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aurumalatus · 23 days ago

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YOU ARE THE ONLY THING

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ (THAT'S EVER MADE SENSE TO ME)

wc. 5k chapter warnings. angst, cursing chapter summary. the memory of you haunts kinich wherever he goes, a perpetual existence in his life. but when he sees you again by chance, he takes the opportunity to try to right his wrongs. author's note. the first chapter of many...this is gonna be a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, a lot of stupid mistakes and forgiveness and moving on and all that good stuff. pls lmk what y'all think! reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

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MAYBE WE DON'T TALK ENOUGH. [1]

The graduation ceremony had been lovely, Kinich is sure.

If he had actually been paying attention to any of it, he might’ve even had fun. The field had been decorated with an array of balloons and flowers reflecting your school colors. Countless tears are shed and hugs are exchanged—he knows this might just be the last time he sees some of these people for the rest of his life. In a way, it’s a tribute to the childhood he’s spent here.

He scoffs, kicking at the dirt. To hell with that.

Because while everyone else had been grinning widely, proudly cheered on by their families, all he could do was stare at the empty seats in the stand. Unfulfilled promises swirl madly in his mind; the congratulations that people offer him in passing just slip in one ear and out the other.

So when you approach him, one hand outstretched as you shyly ask him to talk alone, all he can do is follow, blankly staring at the back of your head.

“Kinich, I have something to tell you.”

Kinich feels the remnants of you when he runs, sweat sticking to his skin and cold, biting air filling his lungs in a single breath.

Mid-stride, he zips his windbreaker to his neck, watching his breath dissipate like ice. The wind feels so much more piercing when he runs—it stings at his skin and his teeth. Fallen leaves crunch underfoot, a blanket of color over the edges of the field. Autumn always makes him feel melancholic—change always makes him feel melancholic.

Each step pounds heavy in the grass, picking up speed. His teammates know that he likes to run alone, just him and his contemplation—though Aether claims that it makes him a crazy person—and these are the rare times that he can just think.

Running comes naturally to him. Thinking does too, but not like this.

Most days, he tries to stay busy enough to avoid the thoughts. When he’s busy, there isn’t time to reflect on the past, there isn’t time to regret. Being team captain and taking as many credit overloads as he does means that he can stay ahead of the impending waves of guilt.

But when he runs, and it’s just him and the sound of his footsteps, memories of you start to creep in.

They say grief comes in waves, and he believes that must be true—you’ve always been a tide, ebbing and flowing into his life. That much was a constant, even when you weren’t.

(Or, even when you ceased to be.)

He can go about a few weeks without thinking about you, as far as he’s tried. And he means really thinking about you, not just a brief thought relating to you, or your life, or your memory—he’s not sure he could last even ten minutes that way. Over the years, you’ve become so tightly intertwined with his being that he’s not sure he could ever untangle that connection fully.

His laptop password had been your birthday for years after you left. He still makes his tea the way you taught him, with lemon and just a spoonful of honey. Your shared playlists still haven’t left his Spotify library.

He sighs. Three years is a long time.

It’s long enough for most normal, well-adjusted people to grow out of their past relationship, or at least not be wondering about them for a majority of the day. And that’s if he can even call what the two of you had a relationship—it had been something, and it was his fault that it wasn’t anything more.

Sometimes, he just wonders where you are and what you’re doing.

It’s a sick sort of thing to ponder, especially knowing what he did to you, but he can’t help it—often, he sees you in everything.

He wishes that wasn’t the case.

A part of him wishes he could strike you from the history of his existence. Another part of him wishes he could see you again, just once.

“Sorry for calling you out here! I just thought if I didn’t tell you now, I might never tell you…”

“Kinich!”

He flinches halfway through his step, the echo of your voice fading somewhere in the back of his mind. When he skitters to a stop, he realizes it’s his coach yelling his name, one hand cupped at his mouth and the other frantically waving his clipboard. He gauges the distance between them—lost in his thoughts, he had run about 200 feet straight past the other man.

Flushing in embarrassment, Kinich jogs back to meet him.

“Sorry about that,” he pants. “Was just thinking about one of my exams.”

There’s a pause, like Coach Wayna is deciding whether to ask questions or let it go—Kinich isn’t usually one to lose track of himself, after all. Still, the man seems to land on the latter.

“Well, nice hustle,” he praises, rewarding him with a strong clap on the shoulder. “Get some water and wash up.”

He slaps a towel into Kinich’s outstretched hand—he accepts gratefully, slinging it over his neck and scrubbing the sweat off his face.

He glances up at the graying sky. The clouds are coalescing into mismatched swirls—maybe it’ll rain tonight, he thinks vaguely. It doesn’t usually stop them from practicing anyway. He can recall a number of times that he has walked home drenched in mud.

“Already? It’s early, isn’t it?”

At this time of year, practices don’t usually end until the sun kisses the horizon, dipping and dimming. Kinich usually walks back to his apartment with his roommates at dusk, Aether’s whining carrying them home.

Coach Wayna is busy watching the other guys run, scribbling something down on his clipboard.

“We’re letting out early today,” he shrugs.

Licking over his lips, Kinich tastes the salt pooling at his cupid’s bow, lungs heaving.

“What’s the occasion?” he asks, raising a brow.

Looking out over the field, he watches the rest of his teammates finish their sprints. Aether is messing around again, trying to leapfrog over Xiao’s back, much to the latter’s irritation. Gaming seems to find the sight amusing, based on the way he whoops and cheers.

Kinich sighs, shaking his head—Aether is lucky that he’s as talented as he is.

Coach Wayna laughs, a guffawing sound that resounds deep in his chest and across the field. He’s a good-natured guy, really, if not a bit more patient than Kinich himself can manage.

“The occasion is that you guys are college students,” he explains, “and sometimes, I’m willing to let you enjoy your lives a little bit.”

A half-scowl crawls over Kinich’s lips. Coach Wayna is always on them about enjoying their lives outside the sport, just like everyone else in Kinich’s life. His friends have always been determined to get him out of his bedroom and get him participating in something that isn’t his clubs. It’s irritating sometimes, to say the least.

Kinich’s tongue runs dry, so he pads over to the cooler, throwing the top open and pulling a water bottle out to shake off the excess condensation. It’s nice and cool, a welcome sensation even when the air is colder than usual—internally, his skin thrums with heat.

He gets about halfway through the bottle by the time his teammates make it over, in various states of exhaustion. Aether is first to react, letting out a loud groan and flopping to the ground dramatically.

“Coach, are you trying to kill me?” he whines, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Xiao approaches Kinich directly, taking a water bottle from his outstretched hand.

“It’s your fault that you’re so tired,” Xiao deadpans, taking a swig and settling down in the grass. “Because you were late, the rest of us had to run extra.”

As kind as Coach Wayna is, he doesn’t let things like tardiness slide too often—Kinich’s legs burn as a firm reminder of that. Everything they do, they do as a team, which includes punishment.

“Blame Lumine,” Aether grumbles. “She forgot her keys, so I had to drop her off at work.”

Aether’s sister, as kind as she is, does tend to be a bit forgetful. But Aether is also irresponsible as hell sometimes, so there’s a 50% chance that he merely overslept. Xiao seems to silently agree, based on the way his brows knit together.

Coach Wayna has a short meeting with them to end practice, and Kinich half-listens—he’s still caught up on earlier. It’s only when Aether flicks him in the back of the head that he returns to earth.

“Hey, airhead, we’re going to Third Round Knockout,” he says, an order, not an invitation. Kinich scowls.

“You mean you’re going,” he corrects, packing up his duffel bag. “I’m going home so I can take an ice bath and forget this ever happened.”

He can count a number of other things that are infinitely more important than taking a single step in that greasy place, too. He has a few exams coming up to study for, a lab report to do, and a few logistics issues to resolve with his financial aid and scholarship. So really, he has no business going out at all.

But the thought grows more and more appealing the more his stomach rumbles. Aether seems to notice too, because he grins cheekily, slinging an arm over his friend’s shoulder.

“Just follow the sweet, sweet siren song of burgers and fries, and let it guide you home.”

Xiao sighs from where he sits on the bench, shaking his head—sharing an apartment with Aether and Kinich means he’ll likely get roped into this too. Aether goes around making his pitch to all their teammates, but most decline on the basis of being too busy or having things to do. Kinich thinks they’re just too exhausted to deal with Aether’s antics.

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” Gaming whines, checking his phone. “I have an exam tomorrow and if I don’t study and sleep, I’m gonna fail for sure.”

Aether wags a finger in his face, grinning. “You don’t have to study, C’s get degrees!”

Kinich wonders if he should step in, knowing how easily influenced Gaming can be when it comes to Aether’s lax personality. He doesn’t have time to get the words out, however, because Xiao strides past with a critical side-eye.

“Yes, and Aether’s get dropped from their university…”

“I don’t—hey!”

“Let’s just go,” Kinich sighs, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. Aether pouts, but follows his teammates off the field.

“Fine, but Xiao’s treating!”

Third Round Knockout is exactly the type of place Kinich imagines college students to like.

It sounds strange when he words it like that, considering he is a college student himself, but he means a different type of college student—the type that finds cheap, greasy pizza and boisterous laughter enticing. Or perhaps anyone who finds the showy, race car-themed decor attractive (just how much money did they spend on checkered flags?), or thinks that spending your Friday night listening to pop music from low-quality speakers is a good time.

He doesn’t mean it in a really bad way, of course. He’s friends with college students like that (like Aether), and that’s the only reason he finds himself stepping past the threshold. Still, after a long day of practice, he can’t deny that sitting down for some food sounds pretty good right about now, even if that food comes cheap and deep-fried.

“God, I’m fucking starving,” Aether moans, collapsing into one of the booths in exhaustion. He flips one of the plastic-lined menus over, scanning over the food options. “I seriously think if I have to wait another second to eat, I’ll die.”

Xiao slides into the booth next to him, brows furrowed as he types away at something on his phone. “Seems like you’re always somehow on the verge of dying.”

Though his stomach grumbles, Kinich doesn’t bother looking at the menu—the food here is as standard as it gets, burgers and fries that drip with grease and milkshakes that are basically entirely comprised of sugar. But he reasons that he probably deserves this after the day that he’s had.

Everything had been nothing short of exhausting. He had conditioning in the morning, followed by three exams back to back, then headed to practice right after. Needless to say, his brain is running on the fumes of the black coffee he downed in between his second and third lecture.

“You good, man?” Aether asks, poking at Kinich’s hand. “You’ve been looking like a zombie all day.”

Kinich figures that a zombie is probably an apt description for how he looks right now, in his ragged hoodie and old sweats. He hadn’t been planning on a night out, after all, but he’s not one to care for fashion even on a good day.

He merely mumbles back an “I’m fine,” thoroughly disinterested in discussing what he’s endured in the last twenty-four hours. He presumes that that’s just the life of a university student like him. The athletic scholarship is good, and he does enjoy playing with his teammates, so he’ll rest and recover and do it all again tomorrow, just like he always does.

Xiao and Aether start bickering over something on the menu, so Kinich takes that opportunity to zone out.

He blinks tiredly, gaze wandering—the bright, multicolored decor is almost too much for his weary eyes. People are drinking and grinding to the music on the dance floor across the room, the bass of the music so loud that he can feel it vibrating under his feet.

Sighing, he pinches at the bridge of his nose, trying to avoid a migraine.

He shouldn’t have come today. His mental to-do list only grows longer, and staying home would’ve been a far more efficient use of his time. Perhaps a part of him had felt guilty for how busy he’s been in the past few weeks—it’s actually been quite a while since he sat down with his friends like this.

“Alright, Kinich, you lose!”

The sound of his name pulls him from the depths of his mind to find Aether and Xiao staring at him expectantly.

“What?”

Aether nods to the counter, crowded with a swathe of people. “You have to go order. You were last to nose goes.”

Nose goes? Kinich’s face scrunches in disbelief. Sometimes, he feels more like a kindergarten teacher than a soccer team captain.

“Are you four years old?”

Aether tilts his head, a challenge. “Are you rejecting the sanctity of nose goes?”

Maybe he doesn’t feel so guilty for being busy after all.

Desperate, Kinich looks to Xiao for support, but the other man shrugs, as if to say I can’t deal with him either. Arguing with Aether is a guaranteed headache, so Kinich merely groans, begrudgingly rising from his seat.

“Whatever. Just tell me what you want, then.”

He sighs as he shoves through the crowd, passing through sweaty limbs and sticky floors. No one seems to pay him any mind, and he takes a few accidental elbows to the ribs. God, he wants to throw up.

The actual line for the counter isn’t too long, luckily. There’s only one or two people in front of him.

He checks over Aether and Xiao’s orders in their groupchat. Aether’s order is a list about a mile long, while Xiao simply wants a single combo meal. Typical.

He thinks on his own order a bit, and he’s midway through creating a mental list about the pros and cons of getting french fries versus onion rings when he looks up again to gauge the wait time. His breath hitches as he realizes two things:

He’s next in line.

He knows the people at the counter.

One of them is Childe, donned in a white t-shirt and a dark leather jacket.

Kinich knows who Childe is just like everyone else—with how much his name gets thrown around on this campus, he’d have to be an idiot not to. Being the star quarterback of the football team, he’s as close to a celebrity as one can get around here. Plus, they have some mutual friends, but Kinich doesn’t really consider Childe a friend, per say. They’re acquaintances at best.

But Kinich doesn’t really care about Childe—he doesn’t know him well, never has, probably never will, and he’s not one to worry about people outside of his concern. No, it’s not Childe that draws his attention at all; in fact, he’s in the way of it.

It’s the fact that Childe is talking to you.

Kinich sucks in a breath.

He blinks once, thinking it may just be his exhaustion playing tricks on him, but you’re still standing there, smiling up at the other man.

Though he’d known that you applied to this school, he never found out where you actually ended up going—you’d blocked him on everything post-graduation, after all. It seems like some sort of sick sign from the universe that you would be here right now.

You’re wearing the Third Round Knockout uniform, he notes dully—so you work here. But that still doesn’t explain why you’re smiling and laughing with Childe, looking entirely too happy with his company. Kinich has talked to the ginger before, and he’s not that funny.

Childe turns at that moment, seemingly finished ordering his food, before he lights up in recognition.

“Ah, Kinich, what’s up?” he greets, patting him on the shoulder. “Hey, nice game the other day! You’re fast as hell.”

If he were anywhere else but here, Kinich might’ve actually appreciated Childe’s compliment. But right now, he can’t even remember what game he’s referring to; instead, he offers a dry, tight-lipped smile.

“Thanks.”

He peeks around Childe’s arm—you haven’t noticed him yet, too busy counting bills and stuffing them into the register. You’re halfway through a yawn when you call out to him.

“I can help the next person, please!”

Childe shoots him a grin, waving as he steps past him to leave, and suddenly Kinich feels overwhelmingly vulnerable. It feels endless, the drag of your gaze as it turns up to him, falling to his face. Pure shock paints your features.

Something unearths in his chest, kicking up with dust that stings at the corners of his eyes.

They bloom there, a wealth of feelings that wrap like thorn-lined vines around his heartbeat. Regret speaks the loudest—it screams from where it sits, panging with familiarity at the sight of your face.

“K—Kinich,” you greet once you recover from your initial shock, a rasp. There’s an audible lump in your throat, voice reedy and thin.

You look even more beautiful than he remembers. That’s all he can think as his brain force feeds him a series of memories—images of hazy sunsets and half-empty spray paint cans and secrets shared between chapped lips. His entire youth is nearly synonymous with your name.

His eyes draw to your neck, the bareness of it; it makes his heart ache.

You toy with the silver chain swinging at your throat, shyly staring down at your feet.

Almost in slow motion, your hand slinks up to your collarbone, reaching for something that isn’t there. It has Kinich’s eyes fluttering shut for a moment, almost painfully.

“Hi,” he starts, sound barely crawling from his throat. “It’s been a long time.”

He waits, but he doesn’t know what for. A change, in expression, in tone, in something, a sign that you remember what the two of you were, or perhaps what you could’ve been. But you’re still blankly staring at him like he’s a stranger.

“Can I help you?”

Kinich forgets about the food entirely. He just can’t get over how different you look, sound, and are. It’s a stupid realization—obviously you would’ve changed in the last three years. But somehow, he feels like he’s been the only one rooted in place all this time.

“Sir?” you repeat pointedly. “Can I help you?”

He utters your name once, soft, then inches forward, an instinct. “Listen, I’m sorry—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you interrupt smoothly, devoid of warmth. You back away, defenses up; you’d expected this from him, clearly. “I don’t really want or need it.”

And it hurts to hear that, that you don’t really want or need something from him. Because that always used to be the case, used to be your normal—clinging to each other, wanting and needing and having each other. And though he doesn’t like to live in the past, this is one thing that Kinich is unwilling to let go of.

“Can I…still try?” he starts, hesitant. “To apologize?”

The music still pulses in his veins, in his hands, in his chest—it echoes in his ears as he awaits your reply.

Deep down, he knows he shouldn’t do this. He’d lost any right to pursue you years ago. And he’s certainly not the type to make emotionally-charged confessions in public, but he sees you and he wonders if you still remember his favorite color.

It’s messing with his head.

“Why would you?” Your tone is biting, words sharp as they’re flung off your tongue. “No offense, but we haven’t known each other for years. I don’t see a point.”

And though you’re right, the thought pains him—there had been a time when he was the only one who knew every part of you, and you of him. But you’ve changed so much, you both have, and the evidence is standing before him.

Your eyes fill with frost. His mouth grows dry with regret.

“I know, but at that time, I—”

“You avoided me for months, Kinich,” you cut in quietly, thumbing at the edges of your sleeves. He knows that habit—you always do it when you’re nervous. “Forgive me for thinking that meant you wanted nothing to do with me.”

The bitterness leaks into your voice. You’re trying to be indifferent, but the resentment still feels raw.

And he deserves that, deserves this, he knows; he’s made a lot of mistakes when it comes to you. He more than anyone knows how much he fucked up, and if he could take it back, he would do so in a heartbeat. But he can’t, and your dull eyes and bare neck are evidence of that.

“You’re right,” he breathes, then swallows, gathering himself. “I’m sorry.”

You clear your throat, looking for something else to busy yourself with—anything to avoid eye contact.

“You don’t have to be.”

Despite your words, the misery is written across your face, like you’re reliving every single moment of that day. And, of course, you have no way of knowing, but he wonders if you realize how often he relives it too.

“Now that we’ve graduated, I just thought you should know…”

Kinich feels completely out of his element, pinned in place.

He wonders what he even wants out of this whole interaction. Your anger? Your hatred? Would it have made him feel better than your disinterest? His fist clenches.

Say something. Don’t let it repeat itself.

It’s always been his vice—he doesn’t think he’s a stupid person, but he does think he’s a quiet one. And sometimes, that comes back to bite him in the worst moments. When he thinks back on the moments he’s shared with you, he can recall so many times that he could’ve said something. And maybe it wouldn’t have saved you both, but what if it would’ve?

You’re sighing in resignation, looking over his shoulder to call the next person when he speaks, hasty.

“If you ever want to talk about what happened, we can. I can.”

It reeks of desperation, and he has half a mind to be embarrassed, but the feeling doesn’t surface. Instead, he catches a flicker of budding hope in your eyes, a wink of familiarity that has his heart slamming against his ribcage.

Your lips form the shape of his name, and Kinich finds his breath.

“I like you, Kinich. A lot. For a while now. And, if you’ll have me, I’d like us to be together.”

“What’s going on here?”

Too focused on your expression, Kinich fails to notice the older man sneaking up behind you, a stern frown on his face and arms crossed. You cringe at the intrusion, already struck with a sense of foreboding.

You whip around, hands drawn meekly to your chest.

“Sir,” you squeak out, a nervous giggle escaping your throat, “I was just—”

“We’ve already talked about this,” your manager hisses, a contrastingly serene smile on his face. “This would be your third strike.”

Despair creeps onto your face, and Kinich finds himself drawn forward, hand outstretched.

“Wait, sir, please. It was my fault. She was just—”

Your boss fixes Kinich with a sour glare, looking him up and down—his lip curls into disapproval when he sees the tattoo on his arm.

“Don’t make excuses for your friend.”

Everyone around stares at the commotion—when Kinich glances back, Xiao and Aether are watching, wide-eyed.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t feel the same way.”

“You’ve had enough chances,” your manager starts, deceptively saccharine-sounding.

He looks between the two of you, spiteful. Kinich’s heart drops like a stone.

“You’re officially fired.”

“Wow, you fucked up bad.”

The next day, Aether’s unhelpful commentary is nearly drowned out in the general noise of the quad.

Fluffy clouds half-obscure the sun above, leaving a permeating warmth and a relaxing breeze. There’s an extensive crowd of students spread out across the grass, studying and laughing and chatting. It would be a beautiful, enjoyable day, if not for Kinich’s overwhelming guilt and the irritating sound of Aether scarfing down his lunch.

And while the blond’s remarks are unhelpful, they aren’t necessarily wrong. Recounting the whole event just makes him more aware of how idiotic he had been. Kinich rakes his fingers through his hair in frustration—he just can’t stop making mistakes when it comes to you.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” he admits, absentmindedly pulling at the blanket beneath him. “I just wanted to talk to her.”

After the incident, your manager had disappeared with you into the back, likely to work out the details of your termination. You threw him a last glance over your shoulder, eyes pouring with regret—whether it was regret that you had been interrupted, or regret that you had interacted at all, he isn’t sure.

“Oh, you talked to her alright,” Aether chirps, mouth full. Kinich’s face twists in disgust. “Talked her right out of financial stability.”

Lumine jerks an elbow into her brother’s ribs, ignoring his pained yelp.

“What he means to say,” she starts, shooting her twin a poisonous glare, “is that you made a mistake, and you know it now. All you can do is apologize, or leave her alone if you think that would be best.”

Kinich thinks on that for a moment. Apologizing seems reasonable, but the laundry list of things he should apologize to you for seems to grow longer by the day. He’s not even sure you would hear him out for that long at this point.

Last night had given him a glimpse of hope, but your manager had ruined anything he had built up in that moment.

And really, he should leave you alone. The guilt building and knotting in his chest is enough, enough that he knows that getting involved with you further would only lead to more heartbreak for both of you. He’s just not sure if he’s capable of letting you go again.

“I mean, no offense, but weren’t you the one who rejected her back then? And then, like…ghosted her?” Aether asks.

Lumine facepalms, thoroughly exhausted by trying to reel in her twin’s complete lack of decorum. It seems to be her full-time job at this point.

“It’s okay,” Kinich sighs, waving her off. “He’s right. I did.”

He’d been going through a lot back then, not that it had been a valid excuse. He’d been far too immature to be honest with you like you deserved.

With a groan, Kinich shuts his laptop to fully focus on the topic at hand—he hasn’t been studying for a few minutes now anyway.

