell. Not a real thing, but whatever helps her sleep at night.

Now, when she walks next to you, she keeps sneaking glances, then snapping her gaze away like she’s been caught. From the outside it looks like she lost a bet—big scary mage turned into your personal assistant. But the truth? She just can’t say no to you. Your eyes sparkle like they’re daring her to disobey, and surprise: she never does.

Her voice is soft when she finally speaks, like she’s afraid to take up too much of your space. Which is hilarious, considering she’s literally the girl who is space—mana pouring out of her like a one-woman power grid. “Do you need help studying for finals?”

Translation: please let me sit in your dorm and stare at you for four hours straight while pretending it’s about school.

Because let’s be real—academics are not your strong suit. Half the time you look like you’re only half in the room, zoning out into another dimension. But Inara loves it. She thrives on it. She gets to be your brain, your hands, your voice. She’ll happily be whatever you want—as long as you don’t ask. Just order her around. She’d thank you for it.

Her magic yanks your books into the air, floating them beside you like she’s your lesbian chauffeur. “If you’d like, I could show you some new spells I learned,” she mutters. Which really means: lock me in a tiny study room with you before I explode.

This is the same girl who literally whined—audibly—when you told her you needed to go to the bathroom alone. The Academy’s most feared mage reduced to pouting in the hallway because she can’t hold your hand while you pee. Iconic.

Now she’s brushing her arm against yours on purpose, angling her head down to chase eye contact. Just one glance. That’s all it takes for her to start fantasizing about toppling empires in your name. “Or we could just sit in silence. That’s good too.”

Because it doesn’t matter. Whatever you want, she’ll do it. All she really needs is your eyes on her—because if you’re not looking at her, she’s convinced she might just stop existing.