#acaffeinated constellation

An arranged marriage between two unlikely people in Iwagakure evolves to a love story neither of them were expecting, or how a (very) eccentric apothecary becomes her husband’s reason for living when he known in Edo Japan as the legendary shinobi Gabimaru the Hollow.

Otherwise known as the prequel to Hell’s Paradise that no one was expecting~.

prologue

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

chapter six

cw: major spoilers for Submerged Eclipse myth, character death, fem!reader, reverse isekai situation, non-mc!reader, minors dni, references to The Shape of Water.

Synopsis: Who would have thought taking a walk on the beach led to the discovery of a brand new aquatic creature that looked exactly like Rafayel in his Sea God form from the Love and Deepspace game you were playing?

author’s note: hello, and welcome~! For those who may or may not know, this concept was put to a vote as to what I should be focused on for a 10k writing challenge and it won by a landslide~! I didn’t beat the challenge sadly, but writing almost 7k in a single weekend is nothing to scoff at~! This is a collaborated project with the incredibly talented @dissociativewriter, so we will do our best in updating the chapters for this series, though we may not do it on a regular basis because of our other writing projects, schedules, etc. Special thanks goes to @jinwoosbabyboo for not only helping out with the final edits but also fact-checking the research I’ve done for this project so that everything is accurately depicted. If there any misinterpretations or missing pieces of information, please let me know~.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

“Reclaim this heart, and end our everlasting bond.”

Rafayel’s eyes widened as he heard his bride’s solemn words. He struggled against the magic of the bond, against her sudden strength, but the shunk of a blade sinking into mortal flesh reached his ears. He lunged forward, cradling his bride’s body close to him, trembling as he saw the blood from her chest steadily drip into the ocean, the blade disappearing beneath the tides. Their story has ended like this? No, no, it can’t. It shouldn’t.

“I refuse to accept this betrayal!”

His bride smiled, her glassy eyes darkening with each passing moment. “This heart can save you,” she murmured. “It can save…Romirro. My death,” she continued while the Sea God pawed at her wound, desperately trying to staunch the bleeding with his trembling fingers. “is worth more than my life.”

A sob tore through Rafayel as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “The Sea God doesn’t need this heart!” He exclaimed passionately. “Our bond…it cannot end this way! I won’t allow it!” Suddenly, golden light enveloped the bride’s body, making her seem more ethereal than ever. The sight terrified Rafayel as she raised a hand to cradle his face.

“Although our covenant is broken,” she rubbed a thumb against his wet cheek, wiping away the tiny pearls that escaped and hearing them steadily fall into the ocean with a plinkplinkplinkplink. Like the sound of rain against stone walls. “I’ll become one with the sea…and stay with you forever.”

And then, just like that, she was gone, the weight of her stiff body vanishing from his grasp like sea foam. Rafayel’s sobs grew louder with the rising tides, the pearls continuing to fall yet he barely felt them. All he could feel was the gnawing ache in his chest, grief overflowing every part of his body as the memories of his bride overwhelmed, threatening to pull him downdowndown -

Then his eyes widened. A shocked, shaky breath left his lips as he felt the briefest warmth rub against his cheek, the soft murmur of a voice echoing in the shell of his bejeweled ear.

“I’m so sorry, Rafayel. I’m sorry that the story ended like this. I wish you could’ve had a happier ending.”

The Sea God turned around - left, right, but there was no one else in the ocean except him.

“My beloved bride.” He murmured. It was her. She had been here. He felt it. Even though she no longer possessed a body for him to embrace, her spirit was with him as he mourned for her. Perhaps…perhaps that was enough, for now.

“No matter how it takes, even if the oceans dry up and I am forced to walk amongst the humans, I will find you. We will be together again, my love. I swear it in the name of Lemuria.”

Submerged Eclipse was probably one of the saddest myths in Love and Deepspace, and that is saying a lot considering the amount of angst sprinkled in the Main Story.

Rafayel had been your second favorite character in the game, but after seeing this story for yourself, your affection and understanding of him grew. Although he had originally been painted as a pouty man-child who used the lamest excuse in the book to get close to the protagonist, seeing what happened in the past pieced together the reason behind his clingy behavior. His lover, the bride and castellan of Romirro, had taken her own life so that he could live. She had promised to be part of the ocean, to always be with him, and yet those waters dried up. It would be centuries before they met again in the desert of a post-apocalyptic world; he would no longer be a god, but an assassin who protected the reincarnated protagonist, who at the time was a princess coveted for her Evol.

Ironically enough, you were more immersed in Rafayel’s route than the others because the aquatic creatures you'd seen in the cutscenes or the Memories reminded you of the ones you work with at the aquarium.