Lumine and Aether stare at him like they’re awaiting clarification. He shrugs, deflated.

“I was young and stupid. There’s no good explanation for it.”

“I don’t know if was is the right term,” Aether adds thoughtfully. “I mean, you did just get her fired, and that’s because—”

“—Aether.”

Lumine hisses through gritted teeth, and her twin chuckles, suddenly nervous.

“That’s because I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot and I’m going to stop talking now.”

Aether dives back into his chicken fried rice like a kicked puppy, pouting. Lumine glances over at Kinich, gauging the conflict written over his features. She sighs, smoothing her hair over her shoulder.

“Well, the choice is yours.”

If it were just up to him, he would chase after you and apologize endlessly. But he knows that his aren’t the only feelings in play here—if anything, yours matter more. So, he decides to leave it to fate.

He fishes into his bag with one hand, producing his wallet and shaking out a few coins. He holds one out for his friends to see.

“Heads, I apologize. Tails, I leave her alone.”

He swallows hard.

“Forever.”

He’s not sure if he truly means that quite yet, but he tells himself that he does. Steeling his resolve, he tosses the coin in the air. Aether and Lumine’s eyes grow wide as they follow its path, spinning and twisting before landing neatly on the ground.

“Kinich, do you think we’ll still know each other in five years? Ten years?”

“Of course we will.”

Kinich leans forward, peering down at the fallen Mora.

There’s a tinge of relief in his sigh.

Heads.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kinich x reader #genshin impact #kinich #genshin fanfic #kinich x you #genshin impact imagines #adeptus ink

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godsandvillains-if · 1 year ago

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Gods and Villains is a superhero/horror story set in a dystopian future where Earth is filled to the brim with crime and corruption—a.k.a MCU meets The Boys.

Warning! injury to major characters, gore, body horror, trauma and PTSD, amnesia, death, and sexual content. Rated +18. More specific content warnings will be provided at the start of each chapter.

You take control of a powerful metahuman, an otherwise ordinary human on the outside but who has the meta-gene, a potent mutation deep engraved in their DNA, which gives them superhuman abilities. This next step in human evolution comes with a setback, however, for the curse of madness seems to follow their every step. It lurks in the shadows, patiently waiting for the opportunity to strike—many metahumans fall prey to its alluring promises.

With a dark and traumatic past filled with untold horrors and inhuman experiments, you are rescued from the clutches of crazy terrorists by a team of heroes that might lend you all the tools you need for redemption or complete self-annihilation.

As the only metahuman with the ability to wield the powerful Chaos Magic, your very blood holds the answers to unlocking the secrets behind the control of time and space, but it has the drawback of being almost completely volatile.

Who can you trust to keep you safe other than yourself? Trust no one, and maybe you can get out of this literal hell alive.

Play as male, female, or non-gender specific, along with transgender choices;

Romance one of seven characters, and if your heart is big enough fall in love with two of them. There's three possible poly routes available: Archon and Stardom, Archon and Mars, Paladin and Wildcat;

Customize your appearance, personality and powers;

Struggle against the shackles of madness trying to take hold of your psyche;

Battle a multitude of villains or become one yourself;

Uncover the secrets behind the meta-gene and your abilities;

Help the public fall in love with superheroes or forever destroy that chance;

In total there are seven romance options, each with their own personality, and dark secrets for you to uncover. You can read more about them below:

The villain, or anti-hero, whatever you want to call them, Mars is an enigmatic figure; the very concept of life seems to hold no value to them. A trail of bodies follows wherever they go, and on the news, they are regarded as the biggest menace of the century. They will have the unique ability to sway your loyalty. Beware, their sweet words and promises may drip with honey, but they also drip with the blood of their victims.

Trope: Forbidden love, emotional scars, blood-play

Zev/Zena Hammer

The oldest of the bunch and not a metahuman per se. Hammer acts as the spokesperson for the team, mitigating the often tenuous relationship between humans and the so-called "mutants". As a retired police detective they've learned firsthand how rotten the world can be for the innocent, and they've vowed to protect them at any cost. Their analytical and communication skills will go hand in hand when dealing with various crimes, just as their implants.

Trope: Widow/widower, age gap, don't-call-me-daddy/mommy

Adam/Ada Armstrong

The current leader of the Alliance Team. Headstrong and dauntless, they are regarded as the strongest metahuman in modern times and the most enigmatic of them all, whose past is shrouded in mystery and unknown even to their closest friends. On the outside, they might seem apathetic and unconcerned with human suffering, but their true feelings are hidden beneath layers of deep trauma. Superhuman strength and invulnerability are their greatest assets when fighting villains.

Trope: Nobody thinks it will work, love/hate, fucking-your-boss

Edward/Evelyn Osborne

The former leader of the Alliance Team and Archon's best friend. On the surface, they are the stereotypical showboat: cocky, greedy, and egoistical. Stardom does whatever they can to gain attention, fame, and riches. For them, the best feeling in the world is an adoring fan and a beautiful person fawning over their heroics. The meta-gene gives them a genius-level intellect, which in turn is used to develop several pieces of equipment that are employed by themselves and the team during fights.

Trope: Billionaire, belated love epiphany, good-people-have-good-sex

Johnny/Johnnie

If Archon's past is shrouded in mystery, Paladin's is drowned in it. For all you know, their name is not even Johnny/Johnnie but an alias of their choosing. They are known to be the silent loner type and are somewhat socially withdrawn from other members of the team, only speaking when called upon to do so. Behind their silver mask, they harbor more than a few inner demons, and together with their superhuman weapon and combat proficiency, they fight for the innocent.

Trope: Secret identity, oblivious to love, weapon-fetishization

Pedro/Pilar Flores

The youngest of the team, considered by many a lighthearted jokester without any real talent beyond their obvious powers—which set them apart from every human that walks the earth. With their metahuman status so evident for everyone to see, hiding just didn't seem like an option, so they chose the next best alternative. Known to be playful, energetic, and often immature, they are responsible for balancing the team's more serious side, and when someone can take the form of any living being on Earth, the repertoire of pranks is endless.

Trope: Beauty and the Beast, broken in some way, begging

Doctor Malik/Malika Aziz

The renowned Doctor Aziz, a famed archaeologist and considered to be the most powerful sorcerer, or magic user, in the world. They wear several enchanted artifacts that, in turn, accentuate their already tremendous knowledge of the mystical forces. With an extremely strong moral compass and kind demeanor, they will show themselves to be the best teacher you could ask for, but why do they seem to be everywhere you look?

Trope: Time travel, twin siblings or clones?, teacher-student

LINKS

DEMO ✶ PATREON ✶ KO-FI

#if: intro #if: gods and villains #interactive novel #interactive story #interactive fiction #choice of games #if game #hosted games #choicescript #choices #dashingdon #if wip

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sorchathered · 4 months ago

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I can love you through the dark

Pairing- Jake Seresin x OC (Savannah Monroe-Seresin)

Warnings- language, angst, mentions of death, pregnancy, ptsd

Summary- sometimes the past keeps Jake up at night, but she is always there to bring him back from the dark.

A/N- an old WIP I found deep in my Google docs that I thought could use some love. Not beta read.

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Jake Seresin had a short fuse. He’d been working on that.

He kept his composure as Rooster threw that cheap shot at him, brushing it off despite the shock all over everyone’s faces by the pool table. “The only place you’ll lead someone is an early grave.” It rang in his ears later that night, Coyote was too damn perceptive as he watched his friend from across the shitty barracks room they were assigned to.

“I’m fine” Jake grunted as he stared at the ceiling, trying to will the thoughts away.

Two years. It’d been two years since his former wingman Torch had lost his life in a field exercise gone wrong. Jake had been cleared of any wrongdoing but he knew; if he’d watched his teammate’s back like he should have Torch would still be alive.

He’d worked his ass off to prove he was the best ever since, and refused to let anyone else in again after that day. Maybe that’s why he was so frustrated with Rooster, he cared too much where Jake refused to care at all. The mission was what mattered now; not making friends. All getting close to someone guaranteed was that you had more to lose, and Jake couldn’t bear to lose anything or anyone else.

“How are things going?” The soft voice filtered through the speaker of his phone as he paced the halls, another night full of nightmares and no sleep.

“It’s going. This is a big one, everyone who’s anyone is here and I worry that they aren’t taking it as serious as they should.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face, he shouldn’t be on the phone with her right now, one of them at least needed to get some rest.

“You need to take care of yourself, and try to be a team player-“

He barked out a laugh at that and he could just see her shaking her head and sighing, she knew he couldn’t afford to get close to someone like that again, no one knew better than she did.

“Jake. I need your head in the game. I can’t do this without you, I- I need you to come home ok?” She was crying, he’d promised he’d do everything he could to never make her cry and here she was getting upset over him again.

“Sweetheart I’m not going anywhere, but you need to rest ok? I’ll be good, I’ll be the very best. Take care of yourself and our little angel. I love you Savvy, fuck- I love you so much.”

They said their goodbyes and Jake slept for the first time since he’d gotten back to Miramar.

Savannah “Savvy” Monroe had been Torch’s high school sweetheart, she’d followed him wherever the navy took him until that fateful day when his plane had gone down. She’d always seemed like an unstoppable force until then, and Jake watched one of his best friend’s crumble and turn into a shell of the woman she’d been. It seemed obvious to everyone but him that they would seek solace in each other, no one blamed them for how they chose to stitch themselves back together, and while they started a new life together Jake couldn’t help but struggle with the guilt.

She’d dragged him to therapy after a big fight, he’d walked out her early in their relationship; determined to prove to her that he didn’t deserve her love and push her to hate him as much as he hated himself. 6 months later he’d finally found himself again, only to find out that Savvy was pregnant. He couldn’t help but wish Torch was here, and his therapist told him it was not only normal but expected. He’d made an honest woman out of her quickly after that, life had proven to be too short and they wanted to start their new life with all the bows tied up nice and neat.

When the call came up to head back to top gun they were nearing the 7th month and he wanted her to stay in Texas with his mom where he knew she’d be safe and taken care of. Now he was here and all he wanted was to hold her, especially after Rooster managed to get under his skin. No one really knew that he and Sav were married, except for Javy and his wife and he wanted to keep it that way. Rooster knew Torch would always be a sore spot, and he’d pressed just the right buttons to bring Hangman to the surface. He filed that rage away for the right moment and when the time came he was ruthless, he knew it was wrong to cut Bradshaw down like that but Rooster had thrown the first punch.

When he got reduced to spare and Rooster got promoted to wingman he was almost relieved, he had too much to lose and it was easy to get caught up in the competition. He wanted to be the best, but he had to think of his family.

Mission accomplished and successful, everyone had survived and made it back to Fightertown safely. As he stepped off the carrier he heard her shouting his name and shook his head in disbelief, he should’ve known better than to think her stubborn ass wouldn’t be here waiting for him to return. She couldn’t run bless her heart but she waddled across the lot as fast as she could with a giggle as he scooped her up in his arms, kissing her deeply and then dropping to his knees to talk to his baby boy.

Rooster watched from a distance, realization striking him as he took the scene in. He’d met Torch’s wife before, years ago when they were in flight school. Heat burned his cheeks as he realized that maybe- just maybe he was just as much of an ass as Jake Seresin, and maybe his judgement had been too harsh. Coyote clapped him on the shoulder as he passed, nodding his head in their direction as he watched Jake pepper kisses to her cheeks, he treated her like she were made of glass as he escorted her across the lot to his truck.

“Now you know a little something about Hangman, he wants you to think he’s a pompous ass; but the man couldn’t be more of a marshmallow. I hope to God we never have to live through what they did, don’t you agree?” Javy Machado didn’t wait for an answer, just left Rooster to ponder that thought.

He thought of his mother, broken over the loss of his father and felt a cold chill, he’d find a way to thank Hangman someday, he had saved his life after all.

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Tagging- @roosterforme @attapullman @bobgasm @seitmai @sebsxphia @mynameismckenziemae @sailor-aviator

#top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #jake seresin #Jake Seresin x oc #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you

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thatonepeppi · 7 months ago

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✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧gale dekarios head canons✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊

I CANNOT stop thinking about this man, so I'm going to dump all of my thoughts here, enjoy :)

the format is odd, I have not written in some time, excuse me :3

☾ after the final battle

⋆ after the final battle, the two of you go back to your own room in the Elf Song Tavern, not before a very much needed shower that is. You two care for each other, chatting slowly and longingly at what your next moves are like the two of you have all the time in the world -and now you do.

⋆ Gale tiptoes around the subject of Waterdeep. He longs to be home, he's been picturing you this entire time in his home, doing everything. Making love, cooking for you, having tea in the mornings, how you would look in his bed as the sunlight and the moonlight creep in. Gale wants that life with you desperately, something simple and cozy, and with love in every action.

"Are you still there?" Tav asks, "My hair feels very clean now, especially in that particular spot."

In the midst of his reverie, a subtle "Hmm?" escaped from Gale's lips, abruptly awakened from a trance, "Oh, apologies, Dearest. A lot on my mind -- well I guess not so much anymore," He laughs quietly, rinsing off the bubbles in their hair, fingering through their strands of hair. Wherever Tav was needed, he would be sure to follow, he was certain of it. But still, he was homesick.

Tav frowns, "What's wrong, Love?" They lean into Gale, "You can talk to me, about anything."

Minutes slipped by like grains of sand in an hourglass until Gale finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tav," he began, hesitating as if unsure of his own words, "I... I miss home. Waterdeep," He looks away, "Wherever you go, know that I will follow and happily too. Whether it be another adventure, here in Baldur's Gate, your own home. For you, I would sleep on the ground again, as long as your warm presence is there with me," He looks at them, nothing but warmth and sincerity in his words and in his eyes, "I love you, wherever we go, or wherever you are."

Tav's heart ached at the confession, the weight of Gale's homesickness palpable in the steam-filled air. Without hesitation, they reached out, clasping Gale's sun kissed and freckled hands in a gentle reassurance, giving them a gentle kiss.

"I know, my love," Tav murmured, their voice soft as a caress. "We can go home whenever you're ready. I'll be right here, by your side, every step of the way."

In that moment, as Gale's eyes met theirs with a mixture of gratitude and relief, Tav realized that home wasn't just a place—it was the warmth of their shared love, cocooned in the sanctuary of the bath, and where they found solace in each other's embrace. And though Gale longed for the familiar sights and sounds of Waterdeep, Tav knew that their love would be their anchor, no matter where their adventures took them in the realms.

☾ home

⋆ Gale is giddy from the start of the morning hopping off the massive ship the two of you took to get to Waterdeep. He takes your hand in his as he guides you down his city, excitingly pointing out all the areas he promises to take you once the two of you are settled.

⋆ Stepping into Gale's tower, you are immediately embraced by a whimsical antiquity, the cozy allure of a bygone era evident in every corner. Soft candlelight bathes the space, casting dancing shadows that whisper tales of adventure. Books adorn every surface, their well-loved pages holding secrets and enchantments, while antique treasures dot the shelves, each one a nostalgic relic of older times. Through the grand balcony, the endless expanse of the ocean stretches out, its rhythmic waves a soothing melody. Ships setting sail, the grunts of the dockhands as they tie these giant ships to their posts. In this enchanting haven, amidst the warmth of history and the timeless beauty of the sea, you find a sanctuary unlike any other. Home.

⋆ After settling in, you experience a life like no other. Gale is incessant on cooking you breakfast almost every morning. He knows how to prepare your morning coffees and afternoon teas by heart. Mornings are for the two of you to lounge in bed, holding each other, listening to the crashing waves, feeling that cool—salty breeze caress your warm bodies.

⋆ Breakfast is eaten over the occasional game of lance board on the grand mahogany table. The two of you recounting your adventures, encounters and memories. Gentle caresses and soft laughter are a welcome guest at breakfast. Even at the dinner table it seems like the two of you can't keep your hands off of each other.

⋆ Tara finds her way back home not long after. Its the very early morning, and a rare day where Gale is still in bed. You walk over to the tressym pawing at the large window, demanding to be let in. You smile as you let her in, and her furry body hurriedly makes her way inside.

"About time you let me in, I've been howling for hours, Darling, I feel parched!" The winged cat says, "I was not told that the two of you made it back, what a journey. Luckily for you, I am quite the magical tresseym, a simple spell like the one I invented is no match for miles and miles of road and walking," Tara trails off, making herself at home and out of earshot, you can still hear her grumpy rambling however, "Tav Dekarios!" She yells and you hurry over to see her sitting, licking herself next to an elegant white bowl on the floor, "My dish needs water."

You fill her dish with cold water, making sure to also refill her food bowl, you smile at the thought of you taking Gales last name already, hopefully you and Tara can foster a good relationship.

"And where is Mr. Dekarios currently?," Tara says stretching.

"Still in bed, and very warm if you would like to snuggle up to him."

Tara meows excitingly, "Oh, that sounds divine, Dear. Thank you ever so kindly for keeping him warm," She says as you start to get up, "But before you go Ms/Mr/Mx Dekarios, there is something very important that you must learn. Something that will quickly earn your favor with me."

"And what would that be Ms. Tara?" You question, facing down at the tressym, still at ground level with her.

She looks at you with widened pupils, "A good scratch behind this tressyms ears would be delightful, I will show you how but only once! This is known as my 'Due' and it's been made clear to me that you are quite the capable person to be entrusted with such a delicate procedure," Tara leans her head down and closes her little eyes. She rubs her ears with her paws to show you exactly how she wants to be pet, but to you, it looks like she's just cleaning herself, "You see? Like this, Dear, gently but also with some vigor." She looks back at you, "Your turn, but you must remember the technique."

You smile at the tressym, before going to scratch her behind the ears, silently praying that you are doing something right. She purrs and leans into your hand, making a sweet little content face as it looks like she's getting lost in the scratch.

Tara abruptly stops and clears her throat, "That will have to do, thank you," She trails off into you and Gales shared room. You hear a faint, "Mr. Dekarios! I have arrived!" in a little sing-song voice, and then a groan from a very sleepy Gale.

⋆ Some of your items find their way into the house, Gale is sure to make space for you to fit you into his home. Your shirts sometimes get mixed up, "Is this my book or yours?" is a common question.

⋆ He loves seeing your personality fill his house, items depending on your class are scattered around the tower. If you are a druid, house plants are hung from the ceiling, there is a small succulent on Gale's desk (It replaces Mystra's statue.).

⋆ If you are a bard, he loves to hear your music throughout the house. Gale loves to hear your song from the balcony as he's reading. He buys you sheet music, new strings, equipment. He could listen to you for hours, and most days he does.

⋆ Gale is interested in your interests and makes sure to make time for you to listen to you about your favorite topics. Being seen and heard is very important to him.

⋆ Over time, he does lose the earring. He finds one that reminds him of you. A music note, a sword, a small plant stud, or just about anything that he would relate to you.

⋆Gale loves you more than anything and he wants to make that very clear, even if you feel like these small reminders of Mystra don't bother you, he would rather having something that would make him think of you rather than her.

Thank you sm for reading, friends!! its been very long since ive written something and this isn't proof read >.< hope it was okay. Love you!!

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale x tav #tav #gale #bg3 #bg3 tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #love the third person and first person #its 3 am leave me alone #also I love tara SM #she's adorable #tara the tressym

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cellophaine · 25 days ago

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Chapter VII: DROP SHOT

Masterlist

Pairing: Art Donaldson x F!Reader

Warnings: None.

Author's Note: I'm so so sorry for the late upload! Your girl has been in the trenches mentally and creatively lately 😭

GIF Source:@/birdmans

2007. Stanford.

New year, new semester, and what came with it was a promising fresh start. Despite the mental toll from the disastrous few days spent with your parents, you chose not to address it. You could never get the time you cried over them back, and it was time to move on. Your focus was swiftly redirected to something much more pleasant and exciting: you had started drafting for a new project.

An inkling of an idea bloomed from the paradoxical of your life. Being on the verge of entering your 20s, you were aware of your inadequacy when it came to love. Yet, you couldn't keep the feeling of knowing and understanding its inner workings and mechanisms from rising above your insecurity. Being a child of parents who weren't very loving and born into the belief that everything was transactional, you thought you knew everything there was about love. There needed to be a form of reciprocation so the relationship could thrive. Love wasn't an infinite resource that you could take and take because, eventually, the other person would grow tired of you and leave. This belief was built into your foundational core, and its development intertwined with yours as you grew up.

But Art confused you. He gave up his vacation in Vermont to spend time with you and make sure you were okay without the constant reminder that you owed him something. He'd made you feel like you deserved to be cared for without conditions attached. The dismantling of your guarded exterior was slow, yet he had been so patient. You realized you didn't need it when you were with him.

The connection you shared was something different. It passed the point of infatuation but not quite there at love. Unknown yet so unanimous in its nature that you didn't have to say it out loud. A beautiful thing that was nameless, yet its existence was tangible and real. It lived in the vigorous beats of your heart every time he was close. It ran wild in your bloodstream every time he smiled at you. Its cadence rose and fell with the touches of laughter you shared.

In a way, Art had become your muse. You started to write about the way Art made you feel, about the way your perception of love had changed, and what it was like to be on the receiving end of it. You would often feel the itch to write, to grasp onto one of the many loose threads that swirled around your mind and follow it to wherever it'd take you. The wandering then materialized on the pages of the notebook he gave you, glistened in the fine ink. Pages after pages, and he knew of none of them. You felt like it was fitting to immortalize him with your words, within the scope of your ability in the only way you knew how. The more you filled the notebook, the closer you came to realizing that you were falling for him, with each walk to the tennis court, with each minute he spent with you at the coffee shop, and outside of that, too. It was scary to be so smitten with him, but you didn't care. He was your only friend, your most trustworthy companion, and no one could compare to that. You declined invitations to go out with Grace and Ashley so you could spend more time with Art. Your world revolved around him like he was the most important person in the world. What else did you need?

You accompanied Art to practice whenever you could, and during late hours, when the soft white lights lit up the court, he taught you how to play. He fixed your stance, adjusted your grip, and showed you the basics. After a few weeks, you could rally with him. You came to every match and cheered him on. You came to Tashi's matches, too, just to spend more time with Art. You never failed to notice that distant look in his eyes as he watched Tashi play, almost like a longing, a hopeless yearning for something he couldn't quite reach. Was it wrong that you wanted Art to look at you that way? Was it selfish of you that you wanted his longing gaze to be on you and only you? Even though when he looked back at you, he would flash you a smile that made you temporarily forget about the pestering question.

The sun was warm on your skin, staving off the brisk wind, but you didn't want to move from your spot in the corner of the court. With the notebook on your lap, you were writing while waiting for Art to finish practice. He was with Robbie, and you could hear his grunts from where you were sitting. In your bag were two admissions to the movie Art told you he had been wanting to see but didn't have the time to check it out. Your excitement and anticipation were barely contained; you had looked forward to surprising him all week.