You weren’t one of the praised trainers who swam with the dolphins or orcas during the shows. You were the backbone behind the scenes, keeping the animals fed and comfortable. Before you fed them, you inspected the tanks to make sure they were clean and the water’s temperature was within optimal range. To avoid complacency, the management rotates everyone around to different areas, so no one stations anyone at the same exhibit every day. You could be at the Waves of Wonder looking after the sharks and sea turtles on Wednesday, then the next day you’re asked to cover the Stingray Lagoon or work at the gift shop by the main entrance. It was a big place, and they paid you well for the work you did. But as much as you enjoyed working alone and clocking out on time, that almost never happens because there are rules that every aquarist like yourself must follow to the letter:

Rule 1) Never go into an animal’s tank or environment that isn’t part of your schedule without notifying someone or going alone. Some of these animals can be aggressive.

Rule 2) Sort of ties in with the first rule and that if someone is on their menstrual cycle, they are absolutely not allowed anywhere near the animals. That includes the sharks, orcas, and all reptiles.

Rule 3) The aquarium’s mission statement is to take care of the animals and show the visitors how important they are to the ecosystem, and to educate the future generations who aspire to study in marine biology, environmental sciences, etc. It isn’t a place to brag about expertise or to hold a pissing contest. Do that outside of the workplace.

Rule 4) Keep up with your own education and licenses.

Rule 5) Don’t dismiss your co-workers’ opinions just because you think you are better than them in any capacity. Refer to the third rule.

Rule 6) Don’t date your co-workers.

Rule 7) If you are supposed to work at the research facility across the street for the day instead of the aquarium, arrive twenty minutes early. The shuttle runs from seven in the morning until closing time.

There are many more rules, but these are the main seven you can remember off the top of your head. You took your job seriously; you came in at exactly seven forty-five in the morning and left when the gates closed at nine o’clock. Sometimes you stayed later to help with cleaning the stands, checking on the animals, inventory, or anywhere else they needed help. You worked so much that if it weren’t for Juno, the only one who works the ice cream stand by Arctic Aquatics, you would’ve never known about the existence of Love and Deepspace. It didn’t take long for you to get hooked onto playing the game.

Now? Now it was time to step away from this pixelated world and focus on reality; get some fresh air at the beach and enjoy the next two days of your compensated leave. Slow season had rolled in like clockwork, giving you a much-needed break you deserved after the peak rush in the summer months. The weather will get colder in October, and then the snowbirds will come in droves. The money earned during the winter was triple the amount of any other time of the year — spring and summer included. Hiring more employees would also mean the end of your overtime pay. Better to cash in all your PTO now while you still could before you got stuck training the newcomers, getting on their asses to finish up on their certifications or the scuba diving lessons Nicole was in charge of.

Travel magazines hailed Whalefall Beach for its white sands and crystal-clear water every year. You thought it was weird that the name was like one of the fallen cities mentioned in the game, but for all you know it could just be a coincidence. Maybe the creators of the game got the inspiration for Whalefall City from here? You weren’t sure; nothing on the website or the forums confirmed where they got most of their ideas for game locations, not even on Reddit.

The early afternoon sun was high in the air as you walked across the boardwalk, a familiar song reaching your ears: children laughing and splashing, the tide crashing and receding, the seagulls’ cries above. Rows of multi-colored umbrellas dotted near the water, with people reading their books or on their phones or had their eyes closed, getting a tan. Just a normal Sunday in your cozy corner of the world. The sand was warm beneath your toes as you stepped off of the boardwalk; you carried your sandals in one hand, phone in the other, and a straw beach bag slung over your shoulder with a towel. What was supposed to be a quick walk to the fishing pier changed to a visit.

Who knew when you would get another chance to relax on the beach with a book before it became overcrowded with tourists? Least you brought enough money with you to rent out a cabana and some snacks. You’d need to figure out what to make for dinner later. There had to be something in the fridge that you could whip up real quick without too much hassle or a special grocery trip.

You were able to read a couple of chapters before you decided to go for a walk, get your feet a little wet. You concealed your bag by throwing your towel over it, shoved your phone in your pocket, and took off towards the pier. You were at the halfway point when some oblivious kids, who weren’t watching where they were going, knocked into you as they sped past you on their skim boards. The world seemed to slow down as you watched your phone tumble from your hand and land right in the water with a splash.

If seeing it sink and the screen go dark hadn’t been bad enough, the tide had receded back towards the ocean, carrying your device with it before you could grab it. Oh. My. God.

You wanted to scream, you really did, but the only sound that came out of your mouth was something between a gasp, a squeak, and then a string of nononono’s. You tried to chase after it, follow it, but your phone disappeared beneath the waves.

“Fuck!”

Now you were going to have to use your next paycheck for a new phone instead of saving up to preorder the Zayne panda plush keychain or the other LADS merch you had your eyes on purchasing. Wait, was your phone even still under warranty?

As you lamented the loss of your only communication to the world, forever lost to the depths of the ocean, it short-circuited. The screen went black, then pulsed back to life with a dark red screen before a gigantic shadow swam out of it with a powerful flick of its light-blue tail, towards the deeper waters.

Rafayel had sensed it. It had been brief, but he had felt her. His bride was here, and she was alive.

warnings: marriage of convenience, racism, prohibition, drug and alcohol usage, canon divergence, murder, gore, character death, season two spoilers, fem!reader.