The gate rattled, and then, a voice called out.

"Let's go!"

That made you look up from your notebook. You watched as the stranger sauntered over in Art's direction.

"Come on, Donaldson, big serve. Big serve!"

Art went to serve but gave up halfway as the newcomer called out again in a teasing tone. Art angled his body to face the new guy, finally acknowledging him.

"Finish it up, Donaldson. Come on."

Art went for a serve so quick that Robbie couldn't catch on. He turned towards the guy, and the racquet fell limp in his grasp. The stranger opened his arms and walked toward Art, who then walked away and playfully dismissed the gesture. You could see a genuine smile on his face, highlighting the boyish charm in his features. You watched as they started to chase each other through the courts, jumping over the net and other boys on the bench.

You waited until their chase came to a stop, when they were standing face to face, talking to one another in an effervescent manner. You noted to yourself that this was a new side of Art that you hadn't seen yet.

Art waved at you as you approached, drawing the newcomer's attention to you. He looked at you up and down as Art introduced the two of you. His big hand enveloped yours in its warmth and callouses. Patrick's eyes had a spark of recognition the moment you told him your name. He smirked, still holding your hand.

"It's nice to finally meet the girl Art's been 'hanging out' with."

He glanced cheekily at Art.

"What do you mean?"

"Art wasn't being very clear on that, so …"

You looked to Art to see him glaring at Patrick. Your brows furrowed as understanding dawned on you. Your heart thumped harshly in your chest.

"Oh, right."

Patrick didn't seem to catch onto your confusion. He drew you closer by tugging on your hand, which was still wrapped in his.

"I don't get it. If I was him, I'd waste no time."

Art elbowed Patrick lightly.

"Dude, what about Tashi?"

"Dude, I said if I was you."

You interrupted before Art could say anything.

"You're not wrong. We're just casual friends."

Art looked at you, his gaze inquisitive, but you pretended that nothing was wrong. You put on a cheery voice, hoping Art would overlook what you'd just said.

"Anyway, it looks like you'll be busy. I'll… see you later."

Without waiting for an answer from Art, you turned to Patrick.

"It's nice to meet you, Patrick."

Patrick's reciprocation fell on your ears as you turned around and walked away. You didn't make it too far before Art got a hold of your wrist.

"Wait, didn't you say you wanted to ask me something?"

You thought about the tickets in your bag, but you shook your head.

"No, it's nothing."

"Are you sure? I'm sorry, but I didn't know Patrick were stopping by today. I haven't seen him in a few weeks as well ..."

You understood his implication perfectly. You patted his forearm.

"I'm sure. Don't worry about it. Go hang out with your friend."

You made a move to leave, but Art didn't budge, holding you in place.

"Will I see you tomorrow? Tashi's match?"

You nodded without hesitation.

"Of course."

This time, you were able to leave without Art's intervention. Almost immediately, your mind started to whirl, hurtling headfirst into overanalyzing what you had witnessed. You knew that Patrick was Art's friend from the academy. From what Art had told you, they were very close. But you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it.

Each step was heavier than the last as you felt the increasing disappointment weighing on your mind. Instead of going home or to the theatre, you pivoted in the direction of the library. Choosing the most private spot in the computer area, you looked up Art and Patrick's names. A list of articles unfolded themselves before your eyes, inviting you to click on them, with most of them reporting on their victory at the US Junior Open last year. You read through the articles, and your eyes studied every single photo attached. Art and Patrick posing for pictures, kissing their cups, and celebrating their victory.

But pictures could only tell so much. Opening a new web browser, you went on YouTube and searched for their names. You clicked on the first one you saw, which highlighted their best performances throughout the tournament. They played so well together. They fit like two pieces of a puzzle. What one person lacked, the other would make up for it. They were unstoppable, and it was hard to look away from their exquisite dynamic.

You watched as the camera zoomed in on the two of them celebrating in the final, clinging to one another as they went down to the ground. You replayed the moment over and over until you could recount it as if you were there. You clicked on another video, then another, going from the beginning of their US Junior Doubles tournament to the very end. You were fixated and only left the library late into the night when fatigue took over. The night went by as you sat by your phone, assignments on your desk, waiting for a call or a text from Art. You went to bed that night disappointed, with a spark of indignation simmering in your mind.

Even though your class ended at 12, and you could've gone home to study, you went to Tashi's match anyway. You hadn't met the girl yet, but you had been to her matches as if you were a Duncanator yourself. But you went because Art would be there, and you wanted to spend time with him. Even though he'd spend most of that time looking at another girl. Despite going to the match of your own volition, your anger still felt justified somehow.

You came in, and the bleacher was already half filled with people. You looked around to find Art. He saw you first, his long arm reaching up and waving at you. You didn't wave back; instead, you looked down, pretending to watch your steps as you made your way to him. He beamed at you as you inched closer to his seat.

"Hey."

You took the seat next to him without making eye contact with him. Art seemed to catch onto your mood.

"Look, about yesterday–"

"Where's Patrick?"

He took a brief moment before answering.

"I ... don't know. I texted him, but he hasn't answered."

"Oh. I was looking forward to seeing more of him today."

Still refusing to look at Art, you trained your gaze toward the court. At that, he sat up straight.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I like him. He seems like a fun guy."

You turned your head to look at him. You could almost see the thoughts written on his face, and your tense moment was interrupted by an onslaught of cheer as Tashi made her appearance. You used that moment to look away, to direct your attention to Tashi and clap for her. But it didn't stop the heat from spreading through your skin and burning your cheeks. You knew what you were doing was petty, but at that moment, all you cared about was getting back at Art.

The match commenced with bated breath and tension so heavy you could feel it in the air. Tashi's usual assertiveness was replaced by a nervous energy. She usually met each volley with precision and confidence, but right now, it was because she had to. You had watched her play enough to tell the difference. And in a blink of an eye, you almost missed it. The air shifted with Tashi as she went down to the ground with a sharp cry. The sight and sound were so visceral that you sprang from your seat, your mouth parted in shock as you watched Tashi writhe on the ground, hugging her knee. Her cries were piercing in the dead quiet of the court, and before you could say anything to Art, he took off.

You followed his blurred movements and watched as he jumped over the net to get to Tashi. Your eyes glued on them as Art put Tashi's head on his lap; his mouth moved, whispering things you couldn't hear over the rising whispers around you.

The audience dispersed after a while. You stood outside of the rec centre where Tashi was taken, debating whether you should go in or not. After another long moment of consideration, you sucked in a breath and entered the building. After asking for directions, you went down the corridor and looked at each room before you found Tashi on a bed with her arm on her forehead. Art sat on a chair next to the bed she was resting on and was partially shielded by her, but he saw you. He squeezed her arm, telling her he would be right back. You instinctively stepped back from the opening of the door, not wanting Tashi to spot you. Even with what she was going through right now, you doubted that she cared. It was purely from the fact that you weren't ready to be confronted by what you'd been suspecting.

"How is she doing?"

You whispered. Art shook his head, his lips flattened into a grim line.

"Not good."

"What can they do for her?"

"Not much. They can't tell until they can get the x-rays from the hospital. We're waiting for the ambulance right now."

You nodded. Behind the outline of Art's body, you could see Tashi. Crestfallen, scared, if the impatient shakes of her uninjured leg were any indication.

"Is there ... anything I can do?"

You didn't even know why you offered. Still, you felt like you needed to do something, to be useful even though nothing in this situation pertained to you.

"No, nothing. I'll stay with her to make sure that she's okay."

You resigned with a nod.

"Alright. Call me later, okay? Let me know how she's doing."

He inclined his head in agreement and went back to Tashi without sparing a second glance at you. Your heart chipped a little at that, but you brushed it off. Art cared about her, and there was nothing wrong with that. They were friends. You'd do the same for Grace and Ashley. To feel jealous was to be irrational, and you didn't want that. But was your inkling of doubt really unreasonable?

You were about to round the corner when Patrick almost ran into you. He murmured an apology before taking off. He stopped in front of the door you were at just moments ago. You were frozen in place, hearing Patrick's desperate pleas, Tashi's angry cry, and, at last, Art's thunderous shout echoed down the hallway.

"Patrick, get the fuck out!!"

You had never heard him like that. Angry, with a territorial edge to it. You forced yourself to walk away; the need to withdraw into yourself once again overwhelmed your mind despite your conscious effort not to think about what'd just happened. But you couldn't help it.

Later that night, there was no phone call, not even a text. Art's silence was a knife that dug deep into your heart, but like always, you ignored it, even though you knew it had never been a good idea.

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horrorhot-line · 9 months ago

Text

kairos

(n.) the perfect, delicate, crucial moment; the fleeting rightness of time and place that creates the opportune atmosphere for action, words, or movement.

➵ pairing: love and deepspace x reader

➵ word count: 14.2k

➵ genre: fluff, angst (if you squint?)

➵ warnings: spoilers for the game 'love and deepspace' below.

➵ summary: when you thought you didn't belong all your life, you had no idea it wasn't just in your head. now, you're thrown into a world you couldn't possibly have known was real and have to get used to your new enviroment. easier said than done when you keep running into certain men who make it hard to keep your cool.

➵ masterlist (requests are open)

The following content is protected under copyright laws. do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own.

notes: to anyone waiting for more saiki k content, i promise it's on the way, there's just a few other things i'm working on so it might take some time, and in the mean time i wanted to practice writing for other characters to sharpen my skills.

to anyone who's new to this blog, hi, i hope you enjoy your stay here, and i hope you like my work, enjoy!

also: thank you to @kagadummis @vanillaschoko9353 @identity-theft-101 for giving me the motivation to write. and a huge thanks to @thecaminator for letting me throw ideas off their head to make sense of what i wanted to do with the series. you were a huge help!

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There was no one moment that you could pinpoint and say was flawed or wrong. When had the world lost its colour? Had you been ignorant all your life and happened to notice one day, and now there was no going back? Did it even matter?

You didn't know when it all started to go wrong, but you were exhausted. The type of tiredness that no amount of sleep could ever cure. Every interaction felt like work. Every moment that you were conscious felt like work. Nothing ever happened, no one ever liked you, and even if something did come to pass- you could never immerse yourself in the feeling completely.

Chalking it up to, 'Everyone feels this way,' and 'I'm not the only one' only worked for so long. There wasn't really any place you could say you felt you belonged to. You didn't understand how people around you, successful or not, could confidently say, "This is what I was meant for".

Surely, there was more for you out there than working to live, going paycheck to paycheck, always having just enough. Waking up, worrying about trivial things, learning or working, getting stressed at minor inconveniences, eating, sleeping, all on repeat until death finally calls your name one day.

Wherever you went, you felt like you weren't ever really there. Your only comfort was, no matter how alone you felt, among the 8 billion people in your world, there was someone out there who was going through the exact same thing as you. Someone who knew what it meant to feel like you were in a universe you didn't belong to.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

The first thing you felt was pain. It was dull at first, stirring you from your slumber and forcing your sluggish brain to wake up and find the problem. You didn't even get to open your eyes before it evolved into burning, searing you from the inside out. Your head throbbed, and your vision swam, your eyes barely registering the room's lights that you were in before you forced your lids shut.

You cried out, curling in on yourself in an attempt to soothe the pain, but to no avail. You tried to breathe through it, and assumed you were making progress when the pain dulled. You should've known that was only the calm before the storm.

Memories, hundreds, then thousands, filled your mind all at once. They started to blend into each other- familiar, yet not and try as you might, you couldn't quite place your finger on any of them. You wailed, clenching your jaw so hard you felt your molars push against your gums. Clutching your head in your hands, tears flowed down your face.

What was this? You had never been in this much pain before. You were dying; that was the only explanation. There was no way you would survive this pain. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This couldn't be it. You had so much left to do, so many loose ends to take care of. You were not about to die alone in your room because of a goliath of a headache.

The memories still trying to burn their way through your consciousness behind your closed lids started to slow down, and you could make more sense of them now. You furrowed your eyebrows at what you saw. An entrance exam? Holograms? Monsters? These weren't your experiences; you had never seen this before in your lif-

Wait. No. There was no way. You knew they looked familiar, but you would never have guessed… Those monsters, you recognised them. You had seen them on your flimsy phone screen while playing a dating sim the night before that had just been released a month ago. Love and Deepspace. A game set years in the distant future about romance and wanderers.

What the fuck? You blinked your tears away, the pain from earlier feeling more like a migraine rather than a death sentence. You ignored the sweat clinging to your skin and moved the hair plastered to your face out of the way. That was when your brain caught up, still taking its time to make logical sense of what had occurred.

You weren't in your room- for one, it was neat and tidy to the point of perfection. There was a hologram projected where your bedframe would have been, and the mattress was the softest thing you had ever sat on in your entire life. Despite waking up in a strange room you had no recollection of getting into, you didn't feel any unease, and that in itself had you worried.

It felt right, the feel of the plush covers against your legs and the aesthetic of the room itself. It felt like you belonged. You took a deep breath. Looking around to see if you could find your phone, you moved off the bed to go wander. When you saw a familiar black screen on the desk on the other side of the room, you rushed to grab it.

Getting a better look at it once it was in your hand, you realised it was a phone, alright, just not yours. You tried your best to ignore the odd feeling that washed over you when your fingers seemingly moved as if it were muscle memory and entered a passcode that opened the phone to reveal a home screen.

The top of the screen had bold numbers stating it was 18:46PM, with a few apps underneath. You tried to make sense of what apps were what when your eyes landed on the date in small text under the time. January 17th 2048. You froze, feeling like you had been doused with cold water. No, that couldn't be right. You tried flicking through the apps to see if you could figure out what in the fuck was going on.

You shoved down any thoughts of the isekai love novels you had read in the past because surely- surely, you couldn't have something as cliche as this happen to you. Your expression relaxed slightly, your eyebrows unfurrowing as you found what you thought to be a messaging app. Your eyes scanned the contacts briefly. The first was a message from… Caleb?

Who the fu- Oh. Oh, no. You really didn't want to admit it. You refused. You had not transmigrated. That wasn't possible. You tried to soothe your mind by telling yourself this was all a dream, but the dull headache you still had and the pain that came before it convinced you that you were very much awake. You ignored his message, choosing not to open it and reply.

You had to understand the kind of situation you were in first. The text underneath his was an unsaved number. You opted to open the chat, checking the unread message.

'Congratulations on passing the Annual Hunter's Exam! Please head to the New Recruits Registration Centre on January 18th 2048. Your appointment is set at 8:00 A.M., but we advise you arrive 15 minutes early to sign in. We hope to see you there! Our warmest regards to the new Hunters of today.'

You threw the phone on your bed, frustrated and confused, causing you to be reckless. This made no sense. How could this have happened? You couldn't rationalise any of it. You refused to believe you were in Love and Deepspace. For one, it was too good to be true.

You paced the unfamiliar bedroom, trying to figure out your next move. A mirror. You needed a mirror; it should have been the first thing you went looking for. Your legs carried you as if they already knew where you needed to go. Leaving the room, you turned right and opened the door to reveal a pristine white bathroom. You stopped yourself from gawking at how clean it looked (you swore you saw a bidet and an option to warm up the toilet seat) and headed to the cabinet with a mirror.

You blinked once, then twice, giving yourself a once over again. It looked like you- but didn't at the same time. It was… exactly like what you had chosen the main character of the game to look when you played. You looked otherwordly. Clear skin, smooth without a single bump or pore in sight. Naturally pink lips, long lashes and captivating eyes. The face of a model… of a main character.

You wouldn't have been able to explain the existential crisis you went through even if you wanted to, as you brought your hand up and touched your face. The reflection that greeted you was a stranger, but they felt so familiar. Was this really you? Was this your appearance now? Your life? What were you supposed to do? How could you possibly go back to your world? Did you even want to?

You shook your head. This was all too much. You let your feet guide you back to the bedroom, lost in your thoughts, trying your best to think coherently.

That's when you saw it. A small hologram, a pop-up screen, on the bedroom window that took up a whole wall. You paid no mind to the incredible view outside, too perplexed by the screen. You walked closer to it, realising there was writing. Had it appeared when you left the room, or had it been there from the beginning, and you had been too disoriented to notice?

Your eyes traced the words carefully, trying to understand what they meant. You reread it, furrowing your eyebrows. In bold and all caps, on a white background and written in serif print, was the paragraph,

"N/A Y/N L/N - TIME OF DEATH: [REDACTED], 18:39:03:153425

LINKON CITY [REDACTED] - TIME OF DEATH: DIED JANUARY 17TH 2048, 18:39:03:153425

CONDITIONS FOR SOUL SWAP HAVE BEEN MET. WELCOME TO YOUR ORIGINAL UNIVERSE. WE APOLOGISE FOR THE MISTAKE WE MADE AND THE INCONVENIENCE IT MAY HAVE CAUSED FOR THE TIME IT TOOK TO FIX. THIS IS YOUR ORIGINAL UNIVERSE AND WHERE YOU WILL CARRY OUT THE REMAINDER OF YOUR DAYS. ENJOY YOUR STAY."

Underneath the text was only one option. "ACCEPT"- no way of declining. Huh. Enjoy your stay? Apologise for the inconvenience? Delay it took to fix? Were they taking the piss? Pulling your leg? Dickheads. This was a joke. It had to be. Someone was kidding you, pulling some elaborate prank, and all you had to do was say, 'You got me!' and it would all be over… If only.

You weren't sure how long you stood there staring at the display, trying to make sense of it all. You were in a game. A game you had yet to finish because you had to wait to level up every day. A game where you found yourself fangirling over boys on your screen. And who could blame you? The three male leads were captivating. Beautifully drawn and animated.

Your eyes focused on the view behind the small screen of text, past the bedroom's window; the buildings were obscured due to condensation, most likely caused by the rain still falling across the city. You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, exhaled and promptly reached out to the accept button and clicked it.

It disappeared, and you were left alone with just your thoughts. You know what? No, you were not doing this today. You were going straight to bed; you didn't have the energy to deal with this. This was a problem for future you.

With that, you slipped into the familiar yet unfamiliar bed and closed your eyes, letting exhaustion and slumber take hold of you.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

From what you could gather from your baffling situation and the cryptic message you saw yesterday, you were in the universe you belonged to. But how did that make any sense? The universe, or whoever was in charge, god, a system? They had made a mistake; you had lived your prime years in a world you were never supposed to exist in, and now you were back where you belonged?

Bullshit- You called bullshit. This was all too much. And if you were here, where was the woman who had been in this body before both souls were swapped? Was she in your uni- her original universe? …Good luck to her then- you hoped she managed to make sense of the shit show that had been your life the day before.

What you still couldn't understand was, how did the soul swap happen? What conditions could have been met to swa- was it the time both of you died? Fuck, this was giving you a headache. You had to blend in and not raise any suspicions for now. What else could you do?

You were sure the events that occurred to lead you to this world were irreversible, and you had no desire to take on some cosmic power that was, in essence, playing with your life. You would make a move once you knew more. Maybe.

You bit the inside of your cheek, miffed but feeling mostly defeated that your life had genuinely been turned upside down, inside out and then fucked sideways.

The walk to the New Recruits Registration Office had been uneventful. Something you were grateful for as it gave you time to take in all that was Linkon City. The skyscrapers were unlike anything you had ever seen, and you were in awe of all the wonders this new world had to offer. Scared and exhilarated, a great combination.

You pulled on the Hunter's Uniform you had found in the wardrobe. It fit you like a glove, but you still couldn't shake the feeling that this was wrong. Like your mind was rejecting the whole situation because it couldn't understand it all at once. Your soul felt at ease, though- something you were grateful for since you guessed that was the sole reason you weren't completely losing your mind. Despite your inner turmoil, you were sure you had never felt more at home.

You just hoped no one noticed that the characte- you, had changed. You checked your phone again, and your shoulders relaxed slightly at the realisation that at least you weren't running late for once in your life. Who knew you'd develop time management skills after you were smited by whatever power had brought you to this new world.

You made it to the building in time but slowly stopped in your tracks as you raised your neck to catch a glimpse of the whole place and realised there was seemingly no end to how high the structure was. You took a deep breath- tried and failed to steel your nerves before you entered the office that would be your new workplace. You attempted to distract yourself with the voice that came through the speakers placed everywhere in the building.

"…One day, we will be able to evolve from our current limitations, transcend the boundaries of life and reach the stars." You silently watched as the glass elevator took you to your destination, the people on the street outside forming little specks the higher you went until they were barely visible. "At a certain point in the future, we can pass through the deep space tunnel… and discover the future awaiting us."

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You joined the crowd the minute you entered the Hunter's Association HQ, glad that the lights were dimmed and only focusing on the man you presumed to be the big boss of the place. The older man you assumed to be President of the HA stood on a podium, looking around and waiting for anyone else to join.

You really should have replayed the previous chapters in the game because even though you knew what was to come, your memory of the events of love and deepspace were hazy at best.

"…Fourteen years ago, the Deepspace tunnel appeared above Linkon. It led to anomalous geomagnetic storms, and the creatures known as wanderers emerged. From such an event, the Deepspace Hunter was born. Now, society has returned to a sense of normality, but there are still Wanderers lurking in the shadows. They-"

You didn't get to hear the rest of what the President was saying; a girl in the crowd to your right stole your attention. "After they hand out our badges, we'll be assigned to a squad, which will determine our future. Aren't you nervous?" You gave her a once over- what was her name again? Tasha? She was one of the side characters in the game and had a few scenes here and there.

You couldn't remember if there was an option to respond to her in the game or not. Would it change anything if you did? Did it even matter because this was your universe now? Fuck it. "Not in the slightest." You answered after a moment of silence, shooting her a small smile. You weren't wrong; you weren't nervous about your score- because if the game was anything to go by, your results were predestined.

You turned back to the speech. "You look excited, though." You looked at her from the corner of your eye, taking in her giddy form and fidgeting hands. "I am! I couldn't sleep all night!" She whispered back, covering her mouth with her hand to avoid getting anyone else's attention. It was hard to get over the fact that the person in front of you was real, and not a video game character.

She was the prettiest girl you had ever seen. Short hair that fit her face perfectly, clear skin, and a shine in her eyes you hadn't found in the passersby on the streets that morning. You gave her a soft smile, more sincere this time. You hoped she'd still like you like she had the MC of the game you played.

The two of you turned your attention back to the President, who was still talking. "…Goal as hunters is to extract the Protocores from Wanderers- in hopes of destroying them once and for all. That being said, congratulations on passing the selection process. We are grateful for your hard work." The President clapped, and everyone else joined in, including you, who was bested by social convention.

The President returned to resting his hands on the podium, "We will now begin the ceremony and hand out badges to the new Deepspace Hunters. First Candidate, 003931." His eyes swept the crowd, and you didn't need to see the number pinned above your chest to know it was you. At least you remembered that part of the game.

The girl next to you whisper-shouted as she looked at you. "That's you, isn't it? Hurry, get on stage!" And get on the stage you did. You straightened your back, pulled down your cropped jacket and approached the President. "Morning, Sir." You said, suddenly feeling awkward under his authoritative stare. He acknowledged you with a nod, gesturing to the screen on the podium.

"Place your hand here to confirm your personal info." You leaned forward to better see the display. You hoped the name that belonged to this body wasn't too out of character for you. You didn't want some 'Pride & Prejudice' ahh name. Anything but Jane Doe! Please!

You hesitated for a second before placing your hand on the podium and watched as a hologram popped up and generated your details.

"FIRST NAME: Y/N LAST NAME: L/N BORN: XX.XX.XXXX SECTOR: [PENDING]"

The hologram flashed the different level classification in the corner before a question mark appeared. The President gazed at the screen, "Ah, Anhausen Class… It's been a while since I've seen this Evol. You have a lot of potential for growth and might even acquire new abilities. I can see why Jenna picked you as soon as the rookie list was released to the public." You gave an awkward smile at his words, not knowing how to feel because, technically speaking, that was all the MC, not you.

The hologram made a sound, indicating an error. The word "LOST" showed up in red under the level specifications. "It can't be detected?" The President furrowed his eyebrows slightly at the screen. How did the MC explain this one away? You were sure it was something about an attack and the monsters of this world.

"I got attacked by a Wanderer in 2034, so my Evol isn't stable…?" It came out more like a question, something you inwardly cursed at yourself for. He stared at you for a moment before he nodded. "Hm. That event did change many lives forever. You're not the first Evolver whose levels couldn't be detected." He folded his arms over his chest. "This isn't the only criterion we use when evaluating a Deepspace hunter. As long as you have the skills, this industry welcomes you with open arms."

The President leaned to the side to grab a blue box. "Congratulations, you are now a Deepspace Hunter." He brought the box closer to you, urging you to accept your badge. You took it, muttering, "Thanks, Sir."

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There was no chance to relax as all the new Hunters went out on rookie missions to prove their worth in the field. You damn near jumped out of your skin when your Hunter's watch went off. "Rookies, this is Jenna speaking. I'm your UNICORNS Captain today. Ten minutes ago, there was an abnormal Metaflux explosion at this abandoned base for Protocore research." So that's what this deserted place was.

You felt it in your soul first before the detector picked up on the change; a pulsating vibration passed over you, serving as some sort of warning. There was something here. "It's nearby." You muttered, bringing your Hunter's watch closer. It beeped softly, showing a window stating, "Energy Index", with the numbers 19.5-

"Oh! Your Evol's even better than the detector." You jumped, scared shitless for 0.3 seconds before your brain realised it recognised the voice as the girl from the entrance ceremony. You turned around, the numbers from before forgotten as you faced Tasha. As if she had read your mind and your mistake, she corrected you. "Hi. I'm Tara,"- shoot, you had gotten her name wrong this whole time- "Remember me? I was standing next to you during the badge ceremony."

"Yeah, I do. Fancy seeing you here." You let out a dry laugh, cursing yourself mentally at your awkwardness of having to interact with people you thought were game characters less than 24 hours ago before you were whisked away to this new universe. She quietly snorted at your antics, "You're so cute! I'm so happy we're in the same squad! I saw you, and I just knew we'd be friends!" You blinked, stunned at her compliment and her palpable excitement.

You didn't realise you were tensing until you relaxed at Tara's warm demeanour. "Why don't we team up, then?" You weren't sure if she liked the MC this much straight off the bat, but you were grateful for the inviting air she had around her. You gave her a warm smile of your own. "Sure! The tarot reading I did yesterday told me that I would be super lucky today-"

You didn't get the chance to respond; Tara's watch started beeping, stealing both of your attention. "Wanderers! They're here." Oh fuck. You were not ready for this. Did you have to battle monsters now? At least in the game, there was no way of dying; the MC would just retreat and level up. Did you have that option here? To go back in time or something?

Your watch alerting you of a mission brought you back from your thoughts. You were ashamed that you hesitated for a second, even though you had just received a hunter's badge. You hoped muscle memory would help you fight- Surely, the MC trained in her free time when she had this body. You accepted the mission and looked back at Tara.

"The biggest threat level here is only B, which matches the fluctuations we just felt." At her words, you felt your stomach drop. Why, you had no idea. "Something's not right." You voiced out loud, not quite sure if you could place your finger on what exactly it was. "Yeah, fluctuations normally don't have set values." Tara nodded, folding one arm over her waist and bringing a finger to her chin as if contemplating something.

"Why don't we split up and look around first. Just to be safe?" Safe, your ass! Splitting up in movies always meant death! You didn't want your career to be this short; people would laugh! You gave her a stiff smile, unsure of yourself, as you watched her take her gun out of her holster. "You stay inside- I'll scout the perimeter to see how far the fluctuations go. We'll regroup here once we're done." You nodded, watching her walk off.

You let out a shaky breath as you returned to exploring the building. Wasn't this where MC had to battle Wanderers for the first time? Fuck it, you were 58% sure you weren't going to die, and those odds were good enough. Better than being labelled a coward and, in essence, becoming the company's pariah.

What were you supposed to do now? Wait for your movements to trigger a fight scene or something? You mused to yourself to ease your nerves, but you couldn't shake the feeling that you were forgetting something really important. You didn't get to ponder on the thought; a pop-up screen appeared before you.

Okay. So, this is what it felt like for all those main characters in the Isekai game animes when they saw an instruction window in front of them. You squinted at the words, taking them in.

"THERE HAS BEEN A METFLUX EXPLOSION, BUT IT DOES NOT MATCH THE WANDERER'S THREAT LEVEL. YOU MUST INVESTIGATE THE CAUSE OF THIS.

p.s: we hope this message aids you in your mission. again, apologies for the inconvenience."

So, whatever stole your normality from you really did have a heart after all. You were still annoyed for being blindsided and thrown into the deep end but found you were less frustrated at your situation as you pressed the accept button underneath the text. The pop-up disappeared promptly, and you walked past where it had been seconds ago.

You nearly had a heart attack when you heard what sounded like rocks shifting or falling. Your grip on your gun tightened, and you found your body moving towards the noise rather than away from it. Stupid muscle memory! It chose the worst time to make its presence known. What manner of man runs towards the sound of danger rather than away from it?

You finally had more control of your limbs as you slowed down at a clearing. Nature had slowly started taking back the part of the building you had found yourself in, leaves and plants covered the ground.

Your breath hitched when you saw him. Xavier.

That was what you were forgetting! The male leads! They were real, and you were destined to have run-ins with them if the game was any help… You could leave. Turn back and look for the Wanderer yourself and avoid having to interact with someone who had you screaming into your pillow at odd hours of the morning when you were playing the game.

No. You wanted to slap yourself for even thinking that running away was an option. In what world would you give up the chance to see your favourite boys up close? Maybe they wouldn't fall for you this time around, and it wouldn't be happily ever after because you had replaced the MC, but you could at least bask in their presence and handsomeness, no?

You lowered your gun, slowly getting closer, almost as if you were trying to pet a stray cat outside and didn't want to scare it away. If you remembered correctly, MC would try calling for backup, thinking Xavier was injured and needed help, and a monster would show up. You knew from the game that he was fine, just tended to fall asleep no matter the situation- but you also knew you had to get him up because a wanderer was on its way.

Common sense dictated you shake him awake, but you felt guilty knowing he liked his sleep. That, and you were enjoying yourself. He was the most handsome man you had ever seen, and damn it, if you weren't going to admire this artwork before you.

To be or not to be, you mused to yourself as you got closer to him and kneeled to his height. "…Hello?" You voiced experimentally, wondering if he'd wake up. No such luck, you realised as you called out to Xavier again, shaking him slightly. What were you supposed to do? At this rate, you would have to call for backup, if only to get him out of his slumber.

It didn't help that he looked perfect even while he was sleeping. He was ethereal, otherwordly. You were in awe of how his skin glowed and how the light reflected off his hair, making him look like he was painted. He looked like he had been cut straight out of the magazine, not a single dirty blonde lock out of place and long lashes that nearly kissed his cheeks. Why was he so pretty? The universe clearly had favourites.

After your fifth and final attempt to wake him up, you gave up; the guy slept like a rock- what were you supposed to do? You felt too guilty to try again; you felt like a criminal for taking away his nap. You'd just have to wait for your death, then. "Please, I'm too young to die again." You thought out loud in desperation, which seemingly did the trick.

He stirred in his sleep, and your breath hitched as his blue eyes finally landed on you. Oh fuck. He was gorgeous. Like, make your knees go weak gorgeous. Like, get lost in his gaze type gorgeous. Like make you wanna bark gorgeou- No! You had to stop your train of thought, focus and try to end the awkward silence between you.

You took a breath, steeling your nerves and putting on your brave face, "Hi, I know you were sleeping, and I'm sorry I woke you up, but you looked injured, so I wanted to make sure you were okay." You gave him the classic white man smile, the awkward one you gave to someone who would let you go first when going through a door or something. You winced, cringing at your words.

You hoped he wouldn't think you were weird. First impressions were everything. "I'm fine," Xavier answered after a beat, gazing down at his minor wounds, and it was over for you. His lazy drawl was smooth and inviting, comforting like honey. "But, you-" You didn't get to enjoy the sound of his voice or hear what he was going to say as the ground started to shake beneath you. The collar on Xavier's neck projected a blue hologram, and you knew exactly what it meant. A wanderer. Oh fuck.

Your body moved by itself, bringing your arms up and pointing your gun at the monster that appeared. "Watch out!" Xavier leapt past you and summoned his sword to attack the creature. You watched in awe at the speed at which he moved, lowering your gun slightly. He faltered as his collar turned red.

He jumped away, finding his footing next to you as the monster disappeared. "It activated its Protofield. You're a Hunter, right? Let's defeat it together." You looked from the purple portal that shifted to Xavier, then back.

It wasn't like you could refuse, you thought to yourself as you entered the portal after the blonde. This was your life now; you had to try and get used to it, at least.

The following five minutes were a blur; you took a back seat and let your body move by memory to defeat the Wanderer. You felt the fear during your close calls, but you were grateful Xavier had your back. When the fight ended, and the monster was crushed, you both were teleported back to the abandoned building.

A purple orb manifested and floated towards Xavier, and you watched as he grabbed ahold of it, shook his head and crushed it in his hand. "This isn't it." You moved closer, interested in his motivations. "Was there something wrong with it?" You queried, regarding the man with curious eyes. "Huh?" He gazed at you, looking lost. So he had no intentions of answering you and was gonna be all mysterious? Cool.

"Do you think there's more Wanderers lurking?" You changed the subject, guessing he probably didn't answer on purpose. "We became prey stuck in a trap the moment we walked into this warehouse," Xavier stated as he looked at his surroundings. "Come." He approached you, taking hold of your wrist as he led the way. You ignored the flip-flops inside your stomach and tried to keep your cool. You had to remind yourself he was doing this for the mission.

Xavier stopped, still holding onto you as he looked around, seemingly searching for something. "Did you enjoy your nap?" You piped, having spent too long in silence, the awkwardness nearly crushing you. "Hm? …Yes, I did." Xavier gave you a funny look, and you ignored it as you mentally cussed yourself out for asking him a closed question and murdering the chance of a conversation.

The uneasy feeling you had gotten since you came here had yet to leave you as you checked the screen on your Hunter Watch, confused as to why it didn't detect any Wanderers. As if reading your mind, Xavier answered, "They're Luminivores. No movement, no fluctuations." So that's why… You met Xavier's gaze as he brought his finger to his lips, signalling for you to stay quiet. "Over here." He cocked his head in the other direction, pulling you with him with his hand still wrapped around your wrist.

He pulled you to sit next to him, trying to hide your presence from whatever was lurking in the shadows, waiting for both of you. You sifted through your memories of the game, straining your brain to see if you could remember the chapter's outcome. As far as you knew, the Wanderers had set some sort of trap for Xavier, and both he and the MC had to take down other Wanderers before the stage was cleared.

"Feels like a trap set specifically for you." You voiced out loud after carefully thinking of what to say without sounding like some clueless Hunter who knew nothing of the monsters that attacked- you thought you did a darn good job considering you were someone who knew nothing about the Wanderers- and who could blame you? You played the game for the plot- the plot, of course, being the hot guys who got involved with the MC.

"I'm just a normal Hunter. You don't need to look too deeply into it." Your eyes softened as you looked at the man in front of you, realising from the game that he had a tendency to look away and avoid eye contact when he lied. Clearly, he wasn't ready to tell you what was going on, and you were okay with that. "Okay, I believe you." You stated, deciding not to dig any deeper.

You didn't notice the curious look he shot your way at your willingness to let it go. "What are you thinking about?" Xavier asked as he watched you furrow your eyebrows, deep in thought. You finally glanced up at him. "Why don't we bait them out and take them down in one attack?" You suggested, confident that the MC had devised a similar plan to defeat the Wanderers. "You…" He trailed off as he stared you down.

You ignored the heat rising on the tip of your ears due to his gaze. "Use your Evol." You stated, remembering the MC's words from the first time you played the chapter. He looked at where the Wanderers were starting to swarm. Xavier held his palm out before him, summoning light into it. The room darkened when he closed his hands. "Guess they took the bait. They're gathering now."

You willed yourself to shake the nervousness you felt, hoping your victory was predestined and that the two of you would get out of there unscathed. "There are a lot of Luminivores. If we don't take them out in one go, they'll respawn using the light." Your hand moved by itself, a feeling you had yet to get used to. You grabbed Xavier's arm, breathing as you willed your Evol to activate, "Then, let's use my Evol." He turned his attention from where your hand rested, to you.

His face… You thought to yourself what a shame it was to see his brows furrow, but fuck did he look good when he was all serious. You mentally shook yourself at the thought; now was not the time! "Please forgive me," Xavier stated as he moved closer, his breath tickling your cheek as he took hold of your right hand and rested it on his chest. You watched in awe as light gathered where the two of you met, a warm glow enveloping the both of you.

The wind picked up as your powers combined, and all you could think was, this was Resonance? It felt like you had joined on a spiritual level, your souls connected for a brief moment as your powers mixed and tangled themselves. All you could do was pay attention to his slow heartbeat and how good he looked with his eyes closed.

The Luminvores burnt away quickly; not a trace of them left as the light disappeared. Xavier got up, looking around and securing the perimeter with his eyes. "The fluctuations are gone, and so are the Wanderers. Your plan actually worked." You relaxed, your form no longer tense, as you realised you were out of danger for the time being. "Too bad we couldn't get any Protocores." You stated, remembering the procedure you were briefed on when it came to Wanderer clean up.

"Ah, they were accidentally blown up." You shrugged at his statement, not too bothered by the fact since you were still in one piece, which was more important. You had done it- with the help of MC's muscle memory. You had yet to get used to the foreign feeling of your body moving with a mind of its own.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, looking at each other, waiting for the other to talk. "…My uh, my name's Y/n. A new recruit. Nice to meet you." Xavier regarded you for a second, and you ignored how his eyes flicked from both your eyes down to your lips and then back. You definitely ignored your stomach doing the 'thing.'

"I'm Xavier." He paused, only for a second, before he turned to face you properly. "By the way, could you do me a favour?" And there it was, the line you were waiting for. "If anyone asks what happened, tell them that… Aside from the Wanderers, you saw nothing else, alright?" Ah, he was asking so nicely- how could you possibly turn him down? You never did understand why the MC was suspicious of Xavier when she first met him.

Then again, he was pretty vague and mysterious to start with. "Okay, if you say so." You accepted readily because, let's be honest, you were weak in front of that handsome face. Maybe it was because you hadn't seen his expression change much since you first encountered him, but you were sure you didn't imagine the slight raise of his eyebrows in surprise.

He looked like a lost puppy, reminding you of a golden retriever. His expression softened, no doubt confused as to why you agreed so readily to his demand, and you couldn't help the smile on your face. "Don't you want me to explain?" You softly shook your head at his question, "You don't have to explain yourself to me. Take it as a free pass for fighting with me."

Changing what the MC said in the game wouldn't hurt, would it? You hoped this didn't set off a butterfly effect that ended with you buried 6 feet under. Either way, he really did save you out there; you were sure if you had to take that Wanderer alone, even with the muscle memories of the body you were in, you would have been defeated. So all's well that ends well.

Xavier's lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but your Hunter's watch stole your attention. "I'm headed over to your location now!" Tara's voice came through the device, and when you looked up, Xavier was gone- so much for distracting yourself with eye candy.

The sound of footsteps getting closer had you turning around to face Tara. "I lost your signal and couldn't contact you at all. These protocore fragments… You took them down all by yourself." She asked, astonished as she lowered her gun. "Yep, all me." You mentally patted yourself on the back for how quickly you lied. "That's amazing! I'm so glad you're okay; we'll talk when the mission's over, all right?" You nodded at her suggestion, shooting her a small smile.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

Once the Wanderer clean-up was over, you, Tara and the New Recruits were ordered to return to HQ. You were just glad to finally be able to relax as you leaned against a wall. Curse you and your unhealthy body that was used to spending your free time indoors. Nothing of note happened after Tara found you, and thank fuck because you weren't sure you could handle another battle.

It was nice and all, being in a game you had spent time and effort playing until you realised you'd have to relearn the meaning of 'normal'. The chattering of your soon-to-be colleagues did little to distract you from your inner turmoil. Your saviour came in the form of a girl whose name you had gotten wrong. Tara's voice pulled you from your thoughts, "By the way, did we get anything from the data we sent back to HQ?"

You gazed up at the ceiling, trying to recall what had happened since you returned through the blur of memories that day. "Something about waiting for results before jumping to conclusions. I guess Data Analysis still needs to do another investigation." You offered, hoping she wouldn't press you further about the mission. "I'm just glad you're okay; it must have been scary by yourself."

You released a breath you didn't know you were holding, a small smile gracing your face at her concern for your safety. "Yeah, even though you left me to fend for myself. Guess it's my super lucky day, not yours." You teased, remembering her comment about a tarot reading from before the mission. "You're still in the mood to crack jokes?" She quipped, placing her hand on her hip. You didn't miss the twitch at the corner of her lips, and you couldn't help but snicker at her antics.

"For your information, I was trying to contact you for ages! I was so close to trying just about anything possible, scientific and mythical!" You had a feeling the two of you would get along well. You didn't get to finish the conversation as the light dimmed in the room, and the most gorgeous woman you had ever seen walked in. She was tall, with the most perfect pixie cut, sharp eyes and plump lips. You couldn't help that your first thought was, 'Mommy?'

"Finally, we meet face to face, UNICORNS Recruits." The chatter in the room dulled to nothing as you lightly kicked yourself off the wall you were leaning on. "I'm relieved to see everyone has returned in one piece. Your performance was recorded and uploaded to our database by the Hunter's Watch each one of you is wearing." You absentmindedly fidgeted with your watch, hoping there wasn't anything suspicious in your results that would raise eyebrows.

You froze when she made eye contact with you and continued. "UNICORNS only chooses the best of the best. The squad will take that into consideration and assign you to your appropriate sector. In the foreseeable future, the difficulty of your assignments, nature of your work, and scope of your missions will correspond to your sector's role and responsibilities."

You stopped listening, your attention span coming to its end as you started daydreaming. So, Xavier and the other male leads were as real as they came, and you were in a world where you would manage to run into them. You had to wonder if you were still the love interest after swapping souls with a nameless character. You guessed you would have to find out for yourself.

As if on cue, applause erupted in the room as Jenna thanked everyone for their efforts and participation, and you, like the sheep you were, joined in instinctively. With that, Jenna gave a small smile and left the room. The lights switched back on as the room burst into excited chatter once everyone's Hunter's watch beeped, signalling the results were out.

The robotic voice of a woman sounded through the speakers. "Mission data analysed. Please report to your respective sector at 8:00 A.M tomorrow." Tara brought her hand up to inspect her watch, "Sector... Data Analysis. Captain... Andrew. Yes! I knew yesterday's fortune was right!" She turned to you, her hands clasping behind her as she leaned forward. "Well? What does yours say?"

You gazed at your own device, knowing the results already. "Sector, Alpha Team. My Captain's Jenna." Tara perked up, looking more excited about your results than her own. "You're working directly under Jenna? Wow... Can I visit you in the future whenever I want?" You didn't blame her for using you as an excuse to check your captain out; you would have done the same in her shoes. "Be my guest. We can admire Captain Jenna together."

Tara whooped at your suggestion, doing a little victory pump. "Wanna get some food?" You suggested, not wanting the conversation to end. You were relieved when she agreed, telling you she was starving.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

Azure Square was beautiful, a cross between a park and stalls that lined the main street, branching off into the distance. Tara had led you there since it wasn't too far from HQ. Grabbing whatever street food caught your eye, the two of you strolled past the trees lining the path until you spotted a free bench near the square's monument.

You listened to Tara rant about her workplace crush, enjoying the scenery and her giddy personality. "…And just like that, the Wanderer was gone! Poof! Disappeared into thin air." You tried not to laugh at her gestures and hand movements that matched the story. "After escorting me to a safe place by the road, she said- "You're safe now. Go home." Aaaah! That's what we call max security!"

She lowered her clasped hands, and you got whiplash from how quickly she became serious. "So yes, as you can see, I became a hunter to follow in Captain Jenna's footsteps. I want to be as badass as she is- to be her equal and fight alongside her…" She blinked, trailing off before she rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. "Oh, I've just been rambling on. What about you? Why did you become a hunter?"

You parted your lips to respond, and you were not ready for the flashback her question had triggered. The screams of help were drowned out by roaring wanderers, the feeling of your stamina depleting as you sprinted through the streets covered in rubble, the panic of not knowing what was chasing you, the burning pain you felt as you were hit, the makeshift shelter you crawled towards in an attempt to save yourself.

Well, that was something, you thought to yourself as you blinked. The memory felt like it was familiar yet foreign at the same time. It was like trying to grasp at smoke, only for it to slip through your fingers. "Looks like you're reminiscing about something from a looong time ago." Tara's words snapped you out of your daze. "You could say that…" You trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

You were saved by the bell, or more like the drone that flew by to give a prerecorded announcement to the passersby. "This is a very important symbol for Linkon City! Mr. Guidey welcomes you to Azure Square!" The drone looked like a ball, clad with headphones that had bunny ears on top. "Here, the past and future coexist! The old and new mingle together seamlessly! This is the charm of Linkon City! Wow!"

"Ahhh, it's so noisy, like a kid who's constantly shouting." You agreed with Tara's complaints, but after a few seconds of listening, it started to grate on your ears like forks against a plate. Either way, you were grateful for the distraction. "Everyone, look over there! Tide Street is hosting a marine-themed exhibition! Follow me…" You followed the drone that whizzed off into the distance with your eyes before looking back at Tara.