Synopsis: The Radio Demon is a patient gentleman, but even someone of his social standing and power has its limits. How much longer must Orpheus wait to reclaim his Eurydice, even if she still cannot remember him?

author notes: hello~! I hope everyone is doing well and thank you for being patient with me on the development of this piece after it went through a poll and honestly, I was astonished that everyone wanted me to write for Alastor, so here he is~! At the moment it is difficult to maintain this blog a weekly basis with the holidays quite literally around the corner, so please do not panic if I do not upload content on here for odd periods of time. I do hope, however, that you will continue to support this blog with likes, reblogs, and comments~!

Special thanks to @ghostdoodlen for proofreading this draft until it sparkled like a diamond~!

divider by @hazbinwithquantum

Alastor glared down at the festering wound on his chest, stitched poorly together with bright-green thread, then at his reflection in the fractured mirror. The familiar symphony of cicadas and croaking frogs in the bayou grounded him, helping him think as he reached for the pack of cigarettes on the dresser. He grabbed one, shoved a hand in his pocket and pulled out a silver lighter while his shadow poured a whiskey on the rocks from the decanter. He lit the cigarette, allowing the woody taste of tobacco to coat his tongue before he averted his gaze to the lighter in his hand. Alastor rarely formed attachments to anything or anyone if it didn’t serve his own purposes, let alone for entertainment. And why should he, when there are no friends in Hell? Yet even when he had no reason at all to keep this damned thing, he still had it in his possession because it was the last thing he ever received from you.

A reminder of the life he led as a human, and the guilt that has continued to follow him even in death.

You were supposed to be a partner in a marriage of convenience. He needed a wife so that he could keep having fun in New Orleans and not get caught by the authorities, and you needed a husband so that the family name would carry on; quid pro quo, tit for tat. The engagement? A mere three months, because why wait? Alastor had hoped that after a few years of no romantic nights beyond dinner and an evening stroll in the French Quarter, you would leave him. Serve him divorce papers, claim alimony, and then find someone else who would live up to your expectations in a husband. You would have had it a bit more difficult to remarry of course, because no man wished to tie himself to a ‘broken’ woman - a soldier who had fought in the battlefields across Europe, and came to America in search of a new life with nothing to show your sacrifice except for shiny, skeletal prosthetic arms.

But you weren’t broken. You were just emotionally stunted. Moreso than he had initially thought when he swept you off of your feet at Lafayette Square Post Office. You were a telegraphist, an Automemory Doll who typed letters for those who cannot do it themselves due to the low literary rate. Automemory Dolls were quite popular back then, though you were initially not very good at it because you took the customer’s words too literally, appearing as insensitive and rude. He might have to work twice as hard at the radio station to bring home any semblance of income if the other Dolls hadn’t taken you under their wing and helped you understand the complexity of human emotions.

It was thanks to their guidance that you learned empathy, how to interact with your clients, crafting letters that conveyed the feelings that the senders wished to put on paper, and became so popular that you would occasionally leave New Orleans to do an out-of-state job. He was proud of you, and he hoped that your rise in popularity would provide a stable income for you to live on even after leaving him. Yet he nor you walked out of the home you shared in those five years.

He grew fond of you, more than he should have. The quiet evenings spent in the living room reading by the fireplace, him rehearsing the scripts he wrote earlier that day in front of you as his temporary audience and providing invaluable feedback that would dazzle the listeners on the next broadcast. When a recording was successful, he would sneak the two of you into the speakeasy, dancing the night away with whiskey. You preferred alcohol on the lighter side. Mimzy tolerated you. Why she didn’t like you, he couldn’t fathom the reason. Maybe you didn’t hold your liquor as well as he or her.

Then there were the cooking lessons; goodness, those were the nights he really needed to keep an eye on you~! Who would have thought you struggled so much to crack an egg over a hot pan, slice the chicken with a knife, or even boil water~! Those nights in the kitchen were chaotic and stressful, yet they were also the nights when his cooking skills shone; the whole neighborhood would line up outside once they knew he cooked his mother’s famous jambalaya, and you would always be a gracious hostess, helping bring out bowels, top of their drinks, even keep the kitchen clean.

They all thought Alastor had done well, and often commented how lucky he was to have you.

That was around the time he realized that it might be a good time to step away from being the Bayou Butcher for a while, take a break from his fun and treat you like the precious jewel you were, as a proper husband should, you were taken from him in the blink of an eye. Alastor still remembered it clearly, as if it had all happened yesterday.