Your silent question of, 'Wanna go?' didn't go unnoticed by her, and she promptly shook her head. "I'll call it here; we need rest for work tomorrow. After all, we experienced a real battle today- getting a good night's sleep takes priority. Plus, I live far from here, so…" You nodded, signalling you understood she had to leave. You gave her a small wave, one she returned as she disappeared into the crowd.

Once you knew you were alone, you couldn't help but think, 'What now?' It was too early to be left alone to ponder the day's events and how this was your new normal. As if the universe heard your inner turmoil, you noticed a boy in the bush near you, trying to look inconspicuous. You could sense the hesitation, but his eyes shined with determination. He was clad in a yellow hoodie and khaki shorts, perfect for the sunny weather and clear skies. You decided to call out to him, "You okay?"

That was all the encouragement the boy needed as he slowly stepped out from his hiding place, "So, miss, I overheard your conversation… Are you a hunter on mission?" You shook your head, correcting him, "A hunter on standby." You lowered yourself to his eye level, hoping you wouldn't intimidate him.

"Everyone says hunters are super strong, and you can do anything I ask, right? Riiiight?" You could tell he wanted a favour by the way he quizzed you. He confirmed your suspicions as he pulled out a stack of shiny, golden cards from his pocket, presenting them to you. "Here's what I'll give you as a reward! A full set of Super Hunters AR cards. Follow me!"

You didn't get a chance to say no as he grabbed your hand and whisked you away. "We're almost there. I need you to catch that little red fishie!" He dragged you to a stall and pointed at the prize he wanted. You nodded, signalling you understood the assignment. "I'll do it, but you don't have to give me your cards." This time, the boy didn't get to respond to you, as a little girl in the distance called his name.

"Lucas! You can't cheat in a contest!" The boy panicked, pushing you closer to the stall as he hurriedly spoke and threw the net at you. "Oh no, she spotted us! Take this net, and don't say anything about me hiring you!" He exclaimed as he ran off and left you by yourself. Were you still supposed to catch it from him?

You didn't get to ponder much longer; the sound of light footsteps approaching the stall urged you to turn around, and you regretted the choice immediately. You were not ready.

The man in front of you was drop-dead gorgeous. He had nothing on Xavier, and you could tell straight away that he had indeed been the game creator's favourite. A face sculpted perfectly, an alluring aura and the prettiest set of siren eyes you had seen and- motherfucker, was he glowing? "Unfortunate. This species of fish can only survive for a week on land." Rafayel stated as he stepped closer, gazing at the creatures swimming in the booth.

You inhaled and inwardly cursed as your breath hitched. You couldn't help but gawk, entranced by the beautiful man before you. His eyes met yours as he cocked his head and moved closer. "The fish is gonna slip away, you know." He pointed out before taking the net from your hand. You froze as his fingers grazed yours, not missing the feeling of electricity passing through you at the touch. He let out a little "Ta-Da!" as he went to catch the fish.

Rafayel caught it on his first try, manoeuvring the net in a circle, and the next thing you knew, he brought the tool closer to you and turned it around, showing you his catch. He gazed down at the fish between you, "The owner probably just wanted to throw in some fish to fit the theme- but this one, bright as a flame, is a real Flammula from Lemurian legends."

Your throat went dry, and you unconsciously gulped to relieve the discomfort, still starstruck as you looked at Rafayel. You couldn't speak even if you tried, and you weren't about to attempt to do so, only to have your voice crack, which you were sure would happen if you opened your mouth.

His eyes narrowed only a fraction, and had you blinked, you would have missed it. You wordlessly held out the container with water for the fish, nearly forgetting with all your ogling about the poor creature still flopping on the net.

He dropped the bright red fish into the water, never taking his eyes off you. Fuck's sake. Was he suspicious of you? But how? This was your first encounter in the timeline of the game. Had you met him before? Did he know you- the MC?

It didn't help that his collarbone was on show, and the little show of skin alone was nearly enough to make you go feral. His eyes dilated slightly in what you could only assume was… yearning? "Do you… Know me?" He asked finally, and you cursed at your lack of acting skills.

Had you actually played the game and paid attention instead of skipping lines until the MC interacted with the male leads, you wouldn't have had to suffer. What had the MC said to him in the game for him to walk off so easily? "I, uh… No? Should I?" You placed the container holding the fish down and shot him a question of your own, hoping it would open up a new chapter in the conversation.

Rafayel's eyes dimmed, losing the shine they had momentarily before he turned his head to look off to the side. "No… Nevermind." You tilted your head at his words- had you missed something? "Thank you for helping me, Raf- Ahh, rescue- rescue the fish." You winced at the way you stuttered, hoping he wouldn't notice how you nearly said his name without him introducing yourself.

"You…" He trailed off, stepping closer to you, and you did what any logical person would do when coming face to face with someone who was temptation and allure, personified- you moved back. Of course, of all the moments you could trip over your feet, it was then. You didn't notice the raised brick on the pathway behind you until your heel came into contact with it, sending you falling backwards to your demise.

Rafayel's eyebrows furrowed, and he moved with reflexes that surpassed even those of Xavier, grabbing onto your outstretched hand that had reached out instinctively to save yourself, his free arm coming to rest on the small of your back. Hand placement, hand placement, hand placement- "Are you alright?" He asked, gazing down at you with his unchanging expression. You realised then, on closer inspection, that his eyes were a mix of magenta and wine, a combination you never knew would look so captivating.

Fuck, his hand felt warm on your lower back; the heat from his hand managed to pass through your clothes, "Huh? Yeah… Uh, thanks- again for saving me this time." Once you had regained your balance, he let you go, but you didn't miss how his touch lingered ever so slightly. You watched his eyes leave yours, confused by the look of longing you found there.

You opened your mouth to speak, not yet sure what you would say, and as luck would have it, you didn't have to use your last three brain cells to utter a response. Your phone beeped, telling you your schedule for today still had a routine check you had to attend. "Damn." You mumbled, looking up as Rafayel stepped away from you.

He nodded, standing in place for a few more seconds as he gazed at you before he turned on his heel, silence following as Rafayel left you wordlessly, walking off with his brochure. You were still too caught off guard, not wanting to call after him with nothing to say. Fuck, you were sure there was something you were missing. You held the container in your hand before you, only then remembering the fish you were given.

That was it, you forgot to give it to him. Well, you had a new pet you had to take care of. You just hoped you hadn't changed too much of the storyline.

Unfortunately for you, small ripples had the power to create big waves.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

Rushing over to Akso Hospital in time for your appointment, you focused on breathing through your nose and getting your heartbeat under control. You were lucky you made it just in time since you had to find a fish tank for your new pet, food, bring the fucker back to your apartment, set everything up and not forget your medical report on the way out.

You noted that the hospital didn't feel like one; it looked more like a law firm. The only thing out of place was the receptionist at the front desk dressed in nurse scrubs. You were glad you got close enough to look at her name tag before you spoke.

"Hi, Yvonne. I'm here for my appointment with… Dr. Zayne? Is he still here?" You hoped to everything that he wasn't and had gone home. Out of all the male leads in the game, he was definitely the one you were most nervous to meet. He was a main character- and to top it off, his backstory meant he knew the MC.

Zayne had met the MC when her grandmother took her in; you were sure the two of them were neighbours or something- and that, by default, meant he would pick up on the fact that your mannerisms were different to the woman he was accustomed to. Fuck's sake. You had debated whether to miss your appointment on the way to the hospital but decided against it.

You'd run into him sooner or later; you would rather bite the bullet as soon as possible. Get it over and done with. "Don't worry, all checkups are in the system, which sends out notifications- Dr. Zayne can't forget them." Hah. So he hadn't gone home, and you were going to have to see him. Great.

You debated taking a seat in the corner where the waiting area was for a second to save yourself from standing in awkward silence next to the reception. The nurse looked up momentarily, her hand hovering over the computer's keyboard. "You've known Dr. Zayne for a while, right? I'll transfer your call over so you two can get started." She stated as she pressed a button on the front desk's phone.

You desperately wanted to refuse but had no legs to stand on. What could you have said? No, you didn't know him- the woman whose soul was in this body yesterday knew him? "Akso Hospital, for a brighter future." An electronic device sounded over the phone, and you knew in that moment that your fate was sealed. No turning back.

"Good job, you were ten seconds away from being a no-show." Zayne's voice followed, and you fidgeted with the paperwork in your hands. "At least I managed to get here." You mumbled, feeling like a kid getting a scolding from a parent. It didn't help that his voice was thick, a low timbre that was deep but didn't grate your ears.

Biiig breaths, Y/n, big breaths. "Don't worry, we have five seconds left." You wouldn't run for the bus if it was rounding the corner- what made him think you would run for him? "That's not fai-" He cut you off, still counting down. "Three, two-", and you were off, bounding down the hallway, not wanting to make things worse for yourself.

When you pushed past the doors and first entered Zayne's office, disinfectant was all you could smell. You scrunched your nose slightly at the assault on your senses, glancing around the room to find the man who had rushed you. Your eyes landed on him, gazing down at the computer's interface as he sat in his office chair.

You were floored. Utterly gobsmacked and starstruck at the mere sight of the man. His jawline looked as if it would give you a papercut if you traced it with your finger, his black hair was parted perfectly at the side, and fuck, those glasses really did it for you. "Congratulations, you weren't late. Is this impeccable timing a new Evol ability of yours?" He remarked, still typing away on his keyboard. When you didn't answer, too busy checking him out, he looked up at you.

Your lips parted slightly- the game did him no favours; he was beautiful in person. So handsome it hurt, with looks that could knock the air out of you. You looked away first, finding it hard to hold eye contact with the man. "I showed up, didn't I?" You retorted half-heartedly, sounding less confident in your words than you would have liked.

An uncomfortable silence fell as he continued to type away, returning his attention to the monitor before him. You walked over to him, sliding your medical report onto the desk between you, suddenly feeling awkward and out of place.

Normally, you were grateful when a message from- whatever power placed you in this world- materialised in front of you. Not this time. You turned your attention to the pop-up screen on the desk, obstructing your view of the paperwork you had set down moments earlier.

"MAINTAIN PHYSICAL CONTACT FOR 15 SECONDS.

REWARD WILL BE GIVEN ONCE THE MISSION IS COMPLETE.

A BONUS PRIZE WILL BE GIVEN IF TIMER EXCEEDS.

PENALTY FOR FAILURE TO COMPLETE WILL BE DIRE."

Okay, fuck whoever decided- what the fuck did they mean physical contact? And a penalty for noncompliance? You ran your hand through your hair, tongue in cheek, as you silently seethed at whatever deity was messing with you.

You turned your attention to Zayne, your features softening as he pushed his chair back slightly. "Report." Was all he said, looking at you through the lens of his glasses. You wordlessly bent down, pressing the "ACCEPT" button- because what else could you have done- as inconspicuously as possible.

The pop-up screen disappeared, and you pushed the medical report closer to Zayne, hoping he hadn't noticed anything was off. He picked it up, skimming through it before something caught his eye. "Any changes recently?" Yeah, maybe the fact that you woke up in another world the night before- you couldn't say that, though. You bit the inside of your cheek, looking off to the side when he glanced at you.

You had to think up a good enough lie that he would believe. "I've had patchy sleep, nothing big." Zayne's eyes narrowed at your words, and you shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "Sleep-wake syndrome… That's cause for concern- you do know that, don't you?" You didn't have it in you to care; you were too busy thinking about how you'd have to touch him for more than 15 seconds or face the consequences.

"It's 'cause I was nervous for my first day at work, I'll sleep like a baby tonight." You hyped yourself up for coming up with a fib so fast. He raised an eyebrow at your statement before going back to flipping through your report. "Ignoring medical advice about sleeping like it's nothing. I suppose you're just here to go through the motions." Zayne placed the papers down and moved his chair closer to his computer.

At first, you were offended by his words until you realised he was right; you had come here just to get it over and done with. Damn, you had no comeback. Except one- but it was risky… Fuck it, the impossible had happened overnight; this was your world now- what was the point of thinking and regretting? "Of course not. I came to see your handsome face." You leaned forward with a small smile to sell your sentence.

You placed your hand on the arm closest to you, thinking you'd shoot two birds with one stone. Zayne blinked, raising his head to look at you before he looked at where you two connected. His gaze narrowed at you, and you cursed yourself for the decision you had made. His fingers came to rest above yours before he gingerly moved your hand from his arm, and you swore you stopped breathing when he paused before he let go.

The tips of your ears started to burn, and you prayed he didn't notice the colour travelling to your cheeks. "Patients aren't supposed to flirt with their doctors, you know." He said nonchalantly, but you didn't miss how his jaw clenched. Your lips parted before you could contemplate what to say. "...Yeah, but it's not like you're just my doctor. I've known you long before today- or did you forget?"

Technically, you weren't lying; you knew a lot about him through the game, but you couldn't act on any of that knowledge- even though you wanted to. And let's not forget, he didn't know you. He knew the MC, who was now gone thanks to some prick who made a mistake with your places in the universes.

Now that you thought about it, out of the three male leads, wasn't he the one who had feelings for the MC before the game started? He shook his head at your words, sighing to himself. You didn't get to retort; the pop-up screen showed up yet again, now hovering in front of the curtains at the back of the room.

"PHYSICAL CONTACT: 9 SECONDS

6 SECONDS REMAINING."

Nice, there was a loophole. You didn't have to continuously touch Zayne for 15 seconds; you just needed to hold onto him here and there, and the time would accumulate. Okay, that was easier to work with. Movement in your peripherals caught your attention, and you shifted your gaze as Zayne moved to the other side of his desk, leaving his computer behind and effectively blocking your view of the pop-up. "Sit over here, please."

You let out a "Hm?" in confusion- unsure of what he was asking of you. Zayne cocked his head to the side, "Listening." So... being vague was another one of his talents. At least you understood that he wanted to check your heart rate. "Sure thing, Doc." You remarked as you walked behind his desk and seated yourself on the little stool in front of him.

You watched as Zayne took the stethoscope's end out of his pocket and placed the tips into his ears before leaning in to listen to the beating of your heart. A small blue hologram, sort of like a loading screen, showed up on the side of the stethoscope on cue as the device synced itself. You raised your chin slightly when you felt his hand graze your rib, your stomach dropping like you took a dive off a rollercoaster. He was really testing your self-control.

Hopefully, he wouldn't find anything of suspicion. Fuck, he was too close, and you were so close to losing all willpower. You had to say something; the silence and his movements drove you up the wall. You inhaled softly, "I think I'm fine. My first day was stressful, but it's not like I'm ready to be hospitalised-" Your rambling was cut short as he hushed you, and you pursed your lips. So much for that option.

His brows furrowed ever so slightly in concentration, and you couldn't help how your eyes trailed to his lips. "Don't talk, but you should still breathe." Zayne finally looked up at you, and the inhale you took at his words got caught in your throat- you were sure your pussy did the 'thing'.

You had thought his eyes were amber when you first saw him, but with how close he was, you realised they were a bright hazel, a mix of green and orange that blended seamlessly. Zayne moved closer, moving the tip of the stethoscope across your chest. You tensed when his finger grazed your boob, your breath hitching at the touch. "A fast resting heart rate. What riled you up this time?" You swallowed, trying and failing to steel your nerves before looking up at him.

"You must be hearing things." You supplied meekly, cursing yourself for not sounding more believable. Zayne looked back up at you, raising his eyebrow, and you were sure you felt your cheeks warm but refused to acknowledge it. Clearly, he didn't believe you. Your only option was to be honest- well, semi-honest. "What do you expect when you're so close?"

He sighed, taking the stethoscope out of his ears and letting it rest on his neck. You opened your mouth to clarify, hoping you hadn't pushed his buttons too far, but you never got the chance. You didn't get to brace yourself as you felt your vision swim and your body go weak. You felt faint like you were barely there. Oh, fuck. The stress of everything that occurred that day finally caught up to you.

You felt your world tilt sideways, and through blurry eyes, you watched Zayne reach out to you, trying to grab you in time. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for an impact that never came. Instead, you opened your eyes to having your face buried in Zayne's shoulder. He had pushed his chair closer to you since the distance between you was short, and he had his arms wrapped around you tightly so you wouldn't fall. You rested flush against his chest, no way of escaping his grip- not that you'd want to.

You breathed him in, your mind still trying to process what had happened. Zayne had caught you, thank god, and saved you from getting a concussion. Your heartbeat hammered against your ribcage, but you ignored it, enjoying his warmth while you had the chance. He moved back slowly, his arms still wrapped around you as he searched your face.

Zayne's eyebrows unfurrowed themselves when he realised you were okay for the most part. He closed his eyes before he leaned forward, and you were sure he was going to kiss you- so you did the most rational thing in your mind. You braced yourself, closing your eyes only to feel his forehead against yours.

"No fever..." He trailed off as he moved back, and your eyes fluttered open, trying not to feel embarrassed at your thought process. As if you were ready to throw all logic down the drain and kiss him, unbelievable. "Must be low sugar levels." He stated before his eyes met yours. His gaze fell from yours, and you caught how he looked at your lips for a second before clearing his throat and letting go of you.

"Try not to faint again, hm?" Your ears burned at his words, and you wished a hole would open up and swallow you whole. He turned back to his computer, sliding a sweet to you before going back to typing. You felt your stomach flip at the gesture, completely enamoured with the man before you and his silent concern as you ate the treat. If Wanderers didn't do you in first, you were sure his presence would take you out.

"Heart arrhythmia, premature ventricular contractions, heart murmurs, and now low blood sugar." Zayne voiced aloud, and you had no fancy retort for him. "Damn..." You trailed off, and there was no smart comeback on the tip of your tongue this time. You took a peek at the pop-up screen still in front of the curtains.

"PHYSICAL CONTACT: 1:36 SECONDS

0 SECONDS REMAINING.

REWARD FOR COMPLETION WILL BE HANDED OUT ACCORDINGLY."

You breathed a sigh of relief that at least one thing had gone your way that day. "Despite being aware of the risks, you still became a hunter." He remarked, turning his chair to face you. "I had my reasons, didn't I?" You shot back, the flashback from Azure Square still fresh in your mind. He sighed at your response, turning back to his computer, clearly frustrated by your career choice.

"Linkon has been the safest it's ever been under the watchful eyes of our skilled hunter, Y/n." You snorted at his response, not expecting the dry humour coming from the rock of a man in front of you. He side-eyed you, and you shot him an innocent smile, feeling less embarrassed at the physical contact the two of you shared earlier. "Who knows? Maybe my skills will come in handy, and I'll end up saving you from a Wanderer one day." You retorted half-heartedly as you leaned closer.

Zayne looked back at you, taking you in for a second before he shook his head slightly. "If you wish to hold something over me, then I suggest you be careful while out on the field." He placed another chocolate on the desk, on top of your paperwork, before sliding the pair towards you. "I'd prefer not to see you be airlifted to the hospital via helicopter." He turned to you once again, his expression still serious.

You shot him a small smile- you had been nervous to meet him at first and had forgotten in the process that he was the biggest softie in the game. He just hid it really well under his cold demeanour. The man in front of you was genuinely concerned for your safety, and you were sure you could feel your heart melting at his quiet gestures and vague words.

"Don't worry, Zayne. I'll be careful, just for you." You announced, your eyes softening as you stood up from your seat and popped the chocolate into your mouth. You grabbed your medical report, turning on your heel to leave, not knowing that if you had waited just a second more, you would've seen the starstruck look on his face.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

Once you took an elevator up to your apartment and unlocked your door, shutting it behind you, you debated passing out on the floor. Fuck, what a long day. Who knew meeting such handsome men in the span of a few hours would take everything out of you. You sighed, finally relaxing as you realised you didn't have to interact with anyone else until tomorrow.

You walked over to the fish container you had brought earlier, tapping it lightly with your fingernail to see if the Flamula fish would move at the vibration. It looked up at you for a second before it went back to swimming back and forth in the water. You fed it the recommended amount of food for the day after briefly looking at the back of the fish food you had grabbed from the store.

You kicked off your shoes, too tired to place them neatly by the door before you entered your bedroom to strip out of your clothes. You huffed, finally out of the tight-fitting outfit, grateful you could breathe easier. You fell backwards onto your bed, enjoying the way it made your body bounce for a few seconds before you felt yourself sink into the memory foam.

The sound of distant thunder had you tilting your head back to catch a glimpse of lightning strike across Linkon City. A storm, huh? Good thing you were indoors. Your thought process halted at the sound of your phone going off, and you shot up in bed to grab it and answer in time.

Your eyes barely registered the caller ID- Caleb, before you swiped right and picked up the call. Putting it up to your ear, you let out a, "Hello?" The voice on the other end spoke up, and god damn, he sounded like pure sin. "I knew you'd still be awake. What're you up to?" You glanced around the room, unsure how to react to hearing your- MC's childhood best friend.

"Resting after a rough day, I guess." You answered after a moment, not sure what else to say. "Your first day of hunting. Well?" He was curious, you could tell. You turned to lay on your stomach, the phone still up to your ear as you watched the view outside your bedroom with half your attention. "It wasn't that bad, I'm just exhausted. Social interaction isn't really my forte."

You knew you had to be easygoing with Caleb- you couldn't sound stiff because this body you were in knew him well. "Well, that's good. What matters is you're alive." You snickered slightly at his words, "What do you think I am, a weakling? And why are you calling me so late? Don't you have things to do?" You teased, hoping he wouldn't pick up on the fact that the person he knew his whole life was gone, replaced by you.

"I should be cruising along. My military flight operation wrapped up quite nicely and ended early." You nodded, not registering that he couldn't see you as you hummed in response. "You didn't see any dangerous Wanderers, did you?" You hoped you hadn't made a mistake and that his work was similar to yours so your question didn't sound out of place.

"Are you actually worried about me?" It was his turn to tease, and you scoffed at his remark. "Yes, of course I am." You answered truthfully; you weren't heartless enough to wish ill upon the guy who was supposed to be your best friend. "Come on, I know how important it is for you to visit Grandma with me at the end of the month. Even if I was in a wheelchair, you'd push me there."

You shook your head at his statement, "I'm not that mean. I'd let you wheel yourself there, don't worry." He let out a genuine laugh, choking on his words as he understood your reply, and you couldn't help the grin that took over your features. "Yeah, yeah. You know what- it's been peaceful, so I won't jinx myself. The field within the tunnel is as stable as it can be. Very few Wanderers, don't worry." You could still hear the smile in his voice.

You turned onto your back again, gazing up at the ceiling as he continued, "Everything else is top secret. My lips are sealed." You hummed again in response, familiar with workplace confidentiality. "Yeeep, mysterious and spooky." The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, one he broke after a beat. "It's late. You should go to bed now. Sweet dreams."