November had just arrived in New Orleans, chilling the evening air even when the days were still sweltering. The popularity of Automemory Dolls had skyrocketed, and so did the number of clients who wanted your services, leading to longer hours at the office. At first glance, you seemed all right, healthy as a horse and ready to start the day, but Alastor knew better. You were on fire, and he feared you would burn yourself out before you even realized what had happened. Ms. Cattelaya Baudelaire was more than happy to allow you to take the rest of the afternoon off. He had everything planned: a lunch date at Antoine’s, a stroll around the French Quarter afterwards, and he would surprise you with two train tickets to Chicago. Yet just as he walked out of the post office with you, smiling as he placed your arm resting in the crook of his elbow, insisting that your work would be there when you returned from lunch with him, Christopher LaSalle appeared. A broad-shouldered man in his forties, balding and red-eyed, accused New Orleans’ beloved radio host of killing his son as he aimed his pistol with shaky hands and tears spilling down his oily face. The safety went off with a click, but in that split second you pushed him out of the line of fire.

A loud bang. Screeching, a thump, and blood, your blood staining the cobblestoned streets and his hands, turning an outing into a crime scene, a new headline for The Times-Picayune to run. It took three officers to pull him away from your stiffening cadaver because Alastor refused to believe you, the soldier, the poet, his wife, was gone. The silver lighter had been a late anniversary gift from you to him, initialed with an A and two tiny antlers sprouting from the letter. Ms. Baudelaire had held onto it on the office, sobbing that you were going to surprise him with it when you got home from work as she handed it to him two days after he had picked out a casket to bury you in. Mahogany, a good plot, the best he could find for you.

If he had stopped killing sooner, if he had been more careful of with his identity, switched dump sites, would you be alive? Could he have actually been happy?

He never found the answers to those questions as he followed you in death six months later, shot by a hunter who had mistaken him for a deer when he was trying to hide another body in the bayou. Yet when he arrived in Hell, he never saw you. That’s what made him believe you had gone to Heaven. For seventy years he allowed himself to get lost in the carnage, forget about his grief and become the demon pet Rosie believed him to be until he saw you walk out of the tailor shop just as he walked in to get his coat fixed after Sir Pentious had kindly put some holes in it.

He called out to you, the word Cher slipping off of his tongue instead of your name. But you stared at him blankly, asking him who he was as you clutched a briefcase in your hands, a light-blue parasol strapped to the top. You had forgotten him, even when you still wore his ring around your finger. Loyal to a fault, even in death. That’s enough to make a man like him fall in love and stay in love after almost a century of believed separation. But how much long must he wait, must he suffer, until all of your memories returned? Hadn’t his continued interactions with you, after he had subtly lured you to the hotel almost a year ago, promising redemption is within reach when all he wanted was to keep you close?

Alastor growled. He lifted the whiskey to his lips and drained in seconds, slamming it down on the dresser with a clunk. This past year in the hotel was less than ideal, and being humiliated by Adam in the battle had not been part of his long-term plans. But he will survive, he will remind Rosie of their deal, and you will remember him.

He exhaled one last wisp of gray smoke and snuffed the cigarette in the ash tray, pocketed the lighter, straightened himself up in the mirror and put a smile on before he left the sanctuary of the bayou, the grip on his broken staff tightening with each step towards the lobby, where he hopes to start his day off right.

It doesn’t, and he quitted the hotel after enduring two minutes of Lucifer’s bullshit.

warnings: isekai, fem!reader, OOC, tooth-rotting fluff, reader being a simp for her favorite character.

Hello everyone and welcome to the long-awaited scenario for our residential cardiologist~! For those who may have not known, this prompt won by a landslide voting as to what I should attempt to write on my vacation. Needless to say, I should have already posted this last week, but Submergent Devotion threw me in the depths of a creative fervor.

Shout-out to both @dissociativewriter and @jinwoosbabyboo for beta-reading the earlier drafts of this piece and making sure I hadn't lost my touch while enjoying the white, sandy beaches up north lol.

You’ve played enough otome games to know that the protagonist is the one who can truly break through the love interest’s walls and encourage them to embrace being vulnerable, being human. Love and Deepspace was no different, minus more complex battling mechanisms and gatcha slots to collect five-star story routes called myths, depending on your affinity levels with the five love interests. You actually liked the protagonist and saw no reason to complain about her personality online. Why would you? Sure, she was reckless and spoke her mind with no filter whatsoever, but a protagonist isn’t supposed to be perfect. If she were perfect, then the game’s story would be dull and, by extension, the men who have crossed oceans of time to be with her again: Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus, and Caleb.

Which is why - even after being transmigrated inside of the world’s most popular romance simulator game as an NPC - you were rooting for the protagonist to be with Zayne and find happiness with the cardiologist. He was your second favorite character in Love and Deepspace? Your number one favorite was a secret, and you planned to keep it that way as long as you lived in this pixelated world. For now, you were content with what you had; after your sudden death, you immediately took up the opportunity to finish school, and then towards a career in medicine, to become a nurse. Finding employment at any hospital was akin to fighting a gauntlet amongst your peers, and the teachers did not make it easy with countless essays, rotations, and exams.

But you accomplished it, and now you were working at Akso Hospital with a front-row view of Zayne’s developing romance with his childhood friend, the lovely Hunter and protagonist of Love and Deepspace. But even when you already have in-game knowledge of the cardiologist’s personality - and his past - why the heck was it taking him so long to sweep the MC off of her feet? Yes, Zayne struggled to express himself, a man of few words with an icy demeanor, but that is how he is at the beginning of the game.