After saying your goodbyes, you threw your phone on the other side of the bed. You checked your alarms for the next day, setting multiple just in case the first one didn't wake you up before you turned off the lights and got into bed.

Tossing and turning before you found a position where all your limbs were comfortable, you let your eyes close, hoping sleep would kick in.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

You didn't realise you had dozed off until you woke up. Your vision was blurry at first, and you rubbed the sleep from your eyes before you realised all you could see was white for miles. What the fuck? Were you still asleep? Lucid dreaming? Sleep paralysis?!

Your answers came in the form of a woman whose face you were sure you recognised but couldn't quite place your finger on. She had materialised in front of you, looking around before her eyes landed on you. A light bulb went off in both of your heads simultaneously as the two of you realised what was going on.

"THE REWARD FOR MISSION COMPLETION HAS BEEN GIVEN. 1 MINUTE, 36 SECONDS, AS WELL AS A 5-MINUTE BONUS FOR EXCEEDING THE TIMER.

WE HOPE THIS PROVIDES CLARITY."

You quickly accepted the pop-up screen's words before turning your full attention to the woman in front of you.

"You're- You're her. MC." The woman before you was drop-dead gorgeous and had nothing on Jenna. Her hair framed her face perfectly, cascading past her shoulders, not a single lock out of place. Her eyes shined as if someone had stolen stars from the galaxy to place them inside her irises, her lips were naturally red as if she had lip tint on, and she had the longest lashes you had ever seen.

She smiled softly at you before she parted her lips to speak. "Hi, it's nice to meet you." You were star-struck. Was falling in love with her an option? Probably not, but you would have been grateful for the choice if it was there. "Hi." You didn't know what else to say. Sorry for taking your body and your life?

Yeah, that was definitely a good place to start. "I'm sorry for…" You trailed off, hoping she would understand what you were trying to say. She shook her head slightly, looking down as she contemplated what to say next. "It's okay, I uh, I actually wanted to apologise too, for…" You sighed; this whole situation was impossible.

She looked up at you, her brows furrowing softly as if she was afraid your exasperation was aimed at her. "It's not your fault; it's whatever brought us here. Don't worry." She perked up at your words, happy to hear that your frustrations weren't because of her. "At least we're back in our own worlds, even if it took time."

You nodded at her words because even if you weren't happy about your situation, you had no choice but to accept it. There was no turning back the decision the universe had made for you. "How is- how is everything?" You asked, curious as to how she was coping with what used to be your life. "It's great, actually, I've never felt so at home. I didn't expect it, but it's everything I asked for." She claimed, fiddling with her fingers as she looked down.

She perked up, looking more excited as she went on, "And, do you know TikTok?" You nodded, confirming that, of course, you knew of the biggest app of your time. "I managed to go viral on it. I don't even know how I was just experimenting, and boom! Apparently, I'm an entrepreneur, and people want to sign music labels with me!"

You were stunned at first but smiled softly at her, happy she wasn't struggling. You had to agree; you knew how she felt. You felt in that moment as if a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Standing in front of you was the only woman in the whole universe that understood what you were going through.

You opened your mouth to speak, wanting to ask her more questions, but your voice caught in your throat as an all too familiar pop-up screen showed itself.

"1 MINUTE AND 36 SECONDS, AS WELL AS THE BONUS TIME HAVE PASSED.

YOU WILL NOW BE TAKEN BACK TO YOUR WORLD, AND THIS POCKET DIMENSION WILL CEASE TO EXIST.

WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED YOUR PRIZE."

There was no option to accept this time, and you leaned sideways to catch a glimpse of the woman you had been dying to meet all day. She began to disappear, starting with her legs. Her lips parted, and you strained your ears to try and hear what she had to say. "Please, keep a look out for the red ey-" The rest of her sentence sounded garbled, like a PC game glitching.

You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to understand what she meant as your surroundings collapsed in on itself. You reached out to try and grab onto whatever was left of the woman before you, only for your eyes to shoot open.

You sat up in bed, still trying to wrap your brain around what had just occurred, only then noticing that your alarm had been going off. You would have to contemplate later; you had to prepare for your first official day as a Hunter before anything else.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

➵ next part - moonstruck (coming soon!)

The following content is protected under copyright laws. do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own.

#love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #xavier love and deepspace x reader #rafayel love and deepspace x reader #zayne love and deepspace x reader #x reader #x reader fluff #fluff #love and deepspace caleb #caleb #transmigration #soul swap

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jymwahuwu · 5 months ago

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I said I'm not interested in AU but this is what popped into my head… HSR retro AU. No more space technology.

Basically you are a college student 🙈🙈🙈 Depending on whether you are an extrovert or an introvert, you may go shopping and play with your friends during the holidays, have a party, or stay comfortably at home listening to music with MP3 and cassette tapes, or reading novels on the subway.

You use a bulky computer to click on the Windows XP system, and spend hours downloading music and opening chat software. Your MSN friends list is as follows:

Jing Yuan:

Your mysterious neighbor is much older than you. You have never understood what the Xianzhou Alliance is. It is said that he kept a lion named Mimi in the yard, but every time you passed by, you thought it was just a cute cat. He'll stuff you with sweets and prepare you milk and afternoon tea, giving you advice. Well, he can also write ancient poetry. You shamelessly gave this old man your homework.

(You lie on his lap and sleep, breathing quietly.)

Aventurine & Ratio:

These two live together, are also your neighbors, professors, friends... You are not sure what their relationship is, but they quarrel every day. Aventurine is a high-level executive in IPC. Every time you visit a department store, you will whisper in your heart that this is also an IPC. He takes the bill in your mailbox every month and pays it off, very weird. His car is the most talked about in the community.

Ratio is your college professor...he is very strict about grades and academic performance. You cursed him one time and he heard you and he took you back to the office for an OTK spanking...unfortunately, it was legal. You have since become his target in class...

Sunday & Robin:

They still have halos and wings, share the same MSN account, and even the same pager. They have no privacy from each other. They are well-known brothers and sisters of the Xipe Church. They are very popular and eye-catching, attracting people's attention wherever they go. So if you are an introvert, the difference is even more pronounced haha. But both of them will approach you, in the name of kindness, with a look of concern on their face. Robin picks out clothes for you and lends you homework to copy. In return, you agree to go to church on the weekend… and help her sell cookies at the church charity sale.

Sunday provides insight into your life and schedule in the name of "for your own good". You don't know why you wrote your schedule in a notebook for him… He shows up in front of your house and listens to music with you (using the same MP3 player). You share with him a few things you learned in the sex education class, and he says that he has signed the commitment card (you: ? what is this). Promise to remain chaste until marriage… That card has an inexplicable printed pattern, with a photo of a couple holding hands, leaving you speechless. But you don’t know why you signed this commitment card under his supervision…

Dan Heng:

Your nerdy college classmate, with dragon horns (don't ask me why). He reminds you of class and exam times and lends you notes, leaving you with the last piece of cake. You always tease him until he blushes and gets angry.

Dan Feng:

Dan Heng's brother. He seems to be very traditional. You haven't seen him much and you only added him as an MSN friend.

Blade:

The mysterious old man. He seems to have a grudge against Dan Feng and Dan Heng. One time you were playing cards with Yanqing and Dan Heng. He suddenly broke into the yard, said something incomprehensible and then started fighting with Dan Feng. This scared you to death. Kafka appeared to stop him. You added Kafka friends to avoid being attacked by Blade.

Kafka:

The mysterious woman who can control Blade. You don't know who she is, but she seems to know you well and be gentle to you.

Silver Wolf:

Your college classmate has designed several computer games and won many awards at a young age, and occasionally plays cards with you. For some reason, she is very close to Blade and Kafka.

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reddesires · 5 months ago

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Birds of a feather. [Sunset Trio x Human!Reader]

Implied Noa x Human!Reader

Song fic.

Fandom: (Kingdom Of The) Planet Of The Apes

Rating: No Warning.

A/N: I just had to write this song fic. Birds of a feather just screamed out the Sunset Trio.

I want you to stay

'Til I'm in the grave

'Til I rot away, dead and buried

'Til I'm in the casket you carry

You had never thought that you would up in this kind of situation before, you knew of hardship and bitterness in the unforgiving world outside of the Eagle Clan but you were unfamiliar with the soft look in Noa's eyes as he extended his hand out to help you out of the darkness that shrouded you, you could feel a tingle in your fingertips as you yearned to reach out in return for him, you were wanted by him and you badly wanted him too. It was like him and his clan were the missing pieces that you were looking for. You knew you just may be with them till the day you died.

If you go, I'm going too, uh

'Cause it was always you, alright

And if I'm turning blue, please don't save me

Nothing left to lose without my baby

You're willing to follow Noa anywhere. He was the light source that led you exactly where you are today. He was more than deserving of your loyalty, and you promised yourself that wherever he went, you would go too. You were aware of the risks he was taking when he took you in and tended to you as you lost all the will to live, it was like you were a baby bird that fell from it's nest and Noa revived you just so you could live to see the skies.

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I know

I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone

Can't change the weather, might not be forever

But if it's forever, it's even better

Seeing the relationship the trio had was something that you found yourself admiring, but it set an almost hollow aching in your chest. You've never bonded to others the way they have bonded with each other. A reserved expression settled on your face as you watched the teasing and happiness radiating of them, your thoughts engulfing you entirely. As your thoughts lured you away, an embrace pulls you back as you snap back to reality, Soona is gently leading you between them all with all the intention of you being one with them. Birds of a feather.

And I don't know what I'm crying for

I don't think I could love you more

It might not be long, but baby, I

In moments of seclusion you couldn't help the tears that refused to be held hostage in the depths of your eyes, your life wasn't an easy one and you've lost more than you've ever received. Being accepted into the Clan, into a tight-knit community of sorts, wasn't an expectation you could've had before, but now you're living in it. You obviously try not to get this emotional in front of the others. You don't want to throw them into a panicked frenzy.

I'll love you 'til the day that I die

'Til the day that I die

'Til the light leaves my eyes

'Til the day that I die

You ran in the opposite direction of the burly ape escaping his grasp, a breathless laugh escaping your lungs as you tried to keep away from the doom of being drenched into the river behind him. Noa was on all fours as he followed after you in another attempt to grab at you. Even though you weren't really fast, you were still very agile in your movements. You bobbed and weaved to your best abilities before he finally caught up to you, you playfully screaming in response to being scooped up by him. Anaya and Soona on the sidelines hooting and hollering at the scene before them, also running to the shallow river to join in on the splash out.

I want you to see, hm

How you look to me, hm

You wouldn't believe if I told ya

You would keep the compliments I throw ya

You watched as Soona easily weaved the twine between her dexterous yet thick fingers. You admired the way she eased the intricacies into the adornment she was invested in. She looked to you in between the process, she was amused by the wondrous look in your eyes as you watched her hands, your expression reminding her of a young chimp that was intrigued by something so mundane. "Soona, it looks so pretty!" You grinned seeing her obvious expertise in the craftsmanship, she preened at your compliment, happily indulging in your commendation.

But you're so full of shit, uh

Tell me it's a bit, oh

Say you don't see it, your mind's polluted

Say you wanna quit, don't be stupid

Noa would sometimes have to talk you down from your self-deprecating headspace. You felt less than deserving of the all good that's come into your life. He doesn't understand why you think that way, and he tells you that it's stupid and it makes you choke on your spit at the dubious tone he takes on in response to your conflicts. "Stupid. Echo belongs..with us." He says gruffly, a pout like expression overtaking his usually kind features. You can't help but shyly chuckle in response as you bump your shoulder with his fur covered one "Yeah, you're right. You're always right. "

And I don't know what I'm crying for

I don't think I could love you more

Might not be long, but baby, I

Don't wanna say goodbye

The tears slipped from your eyes as you looked into the communal fire that lay in front of you, Noa gaze was soft as he hesitantly wiped the stray tear with his calloused finger. You looked to him as he stared back at you wordlessly, you were uncertain if he completely understood the pain you carried but you knew for certain that he was willing to try as he searched your expression with his green irises. Your lips pulled back in a watery smile as you intertwined your smaller finger around his. He was recipient of that.

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I know ('til the day that I die)

I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone ('til the light leaves my eyes)

Can't change the weather, might not be forever ('til the day that I die)

But if it's forever, it's even better

You laughed as you watched Anaya hang upside down with his feet gripping the branch of the tree, he was handing you a ripe apple and you gratefully accepted his kind gift of the fruit, he always happily shared with you since you ate in smaller portions compared to him. As he looked at you, he tilted his head as a thought crossed his mind. You curiously gazed up at him. "Echo up?" He asked. You smiled as you outstretched your arm for him to take. He hoisted you up with his upper body strength plopping you down on the nearest sturdy branch. "Now Echo can reach apples too!".

I knew you in another life

You had that same look in your eyes

I love you, don't act so surprised

You knew that you loved them. They've become the highlight of your life. You loved Anaya like he was your brother, you loved Soona like she was your sister, and you love Noa with something more and you were unsure what it could mean but you knew that they were all meant to be apart of you in one way or another. You were accepted by them, and you accepted them too.

Birds of a feather.

#Spotify #planet of apes x reader #planet of the apes #noa x human reader #noa x reader #pota #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #owen teague #soona x reader #anaya x reader

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bamboozledbird · 2 months ago

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IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU (Reader's Version) // Prev. / Chapter 4 / Next

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, OMC Pairing: Eventual Stiles x Reader, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: Canon typical gore/violence, parental death (rip to your fake mom), depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes), alcohol as a coping mechanism, season 1 Lydia behavior (her comments on addiction are wrong and insensitive and she's knows it) Tags: Canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author is a chaotic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: You can always smell ash long after the fire is gone. Perhaps, that’s why you still can’t breathe without choking on the past. It’s been four years since your mom died. Four years since she burned alive. Four years since you didn’t. You survived, but they must have buried your heart with her because most days you feel like a shadow, some horrifically sad creature caught halfway between a ghost and a lamb for slaughter.

You can’t scrub the bitter smell of hospital from your memories, not even with denial. Maybe, that’s why death and disease follows Stiles wherever he goes now. It’s been eight years since his mom died. Eight years since he didn’t. Eight years since he decided that he wouldn’t let anyone he loved die ever again. He survived, but Beacon Hills’ bloody underbelly is making it pretty damn hard for him to keep his promise.

Time never stops turning. The grief never dissipates. Children soldier on—but in a town where all the monsters under the bed are real, and old family secrets rattle in every closet, how long can two fragile, breakable humans survive?

Maybe, the real question is: How long will they want to?

Chapter Summary: Your life somehow becomes further entangled with Stiles and Scott's strange secret world, and Lydia is concerned in her own aggressive way.

A/N: this is in fact a scott mccall stan account. i love that boy like he's my own. you can also check me out on ao3 (dork_knight) for the full lore version!

The drive home was ultimately uneventful. No need for tasers, silver bullets, or wolfsbane goop. You would need to get gas before you left for school in the morning, but you supposed that was a relatively minor inconvenience when the other end of the scale was being torn apart by a fanged monster.

Your jaw cracked with an aggressive yawn as you slowly stumbled through the garage door, fumbling for the light switch on the wall. You flicked on the light and paused, shivering a little as the cold air from the vent above your head skimmed over your bare arms. After a moment of hesitation, when that little persistent wriggling in your ear wouldn’t go away, you ducked back down the concrete steps to poke around the garbage can. Underneath a few Styrofoam take-out boxes, there were four empty beer bottles. The glass bottles clinked against each other as you nudged them out of the way, unearthing the real object of your paranoia. A drained bottle of 100-proof rye whiskey was cradled between two sacks of trash from the night before. You just stared at the bottles, heart and lungs wound tight, and then you dropped the lid back on top of the can.

When you reentered the house, you were careful to keep the noise to a minimum. It wasn’t that late, only a little past nine, but you didn’t want to disrupt your dad’s slumber. Usually, he was a night owl—which, of course, was really just a pretty way of saying chronic insomniac, another thing you’d inherited from him—but it’d been a hard liquor night. Your dad always went to bed early on hard liquor nights. You didn’t know if he actually slept or if he stared at the ceiling, watching memories play on spackle until dawn streamed through the cracks in the blinds. Probably the first. You hadn’t ever heard him cry through the thin walls, not even once. You, however, couldn’t ever stop crying, not on the nights you trembled for something potent enough to mask the scent of the coconut oil your mom used to remove her makeup. The echoes of your mother had seeped into the walls, saturated the insulation with the faint sounds of the 70s pop rock vinyls she put on when she was in a good mood. They faded sometimes, but they always came back. You desperately hoped, and you hopelessly feared, that they always would.

You rubbed at your eyes with the back of your hands aggressively and slipped under the covers, still in your plaid skirt and black t-shirt. Mascara smeared against your silk pillowcase, blurred your vision as it melted into your waterline. You stared at the wall until the silver swirls in the teal wallpaper started to sway. The teal was so dark it almost looked velvet with the lights off, and you had a heavy-eyed impulse to stroke it, but your hand was too leadened to lift.

Your lids slipped shut, and in the haze between consciousness and slumber you felt the vague sensation of something solid against the back of your head. You murmured something incomprehensible and pulled your arms closer to your chest, taking in a breath of sharp whisky and a familiar woody cologne. You kept your eyes closed, and the warm weight cupped your skull for a moment. There was a brief kiss pressed against the top of your head and then the warmth was gone. Something large caught in your throat, and you squeezed your eyelids until your forehead wrinkled, forcing yourself to fall into a restless sleep filled with dreams of pancakes swimming in bourbon and howling beasts.

Stiles was waiting for you by your locker when you arrived at school the next day. His friend—Scott, you reminded herself—was leaning against the locker next to him. Scott’s eyelids were heavy, and there was a coolness underneath them that stained his tan skin with a swathe of puce. Puce: From the French term ‘couleur puce,’ meaning ‘flea color.’ You dug your incisor into your tongue once you recognized that the intrusive internal narration was in Stiles’s voice. You didn’t even know if he spoke French, but it seemed like the kind of weird detail he’d know. You ran your tongue over your teeth and shoved your fists into your jacket pockets, thumb poking through the hole in the lining from previous twiddling—when the hell did you start thinking about the kinds of things Stiles would and wouldn’t know?

You pivoted sharply, and your traitorous leather boots ruined your attempted exit when they squeaked against the freshly waxed floor. Stiles’s head popped up from his hushed conversation with Scott, and he waved vigorously when he made eye contact with you, “Hey! C’mere!”

You tipped your gaze towards the tiled ceiling and sighed. It was inevitable, really; you had to get your English binder before homeroom—homeroom, yet another reason to hate Wednesdays. It was one of your few classes with Lydia, and there wasn’t ever any actual teaching to distract you from the disgusting goo-goo eyes she gave her boyfriend. Studying was your only respite.

“Patience,” you nudged Stiles out of the way and spun your combination into the padlock, “work on it. It’s an essential skill.”

Stiles scoffed and leaned his shoulder against the locker next to yours, arms folded over his chest, “Essential. There’s nothing essential about wasting time. It’s actually unvirtuous if you think about it.”

You swung her locker door open, blocking out Stiles’s frown, and rested your backpack on your knee so that you could unzip it. “Was there a point in there somewhere, or are you stalking me again?”

Stiles ducked around the locker door and placed his hands on Scott’s shoulders, shoving him a little closer to you, “Scott had a question for you.”

Scott’s eyes didn’t look so tired when he reared his head back to stare at Stiles. They had an intense conversation for a moment. There weren’t any words exchanged, but you got the gist: Scott was pissed, and Stiles was relentless. In the end, Scott lost the battle and swallowed thickly, “So, uh, you know a lot about supernatural stuff. That’s cool.” Stiles rolled his eyes and smacked the back of Scott’s head. Scott glared at him before mumbling, “Do you have any more of that wolfsbane…potion?” towards his muddy Converse.

You directed your annoyance over Scott’s shoulder, more than confident that the real culprit of this request was the idiot avoiding your eye-line. “What? You already burned through your goo sample? Are the streets finally free from the demon beast of Beacon Hills?”

Stiles held up his hands and shook his head, “This is all Scott. See, me, I’m a fan of not being a greedy little bastard, but Scott—” This time Scott smacked Stiles with a resounding thwack. Stiles rubbed his shoulder, mouth agawk with indignation.

“He…dropped it.” Scott glowered at the side of Stiles’s face, “‘Doing something stupid.”

You smirked, “Sounds about right.” You shoved your binder into your backpack and brushed your hairs out of your eyes, “I’d give it all away for free, but it’s not up to me. Sorry.” Zipping your backpack shut, you slung one of the straps over your shoulder and shrugged, “You could always buy some more, but I’d strongly advise against such a dumb financial investment.”

Scott rubbed the back of his neck and gave you a smile. It was small but riddled with warmth—like he just couldn’t help it, like sunshine leaked through every one of his pores, and you were filled with the sudden urge to buy the stupid wolfsbane gunk for him. “That’s what I figured,” Scott looked at Stiles pointedly. His voice dropped a few octaves and a growl slipped into the end of his sentence, “But someone thought we should ask anyway.”

The bell rang, and Scott flinched, smashing one of his ears into his shoulder. He turned around, a little dazed, and Stiles trailed after him after giving her a distracted wave. As you watched them leave, a parasitic impulse wrangled through your throat, prying the hinge of your jaw open as you shouted, “Hey!” The hallway was abuzz with various conversations and clomping feet, but your voice was still a bit too loud for the short distance between you and definitely too urgent for 7:45 in the morning.

Stiles turned around first, almost tripping over his sneakers, and then he yanked on the scarlet hood of Scott’s jacket until he stopped too. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other and licked your bottom lip, suddenly realizing how dry it was. “I, uh,” you sighed and took a few steps forward so that you didn’t have to raise your voice, “I could talk to Maggie. I bet she’d cut you a deal if I asked.” You let out a little laugh and raked your fingers through your hair, accidentally dislodging the satin bow tying your hair out of your face. “I know, actually. I know she’d give you some for free. She’s a terrible business woman.”

Scott’s smile put the moon to shame, and Stiles looked like he’d been waiting for you to change your mind since the moment you told them no—when the hell did he start thinking about what you would and wouldn’t do?

“That would be awesome,” Scott ducked down to grab your black ribbon and held it out to you with an open palm, “thank you. I’d owe you big time.”

Stiles looped his arm around Scott’s shoulders and smirked, “We’d. We’d owe you. I’ll stop by the store and bless you with my scintillating conversation sometime.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you smiled softly at Scott, taking your ribbon from his hand. You attempted to tie your hair back in a neat bow, but it was difficult without a mirror. You assumed it was halfway decent because Stiles didn’t take the opportunity to tease you—you, on the other hand, had no such qualms about mocking him. You smiled at Stiles, far too sweetly to be considered congenial, and sneered, “Seriously. Don’t worry about it.”

Stiles’s eyes narrowed, face curved around a smirk that screamed trouble, and Scott slapped his hand over Stiles’s mouth before he could say something to make you reconsider, “Thanks again. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to pay you back. Name it, and we’re there.” Stiles winked at you with a glint in his eye that was as vexing as it was bright, and Scott rolled his eyes as he hauled him away by the nylon material of his backpack, “C’mon, dude. My mom’s gonna kill me if I’m late again.”

You watched Stiles’s buzzed head bob amidst the congested crowd of students, all shoving each other in their rush to get to class on time, until you couldn’t hear his surly complaints anymore. You rubbed your hand over your chapped lips, swallowing hollowly, like you could erase every impulsive word that’d spilt from your stupid mouth.

You were still thinking about what you’d gotten yourself into when you walked into Mrs. Farias’s classroom—and that must be why you forgot your copy of Metamorphosis in your locker. You groaned internally and dropped your forehead against your desk, bumping it against the cool laminate finish a few times, before ducking out the door with a hall pass.

The halls were empty—silent too. You could hear your own footsteps and the tick of the large clock above the main office as you walked around the corner, and then, just as you approached the hallway your locker was in, you heard something else. Voices. Angry voices. One familiar—your face scrunched as the recognition wriggled through your ears to your brain—and one not. You cautiously glanced around the corner and frowned. Jackson, Lydia’s arrogant prick of a boyfriend, was talking to a hulking, leather-clad stranger—or rather infuriating him based on the murderous look in the man’s dark eyes.

The stranger looked a good five years too old to be in a high school hallway, but the grown-out stubble and over-defined muscles weren’t of immediate concern. You were more focused on the color of his face. His skin was pale, clammy, and quite honestly a little corpse-like thanks to the purply-blue tinge carving out the hollows of his face. You assumed that he was too strung-out to care if anyone noticed their altercation because you could hear him from halfway across the hall.

“Where’s Scott McCall?” His voice was deep and gravelly, as expected, but there was a desperate undertone you hadn’t anticipated.

You could only see the back of Jackson’s head, but you knew exactly what his face was doing when he puffed out his chest and folded his arms—no one else could make a smirk look quite so punchable. It was a gift, truly. “And why should I tell you?” “Because I asked you politely,” the man leaned forward, bared his canines, and you couldn’t believe that Jackson didn’t even flinch, “and I only do that once.”

“Okay, tough guy,” Jackson sneered, meeting the man’s challenge with another step forward and a shrug that reeked of false-superiority, “how ‘bout I help you find him if you tell me what you’re selling him. What is it? Dianabol? HGH?”

“Steroids,” the man’s voice was dry, and if he didn’t look like he was about to double over and puke all over the floor, you’d say the menacing glimmer in his eyes was a little amused.

“No, Girl Scout cookies. What the hell do you think I’m talking about?” Jackson tutted, maddeningly haughty, and shook his head, “By the way, whatever it is you’re selling, I’d stop sampling the merchandise.” He let out a low patronizing whistle, and you kind of hoped that the stranger would suckerpunch him in the throat for it. “You look wrecked.”

The man didn’t punch him. Instead, he pushed himself off of the locker he was slumped against and started staggering stiffly down the hall, “I’ll find him myself.”

Jackson grabbed onto his broad shoulder and yanked. The veins in his bicep bulged with the strength of grasp, “We’re not done here.”

Your limbs suddenly remembered how to function. You ducked back behind the brick wall and closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable sounds of bone colliding into flesh. Your right eye cracked open a sliver when the noise never came. Instead, there was a loud thud and the echo of clanging metal. You peeked around the corner again and froze, eyes wide and throat dry. Jackson was pinned against a locker by his neck. You’d already noticed that the stranger was tall, but you didn’t truly realize just how large he was until now. Jackson was a lot of things, but he wasn’t small. He was captain of the lacrosse team—everyone within a ten-mile radius knew that thanks to his constant reminders—and if anyone on campus was taking steroids, he would’ve been your first guess. But next to this sickly beast of a man, Jackson looked meek and mousey, and you didn’t even get to savor it. After a brief moment, no more than a second, Jackson’s assailant sniffed the air and slowly turned his head in your direction. It wasn’t an accident; he wasn’t surveying his surroundings. His eyes landed on yours, and he didn’t look the least bit surprised.

The man’s irises were dark, nearly black, and they didn’t stray from your face. You forgot how to breathe, feeling distinctly like a rabbit trapped in a fox den as your heartbeat hammered against your ribs. He spared you after a few seconds of paralyzing eye-contact and turned his petrifying gaze back to Jackson’s neck. You recoiled, slipping back to your spot around the wall, and pressed your back against the bricks until the sound of your heartbeat wasn’t so loud in your ears.

When you found the courage to look down the hall again, the man was gone, and Jackson was bleeding from the back of his neck. There were four distinct punctures along his cervical spine, trickling crimson droplets onto the stark white collar of his polo. The gouges were small, almost like…nail marks. Baffling. This town was fuckin’ baffling.

You poured over the incident all day, barely conscious enough to take down notes and roll your eyes at Stiles’s badgering and bad jokes. You’d never been more ready for the final bell to ring, not even during sex education with the extraordinarily sweaty Mr. Peterson.

You twisted your pendant around its onyx chain as you walked out of your last period, winding and unwinding the charm over and over again as you mulled over your thoughts. Scott didn’t seem like he was on drugs. You didn’t exactly know him, but he was the least aggressive person you’d ever met, and he had to be eternally patient if Stiles was his best friend. You spun the medallion again and shouldered your way through the cramped halls to the parking lot, scolding yourself. What Scott McCall did or did not inject into his bloodstream wasn’t any of your business…even if his alleged dealer looked like he was on death’s door and had a habit of throwing teenage boys around when he got mad.

You’d just convinced yourself that you didn’t care what happened to Stiles’s best friend when a discord of honking stopped you in your tracks. You flitted your gaze around the parking lot, searching for the cause of obnoxiously loud cacophony; your shoulders wilted along with your resolve when you spotted the guilty party. The man from the hallway was sprawled on the asphalt, and Scott and Stiles were scrambling to help him off of the ground.

Your feet reluctantly trudged towards the peculiar trio, arms tightly folded over your cropped sweater. You would’ve laughed at how wide Stiles’s eye stretched when he finally noticed your presence, but you were a little preoccupied with the fact that he was currently trying to stuff a ghoulish grown man into his front seat. You watched him struggle to hold up approximately 200 pounds of solid muscle with his spindly arms, absentmindedly lamenting that you couldn’t truly appreciate the humor of the situation. “Hey,” you slanted your head and searched Stiles’s face for any sign of an SOS signal, “you good?”

“Ayup,” Stiles nodded emphatically, and Scott shot you a weak thumbs-up from his squat next to his tipped-over bike.

You looked between the two of them, waiting for the truth to crack through the awkward pretense, and narrowed your eyes, “You sure?”

“We’re good,” the man barked from inside the jeep, teeth bared. It was a little less intimidating now that he was slumped over and at the mercy of a sixteen-year-old with a dork complex, but you still flinched. You couldn’t help it. It was a small twitch, but Scott still managed to track the minute movement from his low perch. He glared at the man, shockingly firm for such a sweet-faced boy, until the stranger stopped scowling at you. Mr. Sour Face turned his head towards the window and stared intensely at the hazy tree line over the hill. Your fingers relaxed. You hadn’t even realized that you’d dug your nails in your palms until the stinging stopped.

Scott jumped to his feet and pulled his bike up by the handles, rushing through his weak explanation, “Stiles is just…doing me a favor. Derek needs a ride, and all I’ve got is my bike.”

Letting out a flimsy snort, your brow pinched, “So…he walked here?”

“Uh,” Scott squinted, and Stiles nodded behind him, “yeah?”

You pursed your lips, ignoring all the students who’d started shouting over the beeping horns, and watched Derek grit his teeth and clench his fists through the dashboard window. You looked back at Stiles and chewed on your lip. Stiles was taller than you, but he was on the scrawnier side of lean and wouldn’t stand a chance against a man of Derek’s size—even if he was barely clinging to the rapidly fraying threads of consciousness. “I could use a ride to work,” you pulled the backseat door open before you could talk yourself out of it.

Stiles lurched towards you and slammed the door shut, narrowly avoiding your fingers, “Normally, I would seize any opportunity to have you further indebted to me, but—that’s Lydia Martin.” His eyes bulged out of his head, and he leaned against his jeep, slipping down the blue frame as his legs went boneless, “Walking towards me. Cool. Cool, cool, cool.”

The prospect of riding in the same car with Mr. Resting Bitchface was being more appealing by the second. Lydia didn’t even look in Stiles’s direction. Her cutting green eyes were fixed on you and you alone. “Are you an idiot?” Lydia snatched your wrist, mauve manicure digging into the delicate skin on the inside of your wrist, and yanked you back to the sidewalk.

“What?” you went brainless for a moment, taking in all the glory of an enraged Lydia Martin.

Lydia’s cheeks were flushed pink from anger and adrenaline, “Or just suicidal?”

The shock had worn off. Now, you were thoroughly pissed, “What?”

Lydia’s eyebrows, perfectly tapered and freshly threaded, knitted together until she was in danger of developing a unibrow, “Do you have any idea who you were about to get in a car with?”

Your eyes flicked to the side, and it took gargantuan strength not to roll them too. “Stiles?”

“What the hell is a Stiles?” Lydia’s riptide of fury gave way to confusion, but her soft features sharpened abruptly when she returned her attention to your scowl, “I meant Derek Hale. Obviously.”

Your hip cocked to the side as you crossed your arms, “And?”

“And he’s a murder suspect,” Lydia’s lips curled into a vehement sneer. It was so strange to finally see it first-hand. Lydia had such a sweet face, cherub cheeks and doe eyes—a clever smile. She hadn’t quite mastered disdain when you were friends; the ice queen routine wasn’t performance ready until you’d drifted apart. It was an awful face, you decided; it completely erased the last few pieces of the Lydia you knew.

“In an animal attack,” you muttered under your breath.

Evidently, it had been a long time since someone dared to disagree with the Lydia Martin because she was struck speechless. It didn’t last for long, but it was still satisfying. “He’s dangerous,” Lydia hissed. “He went completely off the deep end after his family died. Seriously, his life is like a textbook precursor to violent behavior; he’s a profiler’s wet dream.”

“Because his family died,” you repeated. The numbness eroded some of the snark in your voice.

Lydia either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the glaze creeping over your eyes. She continued, barbarous and unashamed, “Because he watched them turn into charcoal, and his sister was just ripped in half. At best, he’s unstable—but his little hobby of trolling for minors is a bit of a red flag, don’t you think?”

“Charcoal,” you spoke—more of an echo really with its resonating hollowness. Your eyes were on Lydia’s face, but your mind was somewhere far away. A lifetime ago, with the ashes of everything you once knew.

Lydia’s eyes went wide, and her mouth gaped into a perfect little ‘o.’ Her dainty fingers twitched by her sides, and then she smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles in her flouncy mini-skirt. “Most of his family died in a fire,” her voice was much softer this time, a bit of tenderness accidentally rooting through the cracks in her veneer. Lydia looked away and gripped the thin strap of her handbag, “Accidental house fire. It was all over the news like five years ago.”

You stared at Lydia, and for the first time in the last four years, you didn’t miss her. For the first time in such a mind-numbingly long time, your anger strangled your heartache with a wrought-iron grip that felt a whole lot like hate. It was always going to be like this, you realized. You would just have to walk around with all these what-ifs, if-onlys, and what-really-happeneds needling your heart with every thud—always. You had to learn to live with this: knowing that Lydia was never going to apologize and that there would be no closure. Ever.

“Right.” You laughed, shark-like, with your canines on display. You hoped it would make all your constants sharper. “So he’s gotta be a lunatic now.”

“Y/N…” It was surreal to hear your name out of Lydia’s mouth after so long. You didn’t know if you liked it, and, currently, you didn’t even know if you cared. Lydia chewed off what was left of her nude lipstick and then squared her shoulders, “So we’re just going to pretend that he wasn’t completely strung-out and totally embracing the heroin-chic aesthetic?”

You slanted your head a bit and then let out another serrated laugh. There wasn’t any point in having it out, you decided, because Lydia didn’t care. She got to move on and erase your entire existence—live her perfect, popular girl life without all this suffocating quicksand binding her to the past. Must be nice, you thought venomously, souring your tongue, stinging your eyes. Showers were probably just showers for Lydia. She didn’t singe her skin until the water went cold, imagining what she’d do, what she’d say—how she’d hurt her back. Must be so fucking nice.

“Lydia, I really don’t think you really want to get into all the things we’re pretending,” your voice was tight, strangled at the ends. You would not cry. You could not cry. Lydia sensed weakness like blood in the water, and you refused to give her the satisfaction.

“Fine,” Lydia’s curls spilled down her back like strawberry wine as she pivoted in her designer heels, “ride off into the sunset with a 'roid-raging creep. Don’t act surprised when you turn up dead in a crack den.”

Truthfully, Lydia had a point, but at this moment being contrary seemed far more important than being right. “It’s kind of difficult to act like anything when you’re dead,” you called, eyes zeroed-in on the back of her head as she slid into Jackson’s Porsche with a sensual grace you would never possess. Lydia was too far away to hear your retort, but you felt a little less like punching something after you said it.

You didn’t notice that Stiles and Scott were gone until the threat of bitter tears stopped burning your sinuses. The last thing you needed was to cry like this upset you, even if the only nearby witness left on the vacant sidewalk was yourself. You scoured the parking lot for even a flash of powder blue, but the jeep was nowhere to be seen. Probably long gone by now—your spat with Lydia must have taken longer than you thought. It was certainly louder than you meant it to be. Little clusters of ambling students were looking at you a little too long to be casual, and the indiscreet whispering once they turned back to their friends forced your legs forward.

You didn’t know where you were going when you started your car, but far, far away sounded pretty damn good.

#here's the update i promised pls forgive the lateness i am Ashamed and So Sorry #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinski x you #dylan o'brien imagine #stiles stilinski #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski x reader

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gilbirda · 7 months ago

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New idea for Jazz x Jason, with historical soulmates, reincarnation, some magic lore around the world and full of romance. Don't know if I'm going to write it. This is long so, be patient.

Meet You In Our Next Live AU

(got inspired by the title and summary of a webtoon, but didn't read it)

So, Jason and Jazz are soulmates that have been reincarnating around the history for centuries. The first time they met they fell in love, performed a soul binding promise of marriage and every time one die they won't reincarnate til the other dies and they reincarnate together (same year or next year). But doesn't always happen on the same place, and they won't remember each other until they have 21 yo, because they performed the marriage at that age.

So over the history they have been reincarnating with different names and gender and they always remember their past lives at 21 and find each other because their souls are connected. The problem is, they don't always end together, because external circunstances, a few times because sadly one died before the other, and had to live without the other (and because what's true romantic love without some angst?). But most of the time they end up together because Love Wins! They just connect and complement each other.

A little big fact: their souls always reincarnate in places over the ley lines, which are full of soul energy, called by moder para-scientis as "ectoplasm". This is important.

And we are in the 21st century, where Jason Todd was born in the grim and over a ley line city of Gotham and Jazz Fenton was born in the not yet most haunted but over a ley line town of Amity Park.

Both grew up with their not common lives: Jason a street kid adopted by billonaire and crime fighter Bruce Wayne and Jazz with the mad scientists Dr Fenton and Dr Fenton. Both of them ignore they are soulmates.

And then Jason dies.

Now, as I explained, if one dies the other will eventually learn about their death and go on until they next life. But the thing is, when Jason is brought to Gotham, the soul energy/ectoplasm of the city attach on his body, returning him to life and forcefully putting his binded soul back. Which good. But wrong.

Because this anomaly, making Jason a death-touched man, violenty killed when he was a kid, full of angry against the world and mad because he can't understand what is wrong with his body and life (add the League of Assassins messing up his life) he feels wrong and has this attacks of rage. When he died, he remembered, and when he was reanimated, the soulbinding magic was hurt.

And so, when he's 21, he doesn't remember.

Meanwhile, Jazz is the sister of the young Ghost King. They have a fallout with their parents, so after she ended her regency over her brother's rule (because I'm a simp of Queen Regent Jazz) she went to study to a college very away from Illinois (not Gotham) and when she's 21 she remembers.

And oh, Ancients. The soulbinding is not a mental GPS but a sort of a compass. And she knows where she has to go.

Ofc, she first talks with her brother why she suddenly wants to take a sabbatical year in the middle of her studies when she was his regent in the first place was that "school is important and I don't care if you have an infinity ghostly realm, you will finish high school or so help me..." so she informs what's going on.

Danny is sceptical but he may be the Ghost King but as her little brother he can't do anything but give a mean shovel talk to her intended.

CW (who follows Jazz x Jason story like the most longest romantic telenovela ever, popcorn included) stays silent about the matter and just wish her luck. Jazz is Suspicious but doesn't say anything, and goes back to the Living World to search for her soulmate, wherever her soulbinding-gut sends her.

And that's how Jazz ends in Gotham.

Sorry for hogging this ask!

I'm setting this idea free for the taking ❤✨

#gil answers #dapucha #jazz/jason #hardcover ship #anger management ship #dpxdc

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assortedseaglass · 1 year ago

Text

We Have This Hope - III

Osferth x Lady-in-Waiting

[Masterlist]

Story Tags: Fluff, Slow Burn, Mentions of Violence, Strong Language, Religious Guilt, Smut

Notes: Barely proofed. Will do later. Hope you enjoy my loves. H x

Aefry and Osferth’s mutual fascination continued over the week and, much to Aefry’s delight, she was provided with plenty of chances to see him, for wherever Aethelflaed went, Uhtred seemed to follow. What’s more, wherever Aethelflaed and Uhtred went, so too did her ladies and his band of warriors.

Following their fleeting meeting after mass, Aefry had glimpsed Osferth on her way back from the meadows just beyond the keep’s edge. She’d spent the day there with her book of psalms and her pages of drawings. Butterflies, plants, the skies above her and the ripple of the Itchen river. Wrapped in a shawl and sat beneath the old oak that guarded the grassland, Aefry was content to draw, read and daydream. Of her parents, of life beyond the keep, of warriors, of the boy with rough-shorn hair and worried eyes…

The day was drawing in when she made her way back to the warmth of the keep, the grey sky purpling as the sun descended below the trees. A brisk coolness settled on her cheeks, and she felt them turn red. These transitory days of autumn, like those of spring, brought a promise of something on the horizon that only the birds above them could see. In a life so still and, though she was grateful of her position, monotonous, Aefry found the quiet adventure in them thrilling. She thrilled too when, against the darkening sky, a white horse gleamed. Walking slowly, it’s head bobbing with each step, it looked like a spectre. Her cheeks burned all the hotter when she saw the man leading the horse to the stables.

Head downcast like that of his steed, he too seemed aglow in the twilight. Pale skin smooth as clay, his breath taking flight against the cold air. With his shoulders slumped, Aefry saw not the shy yet brave warrior monk she had become so intrigued by those last days, but a boy. Somehow, despite his quiet courage, he seemed defeated. Not once had he looked up to see his progress towards the stable, glancing only at his feet as they shuffled across the hard earth. He was missing the gentle sunset, had not stopped to look in the direction of the blackbird singing in the hedgerow, not noticed how she stood at the edge of the field, watching. She had to know what troubled him. Spurred on by that desire, any decorum left Aefry as she hurried forward.

At the rustle of leaves underfoot nearby, Osferth glanced up. Catching each other’s eyes, they both abruptly stood still. Osferth, hand at his sword, gawked at her. Aefry wobbled on the spot, having been caught rushing towards him. The white horse huffed and a great cloud of its breath rose into the sky.

The look that lingered between them was a second longer than proper, and Aefry became once more a young lady of propriety. Smiling gently, she moved slowly towards Osferth. He glanced quickly at the white horse, patting its thick neck as if finding something to do. Not even Uhtred or the King stirred this much nervousness in him.

“Forgive me, Sir-”

“Osferth,” he corrected. Aefry was relieved to see a small smile curve his lips.

“Osferth,” she whispered his name. To say it aloud, with no title, seemed indecent. “I am on my way back to my mistress, but when I saw you-” Aefry teetered on the precipice of this confession. Did it reveal too much? “Forgive me. I thought you looked sad.”

Osferth looked straight at her then, and the hand that rubbed the horse’s neck fell to his side. “Not sad, my Lady, just defeated.”

“Defeated?” She took a step closer to him, eager to know what caused the good man’s disappointment.

Osferth saw the worried crease of her brow and hurried to reassure her.

“Finan, he has been teaching me to spar. ‘Properly,’ he says.” It was as though the moon had risen early. All at once, Aefry saw the purple blooming under his eyes and the small grazes to his cheeks. When he held out his hands, dropping the reins of his horse to reveal the smattering of bruises across his knuckles, she gasped and took hold of them.

How intoxicating it was, this woman’s worry for him. Excitement, rapidly followed by shame, overcame Osferth and with all the effort he could muster he took his hands back from her. How wanton, to crave more of it.

“Wait, please,” Aefry said, turning in the direction she arrived from. Osferth watched her reach the edge of the meadow and crouch by a green mat of vegetation. In the low light, it was as if watching someone ascend from deep water. As she walked back to him, a handful of green clutched in her hand, she slowly came back into focus. Osferth shuffled from foot to foot and swallowed, looking quickly back to the horse. Blinking quickly, he saw the outline of her inside his eyelids. The ripple of her long hair, the sturdy footsteps towards him, her silhouette growing ever closer as her hips swayed side to side beneath the modest tunic she wore. He knew at once he would recount the image of her walking slowly towards him in the twilight. That night, in all likelihood. Osferth blushed and bowed his head. His boots were caked in mud, no doubt his tunic torn and much the same. He flattened the hair on his forehead and, shame yet again welling up inside him, hastily dropped his arm.

“I acknowledge my sin to you, and hide not my inequity-”

“Pardon?” Aefry had begun tearing the leaves in her hand as she stopped before Osferth.

“I-er, she is-she is restless,” Osferth gestured to the horse.

Even with his head bowed, his body stooping to appear small, he towered over her. Aefry came eye level with his leather cuirass, and the cross the rested there. A good man indeed. Funny, Aefry thought, that she found the holy men of the keep so pious they bordered on arrogance, boring to the point of inertia, or else more sinful than those they preached to. Power, she supposed, was the currency of man, and there was plenty for those who had taken holy orders under the command of the King. In Osferth, however, the presence of the cross at his chest calmed her, for she had seen the truth that he was a good man. Ruled not by power, but by his kindness and conscience. A true man of God. He was still shuffling uncomfortably at her side.