By logging in daily to interact with him and getting lucky with the gatcha slots, the affinity level will go up. It would take a while, but eventually the player would realize that there is more to Zayne than just a young man committed to his studies in congenital heart abnormalities or the operating rooms. He cares for his patients more than he said, and always took it hard when he lost one. When that happened, it would almost always be the protagonist who would take his mind off of it. At least, that’s how you remembered it when playing Love and Deepspace.

“Nurse?”

You almost stumbled out of your seat when you heard your name being called. You looked up, seeing Zayne staring down at you with a frown. You let out a squeak in the back of your mind before you stood up, blurting out a greeting. “Good a-afternoon, doctor! How can I help you?” You stammered, swearing under your breath as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks. Great. Absolutely fantastic.

Zayne raised an eyebrow. “Did I need something?”

Now it was your turn to be confused. “Well, yes? I mean, are you looking for me? Or are you looking for Yvonne?” You glanced around the U-shaped central nursing station. “I haven’t seen her since rounds, but I can page her -”

“No,” Zayne blurted out, the sudden, sharp tone in his voice startling you. “No, I don’t need Yvonne. I just -” You watched his face scrunch in annoyance, irritation, before he continued. “Did you hear about the two podiatrists who left the practice?”

You blinked. Well, you couldn’t say the news surprised you. Doctors come and go from hospitals, whether it’s from burnout, the stress of administration burdens, hours being cut back, or the desire for a better work-life balance. Still, there would have been an email about it - and who would take their place. Feet were just as important as hips, legs, eyes, and hearts.

“Did you hear about the two podiatrists who left the practice?” He repeated. You slowly shook your head. “They became arch-enemies.” He said.

“…Okay?” You replied.

Zayne nodded and then walked off as if the most emotionally constipated man in the entire hospital hadn’t just told a joke before inhaling his morning coffee. This world gets stranger and stranger with each passing moment. You thought, opening up another tab on your work computer to contact a patient’s primary physician about the dosing for their daily meds when Grayson suddenly appeared by your side.

“What’d you do?” He asked.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Dr. Grayson,” You said, eyes focused on the screen as your fingers flew across the keyboard. “If it concerns Dr. Zayne possessing a sense of humor, then perhaps something good has happened to him this morning.” You honestly hoped that would be the case, because what else would be the reason behind his unusual behavior? When you sent off the message, Grayson was still standing there, mouth opening and closing before he took off as quickly as he had appeared.

Your break time rolled around like clockwork, and when you took the stairs down towards the cafeteria with your lunch, you saw MC confidently stride out through the lobby elevator, dressed to the nines in her Hunter uniform and smiling from ear to ear.

Guess her visit with the good doctor went well. You thought, feeling a grin of your own forming as you continued your trek to your usual spot. Finally, the main story was moving forward. You just hoped that her relationship with Zayne would not diminish in favor of the destined ties she had had with the other love interests.

What you didn’t realize was that a certain cardiologist is being reprimanded by Grayson for his very poor flirting tactics - not because he failed to make his childhood friend swoon, but you probably did not know he had made the joke to impress you.

Yvonne was not happy with him either, citing that while the joke was funny, words sometimes spoke louder than actions.

cw: major spoilers for Submerged Eclipse myth, character death, fem!reader, reverse isekai situation, non-mc!reader, minors dni, references to The Shape of Water.

Synopsis: You wake up in the hospital to find something that should definitely not be on your collarbone, let alone cause rapid heart palpitations every time you think about a certain Lemurian.

author notes: hello~! I hope everyone is doing well as we almost wrap up the first month of 2026~! Thank you for being patient with me and @dissociativewriter on the development of this chapter. Between the holidays and our respective schedules getting busier, we will continue to update a monthly basis. We hope that you will continue to support this collaboration with likes, reblogs, and comments~! Credit goes to the rightful owner of the artwork above that I found on Pinterest.

divider by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

The first thing that hit you was the smell of disinfectant, then bright fluorescent lights and a beepbeepbeepbeep ringing in your ears. You head felt fuzzy, your vision was blurry. Blood thrummed in your ears and you hated it and you just wanted to go back to sleep but whoever was shaking your forearm wouldn’t let you.

“[First Name]?” You recognized the voice instantly.

“Keyes?” You groaned, struggling to sit upright as every inch of your body creaked and ached with each movement. “What happened?”

“You passed out!” He exclaimed, voice a little too loud for your liking. He must have noticed, because it was part of his job as a researcher to notice things, and he must have seen your discomfort. He leaned forward, speaking in a lower, softer tone. “I brought you to the ER. You’ve been here for almost the whole day.”

Hello everyone, it’s been a while~! Things in my cozy corner of the world have gotten busier, but I will still strive to write content and share it on this platform, though as things are at the moment, it might be a monthly update~.

Tonight’s post is a little different; instead of a full-fledged fic, this is a preview for an upcoming slow-burn series~!