“Well then,” Aefry said with a gentle smile. “We best get you both inside.” Her twinkling eyes met his and Osferth’s heart drummed unsteadily in his chest. She turned on her heel and made her way towards the stables. With the click of his teeth, Osferth and his steed followed eagerly in her wake.

The closer they drew to the dimly lit stable, the clearer the voices within it became. That is to say, one voice. The two men inside barely noticed as Aefry pushed open the door and slipped inside. Instead, it was the sound of horse hooves on the dampened ground that told the men they were no longer alone.

“Hurt your bollocks as well as the rest of your body?” Finan said to Osferth, indicating the horse he hadn’t ridden and laughing heartily. Sihtric smirked but continued brushing the dark horse he rode. Beside them, Aefry appeared from a small stall with a bowl of water.

“Fuck!” Finan jumped back at the small woman’s seemingly sudden arrival.

Blushing at the language, Aefry laughed. “Perhaps, Osferth, you should take sparring lessons from me. He may be the brute but I clearly have the cunning.” She playfully nudged Finan’s shoulder and found he didn’t budge. It made her giggle all the more and the three men stared at her. Sihtric in question, Osferth in amazement and Finan in mirthful admiration. Unaware, Aefry continued tearing the plant in her hand and adding it to the bowl.

“What have you there?” Sihtric’s voice was quiet.

“Yarrow,” Aefry offered him one of the flowering stems. “It helps to soothe swelling.” She watched as Sihtric turned the flower between his fingers. Despite his height, his fearsome, bicolour gaze and endless stoicism, there was gentleness to this man she was certain many overlooked. To all of them. Whereas it was plain in Osferth, behind the tough exteriors of Sihtric and Finan lay good-hearted souls. Sihtric with his childlike wonder, Finan with his easy humour. Uhtred too possessed a tenderness, if the way he looked at Aethelflaed was anything to judge.

Silence, but for the huffing and shuffling of the horses, settled about the stable. Aefry worked the yarrow and water into a paste, unaware of the silent exchange occurring above her head.

Osferth, still shy around his adoptive comrades and overcome with an emotion entirely foreign to him in the presence of Aefry, looked everywhere in the stable but her. Occasionally, as he glanced between the ceiling’s beams or the hay-strewn floor, he caught either Finan or Sihtric’s eyes. Sihtric, in his usual way, fixed him with a knowing stare somewhere between teasing and curiosity. Each time Osferth caught Finan’s eye, however, he entered into a silent battle with the Gael.

Finan indicated Aefry with his head, encouraging Osferth to step closer, or else would mouth instructions. “Talk to her!” “Say something!”. Once or twice, he even caught Finan making lewd gestures. When the Gael balled his fist before his crotch, Osferth’s eyes widened and he darted into one of the stalls. In doing so he brushed against Aefry’s shoulder, and the warmth he felt beneath her shawl sent a surge of lightning through him.

Flustered by the commotion of his own sudden movement, Osferth almost lost track of where he was and what he was doing. He span around. “I’m sorry, my Lady-” Osferth’s voice died. Aefry was watching him with a smile. No annoyance at his carelessness, worry no longer knitting her brow. Simply smiling at him.

Though bolder than he was, Osferth had noticed in his few meetings with the lady-in-waiting, of which this was the third, that, like him, Aefry was content with silence. He wished then that he had the courage for idle chatter. This lingering silence was torturous. The more she looked at him, and the more he looked at her, the more likely it seemed to him that heaven truly was real and not just a tool to frighten men into subjection.

“Let me see your hand again,” Behind Aefry, Finan walked past the stall and winked. Osferth didn’t move, and so Aefry came to him. Mistaking his infatuation for his earlier disappointment, she reached out and took his hand. Osferth almost whimpered. He bit the inside of his cheek to silence himself and released a ragged breath through his nose.

“I’m sorry, but the yarrow will help.”

Osferth let out a shaky laugh at her unknowing sweetness. “‘Tis fine.” When she began massaging the yarrow into his knuckles, Osferth held his breath, for never before could he remember being touched with such gentleness.

He barely remembered his mother. Sometimes, he thought of her running her hand over his head, but was unsure if this was a memory or merely something his mind had conjured up in the absence of her. When he entered the monastery, it was with the clap of his uncle Leofric’s hand at his back and a promise that he would always be near.

In their memory, Osferth touched the cross at his chest. Aefry’s eyes flickered there but she asked no questions, and began rolling a torn piece of cloth about his hand.

Behind the walls of the monastery, Osferth knew nothing but prayer and penance.

The blond hair his mother had allowed to grow long was roughly shorn, his clothes were replaced with itchy hand-me-down robes, and despite having lived so meagrely before, he would have given anything to sleep on the hay mattress of his uncle Leofric’s rather than the wooden board and blanket of his shared quarters.

That first room he shared with two other boys, Arric and Hablendan. He did not need to ask why they were sent to the monastery. The abbots looked at the three boys with an obvious disdain that they did not show the other novitiates. They were woken between matins and prime, then set to work preparing breakfast for the sleeping monastery. After a long day of work and prayer, Osferth and his companions would say compline, or vigil before Sunnundaeg, and await the abbot to permiss them sleep, long after everyone else had retired.

Bastards. Shame of father and family. That was why.

“A stain upon the good King’s virtue.”

“Nothing but a whore’s shame.”

“It would have been far better if you had never been born.”

When Hablendan succumbed to a fever aged eleven, the penitential psalms were hurried, his anointing near forgot, and the abbots slung him in a haphazard grave beyond the monastery wall. Only Osferth and Aerric kept vigil.

Arric left the monastery suddenly, and from time to time Osferth imagined he had run away with a tradesman or visiting abbess. That way he could believe a life beyond that harsh place existed. A monastery in a warmer climate perhaps, or a new life altogether.

“Osferth?”

So tender was her voice that Osferth thought he’d imagined it. The voice of Hablendan or Arric. Perhaps even his uncle or mother.

He blinked in the dim light, and felt a warmth about his hands. She had taken both in her own, and held them gently before her. Her eyes, a muddy mixture of browns, were looking up at him with concern.

“‘Tis fine,” he said again, although the lump in his throat betrayed any attempt at ease. Aefry nodded, held his hand a moment longer, then let go. Osferth twitched awkwardly before coughing and clearing the stall to make way for his horse. That he had been about to take her hand once more, Aefry did not know.

“Will your mistress not worry where you are?” Sihtric was heaving his horse’s saddle onto one of the stable beams.

“If Lord Uhtred is with her, I doubt it entirely,” Aefry said with a smile. “Her mother, however-” The men laughed. “I am away. Remove the dressing in the morning and the swelling should have gone down,” she addressed Osferth. “If not, seek me out and I will gather more.”

“He surely will,” Finan stepped forward with yet another gleeful glance in Osferth’s direction as he wrapped a cloak around his shoulders. “I’ll walk you back.”

Osferth’s heart sank. He had not known Finan long, but it was enough to see the long looks women gave him. Wit, kindness, honour, strength. How could he possibly compete? Aefry and Finan were backing out of the door when Sihtric nudged Osferth’s shoulder and nodded in their direction. Aefry was looking hopefully at him over Finan’s shoulder.

“Goodnight Osferth, goodnight Sir,” Sihtric nodded his head at Aefry. Osferth bowed a little.

“Come,” Sihtric said to him. “You have more to learn than swordsmanship.” And together they trudged towards the inn on the outskirts of town, Osferth hanging off his every word.

In the opposite direction, Finan and Aefry walked in comfortable silence. The sun had set fully and torches flickered at the welcoming gates of the keep. In a few moments, they would be sheltered in its warmth. Aefry’s stomach gave a rumble and she laughed.

“Thank you, Sir, for walking me back,” Finan smiled and Aefry continued. “Though, and I do not mean to offend, I suspect it was not for my safety.” Expecting to see annoyance in her eyes, Finan looked at her. To his pleasant surprise, he saw her eyes twinkle in the low light. A broad smile stretched across his bonny face. “I do believe Saeflaed will have returned from her father’s by now.”

“I would not have let you walk back alone, lady-”

“Aefry.” She corrected, holding a hand to her chest. He copied the movement.

“Finan.” Aefry nodded and Finan continued. “But a glimpse of her would not go amiss.”

Aefry’s smile widened. Finan had thought her a meek little thing at first, smaller than her companions, not so pretty as Saeflaed or outspoken as Adburh. But he saw now that he was wrong. Behind the round cheeks and rosy complexion, pleasing manner and quiet reserve, a brightness burned within her. Quick to help and to laugh just as he. The youngest of Aethelflaed’s ladies, he thought perhaps, despite Saeflaed’s beauty, that Aefry was his favourite.

“She’s very pretty, isn’t she?” Aefry said, her voice full of that longing awe one heard in a girl recalling a princess, or a little boy dreaming of the battlefield.

“I’ve never seen a fairer lass,”

“And here she is,” she indicated the keep gates, where a golden haired girl stood waiting. Aefry turned to Finan, a knowing glint in her eye. “Almost as if this meeting were planned.”

“Not a word to your mistress of Uhtred,” Finan held her arm gently.

Aefry held a finger to her lips as she slipped away, and Finan watched as she clasped Saeflaed’s hand before disappearing through the gate.

Over the next few days, the three men and three women followed their leaders like a gaggle of children.

Having told Aefry how much she liked the man, Saeflaed either clung to her arm or Finan’s, whispering hurried observations in the former’s ear, flirtations in the latter’s.

“His wit is as sharp as his sword!”

“There’s something about his eyes,”

“I watched him train the monk,” Aefry’s ears pricked. “His arms, Aefry!”

Poor Adburh was quite taken as ever by the silent Sihtric, but the discovery of his wife had left her quite bereft.

“Many a man takes a mistress, Adburh,” Saeflaed had said.

“I’ll not be a man’s whore,” Adburh snapped from beneath her bedsheets.

“Not even a man so beautiful?”

Adburh sniffled and Aefry silenced her friend with a quick glance.

When next they saw Uhtred and his men, all walking the halls and corridors of the keep as he spoke to Aethelflaed in hushed tones, Aefry was forced to abandon her position by the monk to remind Adburh that she was at court. At once, the red-headed girl’s shoulders straightened, the crease of her forehead vanished and her steps became lighter.

“He is a handsome man, ‘tis true,” Aefry whispered to Adburh. “But not the man for you, my friend.” Adburh’s face soured at once and she made to protest. Aefry didn’t allow it. “Aside from his marital status, he is far too quiet and serious. Imagine the household you would run together! You, fearsome and outspoken. He, fearsome and silent. That poor man would not stand a chance.” Adburh laughed sadly and linked her arm through Aefry’s. Together, they processed behind the others.

Uhtred and Aethelflaed were a way ahead now. Uhtred too, seemed equally bewitched by Aethelflaed as Adburh was with Sihtric, and Aefry was glad to see a man bestow her mistress some compassion. The image of a gentleman in her presence, Uhtred listened to Aethelflaed’s words as though she were bestowing upon him a prophecy. He walked half a step behind her at all times, and always, his gaze was directed toward her.

Finan and Saeflaed, still holding his arm, were a few paces behind them with Sihtric. Aefry giggled as Saeflaed’s golden curls bounced animatedly as she spoke to him, and Finan looked over his shoulder at the noise and winked.

Osferth saw him do so and glanced to where Aefry and Adburh walked. The moment he looked at her, Aefry’s steps faltered.

“Are you alright?” It was Adburh who sounded concerned now.

“Yes. Yes, fine,” Aefry resumed her steps and looked to Osferth. He had turned back to face the front. Let him look round again, please. The strange sensation that had made its home in Aefry’s chest ever since she met the monk stirred, and she gulped a few times to steady her breath.

“Are you sure?”

“Adburh,” Aefry lay a hand atop her friends. “Believe me when I say, I am fine.” Adburh eyed her suspiciously but they continued ahead.

Osferth walked alone between the groups, hands clasped behind his back. As people passed them in the corridors, going about their business, Aefry found a new appreciation for his height. She had seen few men so tall. He was taller than Finan, that was certain. Now, she saw he was taller than Uhtred and much the same height as Sihtric. She thought of the three warriors and their broad backs, and her mind wandered to what lay beneath Osferth’s robes. Whether he would become as muscled as them as he continued his training-

I’m sorry. Let him look at me, and I’ll spend Sunnandaeg in the chapel.

Aefry did not know precisely what it was that she longed to see, but when Osferth turned to look at her again, his mellow eyes brightening when he saw her already watching him, she felt a small part of her desire to be seen by him sated.

“Aefry, your cheeks are flushed. Are you certain-”

“Adburh!” Aefry dropped her friend’s arm in annoyance and took a few rushed steps forward before realising where she was; a step or so behind Osferth. When Adburh stomped past them, her temper flaring, Osferth startled and gazed back. Upon seeing Aefry so close, he startled again but smiled all the same.

“Her fires are burning rather hot today,” Aefry mumbled, giving Osferth a small curtsy.

“Is everything well?” said Osferth as he watched Adburh storm ahead.

“She had some bad news,” Aefry wouldn’t betray Adburh’s feelings, no matter her annoyance.

Osferth hummed and waited for Aefry to fall into step beside him. Unlike that which she had shared with Finan, Aefry could not say their silence was comfortable. On the contrary, both seemed strained to think of something to say and altogether uneasy.

“The yarrow worked-”

“How is your practice-”

Both spoke together, blushed and allowed the quiet to resume. After a moment, Aefry took Osferth’s hand. Perhaps it was an excuse just to touch him, but she brought his knuckles to the light of a passing window and examined his bruises. The yarrow had worked indeed, for she could make out the bone and blue veins of his hands. His hands. How small hers suddenly felt underneath his. When she looked up at him, she saw he was still staring down at their entwined hands.

“Do you need anything more of me?” she whispered.

Osferth’s eyes flickered to hers. “Lady, I-”

“Come on, Osferth!”

Finan’s voice boomed down the corridor and Aefry stepped quickly away from Osferth. Onward they walked.

“That is much like how he speaks to me when teaching,” Osferth said lowly and Aefry laughed. “But he is kind do it, and a good man.”

“That he is.”

Osferth watched her from the corner of his eye. She smiled as she looked in Finan’s direction and he tried to quell his jealousy. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want,” he whispered.

Ahead, Uhtred and Aethelflaed had stopped outside a large cabinet of rooms at the fore of the keep, and Aefry, distracted on their journey there, noticed at once that it was the study of the King. She quickened her steps, leaving Osferth’s side, to stand behind her mistress. It would not do for Lady Aelswith to see her at the side of one of Uhtred’s men and not her daughter.

No sooner had she, Saeflaed and Adburh settled behind Aethelflaed did the door to the cabinet open. Father Beocca stepped out and grasped Uhtred’s hand. A moment after, the King entered the corridor and all in his presence bowed their heads. Aethelflaed kissed his cheek.

“You are ready?” He said to his daughter and Uhtred, to which they nodded and entered his private chambers with Beocca. As Aefry bowed once more, she noticed the King’s intelligent eyes carry over Finan and Sihtric, before flicking to the man stood still in the corridor.

Subtly, so imperceptibly, Aefry saw Alfred falter. From her reverent position, she looked sideways through the veil of her hair.

Osferth was looking pointedly at the ground, his shoulders a little stooped, his head a little bowed.

When the King turned away, Osferth looked up and saw that Aefry was watching him again. With a sad smile and nod of his head, he retraced his steps, away from his fellows, and out of sight. A haunting sadness had returned to his eyes, and Aefry thought of little else all evening.

Early one morning under the guise of prayer, Aethelflaed brought her ladies-in-waiting to the town chapel so she may share some secret with Uhtred before he and his men left for the north.

Finan and Sihtric were stood at the door, happily talking when they arrived. They bowed to Aethelflaed as she passed, sharing a knowing look, and greeted the ladies. Saeflaed placed herself by Finan and leant gaily against the stone wall so that her hip jutted just so. Adburh, too, stood scandalously close to Sihtric. He said nothing. Aefry did not worry about Osferth’s own whereabouts, for she knew he would be inside.

Sure enough, when she pushed open the chapel’s great doors, daylight streaked into the chamber and set him aglow. Sat on a simple wooden bench at the back of the chapel, his head was bent in prayer. Like a moth to a flame, she drifted towards him, sitting carefully beside him as he prayed.

The creaking of the wood gave her away, and Osferth opened one eye. When he saw her sat beside him, he smiled and relaxed in his seat. Together, the monk and the young lady sat in contended silence at the back of the chapel. After a while he looked at her fully and saw the happiness on her face.

“What has you smiling, my Lady?” Osferth whispered in her ear as they sat side by side. Aefry looked up at him. His hands were clasped in his lap, his head bowed slightly to hear her answer. Wherever he went, he always looked in prayer, and she wondered if it was the same on the battlefield. If he fought with as much grace as he did everything else.

“Those two,” she indicated Uhtred and Aethelflaed with her eyes. “It is good to see her smile again.”

From the corner of his eye, he watched her face glow with tenderness. It seemed her permanent state. On occasion, he had seen her about the keep with Aethelflaed and her other companions. Where Adburh and Saeflaed seemed suited to keeping the princess jovial, the lady beside him must have been picked as a companion for her quiet sincerity. When Aethelflaed fell into clouds of despair, it was Aefry she went to to lift her spirits.

When Osferth stumbled upon Aefry in the town, or sat in the meadow beyond the keep, she moved with serenity, like river buttercup in a stream. It struck him that she was prayer incarnate; contemplative, curious, calm.

When tending to the horses, he watched her in the meadow. She gathered flowers, read beneath the oak tree, or when not alone, talked spiritedly with her companions. Just as fascinated as she was with the monk, he too was with the lady-in-waiting.

“Though she doesn’t show it, not to Lord Uhtred, she is sad.” The monk titled his head towards her as she spoke. “You are away tomorrow, are you not?”

He nodded, eyes scanning hers. Would she be sad when he left? As Aethelflaed was for Uhtred?

“Take care, Just Osferth,” she smiled. His mouth twitched at the corners, and she knew he wanted to smile. “What?”

“My lady, do you think perhaps you could simply call me Osferth? The others have given me their own name, I should like to hear mine just plainly.”

The lady’s eyes lit with mirth. “What do the others call you?”

He sighed and looked at the cross atop the alter, as if pleading for help. “‘Baby monk.’” He whispered it in her ear like he was at confession, and she would have shuddered were it not for the ridiculousness of the name. She sniggered and the monk pinched his nose.

“Are you a monk anymore?” She had turned to him slightly, though she still glanced at her mistress every now and again. “Now that you are in Uhtred’s company?”

He thought a moment and watched his hands. “I don’t know what I am anymore.”

She took his hand in hers and faced him directly.

“You are Osferth.”

“That I am.” There it was again. Pride. Looking at her pretty face, open with kindness and judging of nothing as she watched him, Osferth felt that whatever he had been, or would be, was fine because she saw him. She.

“What do you think life would have held for you? Had you the choice?” Aefry knew the question was intimate, and should he rebuke her, she would understand. To her happiness, he did not.

“I do not think it matters, lady.” Visions of himself as a prince, or an ealdorman with wife and child flashed before his eyes. “My lot was chosen long before I was born.” Aefry knew he was thinking of his father’s actions but said nothing, only let him continue. “With another mother, another father, in a different realm perhaps my life would have been different, but it does not do to dwell. I am thankful for what I have been given.”

He watched her side, for she had turned to face Uhtred and Aethelflaed solemnly. Her lips parted delicately, plainly thinking over what he had said. A few strands of hair had fallen loose from the braid knotted at her nape, revealing the pulse point on the elegant column of her neck. Osferth was struck with the desire to run his finger along it and the britches beneath his tunic tightened. He shifted on the hard pew. Damn. Faintly, as though listening through water, he heard her say something similar to “we should leave them be.” He looked up to see Uhtred and Aethelflaed departing through the door behind the chancel.

“Will you pray with me?”

Her hand was still in his and she squeezed it before clasping her own in prayer. “Of course.”

Aefry knelt before him and he swallowed, shifting his hands beneath his tunic before kneeling beside her. Osferth wasn’t sure how long they prayed. Or rather, how long she prayed and he tried to. Her devoted mutterings and deeps sighs of breath were beautifully distracting, so he settled on watching her pray instead.

She leant her head on her hands, as though this would open a direct channel to help her commune with the divine. She glanced up on occasion, to gaze at the altar, before casting her eyes down. When she hastily wiped a tear from her cheek between devotions, he found he could take it no more and moved towards the offertory shrine next to the tabernacle. He hadn’t seen someone so moved by prayer since the monastery, and even then he believed the abbot did it to scare the oblates into servitude.

He took a candle and, placing it next to its fellows, lit it with a taper. Closing his eyes with the flame in hand, a moment’s solace finally found him, and he prayed for that which he always could. When he opened them, she was there beside him, placing her own candle upon the shrine having silently finished her prayers. As if in slow motion, he watched as she covered his hand with hers and moved the taper he still held to the wick. The candle flickered into life, and she let go.

“Who did you light your candle for?” she whispered, watching the flames dance together.

“My mother.”

“I lit mine for you. I want to see you safely back in Wintancaester.” Sadness befell Aefry’s eyes and Osferth said the only thing he could think that would ease her unhappiness.

“I shall try, my lady.”

She nodded. “He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.”

His lips parted with barely supressed awe. “Psalm ninety-one.”

Aefry nodded again. “The psalms are my favourites.”

“My lips praise you, because your faithful love is better than life itself.” Osferth whispered, his eyes intent on hers.

“Psalm sixty-three.”

“Yes,” Each time he was near her, his voice floundered. It seemed it was not just he who struggled. The light of the chapel cast Osferth in a soft glow and his eyes, pierced by the sun, looked aflame. Aefry watched as his tongue ran slowly over his bottom lip and, mindful of their place in God’s house, pressed the back of her hand to his so as to feel close to him.

“I must away, my lady.” His words were abrupt, their sudden intimacy overwhelming.

“Yes, you must,”

Osferth swallowed, and with some urgency said, “But I will see you soon.” Her beautiful face became doleful as she looked at the bidding candles and he stepped closer to her. Her eyes, brimming with tears, took in his face and as he made to brush them away, she stood on her toes to place a chaste kiss against his cheek.

Frozen before the shrine, Osferth listened as her steps carried her from the chapel, away from Adburh and Saeflaed, from Finan and Sihtric, and from him.

In the meadow beyond the town, beneath the oak tree, Aefry let her tears fall.

“The sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night,” she said aloud to the grasses and the birds. Please, she begged, please let him come back.

Notes: Matins, prime, compline and vigil are part of the liturgical hours in the catholic faith, and are prayers that are said throughout the day. Typically for a monk, there would be matines, prime, lauds, none, sext, vespers and compline. Vigil came before holy days and some even took nocturnes which is around 1am. I used to live with a monk (true!) and sometimes I would do lauds with him. Fifteen minutes of quiet is a lovely way to start the day!

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