Special thanks to @jinwoosbabyboo, who had taken time out of her busy day to brainstorm with me and came up with the prompt that has become the sneak peek of what you might expect when a Maomao! Reader is reborn into the world of Hell’s Paradise with more obstacles than ever before that come between her and her poisoning experiments. The biggest one? Being married off to Iwagakure’s most prized shinobi, Gabimaru the Hollow. Or is it such a terrible thing after all if he’s immune to all types of poison too~?

If you would like to be tagged for the official release, comment down below with a 🌿.

Divider by @sweetmelodygraphics . Credit goes to the artist(s) for the images found on Pinterest.

warnings: canon divergence, reincarnation, arranged marriage, mention of prostitution and sexual assault.

Series Masterlist

“You’re already awake?”

You paused, the brush freezing in midair at the familiar monotone voice. You glanced over your shoulder to see Gabimaru standing a few feet away, dressed in a faded grey yukata held together with a black obi tied around his waist. He didn’t have any other garments besides his shinobi attire and like you, he was never fussy about keeping up with the capital’s fashion trends. There was no point in doing so when his purpose is to blend into the shadows and carry out the village chief’s orders, and you mended any tears found on your kimono with Yui’s help.

“Is something wrong?” You asked. “You’re staring.”

Gabimaru didn’t answer. Instead his bare feet stomped across the tatami mat, sat next to you on the engawa leading out towards the fields with a loud thump. You opened your mouth to interrogate him further when he raised his hand, cupping your cheek. He then stroked a calloused thumb under your eyes, and pulled away, rubbing his thumb and pointer finger together.

“Your freckles.” He said. “They’re not there.”

“Yes.” You replied plainly. “Because I removed them.”

“So you wear make-up when you leave the house?”

“I removed my make-up. That’s why they are gone.”

Gabimaru tilted his head to the side. “I don’t get it.”

You sighed heavily, shoulders sagging. What a bother. It wasn’t like you were trying to hide anything from him, he is your husband. But this bickering would become more and more pointless if you didn’t elaborate on the supposedly contraditory statement now. You lowered the brush down onto top of the container, making a low clink before you swiveled towards Gabimaru, giving him your undivided attention as you spoke again.

“Before I leave the house, I paint on dried clay on my face to add freckles. Every time you have seen me until now, I was already wearing make-up. Cosmetics aren’t just to make someone look beautiful.”

“But why would you do that?”

“Not everyone leaves the pleasure district sexually satisfied.” You said. “Clients who are violent, carrying empty wallets or venereal diseases are more prone to take their frustrations out on anyone who is even remotely attractive in their eyes. Being a plain, ugly girl removes me from being a target and dragged into a back alley. Or people finding out I’m collecting information for the village chief.” You then turned away, dipping your brush back into the clay mixture. “That’s all.”

More importantly, less attention on you meant focusing more time and energy into studying medicine or testing new poisons that come into your possession. You didn’t know why…but something in the air has shifted. Maybe the temperature was dropping? It might be a breezy day, after all. Perfect for spending an hour outside to collect herbs to make some tonics to treat fever and night chills. The Silk House had requested you to make some for their higher-ranking courtesans so that they would be well enough to perform tonight.

You raised the bronze mirror up, narrowing your eyes slightly. Well, the freckles were almost passable yesterday, but you needed to add a little more on the right so it was symmetrical to the left -

“Can I do it?”

Huh? You looked back at Gabimaru, who looked just as surprised as you at what he had just said. Why does he want to do that? You watched his body freeze, his face pink from the sunlight and hands raised in defense.

“Uh, I’m sorry.” He sputtered. “I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

For some reason that you couldn’t explain - maybe it was because you remembered Yui telling you to allow Gabimaru in, to let him get to know you as more than a stranger who was just sharing a household under the chief’s orders of an arranged marriage - you swiveled your body around, knees tucked under your bottom in the seiza position. You laid out the container, the brush, and the mirror between the two of you, and looked at your stunned spouse straight in the eye.

“Go ahead.” You said, closing your eyes. “Just make sure that they don’t look too big or too small or someone will notice the ruse.”

Hey guys, and welcome back to a special collaboration with @jinwoosbabyboo as we proudly present the first-ever (to our knowledge) fic featuring the Deepspace Hunter and protagonist of the LADS game, Miss MC~!

I would like to give a special shoutout to @dissociativewriter for helping me to tie up the loose ends and making sure the fic flows cohesively :3 If you haven't checked out the blogs of these incredibly talented writers yet, you should definitely check them out~!

Have a great week and I will see you all on Saturday when the request inbox opens up~!

content warnings: shameless flirting + touchy-feely deepspace hunter, references to myths/routes, minors dni, hints of an office romance, angst, fem!reader.

divider by @omi-resources

Love and Deepspace shook the world with its debut as a romance mobile game; the smooth 3D animations, the lore, and the storylines for each character who was compatible with the protagonist in every way. The game’s only glaring flaw was how much storage space it consumed after downloading, but that didn’t stop anyone, including you, from playing Love and Deepspace.

You tried to log into the game regularly so you could collect the daily rewards and increase your chances of collecting a rare myth, but it was hard when life got in the way. Adulting sucks, but it was a necessary evil. You couldn’t pay for your groceries and other bills by sitting at home all day on your phone unless your boss had accepted your request to work remotely in the company’s IT department. Last time you checked, it was still sitting on their desk, buried beneath mountains of paperwork and sticky notes.

Such is life, right? You just have to be patient, and good things will happen so long as you put in the work, the time. No one likes an employee who slacks off even when they’ve got hours upon hours of overtime, right? Or so that’s what you used to tell yourself. Yes, you are using past tense because that had happened in your first life, which came to a screeching halt after a car blew through a red light and collided into you when the crosswalk sign clearly allowed pedestrians to walk at the intersection.

Truck-kun was not responsible for transporting you into a pixelated world where Wanderers roamed the streets of Linkon and only the Hunters could stop them; the setting of Love and Deepspace, but not as a Hunter who fought alongside the beautiful protagonist. You worked from a cubical on the Association’s fifth floor, providing tech support and information for their Hunters, sort of like Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds. You did not know how to do it every day without breaking a sweat, yet the information was all there in your head; the protocols, the encryption channels, even what was MC’s favorite caffeinated beverage at SakuraBakes because you always bought it for her.

It had been fun to immerse yourself in the game’s romantic routes and the lore when there was a plastic barrier between you and the app, but this was your new reality. MC has already met and interacted professionally with three of the love interests: her wayward coworker Xavier, the cardiac surgeon Zayne, and the dramatic artist Rafayel. She would head to the N109 Zone to investigate to the sighting of an Aether Core. Things would become chaotic upon encountering Sylus, and that’s an understatement unless she avoids deliberately provoking him.

MC might be an asset to UNICORN and a model Hunter in the eyes of the Association, but that’s not a valid excuse for being recklessly impulsive out in the field with her heart condition.

There have been many days when you wanted and have cuffed her on the back of the head like Gibbs did to DiNozzo when he did something stupid. Yes, you have watched a lot of crime shows in the past. Yes, you knew that the protagonist of Love and Deepspace is supposed to be a kind, beautiful human being who deserves nothing but undying devotion and love after all the horrors she had suffered as a child in the lab.

But she’s still your partner, and you are her handler. You looked out for each other, through better or for worse, at least until she left for the N109 Zone. You just hoped this mission would last longer than previous ones, at least long enough for you to quietly leave the Association before MC returned to Linkon. You had already written a resignation letter for Jenna and submitted your resume to several job sites, with an interview lined up for the following Wednesday.

You have played your part in her life, and soon you will be nothing but a footnote in the romance that spans several lifetimes. You just hoped she will find happiness just as you hope to have a peaceful life away from the game’s overarching plot.

“There she is, my favorite girl~!”

The scent of leather and lavender tickled your nose as a pair of arms coiled themselves loosely around your neck. You needn’t have turned around to identify the person hugging you from behind, although her actions caused you to momentarily freeze amidst your pen scratching across the pile of papers in front of you. “Last I checked, Tara was your favorite.”

“Aw, are you jealous~?”

“Nope.” You deadpanned before your fingers glided across the top of the documents, shoving them into the manilla folder on your left and placing it on your right. “Here’s all the intel I’ve collected for your next mission; the Nest, Solon Hotel, and Charon.”

“Charon?”

“The largest trading hub in the N109 Zone that sells everything, trinkets to classified information.” You answered, leaning back slightly and towards MC. “Once you’re inside, comms will more than likely disconnect to avoid the channel being hacked.” You glanced your shoulder. “You’ll be on your own, so make sure you memorize everything here in this file before you leave.” You tapped against the folder to emphasize the seriousness of the situation. “We clear?”

“Absolutely.”

You frowned as you watched the protagonist reach for the folder on your desk with one hand, the other still loosely dangling around your collarbone. But if she knew the risks of this scenario, then why could you hear her heart thrumming against your back? Was she having palpitations? Or is she eager to leave for the N109 Zone, believing she will find out who killed Josephine and Caleb? Should you be concerned for MC at all when you will be out of her life soon? You sighed, covering her palm with yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Memorize the file, keep a low profile, find the Aether Core, get out. You got this, MC.”

Her breath hitched against the shell of your ear. “Yeah.” She swallowed. “Yeah, I know.” Her grip on your shoulder tightened. “I have to.” The shakiness in her voice soon evaporated into a cheeky tone as she rubbed her cheek against yours. “Who else is going to make sure you come out of the office, get some sunshine and sugar into your system before you hide away from the world in this cubicle until it’s time to go home?”

You rolled your eyes. “Nero, obviously.” You winced a little as her the tips of her manicured nails dug into your shoulder.

“Nero? I’m hurt, [First Name]!” You really didn’t get what the big deal was, because what you said is true. You and Nero were co-workers. He was a nice person and always made sure you were taking care of yourself when MC wasn’t around the office. So why was there a steely edge in the protagonist’s voice, as if she were actually jealous of him? Maybe that’s just her being clingy. Her actions in Caleb’s route were similar, but intensified to match his own obsession with MC.

But even after your return to the real world, whether it happened because of a system error or something else entirely, the truth of how MC really felt would remain hidden from you. What was the truth? Well, she had been the happiest when she was with you and not with the love interests. Having lunch together in the break room, playing at the Kitty Cafe on your shared days off or standing in line to get boba tea after a long afternoon of window shopping.

When she said that she appreciated everything you did, she meant it. Bringing her extra food to an investigation area if a case was taking longer to wrap up, making sure she took her meds or helped lace up her boots so she didn’t trip, sending her text messages to have a good day or simple good morning with a coffee gif, you name it.

You weren’t just a handler to MC - you were her rock.

You grounded her. You reassured her that she is loved, worthy of love, and, like everyone else, flawed—and that’s okay. So why?

Why did you leave Linkon without saying a word? Why did you leave a letter in Jenna’s possession with her that explained why you had resigned from the Association instead of just saying it to her face? Why did you believe you were undeserving of being by her side, and that the men she’s worked with - Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, even Sylus - were the ones who loved her most of all? Why did their opinions matter when all she wanted is you?

She needed to know the truth. She needed to hear it from you, so please let her find you. Please let her know you are all right, even if you never want to come back to the city. Just give her a sign, a text, an email, something!

“You’re a real bitch for leaving me like this. You know that, right?” MC mumbled as she stared forlornly at the last picture you two took together, sitting in a cubicle - yours, but now void of vibrant colors and the kitty plushies you won at the claw machine. At first glance, the picture is nothing special; selfie in the park, dressed casually, with SakuraBakes paper cups in your hands. You looked like a grumpy cat who was rudely awakened by her human as you frowned at the camera lens. But MC knew you. You weren’t unhappy, you were just….emotionally constipated. That’s why your frown didn’t match the bright sparkle in your eyes. She sighed, caressing the screen with the pad of her thumb. Her phone kept pinging, notifying her of text messages from Xavier, Rafayel, Caleb, Zayne, even Sylus of all people. But her attention didn’t waver from the photo.

“I didn’t mean it. I’m just - I’m just lost without you. I miss you, and I should have said something instead of pretending everything was okay when it wasn’t.” MC swallowed a sob, feeling hot tears building up behind her lashes. “You completed me [First Name], and nothing can take the feeling of being loved away, not even if my fate was written in the stars.”

cw: major spoilers for Submerged Eclipse myth, character death, fem!reader, reverse isekai situation, non-mc!reader, minors dni, references to The Shape of Water.

Synopsis: Your first day in the research facility doesn't end the way that you hoped would happen.

author notes: hello~! I have finally returned from my hiatus with another chapter, and just in time to celebrate the first anniversary of this blog~! Special thanks to @mia-menaceinaction and @jinwoosbabyboo for helping me polish the earlier drafts~! @dissociativewriter and I hope you will continue to support this collaboration with likes, reblogs, and comments~! Credit goes to the rightful owner of the artwork above that I found on Pinterest.

divider by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

After changing into the designated uniform for the research facility - a pair of khakis, an indigo polo shirt with the aquarium logo threaded on the left side in white string, and non-skid sneakers that have been your faithful companions for six months - you went right to work. You checked the temperature of the tank, balanced the chemical levels until they were optimal, and helped create a menu for Rafayel’s dietary needs with the veterinarian. Based on his lore from the game, his preference for food was deeply connected to the sea, so he would often choose seafood platters. Because he had been living on dry land as a disguised human, it would make sense for a Lemurian to include vegetables that had high levels of hydration, packed with vitamins and electrolytes, like lettuce and cucumbers. 

There wouldn’t be any issues with purchasing most of the stuff with the monthly food budget, except for the spicy shrimp. Sorry Rafayel, I’m afraid you can’t eat your comfort food until the vet’s given you the clear. You thought as you walked out of the office and towards the break room to grab your lunch. It might complicate things if everyone here finds out that you can eat human food with little to no issues, and God help us if someone gets the great idea of feeding you something that’s actually poisonous to a Lemurian.

This was your job. To look after Rafayel, observe his behavior and make sure the wound on his tail was healing properly. The downside to this job, at the moment, is that he is choosing to ignore you in favor of swimming around in his tank. At first, you had thought he was being stubborn because he hadn’t eaten since last night. But when you spoke to the veterinarian, the only other person with high enough clearance to get close to the Lemurian, he had confirmed that the asset had eaten based on the menu you had created earlier: kale and salmon, weighted in equal portions to ensure proper nutrition and avoid unnecessary weight gain. 

Asset. The word referring to Rafayel by Keyes and the other employees left an unpleasant taste in your mouth when it rolled off your tongue. He wasn’t an asset. He was a sentient creature who could call upon the ocean and flood a human civilization as retribution for being in a tank.